1,970 words / 10 min
This chapter fills in backstory and context around what made Davian loathe Morala so much. There's minimal sexual content and isn't required reading for the other chapters.
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Davian tried to push the angering memories from his mind while he listened to Morala struggle to her feet and put her clothes back together. He and Barlow had been long-time friends, working odd jobs as hired swords. Bodyguarding, a few shake-downs, settling a few grudges. Nothing too dangerous and nothing too lucrative. That was, until Barlow got the bright idea for them to take one of the bigger contracts posted to the mercenary board. "Stab a few Goblins and we'll be rolling in the money," he'd said to Davian with his usual optimistic tone.
But they both knew it wouldn't be quite that simple. They were both fine swordsmen but real hunting parties had more than that. They went looking around the usual places for other adventurers and mercenaries. They were willing to take anything, really. A ranger who could shoot a bow, maybe even a magic wielder willing to work for a little less than usual. They thought they'd gotten lucky when they found Morala.
The young Elf claimed to be a healer, fresh off the boat from her people's school of medicine. She was too green to know that they were offering her a fraction of the usual rate and, frankly, seemed desperate enough that she might have worked for free. Davian was worried that the wiry Elf was too new for a dangerous quest like this, evidenced by her nervous look and anxious questions. Barlow just laughed loudly and slapped his friend on the back, saying that the whole affair would be too easy with two swords and a healer.
The trio took a loan against the earnings of the contract, enough gold to buy some better equipment and supplies. Morala barely had anything beyond the clothes she was wearing and a rather ornate staff she never let go of. While Davian and Barlow were loading her up with a pack full of their newly-bought supplies, she had explained that the staff was a magical healing artifact that she'd inherited. Davian kept questioning what she learned at the school, how talented she was a healer. Each time, Morala reassured him that she was a competent healer and just needed a little money to get settled into life outside of the school.
As they camped outside the Goblin cave for the night, resting before they cleared the den in the morning, Davian's suspicions never left him. He knew Morala could sense the tense air between them, as well. Barlow was too cheerful about the money they'd soon be making with ever more lucrative contracts and quickly drank himself to sleep beside the fire. Before Davian could press his suspicions further, the young Elf had moved to sit beside him on the fallen log he was using as a bench. With only the firelight to see by, Davian stared down at Morala questioningly, caught off-guard.
Without a word, the Elf had crawled into his lap, straddling him so her Elven face was inches from his. His hands automatically held onto her waist to keep her steady, noting the supple curves beneath her loose clothes. She kissed him and, before long, he kissed back. She rubbed her groin against his and he moved her hips with his hands. Before he could think about what was happening, she was kneeling between his legs with his cock in her blissfully-warm mouth.
Every time his mind questioned why she was doing this and whether it had anything to do with his distrust of her, he was forced back to the unreasonable pleasure of her diligent mouth. He'd always heard rumors about what it felt like to fuck an Elf but he never imagined just having his cock sucked could feel that good. Every time he looked down to speak, he got distracted by the doe-eyed look on the young woman's face and how amazing it looked with her stretching her Elven jaw around his comparatively thick Human cock. By the time he was on top of her, enjoying the tightness of her Elven cunt, he'd completely forgotten about his suspicions.
Of course, after he let his guard down was when everything went to hell. The two swordsmen fought through the den of Goblins easily enough. They crept deeper and deeper into the network of caves, losing track of just how far they'd gone. And the deeper they went, the thicker the horde of Goblins got. Eventually, there were more of the creatures than their blades could cut down. Barlow was hit in the side by a crude arrow, forcing him to stagger. The brief interruption to his attacks was all the monsters needed and they soon swarmed him, stabbing, biting, clawing.
It took everything Davian and Barlow had to retreat, Davian dragging his stout friend back up the dark cave while hacking away at the heedless Goblins. It wasn't until they spilled back out into the sunlight at the mouth of the cave that Davian had a chance to look for Morala. The terrified Elf was cowering behind a tree, clearly having made it out of the cave before them. His mind questioned angrily where she'd been through the whole ordeal, why she hadn't started healing Barlow immediately when he was wounded.
The thoughts were interrupted by Barlow's wet cough. Davian looked down in a panic, pulling his bleeding friend closer while they sprawled on the ground.
"Help, damn you! Heal him, quickly!" Davian shouted at the cowering Elf, the desperation clear in his voice. Barlow was muttering something, blood pooling beneath him. Davian looked back down at his dying friend, struggling to hold back the tears as he tried to sound reassuring.
"Just hold on, Barlow... We'll get you back to town. The old doc'll set you right..."
Morala had come closer without Davian noticing. He looked up at her but she was simply staring down at the bleeding man, clutching the staff tight to her body in both hands.
"Why aren't you doing anything?!" Davian pleaded with the Elf, the tears stinging his eyes as he resisted to urge to jump up and grab the woman.
"I don't... I mean, I haven't..." Morala kept trailing off while she stared at the mess of blood and wounds with wide eyes. She finally knelt down beside Barlow, looking him up and down as if she didn't know where to start.
"I can try to... Just, I don't..." She kept stammering before hesitantly reaching one hand out, palm facing Barlow's chest. Her trembling hand started glowing a faint gold. She tried to calm her breathing but nothing helped. After a few moments, she pulled her hand back with a sharp sigh.
"What? Keep going," Davian implored.
"I don't how to heal these kinds of wounds! I'm still learning..." Morala snapped back at the man, turning her head away in shame.
"You don't... know how?" Davian could only stare at the shaking Elf, finally seeing the truth that his suspicions had be warning him about. He was snapped out of the revelation by Barlow's wet rasp. Davian looked back to his friend's blood-stained face, the pallor of his skin, the vacant expression in his eyes. He knew it was hopeless. It had been Barlow's last breath.
The sun was setting by the time Davian thought to get up. Barlow had been dead long enough that his blood had dried to a sticky coating on Davian's hands and clothes. He stumbled to his hands and knees when he first tried to stand, his legs numb from where his friend's body had been lying.
He made his way down the rocky forest slope to the nearby stream, falling to his knees in the gentle current with a splash. He hardly registered the cowering Elf woman huddled against the base of a tree as he shuffled past her, still clutching that damn staff.
"I-... I'm sorry."
Davian heard the meek voice from behind while he tried to scrub the slick mess from his hands into the water. It took a moment to turn over in his mind but, when he turned to look at the woman, all he could feel was anger.
"Sorry?! What in all the hells did you expect to happen? You can't heal anything!" Davian shouted louder than he should have, given how close they still were to the cave's entrance.
"I just..." Morala pursed her lips, trying to find the words. She didn't dare meet Davian's eyes, instead staring down at her own bloodless boots.
"I thought it'd be easy. Your friend made it sound like you wouldn't even need a healer," She finally said, a tone of guilty resignation in her voice.
Davian's teeth ground together unconsciously as he stared at the thin Elf, his head throbbing with rage now that he had something to let it out on.
"Easy?" He got to his feet, water dripping and splashing carelessly as he stomped up the embankment towards her.
"'My friend' is dead, there!" Davian bit off the words as he grabbed the woman by her collar and dragged her to look at Barlow's body on the ground behind her.
"I didn't know! I'm sorry!" She pleaded with him, squeezing her eyes shut and gripping the staff tight to her chest as he whipped her around.
"Lying bitch!" Davian snarled as he tossed Morala to the dirt beside Barlow.
"You knew all along. You knew you weren't a healer. What fucking madness made you sit in that pub, telling everyone you're a healer and looking for work?" Davian's voice cracked for a moment with desperation.
Morala turned onto her back and looked up at the swordsman standing over her. Her eyes were more resolved, then.
"I needed to pay for my way out of town. No one wants to hire an apprentice healer, so I lied." Her voice was flatter, her own anger obvious just beneath the surface.
"Why would an apprentice be on their own? Why do you have that gods forsaken staff if you're just some whelp who can't even use it?" Davian sounded even more exasperated.
"I stole it, alright? I ran away from the school and I needed to keep moving before anyone could find me." She clenched her teeth and sat up, her hands pushing on the ground behind her back.
"Those bastards at the school were never going to teach me. They said I come from an 'inferior' family. Made me scrub the floors and suck their cocks just to keep from being thrown out and outcast as a 'failure'," she explained, defiance bringing strength back to her body and voice.
Davian let out a single, cynical laugh. He leaned closer to the Elf sitting in the dust, looking nearly in disbelief of her story. Before should could defend herself further, his wet, gloved hand slapped her across the face. She sprawled the other way across the ground, groaning from the sudden pain and disorientation.
"Are you joking? You are a fucking failure, cunt! They had to cleaning their cocks because it's clearly all you're good for," He stared down at her with a wild expression, like he hadn't decided if he was going to kill her right there on the ground.
Instead, a more promising idea came to his mind. Barlow might be happy in the afterlife, drinking and whoring for the rest of eternity. But Davian still had the practical concerns of the living. Namely, he had a large loan against the earnings of this failed contract to pay off if he was ever to be taken seriously again. And he knew from experience that those Elf bastards really did have her sucking cock for a reason.
---
Davian tried to push the angering memories from his mind while he listened to Morala struggle to her feet and put her clothes back together. He and Barlow had been long-time friends, working odd jobs as hired swords. Bodyguarding, a few shake-downs, settling a few grudges. Nothing too dangerous and nothing too lucrative. That was, until Barlow got the bright idea for them to take one of the bigger contracts posted to the mercenary board. "Stab a few Goblins and we'll be rolling in the money," he'd said to Davian with his usual optimistic tone.
But they both knew it wouldn't be quite that simple. They were both fine swordsmen but real hunting parties had more than that. They went looking around the usual places for other adventurers and mercenaries. They were willing to take anything, really. A ranger who could shoot a bow, maybe even a magic wielder willing to work for a little less than usual. They thought they'd gotten lucky when they found Morala.
The young Elf claimed to be a healer, fresh off the boat from her people's school of medicine. She was too green to know that they were offering her a fraction of the usual rate and, frankly, seemed desperate enough that she might have worked for free. Davian was worried that the wiry Elf was too new for a dangerous quest like this, evidenced by her nervous look and anxious questions. Barlow just laughed loudly and slapped his friend on the back, saying that the whole affair would be too easy with two swords and a healer.
The trio took a loan against the earnings of the contract, enough gold to buy some better equipment and supplies. Morala barely had anything beyond the clothes she was wearing and a rather ornate staff she never let go of. While Davian and Barlow were loading her up with a pack full of their newly-bought supplies, she had explained that the staff was a magical healing artifact that she'd inherited. Davian kept questioning what she learned at the school, how talented she was a healer. Each time, Morala reassured him that she was a competent healer and just needed a little money to get settled into life outside of the school.
As they camped outside the Goblin cave for the night, resting before they cleared the den in the morning, Davian's suspicions never left him. He knew Morala could sense the tense air between them, as well. Barlow was too cheerful about the money they'd soon be making with ever more lucrative contracts and quickly drank himself to sleep beside the fire. Before Davian could press his suspicions further, the young Elf had moved to sit beside him on the fallen log he was using as a bench. With only the firelight to see by, Davian stared down at Morala questioningly, caught off-guard.
Without a word, the Elf had crawled into his lap, straddling him so her Elven face was inches from his. His hands automatically held onto her waist to keep her steady, noting the supple curves beneath her loose clothes. She kissed him and, before long, he kissed back. She rubbed her groin against his and he moved her hips with his hands. Before he could think about what was happening, she was kneeling between his legs with his cock in her blissfully-warm mouth.
Every time his mind questioned why she was doing this and whether it had anything to do with his distrust of her, he was forced back to the unreasonable pleasure of her diligent mouth. He'd always heard rumors about what it felt like to fuck an Elf but he never imagined just having his cock sucked could feel that good. Every time he looked down to speak, he got distracted by the doe-eyed look on the young woman's face and how amazing it looked with her stretching her Elven jaw around his comparatively thick Human cock. By the time he was on top of her, enjoying the tightness of her Elven cunt, he'd completely forgotten about his suspicions.
Of course, after he let his guard down was when everything went to hell. The two swordsmen fought through the den of Goblins easily enough. They crept deeper and deeper into the network of caves, losing track of just how far they'd gone. And the deeper they went, the thicker the horde of Goblins got. Eventually, there were more of the creatures than their blades could cut down. Barlow was hit in the side by a crude arrow, forcing him to stagger. The brief interruption to his attacks was all the monsters needed and they soon swarmed him, stabbing, biting, clawing.
It took everything Davian and Barlow had to retreat, Davian dragging his stout friend back up the dark cave while hacking away at the heedless Goblins. It wasn't until they spilled back out into the sunlight at the mouth of the cave that Davian had a chance to look for Morala. The terrified Elf was cowering behind a tree, clearly having made it out of the cave before them. His mind questioned angrily where she'd been through the whole ordeal, why she hadn't started healing Barlow immediately when he was wounded.
The thoughts were interrupted by Barlow's wet cough. Davian looked down in a panic, pulling his bleeding friend closer while they sprawled on the ground.
"Help, damn you! Heal him, quickly!" Davian shouted at the cowering Elf, the desperation clear in his voice. Barlow was muttering something, blood pooling beneath him. Davian looked back down at his dying friend, struggling to hold back the tears as he tried to sound reassuring.
"Just hold on, Barlow... We'll get you back to town. The old doc'll set you right..."
Morala had come closer without Davian noticing. He looked up at her but she was simply staring down at the bleeding man, clutching the staff tight to her body in both hands.
"Why aren't you doing anything?!" Davian pleaded with the Elf, the tears stinging his eyes as he resisted to urge to jump up and grab the woman.
"I don't... I mean, I haven't..." Morala kept trailing off while she stared at the mess of blood and wounds with wide eyes. She finally knelt down beside Barlow, looking him up and down as if she didn't know where to start.
"I can try to... Just, I don't..." She kept stammering before hesitantly reaching one hand out, palm facing Barlow's chest. Her trembling hand started glowing a faint gold. She tried to calm her breathing but nothing helped. After a few moments, she pulled her hand back with a sharp sigh.
"What? Keep going," Davian implored.
"I don't how to heal these kinds of wounds! I'm still learning..." Morala snapped back at the man, turning her head away in shame.
"You don't... know how?" Davian could only stare at the shaking Elf, finally seeing the truth that his suspicions had be warning him about. He was snapped out of the revelation by Barlow's wet rasp. Davian looked back to his friend's blood-stained face, the pallor of his skin, the vacant expression in his eyes. He knew it was hopeless. It had been Barlow's last breath.
The sun was setting by the time Davian thought to get up. Barlow had been dead long enough that his blood had dried to a sticky coating on Davian's hands and clothes. He stumbled to his hands and knees when he first tried to stand, his legs numb from where his friend's body had been lying.
He made his way down the rocky forest slope to the nearby stream, falling to his knees in the gentle current with a splash. He hardly registered the cowering Elf woman huddled against the base of a tree as he shuffled past her, still clutching that damn staff.
"I-... I'm sorry."
Davian heard the meek voice from behind while he tried to scrub the slick mess from his hands into the water. It took a moment to turn over in his mind but, when he turned to look at the woman, all he could feel was anger.
"Sorry?! What in all the hells did you expect to happen? You can't heal anything!" Davian shouted louder than he should have, given how close they still were to the cave's entrance.
"I just..." Morala pursed her lips, trying to find the words. She didn't dare meet Davian's eyes, instead staring down at her own bloodless boots.
"I thought it'd be easy. Your friend made it sound like you wouldn't even need a healer," She finally said, a tone of guilty resignation in her voice.
Davian's teeth ground together unconsciously as he stared at the thin Elf, his head throbbing with rage now that he had something to let it out on.
"Easy?" He got to his feet, water dripping and splashing carelessly as he stomped up the embankment towards her.
"'My friend' is dead, there!" Davian bit off the words as he grabbed the woman by her collar and dragged her to look at Barlow's body on the ground behind her.
"I didn't know! I'm sorry!" She pleaded with him, squeezing her eyes shut and gripping the staff tight to her chest as he whipped her around.
"Lying bitch!" Davian snarled as he tossed Morala to the dirt beside Barlow.
"You knew all along. You knew you weren't a healer. What fucking madness made you sit in that pub, telling everyone you're a healer and looking for work?" Davian's voice cracked for a moment with desperation.
Morala turned onto her back and looked up at the swordsman standing over her. Her eyes were more resolved, then.
"I needed to pay for my way out of town. No one wants to hire an apprentice healer, so I lied." Her voice was flatter, her own anger obvious just beneath the surface.
"Why would an apprentice be on their own? Why do you have that gods forsaken staff if you're just some whelp who can't even use it?" Davian sounded even more exasperated.
"I stole it, alright? I ran away from the school and I needed to keep moving before anyone could find me." She clenched her teeth and sat up, her hands pushing on the ground behind her back.
"Those bastards at the school were never going to teach me. They said I come from an 'inferior' family. Made me scrub the floors and suck their cocks just to keep from being thrown out and outcast as a 'failure'," she explained, defiance bringing strength back to her body and voice.
Davian let out a single, cynical laugh. He leaned closer to the Elf sitting in the dust, looking nearly in disbelief of her story. Before should could defend herself further, his wet, gloved hand slapped her across the face. She sprawled the other way across the ground, groaning from the sudden pain and disorientation.
"Are you joking? You are a fucking failure, cunt! They had to cleaning their cocks because it's clearly all you're good for," He stared down at her with a wild expression, like he hadn't decided if he was going to kill her right there on the ground.
Instead, a more promising idea came to his mind. Barlow might be happy in the afterlife, drinking and whoring for the rest of eternity. But Davian still had the practical concerns of the living. Namely, he had a large loan against the earnings of this failed contract to pay off if he was ever to be taken seriously again. And he knew from experience that those Elf bastards really did have her sucking cock for a reason.
