The Three Adventurers Pt 13

Included kinks:

Futa, fantasy, plot, worldbuilding focus, lore, backstories, female muscle, size praise, female muscle, hourglass figure, bbw, romance, part 1/2 of the Heist on Yarathrond

All characters are entirely fictional and all above the age of 18!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The forsaken southern wall of Yarathrond. Sneered at and loathed alike by the unlucky souls commanded to watch over the endless sea of trees and rocky hills. One that hid no foes, let alone an army, in over ten thousand years.

Syn was fully aware that only the youngest, most disgraced or utterly incapable were 'entrusted' with such a task - as it was custom for as long as Yarathrond existed. She held no belief that would ever change, not in her lifetime and not before the enclave's final day. She counted on it in fact. Although a part of her found some disappointment in not seeing more emphasis put on strengthening that easily exploited weakness in the defences. Especially after, well... her.

Syn led the group under the veil of night, away from the safety of the forest and in the shadow of these mighty, unconquered walls.

"How thick do you think that is?" Lyanne whispered.

Fel grunted dismissively.

"Two men thick," Syn answered instead. "Twice of that by the Maingate."

"It's... remarkable," Lyanne gasped, her hand sliding over the concrete wall, its tiles and mortar combining to a smooth, spotless, white surface.

"Pfff... Braggers. Like elves would ever need stones this big," Fel scoffed, still little enthralled by her role in tonight's operation.

"We are here, this is the lowest point," Syn said eventually and looked up a certain segment of wall she would recognise among a million.

Bizarre how deep the tiniest of imperfections in a handful of bricks or the way some moss crawled up could burn itself into someone's mind, she thought.

"How do you know?" Fel growled, her arms crossed. "Did you measure it?"

"No, but I know. This was one of the reasons why I chose this spot for my escape. Many years ago," the half-elf said thoughtfully, before turning to her comrades.

"Let's get started."

"That's still quite high," Lyanne said looking up. "And we're pretty heavy girls now."

Fel exhaled and silently smirked upon hearing that remark.

"Surely, this won't be a problem. Not with green arms that big, right?" Syn said, jokingly smacking the orc's bulging biceps, but Fel didn't offer the same grin.

"I can do it," the orc said drily and cracked her fingers before pushing her massive back into the wall. "Now come here, before I change my mind."

Lyanne, dressed in her dark robe, with her sword and several ropes hanging from her back laid her hands on Fel's shoulder and placed her boot in the gargantuan hands offered to her.

"Be quick," Syn said. "There are always two guards."

"Aye. I got this," Lyanne said and winked before turning to Fel. "You better go all out, big Green. Or both of you'll have to scrape me off the ground."

Fel looked more than enticed by that little tease and tensed her muscles as she got even lower.

"I would never allow that to happen," the orc said with such unwavering belief both massive warriors stared into each other's eyes void of any doubt. "Have fun... also for me."

Lyanne put all her weight into Fel's hands and just when she reached the lowest point, with the orc's arms fully extended, jumped and got catapulted 30 feet into the air.

Her hands perfectly held on to the battlement without making a sound. She dangled from the wall for a few moments, effortlessly lifting herself up and peeking through the merlons before pulling herself over.

Syn and Fel were left watching the crenel between which the islander disappeared. Moments later they heard a distant groan followed by another, accompanied by the rattling of armour smashing into stone tiles, before once more the night fell silent.

"Lyanne?" the half-elf whispered after some time, her fingers nervously digging into her bag's strap.

"Just wait," Fel answered in her stead.

A hand belonging to a black robe reached over the wall and gave a silent thumbs up.

"Never in doubt," Syn smiled, but noticed the Fel's longing stare and exhausted sigh as she looked up. "We'll be back soon, Fel. You won't miss out on anything. Just some boring sneaking around."

"Sure," Fel grunted and got back in position. "Sure..."

Syn tightened the bag sloshing with her and Lyanne's bottled cum and placed her hands on the orc's broad shoulders before pulling herself closer one last time.

"I really hope you aren't angry at me. That's the last thing I want. You know that?"

The orc's big grey eyes lingered on her for quite long before she answered.

"Angry? No, I am not angry," Fel said, smirking even. "Not anymore. Better for you. Because when I am angry, I could pull a bit too hard and send you flying over the wall. Would really be a shame."

Syn grimaced and gulped.

"But ... you aren't ... angry... anymore... right?"

"Well... maybe still a little," Fel might be smiling, but her tone made Syn shiver. "Time to find out."

"Fellll!"

The force of a dozen men made Syn feel like the stone in a slingshot.

Her body naturally stiffened as the wall rushed past her. Just when her brain tricked her in believing she really might never stop shooting towards the clouds, she landed perfectly in between the merlons and on save footing.

No matter the amount of cum she brought with her, this scare would leave scars unhealed. Surely, costing her a few years in lifespan.

Syn's heart throbbed in her throat; her fingers twitched until the shock subsided and anger arose. She leaned over the wall and stared down at a greatly amused Fel chuckling over that 'joke' of hers.

"That woman is going to be the death of me," Syn whispered to herself and gave Fel the finger, who kept mocking her by blowing a kiss towards her commander.

"Laugh all you want now, but I'll have your green ass for this," she muttered but broke a smirk at last.

She turned to Lyanne who was in the midst of tying up the second unconscious guard.

"Did something happen?" Lyanne asked. "You look pale."

"It's nothing. Just Fel being sassy," she said and clapped those boulderlike shoulders as her gaze travelled over the outer defences with shocking indifference. "Come, how about I show you around a bit."

---

Lyanne could feel his resistance waver by the second. The guard kept smacking into her pumped arms, but his desperate flailing did little to stop her from tightening her stranglehold. And then his body went limp all at once, like all the others before.

"I swear, a bit harder and his head would pop like a melon," Syn grinned and pulled the unconscious guard out of Lyanne's grasp by his feet.

"Not something I would like to put to the test," the knight said. "But if you really want to find out, I'm sure we both know someone who'd love to try."

"That's why I told you and not Fel," the half-elf returned and tied both guards to each other while eying the islander. "Actually, I'm quite impressed by how well you control such strength."

There was some truth to that statement. That growth spurt did much more than just adding a few inches to her size. The way her arms and legs bulged with every move of hers, the raw power she felt rippling when chords of her muscles tightened and eased without her doing -- it was exhilarating.

She felt like she could rip a tree out by its roots, let alone choke a few guards out. And elves were by no means renown for being pushovers either. Standing naturally taller and stronger than humans they should make for formidable opponents, but tonight they were nothing but children compared to her.

To be fair, Syn warned her they'd only encounter young lads not proper warriors if everything went smoothly. 'Night banners' they were called, a way too grandiose name for a glorified militia. They were certainly too green behind the ears to be called proper swordsmen or wear real armour yet, but better than peasants armed with pitchforks, Lyanne supposed. Only unfortunate for those boys to be assigned to a wall that wasn't tested in forever - in the night when it would be breached.

"What can I say? They aren't the first guards I put to sleep," Lyanne smirked.

"Why am I not surprised," Syn chuckled.

"Is it a long away still?" Lyanne asked reaching for her back. "We'll run out of ropes soon."

"We are basically there. I doubt we'll run into many more guards," Syn said playfully.

Lyanne nodded and returned her gaze to the sight that captivated her since she sat foot onto Yarathrond.

The wide strip of land between the outer and inner, much higher wall sprawled out for miles. At least, the checkerboard pattern in which the labyrinth of walls was aligned made it seem this grand. They separated each section into secluded areas of their own. Often a small world in themselves.

Some harboured huge mills, others were reserved to craftsmanship, with the workshops of many related professions neatly lined up next to each other, bowmakers and smiths, dyers and tailors and many more.

Almost just as tidy and thoughtfully constructed, the vast majority of these sections were designated to farmland and cattle. Thus, assuring all the needs of the city were met within those many, more than compact little sections resting to the feet of massive defensive towers at every intersection. Everything seemed to stem right out of the feather of the great architect who thought of every last detail.

The towers would often cast their mighty shadow onto the busy daily life below with impressive trebuchets or ballistae on top. Belonging to an age when massive armies clashed against those walls, they still loomed tall and fierce, making it clear that Yarathrond would still be hard fought over for every inch. Lyanne had never seen a city arranged in such a matter, but seeing the great thoughtfulness behind its design, made her contemplate for the first time if her own people's way of building cities was wrong after all.

And then there was the citadel.

A pinnacle of engineering, drawing her in more by the second. Just like the grove's stunning bright blue light, swallowing all of Yarathrond and holding the darkness at bay. How desperately she wanted to see what was waiting behind that final wall. But Lyanne doubted tonight's quest allowed for too much sightseeing.

The library, a building of equally staggering proportions sat to the side of the citadel and loomed greater. With every step they took further away from the outer wall, with every patrol they evaded and with every tower they entered in that seemingly endless line leading towards the heart of Yarathrond.

Syn's assessment proved right, for they reached the bastion connecting the inner and outer section before running out of rope. Lyanne followed her commander up the stairs and paused at a window when she thought they were up high enough to see into the inner ring. And than her eyes were graced with a sight of true wonder.

"By the... gods," she caught herself muttering, despite not having ushered those words in years.

"Didn't expect you to be this easily turned to the gods again. But I assume this is an appropriate reaction. For an outsider." Syn said drily and joined her. "Did you envision the fortress like that?"

"You keep calling this a 'fortress'," Lyanne said absentmindedly. "But if this isn't a great city, then I have no idea what is."

While the buildings within the outer ring more resembled the life Lyanne was born into, the riches sprawling before her were beyond the human's wildest dreams.

The elves no longer lived in houses of wood and thatch, but stone and glass. Great palaces were lined up next to each other, towering many stories tall, spilling into an intricate network of streets and plazas of marble and flowers of every colour. Not an inch of grass was left to grow wild, untouched by such mastery in city building. Statues of bronze, silver, even gold graced the doorways to the greater buildings, many of which Lyanne would've deemed worthy to house temples to any gods the elves had long forsaken. But even they were just the homesteads of the citizens.

Syn smirked and only spoke up when Lyanne's eyes were no longer sparking with awe.

"Yarathrond used to be much greater than this. She's barely home to 5.000 souls nowadays, but even when 50.000 people lived here, she was never regarded as one of the great cities. Some of which, according to legend, reached half a million in their glory days."

"Half a million?" Lyanne gasped.

Imagining such a place was beyond her imagination. No human city ever reached fifty thousand and Goldfurt, the richest and grandest of all merchant cities, barely broke 20.000. Even the massive stone halls of the dwarves never even got anywhere close to 50.000 ... and they were masterful builders.

"What happened? How could it shrink by that much?" she asked.

Syn leaned into the wall next to her and took in the sight without any motion on her face.

"Like with all things elvish it was destined to wither away, once the old magic left this world," she said pointing into behind the citadel. "The keep used to be at the centre of the enclave. All the land north of it once was the 'Golden district', the actual city, where a stream of Asterea snaked through the streets, above bridges twice as wide as over the Durstrom. Today it's nothing but an impassable swamp, lingered with ruins of the days before the grove rotted away until only a fraction remained. And Yarathrond is bound to its fate."

Syn must have noticed how much this story saddened Lyanne.

"Don't be too distraught. Most of the old district ended up here, one way or another," the half-elf nodded and gestured at the stone houses that remained. "One can applaud their ingenuity; I'll give them that."

"Absolutely," Lyanne said, her eyes still fixed on statues and plazas while asking. "So, you grew up here?"

Only barely did she hear Syn's disgruntled sigh.

"No. I'm ... from there," she said and pointed into another direction.

Away from all the magnificent houses, the ornated temples and statues Syn's finger guided them into the most distant and darkest place within the inner ring. Lyanne didn't notice that place in the corner of her vision and even if she did, she wouldn't have thought of it as more than a collection of wooden byres. Upon closer inspection, she couldn't imagine someone to value even a cow's life so little to let them house there.

Both stared at a small piece of land, surrounded by a moat filled with brown, shabby water that spilled into the outer ring like some sewers. The wooden palisade surrounding those make-shift buildings almost disappeared in the many shades of dead brown and mouldy black. All the dirt and grime the fortress lacked until now seemed to be poured into behind those wooden walls.

"There..." Lyanne whispered, turning to Syn. "They keep humans? Like this?"

"Humans and halfborns. Yes, for the labour beneath elvish dignity and whenever a price in lives needs to be paid. Naturally, only a life that is expendable," Syn said, her face frozen cold. "How near yet far apar two worlds can be, eh? The elves living in their halls of stone, infused with Asterea and gold, outlasting centuries, the rest rotting away, not even living to see their fifties."

"I am so sorry, Syn," Lyanne said with a whimper.

"You owe me no apology, Lyanne. Others do," her tight lips unconvincingly creeping upwards. "I never expected to find myself here again. Often, I pondered, what it would feel like to see it one last time... and yet I can't bring myself to hate it all like I always told myself. I have yet to decide how I stand on that."

Lyanne laid her hand on Syn for comfort.

"Maybe because it's still your home after all. As little as it gave you ... it's a part of you."

"That's a beautiful way to look at such a thing. I wish I could be like that," Syn answered but pulled away.

"How were your people, in there?" Lyanne said. "Misery always forges the strongest bonds."

"Not for children like me. You must know, we are stuck between two peoples. Hated by those looking down at us in disgust and simultaneously despised for the faintest resemblance to those wielding the whip," Syn's head lowered at last.

"As little as I belonged to the elves, every time my father bestowed us with the 'grace' of his presence, showed affection towards my mother, or gods forbid even brought a present for me, just a book or two, we could feel the humans loathe us just a bit more. It took me a long time to understand why. My mother once said: 'To anyone who has nothing, seeing someone receive little seems like they just got handed the entire world'. They hated us... often more than the elves."

"All of them?" the knight barely dared to ask. "Not... one friend would stand by your side?"

"Friend?" Syn forced a smile, but her eyes gave away she was hurt. "I learnt the meaning of that word only after I left this place."

Lyanne heard enough, she pulled Syn into her arms and closed that seal as softly as her muscles allowed.

"What... is going on?" Syn muttered awkwardly, her body stiffening.

"Nothing. Nothing," Lyanne said, ever more calming with her tone. "Just nothing."

Only something this place should have granted Syn a long time ago.

"I see..." the half-elf said, her voice shrinking just as much and her arms now embracing the warmth. "I... could get used to this 'nothing'."

Syn might have thought of this merely as a sudden act of compassion, but it felt way more impactful to Lyanne. While she hoped to ease Syn's pain just by the slightest bit, there was another thought that crept into her mind and refused to let go.

How was it possible for Syn to turn out ... this good?

How could someone born into a world of hatred be this kind, this generous, this noble? Syn had all the right in the world to be truly terrible. To make the world and everyone in it pay for what she had to endure. But Syn rose above that. Lyanne couldn't think of many with the strength to do that. She for she would fail miserably for sure.

For all the great men and women who crossed her path, she doubted anyone was ever tested in the ways Syn was. And that only made Lyanne appreciate her kindness that much more. Admire all of her that much more.

Syn eventually pulled away, her softness and warmth reaching deep into Lyanne.

"I understand what you're doing," Syn said, with the first genuine smile since reaching Yarathrond. "Don't worry, that wound is long healed. And the scar that remains, I ... learnt to wear. But nevertheless, thank you, Lyanne. I mean it."

"I'm always there if you need me," Lyanne said softly and bowed.

Not only to her commander, but to what she regarded as true greatness. In ways she couldn't even put into words.

"Seriously? Bowing? Nobody bows before me. Get up," Syn laughed, making the taller woman rise with both her hands. "We're all equals here."

As much as Lyanne disagreed she was deeply honoured to be put side by side with Syn.

"Let's focus on why we're here in the first place," she said and playfully looked over her shoulder. "But by all means, feel free to take in the scenery. As much as you like."

Syn walked away, making sure her wide hips swayed heavenly, and her perfectly firm cheeks bounced seductively, plump and round, with every step.

Lyanne licked her lips fully aware this was Syn's way of avoiding unwanted questions. The knight wouldn't have brought up such a grim topic more than it deserved anyway, but that didn't mean she wouldn't greatly appreciate to be played in such an invigorating way.

"No promises," she said and only lowered her gaze to that glorious ass once she silently watched the great woman it belonged to with even greater admiration.