Vast statuary leered down at the elf from the face of the tower, a gigantic stone statue gargoyle of some kind of lizard warrior. The dangerous-looking carving guarded the door and bid one to enter at her own peril, and the myriad of dancing magical lights about the door gave the same warning. They swirled menacingly, throwing sparks and burning in the darkness.

Alassiel was hardly impressed. The druid knew well the capabilities of the wizard that she sought, and feared him not. No, the seer’s guards and wards did little to deter the revenant from seeking an audience, for like the Danith himself, they were more show than substance. He was no wizard of repute, but a diviner of the future.

Alassiel didn’t even draw her sword when crossing through that darkened opening stepping into the first room of the tower, resting in the Stygian blackness. “Danith?” the elf asked. Alassiel’s eyes began to adapt to the dark, and she walked forward, pausing at the base of a ladder and waiting for a response.

“Danith?” the elf asked again, louder and more forceful.

An unseen breeze began to blow and the response drifted on it to the revenant.

“What adventures,
grim and fell,
await the elf
Alassiel?”

came a high-pitched, but still grim-sounding voice, speaking from somewhere unseen.

“When priest is dead
and blade is red,
shall a demon’s hunger 
Then be fed?
When to Caer has
Lahk been led,
And Kardas sighs,
And takes your head,
You you be happy
To be dead?”

Alassiel did smile then, amused at the obvious errors in verse. She’d not composed poetry for at least two score years, and knew she could still do better.

“May I —?” the elf started to ask.

“Do come up, ” the wizard quickly interrupted, the tone and abrupt manner telling Alassiel that Danith wanted to make it clear that the question had been foreseen.

With a shake of her head Alassiel climbed the ladder. 


Three weeks into captivity, Wilderness between Daggerport and Maithum Falls

‘Goddess forgive me for my trespasses,’ Athuum whispered in her mind, offering prayer out of desperate habit and hoping that maybe this time her dead goddess would find a way to hear her pleas. ‘Forgive me, and grant me the strength to escape.’ The pain from the numerous cuts Lahk had inflicted on her body were a painful reminder of the folly of her prayer, however. Even if the goddess answered her prayers, even if the earth itself gave her all of its strength to use, she could no longer channel it. Lahk had throughly destroyed the integrity of her druidic tattoos that bound her to the earth, and allowed her to call on it for power.

The druid’s limbs had long since begun to go numb around her bonds. Her hands were tied so tightly behind her back she couldn’t dream of wriggling free, and her legs were tied together at ankle and thigh both. A cum stained rag had forced into her mouth and secured by a leather strap, so she could do little but whimper, and even breathing became difficult when the situation caught up with the druid and the tears came to her again.

The elf lay in the cellar of a pathetic hovel in the wilderness, where Lahk had chosen to make camp. The screams of the farmer’s daughter had echoed through the hut last night even as her father’s blood watered his field. Athuum was guiltily ashamed that she was glad they had not abused her last evening, even if it came as the cost of some other poor woman’s suffering… but she couldn’t feel too guilty. She knew her time to suffer would come again soon. Lahk had promised to make her repay ever copper piece that she had cost him in Daggerport, and the elf believed him.

The door to the cellar creaked it opened, causing the druid to stiffen in sudden fear. That she was afraid of someone so pathetic that they needed force for sex, that she was terrified of what they would do to her, evidenced how low the former druid had fallen. She could not stop herself from crying when they used her. Their torments shouldn’t effect her so, not after she had lived through nearly a quarter century of war and its brutal aftermath… but in Daggerport, the priest had proved to be equal of any horror. The scarred wreck of eryn eregdos served as painful reminded of what she had already lost.

Left alone, the elf could only think of the soul searing agony of her tattoo being ripped open one thread a time, each cut stealing a small piece of her identity for hours and hours at a time until there was nothing left but the memory of who she used to be. She could still feel burning pain on her back and legs, and friction burns in her sore cunt and ass. She could feel feel the cutting sharp steel of manacles at her wrists, being brutally used over and over…

But what was worse, the feeling that truly left the slave elf all but broken, was the certainty that it was not over.

The thought of Lahk and his followers putting their filthy cocks into her, taking her against her will, sickened her. The thought of further punishment terrified her. She knew she would received more of both, but she could not break. They still had no idea she was anything more than a common druid of Caladwen, no more special than any elf. If they suspected that she may be more, that she actually knew the homeland’s secret location…

She might not hold out.

These human monsters would never be allowed to know her homeland’s location, much less enter it. She would never suffer them to learn her secrets, so she would endure the torment as they lay upon her abusing her cunt or forcing her her suck their dicks and brutally taking her ass…

Her thoughts were interrupted when half of a bucket of icy cold water landed on her back, making her cry in surprise and jerk her body. The motions made her bound hands and legs hurt all the more as they suddenly contracted and restrained against the bonds in a mad attempt to flinch away from the cold. Aion, the high priest’s brother, grabbed her by the neck and pulled the druid to her feet.

She would endure…

After all, what choice did she have?


‘Now is not the time,’ she reminded herself, replacing the thoughts with hardened steel.

At the top of the climb the elf found herself in another room of tapestries and thick rugs with a door of hanging blue beads, a soft glow coming from behind them. Pushing through brought Alassiel into Danith’s main audience chamber, obviously, a place of many carpets and pillows for sitting, and with arcane runes and artifacts: a skull here, a gigantic bat wing there, a crystal ball set on a pedestal along the wall, a large mirror, its golden edges all of shaped and twisted design.

Never had Alassiel seen so many trite wizardly items all piled together in one place, and after years of working with Shevarn the elf knew indeed that they were paltry things, mere window dressing and nothing more. The man calling this tower home was a pitiful example of a wizard compared to the former Archmage, but his talent for divination kept him marginally useful.

In fact, the only item in the room Alassiel estimated to be of any real power was the sphere of flawless crystal in the center.

Behind that orb, the elf saw, sat Danith. Dressed in robes of dark blue with red swirling patterns all about them, and with a gigantic conical hat, the human seemed to be attempting to live a caricature of the classic expectation of a wizard. A large gray beard and bushy eyebrows stuck out from under that hat, and as Danith tilted his head back to look in the general direction of Alassiel his eyes did not focus on her. Two pure white orbs shown clearly from beneath the rim of the hat.

Alassiel did laugh then, scorn and mirth competing for room in her voice. “This is too much. You pretend blindness Danith? Surely this is a joke.”

A scowl crossed the wizard’s face. “You doubt the powers of my magical sight?” Danith replied, raising his arms in a threatening poise like the wings of a bird of prey.

“More than I could hope to make you understand,” Alassiel answered, the scorn still in her voice.

Danith held the pose for a long moment, but in the face of Alassiel’s relaxed posture and ridiculing smirk, the seer finally relented. With a shrug, Danith reached up and dismissed the illusion, revealing sparkling blue eyes.

“Works for the peasants,” the illusionist seer explained. “Makes them happy, and a happy customer is always eager to drop an additional coin to a blind man.”

“I am neither a peasant nor easily impressed,” Alassiel retorted.

“And yet I knew of you, and your quest,” Danith was fast to point out.

“And you know of Shevarn, too,” the elf replied dryly. “In fact, I seem to recall he’s spoken to you…”

Danith punched a fist on the floor at having been caught. “You brought payment?” he continued indignantly.

Alassiel knelt before the crystal orb and tossed a bag of silver coin across the expanse to the eager human, who immediately began counting the payment. “Why not just use your incredible powers of divination to count?“

Danith’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the elf, squeezing them tightly enough that they were all but lost beneath his thick eyebrows. He waved a hand over the bag as he muttered a quick spell, then a moment later put the bag to the side.

“I should charge you more for that,” he remarked.

“For having you count your payment?” Alassiel asked skeptically.

“For having to show you yet another feat of my great powers of seeing,” the human replied. “For not making you wait while I counted them out.”

“It took little magic to know that the coins would all be there,” the elf responded. “Why would I come here if I had not the agreed upon price?”

“It is not enough.”

“It is,” the revenant insisted.

“Not if I am to intrude upon the church of Sanguinar it is not.” His hand stretched out and rested on her thigh. Danith’s fingers traced the shape of one of her druidic tattooes. “I require… additional payment.”

A disgusted look crossed the elf’s face for an instant, but only for that instant. The next the expression was evanescent, and she nodded to the seer. “Very well. After.”

The seer groaned at her, cocking his eyes to the side. “Before.”

“Impatience is a folly of humans, not elves,” Alassiel said. “After.”

“I foresee that if you pursue your quest with such temerity, you will be doomed.”

“A brilliant observation,” came the sarcastic reply from the revenant. “Are we agreed or not?”

The seer sighed. “You are not making this easy for me, you know,” the human replied with a deadpan voice. The human considered for a moment, then gave a simple shrug. “Very well. Let us see what the future will reveal to us… what road you may walk. Danith lay his hands upon the crystal ball for a moment before the wizard began his casting, his long, frail arms weaved in high circles above his head while spoke in a language Alassiel knew not.

The seer’s eyes opened, focusing into the depths of the sphere. “Lahk,” he said quietly, but firmly. “The priest under doom of revenancy”

“Lahk, ” the human said again, the name running off his lips as rhythmically and enchantingly as had the arcane words of his spell. “I see… I see… I see…”

“Winter storm blows 
and deep blizzard snows, 
I hear wind in my ears 
and the running of deers…”

“Deer is already plural,” Alassiel interrupted.

Danith glared at the elf around the crystal.

“Deers?” Alassiel said again. “Rhymes with ‘ears,’ right?”

“You are annoying.”

“As are you, Oh great seer.” the elf replied. “Why must you speak in terrible rhymes as soon as you fall into your divining? Is that seer’s requirement?” Alassiel frowned. “You do not impress me, seer. You may stop trying… I want my information and nothing more. ” Alassiel explained. Danith muttered a couple of curses under his breath and bent back down.

“Deers,” Alassiel snorted.

“Mock me again and I shall send you hunting after your high priest in the Untamed Lands!” the human warned. Danith muttered some arcane phrases and waggled his arms about the curve of the sphere. 

“To temple great my eyes go roaming,
to throne unmounted in shrouded gloaming…”

the human began, but he stopped, hearing the impatient clearing of the revenant’s throat.

“Lahk is not in the temple,” the human summarized plainly, losing both the overwrought voice and the aggravating rhymes. “And the priests mourn his absence, and scheme under cover of loyalty to supplant him.”

“Then where is he?”

“The priests pay prayer on lips of sorrow,
While Lahk lays further from dawn of the morrow!”

Danith’s voice rose dramatically and he almost shouted.

The revenant crossed arms and assumed an irritated posture.

“Had to be said,” the human explained.

“Better by you, then,” the elf replied dryly. “If it had to be.”

“Still, the point is well taken. He is not there, but to the west,” Danith said with some confidence soon after. “Good enough for you, too, for if he did lair in his fortress capital, your mission would have no hope.”

“I would do as I must,” she replied quietly.

Danith started to chuckle but stopped short when he saw the elf’s grim frown. “Better for you, then,” the human said, continuing his divination within the crystal. “West…” he mumbled to himself. “Where west…”

A image entered the sphere then, the setting sun with a shape silhouetted against the bright heavens. “A ship!” he shouted, waving his hands frantically to better resolve the scryed image.

“What?” Alassiel asked, eagerness now evident. “Where is it?”

“The Bloody Keel,” Danith spoke, his voice overjoyed. “He is aboard a ship, sailing the western sea.”

“He is looking for it still…” she mumbled softly.

“Find that ship, Alassiel, and you will find your road,”

The elf stared into the crystal ball, her eyes glazed with thought.

“Far to the west, I believe,” the human continued before the elf could demand the information. “Haven’s Ford? Daggerport? Some smaller port between? I can not be sure.”

“But you are sure that to be the region?” the elf asked, her voice urgent “Did your magic tell you this, or is it a guess since nothing but wasteland rests north of Daggerport?

Danith considered the words for a while, then merely shrugged. “Does it matter?”

‘Yes.’ Alassiel thought, but she could not say that to the wizard. The risk in such a thought was too great. The revenant simply stared at him hard.

“Have you a better course to follow?” the human asked.

“I paid you well,” the elf reminded.

“And it is time for me to be paid in full, is it not?” The man said with a leer, so obviously pleased with his accomplishment for the day. His hand again lay on her bare thigh, reaching further up her leg…


Aion lifted her off her feet without much effort, carrying her out of the cellar and up the stairs. Even as he carried her, every fiber of her being was disgusted at his touch, at his filthy hands soiling her body. She felt pathetically weak for not being able to better fight the priest, but the weeks in captivity had taken a savage toll on the woman.

The hovel she had lain in was the solitary dwelling within miles. The band had stopped some time from the last village they had passed, and the next nearest, Saralon, was six or seven miles to the east and in the wrong direction for their route — still another three weeks of travel until they reached the capital.

After so long in the dark the bright light hurt her eyes, but she could dimly make out the form of the farmer’s young daughter staked to the ground outside, streaked with mud and tears and cum. It seemed the young girl had managed to fall asleep, and Athuum envied her the rest.

“Road’s made you a dirty bitch, Athuum,” Aion mumbled while he carried her, one hand underneath her ass and gripping the flesh tightly. Athuum noticed that he was carrying her over to the large water barrel in the middle of the camp. She closed her eyes, knowing what was to come. Without much ado, the priest dropped her almost entirely into the frigid water head first, the freezing cold making her body go rigid.

Aion kept one hand on the back of her head, holding her head underwater until she began to struggle from lack of air. He kept her under for just a few more heartbeats before finally releasing her. “Much better now,” he said, grinning and laughing at her plight while she panted and gasped for air, shivering in the cold. She turned her head and glared at him, wanting to tell him to go hell for eternity, but all that came out was a muffled, weak groan sounding through the makeshift gag.

“Now we had better hurry. Lahk will be back from searching Saralon for any suitable slaves soon,” he said as he carried her inside, there to drop her on the wooden floor before unfastening his pants. Athuum shuddered at the mention of the others, especially Lahk. This would be a long session full of degradation and pain for her once more.

Another wave of disgust washed over her as she saw him free his thick, throbbing cock from his pants. His one hand lazily stroked the erect member as he took a step towards her, looming over her menacingly. Reaching down, her undid the bindings that held the rag in her mouth, allowing it to fall to the floor. “You know what I want, Athuum, so get to it.” The priest kicked out a boot at the young teenager on the ground and she awoke with cry, her eyes blearily looking up at the priest and squinting in the sunlight. “Emilia over here couldn’t suck for shit, so I expect you to demonstrate how it’s done.” Grabbing a fistful of her drenched fiery hair he forced her onto her knees, pressing his cock against her full, sensuous lips.

Athuum gritted her teeth and tried to move away from the cock but Aion was holding her by the back of her head. Nevertheless she did her best, trying to shake her head and keep the organ far from her lips. The man grunted impatiently and twisted one of the elf’s pale nipples. She moaned in pain, but managed not to open her mouth.

Aion smiled, then slapped her face hard twice, forehand and back. The druid cried out and fell on her side, then the human drove his boot into gut. “Still a tough one, Athuum?” his smiled widened as she cried again and curled her body, trying to protect it from further attacks. “Good. I was worried my brother had fucked that out of you already.”

Aion in parituclar loved her defiance, Athuum knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to not resist. The idea of willingly giving in to these animals made bile rise in her throat. Being raped was one thing, but as disgusting and demeaning as it was it would be far worse to cooperate and willingly suck his dick, the humiliating act a burning agony in and of itself.

She couldn’t prevent them raping her, but she didn’t have to help them… or so she’d convinced herself for a second until Aion reminded her otherwise.“Listen, elf…” Aion whispered calmly into Athuum’s ear. “Bitch, you’re going to show Emilia here how to suck cock, and your going to do a good job. If you don’t, I’ll whip you until until Helios gets back, then I’ll have him make a cock out of fire and fuck your ass with it while I enjoy your cunt.” He smiled sadistically. “And after that I’ll gag you and tie you back up tight and leave you with that burning thing in you for days as we take turns fucking you while you cry, until your ready to do anything, absolutely anything if only we’ll take that thing out of you.” He raised his eyebrows. “And then you’ll suck my cock anyway. So don’t piss me off and give this young cunt a good show!” Aion grabbed the druid’s neck and forcing her to her knees again as he finished.

Cowed by the fear of the torture Aion described and weeping to herself as she realized he was right, Athuum, opened her mouth and started to lick the head of the monster’s cock. She tried hard not to concentrate on the smell and taste of the huge dick, all the while moving her dexterous tongue up and down the shaft of the organ and around the head of it.

“Oh yes, that’s it elf,” Aion sighed with pleasure and laughed “Show Emilia what a crafty little cocksucker you are.”

Hearing these words Athuum felt a sudden rush of fury for her predicament, and she closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see the hatred blazing in them. When she heard the whip crack she flinched, but when the blond teenager screamed she realized that it was not for her, and again she was shamefully, selfishly grateful. “Pay attention to the whore, whore!” Aion told the howling girl, and he twisted the elf’s nipple hard before grabbing onto her hair and She was rewarded first with hard twist of her nipple and then the human grabbed her hair simply rammed his cock deep into her throat, forcing her to gag on it.

“Maybe the bitch will learn better,” be barked, guiding her head with his hands, “if she sees the alternative!”

Athuum was amazed how Sanguinar’s followers always managed to find some new way to make her feel humiliated, despite everything they had already done to her. She was kneeling in dirty ground, with her legs and hands tied, servicing a dirty human slaver with her warm, wet mouth, taking his long cock and sucking it like some kind of cheap port whore. Sucking one of her slaver’s dick was maybe less painful than rape, but to so willing serve one of the scum was also far more humiliating than almost anything she could think of. What was even worse, he was just using her as an object lesson to another rape victim, abusing her mouth to teach the girl was was expected from her as one of the church’s new whores.

“Mpff!” Athuum gagged on the man’s hard cock as he started to enter her mouth deeper and deeper.

“Yeah, move your tongue elf, suck me good!” He shouted but although she tried to suck on his dick the best she could, her efforts were in vain as he grabbed the back of her head and started to move in or out even faster, literary raping her face like a cunt. Athuum gagged hard on his cock as it pushed further into her mouth, the head hitting the back of her throat and even pumping in further, her constricting throat massaging it, much to Aion’ enjoyment. She tried to move back but his grip on her head was like steel, never letting her move even an inch while he began to thrust back and forth, his hips slamming his cock deep into her mouth before pulling out again, but never for long enough to let her get a clean breath and recover from his onslaught.

Her gag reflex brought new tears to her eyes, tears she hated herself for. How could she be so weak, to let them degrade her so? Her tongue ran along the underside of his shaft, tickling it, much to his enjoyment. Her cheeks had turned dark with shame, the thought of what she was doing here being even worse than the brutal use of her body… she was servicing him, working to bring him pleasure.

“Oh, you elf whore!” Aion groaned, his grip tightening even more as he pushed his hips forward, burying the entire length of his cock in her mouth and throat, cutting off her air supply and making her convulse as she nearly fainted, her throat constricting hard around the invading shaft from lack of oxygen. Her eyes bulged as she began to struggle to get away, even though her efforts were in vain. She felt his heavy, hairy balls push against her chin as he forced her to deepthroat him, holding her head in place without any pity as he stood there, laughing at her gargling and gagging.

“Yes, Athuum… choke on my cock. Choke on your better’s cock!” Athuum’s eyes began to mist over as she felt the lack of air, her vision getting blurry as she slowly sunk into unconsciousness. Aion would not let her escape so easily. Just heartbeats before she would sink into darkness, the human pulled back, his cock slipping out of her mouth until only a thick strand of saliva connected it to her lips. Athuum gasped hard, panting, her mind clearing as she filled her lungs with precious air.

Unfortunately, Aion wouldn’t let her rest, pushing her head towards his crotch again, his cock meeting no resistance as it slid between her lips yet again… and Athuum knew better than to disobey. The elf began to suck again.

“Are you paying attention, Emilia?” He asked. “This is what an eager little cocksucker you’ll be by the time we’re finished with you!” Aion chuckled, pumping his cock slowly in the elf’s mouth while he looked down at the sobbing blond girl, witnessing her future suffering through the proxy of Athuum.

“Your making me cum, whore!” Aion finally said, feeling his balls churn with a heavy load. Athuum closed her eyes, preparing herself for the awful taste which she had come to know all too well. But still, when he groaned and the first torrent of cum splattered across her tongue, she wanted to throw up, so strong was her nausea. Fear of his retaliation was all that allowed her to control it as his cock pumped cum into her warm mouth. Pleading for mercy from any god who could hear her, Athuum began to swallow mouthful after mouthful of the human’s vile cum before he finally pulled out, allowing the last spurt to hit her on her right cheek, the slimy white substance drawing a line over one of her black tattoos.

“That was good, elf, don’t you think?” The man said, patting her hair while grabbing a handful of her red hair to wipe his cock clean with. Athuum looked down, not wanting to acknowledge anything else but herself. Her mind was trying to shut out what she had just done and retreat away from the suffering, the sobbing of the farmer’s daughter, the pleased look on the priest’s face.

Lahk’s voice roared through the clearing. “Aion, get over here. Look what we found!” The high priest came into sight, carrying an identical brunette over each shoulder, the twins bound tightly and squealing.

Aion laughed and look down at the fire haired druid. “Looks like you get a reprieve, cunt. Aren’t you the lucky one…”


Alassiel cleaned her dagger on one of the thick rugs as she rose, leaving the lecherous seer to bleed on the floor, staining his preposterous props of petty sorcery. “Filth,” she shuddered, sheathing the blade.

She had not wanted to kill Danith, but she had no intention of laying with him, or anyone else again in her life. Given that, he knew too much about her and her quest, and she knew his loyalty was for sale. Simpler this way, then.

Caer would not be happy, she knew. Revenancy put her above the judgment of men, but not above the judgment of the gods. It was likely that the Lord of Balance would not find in her favor on the matter, but that was after she was dead. It was a concern for later.

The elf climbed back down the dark tower, her mind lost in plans for the future. She would be leaving Shevarn and Dorn soon.

The road she had to follow was known to Alassiel now, the of the final quest of her nearly century-long life.

Given that, the elf had no regrets to offer. She had too many questions, too many preparations, and to many fantasies of seeing Lahk bleeding before her.

“Caer sing you to your rest, Danith.” the elf said, then walked out into the night.

One thought on “Chapter 3: A Taste of Things to Come

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