The Maiden's Progress (Airindel & Vekseid)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Airindel on 27-03-2008, 20:33:21</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>27-03-2008, 20:33:21</strong>
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				The early spring sun, the orb of deep yellow marred with molten and fire hung in a cloudless sky, and cast a multitude of rays upon the earth. Those radiant beams pooled along the flowing cascade of newly unfurled leaves, ripples of green afresh with life, with vitality, with energy, and the golden beams of light filtered through the canopy of leaves, through the veins of tree branches that webbed together, and danced along the forest floor that was soft with decaying debris and newly sprouted grasses. The tread of feet were quiet upon the near marshy ground as were the hooves of horses and the wheels that adorned the gilded cage, one swathed in a sheer golden curtain, an apparatus that was divinely crafted, elegant, unearthly sacred for as it glistened in the sunlight, it too housed and kept the future bride for the King of the Sidhe. <br><br>Her name was Iari Tyaisrin of the Fey House Seulalloru, and since her birth, the elven maiden was veiled and caged for the King, a treaty made centuries ago to keep peace between kingdoms, strengthening noble houses, and not once had the maiden ever questioned her destiny, her fate, but only had acceptance for it. It inspired respect and awe for it was said, rumoured, that her beauty was not matched from any on the earth, that her skin was milk white, flawless, silken soft to the touch, and that her hair was spun of the finest mithral, shades of silver metallic that would make the moon weep for lack of lustre and the dwarven gods envious. It was further believed that her patience, her kindness, knew no boundaries, and her touch cured the direst ailments. One never knew what was rumour or truth when it came to the maiden Iari of the House Seulalloru, but one fact remained: a select procession, small but with a strong force of elven warriors, now accompanied the gilded cage to new homelands afar, across the continent where plains and forest and mountainous terrain would be journeyed. The procession had started nearly two months prior, but time and travel knew naught with elves, and days blended together seamlessly without notice or care, and only was it known that the King would receive his elf bride by the heart of winter.<br><br>&nbsp;“You're being peculiarly pensive.” Aethe murmured in Iari's ear as she curled a strand of silver hair within her fingers, intricately braiding and knotting her Lady's thick lustrous hair. Before the lady-in-waiting, practically curled in the lap of Aethe, Iari's luscious body listlessly lounged. Iari's gown of white shimmered with silver embroidery, glimmered with pearls and crystals sewn into the opulent fabric, but not a word did Iari say, not for the longest time for indeed, she was lost in thoughts, drowning in them. <br><br>&nbsp;“I have been informed that my future husband, my future King, has a fondness and lust for mortal women.” Iari said, her voice low, and her breath perfumed with cream and honey. &nbsp;“That he lures them to his home, his kingdom, and keeps them as one would a flower garden, and not one against her will. I find this curious, maybe even concerning, for I do not know if I will please him with my appearance.”<br><br>Aethe smiled and slipped a kiss upon her Lady's lips, one of affection, one that a friend would bestow upon another friend. &nbsp;“Mortals are ghastly hairy creatures with blemished warty skin,&nbsp; bulky bodies, a foul odour, and are incredibly witless and unintelligent. They are best to be avoided, my dear, and so I have no doubt or fear that your husband will worship you as he ought to.” Her lips were close to that of her Lady's, close to bestow another kiss, and as the thought lingered in Aethe's mind, both elven maidens sat upright and clutched one another's hands at the inaudible and unfamiliar noise that snaked and cut through the air.<br><br>A crossbow bolt sliced through the golden curtain, and as sunlight fell onto Iari's voluptuous body, something that was forbidden, the ladies screamed. Their echoes of terror were lost amongst the foul word “Orcs!” The commotion of anarchy, of battle, surrounded the gilded cage as Orc scouts poured forth from the rocky pass that encompassed the elven procession, and as elf and orc were slaughtered alike, it became nothing more than a blur of motion.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>27-03-2008, 22:09:44</strong>
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				Daern held back in the distance, bow ready and arrow knocked, but not yet drawn, his breath nearly silent.&nbsp; He found it curious that an elven wagon would be taking the north road - Ansion fell decades ago, and now the region has been overrun by the various fell tribes.&nbsp; He was a bit surprised that such a prized wagon had even made it a month into the fallen kingdom's old lands, but he recognized the symbols emblazoned on the guard's chests - and so did the orcs.&nbsp; No doubt six of the warted brutes would fall for every fey guardsman, but the orcs had planned for that, and brought a small army.<br><br>Stroking the brown stubble on his chin, he pondered and thought.&nbsp; He was a good warrior, and willing to match himself against any single beast, but this ambush was thoroughly planned, with numbers to back it and some to spare. The wisest course of action would be to leave the caravan to its fate - a mystery for the sidhe to solve over the coming centuries at their lazy pace.<br><br>But it was a carriage, and for all their pomp, Daern never knew an elven man to hide within the walls of such a cage. Whoever it was carrying was not only exceedingly important, but also - even more importantly to Daern, a female. Elven men despised such thoughts, and two had challenged him to a duel over various 'unsightly' comments. They had since joined their goddess...<br><br>A smirk grew across his angled face as he drew his bow as the orcs drew theirs, picking out the leader. There were far, far too many of them to hope to get out of this uninjured.&nbsp; But, if he was lucky, he would survive.&nbsp; If he was luckier, perhaps some of the rumors of elven healing abilities would be true. <br><br><hr><br>His arrow flew just as the orc commander gave the order to fire, spitting its neck and causing it to fall with a loud gurgle. The orcs were ambushers first and guardians last, not even noticing the loss of their organizing force as they rushed in while the elven shield wall formed around the cage - guarding those places where an arrow might enter. The twin horses - majestic and priceless by human standards - received more arrows than the elves did - a tribute to the orc's hunger for meat, Daern figured.&nbsp; Remaining arrows bounced off of the gold of the cage, impaled themselves on shields, or missed entirely.<br><br>Their bows useless, the orcs dropped them and rushed, and throwing daggers flew from elf and orc hands alike. Another arrow from Daern's bow found the lieutenant just as he realized his captain had fallen, and already the elves were beginning to feel the benefit of the disorder.<br><br>A third arrow found purchase in a cowardly orc, waiting for his brothers to die so that he might be more certain of claiming a prize.&nbsp; Every moment an elf's blade was stuck in an orc was a moment that blade could not countercut, and the stronger orcs slammed bodily into the shields, sometimes braining the elf behind them.<br><br>A fourth arrow entered the back of another orc, and the elf whose life he temporarily saved noticed him. "We have aid!" The elf called out, and the orcs made a fatal mistake - looking for Dearn.&nbsp; Twelve orcs died in two blinks of an eye, only one of them from Daern's fifth arrow.<br><br>For the remaining elven men, it was a temporary grace - the orcs making their way towards Daern did not ease their numbers, it was simply because Daern was a possible target.&nbsp; Three more arrows flew before the human was forced to abandon his bow, twin blades dancing and weaving amidst the frenzied charge of orcish cleavers.<br><br>Daern did not have time to think much, or overly analyze the situation.&nbsp; Though it was risky, he bounded around the orcs, slowly leading them back to the carriage and its golden prize.&nbsp; A cleaver caught his shoulder lightly, tearing out several chain links and scratching at his skin. He did not let the way orcs treat their blades enter far into his mind.<br><br>Nine dead elves - three left, but two were crippled.&nbsp; Eighty dead orcs - twenty left. Daern was now only facing six, who were still foolishly trying to surround him, allowing him to pick them off one by one.&nbsp; The crippled elves each faced six themselves, taking out one last orc apiece before being repeatedly skewered.<br><br>The final elven guardian was a true master - or perhaps mistress? of the art of the blade. Dodging away from his orcs, he made his way to the remaining elf, to help form a flank...
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>29-03-2008, 00:19:02</strong>
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				The beating of the Weapon Master's heart steadily strummed in her thin chest, echoed the pulsing of her blood flowing through her veins, throbbing in her ears, in her head, and it rhythmically coincided with the steady breathing that was not deep nor shallow, but perfect inhalations and exhalations. She was at peace, and at one with her blades; finely crafted metal, intricately engraved with elven designs, and perfectly balanced. The swords were nothing more than extensions of her lithe body, and with her body, they moved in perfect unison, a continuous fluid motion of graceful agility, elegant balance and deadly forms. In the activity that erupted around her, nary a fracture of time did she have to distinguish friend from foe; often the calm breathing of the elves, or the clean scent of their flesh was more than enough to rely on: trusted her instincts, she did.<br><br>Her name was Nyseiva Tathr of the Fey House Seulalloru, younger sister of Iari Tyaisrin, and being the second born afforded her the freedom Iari could not have, yet Nyseiva bound herself with duty to Iari, and swore an oath, one sealed with blood, at an early age to always protect her beloved Iari, future Queen of the Sidhe. Never did her loyalty sway, never was it doubted, not then in peaceful times nor now when there seemed to be a never ending sea of orcs,&nbsp; a flood of their vile contamination whom had slaughtered the fey, slaughtered the kin of the House Seulalloru, and cursing the orc god and his hordes of green skins that breed like flies on shit, Nyseiva carved her blades into all that she could letting their blood flow onto the earth spilling freely.<br><br>“We have aid!”<br><br>Little heed did Nyseiva pay to those words, and although she was grateful for the aid, she thought it was curious as to why one would risk their own life to aid that of strangers, that of elves, that of fey. It was a male human who gave her flank, who had claimed the lives of countless orcs, and as her blades sliced into the last remaining green skin, as it snorted and grunted to the ground, Nyseiva pulled free her blades, flicked them clean of blood and stood face to face with the male human. Her eyes, amber with golden flecks within them, studied the large being whom towered over her as if he were an ancient oak, and believing that he meant no harm to her, or to that which the gilded cage held, Nyseiva peeled her helm from her head. Tresses of gold cascaded over her shoulders, pooled down her back in delicate braids and strands of straight hair, and she sniffled at the air around her. It was pungent of orc blood, and the human's sweat, something in which she was unused to, yet the muskiness did not bother her. It only made the elf lick her reddened lips.<br><br>&nbsp;“Thank you for your kindness which you bestowed upon us, our people. It shall not be forgotten, and well remembered. The Fey House Seulalloru will be in your debt, as will I, Nyseiva of the said House.” Nyseiva said, her voice as nectarous as the ripest fruits of summer, perfumed with the scent of cherry; the words said in common tongue were eloquently broken and highly accented. &nbsp;“May I have the privilege to blessed with the name of my ally?” It seemed to be a simple question, and as the inquiry was made, the elf soaked in her surrounds of death, and surveyed the forest noting a pair of eyes peering at her from the curtain. <br><br>&nbsp;“It is safe of green skins, but do not trust the human, I am uncertain of him until I know his true intentions.” The words were said in elven tongue, and then Nyseiva smiled at the man once more, her beauty noteworthy.<br><br>From the narrowest of slits in the golden sheer curtain, Aethe spied Nyseiva conversing with what appeared to be a human, and an ill begotten sensation slithered through her, and she quickly knitted the sheer curtain together after the Weapon Master spoke. &nbsp;“It is human who aids us, one of the ghastly ones I forewarned you of, my lady.”<br><br>Iari, her eyes clouded from weeping, tears that glistened on her milk white skin like polished diamonds, gestured to Aethe with her thin hand that no more she wished to hear of her words. &nbsp;“It is hurt, wounded, and being our ally during this ambush, a bleak time that has claimed the lives of my people, I will aid this human creature you speak of and ease his suffering to the best of my ability.”&nbsp; She knew the words set ill with Aethe for she turned to spy on Iari's sister and the human once more.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>29-03-2008, 04:41:48</strong>
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				Daern remained by the fey's side during the remaining fight, locking step with her so that they could bound and pick the orcs off one by one as they foolishly tried to circle them.&nbsp; This close, watching her, he knew that this had to be a female.&nbsp; Her walk was different, and her figure.&nbsp; It distracted him a fair deal, but he did not let it make him shake or tumble.&nbsp; No doubt the smaller female could hear the pounding of his heart.<br><br>When it was finished, a cloth relieved his blades of the orc's black blood, sheathing them silently, not taking his eyes off of her while she removed her helm. His heart rushed at the thought of seeing a female elf, so jealously guarded by their males that two of them impaled themselves on his swords just for his comment.<br><br>Daern was a large human, as many with Veljuk lineage go, tall, pale skinned, not yet reaching seven feet tall with his boots and cap.&nbsp; He had his mother's eyes, however, brown and dark, regarding the visage before him softly and patiently, reminding his own sexual drive that they were hundreds of miles from help. His own brown hair was kept cut for his shoulders, a simpler thing when spending months on his own.&nbsp; He pondered, as her delicate voice rang across his ears, if his smell repulsed her as it did elven males. She was creating a quiet yearning - something primal that called to him merely from seeing and hearing her.<br><br><em>No wonder they guard them so jealously.</em> He said, listening. <em>House Seulalloru? Isn't that the ruling house of Wesvheil?</em> The humans had extremely shortened, bastardized terms for each of the sidhe kingdoms. He could not fault her politeness, for certain, and he bowed deeply at her request, never letting his gaze leave her.<br><br>"I am Daern... once of House Mekkoran and chosen of Talthus, but now cast from both." He said, rising. He waited for her to finish in elvish, and returned with his own, also broken and thickly accented.&nbsp; "And you would be wise not to trust a human here." He said with a slight smile. "This place fell to the goblin hordes before I was born-" He said, returning to his native tongue. "-why would such an important procession take this route? You are hundreds of miles from safety in any direction." It was a half-truth, but one he could explain later. His eyes left the perfection of Nyseiva's face to glance at his surroundings - namely the gilded cage and the fallen elves.&nbsp; Within ten paces of him was more wealth than most duchies. He could not help but feel a bit of greed...<br><br>He shook his head a bit, looking back into the gaze of that perfect face, speaking in elvish again, louder and slower that he could be clearly understood by those within the cage. "There are holy places scattered across Ansion that still stand - hallows of strengths that the orcs could not desecrate, and the dread king's treachery could not betray. You were safe so far because of the orc's losses at the battles of Aun'thuardum and Seivloch, but for a mere two warriors, come night, we would get no rest..."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>31-03-2008, 20:32:40</strong>
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				Nyseiva, her facial expression did not change, did not waiver, when the human male known as Daern&nbsp; addressed her in Fey. The complex and exquisite language was regrettably known to few humans, and never should it have been spoken by them. Humans lacked an eloquent tongue, lacked the limberness of that solitary muscle and like the slaughtered orcs that surrounded them, the Fey language was mutilated, yet Nyseiva forgave Daern for it.&nbsp; She was amused by his attempt, or more correctly, she was curious about the unknown, and was fascinated by his being. <br><br>It was the first time she had been face to face with a human, a male at that, and she needed every ounce of strength not to yield to temptation and explore him then and there. The short prickles of hair that poked out of his face were interesting, and the muskiness, the odour that scented his skin and crass clothing, what the male elves found appalling about male humans, she did not find repulsive. It was peculiar. What did concern her was his words, and the trailing glance at the gilded cage. No longer were their horses alive to pull it, and it would need to be abandoned if they were to survive the wilds. <br><br><em>Yet Iari. Precious Iari.</em><br><br>Thoughts became bleaker, and as the elf stepped closer to Daern, her eyes darkened; the reflection of her thoughts mirrored in them. &nbsp;“Believe you me, Daern formerly of the House Mekkoran, and formerly the chosen of Talthus, our scouts approved of this passage for they were here less then half century ago. All was peaceful then, as it should be now, but given the circumstances, I have little doubt that the foul putrid creatures, these orcs, are at unrest.” Her voice was still quiet, still sensuously nectarous, and as her feet padded silently closer to him, as she drew impossibly near, she peered up to him and studied the angular features of his face. <br><br>&nbsp;“And <em>We</em>?”&nbsp; A curious smile curved her lips then as she fell into contemplation over his last few words. &nbsp;“Do you casually grace and busy yourself with the Royal affairs of the Fey? Many humans are wary of us, approach us gingerly as they should, for we are not the most reputable in your culture.” She asked, and stepped around him, circled him, and noted his wound in his shoulder. &nbsp;“Offer you our gratitude we can, offer you healing we can, and offer you protection in our homelands we can, yet why choose to help those that you do not know? That goes against my teachings about the human race. Please do enlighten me,” Nyseiva insisted, and once more stood before the man.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>31-03-2008, 21:24:33</strong>
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				His eyes followed her as the lithe elf circled him, turning only his neck, freely allowing her to walk behind him. His glance was curious, and examining more of her figure than a proper member of the gentry aught. Her legs, even beneath her armor, were beyond perfect. She was taller and lither than the Duchess was, but she carried himself with that same sway... that glide, that led to his planned execution...<br><br>Nyseiva seemed just as fascinated, if not more so, and his loins burned at just the thought of her touch. He restrained himself, however, but, knowing the senses of elves, she would smell it soon.&nbsp; It sent their males into a rage...&nbsp; But somehow he got the impression that this may turn differently.<br><br>"I find it hard to believe..."&nbsp; He said quietly "...that even the reclusive elves did not know of the Dread King's bargain."&nbsp; He shook his head slightly.&nbsp; Her voice was soothing, almost healing on its own.&nbsp; He wondered at the sorts of skilled vibrations she could make...<br><br>-THAT- thought nearly made him convulse. He stood firm, but his heart pounded so loudly it nearly drowned out her words.<br><br>"You are not aware of human codes of honor?&nbsp; To my knowledge many of the most basic ones have lasted longer than most elves." His response was calm, and he nodded. "Fey or no, it is the duty of men who are able to assist the fairer sex through hardship and ward them against danger."<br><br>He smiled at her, eyes glossing over her figure again.&nbsp; "And, I too, am curious."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>01-04-2008, 04:08:51</strong>
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				Nyseiva's eyebrow arched, and the smile upon her face broadened, and from those very lips came laughter; not mocking, but melodious airy notes that fluttered in the near still breeze, and danced along all that represented life: the trees, flowers, grasses, and all who survived the ambush. The lingering sweet noise bathed every inch of&nbsp; Daern, perfumed him in a surreal mirthfulness, and the voice that followed was playfully curious edged with criticism. &nbsp;“Codes of honor amongst men, yes, I have studied the said aforementioned and peculiar it is that a man fallen from the House Mekkoran, and a former chosen of Talthus addressed something that he may not be overly familiar with, or like many before you, are you wrongly condemned and ostracised?” <br><br>No mention did Nyseiva have of the pungent odour that enlivened Daern's body, that which subtly hinted at an interest in her, a heightening arousal, and as much as she adored the idea of a human male lusting for her, there were points in his conversation to drain her body of inquisitiveness. Queer, it was that the Counsel had not mentioned the Dread King's bargain, and it plagued her mind, darkened her thoughts, and as she waited for Daern's retort, amber eyes, those that were Nyseiva's, studied the gilded cage and wondered for her sister's safety; low voices, Aethe talking with Iari could be heard, and the strain in Iari's voice said much and indicated that she was weeping for the dead. Longed, Nyseiva did, to be by Iari's side, to hold her, comfort her, yet it was not her duty. <br><br>Not ten paces from the gilded cage did Daern stand with her, and although she did not know the senses of humans, how keen they were, she was aware of the possibility that he noted the distress within the women's voices. The conversation within the cage prickled at Nyseiva's ears, and her smile soon vanished into nothingness.<br><br>That conversation, one between Aethe and Iari, seemed too complex to be of such few phrases and yet it was nothing more.<br><br>Aethe had wrinkled her nose. &nbsp;“The creature wishes to corrupt our Nyseiva; his stench, that pungent odour, denotes it. The scent and idea is repulsive although it is far better to have his lecherous thoughts directed towards Nyseiva then you. Remain pure, you must, my Lady.” Aethe whispered, her words nothing that Iari had not already known for the particulars of the Sidhe King were memorized deep into her mind for well over two hundred years.<br><br>&nbsp;“You worry needlessly, and it is not our immediate threat, Aethe.” Iari said while she wiped dry the tears that freely flowed over her cheeks as she desperately tried to collect her wits and composure. &nbsp;“I wish to speak to him, this creature called Daern, alone. See to it.” Iari bid her lady-in-waiting, and for a moment a horrified expression washed over Aethe's face, yet she stepped out of the cage, and made the announcement clearly. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>01-04-2008, 12:16:57</strong>
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				"Mmmm." He took a single step, circling her partly. "Oh, they were very much right to cast me out. I fled to Ansion because it was safer for me..." He said with a smile, his voice softening as he saw her turn her attention to the cage, listening, and he listened as well.<br><br>He could not make out the handmaiden's whispers, not in he battle-stirred air. The voice that followed, however, nearly sent him into shock. He looked at Nyseiva again as he listened - the similarity between their voices unmistakable, and the clear, crisp aura of command that they echoed spoke of a voice used to being obeyed. He had an idea, then, just whom he had the honor of aiding.<br><br>The thought quelled his arousal, some.&nbsp; Not because he had any less desire, but, rather, an acceptance by his body that primal instincts were not the proper path. His loins still strained painfully against his leathers, slightly tenting the hauberk that covered them.<br><br>Elven men had spread many rumors about their beloved princess. Any male who saw her would have his eyes removed, and the memory of her impossible beauty stricken from their minds. It made him smile lightly.&nbsp; He was a 'creature' instead.<br><br>The visage of the delicate handmaiden froze him for a moment, his mind drinking in her form with no less lust than that of Nyseiva.&nbsp; Closing his eyes a moment, he bowed deeply at the instruction, and, turning to Nyseiva, he spoke, voice slightly wavering. "If I should become entranced, rescue me before the sun's shadow marks the hour. The closest hallow is of yet six miles, and I ill wish to leave elven craftsmanship in the hands of orcs."<br><br>He took nine paces forward, closing his eyes and kneeling before the entrance to the cage, not even glancing at the handmaiden. Letting his pack fall to the ground, he undid his swordbelt, carefully setting his sheathed blades aside, along with his quiver, and a pair of daggers unstrapped from his chausses. Another pair he withdrew from the sleeves of his hauberk, and he slowly lifted the great mass of chain from his body, revealing the much simpler gembesan and tunic.&nbsp; Rolling it and setting it aside, he did the same, somewhat awkwardly, each chausses after he removed his boots.<br><br>The heavy, slow beat of his chest was far more pronounced without so much chain weighing it down, though the heavy gambesan and other articles hid most of his skin. He pondered a moment, wondering of the woman he addressed spoke any of the basal human tongues. It was a difficult situation, being forced to choose between butchering her speech or uttering one that she might not know.<br><br>"I must humbly apologize for my dress, fair sidhe, for I have been away from home for some months. But I come to you, unarmed and unarmored, and if you bid I shall enter."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>02-04-2008, 05:55:23</strong>
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				&nbsp;“I, Iari Tyaisrin of the Fey House Seulalloru, bid you, human male named Daern, once of the House Mekkoran and once chosen of Talthus, to enter my sanctuary, freely, and with the good intent of friendship.” The voice was rapturously empyrean, enthralling, and low the words were spoken. As if divinity, as if the ancient gods and goddesses bid him to entwine his fate and seal it to and with the elf maiden Iari, the breeze of the day stirred, leaves rustled, whispered and danced in the wind, and the beams of the glorious sun cascaded onto the golden cage, onto the curtains that were tattered and torn, and through through those tears light, natural and pure, radiated onto the elven princess for the first time since her birth. <br><br>Reclined the elf maiden was upon opulent cushions, those that were elaborately embroidered, those that were made of the finest material. The hues were enticingly white and mirrored reflections of snow, reflections of frost, reflections of regal swans and peaceful doves, and what bid those colours to end, and the colours of her gown to begin or that of her skin, one could barely tell the subtle differences of colour. There was a heat to her flesh, however, not one that could be seen, but one that was palpable within the air, one that stirred with life, and that heat created a luster, a moonlit glow that made her unblemished skin seem unearthly and ethereal and upon it was the lightest mist of tears that gleamed; eyes of pale grey, large and exotic, studied him with equal fascination matched by Nyseiva, but unlike Nyseiva, he was the first male ever to be presented to her and Iari was awestruck. <br><br>&nbsp;“Join me please,” Iari gestured to the nearby cushions, those that were only two feet away from her, those that were scented of her, of Aethe; perfumed flesh that hungered for affection, yet never truly granted. &nbsp;“Let us speak of the words you have chosen to say to my sister, Nyseiva, that certainly the reclusive elves, those whom we are, should have known of the discontent of the greenskins, this Dread King, and yet, here we are, ambushed, and aided by you, and quite unaware I was of the dangers.&nbsp; Never would I allow my people to befall those dangers, not unnecessarily, and now at one they are with the Goddess. If I follow your questions, it guides me to a path that is dark, and one that may speak of treason something which is more than peculiar for my people. It is a trait, a habit, I believe, not known amongst the elves, not readily.” Iari gave him a curious look, and drew near him, closed all distance that separated him.<br><br>Deeply, she inhaled. The scent of a pungent odour could be smelled, that of fear, that exertion, and the scent of salt, of a muskiness that faintly linger indicated previous arousal, his lust for Nyseiva, and it only made Iari smile, one that was almost demure. The blood too, it overwhelmed her, the scent of ferrous. &nbsp;“A dangerous road, a dangerous fate you will have if you aid us, Daern, especially if what I speak may be true, but I promise that a welcomed safety you will have in my new homeland if you do. Think on it, you must, and let me know, you will. Now, your wound must be tended to, if I may?” Iari said, her words as melodious as before, not one spoken as if truly sad even though the circumstances presented were grim. Instead, she leaned over his body, and peered at his wound; silken tresses of silver hair bathed Daern's torso, and the faintest giggle came from the elven maid when she recalled that the humans were ghastly creatures. &nbsp;“You will need to remove your garments. The wound, I cannot properly see it.” Iari told him, her words barely a whisper in his ear, and she could barely control the excitement that welled within her at the thought of being near something forbidden, a male, yet human he was, and so not forbidden. Her heart raced, and her breathing deepened if ever so slightly.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>02-04-2008, 15:34:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern rose slowly, entering the carriage with cautious steps, trying to avoid gawking at so much wealth concentrated in so little space...<br><br><em>Iari...</em><br><br>The name was known to him, if whispered softly and in fear.&nbsp; Certainly, he could already tell that there was some truth to the rumors - her voice was a command, as if embedding an instinct deep within him. Not just her wish that he enter, but also the friendship she wished to forge.<br><br>That conflicted with the other, more natural instincts gazing upon her instilled in him.There was no hauberk to hide his arousal, his thoughts drifting to those lips... and what they could do.&nbsp; The visage was so complete that, as if in a waking dream, he could see and feel her mouth, looking softly into those eyes...<br><br>And it made him wonder if another rumor was true, and that she also saw herself on her knees before him, performing acts that any elven male would kill or die to receive at all, much less from their princess.<br><br>He sat calmly, pausing in slight shock at her request, unable to remove his gaze from her even as he lifted his gambesan from him, setting it aside, wincing a bit as some of the cloth cracked and tore, and the same with the tunic as he lifted it from his body, revealing the pounding, pungent girth that lay beneath, pointing at the ceiling of the carriage, as if straining for it, quaking in the cold morning air.<br><br>The smell of his rotting clothes removed from him now, all that remained was him, staring at her face, her bosom, and her hips, hands gripping for any hold they could find, restraining himself from what his body screamed for him to do, unable to even speak.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>04-04-2008, 00:54:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The creature before Iari, that of the male human, that of Daern, it was unknown to Iari if he was perfect or not, but as her eyes absorbed his form, as it was eternally sketched into her memory, a deep curiosity rooted within her, and unlike the elven maidens that were now forbidden to enter the cage, Iari's sanctuary, she had all freedom and liberty to touch and explore him at her will. The desire was strong for no male elf or human had she seen, not even her own father: duty and obedience and loyalty to the Sidhe King prevented her; no shame would she have on her name, on her body, that which belonged to the Sidhe King. She knelt before Daern, and as she closed the distance between them, as her silk gown caressed and bathed his supple sun drenched skin, Iari peered into the man's eyes and offered him the demurest smile. <br><br>&nbsp;“My intent is to heal you, Daern, no more and no less, for I am untouched by mankind of my race, of all races, and you are the first male ever to have seen me and survive, and likewise, you are the first male I have seen and took the pleasure in,” Her voice, soft and mellow, was perfumed with the scent of mead, and it trickled divinely in the thin close air between them. What may have been construed as bold and vulgar by human nature, it was not for her kind, not of the Fey, and as she leaned to whisper in his ear, her cheek, flesh that was silken, that was ambrosial, caressed that of his. The mere sensation of his hairs, the stubble, caught her breath and sent a coursing heavenly shiver through her body that enticed the yearnings, the cravings that she commanded into suppression, and near faint Iari was for only the body and flesh of Aethe had she felt, her and Nyseiva.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;“My handmaiden,” Iari murmured into his ear, her breath delicately dancing on his skin. &nbsp;“My bidding she does, and what I cannot do, what is forbidden for me, she will do, and do at my word for me. Allow me then to heal you, and soothe the restraining ache that plagues your body.” With no word further said, and perhaps with thought alone, Aethe entered the gilded cage, lowered herself before Iari, before Daern; her copper hair fell loose about her shoulders, curled in long ringlets, and exotic chestnut hue eyes, large and exquisitely shaped peered at the couple and awaited for Iari to speak.<br><br>Aethe needn't express her displeasure, her horror and trepidation that rippled through her thin curvaceous body. Iari knew her dislike of those who were non-fey, a repulsive trait, but one that was rich within their society. &nbsp;“My Nyseiva I would ask, but be on guard she must, and so you will delight me by describing Daern to me, and help me ease his ache and pain and wound by pleasuring him as human males like to be pleasured. Of that manner I do not know, and he will instruct you, and indulge him we will, you will, for his kind effort in helping us and our people.” Iari said, her voice luxurious in the closed space, and as Aethe nodded in agreement, the maiden's hands slid over Daern's feet intensively exploring at the same time that Iari placed her thin cool hands upon the bleeding wound.<br><br>&nbsp;“The skin on the soles is rough, calloused near the heel,” Aethe whispered to Iari, and nervously, the handmaiden bit her bottom lip as her fingertips trailed over his ankle, caressed it, and a blush set to her pale cheeks.<br><br>&nbsp;“The blood weeping from the wound is cooling, yet the skin around the wound burns, and is irritated. Infected it is.” Iari said to Daern, offered him a smile, and as it was offered Nyseiva stood outside the cage barely breathing as Aethe continued to touch and describe the human male that she desired.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>04-04-2008, 12:44:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Eventually, Daern managed to collect himself through a steady breath, his manhood still raging, but now he had set aside his more basal desires, a slight quivering passing as he felt the touch of her cheek, the hand of his wounded arm cautiously reaching around her, only gently brushing the fabric of her cloth.<br><br>"I am honored, Lady Iari Tyaisrin of House Seulalloru, to be graced with your presence... and visage." He swallowed a bit, having a desire to drag her onto him right then, exposed as he was. But no matter how great his desire, his logic prevailed.&nbsp; Such an act could well doom them all, at least until they reached a hallow. There, she would have to make a decision, and no such decision allowed bringing the carriage with. They would likely be together for a very, very long time. Long enough to have second thoughts about the crazed king she would be wed to.<br><br>Or maybe even first thoughts.<br><br>The very idea that she took pleasure in him nearly set him off, his raging shaft quaking and screaming to just take her. <em>Patience...</em> He smiled back at her.&nbsp; "You desire me?" He said, half teasing.<br><br>Her handmaiden... a beauty to rival any human.&nbsp; It let him retain his sanity, that Iari's attendant was not the divine purity of the princess and - he would guess - her most loyal sister. He almost could not comprehend her&nbsp; words, difficult to believe she would order another elven maiden to root herself on his member.<br><br>He obviously repulsed the handmaiden, as humans in general repulsed many elves. But she did not even hesitate in her obedience, kneeling between his legs, before him. After she described his feet, he felt himself compelled, following the princess's word even though her order did not specifically direct him.&nbsp; "One should also describe taste, for her mistress..."<br><br>The thought made him bite his lip in order to prevent a smile.&nbsp; Two elven men died for the honor of all elven women, regarding what Daern said of his penis and their tongues.<br><br>"Orc blades always infect..&nbsp; normally the wound must be burnt..." He said, responding to Iari.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>05-04-2008, 04:20:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aethe's touch, the trail of her fingertips, was unobtrusive as the slender digits entwined in the soft hairs of his legs, gently pulled at the length of them, and closely she studied them. Her breath, warm and enticing, rolled over the soft hairs, misted his skin and as the handmaiden fell into fascination, barely did she hear the words spoken to her by the man she now examined with great care. Eyes, bright and curious, those filled with trepidation, those filled with vague disdain for the human blinked at his request, his demand, but too, Aethe noticed the extreme subtlety of Iari's movement, her touch upon the wound, a gesture within a gesture and with silent obedience, the handmaiden rose to her feet.<br><br>&nbsp;“I am yours to command, and yours at Iari's will,” Aethe breathed out, her voice pure and appeasing as the now natural silence of the forest surrounded the gilded cage, and enveloped them in a peace that was only known after a slaughter, after death. It was alluring, but what shadowed the enticement of Aethe was the simple discard of her gown of&nbsp; brown silk with intricate copper frogging along the hem and sleeves. Now naked Aethe was, and her pale skin deeply contrasted with Daern's rich bronzed flesh; lithe and thin she was, yet the curves were voluptuous, and her breasts were ample, perfectly rounded with pale nipples that grew hard in the coolness of the hint of the breeze that fluttered the near still and tattered golden curtains that allotted privacy to Iari and her inner sanctuary. <br>&nbsp;<br>Iari said nothing. Privately pleased she was with Aethe, her compliance and reward her, Iari would, but what delighted the Fey more was not only the hint of surprise in Daern's voice as he spoke of her, Iari, desiring him, but his arm that cradled her, and the heat of his hand.&nbsp; As her own hand pressed onto the infectious bleeding wound, the other directly opposite, Iari closed her eyes to relish the touch that Daern offered her, daringly, willingly, and it electrified as no other touch had. It made her breathless, made her gasp and ache, made her faint with greed; the hungry desire to keep him as her own, to want him as hers alone yet...<em>Yet nothing. </em>She could not, and the idea slipped from her mind, and replaced it was with torment, restlessness, and a murmur of a sigh, of discontentment came from her throat, and slipped through her parted lips that trembled with bound emotion.<br><br>In a strained whisper, one faint, one eerily beautiful and haunting, Iari breathed in Daern's ear. &nbsp;“Is not the forbidden always desirous? Always seductively tempting? And you, Daern, are forbidden for me, therefore, you are unyieldingly enticing.” Iari fell into silence, but not before her final words were spoken. &nbsp;“Rest now, Daern, and ease your mind and your tensions. Be at peace with yourself, and at one with us. Concentrate on the healing, and mending of your body.” As Iari inhaled, she concentrated on the powers of healing, the energy bestowed in her gift from the goddess; drew out&nbsp; negativity and the poison within the wound she began, and a flood of tingles would bathe the wound, and deeply penetrate to Daern's core, to seek out his essence and soothe him. <br><br>Only then did Aethe kneel betwixt the human's legs and lean over him, hover, she did and although she was repulsed by the pungent smell of sweat and arousal, she allowed the tip of her porous pink tongue to a faint and exploratory line to his thigh. She curved over his strong muscles, lapped at his skin and teased his hairs with her teeth before she lightly grazed them upon his flesh as if to taste and savour him. &nbsp;“Bittersweet, he is,” Aethe murmured, and delved closer to his innermost thighs.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>05-04-2008, 23:59:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He stared in awe, a bit of shock washing over him as Aethe - who clearly despised him - so willingly submitted at Iari's command. He refrained from smirking, not even able to echo a word in response as his quaking length visibly grew at the sight of her, bobbing madly in her direction as if demanding attention.<br><br><em>Forbidden.</em> He didn't like the word, his arm curling about her waist when she did not protest, caressing her gently as his hand slowly reached for her inner thigh, gently brushing near the apex, waiting for her response, applying slightly more pressure.&nbsp; Here, he had three elves, and the safety of the morning to explore them...<br><br>He did relax, waiting for the handmaiden to work her way north, exploring him with her tongue, watching the sway of those gentle breasts. His other hand reached out gently, lightly stroking her hair as if a pet, occasionally rubbing her ear. "It's the orbs and shaft that demand the most description..." He said quietly. "A lick and a kiss in between every word, every lick including lips and every kiss including tongue, until the Lady Iari Tyaisrin of House Seulalloru is no longer curious about them..."<br><br>That was... a bit cruel on Daern's part, but he could not resist...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>07-04-2008, 18:59:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Perched into the depths of the highest branches, those that wove together to canopy the forest floor, to shade that of the gilded cage and the carnage below, Nyseiva stood. Balanced of foot she was, still, and the spider that threaded along a web, that crawled along her armour and explored her had no effect on the elven maid. Simply, Nyseiva scanned the area for intrusive life, for anything that would pose a threat to her, to them, to her dearly beloved sister, Iari, but the world seemed still, uncomplicated, and as her eyes caught the rippling streams of sunlight that danced through the treetops and pooled along the forest floor, and the cage below, Nyseiva caught glimpses of movement through the torn curtains. Pale flesh, unnaturally lovely, draped over sun drenched bronzed skin that was ruggedly masculine, and padded over the finest and thinnest branches Nyseiva did to better her view, to peer into the cage, and rested there she did, to watch.<br><br>Saliva pooled in Nyseiva mouth, and with every kiss, every lick that Aethe bestowed on the human male, the one who had some talent with the sword, the one named Daern, Nyseiva swallowed. A tightness was in her throat, and she found herself breathing deeper, heavier, as the man's hand stroke Aethe's copper locks, and as his hand roamed over Iari to temptingly explore her as she healed him. Nyseiva whimpered with longing, and for a moment, she closed her eyes and suckled on her own finger pretending it was the masculinity of Daern. Pretended and fancied she did that her rosebud lips were stretched wide open, enclosed upon a heavy thick member, tasted the skin against her throat, her cheeks and her tongue, and the delicious thought made Nyseiva purr and sigh. The slight noise barely caught the attention of Iari, but all the same it did.<br><br>Scarcely could Iari concentrate on the energy needed to heal the man for many distractions there were: words were spoken by Aethe, motions of her body barely shifting along that of Daern's, and where Aethe failed to enjoy, Nyseiva did. They were all minor distractions, all that Iari could easily absorb or dismiss, yet what she could not dismiss was Daern's warm strong hand that lazily, curiously, roamed over her body, melted through her silken dress as if he pressed against her bare flesh, those of her innermost thighs. Iari trembled as he slid closer to her virginal sex, a closed flower willing to bloom and bask gloriously in carnal intention for her King, yet hardly could Iari ignore the vibrant sensations that lingered in her body when Daern pressed upon the apex of her delicate femininity. Her mouth, lips that were damp with saliva, with mead, fell agape as heated tingles, beads of electricity, moved over her spine, bathed it, washed to every cell of her being and enraptured her in blissfulness unknown to her. Different it was then Aethe's touch for it was more savage, rough, and it hungrily yearned and sought to sate that growing appetite.<br><br>A breeze rustled the leaves, and the tattered and torn curtains swept up and draped over the maidens, bathing them in golden metallic, and the languid tresses of their hair floated and streamed in the breeze. Iari's locks entwined around Daern, and as she ended the first cycle of his healing, she found herself flustered by the man's presence, and the distractions around them, around her. She struggled to clarify her mind, and struggled to free herself of the golden drapery that enfolded her, but she could not free herself of the heated sensations that floated&nbsp; within her, warmed her blood, made her nether lips feel damp, silky and the slightest sigh from her throat melted into the air as Aethe spoke.<br><br>&nbsp;“The,” Aethe began, and a cringe was noticeable to all who watched her as her mouth parted, and drew the pliable orb of flesh delicately into her mouth, suckled on the salty flesh, let her tongue glide across the skin, that which was heated on her moist pink tongue. Of salt he tasted, and of sweat; a bitterness grew within her mouth and a hair, course and curly, tickled her lip and she gasped a little which drew him deeper into her mouth, nearer to her throat. Disdain there was within her, a bitter hate, for not only did her Lady wish for the human to be pleased, to be sexually pleasured, that she had been assigned that task, but too, she felt an awaking tremble within her, scorch along her pure untouched sex, and taunt her to enjoy the male before her.&nbsp; Torn Aethe was, but for the sake of Iari, she decided to indulge herself this one time, and not feel shame.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>07-04-2008, 22:23:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The memory echoed deeply in his mind.<br><br><em>"Your mortal eyes would be blinded by their beauty, so we spare you the suffering of that which you cannot attain and hide it from you."<br><br>"I think it's because in ten minutes your precious betrothed's lips would be wrapped firmly around my cock, and she would spend the rest of eternity wondering what she was doing thinking about you."</em><br><br>Daern wondered, for a time, if he would end up meeting the elf's precious Vinariel, and his champion's exotic Sveyyenne from across the sea.&nbsp; They knew the name of their would-be-husbands' killer, by now, and would certainly know him from his features.<br><br>He wondered if, as he claimed, they would indeed be wrapping themselves around his shaft. Although he could tell Aethe's scowl, he could also tell her blush, her tremble, and he lightly steered her about his orb, his length pressing warmly on her cheek...forehead... lightly, hotly rubbing along her face as she pleasured him as no elven male could be.<br><br>If the wives of the dead acted so, he smirked at the thought of the elven ghosts, and how well such servitude would placate their spirits.<br><br>The wind came, and Iari's dress was blown slightly up her leg... though only to her knee.&nbsp; He smirked again, relenting his pressure for a time as his hand crept down to her knee, pulling up her dress a bit as he did so, revealing more and more of the perfect, bare flesh, until his hand was in contact with her exposed thigh.&nbsp; Slowly, cautiously, the hand crept under her dress, delicately exploring her inner thigh, applying only the slightest pressure as he... sullied her.&nbsp; His gaze turned towards Nyseiva as his fingers crept towards Iari's bald sex, watching intently as she pleasures her own finger.&nbsp; The very thought made his manhood rage, the bobbing strong enough that it lightly tapped at Aethe while she did Iari's bidding, screaming for release.<br><br>Daern's thumb lightly massaged the barely tactile nub at the vertex of her sex, while his other fingers massaged it lightly, not het pressing in, merely gently squeezing and caressing her vulva.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>09-04-2008, 19:34:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The human's pillar of masculinity that had not been touched by Aethe's succulent mouth, a mouth that watered sweetly, flowingly, as the maiden suckled on the tender pliable orbs of flesh, glided and danced and tapped at Aethe's face taking life as its own; yearned for attention the turgid flesh did, struggled to find release, and it begged to be bathed with affection, with the endearments that Aethe's porous and curious tongue could only provide. Taunting the maiden, cruelly poking at her, beseeching her, tormenting her, the veined thick length did in so much that Aethe had no choice but to momentarily abandon the now sleek rounded flesh in her mouth, a cavern of ecstasy, and playfully nip at the shaft. Teeth grazed along the delicate heated skin, not to injure, not to be rough, but only to give a tactile chastisement which was followed by a languorous lazy lick, and unbeknown to Aethe, the softest sigh, feathery light escaped her throat.<br><br>Deny her feelings, the immaculate arousal that was forming deep within her, deep within her core, Aethe wanted, and yet so strong those sensations were that her face blossomed into pink with shame for the slight enjoyment she received. Torn she was, and her eyes brightly gazed upon the man who she knelt before, and her vision drifted over his form, followed the lines of his muscles, traced the curves of his limbs, and stopped her worship, her adoration for the human she did when she took into account that his one hand disappeared underneath the skirts of Iari, and her, the betrothed to the Sidhe King, her face flowered with divine delight. Aethe ceased to breathe.<br><br>Nyseiva, too, had noticed the drifting of Daern's hand, and although she knew it was her duty to prevent such measures, she too wanted to have her dearest sister know pleasure, know life beyond the realms of the gilded cage. As it were, Iari did not. Having Aethe pleasure the elven princess, having her delve into Iari's honeyed sex, to draw her tongue along the virginal perfumed flesh, it was not the same as experiencing that of a man, a male be it elf or human, and although Nyseiva was inexperienced with men, virginal herself, she did know that what Aethe offered Iari was different then what Daern could and was offering. <br><br>As Nyseiva suckled and licked idly at her finger, as she let the moistened digit play over her parted lips, her cool skin on her face thoughts wandered freely at the idea of Daern attentively exploring every curve and crevice on Iari's body, on her body for what Iari desired, for what Iari could not do, Nyseiva could. Like that of Aethe, she would be commanded, but unlike Aethe, she craved to be with Daern. All that was masculine was represented by him, and too, there was an exoticness, sultry and irresistible, that blessed the human. On thinking of this, Nyseiva settled snug astride an ancient vast branch of the Oak in which she was situated in, and her inner thighs hugged and curved around the wood tightly, and there she pretended that the life she straddled was that of Daern. In silence, she watched the movement within the cage, and in silence Nyseiva hoped that Iari would ask her to give herself wholly to Daern.<br>&nbsp;“Please.” Nyseiva begged, and flicked her tongue across the very tip of her index finger.<br><br>That one uttered word should have pulled and tugged on Iari's senses, yet it did not for she was overwhelmed with new exquisiteness that rippled through her inviting body, and it drenched her, drowned her in godly blissfulness. With eyes closed, Iari solely concentrated on the roughness of his&nbsp; hand, his digits that trailed along her supple velvety flesh, explored masterfully her body with calloused fingers. Her slender thighs and silky bare&nbsp; femininity seared with a foreign heat as her dainty timid pearl was found, was drawn forth, and that sleek tiny nub of hidden sensitive flesh that adorned the apex of her mound was lightly massaged as were the petals which were lovingly pet and stroked. The muscles of Iari's legs, long and shapely, quivered slightly at the touch, and as her heart rapidly beat, as her breathing faded into almost non-existence, as beads of luscious vivification pooled in every fibre of her being, her essence, her lips parted and a silvery assonant mewling purr slipped from her throat. Faint with enticing provocation, Iari's thin hand gripped onto Daern's muscled shoulder, and in her weakened state, she drew near the man and drank in his musky scent that was as delectable as any mead or sweet she had ever tasted on her fine palate.<br><br>&nbsp;“Please,” Iari begged, the words barely brushed against his ear as she trembled and was forced to lean against his wounded shoulder.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>10-04-2008, 06:37:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern's eyes fluttered under the intense pleasure that he was receiving, not just from Aethe's toothy kisses but the visible emotions of Iari and Nyseiva. He would gladly have them all, even here, but the handmaiden withdrawing herlself from his length let him come to some semblance of sense. <em>This isn't safe.</em><br><br>A few more teasing strokes of his hand paused when the sisters said their joined word, and slowly Daern withdrew his hand. "...much as I appreciate... much as I want..." He shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts. "There are many, many more orcs out there... and trolls, ogres, other fell beasts, all too eager to ambush us while we are enthralled with eachother.<br><br>He swallowed, hard, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "We should gather up our gear and make for the next hallow... a spring near the road about six miles on. It will be safe enough for us there and we can... plan our next moves."<br><br>As if he didn't know his already, still painfully erect, looking up at Nyseiva, and back at Iari. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>14-04-2008, 03:24:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The simplest word, that of <em>please</em>, liberated Iari from the peril of lust, of yearning for a further touch, a stroke, one that would offer her unbound and unknown blissfulness, and one that would offer her temptation to liberate herself from her virginal state. There was something sinfully desirable, intriguing, and almost barbaric or savage at the idea of giving oneself completely to a human, offering complete servitude, and to know of a mortal love. To experience that, the completeness of it was an exceptional and beautiful thought. The intensity of love combined with heartache, the pang of jealousy, envy, anticipation, apprehension and trepidation for all to well did a fairy know of the need humans had for lascivious liberalness in carnal delight and by comparison elves seemed prudent and ascetic.<br><br>&nbsp;“Thank you,” Iari breathed out as if tasting air and life for the first time; tingled she did with heat, desire, lust, and basked in those sensations Iari did. Bright eyes that shone and glistened like platinum marbles met Daern's gaze, held it boldly, and she smiled upon him with compassion as her index finger traced along his bottom lip. &nbsp;“for your generosity to see us to our new home, to our kingdom, and your kindness upon us shall not be forgotten be me or any fey.” Dared she did then to longing stroke his tangle of hair, to draw her jeweled fingers through his locks, and she pressed her lips, velvety soft, against his cheek that was prickled and adorned with brown stubble. It made her gasp for breath, once, and sighing then, Iari whispered in her ear. &nbsp;“If I am touched by sunlight though, if I am seen by a male elf, a male fairy, I will not be pure for the Sidhe King; never have I been exposed to anything outside my cage. Three centuries it has been, and you have been my first visitor besides my mother, my lady-in-waiting Aethe, and my dearest beloved sister, Nyseiva. I know not what to do.” Iari confessed, and with wide eyes she silently pleaded with Daern for help.<br><br>Pleading, the simplest of words spoken, that of <em>please</em>, allowed Aethe to dismiss herself from bringing pleasure to the human male. It allowed Aethe freedom that she craved, however, with that freedom she was tormented by the slight truth that was known to her deep inside her conscience, that was known to her body which was of a forming arousal from being subjugated to Daern, offering herself to him for ravishment and she loathed herself for those conflicting sensations and emotions. Thought less of Iari, she did not, but Aethe was grateful for Daern's sensibility, his courtliness, and kneeling free of him, Aethe dressed as she listened to the conversation unfold between the princess and the savage. &nbsp;“Iari was chosen from birth to be the King's wife, and unblemished she must be or else have be ostracized&nbsp; by her family for disgrace would ruin their name, blemish them for generations.” Aethe commented, her eyes meeting Daern's wound which had now stopped bleeding, and the redness that surrounded the skin, the impurities that haunted and corrupted his flesh, had diminished three fold; the healing had begun. <br><br>All had been observed by Nyseiva, and amazed she was at the power that the simplest word, that of <em>please</em> had upon the man named Daern. That one word allotted&nbsp; Nyseiva a chance, a glorious opportunity to offer herself to him, to completely give herself to him, her virginity, her mind and body and soul, and nothing more did she want then to be possessed by him. It would be, she knew, an extravagant and exotic luxury that hardly a elf ever experienced. She drew in a deep breath relieved that Aethe did not fully gratify him, had not been given the time for his logic and reasoning was of the essence, and quietly padding along the branch of the ancient oak, the elven maid soon descended to the grounds so that she too could offer her opinion and expertise on the matter at hand. Closer she needed to be to Daern, and his scent, that of sweat and arousal made her mouth water, and her womanhood weep with a longing hunger for him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>14-04-2008, 23:26:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern took a moment to collect his thoughts, one hand moving to his trousers, which crumbled and tore even as he began to pick them up.&nbsp; <em>My last pair...</em> Well, he knew one thing - this exile of his was not getting any less interesting. Her voice echoed in his mind, and it made him wonder, if she bade him to die, if he would do so.<br><br>Or if she bad him to live forever...<br><br>Nyseiva's voice had a similar quality, Daern suspected, but it was not so powerful. He pondered, as Iari kissed him, if the Sidhe king really wanted her.&nbsp; The elves had their own rumors, but humans interpreted the fey lord's actions in a more analytic sense.&nbsp; Paranoia. <em>Neither she nor her sister were intended to cross Ansion.</em><br><br>Aethe spoke as he stood, slowly, arm still moving about the princess's back. <em>So that's her name.</em> His erection pointed at Iari, unashamed, barely restraining his lust.<br><br>"We should gather up the gear of the fallen and from my camp, and load it into the carriage...&nbsp; I believe the hallow is mostly downhill from here, so with a bit of effort... and faith in elven craft, we should be able to arrive with time to spare. Once there we can go over the map, and take some time to plan our next moves in relative safety."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>15-04-2008, 06:29:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Barely a blade of grass stirred, bent, crinkled underneath the soft footing of Nyseiva. In the great aftermath of slaughter an eerie silence, an unearthly presence, encompassed the dead, the gilded cage, the surrounding area as if all of nature mourned for the loss of fey kind. Streaks of brilliant light tore from the corpses of the fallen elven warriors, the protectors of Iari, the protectors of the Goddess, and glistened they did, shimmered with a hauntingly enchanted light until they evaporated one by one into the thinness of the cool morning air. Only those devout to the Goddess faded into Twilight, became united body, mind&nbsp; and soul with Her; never had Nyseiva witnessed an outpouring of destiny, of fate, and in awe she stood wondering if Iari felt the presences of the dead, of their complete departure, and for what felt like seconds multiplied into minutes. Time, however, was not measured by elves, not readily, and as the last of the dead melted from the earth's existence, Nyseiva continued to weave her path to the cage.<br><br>Slender fingers, scarred and calloused, pulled the golden curtains aside and there Nyseiva gazed upon Daern's stately being, ruggedly masculine, handsome in a savage manner, and fully erect he was; his length pulsated and throbbed with an aching life, and Nyseiva's mouth watered and her heart flourished in beating, and strummed with delight. A smile adorned her mouth, one that was derived from her imagination, from her thinking of his manhood parting her silky wet nether lips, and the subtlest of sighs came from her throat, almost a near whimper as a warming delight spread through her. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, and tried to calm herself, find peace, and her amber eyes soon blinked open at Daern and not once did they acknowledge Iari or Aethe, but studied him, marveled at his near perfect sculpted body.<br><br>&nbsp;“First you must swear a blood oath to us,” Nyseiva told him and stepped near him almost trembling in his shadow, at the very closeness to him; she could almost taste the saltiness of his skin, of his sweat. She offered him a mithril dagger, one from her House, and she smiled at him. &nbsp;“Draw it across your finger, and smear a streak of your blood on each of our faces, your symbol, your house, upon our cheeks, and swear that you will protect us in the name of our Goddess always. Do that and we will follow you without question and hesitation.” Nyseiva purred out to him, sensually soft.<br><br>Aethe and Iari looked at one another, and then to Nyseiva. In disbelief they were, but said nothing and awaited with baited breath for Daern, for his response.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>15-04-2008, 07:41:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern stood, confused for a moment, watching Nyseiva enter, presenting her dagger to him. The distraction of rational thought, curiosity and wonder eased his erection, though it was still a proud scout. He accepted the blade cautiously, handling its feather-light form.<br><br>When humans forged mithral, they never 'wasted' it on daggers, lamellar or chain. Always full regalia, for whatever prince might be fit to own it... for a few decades at most. Strange, that elves would take the path more logical to humans, and humans the path more logical for elves...<br><br>A blood oath...&nbsp; Daern recalled some of the rules about it, but he thought an elf could only be marked by one? The other cheek was for their goddess, or something. But that couldn't be right. It would mean...&nbsp; He pondered if he would even be bound by it, as a human.<br><br>Not that it mattered, Nyseiva's words had already bade hi to draw the blade across his finger, and he did not even realize that he had done so until his finger approached the warrior-elf's left cheek.<br><br>"Nyseiva of house Seulalloru..." He began, tracing out the familiar pattern of his sigil, though different than what it once was, forming a new house out of his exile, spawned from the old. "...in the name of my goddess and yours..." He didn't bother trying to pronounce either.&nbsp; He was never very good at it.&nbsp; He marveled, though, at the ease with which his blood was formed upon her cheek, naturally blending into the most perfect lines, as if by magic. "...I pledge that I shall endeavor to protect you, forever and always." He took a step back, looking at the bloody rune that held itself to her face.<br><br>Almost certainly by magic.<br><br>For Aethe, his finger moved to her right cheek, slightly faster this time. "Aethe, servant of house Seulalloru, in the name of your goddess and mine, I shall endeavor to protect you always."<br><br>He then stood before Iari, looking down upon her, pondering as his finger approached her right cheek... but did not, could not touch, not with the blood present... instead, it hovered slightly above her pearl-white skin, and the thoughts that rushed through his mind made him shudder.&nbsp; What if he was right?&nbsp; Shouldn't the sidhe king be doing this?&nbsp; If that was true, then was it really worth the enmity of the entire elven race?<br><br><em>Every elf that does not hear her voice... or Nyseiva's...</em><br><br>Even if there was no force behind Nyseiva's command, he would not have stopped himself. "Iari of house Seulalloru, in the name of your goddess and mine, I pledge to be your guardian, for eternity."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>16-04-2008, 14:47:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em> “My Chosen you are, and my Marked you are,” The voice stated, one that was serene and hallowed, one that echoed and pulsated with life, with death, with eternity, and it resounded deeply within Iari, the female babe born only short hours prior to the visitation of the Beloved Goddess Orilaori. The vision of the Goddess was blinding, and terrifyingly peaceful in so much that the babe remained asleep yet alert. <br><br>“Be it known to you that your path will not be an easy one, My Child, and difficulties will arise, complications, choices and sacrifices. Look inward always and a voice of reason will guide you. I will guide you.” A marking with Orilaori's blood, a symbol of the Goddess was ritualistically drawn and inscribed on Iari's left cheek which was absorbed immediately into the alabaster skin.<br><br>“No blood will join my seal, no contamination will it have, and pure it will remain. A signet for your other cheek you will bear, that of your true love, the one whom will claim you as theirs and theirs alone, it will remain. Know not of true love until your blood lingers over their seal, the symbol permanent, copper in hue, and allow the world to see this love. Pain will accompany it, anguish, and forever questioning you will be.” The Goddess Orilaori smiled upon Iari, and faded, vanished into nothingness yet all.</em><br><br><br>The visitation from Orilaori had all but faded into nothing more than a very distant memory, surreal and dream enhanced, and the words that Daern spoke stunned and awed Iari into silence as the memory was drawn upon, tugged from the depths of her mind. Her mouth fell agape with panting, long breathy sighs that evaporated on the gentle ripples of the breeze, and for that moment all Iari could hear was her heart beating tribally in her chest, pounding loud, frantically, and it was accompanied by the rasp of her breath. So near, so very close did the finger with the droplet of blood linger, and so very near, so very close did Iari come to fleeing. Stayed herself she did however, and as the fingertip, bloodied and warm and large upon her delicate caressed her, designed her frail skin, her large grey eyes peered at him whilst he spoke of a vow. The wording was different from Aethe's and Nyseiva, and a deep raking pain burst with her being and began to sliver and splinter into her mind.<br><br>A memory of words seeped into the presence. <em>Pain will accompany it, anguish, and forever questioning you will be.</em> It made Iari temporarily numb with bewilderment. <br><br><em>Never could he be.</em><br><br>Iari was certain of it. Yearning for the man, the human, wishing for him to touch her, it was all exciting for it was new, but for her true love? It was unthinkable, and yet her mind flooded with an array of thoughts, and those thoughts churned furiously before a final calm. Her inner voice had spoken, and so had her regency personality. &nbsp;“I would like to thank you for taking that vow that we hold sacred. It demonstrates a rare quality in a human, the comprehension of it, and the ability to abide by it.” The words were placid, gentle in nature, and as she stood before Daern, she smiled as her thought projected into his mind. <em>Dare you to mark me, that which whom was reserved from birth for the Sidhe King, and now our path of fate meet as one, and a destiny we share. It is to be, so says Orilaori. Accept it entirely, we both shall.</em><br><br>Aethe looked displeased, uncomfortable, at the words Iari spoke, and Iari sensed the handmaiden's ire was frothing at Nyseiva.&nbsp; &nbsp;“Please, Nyseiva, attend to the belongings of our people. They have passed into Twilight and united with Orilaori they are, and no longer are in want of anything. Perhaps a craftsman will be skilled and can use the mithral to sculpt suitable armour for our friend, Daern, or create a weapon of his choosing for he appears naked without.” Iari said, dismissing her sister and she peered at Daern once more. &nbsp;“Do as you must at your camp.&nbsp; We will wait here for your return, and once at this hollow you speak of, once in security, we will speak more of our destination, of our plans, and Nyseiva will heal you. I grow weak from it and need my rest.”<br>Iari stated, and shifted to languidly rest on the pillows at Daern's feet; appeared in comfort, she did, but her mental anguish was beginning to pool, her head beginning to ache, and if that was not enough, she sensed a trace of cold iron in the man's wound which made her faint and nauseated. &nbsp;“Aethe may accompany you if you desire, or she may stay here. That decision is yours to make, Daern.”<br><br>Aethe's nose wrinkled and she was about to protest, but held her tongue. She had wanted to exchange words with Nyseiva for the incredulous audacity the elf warrior had in placing delicate and serious promises between elf and human kind, but too, those words could be spoken to the male. Either way, she planned to address the issue at hand with somebody other than Iari. Clearly, Iari's senses had left her in complete abandonment.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>17-04-2008, 15:07:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern was still recovering from a bout of shock when Iari spoke her words. "Oh..." He pondered, watching Aethe. Clearly, she did not approve of what had just happened. While Daern did not think for a moment that she would or could harm Nyseiva, perhaps getting her away for a time would do well.&nbsp; Of course, she wouldn't like it, but at this point that only sickly amused him.<br><br>"Yes, she would save a trip and some time, if she has good shoes or boots to wear." Daern avoided mentioning what the plant life would do to her clothes.&nbsp; He took a deep bow. "I thank you for your grace and hospitality, Lady Iari."&nbsp; He steps backwards off of the carriage, puttinghis boots back on while he waits for the handmaiden.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>21-04-2008, 04:37:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aethe struggled with her deep well of conflicting emotions, and they boiled near the surface of her skin, flushed it with a pink blush out of anger and a self loathing: vexed she was that the idea of being&nbsp; an offering to him, to a barbaric and savage human was not fully and completely appalling to her. It should have been, yet not. Longed, she did, to scrub her cheek clean of the foul human blood, to cleanse it, to relieve it, but no thought there was of a need to rid the taste of the male's flesh within her mouth; bitterly salty it was on her soft porous tongue, that which lavish the head of his bulbous cock with languorous licks, that which spread the droplets of liquid over his own flesh, indulged in it, and her mouth watered on savouring him and on remembrance.&nbsp; His words, the coarseness of his voice, the rasp of huskiness broke Aethe's reverie and her gaze studied him with scrutiny, and she gasped at the inkling of a longing, and then again as he stepped out of the gilded carriage stark naked. <br><br>It made Iari look at Aethe with curiosity. The naïve elven maiden, the bride for the Sidhe King, watched attentively as her handmaiden looked almost longingly at Daern. His muscles in his back were well defined, years of wielding a sword and mundane work carving them into perfection, but alas, Aethe's gaze did not stare at the back but drifted lower to the masterfully sculpted buttocks. Considering her own feelings, Iari glowed the softest pink, and warm with forbidden desires, she poured herself a glass of mead and took a slow sip before speaking. “You may leave with Daern, my beloved Aethe.” The honeyed words were whispered and Iari sank into the luxurious pile of pillows where she relaxed, lifted her silk skirt of her gown to bare her weeping sex, and allowed her fingers to play and slide upon her femininity she did; her mind and soul floated in the memory of Daern's fingers upon her.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;“As <em>you</em> desire,” Aethe slowly replied torn between staring at the sheer golden curtain where Daern exited and falling to her knees to gently open Iari's legs, to press her pliable tongue against the sacred velvety petals of a flower that yearned to blossom, flourish with true life, and Aethe gasped and struggled to intake air. In obeying, however, her small hand parted the curtains instead and she, mortified, looked at Daern and the heaviness between his legs that bobbed and dangled and swayed with his every movement.<br><br>&nbsp;“Perhaps you have not noticed, Daern of the House Mekkoran, but you are unclothed, and I demand that you wear more then your boots! I would not wish to provoke the wild life&nbsp; by thinking that a beast, nay, monster of unnatural portion is invading their territory!” Aethe declared, her voice melodious yet tight, and she hurled the near decaying rags of cloth at the tall man. They splattered against his richly tanned skin that glistened in the light that filtered through the canopy of leaves, and franticly, Aethe waved a finger at him. &nbsp;“Wear them!” She snapped out, and stepped out of the carriage into the morning light. Aethe walked past him rather dismissively and sniffled into the air. <br><br>All she could smell was his fading arousal, and the intensity of Iari's carnal release building; the scents teased her mockingly, and suddenly she looked to the carriage as she heard Iari's heavy breathing, and a glorious heavenly song beginning.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>21-04-2008, 04:53:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The clothes began to tear even more as the dainty elf lifted them, again as they were thrown, and finally as Daern attempted to catch them. This was not the tearing of hale fabric, but rather a cracking, a wet parting, a soft ruffle of cloth already broken but not yet parted.&nbsp; The human sighed, looking at it. "My apologies, lady Aethe..." He said as his length bobbed and straightened in greeting her. "...but I think I will have to make do with my current attire. My armor and odor has made work of my garments over these past months." He sighs, eventually shrugging. The smell of Iari's arousal began to reach his nose, intensifying his own, the previously half-limp mass now pointing happily at Aethe's head, quaking.<br><br>"I should not waste time." He said with a small gulp, turning and walking into the forest.&nbsp; "This way." He did not wait for Aethe to make an argument. He had an idea of her type, if she was anything like her human equivalent, anyway. The camp was not very far, and it should be relatively safe, at least.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>21-04-2008, 20:11:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aethe's eyes narrowed on Daern. She studied his face, the angular jaw that was strong in character, and it was where she steadied her gaze for to look lower was daring herself to look at the heavy flesh, the once more turgid veined pillar that had lazy pressed upon her moist explorative tongue not minutes ago. It seemed to beseech her lips, to silently beg of&nbsp; them to open, to part and deliciously curve around the girth, to burrow deeply into her sweet warm cavern, and nestle against her tongue in hopes of the lithe muscle bathing the masculinity with teasing and gratifying affection. Desperately, Aethe tried to humour herself and not look downwards, but as Daern addressed her, as he walked away, she stood stunned in the revelation that he would be naked for the entirety of their journey to his camp. It was during that stupor which Aethe afforded her timid lustful self to steal a glimpse of his manhood, of his entire rugged being. Her face burned red, and she glared at Nyseiva who giggled to herself, and offered Aethe a generous smile.<br><br>&nbsp;“Enjoy your time with him,” Nyseiva murmured, her voice drowned by the heavenly melodious sighs and moans that emanated from the gilded cage as Iari strove to meet her sexual release. The sweet noises made Nyseiva's smile broaden. &nbsp;“Be it willing or not for eventually she, my dearest sister, would order you to make love with him and allow her watch so that she will know what to expect from her husband to be, the Sidhe King.” Nyseiva said in a voice loud enough so that Daern might hear, and on purpose so that she could playfully torment Iari's female lover.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>&nbsp;“I loathe you!” Aethe muttered, and she busily scurried after the human male; Nyseiva could only laugh at the comment, and it only further infuriated the handmaiden who was now in distress.&nbsp; Aethe sniffled, and languidly walked, weaved about the plant life quite naturally save for the few branches that snared at her dress, entangled her, and carefully, Aethe unravelled herself from the brush. Annoyed with her circumstances, she twitched her nose in disdain and scampered along Daern's feet like a girl might her father, or more correctly, an animal to its master.<br><br>&nbsp;“You, male!” Aethe addressed him sharply and poked him with a stick that she found on the ground to get his full attention. &nbsp;“Do you truly know what you have done by swearing a the blood oath?” &nbsp;She asked, her voice in a high squeak, and she swatted the stick across his buttocks to make him look at her and take her seriously. She gasped at the slight pleasure it gave her and she tried once more to compose herself with some dignity. &nbsp;“It is a grave vow, and although we will certainly not be even fond of your existence, there is always the possibility that we will fall under a curse by a hag, and will end up permanently bound to you as your wives.” She swatted him again. &nbsp;“Are you listening to me, you oafish human male?! The Sidhe King is to be Iari's husband. For centuries, from her birth, she was prepared for this journey, and you were a fool to mark us, to touch our fair skin! You've nerve!” Aethe prattled out, and her dress snagged on a briar bush tearing at the hem.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>22-04-2008, 00:03:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern bit his lip to avoid smiling overbroadly on hearing Nyseiva's words. Aethe was going to be two handfuls already, she did not need to have too many clues about his inner lust. Not that it would matter much, at this point.&nbsp; Daern did not take the most direct route to his camp, intentionally leading the handmaiden through patches, rose bushes, and burdocks. <em>I'm sure she'll love those.</em> He occasionally stopped to grab a raspberry or blackberry while waiting for her to catch up.<br><br>When she asked if he knew what he had really done, he had a pretty good idea, though it only showed in the growth of his erection as she swatted him, preempting his vocal response, turning towards her with a surprised look, his left hand already grabbing her stick, his right swatting across her left cheek - the one promised to her goddess, though he had no clue of the insult, quickly moving to a grip on her hair. "Do you have a -clue- what sort of monsters can hear you?" He said with a growl. "Explain away - I am genuinely curious about what you speak of - but for the love of all that is holy, keep your voice down."<br><br>He let go of her hair then, but not the stick as he turned and continued walking at his rapid pace, allowing her to keep hold of the stick if she wished to keep p, leading her through more heavily bushed areas.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>23-04-2008, 17:28:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For Aethe, it appeared as if there was no direct route to the camp for they seemed to walk in no particular direction and advancing little to the supposed camp site that the male resided. Granted, she knew not where it was, but the path Daern took was obstacle riddled, and a doubt that it even existed trickled through Aethe's mind when the trees began to look similar as did the thorny brushes of roses, thistles and ivy that twined around her delicate feet and poked and scratched at her bare ankles and toes. Delicate leather sandals died in a rich silver hue she had worn, and never had she thought of it, but now in retrospect she wished she had changed into her boots. She sniffled in disgruntlement for often she was picking burs from her gown, or stopping to free herself from a thorny bush, and then the idea that he was deliberately taking an overgrown path entered her mind, and her nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed upon him. She twitched with a loathing for him, and yet there was something extraordinarily tempting about him, the ruggedness, his uncivil manners, but although that tickled her with a smidgen of desire, it did not make her yield her sharp tongue.<br><br>The maiden had not expected the man to grab the stick, the deadwood almost snapping from the strength within the muscular hand, and seeing him stand before her ever so near made her gasp, and then his right hand struck her across her cheek, the one in which her Goddess had blessed her with as a babe. Aethe whimpered, a small mewling noise, and as tears began to pool in her eyes that were wide with shock for no male in her culture would dare strike the female gender, her hand gingerly touched the spot in which Daern had hit. Aethe was absorbed in the shock, the insult in which he had given her, had given to her Goddess that she had not realized he had woven his fingers into her mane of hair until she moved. She cried out, a note of fear in her voice, and at his mercy she remained as he cruelly addressed her, and discarded her; the stick he held onto as he strode away, and her little feet trot after him, toddling to keep up with the pace. Distraught, Aethe let go of the stick, turned and fled. <br><br>Panicked, she ran blindly in an opposite direction. Her gown she had raised to give her lithe shapely legs freedom of movement and as tears coursed down her face, she could only think of washing and scrubbing the bloody symbol of the man off her fair skin. <em>Perhaps it was not too late.</em> It was a naïve thought that floated through her mind, but she was not fully educated in the ways of Orilaori, was not blessed to have the visions or healing abilities such as those Iari was gifted at, but it was a logical thought or so Aethe believed. <br><br>As thorns scratched and tore at her bare flesh, the elf maiden tripped over a large knurled root of an oak, and she met the soft earth of the forest ground rather hastily, and soundly. Aethe sniveled with despair.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>24-04-2008, 03:28:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I did suggest boots..." He said just before the handmaiden fled, sighing, turning so slowly that she was already stumbling by the time he turned to follow her, obviously not familiar with the trollhollow she had just run through. She landed next to an oak, her right hand barely touching a moss patch...<br><br>Far, far too well-covered to be a rock... and Daern had long since learned to recognize their shape. <em>At least it's only one...</em> he thought to himself, bending down for a pair of real rocks of his own just as the ground began to shake, a loud, deep groan echoing from the beast as it moved, slowly drawing itself up. Its hollow eyes gazed at Aethe, only after a moment gaining enough bearing to reach out to her with a massive, mossy wooden claw, alone easily capable of encircling her waist. <br><br>The claw only gripped at Aethe's gown,&nbsp; as a rock aimed true for its left eyehollow, entering and making a wet crunching sound, the beast letting out a loud, resounding howl as it screamed in pain, rearing itself up to over ten feet in height as it stumbled back on its own, every massive footstep causing waves to spread across the ground, close as Aethe was it was enough to send her airborne if she were not careful, tearing her gown half-off and then some in the process.<br><br>Brown-black sap wept from the eye socket as it gazed at Daern with an angry posture.&nbsp; Daern's second rock bounced nigh-uselessly off of the creature's forehead, howling as it ignored Aethe and thundered towards the human, reaching him in only two footsteps. Daern ducked as he drew twin smallblades from the backs of his boots, letting the troll uproot a tree in a single swing behind him.<br><br>Daern did not fight the wooded beast as he would a human, or orc. This was a different creature, with different strengths... and weaknesses. Unfortunately, he was ill-equipped to deal with the latter, and had to settle for slowly carving at the hind of the beast's leg-joint, wheeling about it as it swung uselessly, but powerfully. He drew it a short distance away from Aethe, but even with the first timed insert - as it lifted its leg - twist and release - as it set it down - the beast was nearly immobilized, howling in pain and anger.<br><br>In moments, it could not walk or turn, and Daern&nbsp; merely had to dodge alternating, twisting swings as he carved the troll's hindquarters away, sap leaking profusely as the creature swung slower and slower, and, after not even a minute, Daern leaped backwards, legs straddling Aethe as the beast collapsed to the ground with a giant thud, the elven girl's eyes able to see the wave of earth rolling towards her, though Daern's stance was firm and she would not fly -too- high.<br><br>"Well... those blades are ruined." Daern sighed, panting, looking down at the elf.&nbsp; "Any other bright ideas, now that I'm truly unarmed and could not face another?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>26-04-2008, 00:25:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dread clung to Aethe as long unnatural fingers spiralled and crawled over her near limp and paralysed&nbsp; &nbsp;form. A creature bound with grave hideousness, a creation of Nature not meant to be, not meant to exist, lavishly held the exquisite fair maiden, encircled her waist with spindly mossy digits and drew her near with no other purpose than to harm her.&nbsp; No scream or shriek, no word gathered in her mouth, formed on her tongue, or caressed her throat for simple fear overwhelmed her, drowned her senses, muted her completely, fully, and being digested by that simple fear only left the solitude of silence save for the shallow ragged breathing and the frantic irregular race of the elf's heart. The biological noises seemed strangely hollow and surreal to Aethe as they quaintly strummed and purred from her. Mesmerized by the monstrosity before her, flickering faded images floated through her mind those not only of the past, not only of life with Iari, but the future and from that moment she was pulled free as a sharp jagged claw wormed into her silk gown, and scratched lazily at her pale skin engraving a bestial&nbsp; design onto her flesh which immediately brimmed with brilliant crimson blood. Within a blur, before a miserable cry of pain resounded in the quietness of the woods, Aethe was batted aside, hurled through the air and with ease she glided before tumbling to the ground in a bruised and torn heap of beauty.<br><br>There she remained curled into a protective stance, barely peeping at the troll and Daern engaged in an intricate dance of life or death, of survival, and of instinct. Rivers of tar like blood, dark, thick and foul freely flowed from the creature that had once gripped Aethe not less then a minute past, and seeped it did into the thirsty and hungry earth that was gouged and rented from the nimble movement of feet, of claws and blades that furiously entwined. Grunts and growls of pain, howls of piercing agony shrieked through the once quiet air, stirred it, and haunted it with violence and death. Low curses from Daern were heard, were muttered, and as the vast troll fell, its legs butchered to the bare bone,&nbsp; Daern stood protectively over the maiden as the earth rumbled and her small fey body was bounced and tossed. The troll's death and the shifting of the forest floor drowned the velvety whimpering mewls that floated&nbsp; from Aethe's tight throat, and she stifled the screams by pressing her lovely face, her mouth against Daern's leg. The gesture only made him peer down at her. “Well,&nbsp; those blades are ruined.” Daern sighed, panting, looking down at the elf. “Any other bright ideas, now that I'm truly unarmed and could not face another?”&nbsp; <br><br>Cupid bowed lips, naturally pink in colour, formed into a heavenly pout as Aethe gazed up at the man who addressed her with a chiding. In disbelief of his words, large glassy eyes that had been weeping studied him, and for the long moment those eyes followed the trickles of sweat over his body. The beads clung to his flesh, caressed every lean muscle, weaved over the coarse dark hairs as they cooled the skin while trailing downward to fall onto the ground or Aethe's ruined dress that was in tatters; exposed her womanly body it did, and the plump ample cleavage was plainly in view as were her shapely legs. Speechless she was, but only temporarily for within that moment she slapped Daern's thigh with disgust. &nbsp;“Had it not been for your crude uncivilised behaviour to begin with neither one of us would have been in this situation!” Aethe hissed out, and she placed her hands upon his legs, those mighty limbs that were strong like ancient oaks, and&nbsp; perfectly sculpted and detailed with every muscle. For a brief second, the maiden struggled to be upright to stand on her feet, yet she slipped beneath Daern, and her eyes cast a glance at the heavy masculine flesh that slightly swung and bobbed like a pendulum neatly framed by his legs. Her lips parted to speak, to ask for his assistance, but before a word was formed on her tongue a droplet of sweat that glided along his thicket of curly hairs that adorned the base of his shaft darted over the pliable rounded mass of flesh that dangled near her mouth, and it fell onto her lip. The droplet of sweat curved onto lip and slid into the warmth of her mouth.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>26-04-2008, 20:18:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern was scanning the surrounding area when she smacked his thigh and yelled. He closed his eyes a bit, taking a deep breath as several more drops of sweat fell from his scrotum. His voice was low, and soft, but firm and angry. "What did I tell you about yelling? Should I carry you this time, so that your vaunted elven wisdom does not get you killed?" He said harshly. Fortunately, being a clear morning day, few problems would present themselves in the forest.&nbsp; Mostly her, really...<br><br>A few more drops fell from his scrotum before he realized that her permission was irrelevant. He began to crouch down, hands between his legs to reach for the unruly handmaiden.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>29-04-2008, 06:07:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The droplet of sweat, clear and cool against Aethe's skin, that which fell onto her lip and seeped within her mouth reminded her of a stray raindrop. Instinctively, her tongue glided across her pink bottom lip, left it glistening with saliva as she lapped at the bead of sweat, and absorbed it within her, consumed it as if it would quench an unknown thirst or hunger. Unlike rain, unlike the pure cleanliness of its taste, the droplet of sweat rolled against the buds on Aethe's pliable tongue, perfumed her mouth, and at first there was an initial bitterness to the sweat, a sourness, and then a burst of saltiness played over her soft wet muscle and cheeks. It was pungent, not repulsive or vile, and a curiosity piqued her interest to further taste, to savour the sweat against his skin, his complete manhood; a blended exotic flavour of sweat and flesh which had a powerful musky scent to begin a course of arousal within the impertinent elven maiden, and all the while she deeply loathed herself for the slight enjoyment, the pleasure in which it brought her.<br><br>Nuzzle closer Aethe did, her face upturned to revere the man, the savage of a human, and the tip of her small nose lightly brushed against his heavy rounded scrotum. The softness of the skin, the wrinkles and the crevices, the scattering of the few curling hairs tickled at her nose, and another drop of sweat fell upon her and then yet another. They bathed her nose, caressed her silky soft skin, and as her mouth opened, as she took one sac deliciously into her watering mouth to gently, tenderly suckle upon him, as her breathing quickened and her heart raced, thudded and pounded within her chest, he addressed her with firm angry words. Those words did not reach her hearing for so enthralled was she at tasting him, washing her tongue over him, exploring him and having a deep rooted need to savour the succulent flavour of him. Only when she blinked at him with large wide eyes, only when she saw large calloused hands sweep down to her did she yelp and whimper and squirm underneath his massiveness for at first she feared his intent, but strong fingers soon weaved and twisted into her glossy mane of hair, and there Aethe remained draped at Daern's feet. <br><br>Her gown, the tatters of it, revealed the firm plump curves of Aethe's decadently sculpted breasts, the large pale pink nipples that adorned them, and while material pooled over her torso and hips to grant that section of her body modesty, her long shapely legs poked free of the garment. No heed did she give for herself, for her appearance, for in her fascination, in her need, she only longed to have her mouth and tongue cling to flesh that made Daern's glorious masculinity. Loathe him, yes, she would, and despise herself, yes, she would, but for the present time, Aethe vowed to yield to the seduction of her own sexuality and that of Daern's. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>05-05-2008, 17:27:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern had a hard time containing his bemusement. He did not want to take her from her current task, suckling his orb was certainly pleasant... but perhaps his hands holding, guiding and rubbing her ears would be sufficient. His ball tensed upwards slightly as she licked, and he spoke amusedly. <br><br>"One moment you scold, the next you suckle on balls that have not been cleansed in months." He chuckles as he pets through her hair. "Or maybe there's something about human scrotum sweat that attracts elven females?" He would certainly have to test that theory. Sweat was cascading down his body, and no insignificant amount of it falling on her... to say nothing of what he must have smelled like.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>12-05-2008, 14:34:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Pungently odorous, reeking of grime and sweat, dirt, a soured vinaigrette perfumed the human male's body and although bile coursed into Aethe's mouth on occasion from his stench, the rising of the acidic liquid burned her throat, the taste of the male was delectable to her. It was an exotic flavour, an acquirement if one were to classify it for no male elf was ever so vulgar to leave cleansing the body for weeks, nay, months, but the human race was vulgar and Daern no different. Aethe dispelled the succulent morsel of flesh from her lips and peered at the man whom towered over her near naked and curvaceously beautiful form. Curled at his feet she remained, draped luxuriously around his strong legs; his hand entwined in her tresses, his fingers stroked her one long pointed ear, and only then did she lick her lips, the supple soft skin that once encompassed the one tender oval sac. <br><br>&nbsp;“Or maybe you know nothing of curiosity and the female persuasion for often we change our minds at leisure, for no reason in particular but to change our minds,” Aethe purred out, her sweet tempting voice heated his wet skin and his shaft bobbed upright before her eyes. With deliberate intent, the elven maiden moved, turned her head so that the firm masculinity caressed her cheek, traced along her smooth luscious skin, poked at her lips, and teasingly, her pink tongue darted out of her mouth to fully lick the swollen reddish-purple head of his member. A smile curved&nbsp; her lips, and in not wishing him to know she had a weakness for his flesh, the scent of his sweat, the salty taste of it, she wriggled free of him. <br><br>She turned on all fours, the torn dress loosely covered her body yet displayed her shapely legs that poked free of the garment, the outline of her bottom, the generous curve of her hips, and she glanced over her shoulder as she scurried away. &nbsp;“And indeed, I loathe you because you make me question my sensibilities, question myself which no man had ever accomplished before, and you being human worsens it. You're dangerous, outright rude and worse of all, offensive in many means.” Aethe commented with disgust, and about to sit and preen herself, she pushed her hair aside; her blood from the cuts and scrapes she endured from the troll, from injuries taken in the encounter, slid accidentally across her cheek and mingled with Daern's.<br><br>A bead of rooted pain, that which began in her very essence, her soul, pierced through her: the ritual of belonging, the ritual of true love, that which was sacred and blessed by the Goddess began and consumed the maiden: Aethe screamed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>17-05-2008, 14:46:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Maybe elven women are not so different after all.</em> He could not help but think to himself as he heard her speak. His pulsing length shuddered and swelled as she licked, a drip of his thick, white seed trailing down the length of his shaft while her tongue blessed it. He let her go without issue, instead following after her, as she was thankfully crawling in the right direction.<br><br><em>At least she is honest.</em> He thought to himself as she spoke again, Her attitude made him still wonder if it were true, if, were he to meet those women, would they impale their lips on his shaft as surely as she could not resist him... The thought only made him harder, the sight of Aethe's lips as she turned to sit, head facing him for a moment, her mouth opening wide to scream, his own girth so desperate for release it was not six inches from her lips before she voiced an agony that, elves claimed, was deeper and sharper than any birth.<br><br>His hands went to her head, gripping it firmly, thumbs pressing against her ears as he pressed only the very tip of his girth into her mouth - barely the first half of his beating glans, not wanting to tear her lips with his immense, quaking mass. The vibrations of her scream around his shaft were entirely too much, and his hot, pearly sap entered straight into her mouth, a neverending stream of his seed to sate her thirst if she had any.<br><br>"Nnnngh..." He could not yet speak as he emptied the contents of his balls between her lips.&nbsp; He wondered, for a moment, if it were true that she now saw plainly his deepest, most vibrant desire.<br><br>It was much like what was currently happening.<br><br>But instead of Aethe screaming around his beating girth, it was Iari.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>28-05-2008, 04:58:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The pain, not dull or throbbing, but piercing, jaggedly sharp like a poisoned serrated edge of a blade, a sword, and it was relentless. Tortuously, it raked though her mind, spirit, and body until her screams fled her very core, her soul, like night terrors that ravished the quietude of the evening heavens; demonic shrieking purged from Aethe.&nbsp; Blinded the elf maiden was, and as her succulent mouth opened, as screams deafened the still afternoon air that surrounded her, that surrounded Daern, stifled she became as her lips, the sweet honeyed skin was further pried and stretched open as a wide girth of muscle, of manhood, unyielding wormed into her warm wet dewy cavern. Deeper, and deeper, inch by inch, the heated masculinity that throbbed with life, and that which was perfumed with sweat, a pungent musky odour, and that which tasted of bitter salt, unfurled thickly. Aethe's throat was caressed by the weeping tip, and as she gagged, as her porous velvety tongue was bore down by the massive weight of Daern's member, a flood of creamy liquid erupted within her mouth.<br><br>Aethe, in all senses, was bound and blinded by the pain that the Goddess blessed all elven female kin with when the ritual of true love, that of belonging, was unleashed. Struggled to free herself, struggled to flee, Aethe could not, but instead the maiden, weak and frightened, scared, washed with anxiety clutched Daern's body. The beauty was draped upon his strong legs, pooled on his feet, and gripped with fear, Aethe's fingernails tore his skin, and ruthlessly clawed at the bronzed flesh. Scratches, narrow and pink, deep, trailed down his low back, over his muscular buttocks, and graced his thighs as Aethe writhed against the man who was destined to be her love. <br><br><em>Impossible.</em><br><br>It was the only thought that entered the maiden's mind as she choked on the creamy seed that bathed her supple cheeks, that coursed down her throat; it bubbled within her, splashed on the roof of her mouth as she became drenched, saturated, with the seed. Swallowed, and gulped with enlivenment, with a hunger, yet the opalescent liquid trickled from the corners of her mouth, and streamed down her chin, the seed did and splashed upon her pert rounded breasts. The droplets were warm and sticky on her bosom that heaved, and they slid and curved and lapped at the white skin, soft and desirous, and below those droplets darted to the very nether regions that no male ever touched.<br><br>Whimpers and pathetically soft mewling emanated from Aethe, and wide begging eyes pleaded silently to Daern as she stole a glance into his face, met his gaze, and she paled when her mind connected to his carnal thoughts of Iari.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>15-06-2008, 06:34:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His tip was only barely inside of her, the ridge of his mighty glans stretching her lips obscenely before it slid past them, forcing her teeth open, unconcerned with their harshness, such was his need for release. Every single vein pounded against her lips, her tongue... each one pressing a little harder with every throb. Every last beat of his heart cascaded into her head, such that she could feel it clearly...<br><br>The very visage of it, the trickles of his release straining down her lips... the sound and sight of her beautiful swallowing, the very idea of it. The press of her tongue with every gulp, inadvertently lapping at his most sensitive spot. His grip was firm, unable to concentrate on her as he properly should, even now...<br><br>That gaze, that begging, soft, pleading look tore at him like no other, sending a cascade of ecstasy through him like he had never before felt, his eruption into her mouth did not slow as it normally did but doubled its pace, every swallow of hers triggering another burst of his spend. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>24-12-2008, 18:11:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Impossible.<br>Pure Iari must remain for the Sidhe King, her future husband.<br>Pure.</em><br><br>Fingers of pale skin, long and slender, those adorned with intricate gold and gemmed rings, spread wide across muscular flesh of sun drenched skin, that of Daern. Those fingers curled against his taut strong being and kneaded thick healthy flesh before they raked at his weather beaten form to draw a glisten of blood through the furrows of long scratches that tattooed his lower back, his buttocks, thighs and legs, and clung to him Aethe did. She yearned to separate herself from him, to flee, yet something bade her to stay, an ache that gripped her ripening sexuality, and at his feet she knelt and remained to be a servant to his lust, to hers.<br><br>Soft mewling, the velvety sound that emanated from Aethe, a purr of a noise that whispered between the closeness of their bodies was stifled as creamy pearl white seed continued to pour forth into her mouth, and quench all thirst for man. Hungry yet full, desirous yet sated, the elven maid gulped and drank the thick fluid that ravished her throat, coated her cheeks, and flooded over her soft pliable tongue which lapped and licked at the stoutly veined and throbbing pillar of manhood held within her mouth. Forced there it was, Daern's masculinity, between her lips mercilessly. Stretched wide, her delectable lips were, the skin glossy and richly pink in hue, and from the corners of her lips where once trickles of seed escaped, it now flowed.<br><br>A hot stream of ivory rivers caressed and bathed her chin, followed the narrow sinewy curves of her long delicate neck muscles, and bathed her firm rounded breasts. The seed teased at her nipples,&nbsp; enlivened the pale pink flesh to become hardened taut nubs, and as if taking a magical life of their own, the fluid dripped from the pert nipples and disappeared lower onto her body. Aethe instinctively parted her legs as she felt the liquid curl over her flat stomach and dart down her belly as it formed at path to her nether lips all the while caressing her soft flesh, hugging it, and exploring it at will.<br><br>Aethe gasped then choked on the salty hot fluids that pooled in her mouth when she felt the creature's seed finally embrace the petals of her womanhood, and stroke the silky honeyed folds of wanton flesh. It made her whimper and cry at Daern's feet.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>27-12-2008, 23:14:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>My most precious Vinariel,<br><br>The season is a cold one, telling of a long winter and a cool spring. The humans here in Csatarel go about their mayfly lives as always. I have decided to make a permanent residence near the orchards south of Sharn, close enough to fulfill my diplomatic duties but the sights and smells remind me much of home.<br><br>A human cur, known as Daern of house Mekkoran, personally insulted your honor to a level which I dare not repeat. The very thought has caused such shake as to force me to discard a dozen copies of this letter. For your honor, I have retained Sevheral of house Lethluinne, the finest warrior of our race, excepting the fairest Nyseiva. It pains me to force the spilling of blood, but I fear it must be done - I cannot allow the utterance of such things to tarnish your most perfect grace.<br><br>Goddess willing, in 942 turns of the Sun, I shall meet your embrace for the first time.<br><br>With boundless love,<br>Phenal of house Rhennaul</em><br><br>Her delicate fingers traced over every word, picking out the gentle impressions and sways that were unique to her betrothed. Perfect, but haughty, bold, even and confident. She shivered, slightly, believing this to be the last letter from her love, though she could not deny that the same hand wrote the both of them.<br><br>She had a full month to accept it, now, and only two tears streamed from her vivid green eyes, down her alabaster cheeks. Once for her loss, and another for his.<br><br><em>My most precious Vinariel,<br><br>It seems... that the Goddess was not willing. That I shall never know your embrace is a greater pain by far than the blade that shall soon take my head. To hear the human gloat... I cannot repeat it.<br><br>Two score shaken and unworthy notes lay beside me now, and I fear this must be similarly unworthy, for I have so much to say, but honor demands that I have only so little time.<br><br>The human Oracle, Rhenielle, tells me that you will know love. That thought gives me some peace, I am told such things can occur even after joining the Veiled. Perhaps it will give my spirit rest to witness...<br><br>...but I am already being called out for cowardice, and have wasted too much vellum. <br><br>Farewell, my most precious Vinariel, I breath my final breaths for you.<br>Phenal of house Rhennaul</em><br><br>She could feel the unnatural beat of Phenal's heart through the agitated press of every stroke. An inferior eye might see perfection, but a closer look would reveal smaller loops and straighter lines, often missing an entire sway. A terror, a collapse of confidence that, she was told, was common in every elven man who faced death.<br><br>One doomed to die may ask a human oracle three questions of the future. The paths of the oracles do not cross - Miverein could not tell her what his other two questions were.<br><br><em>Dear Vinariel,<br><br>Amongst the gentry of humanity, it is customary for the victor of a duel to write to the widowed, be they betrothed, engaged or actually wed. And in the case of those who choose a champion, two letters must be written.<br><br>I could say many things about Phenal. We knew each other well, though our relationship, as you might ascertain, was not one of friendships. I will only say that he died as most who choose a champion do.<br><br>My dalliance with the Duchess Anarice will soon be made plain, and the Duke is most certainly going to revoke the right of trial by combat when he was the one cuckolded - he cannot hope to retain the likes of Levandal or Rittoren. I have made my confession to the priestess, and left the chosen of Talthus with a sliver of honor, or at least I like to think so.<br><br>After I send this letter, I shall make my way to the heart of Fallen Ansion. The Duke cannot muster an army enough to retake that forsaken land, and I wilst only need to deal with the occasional hunter, huntress, or agent of the fell hordes. I plan to find what I seek near the Hallow of Jeuvenar, and make my final camp there.<br><br>I expect to remain there for some time, until I find what I seek. If you wish to see the face of your betrothed's mortal slayer, and take care to rest in Hallows at night and move between them only at the height of day, and bring only a few - you should find me safely.<br><br>- Daern, soon to be fallen of house Mekkoran</em><br><br>The letters and words were elven, but the script unmistakably human. He wrote with no frail confidence, and her fingers could feel the slow, mighty throb of his heart. The man who slew Sveyyenne's mate to be and doomed her beloved Phenal was no doubt imposing even for his kind.<br><br><em>He died as most who choose a champion do.</em><br><br>She could feel the scorn within those nine words, each of them painting a picture that told thousands...<br><br>...and then some.<br><br>Vinariel would have felt better had the human merely been so crass as to just call her Phenal a spineless, unworthy coward. In those nine, bold words, he said the same and offered proof, and nothing else needed to be said. Daern held Phenal in contempt from beginning to end, and there was no longer any chance for redemption.<br><br>Sveyyenne's dark eyes held a more somber look. She did not show Vinariel the final letter from her mate, or the one from Daern. The olive-skinned elf still had some resentment, her love having perished for Vinariel's honor. Rumored far and wide to be the greatest warrior of all elven men, and now gone forever.<br><br><em>Fallen Ansion</em><br><br>The princess Iari, also, is to journey through Ansion. Unlike Daern, however, Iari and her entourage - indeed many amongst the elven empires - had been led to believe it the safest path for such an important procession.<br><br>Sveyyenne went with Vinariel to the oracle Miverein.<br><br>She had never seen the oracle cry before. Never heard of such a thing. Elven oracles could not divine the future, only the past, and the King could forbid them for answering any question.<br><br>And he forbade many.<br><br>The king had know knowledge of Daern, however, and it was one hopeless question that dried Miverein's tears.<br><br><em>"Perhaps Daern has crossed paths with the princess?" Sveyyenne asked, seemingly without hope of an answer.<br><br>The oracle's eyes shot open at the question. After hours of being forbidden to answer, insight flooded into her as a vision. A mighty human warrior, stalking the small army of orcs that trailed the High Princess's entourage.<br><br>She could not speak of the army. Was forbidden to. But Daern's path shared much in common with that of Iari. But if such a warrior was willing to risk himself, there was, perhaps, hope.<br><br>"He knows it not, but yes." She could answer. That much, the King could not keep her from speaking. She was grateful, at that moment, that the future could not be told to him. <br><br>Vinariel looked up. Something was not quite proper, here, but she could not openly betray the King. However... some of the Veiled gave themselves to the arts of war. She had enough political strength that she could demand a small guard for a pilgrimage. "Can we safely cross paths with them?"<br><br>"I cannot divine the future." The oracle reminded. "But that path is not closed. The humans in Nesharem can show you the path. I know that they are never more than four on their journeys, and never less than two." She could not utter the word 'Ansion', even then. The necessity forced her to bite her lip.</em><br><br>Silence spread throughout the town as the four of them made their entrance. So close to Ansion, and so close to the lands of the Fey, humans were not completely unfamiliar with the sight of the Veiled. Clad, visible but unseen, they made their way to the temple at the town's center, seeking counsel with the priestess.<br><br>They would find their way.<br><br><hr><br>Daern's grip tightened along with hers, though naught so harshly. He had no need, her head moved as his hands willed, lightly twisting her from side to side, pulling her delicate head onto his quaking girth, desiring to know the tightness of her throat as he knew that of the Duchess before her...<br><br>That he wished to know of Nyseiva. Of Iari.<br><br>Every pained choke, tear, every pleading glance of her eyes, even her struggles with his hindquarters and legs only drew more violent tremors from his manhood, The pain she drew reminded him only that she needed to breath, and as his eruptions slowed, hepulled back slightly, still resting on her tongue, giving her time to catch her breath and lose it again before trebling his efforts so that his glans might know the tightness of her neck...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>29-12-2008, 04:54:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A golden melodious song, light and airy, soothingly danced along the gentle drifts, the currents of the breeze that nestled and caressed the ancient trees, the leaves and the blades of grass that surrounded the gilded fey cage. That song was noted to be not beautiful, but unearthly, otherworldly. Birds stirred and twittered, pastoral animals stilled in tranquility, and nymphs that rested well hidden from the naked human eye sought the glorious seductive sound. Iari, bathed and washed aglow from her sensual pleasures, found herself resting amongst her kind, her kindred, despite the violence that tainted the earth not hours passed.<br><br>&nbsp;“Draw closer, my sweet,” Iari whispered, her hand outstretched to the voluptuous wood nymph; bare of garments the fey creature was, natural, and hauntingly beautiful. &nbsp;“Love me.” Iari's whisper, a purr of a velvety voice, was a command yet not, and delicate fingers touched delicate fingers, and nestled amongst the luxurious linens the naked fey did to indulge in a sexuality that Iari craved.<br>&nbsp;<br>Eyes closed, Iari's thoughts drifted over the miles to seek that of Daern's mind, the human male, who marked her flesh with his blood. <br><br>Lips, moist and glistening with dewy saliva, parted to cry. The noise was one wrought with passion as the nymph languidly and idly drew her damp warm tongue over the sensitive bud of flesh that adorned the apex of Iari's femininity. The elven maid arched her back, twisted and writhed under the nymph's excruciatingly attentive touch, and concentrated Iari did on finding Daern, his thoughts.<br><br>So near he was, so palpable his mind that a weave of magic, of divinity, of suggestion left Iari to penetrate his mind.<br><br><em>“Please,” </em> Never had she begged a soul. Never had she telepathically linked unknowingly.<em> “Please, Daern,”</em> Iari's words were muted, and the siren song that came from within the gilded cage, the hedonist carnal cries, made Nyseiva cover her ears or else become seduced by her sister's bidding and pleasure.&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br><hr><br>Breathed, Aethe did, as the urgency to swallow the salty, sourish thick seed faded for but a moment of time. As the elven maid deeply inhaled, as she drew in the scent of the sweet nature around her and the pungent fragrance of the human's sweat, of the male's arousal, she felt the heaviness, the weight of his stout masculinity upon her sleek velvety tongue. Wondered, the maiden did, if he was truly spent, sated. The warm streaks of his seed that darted down her chin and dribbled upon her breasts, her torso, those that carved an exploratory path to her wanton nether regions, her virginal womanhood, she felt now cool upon her body. Tempted she was to draw a finger upon the trickles and splashes of pearl like liquid, caress it into her skin, lick it from her fingertips, yet stayed she did obediently at his feet. <br><br>She nuzzled him once, her nose tickling the coarse dark curling hairs that adorned his manhood, and further she pressed his girth inwards so that the sensitive swollen tip stroked against her throat.<br><br>Wide eyes peered up at him, but not a word Aethe spoke as she continued to swallow the fluids that bathed and washed upon her tongue, and drowned her sweet succulent mouth that so often Iari kissed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>10-01-2009, 22:06:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern's grip tightened on Aethe's head, twisting her a bit further around his shaft, every beat of his heart dragging her another fraction of an inch onto him with every turn. The entry of his massive glans into the tightness of her throat caused him to quake and convulse, though little of his seed spilled into her. He was mostly spent, though the long period of abstinence and the lingering effects of Iari's healing magic had bestowed him with quite a lot to give.<br><br>He smiled down at her gaze when she looked up at him, the very appearance of it, the bulge in her neck... it was almost enough, entirely on its own.<br><br><em>"Please,"</em><br><br>The sound of that perfect voice ringing in Daern's head caused him to gasp in shock, pulling Aethe's lips the rest of the way onto his girth, burying her face into his pubes. "Iari..." His voice was a soft whisper of bliss as his eyes closed, veinous length quaking within the elf's oral cavern.<br><br><em>"Please, Daern,"</em><br><br>The convulsing completed, almost as if her voice triggered - forced - it from him, unleashing more of his spend straight into Aethe's throat, though not nearly so much as last. He pulled his girth free from her slowly, his member relaxing a bit but not fully on its way out, one final burst of seed spraying over her unmarked cheek as his glans released itself from her cheek.<br><br><em>What so one does to a symbol of the Goddess, one does to the Goddess.</em> The quote was at the back of his mind, staring at her cheek. That he had smacked, and, just now, used as a target for his release.<br><br>Iari's orders still fresh in his mind as he bent over to lift the elven maiden into the air, resting her on him as he held her tightly, sprinting the short distance to his camp - at least, it was short for him. <em>At least I am not yet stricken down.</em><br><br>The camp was a bit of a mess, but the stress of Iari's command gave him a haste and disregard that he normally would not have. He set the handmaiden down on his bedroll, and tossed a few of the more important tools and gear into his pack before slinging it over his back, taking only a few seconds and gazing at Aethe for a moment before hefting her again, rushing down to the caravan. <em>I can lose the rest of it.</em> He thought to himself.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>15-01-2009, 18:34:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The swollen roundness of Daern's heavy cock, the still engorged glans which was seemingly inherent remained inflamed and tinted with the opaque colour of a red-purple. That masculinity swabbed and bathed the tenderest flesh in Aethe's throat, and although there was a forcefulness as it brushed against the hollow of her deep cavernous mouth, the maiden yielded. Stretched liberally her moist and silken passage did, and although painful, and although she gagged and choked upon the acceptance of his densely wide organ, the searing pain of a religious ritual bound the elf to the human male. Blinded Aethe was, and silent of protest she remained. Only then did her thin hands flail and beat at his strong body that towered over her, almost shielded her, yet her weak strikes were not to avert Daern, not to harm him, but out of agony that raked her heart and soul as the completion of sacrament ended. <br><br><em>Would the human male respect the binding of the Goddess? Would he love her?</em> Thoughts, mysterious, and heightened by pain, corrupted Aethe's mind, plagued her, and wide-eyed, feeling a hunger to know the human male as her own, the maiden peered up at him. Any sign upon her face that she could love him, worship him both physically and mentally, it was washed away when she heard the name 'Iari', and the heat of creamy ivory seed sprayed upon her cheek marring her beauty, marring the mark of the Goddess, Aethe fell faint as Daern drew her near his body.<br><br>The rush to the camp, being laid upon the bedroll, and hiking to the caravan would be lost to Aethe; her strength and constitution had been taxed coupled with the new awaking of her duty to Daern.<br><br><em>Daern.</em><br><br>Noted it was the calm of the sky by Nyseiva; that no wind rustled leaves, that the air stayed still, that no trace of animal could be heard let alone seen, yet gathered around the gilded cage, the golden prison that was home to Iari since her birth, animals had flocked. It was eerie, and equally as haunting as the airy cries that emanated from the cage. Iari's voice, the carnal sighs of pleasure, it was all that could be heard, and near seduction of a soul it was in so much that Nyseiva was given to distraction once or twice. <br><br>White teeth chewed on a supple bottom lip, and Nyseiva drew her blades free of their scabbards when indeed, grass could be heard crumpling against the earth under heavy footfalls. <em>One set</em>. Alert, and in martial stance, every fibre of Nyseiva being taut with alertness, prepared for defence in so much that the elven maid awaited a foe. <br><br>The deer that had nibbed on blossoming buds, and the birds that had gathered upon the cage to roost, sprung free of their lingering solitude, their peacefulness, and took flight into air, and into the woods. Through the depths of trees, and under the canopy of the forest, Nyseiva spied her foe. The clumsiness of mankind, of Daern, had no elegant step, and trodden were the plants in his path, and heavy were steps upon the ground. <br><br>Nyseiva's eyebrow arched on seeing Aethe's state, the thin limp body carelessly tossed over a sturdy shoulder, and the weapon master's lips twitched into a smile. &nbsp;“Eroded her constitution into nothingness, have you?” The maiden inquired, and eyes, the look within them, scolded the man yet not a word she said. &nbsp;“Best to conserve your energies. Despite her fragile natural and appearance, Iari is demanding in all aspects.” Nyseiva moved away from Daern then, dismissed the conversation as jealousy needled within her for on them, on Daern and Aethe, she could smell the scent of sex. It was, however, no more stronger than Iari's or that of the nymph whom willingly offered Iari sexual bliss.<br><br>&nbsp;“Her needs and wants will always be met.” Nyseiva whispered, and her brow wrinkled as she pondered the depth of those specific words. &nbsp;“Always.” Swords were sheathed, and Nyseiva stole one last glance at Daern in wonderment of what was, and what the future held. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>25-01-2009, 10:26:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern saw the birds scattering at his approach, and as his heavy feet trod out onto the road, he spied some of the animals in flight - and Nyseiva poised to end his life should he have proven to be a threat.<br><br>That knowledge bore into him, snapping his mind out of his rushed haze as he paused, gazing down at Aethe's limp form, the telltale sign of his dried seed on her face and bosom. <em>Not that Nyseiva would quite understand... yet.</em> He looked back at the warrior-elf, the legend among her own kind, regarding her eyes for a time, almost enough to get lost in them before she spoke.<br><br>He looked down at Aethe's slightly breathing form at the warrioress's chastizement, his footfalls slowing. "I think she just had difficulty breathing, the air in some parts of the forest can get thick with pollen and moisture." At least he could still muster the wit to describe things on generous terms.<br><br>He sighed a bit as she moved away, the look on her face familiar to him. He nodded, and, slowly, made his way to the carriage, discarding his rancid bedding and setting his pack gently down before carrying the nearly naked Aethe within, his eyes not prepared or expectant of the perfection he was soon to witness.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>08-02-2009, 20:19:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;“You speak correctly, yet incorrectly, the words marked by half-truths Daern once of House Mekkoran and chosen of Talthus, but now cast from both.” Nyseiva remarked, the words spoken in High Elven, the flow of the language poetic regardless of what was spoken. On a simple viewing of Aethe, the slight body nearly unclothed and pressed against his body, Nyseiva felt a twinge of emotion needle within her, but what that emotion was, Nyseiva did not fully know. Jealousy was something she did not experience before, but she knew she wished the stains upon Aethe's flesh were her own, and given by Daern. Walked away, Nyseiva did, and from her peripheral vision, she noticed Daern enter the cage.<br><br>A smile played upon the Elven warrior's lips, one which blossomed into a full smile as she wondered what thoughts would pour into Daern's mind as he would be exposed to the beauty of the Wood Nymph and her sister.<br><br>If the Goddess had made any being perfect, it may have been the Wood Nymph, or it may have been Iari. Limbs, slender and pale, elegantly shaped were entwined and entangled of those of equal beauty, and those of a succulent golden hue that had been kissed by the sun, the ribbons of light that bathed the glorious earth with heat, with light. Dark rich chestnut hair pooled onto silvery hair; the naked women had fallen asleep, lulled into unconsciousness after the desires of love were well sated: lips glistened with silken fluids.<br><br>A scent, familiar yet not, roused Iari from her slumber, and languidly, full of idle grace, large eyes peered at Daern in recognition of him, of Aethe. &nbsp;“Daern.” Iari murmured, her voice barely heard, yet the tone was nothing more than sliver of velvet against the senses. It was all she said, but she extended her thin hand that was adorned with gems, those that glinted in the natural sunlight, a bidding for him to draw near her and be by her side. A longing she had, one to speak with him, and if there were other words that were forming on her tongue, all was lost as the nymph woke, and drew Iari's large pale pink areolae into her warm mouth to suckle upon it. The nymph's tongue rolled across the supple flesh, and made the nipple pert, erect.<br><br>Iari cried out, a wisp of pleasure, a delightfully sinful noise that no male, not elf or human, had heard until that moment. Iari closed her eyes as she was further lulled into carnal bliss. Moments would slip by, and trying to compose herself from the relaxation that the nymph offered her, Iari dismissed the creature so that she might recover from her leisure, and set the course of events, her and her kin, to safety with the aide of Daern. With no idea of modesty or shame, Iari lazily stretched upon the opulent pillows before Daern, and she took a moment to recuperate from the nymph's sexuality.<br><br>&nbsp;“Speak your thoughts to me, Daern, please.” Iari bid, and she arched a silvery eyebrow at him as she awaited his words.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>19-03-2009, 17:38:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Daern smirked to himself at Nyseiva's comment - how could he be so foolish as to expect he could outwit the sister of an elven princess? That was not, however, his exact goal. Nyseiva would no doubt get quite acquainted with his manner of speaking. Iari, however...<br><br>The human never thought of himself as premature, lacking in restraint or stamina. His choice of mates was rather shrewd, but several whom he had loved - if that was the term - went on to love others, and they often pined after his qualities. Maybe it was Iari, or the aura of the beautiful woodland fey that joined with her... not quite so pale as her mistress, but every bit as voluptuous and so painfully beautiful. Pain such that it demanded immediate release, and no conscious thought of Daern's would stay it.<br><br>His erection redoubled, thick veins visibly stretching the skin of his shaft, firm to an extent that it had never reached before. His milky seed came forth instantly, spraying over the twin visages of perfection before him. He let Aethe down slowly, her form slipping gently on the bedding opposite of Iari, arms wrapped behind him in doing so as he could not take his gaze from the scene.<br><br>After her climax, <em>Iari simply asked the nymph to leave</em>, as if she were some common pleasure the princess could summon on a whim.&nbsp; <em>Maybe for her.</em> Daern's voice choked on the thoughts his mind provided, little more than halting grunts until the princess actually bade him to speak.<br><br>"I imagine you... on your knees before me." He did not think on the blasphemy of such talk, at least among elves. "Lips wrapped tightly around my girth, eyes looking pleading at me, though for more or less I am not certain, your perfect tongue washing me as I empty into you, twin streams of my seed flowing out the corners of your lips as you drink, as your handmaiden did before you..."<br><br>The words came unbidden, and blunt. He shook his head slightly, somewhat stunned, looking away so that more logical thoughts may have their time on his tongue. "But it is not safe here, my Lady Iari..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>01-07-2009, 04:17:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Clung to her form those opalescent droplets did, dewy cream upon the perfection of milk white flesh, and trailed they did, those droplets, to form a path that travelled over the swell of rounded breasts, that licked at pink supple nipples, dipped into the shallowness of the navel and trickled lower between slender thighs and pooled to a virginal sex that was honeyed with arousal. Simply, Iari basked with languid leisure as if it were a luxury to be blessed with, the male human seed, and not once did it rouse her, disturb her elegance. At his feet she rested, listened to his vulgar blunt words and yet those very words were enticing, daring, and out of curiosity, her index finger found a speckle of semen, whisked it upon the pad and into her mouth she took it, drank it. A blossoming flavour of salt and of sweat germinated upon her pliable wet tongue, coursed over her throat, and a sliver of a smile curved voluptuous lips.<br><br>The finger that was now moist from Iari's mouth, her saliva, traced a design upon the brocade and silk pillow nearest her and beckoned Daern to join her she did, a simple pat to the pillow and a silent yet pleading look of eyes, and if for anything to briefly join her by the side. “Lack of restraint, eagerness for release you possess Daern, formerly of the House Mekkoran. Would not one enjoy the hours of pleasure, be tempted to indulge and partake in carnality if only one did not spend his seed? Would not that be the preference, to ache with sensuality, and tease without mercy for it is said that no male human knows the art of love making. Washing me with your seed demonstrates that for premature it was, but as you honoured my request to speak your mind, I will indulge you in offering Aethe to teach you the art of suppressing immediate release, the art of love making in general, and maybe within weeks after an intimate conversation with Aethe, her opinion of your skill, will I indulge your fantasy only if,” the whisper was immaculately tender, and her pale eyes embraced his gaze. “Only if you lead my handmaiden, my sister and myself into safety. Grateful forever more we would be, Daern,” Iari melodious voice, wisps of silken words that caressed the senses teased his ears, slid between the couple. No human had ever been offered that prize, the possession of an elven princess, of Iari, and yet it was offered to this rugged man and done with freedom. <br><br>Only then did Iari dare to paint his bottom lip with his own semen, glossing it with the semi-opaque thickness, and only then did the Princess dare to draw closer to Daern and taste it from his lips. Restrained she was, yearning for their simple embrace to deepen, yet only suckled on his lip she did and as moments passed, her breath stilled and a bidding mewling noise of bliss was released from her, sighed. “But it is not safe here, and travel we must, yet never have I left this cage Daern. It has been forbidden, the cage my keeper, said that if I strayed that no more would I be blessed by the King as his chosen one and fear I do.”<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>10-07-2009, 00:06:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Summoned to Iari's side, Daern's gaze fell on the slowly retreating nymph, finally over the shock of being dismissed so casually. Her every reversed step a sultry sway no less suggestive then if she were walking forward. A cruel, mocking smile played across her lips as the princess chastised him. Her own faint laughter played out as Iari overtook his gaze and spoke of her future gratefulness, mocking Daern for his eagerness, the princess for her ignorance, and, of course, herself for being the weakest of the three.<br><br>Dazed, it was not until after the princess spread his seed over the bottom of his lip that he realized what she had done. Surprised and with no room to escape he let out a soft sigh, his eyes closing as the perfect woman wrapped her lips gently around his, suckling them clean no less so than when she drew the infection from his wound earlier. He let his arm fall about her, nestling her gently as her thigh graced his still-firm erection, the slick, throbbing structure giving her every bit as much of an indication of his heartbeat as the obscene pounding within his chest.<br><br>He laid back for a moment, enjoying the caress of her flesh on his skin, a sensation not entirely unlike silk, but with a warmth and presence that had no equal in any mortal craft. "As I mentioned..." He spoke softly, taking his time as if in excuse to continue the embrace. "...we are not far from the nearest hallow. Your sister and I need to ensure that mithril does not fall into orc hands... or worse. We will load the carriage as needed, and return to bury the fallen after leading it to safety with you within." He gently raised his hand to her hair, slightly adjusting and stroking down it. "...we can then take our time, and discuss our future."<br><br>Even staring into her eyes, his thoughts drifted to Jeuvenar and the ruins of the grand castle. <em>I planned to find my glory or die trying, why should I even consider risking this?</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Airindel</strong> on <strong>21-07-2009, 04:44:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Curled to Daern's very form Iari was, bare flesh melding to bare flesh, lithe elegant limbs entwined to be held, and the heat from their tangled bodies scorched the air closest to them, and burned it with a silent untold lust that was equally insatiable for the two. Longings there were, curiosities, inquisitiveness, idle thoughts of carnality beheld by both human and fae, and the smallest of smiles graced and worshipped the lips that pressed delicately against those of Daern's; a taste of sweat and salt beaded upon the soft porous tongue of Iari. Savoured it, she did, the taste of his seed, the taste of human male, and not until she was alone would her slender fingers seek to rake the opalescent creamy liquid upon her flesh, rub it against herself, lap at it, suckle it from her fingertips and enjoy in exquisite pleasures as if alone it could cure any thirst that plagued the princess.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Then, he pet her.<br><br>Daern's hand firmly pressed upon the silver threads of silk, stroked the richness of Iari's mane from root to tip, fingers entangling in divine tresses, and the sensation of not the touch, but of his boldness was inconceivably lavish. Almost did she weep, tears welling in near moonlight eyes, for never had she the pleasure of a male's touch; certainly not human. Forbidden it was: ritualistically alone, barren of affection it was for her from birth to present day save for kindred spirit amongst her handmaid, and a few selective chosen.<br><br>&nbsp;“Then rest you shall not, and work you, I will.” Iari whispered upon his lips, the kisses yielding to cease. &nbsp;“Go forth. Be gone with you.” She insisted, her words dismissive, yet words that she cared not to speak. She shifted then, her supple body breaking contact with that of Daern's, and reclined upon the pillows she did once more; eyes studied Daern, wanting him to part with her company, yet not.<br><br>Her eyes closed to rid the image of him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Maiden's Progress (Airindel &amp; Vekseid)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>27-07-2009, 00:42:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He let his fingertips rub her ear as he withdrew, tracing a delicate line from her earlobe, around the back of her inner ear, gently squeezing the tip as another drop of his seed landed on her thigh. He smiled as she bid him to leave. "...work me? Should I make the princess beg for permission to wrap her lips around my shaft? To grace it with her tongue? For every last droplet of my seed?" He gave a chuckle as he left the carriage, his gaze first finding Nyseiva. <br><br>He watched her for a time, wondering, if and how the nymph had teased her. <em>Those lips are no less fine than Iari's...</em> he thought to himself. That, naturally, led him to the thought of both of them begging... and brought his erection to rekindle itself, and he doubled over with a grunt, almost as if in pain as he barely managed to restrain himself.<br><br>It certainly did hurt.<br><br>Recovering, and shaking his head, he reached into his pack and drew a cloth about himself. He set about retrieving the mithril from the fallen soldiers, even in his state showing the proper ritual respect for the fallen elven dead, performing a crudely spoken ritual to the Goddess as he laid them on the side of the road, bodies aligned with the rising and setting of the sun.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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