Role

Chapter 1

The lewd sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the dimly lit room. Grunts, groans - whimpering and pleading. The tiny flame of a lone candle flickered fitfully, causing shadows of tangled bodies to dance and writhe unnaturally.

The drow was almost still a child, her adolescent body had not yet blossomed. The so-called high elf was already old and grey, his decrepitude echoing the last Light fading from his twisted soul. "Korsgaard, Padwei, Einoh...", he chanted.

The old healer had convinced himself that this was no base act of lust, but a solemn ritual of purification. Surely those long years an Acolyte had to count for something. Even if he had been cast out following that accident in Ayr'Trinil.

Surely the Light yet flowed through him, and with his 'spear of Light' he could yet pound the red aura out of this young drow. Such thoughts flowed through his guilty mind as he forsook conscience and persisted in pleasuring himself upon her.

An hour passed, and the youngling had gone still - fallen silent. Minutes later, the candle burned out. At that very moment, there was a glint of steel. A soft sigh was followed by gurgling as the wretch keeled over, a dagger through his heart.

Her hard eyes softening, an older drow emerged from the shadows into moonlight. She smiled a sad smile beneath the alabaster death mask which concealed her features. With one callused hand, she caressed the still unconscious girl's cheek.

"Yes, you will do nicely...", she whispered to herself.