T'was the Night of Solstice...

It had been a few days since we arrived back in Tahvinstead, and in that time our tetrad had enjoyed breaking the house in. And while it was not as sexy as it sounded, I still enjoyed the knowledge that just a short walk away, the trio of cohabitating coeds were sleeping comfortably in negligees or potentially nothing at all. In actuality, we spent most of our days apart from each other, filling our time exploring rooms of the manor or areas of the growing village that we were most excited to explore.

Sharzin had come to enjoy the spacious kitchen we had commissioned. Originally hesitant at the amount of space given to her, she soon realized the benefits of numerous countertops and wood ovens. Taking advantage of the quality cookware that had been brought in, she made sure to craft a new meal every night. This was not only delicious and appreciated by all of us, but also pushed the still-growing stockpile of kitchen staples to the limit. 

But this wasn't all she did. When the rogue wasn’t concocting kitchen creations, she was enjoying the training hall or hiding out somewhere in one of the three Tahvinstead village districts, people-watching. With plenty of places to hide across Tahvinstead, she enjoyed the challenge of staying out of view while maintaining a watchful eye on those who were hard at work building our city of tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Rionriv had made it a point to dedicate the majority of her time to working in the library. Though we didn’t yet have any decent books on our shelves, it was still nice to see her putting the room to use right away. There the sorceress worked most of her days on the rune that Paethia had provided, racking her brain to figure out the more complicated aspects. Because of this, her research of the scroll did reveal a few things. Firstly, a segment of incantation was supposed to trigger the spell, and it was transcribed at the bottom of the parchment. The second thing was that the scroll could only be used by those with divine power in their blood. Which meant that I, the sole divine caster in the group, was the only one who could use it.

At the end of long days of runic examination, Rionriv would emerge to eat and usually lounge in the parlour with Aesandoral, who was typically tired out after her adventures. The elf spent most of her time exploring Tavhinstead and the surrounding landscape where the people of the village were working. When she wasn't in town making friends or helping out, she was tending the manor garden or resting on the porch. With every passing day, it became more obvious that she seemed the most at peace being able to rest outside in the cool air. And whenever she felt the urge, she would even wander over to the detached structure to check in on the four gigantic moose that had been stabled.

The way the elf lounged in the sun without a care in the world and talked with the people as though she had known them her entire life, it was clear that the forest around the village was her native home. Aesandoral was at peace in Tahvinstead, more so than I had ever seen her anywhere else. Simply being around her and the radiant smile she wore every day existing in this place seemed to lift the mood on even the cloudiest of days.

As for me, if I wasn’t doing morning exercises in the manor training hall or checking up on Rionriv's progress in the library, I was working with Tahvinstead’s three village districts. Now that there were more people here, some with unique specializations, I could start looking into various side projects to improve the quality of life for those living under our watch. Meeting with new and old faces alike, I began to float a few ideas, discussing costs and gathering opinions on which projects would most benefit the future city.

It was a strange sensation to be invested in working alongside so many other people. I had always hated meeting with others when I was Tahvin, but now, it felt less like a chore and more like an opportunity. After all, each member of the community was here because they liked the ideas I was pitching and were eager to help make them a reality. 

There was also no question that spending years writing this world and enjoying city builder games definitely helped when it came to building an Esserian city from scratch. I could only imagine it reassured everyone that I at least seemed to know what I was doing. But because of that same confidence, a piece of me wanted to jump straight to the max-level projects that would guarantee our future protection. That would allow us to sit amongst the Westerritons and Illuhsan'Draydens of this world. Luckily, a more rational side still existed to remind me that I needed to accrue wealth and fame before I could even get halfway to building the Tahvinstead doomsday bunker.

Thus, continuing to take it slow, the plan arose to set up a regular community outreach day. There, our tetrad would ask for feedback on how life within Tahvinstead could be improved. Then, with the people who would ultimately make it happen, we would decide as a community what to work on next.

This led us to the night of the Winter Solstice, where all through the manor, all of us creatures were stirring in the upstairs parlour. And since poetry and song were never my thing, but alcoholism was, I had been sure to stock up on various liquors before the holiday season was upon us. As such, after the sun had finally set and the numerous solstice celebrations across Tahvinstead commenced, I poured drinks for my companions as they sang and laughed enough to offset my absence.

Sitting back in one of the lounges with a stiff drink in one hand and a lit fyreweed spliff in the other, I comfortably watched the triop enjoy the moment. As Rionriv strummed her lute and Sharzin sang along, Aesandoral danced atop the coffee table as though she were putting on a show only for me. The four of us were already several drinks in, and before the night was over, I was certain there would be plenty more to be had. Already, I could feel the warmth of the liquor settling in my chest, loosening my body and lowering my guard.

As I watched the leather straps of Aesandoral's skirt twist against the gyration of her hips, I felt myself beginning to smirk deviously. I fought the urge to pull her from the table and onto my lap. Wrestled with the idea of passionately kissing her until Rionriv grew jealous. And when the princess inevitably brought it to our attention, I envisioned taking her into my arms. I imagined playfully biting at her neck and ears before our tongues met in a rough dance between locked lips. Then, finally, when Sharzin grew quiet or tried to disappear, I dreamt of calling her over. Bringing her to the vacant spot at my side before kissing at her pale collarbone, slowly making my way up to the pink lips that I had only just realized made my heart flutter.

My vision loosened as I imagined more. Imagined the four of us on the lounge. Our lips exploring each other's bodies. Moans and cries of elation as I tasted the sweet nectar of their lust. As I became intimately familiar with each of their unique flavours and the feeling of their bodies quivering under my touch. The feeling of drowning myself in the forbidden ecstasy that was contractually kept from me. And as I dreamt of the warm embrace of their core hugging me tightly, and craved the pleasure of being one with each of them in that moment, three gild dropped to the floor.

“D'Oh, shit!” I drunkenly blurted out, sitting up quickly and scooting my hips towards the back of the couch as I leaned forward into my drink.

“What is this!” Rionriv cried out, the music stopping immediately.

“It seems Iz has gilded himself again,” Sharzin added as she picked up her coin. “Couldn’t you have waited until after the song was done, degenerate?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I barked back. “I’ve never seen those gild in my life.”

We all shared a moment of laughter as we sipped our drinks and smoked our joints. From atop the table, Aesandoral hopped in the direction of her sister, revealing her tightly-fitting panties from between the slits of the skirt as she descended. With a soft huff, I contained myself, burning the image of her fit, rounded glutes into my mind for later. She quickly collapsed onto the couch, driving her head to Rionriv's shoulder, before making an interesting request of me.

“Iz, tell us a story,” Aesandoral asked, exhaling a cloud of pungent smoke as she spoke. “You said you wrote stories, right?”

“I wrote a story,” I replied, holding my finger up and then pointing it down. “About here.”

“Well, I want to hear a story too.” Rionriv agreed with her sister, plucking the joint from the elf's lips and taking a drag from the spliff. "So make it a good one."

“Well, Sharzin probably—”

“If you want to tell a story because you’re jealous of my beautiful singing voice, then be my guest,” Sharzin cut me off as she walked over to the wet bar and poured herself another drink. “Make it good, bard.”

With a shake of my head, I laughed. Quickly downing my drink, I stood and joined the groundling at the liquor. There, I reached over to take a bottle near hers, using it as an excuse for our fingers to softly brush together. As she turned her head my way, our eyes met, and I answered her with as sincere a voice as my drunken self could manage.

“Sharzin," I spoke, my eyes softening as the faintest smile graced my lips. "I am jealous of your singing. Those are facts. I could never compete with you.”

I watched as her cheeks grew flush and her fixed gaze softened. But before I could say anything else, she swiped the bottle from the bar and rushed her way back to the couch where the sisters rest. Now, with all three cozied up together, their eyes locked on me as I poured my drink and took a drag from the joint, I knew they were serious. They wanted a story from me.

With a smile, I followed Sharzin's lead and took a bottle back to the couch. Pouring myself a drink, I thought of the tale I wanted to tell. That was when it came to my drunken mind as though a light had shone down from on high. A historic tale from this world. One that happened right before the last Cataclysm and shaped the world today.

 I felt a chill down my spine as I thought of the words once more. Words I hadn't thought of in some time. And, ignoring the standing hairs and goosebumps that covered my arms, I began.

“This story begins on this exact night three thousand, five hundred and forty-eight years ago. Atop a mountain city known as Everlon, an unholy storm of ice and brutal winds froze the air—”