Pounce

'I can't believe that damn fairy.' Jonathan thought to himself as he watched the tongues of fire flicker in front of him. He felt its warmth beating against his face or perhaps some of that warmth was just him recovering from the night's activities. Watching Saikhi be used by the captain and his men had given Jonathan an itch that needed to be scratched. His pants had done little to conceal his arousal as they left Cliffside, and it didn't take long for Saikhi to notice. After they set up camp, she had clearly seen that it was still a problem and wouldn't be fixed without her assistance. She offered to help relieve her master's passion. An offer that Jonathan accepted enthusiastically, despite it feeling like he was taking advantage of his companion's servitude. But he didn't think straight when he was horny. No one did.

The plan for the pair and their shaggy cren was to head north to Rainfell, the land of the faen. Rainfell was still technically in Empire territory, the whole damned continent was, but for practical purposes the Empire's presence there was negligible. The majority of inhabitants of Rainfell were faen, a race of long-pointed-ear humanoids with slim bodies, and generally sharp features. The waitress that Jonathan had met when he first arrived in Adearath was almost certainly one of them. Jonathan would have to do his best not accidently call them elves. Saikhi was confused when her new master had asked if the faen lived for thousands of years, she did her best to not look at Jonathan like he was a madman. Nope, just around 70 to 90 years, like most other intelligent races. The trip to Rainfell was going to take around a month of traveling on foot. Well, it would have taken that long if Saikhi didn't insist that they take several detours along the way to avoid detection. That is how they found themselves trekking down an ill-maintained forest road that hadn't seen any serious traffic in years. At this rate, their journey was going to take closer to two months. 

It was a rather useful coincidence that the yearly calendar here was roughly the same as it was back home. Although the days were all evenly distributed throughout each month, with the last month being shorter than the rest. Jonathan had packed his cren, whom he affectionately named Stew, with enough long-lasting dried rations to last them at least twice that time. There would be no need to make a stew out of Stew along the way.

The plan seemed fine and Saikhi had been much more than fine. The problem that Jonathan was having right now was with his little blue fairy-god-idiot Lily. He had opened the guidebook to talk to her just as he had done before. He decided to cut straight to the point and ask her about the thing she kept on forgetting to tell him at the end of their talks. "The only way to turn off your powers for extended periods of time is to retrieve your nullification stone." Lily had said to him gleefully. The location of which, according to Lily, was back in the Greedy Mead Tavern. The unassuming round artefact had fallen idly to the ground and lodged itself between the cracks of the floorboards when Jonathan had hurled himself out of the window. "You should definitely pick it up before leaving Cliffside!" she insisted. 

That was when the argument started. Jonathan was pissed that such an important thing was not mentioned to him sooner. There was no way he could go back for it now. Without it, every single person that he touched would be at risk of losing control of their sexual desires unless Jonathan purposefully and clearly chanted 'conievo' before touching them and it only worked for a single interaction. He had to chant those magic words each and every time he intended to touch somebody. Nothing else was learned from Lily that night except for a few more insulting nicknames she had thought of for Jonathan. It took a great deal of restraint for Jonathan to not turn the guidebook into kindling.

Jonathan sighed as he stood up from his bedroll. He grabbed the nearby bucket of dirt that he had filled to extinguish the fire. It was something he had learned to do as a boy scout. He sighed, extinguishing the fire seemed like a waste, it had taken him ages to get it lit and it had only been lit for about an hour. But Saikhi had thoroughly worn Jonathan out and he needed to rest. Jonathan didn't like the idea of waking up to the smell of one of his appendages on fire. The flame disappeared under a torrent of dirt as Jonathan voided the bucket. The light that had reflected off the tall surrounding trees dimmed to black. He laid down on his bedroll and closed his heavy eyes.

It was no good, he couldn't sleep. Maybe he just needed to stretch his legs and grab a drink. Jonathan stood back up and wandered towards Stew. The cren had fallen asleep beside the fire's smouldering remains. Jonathan had placed the water skins in one of the satchels on Stew's left side, or at least he thought he did. With so many different pockets the cren looked like a giant pair of cargo pants. He would probably need to check a few pockets before he found his flask.

A shadow, a flicker of something moved from behind the sleeping beast. Jonathan froze in place as he tried to discern what it was. He was certain he saw something dart in the darkness. He surveyed his surroundings. A lurking shadow, late at night, in a poorly lit campsite? He had seen this movie before, and it didn't end well for the protagonist. He inched back, towards the magical spear he kept next to his bedroll, he wasn't going to investigate unarmed. Jonathan braced himself as the shadow rose from behind the cren, he was prepared to dash for his weapon. "Sorry to awaken you master. I just needed a drink." Relief. It was only Saikhi. Jonathan let the breath he had been holding on to. He hadn't noticed that she had woken up.

"It's alright I was still up. I needed a drink as-" Jonathan's words were cut-off by a loud grunt from Saikhi. Something rope-like hit her and wrapped around her body. She toppled over, her legs and left arm bound by a device with two heavy balls on either end. Was that a pair of bolas? Jonathan had used such a weapon to capture prisoners in Dungeons and Dragons before but he had only ever read about what it looked like in a game manual, he had never actually seen one in person. It didn't matter, he needed to act. He dove for his spear, missed the softness of his bedroll and skidded along the ground next to it. He was within arm's reach of his weapon. Another pair of bolas from the darkness soared through the air, narrowly missing Jonathan's head during his descent. It lodged itself in the trunk of a nearby tree, bark splintered off and peppered Jonathan's position.

Jonathan hastily retrieved his magic spear from its hiding place within the burlap sack. He stood to one knee and pointed it towards the source of the danger. He could see her now. A toned, wild looking woman with dark hair. Her body covered from head to toe in intricately tattooed line-work, the furs she wore protected only the bare minimum of what would be considered decent. She held her hatchet in her left hand as she twirled around another pair of bolas above her head. Jonathan had a knack for running into dangerous, beautiful women lately. A habit he was hoping to kick. The wild woman let her bolas loose, it sung through the air towards Jonathan. He held his spear at the ready hoping to knock the projectile away or at very least have it wrap around his spear instead of wrapping around his neck. To his surprise, his plan worked, but not in the way Jonathan was expecting. The tip of the spear had mutated, its liquid metal moulded itself into a large, shielded dome that deflected the projectile. 'This thing is full of surprises.' he thought as the spear returned to its original form.

The wild woman charged forward, her footsteps betraying no whisper of sound as she advanced. Before Jonathan could act, the woman had closed the distance. She hacked aside the shaft of Jonathan's spear with the head of her hatchet and cracked Jonathan squarely on the chin with her bare fist. Surprisingly, Jonathan didn't crumble like a rag doll from the strike, it still hurt like hell though. This woman had a powerful hook. Jonathan realized what had saved him from taking the full force of the blow. After being knocked to the side by the woman's hatchet, his spear had shifted and elongated around her feet, causing her to lose balance. She nimbly rolled into her fall and away from Jonathan, giving him a moment of reprieve. The wild woman started to breathe heavily as her body grew hot. She had made contact with Jonathan and was clearly under the effect of his ability. Maybe Jonathan would be alright after all.

The sudden rush of arousal didn't dissuade the wild woman from continuing her assault. She lunged forward, pouncing like a wild panther. Once again, she knocked the spear to the side but this time, she anticipated the spear's counterattack and deftly avoided it. She knocked the wind out of Jonathan with a quick jab to the gut and he crumpled to the ground like a cheap slinky. He was disarmed and fully at the mercy of the ferocious woman before him. She looked down at Jonathan, her dark brown eyes betrayed a look of hunger. She mounted him, constraining his body in a vice-like grip between her powerful thighs as she bound his wrists together with the last bolas that remained on her belt. Jonathan somehow knew where this was going.