This was no mere whisper or cry. It was a psychic tidal wave of pleasure so absolute that the world seemed to stop. Jannis was no longer 'whispering' she was echoing through every cell of Greywind's consciousness.
Greywind felt sensations that were not his own: a deep, warm, explosive satisfaction spreading from the core of his being like rich wine poured into a parched soul. A tactile sensation of fine, black velvet caressing his mind, followed by a delicious, grinding snap as if chewing on the bone and marrow of the life just extinguished.
The scent of iron blood, the sweat of terror, and something as sweet as rotting honey flooded his imaginary senses, so vivid he could taste it on his tongue.
Jannis's voice, now hoarse, heavy, and boiling with gratification, whispered directly into his soul: "Perfect... you gave it to me... so hot... so... alive..."
She sounded as though she were grunting and moaning in ecstasy, a sensation so sensual and intense it was as if she were physically experiencing a climax. It lasted for several seconds that felt like an eternity.
"More..." she breathed, her voice like one starved having just tasted a delicacy. "I want to feel the last one... that Gnoll... I want you to tear its life away for me... now, Greywind... do not make me wait..."
Her voice was seductive, pleading, yet infused with an undeniable authority. There was an addiction in it like a zealot who had just received their vision and immediately demanded another.
The Gnoll, seeing its masters dead and sensing the horrific aura suddenly radiating from Greywind, stepped back. Its red eyes betrayed a primal fear. It let out a low growl, but it was the sound of a cornered beast. It was ready to fly.
The captive woman screamed again through her gag, staring in disbelief at the man who had just coldly impaled a man before her, only to stand still with a vacant expression and... a faint, terrifying smile? (Perhaps a mere reflection of Jannis's satisfaction upon Greywind's face).
"DO NOT LET IT ESCAPE! I WANT ITS LIFE! I MUST FEEL IT AGAIN!" Jannis shrieked, her voice now filled with desperation and an urgent greed. The previous pleasure had opened a floodgate, and she was raging with unfulfilled desire.
Jannis screamed in his head, "DO NOT LET IT " but Greywind's own voice cut her off, louder, fueled by a dark resolve that fused with her will. "Silence! It shall die!"
Greywind raised his hand. The eldritch energy gathered this time felt different denser, hungrier, tinted by Jannis's addiction. It was as if his patron were aiming through his very eyes. The Gnoll had reached the forest edge, nearly sixty-five feet away, its silhouette merging with the trees.
Greywind fired.
The bolt of darkness streaked with unnatural speed, cleaving the night like an arrow guided by a cruel fate. It struck the Gnoll at the base of the skull. The impact was more than a collision; the Gnoll's head was nearly severed from its torso. The great beast was slammed forward into a tree, then tumbled to the earth, motionless. The hunt and the promise to Jannis had been concluded with four deaths.
Initially, there was a piercing psychic silence. For a moment, it was as if the pleasure were being withheld, denied.
"No... not now... not so fast " she whispered, her voice strangled as if trying to hold back an unstoppable tide. Like an addict fearing the peak will end, trying to prolong the anticipation.
But the devastation wrought by the Eldritch Blast was too great, the death too final. The dam broke.
"AH ! AH AAAAA !"
The wave this time did not explode all at once; it was tiered. It began with a long, trembling sigh, rising into a deep, choked groan, and finally peaking into a long, hoarse, and sensual scream of gratification that filled every corner of Greywind's consciousness.
Greywind felt a sensation like warm liquid flowing slowly from the crown of his head throughout his body, followed by a delicious, cold bite at the base of his spine. The essence of every life taken tonight the terror, the panic, the final hatred was like wine re-fermented and poured into the chalice of Jannis's soul. Greywind could distinguish the flavors: the bitterness of the lead cultist, the sour fear of the fleeing man, the metallic tang of the one on the altar, and finally... the wild, primal ferocity of the Gnoll, peaking like the ripest fruit.
The imaginary scents overwhelmed him: blood, sweat, wet earth, and a sweetness like honey dissolved in ancient wine. Jannis's voice finally melted into a deep, vibrating hum of contentment, almost like the purr of a great beast finally sated.
"Greywind..." she whispered at last, her voice raspy, soft, and thick with profound satisfaction. "You... you gave me a banquet. I... I feel..." She paused, as if searching for the word. "...full."
A warm, heavy psychic silence followed. Jannis no longer pushed; she no longer demanded. She was like a sated cat, resting in the corner of his mind.
But the warmth suddenly shifted into an uninvited intimacy. Jannis's voice, previously hoarse with satisfaction, became soft, high-pitched, and possessively tender.
"I love you, Grey-Grey... never leave me..."
Before Greywind could react, a sensation cold, damp, and vaguely like lips pressed against his cheek. It was no physical touch, but a powerful, intrusive psychic impression. A kiss from his patron.
Reflexively, Greywind wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, a look of deep revulsion hardening his features. "Disgusting."
"Hahaha!" Jannis's laughter echoed, entirely unoffended, sounding instead amused. "One more, Grey. Come. There is still the woman. Greywind knows what must be done."
Greywind turned his gaze to the woman still bound upon the altar. She was trembling, tears streaking her grimy face, staring back with the look of a trapped animal. Pure terror.
"No," Greywind said, his voice firm and flat. "You have had your share. And this... this is mine."
There was a pause. The psychic silence this time was different not angry, nor urgent. Then, Jannis's voice returned, her tone almost amiable, even understanding.
"It matters not, Grey. I am 'full' enough for one night..." A vague, suggestive sensation as if a phantom hand had brushed across his chest and lower reaches flickered through Greywind's perception, accompanied by a hum of contentment. "...Do as you will with the girl."
The pressure and the demands vanished completely. She was like a sated monarch granting mercy to a subordinate.
Greywind approached the woman. With careful movements (though they likely still appeared terrifying to her), he sliced the bindings at her wrists and removed the gag from her mouth. She coughed, taking in long, ragged breaths. She rubbed her reddened wrists but did not dare to run. She only stared at Greywind, a cocktail of fear, confusion, and a flicker of hope in her eyes.
"Come," Greywind said, his voice attempting neutrality, though it still rang harsh with the night's exhaustion. "I am taking you home."
He extended a hand to help her rise from the altar stone. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then took it with a trembling grip. Her hand was ice cold.
"M-my name is Liana," she whispered, her voice cracking. "They... they took me from the orchard at the woods' edge, near here. You... you aren't... with them?" She looked at the corpses strewn about.
"No," Greywind replied tersenedly. "I am here on my own business. But for now, my business is getting you home." He surveyed the ruins. "We must leave this place. Before something else arrives."