Fearnaught

Long note of import at the end, check it out.

 Drell languished atop warm metal, skin caressed by the dry breeze, ruler of all she surveyed. The orc was wholly content in all ways. She had saked her thirst for battle, her lust for more fleshen things and made lightning-fast progress in her harem's growth. 

All was well, and little could change her mind. Her needs were fulfilled, her dreams chased down and throttled until they relinquished what she desired. And now it was only her and the elements sprawled atop a mysterious ship of steel, far from any other trace of life. 

The past little while had been fruitous beyond her wildest expectations. Two new women were at her side, several dungeons had been plundered and her reserves of coin were no longer wholly unhealthy. Now, there was little to engage in, until she began to grow bored and set off to find danger once more. 

Yet she was in no particular hurry to do so. Why plunge into the endless pursuit of glory when she possessed all that made her happy? For now. Until such a time came that she began to thirst for violence once more, Drell’ahkosha was distinctly at peace with herself. 

Here, far from the ice-cold currents and the raging seas, an orc had found a place to belong. She was aware that others of her kind deemed it unnatural and downright un-orcish to be so far from the life-giving sea, but she cared little. Her family, however-

Drell abruptly rolled over and righted her form. The sudden need to do anything but lay here and reminisce about the past throbbed through her veins, and she answered. Still without a shred of cloth on her body, the orc tromped back through the steel corridors. She could not find a trace of Veska anywhere, and her curiosity had begun to grow. 

She knew little of her lover, Drell freely admitted, yet her disappearance struck some worry into her. It had been several days now. The thoughts were dismissed from her mind shortly after. With no idea as to where she even went, there was little use to be gained from letting it bother her. 

The lower guts of this steel behemoth was a place Drell had explored little of, simply for a lack of interest. Steel slabs that masqueraded as doors firmly barred her way into most of the underbelly. The walls were made from much the same sturdiness, she had learned upon trying to cut through. While she called it steel, it resisted her axe in ways that ordinary metals did not, and after a time, she had elected to leave them be. 

A singular door she had managed to force open, and now she wandered back inside. This, she had elected to guess, was the armory. Strange, blunt weapons she could not make any sense of hung behind panes of solid light. Every attempt made to reach them had ended in failure from her part. A scant few flickered emptily, their screens of light in periodic disarray. It was from there she had snatched her axe and dragon’s claw. Both of which she had retrieved on her way down from the upper decks. 

Loose crates lay scattered around the back of the room, heavy and smooth slabs of metal that remained tightly closed. Their secrets were hidden jealously, but not for long. The glow from her axe contributed little to the already sunlit armory as the weapon flared to life. Drell approached a crate, knelt, grasped her axe close to the head and continued her careful work. 

The last time she had hacked a crate open had ended disastrously for her, and phantom burns on her skin urged caution this time. She slowly slid the blade along the crate’s top, intent on stripping its shell away for the prize within. 

The blade, which Drell had seen slice through the strongest materials she knew with contemptuous ease, struggled here. It went slowly, like a stick mired within a bog. Its normally quiet hum popped and sparked as Drell forced it through, She had been at work upon this particular cache for several weeks now. An average of several handspans were gained each time before boredom took hold and drove her to other things. 

But now, the end was in sight. Slowly, carefully, she slit open the last hairsbreadth of metal and yanked her axe free. The steel glowed from the sheer heat of her blade, and Drell stood triumphant. Heat tore through her hand as she seized the now detached metal and tossed it aside, but excitement outweighed pain. 

Her prizes lay within. 

Long bulky strips of material that glowed with a smoky blue light she glanced over, followed by rounded metal spheres. Strange, bent metal tubes were neatly arranged within, sorted by their varying lengths. Drell’s excitement only matched her curiosity, but even then caution tempered her actions. Her axe stowed away, she bent and seized the rapidly-cooled crate and heaved it up with a grunt. 

Curious as she was, she was no longer stupid enough to expirement with forces she knew little of inside a room filled with volatile weaponry. Not after last time. 

Instead, she lugged it to her preferred area of experimentation. The cargo hold, as she preferred to think of it, was largely empty. A few other crates that she had gutted open were pushed into the far corners. Slipstream devices, bland boxed food she could not stomach and various other foolishness were contained within. Drell elected to ignore them all and focus her attention on her shiny new prizes. 

One of the tube-weapons was gently pulled free, and Drell began to examine it. Every twist and turn revealed little as to how it worked, but she stayed determined. Her own axe had been naught but a slender piece of metal when she first picked it up, so she theorized this held such a secret as well. 

The only external moveable piece she could find did little but produce empty clicks, and she knew enough to keep the open end pointed away from herself. It was only after a while that her fingers found a hidden latch, and a side-chamber of the bulky tube popped open. One that almost perfectly fit the size of those glowing strips within the crate. Drell squatted down, pulled one loose and inserted it within. A delighted whoop came from her as the tube began to hum and radiate similar blue light along external rods. Her finger accidentally slid over the metal nub next to the handle and she froze. 

In the space between heartbeats, blue mist puffed from the open end of the barrel, a translucent sphere the size of her head formed on the nearest surface the open end was pointed at, the far wall. It buckled and tore, a shriek of agonized metal that deafened Drell. And then it was over just as it began. 

The sheer, impervious steel was scrunched and twisted, pulled inwards towards a perfect sphere that had formed and vanished in the same instance. With hands that trembled, Drell slowly lowered the weapon down and back into the crate. She did not understand what the fuck had just happened, and she wanted nothing of it. 

Hooves that rung as they struck metal signaled Brisha’s arrival moments later. The bleary-eyed minotauress stomped into the room, ready to do battle with any intruders. She pulled up short as she gazed upon Drell’s handiwork. 

“Some power I was not aware you possessed?” She queried and surveyed the destruction. 

Drell grimaced. “A mistake.”

“An impressive one.” She paused and sniffed the air. “The scent of your succubus lover is heavy here, yet I do not see her. A victim of this power?”

Drell shook her head in response as she shoved the crate into a far, far corner. She had no intention of touching this particular one for a long time. 

“Never was here, far as I could tell.”

“Yet her scent says otherwise, but that is little of my business.” Brisha shrugged. 

Drell finished, straightened and turned to the minotauress. 

“Actually,” She replied, a thoughtful look on her face. “She has been missing for several days and this is the first trace we have of her. It has now become your business.” 

“If you insist.” Came the bored reply as Brisha waved her hand at Drell’s arranged crates. “It is strongest towards those containers.”

Only then did it dawn on Drell. She ripped the lid off the singular crate that contained her slipstream devices, and Veska’s brimstone scent struck her like a hammerblow. A single device meant to activate the slipstream portal in Drell’s room was missing from the rack upon which the rest hung, a note impaled in its place. 

If, for some inane reason you are seeing this, things have gone wrong. I have returned to kalsh-ah-rut on personal business, and am aware it comes with no small amount of risk. If I have not returned in the inevitable time you begin to look for me and find this note, something has gone wholly wrong. I intend to travel to the Wailing Wench, rendezvous and immediately return. 

Drell reread the short and blunt note again, crumpled it up and tossed it back inside. She turned to the obviously still-tired minotauress and forced a grin onto her face. 

“We,” She declared. “Have a succubus to find.”

Less than an hour later, the duo was back outside the only activate portal near the City of Shadows. Right next the remnants of Brisha’s former dungeon. A dunesea between them and their destination with no mounts of any sort and a merciless sun above. 

“Well.” Drell remarked with false cheerfulness. “I sincerely hope you enjoy sand and heat, because that’s what’s on the menu for the next entire day.”

“So be it.”

Drell’s bravado was outlasted by Brisha’s stoic attitude, in the end. The orc found herself in a singularly foul mood as the two trekked up to the Kalsh-ah-rut’s gates nearly a day later. She only scowled as the sandwraith rose to query them once more. It accepted her reply once more and sunk back into the sand even as she stomped on by, any patience and sense of humor sapped by the desert. 

Any unfortunate enough to get in her way were roughly elbowed aside as she strode towards the Wailing Wench, Brisha in tow. The tavern’s door was all but kicked open as Drell stormed in, absolutely murderous look on her face. 

A single patron spit out his drink as Drell focused on him. The rich boy who had tried to seduce Veska on their visit here. His ears flattened back and tail drooped as Drell approached, violence in her eyes. 

“You.” She snarled. 

“Me.”

The lone bartender took one look at the situation, dropped his ever-present dishrag and walked off. Drell didn’t blame him. Doubly so when Brisha came through the door behind her. 

“Where,” She growled and drew her axe. "is my succubus?”