A Predator's Reunion

[small]Author's Note/Disclaimer: The following tale is inspired by a previous Dungeons and Dragons character of mine. In my 'spare' time I'm a major RPG geek, you see. The story itself is set in the Forgotten Realms campaign setting; for those of you not familiar with D&D, this is the same world – Toril – that is the setting of R.A. Salvatore's Dark Elf novels, starring the exile Drow ranger Drizzt. The Realms setting was originally the work of Ed Greenwood and Jeff Grubb, and the properties belong to Wizards of the Coast. No infringement of copyrighted material intended, and this is certainly not at all part of Realms canon.

A Sequel to ”A Predator's Communion”[/small]

It was turning to spring in the cold, savage northeastern reaches of Faerun, the rugged frontier that encompassed such rough and violent places as Luskan, the City of Sails and also such beacons of civility as the Gem of the North, Silverymoon. Bewteen these two holdouts of urbanization and various other smaller and equal pockets of civilization, however, were many great woodlands, pristine and unblemished by mankind's axes, dwarvenkind's mining picks and foundries, or even the hidden sanctums of the elves.

This was just how Mysti Ulfsdottir, druidess of Malar, God of the Hunt, preferred it. It was, somehow, more pure and honest than the duplicity of civilization, and fare more peaceful. Too peaceful perhaps, for she had not come across so much as a single traveler since her great communion feast some three months prior, sacrificing and devouring a pair of female adventurers – one alive and raw, one ritually prepared. So it had been with an uncertain but in part glad heart that she had received the message borne by a great carrion crow, written in blood on a scroll of tanned elfskin leather in penmanship she had not seen in many, many seasons.

The writing was that of her mentor, Brujilda the Witch, a powerful druidess who, unlike Mysti and her damnable relatives, bore the Gift of lycanthropy. When Mysti – the daughter of Ulf Fenrethson, the chieftan of their enclave – had been revealed to lack the gift of skinchanging, she had been exiled to train under Brujilda, in the hopes that she could prove at least somewhat less of an insult to her lineage.

It was a slight she still seethed at, but it had been a blessing in disguise, for the young Illuskan woman – then only ten winters of age – had proven to be an exceptionally talented student of the Druidic arts, and under the tutelage and strict but maternal eye of Brujilda she had blossomed into a beautiful and deadly specimen. Tall and sleekly muscled, her figure was curvaceous and firm, with full breasts and broad, maternal hips (with a shapely, desirable posterior to match them). Her sandy, golden-blonde hair fell to her waist, loose and adorned with numerous ornaments of bone and wood tied into its locks, and her piercing blue eyes could make bold men tremble when her too-white, too-perfect teeth flashed in a grin full of barely-concealed predatory malice. More dangerous than this rugged beauty was her keen, merciless cunning and her powerful command over druidic magicks. Unlike her bastard kin, Brujilda had been proud of her, and as loving as one cannibalistic, predatory woodland priestess of a violent, hungry god of bloodshed and carnage could be to another of her ilk.

This was why when the letter had arrived, summoning her back to the older druidess' presence had arrived, Mysti had packed her few belongings, called back her dire wolf companion Fenrethir from his hunt, and begun the journey posthaste. That had been nearly three full tendays past, and Mysti was now ascending the steep hill that lead to the woodland clearing where the Witch's Lodge resided. Her heart was still anxious – she had not seen her teacher in a full decade, and the reason for this summoning was left unsaid, only that it was urgent.

Thus was it a slight relief when she entered the clearing and saw the old hut, illuminated by a blazing bonfire. Even more relieving was the silhouette in its dim outer reaches of light.

“It has been many a winter, 'asn't it lassie?” purred the smoky voice as Brujilda stepped into view. Just as tall as Mysti herself, the woman looked to be not even a decade older than Mysti, and had not aged a day in the ten years it had been since Mysti last gazed upon her; the only sign of time's passing was the increased amount of silver hair streaking her fiery red curls and a slight bit of weight softening and padding her figure. Druidesses lived no longer than any other member of their race, but the blessings of nature held off all but the slightest traces of time's ravages; thus it was that while Brujilda looked barely more than thirty, she was over three times that, and despite her vigor Mysti could see the years in her teacher's eyes as she nodded in response.

“Too long, old friend. I receieved your summons.”

Green eyes glittered with relief as the old wolf seized her prize pupil in a powerful embrace, then lead her to sit on a pile of furs by the fire.

“That be good, lassie. I had feared ye wouldn' arrive in time….”

“In time for what?”

Brujilda sighed wearily.

“Your father is growing weak and foolish, child. And I.. am too old now to continue opposing him.”

“So you wish me to kill him and take the Pack.”

Brujilda laughed, genuinely amused.

“Ye're heart's in th' right place lassie.. but ye know full well ye're no match fer 'im as ye are.”

Mysti's gaze darkened, but her shoulders slumped. It was the truth, and there was no point arguing against it.

“..that be why I called ye back. I be nearin' death, and Kelemvor'll claim me power if one doesn' take it first…”

“You mean…?”

“Aye, lassie. I want ye to perform the Rite o' Reclamation.”

Mysti nodded, somewhat numbly, shock plain in her face. It was an ancient ritual of the Malarite faith, normally invoked over a challenged leader of great power but no right to it. A ritualized sacrificial feasting ritual that granted the power of the consumed to the supplicant….

"…as you wish it, my teacher.”

With a nod, Brujilda rose and set to work. Murmuring chants and gesturing in an arcanely reverent fashion, she invoked her powers; the earth rose up and formed a great clay cauldron atop the blazing bonfire, and rain came from nowhere to fill it while fragrant herbs and other needed flora grew up fgrom nothingness. Small, elemental-borne sprites dashed here and there at her call, fetching needed implements and materials, and from the very ground rose up a great stone altar in the shap of a wolf's open mouth, it's lower jaw sculpted to allow easy access to a victim lying upon its great tongue of polished rock. Nodding as this was done, Brujilda lay hands upon her own body, and her flesh was suffused with a green light briefly as her innards were cleansed and all but the hair of her head was disintegrated painlessly from her body alongside with all the dirt, grime, soot, blood, and sweat Her leather robes evaporated into mists soon after, baring her fully; her lush, fully nude body tanned from long hours in the sun. Nodding to Mysti, the Archdruidess moved to lie down on the altar.

Mysti swallowed the lump in her own throat and moved to the altar as well, taking a clay jar of herbal oils offered to her by one of the woodwose elemental spawn that had been summoned to assist, and pouring it out over Brujilda's body, she began to massage it into her teacher's flesh. She squeezed full, heavy breasts as she oiled them, grinding the rough, somewhat gritty oil into dark, fully erect nipples. She slathered it across ribs and stomach, down arms and between and along each finger. She moved down the legs, rubbing it deeply into firm yet meaty thighs and lower legs, and then each foot and toe. Brujilda smiled  – and despite herself periodically let loose a lusty moan – as Mysti worked, even as the younger druidess held back the tears. All that remained was the very cradle of her teacher's feminity. Somewhat reluctantly the druidess drizzled the last of the oil across the older woman's groin, watching as it slipped down into the slit of her netherlips. WIth a delicate hand she began to rub in the oil, and then she began the second part of the ritual while her hands were already properly placed. She began to masturbate her mentor vigorously, leading the archdruidess to writhe and moan shamelessly until she shuddered and climaxed, her juices flowing into a small wooden bowl placed just in time beneath her vagina by a woodwose. Taking up the vessel, Mysti sprinkled in powdered herbs and sat it aside for later. Nodding mutely she turned to watch Woses throwing herbs into simmering waters of the cauldron.

“It is time.” whispered Brujilda, and Mysti nodded as the Woses gathered about the altar and lifted up the prone, limp body of her mentor and carried her to the cauldron, slowly easing her in…. Brujilda hissed only once at the heat before a look of serenity overtook her. She called Mysti over to her, and for hours the two reminisced on childhood memories, of comic mishaps during the younger woman's training, and of times when they had seduced handsome male adventurers into bedding them before feating on the weary and often drunken fools. Finally, some three hours later, as the water boiled hotly and steam rose from both it and its occupant, Brujilda turned to her student.

“I've loved ye like me own daughter, Mysti. Make me proud, an' reclaim ye're birthright. I'll see ye again when we both hunt at th' Lord's side in th' Fury's Heart…”

Mysti smiled fiercely despite the tears that began pouring down her eyes.

“I will..”

“There be a lassie.. farewell until tha' day, lassie… farewe….”

With that she was gone. Mysti wept freely a few moments, then lifted her gaze to the stars and let out a mournful dirge in a voice no human could begin to understand, in a primal howl. It was only afterward that did she speak again in a human voice.

“Farewell… my  true mother…”

It was some three more hours before the earthly vessl of Brujilda was fished forth from the cauldron by the Woses and then prepared for Mysti, who had spent the past few hours solmenly weeping as she bathed and cleansed herself physically even as she prayed to purify herself spiritually for what lie ahead. Stepping to the funerary feast completely nude, she slowly ate the flesh of her mentor, the noble and proud heart, the cunning mind, the fertile vagina, the swift legs and strong arms. She ate and ate until all were consumed, then she sat in prayer until her meal's weight lulled her int oa near-asleep fugue, a religious trance. While she was in contempaltion the woses stoked the fire beneath the cauldron even hotter, and slipped in the remaining meat of the Archdruidess, gathering her skin and sprinkling it with the proper herbs and oils, grinding her bones into powder which was also added to the cauldron. THe fire boiled hot and long, liquefying it all into a thick broth by the time the waters grew only warm.

It was time. Mysti was roused and wrapped in her teacher's skin, then guided to the cauldron and helped into her bath. She savored the warmth against her nude body, feeling the skin of her mentor merging with her own as she drifted off to sleep in her bath, letting it infuse her every pore as she dreamed away the rest of the night and the entire day that followed it. When at last she awoke, she was submerged only in sparkling, cool water, and she felt a power in her very bones that she had long craved.. she whispered to it, let it take hold… she let out a predator's hymn as she felt the fire spread across her naked flesh and through her veins as her body warped and twisted; the cauldron shattered about her as her form unfurled and she rose up and stretched her throbbing muscles…. she felt her sleek golden fur, felt her elongated maw full of razored fangs and the vicious talons that tipped her long, strong fingers.. she felt the cool ground beneath the pads of her now-lupine feet.

But none of these things were what lead her to cast up a howl of rejoice that echoed for miles. No, the joy that brought it forth was the feeling of Brujilda's presence within her now, forever at her side, and prepared to guide her to reclaim her birthright……