The beast charged fast, its movements like the wind, and Tjere dived rather than try and parry his blow. Namire fought alongside her, a silver bladed axe already slicing through the heels of the animal with a killers precision. Heightened reflexes kept them both alive, and their combined vigor would prove the Dradnae’s downfall. Coupled with their refined strength, which was so typical of a dhampir, there was no skin thick enough to weather either of their cleaving strikes.

      As Tjere skidded underneath its guard, with Namire goading its attention elsewhere, she sank her blade in an upward thrust through its guts, and underneath the beasts rib cage. She could practically feel it piercing heart, lungs, and finally scratching bone. The large feral wolf died quickly, and like a hulking mound of dank fur it fell flat into the mud with a sickening thud.

      The animals snout was lupine in shape, hiding anything that once was human underneath, with dozens of sharp teeth poking through its gums. Tjere looked down, studying the bulk of the Dradnae, and wiped the blood off her blade. As she turned away, she noticed Namire already cleaning her gear obsessively, and patting down her fur before enjoying the blood of their fallen foe. Tjere sighed, her stomach rumbling, and cleared her throat before tasting the animal’s life force. While not nearly as tasteful as normal human blood, it was at least fresh. 

      Dradnae blood tasted…like old meat, dipped in porridge made with maidens blood. It was somehow rich, earthy, and aged at the same time. There were subtle notes of spices with the aftertaste, and Tjere wasn’t sure she liked that. Ultimately she didn’t find it particularly desirable, but it was better than the drow’s stale fluids. 

      Ready to return to Kings Barrow, a painful howl could be heard in the distance, and both Tjere and Namire looked upward toward the sky and answered with a war cry of their own.

Later That Night 

      The goddess Krilena was said to be the patron of elves and Demi-humans. Ulgor, by comparison, was the first orc to wander the world, and was believed to achieve apotheosis after slaying the great wyrm in some previous age. Looking into the half-orcs red eyes, Rain could see nothing of the strength from either of the gods. 

      Yes the girl was strong, physically intimidating with arms that could crush skulls like walnuts, but her blood was surprisingly easy to siphon from. So easy in fact, that despite her lack of knowledge in the art of pleasing women, Rain was able to force the slave into multiple orgasms without too much difficulty. Each one, added with a dash of pain or a twist of delight, provided a small modicum of power and nourishment.

      The half-orc former slave was built like an ox. Strong, durable, thick with muscle and sinew, and decorated with light green skin. She was still young, although already ripe into maidenhood. Her only flaw, and thus suitable manipulation point, was that half her blood was elven. 

      Rain could sympathize, for she was born in similar fashion. It was her mixed blood that bore the weight of Roien’s gifts, and ancient neglect. Like a dormant current, the slaves elven blood seemed alive and quivering in her veins, but it was buried in a cold harsh strength that very much wanted to burn. Such power sent shivers down Rain’s spine, and tempted her to the very brink with the thought of experiencing its full and raw power in the form of a pure orc’s manhood. Draining him of power would be like guzzling fire, and Rain felt dizzy just thinking about it. 

      Not willing to risk its offspring at this particular time, Rain kept such yearnings buried deep in her heart. Perhaps after the harvest moon she would give in to such temptations, but for now she had to keep her legs closed, something Rain wasn’t used to. Thinking of the male orc, currently kept secluded in a small warehouse near the corner of Kings Barrow, Rain wondered if she could survive such an engagement. Plenty of women had, but all of them seemed to struggle walking in a straight line.

      When she had taken as much energy as possible, for one night at least, Rain left the half-orc girl hanging limply by her chains, and tried to find some solace in her dreams. She laid in bed for some time, barely able to close her eyes for long. The sounds of thunder, and the smell of storm clouds kept her close to the surface of awareness, and her dreams were pregnant with incoherent sounds akin to the clashing of steel.

      “Pay attention, and you might learn something from your dreams.” Roien’s voice touched her ears, and it stirred Rain to awareness before she could enjoy her sleep for long. The sun was starting to rise, and so too was her hunger. There was a pit in her stomach the likes of which drove her into a fit of despair. Her brands were already drained of vitality, it was almost impossible to discern them on her skin. Everything felt distant, almost surreal, as her eyes struggled to stay open. 

      Next to her bed, chained to the wall, the half-orc slave remained still. Her hair draped over her cherry colored nipples on her pear sized breasts, and smaller bushels of red hair grew between her legs, and underneath her arms. While not the best substitute for the carnal transfer of power, breaking the half-orc of her vitality had proven worth while. Draining someone of the same sex wasn’t the same as spending nights with Brostin, or her other male companions, but it did still siphon a modicum of essence. Rain supposed that, perhaps, she wasn’t as skilled with feminine copulation as needed for lasting strength, for the power she gained was already waning by the time she awoke from her rather short rest. 

      The half orc remained surprisingly resilient, at least in appearance but there was no way of knowing the true extent of the damage done to her life force. Each race seemed to take her hunger differently. Men rarely recovered after repeated couplings, while drow seemed to last longer, and recover steadily. Orc, and elven blood, had yet to be truly experienced in their purist form. How this new concubine would suffice, even for Rain’s immediate needs, would prove an interesting observation. Rain made a note to herself to reward the chained girl later, if she recovered, of course.

      It wouldn’t be long before the harvest moon would pass, and Roien’s gift would rekindle. Part of her couldn’t wait for the potency of her full strength to return, another regretted the inevitable consequences that would ensue. 

      Smoke and ash fueled the air, a bitter reminder of the lateness of the hour. They would have to leave soon. Perhaps even tonight. But before that, Rain needed to speak with the other new slaves. Perhaps her dreams were to blame, but an idea had come to mind.

      The harvest moon was waning, it wouldn’t be long before it passed altogether. Rain clung at her robe, holding it tightly around her shoulders, and trying to cover her goosebump laden flesh from the cold. She stood up quietly, ignoring the sounds of snoring coming from Namire’s open chamber, and just as she was about to leave, she noticed Tjere was standing by the door waiting for her. The dhampir barely cared to take notice of the half-orc woman chained to the wall, instead kneeling in obedience to her succubus queen with focused adoration.

      “You want to speak with our new guests?” Tjere asked calmly as if reading her mind. She got up from the floor slowly, as if her knees were sore. A small crimson smear was visible in the corner of her lips, and the smell of blood was still on her clothes. Rain couldn’t help but notice that she kept a hand on the hilt of her blade as well, as if expecting trouble at any moment.

      Rain eyed her dhampir suspiciously, wondering just how well she understood her thoughts and intentions. “We need to leave soon, the war is approaching,” Rain swallowed and found her throat dry. 

      “And what about the orc?” The question lingered in the air. The word was thick on Tjere’s tongue, she clearly didn’t like talking about him.

      Oh what about that creature? Truth be told, Rain wasn’t about to admit her infatuation with him, and she certainly wasn’t about to waste a precious resource. “We’ll bring the impressive specimen with us.”

      “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to speak to him yesterday,” Tjere scoffed. Her arms were wrapped over her chest.

      Rain just rolled her eyes. “I say one word about his impressive cock, and you drag me out like a whimpering young noble girl.”

     “Just a word? You wouldn’t stop rubbing it! I had to drag you out before things got out of hand,” Tjere’s desperate pleas were met on deaf ears.

      It’s just hormones, Rain reminded herself. Perhaps things would get better after the harvest moon. “Thanks…I guess. If you hadn’t stepped in, I might’ve tested just how far his reach could go.” She meant it as a jest, but saw clearly that Tjere wasn’t about to laugh.

      Tjere could barely hold still, and her eyelids were twitching at the mere mention of her queen possibly being interested in an orc for a partner. “That’s just one of the problems.”

      “What?” Just one of the problems? Rain reflected on her dhampir’s words.

      Tjere took a moment to collect herself, before clarifying. “I got you out of there too easily. I should never be able to defy your will. Your my queen, and your power is clearly sapped!” 

      The mere accusation of having weakness was enough to cause Rain’s eyes to flare. “You dare!”

      “You’re in heat,” Tjere’s tone remained leveled. She then continued, but with a dash of concern. “Your body is vulnerable. I can’t let any man near you! Not until your wits have returned.”

      “My wits are fine,” Rain lied. 

      The sound of thunder was her only answer. The peter-patter of rain against sodden mud quickly followed from outside the door, and a distant howl echoed with the wind. 

      “What do you want me to do…” Tjere looked down in supplication. Her shoulders sagged with clearly visible discomfort. As the light of the harvest moon drenched over the dhampir’s skin, Rain noticed several new scratches.

      Rain could practically feel her womb’s hunger. She didn’t have long before she would have to follow Roien’s advice, and sacrifice hundreds of potential servants to cross the marshes further north. It was also pitiful and embarrassing having her most devout followers suffer just to feed her hubris. Rain realized, painfully, that she had overstepped by asking Tjere and Namire to scour the country for some vampiric asshole to fertilize her aching womb. More over, it was overly ambitious thinking they could stay here for long. A decision had to be made, or Rain risked everything, including Roien’s disappointment. 

      Rain voiced none of this, and yet she couldn’t help but notice a small smile appareled on Tjere’s face. She looked outside, where the harvest moon was still visible beyond the clouds. It would only last another day, two at most.

      A curse left her lips, and Rain brushed her white hair back with cold fingers. “How many werewolves, and humans are fighting just beyond the walls?”

      “Hundreds,” Tjere answered swiftly. “Maybe more…why?” 

      A lighting strike clashed against granite rock, and another was close enough to cause the earth itself to rumble. Rain could feel the static discharge in her toes, as the electrical currents ran through the roots of the world. Her eyes were fixated to the east, where the worst of the smoke was billowing into the clouds, and licked her lips with frustration.

      “Gather them up,” her words were sharp, each syllable like daggers, as her eyes glared coldly into the morning sky. “All of them.”