"-ave me from the inequities of lesser men, oh Ishtira. Deliver me from their mortal frailty and unwise influences, blessed be-."

Drell blinked and sat upright. A mistake. Her body, neglected and delayed help for days on end, gave violent protests of sharpened agony as the orc awakened. She stifled gasps of pain and hazily glowered about her current place of residence. The dragon paused, finished his uttered prayer and turned to where Drell currently resided.

“Could you have not at least provided a bed?” She grumbled at her old mentor, fully aware of the hard bench she had lain upon. The unmortal being glanced in her vague direction, distaste upon his face.

“Thankful as the day you left,” He spoke. “I expected nothing would change, and already you vindicate me.”

Drell simply groaned and clutched at her head to massage a pain that throbbed within her temples. To her surprise, she noticed her body was clean, her wound was sealed and burns vanished. Like too many times before, her flesh had been knit back together and restored to its former glory.

“Yes, I kept you asleep with some trivial magicks while I worked,” The dragon-priest puffed, bared forearms folded across his chest. “No, I will not be accepting complaints about it. Least of all from you.”

Drell found she lacked a witty comeback here, and with little else to do, begrudgingly expressed her thanks. Master Kur stoically accepted them, the words no doubt fuel for the engines of arrogance within. For he was a dragon, and they adored such things, Drell knew.

“You would not return unless in great need,” He rumbled after the initial pleasantries were finished. “Reveal your reasons, and I shall take measure of how deeply I must suffer the burden of your wants today.”

There it was again. That age-old tone of disappointment, and yet Drell could not fault him for it. A hundred chances she had received, and fumbled every one in some way or the other. The proud orc bit her cheek to prevent a snarky retort and laid forth her request.

“I have great need of the Nectar of Ishtira.” She spoke slowly, every word weighed in careful consideration. “Not for myself, but for another.”

The dragon’s sightless eyes bored into her soul as he weighed her request in silent consideration. Drell gambled here, and she was wholly aware that fate was the most fickle mistress of all. Her master was not a kind man, but a patient one.

“And what can you offer in return? To return and fulfill your final duties as one of Ishtiar’s acolytes?”

Drell winced. Much as she liked to fuck, she was not too keen to serve within the grand whorehouse itself anytime soon. Yet, this was the only way.

“If that is what it takes.” She finally forced out. “That nectar is a matter of great import.”

“Someone important you want to seduce?” He spoke, that perpetual disappointment in his tone. “I expected better of you. All that natural skill and years of honed experience under my tutelage, and you still require outside means of persuasion.”

“No.” Drell sighed and leverage herself off the bench. “Someone I need to save. I require the Nectar to restore her life.”

The dragon blinked over his blind eyes.

“My immense wisdom cannot reach so low as to grasp how a concoction of pure lust will in any way serve to save someone. Perhaps you have come to the wrong temple. This is a place of lust and love, not some healer’s hut.”

“Look, I’ll pay the stupid price at a later date and come serve my last duties.” Drell grumbled and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just give me the Nectar and I’ll be gone back out of your life.”

“Until you inevitably return to ask for my help once more. Sure as the sun will rise upon the Thronehome, this too will come to pass.”

The dragon unfolded his arms, turned and swept away. But he did not refuse Drell, and she knew him well enough to follow. Curiosity brimmed within her as the orc glimpsed a single band upon his finger. One that had not decorated those scaly hands upon their last encounter.

Soooo,” She queried, voice heavy with glee. “A married man, after all this time? Who might the lucky man or lady be?”

The dragon continued to stride along with not so much as a glance her way. Not that Drell expected as much, his blindness and all.

“I have finally found true love.” The dragon admitted. “Ishtira willing, we will be together until this world turns to dust and we ascend to the cosmic winds once more.”

“And this person is?” Drell pried, eager for the knowledge.

“Myself.”

This tidbit of information stopped Drell faster than walking face-first into a titan’s fist. Laughter filled the halls as gasped for air, leaned against a wooden wall, a scented curtain in her fist as she dried tears of laughter from her eyes.

“Ishtira’s tits.” The words came breathlessly as Drell gasped for air. “Tits.”

The dragon merely turned and strode away as Drell struggled to follow. He showed no reaction to her amusement, and she expected none. For what did a dragon care about the thoughts or lesser beings?

Acolytes male, female and otherwise bowed their heads as the dragon passed, busy about their duties as many led those who wished to procure their services into private rooms. Drell tagged along behind the ancient priest’s immaculate form, amusement poorly hidden on her features. Only Kur’staht would marry himself because no other being was arrogant, powerful, handsome, wise and perfect enough to appease him. Hilarious as it might be to her, she was forced to admit it was fitting.

“Out.” The dragon commanded with a voice as thunder once he entered the inner atrium. Scantily robed acolytes that lounged here in all races and sizes obeyed without question as Kur’staht approached the massive, naked statue of Ishtira’s mortal avatar. It stood within an exquisite fountain, wet with water that flowed from a jug hoisted above its marbled head. The absolute pinnacle of the female form stood here, perfectly molded to Drell’akhosha’’s tastes. Yet years of experience knew that it shifted for every person, made in the image of their unique desires.

“I wonder,” Drell spoke, a sly grin on her face. “If you truly are your own true love, how do you go about consumating that?”

She could almost feel the flat look writ upon the drake-master’s face even with his back turned.

“You might one day learn although the two share similar realms, love and fucking need not go hand in hand.” He spoke unamused. “Though I fear you will never outgrow the shackles of your own ineptitude and foolishness.”

“So, you would agree that it is a challenge?” She failed to hide the absolute cheeky grin on her face.

“A challenge?” He scoffed. “By Ishtar, A challenge indeed. Every moment. Every second in your presence would pain even Gods. If you are the trial, then I am the most endurent being to walk these planes.”

No further proclamation needed, the dragon drew a wooden bottle from his robes and drew near the statue. As Drell watched in contemplative silence, he stepped close and jammed the bottle right up the statue’s marbled cunt. She blinked, blinked again and realized she had never seen exactly where the nectar came from.

“You are in service to a goddess of Lust, child.” He scoffed at her unvoiced surprise. “I would show concern if her methods were something not depraved.”

Clear liquid dripped into the bottle, a honeyed brew that smelled divine even from across the room. Its magical scent ladened with everything that turned Drell on, it wafted into her nostrils. Thrones, it was going to be torture to carry that all the way back to the ship.

Face still as stone, the dragon pulled the bottled free, corked it and strode to Drell.

“Use it wisely, or not. I care little. But know that your debt will be called due, and I expect you to answer.”

“I have given my word.” Drell nodded stiffly. “You know what that is worth.”

“Hmph.” The dragon scoffed. “Less than you think, yet I know that for all your legion of faults, you have yet to break a promise. Multitude as your failings might be, this is not among them.”

Drell accepted the offered bottle, already locked in a battle with temptation as she tucked it away within her clothes.

“Well then,” She muttered. “My time here is at an end once more.”

“You come, you ask for help, and you leave. We have all been through this before.”

“And, sincerely, you have my utmost thanks, master Kur’staht.” She mumbled, unable to meet the old dragon’s withering gaze.

“A sentiment echoed many times, yet never truly repaid. Thank me not, acolyte. For the next time you set foot in this temple, I will see that you fully repay every debt you have incurred insofar.” He smiled thinly. “A truly momentous task, yet I remain sure you will rise to the challenge. One way or another.”

Little else remained to discuss, and Drell excused herself. She had a lover to nurture back from the brink, and time did not wait for any but itself. Her old master turned and swept away, no doubt gone off to chide and make some unfortunate acolyte squirm beneath his gaze. The adventuress turned and hurriedly walked from the room, fighting to ignore the sweet fragrance of wonder most divine that nestled against her body.

It was for Veska, and to consume it would be to damn her. This she knew, and still struggled onwards. The old bastard was right, she realized. Every moment, every step would be a challenge. Even now, sweat pooled upon her brow as the orc fought to keep herself from ripping the flask free. Much as she wished to soothe her thirst in nectar most divine, it was needed to serve a nobler purpose.

“Gone so soon.” Came the disappointed voice to her side, and Drell turned to find a shorter human woman with tanned skin who stood with hands upon her hips. A shock of freckles and mane of crimson hair contrasted her gentle features.

“Amberis.” Drell nodded in greeting. “My business is urgent, otherwise I would stay to visit. You know this.”

“Of course I do, Drell. But you never do.” She sighed, a dejected look on her comely features. “It’s always a rush with you. Always in a hurry to get somewhere, fight this, fuck that. Whatever happened to my best friend in this entire dumb city?”

Drell rubbed the back of her head as guilt gripped her with its iron talons.

“I wish I could convince you that I’m sorry, and that I’ll come visit you soon, but truth is I don’t know. Don’t muchly like the Thronehome, and never really come for pleasure anyhow.”

“Fine.” The other woman huffed and crossed her arms. “Go and attend to your important things while I sit here and pine away for an old friend.”

Drell simply looked away, the weight of many yet unkept promises on her mind. One day, she would fulfill every single one. But not now. She bade farewell and turned to leave. Only to stop as Amberis’s voice came from behind her.

“He dotes on you, you realize.” She spoke almost wistfully. “The old drake has a fond spot for you. He hopes you’ll return one day, if only for a little while.”

“I know.” Drell replied and kept walking. Down scented corridors she knew from memory, every hidden nook and cranny almost fresh on her mind. Past people whose faces she recognized. She returned their greeting and immediately followed with farewells. Once, she had dwelled here in her pursuit of knowledge. As an orc, she knew how to fight, but she had sought out Ishtira’s temple for another reason. To learn every art there was to fucking, and by the Thrones, she had learned. A pleasurable, pleasing time, to be sure, but all things drew to an end.

With one last glance that filled her with a brief longing, Drell emerged from the whorehouse of Ishtira and began her journey back through the streets, hurry in her stride.

Her succubus awaited her, and the orc could bear to think of her in suffering no longer.