<name tag: rook>

{THERE’S ALREADY ENOUGH AUTHOR NOTES ON HERE TO CHOKE A HORSE OR EVEN A SUPER HEROINE WHO WOULD TAKE A HORSE WITH A YAWN, BUT I JUST WANTED TO ADD THAT THIS WORK HAS BEEN SITTING AS IT IS NOW ON THE COMPUTER SINCE NOVEMBER OF 2013 WAITING FOR ME TO FINISH IT AND I HAVEN’T HAD THE CHANCE SO HERE IT IS AT THE HALF-WAY MARK, NOT DONE BUT DONE ENOUGH. FOR NOW}

The following is a work of fiction intended for adult entertainment. This story contains characters created and copyrighted by Mr. X and used in kind permission in stipulation as stated on his great website.

Man I have gotten lazy. I have written several stories now without that much needed clarifying header. Yes this is adult porn fluff and yeah if it uses one of Mr. X’s brilliant creations and as such it is subject to his copyrights.

 If this story had been composed of original works of my own creation then it would have been public domain. All my own stuff under the Rook name here is public domain. Public domain in a nutshell means you can take any part or element or the whole shebang and do whatever you want with it. You can even make money off it, but what you can’t do is stop anyone else from using or accessing the same source material and doing what they want with it. You want to use Shakespeare’s Hamlet to sell tickets? Fine, but you can’t stop the guy across the street from putting on his own play of Hamlet and selling his own tickets as well. You can even copyright public domain works, providing you understand that you are only copyrighting your own ‘version’ of the original source material and protecting that version from plagiarism. Such copyrights do not have any effect upon others accessing the original source material and using it however they want.

 Okay I think I have wasted enough of your time on that. Just wanted to clarify that if it is something I write here and it is basically as original as I can make it; then it is public domain. If it is a work using something from Mr. X then it is copyrighted and you will need to go see the big guy himself about any further questions on that. Sorry I got sloppy there and stopped putting those headers up there. I will try and remember them from now on.

Now back to the story! This is another short story using Mr. X’s great character; Xera. Now X-y told me that Xera was not very popular with his fan base (I am assuming a large busty teen in skimpy leathers getting ass raped by orcs is not everyone’s cup of tea…. Err, well… must be the sword?) And that he is not intending to do any comics with her in them anytime soon. Bandwidth baby!

I can fully understand that and respect that. But I don’t have to stop kicking the wall as I stand brooding in the corner. I think Xera is a fun character and I rather enjoy the whole sword and sorcery gig, but people too have been asking me when I am getting back to the powered super heroine stories here (after all it IS a super heroine website) so this should be the last of the Xera and thus last of the sword and sorcery tales for a while.

So unless Hayao Miyazaki comes out of retirement (again) and storms through the gates of Ghibli Films screaming with spittle chin, “Ah! Stop everything I was trying to look up loofa back sponges on the internet and I ended up at some crotch grab site where I found these public domain sword and sorcery stories and we must do them as animated films this very instant!”

“Mr. Miyazaki where are your pants?!”

“Pants? Pants! There’s no time left in the world for pants you stupid slut! Bring me paper and pen at once!”

So barring that, this should be the last of the fantasy stories and the mask and cape should be back in full force soon enough; but maybe… just maybe, the scroll of super heroines along the left side of the main page of Mr. X’s free page might one day contain an image of Xera with sword at the ready or at least I would like to believe so.

Merry Mr. X-mass baby! Rook.

XERA: THE DAEMONS SWORD

Stepping into the alleyway was like stepping into another world. It was narrow and steep. Descending down in a series of short but irregular staircases between the brick walls of the buildings enclosed on all sides, the alley was in reality more a stairwell that in turn seemed a pit of darkness. In just three steps all the loud bustling sounds of the crowded busy dusty mid-day street eroded into a wet clump of murk and dank sunbaked bricks that swallowed one up into smoky webs of shadow. The tan colored walls were smudged black by countless torches that had burned in metal charred wall scones that now for the most part lay empty leaving the stretch between flickering sputtering brands few and far between. Here and there landings lead off down winding dimly lit passages where cloaked figures muttered as they sat in front of pitch black maws of domiciles or eerily lighted shops. But the main staircase continued down in lurches and sudden turns and the lone figure followed it.

The entire Dark Quarter of Merrybone City was under the old palace. The surface ruins of the palace were still partially used as warehouses and stockyards and rubbish heaps though some sections had been sealed off with steel and frightened whispers. The dungeons and the now deserted mines under much of the palace had been expanded and turned into abodes for the laborers of the nearby docks and various armories, pottery, woodworking factories. The poor also lived here and the sick and dying and the homeless. Numerous shops who for various reasons avoided the sundry crowded streets of the Merchants Quarter and their loud gregarious markets and gaudy Guild Halls found shelter and home here away from levy, tax, and membership dues. The only Guild that did business down here was the much rumored Thieves Guild which though never publicly seen kept the thugs and criminal elements in line and thus the guards off everyone’s backs.

The lone figure wore a heavy cloak with the cowl up and hung low over its face. It stepped around a ‘fag man’ one whose job it was to lug the pitch and creosote soaked bundles of faggots and wedge them into the wall scones or to bring chunks of charcoal to the floor braziers scattered about the landings and passages of the underground brick labyrinth. The cloaked figure spoke to the squat old hunchbacked misshapen man. “The Daemon sword?”

The ragged creature looked up uncertainly at the tall slim cloaked figure and then blinking jabbed a blackened finger at the wall across from them. “Follow the red marks down and then the blue that look like skulls that will get you close enough to those sorts.” He kept a watchful eye upon the figure until it had disappeared down the staircase melding with the shadows.

The walls were covered in painted and chalked marks as well as carvings. Some detailed and complex some simple and crude and some may have just been graffiti for surely no city needed THAT many whore houses?! The solitary figure continued on following the red marks down until they stopped and then followed the pale blue skull marks along a side branching of the tunnel like warrens of the Dark Quarter. Stepping over bodies, passed out, knocked out, or dead, until the slim figure reached a larger subterranean courtyard. Here a large dry-well passed through the high ceiling and up to the surface letting fresh air and some faint sunlight down in a cascade of dim bluish shimmering glory. In the center of the shaft of light stood a circular fountain around which gathered dozens of shadowy figures who filled vessels with water and chatted and gossiped.

The tall figure skirted the groups of people and eyed the shops that lined the walls of the domed courtyard. Staircases lead up to three tiers of shops and homes built into the brick and natural stone walls of the large area. Staircases also lead down into dark twisting plunges of abyss. The figure moved purposefully around the courtyard eyeing the storefront signs and the wall symbols with their little directional arrow heads pointing this way or that. It stopped before a symbol of a sword pierced through a shield wreathed in flames, the universal sign of a shop that sells normal and enchanted weapons. The image was not chalk or paint but carved into the stone and its directional arrow head pointed down. The figure walked on to the nearest descending staircase and looked carefully for the symbol again. There it was again carved into the stone by a practiced hand of an artisan. The figure peered into the inky dark of the narrow passage leading down and then disappeared into the well of darkness.

The blackness of the stairwell gave way to a dim smoky light of a nearly gutted brazier where the staircase gave way to a right angle hallway. This hallway branched off twice but the figure continued to follow the symbol and its arrow head of direction ignoring these off shoot passages. Occasional wall scones or often simply niches filled with bees wax candles and decades of drippings lighted the way. Soon the figure found its self before a large metal gate. A metal face on the gate pondered the figure and spoke to it.

“State the intent of your business,” the somber metal face fronting the iron gate wheezed in a rusted monotone.

“I am here to visit the weapon shop that lies nearby, if it indeed lies beyond this gate?” the voice of the figure was low and issued from its faceless wraithlike cloak in an equal dead pan meter.

“It does indeed, but you will have to wait for a shadow globe to become available before you can pass. You may wait over there until then.” The long horse face of the gate rolled its eyes to a stone seat carved into a niche. The figure complied and waited. Water trickled in rivulets down the wall and the seat its self was coarse with white and black miter. But the wait was not long and soon the gate summoned the figure back and swung open to allow it to pass.

Inside the gate was a hovering globe which the figure stepped under the globe flickered and beamed down a purple hued light and the figure walked on down the narrow walk way as the globe hovered directly above it. The narrow stone hallway very soon turned into a short flight of steps leading down to a heavy wooden door banded in iron. The globe flickered rapid lights upon the surface of the door and it swung open on grating hinges. The figure walked through the door and was taken aback despite its self for it now found its self in a large low ceiling room rife with shelves and tables and piles upon piles of strange and wondrous objects. A number of similar shadow globes moved about the store flickering down their beam of light and the figure moved past them and up to the two gentlemen at the very back of the shop who had just finished conversing with another shadow globe and its shaft of light which promptly left the room and vanished up a set of stairs.

“Welcome to our shop.” The very tall and thin somber faced man in toned. “I am Mister Grinns and this here is my associate,” he gestured to a very short and very rotund man whit a very broad wide face split by an enormous perpetual grin, “Mister Barrit.” The tall thin man bent his long waist in a bow and the short very round man simply rolled his entire body forward a bit and opened and closed his very short arms and pudgy hands before returning them over his chest again.

“It is a pleasure to meet you good costumer. You are new to our shop so let me explain a few things if you have the time to spare. You need not worry about your identity here, as discretion is our upmost concern for our patrons. We keep no formal records nor do we pry into the intent or roots of interest of our patrons reasons. As you can see all our clients are cloaked in a shadow sphere. This little device keeps the person under it invisible from prying eyes and makes it impossible for anyone to hear them speak except for of course Mister Grinns and myself.” Here the short round man motioned to a device glowing red in his left ear and Mister Grinns likewise lifted up his own black hair to show an identical device in his own left ear before returning his cadaverous hands to clasp in front of his narrow chest.

“Now how can we be of assistance to you on this fine day,” Mister Grinns jutted out his large chin at the cloaked figure and lowered his thick eyelids until he seemed almost a sleep as he waited for an answer. The wide popeyed round Mister Bareit smiled his perpetual large face splitting smile and his almost round body and neck-less head rolled around like a half giddy dreaming balloon.

The cloaked figure pulled back its cowl revealing a beautiful young face and spoke, “well I am Xera the wandering amazon princess and I recently took on a job through Giant Tree Inn. And the job was to slay the Daemon of Cantabay Forest. I have been told this particular daemon can only be killed by a certain sword; the Daemon Sword and that the last know where about of this sword was the shop of Grinns and Bareit in the Dark Quarter of Merrybone City. So here I am.”

“Oh my, the sword is it?” Mister Bareit looked a bit more wide eyed if possible to the pale gray face of Mister Grinns who looked a bit more ashen if possible and who raised one of his droopy eye lids.

Oh dear,” Mister Grinns stated in his dead pan monotone. “Well I am afraid, Miss Xera, that you are not the first to try and slay the infernal monster of Cantabay woods. The first that I know of approached us almost three years ago and purchased the sword in question from us. And since then no less than,” he looked at Mister Grinns who wiggled his fingers as he mentally counted and held up the results. “Seven adventures have been to our shop looking for the selfsame sword for undoubtedly the selfsame reason. So while yes, we did once have the Daemon Sword for a very brief time, we have since sold it some time ago.”

“I am afraid we can therefore be of very little service to you in these regards,” Mister Grinns chimed in and raised his short arms and spread his short stubby sausage fingers as way of an apology.

Xera frowned. “Hmmm, if the sword has been sold and at a span of nearly three years then obviously the one who bought it did not succeed in slaying the beast. Do you have any idea of what happened to him, the one who bought the sword?”

“Alas no. but it would stand to reason that he was slain by the daemon as the daemon still exists and rampages around the countryside and had he killed it everyone would have acknowledged him as a hero.” Mister Grinns shrugged his narrow shoulders and seemed to return to his near catatonic state.

“We can only tell you what we told the other six who have preceded you. That being that the man who purchased the sword three years ago was a youth unknown to us and not an established hero. That he paid the full asking price of the sword which.” He looked askew at Mister Grinns who raised an eyebrow and pursed his long downward drawn lips, “was not a small sum. And that he left immediately both our shop and the city after the purchase. Since so many have come asking after the sword we naturally made some inquires of our own. The last information we have on the youth is that he entered the Cantabay woods from the Great Road from the High Mountain side rather than the more normal lower Denghill roads or the Great Road as it follows the Mannacie river valley. Other than that there is nothing more we can tell you.”

“Hmm, do you have any maps of this area? Both of the Cantabay Forest and of the Great Road as it runs along and then passes the High Mountains back down to the Cantaby Forest side?” Xera tapped her finger on her small chin as she spoke.

“Ah, smart girl! None of the other six sought to supply themselves for the further journey and no one has heard of them again!” Mister Bareit curled up his wide smile corners of his impossibly stretched lips and twiddled his fingers in the air above his slicked back hair.

“It is refreshing to deal with one of intelligence for a change,” Mister Grinns purred in his half sombulated state.

“Indeed, indeed! This is why you shall succeed where all those other louts failed!” Mister Bareit nodded vigorously as he spoke which meant his round body rolled forward and back a few inches in rapid agitation.

“You see child not only do we have maps but we have THE map in question,” Mister Grinns leaned forward his knife thin body so that it inclined over the wooden counter that separated the two shop keepers from the teen girl who frowned back at them in puzzlement.

“He’s right. We have THE map. For you see with so many interested parties coming and going over the years looking for the sword we gathered up all the information one could and we set it down with the aid of other maps and tombs and produced an exact map of not only the sword buyers original path from our shop door to his last know reported location and some speculation on his proposed path from there on. But we have also plotted and followed the course of each of the six adventurers preceding you and following him that have again ventured from our shop front to vanish here and there at the edges of the Cantabay Forests.” Mister Grinns jabbed a lofty short stubby finger into the air as far as she short arm would allow him.

“Not only that, but the map also contains many reference points of useful places or strange sightings as reported by travelers and wanders from thereabouts.” Mister Grinns straightened back up moving slowly in his sombulated state.

“As well as the normal geographic information of the areas; woodlands, creeks, streams, rivers, roads, villages, towns, it includes caves and known monster locations not found on any normal map.” Mister Bareit counted on his fingers as his large round jutting out eyes rolled this way and that.

“And let’s not forget, the most important thing! It also contains a well mapped route of all of the daemon’s rampages and attacks and sightings for the Cantabay Forest area as well as its forays into the surrounding countryside. What good is finding the sword if you then can’t find the daemon?!” Mister Grinns tilted his narrow shoulders and pursed his down turned sour faced lips.

“It does sound useful,” Xera offered attentively.

“Useful?! Girl it is vital!” Mister Bareit nearly howled.

“And not one of your predecessors made use of it,” Mister Grinns shook his sad head and looked down at his sunken chest.

“Fools!” Mister Bareit snorted. “Unlike you girl. Who I am sure understands such things far better than their coarse kind could ever do so.” Mister Bareit dropped his flushed cheek angry smiling expression to an even wider gentle smiling one as he rolled his huge eyes at the girl with a slight incline of his bulbous body to the right.

“You’re right! I will take the map,” Xera nodded once sharply. After all she had come there to barter for a sword which she had reasoned would be rather expensive. She had completed several minor missions in order to earn enough gold coin for the swords guessed at price; and since it was no longer here and perhaps lying on the side of some mountain rusting, she might as well refit herself with some new weapons and armor and some small store of provisions before venturing further on her task. The map sounded like a good idea. It would be nice for a change to actually know where she was heading.

“Excellent!” Mister Bareit exclaimed as he slapped his small fat hands together or as much together as they could get over the ponderous swell of his round body.

“Will you be needing some armor or weapons or knapsacks or harness or spell tombs or wards or charms for you adventure, madam?” Mister Grinns leaned forward again it was like the swaying of a collapsing tower or some sweeping pendulum. The black obelisk of the man righted its self and his eyes fell back into their snake-like trance.

Xera looked about the room where three other round globes moved slowly about casting down their soft cones of light where invisible shoppers picked up items and pawed over them before setting them back down on their tables and shelves. “Well now that you mention it I could use some new gear…”

“Don’t concern yourself with our other patrons they can neither see you or hear you and there is a ward engraved into the wood of this counter top that is preventing even our speech to you being heard as anything other than low mumbling gibberish. Your amenity is perfectly guaranteed.” Mister Bareit smiled so widely the corners of his mouth went well past his large flat ears.

“Well then, I could use some new armor and weapons as my last mission proved a bit hairy.” The teen removed her cloak and set it upon the counter top. Revealing her youthful nubile body; she stood tall and lean with one supple round full hip jutting out to the side where her thin long fingered hand clasped at the hilt of a tattered pommel of her sword. The sword harness was in ruins and missing buckles had been patched over by simply knotting the strands of leather into gorgon’s heads of tight serrated cracking black beads. Her long wispy hair hung unfettered in thick cascading locks which she constantly had to toss her head to keep them out of her flashing eyes. The glove of her left hand was missing all together and the glove on her right hung in tattered strips. Her long supple body was encased in leather armor, or had been encased in such, for now the armor lay in rented layers like a flayed ox. Though she was thin and agile and her waist narrow her hips and breasts were full and large. The torn and rented leather of her top and bottom did little to cover her nearly naked frame but still maintained her maidens honor.

“Oh my… it is a bit hairy isn’t it?” Mister Bareit wheezed his large eyes nearly coming completely out of their sockets.

Xera blushed and shifted her sword harness so the scabbard ran down the front of her crotch and cleared her throat. “Werewolves,” she muttered. And both men ‘ah-ed’ at that as if that made perfect sense.

“Well it looks like you will be needing a full kitting out,” Mister Grinns started but then stopped himself as he watched Mister Bareit remove a small sign from under the counter and place it upon the counter top. The sign read; ‘ASK US ABOUT OUR PERCENT OFF SALE.” Mister Bareit gave Mister Grinns a sideways glance from his flushed sweating face and Mister Grinns raised his long emancipated face up to the heavy rafters and shook his head.

“What is this ‘percentage off sale’?” Xera frowned at the sign and then at the two shop keepers.

“It’s a driving us out of business sale,” grumbled the gravel throated Mister Grinns.

“It’s a special sale deal we make only for our most,” Mister Bareit paused to run his lecherous bugged out eyes up and down over the teens tight opulent body, “Charming, customers.”

“How does it work?” Xera eyed the round blob of a man suspiciously as she watched the tall thin man out of the corner of her eye return to his silent cationic state.

“Why it is simple! We keep it very simple indeed so as not to possibly confuse or take advantage of our customers. It works like this; ‘the less you wear the more you save.’ Simple isn’t it?” Mister Bareit was almost cooing as he spoke his cheeks nearly crimson.

“The less I wear?” Xera muttered.

“Yes, it was originally designed to help out the poor and down trodden that often come into our shop in little but rags.” Mister Bareit hummed and smiled sternly. Mister Grinns made a loud ‘tisking’ sound of disgust in his throat and an agitated fidgeting Mister Bareit rapidly continued. “One does not charge the poor more, now does one? And noticing your own, well,” the squat fat man licked his lips with a long tongue, “somewhat scarce attire. I naturally thought the standard should be applied to you, child. I hope I was not offending you by this association with the common riffraff poor. I fully understand your garments were stripped away by the most honorable combat and that you are far from destitute but still the, er, option is there if you so choose to use it.”

“I appreciate the offer and will not turn down a chance to save some funds for I have a long journey ahead of me and I will have little chance to replenish my purse before this assignment is completed.” Xera shifted in place and eyed the rotund man sternly.

“Precisely, precisely! Exactly what I was thinking!” Mister Bareit was just able to tap his fingertips together in front of his large smiling mouth.

“So how much of a percentage off my purchase will you give me for my, er, state of attire?” Xera widened her stance and spoke in her best no-nonsense voice.

“Why my dear, how unfair and ungracious you make me out to be?! You are about to make a rather large purchase I imagine. Both in arms and armor and the map and harness and tackle and a backpack and bed roll and that cloak is moldering wool. In face of all of this what kind of person would I be if I simply now, having giving you no forewarning, judge you by your current appearance? You had no way of knowing of our special percentage off sale, you are a complete stranger to our store and wares. Had you known would you not have in face of such a large purchase perhaps well er ‘removed’ a piece or two of your current garments to further your percentage? I mean you are wearing one tattered glove on your right hand. If you had known about our special percentage off you surely would have discarded that glove into gutter on your way here to our friendly establishment. That would have been human nature and wise council and shrewd respectable business acclaim. So why don’t you take it off now?”

Xera eyed the man and then her glove and then the man again noting that the tall thin man appeared to be almost fully asleep. She removed the glove carefully and then after some hesitation tossed it with her cloak onto the counter top. “Alright now how much of a percent off do I get on my purchase?”

“Hmm, here is the difficult part. For I do not recognize that armor, or that harness. It must be of some brigand manufacture. Cobbled together out of several, well, pieces of questionable worth. For me to guess what it consisted of prior to its current sundered state of affairs beyond merely relying upon your own vested testimony is well… how about this idea? Let’s just take what you are currently wearing and I will give you a percentage off your finial purchase based upon what you decide to remove right now. Seems fair enough. Here I will even count the glove you just removed. Let us say that you were one hundred percent covered and you removed the glove and that leaves… your top, bottom, harness and sword, belt and purse, and boots. We will not count the belt and purse as I would not expect anyone to toss their money aside in even as honest an establishment as this fine one. So that leaves… four items left, after removing your glove. So we will say five items divided into one hundred percent of a discount on your purchase. Now I cannot just give away my stock, as even a blushing maiden such as yourself, no doubt a right and royal lady of culture and refinement, might be tempted to shed all her four remaining pieces to get a quick one hundred percent discount. No, I must pay my bills as well. So let us say… that the lowest I can go is fifty percent off.”

“Wha?! Fifty percent off?!” Mr. Grinns sputtered awake as Mister Bareit waved him off.

“So you removed the glove and right now I will give you ten percent off your overall possible fifty percent off of your purchase. See each item will be worth ten percent? Now is that not fair in face of it all?” Mister Bareit was smiling and shoving back the silent but agitated lanky Mister Grins with his stubby arms and hands.

“Hmm, alright. It’s a deal!” Xera nodded once vigorously and set about removing her sword and harness and tossing them onto the counter where they clanked and caused both merchants to freeze in their struggle and stare at the young woman who was rapidly shedding garments before them.

Next her over the knee slouch boots came off. She tossed them up onto the counter where the muddy soles showed several holes. Mister Grinns recoiled from the muddy boots and turned up his long nose.

Xera then wiggled off her bottoms. She turned demurely aside and gave both startled men a full view of her round naked ass cheeks as she shimmed out of the tight torn leather shorts. She then tossed that on to the counter and stood with legs slightly crossed at the ankles and thighs clamped tightly together as she made to take off her top.

She hesitated at the top as Xera knew how to make a big production out of what she knew was her killer pair of mouthwatering jugs. But after a few faked pursed lip eye roll up thoughts she slowly undid her fit to burst top and unleashed the monsters.

Xera possessed some of the largest firmest roundest breasts any man or woman had ever seen and she gave them several sly jiggles as her ever hard thumb thick nipples riding high upon their puffy areolas nosed about the air as she tossed her top onto the counter top. “There, that is top, bottoms, boots, sword and harness, and glove. I am now one hundred percent naked and you owe me fifty percent off my purchase.” Xera smiled wide as both men merely stared hypnotized by her firm youthful gravity defying body.

“Worth every copper,” Mr. Grinns whispered in a horse low voice. Mister Bareit could only make weak high pitched ‘tee-hee’ sounds like a kettle that has been on the stove too long and has run out of water to make steam. His face was flush to a boiled lobster red and after several minutes he simple rolled his giant tear streaked eyes up into the back of his head and fell over backwards. Mister Grinns looked down at him and muttered, “Yes… every copper.”

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Xera eyed her map and surveyed the lands both of ink and paper and of flora and fauna before her. The map had proved very valuable for it showed numerous sinkholes, and swamp and forest ruins, and caves and pits, all where local monsters dwelled and bits of collected travelers belongings might be found in this beasts charnel pile or that creatures treasure horde lair. In just fourteen days of travel and sidetracking exploration she had already recouped her funds spent on her new gear and consumables.

 In fact, once Mister Grinns had ascertained that Mister Bareit had indeed passed away and not merely fainted at the sight of her naked young body, he had been most generous to her. Not only did he honor the fifty percent off deal he had been so adamantly against that the late Mister Bareit had proposed to her, but he went further by issuing her letters of introduction that allowed her to travel more readily through the Great Road gate houses which were often suspicious and harassing of any travelers do to the endless war that still gripped the land.

Her new outfit consisted of a great cloak fashioned by the Shadow Lands Mages Guild which was well known for its tough long lasting travelers cloaks and the various custom charms they placed upon them. This heavy gray hooded garment was imbued with an old faery charm of glamor, ‘shimmer.’ This spell enchantment caused the cloak to seem fuzzy at the edges as if woven of fog or gray mist. In broad daylight as she was standing in now with the white snow packed thick and deep around the hill she was standing on, the cloaks charm was hard to fully appreciate, but give it a bit of shadow or the true darkness of an overgrown forest canopy and the cloak rendered the non-moving wearer almost invisible.

Right now she just appreciated its layers of warmth even if it was a rather heavy and cumbersome garment. Next she wore a marine diadem. This was a circlet of silver and black metal with a light coif coil of thin black beads with silver accents that wore as a net over her long hair collecting it into a pony tail at the back of her head. It kept the winter winds from blowing her long reddish brown hair into her large piercing eyes and despite its fragile look it could turn an axe blow.

It was composed out of the processed testicles and sperm ducts of the large crustacean’s warriors, contrary to popular thinking it was the crustaceans warriors themselves who cannibalized their fallen brethren to fashion such armor and weapons and not the humanoids that encountered and fought them.

Under the cloak upon her slim shoulders she wore a flimsy looking garment of semi-transparent cloth and woven metal bands that joined into her back pack of similar gossamer construction. The back pack was small but housed several days’ provisions to allow her to wander away from the road and its staggered small villages that seemed to be roughly ten to fifteen miles apart. About as far as a horse and cart could travel before it needed rest, water, and fodder.

The back pack had its shoulder harness and a clasp that fastened just under her breasts. The back pack was fashioned by the Fan-Tits-See Armory Company and had once been a giant mages coin pouch. Giants produced few mages amongst their number and as such the item was indeed rare, but even though it held more than it rightly should by its magic enchantments it did not hold anywhere near as much as the usual ‘bottomless bag’ that most travelers or adventures saved up to purchase. But unlike most such ubiquitous bottomless bags that readily tore and spilled their objects or ate objects randomly due to dimensional meld, this back pack was almost indestructible and used a different magic, one based on dwarven rune craft and rare giant earth magic, so there was no magical rift ridding on ones back ready to rupture without warning and blow one’s head off.

Upon her torso she wore an under the bust corset. This was a corset that covered her belly and rib cage but cupped under her breast with cutouts leaving them fully exposed. To offset this embarrassing exposure she wore a skin tight silver mail halter top shirt. It fit to a collar around her slim neck and covered the top half of her breasts leaving the bottom crescents fully exposed. The top was fastened by side belts and buckles that ran behind her naked back under the back pack and she wore it tight and snug so its lip sunk deep into her soft firm bosom. She had noted that her puffy areolas had a tendency to slip half out under the lip of the top no matter how tight she cinched it up and so she was always checking her top when she neared any kind of habitation.

The corset was of simple silks and was of a lacy transparent manufacture but it had a ward against arrows and daggers that more than made up for what it lost out of iron plating. Both pieces like the back pack were made by the Fan-Tits-See Armory Company. This was the premier armor company in any land. It was composed out of a unique and bizarre co-op of dwarves, gnomes, giants, and men; and was based at the Great White Mountain range at the edge of the Forgotten Lands. Its counterpart was the Plus One Sword Company which was a Guild Owned franchise set mainly in the deserts of Kushare. The sword on her proud haughty hip was a scimitar of the Plus One Sword Company’s manufacture.

Besides the large flat curved blade scabbarded upon her left hip and its rich supple harness, she wore a small pleated lacy skirt. Again from the Fan-Tits-See boys it seemed impossibly light but could withstand a battering ram blow and not wrinkle.

Upon her legs she wore thigh high boots that rode all the way up to within inches of her round buttocks. These boots held no charm but they were comfortable, soft soled for sneaking, and had a steel pin in the stiletto heel making them deadly when she kicked in a fight.

Upon her hands she wore light wrist gloves with a large cuff folded down that could be extended up her arm to almost mid-forearm is she so desired. The gloves were soft and supple and the finger tips were tactile giving her a good grasp when the time came for gentle work.

In addition to being able to withstand hammer blows and turn a honed blade, these garments; the skirt, the wrist gloves, the chain mail halter top, the corset, all had the additional enchantment unique to the Fan-Tits-See Armory Company, that being that not only were they imbued with charms to strengthen their material but they extended a magical charm to all the other parts of the body. So the more items one wore from that company the more protection one had or so one would think. But this was not the case. The reverse was true. If you bought a thong from them and placed it upon your body and wore nothing else the charm would grant an additional fifty-two percent more protection to the rest of your overall body. But as soon as you placed another piece of armor on your body or another piece of garment the percentage fell to ten percent and the new piece of armor even if it was made by the Fan-Tits-See company would only add another over all ten percent. The company’s motto; ‘THE LESS YOU WEAR THE MORE IT PROTECTS’ was indeed true. Unless you found one of their ultra-rare set pieces, you were better off just wearing as little of their garments or combination of their garment and other pieces of clothing as you could reasonably get away with and not catch cold.

As it was, the overlapping pieces Xera was wearing, was granting her a magical ward of an extra twenty-five percent to her body against all types of physical blows. Ironically if she shed a few pieces of clothing her armor rating would go ‘up’! But the winter winds were chill and she was a reasonably modest young girl; which meant that with each cold blast yanking up her skirt she was flushed aware that she wore no panties.

So Xera stood upon the snowy hill and checked her surroundings against her map as the wind played tug of war with her great gray coat and tossed her frilly all white ensemble around as her half exposed nipples and fully exposed pussy felt the sharp chill and sent delicious shudders up and down her spine.

She had enough supplies in her backpack to last another three days. She had quit the Great Road following the sword buyers known trail a day ago. There was an abandoned fort just up ahead according to the map. Though she had enough supplies to make it to the next small village where the sword buyer had last been seen she thought it prudent to make for the abandoned fort. According to the map it was now settled with a small community of about a dozen people who harvested furs and mushrooms and herbs and sold them to the nearest large river port town about three days behind her. She had thought to skip the fort and make rapid progress to the next small village but she had not planned on there being so much snow!

The garrison gate guard had warned her that the mountains just beyond had received a large blizzard over the past few days and had recommended that she stay a day or two at the gate fort to make sure there would not be another such storm, but since he was staring at her peak-a-boo nipples and drooling down his helmets chin strap at the time she had taken his advice with grain of salt and pressed on. Looking at the sudden dark lowering sky’s rimming the forest around her she now wished she had taken her chances with a dozen horny soldiers.

“This storm is blowing in fast and considering the depths of the drifts already I had best make the fort with all due haste.” Xera could still not make out the fort amongst the trees that rimmed her bare hill top but she decided it must surely be only an hour or two away even humping through such unexpected drifts. “I must make the fort before I lose sight of the sun or I may lose all sense of direction. If the storm lasts into night there will be no stars to guide me and I may have to make camp more or less in the elements that is not something I wish to do.” The young teen girl folded up her map and placed it back into the pouch on her back pack and waded back down the snow pack of the hill whistling sharply at the razor sharp kiss of the kicked up snow against her naked sex. “To think it is still summer in Marrybone City! I wish me and my shivering kitty were there right now!”

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The man at the gate of the old fort ruins peered into the dark. The snow had been falling heavy now for several hours and the wind had risen with the setting of the sun so now it howled about him in ice blasting face numbing swirls. The icy snowflakes peppered his raw skin and made glass crinkling sounds upon impact. There had been little need to keep a watch at the forts gate in the years past, but a disease had thinned the heard of deer and their harvesting of the remainder for food and furs had left very few in face of the sudden and unexpected advent of winter. The wolf packs were famished and they had taken to creeping closer and closer to the fort at night.

The fort was still sturdy in places. A mix of rock, rubble filled walls, stick and timber frame and wood pilings. But in places the roofs and walls of several of the small buildings and even the outer walls had simply crumbled away into piles of mud and river stone. At the main gate was the worse of the decay. Bandits had once taken up house here and a small squad of the Emperor’s army had been sent to smoke them out and execute them. The resulting battle had destroyed both the gate and much of the rock support pillars. Now there was simply a heavy metal twined rope net drawn across the half collapsed archway of the gate and a large bonfire built just without and within the unsealed opening; the fires kept the leery wolves at bay but it was a magnate to just about any other predator the dark forests had to offer.

The man got up from his wooden stool near the inner bonfire and walked about in the swirl of the hissing spitting snow. Even with the walls about him shielding him from the direct buffets of the gale he was pushed this way and that by the rude wind as it moaned and slammed its heavy limbs against him. He stretched his legs and left the warmth of the fire which roasted his backside as his front froze and walked up to check the hooks and eyelets of the anchored nets moorings. It was the best they could do without a forge. They should have sawn more timber and made a proper wooden gate, but they were always so busy hunting and trapping and it seemed much more important to finish work this season on the main hall. The walls and door and roof of that building were sturdy enough now. And two of the outer buildings inside the fort walls were now dug out from the refuse pits the bandits had used them for and rebuilt and useable. The walls solid and ready to be turned into pens for sheep or hogs or cattle or even chickens when the next spring came along; one could only live on elusive rabbit and deer and fish meat for so long.

The outer bonfire needed more wood. The heavy wet wind had smothered the fire down to the coals. He would need to build some kind of wall out of the nearby leather tarp covered wood pile against the wind side to keep the blowing snow out and add new dry timber to the coals. He did not like the idea of leaving the relative safety of the forts courtyard even with a net gate for even through the gust of roaring wind he could hear the wolf pack howls. They were close. Down in the draws… hunting.

The man shifted the hilt of the long knife at his hip with the palm of his wool lined mitten and set his cross bow aside. The doe skin mittens had a slit in the palms so he could slip his fingers through the oversized coverings which he would have to do to fire the crossbow and which he did now to work free the bottom three large hooks from their anchored eyelets of the lower right side of the rope net obstruction creating an opening he could crawl through. His fingers were already split at the finger tips from the cold and at the joints were they looked like red gashes that refused to bleed and working with the bare metal of the stiff rope ends did not make his numb hands feel any better. He quickly stowed his stiff fingers back into the pockets of the mittens grimacing from the wincing throbbing pain and lowered himself down with a grunt onto all fours and half waddled half crawled through the open part of the icy stiff rope net door. He left the crossbow behind. It was heavy and cumbersome and hard to manage with his hands unless his fingers were slipped out of the palm of his mittens and exposed and he had no desire to do that.

He raised himself up into a standing position and staggered against the sudden wall of wind that met him once he had stepped out from the shielding sides of the short tunnel of the ruined sides of the gate. The snow here just outside the gate had been cleared several times but the wind had drifted it back in again in three long fingered slants. He avoided the knee high drifts and walked around them toward the guttering fire. The footing was treacherous as the exposed ground had become icy hard and it caused his boot soles to slip and slide as he made his way to the tarp pile of wood half buried in snow set a short distance beyond the fire. He would need to fashion some kind of windbreak to let the fire build its self back up again. But the wind seemed to be swirling around from all sides with sudden violent buffets that knocked him this way and that and blinded him with eye slitting pelts of hail like snow blasts. Even as he reached the wood pile and dug out a thick log in each hand and turned back to the bonfire he realized the hopelessness of the task.

He would need to build a wall around the entire fires base high enough to keep the wind from blowing it out or the raw hiss of the snow from drenching the icy frozen wood and any such makeshift barrier would smoother the fire out with its own smoke. The ground was too hard to break open with an axe let alone drive wooden stakes into it. The rocks holding down the tarp were not enough to encase the sides of the fire and a combination of such would do nothing to improve the results of the situation of just piling the wood pile around the sides of the bonfire.

They should have dug a shallow pit or built up side walls and placed the outer bonfire closer to the mouth of the gate. The storm had come so suddenly and the threat of the wolves had appeared so late. The man tossed the two wooden logs back down on the wood pile behind him. The inner courtyard bonfire with its own wood pile would have to be enough that and the mesh of the rope net. In the morning they would have to figure something else out.

A loud growl sounded immediately behind him and he half spun caught between the impulse to run back to the flapping edge of the mesh rope web spanning the gate mouth and grabbing up the hand axe set next to the wood pile. He made the two painful wind shear razor biting thighs lurches to the hand axe and snatched it up. The axe was frozen solid to a piece of lumber and the unexpected awkward weight caused it to slip icily out of his mitten hands.

He made several blind clumsy grasps at the handle of the long knife sheaved on his hip against the sudden blast of snow but was unable to get it out of the sheath before another growl even closer and now off his left shoulder caused him to look up and yank his hoods lip out of his blinking face. There in the flickering light of the ebbing coals he saw a large wolf looking at him. The wolf, had it stood up on its large splayed hind legs, would have been taller than him by a head and a half. These mountain wolves were usually the same height of a man and about half the weight. Their heavy jawed heads and glimmering eyes made them a terror of the mountain passes and roads. Thankfully unlike their smaller plain cousins they did not hunt in packs of hundreds but kept to smaller bands of fifteen to twenty in their highly contested territories.

Still it was not uncommon to hear of a band of mountain wolves launching themselves at a patrol of guardsmen upon their horses and killing them all. Or of attacks upon small encampments that left half devoured carcasses of man and livestock for lone travelers to stumble across and find. Wolf hunters who used weapon and poison and trap and bait were some of the few men that all sides in the civil war let pass with some impunity through the ravaged lands. Everyone wanted the wolves dead as unlike orcs or giants or monsters they bred fast and could not be beaten back or entreated. They could only be exterminated.

There was good money in being a wolf hunter but the life expectancy of such was measured in months rather than years. The wolves were very cunning and smart and well skilled in purist and evasion and they understood when they were being threatened and would aggressively seek out and destroy such threats with surprisingly effective results. In such places where wolves had established themselves man was far from the top of the food chain and wolves often hunted him for sport.

The large black haired wolf that now looked at him was doing so back over its shoulder its long back was facing him and it glared at him but made no move toward him. It was positioned on the other side of the fading fire of coals and iced spikes of wood but he was certain the fire poised not threat to the wolf who seemed to ignore it entirely. Another shadow slinked out from up over the lip of the draw where the wood pile sat at its wooded crest and eyed him as it lopped snuffling to whine next to the larger wolf. Both eyed him but neither seemed to be concerned about his presence. He heard distant growls and the crack of underbrush beyond the pair of wolves who immediately turned back to the noises and lowered themselves into steel spring crouches.

‘They are hunting something?!’ The anxious man thought to himself, ‘the rest of the pack is driving something this way and these two have circled ahead to cut it off and attack it as it emerges up the forest path… It must be human?!’  The thought thrilled him and startled him with the sudden clarity and assurance it struck him with. But it made sense. What ‘creature’ would flee wolves by heading ‘toward’ a place full of men? No, only a human would do that.

The crashing and cracking of underbrush became louder and now even through the wail of the wind which took that moment to churn its self up into the heavens and leave a hurricane’s eye of breathless fridge calm one could hear the now stamp of booted feet upon the hard packed snow of the path leading to the forts gate. A lone figure emerged up over the rolled horizon of the small hill upon which the fort sat and the woods exploded with furry black shadows that leapt and howled and snarled and sprinted in its heavy exhausted wake.

Jaws snapped at the figure and its bloody sword swung and cleaved and it kept up its bolted flight though it staggered now and then and its clouds of breath seemed large and leaden about its wreathed head. It just managed to escape a wolf a blur of shadow sacrificing its cloak to the insane bloodlust thrashing head that mauled and ripped it to shreds with fang and claw.

The figure spun a booted heel and another sword swing and was now past its pursuers racing with leaden limbs and wide mouth gasps frantic to escape but now ahead of the pack who leapt in pursuit closing the distance with incredible speed. The figure crested the hill and staggered blindly almost sprinting into the jaws of death that lay crouched to receive it. the two wolves leapt at her very feet pouncing their ambush upon their prey the sword swung more a blind guard than an attack and caught the head and neck of the smaller wolf but the weight of the body wrenched the sword out of her hand and she threw up her hands as the second larger wolf opened its large mouth and prepared to bite off her head. A cross bolt tore through its left eye and passed through the long snout head to shatter the lower jaw as it spun in the air and fell in a furry of thrashing limbs and snarling howls. The figure did not hesitate but raced past the wolves and past the man who was still holding his crossbow to his shoulder only to be stymied by the sudden rope net over the portal of the gate. The figure hesitated there until a hand pressed hard on its back and it was half led half pushed through the lower opening of the net.

Inside the courtyard hands on knees sucking wind the figure paused while the man with the crossbow scurried with the fasteners of the rope net even as the rest of the pack swirled around just beyond the rim of the illumination of the inner bonfire. The figure snatched up a second crossbow sitting on a crude stump already cocked and loaded and took aim at the agitated shadows and fired into the body of a wolf that flew up backwards into the air howling and sinking its own teeth into its belly eviscerating its self as it died. The figure worked the crank and fitted another bolt from the quiver lying across the pile of logs near the bonfire and shot another bolt that missed and whizzed into the dark clacking hard against tree bark. Another cranking of the crossbow to draw taut its arms and another bolt this one fired at point blank range into the savage face of a wolf that had caused the frightened man to fall backwards in alarm. The wolf sprung backwards in a manic snapping of jaws as it attacked its own breather in its pain. The man recovered and finished fastening the net ends as wolf after wolf threw its self against the thick metal twined ropes and savaged it with their powerful jaws. The man now picked up his snow covered crossbow and joined the figure and set his feet upon either side of the bow and drew the cord back with both hands and raised it up and fit a bolt and fired it even as the figure fired alongside him.

The wolves lingered about the lip of the hill shadows moving amongst shadows as the outer fire died down into smoke that the wind twisted with a smutty eye stinging snow blown screams. The pair fired a dozen more bolts but produced no further signs of any strikes. So they stopped and kept their bows lowered in their hands as both shivered from the cold and peered into the dark of the storm.

As time passed the man spent more time eyeing the stranger next to him than the lurking shadows of the wolves who passed back and forth through then night; it was a tall slim woman with an impossible large breast with sharply hips wearing ridiculously thin inappropriate clothing for traveling in such inhospitable terrain and climate. After a few such sideways glances the woman shouldered her crossbow and skirted around the wood pile near her and walked over to the bonfire and its warmth. The man gave one last look at the four dead wolf carcasses he could dimly make outlying upon the frozen ground and followed the shapely young woman his mind full of questions and doubts.

The young woman did not wait for the man’s open mouth to utter a sound, “I am Xera, the wandering amazon princess, and you have saved my life and now I must properly thank you.” Without another word she dropped to her knees and pulled down the man’s pants and set to work on his utterly surprised penis which as usual was ridiculously small and pathetic but a girl got use to that. He was quick on the trigger and after less than three minutes she was gulping down the young man’s sticky slimy spunk. She whipped her chin and stood back up looking in the wide grinning dreamy faced man who looked like a court fool who had just sat in a warm pie on the king’s table.

The man stood there with his pants still down around his knees his little spent penis dripping a long slime trail of spunk out of its end. She liked sucking the little spunk trails out of a spent cock as much as the next girl but this guy’s spunk tasted like moldy cheese and she decided she had more than enough repaid him for his recent service of saving her life. ‘If only he had been bigger.’ She thought and sighed.

The girl adjusted her boot tops and made a quick survey of her situation. She had lost her cloak and her backpack and her mail mesh halter top and her skirt to the tooth and nail of the wolf pack that had pursued her for miles through the woods. She now only had her mail coif and her corset and her boots and… she hefted the advanced crank driven crossbow, a nice new cross bow with about six bolts left. “Hmm do you have any more bolts for this thing?” she asked the sleepy faced smiling man who sort of swayed and drifted in front of her like a drowned man chained at the ankles to an anchor. He merely pointed behind him at the chair and a wooden cask set next to it and went on his dreamy reverie.

Xera excused herself and had to push her way hard past the man who merely turned at her passage and kept smiling at her as she made her way back to the gate and the chair set next to it and started to rummage through the barrel. There were four more quivers inside and she rapidly fitted these to her sword harness as best she could. That brought her bolt tally up to thirty, good for game but not much worth against any serious beast altercation or band of bandits. She looked at her empty sword scabbard and frowned.

 “Do you have any other weapons here?” The man removed his knife from its sheath and offered it to her. It was more a fishing knife or good for skinning game but the blade was too long and thing for combat and she could expertly tell from its coarse hone that the blade was too brittle to rely on for much outside of the cooking pot. She shook her head and shook it again when he offered his crossbow and then he pointed again behind her and she made out in the shadows of the barrel an axe. It was not a wood axe but a war axe with a double bit head fitted expertly into an all metal shaft. Heavy but defiantly deadly. She hefted the axe and then placed it back down on the ground. She returned to the man and took his knife and used it to slit several strips out of his leather tunic and then sheathed the knife for him which was not easy as his pants and thus the sheath still lay down around his ankles. The man merely continued to smile at her as she had sliced up his garments and hummed as he watched her fashion a crude thong for the crossbow which she removed the bolt and dry fired before placing it un-cranked across her back. She made another strap for the battle axe and picked it up and held it with the thong running around her wrist for extra support. It was not a two handed axe but it was still heavy and larger than a normal one handed axe. She eyed it curiously then raised an eyebrow and looked at the man. “This is a dwarven battle axe. Where did you get it?”

The man merely sighed and smiled. Xera sighed in return and walked over to him and placed her huge tits under his chin and smiling asked him again as her hand deftly sought out his little pecker and expertly began to stroke it. “The pretty little shinny axe where did you get it?”

The man gurgled and purred and his smile turned into a pursed rapid breathing gale of his own as the tall slim woman worked her magic fingers upon his once again stiff tiny pecker. The conversation was not an easy one as the man moaned more than he could speak and his face was sweating from the attempts at concentration in face of her agile pumping fist.

So Xera left him blueballed and made her way back to the stool and sat there her legs wide as she fingered her own thick bush and smiled at him. She asked him more and more questions as he stared bug-eyed at her as she fingered and clutched at her young firm body and winked at him. He was able to answer a little more readily as his cock twitched in the bitter cold air punctuated by the warm snarls of the roaring bonfire. She invited him to take off the rest of his clothes and he did so and she invited him to come over to her which he did so and she sat him down on the stool and held up the thongs she had remaining and smiled and winked and giggled as she tied him up and he smiled and winked and giggled as she tied him up.

Xera did not stay long in the fort. From the man she had learned that the fort was home to seven men, every winter they sent their women away to the more relative safety of a nearby small town called Dart. The axe had come from the nearby mountain called Stone Mountain where some dwarves lived and who traded the men metal works for mushrooms and plants they harvested. The women did the trading with the dwarves and they also ran a tavern called The Lonely Mine during the winter months in Dart. It was the tavern that made most of their money and the greater creature comforts of the small town compared to the dilapidated fort made the women always egger to head off every autumn and a bit reluctant to return every spring.

Xera saw no reason to wake up the rest of the forts occupants nor to wait until daylight to leave as the man had told her that the bandits that had resided in the fort before they had moved into it had dug an emergency escape tunnel that ran out the backside of the fort several hundred yards before coming up in a hidden rocky out cropping. Xera made her way around the fort picking up what supplies she needed including a simple leather cloak lined with wool and a lantern with candle and extra candles and moving rapidly in face of what an encounter with seven horny men who had not seen a woman in months might mean she slipped into the hidden tunnel and made her escape of wolves both four legged and two legged.

Xera had intended no harm to the man who had saved her life and who she had left tied up naked with his raging miniscule hard-on and had expected his fellows to find him and perhaps give him a good trashing for the wares she had stolen but considering the wolf pelts lying about and the thinning of the pack from the nights battle she reasoned they would not cuff the boy too harshly. She had not thought about how cold it was sitting on that stool the heat of the fire being so efficiently blocked by the large fresh pile of wood and how that would effect a naked man tied to a stool left exposed for the remainder of the harsh blizzard night. Nor did she think that a bonfire must be feed with wood for it to keep burning. No she was thinking only of those women whom the man had said did all their trading and would know about anyone who had come asking after the daemon sword. Those women now wintering in Dart did all the gathering while the men hunted and worked on the fort so they too would be the ones to ask about the local area and any of its secrets. She left with the thought to find this Dart and speak to these women and thus in her hurry did not think of much else as such the next morning the perplexed waking men found the boy frozen solid naked and dead with his erection still pointing up like a sundial in his pale coating of ice and snow and could only eye the corpse and the dead wolves and scratch their heads in wonder.

The half crawling through the escape tunnel was not pleasant and the snug wiggle out through the rocks at its eventual end was not enjoyable but Xera accepted this hardship with her usual stoic reserve and morning found her well beyond the hill fort and any searching men or wolves who might be looking for her. Daylight brought an end to the storm that had petered out just an hour or two before dawn and the cold snow draped world was both beautiful and chilling as the young girl moved briskly from rock to rock until she was certain she no longer had to worry about leaving a trail and dropped down into the snow pack to make faster progress toward the nearby small town of Dart.

Dart was not situated by the river as were most of the other towns but instead nestled back at the end of one of the many mountain valleys that crammed into the foot  hills of the Stone Mountain chain. And the hill forts location was such that she was certain she could reach the town by nightfall. The road proper to Dart was far away and spun off from the main river road and the road or more a goat path that joined the hill fort to the town was also much further to her right as she made her way through thick forest and rock and snow on a more direct line to the boy’s direction of the towns location. Xera had traveled well into mid-day and beyond when she discovered a yawning gap in some rocks indicating a cave of some sorts that she was certain had not been on her now lost map.

She eyed the cave and then the gray slate sky where it peered glowing but sunless through the boughs of the pines and eyed the cave again. It would be dark in about four hours should she risk a peek in the cave? She peered about for the spore of bear or saber tooth tigers but saw no such sign nor did the cave issue forth the usual rank smell of any large animal lair. She made her way up into its dark mouth and peered about. Just inside the lip of the natural rock there were the stone carvings and stone lintel of the hand of man! “Ah! I knew it a tomb!”

She quickly set about tossing out the stub of her candle and lighting a new one in her lantern. She had lost all her money and goods to the jaws of the wolves she would need coin or something of value to trade when she reached Dart. The young girl with lantern lit and fastened to her sword belt at her right hip made her way cautiously into the maw of the cavern. She held her battle axe before her as she moved forward in a curious half crouch through the twisting natural rock. The carvings and stone work were not dwarven but where ancient. Her heart sank a little for a dwarven tomb would have meant rich plunder indeed…and traps. This was the work of men not dwarves so one could only hope for a few gems or some relics but if there were any traps they would have fallen into ruin or be of a crude simple nature so the danger was lesser as well as the potential for reward. She kept an eye out and moved slowly.

She expected the cave to narrow and end abruptly at a sarcophagus or stone rock pile mound but instead it ended at a stone post and lintel carved door with a stair case leading down. This was odd and she frowned at it for a few moments wondering where the animals that should have made this their home were at?

The stair case led down in a single flight of stone carved steps that ended not in a hallway but instead in a large cavern; here the hand of man gave way again to nature and the cavern showed no sign of carving or construction or alteration as she moved slowly around in it avoiding the many pools and fang like dripping rocks.

She could fathom no reason for the elaborate carved stairs leading to such an open underground space since it bore no further signs of use or purpose? Shafts of light peered down at slants though cracks in the high ceiling here and there hinting at narrow openings to the surface above and ice hung in places where these openings were the largest. Piles of rock lay here and there where sections of the roof or pillars of rock had caved in but nowhere were there any openings larger than an open had width to be seen. Channels full of icy water ran in twists and turns amongst the isolated pools and hinted that underground water had eroded away the cavern over time spans immeasurable to thought. But still no sign of any human or animal use could be seen as she continued to wander about the large cavern looking for further cracks or crevasse or openings leading to other rooms.

She remained perplexed until she found herself near the back of the high domed cavern. Here a single beam of light brighter and thus evidently wider than all the rest shone down through the dust mote air to shimmer upon a large pool of black water. One of the twisting fast running channels of water ran nearby and overspill from it trickled into the pool the fresh clear water skimming across the dark black water. Near the edge of the pool was a natural stone pillar that rose up into the beam of light and fastened to its base was a heavy chain with manacles.

“Not a tomb or treasures… sacrifice!” Xera hissed and instinctively backed away from the still pool’s inky surface. Ice cold water rippled around her ankles as she eyed the pool and she backed further away mindful of the tricky footing of the water that ran about the lip of the pool.

Xera cast suspicious eyes about her as she made her way cautiously back from the dark pool of water. There would be no treasure here. Cults were infamously stingy in their dealings with the material world. As she retraced her steps she noted that above her a ledge held another darkened doorway it had been hidden from her by the angle of the jutting rock acting as a ledge before it when she had approached the back of the cavern but she could see it clearly now on her return and she eyed the pool one last time before searching about for a way up to the ledge and doorway. The way was not hidden and she found it soon. A sloping large rock against the side wall let one simply walk up its back and she followed it her wet boots a bit unsure upon the smooth surface of the worn large boulder. About halfway up the rock carved steps suddenly appeared that were invisible from the uneven surface of the cavern floor. Xera’s heart raced as this meant the door way might lead to a chamber containing something other than another way out of the room. Perhaps a priest’s chamber where some holy or unholy relics might remain gilded in gold and sparking with gems she hoped.

But before she reached the ledge with the darkened door way a skeleton stepped out from its pitch black maw and raced toward her. Xera recoiled at the sight. Despite tavern talk skeletons were not that frequent of a sight in underground lairs, zombies and monsters yes, but the magic it took to animate bones long after the tissue of muscle and sinew had rotted away was far from common and it always took her unnerved her slightly when she saw one of these rare undead in the same way the sudden appearance of an unexpected rat or snake in one’s bed might unnerve anyone.

Even as she turned to reach more firm footing to fight the creature she saw out of the corner of her eye two more skeletons emerged from the darkened doorway and give chase with its fellow. ‘They were waiting for me!’ She thought to herself as she suddenly stopped up short as several more skeletons suddenly emerged from the small scattered pools on the cavern floor below.

She spun to face the nearest skeleton but even as she raised her axe she felt the chilling wet dripping grip of a boney hand upon her wrist. One of the skeleton’s had already silently risen up out of the water and followed her up the boulders arching spine to grab her from behind. With the hood of her new barrowed cloak still pulled up against the chill of the cavern air she had not seen the creature so close to her and as she struggled with it the wide gapping skull of the nearest fellow rushed the last few steps and tore the axe from her hand. In seconds she was buried under a swarm of skeletons that surprisingly did not plunge their sharp fingers into her and disembowel her as was their common tendency. But simply held onto her with iron grips as she struggled vainly to free herself.

Over the shoulders and bald pates of the horde that held her she saw a tall large skeleton clothed in a red cape emerge from the upper room and grinning as only a naked fleshless skull can it rapidly made its way down the steps to where she was being retained. “Ahh, been a while since we had any fresh young things to play with.” It spoke which was a shock to the girl and she stopped her struggles perplexed by the odd hissing ghastly woodwind monotone of the thing as it leered at her with its eyeless sockets.

“Who are you? What do you want?” That was a mistake, never give the monster about to eat you an intro cue to do just that. She thought rapidly and barked out, “What is this place?” Hoping to spark some kind of interest in the creature in conversation as it was eyeing her exposed tits and pussy as she was being held spread eagle before it in a rather unwholesome way and hoping none of the creatures would think to lower her onto her back on the ground because it would be all over then.

The large skeleton in the red cape ignored her and she could see that like the other skeletons it was encased with limestone from the mineral pools giving its bones a stone-like hardness and no doubt making it immune to fire which is how one usually destroyed the undead. These mineral encasings of their bones had made them somewhat distorted in their structure and some moved awkwardly because of this and some had an eye socket covered by the stone drippings petrification and she wondered if that hampered their vision at all. By now she had been stripped of all her weapons and her clothing except for her boots and her mailed coif.

And she stood in a wide stance as defiant as possible in her shivering naked state as the leering extra-large skeleton in the red cloak stopped eyeing her body and now looked her in the face. “Nice. Let’s party love.” And the creature ripped wide its cloak which it had up to now been holding clasped with one hand and revealed a strange conglomeration of leather straps and buckles which held a large thigh bone mounted in the open pelvis cage obviously meant to be a phallus.

Xera blinked in shock. Obviously she had not expected any kind of sexual rape from creatures that no longer possessed penises. “That’s not anatomically correct?!” The young flustered wide eyed teen blurted out at the sight of the large thigh bone of what must have come from an ox.

The skeleton who was pumping his pelvis back and forth at her staring face laughed, “and you are?! I mean look at those tits. You look like a green sapling with two huge melons fastened to it. You’re so top heavy I wonder how you can even walk?! Let alone swing a sword without hitting your wrists on your own tits.”

“Er, well you have a point there, I will grant you that. But still my breasts however large they may be and however disproportioned they be are still one hundred percent natural. Unlike that THING you have strapped to yourself there! Revolting!”

“Now, now girl let’s not be talking smack to the bone man. Say why don’t you kiss it and make up with a titty fuck.” The creature hissed and swung his hips back and forth as he advanced slowly upon her the few strides that remained between them.

Xera could see the dried blood on the thing and tatters of flesh and hideous frightening thoughts rose unbidden in her of what might have befallen other hapless travelers who had wandered into this foul place. But she could not take her eyes off the large thigh bone as it creaked in its harness and slapped against her huge tits. Xera pressed her hands against the sides of her elephantine tits squeezing her huge breasts around the shaft of the coarse rough bone which rose well up past the skeletons sternum and near his clavicle. “It’s soooo big,” Xera hoarsely whispered and the skeletons holding her elbows and legs loosened their grip to get out of the way of the large skeleton in red.

Xera had hoped for this and instantly dropped her hypnotized sexual lusting act and grabbed the large bone threatening to knock her teeth out and yanked. The mammoth bone came lose with a wrenching screech of tearing half rotted leather and she began to swing the stone club at the skeletons around her. The large bone also petrified smashed the stone bones and skulls as if she were using a maul on pottery plates and jugs. She swung and swung and kicked and stomped until a path had opened up past the large skeleton that had dropped to its knees and was clutching at its tangled harness crotch as if she had ripped a real flesh penis from a real flesh body. It howled with agony and she smashed its skull and kicked it aside.

The only open path led up the stone stair case up to the yet unreached dark door way at its stone ledge as dozens of skeletons were rising up from the scattered pools behind her and a few still staggered about picking themselves up from the steps where she had knocked them back. She raced past the collapsed bones immediately around her to the distant door cringing in apprehension that it might suddenly issue forth a multitude of skeletal foes.

And there was the dark pool. She could just see its oily waters still silent and serene and wondered what horror lay within as she ran as fast as she could to the door-less black portal which lay suspiciously just above the sacrificial pillar of stone and the pools edge.

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The door to The Lonely Mine opened and in stepped a woman naked except for a pair of boots that rose up to her ass cheeks and a glittering mailed coif that held her hair back into a pony tail. In one hand she held a large bone covered in dried blood and in the other a horned golden skull with its large eye sockets fitted with two immense rubies. The woman stood in the doorway for a moment and then entered the tavern and walked up to the bar. It should have made for quite a spectacle a strange naked woman entering a tavern upon a winter’s night, but even as she opened the door Xera realized this was not a bar but a brothel.

She walked past various women in stages of undress and in various acts of sexual intercourse with all manner of men and creatures. On top of the bar in the center of the room two teen age girls were busy pleasuring a mountain troll and their selves by rubbing their naked pussies up and down his huge penis until he erupted cum all over them and they howled with laughter and kept up their steady messy exertions as another teen girl tried to catch as much of the chained beasts cum as possible in a tankard.

Xera was not surprised. When the boy had told her the women were so eager to get to their ‘tavern’ and so ‘reluctant’ to leave it and the money they were making she had guessed the truth. The women were enjoying themselves with their men none the wiser back in their cold isolated hovel of a fort. While the men struggled to create a new better life for their wives and daughters those selfsame wives and daughters were here raking in a bundle enjoying the cock of hundreds of favored patrons and Xera was sure the women were keeping their money here and no doubt distant banks down river rather than bringing it back with them to the tick and bed bug riddled fort out in the middle of nowhere.

One day the men of the fort would wonder why their women had not returned and they would send someone to the town of Dart to look for them and he would find the Lonely Mine tavern closed down and all the women having left for distant cities full of luxuries and with enough wealth to keep them in that luxury and enough young studs to keep them entertained and happy. She did not begrudge the woman this as what sane person wants to spend their life living in a falling down fort? But she needed information and she made her way further down the bar past the giggling teenage girls who continued to milk the mountain trolls impossibly large cock with their rubbing pussies up and down its lubed sperm coated shaft and clunked the gold skull down on the bar in front of a seasoned looking woman who was whipping out a tankard and eyeing her openly.

The woman eyed the skull and spoke before Xera could, “I have heard of a gold bone beast that lives in a pool not far from here. In a cave I hear; with some corrupted mage long dead and nothing but skull and bones himself.” She nodded at the skull, “so I take it that would be the monsters head? If so there are many a maiden who will walk the woods of these parts a little more certain and safer, but you will need to take that skull to the local garrison if it is a reward you are after. We don’t handle such things here.”

The girls erupted in loud laughter and a rain of spewing spunk came down some of it reaching far enough to splatter upon Xera’s shoulders and hair. “Look I know you are the women from the hill fort and your men think you are running some kind of tavern here and I don’t care about any of that. What I do care about is any information you can give me on the daemon’s sword. You give me enough information and a bed to sleep in and a warm bath and some food and maybe some clothes and a weapon and you can keep your secret and the golden skull for all I care.”

“Whoa, whoa that’s a rather hefty one sided trade there is it not? We are not so desperate for coin that we need your gold skull there; I mean you and I both know that this far out it is little more than a bobble or knickknack for a shelf in a library somewhere. The garrison would give a reward but it would be a standard monster bounty and a fraction of what the skull and its gems might bring a few hundred miles downriver in the great cities. A monster bounty would pay for half of what you are asking and you know it. As far as a room and board we only do that for our girls and clients of which you are neither and as far as weapons do we look like a smithy? And as far as some kind of offhand dimly veiled threat to tell our dimwitted men about our personal business here well look about you there isn’t a man or creature here that wouldn’t hesitate to remove your own head to keep this place going let alone the garrison in town and what they would do to you if they found their only source of pleasure out here in the boondocks was threatened. So let’s slow down and discuss this one bit at a time.”

The woman pushed the skull aside and leaned an elbow on the bar displaying her impressive cleavage, “first off you want information on the daemon’s sword? Well you came to the right place and the right person. But I am too busy to talk about it now as you can see we have a full house tonight as we do every night with men cumming from all around to partake of our services. Moreover we are short two girls who are having their ‘time of the month’ right now. Here now I tell you what in exchange for room and board you head over to that table of orcs there and keep them occupied and happy until my daughter Lilly can finish up her gang bang upstairs with those pimply faced wanabe wizards from Hogwarths. You keep them from wrecking up the place until she is ready for them and you got a place to sleep tonight and food for your belly. When things quiet down I will discuss trading your skull there for what information I have about your sword and a bit more that you might find interesting as well. As you are not the first party to open our door concerned about that accursed weapon.”

Xera shrugged and watched the woman place her gold skull under the bar counter and then Xera reached over the bar top and took the skull back and winked at the nonplused woman and headed over to the table full of drunken horny orcs. They were indeed getting cross about having to wait for their pussy and Xera decided she would have to take them well in hand to prevent them from busting up the place. She sat down and scowled at them, you had to know how to handle orcs, “I bet this golden skull against each and every one of you scum sucking maggots that I Xera the wandering amazon princess of the legends can drink you under the table!” And she slammed the skull down on the table.

Orcs love bets and love drinking and can never resist a combination of the two in anyway. They slammed down their fists and accepted the challenge calling for large tankards of the strongest ale the house had and glared at her licking their lips and chuckling at the thought of beating her so easily and wining their prize as each took out an item they had upon them that they thought might be comparable to the worth of the skull and slammed it down on the table to cover their bet.

An hour latter Xera crawled out from under the orc table her face blasted and covered with cum as she flicked the thick sperm off her eyes and gasping spoke, “THERE! I drank you all dry under the table just as I said I would!” and she helped herself to all the items on the table while the splayed open mouth dazed faced orcs smiled up at the ceiling with lolling tongues.

Lilly came up to the table and frowned at the spent orcs as Xera staggered off with her arm load of won items and her golden skull as the young girl stamped her foot and snarled at the orcs, “I am ready for our orgy and you had better not tell me you can’t deliver! I have just spent the better part of the afternoon with a bunch of loser boys who did nothing but blame spells and curses as the reason they couldn’t get hard! A girl could get a complex if this continues!”

Xera walked past the two girls who were almost as cum covered as she was on the bar who were still working the chained troll’s giant’s cock by rubbing their pussies up and down on either side of the huge shaft. And plunked down her pile of winnings on the bar top where the woman smiled at her and held out a key. “Room three. There’s a hot bath already for you. Nice work. I will send up some food and you can come down and see me in about three hours. The place usually quiets down around sunrise.”

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Xera sat in a niche set back in the far corner of the bar. The woman sat across the small round table with her and they both helped themselves to a jug of wine while the woman smoked a pipe and spoke, “well, first off I was there in the woods around the fort when the young man carrying the sword came by. He wanted directions to the pass heading into the Cantabay forest. He was hopelessly lost and very cute so I told him I would trade him the directions if he would let me take a few swings with his big sword. I meant his cock of course but the fool was one of those pure of heart types and he refused. He wandered off in the wrong direction and I followed him until he entered a frost sprite cave. I tried to warn him call out to him but he evidently didn’t hear me or decided he had wasted enough time on a foolish girl. He never came back out. I am certain he died in there. Latter I was busy trading with some of the Stone Mountain dwarves. That is I was getting my pussy royally hammered by some nice stiff dwarven cock. The men stupidly think the dwarves trade us weapons and hinges and nails and such for mushrooms and plants. I mean really! So I was busy trading and between trades I mentioned the boy with the sword and how he had entered the frost sprite cave and no doubt died there. The dwarf was curious and he and his fellows ventured into the cave and killed the sprite and retrieved the sword and took it with them back to the Stone Mountain.”

“Now about a year later a whole string of men came wandering through the forests one after another all looking for the boy and his sword. Well those that were cute and knew how to use their cocks I traded and told them that the Stone Mountain dwarves had the sword. And off they went to go fetch it, but none of them made it pass the trolls and bears and saber tooth tigers and such that line the above ground paths. I would ask the Stone Mountain dwarves when they came down to trade eckhem you know  hammer my pussy about the men and they said had never seen them. So none of them had made it to the large bronze gates up near the top of the mountain.”

“Now when the dwarves come down to trade with us they never use the above ground trails which is why they are so overrun with monsters and such. They use the underground tunnels which have a secret door near the waterfall at the end of the valley that the hill fort sits in the mouth of. I never told any of the men who came and asked about the sword about this secret entrance because they were rude and came way too soon. I don’t mind a buttered muffin but it had better be some of my own butter creaming down the crack, you know what I mean? Gwad I just hate men who can’t hold their load long enough for a girl to… achieve!”

“Anyway I like you and that gold skull will look good on my new home mantle down in River Falls and you at least know how to make a girl feel … satisfied.” The woman looked down from the golden skull in her hand to where Xera was under the small table noisily sucking on the flushed woman’s clit. “More than I can say about that stupid husband of mine. Oh if you happen to see him, as your path back to the waterfall at the end of the valley will take you directly past the hill fort, you can tell the small peckered fifteen weak humps and he’s spent loser that I and the rest of the girls won’t be coming back. We have made more than enough money by the end of last season and are leaving for our new lives down river on the military river patrol boat at the end of the week. Feel free to put in any detriments to his puny cock size and worthlessness sexual prowess or failed ability to provide for his wife and daughter as you see fit. Oh my you have a very gifted tongue girl. Almost as good as Lilly’s… there will be a place on the boat for you if you should change your mind. After all chasing after some silly old sword seems such a pointless way to die.”

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Orc armor and weapons are not highly prized. It is bulky and crude relying on great strength to wield them and wear them to any given positive effect. But it was all Xera had and she had to agree it was better than nothing as she stood at the base of the path that lead up the hill past the hill fort. The sun was still high despite the lateness of the day and some feeble warmth still radiated down from the cloudless sky.

She clambered up the hill path that wandered seemingly aimlessly through the thick forest trees and showed that the men who had laid its now uneven embedded river-stones had taken the path of least resistance rather than heave a straight course through the wood. This showed it was set by men who had no slaves at hand rather than women who would have taken the time and extra work to do the job right and she guessed it had pre-dated the military hill fort as the military saw little distinction between slaves and its own soldiers which may go a long way to explaining why neither side could muster up enough men to bring the decades of civil war to an end.

Xera stopped before the open gate of the dilapidated hill fort. The web work of rope was down, left still fastened upon one side the other unfastened and the rope mesh yanked and piled to the still fastened side in an unceremonious heap. There was no sign of the wolf carcasses and the outer bonfire had been left as a shallow pit of char that the wind had scattered as a black gritty smear across the snow drifted path. She saw neither sign of the bustle of the fifteen men who should be busy amongst the squat ugly stone and wood structure nor any sign of smoke from a kitchen hearth or outer fire; she pondered this and wondered if she should stop on her trek to the waterfall at the back of the valley that rolled out beyond the hill fort at its mouth or if she stop and speak and take a rest at the fort. She had expected some sort of guard or a man or two working along the pathway as she made her approach and seeing no one had caused her to frown and hesitate now and listen to the empty silence.

She raised up the brim of her orc helmet which was so large it rode upon her shoulders and looked like she was wearing a thin iron kettle covered in small short spikes, so she could see and hear a little better but still there was only the still forest battered in thick clumps of snow and ice and quiet that can only come over the wilds after a long savage storm when all seems worn out and too tired to sing or peep or move with much grace other than a shamble amongst the blinkless stillness. She let the helmet fall back upon her shoulders. There seemed no one at home?

The women would be down at the dock now loading their last of their belongings on the military patrol boat about to begin their three day journey down river to their new lives and each of them had given her a small gift or token to stop by the fort and bend the ear of their respective men and Xera had needed these supplies to aid her in her travels and being a good girl of her word she had thought to at least spend a few minutes relaying to a gate guard or woodsmen as he cut firewood that the women would not be coming back in the spring. But she was leery of actually entering the fort where the men growing angry at her words and their lost might lose their common sense and attack her on the spot.

She would hate killing them all as that would just be senseless. She paused outside the open shattered frame of the gate and bit her lower plump lip. It was a shame really. These men would not be able to survive here without their women to do all the important work. They would have to leave and start over again in some village or town getting real jobs again which is what they had been so adamant about leaving forever when they had plucked up their families and headed out to the abandoned fort upon their new ‘free spirit’ lives. But each winter they had barely survived with no women to cook and harvest and prepare the animal skins and do the countless other tasks and chores. In fact Xera couldn’t help but chuckle at the sudden image of the men trying to ‘trade’ with the dwarves a basket full of herbs and mushrooms for a pound of iron nails or a new double bit axe. Ha! Or trying to ‘trade’ with the passing merchants their animal hides for bags of wheat and corn meal. The men would indeed be in for a shock once they realized that ‘trade’ for their women had meant sucking and fucking cock for goods and pleasure. She couldn’t see some party of dwarves or traveling merchants eyeing some hairy unwashed lice riddled bed bug flea covered old man and agreeing to bang his boney bung hole for a new set of pewter ware plates and forks. Ha! And what little money they had brought back from the winter ‘tavern’ in Dart keeping the main share for their escape back to civilized lives had been the entire income of the tiny miserable little hovel of a fort. If the men thought to send some of their number to run it in the next winter months they would be in for a surprise, for not wanting to have to deal with the men and their anger at their women leaving them the captain of the garrison had decided to burn down the tavern once the women departed and tell the men that a sudden fire had engulfed the place and all their women had died. He had told Xera that he understood the woman wanting to give one last ‘up yours’ to their men once they had secured their escape, but he did not relish the idea of the men storming into town and venting their frustration and rage upon his guard and all they were sworn to protect. ‘Why kill so pointlessly when there’s so much killing to be had in this damnable war?’ Xera had agreed with this and was thus torn between the two versions she had been carrying since she had left the small town of Dart early that morning.

She still had not made up her mind as to whether she would tell the men in the hill fort that their women had left them and headed down river back to the larger cities or whether she would tell them they had all died in a fire or perhaps that they simply weren’t coming back and let the men send someone to learn about the fire themselves? The women had paid her in small gifts to ‘tell their men off’ but she saw the overall wisdom of the garrison captain’s device.

So she stood reluctantly and a bit uncertain before the large shambles of the gate before sighing and trudging in her heavy over-sized orc armor into the hill fort main court yard. There was no one inside. The place seemed deserted. Xera knew that the men traded the dwarves for ‘fire oil’ this was supposed to be used as a sort of lubricant for saws and smokeless lamp oil and as a preserve of metal against rust and such but the men set about drinking it as it was also the cheapest grade of ale the dwarves made. It was powerful stuff and the men spent most of the winter in one of the sheds blind drunk or staggering about until spring came and the return of the women set them back to their hunting and puttering about with the fort. Their lauded animal shed/pens were in fact little more than a  club house for the men to get drunk in and every year the time they spent in these little sheds had grown and grown so they spent most of their time now staggering about pissing drunk. The women had enough and the almost endless whisky dick had been the last straw for them.

Xera reasoned that it would be in one of these outer sheds rather than the main hall building as that was where the looms and ‘woman’s work’ would be and work was what these men had come out here to avoid so that she was certain she would find the men anywhere but in the central stone keep with its countless reminders of chores and work; and she hoped that in her bulky orc attire maybe they would mistake her for a young man instead of the statuesque young woman she was and they might simply in their hopefully drunken state take little heed of her missive and let her depart with her words lost upon them so she could fulfill her bargain with the women and maintain her honor and escape any show of violence.

She knocked on the rough unplanned pine log door of the nearest shed and then wondered at herself and simply pushed against it until it opened creaking despite the excellent quality of the dwarven hinges as it had been poorly hung. The inside of the small shed smelled instantly of stale ale and urine and blood. Several freshly mutilated bodies littered the floor and blood and pieces of flesh and intestines stuck to the walls and piles of small casks and shattered chamber pots. She did not bother entering the place but eyed its violence and stepped back looking around her without bothering to close the door.

She kept her back turned to the sheds and cautiously inched her way along to the next nearest shed while scanning the courtyard around her for any sign of movement. The next shed opened to reveal the crude makings of an incomplete still and another dead body tied to a chair which she recognized instantly and frowned at and then raised an eyebrow at the still erect penis and smirked. She wondered vaguely where the men had thought they would get the corn mash or sugar cane or hops and barely in sufficient quantities to make their attempt at liquor and then moved slowly but steadily away from the sheds and moved to the central stone keep.

Most people would have simply left as soon as they found the first shed full of hacked to pieces bodies and left at a rather rapid gait at that, but then most people aren’t the sort to go looking for a sword to kill an otherwise unkillable demon haunting a forest and scarfing down people and their goats.

The door to the central keep was a stone structure but built of rough un-quarried stone and required wood bracing running at odd angles throughout to keep it stable despite its thickly applied mortar. It had no window proper but upon the second floor of the two-story building there were numerous arrow slits and she eyed these apprehensively from under her great helm.

The door to the keep had once been a huge heavy impressive affair but like the gait it had been destroyed by the men who had been sent to kill the bandits and the ruins of it had been cobbled back together haphazardly by the men who now lived or had lived here so that one side of the large opening had been made into a fixed wall of heavy wood lashed into place with rope and stone and a much smaller crude doorway had been fashioned of weaker planks of wood apparently of what had once served as tables or chair seats overlapped and nailed together and hung on a dwarven hinge. There was no handle or lock and it swung in at her touch revealing a crude floor bar propped against the braces set against the wooden and stone piled upon the rest of the opening. The floor bar would have kept the door wedged shut but only if someone was inside to place it there and the fact that it was lying waiting for its singular use made her feel that there was a good chance that no one was currently inside the building that was at least still living.

She put her shoulder to the parted door and swung it fully open and gave a twisting of her torso over the shoulder backwards look at the motionless courtyard a final look before pressing her large orc armor self through the opening and entered the keeps main hall.

Her bulbous caldron shaped helmet with its open large front slit let her twist her head this way and that freely from inside its cavernous insides but like its boiler plate stove like chest piece it made the rapid movements of her lithe body somewhat slowed and awkward as if she was walking along some deep sea bed. The shin guards and thigh pieces and the large cod piece were all of the same black-green metal and covered with a sea urchin design of small spikes that instantly stamped the armor as orc in manufacture and design. It was her winnings from her drinking contest from a few nights before and she was thankful to have at least some protection and orc armor while it might be a bit bulkish and crude was at least very solid and could easily turn an axe blow time and again in battle.

The cod piece chaffed a bit as she wore no other garments under the ill-fitting armor and the metal was a bit cold where it touched against her naked flesh but it was better than nothing and she was a girl who was used to having things for brief times and living on bits and pieces she would gather as she went and discard as circumstances warranted it. As such she had traded away her dwarven fine axe which had proved too difficult to manage with the orc armor for written pass or letter of introduction from the captain of the garrison which would make passage through the many patrols and road blocks and town garrisons in this area much easier for her than having no such writ upon her. There was nothing worse than getting stopped and pawed by horny bored guards for hours on end when one needed to be moving on. And a girl could stomach only so much spunk before she found herself reaching for a blade instead of a button.

So it was that the young girl found herself armed with a long three foot knife of keen sharpness upon one edge and supremely thick upon the other good for stabbing and hacking and blocking and made of excellent dwarven smiting for an ogres table given to her by one of the young women as a token to tell her father that she would no longer be there to take his smelly pinkie penis in her mouth every morning to wake him up as he so insisted.

A good sturdy belt strapped around her bulging onion like chest armor passed as a sheaf for the strong blade made to cut oxen bones and sheep spines. This belt was also a gift from another young girl who said to tell her brother she would no longer be there to take his ill timing mistakes into her butthole leaving her all gooey and icky sticky there for the remainder of the afternoon. The belt had many small pouches attached to it, sadly none of them were magical but they were all like the belt richly brocaded and very nicely made with a lavish large clever buckle of two gold fish which fastened into each other as they swam in a circle upon her orc armored belly.

Another gift had been a thick goodly hooded cape which did much to protect her from the cold though the orc helm was too large for the hood to pass over the cape its self was thickly woven and lined with fur and made and excellent bed roll and the girl who had given it to her had said to tell her husband that ‘he was utterly worthless in bed as he was in life and that she had only stayed with him as his son from a previous marriage had though he had indeed been as equally disappointing in his manhood had at least made up for what he lacked in size with being horny as a goat!’

The rest of her gifts had been items which had fit into her pouch as previsions and useful tools to help her in her adventure and the women who had given them to her were all equally tongued in the messages she was to relate for them to their so called men. The most important item had been a small metallic sphere full of cogs and gears which was a dwarven key she would need to open the secret door to the underground passages of the dwarves of Stone Mountain. This was given to her by the woman whom she had traded the golden skull. The golden skull had come from the necromancer’s creation that had risen from the pool in the cave after she had defeated all the limestone skeletons bashing them to pieces with the necromancers own oxen bone cock. It had been a large Skelton with multiply arms and multiple heads but only the horned head with the gem eyes had been dipped in gold, she had defeated it by using the chains on the sacrificial column to pull down the limestone pillar upon the creature after she had dodged and rolled and snapped a shackle around its ankle pinning it in place. There had been a room caved into the upper wall of the cave which she had hopped contained much needed treasure but instead it had contained nothing but the moldering remains of young girls and various implements of a dead necromancer’s trade.

Still the skull had proved useful as it had gained her the location of the secret waterfall door to the underground dwarven passages as well as a key to open it and it had made a grateful captain of the garrison of Dart who was sick to the point of drink and sleeplessness over the local daughters who kept going missing in the area to pen her the papers of safe passage.

Just beyond the narrow door to the keep lay two more mutilated bodies and the girl wondered if the wolves had somehow gained entrance to the hill fort but then wondered why or even how such beasts would manage or care to shut doors after their passing?

The place showed no signs of a struggle and other than the blood soaked area around the torn to pieces bodies upon the floor one would have little thought of anything being out of sorts. Still a strong sense of foreboding overcame the young girl as she walked as stealthy as her long black boots which rose up to her naked exposed butt cheeks would allow her into the stone flagging room. She still wore her chain mail coif and since the large helmet did not rest upon her head at all she could easily turn this way and that her head inside it to peer out through the great helm’s slit without turning her body or the helmet. So for several seconds it appeared that this metal man had strode into the great hall and just stopped up short freezing in place. but in reality she was peering rapidly and excitedly around her at the large room taking in as many details as possible and pondering her next course of action.

The room was a large rectangle of river stone set in thick dripping mortar and heavy wooden beams. It had a large fireplace against the back wall one could walk into or roast an entire ox on its heavy iron spit. The hall ran straight and level to the fireplace but rose up in shallow steps at the fire place and rose up in long flat steps at the sides of the hall. Support pillars of wood were sunk deep into these steps and wooden chairs and tables and looms and spinning wheels crowded these broad steps. There was a bronze channel of metal grills set here and there in the floor that ran up to the fireplace to allow drainage back outside. A few pots lay here and there scattered about but not damaged or over turned and next to the fireplace was a large table with hand axes and knives for the preparing of meat for the spits and pots that hung there. Evidently they did their cooking here in the main hall.

Xera looked down at the two bodies and the blood that still flowed into the draining grates. Not dead long a few hours at the most. A few garments lay on ropes or simple racks before the fire to dry but the fire was only a few dull dying embers and gave off little light. It had obviously been left unattended for several hours and the heap of fire wood next to it was low in quantity and needed resupplying. A woodman’s axe lay next to the small pile of firewood and a sharping stone wheel sat near this. The little wooden seat and the wooden foot lever looked old and bleached and well past the point of replacing or repair. There was a dankness to the dark hallway despite the chill of the air and the smoldering fire. The girl left the bar of light of the open door and moved up the flat broad steps that made up the sides of the hallway. Across from her the far wall had a series of stone steps leading without banisters across its face up to the hidden second level but she was more concerned for the moment with what may lay on the first level with her than what might be slumbering upstairs. After all by her rapid count she had found what may account for five or seven bodies (it was hard to tell how many mangled corpses or pieces made up to a whole in that first shed she had peaked into) and that left roughly ten or eight more of the fifteen men dead or alive to find, not to mention some sign of recognition if not the actual party or thing responsible for doing this heinous act.

She was of the mind of bandits. After all, the place had been a bandit base until the army had returned and whipped them out. It made sense that they might return and reclaim it yet again from these squatters. But why would bandits hack the men to pieces? Bandits were an inherently lazy bunch and taking the time to hack a man into pieces seemed too much effort for their like; and where were they now? There was surely nothing to steal to make a raid worthy and the ale in the shed remained untouched and there was not the usual breakage associated with bandits on a raid. No, the only reason they would attack such a place was to reclaim it and if so where were they now? It would make sense they would not bust the place up if they wanted to live here, but why hack the men up and make such a mess that they would latter have to clean up?

‘Okay, maybe not bandits, but what then?’ Xera found the hallway side across from the open stair case to be of nothing but doorless storage rooms full of a few gunny sacks of grain and flour and hanging bundles of vegetables. The old kitchen still had its large square stone well with its wooden lose slat boards and buckets on ropes sitting nearby. It was a dark room and the stone hearth in here was full of ash and had seen little use in years. A rotted wooden pantry with collapsed shelves held only a few casks full of potatoes that had long gone to seed.

The area was dark and musty and she turned up her nose in the helmet and coughed. She left the shadowy expanse of small stone rooms and made her way across the hallway and up the staircase to the second floor.

The staircase of rough uneven stone lead straight up into an open room of the second floor. The room was small and the walls to it were covered in arrow slits; which made sense since this had been a military outpost at one time. The only door leading out of the small room was directly behind her as she emerged from the open stairwell and it was a closed heavy oaken door, the first door she had seen in the entire keep thus far. She moved around the open stair well to the door and eyed it briefly. It was studded with iron and looked formable and no doubt built by the same hands that had made the once stout main door to the keep that now lay in a patchwork shambles at the stone mouth of the squat rectangular structure.

As she eyed the door she noted that there was the shattered remains of wooden trap door that had once covered the stair well opening though the pieces remaining pieces were too few and she guessed the rest had been used by the men elsewhere in the hill fort to keep them from having to perform the laborious job of cutting down and sawing fresh planks of wood.

The door had no lock upon it and it gave way with a firm press of her orc gauntlet hand. It was pitch dark beyond so dark she could not even see her own hand before her face. She paused before this abyss and fished out a small globe from one of her belt pouches and shook it vigorously. It quickly began to glow until it gave off a considerable amount of light. She attached the glowing globe to the chest of her breastplate. The globe was made out of a glass orb full of bubbling thick yellow chemicals on one side and set in a base of metal on the other side. This metal base could be stuck to almost any kind of metal surface and it would just remain there until one wrenched it free.

With her light in place she raised her knife before her and proceeded cautiously into the upper rooms of the keep. If the downstairs had been little more than one giant open room with a few small side rooms the upstairs proved to be a warren of endless small rooms. After exiting what proved to be a lone standing box of a room surrounding the stairwell she found that a single open corridor ran around the entire outer wall unobstructed. This design was no doubt to allow defenders quick access to the arrow slits that peppered the outer wall and to keep the inner small rooms closed up against the chill air that flowed unimpeded into the upper keep through these narrow holes. Other than a large stone chimney running up the back wall of the keep from the downstairs immense fireplace there was nothing in this outer hallway, not a chair not a case of crossbow bolts not a quiver of arrows not a table not a pot not a chest nothing. The outer stone wall with its arrow slits was mirrored by the inner wooden walls of the corridors many rooms. Several of these had wooden doors and unlike the entre rest of the keep none of these upper rooms seemed to have been damaged or even touched by marauding hand.

The shut doors or open frame jambs opened into small rooms empty of any trace of what they may have originally been used for but now heaped up with skins and piles of leather and bed rolls and storage bags and crates of the crudest designs. There was nothing of any kind of value beyond merger day to day station of brute survival and the most interesting items she found was a pile of knives and daggers and such obviously made of dwarvian manufacture and a few accompany bows and arrows and an axe or two and Xera marveled at how busy the women must have been in their ‘trading’ with the dwarves.

Xera made a second circuit of the outer rim hallway and this time peered through the arrow slits looking for any sign of the remaining missing men or there would be attackers and saw only the expanse of the woods surrounding the hill fort and the little tannery kept back a ways with its stench of ‘pure’ a slurry of feces and urine used to ‘tan’ the animal skins and obviously one of the goading reasons for the women who had to operate its stomach turning works not to return. The sturdy wolf-proof stone wall with its spiked top goat pen next to it was oddly empty but its gate was still pegged in place.

The men remaining were not to be found in the keep simple as that. Xera made her way back down the stair case and with a sort of miffed indignation at her failure to find any trace as to what had made this savage attack on the hill fort left the keep and its small courtyard and headed back on her way.

She plodded on her way following the stone path that ran from the main road up to the hill fort and then proceeded on to the end of the valley and the waterfall and lake that lay there. Obviously the path had been laid long ago by men who had known of the dwarves secret entrance in order to facilitate trade with them as far as to why a hill fort had been built long after that trade had ceased was lost upon her and she could only ponder various ideas as she clutched her cloak around her and be thankful for its warmth against the growing evenings cold and her naked butt cheeks.

As the fullness of night settled upon her the icy fingers of the metal cod piece against her naked sex become unbearable and she stopped to undo its heavy straps and tossed the cumbersome spiked device away. She took the moment to partake of her dry rations and to relieve her bladder. From this point forward she aided her direction along the uneven and often obscured stone path with help from her dwarven sphere key for all dwarven keys are not only made to unlock a door but to guide one to it by a simple light that acts like a compass needle. You hold the sphere in your hand and when you point it in the right direction a small bead of light appears upon the spheres surface. The closer you get to the door lock in question the brighter the light becomes. To offset this the dwarves often set their locks a bit apart from the doors they unlocked but Xera had been told by the woman whom she had traded the golden skull to that the location of the door was between two boulders and near a dead white tree just to the left of the key hole the lock fit into so she was confident she could find the hidden door.

Between her feeble key light and her magnetic light globe of gnome manufacture which she had moved from her chest plate and placed upon her shin guard as it made the weary path a little more easier to see and made her own passage a bit more hidden behind the waist deep drifts lining the path to any hungry nocturnal eye, she could see well enough to continue on her way despite the overcast sky and utter darkness of the night. The snow glow from the occasional rift in the clouds letting a bit of the moon to shine through helped as well as far as judging her overall surroundings and she felt confident if a bit numb in her metal shell from the increasing cold and kept up a steady pace.

Xera was surprised to see a light no doubt issuing from a campfire flickering in the woods along the edge of the narrow path as the woman had said that once past the hill fort there were no other habitations or people to be found. Still thinking upon the missing men the girl reached down and pulled the metal hood over her gnome light and replaced her dwarven key sphere back into her hip pouch and proceeded as quietly as the stiff crunching snow would allow toward the crackling fire light leaking through the slatted pillars of trees.

She did not have to travel far before she discovered that the campfire was in fact built under the overhang of a large rock well coved in ice and snow and that its smoky crackling flames licked ill at wet brush and bark and the billows of smoke it produced and the noisy hiss of the wood sputtering did much to cover any approach crunch of clang she made as she drew near.

The opening to the natural stone lento was pointed away from her so she had to keep moving around the slant of rock and the clump of trees surrounding it to get a view of what was bedding down for the night in such a desolate and dangerous place. As if on cue as soon as she had thought of the nights dangers a lone wolf howl sounded behind her and she shuddered involuntarily in her metal shell.

There came a lone single deep grunt from under the stone slab in response to the wolf howl and Xera stopped dead in her tracks for she could not place the creature that could make such a deep resounding barrel chested sound but she was certain it was not human in nature or design.

Curiosity got the belter of her as it always did and she decided to continue her sneaking approach but considering the wolf howl that had just occurred behind her and considering she no longer held any ideas that the missing men might be responsible for the campfire she turned away from her course of slinking around to the front of the rocks opening and instead made her way a little more rapidly to the rock its self and set about climbing up its riven sides to gain a perch upon its top. The rock was ice and snow covered and the armor was not made for such dexterous sojourns but she was a nimble girl and long practiced in the contortions of the kind both thieves and high priced courtesans use and she was up the wall of rock and up on its rounded top in a few anxious slips and heart beat stops. The snow was deep at the top as the rock jutting out gentled its slope so she had to walk knee deep in icy thick snow and now somewhat regretted the removal and discarding of her codpiece as the snow that kicked up razzored at her naked pussy and caused her teeth to chatter, but at least no wolf would find an easy access to her as the rock rose up straight at first near the base of a twisted tree and then bent like and old crones finger to slope out and make an opening where something now crouched and threw multiple shadows as it tossed more bark and brush into its fire. it coughed against the eye stinging smoke and Xera inched her way to the edge of the incline biting her lip as she inadvertently kicked snow down here and there in her passing.

Xera reached the edge of the jut of rock and crouched down as best she could in her bulky armor and desire not to put her pussy too close to the vapors of the icy sting of the snow. She leaned out as best she could and could see that the camp fire had been made a few feet out from the overhang but that the smoke was still being funneled back into the cleft and the creature below her was occasionally coughing and hacking and sneezing against the thick acidic smoke.

She strained but could not decide what the creature was despite the dancing shadows its flickering fire was casting of it. Nor could she seem to catch a glimpse of the arm that cast out brush now and then upon the ill burning flames. In fact all she was catching was a helmet full of smoke that had her struggling not to cough as she fled from the rim of the rock ledge and retreated with red watering eyes.

She was about to retreat off the lone spire of rock when she noted the unmistakable shaggy shape of a large wolf slide its way into the small clearing that rimmed the large rock outcropping. She dropped down instinctually and tried to reach into her helmet slit with her gauntlet glove to stifle a cough but could not manage it and only added a distinct clanging sound as she set about hacking and coughing uncontrollably. The wolf eyed her instantly with a gleam but remained stationary as it realized it could not reach her in her current position and it turned a snout back to the campfire where suddenly a large hulking figure emerged in response to her outburst.

It was a long thick armed barrel chested small headed and small legged creature with thick scabby boney skin and a tree trunk club in its hand and it moved out from under the lip of the rock overhang to eye first her and then the wolf. The wolf eyed it back and then with a quick nonchalant turn of head and body the wolf vanished back into the trees leaving the creature to once again look back at her with a wicked grin. She had preferred the company of the wolf.

The thing was unknown to her; it was neither a mountain giant nor a troll neither was it an orc nor forest golem as such that elven mages sometimes fabricate to guard sacred groves. She was perplexed as to what it was exactly, but she was more concerned by the way it was greedily eyeing her and aimlessly wiggling its huge tree trunk club about as it seemed to ponder her existence or perhaps her possible taste as a meal ,than she was determined to obtain its heraldry.

In fact she was nervously trying to fathom if the thing could get at her and it seemed to be plumbing the same line of reasoning so that soon it seemed a matter of a race to see who would determine first if the large creature could reach her in such a way she could not readily escape it. The wolf no doubt lingering in the wood would make a simple leaping down and dashing off a bit more of a challenge for her which the creature seemed to realize as it continued to leer with its skull like grin as it sized up the situation and ground between them.

Xera straightened up, though in oversized orc armor it would have been impossible to have noticed that she had been crouching and removed the large kettle like spike covered helmet from off her head and tossed it on the ground. She did not stop there but continued removing the pieces of orc armor until she was standing in just her butt high boots and a smile.

The tiny headed skull faced creature blinked and dropped its mouth. Xera had guessed that in her orc armor the thing had assumed she was male and an orc of middling size and now it could see she was indeed a very attractive young woman of overall slim build and unusual height (she stood six two in her bare feet in a land where most men seldom rose above five four which put them at right about boob level which made most conversations interesting to say the least as she was endowed with impossibly large breasts each almost twice the size of her own head and where most women were around five foot and either boy-ish flat chested in build or grossly fat) so that her narrow waist and full bosom and shapely hips made her a very unusual silhouette that caught and held all males attentions and some females at that. Her slim frame with its long graceful limbs seemed somewhat at odds with her overabundant firm jutting breasts and their large puffy areolas and always hard nipples and her round perky spherical backside that combined to bend her spine to thrust her chest forward and shoulders back and hips back and up gave her a sensual side to side strut that was unique in the land. In fact so impossible was her appearance, those seemingly always jiggling quivering gravity defying firm breasts and her uplifted perky round backside, that she looked more of a magical construction than natural. One would upon first sight assume some sexually demented mage had taken two very large melons and attached them to a waif’s chest of exceptional beauty and then took a third of perfect roundness and split it in half and placed it on her backside. So full round and ripe and all sways and wiggles and jiggles she was but mostly it was her face that seemed an alchemy beyond nature for here she had two bewitching large ever flashing eyes and a wide smile under her small refined nose that did not have the touch of wilderness and animal that could be found in the construction of most men and women of this timeless land.

So the creature blinked, once, and then dared not again less its vision lose sight of her. Xera smiled her best ‘I have no money but need it really bad smile.’ the one that got her though most of her jams. It was a combination of three emotions held at once; she would make her eyes go wide in shock or surprise while smiling large with a slightly open mouth of wonder and then she would let her cheeks flush a bit with a joyful knowing salacious understanding. The trick was to keep the emotions boiling on the face to not let it freeze or pause upon either the innocent naïve or the sexual lusting but to keep the eyes and mouth and face in a rapid mix of innocent confused surprise and joyful first time wonderment and sexual lusting knowing so that every moment every action every angel passing was a helpless innocence of her very first time and a secret wink of boundless endless sexual knowledge. It was not a look most women had the child like perfection of ageless beauty to carry off, nor the body to trigger the right thoughts in the person on the other end of the conversation to allow it to flirt about so well. A few thousand years latter a man named Leonardo would use the same look on a painting called the Mona Lisa which would go on to become the most famous and looked at painting in the world and in that painting the woman is wearing a sack cloth hammock over her body and Xera was standing stark naked, one could almost see the creatures eyes flash and spin as it took a gallery full of mental pictures with its frozen gapping mind.

“Sorry, I don’t think you could hear me in that stuffy armor and I was trying to say thank you for saving me from that wolf.” Xera cooed and strutted forward near the edge of the rock over hang, her impossibly large and firm breasts all a rapid eye watering bouncing jiggle as her hips swayed from side to side. “I don’t know what I would have done without your help? My you are such a big strong boy aren’t you? I owe you my life but as you can see I have nothing to repay you with.” The teen stopped and gently shook her shoulders back and forth so her perfectly shaped full breasts jiggled from side to side as did the creatures all black eyes. “Maybe we can work out some kind of ‘thank you’ trade, hmmm?”

The creature dropped its tree trunk club and raised up both its palms and smiling with her ‘innocent ever surprised but I like how it feels do you approve and oh really just between us I have secretly done much naughtier things than this would you like to see how naughty’ look she carefully dropped/stepped down so she was standing in its hands and it lowered her to the ground before it.

Without hesitation Xera set to work. The women of the lonely mine brothel had each given her a small token or item as payment to tell the men back at the hill fort that they would not be coming back in the spring nor did they ever want to see their worthless men folk again and in fact she was supposed to heap a whole slew of adjectives and adverbs of the most debasing and derogatory sexual slurs and questionable manhood upon the men. And each gift had proven its worth and use but the most hands down useful trade had come from the youngest of the women, Lilly. Lilly had spent several hours teaching Xera the most advanced sexual techniques a girl could ever learn. Even Xera had blushed at the simple mind staggering amount of kinky knowledge the small girl had known. Apparently Lilly was not only the only girl who had no grudges or ill will toward the men and was utterly indifferent to leaving the backwater for the big cities but she was also the only one who was apparently sleeping with all the men in the camp and doing so on what must have been a daily if not hourly tasking chore. She had been apparently serving not only each man but serving many of them in groups?! The young girl quickly taught Xera more about sex and the art of pleasing a man or woman in a few hours than what all the whore houses of the land could have possibly compiled in the professions entire history. Lilly would go on and wander the land as the adventuring whore of her own legends before sitting down and writing the four hundred and sixteen volumes of ‘The Sexomancy; a pleasure guide to all possible forms of mating with all known flora and fauna of the realms.’ No king or queen’s library would be caught dead without an autographed copy complete with illustrations and diagrams but for now she was but a little girl who had an enormous abundance of specialized knowledge whom she had imparted what she could to Xera who now dropped to her knees and set about putting it to use. ‘A sword can never slay a man more than once but an orgasm can defeat him time and again,’ the young strawberry lipped girl had whispered in Xera’s ear as the teen amazon had climaxed again and again under the tutelage and lessons being imparted upon her teacher’s tool body.

Xera knew the lessons and advice that the young Lilly had imparted to her was of tremendous value in the male dominated lands south of Amazonia and she was egger to use them here and now on the small headed beast with the massive upper torso. She had expected to be gleefully putting Lilly’s advanced techniques of mountain giant and troll cock handling to good use but much to the wandering amazon’s disappointment the penis she found herself cupping in her hand was tinny?! The creature’s upper body was huge but its lower body was very small in fact it had to prop its self-up on its long thick muscular arms in order to allow her access to its small lower body. The girl took the tiny penis between her forefinger and thumb and blinked at it. It was scarcely an inch or two in length and in fact the head of the small dick was almost the same size as its miniscule shaft. The tiny appendage quivered in her hand as the clouds of her breath blew across it in the cold night air.

“Ah, er, uhm,” Xera scratched her head and contemplated the small quivering erection waiting hopping praying it would get bigger. She cleared her throat and sighed, “My you have such a big cock here. I have never seen such a huge one before.” The lie was good for an additional quarter of an inch as it was on most puny ten inch or less cocks but it was still going to be a struggle to get the thing into her mouth without smushing up her nose or banging her chin too much. She tried turning her head sideways and made sure to make a loud pleasurable moan as she took the small dick between her thick wet pillow lips and sucked on it. She couldn’t really pump her head up and down on it so she stroked its little guppy underside with her tongue tip as best she could. “Hmmmm, so big and huge and tasty.”

‘It’s like trying to deep throat a peanut,’ she thought to herself with disgust and growing boredom. “OH MY GWAD! You’re getting even bigger?! SO BIG!” she lied and went back to work on the tiny penis. The creature wheezed and popped its quivering load in her mouth which she made a huge show of looking up at its dazed face and pretending she was having difficulty in swallowing while pushing the gloop around with her tongue and adding her spit to it so it dripped down her chin as she smiled and tried to look dazed with surprise and pleasure and exhausted at the same time.

‘I am never going to be able to get that thing into my pussy,’ the young teen thought and it was true for Xera had a very puffy pussy. Her mound rose up in a proud camel toe of several inches of depth pinching in her always wet lips. The creature’s small cock would have difficulty even pushing past this outer valley before reaching a point of penetration. “Gosh! I-I-I don’t know if I can take you inside of me?! I mean you are so… BIG! I have never had one so big before. You will have to go easy on me and take it slow. I mean if you want to… you know… do it?” she batted her big eyelashes at the creature which was smiling a wide dazed grin at her full of pride and satisfaction.

‘It won’t fit in my ass either, my cheeks are too round and full it would barely be able to get the tip in, what do I do?’ The girl thought as it was obvious that the creature was getting hard again under her expert fingertip fondling and her nut sack massaging. ‘It isn’t going to want another blowjob. These wild creatures after cumming once instinctively need to seed a pussy to feel complete satisfaction. How am I going to do that?’ The girl smiled up at the creature and then made a big show of sucking the long string of ball snot dangling from her lip to the tiny cock head with a loud slurp that made the creature’s skull face smile even broader and grunt.

“You’ll have to lie back so I can get on top of you so I can control how deep you go as I am afraid you might tare me up inside being so big and all?” She put her finger tip to her sticky chin and looked with pretend wide eyed concern at the tiny penis in her hand. The creature grunted and rolled back until it was lying on its back and craning it’s almost neck-less head up over its huge barrel chest. It was the only position where she might be able to get the miniscule manhood into her and she still had to ponder and wonder and work at it to do so. She ended up sitting at an angle with her butt pressed as deeply into the creature’s soft underbelly as possible and her armpits on its knees and even then she could not slide up and down the small legs or the penis would simply pop out. She had to rock her lower body forward and backward in small short strokes. Cautiously moving her crotch and hips slowly while using the creature’s legs for leverage, and being very careful not to let the cock slip out with each careful gyration. It came almost at once amidst her loud screams of faked pleasure and claims to its stupendous size ripping her to shreds.

She spent several minutes grinding her crotch on the small deflated penis and its puddle of goo while panting and moaning in a great show of drained exhaustion while breathless hoarsely whispering about her spent desire at the creatures pussy taming huge member. She kept this up until she heard the loud snoring of the monster at which she nimbly and quickly slipped off its waist and dashed away back up the rock face to gather up her belongings doing her best to suppress her giggles.

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Xera looked back over her shoulder where the flicker of the smoky fire of the overhang rock camp seemed to be in sync to the loud low snoring of the slumbering giant creature. She could just make out the snowman she had made with branches and rocks and snow that now wore her orc armor standing at the top of the rock slope. Several wolves switched back and forth snuffing the ground and air and eyeing warily the orc armor figure and the sleeping creature between her and the forest edge of the camp site. Her scarecrow of orc armor and her sneaking away downwind had apparently fooled the wolves whom seemed oblivious of her as they licked their long chops and pranced this way and that at the glades edge. Xera gave the hulking shaggy shadows a last look and slipped away angling back to the path.

The wandering teen amazon princess now was only dressed in her butt high boots and her cloak and her belt with its naked blade and pouches and the light globe now hung from her belt as she had needed the orc shin guards to complete the scarecrow so she now had no metal to stick it to and her shimmering net coif still held her long wild hair back out of her eyes and freckled face. Upon reaching the path once again she turned on the globe light and noted that as long as she wore it on her hip her own body provided enough shaking so she did not have to keep stopping and shaking the gnome globe back up to its full brilliance. With the dwarven key/compass held before her and her teeth chattering against her naked body’s exposure despite the cloak to the nights cold embrace she made her way as rapidly as she could to the dwarven secret entrance to the lower tunnels.

She could hear the waterfall and then feel the additional bite of the dampness in the cold air that blew right through her cloak and made her bones and fingers ache before she could actually see the great waterfall at the end of the valley head. It fell into a great pool that then wound slowly into a rapid creek that in turn vanished underground a short distance from the pool. It would not reemerge again until it reached the surface a valley over flowing past the mills of Dart before spilling down to the main river and its aptly named River Road.

Several of the large boulders and rock facings around the waterfall were carved in reliefs and images and runes and it was into one of these images the dwarven key fit and unlocked the secret door. Xera entered the small hidden recess and used the key on an identical lock just inside the stone gateway to close it behind her in case any wolves caught her scent and trailed her. She did not like the idea of facing the large ferocious beasts in the narrow confines of the tunnels she now found herself slowly inching her way through.

Inside the entrance to the lower tunnels of the Stone Mountain dwarves realm was similar to entering the wilds or even slums that skirt any large city. Where the upper and deeper main halls would be well lit and wide with decorative avenues and detailed stone work these lower outer warrens where more built for foraging access or as a sally port in case the main gate should become besieged miles above on the mountain top. There were doubtlessly a few dozen such hidden ports scattered about the mountain side some more used and thus more fashioned in completion in face of that steady use, but this port lead to a doorway not used for over a century now to a road of trade long grown to ruin and only recently reused on the off occasion to trade with the recent arrivals of the women of the hill fort. Xera was not surprised then to find the passages directly beyond the inner chamber and its abandoned guard post a place of darkness and dusty ruin not unlike a bear cave or some wild hole in the ground and thus very un-dwarvian in most respects.

The initial chamber just inside the secret door was large and spacious with several archers’ stands and a stone guard house and the dust covered remains of a huge lift which ran up a well of pitch black darkness. The large cylinder lift of various metals had obviously been the chief means of converse between the main realm of the Stone Mountain Clan and this trade route and showed in its thick layers of dust that it had not been used in decades upon decades. In fact in several places in the entrance chamber piles of rocks and collapsed columns showed a lack of repair and upkeep again reinforcing the overall abandonment of the small hidden gate from the day to day goings and proceedings of the dwarian city somewhere far above and back deeper into the spine and heart of the mountain chain.

Xera found the few dust covered feeble wall scone burbling chemical lights too inefficient for her to see clearly compared with the snow and occasional moon and star light that had helped her gnome light through the overcast night to the door. Her movements inside the mountain were very cautious and unsure compared to her aggressive strides along the pathways to it. The gnome lamp on her hip simply was not getting enough shaking to keep its chemical bubbling light at a full enough brightness. Xera frowned at it and gave it a good shake in her hands and then removed her blade and cloak and cut the cloak up into strips. Inside the mountain the tunnels maintained a steady seventy degrees and she did not feel the cold that itched and etched the outer surface of the realm of rock. She took the strips and the gnome lamp and placed the gnome lamp between her massive breasts and used the strips to tie it into place there. Her breasts were always in motion even when standing her very breath keep them jiggling and vibrating and sure enough the simple motion of walking or turning side to side had the breast strapped lamp shimmering brightly.

Xera looked around her, she realized that the dwarves who came and went through this door to trade with the hill fort women had not bothered to use the lift which looked in a questionable working state and it did not take her long to find a small passage carved into the raw rock leading this way and that but steadily upwards and back into the mountain and she realized this must surely be the way the dwarves came and went.

A dwarf stands roughly three feet in height and about three feet in breadth. They are not fat though but a barrel of solid muscle and capable of incredible feats of strength and stamina. They are also surprisingly agile and fast especially in cramped places and Xera mused that the women of the hill fort must indeed be quiet impressive to be able to sate a dwarves sexual hunger.

It was thus with her mind full of the somewhat amusing and titillating distractions of picturing the hill fort women in the act of ‘trading’ that a smiling and giggling Xera nearly bumped into the first Stone Mountain Clan dwarf she had ever seen. The bushy fellow was wearing a golden lamp fashioned to his head and wearing a pair of rose tinted round spectacles and a cloth shirt of swirled bright colors and a pair of baggy shorts and flip flop sandals?! Xera had seen a few dwarves in her travels but they were always in armor and carrying shields and spears or great hammers and axes she had never seen one so-so-so unadorned in metal? Most dwarves were incased in metal from head to foot so only their two eyes half hidden under thick eyebrows and peering out over thick beards could be spotted as such all dwarves looked alike to her but this one was decidedly unique.

The strangely attired dwarf nearly walked into her and probably would have if she had not spoken suddenly, “excuse me, but my name is Xera and I hope I am not being too rude but I rang and no one answered the bell.” She smiled coyly at her little joke and battered her eyes as she raised up the dwarven key and hoped her honesty in showing her only means in escaping the underground realm would not be a huge mistake for surly the dwarf would reclaim the key in an instant. “The women in the hill fort sent me with this key to explain to you that they will be leaving the valley and heading downriver to the great cities and never returning. So there won’t be any more, er, trading, I am afraid.”

“Oh man, bummer. No more ‘shrooms man or puss, man.” The dwarf accepted the key and looked at it slightly confused.

Xera looked down at her naked body and frowned confused herself, ‘man?! I am so obviously a girl!’ She thought to herself but then forced a smile back at the befuddled dwarf. “Ah, since I am here. I thought I might offer a bit of trading myself,” the young teen straightened up and slinked her hips and shoulders back and forth while smiling her ‘I don’t have any money but I need it really, really bad smile.’

The dwarf seemed to really appreciate the girl’s charms as his eyes glinting behind his rosy tinted round glasses suggested as did his tongue licking his lips and the sudden impressive large bulge in his shorts hinted at. “I am King Jerry, man. Leader of the Stoned Mountain Clan and I am very pleased, man. Like to meet your acquaintance and all that jazz berries and such, man.”

Xera again paused and looked down at her body frowning, ‘man?! What the hell is this dwarf talking about?’ She reached out and waved a hand in front of his placid face and then looked back down at her body, ‘maybe it is the gnome light glinting off his strange glasses?’

“And while it would indeed be groovy and cool, man. To trade and all that jazz berries but I am afraid that no one is allowed in Jerries’ realm, man. Unless they are initiated into the Clan, man. I am hip to your reason and purpose to come here and tell us the bummer news about the fine ladies and such. But I cannot let you roam about freely unless you are first one of us, man. You dig?” The dwarf slipped the dwarvian key into his already taught shorts pocket.

“Ah, yeah I guess I could dig a bit for a while I suppose, but I mean wouldn’t you rather trade with my, ah, other wares? I mean Lilly spent hours showing me her special dwarvain tongue techniques and all. I have the whole ‘goat and rope position’ utterly mastered if I do say so myself.”

“Copasetic, man! But yeah, like the whole initiation thing first, sweet baby, gotta follow the rules no matter how bummer they are,” the dwarf motioned her to follow him and he sauntered his way back along the tunnel.

“Baby?!” Xera looked all around her and then listened intently but could hear no infant or see any signs of anyone else before shrugging and following the dwarf king.

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King Jerry lead the girl to a room full of cracks in the floor and walls from which vented odd gasses from deep within the bowels of the mountain. The dwarf made her kneel down and breathe in deeply the fumes which made her feel very funny and light headed. Then he sat with his legs folded and made her sit in his lap. His enormous erection slid up easily inside of her and the girl squealed and began to pump but he grabbed her and held her stock still and the frustrated girl suddenly made a surprised face as the large cock snuggled up inside her pussy started to vibrate and spin?!

He held her still like that for hours and hours as his penis twitched and pulsed and vibrated and spun like a wagging finger inside her until she thought she could climax no more and then she discovered ‘multiple orgasms’ a series of seemingly unending chains of building climaxing sexual explosions that left her dazed and drooling and spent like a punctured wine skin and still the cock twitched and jerked and spasmed inside her as her body seemed to dissipate into the fumes that swirled around her until finally when she thought she would never be a solid flesh and bone being again Jerry’s cock spurted and seemed to fill her from top to bottom making her whole again.

“Wow, man, that was intense,” xera smiled dazed with Jerry’s glasses on the tip of her nose back at the nearly slumbering naked dwarf who lay behind her in the chamber of sweet smelling smoke.

“Yeah, babe consider yourself like initiated and one of the stoned mountain clan. So now what can King Jerry do for you, man?” The dwarf put his hands behind his head and smiled up at the staggering naked girl whose thighs were still slick with his cum.

“Well, I am a bit parched and a little hungry,” the girl hummed under half lidded eyes.

“Cool, not a problem help yourself to some brownies there and some dandelion wine child,” King Jerry waved a hand and the girl noticed some dwarvain attendants also in tie-die smocks and sandals setting trays and jugs down on the boulders surrounding the room as well as some brightly colored clothing. “Anything else little hippy chick?”

“No, the brownies and wine are fine, I don’t really need any poultry,” the girl stuffed the delicious food and wine into her mouth. Everything tasted so wonderful and new. “But if it is alright for me to trade now I am interested in a sword?”

“Bah, we don’t really deal in weapons anymore,” Jerry stretched and yawned. “Mostly nails and hammers and saws and you know the whole construction biz stuff not the destructive biz stuff, man.”

“Er, well this is a special sword. The Daemon Sword, your people removed it from a body in a cave guarded by a frost sprite. I need it to slay the daemon that is plaguing Cantabay Woods.” Xera spoke through a mouth full of brownie and wine.

“Hmmm, oh yeah, baby. I recollect. But ah I anit got it anymore, you dig? Those Stone Heads took it when they like ambscrayed. Vamoosed, they took most of the horde of weapons we had with them and set themselves up in their own little realm inside Stone Mountain.”

“Rock heads?” Xera quarried through a mouthful of brownies she did not like where this line of conversation was going.

“Well, yeah and no. I mean we call them the ‘Rock Heads’ but they call themselves like the Rock Fists or something like that? Anyway there was a parting of ways and they left or that is sort of left. The Stone Mountains is a big chain and they just sort of took up a separated residence in half of one of the mountains.”

“Oh… but can I meet with them? I mean I really need to get that sword.”

“Well… the twin gates are the only unblocked connection between our lands. I suppose I could be inclined to ‘trade’ you a passage through our locked gate into the short corridor but I cannot guarantee that the Rock Heads will open their gate for you at the corridors end?”

“Trade?!” The girl suddenly grinned with teeth black with brownies and eyed the large penis of the reclining King which was slowly rising up like an ivory obelisk before her wide bemused eyes.

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“So tell me,” the teen girl looked down at the pipe smoking King Jerry as the ponderous large stone gate was being worked slowly open before them. “Why did these Rock Heads decide to split off and form their own faction?”

“Well, there was a lot of friction there for a while. I mean you had the whole war violence vibe of making weapons and such and the whole peace and love vibe of not making weapons anymore, but really in the end it came down to meat.”

“Meat?!” The young girl looked back from the creaking enormous gate sharply down at the smoke wreathed king.

“Yeah, silly right? But you see we of the Stoned Mountain Clan don’t eat meat of any kind. And well that was the last straw for the Rock Heads, they wanted their venison and rabbit and squirrel and goat. So now they live over there and we live over here and we don’t talk much anymore. Those Rock Heads have become increasingly belligerent and bellicose. There are rumors they want to make war with the surface races. Try and keep that in mind. Sure you still want to go try and talk to them, man?”

The girl nodded, “I have to get that sword it is the only thing that can kill the monster of Cantabay Woods, and besides…” the girl leaned over next to King Jerry’s ear and whispered, “I think you would know by now I am not a man.”

The king merely smiled with his pipe clenched between his teeth and watched the young girl walk boldly through the immense stone gates. He watched her go down the unlit dark hallway until she disappeared into the gloom and then he waved his hand and the dwarves began the laborious process of closing fast the gates.

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The Great Passage once divided two dwarvain clans; The Stone Mountain Clan and the smaller Black Mountain Clan who kept a small colony at the edge of the Stone Mountain Clan’s realm. Orcs and goblins had overrun the Black Mountain colony and the Black Mountain ceded the tunnels and works there to the Stone Mountain Clan who cleansed the area of the foul beasts. A small Stone Mountain garrison was kept there until the fracture of the Stone Mountain Clan and now the off shoot housed themselves there bristling with aggression and furry and meat digging new tunnels and building new forges and furnaces and hammer blows filled the echoing halls that had everyone a bit wary with unease.

The girl stopped before the gate at the end of the corridor. While the Stoned Mountain Clan kept their half of the narrow tall passage way dark and unlit the Rock whatever’s had several bright burning braziers set in a zigzag almost like burning obstructions that one had to weave and in some places squeeze through on their half of the hallway. Their gate was also of stone but half in size and carved with the Black Mountain’s Clan runes and images that were of a darker more menacing nature. The Black Mountain was known for its obsidian mines and active volcanic activity and large pieces of quarried obsidian had been hauled the great distance to be used in the gates ominous construction. The edges of the gate were ringed with blisters of archer towers and its surface was lit with flaming oil lamps several times her own size; as she watched from the root of the gate she could see several dwarves in full armor and arms bustling about behind the multitude of niches and arrow slits no doubt in agitation of her long observed approach. As such she waited patiently until a hoarse voice called out to her from a large trumpet shaped metal tube that ran down one side of the great gate.

“What business does a flower child of the Stone Clan have with the Rock Hard’s?! Quick now speak up or I will put a bolt right through you!”

Xera had been waiting to speak and had even opened her mouth to do just that after the initial query and so the sudden interrupting threat of her not speaking rewarding her with a bolt caused her to wrinkle up her small nose upon which she still wore king Jerry’s rose tinted round glasses which allowed one to see quiet well in the dark and so she had left her cumbersome gnome light behind. She ignored the rudeness of the speaker and spoke in turn in her brightest cheeriest voice, “I am Xera the wondering amazon princess and I-“

“I don’t care what your name is hippie slut! I asked you your business!”

Xera could almost feel the spittle of wraith upon her face from the slightly shaking trumpet bell and cleared her throat against her own rising anger, “I am seeking the Daemon Sword to use it to slay the monster haunting the Cantabay Woods. I have tacked it here and seek to trade for it.”

“Trade? What could you possibly have that would be of any interest let alone value to the Rock Hard Clan rightful rulers of the Stone Mountains and beyond?!”

Xera raised her eyebrow and then without a word removed her belt and knife and the tie dye smock she had been given by the King Jerry and let it fall around her butt high boot ankles and then looked up with a proud haughty chin and smirked. She stood there naked for a few minutes while she could hear the indistinct murmuring through the trumpet bell in front of her and then some hushed arguing and then the unmistakable sound of the gate being opened. Xera smiled and picked back up her belt with its pouches and its bare knife and refastened those about her slim waist and readjusted her glasses but left the colorful smock on the ground where it lay and strode powerfully and with much hip shake and bust jiggle through the open gate.

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The king of the Rock Hards was in fact a council of thirteen battle armor wearing dwarves each calling themselves a King, and the inevitable orgy that followed was a bit exhausting even with Xera’s newly learned dwarvain ‘horny goat’ techniques from Lilly. As is she had been concerned of the dwarves refusal to take off their armor instead they pried open their metal cod pieces so that she found her buttocks and breasts being savagely hammered by spankings of sharp cold metal as each of the thirteen kings rammed his sizable pecker into her orifices for the better part of six days straight. Dwarves are legendary for their stamina and these dwarves where all hopped up on ‘Blood Mead’ a heady bitter brew that dwarves consumed in mass quantities when they were on a war footing. Which apparently the Rock Hards were convinced they were though she could not fathom who they were engaged in a war with?

In fact the poor girl could not really fathom much about the Rock Hards as they responded to her every question by turning her over their knee and spanking her naked ass until it was red as a beet. Considered their hands were encased in dwarvain metal gauntlets this did not take too long, but she had never met such a group of men so obsessed with a spanking fetish. They spanked her for any and all of their many infractions and for any perceived slight of manners or failure to correspond with a myriad of confusing posturing or procedural queerness that always resulted in a sudden and helpless spanking on her part followed by a lengthy fucking that had her in a state of almost constant frowning over her shoulder and warily wincing when offered a chair to sit her crimson buttocks upon.

For the better part of a month she received spanking after spanking and more ass reaming dwarvian cock than she cared to remember until finally when the whole idea of locating and trading for the Daemon Sword seemed hopeless the teen found herself in her usual position draped over the lap of a Rock Hard dwarf of the king council who was leisurely lighting his pipe before proceeding to spank her perfectly round ripe ass for some pretext of a reason she had already forgotten when she once again for the millionth time broached the subject. “You know for every hour I delay in recovering the sword dozens of hapless innocent people are subjected to the monsters wraith.” This sort of talk usually resulted in a stern rebuke and ass spanking which she figured would just be a few more swats upon her jiggling firm butt cheeks anyway. But much to her surprise the dwarf simply tugged on his pipe as if in deep thought and began to absently slip a metal gloved finger into her tight pussy and ass holes.

“Who knows how many children and wives and husbands and sons and daughters have gone into that foul creatures belly?” The young girl grunted as the fingers teased her slit and prodded her anus and her eye lids fluttered, ‘these dwarves certainly know their business,’ the girl breathlessly thought to herself as she tried to continue. “Entire towns have been swallowed up- oh my- and most of the woods are a ruin.”

The dwarf slipped the mouth piece of its pipe briar into the young girls pussy, “finish my pipe for me.” He watched enthralled as the girl obediently caused her pussy’s extraordinary muscles to suck on the pipe stem and pucker and blow out perfect smoke rings. “Amazing.” The dwarf shook his head and gave a gruff laugh and then slipped the pipe back into his own slobbering mouth smiling.

The dwarf then got up dumping the girl gently to the floor and unlocked a door and then came back over and sat down at a table where he poured himself a large tankard of Blood Mead and tapping out the bowl of the pipe on his metal war boots heel he nodded at the open doorway. “That passage leads down a set of narrow stairs to an underground river. Follow the river for about a mile to where it falls. Along the falls is a set of carved niches you can use to climb down. It is treacherous and dangerous. Half way down the falls is a cave hidden behind the veil of water. If you can make that leap you will find yourself in a natural passage. It is raw and dank and dark and never used by dwarf. Follow it back under the river bed and it will lead you to several rifts in the outer skin of the mountain. You should be able to find one you can squirm through. That sword of yours is no longer here. A thief took it some months back. All I know is he dropped this.” The dwarf fished around his metal mailed pouch and tossed the girl a necklace. “Now go girl. King Jerry has sent several messengers asking about you and demanding your release and the council of kings have decided this is an honorable pretext for war. You are to be little more than a hostage soon and an excuse for needless bloodshed. I have three bothers back in the Stone Clan and I have no desire to put an axe in any of them. Go girl. I am certain that is the path of escape the thief took.”

Xera took the necklace and turned from the open door to stoop and kiss the king’s forehead, “thank you king of the Rock Hards I shall not forget your kindness.” And then she was gone out the door wearing only her butt high boots and her mailed coif and a necklace of a thief newly fastened around her neck.

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Xera stood outside the small inn of the Bloody Boar in the hovel of a town called Bright Water. The escape from the Rock Hard realm had not been without its difficulties. While the Rock Hards only numbered a few dozen and thus could not properly man or guard or patrol every pathway of their usurped realm so she had seen none of them after leaving the king who had given her the necklace; this very lack of men meant that many of the passage ways had already become lairs for goblins and orcs and giant spiders and other beasts and monsters and without a weapon or armor she had been forced to slink past them, but thankfully, new to their fresh found homes and the defending thereof they had been too busy to note her stealthy passage as she had crept by.

The journey down the mountain path had been wearisome and hard on her exposed body and empty stomach and now dirty filthy cold and tired she wanted nothing more than a room and bath and food and lots and lots of ale for the night.

Xera pushed open the door to the small house/inn and entered. She took only a step or two before she noticed the floor of the inn covered in hacked to pieces dead bodies?! The furniture the crockery the very chairs all seemed to be perfectly undisturbed and set in place but the floor was littered with freshly carved up ruins of human bodies. The girl blinked, “just like the hill fort. Horribly mutilated bodies but no sign of any struggle or damage. Orcs would have moved in and goblins would have smashed everything to pieces and thieves would have turned everything inside out and then burned the place to the ground. What is doing this?”

Xera cautiously entered the room and moved around the bodies looking for a clue. Some of the bodies were torn to pieces and others were methodically chopped up like celery or onions for a stew pot. And still a very few others were untouched at all; still dead with faces twisted in horrible fright but not a mark on their body. There was no blood spore of a foot print, no hack mark in a piece of wood, no evidence whatsoever betraying the identity of the attacker(s). Despite the grisly appearance of the bodies scattered here and there the image that unnerved Xera was that one each body not a single weapon had been drawn. They had been butchered in such a way that none of them had drawn a weapon to protect themselves. The young teen shuddered at that and despite the plunder lying around she pulled a slim elven blade from a bloody pile/puddle and quickly left the Bloody Boar.

She made her way through the small cluster of houses. Entering each one in turn; in most she found the simple dwellings empty as if the occupants had merely stepped out to run a quick errand. Others showed a hint of haste; a knocked over crude chair at a pushed aside table, a front or back door left slightly ajar, unmade beds with the blanket or quilt lying upon the floor. But only two had mutilated bodies in them as the tavern/pub had. Here again the bodies seemed chewed up and spat out or gashed in many places or even crushed down into a puddle pulp. But nowhere did there seem any great struggle or signs of extreme agitation.

Having checked all the houses inside and out of the little village and finding herself alone save for the dead bodies she re-entered one of the houses that sold dry goods downstairs and made her way to the back of the abode where a large copper tub had been filled for a bath but never used. She removed her boots and hair coif and climbed into the tepid water armed with a scrub brush and a fist full of lye powder and set to work on her stubborn muddy skin and hair.

Stone Mountain was a chain of mountains that radiated out from a large central mass of which whose barren rock was given the name, Stone Mountain. The other mountains were more like fingers or ridges that crocked out into the foot hills or plains of that great mass rather than individual mountains themselves yet each spoke was given its own name. Between these spires or spokes or fingers of raised rock nestled in the twists and turns dozens of valleys and these each had names as well. Some of the valleys were high up and some were very low and the valleys that were high up were already deep in winter while those lower down in their elevation still clung to the late summer of the rolling plains. So it was that the valley with the hill fort and the waterfall were much higher up and deep in snow and ice and the lower valley that contained the town of Dart was in the ice rain mix of fall and winter while here on the other side of the Stone Mountain in the valley containing the town of Bright Water the trees were still leafed out and bushes and shrubs were covered in hoar frost but there was no sign of snow or ice yet. The great winds that blew up off the ocean on this side of the Stone Mountain would keep the temperatures warm all through the winter, though it could dump sudden snow storms measured in feet without warning, it would still never get bitter cold nor stay cold long once the sun rose each and every day. Here the pines always whistled and the winter months were usually a series of seemingly endless cold pale gray rains.

There were many of these Stone Mountain valleys where there were no signs of habitation by men; no dwellings or houses or structures. It seemed at first utterly random which valley would have a small town and which valley would have a large settlement and which valley would have nothing but wilderness and creatures, but in reality there was a simple logic of necessity and reality at work here. In any valley where there was surface water of clean and sufficient supply there would be dwellings. The more reliable and abundant the water supply the larger the gathering of houses and the more houses the more shops and such. Bright water had a small steady stream running down and into a small lake before it fell away to the ocean miles beyond.

On the other side of the lake were more houses and in fact there were more houses around that back side of the lake then there were in Bright Water which was built around the stream and head water of the small lake but those houses had been built much latter and as of yet that place had no name upon any map. Xera, fresh from her bath stood upon the back landing of the small house and looked out over the lake at those houses as she munched on a cold capon leg and hard crusty bread that had been left beside the dying fire where water had been heated up for the bath several hours before her arrival.

There was smoke coming out of the chimney of one of the houses and livestock seemed to be moving about in small cramped pens but she could see no people anywhere. The lake was not large by any means but it was long and twisted and it would take an hour or two to walk around it to reach those houses.

And the young teen wondered if she should set out to do that now or perhaps do something else altogether in fact as she suddenly stretched and yawned the midday sun drying her still damp hair she thought maybe a nap in one of the abandoned beds was the best possible idea all together.

The truth was her recent ordeals had left Xera a little muddled as to what she should do now. She had set out to find the Daemon’s Sword, the only sword capable of slaying the Daemon that haunted the Cantabay Woods. Now by her rough estimate she was on the wrong side of the Stone Mountain to reach the right pass to the Cantabay Woods and without a proper pass or dwarvian tunnel it was almost impossible to climb the sheer walls of rocks that made up the fingers or ridges of the Stone Mountain chain. One village could literally be but a few miles as the crow flies from one another but separated by such an expanse of a wall of rock that it took a two day journey to walk around the jutting mass to where a pass could be found and traversed and then back up the neighboring valley to the other town.

As such Xera now found herself with an entire Mountain between herself and the pass that would have let her reach the debauch of the Cantabay Woods. The Cantabay Woods was an enormous old forest that spilled out at the base of Stone Mountain chain and was home to several large cities and dozens of smaller towns that due to its separation by the Stone Mountain chain one side and the Great Endless Desert on the other and the almost impassable unassailable cliffs of the Rim of the Ocean on the other, lay almost severed of all outside contact, including the endless civil war and all its shifting factions. It had though for the better part of a century been plagued by a rampaging daemon that randomly raided its settlements and trade routes. The bounty for the creatures destruction had steadily rose until now it was little short of a king’s ransom.

The creature could only be slain by using the Daemon Sword. A sword that she had spent the better part of several months now trying to track down only to find herself haphazardly in a town full of dead bodies and in possession of a necklace that looked speciously familiar. Xera re-entered the small dry goods sundry store stark naked except for her necklace which she wore currently wrapped around her left wrist, the naked elven blade clutched in her right fist, and a chicken bone leg. She tossed the chicken bone leg over her shoulder and began to rummage through the store’s goods looking for suitable supplies. Soon she found rough leather vest with wool lining and a rough leather pleated skirt which she promptly put on. She traded her dwarvian cum stained butt high boots (nothing gets dwarvian cum stains out of leather, nothing.) for a pair of rough leather knee high boots and she found a nice belt with pouches she crammed with dried meat and biscuits and as many wined skins full of wine as she could muster. A leather back pack she filled with more food and wares and slipped over her shoulders and belted it under her full breasts which made up for the fact that the leather vest had been too small to fasten over her fleshy mounds. She slipped the naked slim elven blade into an iron loop on her belt and thought about making a stop back in at the tavern for the proper sheath and maybe a few more weapons as the dry goods store carried only iron shovel heads and hoes and plow heads and sheep sheers but no arms or armor. She left the mailed coif as it had begun to smell a bit fishy and refitted her King Jerry night vision round lensed rose tinted glasses back on her small nose.

The young teen then gave a once over look around her and slipped out the front door and thus broke rule number one of adventuring: NEVER LEAVE BY THE FRONT DOOR.

Outside in the dirt street sat several heavily armed soldiers upon large barbed horses who instantly turned their attention to her as she came suddenly to a halt. In a second three more soldiers exited the Bloody Boar down the street and regained their own horses and road up to the small group leisurely eyeing her as her tired brain refused to respond to the situation at hand.

These where not garrison patrolmen on their little mountain ponies these were hardened scarred soldiers seasoned and jaded by many years of relentless battles on large war horses and they stared about them tired but unblinking looking lazy but with lean reflexes at the constant ready.

“I don’t suppose you did that,” one of the men spoke firmly but quietly not even bothering to look in her direction as he nodded over at the Bloody Boar. “No, of course not. This is the third village like this. One would expect this in Cantabay but not here. You wouldn’t know anything about this. You’re just a thief taking advantage of a situation you stumbled upon. Well we string up thieves. Part of the job.” The men were loading up supplies onto their horses from the tavern and the homes and some pushed past her into the dry goods store with empty sacks to fill.

“Perhaps we can work out a trade? I could pay a fine to you and your men... say several times over. There’s a large bed upstairs here, it and I could hold four easily or eight doubled up.” Xera stopped cold the man was looking at her with snake like eyes. These men had no interest in her or sex today. One of them was methodically unlooping a long rope from his saddle bags. She decided to run.

Now Xera was a lithe long legged girl with a very athletic build and could be expected to out run a man or two and given the nearness of trees and houses and such the advantage of horses would be nullified provided she could scramble fast enough to reach broken ground, but that would be ignoring those huge chest melons of hers, each of her breasts were twice the size of her head and despite their almost gravity defying jutting proud pointy firmness they instantly became flailing massive bouncing fists threating her head or balance as soon as she set about in any motion faster than a strut. In just a few pouncing strides she was wincing from the chin and cheek smacks of her chest meat slamming hard into her face and the massive jumping chest orbs were throwing her balance all akimbo as she spun on toe and heel to race down an opening between two houses so that she almost fell and skittered on her newly put on boot heels. Still she managed to leap a fence and slip between two large wooden barrels as she ran blindly on. A muffled grunt behind her showed that someone had not made the fence jump as cleanly and a loud hollow bang hinted that another pursuer had found the squeeze between the two large barrels tighter than expected.

Xera raced on sprinting for the three and boulder lined lake shore leaving her sword in its iron ring so that she could clasp both her hands over the top of her two leaping breasts less they burst entirely out of their leather vest confines and really start playing havoc with her balance.

She made the last open space between a house and the rocky tree lined slope down into the small lake with a leap as horse hooves clattered behind her and reigns yanked hard to bursting neighs. Xera fell through open space and landed with a tumble across sharp rocks and then soft mush foliage. She lay panting her massive chest heaving on her back for several seconds thanking her luck when with increasing horror she realized the vegetation she was lying upon was wiggling underneath her?! AN INSEMINIOD PLANT! She struggled valiantly but she had landed directly in the center of the large plant and it was already well along its way to tangling up her arms and legs as it began to send pheromone sniffing probes along her body. One disappeared up her pleated skirt and in an instant a thick phallus began to snake its way between her stretched thighs. The struggling teen heard a low laugh and a voice above her speak, “I never thought I would be envious of a salad.” And with that she could just make out above her own hissing teeth gritting struggles the sound of the men mounting up and horses slowly drifting off into the distance.

Xera struggled and then endured the plant rape, the depositing of the seed, the quick gestation, the agonies of birth, and the return of the phallus to do it all over again. It was on the sixth impregnation that the plant simply exhausted its self and after giving birth one last time she managed to free her mucus coated slippery bonds and crawl away from the plant and her alien spawn. Gaining her wobbly legs she noted that the lake shore was dotted with such plants and she eyed the water suspiciously as she rapidly but cautiously picked her way from the small lake and made a passage back up to the rocky tree lined shore bank.

‘I am lucky it was an old plant. Had it been a younger plant well within its prime it may have raped me non-stop for days or until I died and became so much fertilizer for it.’ Xera gave a look over her shoulder and fingered the pommel of her sword and eyed the young spawn that was still wiggling around the large brown tinted inseminiod plant that had held her captive and raped her. ‘It nailed me good and I must admit I had it coming not looking before l leapt, but at least I did not die this day dangling at the end of a rope, and I was much in need of those orgasms its stout hammering member provided me for they did much to clear up my head and revive me.’ Xera realizing she was safe returned back down to where the plant creature lay and pulling out her sword quickly dispatched two of the young pods she had given birth to and cut out their white pulpy hearts. An insemiod heart sack produced a milky pug that could cure almost any wound and she quickly harvested he organ and placed it in one of her pouches. She would return to the dry goods store and find a crockery pot to seal it up in for her journey. Such a powerful healing suave would come in handy in the many trials ahead. She looked around the lake shore as she made her way back to the house with the downstairs store and pondered why the people who lived here had kept the plants alive instead of burning them out as most towns did? She had heard of isolated villages where young women were offered up to such plants in order to collect and harvest the offspring as she had just done for profitable sale to traders. The idea that this might be one of those rumored at whispered at places made her shudder and she promptly turned away from the litter of bleached bones that surrounded the yellow green Lilly pad like spots of the inseminiod plants.

The dry goods store was trashed. Not as bad as bandits or thieves or goblins or orcs would have done but the solders had ransacked the place and been in a hurry leaving much of the stores offerings upon the roughhewn planks of its floor and its shelves bare. Still she found what she needed to store the inseminiod pulp heart and then left to find new clothing as her vest and skirt had been torn to shreds by the inseminiod plant in its rutting lusts.

She had managed to recover her backpack and belt and sword and she still wore her boots and the necklace wrapped around her wrist and the round glasses of King Jerry but otherwise she was once again naked of all other attire from the plant rape. She exited the building only to find that the tavern was up in flames as was the rest of the houses and even as she watched the flames spread to the store she had just exited. Coughing and squinting against the fire she sprinted out from the roaring inferno that was now Bright Water and into the forest dusk.

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Darkness fell fast as did the temperatures and the young girl found herself shivering as she made her way down the dirt path of a road that wound further and further down the valley. Her glasses were better than any torch and she could readily pick out the horse hooves of the soldiers who had burned the town rather than burry the bodies and was much relieved when they split off from the path onto a wheel rutted path that looked like it looped back up around the lake shore toward those distant houses she had seen earlier that day. She had her fill of that lake and its residents and continued on the main path and was thankful to have the soldier’s busy dealing with something other than her for a change.

A good long rape always revived her and there was nothing like some good hard orgasm to clear a young girls head, well after the initial dizziness passed of course, but now she was again very tired and she looked for some kind of shelter where she could bed down for the night preferably far enough away from the road and its soldiers as possible.

The valleys of the Stone Mountain had been home to many races over many many times and most of the small towns were built up upon ruins of long lost civilizations as a good spot of water and shelter and farmable land and other resources often did not change much through the passage of centuries as such it was not uncommon to find wooden houses built half out of old stone ruins or stone ruins farmed for materials to build new stone houses. The ancient civilizations tended to be much more lavish in their designs and structures employing armies of slaves for their construction versus small groups or clans building their individual houses now. So Xerra was not unduly surprised when the valley widened out notably into the foothills of the plains leading away from the Rim of the Ocean and its perilous wall of cliffs to find an overgrown ruin nestled beside the winding path road.

The seemingly endless wall of the cliffs that hovered over the boundless ocean were riddled with a few cities built into its massive wall of sheer rock that hung miles over the ever raging ocean. Few ships dared those gnashing maw breaker shoreless expanse and the monsters of the deep were an endless scourge for the few cities that clung to the Rim of the Ocean or lived sunk deep into its oceanic caves.

‘If the thief who took the sword indeed came out of the Stone Mountain into this valley he she or it would have passed down this road. Did they stop in Bright Water? Alas there was no one there to ask. Did he follow the path the soldiers took and visited those other houses lining the far side of the lake? Did he venture to the great sheer drop of the Rim of the Ocean and its cliffs to one of its reclusive cities? Or did he keep following this road down into the plains where it would snake back around and join the Great River road and wind back along past the valleys containing Dart and the hill fort?’ She could only shake her head and eye the overgrown remains of the dilapidated stone structures lying half collapsed along the dirt roadside path and consider whether they would be dangerous or shelter for some sleep?

‘First I must sleep and then I must find this thief and recover the sword. Then my true journey will begin as I must find the Stone Mountain path to Cantabay woods and then find the daemon and slay it. Huh why is it always so hard to make a few coins?’ Xera shifted her glasses upon her small nose and peered into the shrubbery as she inched her way into the brush and boulder strewn ruins.

‘When it comes to ruins and shelter, UP is always better, just as when it comes to ruins and treasure, DOWN is always better,’ the young girl nodded to herself as she began to clamber over the rough coarse broken stone to reach the higher up stonework of the still standing ruins. She was busy wondering if she should bed down on a splintered top leaning column that was several dozens of feet off the grassy ground and would serve a good resting place against creepy crawlies of the night but would do nothing to shelter her naked body against the growing cold bite of the air or enter one of the many open door-less apertures of the still standing ruins and seek warmth but risk a lengthy encounter with any wild animal or monster that might be bedding down there; when she noted a glowing flickering fire light in the distance. It took her a moment to locate it in the hazy layout of her mind as being the area where the houses would have been rimming the lake shore and where the soldiers had turned off the main path in the direction thereof. ‘Evidently the houses had been full of dead bodies as well,’ she thought grimly and then wondered if the soldiers would now return to the main road and chance upon her ruins before choosing to camp for the night?

Tried was getting the better of her and she decided to jump across onto the sloping stone column. It was a bit of a climb to reach its splintered top but as she had guessed its rough shattered top perched almost sixty feet above the grassy stone strewn ground bellow was a good safe location for bedding down for the night. Even the rough stone had an almost made for niche cradle for her weary body and tired as she was the stone was welcome enough of a bed once she had removed her backpack and settled her breasts upon it and her head upon her breasts. Like all teenage girls she dreamt of clothes and food and jewelry and large pulsing cocks savaging her pussy and mouth and anus as her fists pumped even more impossibly large shafts until a rain of warm sticky cum covered her body as she giggled and sighed and orgasm’ed and bent eagerly over with blushing face to welcome the administering hand of a dwarvian spanking. Well, perhaps not ALL teens dream of that last bit but that maybe because they have not experienced the titillating effects of a dwarvain spanking, but early morning found the nubile young teen well rested if a bit stiff with a very wet pussy that demanded some satisfaction even in competition with her stomach. She gave her little nub a quick jilling off to a luscious gasping climax and then attacked her backpack provisions for a famished meal that left the leather sack empty.

A bit surprised she had finished off all her provisions and was still hungry and horny in almost equal measure the girl sat with a pout upon her face as she surveyed her surroundings in the better light of day and once again set about mustering up her thoughts as to the best possible actions to arrive at solutions to her current problems.

But all these parcels of thought gave way to another furious session of ‘flicking the bean’ as the young girl wrung orgasm after orgasm from her tight firm youthful body until utterly spent she fell back into another short nap so it was almost mid-morning when she stretched and woke with a smile on her face and a rumbly hungry tummy demanding food and wine of which she sadly had none.

She looked down from her perch and was not surprised to find the soldiers camped below her; their tents set up and their horses grazing amongst the stone ruins sprouts of grass. She eyed the camp carefully and realized the soldiers were fast asleep no doubt still exhausted from their burring of the houses clustered around the lake from the night before. They appeared to all be in their tent except for two sentries one posted on a cluster of rocks overlooking the ruins themselves and thus had his back to her and the latter sitting at the base of a tree surveying the road.

She smiled at her luck and quickly scampered down the column that rose almost directly over the campsite. She was almost giddy at this overwhelming opportunity to get some payback against the men who had planned to hang her and then left her to be raped for the better part of a day by an insemiod plant. First she set about the camp and its crackling fire loading up her backpack with as much food as possible. Then she found a good heavy cloak and an oversized shirt fresh from laundry cauldron and set up for drying. The shirt was thin and flimsy but richly made of silk and it was so large that when she put it on and her belt over it, it acted more like a very short sheer dress than a blousy shirt. She threw the cloak over the shirt/dress and the full back pack and then exchanged her poorly fitting crude boots for a fine pair of riding boots that rode up over her knees and fit well. She found a new sword and sheath but left the sword preferring the slim elven blade but housed it in the rich embroider sheath which had its own harness that she added to along with her belt. She still had found no britches and the blouse dress was helpless at containing her jiggling abundant chest orbs. But she felt she was pressing her luck by staying a second longer.

Xera quickly gathered up the horses and tied their reigns together and saddled one and plucked a spear and a bow and a quiver bristling with arrows which she added to the saddled horses tack. Then she lead the horses through the camp winding through the tents of sleeping men and through the forest until she was sure she was beyond the sight of the sentry in the road by a large bend of trees. Here she lead the horses out into the dirt road path and mounted and rode the beast with his breather in tow down the road. She was more worried about her giggles that gave way to laughter being heard by the two sentries than the pounding of hooves as she cantered away all smiles and bright eyes.

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Xera paused where the long winding dirt road path had joined the coble stone Great River Road which ran alongside the Great River from which it got its name. Around her the horses she had just freed wandered and munched upon the green grass that rose up amongst the smutty piles of snow. She still sat astride her new horse whom she had taken to calling, ‘Windfall.’ And she was busy eating much of her ill-gotten gain of the soldiers left over early morning dinner as well as finishing off the last of the six wine skins she had taken as well.

“The question before us Windfall is; did the thief who stole the Damon Sword head that way toward the Rim of the Ocean or that way back along the openings to the valleys of Dart and the hill fort and eventually the pass into the lands of Cantabay Woods?” The munching horse paused to snort and went back to snuffing at the icy grass stalks.

“I would think that anyone stealing the sword would do so for its sole use. That being the destruction of the Cantabay Daemon. Either they stole it to use it themselves or to sell it to one who wishes to use it to slay the creature. In either case it makes the most sense for us to hurry to the Cantabay pass and see if we can overtake this thief before they steal our bounty from us.”

It was a three day hard ride to reach the river docks and garrison post that lay at the foot of the town of Dart valley. By this time Xera was sick and tired of filling her belly with cold ice water and eating nothing but nuts and berries and she was beginning to be saddle sore for Windfall had thrown a shoe and had developed a lopsided gait.

When the young teen reached the outpost guards lining the road she did not hesitate at the sight of them but simply dropped off her horse and strode up to their little guard shack. “I have lost my papers and no I don’t know anyone in these here parts and yes that is an army horse I am riding as is this cloak. I found both horse and cloak wandering along the river a day or two back.” She grabbed both guards by the wrist and lead them back into the guard shack, “now I have heard that you boys here have lost your whore house and no doubt you are almost as horny as I am. So let’s make a trade we will both benefit from.” The young girl spun around and dropped her cloak and her shirt dress and belt and sword and harness and then herself down to her knees where without hesitation she began to slip the cocks out of the cod pieces of both smiling men. “First I am famished and I want you boys to fill my empty belly with hot delicious cum and then I want you to butter my muffin by fucking the shit out of my pussy and ass and mouth until I can hardly walk. Afterwards we will talk about some new papers for me and some coin in my returning this lost army horse and cape. Now who’s first or do you two want to fuck my mouth together?” ‘Your both small enough to fit in there at once,’ the girl grudgingly thought to herself with a bored inner sigh.

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It had taken Xera three weeks to completely satisfy the thirty man garrison’s sexual needs at the river docks outpost and another four days of riding on her new barrowed horse, Sugar, to reach the valley with the hill fort. She visited the hill fort again and pondered over the fate of the missing men and decided not to spend the night in face of the decomposing bodies of those men still there and the unsettling aspect of finding some of the dead men to now be missing?! Instead she skirted the hill fort valley and proceeded as rapidly as the new deep snow would allow pressing on to the Cantabay Woods pass, this was a high pass directly past the valley that the hill fort once guarded. It was seldom used during winter despite it being the only pass leading to the lands of Cantabay as the winter snows made it too dangerous for travel or trade.

Still she had no choice as there was no other route to these lands as the Endless Desert was almost utterly devoid of water except for the rare oasis city of Shandar which was not far enough into the desert to make any further progress across it sane or reasonable.

No it would have to be the pass now in high winter or a four month wait for it to clear its self for the short trade season that fell between the lands of Cantabay and the Civilized Lands which were rift with civil war right now and anything but civilized.

In fact Xera did not know which was worse to live in lands plagued with a wandering daemon or to live in lands plagued by endless war? But she reasoned she would soon find out.

She lost Sugar to a pack of wolves a day before reaching the pass and used up the last of her quiver of arrows and tossed the bow on more wolves a day after entering the pass. It took three days altogether to make her way through the narrow defile and she only survived because of an abandoned outlook post that was manned only during the summer months where she found shelter from a sudden storm and another wolf attack. Holed up in the makeshift stone fort she managed to kill enough wolves for the rest of the pack to feast upon their brothers as she slipped away belly gnawing with hunger and stumble back down into the Cantabay side of the Stone Mountains.

Here in keeping with its name she found a rich lush forest stretching as far as the eye could see and only a single winding stone road leading through it. The dark deep woods of Cantabay had only a few towns and a couple of large cities set in its almost primordial unexplored woods. Large creatures ruled the woods and the towns and cities were heavily walled against them. Still these walls did little good against a daemon who struck randomly sometimes killing a few sometimes killing many.

Having reached these almost mythical lands the young girl rested and hunted and fed before venturing further into their murky depth. Though she had lost her map long ago she had studied it long and hard and knew that the lone stone paved road ran straight through the heart of each and every town and city. There were no other roads and each high walled habitation had two large gates that the road ran through before passing on to the next town or city. All she had to do was follow the one road and it would lead her sooner or later to the first settlement one of the smaller towns called, Derth.

Derth was the most known town as it was the closest to the pass and the most welcome town as it was the center of all trade coming in and out of the lands. Traders would trade here and then depart as the passage to and from this point was dangerous enough and to risk further travel into the dark woods was foolhardy indeed. As such Derth was a welcome open-faced community that made a brisk business with foreigners whose wares they traded to the further in towns and cities of Cantabay. One would have thought that this in turn would have made Derth a large city but it lacked any form of industry and subsided almost entirely on wild game for its food source limiting its size severely.

Xera was three days from Derth when she exited the pass into the wild wood thanks to the winding road but she met a small band of men and wagons and oxen that were part of the road maintenance and repair crew. The upkeep of the stone road was a constant task and the only task that all the cities collectively pooled resources to accomplish. Otherwise the entire realm of Cantabay lived as independent city-states that placed their own independent needs far above any sense of overall community or national pride. In fact they spent most of their resources squabbling amongst each other and engaging in petty bickering and almost raid like mentalities not unlike the Civilized Lands enmeshed in their civil wars. It was this constant arguing that apparently rendered them unable to do more than patch a road here and there and made it impossible for them to deal with a wandering daemon that threatened them all.

The road crew was very helpful and very horny and after Xera had pounded their not too disappointing cocks as mercilessly as only a horny teen can do and left them exhausted and unconscious and gasping and half naked at the side of the road. She helped herself to some much needed supplies and the funny looking wooden coins of the Cantabay Empire and sauntered on down the winding road to Derth.

“At least no one has showed up and slain the daemon as of yet,” Xera spoke aloud as she eyed the strange trees that seemed to wall in the stone road. The road was wide compared to most roads she was used to, it could have easily allowed twenty men on horseback to ride breast to breast. But for all its amazing solid construction and levelness it was walled on each side by an almost impassible expanse of thick wood. In fact from what she had gathered from the road crew she had sated her womanly needs upon they spent most of their time cutting back the wood and removing fallen trees. The trees in question were black in bark and wood and hard as iron. They grew not from one trunk but in great masses of trunks all connected together so that they grew upwards in walls of solid wood where the first spit of boughs might be twenty feet off the ground?! Their branches seemed to send down roots to hit the ground an grow into another mass of trees as likely as it was to reach upward and sprout branches covered in the large broad leaves which hid out all light save that which eked its way through the opening of the overhanging branches of the roadway its self. Thus the entire expanse of Cantaybay Woods was more akin to a maze of high walls of erratic iron hard wood rather than a forest.

The roadmen, between covering her face in their sticky loads, had said that no one had entered Derth in the past two months since the pass had closed for the winter but there had been one pair of dark cloaked loners who had not stayed at Derth but passed straight on by a week before the closing of the pass. And yes one of them did have a large unusual sword with them. As each man had covered her naked tits with nut butter they had recommended she seek out the large city of Cantabay from which the wood got its name. It was the closest thing to capital city as one got here about and it was the very next city after Derth along the stone road.

Xera had licked her tits clean of the cum and thanked the men with a good pussy fucking that had left them helplessly drained and moaning and snoring as she had helped herself to any promising looking supplies and goodies before taking their advice and setting out for first Derth and then Cantabay having liberated one of the oxen from the large cart laden with stone slabs.

What she couldn’t figure out is why if the thief who had stolen the sword had made it to Cantabay why he then had not attempted to slay the daemon with the sword?

“What is he up to? He has been here nearly three months and yet the road crew told me the daemon has struck several times during that time. So obviously he has not slain him and apparently not made public any intention to do such? Why bother to gain the sword if not to slay the beast and win the bounty?”

Xera found the whole thing very confusing and her pussy was nearly twitching with horniness as she rode on the back of the barrowed oxen to the town of Derth, “the only thing worse than a gang bang of middling sized penises is a gang bang of middling sized penis that are too damn quick on the trigger! UGH!” The sexually frustrated girl fumed and wondered how exactly one could get an ox penis in their pussy and was in such a course of thought when suddenly a dark robed man appeared upon the roadway moving directly toward her. She had already noted that travel hereabouts seemed entirely done on foot as it was near impossible to carry sufficient fodder for your horse in face of the wall of wood that rimmed the road making grazing impossible.

Xera pulled the ox cock out of her mouth and climbed out from under the moaning beast as he neared her. He did not seem to see her at first and it was when he was nearly side by side with her and the ox that he gave a sudden start and pulled his hood back so as to see her more clearly. She put her hands on her hips and waited for this long perusal of her bountiful body to conclude but grew tired of waiting for the man to stop staring at her naked tits and pussy and instead began to speak.

“I am afraid I lost my garments to some road crew workers,” she began thinking how they had pretty much torn her clothing off her and she off them in their mutual rutting lusts and covered what was left in their prodigious amounts of cum so that she was once again wandering along in boots, a cloak, the necklace wrapped around her wrist, a belt with pouches, and harness and sword, and her King Jerry rose tinted glasses which were proving indispensable in the perpetual murk of the wood. The ox had several large pouches of plunder strapped to its back that she had relieved the slumbering road crew of.

“Those ruffians!” The man shouted in indignant rage. “I shall have a talk to with the outer council about this! Did they, er, harm you in any way child?”

Xera thought for a moment with finger to chin, “No they were too small to cause me any discomfort let alone pain or harm. But they did compensate with their fists a lot.”

The man recoiled in shock and horror, “you mean to say they physically assaulted you?!”

Xera thought again but she was still very horny and she could not get her mind or eyes to stop wondering what the man might be hiding under that large robe of his. She licked her lips and continued to stare at his crotch, “well it was very salty that is for sure and I could go for another drink if you know what I mean.”

The man seemed preoccupied with looking past the young girl and staring down the road as if expecting to see a mob of blood thirsty road workers come racing around the nearest bend with flaming torches and bloody axes.

Xera noticed his preoccupation and decided it wouldn’t hurt to give his crotch a quick squeeze to size up wither he would be worth her time or if is she should turn her attentions back to the ox who was slurping its tongue on her naked backside. When she suddenly noticed the necklace around the man’s neck it was identical to the one around her wrist?! In the same instant that she noticed the necklace around the man’s neck he seemed to notice the one around her wrist.

“Where did you get that necklace?” The man asked her in a dead pan voice.

Xera thought fast, but not fast enough, it is not easy to come up with a believable lie when you have an ox tongue slurping your pussy. “I-I-I found it on the road not very far back.”

“Did you now? Well I am searching for my travel companion who was supposed to meet someone just outside of Derth and he lost a necklace identical to that one.” The man was all creepy face smiles now.

“Then it must belong to him. I would like to give it back to him if you could help me find him.”

The man nodded, “such kindness is most gratifying to hear, but I am afraid I am not sure where he is and of course the necklace he lost, he lost several months ago and a ways from here.”

“Oh. Well I guess this must not be his necklace then?” Xera gave a weak smile and wondered if pulling her sword out would do much good after all she had found someone who knew the person who had taken the sword and she really did not want to kill him until he told her all he knew. But this man’s nature had suddenly turned very threatening despite his sugar coated words.

“My, it sure looks like his necklace, may I see it?” The man held out a cadaverous hand and Xera removed the necklace from around her wrist and dropped it into his hand. The man promptly pocketed the necklace in his robes without giving it a glance. “Hmmm, how about you show me where you found it? Just along the road here a ways back? My friend may have dropped it in a struggle and needs help.” The man grabbed Xera’s arm and proceeded to propel and half drag her back the way she had come.

“I thought you just said he lost it some time ago and in a different place?” Xera certainly did not want to kill her only lead to the thief and the sword, but she did not like him shoving her around either.

“But you said you just found it and not far from here. So we had best investigate that, shouldn’t we?” The man was holding her upper right arm in a painful vice like grip and he kept looking around obviously making sure they were alone upon the road. “No one comes out here but road crews this time of year as this only leads to the pass, but my missing friend was to meet someone here for a business transaction. That was three days ago and no one has seen him since. Perhaps I was wrong about him losing that necklace earlier perhaps he even lied to me about it.” The man seemed generally confused by this new idea and his grasp loosened and Xera made her move. She jerked her arm away and leapt back drawing her sword in one smooth motion. The point of the slim elven blade hovered under the shocked man’s chin and he nearly sliced his own throat as she staggered to a stop.

“Listen I am just as egger to find your friend as you are maybe even more so, but no more touchy. Got me?” Xera tapped the tip of the sword under his chin which made the man swallow hard.

“Let’s put all our cards on the table, okay?” The man talked slowly his eyes still fixed on the sword under his chin that was tickling his Adam’s apple. “You have followed us all the way from the dwarves of Stone Mountain. You know we took the sword and you want it back. So why do you want it back?”

“No doubt for the same reason you took it?” Xera sneered. The only thing better than sex was slicing up grabby men.

“Somehow I doubt that. Did the dwarves contract you to get it back for them?”

“No. I want the sword for myself.”

“And what do you plan on doing with the sword once you have it if I might ask?” The man had regained his composure so Xera took a step forward forcing him to stagger back against the threat of having his throat pieced as she grabbed his robe front so he was half off balance and unable to simply leap back away from the blade.

“I plan on using the sword for its only purpose to kill the daemon plaguing these woods and thus earning a king’s ransom in treasure. What else would I want with it?”

“Ah, I see. You plan on taking the sword and then tracking an almost ethereal daemon through an almost impregnable maze of woods to corner it and then fight it. A creature the size of a house who can turn himself into mist at will and who has iron like skin and eyes that can see through time and space and breaths fire. You plan on doing that then?”

Xera scratched her head. “Well, yeah. What did you have in mind with the sword?”

“Well you see my friend and I are members of a cult and we stole the sword so we could give it to the daemon who in turn would grant us great powers and even more riches than those being offered by the Cantabays. Much safer that.”

“Hmm, I guess so, but you say your friend went missing. I take it he went to meet the daemon with the sword and vanished. So not so safe after all.”

“It took us months to find the daemon and make contact with it and then when all was arranged he slipped away with the sword to make a new deal on his own. The fool. Without the necklace he has no defense against the daemon. He trusted it and I fear now he and the sword are lost to the daemon’s control. I had hoped to lay low until the pass cleared up and then flee but the people hereabouts seem to have figured out roughly what has transpired and I was forced to flee my lodgings in Cantabay city in the middle of the night with nothing more than my life and the clothes upon my back. I supposed I had hopped I would make my way to the pass and some plan of opportunity would provide its self to me and it seems to have done so has it not?”

“Has it?” Xera lowered the sword and let go of the man’s robes letting him collapse to the stone flagging while stepping back out of any threat of sudden movement upon his part. Though she doubted he was quick enough to attack her and not end up skewered for his troubles. “It would seem both the sword and your friend are lost and so is any attempt to barter with the beast or slay it. I might as well find lodgings in this land until the pass clears and I can return back to Giant Tree Inn.”

The man looked up from the ground and gave her a foul look for dropping him and then smiled his oily smile, “On the contrary. What do you know about the Daemon’s Sword girl?”

Xera moved back to her waiting ox but kept her sword unsheathed, “only that it is the only thing that can slay this daemon and with it gone so are any hope of reward or riches.” She spoke over her shoulder uncaring wither the man could hear her or not.

“I thought as much. Same as all the other sell swords that have sought the blade; here me then girl and I will enlighten you if you can but spare the time and still care to make a king’s ransom in treasure?” He increased his voice as he spoke to compensate for the growing distance between him and her until she stopped and turned back to look at him with arms folded under her enormous bosom.

“Well… I am listening.”

The man pulled his legs up under him and removed a wine flask from within his robes and took a pull on it before speaking. “The sword is not named because it kills daemons it is so named because it is the prison of a daemon. A daemon called Callifax was betrayed by his brethren and imprisoned in an unwholesome blade in order to slay a traitor half bastard daemon mortal called Bandex. This accomplished the blade was put up in the armory of King of Imps who had helped lure and betray both Califax and Bandex. There the blade was housed for thousands of years until the kingdom of Imps fell as all kingdoms must to the ravages of time. The goblins possessed the blade for a while and then the orcs and then men and so on and so forth.”

The man paused to take another pull on the wine skin and Xera licked her parched lips at the sight. “And so it may have continued had all things ran their course but as there is war amongst men so there is war amongst daemons and those once mighty have fallen and been outcast to this plane of existence. And the sword sensing his nearby foes has awakened once more. The sword wants to kill this daemon of Cantabay Woods for it is a daemon called, Nasterfong and it is one of the seven who was responsible for Califax’s betrayal and imprisonment in the sword.”

The man took another long pull on the wine skin and smacked his lips as the young girl almost whimpered her obvious thirst for wine. “Nasterfong cannot its self, touch or destroy the sword. It dare not even come near it. It has instead sent forth its undead ghosts to hunt it down and kill any and all that have been ever near it. You may have come across some of these victims in your travels if you have been following us and the accursed blade. People, entire towns, all mutilated by this ghostly horde who arrive in a thick mist or fog and attack unseen and unheard in an instant leaving only butchery in their wake. Some are left behind and some are taken to increase the hordes number and some are left to rise again as undead to wander about as eyes and ears for Nasterfong. In his endless search for the blade which alone has the power to slay a daemon.”

The man took another pull but this time the girl was standing by his side and after whipping his lips with the back of his hand he handed the skin to her and she threw her head back and guzzled the wine down.

“For reason I do not understand. Nasterfong cannot raise or use his undead here in the Cantabay Woods. Maybe it is part of his own imprisonment here in this local. He can only use his own self his own powers of immediate being to torment this land in face of his own bitter torment of current existence. With the blade being here none of his minions can help him to destroy it. And the blade its self will not let anyone destroy it not now that it has one of its most hated enemies within its grasp. No, I believe the sword is still intact and far from being under Nasterfong’s lock and key it is rather simply lying in some wooden glade or swamp where ever my partner Aster was foolish enough to bring it before Nasterfong slayed him.”

The girl belched and tossed the empty wine skin over her shoulder. “And yet you were willing to flee even up to the snow covered pass and certain death.”

“Well I had hoped to find the sword and with it regain a bargaining chip with Nasterfong once again. I did have rather a sweet deal all in place before Aster stole the sword and sought to create a deal all by himself. A good thief Aster but no head for business and for that matter probably no head at all right now.”

“So what are you proposing now?” The girl was once again eyeing the man’s crotch and licking her wine stained lips upon her slightly unsteady feet.

“Well,” the man removed the necklace from inside his cloak and handed it back to the girl who promptly wrapped it around her left exposed tit so the bobble lay over her large puffy nipple. “With you obviously an adventurer who is willing to do battle with Nasterfong thrown in the mix things might be a bit more balanced again. Since you seem stuck here until spring and I need someone to help me get back into the locals good graces and what better way to that ends than to be the companion of a heroine come to slay the wretched beast. We can both gain the shelter of the walled towns and cities again which is vital in face of the monsters that dwell in these woods and if we can actually find the sword well… we can either barter with Nasterfong again or you can use it to slay him. Seems quite logical to me.”

“Quite,” the girl swayed on her feet not being use to dark wood berry wine which is very potent stuff. “Only I don’t get why I would need you at all in any of this?”

“Hmm, well I have spent the better part of half a year learning the layout of these woods and the most likely locations of Nasterfong’s hideouts. As well as some report however briefly tarnished with the locals and I have also spent a considerable time with the sword and not been swayed by its talk or powers.”

“Talk? The sword talks?” Xera was a bit blurry eyed and staggered a back frowning.

“Incessantly. And it is a foul mouthed belligerent daemon at that. The power of the sword is IT’S to wield and it can turn that power on and off at will or whim. It can prove a most devastating weapon rending shield and armor like paper or a leaden back breaking dull oversized butter knife to lug around depends on how it feels like behaving. Not to mention the power it can wield over an individual’s mind. I half believe the sword realizing we were going to sell it to Nasterfong convinced Aster to set out on his own knowing it would lead to his death and it at least out of our hands and perhaps eventually in the hands of someone who would wield it to kill the daemon. It is singularly obsessed with its own revenge above all else.”

Xera hummed and frowned some more and then peed down her leg and belched again before tumbling backwards passed out smacking head and body hard against the paving stone.

“Ah, yes,” the man winced shaking off his pee soaked hand and nodded. “I guess you’re riding the ox back then.”

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The man in the dark green and black robes looked sourly over at Xera who like him had her head and wrists bound in a wooden stock. “You could have least told me the ox was stolen as well as almost everything you were carrying.” The man watched as the large man behind Xera continued to savagely pump her pussy until he came hard in her and staggered aside to let another in a long line of men take his turn on the hung-over helpless lass. The man shrugged in his stocks and looked around the courtyard of the walled city of Derth. “At least they ran out of rotted vegetables,” he shook his short haired head trying to get a particularly stubborn piece of tomato out of his ear.

“Oh quit your complaining,” the teen snarled back at him sounding like she was sliding on her butt down a staircase as her voice bounced up and down in sync to the manic hip thrusts of the large brute pounding her ass. He seized up and came hard grunting with wine flushed face as he staggered aside to let the next fellow in line slip his dick in the young girls exposed pussy. “At least you are not getting your ass pummeled by half the town’s folk. UGH! Tell me how long is the line?”

The girl’s stock faced his own at an angle so he could see past them where she could not. The line of men was two abreast and stretched back all the way around the courtyard and back again in a snake of a zigzag that must have included over four hundred males of all ages and sizes. “Uh, not long now.” The man made a weak tomato stained smile and tried to nod encouragingly as he suddenly froze as the Mayor’s horse was lead up behind the girl. “Uh, you might want to brace yourself.”

“Wha?” The girl eyed him quizzically and then her eyes popped wide open as the horse reared up and plunged its horse cock deep within her quivering snatch. “WHATTHEFUCKINGSHITOHMYFUCKING GWWWWWWWADDDDD!”

“Um. Maybe you should have loosened up, not braced up?” The man winced as the horse snorted and began to buck and whinny as the girl’s face turned from all shades or red to purple and then her tongue lolled out as she climaxed as the same time as the horse. The horse was led away and a man tossed a bucket of water on the girls beet red snatch.

“Not-so-bad,” the girl moaned her eyes rolling up in her head as drool and snot raced down her shaking chin.

“I am glad to hear you say that as horses are a sign of great wealth here in Cantabay Woods and the mayor of Derth prides himself on his wealth and keeps a stable of forty stallions.”

“FORTY?!” The young girl howled as the man nodded at the long string of stallions being led up to her as the men in line folded their arms impatiently waiting their turn.

“Try going limp this time,” the man offered in help as he began blowing at a fly that was sitting on the tomato seed stuck on the end of his nose.

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“Well!” The man blew out a breath and rubbed a towel over his wet hair before tossing it at a man standing next to the stocks. “At least that’s over. We have paid are debt and are none the worse for wear. Now we can see about gaining some lodgings for the night.” The man looked over at the young girl who looked utterly frazzled and was hunched over and walking so bow-legged that she could not move forward in a straight line but dog tracked to her right so that he had to hook a hand under her arm to help her along, “yes, just need to get to an inn I think I know just the place.”

The girl groaned, “I shall never ride bare back again.”

“Come along let’s not tarry. If we are lucky we can get a room in the place I stayed at before. I have hidden a few coins nearby just in case of such an emergency. Always plan ahead, that’s my motto.” The man half lead half dragged the staggering bent over moaning girl across the court yard while behind them an old man with a mop and bucket was scrubbing the spooge covered stocks where the girl had been housed.

The coins were still there in an oil skin sack in the muck of a pig sty and tossing away the slimy bag and pocketing the coins the man lead the girl who had been stripped of all her belongings for her theft and who now walked a little more upright but still naked beside him as he led her to the inn in question. Since the pass was closed so was most of the rooms but they obtained one at triple the trading season rate and a few articles of clothing for the girl who clutching several bottles of Black Wood Berry Mead to her chest disappeared into her bed not to be seen for the remainder of that night or the entire next day.

When she did emerge the following night she was looking much more her own self and could even sit at a bar stool without looks of apprehension crossing her face though she did startle every time a horse whinnied from the adjuring stables.

“Well while you have been convalescing I have been inquiring about Aster and he indeed did come this way and stayed for a day or two several weeks back.” The tall thin man with the hawk nose and short cropped hair shoveled food in his mouth as fast as he could as the girl downed another mug of ale.

The locals remember him well for he was talking non-stop with that blanket wrapped sword of his. As I feared I believe the sword convinced him to make a solo deal with Nasterfong knowing the daemon would kill him outright as soon as he saw him without the protective amulet we both have. I am guessing the sword knowing that any sale by us to the daemon would seal its fate as never attaining its revenge. It must have gambled that laying on the ground somewhere it would be found yet again and make its ways into a capable warrior’s hand.”

The girl nodded at him and then turned to snarl at several men snickering at the bar that were staring at her and whispering and miming pumping actions with their hips.

The robed man remained oblivious of the men and continued, “That is where you come in. Our do-gooder heroine who uses the sword to slay the daemon and win us a rich bounty or we sell the sword to Nasterfong as I had originally set up and we slink away with an easier if somewhat smaller award in riches but with several new powers bestowed upon us by a thankful daemon.” The man smiled through his mouth full of food and waved his fork in the air, “a win –win situation all around. At least for us, and if we kill the daemon well then for these folk as well, but regardless a win for us!”

Xera got up from the table as the man was lost in thought, “the problem is; where is the sword?” Xera clobbered both men at the bar and tossed them out the door of the bar where they lay unconscious in the street and returned to sit back down at the table where the man looked back at her and smiled, “any ideas?”

Xera raised an eyebrow, “Aster left here with the sword did anyone see which way he headed?”

“Well the gatemen said he headed in the direction of the pass, but I met you on that road and you would have seen him if he had made it as far as the pass its self. So he must have ventured off the stone road and into the woods themselves. Very risky and dangerous. The question is where did he slip off the road and in what direction did he head?”

“You seem certain that he is dead,” Xera eyed the man in the robe who nodded enthusiastically as she chewed his food. “Perhaps he met the daemon and made the trade or even slew it?”

The man shook his head, “even with the sword’s help he was not skilled enough to slay the daemon and without this necklace of the cult of daemons who have loyally served the daemon lords for centuries the daemon would have killed him upon sight. No hesitation at all. They are rather impulsive bound creatures for all their intelligence. No Aster is dead. Either slain by the daemon if he made it that far, or by the creatures of the wood itself.”

“This necklace protects us from the daemon’s wraith?” Xera lifted up her shirt where she still wore her necklace wrapped around her left pendulous boob with the medallion hanging over her left puffy nipple.

The man nodded. “A sort of bond created generations ago as a reward and necessary precaution for dealing with such creatures.”

“Then are you not betraying your own cult with this whole sword business?”

“The cult of the daemons is rather a mercenary affair at best. But I did ‘attain’ a great deal of information from secluded lore before departing on my journey with Aster who was a recent convert rescued from the gallows for his skills of theft if not wisdom of silence in spending his gains.”

“If he is dead and somewhere out in those woods then there is realistically no chance of us finding his corpse or the sword which may or may not still lie beside him,” Xera frowned into her empty tankard.

“Perhaps, but we have three months or better before the pass will be open for travel again and less than ten Cantabay gold coins (these were the odd iron wood coins of the realm dipped in gold and stamped. Almost all items in Cantabay are made out of the stone like wood of the forest.) Which would normally be enough for a month of room and board for the two of us, but will not outlast the week at the rate you are swilling down that ale and wine, not to mention the endless expenditure of replacing all the items you break in these constant fights and brawls of yours. And as you may have noticed there is little in the way of commerce in these parts. Jobs are scarce except for the insanely dangerous ones such as road repair with its constant attacks from monsters and logging the woods for timber which faces the same danger and hunting the local game which is also quiet dangerous. The guilds control the hunting and logging and with our records we will not be admitted into any of those. That leaves road repair which pays well but one seldom lasts an entire season without a mauling in the very least if not outright death. These woods really are quiet dangerous and the stone road is basically the buffet line for most of the predators of the woods.”

“So we can either get jobs repairing the stone road or use our remaining funds to outfit ourselves for an expedition into the woods in a futile search for a moldering copse in the offhand chance it may still have a demonic possessed blade lying nearby?”

“Something like that,” the man set his fork down and watched the girl ponder the situation.

“Well, let us go looking for this sword then.”

“Outstanding! I was sure you wouldn’t shrink at the last moment. Things are not as hopeless as one might think. These amulets not only protect us from the wraith of a daemon but act as compasses to any great source of demonic power. Such as Nasterfong or the sword itself. We only have to get nearby and the amulets will guide us the rest of the way. Now during my time here before Aster’s disappearance I spent many weeks plotting the attacks and the local beliefs of where the beast may be hiding. And there were only a few possible places between here and the pass that would be likely refuges for the daemon for it must rest undisturbed for significant periods of time to regain its powers. It was never meant to dwell so long on this plain of existence in its true form and it lives in constant pain and weakness because of this. Now I believe the sword acted as a guide and lead Aster much as one of our medallions would perhaps hoping at the last minute it might convince him to attempt to fight the creature but in the very least leading him to his  slaughter. It would have been a place the creature would have used for slumber and thus one of the places I am certain was a lair. Nasterfong would have stuck in instinct and without hesitation and destroyed Aster and in so doing leaving the sword there upon the ground. Nasterfong would have then fled the sword’s presence in sure terror never to willingly return to that spot again but anxious to find some means to secure the sword where no one would find it. I do not believe he has any such mortal creature here about in his command but I am sure he is laboring hard to create one. Even now he is whispering in the dark recess of dreams and leering out of the shadows with his paws full of gold seeking some man or woman to bend to his bidding to seek out and remove the sword to some remote and inaccessible place.”

“That seems a lot of conjecture with nothing to back up such conclusions.”

“I have spent a lifetime in the study and worship of daemon’s and I tell you we have but two choices; either to find the spot before Nasterfong can act and find and send a creature to take the sword or wait until Nasterfong has sent his creature and thus follow it to the spot. The later predicates we can survive on what monies we have and that we can overcome and destroy the possessed creature imbued with daemon powers and take the sword from it. Personally I would prefer finding the sword first and then having the advantage of hunting down Nasterfong rather than the other way around with Nasterfong gaining the sword and then hunting us down.”

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The final resting place for Aster had been a remote glade surrounded by swamp and crawling with poison creatures and noxious mists and plants red with dripping vile thorns. It had been the fourth out of six places the thin man had supposed as a possible lair of the daemon Nasterfong and the balloon craft which he had designed and had built with the last of their coin and a rather embarrassing public orgy thinly disguised as a magic show in which Xera as the thin man’s assistant had sex with most of the young men and boys of the town while their confused mothers watched with open mouths at the strange stage show (TWICE DAILY! CUM ONE CUM ALL!) unsure of what they were seeing, had earned the rest of the funds necessary for the construction of the craft and the outfitting for the adventure.

The balloon with its basket and boiler lowered down right in the heart of the glade where the sword could still be seen poking out of its moldering blanket about a hands breadth from Aster’s rather rank remains. They were low on fuel which was a mixture of magical powders and a crude bottled swamp gas which mixed in the chamber of the central spire of metal which ran all the way up into the envelope of the balloon and wheezed out a cloud like mist that puffed up the fabric and smelled like burning horse spunk which was also an ingredient in the fuel as well and which it had been left for Xera to milk significant quantities from the mayors stables for their trip. A task made no less odious by her having to bribe the mayor for such abuse of his prized animals by Xera putting on a saddle upon her back and the man riding her naked about the town for the better part of a week with his dong doing a number between her ass checks until she swore she could do little but shit spunk for days afterwards.

Still the strange device of the thin man’s design had saved them of what would have been weeks of near impossible navigation on foot through the thick nearly impassable root systems maze of the iron wood trees. And as the basket and balloon lowered down far enough for the anxious amazon Xera to drop down by rope and grab the sword Xera admitted to herself that she was ecstatic and excited by the sudden visions of all that wealth that was suddenly very much in reach. She nearly lost her grip upon the rope and nearly took a headfirst tumble into the mire when suddenly in a very clear bored voice she heard the sword speak to her, “oh great… some big titted slut has found me. Here I thought I was doomed to rust here without any hope of rescue. Lucky me. I suppose you plan to take me home and use me for cutting up potatoes or opening joyful correspondences with bff’s? Well bitch I have other plans for you.”

And Xera felt a wave of intense raw power run up her arm from the sword that caused her hair to rise up and curl and her pussy to tingle like the very first time she had pulled her panties up too tight as a little girl and felt the thrill that caused her to reach down and touch herself in curiosity for the very first but far from the last time. As orgasm after orgasm ripped through her lithe young body, the man up in the basket hauled madly upon the rope pulling her up while screaming, “for goodness sake don’t drop the sword or it will surely sink in the mire and be lost for all time!”

“I wouldn’t dream of ever letting go of this thing,” Xera gasped through half lidded eyes and open mouth pants as drool dripped down her chin as she collapsed in rapture inside the small basket. “I will never let it go!” and the man drew back in alarm from the quivering girl as she raised up the red and black welted sword and licked its unwholesome naked blade.

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THUS ENDS PART ONE. I HAVE NO IDEA IF I WILL EVER HAVE TIME TO WRITE PART TWO.  Rook.