Tiff - Chapter 3 - Part 1

Chapter 3 - Part 1

The surly drow woman held Nathraes' chin as she scrutinized her face with her cold copper eyes. "Quite a pretty one, isn't she? She may even have noble breeding. Where did you say you found her?"

"Out in the tunnels," answered the dwarf gruffly.

Nathrae just stared blankly as always, while the drow mercenary examined her as though she were a piece of meat at the market. She was a rough looking woman, quite tall and solid for a drow, wearing full dark plate and mail armor. Her short white hair had been dyed with streaks of red, which looked like blood. There was also a male drow there in Rugnars' shop, with closely cropped hair and clad in similar armor. He was just standing and quietly looking on.

"Hmmph," She screwed up her face in disgust. "Looks like she makes a nice little whore for you, Dwarf. Are you sure you didn't addle her yourself?"

"Do I look like a mindflayer to you?"

She let go of Nathraes' chin and turned to him. "Some might find it offensive that you use one of our kind this way."

"You drow can take offence to every damn thing."

She wrinkled up her nose, "Your powerful stench in particular. Don't you ever bathe?"

Rugnar chose to ignore her remark, "She'd be dead without me looking after her, that's fer sure. What's so offensive about me havin' her around fer company an' putting her to use now an' then?"

She looked over to the male drow, "what do you think, Faraun? Would she make your little staff stand to attention?"

He looked over at Nathrae and gave a nod, "She is a pretty one, Commander."

She smirked as she slowly walked back over to the counter and examined the items on the top. She scowled at Rugnar, "Is that the best you can do, dwarf? You really have no healing potions stashed anywhere?"

"No. Healing potions don't keep for a long time. And it's not like I have a regular supplier out here. This is good quality healing salve, though. It will serve. So, ye can have that, and the basic supplies and repairs, a few cycles' food and accommodation for yer company."

"You are trying to fuck us over, Dwarf. That's a good quality hook-horror exoskeleton. You can make some fine armor with that. Do you know how much it would fetch at the Maeralssin markets?"

"Drag it all the way over there then. Ye can take me offer, or ye can leave it."

She scowled at him, "You loathsome grubby little man! If it weren't for your iron golem there, I'd slit your throat open and be done with it. Put in a couple of bottles of your mushroom wine." She looked over at Nathrae, "And her, for any of my males who wish to poke their cocks into her filthy holes."

Rugnar looked over at his slave and then slowly nodded, "Deal."

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Lyanna raised her arm and wiped the sweat off her brow. Her large round breasts, held in the damp grey wrap rose and fell quickly as she took in deep breaths. The male drow fighter was standing before her with his long blade raised, "Again," he called out.

She raised her longsword and slowly edged toward him. He quickly lunged forward and swung his sword down at her. The human rogue brought her sword up to parry the strike, and several more that followed in quick succession. Damn he was fast. She stepped back and continued parrying, as he advanced on her. "Don't become predictable," he said as he attacked, each move smoothly flowing into the next. "Keep your opponent guessing."

He swung at her head again, and she swiftly coiled her blade around his and forced it away. She followed up with a horizontal slash aimed at his torso. The dark elf quickly lurched back, dodging the blow. He immediately came forward again, striking out at her. Lyanna barely managed to bring her blade back in time to parry the blow, and she struggled to defend the other attacks that swiftly followed.

She saw an opening and swung at his head. He quickly ducked down and extended his leg, sweeping her feet out from under her. Lyanna groaned as she hit the hard ground. The next thing she knew, there was a black blade at her throat. She looked up at the drow fighter who was staring down at her intensely with his red eyes. "You were predictable, and now you are dead."

She let out a sharp breath, "I'm exhausted. We've been at it for hours."

"Every moment you're not training, your enemy is training to defeat you."

"Even my enemies need rest sometimes."

"You shouldn't assume that."

Lyanna let out a groan and rolled her eyes. The drow pulled the blade away, "We will have a short break. Get some water."

She picked her sore tired body off the floor and went over to one of the benches in the large open training area in the house dungeons. She wiped the sweat from her face and gulped down the water from her flask. Her drow master was practicing his form nearby as she sat and watched.

He was certainly a great fighter, worthy of his title of Weapons Master for one of the more powerful houses of Maeralssin. Lyanna pondered that he may have trained for a hundred years or more. She knew that she was getting better under his tutorage. In many ways he was like Master Hatori, though much more intense.

He didn't talk much, only when it was required. She knew very little about him, not even his name. And he never asked for hers', only calling her 'Slave,' which she hated. She knew that he hated the black bitch, they had that in common. Thankfully, the cruel drow noble had left her alone since the day she had her gang-raped and then attempted to have her killed by the orc slaves.

He never made any sexual advances toward her. She was grateful for that, since she was his property, and would not be able to refuse him. It seemed he just wasn't attracted to humans, or her in particular. He did seem intent on working her to death with all this damned training, though. At least it helped to get her mind off the horrible situation she was in.

Soon he came over and stood next to the brunette, staring at her intently again. "Oh, come on. That's barely a break! My heart is still thumping," she protested.

"You may rest longer, Slave. I wish to speak to you."

"...Okay," she said slowly.

"I have been pushing you hard lately for a reason. Very soon it will be time for you to fight in the pits."

"Oh. Gladiator combat, for the amusement of the drow?"

"Yes, but it's more than that. The great houses seek to display their strength to each other through their warrior slaves. Some even believe that blood spilled in the pits appeases the Goddess, Lolth. Having a great champion represent your house may gain her favor, and grant more power to its Priestesses. Our matron believes that Turgans' success in the pits has led to prosperity for our house, and made us feared by our rivals. But now Turgan is dead."

"I didn't really have a choice," said Lyanna through gritted teeth. The memory of that day made her anger rise.

"I know. What my sister did was...unnecessary. In Turgans' absence, a new champion has arisen, he is known as The Black Knight of Noquat'Tar. He remains undefeated after thirteen fights. House Noquat'Tar is our greatest rival, hungry to rise up and take our place. Our Matron is concerned that they grow bolder with each win."

"So she wants me to kill this Black Knight," stated Lyanna.

"Correct. You will face him tomorrow. It will be a fight to the death. I believe you are ready."

Lyanna just slowly nodded her head. She had known that this was coming, that there was a reason he was training her, but her stomach became unsettled. The Black Knight; something told her that he would be much tougher than Turgan. "I'm sure I don't have any choice."

"No, slave, you don't. You harbor deep resentment for our house, with good reason. I don't expect you to fight for us. But you have a strong will to live. You will fight, and you will kill for your survival. Just remember all I have taught you. Now stand up, your break is over."

Lyanna let out a groan as she grabbed her sword and slowly picked herself up.

Continued in Chapter 3 - Part 2

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