Drell’s fingers drummed along the wooden table-top, an erratic rhythm faintly heard over the squalor of a hundred, thousand people that populated the town around them. Hours away from the Thronehome by foot -and minutes by traveling Veska- this large town was lit in celebration of the yearly harvest. With a bleak, harsh winter upon the horizon, the locals had found fit to indulge in the illusion of summer once more.

Veska, however, had dragged Drell with other nefarious plans in mind.

“There are werewolves that stalk this forest?” Drell asked for the upteenth time, bent over the table and already mildly bored. “You are sure of this?”

“Mmmmmhmmm.” Veska confirmed, lounged across from her in the evening’s weakened rays. The succubus wore a floppy hat and long, dark dress that covered every inch of her skin today, for some reason choosing to forgo her usual attire of full-body cloak. She sipped upon a cooled drink as if she could actually taste it, fully relaxed in such a volatile environment. If anything, Drell admired her nerves. The lycanthropes could be anywhere, anyone, but they would never know until the instant transformation began.

“I caught wind of such, darling, and I thought to myself: “What better gift for my newly beloved?”, A good hunt and fight, if you can find them.” The disguised demoness smirked, her human form another strange figure. Darkened hair flowed over a sharp face today, brown eyes that seemed like liquid honey stared at Drell’s own. For a moment, all was still as the orc was content to stare into her lover’s eyes. But satisfaction was eternally fleeting, and soon her gaze was torn away.

Drell poked at her own drink and wondered who would, in full knowledge of what it contained, be willing to drink this nasty concoction of water, sugar, alcohol and dried fruit. Just faint remembrance of the over-sweet taste made her face contort.

As if on cue, Veska faintly smacked her lips and sighed, her own foul mixture drained dry.

“Ah, brimstone.” The succubus sighed. “A taste that grows on you after a few centuries.”

“Is that..everything you taste?” Drell ventured cautiously.

“Only the vast majority, minority and leftovers.” Her demoness happily informed her, fully relaxed and oddly content. “The perks of being a spawn of the Under-hells is that you carry the reminder wherever you go. If you cannot beat the taste, you might as well come to enjoy it. It grows on you after a few centuries.”

The adventuress shuddered and decided that as doubtful as that statement seemed, she had little choice but to take Veska’s word for it.

‘Hun, relax.” Veska waved at her and gazed at the mortal throng that moved around them. Humans, beastfolk and others were gathered in celebration of the final harvest as the sun was dragged below the horizon. Bonfires raged already, shadows cast from their fierce light as mortals danced around the pyres. SImply by virtue of being a greenskin alone, Drell received an ungodly amount of stares, yet reason prevailed this day and she was left largely alone. Several dwarves stared flatly at her from across the plaza, sat upon their wooden thrones of ale kegs, yet she had no desire to perpetuate the millenia long bloodfeud between their races. She did not in any particular way want her name in the great book of grudges

“The words slip easily from your throat,” The orc grumbled. “I am incapable of relaxing, and you know it.”

“Then you might yet surprise yourself.” Veska smiled.

“Doubt fills me at your words.” She tossed back, only to garner a smirk from the succubus in return.

She squinted into the firelight, vaguely bored and on alert for any howls that might inadvertently slip from a canine throat mid-transformation. Her drink was poked in a random course around the wooden table, half-empty as the two sparred verbally. Veska was, in sharp contrast to her usual self, extremely off-edge today. The week since her draught of Ishtira’s nectar had seen the succubus suddenly brim with power and a hunger for experiencing new things. A whirlwind week had now seen Drell dragged throughout the countryside from one attraction to the next, and oddly enough, she enjoyed the time, despite there being nothing for her to fight.

Until tonight. Her axe remained retracted and tucked away in her clothes, and Drell found herself once more in intent search of any suspicious activity within the crowds. They sat near the fringes of the festivities upon crude wooden chairs and a miraculously flat table, backs to a wagon that served these ungodly drinks that humans seemed to adore. Drell remained in full conviction that no one actually enjoyed this oversweet taste and only partook in its drink because their friends did the same.

“Perhaps we should instead patrol the grounds?” Drell finally suggested when she could stand the boredom no longer. “Instead of remaining in a singular position.”

Veska positively beamed at her thought, glee in her eyes as she gazed at Drell.

“An excellent idea,” She purred. “I even have the perfect idea for us to fit right in.”

"This unsettles me." Drell announced frankly, her arms crossed. "But I will follow whatever torment you have planned for me today."

"That's my sweetness." Veska sighed dreamily at Drell. If the orc didn't know better, she could almost surmise the succubus was smitten with her. Their relationship had developed strangely, she had to admit. She should have been the one to dote on and spoil the succubus, but Veska seemed happy to take the lead there.

With a happy grunt, Drell heaved herself up and winced as her legs tingled from inactivity.

The succubus had no such mortal aches and fluidly surged to her feet, down the last of her vile drink and sauntered off. Drell, of course, followed and pointedly ignored the stoneslaggers and their stares. Dwarves held no love for anything but rock, yet they found a particular dislike for her kind, and she had no desire to give them any reason to quarrel with her. Even she knew that there came times when it was best to walk away and avoid confrontation, so against her nature as it was.

Carefully prepared stalls and wagons sold treats, trinkets, novel items from allegedly far away, stories from distant lands for a fee, clothes and even on rare occasion, some minor magical item.

It was before these fabrics that Veska stopped and beckoned Drell closer.

The succubus clasped her hands together and eyed Drell up and down, a hungry look upon her face.

"Darling, I will be the first to profess you look stunning to me, and yet.." She trailed off and stared pointedly at Drell's clothes. The leather pants and strained shirt was suddenly conspicuous as Drell battled to keep her expression neutral.

"You do possess very little in a variety of clothes.", She continued. "I have taken it upon myself to rectify this."

"They're perfectly good, reliable clothes for every occasion." Drell bluntly returned, inwardly consumed by awkwardness.

"Yes, indeed, they are fine." The succubus tutted, already having eyed Drell up and down. "But they could be better. Some..variety would please me greatly."

"Well excuse this uncouth young orc for her lack of an entire wardrobe wherever she goes, oh benevolent demoness."

"My mercy is great," Veska waved her off, already deep within the standing racks of fabric. Under the watchful eyes of an elderly human woman, she picked through the various clothes with a pinched look on her features.

Drell towered above her, arms folded as Veska began to pull free the absolute most ludicrous outfits from the racks and held them against the orc's form.

"They're too small." Drell flatly commented as Veska compared an absolutely scandalous set of undergarments to her jade akin.

"An astoundingly astute observation," Veska dryly commented. "However."

She snapped her free fingers and Drell squawked as her clothes disappeared.

"Magic." Veska smirked at Drell's blushed form. The succubus stood between an embarrassed orc and a furious human as both ranted at her, a feline look of smugness and satisfaction upon the succubus's face.

A smirk that remained as the succubus handed the original clothes back to the furious human and snapped Drell original pants and top back on.

Both parties momentarily silenced, Veska yanked a long, frilly dress from the racks and turned to Drell with hunger in her eyes.

"Are you sure this is necessary to blend in?" Drell warily asked and backed away from the silky abomination. "Can't we go about this some other way?"

"I assure you, the dress is necessary to flush out the werewolves." Veska purred, the hidden evil within her stirred to the surface.

"Perhaps we can return another time, then?" Drell asked, almost out of the succubus's reach and to the safety of the crowds behind. "When they are more obvious."

"Bold of you to assume that putting on the dress was a request." The succubus smiled, wide and dangerous.

Arms held up nervously, Drell considered her options of flight. She stood heads and shoulders above most of the crowd, yet escape there was perhaps her most effective option.

"Put on the dress, Drell."

"Out here? In front of everyone?" She protested weakly.

Veska's grin widened to dangerous new depths of depravity.

"You have another spot in mind?"

"...No?" The orc weakly admitted. "But I still don't think a dress is necessary."

"Fine." Veska huffed. "I'll do it myself."

Drell protested weakly as magic enveloped her once more, and closed her eyes in refusal to even see the silken monstrosity that now covered her.

"Thrones Above." Veska risked being smoten for blasphemy and exclaimed, her voice husky. Drell peeped one eye open to find the succubus biting her own lip, a dreamy look on her face.

"You look absolutely adorable."

"I feel hideous." Drell grumbled and tugged at the smooth fabric that seemed to perfectly flow around every curve of her body. Veska's magic, no doubt.

"We'll take it." Veska spoke off-handedly to the nearly apoleptic merchant, and smugly ignored the enraged cacophony that came in return.

But this was not the end of her shame. The orc was forced to endure several more moments of agony as Veska seemed to yank one outfit more cutesy than the last from the evil depths of the clothes racks. Until finally, the human-in-disguise strolled away, her arms laden with new clothes for her decidedly unwilling girlfriend.