Power and Pride
A Tale of Githyanki Lust
Copyright 2022 by Ben Rowe
This story is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. Β©Wizards of the Coast LLC.
Reality lurched and Pah'zel heard the comforting
ping
in her mind as the
gish
channelled his will through the astral skiff's helm and performed
jez'rathki
, allowing the small craft to seep through the cracks between the planes of existence and return to the comforting silver sea that was their home on the Astral Plane. Here they would not grow old, or feel the ever-present gnawing hunger and thirst that engulfed them when they raided the Prime Material.
Pah'zel was one of the crew of three githyanki aboard the skiff, which had been successful in its mission: leading a raiding party of ten githyanki warriors to the world of Toril to acquire something called an elfblade from a place called Semberholme. Why the magic sword was needed only Vlaakith knew, but Pah'zel was merely a
sarth
, here to follow orders, not question them. As the
kith'rak
ordered the
gish
to set course home for Tu'narath, Pah'zel informed her superiors of her intent to go below deck and check on the more mundane spoils from the raid.
Stepping down the wooden plank stairs into the cargo hold, the tall yellow skinned woman ducked her head slightly to avoid the beams supporting the deck above. Here it was dark, cold, and quiet. She found the lantern hanging from the ceiling, and reached out with her mind to ignite the oil and provide herself some light.
She found a wooden crate to sit upon, filled with food taken from the elvish city. Letting out a sigh, she began to remove the baroque silvered plates she wore strapped to her body as armour, freeing her muscled form from the weight of them. Stretching her torso, she began to slowly unwind the leather straps she wore to bind her breasts underneath the armour.
The relief she felt as they dropped from her chest to hang at their natural weight was immense, and she let out a small moan. Rubbing them, she felt the sweat under each sore mound of flesh.
Damn them,
she thought, not for the first or last time. Githyanki warriors were typically lithe beings, with muscular but lean physiques. Pah'zel, much to her annoyance, had atypically large, full breasts which not only got in the way of her fighting and made finding properly fitting armour a chore, but was equally frustrating given that she never planned to serve a shift as a
varsh
, raising young at some hidden crΓ©che on the Prime, where she might have to use them to feed some weak little brat. So what in Vlaakith's name were they any good for? She had thought many times about having them removed, but never got around to it no matter how irritating she found them.
Rubbing them felt good though, and not just because she was sore. Her hands found their way to cupping them, filling each palm with their weight, rubbing her olive green nipples in circles with her thumbs until they rose in definition from the soft circles of her areolas.
Damn, I need a good fuck,
she thought, and she fantasized about the dens of pleasure she would visit when she got home. But the thought of such decadence almost immediately bored her. She was tired of riding the stiff cocks of equally bored men, tired of grinding herself against the wet slits of equally unsatisfied women, tired even of her favourite sensation of a warm tongue exploring between her legs and licking against her clit while her thighs pressed against her partner's long pointed ears.
Her fingers pressed against her breasts, yellow flesh spilling between them as she groped herself, each one certainly more than a handful. Breathing in sharply, she began to grind against the edge of the crate, through the black linen tights she was still wearing, which had lain beneath the ornate silvered greaves she had removed from her calves earlier.
"So, even a githyanki woman is still a woman after all," said a melodious male sounding voice in the dark, in the simplistic tones of the so-called Common tongue of FaerΓ»n. While all languages were inferior to the Gith tongue, the bountiful time in Tu'narath between raids in search of new skills to master had led to Pah'zel picking up the language, though Planar Common was generally more useful.
Pah'zel spun around towards the direction of the sound, incensed to have been observed in a moment like this by whoever was skulking in the darkness. She ran her arm across her full, round breasts, shielding them from the view of the stowaway, and reached her other hand for the hilt of her sword. "Damn you,
istik!
Show yourself before I gut you!" She stood warily, trying to find the filth that had violated their vessel.
Surprisingly, he revealed himself, stepping out from the shadows and into the flickering light of the lantern. He was one of the sun elves of the city they had raided, standing half a hand shorter than she, with a lithe frame a little over half her weight probably. A spellcaster of some kind, perhaps. He wore form fitting leather breeches which were laced up in the front, comfortable looking soft low boots, and a red linen jerkin he was wearing unfastened. Pah'zel's mind had been sharpened by the intrusion, but the clouds of arousal that had built up previously were slow to part, and in the warm golden light she noted that he was wearing nothing underneath the jerkin, revealing a slim hairless torso with well defined abdominal muscles highlighted beneath proud pectorals. His skin was the colour of bronze, and his straight black hair hung to mid-back, framing a smirking face from which shone two piercing almond shaped eyes with silver irises. "Will you be so soon to kill me, githyanki, or do you not wish to learn why I stowed away aboard your vessel?"
She squinted at the elf, widening her stance and slowly advancing towards him. "To recover the blade we stole from your leader, no doubt. I understand it has great value, of some kind. It does not matter. You are
istik,
you have defiled this ship with your presence, and I will cleanse it with your blood."
He held out his hands to either side of him, empty. "Now as I see it, there is no need of that. I am quite young, for an elf, and am no hero. I seek an escape from my world, I seek vistas unknown by my people, knowledge beyond that of my tutors, and pleasures denied me by my experience. I'm too young for such things, I'm told, but I hear that the githyanki come from a place where there are always new experiences to be had."
Pah'zel gritted her teeth. "So you are not merely