A Pretty Elf in Qeynos Part Twenty Seven

Fippy Darkpaw the First was just as famous in Qeynos as he was among the Gnolls out in Antonica, though the two sentiments felt for him were diametrically opposed. Fippy the First had been acknowledged a great threat to the peace of Qeynos until a Templar’s mace, swung by Sir Casimir Tonmerk, had cracked up against his skull clear though the best helmet Fippy had owned. The mace, it was assumed, still remained in the hands of the Gnolls, though no one knew more than that about it.

At the time of that battle, the Tonmerk Family had been as noble as any House in Qeynos. The Family had declined in prestige since then. Such things happen when the children of great lords marry for love instead of power. Succeeding generations of Tonmerk patriarchs would say “We once were as dignified as any House in Qeynos, even the Vishra’s and Bowerbrooks”. Those men had tried to tell their daughters to be proud, but the daughters had married foolish men of low status and poor reputation and the House had fallen in stature until it had long ceased to be noble.

There was only an inkling among the regretful parents of foolish Tonmerk children that there once was a greatness of which those of the Tonmerk name could be proud. The exploits of brave Tonmerk men…and women…in the old days could be there to be read should any present day Tonmerk scion deign to climb into the attics of the last mansion the family owned and dust off the family histories.

Had they done so, they might have read of the great battle Sir Casimir Tonmerk fought against the great Gnollish Chieftain Fippy Darkpaw the First.

Under Fippy, the Darkpaw had begun the invasion of Antonica. It was only after the Darkpaw had shown the other clans it could be done that the Sabertooth, the Timberclaw and the Cavemaw also came to the rich lands of Antonica.

Fippy had dueled the Great Sir Casimir in full view of his clan. It was Fippy’s intent that by publicly defeating the great warrior, all Gnolls would behold Fippy’s power. By that impressive victory, Fippy would thus consolidate his Leadership of the Darkpaw while simultaneously extending a domination over the lesser clans.

The battle was fierce but at last Fippy prevailed.

Initially the clans had been impressed by Fippy’s triumph and Fippy indeed achieved all the power he hoped to hold over all the clans in Antonica. But Fippy had sustained a serious injury before he had bested Sir Casimir. Casimir’s mace had landed a powerful blow against Fippy’s right temple. The onlooking Gnolls all agreed his helmet had saved him as they saw Fippy sway under the blow but then shake off the injury. Brave Fippy soon was pressing the Human back onto his heels. Fippy at last delivered the fatal blow.

While the clan at first lauded his victory, over the next months they soon noticed that Fippy was no longer the wise leader he once was. Fippy began to be suspicious of everyone and he could not control his anger. Moreover, his bravery had devolved into foolhardy recklessness. He was hard to deal with. It was that blow he took, all the Darkpaw clan whispered. It had damaged his brain.

Thus, contrary to the initial expectations of supremacy over all clans, the powerful Darkpaws declined in power and were soon eclipsed by the Sabertooth and Timberclaw, upstarts who could never hope to be what the Darkpaw once were. Eventually the Darkpaws lost Blackburrow to the Sabertooths.

The decline in the prestige of the Darkpaw was blamed by the clan on the mad Fippy. Eventually ousted from leadership, Fippy spent his days sitting on “Fippy’s Hill” above Qeynos, glaring down at the impregnable walls. Cared for by his exiled family, he ranted daily on the evils of Humans and generated impossible schemes by which he would single-handedly defeat Qeynos and regain the esteem of his clan.

The offspring of Fippy the First had never been taken back by the Darkpaw. Eventually, they found a ‘home’ in the Down Below among the other riff raff that resided there. Lurking in the sewers and crypts, they eked out a squalid living supplying contraband Gnollish Stout to certain unpatriotic Qeynos innkeepers. Income from that was supplemented by providing a safe hideaway for those Qeynos citizens wanted by the authorities. Many a rascal had stayed in that haven while waiting for the heat to blow over.

Arabella had twice been obliged to pay the costly fee to stay a few nights in ‘Crow’s Resting Place’; a secluded area in the Down Below ‘owned’ by Fippy’s descendants. Few knew about it and even fewer could find it on their own.

Standing beside Arabella, Fippy Darkpaw the Fourth stood regarding the old sarcophagus in the dead-end alcove Arabella had stumbled upon.

“This is the very grave of Sir Casimir Tonmerk” Fippy the Fourth explained to Arabella as he regarded the dilapidated sarcophagus. “He was killed in deadly battle with my exalted ancestor…and namesake….Fippy Darkpaw. Fippy Darkpaw the Great.”

Fippy seemed quite moved by the grave. “The shaman of the Darkpaw have passed down the ‘tail’ of the great battle. Several stanza’s tell of the near mortal blow Fippy took from Tonmrerk’s mace and how Fippy staggered then rallied to fight bravely on. The narrative relates how Human and Gnoll fought intrepidly on into the late afternoon, neither giving ground, neither besting the other. As twilight approached, those watching feared Fippy the Great was losing ground. My brave ancestor desperately tried a tactic that completely fooled Sir Casimir. Misreading the deceptive maneuver, Tonmerk struck left, and that was the end of the brave and noble Sir Casimir Tonmerk of Qeynos as Fippy’s battleaxe severed head from shoulders.”

Fippy the Fourth regarded the sarcophagus silently for a moment. His ears had lowered in what would have been regarded as a sign of submission had he been a pet dog. Arabella assumed that Gnolls, exactly like their canine cousins, showed submissive respect by doing that with their ears.

“I must request to hear the entire Saga should I ever meet a Darkpaw shaman” Arabella said, hoping to sound impressed but also hoping to never suffer through such an “epic” rendition which, she was sure, would sound to her as nothing but Gnollish snaps and barks.

“Oh, Arabella!” Fippy responded “pour me a couple pints of Gnollish Stout and I will deliver to your ears the entire saga, committed to my memory as a pup by my most loving and stern mother. She was the best bitch a pup could want to be raised by. I can still feel her bites on my backside whenever I messed up a stanza or two while attempting to memorize the “Saga of Fippy’s Battle and the Mace of Mossclean”.

Fippy made a respectful bow to the remains of his family’s long fallen opponent. “Well” he concluded “there the body of the Great Warrior lies in defeat but never in shame.” Fippy paused and then modified his statement “Well, I mean, most of his body is there. His head is on display in Blackburrow. Generations ago, during some treaty negotiations, it was proposed to return his head to this grave but Old King Antonius said there was more honour in his head remaining in Blackburrow among his enemies. A wise old King, that fellow.”

Arabella was anxious to get to Crow’s Resting Place. Her breasts were getting very uncomfortable and she wanted a safe place to express her milk. Unfortunately, Fippy was not yet done showing reverence to the headless body of his familial enemy. She hoped he would be done soon.

At last, Fippy stirred from his reverent thoughts and looked at Arabella. “Just head back to the beginning of this corridor, past that harmless little scorpion, turn right and straight on until you get to Crow’s Resting Place.” Fippy handed Arabella a coin as he spoke. “You’ll need this to get in. Leave it on my poker table once you are inside. I already have two other guests hiding out for a time. Just grab a bunk they aren’t using. I’ll be home tonight, after I do a little business with Lodi Bightn up above.”

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Cadwarra was wearing her new dress. Like her ball gown, it was a Clothspinner and like her ball gown it had a slit up the side, albeit the slit did not extend as far up her leg as it did on her formal gown. Despite the slit, it was a much more everyday item of clothing, though it was just as becoming.

The dress had arrived, unsolicited, from the Clothspinner firm just as Cadwarra had received a note from Marshall Vishra reminding her of her morning appointment with her Druid teacher and also advising her that she was to present herself to the Royal Palace later in the day in order to be confirmed in her new office of Ambassador.

She was just realizing she had nothing suitable to wear while being presented to the Queen when a messenger delivered the new dress out of the blue. The Messenger watched her open the Clothspinner box and pull out the beautiful garment. He was a Wood Elf such as herself so perhaps he assumed a bit too much familiarity. “Want me to help you put it on, Little Lady?”

Amber had cut in immediately. “I am quite sure we can manage, Baltazar.” She had closed the door rather rudely as he left.

Amber had turned back to Cadwarra and, seeing Cadwarra looking at the dress with a puzzled expression, explained. “Clothspinner & Company seems to have realized you are becoming quite important. They are soliciting your patronage with a gift. They will make back the cost of this dress by overcharging you on the next few but that is to be expected. Just make sure you get them to bring lots of tea and biscotti at every appointment.”

Cadwarra made her way to the Temple of Life. Her dress and the leg that the slit revealed turned a few heads. Her Elven ears allowed her to overhear a woman ask her friend “Is that pretty girl wearing a Clothspinner, do you suppose? I bet she paid for it on her back.”

A young lad nudged his buddy “If that was my girlfriend, I would have that dress pushed up to her armpits while I fucked her right there on the pavement!”

“I would totally do her” his pal agreed “right in up to the hilt, hard and fast!”

There was a note waiting for her when she arrived at the Temple of Life to meet the Old Druidess for her heal spell lessons. She was requested to come to the Old Druidess’s home in Willow Wood at noon.

“She said she forgot to bring something” a Novitiate Druid told Cadwarra. “You’ll need to go to her home instead of meeting her here.” He shrugged at her puzzled expression and intoned the old adage. “If the tree won’t come to the Druid, the Druid must come to the tree.”

Despite the chill of the autumn morning, it was a pleasant walk to Willow Wood Village. She had been to the Druidess’s house before. Cadwarra easily remembered where the Old Druidess resided. It was right by that smoky building with the big chimney. She knocked on the door.

“You are late, Child” was the response from inside the small cottage. The door remained closed.

“Pardon, Madam Druidess” Cadwarra shouted through the thick oak door “but I think I am on time.” Smoke from the building next door wafted around her. There was the flat sound of a hammer going clungggg…! ….clungggg…!.

“No” came the answer inside the oak door “You are not on time. When you realized how weak your heal spells were, you should have been here a fortnight ago. Did you think I did not know of you trying to heal that young man in jail? He barely survived.”

Cadwarra waved her hand trying to get the smoke out of her eyes. The hammering next door had changed to a metallic blang!…blang! as if someone that knew how to swing a hammer had taken over the task.

At last the door opened and the Old Druidess stood there, blocking Cadwarra from entering. Cadwarra quickly realized the Old Druidess was merely preventing her old cat from getting outside. “At least the boy had a good orgasm, Cadwarra. I’ll give you credit for that.”

Cadwarra curtsied her usual inexpert curtsy. Not for the first time Cadwarra wondered how these Druids seemed to know so much about things that happened no where near them. “I am not good with heals” she conceded. “I am sorry I did not come sooner.”

“Sooner? You are right on time. If you did not realize before now that you needed to come here, then you would have been wasting your time coming here before now. I have no tolerance for that.”

“I see, Madam Druidess” Cadwarra lied.

“The tea is ready. Come in and tell me about this boy that blew his load for you in jail. The quality of the three heals you cast on him was embarrassing.”

The tea was comforting on a cool day. They finished a second cup while Cadwarra described how Falco had sucked on her tits and came in her mouth through the bars while she cast her orgasmic heal spell to very little effect. She explained how she met Falco and how he had tried to take credit for the spiders she had killed in the Forest Ruins then tried to feel her up while they were swimming in their underclothes near the waterfall in Baubleshire.

“You wasted three heal spells on that creep?” The Old Druidess seemed to approve of Cadwarra trying to help the boy, despite her dismissive words. Cadwarra confessed she had let Falco rut with her behind the rocks in the Forest Ruins a week after they had gone near-naked swimming. After he was done screwing her, she never saw him again until they landed in jail together.

“I felt so sorry for him, the way he had been beaten.” Cadwarra sipped some tea. It was very good tea. “He seemed just a little better after I cast the spells. My friend Llisanya later made some arrangements to get him released and he apparently walked out of the cell on his own power, so I am glad that my heals did something for him and that he is alright.” Cadwarra then took a deep breath and confessed “I am sorry to say that I hope I do not run into him again…as long as he is healthy.