Obsessively attached to the self-refilling artifact, Uli developed a nagging fear that some other dwarf might find out that he owned the legendary Horn of Karkaduss, To prevent such news from spreading, careful to avoid any risk of having to face thieves and rogues and scoundrels of all sorts who might attempt to steal the horn from him, Uli never used the relic in any public place, ever, no matter how much he ached to have a drink of its delicious brews,

Such determined and unbending cautiousness forced the burly warrior to make do with low quality beer in cheap inns and taverns most of the time, but he considered it a price worth paying for the ownership of the precious, irreplaceable artifact. Still, his paranoia notwithstanding, Uli had to admit that a campfire deep into the woods in the middle of nowhere was a safe enough environment to enjoy a few gallons of tasty, god- touched ale for a change.

After quaffing a dozen more long noisy swallows, Uli was ready to resume his tale. Licking the suds off his mustache, already about to evoke the glorious deeds of Zipfnir, the dwarf suddenly turned to the slim huntress and handed her the enchanted horn, rumbling out something between an invitation and an apology.

"I'm sorry, lassie, I didn't even offer ye a sip yet! Here, have at it: it's a deep red bubbly triple malt, thick and strong like a dwarf maiden's thighs

“Eww, no! Dwarven beer and thighs too?! That's so gross!" Laeny squealed, her breathtakingly beautiful, perfectly sculpted face remaining gorgeous even as it expressed disgust.

“And please don't call me ‘lassie’ all the time," the elf added in her singsong voice, training her slanted green eyes on Uli.

“I mean, it feels weird... ‘Lassie' is way too dwarfish."

The warrior chuckled at that.

“Aye, ye're right, it is. But I like calling ye ‘lassie’, that's affectionate," he said elbowing Laeny complicitly, “and ye do like my affectionate moments, don't ye?"

Rolling her eyes yet giggling, unable to deny the truth of Uli's allusive words, the elf attempted to resumed her gracious stillness, failing. Uli's beard-hidden lips curled up in a knowing grin. Despite her faraway look and the way she held her back straight and hugged her knees to her chest as she sat by the fire, the dwarf could see the alabaster skin of Laentharyel's cheeks getting rosier by the second.

No matter how hard she tried to maintain her elven composure, the huntress couldn't seem to stop wriggling in place and shaking her head nervously, making her long blonde tresses ripple across her delicate shoulders. Her squirming fits were clearly becoming more intense and more frequent by the moment, and Laeny simply couldn't help but rub her thighs together to give her itchy pussy and overcharged clit some much needed reprieve.

Of course, Uli knew, soon she would do way more than squirm and try to placate the tide of passion rising inside her, and he couldn't wait for her to succumb to yet another bout of alchemically induced lust.

The dwarf's flinty gray eyes were fixated on Laeny with such intensity that he could almost see through her light top and her tight-fitting trousers. Picturing in his mind the elf's pointy perky breasts and long supple legs along with the rest of her perfect lithe body, Uli nodded his head and chuckled, already savoring the imminent transformation that would turn the graceful huntress into a cock-starved whore. Feeling his thick pole start to stiffen under his kilt, the warrior tried to focus on his story again, to let the minutes pass faster.

"Anyway," ULi resumed after downing another healthy mouthful from the Horn of Karkaduss, “our Legends tell that all the types of ale and beer we have nowadays are variants of the five primordial brews born of the joining between Zipfnir, the Alefather, with his five divine consorts, the revered Beermothers. To this day, each Beermother is associated with one of the five traditional dwarven brews: the Pale One, the Golden One, the Amber One, the Fiery One and the Dark One. Now, there's still some discussion about the Beermothers, ye see, what with the old texts being incomplete and, well, sort of sketchy here and there, Most monks of Zipfnir and brewmasters today think that the Beermothers were just the Alefather's wives, but a few think that they were his daughters instead. If ye ask me personally, I'd say that..."

A deep sigh from across the campfire, followed by a snort of annoyance, interrupted the dwarf's theological dissertation.

“For the love of the Gods, Uli," Shayla snapped, “enough already

The wizardess's jet black hair shone in the orange radiance of the fire and her deep blue eyes were vivid with their characteristic feisty glint as she leaned forward to throw another stick into the flames. Her sudden movement almost made her huge boobs spill out of her plunging neckline, and, as she sat back, her ample jugs still swayed and wobbled enticingly within the confines of her figure-hugging azure tunic.

“We've heard the story of your drunken, raunchy beer god humping his even drunker and raunchier wives a thousand times, Uli," Shayla went on, eying the dwarf with undisguised boredom, “It's just a creation myth, and not a particularly interesting or original one at that..."

“Oi! Careful there, lass!" Uli bristled, the intended sternness of his reproach getting somewhat dampened by the distracting effect that the wizardess's luscious, nicely exposed cleavage had on him, magnetizing his gaze even as he tried to look Shayla in the eye and stare her down.

“Watch yer mouth when ye talk about the Alefather, lass! It's my religion, ye know, and Laeny here never heard this tale before

“It's not such an uninteresting legend, actually," Jadrik interjected with a snicker, sitting closer to the wizardess.

"I, for one, am quite a fan of the Alefather's chronicles."

The warlock's pale, hollowed visage was mostly hidden under the hood of his black robes, which he held wrapped tightly around his thin frame to fend off the night's chill, but the grin on his lips was clearly visible as he went on.

“I'm not sure if the Beermothers really were Zipfnir's daughters or just his wives, since the texts are indeed all pretty obscure and ambiguous about it, but it's clear that they were all sisters. Either way, great job nailing the bunch of them, Alefather! I don't know of any other legendary ancestor of any other race who could handle five horny women all at once and still find the time to distill beer!" Jadrik concluded, chuckling and nodding at Uli, who raised his horn and hooted in appreciation of the warlock's praise to his god before drinking a huge celebratory gulp of magically conjured beer.