FOREWORD
Hello, and welcome to the world of Arisen Anew. This series will tell a tale of corruption, of hopes betrayed and descents into depravity. The evil will
not
necessarily be vanquished, heroes will
not
necessarily win, and the protagonist will
not
necessarily be redeemed.
The smut will delve into some dark, twisted places, and so I will be making sure to tag each chapter appropriately and accurately.
Please make sure to check the tags. You have been warned.
As a last note, the depictions of anal will, as is often the case in erotica and porn in general, not be accurate with regard to the preparation required. The story makes use of the real-world phenomenon where women do not partake in the need for bodily functions (ergo the back door is always clean).
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CHAPTER 1
Elestrea shivered as she came to, uncomfortably aware of the chill, musty air that caressed her form through her clothes and armor. Slick, uneven rock underneath her made for an austere bed, further sapping her of her body heat.
A headache to rival her worst hangover threatened to push her eyeballs out of their sockets, and it was only with the greatest effort that the elven princess managed to stifle a groan and remain still. Fighting back the nausea, she tried to gather her thoughts.
She and her retinue had been chasing a band of highwaymen, deserters of the army of the human king Ergos that had decided to try their luck preying on elven lands. They had cornered the bandits in a ravine, and it had actually seemed as if the humans were willing to surrender when all hell had broken loose.
The last thing she remembered was the ground beneath them crumbling away, cries of surprise and panic from both sides, and her Oathsworn, Ilverith, reaching out to her as they both fell into the newly formed abyss.
Given their shared astonishment, it was unlikely that the sinkhole had been a trap laid by the deserters, and Elestrea had not heard any sounds indicative of jailors
—
human or otherwise
—
since she had awoken. Still, she maintained feigning unconsciousness, cracking open her eyes just enough to scan her environment. What she saw brought her upright, the sudden movement eliciting a wince as her headache pointedly reminded her of its presence.
She was in a cavern, perhaps twice the size of her royal apartments in the palace. Bioluminescent fungi dotted the walls and floor, giving off enough light for an elf's inherent darkvision to make out the features of the subterranean cavity. From her position near one of the walls, she could see what might be openings to more of the underground cave system as well as holes toward the ceiling, one of which had likely served as the entryway to her current location. What grabbed her attention, however, was the flesh-like growth covering the otherwise bare stone. A web of strands reminiscent of veins connected pale, misshapen tumors, the largest of which were barely a handspan in height.
Elestrea's hand instinctively reached for her sword, though she doubted her blade would be useful here. She recognized these monstrosities. Not many would, but as a noble in line for the throne, however far down, she was well-versed in history.
The tumors had been vividly described in several of her textbooks on an era long gone, predating human civilization. A necromancer's experiment gone horribly wrong; a tide of madness and blood that had threatened the existence of all the living races; fathers turned against sons, daughters against mothers, neighbors against friends. Those old tomes spoke of humans, elves, dwarves, and even goblinkin and wildlife twisted into unholy caricatures of themselves. Of a single touch leading to the fall of entire cities. Of necrotic, fleshy cysts carpeting the land.
The Bile had returned.
Her eyes flickered between the patches of growth as her breathing quickened and her heartbeat drummed in her ears.
This isn't possible. The Bile was wiped out millenia ago!
A quick glance behind her showed that Elestea had miraculously managed to land in one of the few portions of the cavern not covered in the dangerous tumors.
Retreating to the wall to maximize the space between her and a fate worse than death, she fought down her rising panic, racking her brain for any useful information. But despite the intensity with which the topic had been covered, it had been more of a cautionary tale to the research of magic. With the chaos sowed in its aftermath and the loss of a significant fraction of the world's population, few reliable sources describing the Bile and how exactly it was combated survived to this day. In other words, Elestrea was flying blind.
The elven princess forced herself to draw a deep breath, entering
Lor
, a meditative state taught to her by her swordmaster for maintaining the calm focus needed in combat. The familiar texture of her sword's grip provided a focal point for her concentration as she automatically settled into Willow Awaiting the Wind, her blade held lowered to one side.
As her heart rate slowed back down and her awareness of her surroundings heightened, she noticed a faint odor lingering in the air, previously masked by the musty overtones of the glowing fungi. She couldn't quite place what it was, but now that she turned her attention to it, she discovered it to be vaguely pleasing. With every breath, it felt as if she was on the verge of triggering a pleasant memory.
Minutes slipped past as Elestrea enjoyed the scent, trying in vain to pin down what it reminded her of.
The clang of metal on rock snapped the elf out of her stupor. Blushing fiercely, she stooped down to retrieve her sword, berating herself for letting her guard down in her current situation. Swordmaster Avon would never let her hear the end of it if she ever found out her student had dropped her weapon from sheer absentmindedness. To make matters worse, she realized that she'd become aroused, the crisp cave air on her skin contrasting starkly with the fuzzy warmth in her lower abdomen.
What in the hells is going on? I haven't made a mistake like that since before I was allowed to hold a real blade. And why the fuck am I turned on?!
The soft fibers of her breeches stuck to the wetness gathering between her legs, and Elestrea let out a little whimper when her thighs rubbed together as she stood back up. The sensation startled her; she wasn't ever this sensitive. An image of her playing with herself on the cool stone floor flashed through her mind, her fingers slipping into her sodden tunnel before returning to rub circles around her aching clit.