1.

Yokgu traversed Raborg forest to the clearing where he practiced martial arts on a balmy Fruitrich afternoon. Raborg was the uncontested territory of the Untamed, led by Mazoga, a high priestess of Unja, goddess of pleasures. The tenets of Unja stressed unity and harmonious relations among all beings, the development of the intellect, and sensuality. Raised in the faith more common to orcs, Dygnos, god of war and victory, and knowing firsthand of that temple’s corruption and cruelty, Yokgu was Mazoga’s first convert upon her return from Drulbo En. As he was the Trusted Sentinel of the Untamed, everyone followed suit immediately.

Mazoga was the daughter of Vakmu, one of the reform-minded chieftains who sat on the Honored Council. After he led many suns’ worth of deliberations, the Honored Council reached a recent consensus: orcs were free to worship whatever god they chose and it was best to oblige the growing sentiment that intertribal warfare cease immediately. The battles only seemed to benefit the crowns, and the crowns, in the growing sentiment among all the peoples of the Octavian Empire, were to be damned.

Yokgu arrived at the perimeter of groves and thickets of whisper pine clusters, where the sharp, sweet pinene and citrus aromas of the trees mingled with the powdery fragrance of phoenix violets and nascent intoxication of wild mage’s weed. A stump had been carved to make a seat and branches had been lashed together into a makeshift rack. He savored several deep breaths before a long swig from the flagon of ginger root brew he carried, surveying the area, then leaning his halberd against a nearby tree. He removed the satchel and flagons from around his shoulders, unbuckled his sword belt, shucked his loin cloth, and hung them all on their respective places on the rack before sitting. The reputation of the Untamed afforded them a marked degree of security in the forest.

Yokgu already looked the other way when it came to how his troops pleasured themselves - as long as force wasn’t involved. That was a behavior he found intolerable in the Dygnos priesthood where he perfected his mercilessly unforgiving fighting style on those who offended his sensibilities. He entered the temple in his eighth year accompanying his father, with his coaching, and by developing his own unique fighting style through diligent and dedicated study, he defeated the head abbot of his native northern temple in his fortieth. The abbots of the remaining temples arrived to duel. Once they were defeated, Yokgu was summoned to Drulbo En by Vakmu to teach his fighting styles to the Untamed, who were already feared and famed as an effective cavalry.

Now, in his 53rd sun and still maintaining a monastic existence, his immediate thoughts drifted into a memory collage of an afternoon spent in a room over The Nasty Sun tavern to arouse him as the breeze cooled the sweat on his torso. Fully tumescent, and after several moments of stroking with varying lengths, speeds, and rhythms, he heard a slow, even-paced rustle from another path and a soft gasp of surprise before the footsteps gingerly attempted to change direction. Yokgu reached for his loincloth, advising. “It will be easier for you to pass here than go around.”

An embarrassed elven initiate of Krilena, emerged from the trees, lowering the hood on her penitent’s robe. “I, I was going to the ruins to meditate on, on my vow of chastity.”

As he was well-traveled and a frequent brothel visitor, Yukgo was certain the initiate was from one of the high-born elven families of the Oceraviel Empire. Centuries of arranged intermarriage left them with an indicative angled hook shape to the tip of their ears and an unusually austere and disciplined composure. However, scandals ran rampant in their circle and many turned to the temples of Krilena seeking penance for lapsed faith after sating whatever desire overtook them. The wearing of the perpetually tormenting penitent’s robe was reserved for incorrigible offenders, further transgression was met with floggings. Yet, Vulwin Hergella weighed the penalty considerably against what she saw that laid beneath Yokgu’s loincloth.

“We were told at the temple that was an orc horde in this forest but I’ve never seen any of you here. Please, excuse me for intruding.” She stood enthralled. Yokgu nodded and gestured for her to pass, averting his eyes to avoid further discomfort. Vulwin was lost in calculating risks to rewards until becoming sharply aware of the very explicit details she made in a pact with Urau, the true god of magic, by a prickling sensation between her legs that caused her to suck her breath in. Yokgu glanced up and gestured again for the initiate to pass with a bit more insistence.

“I’m sorry for staring,” Vulwin stammered between short, shallow breaths before finding her resolve. “But, could you continue with what you were doing?”

The robe rendered her formless. Her circlet was of modest uprese with Krilena’s sigil on the diadem, rested over an oval-shaped face. Enticing upturned penny eyes shimmered with lust, a retroussé nose, and round lips with a slight pucker aimed at him with deliberate sensuality.

“It has been 1 sun and 10 moons since I’ve taken my vows again. Looking at you relieves me.”

Yokgu shrugged and removed his loincloth impartially once he ascertained no threat was nearby. Vulwin’s eyes widened and jaw dropped in fascination as Yokgu’s moss and slate-flecked cock returned to its previously formidable erect state of stout girth, sufficient and efficient extent. He wasn’t more than 1.82 meters in height and 99 kilos of sinuously defined, proportional muscles pulsing in time and reaction with the stroking action of his gnarled but oddly beautiful fist. Vulwin noted how at peace he was in the forest. He felt safe enough to close his eyes and revel in a memory of someone, somewhere. In the afternoon light, she noted the varying shades of green and grey in his skin, he resembled the best erotic illusions of Sozin.

Vulwin’s head swam in the frenzy of everything forbidden for the better part of her life being within easy reach. The robe, woven from burlap, cliff bite, and spitfire hedge was clumsily yet quickly shucked and discarded immediately. The Fruitrich breeze through the crawly gown she wore underneath was a welcome sensation, even more so once doffed. She sat on a nearby rock and placed a hand under the front of the loin cloth she wore, masturbating her delicately erect cock with practiced, controlled, delicate movements as to not disturb the intricate knotting that held it together, leaving evidence of transgression.

Vulwin sighed softly in relief, disrupting Yukgo’s memory and soon realized she was being watched. She reveled in the glints of unbridled desire glinting in Yukgo’s eyes for her. Yukgo found her gamine yet curvaceous form, conic yet full, perky breasts most especially pleasing as they rose and fall with her excited breaths. She had a knowing carnality beneath her apparently youthful form, stretching her shapely legs to attract his eyes and tease “Do you see something you like, liege?”

Until that moment, where Yukgov grunted and restrained himself from stepping toward her, Vulwin had only seen the naked scorn of the older priestesses of Krilena, especially Head Abbess Ecaeris Waesrel. She took a particular sadistic glee in flogging reprobates until they confessed their sins.

On the other and far more convincing hand, Urau had kept to their end of the pact. “Let me assure you of my intentions.” Vulwin gestured for Yukgo to stand closer and knelt in front of his rigidity, taking it in her eager hand, parting her lips to whisper, “Put this in my mouth,” rounding her lips and looking up at him seductively.

Yukgo guided his member into her, she placed her hands on his hips to swallow him whole. He groaned with her deft application of suction and the coursing of her tongue over the details of his member. Vulwin shifted her grasp to his buttocks to push him deeper into her mouth, jouncing her head with varying speeds. His shuddering caused her to close her eyes and whimper. She deftly plunged her ring and middle fingers in the space between his gonads and ass, spurring him to prod into her. He placed his hands behind her head and at the nape of her neck as she scraped his mast with her teeth. He could no longer quell his nascent eruption that she deftly consumed, teasing his member collapsing steadily with her teeth and tongue until she slowly withdrew her lips from it.

Vulwin got to her feet, wiping a trickle of saliva off her face with one hand and deftly fondling Yukgo’s cock and gonads with the other. “What is your name?” she inquired.

“Yukgo.” He gasped, while with her free hand, she examined the ornate Untamed talisman carved from scoerhil with gretrium inlays hanging from beaded leather straps around his neck. It lacked the jewels found in a chieftain’s talisman signifying tribal alliances, nonetheless, it indicated he was of very high rank.

“Vulwin Roralei,” she cooed in his ear invitingly, then examined the intricate gretrium and iodamellite pendant of Unja on the same strap. “How long have you been celibate?”

Yukgo eyed her, intrigued how she knew that. “Seven moons are required to prepare as beadle. I have maintained the practice for to meditate on our codices.”

“Oh?” Vulwin’s eyes widened in interest. “I have committed heresy against the faith of the empire and seek sanctuary. Let me serve as a temple whore.”

“Hmm.” Yukgo scowled at her suspiciously. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“No,” she smiled proudly. “I am consecrated to Urau, the true god of magic, by the will of Most Esteemed High Crone Phibusa the Heretic.” Vulwin had never seen an orc register surprise in her life, giggling when she realized he was familiar with an elder of her tribe and family.

“I asked for intercession and they have spoken to Nedione who has placed you on my Path. I must commit heresy in his name and seek the sanctuary of temple built on an ancient faith. You are a priest of Unja, your temples are built on the ruins of Nedione, I seek sanctuary and initiation.”

“I can grant you sanctuary but initiation is not up to me. But,” arousal soon tingled again in Yukgo’s organ from Vulwin’s deft manipulations, “I will attest to your knowledge of the erotic arts.”

“As well you should,” Vulwin smirked, “I am wanted by the high courts for harlotry and other crimes against the throne. You only have partial knowledge of my craft.” Vulwin insisted sensually, stroking his cock fully erect with a very confident leer, leading him with it to the stump to sit him down, push his legs apart, kneel, and rejoin her ministrations. When he was completely firm, she stood to turn around and expose the tempting curves of her derriere, before skewering it on his girthy extension, recoiling vigorously. Yukgo grasped her waist to control her pace, she retaliated, grinding her ass into his lap.

“Ah, you are an eager one,” Yukgo commented before standing and turning her around. Vulwin got on all fours on the stump and lowered her torso, elevating her ass to him invitingly. He mounted her without compunction, tearing the intricate knots that held her loincloth together.

“Oh!” Vulwin exclaimed, turning to watch it flutter to the ground. “They will find me! Ah! The head abbess - unf!. She enchanted the knots to - Ahh! - alert her - Ungh!” Vulwin felt Yukgo grasp her braids, pulling them steadily.

“Do you want them to find you like this?”

“Yes!” She turned to look at him and rolled her eyes as Yukgo penetrated her as none other, striking her ass sharply. Vulwin squealed in lascivious delight as Yukgo heard rapid rustling toward them, setting on her with abandon. His climax surged with the emergence of two acolyte priests and priestesses of Kilena accompanying a pinched, withered abbess. They watched with expressions of horror and disgust as Yukov grunted satisfactorily and withdrew to arc his emissions onto her back, shoulders and hair. Vulwin regarded the quintet with a sated and slattern smirk. In her 781 years, Ecaeris had never encountered a more deliberate and wicked wretch of an elven woman. She indicated to the others to seize Vulwin and recover her garments, Yukgo dressed.

“Vulwin Roralei!” Ecaeris Patoris scolded emphatically, “Have you no shame?”

“No. No, I do not.” Vulwin sneered at her as Ecaeris commanded branches to stream from between two trees to restrain her spread eagle. An acolyte wiped Yukgo’s cum from her with back with her undergarment before Ecaeris pulled a flogger from her belt to beat a vicious tattoo on the entirety of her dorsal side. Vulwin yelped and screamed as Ecaeris landed the fringed leather tails around her torso and waist to sting her nipples and genitals. The acolytes urged her, “Confess your sins We saw you in the act! Confess!”

Vulwin gasped and panted from lightning surges and fire coursing through her body. A steady invasive heat emanated from the mottle spreading across the entirety of her back, buttocks, thighs and calves. The acolytes filled her mind with tableaus of a privileged life in the favor of the Vrowen throne. Revulsion dissipated the images, defiance diminished the blows. She turned her head to look Ecaeris in the eye defiantly and hiss loudly, “Harder!”

Ecaeris soon obliged beating her with renewed effort and sadistic vigor as the acolytes summoned elementals of air to puff clouds of dust into the marks. Vulwin lost herself in delirium, and clenched onto the branches yawping in agony, slumped whimpering in her restraints, her back layered lattices of purple and black bruising, with thin trickles of blood oozing from the darkest regions.

“That’s enough.” Yukgo interrupted when Ecaris’ fervor was overtaken by exhaustion.

“This doesn’t concern you, savage!” Ecaeris retorted sharply, panting and holding her shoulder.

“Your temple is built on ruins in our forest. You punished her for breaking her vow. That was your concern. She wants to be a temple whore of Unja. That is my concern. Leave her be.” Yukgo spoke with a monastic calm that belied his fighting abilities.

“Urau, true god of magic, be praised, they have blessed my heresy,” Vulwin murmured in triumph. “For this, I will rebuild their temple.”

Ecaeris slapped Vulwin in ferocious revulsion as the branches released her. “You filthy, disgusting, wicked slut! A whore in temple of Unja? Congress with orcs? How could you bring such scandal and shame to your family?”

“Roraleis,” Vulwin explained once she regained enough of her breath and strength to block her blows and resume her stalwart stare into Ecaeris’ eyes causing the abbess to flinch in terror at Vulwin’s unrestrained form, “are the chosen concubines of the Vrowen throne. Scandal is their trade. Their shame is hypocrisy. I,” she pointed at herself emphatically, “I am Izeki.”

With that, Vulwin strode intransigently to Yukgo, removed her circlet and undid her braids letting her ink-black hair fall about her shoulders, shaking it free. She then composed herself and presented it to him on her upturned palms raised over her slightly bowed head. Ecaeris and her acolytes gasped in chagrin. Yukgo received it with ceremonial reverence, holding it as if forged from ecril, before Vulwin collapsed onto him, shuddering and moaning softly. Yukgo glared at the group, delicately placing one arm around Vulwin, and resting a hand on his sword’s grip.

“Heretic!” Ecaeris denounced her vehemently as her group of acolytes exited the area. “Traitor to the crown! Apostate!”

Vulwin gasped softly as Yukgo delicately placed his calloused hands on her for support when her balance shifted. Elves reverted to their feral state if they were without their circlet. For Vulwin and those who read the Forbidden Codices, the removal of the circlet was the first step toward the Path. Relinquishing a circlet as part of a ritual made the reversion almost immediate. She felt her primal being merge with the forest through Yukgo, reveling in the mixture of the dwindling stings from the flogging with the waves of pleasures, the slowly waning clement of the afternoon. Yukgo gently escorted her to the stump and eased her onto it.

“That was a very bad beating you took.”

“What of it? I am Izeki.” Vulwin grimaced, her voice developing their guttural inflection and rhythmic pacing while propping up on her elbows and stiffening her back to prohibit further contact with the stump. She eased her head back and rotated it slowly. “Maybe I enjoyed it.” She smirked at him mischievously, eyeing him to gauge his reaction to find him some distance away with her clothes over a shoulder, uncovering a hidden cache of drying mage’s weed, and lighting a cheroot as he returned with the flagons of water and ginger root brew.

“Nedione be praised,” she smiled at the setting sun and intoned softly with casual reverence drawing the temple’s sigil in the air with an index finger. “She has set her priest on my Path. For this, I will serve in her temple, with ardor and joy.”

Yukgo set her clothes at her feet and handed her the larger flagon. She sat up and took several long pulls before he handed her the cheroot. She took several long puffs from it, setting it down to rummage through the pockets of her robe to extract a small pouch with a variety of small, dried, pin-shaped alder russula mushrooms. Vulwin undid the pouch and poured the mushrooms into a hand then put a few grams into her mouth after whispering several vespers, and offered the remainder to Yukgo who held them silently in a fist for a reverent moment and raised it solemnly to his head before eating them. Many silent moments passed between them before she noted the curious expression on Yukgo’s face.

“You have many questions, my friend. You are puzzled to find Izeki among the high-born?” She asked, exhaling a thick plume of smoke.

“It is not the first place I would think to look.”

“Neither would the crowns.” Yukgo nodded in knowing concurrence, taking another long drag. Vulwin took careful stock of his demeanor, standing as if he was in the presence of a great dignitary, however stark naked and lashed. “You were a monk of one of the bastardized faiths of Baara.”

“My father was a priest of Dygnos.”

“Yet you serve Nedione.”

“It is the faith of Mazoga who leads the Untamed and I agree with its tenets.”

“So does your penis.” She smirked at him mischievously, stood, and stretched. “I sense I am keeping you from your ritual.”

“This is when I practice my fighting. However, you may need help.”

“Please.” She stood and turned toward the clearing, drawing three graceful sigils with the cheroot, the smoky forms lingered defiantly in the air before the breeze overpowered them. “May the trinity of Qhuesis, Baara and Urau grant you divine insight. Nedione will certainly bless you later. Do you know where the ruins of her cathedral are in this forest?”

He nodded, placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, bowed his head slightly, turned and walked into the clearing. Vulwin watched him execute a fluid series of stances, strikes and grapples that had an immediate and efficient lethality. Yukgov’s techniques involving broad sword and pole arm followed precedent.

He then repeated the exercise three more times varying the series and sequences. Vulwin was able to recognize the four main fighting styles on the continent, then Yukgov executed a fifth whose sole purpose was to refute the other four. Yukgov then placed his weapons ceremonially on the rack, sat cross-legged on the stump, and meditated. As she walked away, it seemed the gods granted him more than insight, they granted him an audience.

The colors of the forest grew increasingly saturated as the mushrooms took effect, and the forest took on particularly strange dimensional properties. Vulwin’s focus shifted to multiple points throughout the forest.

The ruins of Nedione’s cathedral were set into a hill where hot springs still filled what remained of the temple baths. Vulwin paced slowly through steady warm streams flecked with the afternoon light splashing onto moss-fractured tiles from waterspouts on a wall. Easing slowly into one of the individual mud bathtubs that were set in a room adjacent to the large communal bath, the psychoactive nature of the mushrooms combined with the warmth and minerals in the mud, oozed into her injuries, quelling what pain remained. She watched shadows crawl slowly through the moss and ivy with the setting sun then closed her eyes, sinking as far as she could, as the dying light of the sun through the temple window dissolved into the spectrum.