To Tread The Straight & Narrow (Mister King & Zoraida)

Zahal, Knight of the Order, strode out of the village and surveyed the gorgeous mountain range before him, ready for this quest. A strapping man of age 25, his short black hair rustled in the breeze as Zahal hiked to his destination. He stood tall at six feet, and the folds of his armor lay hints at the muscled stature they defended. The sharp blue eyes of the crusader took in every detail the forest offered; Zahal would not miss out on his prey.

Roughly a month earlier the Order received a plea from a remote village, begging for assistance against a predator that had its eyes on them. Livestock regularly went missing, property was often destroyed, and they had even lost contact with some of their villagers. Zahal was more than willing to come to their defense, and a fire burned in his heart that could only be sated through the extermination of evil. He was no newcomer to the act of slaying evil beasts, and his purity of mind and the sanctity of his body he would be around to slay many more.

The tracks the monster left behind implied it came from the east, and Zahal followed the trail up towards the mountains. A snapped branch here, a few mud prints there, and slowly but surely the knight closed in. After a couple hours of progress that took him a fair bit north, Zahal uncovered a trail among rustled leaves that headed upstream by a nearby brook. He followed it a half kilometer until it curved around an outcropping of rock. When the knight peered around it, he discovered ... a cabin. That was unexpected.

Keeping his eyes and ears wide open, Zahal snuck towards the building, being sure to stay out of sight. When he reached the walls, he peeked through a window and saw no one. There were no signs of anyone inside, as the lamps were out and the door locked, so the knight helped himself in. He smashed the lock off with the hilt of a knife and began to methodically search the cabin. Any clues to the monster's location would be invaluable.

While she wasn’t exactly the most subtle creature, Elowen was more than irritated to find a human on her land. She was the Lady of this land and someone had just broken into her private cottage. She didn’t use it often unless she really wanted to get away from the business of her court but still. A simple sack of semen in a tin can was not something she wanted to see when she returned for the first time in months. She stooped low and slowly crept up to him before she examined one paw and carefully sheathed its claws before she very swiftly and roughly batted it against his head. Perhaps batting wasn’t exactly the best word to describe the scenario though as it was the blunt force of a large, heavy paw that had taken him down. She gave an exasperated sigh as she adjusted some of the gems around her neck, her garb, jewelry, and long, well-groomed hair very easily pointed to her nobility. Now was time to figure out what she would do to this man.

Seeing as she was used to the only best as far as male seed went, milking him herself was very far out of the question. She then began to consider giving him as a gift to one of the girls back at her much larger manner. Something spurred inside of her, however. Was Elowen the kind of woman to throw someone to the dogs, or manticores if you will, when she hadn’t even a clue as to why he had come all this way? There wasn’t a human settlement in miles so why would he have come here? The girl then silently cursed under her breath as she snagged the rope that she had lumped up in the closet. She lifted the man over her shoulder. Although the added weight of his armor made him surprisingly heavy, it hadn’t been too much of a burden for her.

She plopped the man down on a chair in her basement and carefully removed any weapons on his person before tying him up tightly to the chair. After that was when she had to wait. She stood there in front of him with her arms crossed over her ample chest, one of her hips jutted out in one direction as she tapped her paw on the floor, her back nails gently clicking against the hardwood floor as she waited for the mysterious human to come back into consciousness. She hoped she didn't have to wait for long, otherwise she would grow bored of the man and simply take anything on his person, fly him out to the highest mountains, and dump him somewhere snowy. If he became a strange, frozen statue it would still be a more merciful death than a life of endless milking from any other manticore. He had also been fortunate to not have caught her with anyone of her court. Otherwise she would not be acting so generous seeing as she would never want to be seen as merciful.

*thump* Zahal went out like a light.

Almost a half hour later, the knight began to stir. Something wasn't right. He lifted his arms to stretch, but they were bound behind his back. After a second of testing his bonds, his eyes suddenly opened and he yelled at his captor, his voice unmistakably angry, "Unhand me, wretch, or by all that is holy I will strike thee dow-"

His voice left him as his gaze fell upon the being before him. Her paws, wings, and infernal tail clearly betrayed her inhumanity, but Zahal couldn't deny she was ... arousing. Her perfect skin framed a beautiful face that was regal and dignified despite the frustrated pout it currently wore. Just below her head heaved two gorgeous breasts that Zahal ached to adore and fondle with his hands. The beast's belly was slim and toned, at its physical peak no doubt because of a very active life. Gazing down the creature even further, Zahal took in her lovely legs, intersecting enticingly at her pert pussy. Then, Zahal's mind wrested control away from his boner as he realized what his captor was (or rather, wasn't) wearing.

The slut was all but naked! Only the tips of her substantial chest were held back by a "bra", and a pitiful leather thong only covered the folds of her enticing crotch. Zahal averted his eyes from the voluptuous wench, and addressed her with a voice that dripped disdain, "Cover yourself, harlot! For the love of god, have you no shame!?"

Her only response was a hiss before her tail twisted around one leg of the chair, tipping it backward abruptly but not causing it to fall and assuring it didn’t. “Oh, harlot? Is that any way to introduce yourself to the duchess of this land? Furthermore is there anything I should be shameful about? Your society has women bound in clothes. Too much and they are prudish and too little and they become whores, hmm? I don’t think I much like that, especially for someone very pathetically sporting quite the tent of human man meat. I didn’t even have to use my tail and you’re worked up.” She spat before letting the chair sit back up so that she could begin to pace the floor, “And my final suggestion is that you cease your inquiry until you answer my question. That very question is simple, what are you doing here?”

She crossed her paws back over her chest and waited for an answer, that cold gaze making it obvious that she wasn’t about to wait for too long before something worse would happen. Still, she thought of what would happen had one of the other girls had stumbled upon him. She would surely be begging for release as they milk him until he was dry. She merely wanted to know why he had come here and if she should take this as a direct threat to her land. In which case she’d gladly bring back the time of war between monsters and humans that her mother had given her life for.

“Really someone ought to teach you some manners. So answer this question for me or I will slowly maim you… heh… or perhaps I’ll get you more worked up to cause a certain amount of pain where I know it’ll hurt.”

"Why should I call you a duchess, harlot? As if any of you beasts deserve a title above 'Scum'." Still filled with bitterness at the situation, Zahal spit. He hit the "Duchess" square in the cunt and laughed a grim laugh, without humor, at the result.

"The only reason I'm here, harlot, is to slay as many of you savage sluts as I have to until our village is safe." Contempt and nothing else filled his eyes.

“Until your village is safe, hmm? You humans come here a bit too often to hunt us as sport.” She hissed in return before running one of her claws down his neck, just barely breaking skin. “You don’t seem to listen well… and perhaps I’ll show you the usual treatment of wandering boys playing heroes…” The manticore woman then made herself a rather comfortable seat right next to him, her tail, not barbed at the moment began to slide over his crotch as she sat there with devious amusement. “Furthermore, none of us have attacked your villiage… we use willing subjects for milking… subjects… far more well-bred.”

She crossed her legs as the tail began to secrete its usual liquids and it continued to nuzzle and bump against him, “Whether or not your society sees me as a Duchess is of no consequence to me, you worthless bag of flesh… It’s all about how the others do… and they adore me for I keep them safe from meddling, disgusting humans such as you. Truth be told I’d never let this lovely tail of mine drink from your loins… of course if I even wanted to…” She pauses and lifts the bulb of her tail up and away from him, spines starting to shoot out in every which way direction all over it, “Just one prick from these would cause you to want more…” She then quickly shook her head, “But that isn’t my game unless you really want to play with my temper you idiotic human. If not… then it’ll be as painless as you want to make of it.

Though she grew bored she still snagged a rather large book off of the wall. She looked over the passages of monsters long since passed, in a book of magic that had been unique to them as such a varied culture. “Truth be told I’m only left bored by you… especially considering I am hungry for neither your seed nor your flesh.”

Zahal stared her straight in the eyes and grinned. Whether the grin was the result of the lust or loathing she stirred up in him couldn't be discerned.  "Show me all the 'treatment' you desire, harlot, but you'll never break me.  The day I submit to someone of your stature is the day the sun in the sky is rent asunder."

That was the problem with these filthy slut-beasts.  They held such facile beliefs about their supposed superiority because they had wings or nice titsthat they were completely ignorant of the world around them.

"If you've nothing left to say, harlot, then I humbly request you leave me be. These restraints are unpleasant enough without having to be exposed to your vile presence." Without waiting for her response Zahal closed his eyes and let his head sag. At first it appeared he had fallen asleep, but upon closer inspection faint words could be heard as his lips softly moved. The knight was singing hymns.

She huffs before pausing, his singing distracting her momentarily until she whipped around and headed out, shutting the door behind her to leave him in the complete darkness of the basement. Elowen chose to pretend he wasn’t even down there. It would be his stubborn pride that would starve him to death, or at least that’s what she had decided. Now that she was up on the first floor of the cabin she started a fire and sits down in a rather comforting chair, opening that book back up and reading through it calmly. In the back of her head she was still continuing to fume. How dare he! How DARE he.

She was Lady Elowen Amadette Celine Constancia Regimontem the Second. Did humans not know how important she was? How important her mother was? No, they simply did not understand that they had the same emotions and pain that humans did. They didn’t understand that her sisters and brothers that they hunted for sport were real and intelligent beings just as themselves. True, they needed the spirit energy of humans to survive but lately they had been careful. They remained up in the mountains with only the volunteer humans who adored them to be milked. It was a hard decision for Elowen but it was one that she was willing to live with. Better to mind their own business than to be mounted, dead on a human’s wall. This decision had angered many others amongst her. They would still go down and feed on others, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. The manticore’s head pulsated with all these hard decisions she’d have to make. She had an entire land of people that were starving if they did not leave the mountains and would be killed if they did.

Soon, she found herself pacing back and forth on the floor once again, her claws clicking against the hardwood, a noise that is probably easily heard by the wannabe hero she had strapped up in the basement. “None of this makes sense anymore… I don’t know what to do…” She mumbled before looking down at her feet. “Maybe I am exactly as that filthy human had said… but I guess I can’t give in to that thinking…”

Days passed.

Zahal remained bound in the cellar, although the harlot had the courtesy to free him from the restrictive chair and merely bind his wrists together and tie them to the wall.  As the days went by, Zahal spent most of his time reciting his hymns, prayers, or incantations in meditation.  There was little he could do in his current predicament, and thus he spent what time he could in communion with god.

The harlot brought him a meal in the morning and one in the evening, apparently still undecided as to what she should do with the knight.  The food she prepared was typically a meager portion of poorly roasted meat, with a vegetable or fruit and a cup of water as well. He usually missed her presence (thank goodness) as a result of his near-constant meditations, but she nevertheless kept him fed, if only barely. This time, however, he wasn't so lucky.

The harlot sauntered in, her lovely breasts and pert ass swaying without shame, to retrieve Zahal's plate before she began to cook. Resisting the temptation to ogle at the slut for the first time in days, Zahal raised his head to greet her.

"Hello my dear harlot; it's been some time since I felt the displeasure of your company. Tell me, are all beasts as terrible at preparing food as you?"

“Well in case you didn’t notice… I don’t have any thumbs.” She states very simply, setting down the plate and holding out her paws, “Usually one of the slime girls cook me dinner.” She responds before crossing her arms, “You’re not as fortunate, semen sack.” Elowen seemed clearly exhausted and uncaring about whatever words he threw at her for the time being. She simply didn’t care at the time, especially considering more monsters of her land had been going missing lately. She wondered why she was still bothering with this human at the time and why she continued to keep him alive.

“I’ve better things to do than to continue your sorry existence in too much comfort. I’ll leave you now considering that’s about all you have to say to me for sure.” She mutters as she moves to head upstairs, her bulbous tail swinging like a pendulum as she heads the other way. Truth was, she had been quite hungry for the past few days. While her loyal subjects had insisted that she eat she simply could not, too worried about what had become of the missing monsters and what would become of her land if things such as this would continue.

As the pouting harlot absconded from his presence, Zahal honestly felt a little miffed at how she snubbed him. Nevertheless, he raised his voice after her.

"Would you like me to cook for you, harlot? That would make both of our stays here a little less intolerable."

Immediately he began coughing, as the lack of water over the past few days and the constant light singing had made his throat more hoarse than he'd expected.

The girl’s head whipped around, her eyes narrowing before she moved up to him and carefully knicked his bindings before heading upstairs, “All the doors are locked… but you look pitiful and I could care less where you go exactly.” She huffs before leaving the door to the first floor wide open for him to head upstairs or remain down there.

The manticore planted herself down in her chair once again, stretching out her wings a little bit before staring blankly into the fire as her mind continued to buzz around in intense thought and melancholy. She looked rather exhausted, those normally intense and rounded eyes sunken in a bit with dark circles around them and that ever-problematic tail swaying a bit lower than usual.

How nice of her.

When Zahal finally stood up for the first time in days, he immediately fell back over one all the blood rushed back from his head. Taking it far more slowly this time, Zahal very gently rose to his feet and began to stretch his limbs. His body burned as he flexed it back and forth, and there was a brief series of loud pops as each of his joints cracked.

Once he achieved a passable physical condition, Zahal ascended the stairs. He had to take them slowly and keep close to the wall, but he was feeling much better one he crossed the final step. It didn't take him long to find the kitchen area of the cabin, and he spent a while familiarizing himself with it. When he felt comfortable enough with the setup he located a brace for rabbits and some potatoes to begin with. During this time, Zahal sung his hymns once again. This time, however, he didn't sing in a low whisper but rather a his normal singing voice. His hymns were occasionally interrupted whenever Zahal discovered one of his favorite spices or seasonings, which happened once or twice.

After discovering some greens and carrots to add into the mix, when Zahal finished singing "Reign of our God" he turned towards the armchair by the fireplace and asked the manticore a question, "What's wrong, my dear harlot? Does allowing a human to roam outside of his cage upset you?"

She sighs and looks over to him with a disinterested expression, “What is the damn point of you singing like that? Lift your hopes? Surely not, you’re a hopeless little jizz bag you know.” Then quickly shakes her head, “No matter. I will not ask too much of your strange culture. You believe in things that don’t have physical form and ignore that which is right in front of you.” Her eyes lower back to her book as she crosses one leg over the other.

Her tail flicks about lazily as she tries to look as uninterested as possible about the human that was now in her house. “There’s also a canteen in there if you’re thirsty. I don’t know how much feeding and drink a human would need. That’s not my job.” She honestly hadn’t a clue what she was doing anymore but if he continued to behave she did decide that he would be allowed to roam through the house though would never be permitted to go outside. Her ears flicked around at the noise he was making but honestly couldn’t care too much about the current situation, or at least she was trying hard not to.

Although he was loathe to admit it, Zahal felt a bit of cathartic joy at his captor's irritation. "Have you considered, my dear, that I enjoy these sacred tunes and their presence makes life a touch more bearable?" The rabbits were taking longer to cook than he expected, so he finished up a side of bread he was working on.

"I do not need them for hope, let me assure you." Zahal swung his hand towards the shelf of books to emphasise his next statement, "These hymns are merely important to me, as much as those books might be to you, I assume. It's ... comforting, I suppose, to be among something familiar and close to you, especially somewhere this abnormal." There was a trace of sardony in that last bit.

Zahal gathered the smaller course into a plate and brought it to the manticore. As he walked over to her chair, however, he noticed something. Something that he hadn't noticed before in the midst of the bondage and captivity.

The manticore smelled nice.

He couldn't quite pick out exactly what it was, whether it was a devious pheromone on the part of the harlot, if she had applied some sort of perfume (did these savages even know of perfume), or of she simply had a nice scent. Whatever it was it stunned Zahal, and he just stood by her with the food, actively enjoying her presence for the first time since he laid eyes on her.

Elowen blinked a few times, actually able to comprehend, “And what, pray tell do your little songs mean to you? What is it that drives you, soldier?” She asks with a tilt of her head. Her voice was softened and she almost regretted calling him anything but a jizz bag and a fleshy snack; however she wasn’t one to go back on things she had said even if she wasn’t entirely thinking on them. To his people, that was exactly what he was, even if she didn’t think it herself. She then began to carefully nibble at the plate. Although custom deemed that she eat it carefully with a fork between her paws it was clear that she hadn’t quite mastered that art of fine dining yet with those clumsy limbs of hers.

While the tail of the manticore girl would normally sway viciously near Zahal it seemed to have calmed down around him, merely dangling from the chair and occasionally twitching as her ears would. It was almost as if she was used to the presence of a human with a plentiful food supply for her without having the urge to jump him and feed. It was something strange for Lady Elowen but she would continue to try and convince herself that his seed was simply not good enough for her even if it previously took much of her energy to focus on anything but that substance within her captive and that substance that drove most monster girls. There was a very low count of males in most monstrous races and many had to rely on cross-breeding with humans due to that fact. She wasn’t sure that was why monsters craved that sort of thing from humans, even though they could live off of other sources of food, or if it was something that had always been there.

Zahal was lost in the manticore's smell for longer than he thought, and it took her asking him a question to snap him out of it. Mulling over his response, he first headed back to the meal he was preparing. "That, dear, is a complex question." Zahal pulled out the brace of rabbits he put in a while ago and set them on dishes, beginning to lay everything out for the meal.

"As such, replying with anything other than a complex answer would be dishonest." He set the food on the table and arranged it in preparation for the meal, then he took a step back and pulled out the chair, indicating her to take a seat.

"Why are you here, lovely harlot? By 'here' I mean why do you choose to do what you do, or did you even have a choice at all? You call yourself royalty and a duchess, but is that honestly what you should be? How do you know you wouldn't be a better hunter, architect, or horticulturist? Why do you choose to lead your nation when it is entirely possible there are better candidates? Why do you keep me alive in this pleasant prison, and for that matter why do I keep myself alive?"

Zahal stood off to the side of the table, leaving the manticore there by her lonesome as she only had one dining chair. "You can answer each of those questions at once, with a single answer. Also you can call me Zahal."

“I’m a lady as my mother was…” She states simply with a small shrug, “She did what she must as I must do what she did. There’s not really that much to it. It’s not like I really have anything else to do with my time in the first place.” She leans back against her chair and continues to nibble on the food she had been given with a small shrug. “I’d say I’m alright with it but it seems like my advisors have the better answers lately. Why am I telling you this though, anyways?” She asked with a small shake of her head. “I’m sure you have no interest in a society of… what is the word you call me? Harlots. Yes that was the one. I don’t believe I remember you caring, even after being hung dry as you were.”

She taps one of her nails on the arm of the chair before shaking her head, “But that is neither here nor there I suppose.” She yawns and stretches out a little, her ears flattening a bit as she lets out a small, barely-noticeable squeak to go along with the yawn. She really didn’t expect him to notice and hoped he didn’t mention it. She was still half-wild after all, as all monster girls were. Her tail lashed a bit more quickly, her eyes focusing on him to see if he would say anything. She shook her head quickly of that thought, however. What did it matter? What would he hurt other than her pride? Did her pride even matter when it was just the two of them anyways?

These questions fluttered through Elowen’s head as she made an attempt to find answers but found more questions behind the answers that she could even think of. So instead of focusing on that which was left unanswered, she made an attempt to delve back into her book. “…I didn’t answer as you wished, however. I apologize for that much. Keeping you alive… I don’t know… maybe… I don’t want to be seen as savage. And… I think I’d be more suited in the circle of magi that are below me…”

"Well you aren't wrong. I'm not one for politics, especially yours, but that's besides the point." Zahal stole a sip from the glass, savoring the fresh taste he'd been deprived of for too long. Outside the wind hissed against the walls of the cabin, forecasting a cold, long night. "You do all of these things and make all of these decisions while missing a number of relevant details, but you keep on nevertheless because of an inherent assumption that all will be well. That, milady, is why I am still alive, stayed by your hand and mine. It is why I hum my hymns, and why you are hopefully enjoying this meal before you. Faith; it's quite a nice thing to possess."

Throughout the time Zahal had been keeping an eye on her tail, partially for his well-being and partially to determine how to approach the monster. At the end of his explanation he had been tempted to inform the harlot that the reason beasts such as her were on the decline was due to their inability to recognize and use faith but he relented at the last minute, seeing the motions of her tail and deciding to spare her the pain of the truth.

He still couldn't shake her smell, however, and he lurked on its periphery in an attempt to determine if he had felt it before. As evening rolled by the temperature of the cabin dropped gradually, combating the fire's attempts to keep them warm.

"...what you speak, human... is actually quite true..." She states with a heavy sigh as she sets down the book and looks up at him. While her gaze had always been cold towards him, it seemed to hold something different this time. Just this once. They maybe held some sort of weakness behind them. "Though I suppose my kind is quite stubborn. Many refuse to believe that something other than their own will drives them to continue forward." She taps her paws together as she looks at him up and down.

He's lucky the difference between cravings and actual hunger are quite different... though... the craving is kind of strong as of right now... Her tail squirms a little before she realizes just how cool the air was getting. She curled up into her spot and glanced around before snagging a blanket off of the back of the chair and huddling into it. While she was used to the cold, the manticore was used to more volcanic areas as opposed to her current temperature.

"I'm going to be heading to sleep. Can I trust you'll stay here seeing as it's far too cold and I've confiscated most of your clothing?" She asks with a raise of an eyebrow, suddenly thinking about how problematic that was for at least her tail in the current point and time.

"You can trust," Zahal complies, albeit with a raised eyebrow of his own. "Although I'm inclined to believe you're the one who would be more effected by the weather, given your..." he coughed, nervously, "erm, dress habits." His pace was starting to quicken and his skin flush; his thoughts of her clothing led to thoughts about what was under them, which in turn simulated parts of his body.

"Nevertheless, what are your thoughts on the food, harlot? Have you had your fill?" Now Zahal was reaching for any topic that could calm his loins (of which culinary matters were one). "If we are to continue this arrangement, I would be obliged to do my best possible work, even for a harlot such as yourself."

"I am at the very least sated. Your cooking skills are better than mine. It's difficult to prepare food with my own paws... much easier to catch said food, however." She let out a short chuckle to her own joke before heading off into another room to change into her nightwear. Though the pajamas did not cover too much more than her usual attire. It was a rather simple white nightgown that at least covered her stomach. That being said she's making quick work to turn herself into a little manticore burrito by the fire.

"If you would like we can sit and continue this... discussion." She stated, choosing not to insert an adjective as she didn't exactly know how to describe it. Was it infuriating? Yes. Was it interesting? Well... yes. She wasn't sure exactly how to feel about any of it, but perhaps she was beginning to understand that humans, too wanted peace in this world. Perhaps they simply did not know how exactly to find it other than eliminating her kind, a similar philosophy one of her advisers had taken. Was it a way to solve the problem? Yes... but certainly not a good one for one party or the other.

Zahal grabbed the chair from the table and set it across from her armchair, jealous of her blanket. Nevertheless, he rubbed his arms and soaked up all of the fire he could. The cabin was nice and cozy for a manticore, and wouldn't be too out of place with an old human hermit in it. Zahal shook his head of the comparison, his focus falling on his captor in the other room, changing. He shook his head again, this time more vigorously.

As she sat and made her statement, Zahal offered a rebuttal, "But what discussion is in need of continuation, my dear? We agree faith is necessary for the ultimate survival and dominance of a culture, and that ours possesses it while yours lacks it." He realized the rather ... bold claim he just made, and so Zahal tried to recover and change the course as fast as possible. "But how can we properly discuss matters if you won't tell me who you are? Such anonymous spats aren't my favorite, I'll have you know."

Elowen laughed warmly before shaking her head, "Just..." She pauses and considers stating her entire name to him in order to show how beyond comparison she was as far as he was concerned. At the same time though, her considerably lengthy name really didn't mean a thing as far as the big picture was concerned...

"Just call me Elowen," She responded quietly, "And saying that my culture does not have faith is a rather... bold assumption." Her voice is still quiet and it somewhat seems like she's actually trying to convince him of this instead of just shouting about it and forcing what she's saying down his throat. "Did you not say what caused me to keep you alive was hope? Do you not think that perhaps I'm keeping you preserved for I am hoping for something as well?"

She shook her head, "Perhaps you are far too zealous, human... perhaps we do not have faith in some strange diety in the sky but my culture is not something that we wish to die out. We, like you humans, wish to continue living and that drive to continue forward even if things are rough are within us as well. I understand our downfall being my kind's unfortunate hunger for that which dwells within humans but that is why I've chosen to try to maintain strong boarders that bar our mountains from you humans. We can live without the forces within you... however it's still an urge that we may have. It is in the best interest of we monsters to maintain distance. To have either us... or you... lose lives trying to eliminate one another seems foolish."

Zahal noticed Elowen's hesitancy to change her demeanor as she shifted back into defending her way of life, although he wasn't sure what to make of it. He believed she had misunderstood him, as he wasn't insinuating that the monsters of the land had no faith, but instead their relative decline was due to their inability to establish it as the central tie of their society. Just as a building with a sturdy foundation would always outlast others without one, so too would human society outlast that of monsters. Of course, it's possible the miscommunication was entirely Zahal's fault, but of course he wouldn't admit that.

"I am not aware of any intentions to scourge you and yours from this earth, Lady Elowen, although I admit some of my colleagues would jump at the chance. I wish you wouldn't characterize all of those with faith with such vicious fervor." During a brief pause a thought popped into his mind and he calmly added "Although I will forgive you for imagining such a thing. I have had similar thoughts, myself, so I understand where you are coming from."