Chapter 2 - Welcome to Mirewood [Story]

Dark was the path and early was the hour. Sunlight existed only above the thick webs and spreading tree crowns; in a way the tree realm was no different to underground caves, lightless and ridden with horrors beyond one’s imagination. Many if not most quickly lost the sense of time in a land where sun and moon haven’t had their presence in centuries. 


Skitterers of all kinds hid in every corner, no nock was without a threat and should you spot any of the dreadful shapes, it is likely too late to turn back. An unfriendly land surrounded the lonely path, every turn could be traveler’s last; it was a wild and erratic design of some mad mind but by no means flawed nor lawless. 

The woods, Klyeth’sath, where trees lived in their rot and grass was afraid to grow, where moss dominated the fallen trunks. Acrimonious were the dead winds and irate were the inhabitants - a final sentence to all races that dared to enter, delayed at times but always reaching in the end.

All but one.

Where silence should be, where all living things should cover and hide, a rhythmic noise resounded. I was right. I am right. She admitted it. Where fear should rule, there was only excitation, almost radiating from the elven youth. Too young my ass, I’ve been for long enough on this earth. 

As insects hurriedly retreated from the dirt path, ornamented heels soon stomped the ground. Veriline treaded forward with a smile on her face, smugly staring before herself, enthusiastic to no end. If Zarna agreed with me, the great Priestess of Lolth, I couldn’t be possibly wrong. 

She hasn't seen anything but mud, worms, tree barks and webs for the past few hours but it didn’t dull her zeal even in the slightest. Leaving the capital at the age of ninety, take that you bloody snobs. Have fun sitting in your little chambers for another century. Drow inhaled deeply and then looked up, moving over a fallen log with ease. 

Her red eyes contently stared at the monstrous leaves above, at the steel feathers that rested deep in the wood, likely remnants of some territorial strife between the owls. So this is how freedom feels like, no tutors, no one telling you what to do. It even smells good. 

Better than Faerffyn’s cuisine anyway. Her lips bent into a wide smile and soon she lowered her gaze once more, watching the path before her. In solitude everything seemed to be better; it felt as if she could spend a day exploring the wilds, perhaps even look for the shrine on her own without reaching Mirewood first. There was nothing to stop her, no guards, no laws. 

As far as it went, she could even go and hunt the feathered predators, possibly even leave some to the Aranaes in some sort of a gift. The forest belonged to the Weaver since long, perhaps longer than her kind existed and having some sort of tribute wouldn’t hurt in any case. 

“Lolth watch over me.” She muttered quietly and spotted yet another broken lantern. Rusty and with the handle being long gone. Lightless, it simply lied on the ground, halfway drowned in mud. Likely to remain so for a long time, had it not been for the drow hands that grasped the lamp and raised it slowly. 

“World knows your debts.” Veriline repeated with a mimicking tone, squinting her eyes softly and staring at the corroded metal, turning it to see the shattered glass. “Fractured and but a mindless craft, yet put out of its use. All duties can fall short.” She scoffed and then allowed the trash to simply fall out of her hand.

“Or something like that she would say.” Archer inhaled deeply and rapidly exhaled, causing her bust to jump up and down again. Never had the shtick for worship like Zarna did but that’s a load of bullshit if I ever heard one. She’s smart and everything but to think she considers humans relevant. 

Now, I don’t have issues like that. Veriline broke into a little smirk and continued alongside the path, her areolas sticking out halfway through. Goddess’ grace, smite me if I ever consider them more than just beasts. And Mirewood should be full of them, they will prolly faint when they see me. 

The very thought made her shiver a little and even if she instinctively tried to get rid of her smile, she simply couldn’t. Little dirty humans, I may even live with their smell. Drow stretched her neck a little, making the sound of cracking bones spread across the woods. Her fingers instinctively fell on the silver blade by her waist, the enchanted edge shined as much as the polished nails, all despite the darkness. 

Her heels took her through yet another uphill section and then beneath a swarm of fireflies, silent steps guided the maiden and her shapes inside a hollowed trunk that likely fell onto the road years ago. I could probably kill them all on my own. Maybe I should. That thought wouldn’t linger for long as she suddenly saw it. 

Light. 

By no means sunlight or moonlight, such things rarely existed inside the forest. It was the artificial, earthbound light of the torches. Crude and primitive, just as she expected and it again made her shiver. On one hand it was somewhat beneath her to even talk with them but on another, it would be her first time. 

Drows, unlike humans, were naturally beautiful and dazzling in their qualities so seeing even something as dirty was exciting. 

And so it awaited, right behind the bark’s edge as the path took a turn where the fallen trunk ended. She shook her head softly and then marched forward with grace; her left hand grasping the blade’s hilt even tighter whilst the right one ran across her alabaster strands. Let’s go. 

Her tall heels suddenly hit the wood even harder and made a loud noise. With some luck they aren’t too deaf. With a heavy breath, she neared the exit from the fallen tree and stepped out with pride and beauty by her side. The massive, indecently covered bust moved first and heralded her approach.

Squinting, she turned her head left and laid the red gaze onto what she expected to be guards, two figures donned in black leather and with their eyes staring at her from behind the crossbows’ stirrups. She smiled softly, looking at the scruffy men, their dirty faces and the confusion that soon could be seen.

Taller than her by nearly a head and without a doubt far more muscled, this much she could see under their attire. Veriline stared for a while at the dark hair and those lightless eyes, her gaze fixing on their skin for a short while. Some part of her just died inside. So that’s how a human looks like…? It’s like a pale pig but also brutish.

By the road, next to the tall torches, they watched the path which led to their little town that rested behind them. Now whether they were disoriented by the sight of a drow, her nearly exposed nipples, obscene attire or simply the fact it was not a deadly beast that approached them - that no one could tell. 

Some sort of disgust and disappointment painted itself on her face but she quickly shook it off, inhaling deeply. That’s… Lolth’s grace. Uh. Even so, she moved forward, hand still on her blade but far from threatening in any way. “Is this place so called…” Her gaze soon fell somewhere behind the guards, fixed on the settlement behind. “... Mirewood?”

Elevated dwellings of many floors and levels, rested in spiral manner around the monstrous willows and aspens. Passages made of wood and hung above the swampy land below, dozens of ladders that connected one layer to another. Everything illuminated by the weak, dimmed red light of torches, every window ablaze from the inside. 

Scarlet eyes stared at the tree-bound city, rising only softly to see a vast, spreading cage of wooden bars - a dome over the entire thing that separated tree crowns from the houses, likely to keep out everything that lived between them. 

Above the mire, where the muddy and dark water rested, raised only a few piers to allow locals to climb to the upper levels. Many horrific things rested in every corner of the lightless forest but watery bottoms, as per usual, were reserved for the things most vile. 

As if to add some sort of menacing nature to everything that was before her eyes, white mist seemed to hang in the air, thin and far from obstructing one’s view but noticeable and in every spot possible.

Now that’s something… It’s primitive and so bearish but interesting on its own. Is this how they always build things? Her nostrils moved softly. They don’t even smell that bad. Maybe the matron really wasn’t right about that.

Veriline’s stared at town with curious eyes for a while, eventually noticing that the burly guards didn’t say a word, simply watching her like twin oafs. “Right.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, speaking to herself at this point. “I forgot you lot don't know how to speak Drowic.” She swallowed her saliva and then attuned her tongue to the crude, simplistic language of the humans. 

“Is this... hole called Mirewood?” Archer repeated herself and then folded her arms, pushing up the grandiose bust. Red eyes squinted softly as she saw their eyes turn to her, simply speaking, giant tits and sticking out areolas. Seeing a beautiful woman for the first time? Can’t really blame them but then, it is disgusting in a way. 

The crossbows aimed at her for just a moment more, before one of the watchers lowered his weapon. “Aye, this is the settlement of Mirewood, the frontier of the Faolan Kingdom. Are you one of the drow merchants?” The confusion partially vanished from his voice, replaced by simple curiosity. 

“Oh yes, my invisible carriage is just around the corner” She answered with disdain and quick irritation. What oafs. The tales about their stupidity seem to check out. Veriline stared at the guards for a short while, seeing as they appeared dumbfounded. Only then it clicked within her, forcing her to inhale deeply and roll her scarlet eyes. 

“Weaver’s fucking grace, no I am not a merchant. Are you going to let me in or are you just going to stand there?” 

“What’s your business in Mirewood then? We don’t have visitors very often, especially not your kind.” Second of the guards soon spoke, a man with a scar running across his neck and deep hoarseness within his voice. 

“I’m looking for something and the rest is none of your business.” Her lips bent into a little, pitiful smile as she continued.” Is your kind too dense to understand simple words or are you going to just let me in?” 

“Just doing our job but welcome to Mirewood. Don’t forget to stop by the Inn.”

It was a minute later when she passed the guards, feeling their stares on her back or rather other parts of her body that adorned her behind; it was a new feeling in a way but she didn’t mind. She dressed like any other drow and if they couldn’t keep up with her beauty, then so be it. Wouldn’t admit that ever but it feels good, maybe I should get a few to worship my body. 

As her heels took her across the pier, all above the muddy waters, she relished in the thought. I wonder if their women look any better? Maybe they just are like this because they have no charm? Veriline scoffed and looked up at the twisted, tangled construction of the tree-bound town.

Zarna will be surprised if I bring a few souvenirs. Or do I change my mood too quickly? With this thought, the drow maiden soon laid her foot on the ladder and began to climb it swiftly, as if the heels were made for it. Whilst she ascended, her plump wonders seemed to softly block themselves on each step, forcing her to pull them through every time. 

And while the elven front was repeatedly squeezed, the shapely bottom wiggled, granting a first-class sight to any beast that was below, staring from beneath the pool’s surface. And while the gifted ranger entertained herself with thoughts about human nature, the elevated streets were ruled by emptiness.

One that quickly caught her eye when she stepped onto the wooden construction. Looking around, she couldn’t spot more than a single soul, which appeared to be yet another guard standing on upper level. Their gazes connected for a while and soon she scoffed, looking around the place. It’s interesting and crude. Simplistic… Primitive. ‘Bout what I should have expected. 

Focusing herself just a little bit more, she quickly heard a commotion from above. Her heels soon took her across a spiral ramp as she discarded other paths, some lead to a conglomeration of what she could only describe as ‘hovels in the air’, while another would take her to some ring, likely some kind of an arena. Weaver knows they like to brawl like animals. 

Drow ranger bent her lips into a tiny smile as she heard the noise grow only louder and louder, all this with every step she took. Wonder if they will faint at the first sight of my person. She pouted her lips for just a short moment on this very thought but then continued with a smugly expression. Let us see. 

It wouldn’t take long before she crossed the twentieth blazing torch and the ramp finally began to end, connecting with the higher level. As soon as she could see the upper level her eyebrow raised and the pretty head canted. And that is…

She eyed the golden, feral eyes that stared at her. Attached to a large, coal-shaded snout that topped the towering, bulky body of something that just had too much fur on itself. One of the upright ears twitched as the wolven body was supporting itself on the wooden wall, guarding the entrance to what she expected to be the inn, judging by the noise that is. 

Her assumptions were rather quickly proven to be true, especially as she briefly saw the movement behind windows, albeit not more than just black figures on a bright background. Whether rather simple holes in the walls could be called windows, it bothered her mind for just a while but even so, elven thoughts quickly turned back to the beast before her. 

Shapeshifter. No, I think they called them werewolves on the surface? Malar’s dog without a leash. The two eyed each other for a while till she shrugged and moved closer; lycan or not, it wasn’t a threat. 

“I was told to get to the Mirewood Inn.” She spoke with a simple smile on her face and a little dismissive tone. “I’ll assume you can understand me so, am I in the right place?” She spread her arms in an asking manner and briefly looked at the wolven face, seeing the white, furless scars and partially torn ears. 

“Weapons outside.” The throat, nearly growling voice left furried throat. The giant, for he had to be one and a half of a man tall, didn’t move in the slightest as he spoke. 

She squinted her eyes and then peeked furtherly onto the two-legged beast’s body, for the most part it was covered in black leather and crude mail, not much different to the men she met before. “Is black some sort of local colour?”

“Night Watch’s uniform.” He answered without much interest and continued to glare at her, without a single blink and with this unwavering chill in eyes - motionless in every aspect but jaws. “Weapons outside.” The lycan repeated coldly. 

Veriline scoffed. “Do you really think I’m going to let you touch my bow?”

“Weapons outside.” Words fell once more and his body finally had some movement, all as he pointed to a weapon rack on the right, standing near the very edge of the platform, squeezed between the tree bark and a fence as the upper level seemed to have rails. It seemed to be separated from the rest of the settlement; perhaps the best place for such a thing. 

“It’s worth more than your--”

“Weapons outside or you sleep outside.” Werewolf growled once more, this time with visible annoyance in his voice. “Nights cold in Mirewood. Bodies too.”

Their eyes stared into each other for a shorter while, his gold against her scarlet, all till she scoffed. As if this pile of fur could tell me what to do. Eventually her gaze turned to the right, seeing how the racks were nearly empty, despite the voice of dozen voices from the inside. 

Veriline inhaled with irritation and took a single step forward, causing her innate cushions to swing to the sides. “How come only I have to follow your stupid rules?”

“Outsiders not trusted.” 

“Oh, Weaver’s Grace. Enjoy the night, you brute.” Drow turned around rushly and then took a few steps forward, putting her exposed bottom into motion, covered by nothing but a thong that seemed quickly lost between the massive pounds of meat. Even so, she stopped quickly. 

I’ve promised Zarna, didn’t I? She could feel the heavy eyes of the wolf on her back, all as she stood there for a good while, simply eying the tree bark in front of her, dry like stone and scarred by at least a few dozen blade marks. She let me go on my own once and I am already planning to return empty handed. 

She went through that thought a few more times and then turned on her heel with grace, angrily moving towards the wolf; all while her hands began to take down the quiver. “Touch it and I’ll serve you your own heart.” Rushly, she neared the tucked corner and placed her quiver by the rack, following with a silvery bow and a blade.

Golden eyes followed her closely, all she backed to the guard with a surly expression. “And Lolth knows, I’ll do it while you’re still alive.”

Lycan returned to his motionless state, continuing to simply lean on a wooden wall with folded arms. Furried giant seemed to contemplate over drow’s words for just a while, soon upturning his gaze from the short newcomer and simply staring ahead of himself. 

“Malar’s dog.” She scoffed and slammed her hand onto the doors, pushing them in. Bloody, lowborn beast with a stick for a brain. Is this how all surfacers act like? I think I know what Zarna meant with swallowing pride now - it is hard to expect anything if they are too stupid to understand how below you they are. 

As she entered, she would swallow her pride indeed.

And much more.





If any of you is willing to support me and help me bring more of those perversions to life, be so kind and visit: 
https://subscribestar.adult/vixenwriterrr
And if you're plain crazy, you may even consider becoming a patron.

In case of such brazen maddness, starting at the price of 1$ you'll be able to access all exclusive stories and see everything I post 14 days ahead of non-supporters. 


