Worlds Combine #9-

The Barbarian

I am Uatu, a member of a cosmically powered group known as the Watchers.

There are few in the many and varied universes that can match my power,

But though I can intercede in the events you are about to hear of, such is not my place.

Mine is but to watch and record, but never to interfere…

I am the Watcher

The Planet Quin, on approach to Mordath’s Castle….

                The night was eerily quiet, the only sound legible the crackle of the flames from the campfire between them.  On one side sat Arwyn, the beautiful archer with the long, golden hair and vibrant blue eyes.  Wielder of the legendary Ayden’s Bow with which she hoped to vanquish the monstrous Mordath, the undead lord whose influence was spreading across Quin and had taken from her the husband and daughter she loved and, more recently, her dear Gareth… whom she was only now realizing she had grown to love as well.  Tall for a woman, Arwyn stood just under six feet all and was clad in a form fitting suit of leather armor consisting of a brown leather corset, cut rather daringly low and worn over an equally low-cut tunic.  Her pants were black leather and looked as though they had been painted on her while her brown leather boots would come to mid-thigh were they not partially unlaced and folded down below the knee.  A quiver full of arrows for the bow leaned against the log on which she sat, to her left while the magical bow, perhaps the most powerful magical weapon in the world, matched it on the right.  The quiver was next to her belt from which hung her longsword.  She and her traveling companion were settling in for the evening and she would sleep with her weapons nearby, but not on her person.

                The afore mentioned traveling companion is a man named Jason Blood, a human displaced from another dimension.  She had met him a couple of weeks before, during same sequence of events that had taken Gareth and their roguish companion Cassidy from her.  A band of trolls, the shock troops of the evil Mordath, had caught them.  Gareth had been beaten to death mere minutes after they had had sex, the archer finally admitting to herself that she had come to care for the man.  The thought of his loss still pained her greatly and as she sat staring into the flame, eating a steak cut from the deer she had hunted for their meal, she reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek.

                Jason Blood was a little taller than Arwyn, just over six feet probably with short, reddish brown hair and brown eyes.  Most strikingly, there was a stripe of white running down the center of his hair.  When first she had met him he was still clad in clothing common to his own dimension, but in the weeks since he had acquired something a little more befitting the local fare.  A simple tunic and woolen trouser with a heavy wool cloak, the hood currently pulled up against an evening chill, a chill she didn’t feel.  She wondered what the temperature must have been like in his dimension because to her, the weather was balmy at best right now.  He too was eating a steak from the deer Arwyn had hunted, little was said between them.  They had become pretty good friends in the weeks since they had first met, even though that first meeting had been a little… rocky.

                Arwyn hadn’t even learned the man’s name yet when she had discovered his curse, that he shared his mortal form with the essence of a demon named Etrigan.  A demon he had willingly unleashed in an effort to save her from a vicious fate at the hands of Mordath’s trolls.  Of course, Etrigan had taken one look at Arwyn and determined he would have her, eventually.  Thankfully, Blood had had no reason to release the demon again since that initial time, and he turned out to be surprisingly proficient in magic as well, something she had no skill in or knowledge of.  He had proven quite a valuable ally up till this point.

                “Arwyn.” He said softly, his tone possessing a warning.

                She gave no outward indication of hearing anything, but she said softly back to him, “I know.  I heard it too.”  A moment before there had been a slight rustling of the brush just to the east of their small camp, which could have been an animal… or a troll trying to sneak up on them.  “Be ready.”

                With a slight nod Jason tossed the remains of his meal into the fire and sat back against the stump behind him.  It looked like it had probably been the bottom of the fallen log Arwyn sat on at one point.  He was sitting on the ground, leaning against the stump, having offered her the log to sit on like the gentlemen he had proven himself to be.  With her left hand Arwyn tossed her leftovers into the fire as well while her right hand dropped lightly to Ayden’s bow, her slender fingers curling around the grip at the center, where the arms attached.  “Don’t bother blondie.” 

                Her head snapped to the left, following the voice, her eyes narrowing as she recognized the speaker though she had trouble believing he was there.  Francis, the bandit who had plagued her for a while now, stood a few yards from camp, just in the circle of light cast by their fire grinning at her smugly.  To either side of the horribly scarred, overweight bandit stood men with crossbows, one leveled at her and the other at Jason.  More sounds from the East caused her to look that way as well and two more men emerged, no doubt they were the ones she and Jason had heard trying to creep up on them.  ‘Five total.’ She thought, provided there weren’t any more hidden in the trees.  Her gaze flicked to Jason, met his and he shook his head ever so slightly.  The odds were a little too much, and though she hated to admit it, she had to agree.  Sighing, she raised her hands to shoulder height and leaned back away from her weapons.  The two men to the east, slightly behind her approached cautiously, one of them taking her weapons while the other grabbed her arms and jerked them roughly behind her.  She grimaced as she felt iron manacles being clamped about her forearms.  The bandit who was binding her leaned forward slightly, his head appearing in her peripheral vision, his gaze directed hungrily down the front of her top. 

                “Damn…” he said through a chuckle, “…I see why Francis wants you for himself.”  He turned his head to look at her, his dull gray eyes playing over her classically beautiful face.  “Maybe he’ll give me sloppy seconds, huh?  You like that idea babe?”  Arwyn turned a cool, utterly venomous look on him, her blue eyes playing over his ugly visage.  He had a long, too narrow face with a pointed chin that was cocked oddly to one side, as though it had been broken in the past and healed poorly.  His cheeks and chin were sparsely covered in wiry stubble and his smile revealed yellow, rotting teeth, a couple missing to leave large gaps in the front.  With a sudden, vicious forward movement, Arwyn headbutted him savagely, her forehead shattering his nose.  He roared in pain, staggering backward, his hands coming up to favor the ravaged appendage.  A moment later he lunged at her, raising a hand to strike her.  Arwyn lifted her chin defiantly, prepared to take the blow but Francis called out.

                “No!”  Her amorous suitor stopped just short of backhanding Arwyn across the face, his eyes lifting to Francis who was apparently calling the shots here.  “I don’t want her marked… her perfection must remain… perfect.”

                Arwyn continued to glare hatefully at the man who had clapped her in irons and he eventually backed away, but not before spitting on the log next to her.  Arwyn turned her attention then to Jason, who had been similarly bound by one of the two crossbow wielding men who had shown themselves beside Francis.  She heard the telltale click of the manacles fastening around his forearms, securing his arms behind him as well and then his captor shoved him back against the stump roughly.  Jason winced slightly at the treatment, but didn’t give them the satisfaction of anything else.

                “Good!”  Francis said, clapping his hands briskly and then rubbing them together as he came fully into the camp, the other crossbow wielder at his side.  He extended them out to the fire then, as though they were cold and again Arwyn had to wonder if she just felt the weather differently than others.  “Now that we’re all…” his gaze flickered to Arwyn, sitting with her forearms manacled behind her, her shoulders thrown back to relieve some of the strain with thrust her impressive bosom forward, “…comfortable,” she rolled her eyes in exasperation, “let’s get this party started shall we?”  Francis turned and glanced at the crossbow wielder who had secured Jason’s bonds, giving him a slight nod. Arwyn saw this and frowned but was too late to call a warning to her companion as the man lunged to the side and drove the stock of his crossbow into Jason’s temple.  With a grunt Jason Blood slumped to the side, unconscious from the blow.

                “Bastards!”  Arwyn growled, glaring around at the five men who were all laughing now.

                “Wouldn’t want his… friend to show up and ruin everything now, would we?”  Arwyn glared at Francis hatefully, remembering that he had been there in the tavern the first time Etrigan had revealed himself to her.  She had wondered then if she might see the ugly bandit again, considering he had slipped out of the tavern during the demon’s slaughter of Mordath’s trolls.

                Francis looked much as he had the last time she had seen him.  He was about her height and broad of shoulder, a rotund stomach hanging over the buckle of his belt.  He wore a long-sleeved tunic that was too small, stretched taut over that rounded belly and rough woolen trousers.  They were an off-gray color and filthy, stained with things Arwyn didn’t want to identify.  His hair was dark brown and worn shaggy, to his shoulders but his round, portly face was the most revolting thing about him.  She knew what had caused those scars, predatory lizards had attacked him during a sand storm in the desert so that now he had a horrible morass of scar tissue across the center of his face.  Most of his nose had been torn away, half of his mouth and one of his eyes had so much scar tissue built up around it that it was nearly covering the eye.  All in all, he was one of the most repulsive men she had ever seen.

                Turning to the shapely archer, Francis took two quick strides toward her and bent, grabbing a handful of her lustrous blonde hair and jerking her violently to her feet.  Arwyn winced, gasping at the pain and was utterly unsurprised when he pulled her to him roughly, his fat body revolting as he pulled her against it.  His other arm slid about her slender waist, tightening, the hand dropping and groping her ass as he used the grip he had on her hair to pull her face to his, what was left of his mouth bruising against hers.  The feel of the scar tissue where half of his lips used to be was scratchy and disgusting against her soft mouth and Arwyn squirmed and struggled mightily against him, determined not to give him what he wanted.  Growling in frustration Francis pulled head away, forcing her back to arch giving him a mouth-watering view down the front of her corset.  She could feel his saliva on her mouth and cheeks, the bandit having drooled out of the damaged side of his mouth as he kissed her.  She longed to wipe it away, but could not with her hands secured behind her as they were.

                Turning his head toward the crossbowman standing next to Jason’s prone form he growled, “Kill that freak!”

                Arwyn turned her head that way, wincing as the movement caused his grip in her hair to pull painfully, her eyes widening as she saw the crossbowman raise his weapon and lean toward the prone Jason Blood, drawing a bead on the unconscious man’s head.  “No!” 

                The crossbowman paused, glancing at Francis and Arwyn turned back to the scarred bandit, her expression beseeching.  Francis looked into her sapphire blue eyes and grinned wickedly, “If this blonde bitch isn’t showing me a proper good time in the next ten seconds, kill her companion.”

                Arwyn felt something like a lead weight settle in her stomach.  Her eyes widened as genuine horror settled over her.  She turned her head to glance at Jason again, felt Francis release his grip on her hair to provide her the ability to fully take in her friend’s plight.  She looked the other way, where the other three men had gathered on the other side of her log, watching, grinning gleefully.  One of the three trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose where she had headbutted him.  She turned her face back to regard Jason again.  Was his death worth her honor?  No doubt he would think so, she had come to know him pretty well in the last weeks.  But no… she wasn’t willing to sacrifice him so she could save face… since she knew full well she wouldn’t escape rape anyway.  Her shoulders slumped with defeat and seeing that, Francis’s smile widened which made his horribly scarred face seem predatory.  She turned her gaze back on him, “You mean to have your way with me right here in front of your men?”

                “They deserve to watch.”  He chuckled as his hand, which was still on her ass, squeezed one of her taut buttocks playfully.  “Maybe I’ll even give them a turn when I’m done with you.”  Arwyn’s heart skipped a beat at that, realizing a gangbang was likely in her future if the fates didn’t intervene quickly.  He leaned back in then, his face inches from hers.  “Not that I intend to tire of you any time soon woman.”  He lifted his hand again to the back of her head, cradling it this time rather than grabbing her by the hair and gently guided her plump pink lips to his. 

                Arwyn had no choice but to accept the kiss, parting her lips willingly when she felt Francis’s slug like tongue probing.  His slimy, sluglike organ slipped between her lips and she met it with hers, dueling his tongue deftly in her mouth.  He groaned passionately, his embrace tightening around her and she felt the unmistakable swelling of his manhood against her lower belly and realized, with some trepidation, that he must well hung indeed if she could feel it even beneath that swollen belly!  One of his men whistled appreciatively as another applauded….

                He groaned passionately, head leaned against the backrest of the tall chair, eyes closed, mouth agape.  His head rested on the back of her blonde head, her long hair spread across his lap as it bobbed up and down, her lips stretched to capacity around the veritable log of flesh that rose from his crotch.  She worked him with one hand as well, her fingers wrapped around his base as the other hand caressed his thick, muscled thigh.  “By Crom woman… your mouth is magical.”

                At those words she started to hum softly and he gasped, his neck arching somewhat at the sensation that added vibration applied to his massive erection.  Conan of Cimmeria’s toned, muscular body convulsed, his hips driving upward as he reflexively shoved her head down.  He felt her sharp intake of breath through her nose, surprised at the suddenness of this, her left hand moving to his thigh opposite her right to brace herself as quickly as possible for what she knew, from past experience, was going to be an explosion.  His mouth yawned open and a roar of delight erupted at the same time his manhood did, flooding her mouth with slimy, warm goo.  She grunted slightly as she struggled to swallow his load… she always struggled with Conan, everything about him was large, including his orgasms.  She worked him with her tongue, trying to milk every drop from his shaft and when he finally lifted his hand from her head, having the good sense to look at least somewhat abashed at his actions, she lifted it to glare at him.

                “What have I told you about that?”  Valeria of the Red Brotherhood demanded as she lifted one hand and wiped his cum from her lips and beneath her nose, where it had exploded out of after backing up her sinuses.

                He shrugged his broad, well-muscled shoulders and grinned at her disarmingly.  “Is it my fault your so damnably good and fellating?”

                She curled her left hand into a petite fist and punched him solidly on his washboard abs, he didn’t even blink, just kept smiling at her.  “If I’m so good,” she said with mock sternness, “why are you still hard?”  She reached out and flicked his still massive and still very erect manhood lightly.  It bobbed backward, bounced off his stomach and then rebounded back to point at the sexy blonde pirate kneeling in front of him.

                His smile became more wanton, “That’s easy.  It’s because you’re so irresistible!”

                “Oh,” she said, “so that’s my fault too?”  She pointed at his erection, her own smile growing slightly wanton.  Conan the Barbarian nodded, leaned forward in the chair and grabbed Valeria by her slender waist.  She shrieked with laughter as he easily lifted her and brought her to his lap, where she straddled his thighs, her hands finding his impressive shoulders.  His mouth instantly went to one of her burgeoning breasts, finding a sensitive pink nipple with his lips and he felt her tremble slightly at the sensations it caused within her.  Valeria could wait no longer and shifted her hips forward, sucking her lower lip into her mouth to keep from screaming, fearing her crew might hear as she impaled herself on his log, feeling as though the girth of him might split her up the middle… though she loved every inch of it!  Valeria started to buck and roll atop him, one hand staying on his shoulder as she leaned backward, providing him access to her full breasts and reaching back with her other hand to brace it on his thigh.

                Conan’s hands were on her hips, just holding on as she rode him, her lithe body undulating in his lap, his massive erection buried in her to the hilt.  Her gasps and whimpers of delight echoed through the cabin, mingling with Conan’s grunts.  He stroked her thighs, then grabbed her ass roughly, squeezing and kneading the firm cheeks.  A distant, loud explosion brought both of their heads up, him looking left her right, both toward the cabins porthole that looked out over the ocean beyond.  A few second passed and then they turned their heads, meeting each other’s gaze just before the ship was rocked by an impact from outside.  “Canon fire!” they said in unison and Valeria leapt from his lap, scrambling for her clothing and weapons, realizing that as she fornicated with the Cimmerian her ship had come under attack!

                “I must be those pirate hunters we evaded off the coast of Lemuria!”  She growled as she hopped across the floor on one foot, trying to pull her snug pants on over her long, shapely legs.  “They caught up to us!”

                Conan had remained sitting and was much more calmly pulling on his loin cloth and boots, before he would strap on his broad leather belt, on which he carried his broadsword.  It was pretty much all he ever wore, being from the hot deserts of Cimmeria.  “Let’s not jump to conclusions.  It could be other pirates looking to relieve you of your recent hard earned take.”

                “Whoever it is,” she growled, now shrugging into her white blouse and buttoning it up the front, “they’re about to wish they never fired on my ship!”  As she turned for the exit she was strapping on her sword belt, a cutlass hanging from one shapely hip.  “You coming?” she called as she vanished out the door.

                “Apparently not.”  He growled as he rose from the chair, strapping his belt and sword about his waist as he moved to follow her.  It didn’t occur to Conan that he had already cum once while Valeria had enjoyed no sexual release… though had they continued, she certainly would have.  As he crossed the room the ship was rocked by another canon blast and he staggered as the ship was tossed to the side.  The barbarian warrior cursed colorfully as he hit the bed in the center of the cabin, which he regretted not having had time to test with Valeria properly, and rolled across it.  He braced himself to hit the floor hard on the other side but as he rolled off the edge of the bed he became aware of a swirling light beneath him, pulsating in blue’s, red’s and purple’s and then he fell through it and was gone….

                “Oh yeah…” Francis groaned happily, “… I knew you’d be special.”  He was standing now with his pants around his ankles, both hands on the back of Arwyn’s head as his hips thrust rapidly back and forth, driving his surprisingly large cock repeatedly into her hot mouth.  The archer was on her knees before him, her hands still manacled behind her back because Francis thought she was sexier that way.  Her own saliva, mixed with his precum, was trailing down from the corners of her mouth and off the point of her gently rounded chin to splash and pool in her deep cleavage.  She wasn’t really applying any technique here, she sensed it wasn’t necessary… he only wanted to fuck her mouth, to degrade her as much as he was able and so she just knelt there and silently endured.  “You’re my special bitch now Arwyn,” he growled as he drove a couple of especially deep and powerful thrusts, driving his manhood further down her throat and making her gag loudly, “my own personal slut.”  She felt his fingers spread across her head, his grip on it tightening and as his rhythm increasing as he started jerking her head back and forth rapidly as well.  A sick squelching sound could be heard as his manhood ravaged her lips, already bruised from his earlier kissing and now his pelvis was slamming into her face as he raced to completion.  She closed her eyes, certain he wouldn’t notice and not wanting to see his pubic hair repeatedly flying into her face.  “Here it come whore!”  Francis exploded into her mouth then, his hot semen flooding it, spilling out the sides of her mouth and running down her chin, joining her saliva as it pooled in her cleavage.  He had thrust his cock deep into her mouth before cumming and she struggled to swallow, but as he finally withdrew, she managed to clear most of his jizz, swallowing repeatedly to get rid of it.  His taste was revolting, salty and slightly stagnant, not that she had a lot of experience with the taste of male semen.  Her husband’s had been alright and the one time she had sampled Gareth’s she had actually found it… appetizing.  But Francis was hideous, and she guessed that the taste of him was a reflection of that.

                The bandit leader took half a step back as he pulled from between her swollen lips, cradling her chin in one of his hands and tilting her face up so he could see it.  He smiled to see her drool and his semen trailing down her cheeks and chin.  “That’s a good look on you slut.”

                “Go to Hell.”  She said acidly and he chuckled.  She wasn’t concerned he would have Jason killed for her audacity, he liked her defiant.  He actually wanted her to fight him, just not too much. She wasn’t surprised when he grabbed her by the hair and used it to haul her to her feet.  Arwyn hissed at the pain this caused but otherwise didn’t fight him as he turned and half dragged the shapely blonde toward the fallen log she had been sitting on earlier.  Shoving her against it, Arwyn was made to bend over the log, her flat belly curved over the top of the fallen tree.  Francis moved up behind her, put his hands on her shapely hips and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her leather pants before jerking them down.  They were snug and her body was jostled quite a bit as he worked, the jerking and pulling causing her full breasts to jiggle slightly within the bodice of her armor, which she still wore.  One of the men standing on the other side of the log, who had been watching his boss mouth rape her for a long while moaned at the view and Arwyn turned a hateful glare on him. 

                In response to her glare the bandit in question, the same one whose nose she had bloodied earlier, grinned lecherously at her.  “Can I get in on this boss?”  he asked Francis, his gaze not wavering from Arwyn’s, their eyes locked across the short distance. 

                Francis, who was now removing Arwyn’s boots so he could get her pants all the way off paused and looked over at the man.  He saw his lackey was in a staring contest with Arwyn and since he was pretty sure it would serve to ultimately help tame her, which was his desire here, he nodded.  “Sure Axel, go ahead and give the slut a mouthful.”

                The bandit, whose name she now knew to be Axel, exchanged a triumphant grin with one of the other two men standing with him and then slowly sauntered toward Arwyn, once again meeting her glaring eyes.  He dropped to his knees in front of her since her current position, bent over the fallen log, had her face at the proper height for a good facefuck.  He reached out and cradled her chin and cheeks in one of his calloused hands, lifting her face slightly and smiling as he took in that beautiful but oh so angry expression.  His other hand was opening his belt and then his pants and Arwyn held his gaze even as his manhood fell free of his pants, determined not to show him a hint of the terror that was slowly building inside her.  He was very long, but skinny, the length of his shaft lined in bulging dark veins and as she took her by the hair and forced her face down toward his crotch she was horrified to see that there were a couple of small sores on his penis… like friction burns, maybe.  “No biting now blondie.”  Axel said as he shifted his hips forward, the spongy, dark blue head of his member pressing against her soft pink lips gently.  “Open up bitch.”  He growled, now sliding the head of his penis left and right across her lips.

                “You heard the man.”  Francis said to her, spanking her ass sharply.  Arwyn gasped slightly, more in surprise than from any kind of pain and as her mouth opened Axel slid into it with a contented sigh.  She was warm and wet and as he started to thrust eagerly he felt her tongue sliding along the underside of his manhood.

                By that point Francis had finally stripped her from the waist down as well and used his knee to kick hers apart, spreading her thighs wide.  After placing himself properly he reached up with both hands and grabbed her by the chain that was stretched tight between the manacles on her forearms and used them to pull her back sharply.  Arwyn whimpered, stiffening as Francis speared into her to the hilt, the scarred bandit emitting a mingled sigh and groan… head rolling back, eyes closing and a wide smile playing across his horrible features.  “Yeah baby…” he sighed, “…that’s what I’m talking about!”  He started thrusting with abandon then, his hips slapping audibly against her ass, Arwyn’s body jerking violently as he took her from behind.  Axel was having a blast on her other end as well so that when he would thrust into her mouth, she would rock backward and the two men got into a rhythm with her, Francis thrusting into her as she rocked back toward him and then Axel pushing into her mouth as Francis shoved her forward.

                “Damn…” one of the two men who had been standing with Axel commented, “…I need to get me some of that sweet action.”

                “Crom and Mitra,” a deep, oddly accented voice growled suddenly from the tree line behind the two men, “what is happening here?”  The two men who had been standing with Axel turned toward the voice, one raising his crossbow reflexively while the other reached for his sword.  Standing there, just inside the clearing where Arwyn and Jason Blood had made camp was a tall, very muscular man, darkly tanned with longish black hair and a broad, ruggedly handsome face.  He was bare chested, wearing only a loin cloth that seemed to be made of some kind of animal skin and a pair of rugged boots.  He held a broadsword in his right hand, his dark eyes playing over the two men who now stood between him and the sexy blonde he could see was obviously being raped.  Willing women, he knew, weren’t usually chained while having sex… at least, not out in the wilderness like this.

                “Who the fuck are you?” the crossbow wielder demanded as he sighted in on the huge warrior.

                Arwyn craned her eyes to the side, her angle somewhat off with Axel blocking her view, but both he and Francis had halted their rape of her to turn and regard the newcomer as well, determining if he was a threat.  She could barely make him out without being able to turn her head, and with Axels cock in her mouth, she wasn’t able to do that. 

                “I am Conan of Cimmeria, and though I know not where I have arrived, I know a damsel in distress when I see one!  Have at the!”  Arwyn’s heart skipped a beat as Conan charged forward, blade rising to a defensive position.  The crossbow wielder released his quarrel and the bolt shot forth but amazingly the warriors sword spun around in a tight arc and chopped it right out of the air!  The shooters eyes widened in surprise and he started to hurriedly reload as his partner, who had originally emerged from those same woods with Axel moved to meet Conan’s attack.  He was wielding a simple longsword and he stabbed at the barbarian as the two reached each other.  Conan shifted to one side, parrying his opponent’s sword to the right and the attacker over extended badly, his sword and then him passing the barbarian as Conan continued his forward momentum.  The warrior twisted slightly at the waist, his sword coming around and slicing deep across the other man’s spine from behind, severing his spine neatly and sending him tumbling to the ground in a paralyzed heap.

                As Conan reached the crossbowman Axel gave a frustrated growl and pulled back, his thin, filthy manhood sliding from between Arwyn’s lips.  She was relieved as he stood up, tucking his schlong away and closing his pants.  He was turning to join in the fight when she felt Francis start thrusting again, grunting and gasping, seeming desperate to finish what he started while he could.  “Gods damn you to the Hells.”  Arwyn groaned as her lissome body started to shake again from his powerful thrusts, the blonde lowering her head and fighting her bodies natural response to his fucking… she hated him for what was happening and didn’t want this in any way, but her body was betraying her and she could feel an orgasm building within her.

                Conan lashed out as he reached the shooter, his thick broadsword shattering the man’s crossbow and sending him staggering back, desperate to put some space between himself and the barbarian.  Conan saw Axel coming and turned to face him, thinking the shooter was less of a threat for the moment since he was currently unarmed.  Axel feinted a stab toward Conan’s middle, but the barbarian didn’t fall for it fully, his though sword did rise to attempt a parry.  Axel, however, redirected his attack, slashing the blade upward toward Conan’s face instead.  The barbarian bent backward, the point of Axel’s sword passing harmlessly in front of him and then the barbarian grimaced in anger and lunged forward, his sword leading the way.  Axel deftly twisted out of his path and this time it was Conan that over extended, staggering past Axel on his right. The bandit’s sword flashed downward to the right, scoring a cut on Conan’s side that brought an enraged snarl along with the blood. 

                Conan turned, slashing toward Axel’s stomach with his broadsword but the bandit parried it downward, which left him open for the left cross that Conan drove into his ugly face, staggering the bandit backward several feet.  Still snarling, the wound in his side smarting, Conan followed through, stepping in and slashing toward the bandit’s throat.  Axel’s sword came up, desperate to deflect it but this time it had been Conan feinting and the bandit fell for it fully, his sword and sword arm rising to block the slash even as the barbarian redirected his assault and drove his broadsword, point first, into and through Axel’s stomach.  The bandit’s eyes widened in shock and surprise as he bent forward slightly in response to having been run through.  Grimacing, Conan twisted his blade and Axel choked on the blood that flooded up from his internal organs and spilled out his mouth.  The barbarian then heaved his blade to the side, slicing the bandit open from the middle out the right, spilling his internal organs which hit the ground less than a second before he did.

                Behind the still madly thrusting Francist the second crossbowman had been moving, trying to get a clear shot at the warrior without accidentally hitting his allies.  As Axel fell he got his opening and squeezed his trigger, shooting a bolt toward the large warrior.  It caught Conan in the meaty part of his muscular shoulder, staggering him back and to the side.  Snarling in rage Conan turned toward the shooter and made like he was going to charge at him, the crossbowman’s eyes widening in fear as he lowered his bow.  Before Conan could take up the charge though the first crossbowman re-entered the fray, swinging a hand axe he had pulled from his belt at the barbarian.  Conan saw him coming from the corner of his eye, ducked beneath the initial swing of the axe and simultaneously drove his massive fist into the man’s stomach, lifting his feet momentarily from the ground and bending him over with the force of the blow.  As the bandit staggered backward, clutching his stomach and retching, trying to catch a breath that would not come, Conan’s blade flashed in a vicious, tight arc and lopped the man’s head from his neck.  As it hit the ground and rolled away, the stump of his neck sprayed scarlet which splashed across the big man’s torso. He smiled grimly then as he turned toward the other crossbowman who had just finished reloading in the time it took Conan to kill the last man.

                The barbarian twisted at the waist, making himself a more narrow target as the man released his quarrel again, this time missing as it sped past the barbarian, inches from his broad chest.  The shooter took one look at the steel in Conan’s eyes and turned, fleeing toward the tree line opposite the one the barbarian had come from.  As it happened, Jason Blood had just woke up and he lashed out with a foot, tripping the man who went tumbling head over heels, settling on the clearing leaf strewn ground a few feet away.  It was right around that time that Francis threw his head back and groaned as he gave one last, mighty thrust and emptied his seed into Arwyn who whimpered in denial and slumped forward over the log.

                “You son of a bitch!”  Jason growled as he started to rise, only to see the barbarian warrior, who he wasn’t certain was friend or foe having still been unconscious when he arrived on the scene, raise his broadsword and let it fly with a snarl of rage.  As the last vestiges of his long awaited orgasm passed from his body Francis’s eyes widened, focusing on that spinning blade as it rushed toward him.  The broadsword hit Francis point first, right where his ribcage met in the middle and flung him backward, simultaneously causing his already flaccid member to slide from Arwyn.  The bandit leader hit the ground on his back, right at Jason Blood’s feet, sightless eyes staring upward… finally very dead.

                When Francis had been hit by the sword and knocked backward Arwyn slumped to the side off the log, sobbing uncontrollably as she landed on her side and rolled, coming to rest with her back to the log.  Jason saw her and rushed forward, noting that the large warrior who had come to their rescue was hesitating, seeming uncertain if he should approach.  Taking a knee beside the sexy archer Jason leaned down and gently touched her shoulder.  Surprisingly, she didn’t pull away from him.  “Arwyn?”

                “Get these damn manacles off of me!” she growled, tears rolling down her cheeks.

                Nodding, the cursed human stood and jumped over the log, moving toward the body of Axel who he thought might have a key to the cuffs.  As he approached Conan he met the big mans gaze, “I don’t know who you are friend, but you have my thanks.  We’re in your debt.”  He crouched and started searching the dead man’s corpse for the key to the cuffs.

                “I am Conan of Cimmeria.  Is the woman alright?”  Jason was relieved he could understand the man, though his accent was very strange.

                Looking up into the warriors rugged face he shook his head.  “Would you be?”  Finding the keys he was looking for, he rushed back to her side and quickly released her from the manacles.

                Arwyn sat up, rubbing her forearms gingerly and then blinked, regarding Jason questioningly.  “How did you escape yours?”  She remembered distinctly that he had been manacled as well.

                “It’s a simple enough spell.”  He shrugged.  “I can only do it once a day though, so I needed to find the key for yours.”

                She nodded, “Thank you Jason.”  He could see that she was trying to hold it together emotionally and marveled at her emotional control.  Most women he knew… well, maybe not most since he tended to run in pretty impressive circles… but a lot of women would have been a wreck right now.  He figured she would be later, when she was alone and didn’t have to be around anyone else.  “Give me a moment.”  He nodded and moved toward Conan, aware that she was moving around behind him, likely retrieving and putting on her clothing again.

                Approaching the large, barely clothed warrior Jason extended his hand to the man.  “Again, Conan, I thank you for your help.”  Conan clasped forearms with Jason and the smaller man winced slightly at the strength in his grip.  “I’m Jason Blood, the lovely blonde over there is Arwyn.”

                The barbarian’s gaze shifted to the side, looking past him over his shoulder to where Arwyn was trying to dress, still seated behind the log so that her nudity was mostly concealed from them.  “She is quite lovely.”  Conan said and Jason shifted his stance slightly, blocking her from his view.

                “Where did you say you were from?”  He asked.

                “Cimmeria.”  The barbarian replied.  “What place is this?”

                Jason sighed.  “As I understand it, the planet is called Quin.  As to this specific region,” he shrugged and nodded back toward Arwyn, “she would know better than I.  Like you, I’m not from around here.”  Jason frowned thoughtfully.  “How did you come to be here?”

                “I… am not entirely sure.”  The barbarian warrior admitted.  “I was on a ship at sea, we were attacked and as I prepared to repel the boarders I… fell and wound up not far from here, lying the forest feeling ill.”

                Jason nodded.  “Sounds similar to what happened to me.”  He glanced over his shoulder, saw Arwyn tightening the laces on one of her boots, one long, very shapely leg perched on the log as she did so.  Both men took a moment to appreciate that sight, then he turned back to Conan.  “I think that you, like me, wound up traveling to a different dimension Conan of Cimmeria.  I met up with Arwyn,” he nodded toward her again, “shortly after arriving and since she helped me out, I thought I’d help her with her mission.”

                “What mission is that?”  Conan asked, ever one to look toward his next grand adventure.

                “The destruction of Mordath, an undead despot that is trying to rule Quin.  He murdered my husband and daughter to do it, and I aim to pay him back for that.”  She was walking toward them now and both men turned to regard her.  She felt Conan’s eyes sliding over her from head to toe and back again and the undeniable hunger in that gaze brought color to her cheeks, even so soon after her recent ordeal. ‘My,’ she thought to herself, ‘this one is… virile.’

                “Undead you say?”  Conan asked, intrigued.  “Has he magic?” 

                “Oh yes.”  Arwyn said with a nod.

                “Then it sounds like he needs to be made dead again.”  The barbarian commented.,

                Arwyn glanced around that dead bodies littering the area.  “You’re obviously good in a fight Conan, we could use your help moving forward."

                "I don’t work for free woman.”  He said bluntly.

                “I can’t pay you much Conan, but there will be others, likely, at Mordath’s castle standing against him.  If it’s a payday you seek, I’m a man of your skills could find one there.”  She assured him.

                “You have… other things to offer.”  He told her, no subtlety at all in his gaze as it made its way over her shapely form again, lingering on her breasts and the sensuous turn of her hips and thighs.

                “Really?”  Jason said with a shake of his head.  “You do remember she was just raped, right?”

                Arwyn reached out and placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder, her expression neutral.  “I’m not a payment that will be offered Conan, so if that’s your price, we’ll part ways here.”  He was nice to look at, she figured, but he needed some work in the manners department.

                Conan considered them for a moment.  “Perhaps I could join with you for a time, you will likely need my protection.”  At that moment the crossbowman that Jason had tripped earlier, who had been feigning unconsciousness to that point, suddenly scrambled to his feet and broke for the tree line at a run.  Hearing him Arwyn calmly turned and raised Ayden’s bow, which she had retrieved before joining the men, and fired an arrow from the quiver on her back.  As usual, the projectile was engulfed in fiery energy and when it struck the man it exploded violently, flinging her target twenty feet where he hit the trunk of a standing tree like wet sack of bones and slumped to the ground.  When she turned back to the men, she was smiling grimly.  After her ordeal, she had needed to kill something.  “Perhaps not.”  Conan said, rethinking his statement of a moment before.  This woman… or at least her weapon… was formidable.  Conan like his women formidable, and this Arwyn would pose a challenge… a challenge he felt might be worthwhile if her shapely figure was any indication.  He decided he would join with them, if for no other reason than to try and seduce his way into her pants.  “I will join you… at least until we get to this castle of Mordath you mentioned.  From there, I make no promises.”

                Arwyn nodded and smiled grimly.  Conan was formidable, and she needed people like him in her fight against Mordath.  She had already lost Gareth and Cassidy, but perhaps she replaced them with men better suited to what she was trying to do.  “Excellent.  Let’s find somewhere else to camp, I need to rest before we move on.”  Conan and Jason nodded, moving to help her break camp.  As she moved through it, Arwyn leaned over and spat on the dead body of Francis, grateful he wouldn’t be able to plague her anymore.

To be continued….