Author's Note:
A Drow's Dilemma began as a one-on-one roleplaying project and has been converted into a chapter-by-chapter format for weekly posting with the permission and assistance from my partner. It will contain a considerable amount of sexual themes such as femdom, lesbian, straight, 'reverse' rape, BDSM, group sex, romance, and other themes. This particular chapter merely showcases straight, consensual sex. The main goal of the story, however, is to tell an epic tale of adventures, gods and goddesses, fae, and nymphomaniacs. This episode and every episode to come will be available for free on Literotica for the foreseeable future.
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Episode One: Flight
On a planet of magic and monsters, in a northern land of large rolling hills and distant, perpetually white-capped mountains, ran a slender female elf as dark as the early morning shadows under the thick coniferous forest she sped through. Her people were not native to this part of the land, but this particular runner sprinted through the rain-soaked forest with the familiarity of someone who had spent many years there. There was determination on her features as she looked through the rare gap in the forest where a city, Port Afon, squatted by a river below where the land opened up to mostly flat farmland. It was far away still, and would probably cost her days of running before she could get anywhere near the bustling port town. But there she must run.
... except just getting there did not guarantee entrance into the city. She was a stranger in these lands, after all, and her people were not well-liked or well-trusted in any society. Normally, this wouldn't be too much of an issue. Normally, she would just disguise herself and slip in with the rest of the crowd. But the leader had recently been experiencing a near debilitating bout of paranoia. Everyone had to have permission to get into the gates these days. The dark elf did not have permission.
It was something she'd figure out when she got there. That was what she usually did.
She continued through the forest, keeping an eye on the sun and the city by the river whenever possible. But the sound of a crowd distracted her. There was a road nearby, she knew, but generally she avoided such places. Guard patrols were too likely encountered on the road. This crowd sounded altogether too boisterous for a guard patrol, though. Curiosity overcame the elf. She slowed to a creeping sneak and followed her ears to find the source of the noise.
And there it was. The perfect way in.
She slowed to a stop at the densely wooded edge of a temporary encampment of a caravan with mysterious purpose. People of all sizes, races, and genders walked the camp in strange and bright costumes, which would have made them stand out severely if it wasn't for the fact that the wagons somehow managed to be even more gaudy than the people who traveled with them. Almost all the people either sang, played instruments, or acted out strange plays. Some did all three at once (which was quite entertaining, if she was honest).
Then there were the occasional dour guards who hung in the background and were overshadowed by the lighthearted frolicking of all the others. That guard numbered about five people: a pale half-elf, some sort of hideous orc-blooded older man, two humans, and a surface dwarf. They looked severely lacking in the Elf category, and she knew just the person who could fill that role. A woman such as herself would not look strange among such peculiar people. She could easily be another such shadow standing to protect its caster. With all the diversity in the group, they would not mind a single dark elf joining their ranks, surely.
Now, normally, she would have been surprised that she wasn't killed on sight if she showed herself. This time was different. Not for a single moment did she suppose that they would not let her in. Part of this was her simple self-confidence she somehow retained over her lifetime of social failure. The other part was the observation that these people were the most incredibly friendly group she had ever encountered in her entire life. By the Abyss, even people in her realm who liked each other didn't act so jovial around each other. So she simply walked in that morning (after hours of observation) her arms up, her weapons safely sheathed. She introduced herself as Ashyr of Duskhaven and asked if they needed another guard. The almost painfully friendly leader of the caravan welcomed her gladly. Foolish surface dwellers and their trusting ways. To be fair, Ashyr had no intention of harming the caravan itself. She wouldn't admit it to herself, but these people seemed too innocent - to beautiful - to outright harm. She felt no guilt about the collateral damage that might be caused, however.
Because of course there would be collateral damage. She was drow. There was a reason that her kind didn't usually get accepted into surface society. To the dismay of all the dual-wielding chaotic good drow rangers out there, Ashyr was there to perpetuate the stereotype.
With one extra member of the party, the caravan continued on its merry way. The mood of the caravan changed as the day drew on, however. All who were wise looked to the sky and listened to the wind with worry. Artur, the caravan leader, reverently called the brewing storm a "Wagon Tipper." But they were in luck! There was a set of 'abandoned' ruins nearby that would shelter them from the storm. Ashyr, however, wondered who would protect them from whatever resided in those ruins. In her experience, such places were never empty. By that time, however, the wind was blowing so loud that no one could hear her concerns. Well. She didn't have to stick around and get wagons tipped and monsters gnawing on her, did she? They probably wouldn't even miss her for that one night.
So, not even a day into her employment with these people, Ashyr of Duskhaven slipped away from them.
Even as she slunk away from the caravan, the wind began to pick up and big drops of spring rain pattered and dripped through the coniferous trees that populated the forest. Clearly she wouldn't be able to go far before she had to find a place to settle. A raindrop landed perfectly at the back of her neck and ran under her light leather armor. Ashyr shuddered. Okay. She would find a place right away. With luck, she could even connect with the caravan again if it survived the storm and whatever must have been lurking in the ruins.
Fortunately, the area that she was in was rife with little rocky caverns and animal dens that would remain dry despite torrential rain. The drow found one such cave at the face of a rocky outcropping. The stone floor was cold, but it was dry and sheltered from the wind. It could hardly be called a cave, really, by drow standards. She couldn't stand upright in it, and it probably would only fit two people her size lying side-by-side.
Ashyr sighed. Two people. That would have been nice. It had been several weeks since she had coupled with another person. Her cousin, Selene, was always good for a quick roll in the bushes whenever they met up to exchange surface goods and underdark orders. Whenever she came up to meet her, Ashyr was so horny that she rarely even gave her cousin a choice. Of course, Ashyr was pretty much always horny. Even a day after Selene's 'visits' Ashyr was always ready to jump the first person she could seduce into a secluded corner of the world.
With fond thoughts of a good bang, the drow began to pull her bedding out from her adventurer's pack. In short order, a bed that was moderately more comfortable than the stone floor was set up. Armor and all, Ashyr slipped under the animal pelts and settled into the bed. ... and immediately found her hand under her trousers rubbing at her already aroused sex. It hadn't even been a conscious decision. The drow ranger shrugged. She had some time before she would be tired enough to sleep, and she couldn't spend that time doing something more productive; the rains and winds had already gotten severe enough that she wouldn't be able to do anything worthwhile. So she closed her eyes and settled into a more comfortable position: her knees spread and her fingers deep in her womanhood.
Another time, in very different lands than these, Ashyr was a much younger ranger and much deeper underground. She had a partner: Tsabdrin Duskhaven. He was her cousin born mere months after she was. He chose the same profession, had a similar personality, and was extremely attractive. He was the perfect partner, really, for the dangerous lands outside the drow's Underdark territory. During the waking hours, they hunted and killed dangerous beasts. During the times of rest, they rolled naked through soft cave moss until they collapsed in exhausted pleasure.
Ashyr's nostrils flared. She could almost smell the moss now. The cave she was in smelled of dust and wet, but it missed that spice-smell that permeated the nose and clouded the mind just enough to make one slightly giddy. Her middle finger rubbed back and forth against her clit that she had made wet from the moisture at her entrance. A particular encounter with him came to her mind and sent a wave of heat to her core.
A corpse of a large scaled beast lie cooling a couple meters away in one of their many secure hideouts the two rangers had dotted around the caverns. The scent of sweat and blood was present, but it was being dampened by that moss that blanketed parts of the floor and and the wall. Tsabdrin, his tunic off and his bandaged but otherwise bare and lithely muscled torso exposed, was tending to a large gash across Ashyr's arm. Both of them were grinning broadly; they had felled their biggest prey yet, and would surely bring fame and honor to both themselves and their households. The wounds that they had accrued were nothing compared to their elation. In fact, they were barely giving their injuries any heed. Though Tsabdrin was attempting to tie the last knots of Ashyr's arm bandage, Ashyr had her other hand on his thigh. That hand crept ever upward towards the already partly turgid member of his, hidden only by a thin layer of fabric.
"Stop that; I'm trying to concentrate!" Tsabdrin protested. His voice hinted at laughter despite his attempt at seriousness.
