A few parts of Cards ago, you all graciously forgave Laufey for writing some intentionally horrible lines. I hope you'll extend me the same courteousy after seeing Imoen reading a choice part of Ivanka Virtue-Free and the Half-Blood Pirate. Uh, it's a parody, that's all I can say.
Tnt 181 : Tenticular Accidents
Evening had fallen swiftly, and after a lovely dinner at the firepit, the party had retired to their tents for the night. At the start of their journeys through Amn, Laska had bought a famed World Ranger StormBuster Mark V tent that was big enough for 8 people, but privacy concerns and size were reasons for taking a step back to three of its smaller brother, the Mark IV. The three tents were still the pinnacle of adventuring gear. The magical tent was watertight, easy to set up and the bottom canvas flattened its surface automatically to avoid nasty bits from sticking in one's back or foot. The nicest feature was the magical climate control, making certain that the inside of the tent was at a comfortable temperature, no matter the conditions outside. Imoen had always loved these kinds of tents, all the comforts of home, away from home.
It had started to rain. It was the kind of rain that followed a heatwave, at least in Amn. A veritable shroud of rain poured from the sky, obscuring vision to only a few meters away.
Dynaheir had cast her usual magical spell before going to sleep : A one-way force-field had been erected around the camp, which not only kept out unwanted visitors, but also made it seem from the outside that the only thing there was a particularly big rock. It had always ensured them a safe night's rest. Imoen was still trying to get Dynaheir to teach her those spells, but so far, she'd not been having much luck.
Viconia and Imoen had retreated to their tent for the night. The tent was large, but more broad than high. It wasn't tall enough to allow standing in it, but allowed for plenty of room to store their equipment and lay out their bedroll comfortably. In fact, there'd be room for 2 more people, but Viconia and Imoen considered their space a luxury.
"Can you turn that light off?" said Viconia, referring to the small magical lantern Imoen had standing next to the bedroll. To Imoen, it cast almost eerie shadows on the canvas of the tent, and sometimes she started when she looked at them from the corners of her eyes but she needed it to read her book.
"Still reading," Imoen replied.
"Ugh."
Imoen was already dressed in her nightshift and lay inside the two-person bedroll she shared with Viconia, while said Drow was undressing and grooming herself using a small mirror. Imoen was quite aware that her eyes were darting back and forth between her book and the undressing Drow, hoping Viconia would not notice.
"Listen at the rain," Imoen said, as she looked up at the canvas and heard the raindrops tapping against it.
"We don't have to worry much," Viconia replied. "It's nice and dry inside, and we have a tent that digs it own raintrench."
"Luxury on the road," sighed Imoen. "Man, remember that first tent we had, just out of the Friendly Arm?"
"How can I forget getting out in the middle of the night to dig around in mud. Funny, we dug that trench so we didn't get drenched... and somehow still got drenched," Viconia said. "And we got the first hole because a wasp flew right through the canvas... on both sides. It probably never even noticed there was a tent in the way."
"We got expensive camping gear now," Imoen grinned. "Benefits of fame and fortune."
"And yet, you're still reading those tacky romance novels," Viconia said while unlacing her shirt and sliding it over her head. "You need to read some good novels, like Zak Sawyer. Or War and More War. Or a Kiss before Frying. Perhaps even Of Dragons and Men. Or Planescape : Torment."
"Those are boring, dull and all end up with everybody dead and/or depressed," Imoen said, getting rather annoyed that her beloved books weren't exactly considered art by her lover. "This book is much better. Just listen," she said, sure she would prove Viconia wrong on this point.
"No!" Viconia protested, but it was too late. Not even standing stark naked in front of Imoen would stop her now.
Imoen scraped her throat. "Ahum, I... Uh, I meaning Ivanka, by the way..." Better to get things clear.
Viconia sighed as she removed her pants. "I never would have guessed."
"I sit in the crew cabin of that fateful, intrepid, unbeatable ship, the Fornicating Seacow, where I have spent so many times gasping under the erotic conquering golden mallets of love and now I must think in solitudinous silence."
"Bet she burned off a couple of braincells there," Viconia muttered.
"Sssht! Lo, the door swings open, and there storms in the first mate, as if carried by the howling, whipping winds of Celestia itself, my beloved First Mate : Gerard Ecordian. His corded body open for the entire world to see. My organs of sight delight in viewing the light of the elongated wax instruments of light glistening off his muscular, rippling frame, his rounded muscles caressed by his long, brown, snakingly silk-fine hair. He turns his hard, lustful face towards me, his narrowed, piercingly gorgeous eyes looking directly at my opaque nose. One saline drop trinkles from my eye, across my opaque nose, across my red velvet lips, over my sollatious chin, to finally drop on the left of my outcropping twin organs of baby-nourishment and/or sexual charm towards men and some women. He speaks, his silky, deep, powerful yet slightly feminine voice resounds through the small, yet large wooden place of living. I sit on the soft, comfortable furnishment of sleeping and/or many sexual adventures, arching towards him. 'Wench,' he speaks, 'By the surly beard of Elminster! That cabin boy, be hardly able to stand on his two limbs of personal movement! Corrupt dogs like these mightily deserve to perish!". I decide it best not to tell him that hourly visits to the now man of cabins since last night must have severely drained his not-so-everlasting pool of endurance. Instead, I focus my temporarily shocked organs of sight on his furry loincloth, made from the fur of the finest rats of Calimshan. Aye, there be no room for rat pelvis bones in there! Soon, the source of the strained loincloth is revealed in the candlelight. Firm and ready to obey, Gerard's organ of bodily pleasures, masculine pride and certain acts of personal relief we shall not mention here, stands engorged with the grimson fluid of life... No, the grimson fluid of LOVE! The light of the candle flickers from it, the organ of love resembling a scintillant red emerald, reminding me of the eternal magical red lollipop I had enjoyed for years when I was still a little female human of small size and age. Soon enough, this furniture of sleep and/or sexual delight, will creak from the strain of wild, unfettered unity of lusty lusts and love, for it is an erotic sensation too powerful to ignore. I bend forward, my wetted, probing, wriggly organ of taste..."
The sound of a click and the rustle of Viconia getting into the bedroll and rolling on her side broke Imoen's concentration.
"Dammit, Vic, why'd you put the light out?"
"Good night, Imoen, put the book away."
"Hmph," she said and put the book next to the bedroll. After some searching, she found Viconia's midriff and embraced the Drow. "It was just getting exciting."
"You know," Viconia said sincerely. "Sex is not even remotely like it is in Danielle Wrought-iron's crappy books. You should go out and experience it for yourself."
"Are you kidding?" Imoen said. "With Laska on patrol?"
"I see the problem," Viconia sighed. "She should really cut you loose more."
"Hey?"
"What."
"You didn't kiss me good night," Imoen said.
Viconia snorted. "Blame the book."
"Awww, come on," Imoen pouted.
Viconia, having much better darkvision than Imoen, found Imoen's lips and captured them. The two shared what started as a brief, tame kiss but it soon evolved. Imoen felt herself inspired. She didn't know if it was the passage she had just read, or the rythmic trinkle of raindrops above her head, or simply because she was annoyed with Viconia. Imoen let her hands roam over Viconia's body, realizing that the only thing between them was a thin piece of transparent spider-silk. She could literally feel Viconia's soft skin through the fabric.
Imoen could not see, but Viconia was not protesting and actually guided her hands when she got too far off course. She shuddered when she realized that tonight could actually be the night. She felt herself go weak in the knees with a mixture of fear and desire, especially when she felt her hand sliding over Viconia's hip.
But suddenly, Viconia seemed to have put a stop. In the darkness, Imoen could not see Viconia's expression, but she could hear the seriousness in her words. "Are you certain of this?" asked Viconia softly, surprisingly gentle too. A number of responses cycled through her mind after another brief moment of 'it's really gonna happen!!!'-stress. 'Sweep me off my feet, baby'. 'My organ of lust is ready for you, my love. 'Just kiss me now'. 'Viccy, hold me, I'm forever yours!'. Or just a simple. 'Be my first. Please.'
What came out was a rather meekly spoken Uh-huh.
"Shall I remove my nightshift?" While still kissing, Imoen gasped when she realized she could feel one of Viconia's soft breasts through the fabric.
A more eager Uh-huh swiftly followed.
Imoen could see nothing, but could hear the sound of silk slowly sliding over skin.
"Are you certain?" Viconia asked, this time with more urgency.
A very strongly exclaimed UH-HUH! followed. But in her mind, she knew that Viconia saw somehow rather hesitant, and wanted to ask what was wrong. But, her lusty heart soon overrode her concerned mind.
Imoen bent forward, fumbling somewhat in the dark, but soon found Viconia's delicately pointed ear. Sheerly by accident, she had discovered that Viconia rather enjoyed have her earlobe nibbled on.
The sudden sound of a zipper being violently opened started the chaos.
A coughing wet elf carrying a bedroll while trying to keep herself dry by holding a cloth over herself quickly entered the tent. She tossed down the bedroll, and apparently a bag filled with her clothes, while she threw the now soaked cloth outside before zipping the tent shut again. "Blimey, it's pissing out there, isn't it, ey?" said Laska as she started to squeeze the water out of her braid.
"WE WEREN'T DOING ANYTHING!" screamed Imoen, but quickly caught herself. Imoen knew that it was dark, but that elves could see much better in the dark than humans. An explanation might be in order. "I, um, I, um, I was checking Viconia's hair for fleas!"
"Cool," said Laska. "Find any?"
Even though she could not see in the dark, from glancing in Viconia's general direction, Imoen just knew that if she'd say 'yes', she'd be dead.
"Uh, no, she's, um, clean."
"Good to know," said Viconia with a tone so icy it could freeze a lake. "Why are you here, Laska."
"I'm your bunkie for the night," Laska said as she rolled out her bedroll and laid it out next to Viconia and Imoen's.
"Why?" Viconia asked, annoyance apparent in her voice. But some part of her sounded somewhat relieved to Imoen at least. She'd have to ask later.
"Well, it's the spiced leg of lamb I made," Laska chuckled. "Apparently, I spiced it up just a little to much for Minsc and Dynaheir to handle. And, well, a tent is basically an enclosed space, and that flapping with the bedroll they do, doesn't really get rid of the smell. Boo is especially bad. Let's hope nobody lights a lantern tonight. So, I thought I'd come here for a non-smelly night of sleep."
At that moment, Imoen wanted to grab a tentpeg and stab her sister through the brain with it. Why this night of all nights.
Laska crawled into her bedroll and lay staring at the ceiling... or at least, Imoen thought she was, she couldn't really see in the dark.
"The three of us alone in a tent," said Viconia all of a sudden. "That certainly brings back memories."
"Aye," Laska said. "Has it really been three years since..."
"The three of us spent the night in that old rickety tent that that wasp flew through?" Imoen said.
"Oh, sweet Sehanine, that wasp," Laska snorted. "I still think that bastard was out to get us."
A moment of silence followed while the three of them listened to the rain.
"Three years," said Imoen again. "It was just the three of us those first days. Remember that went into that forest and got lost?"
"A forest that turned to to consist of just about three trees," snorted Viconia. "Right next to the Friendly Arm, I might add."
"There world seemed to big back then," Laska said. "Oh, do you remember you always keeping your distance and sleeping away from us, Vic?"
"Ah, yes, well," Viconia replied into the darkness. "I didn't trust you yet. Sometimes I still don't. It was just strange... most elves tended to shoot first and ask questions later and, well, you were simply too young to be travelling around."
"You didn't understand the circumstances yet," Imoen said.
"I thought that an elf so young would undoubtedly have parents or family nearby. I first thought it was pure naivete that you allowed me to remain in your group."
"You were ice-cold those first few days," Laska chuckled. "We kept trying to make friends, and you kept rebuffing us. And finally, Imoen had had enough and called you, um, what was it again?"
Before Imoen could answer, Viconia jumped in. "It was 'Bitchy McBitch'."
"You were one," Imoen chuckled.
"I figured there was still a 50-50 chance any of you'd try to slit my throat in the night," Viconia said, "but as soon as I saw the two of you trying to build a fire..."
"Hey, it was our first fire!" Laska chuckled.
"Yeah, give us a break!" Imoen grinned.
"I didn't do then, and I won't do now."
"Still angry about your robe?"
"That was the best robe I ever head!" snarled Viconia. "Southern spidersilk! Custom made! Magically enchanted! It was worth more than both your lives in the Underdark! 'Sorry, it kinda burned'," Viconia mimicked Laska's voice. "'We are only trying to wave some air into the fire'. Well, that went well, didn't it?!"
"At least we had a nice night sleeping under the stars," Laska said. "Didn't we?"
"And, perhaps, why did we sleep under the stars?" Viconia asked.
"I, uh, don't remember," Imoen blushed.
"Could it be because a certain girl panicked and threw my burning robe against our tent... after the three of us just painstakingly spent hours setting it up."
"Accident?" chuckled Imoen.
"And we didn't really sleep the entire night, did we?" Viconia added.
"Come on!" Laska snorted. "You can't blame me for that? How was I supposed to know that fire attracts Gibberlings?!"
Viconia chuckled briefly. "I was only then that I really started to worry. I had fallen in with amateurs, for Tymora's sake!"
"Gods," Imoen chuckled. "A new tent, even a crappy one, cost us 50 gold. That was a lot of money back then."
"Money we didn't have," Viconia smirked. "So, Laska came up with the brilliant idea to mug a couple of hobgoblins."
"And you got so frustrated that those hobgoblins couldn't speak common and didn't understand that Laska was robbing them, that you just jumped in, screamed like a banshee and bashed their skulls in with your mace," giggled Imoen.
Another silence feel, and the three women lay listening to the rain.
"Simpler times," the three of them surprised each other by saying those words at almost exactly the same time.
More silence. The rain tapped against the canvas of the tent in the darkness. This silence lasted longer than before, and for a moment, Imoen thought that the others had gone to sleep.
"We're going to war, you know?" said Laska.
"Worried?" Viconia asked.
"It's just that... things are just some much more complicated," Laska said. "But we had fun back then, haven't we?"
"I reluctantly agree," said Viconia.
"Me too," added Imoen.
More silence. Until...
"Hey," said Laska. "My bedroll just got caught on something."
The grunts Laska made while tugging on her bedroll let Imoen know she was applying quite a bit of force. "Laska," Imoen called as she sat up. "Don't pull on that, I think you might have caught on one of the tent-stilts."
Laska apparently didn't care and pulled even harder, pulling down the stilt and taking on side of the tent with it. Imoen yelped and moved to catch the roof of the tent with both hands, and Viconia's sudden grunt, combined with several colorful expletives, alerted Imoen to the fact that she had just accidentally buried her knee in Viconia's stomach.
In the end, three near-naked women sat in the mud, drenched from the rain, next to their deflated, wet tent.
Viconia, her hair clinging to her skin, turned to her friends. "Amateurs," she spat.
Laska snorted. Imoen giggled. And finally, Viconia joined the chorus as they broke out in laughter.
Finally, they decided to pitch the tent yet again and sleep quietly through the remainder of the night. There'd be enough time for seriousness soon enough.
More tnt soon.
Endgame is approaching. This is also one of the last time Laska'll be clueless. This'll all be resolved soon enough.
