Something to remember about about the drow, city or tunnel. Firstly, there were no incest taboos beyond, from what I could remember, it being considered too easy, not a worthy conquest. Secondly, despite the tongue, despite the hands moving to tear things off and press me down, was that drow viewed sex and romance as entirely different things. Female drow tended to be bisexual homoromantics, as how could you have a emotional and intellectual relationship with something inherently lesser than yourself (from their point of view). Male drow on the other hand? Based on my experience and memories, we trended towards being heterosexual and either homoromantic or aromantic.

Of course, that led to the third little fact. Homosexual males were culled, as sex was something that happened at a females command and choosing. If you were male? Not only were you not allowed to say no, but it was something that could very well get you killed. Playing hard to get was one thing, but in the end, as my grandmother forced me down onto the ground? Males did not have the freedom to refuse, not if a female wanted some fun. And based on the fact that finger nails were digging into my chest as she lowered herself onto my dick, well, grandma wanted a ride.

All to the laughter of the rest of the gang, several males also being grabbed, the entire circle descending into a an orgy, moans and grunts echoing, flesh slapping against flesh even as I did what I could. You see, there was a line to walk, as her tongue fought mine, as it wrapped and forced mine into submission, her hands moving over my chest and body, nails digging in as she rocked her hips, as I did my best to adjust and stroke those spots inside of her. Because while I had to please her, I also had to be... not quite passive, but had to follow her lead.

If it looked like I was moving to show any form of dominance? Any form of challenge? Well, even as my breathing quickened, that could end badly for me. Because yes, males existed to please the females, but there were rules, unspoken and erratically enforced and often contradictory. To be entirely honest, I was not sure if she was just looking for a sex toy or something a little more active, at least before she leaned back, seeming to consider something, as she called out. "Raeue, sit down."

She punctuated the words by slapping my cheeks, a grin on her face, another of my aunts, this one the gang artisan, who made the bows for the elites and fashioned jewelry, making her way over, dark legs parting over my head as she sat down, the lips of her sex against my lips, as there was the sound of kissing, of moaning from above. Through my senses, even as I focused on not cumming yet, on holding it all in, breasts pressed against breasts as mother and daughter made out, hips rolling and grinding against both parts of my body, as I thrust and licked and nibbled as I could, hands idly smacking and nails scratching at me.

I lost track of time, of when and where as there was the need not to cum, the shivering, the clenching and rush of fluids over me, before there was a pressure at my balls, a clenching and a twist that made my back arch, as I screamed into flesh that slammed down on my face, hips high into the air as my release came, deep inside my grandmother.

Now, the party ended, sometime later, as grandmother beheaded the prize I brought her... and demanded of Raeue that it would be fashioned into a cup. Because yes, we were prettier gender bent orcs in the end. But, I had my prizes in the form of materials for graft points, as well as some unrelated trophies that I managed to sneak back into the lair. A part of me did not want to leave said lair for a while, to simply work on some projects and to only take some of the completed projects out. I just did not want to interact with the family.

That and they had a good idea of where my lair was. That thought sent a shiver of terror down my spine, Because if they knew were it was, that meant that they could sneak inside, they could take my treasures, my crude spellbooks, the alchemy gear I had made slowly over time... even the enchanted skulls fashioned from the remains of some of his prey! There was plenty that I stood to lose, and the gang being aware of things was the first step in losing them, because I was male and of course my things would be better off in female hands, as they would strip it bare and eventually kick me out of the little cave I made for myself!

And then I calmed down, as they had not said anything, not mentioning things as I kept leaving the healing potions in the usual spot. But... I will admit, I had kept one head back. One head for a very particular purpose, as I moved into a spot in my lair behind the mushroom plots. On first glance, it would be a crude alcove, with two skulls hosting dark gems for eyes already sitting. And that was sort of the truth. The skulls themselves had no purpose now, other than as a remainder, as I looked at those goblin bones, as I placed the skull of a drow above them.

Carefully, I carved the runes into the bone, socketed the gem shards into the eyes. With care, I took a brush and painted the symbols with a mixture of hallucinogenic mushrooms and blood (both my own and theirs), as I chanted in the mystical tongue of the dead, as I used the skull to draw back her spirit from the beyond, binding her as I did so, as she wailed and gnashed her teeth. "Silence shade." Well, ghost really, but in many ways, a ghost WAS a shade of who they used to be. "Silence and listen well. I have bound you for the task of listening and reporting to me the plans of my kin. You will drift among them, an unseen guest and report to me any attempts to enter my lair or take that which is mine. Do you understand?"

She was silent and sullen, and so I gripped the chains between us, and she 'spoke' in a silent voice. "As you command, master."

Oh, it was early days yet, but she would obey, as she drifted out, as she vanished from normal senses. I only knew she was there because of the nature of the bond, of the chains that connected us. Chains that bound two similar spirits to me, as I reached out onto their skulls. "Kar, Plynn report!"

The goblin ghosts were, ironically, something close to loyal subordinates at this point. Chained to my will, yes, but at the same time they were not from any local tribe and they honestly reveled in their somewhat immortal state. Somewhat freed from the fear that is every goblins lot, they make for capable and useful scouts and spies. Limited of course, by the fact that while I had been teaching them elvish, in addition to guiding them as they evolved, spirits twisted with power, they were goblins and so had a much different cultural framework.

Granted, over the last three years, I was having to keep at least one of them stationed at the Severed Hands goblin tribe... in no small part as a 'messenger spirit to The Hungry One'. Also known as me. Because I was seen as a spirit of death and magic... but one that could be appeased. One whose favor they could court for protection. And apparently, they had gotten together a larger offering than usual, for there was a gang of trolls sniffing around on the edges of their territory. Something a touch beyond their usual ability to deal with, but...

Well, I had some options and wanted to make myself scarce for a little bit anyway. And a hunt for trolls was just what the healer ordered, as if nothing else... that would be worth some experience and mythos points. Maybe enough to get all the big ticket items as soon as I reached sweet level seven. Wolverine claws, better fast healing, expanded graft options for the minions to make that practice cult really kick off... I had a shopping list really.

Name Translations

Raeue; Alluring Artisan
Plynn; Thieving
Kar; Teeming