Chronicles of Hemlear Pt. 01

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The next day Averill caught up to the group of them, spotting the large horse that the orc would be riding and seeing that there were only four of them. She slowed and scanned the trees around her before spotting the slight form high in a tree with a slender bow aimed in her direction. She made it obvious that she had seen the sniper before approaching the rest of the group. The orc seemed startled to see her and the rest of them all looked a little curious. They were mostly familiar faces, though the haze of the mead still clouded a lot of the last few days as she dismounted and stood off a little way as the slender form of a Halfling slipped down from the tree and padded over. She looked around the group with narrow eyes and settled on the orc. Her arm hefted the silver coins inside their pouch and she scaled them at his head with a vicious arm and cruel intentions and he snarled as he ducked it and stepped toward her, hand gripping the heavy iron bar he used as a weapon.

"I am no man's whore." She snarled at him, hands coming to rest on the hilts of her knives as he advanced, but a male human held up a hand and the brute stopped, looking from the tall, blonde human and back to her with the snarl still on his lips.

"You are the woman he was with back in Jarlani." The man said calmly and he looked back and forth to confirm it. "No offense meant, but you certainly acted like a woman of negotiable affection." He was trying to be tactful and Averill knew a clergyman when she saw one.

"No, I simply see no reason why women should enjoy sex any less than men. If anything I should be paying him. After all, he was just a means to an end." Averill said with a sharp jibe.

This raised a snort from the Halfling with the bow, who pulled down a scarf to reveal a slight, feminine face. Another woman smiled and moved off to one side, not wanting to be between the pair of combatants. Tall with flaming red hair she had a sword at her hip and Averill could see where she hung her quiver. The last member of the party moved away to sit near the fire, long voluminous robes drawn tight against a slight, feminine frame as she dismissed them all. Something within Averill seemed to ignite in flame, and she was sweating despite the cool of the evening and she licked her lips as she glanced around at the party. But the Cleric spoke up quietly, the obvious leader of the group and a very firm influence on the orc.

"You have my apologies, mistress..." he offered, leaving a leading question in hopes of her name.

"Averill." She offered and he bowed slightly.

Averill hid a smile and merely quirked an eyebrow. For a holy man he was attractive, and something about his manner, the way he spoke to her, the way he treated her immediately attracted her to him. While she craved hard sex and rough partners, she was still a woman, and a man who respected her was still more attractive than just pure physical sex could ever make him. Unconsciously she adjusted her posture and bearing a bit, stepping closer to him and changing the way she spoke and stood to make herself more attractive. Averill was pretty and she knew that her fine, elfin features were attractive to most men.

"I am Aeric, of the cloth of Altaer." The cleric introduced himself with one hand to his chest and the other opened to her, palm outward the tattoo of his order plain on the skin of his palm before he gestured to the half-orc. "You have already met Drogan, one of our warriors." The orc grunted and set his war-bar heavily on his shoulder, protected there by an iron plate that bent to match the side of his neck before turning and stumping back to the fire, ignoring her. Aeric quirked an eyebrow and turned to the tall human woman with the flaming red hair.

"This is Shaara, also a warrior, and our lissome young friend here is Nylla." He said gesturing toward the Halfling. The slight woman smiled wryly and held out a hand. "Nylla is our forest scout. Seated over by the fire is my sister Alyth, she is a studier of the arcane." He finished and Averill looked around the group while she shook the Halflings hand, and then Shaara approached and the taller woman clasped arms with her in the manner of the horse tribes from the Kaliy Downs to the west. Her grip was strong and she had the fiery temperament and noble bearing of her people, renowned warrior-maidens who were known to travel the breadth of the world seeking adventure and returning with husbands from exotic lands. Her people lived in lands unclaimed by the kings of the northlands and left open by the elves even further west. They traded freely with all people but defended themselves and their homes fiercely. All were equal among the Kaliy tribes so long as they respected the freedom of the plains people.

Nylla however was an oddity; the slight halfling was an outrunner, one of a secretive group not known to travel far from the moorlands of their people but sought out as wilderness scouts for their quick thinking and quicker bows. Nylla was practically festooned with different weapons, a sling and a short bow, several knives and a short sword, she had blades on her boots and kneepads and she moved with a comfortable glide that was noiseless in the grasses and loose leaves of the rolling country just outside of Hardor's crossing. And yet Averill couldn't help but notice the missing role in this particular group. And she quirked an eyebrow as she looked at Aeric again.

"You seem to lack a dungeon scout, brother Aeric. Are you on a delve?"

He smiled ruefully and gestured toward the fire in invitation, the three women falling in and joining him as he walked. Aeric seated himself beside his sister and Averill sat on his other side. As she sat, Drogan snorted again, his broad, somewhat handsome features passive but he stood pointedly and walked away from the group. She glared after him, the man was acting like she had stolen his last coin instead of given him a night... and a day... that he would never forget. Sometimes men disgusted her, though she had to admit that they had their uses. While they got settled in around the fire, Averill took a moment to look over the sorceress. She looked younger than Aeric with the same striking features with a distinct feminine cast and white hair. She looked innocent and youthful and as she glanced at Averill, the half-elf could see that she had mismatched eyes, one was a deep, cobalt blue and the other was a striking emerald green. She was pretty and slight and seemed lost in whatever she was reading from the small book in her hand. Aeric doted on her, getting her food and asking a dozen little questions before she slapped his hands away and turned back to her book. Finally he looked back to Averill with a pained smile.

"We are indeed lacking a dungeon scout and locksmith. We are heading into Bayford to look up a friend of ours, a trapbreaker who often works out of that city. But he is notoriously hard to get a hold of and we may advertise for a scout when we are there. It will take us a week or more out of our way, but going under without a scout is suicide." He pulled a pot off of the iron cooking frame over the fire and spooned out some stew before passing the bowl to his sister and then serving Averill as well.

She sat with the warm wooden bowl in her hand and fingered the pouch at her side with the other. Most of her 'custom' tools were hidden in various parts of her clothing. But the roll at her hip contained all of the common things that were most used with locks and pins. She was meticulous about them and kept them clean and oiled and checked them almost obsessively. She had paid good money to have them crafted from the hardest alloys she could find and to exacting specifications. Finally she pulled the roll from its case at her side and handed it to Aeric for his perusal. The cleric was a little shocked at just how heavy the roll was, but as he looked over the neatly arrayed tools and lockpicks she could see he knew what he was looking at.

"I'm a dungeon scout and locksmith, and I've been looking for work the last few towns. Looks like I bedded the wrong man in this party. I could have saved you part of your trip." She said with a hidden smile and she saw Shaara snort into her cup at the image. Most clerics of Altaer were known to take vows of celibacy. Aeric looked a little taken aback by the suggestion but his sister smiled wryly at his discomfort while Nylla kept a passive face but amusement was dancing in her eyes. Even embarrassed and caught off guard he still managed a smile and she smiled right back, flirting with him a little, harmlessly. But before he could reply she let him off of the hook.

"But if you need a scout and don't want to travel a week or more and wait however long for a scout to take up your offer and then travel back I might be interested." She sipped at the broth in her bowl before speaking again. "If you think Drogan could handle it."

Aeric smiled at this and nodded, handing her the roll of tools back. She glanced through them, not because she didn't trust the priest, but just out of an obsessive need to make sure her tools were still in perfect order. She could find any pick or tool in her entire kit by feel in the dark and in any of a hundred uncomfortable positions. It was a skill that had saved her life countless times. They sat at the fire and talked for a few hours, all of the party but Drogan, who was still off sulking, having a say in the decision. They all decided that Averill was a good addition to the group and she was added in for a fair share of the haul, plus a small commission for the added danger she might have to face based on what traps and hazards she might have to get them past. The work of a dungeon scout was hazardous and many died when a particularly devious trap went off or they missed something very small. Averill was good, but she had scars and aches from more than a few traps that had been better than she was able to overcome.

She went to rub down her horse and gather her gear as she thought on what she knew of this particular delve. There was an ancient city just on the other side of the Frontier boundary, in the lawless lands and the map Aeric had pointed to a hidden trove somewhere past there. She pulled the saddle down from her horse and scrubbed him with a brush as she thought on things. A part of her longed for contact... but she also craved the violence and conflict that was an intrinsic part of any delve. But the worst was the need she had for a bedmate, her jaw ached and her spine was tingling and hot from her neck all the way to her bottom as she thought about the young priest and pictured helping him re-evaluate his faith, focusing on her fantasies more than her surroundings and her sex was clenching and tingling with anticipation. It was something that she had noticed ever since that damn fever dream. She didn't just crave rich foods and rough bedmates; she craved violence and combat as well. Bloodshed seemed to call her, a harmony that she must answer and as soon as she had known that this group was on their way to a delve; she just had to be a part of it. It was just too good to refuse.

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As she was finishing up a strong hand grabbed each arm and she was pulled back against a broad chest and the familiar, musky scent of orc filled her nose. She had been so lost in the task at hand and the anticipation of the coming delve that she hadn't seen or heard Drogan approach. She fought for a moment, but he nipped her ear with his teeth and she groaned as a shock like lightning ran through her body. The bastard knew her weak points. He nipped again and one hand slipped around to give her breast a hard squeeze through her leather shirt and she gritted her teeth against a moan as he nipped her ear yet again. Her pussy clenched and her spine went from a tingle to an ache as her body pressed back against his and he chuckled deep in his throat.

"Looks like the elfling still wants something from me after all. So who should be paying who?" His rough grasp and the closeness of him was maddening and arousing and she bared her teeth as she fought the urges and desires of her body, a hand slipping back to a small knife she kept at the small of her back, drawing it and pricking him with it, making the big man snarl and shove her away, a hand clapping over the scratch on his belly.

"Never without my permission." Averill growled at him.

Something in her eyes and posture, teeth bared and face furrowed in anger made the orc take a step back and drop a hand to the dagger at his side, the war bar nowhere to be seen. Averill quickly drew one of her long knives and stepped toward him and he got his hand away from the weapon quickly, but her approach didn't check and she moved quickly up to him, the knife coming up as she snarled and then her other hand grabbed the leather harness he wore and dragged him down to her level, her strength amazing him as her lips pressed to his own roughly. She held the kiss for a long moment and released him, stepping back and snapping the blade into the sheath at her hip and she sneered at him with a curl of her lip.

"You're still the whore."

She turned her back on him and walked away, giving her hips that extra sway that drew the eye and distracted men and let him know just how cocky she really was. He snarled at her, but she could tell he was just as intrigued and aroused, or he would have attacked her by now. He might be a brutal, ignorant bastard, but he was the best bed partner she had had in a while and he knew how to get her aroused. She was tingling all over by now, with the ache down her spine like a sword cut and her mouth was watering and hurting. And she was confused by what she was feeling. On one hand she was as aroused as she had ever been by his hard, callous treatment of her, and nibbling her ears drove her wild, but she couldn't let him have dominance of her, not under any circumstances. An orc with dominance of a woman was mated, plain and simple. And while she planned to bed him again she couldn't let him think she was anything less than her own woman.

Mating among elves and orcs was very different. Orcs tended to live roughly as long as humans, tough many more died in conflicts due to their aggressive nature. They were a very strength-dominated society with the very strongest getting and keeping mates and the weakest dying off or being killed. Orcs were never known for brains, though some of them were amazingly cunning. Elves on the other hand lived far, far longer and tended toward more philosophical pursuits. Elves married only rarely and never for anything less than love. An eternity with someone you did not love was very much like a living hell. No restrictions were placed on who an elf could marry, and it was rare but not unheard of for elves to marry outside their race. Whereas orcs chose their mates for strength, elves chose for feelings. And to complicate things even more, Averill had her human nature added to the already chaotic mix. Of the races she had met, humans were the most chaotic and diverse, but also the most confusing.

She turned back to the fire and carried her things to the open spot between Shaara and Nylla, placing herself as far from Drogan as she could get and settling in with the rest of them. They were hardly amateurs and she had already been fitted into the watch rotation smoothly and a place made for her things. She had a day that she was to cook, and another day when she was to take care of the animals. The party had four riding horses along and the fast hound that Nylla rode, as well as two pack mules and a spare riding horse that was large enough for any of them. They had spare weapons and gear, plenty of food and all of the common things they might need, as well as a few of the uncommon things all stashed among their gear. She was amazed at the meticulous skill that had gone into organizing this delve. She spent some time laughing with Shaara and Nylla before they all settled in for sleep, the little Halfling having the midnight watch and Averill relieving her, and Shaara relieving Averill.

Her sleep was deep and untroubled, but she dreamt of the three women with red mouths again in Bayford a year ago. It had been a fever dream but it had stayed with her this long. In her dreams she spoke to the enchanting elf woman and told her where she was bound and who she was with. The elf was pleased with her and rewarded her with another kiss, soft lips upon her own and small hands cupping her face, the salty taste of the mouth on her own was vivid and clear and when Averill woke for her watch her arousal by Drogan was unchecked, an ache of need between her thighs that had her staring at the orc and wondering if she could wake him and slip in a quick bounce without waking the others.

She dismissed the idea and forced herself to sit and be uncomfortable with the feelings and finish her watch through the next hour. Time passed and she still had another half hour until she was supposed to wake Shaara, but the tall warrior maid woke and moved to sit with her at the fire, close enough to touch. They sat in silence for a while and finally Shaara spoke.

"Drogan can be a bastard sometimes, but he's loyal and strong and he won't abandon a friend or comrade." She said quietly. "He can fight better than most men I know and while he may take our jokes a little seriously, that won't keep him from standing over you if you fall and shielding you with his own flesh is he has to. I can tell he still wants you and I can't blame him; I'll bed you myself if I get the chance." She lapsed into silence and Averill looked at the tall warrior woman in a new light.

The warrior-maidens were known to be forward about sex. Their people had long considered men and women equal, almost to the same level as the elves, and the women had no qualms with asking for sex if there was someone they found attractive or desirable, and Shaara was no exception to this stereotype. She was well muscled for a human woman, with her hair in a careful braid that likely had something hidden in it to discourage hair pulling, with a metal cap on the end and a small blade currently taken off for resting. She wore leather clothing, just hard enough to turn a small blade, but tight enough to enhance her femininity. She was generous with her cleavage, the laces of the shirt going from collar to hem and leaving several inches almost bare in the center, and the dark pants were skin tight on her, with her weapons belts normally riding low and crossing in the front and back. She was very female despite her chosen profession and Averill realized just how attractive she was as she leaned a little closer. Life in as an adventurer didn't allow for long romances, people tended to leap at chances when they presented themselves.

"It's good to know that someone is interested." She said quietly. "I think if I tried anything with Aeric he might die of mortification, and Alyth doesn't seem the type. As for Nylla..."

"You couldn't handle me." Came the soft voice from the halfling and both of the women on watch chuckled softly at the rebuke, Shaara kicking the faux-sleeping form softly but affectionately.

"She might surprise you, Averill. She's awfully... bendy." Shaara supplied with a smile, but her hand came down to rest on Averill's thigh and the half-elf didn't push her away, just welcomed the contact with a smile.

She didn't have the heart to tell them that the Halfling looked like an elf or half-elf child to her. But at the same time Nylla was far more developed than any child of elfin blood. Turning to the warrior maid, she cocked her head to the side and smiled at her. Shaara smiled back and leaned in suddenly to kiss her softly. It was a kiss that only a woman could give, tender and strong all at the same time and Averill returned it automatically, parting her lips and tasting the warrior maid's tongue instantly, she teased it with her own and followed it back into Shaara's mouth as a hand slipped up to cover the warriors breast. Even through the hard leather of the shirt she could feel that the woman was both hard and soft in just the right mix and every inch a woman. The kiss lingered for a while more before they parted, each just a small inch from the other, Shaara looking at her with unblinking eyes and a hand had come around Averill to stroke the back of her ear and neck and Averill shivered with each delicate stroke. Shaara smiled at her and the hand slipped away. Averill sighed and patted the hand on her thigh as she gazed at the woman and smiled.