Mud & MagicChapter 8: Breaking Point free porn video

Lishaka sat up, groaning. “Did ... did I do it?”

Rhys waited until his head stopped spinning before opening his eyes. The Hall of the Speakers was exactly like he had scried it – the remnants of elven beauty, impressive even in ruin. Parts of the domed ceiling had managed to stay in place, throwing irregular shadows. The pillars, shaped like trees, reached into the cloudy morning sky like skeletal fingers and half of a stairwell ended somewhere between the first and second floors. Strong gusts of wind moaned through large gaps in the crumbled walls. It was uncomfortably cool and the grass was moist under his hands.

Borna growled behind him. Rhys turned to face her. She knelt in the long, undisturbed grass, her wicked tail spike ready to impale. She wore her loincloth and had a small bag on a leather cord around her neck. Her angelic face was a mask of apprehension as she scanned her surroundings.

“Trouble?” Rhys asked.

“Not sure. I could have sworn I heard something move.”

“Maybe a bird ... or a fox,” Chassari said. She bent low and helped Lishaka to her feet. “Well done.” She wore a form-fitting black bodysuit under a shapeless gray cloak, several belts slung around her waist and chest. Each one was loaded with small pouches, weapons or things Rhys had no name for.

“Still feels like someone has kicked me in the head,” Lishaka complained. “You guys are heavy!” The goblin sorceress wiped her hands on the sides of her flame-stitched robe and reclaimed her own staff.

“I’m impressed you managed all four of us to begin with,” Rhys said, tousling her fiery topknot. “Well done.”

Lishaka hung her head, her floppy ears nearly covering her face. “I still feel bad that I couldn’t bring all of us back from your village,” she said. “So I trained and trained until I could bring Yukio, Sen, Merrick and Eric along.”

Borna moved. In three explosive leaps she crossed the Hall, used one of the pillars as a launch pad and dashed up the stairs, kneeling on the crumbling lip of the wall. She cursed.

“I don’t think we have the time to hunt game,” Chassari observed.

“We are not alone out here,” Borna snapped. “I’m certain of it.”

Something seemed to tug at Rhys’ consciousness, like a particularly powerful energy source. He tried to tune out the bickering of his companions and extended his senses.

That’s a lot of untapped power, all right, he thought. Some areas in the tower, like the training chambers, had fairly noticeable energy sources but, standing in the center of the old elven hold, Rhys realized for the first time that he had so far only played in the shallow waters. Veritable rivers of Air, Earth and Ether suffused the space around him, begging to be used. And there was something else, something he hadn’t felt before – some kind of other energy, like a fog clinging to the old stones. Curious, he knelt down next to one of the flagstones and allowed the fog to curl around his fingers.

A bone-wracking sense of pain and despair threatened to swallow him. From far, far away he heard the mumbling of voices, screams of agony and lust. Scattered images flooded his mind, roaring fire bowls, a naked form tied between the pillars, surrounded by black-skinned assailants-

“Rhys?” Chassari’s hand closed around his shoulder. His concentration broken, he shot upright, blinking owlishly at the serpent woman.

“I ... I have seen strange things,” Rhys muttered. “As if this place wanted to tell me something.”

“No wonder,” she said. “Thisss hall is a place of power. Sssuch locations remember. And given the hissstory of this place...” She caressed his cheek. “Ready to leave?”

“You mean the dark elven raid which destroyed Sunleaf? I have read about it, but the records were rather sparse when it came to details.”

Chassari nodded. “Not many were able or willing to tell the tale. There are rumorsss that the princesss survived the raid but no one knowsss where she isss. And even if she could be found, I doubt she’d be willing to ssspill the grisly detailsss to sssome chronicler.”

Borna joined them, flexing her claws. “I could have sworn there was someone watching us. But I found no one.”

“Maybe this place is playing tricks on us,” Rhys said. “Let us leave before anything dangerous happens to us. Borna ... you should-”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she snarled. “Come on, Ears. Cough it up.” She extended her hand.

“I should leave you running around naked,” Lishaka grumbled. “Can’t you be nice for once?” She put down her backpack and pulled a folded pack of fabric from it. Borna unfurled it and covered herself up. “Doesn’t make you any less suspicious anyway.”

“I am nice,” Borna whispered. “On a bad day, you’d be dangling from one of my limbs.” She blew the pouting goblin a kiss. “Let’s go already.”

“The ‘Dancing Dryad’ is about five miles this way,” Rhys said, consulting his map. “If we hurry, we can be there before dusk.”

“Hurry. Very funny,” Lishaka complained. “I can barely stand.”

“I could carry you,” Borna suggested, flexing her claws.

“On second thought, I’m just fine!” Lishaka stomped ahead in the direction Rhys had indicated.

He replaced the map and pulled out the compass from the satchel. “Can anyone show me how to use this?”

“Of course,” Chassari said. “Allow me.”

“I’ve never seen this kind of forest,” Rhys whispered. Even this late in the year, many trees still had a thick canopy of leaves and walking underneath it felt more like trudging through a cave. Memories of his dream threatened to well up. Nonsense. These are just some strange trees, not crosses, he chided himself. Nonetheless, the feeling of unease didn’t go away. It didn’t help that there was an underlying aroma of death and decay, barely covered by the spicy smell of ferns and leaves. Occasionally, a forlorn animal cry or hoot could be heard. And even they don’t sound remotely familiar. I wonder if there’s anything out there itching to eat us.

Lishaka’s fingers closed around his hand. “Are you alright? You’re so pale all of a sudden,” she asked, her eyes wide with concern.

Rhys squeezed her fingers. “I’m fine, I guess. This place just gives me the willies.” He looked over his shoulder. Borna and Chassari brought up the rear, uneasiness on their faces. It’s been that way ever since we came here. There is nothing romantic or beautiful about this place, he thought. As if the spirits of the dead are haunting these woods.

A sharp rustle in a bush nearby caused Lishaka to squeal. Rhys stepped in front of her and drew his dagger. Something scaly and colorful, spattered with shades of green, blue and red dashed from the bush on powerful hind legs. It looked like some bipedal lizard, almost as tall as the goblin, clasping a gleaming trout in spindly front claws. Its head swayed from side to side on a long, flexible neck. When it saw them, it made a trilling call and a frill exploded around its neck. Hissing, it pranced in front of Rhys and Lishaka, mouth wide open in an attempt to scare them.

Borna pushed past them and growled. The lizard-thing blinked twice, the frill folded in and it fled, screaming, into the woods.

“Aw, you scared that little forest drake,” Chassari scolded her. “Bad Borna.”

“And the next thing we know are a host of hidden attackers peppering your cute ass with arrows,” Borna hissed back. “Let’s go already.”

“What hidden attackers?” Rhys asked. “Do you still think we’re being followed?”

“I’m surprised you don’t feel it,” Borna grumbled, much gentler. “The last time I felt watched like this, a squad of Watchman drooled over my cock.”

“I would have loved to sssee that,” Chassari purred. “What happened?”

“We managed to enter Storm Harbor without much of a hassle when some Watch captain showed up,” Rhys said. “Borna didn’t get to do that sergeant who had stopped us.”

“Rhys, please,” Borna chuckled. “Even I have standards.”

They trudged on, threading their way between trunks thicker than some of the houses Rhys had seen back home. There was the shadow of a path, the occasional flagstone not swallowed by the voracious forest, but more often than not they just followed the compass. Without this thing, we’d probably be horrendously lost, Rhys mused as he stepped over a root.

“Are we there yet?” Lishaka asked. “My feet are killing me.”

“You look rather alive to me,” Chassari said.

“Let me carry her,” Borna offered again.

“No, thanks!” Lishaka hugged herself against Rhys. “I’m afraid you might eat me when I’m not looking.”

Borna snorted. “I normally don’t eat teammates.”

“No, you only rip them to shredsss when fucking them,” Chassari muttered. A warning growl from Borna stopped her from saying anything else.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Borna’s eyes were like miniature flares, piercing Chassari with barely concealed anger. Lishaka tried to put up a brave face but Rhys saw her wince when she thought no one was looking.

One fantastic leader you’re turning out to be, Rhys scolded himself. We haven’t even reached the first stop of our mission and my companions are at each other’s throat. Maybe Thurguz was right after all. Their path led between two trees, their upper branches intertwined like antedeluvian lovers. Thick, oily vines hung from the branches, covering the gap between the trunks. Rhys pushed them aside. A stomach-turning stench assaulted his nose. Rhys clenched his teeth and let Lishaka pass. Chassari slithered past him as well, her hand brushing his crotch as she ducked under the vines. Her cloak had taken on the color and patterns of their surroundings, a mix of dark greens and blacks interspersed with brown.

Borna reached up and slashed at the vines, tossing them aside with a disgusted snarl. Rhys placed a hand on her forearm. The occasional tendril of negative energy chilled his skin. “I’m probably not the kind of leader you want, but please try-”

Borna stopped, her head swiveled to face him as if she was some armored, grotesque bird. A rare smile touched her lips. “Rhys. You worry too much.” Her tail briefly curled around his thigh and squeezed him as she crab-walked between the trees.

“Huh?” He hurried after her.

“I could have simply refused your invitation,” Borna rasped. “The fact that I’m here instead of Hilgrun should speak volumes. Just because I’m not singing ‘All Hail The King’ with the others doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here. If only Chassari would cease her chattering.”

“Chattering?” Chassari shot her an offended glare. “Who’sss chattering?”

“Ladies, please,” Rhys said, dashing past Borna. “Be nice.”

A chorus of growls and hisses answered him.

“Guys? Guys!” Lishaka jumped up and down, pointing. Borna and Chassari stopped glaring at each other and looked at where the goblin was pointing. The trees seemed to thin and beyond, there was a distinct, golden glow.

Rhys breathed a deep sigh of relief. Finally. The inn. I hope.

When they finally left the gloom of the woods behind, dusk had already come and gone. The moment they stepped out from under the thick canopy, the oppressive mood fell away, giving way to a much more friendly, companionable atmosphere.

‘The Dancing Dryad’ was the biggest inn Rhys had ever seen. It was more like a miniature village, compressed into a square palisade erected in the middle of a large clearing. He heard the characteristic ringing of a smithy. There were stables, storage sheds and even some shops clustered around the main building and a surprising amount of people of all races milled about. He pulled at the satchel’s shoulder strap until the boxy container hung near his stomach. Can’t be too careful. I’ve learned my lesson in Storm Harbor.

“What now?” Chassari asked, smoothing her curvy body against him from behind. Her long, forked tongue tickled his neck.

“Let’s buy the supplies we’ll need for the next leg of the trip then I’d say grab some food and tuck in for the night,” he said.

“Very well,” the serpent woman purred, slithering away from him. “Thisss shop looksss like it has everything we’ll need.” Her thumb pointed at a ramshackle stall seemingly made from a marooned wagon. A white ratkin tended to his wares, his pink eyes darting this way and that. Most of his right ear was missing and the left had been pierced with five garish rings.

“Hey there,” the shopkeeper squeaked. He looked from Rhys to his companions. Lishaka’s topknot barely cleared the counter. Chassari leaned against the pitted wood, all curves and smiles while Borna, wrapped in her tent-like cloak, was a towering presence behind them. The ratkin’s gaze returned to Rhys. “What can I get you tonight?”

Rhys scanned the piles and racks behind the shopkeeper. “We’re heading deeper into the hold and could use some bedrolls, tents, a cooking set and water skins. Trail rations too, if you have them.”

“You’re in luck.” The shopkeeper dug into his wares and placed two parcels onto the counter. They were rather compact, with loops made to go around thighs and torsos. “No offense but, since your companion is on the larger side, I’d suggest bringing along two of these. Four-man tents. Should be big enough for your big friend and someone else. The extra space in the other one can be used to store the gear and supplies.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Rhys admitted. “We’ll take them.”

The ratkin’s eyes lit up. “A good choice.”

Next up came a bottle made from metal and dark blue crystal. Thick leather strips had been wound around the neck and the widest point at the bottom, but it was obvious that they had been added later, possibly to prevent the bottle from shattering during travels.

“A special canteen. Treasure of House Sunleaf. The water in this flask never runs out.”

Rhys shook his head. “I probably can’t afford it.”

“You won’t know until I’ve given you the grand total,” the ratkin said, grinning. “I’d be willing to make you a serious offer. This thing has to go.” He looked from side to side. “You know what, depending on what else you buy, I’d even throw it in for free.”

“Smellsss fishy,” Chassari hissed. “And I don’t mean the water.”

“Simple fact. It has been gathering dust on my shelf for years now. And before someone with a legit claim to it shows up and possibly kills me, I’d rather get rid of it. So, what else d’you need?”

“A cooking set.”

“Sure.” The ratkin pulled a wide and thick metal drum from under his counter and placed it onto the wood with emphasis. “Pots, bowls, spoons, a ladle and a folding tripod, all in an easy-to-carry package. Dwarven design, you can’t break it even if you wanted.”

“Fantastic. Some bedrolls would be nice.”

“I even have some with a special enchantment. You’ll be fully rested after only three hours of sleep. Perfect for the spellcaster on watch duty.”

Rhys opened his mouth to decline but Chassari placed her hand on his arm. “Take at least one.”

“Wise choice,” the ratkin said, grinning. “Incidentally, they go well with the large tents.” He placed four tube-shaped packages onto the counter. One of them had elaborate green-and-gold stitching on it.

“Now we only need trail rations and we’re set,” Rhys said.

“The elven kind or the normal stuff?” the shopkeeper asked, rubbing his hands.

“You sell elven trail packs?” Rhys remembered his last day in the village, after he had nearly died from Sorcerer’s Burn. Celeste had given him two elven trail packs to recover a bit of energy. Despite their small size, they had been filling – and they had tasted much better than most of what he had eaten before.

“Boy, we’re in elven lands. It’s almost easier to get the elven stuff than cheese out here,” the shopkeeper said, smirking. “How long you’ll be on the trail?”

Rhys quickly did the math. “Probably four or five days.” His voice faltered as the ratkin dumped a dozen tightly-wrapped packets onto the counter. “Hm. Maybe a few backpacks to store all this stuff in would be nice.”

“Why not a pack horse?” Borna asked. She fell silent. “Forget I said anything.”

“What about that hand cart over there?” Lishaka asked, pointing.

“I ... I think backpacks will do just fine,” Rhys said. “How much for all of that?”

The ratkin told him. The young sorcerer nearly fainted.

Chassari bared her fangs. “Are you trying to rob us?” she hissed. “I understand that there’s some good items in the lot but for the kind of money you’re demanding, I could buy two houses and some very obedient slaves where I come from!”

“Take it or leave it,” the shopkeeper said, shrugging. “You have to understand – supplies are rather limited and I don’t have a steady stream of new items. It’s a miracle if a supply convoy makes it out here. If you haven’t noticed, most of this stuff is salvage or loot. As in ‘I bought it off some adventurers.’ You can’t blame me for trying to make a profit, now can you?”

“We’ll take it,” Rhys said, pulling his money bag from the satchel. Chassari sputtered some unintelligible curses but helped him count out the money. When they were done, only a few paltry silvers and coppers remained. Grinning, the shopkeeper shoveled their pile of gold coins into a bag of his own which vanished somewhere on his person.

“Don’t glare at me like that,” the ratkin told Chassari. He pulled a discolored and worn sack from under his cloak and placed it on top of the gear Rhys had just bought. “I’m not the villain here.”

“And thisss shabby sack is meant as consolation?” Chassari snarled, shaking the spotty piece of fabric.

“Well, it surely has seen better days, but it will be useful, I swear.” The ratkin eyed Borna suspiciously. “Just don’t feed me to your big friend, okay?”

“We didn’t even threaten you,” Rhys said. “All right, let’s see what we can stuff in there.” Chassari held the sack open and Rhys began to toss the rations into it. The bedrolls followed and still the sack didn’t even bulge. Eyeing it curiously, Rhys grabbed the cooking set and threaded it through the sack’s opening. It too vanished, without even causing the sack to swell. He looked up. Chassari grinned. “I think we indeed got a decent deal out of thisss,” she whispered.

Shrugging, Rhys tossed the two tents and the water bottle into the sack as well. “Cor,” he said, turning to face the ratkin. To his surprise, the stall was empty. “Where’d he go?” he asked Lishaka and Borna.

“I think he’s going to celebrate,” the goblin said, pointing at the inn. The front door just closed.

“No reason to stand around like a copse of trees either,” Borna said, shrugging. “I could use a stiff drink ... or five.”

“Let’s hope drink is cheaper than gear. I’m almost broke,” Rhys admitted. He jangled his money bag.

“Let me treat you,” Chassari purred. “I have a bit of gold to spare too.” She closed her hands around Lishaka’s and Rhys’ wrists, pulling them towards the inn’s entrance.

When he pulled the door open, a wave of sounds and smells washed over them. The achingly familiar inn smell of people, food, drink and an open fireplace evoked memories of the inn back home when he had found excuses to visit Dara. But here, the mood was a completely different one. Instead of sullenly staring into their drinks, people were laughing and shouting, music played and there was rhythmic clapping coming from inside. Rhys crossed the threshold and entered the ‘The Dancing Dryad.’

“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Lishaka remarked dryly. “That’s no dryad.” She nodded at the black-skinned woman twirling on a stage opposite the taproom’s door. A small ensemble made up of a flutist, drummer and a lute player provided a spirited foundation for her to flaunt her skills.

And a lot of naked skin, Rhys thought. The dancer pirouetted, her slender hands accentuating her graceful movements with passes along her flanks and over her behind. Her right buttocks was adorned with a large golden spider tattoo. The only concession to modesty was a strip of silver filigree hanging between her thighs and her unbound mane of snow-white locks cascading over her shoulders. It almost covered her small, firm breasts but many of her jaunty moves allowed peeks at her stiff nipples.

“I wonder what the elves think about their dark-skinned cousins defiling their ancient home like this,” Borna muttered.

A silver-haired elf tossed a long-stemmed flower onto the stage, blowing the dancer a kiss. Effortlessly, the graceful dark elf dipped and claimed the gift without breaking her step, threading the flower into her hair.

“Never mind me,” Borna grumbled, almost managing to stifle her chuckle.

“Look, there’s an empty table,” Lishaka said, tugging on Rhys’ arm. The table Lishaka had spotted sat near the stairs leading up, in a shallow alcove not too far from either the stage or the bar. Somehow this place managed to feel cozy despite the taproom being twice the size of the one back home. Maybe all that wood, Rhys thought. A huge candelabra made from a large cartwheel hung from the ceiling, which along with numerous lamps and the fireplace afforded warm illumination. ‘The Dancing Dryad’ was bustling tonight, with most tables occupied. The one next to theirs had been claimed by a motley crew of mercenaries, armed and armored to the teeth even while they celebrated. An impressive number of half-emptied bottles and glassware covered most of their table. Or they try very hard to die very drunk, he added. Rhys claimed a chair and looked over at the stage.

Lasciviously shaking her hips, caressing down her front and stopping just shy of her sex, the dancer finished her routine, earning a rousing round of applause and cat calls.

“My, she’s popular,” Chassari said. “I wonder if she offersss other favorsss too.”

“Do we have the coin for that kind of entertainment?” Rhys asked.

Chassari gracefully slid onto a chair and offered him a cryptic smile. “I do.” She undid a small, jangling bag from her tool belt and quickly counted a handful of coins into Rhys’ hand. “For beds, food and drink.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to the innkeep,” Rhys said. “One moment.” He walked towards the bar. No one seemed to have noticed their group – or the assembled mercenary types didn’t bother. Either way is fine. The last thing we need is undue attention. The band began another song. Rhys allowed himself a quick glance towards the stage. This time, it was a curvy half-orc, clad in furs, who shook her ample behind in time to the drum beat.

“So, what ye want, lad?” Rhys returned his attention back to the bar. A heavy-set, bald man grinned at him. His skin was almost as black as that of the dark elf but he was clearly human. Rhys tried to remember his much too infrequent dives into the library. He’s probably from the Southern Continent. The innkeep’s front teeth had been replaced with golden chompers, giving his grin an eerie and threatening air. He had thick, bushy eyebrows and a hawkish nose.

Rhys placed the money Chassari had given him onto the bar. “I’m looking for room and board for me and my companions over there.” He indicated the table. “How far will this get me?”

“Let me guess. The gear merchant cleaned ye out, eh?” Another glinting smile.

“Am I that obvious?”

The barkeep didn’t reply. Instead, he swiped the coins and quickly counted them. “This will get you two rooms for the night and enough food and drink until you’re sated. Breakfast is extra though.”

“That’s ... uncommonly generous,” Rhys stammered. “I’ll take it.”

“Your lucky day, lad. We have a tasty game stew on boil and a few loaves of fresh bread. Some good ale too, enough to go around. Sit down and I’ll see to it ye’re properly served.”

“Thank you.” Rhys turned to leave, but he stopped. “Another question, if you don’t mind.”

The barkeep slid two keys over the table. “The rooms are upstairs and should be big enough for the tall feller in your party. Did you want anything else?”

“It’s silly, really ... but the dark elven dancer-”

“No can do, lad. She’s not one of mine. If you want to... , “ here he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “ye need to talk to her directly. If ye ask me, try something less dangerous. And it’s certainly none of my business but don’t you have a steamin’ looker in your troupe?” He openly admired Chassari. “If anyone should be askin’ for favors, it should be me.”

Rhys claimed the keys. They had simple stripes embossed in the handles. He counted three and four respectively. Chuckling, he turned to leave. “I’ll let her know.” On his way back, he glanced at the entertainment again. The half-orc woman was naked now and knelt near the edge of the stage. One of the soldiers from the next table, a helplessly flailing dwarf, seemed to drown in her cleavage, much to the amusement of his table mates. Beet-red and gasping for air, the dwarf finally managed to slip from his ample and green-skinned predicament. He did a jolly jig and hopped off the stage.

Rhys sat down at his table again just as a blonde half-elven youth arrived, bearing a tray with four steaming bowls of stew and a basket with fragrant bread. Chassari eyed him hungrily. Rhys had to admit, the blonde waiter was cute. He was reminded of Sen, moving with an earnest purpose and grace he admired in her. “I’ll be back in a moment with your drinks,” he said, his voice a melodious sing-song.

“And what about ours?” The slurred words belonged to a wild-eyed man, his face a disgusting criss-cross of scars, sitting with the other mercenaries at the next table. “We ordered more booze ages ago!”

“I’ll see to it momentarily,” the waiter said, bowing apologetically. He swiftly returned behind the bar, filling glasses and claiming bottles off a shelf.

“We should go out more often,” Borna purred. “I’m enjoying myself quite a bit.”

“Because a greenskin is shaking her ass at you?” Lishaka asked, around a mouthful of food.

“I was talking about the dwarf,” Borna corrected her. “If he’s into strange women, maybe I could brighten his night.” Her voice drifted off.

“What are you thinking about, Rhys?” Chassari asked him, her hand on his thigh under the table.

“Oh, nothing in particular. First off, the barkeep said the dark elf wasn’t ‘one of his,’ whatever that means.”

“It means I only wanted to see if my moves could elicit the same crowd response as the lithe elven beauty who had the stage before me,” a warm, soothing voice cut in. Rhys craned his neck. Behind him, slender hand on her hip, stood the dark elven dancer. Only now she wore a tight-fitting bodysuit under a nondescript cloak. Metal glinted, maybe from a studded armor or off her belt. Rhys wasn’t quite sure. The leather-wound hilt of a sword was visible above her left shoulder. “Going by the amount of proposals, both decent and indecent, I think I have my answer.”

“Would you mind another one?” Chassari asked, caressing down her front. “I guesss at least two of usss would love to know you better.”

The dark elf hummed a few haunting notes and her eyes took on a silvery gleam. Rhys could feel the swirl of magical energies, a tiny, almost nonexistent maelstrom of power centered on her.

“An intriguing proposal but I’m afraid I have to decline for now,” she said. “My services are needed elsewhere tonight. May the blessing of the Maiden be upon you.” She hugged Rhys from behind and breathed a kiss onto his neck. A shiver ran through him and he could have sworn that something cool and soothing trickled down his spine. He watched the dancer hug and kiss Chassari in a similar manner, a quick peck on the neck, causing the serpent woman to shiver in surprise. Lishaka was next, receiving a fond smooch onto her wide forehead. And now Rhys saw it, akin to a sprinkling of silver dust, disappearing down the goblin’s spine.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Borna asked, an open challenge in her gaze. The dark elven woman didn’t even hesitate. She embraced the towering demon princess and brushed her lips against Borna’s porcelain-white cheek. “I wish I could help you,” the stranger murmured, barely audible over the raucous crowd by the stage.

“I get that a lot,” Borna snarled.

“Before you go ... what is your name? I feel strange, being blessed kindly like this without knowing who did it,” Rhys said.

“You can call me Astra’il. But now I must depart. Our paths will cross again, no doubt.” She bowed gracefully, claimed a pack from behind Chassari’s chair and left, her cloak rustling.

“And there goes your entertainment,” Lishaka crowed, favoring Chassari with a wide grin.

“Some battles are lost, others are won. Here come our drinks,” the serpent woman said wistfully. She effortlessly claimed all four ale steins off the waiter’s tray and placed them in front of all present. The waiter nodded thankfully and bustled past them, presenting the remaining bottles on his tray to the mercenaries. Rowdy cheers and the clinking of glass answered him.