Toxic femininity

	Lumira skipped happily over to the revel.  Viri had had her worried over nothing!  The party was going on just fine without her!  She walked in through the open door of the abandoned building and struck a pose.  “Oh, Primes, hello, your mistress of ceremonies has returned,” she proclaimed.

	“Yeah, I did!” Slicce said.  She was in the corner, enjoying the attentions of the prime lad beneath and within her.

	Lumira started back.  “S-Slicce!  You’re back!” she said dumbly.  “I thought… I thought you had gone back to your new tempt!”

	“I did, but the Dance Lord asked me to come collect you for a party!” Slicce said.  She had stopped playing the flute as the drummer passed her by, carrying the tune she had set in his mind.  A few others from the town were here now, playing instruments of their own.  She smiled happily at the stunned Lumira as her hips worked the lad beneath her mechanically.  “Come, my dear friend, join back in!”

	Lumira stared at the party.  The general orgy and dance had split and rejoined, with trios and duos of people breaking off in the room to sing, dance, or rut as they pleased.  It was… actually pretty close to perfect, in her eyes.  She had had no idea Slicce was so skilled.  “Wow.  I… goodness, sister, this is a mighty occasion,” she said in awe.  “You did this in five minutes?  It took me all night to get them going!”

	Slicce climbed from the spent lad beneath her and waved Lumira’s awe away.  “Oh piffle, sister, you did all the hard work!  I say, the Primes do know how to let their hair down!” she said cheerfully.  For some reason, the burning hunger in her stomach was faded a bit now, but there would be time to think about that later.  “Where is Viridian?  She could use a bit of holiday cheer,” she said happily.

	Lumira looked up at the inn, where Viri was staring at her through the window with a great big frown.  “Er… she’s resting, poor thing,” Lumira lied.  “She lost a tooth in a fight, and she needs to sleep.”

	Slicce tilted her head back.  “Oh, that’s a shame!  Well, we can fetch her in the morning, then,” she said.  “For now, grab some lads or lasses and get to the proper business of teaching Primes to enjoy life, eh?” she asked.

	“Uh… actually, I came here to… call it off,” Lumira admitted.  “The Primes… they’re not used to this.  They might be angry when the party ends.”

	“Nonsense!  You think this is the first revel I’ve thrown since I stayed behind on this plane?” Slicce said dismissively.  “Trust me, they’re in no shape to complain when I’m through with them!”

	Lumira bit her lip.  “Really?”

	“I promise!” Slicce said gaily.  The sound of passionate indulgence was drowning out the drums and strings, now.  “Come, sister, indulge!  In the morning, I’ll take you to meet the Dance Lord!”

	Had the light in the room been a little brighter, Lumira might have noticed the not-quite-sane glint in Slicce’s eyes when she said that, or the fact that she seemed to have slightly too many teeth.  As it was, the night was dark, she was still aroused beyond reason, and her dear friend was offering her a chance to indulge her every instinct at once.  Lumira slowly reached a hand out to take Slicce’s and let her draw her into the dancing circle.  She slowly put her pipes to her lips and picked up where she had left off, and gave no more thought that night to her fears.

	Viri glared molten rage at Slicce’s retreating back as she disappeared into the revel.  “Curse you, Lumira, you weak-willed fool,” she muttered darkly.  She stomped back to the bed and put her aching head in her hands.  “Linus, please, fly, fly,” she prayed.  “Please.  It’s all gone so terribly wrong.


	Linus whistled happily to himself as the great clearing at the north end of the Dessarin Valley sped past beneath him.  Noble was in good form, soaring high on gentle winds, and they were making excellent time.  “Well done, my friend,” he said, patting Noble’s neck fondly.  “We’ll be back in a flash.”

	Noble tossed his head proudly.  Linus tweaked his psychic link to the spiritual steed and Noble began to dive, angling down towards the quake-scarred village of Conyberry.


	As Linus rode Noble through the main drag of the village, however, his morning spirits turned to mounting horror.  Bodies, alive but in no shape to be called as such, lay everywhere.  Some had bruises, some had puddles of wine, piss, or vomit around them.  There had to be thirty, splayed out over one of the vacant buildings.  Linus dismounted and hefted his shield.  A town guard jogged up to him as he looked around in bewilderment.

	“Knight Vorth!” the guard all but yelled.  “Thank Torm you’re back!”

	“Easy, soldier,” Linus said, recognizing the armband of one of the Lords’ Alliance elite troopers Lord Neverember had sent to protect his grand investment.  “What in the name of Mount Celestia happened here last night?”

	“Er, last night might be part of the problem, sir,” the guard said awkwardly.  “Two guests came into the village a while ago, and when I woke up, one was stranded on the roof of the inn, the Bedded Landing, with those mercenaries from Farview Company cornering them from the stairs.”

	Linus boggled.  “And… the naked people?”

	“Passed out blind drunk after that satyr whore got her magic music going last night!” a new voice snapped.  Linus spun and saw Father August stomping up to him, cold wrath on his face and a bloody tabard on over his uniform.

	“Father,” Linus said, bowing deep out of respect for the overworked old holy man.  “Please, explain.”

	August glared at the Knight-Paladin through sleep-bagged eyes.  “Well, lad, last night, your friend Viridian the faun went out for a snack by the treeline.  Then we heard her screaming.  She was chased back to the walls by a Maw Demon.”

	Linus’ hand gripped the handle of his magic blade so tightly it drew a spark.  The guard recoiled in fear.  “A Maw Demon?” he hissed.  The boiling hate in his tone was enough to punch through August’s cloud of ill temper.

	“Er, yes,” August said.

	Linus snarled his words through clenched teeth.  “That settles it, then,” he said.  He flashed back to his vision with perfect, gut-clenching, horrible clarity.  “The Dark King of Gnolls has set his mark on this town.”

	August swallowed.  He had thought he was having a grumpy day.  “Er… so it would seem.”

	Linus drew in a deep breath.  “Go on, Father.  Forgive my outburst.”

	“Well, the Maw Demon punched Viridian in the mouth and broke a wall guard’s arms, then beat him unconscious with the haft of his own spear,” August said.  A glint of silver light poured from Linus’ eyes as his hate flared back up, but August pressed on regardless.  “And… well, the satyress who was guarding Viridian slept through it all, and when she woke up, Viridian decided to stay at the inn and rest for the night, so… the satyress got bored and started playing her music at the tavern.”

	Linus forced himself to breathe again.  The guard noted uneasily that the effect was terrifying when some of Linus’ rage fed itself through his psychic link to his Pegasus, who stomped the dirt in sympathy to his friend’s anger.  “And what even followed that staggeringly stupid decision?” he ground out.

	“She was asked to stop by the tavernkeep at the Landing, so… she grabbed some of the hornier clients and went to the abandoned building, started an orgy, and… here we are,” August said.

	Linus looked up to the rooftop of the inn.  He couldn’t see onto it from where he was.  “And why are they on the roof?”

	“It’s just the faun up there, sir, because Sir Isaac Prelda ordered them quarantined up there until they can be sure nobody was hurt in the revel,” the priest helpfully supplied.

	Prelda was the administrator and Colony Officer of the Conyberry Project.  Linus released his death grip on his sword and set his shield on his back.  “Thank you, Father.  Tend to the ill.  As a word of advice from one man of the divine to another, the spells Lesser Restoration and its stronger cousins can prevent pregnancy if used within the first fifteen hours or so after sex,” he said.  August already knew that perfectly well, but was wise enough to take as a subtle hint to offer it to the women victims of the revel.

	August nodded gravely as Linus mounted his Pegasus and kicked off the ground.  He searched the roof of the little inn and saw his target in no time.  “Viri!” he shouted.

	Viri looked up from the miserable ball into which she had curled on top of the roof and sprang to her feet.  “Linus!  Linus, thank Arvandor you’re okay,” she wept.

	Had there been a sight in all of the mortal world that could have banished Linus’ earth-shattering rage faster than seeing his helpless friend curled up and sobbing on the roof of a building with five awkward-looking mercenaries standing around her, Linus couldn’t have imagined it.  He wordlessly flew his Pegasus up next to the cluster of mercenaries and banished Noble with a thought, and as his mount turned to silver mist, he landed heavily among the five Farview troops.

	They wisely backed up as he swept Viri into a tight hug.  “I’m glad you’re alive, dear heart,” he whispered in Sylvan.  “Let’s get you to safety.”  He turned to the mercenaries.  “Move.”

	One of them, the cleric, held up a hesitant finger.  “Uh, we’re under orders to prevent her from leaving,” he said awkwardly.

	“First comes politeness, next comes instruction,” Linus growled.  “I said move.”

	The other four mercenaries cautiously stepped back, but the cleric just glowered.  “Look here, Knight, I’m not going to ignore my orders,” he said stubbornly.

	Linus kept a sheltering arm around Viridian’s shoulder and slowly walked her towards the exit to the top floor.  When he heard the cleric move to intercept him, however, all of his rage poured back at once, he looked back at him, and the cleric stopped dead.