Heroes come in all shapes and sizes (IC)

[milkmaiden38]

It was mid-morning and the weather was prefect. The sky was a clear deep blue and the sun was warming the stone of the protecting curtain wall and wooden houses of the small town of Bulkenhold. There was not a hint of a cloud on this fresh spring morning.

The town was a blaze of color, sounds and smells. For today was the spring festival, the biggest event of the year for Bulkenhold. Spring flowers were out in front of each house whether it was the manor of a rich merchant, or the hovel of a peasant. Colorful flags and banners hung from the walls and posts of every merchant and craft guild and shop. The town folks and visitors were all dressed in their finery which included head ware for both men and women.

The sounds of merriment and food preparation were everywhere. The harp of the minstrels, the songs of the troubadours could be heard entertaining the various crowds. Even the baron’s fools mixed into the crowd and produced excited laughter and boisterous mirth. In the back ground the sound of trumpets signal the start of another fighting competition.

Great tables were being set up, by attendants, for the noon day feast. Basins and napkins were arranged so that the guests could wash before the meal. The tables were adorned with candlesticks of artistic designs and white table cloth, a sign of the small town’s wealth, were laid upon the tables. Large platters made of pewter and wood were being carried by other attendants with curious smelling dishes. Broths, soups, potages, roasted meat, herrings, sturgeon, pies, beef, mutton, and pork could be seen and were everywhere in abundance. Even geese, ducks, garnished some of the feasting tables. The smells of all these highly seasoned food mixed together to tickle the nose and delight the senses.

A lone figure could be seen walking on a dirt path leading into the small town of Bulkenhold. Her name was Isola. She could see, hear, and smell that was a busy morning for the town. She had been to the festival last year and found it to be one of the best in the kingdom. The festival had numerous contests such as darts, sword battles, horse riding, best brewed beer, most beer consumed, riddle contests and others. However, the featured event was the beauty pageant, where females compete to see who was the most beautiful. Isola had entered last year and had just missed being a finalist. This year she wanted to win. She had been a concubine for a wealthy married man in the eastern town Miller’s Ford, but he had been killed in a battle with some Gerlaks. Gerlaks were soulless creatures that look similar to imps, small humanoid standing about 4 ft. tall, barbed tail, small horns. Winning the contest was a great way to find a new employer, being that she was a concubine!

She pushed back her long silky burgundy colored hair back under her flower crown made of white daisies. Her face was strikingly beautiful and oh so sexy. An elegantly arched neck led down to a voluptuous and ravishing figure, soft and sexy. Her more than ample breasts were held captive by a green corset vest, exquisitely crafted with small flower designs. She wore skin tight black leather shorts/leggings. Her long tone and smooth legs were bare and ended in a pair of brown, ankle high boots. She carried a small traveling bag over her shoulder. She seemed a bit out of place, in that someone as good looking as her, would never be found in such a small town, but it was festival time.

She paid the guard at the eastern gate, the small entrance toll, and entered the town. She was amazed, each year at the amount of people that came to the festival. Each year it seemed to grow, and increase in diversity! There were dwarfs, elves, gnomes, halflings, fairies; she even caught a glimpse of lizardman. As she went deeper into the town to register for the beauty contest she overheard two town’s folks talking.

“Twas a minotaur!” The portly man said “A huge beast he was, walked in here just as proud as you please, down the middle of the street causing all kind of ruckus!!” He nodded sagely as the other man just shook his head in total disbelief.

As she rounded the corner a few blocks down, she saw the oddity. There, right before her, was a real life minotaur!! He was dressed in golden armor with two short swords from his belt and a great battle axe slung over his back. The golden plate armor covering his powerful chest sparkling in the sun, he must have been about 7 feet tall, and even covered in his armor, people could tell he was massively built with rippling muscles. His bull’s face had a look of pure determination. It was saying “Don’t mess with me and I’ll tear you apart!” His eyes were fiery, and the large white horns added to his imposing face. There was a large golden nose ring through his bull nose. But maybe the oddest thing was he stood in the line to register for the riddle contest not the fighting contest.

No one stood near him out of complete fear. Where he stood blocked the table to register for the beauty contest. Isola needed to get by him, to get to the beauty contest registration table. She took a deep breath and approached the beast.

“Good day, Sir Minotaur, Welcome to Bulkenhold” Isola said with a brave smile on her face.

The Minotaur looked down at the small human female from his 7 foot tall height. He was not sure what to think. He admired her for her bravery as no one else would talk to him. But females in the minotaur society were not permitted to talk to a bull. (Unless that bull was married to them … and then it was more like nagging than talking!). But she was female and Zarik (the minotaur’s name) had always had a soft spot for females no matter what species.

“Hail, Cow” Zarik said not exactly sure how to address this human female. “My name is Zarik, I do not rate the title of “sir”, I’m simply called Zarik” He stated firmly, correcting her.

Isola glanced around and realize there was a group of people watching her to see if the minotaur was going to smash her into pieces and eat her. But Isola had always gotten a thrill out of danger, so she continued talking to the beast.

“Well met Zarik, My name is Isola and I too have no title.” She said with a warm and friendly smile. “The festival is as busy as I have ever seen it. I think only when the baron’s daughter, Mariette, married the duke of Kindell, have I seen a vaster scale of festival and feasting. I see that you stand in the riddle contest line … I would have thought” Isola said looking over Zarik weapons and massive body “that you would be in the fighting contest line”

“This is my first visit to Bulkenhold, I was sent by our king to demonstrate to all, that Minotaurs are superior in every way to include answering riddles. Winning a fighting contest would be of no effort on my part” Zarik answered with the pride and arrogance of his race. It was part of the reason most races did not get along with minotaurs.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck in the riddle contest. If I may get past you, I need to sign up for the beauty contest.” Isola said and then added as an afterthought “If I may be of any help during your visit here … please don’t hesitate to ask” Zarik eye brows raised at this comment and he stepped aside to allow her to pass.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

In the narrow confines of her cage, the creature known only as Breed paced back and forth anxiously. The throng of people of all shapes, sizes, colors and most especially smells, wove around the creaking wagon as it slowly rolled along the narrow road. She couldn't see too easily through the slight gap in the canvas tarp that covered her cage. But every now and then she could catch a glimpse of some passer-by who came close enough to peek through the gap.

They were curious, no doubt. She could smell it on their scent, even through the canvas. Wherever He took her, it was the same. He'd keep her covered until they stopped, then He'd let their natural curiosity work on them until a crowd was gathered. Sometimes He would rattle her cage or torment her to make her angry enough to snarl and growl. That would always pique the curiosity even higher. Then when the time was right and the crowd's interest was at it's highest, He would say a lot of words for a while before pulling off the canvas all at once. That's when they would all gasp in surprise. Some would move back, as if she could get to them through the bars. Their scent would change; curiosity would mix with the sweet tang of fear, and it would excite her.

Usually that was enough to get her moving around as much as the cage would allow. But if it weren't, He would strike the bars with the staff he carried. She hated Him. If she could, she'd kill Him. But He made sure that she never got the chance.

Now tantalizing scents of roasting meat aroused her. She stopped pacing and pressed her face to the bars near the gap in the canvas, nostrils dilating to catch more of the savory smell. Her mouth watered, but she knew that she would not be fed this day. He would want her hungry and mean for the pit. Her belly rumbled, sounding like a growl from far away.

Suddenly a face appeared before her green eyes and her nose filled with the scent of a young female human who was trying to get a peek at her. The sudden appearance startled her, and she hissed and drew back into the shadowed darkness of her cage. The young girl screeched in alarm and fled from view. His voice gruffly warned the girl to stay away from the wagon, in those words He used.

She could understand them sometimes, but she had learned that His tone was more important than the words. His tone and His scent told her what His intent was, and that was usually enough to warn her.

The wagon creaked to a stop, and she trembled. The anticipation was building in her. Stretching her fingers, her claws extended to rake along the wooden floor of the cage, leaving deep furrows. Soon. Soon He would show them. Soon His men would lift the end of her cage to dump her into the pit. There, she would take her prey.

His loud voice came from nearby. He was arguing with another, but their words, spoken too quickly with the heat of their disagreement were beyond her comprehension.

"But I'm telling you she's a fighter! Why can't I enter the contest?"

"Sir, you would not be the one fighting. Only the combatants themselves can sign up."

"She is not capable of signing up for herself. Nor can she speak. I'm her master; I must sign for her."

As the two men continued arguing, Breed tested the air. She caught the scent of a creature she'd never encountered before. It was in some ways similar to the scent of a bull, but different somehow too. She moved within the shadows to try to catch a glimpse of the strange new creature, but her field of view was not enough to see it. All she could see was a statuesque human female talking to someone. More words. But at least the tone was pleasant.

 

[DeathsKnight]

Maut al Feres

He sat in the darker shadow of the trees at the far end of the town, there was a steady stream of energy as beings moved on the other side of a wall. He studied the area, he had been drawn here, dark energies, impeding death, darkness.

He shrugged and steadied the horse he rode on, the living felt uncomfortable with him, animals even more. This was a dead he had to raise from the grave, it seemed alive, only the milky white eyes showed that it was dead. It still had the mind and temperament it had when alive, yet now it was a creature that he could ride and it had no need to feed or drink, much like himself.

 

[milkmaiden38]

Bulkenhold contest sign up area

Since the encounter with beautiful human female had not ended in her being crushed and eaten, the gap around Zarik in the sign in line had grown smaller. He made it to the table to sign in. Unfortunately, the poor young apprentice craftsman manning the desk looked up at the huge monstrous figure and right into those fearsome eyes and completely froze. The massive minotaur filled the young man with gut-emptying fear, paralyzing him in his tracks. The poor man just stood there as Zarik asked him how to sign up for the contest and when was his first contest. The man just sat there stuttering. Zarik asked again … that just made the stuttering worse.

“HUMAN … where do I sign up for the riddle contest?” Zarik asked getting louder and more irritated. The gap around Zarik widened again, as people got scared and backed away.

Isola had completed her entrance into the beauty contest and walked right over without a trace of fear.

“Zarik, let me help” she said … looking over the parchments … “here is the sign in sheet and your first riddle contest is at The Thirsty Wench pub off the main market square.” She said, pointing in the general direction

“I think it is located over there, would you like me to escort you?” She asked him with a smile.

“Thank you, cow Isola, but minotaurs do not need escorts” Zarik said rather firmly.

“Ok, good day and again, I wish you the best of luck in the riddle contest” Isola said with a proud smile as she glanced at all the previously scared and now a bit shocked people in line.

The Minotaur finished signing in and turn away from the desk walking towards the pub. As a side note, the young man at the riddle contest desk did manage to say “Thank you” but it was well after the minotaur could no longer hear him.

Zarik saw an approaching group of elves … Zarik HATED elves!! Elves were so clever and crafty with their words. They always seemed to turn conversations around on him and get him all confused, and make him look stupid.

Zarik eyes narrowed as he tried to burn a hole of hatred through the elves. But if they had noticed Zarik they did not show it. Instead they headed over to the fighting contest sign in location. That line had gotten longer as there seemed to be some kind of dispute going on. There was also a large wagon covered in canvas.

“UMPH” Zarik grunted as his big bull nose flared, the golden ring in his nose started swinging. He headed over to the fighting sign in table, curious about what fighter needed a cart to aid him in battle. As he got closer there were two men still arguing. “These are not fights to the death …” one man was explaining. Zarik paid no attention to what they were saying as he approached the wagon. He heard something like a belly rumbling. There was something alive under the canvas. In typical minotaur fashion, he pulled back the cover and staring at the beautiful and wild creature that was in the cage. It was something he was not expecting to see all! It was some kinds of leopard person, exotic, athletic and muscular with striking pattern of the spotted rosettes on tawny fur; her eyes were amber-green and glowed with intelligence. Zarik, like all bull minotaurs, was a fighter, and even though she was smaller than him … he knew she was very very deadly!!

 

[Annisthyrienne]

The scent intrigued her. If there was any force more powerful than her rage against Him, it was her curiosity. Since the day she had fought back against His advances, He had treated her like nothing more than an animal. He would not communicate with her using the signs anymore. Not that she was interested in what He had to say, but in her isolation from all others, she had grown lonely and bored. Language, in whatever form, was stimulating.

Apart from that, she tried to enjoy the limited contact with the world around her, whenever she could. Usually this was only in the pits. It was only there that she was let out of her cage for a while, and then only for a specific purpose. To kill. Unless His men pulled her away before she finished, or made her sleep with the little stings they blew at her through those tubes, she would keep fighting until her prey no longer moved. It never occurred to her that someday it would be her who couldn't crawl out of the pit. The fight was all she had left to her.

But in that simple activity, there was stimulus for the senses. The smell and taste of blood and the deep earthy smell of the pit, the sounds of her snarls mixing with the screams of her prey and the roar of the crowd, the sight of the crimson trails left by her fangs and claws, and the feel of flesh giving way under her powerful muscles, all of it was her whole world for a few glorious minutes. Then they would make her sleep with their little stings and she'd wake up back in this cramped little cage, in darkness until the next time.

And so it was that she craved stimulation as much as food or water or air. Her curiosity was ever present, and it was peaking now with this strange new scent. She pressed her face against the bars near the slit in the canvas, nostrils pulsating, tongue lapping out, 'tasting' the air for more of that intriguing scent. She tried to categorize it. Was it prey? Was it a foe? It was a little like the buffalo she once hunted long ago when she lived free, but at the same time it was different. The scent did bring pangs of homesickness to her though.

Those feelings of sadness distracted her enough that she failed to notice the shift in the breeze until the scent was not there. She whuffed, trying to recapture it again. Suddenly the canvas was pulled back abruptly and the bright light of the sunny day splashed across her muzzle, stabbing her in the eyes. She sprang back with a yowl, so energetically that she collided with the bars on the other side of the cage with a loud clatter.

There, framed in the opening of the canvas, was the source of the smell, she knew. His scent was strong now, filling her senses. Her ears laid back and she hissed at first, a pure reaction to being startled. Her thick tail was bristled, and it lashed back and forth as if it had a mind of it's own.

What was this creature? It stood and walked like a Ma'an, like Him. But it had the head of a bull, and was bigger, powerful. She had not seen any others even remotely like her own kind since she fell into the hands of the Ma'an, but was this creature a different kind of person like her? She wondered if he could 'talk', and her curiosity about him gradually overcame her fright at being startled. She calmed and crept a little closer, her eyes now slitted from the sunny brightness, but steadily gazing on his features. Tentatively she tried signing to him to see if he could 'talk'.

<Bull-man talks? Fight in pit? Fight men? Kill?>

She waited for an answer. Suddenly He was there, banging that staff on the bars to drive her back. "Get back! If you want to get a look, it will have to be in the arena. Fight her, if you care to wager your skills against hers."

She glared at Him and hissed, then growled a low rumble of threat. He struck the bars again and in a blink of an eye she transformed, one moment curious but calm, the next moment fury in fur and claws! Her hatred of Him overtook her senses. She flung herself bodily at Him, claws outstretched, reaching for His face. Her svelte body struck the bars with a force that rocked the cage and drew the attention of several nearby people.

He drew back suddenly, His face going red with anger that she would dare to try to attack him. He tried to cover his feelings with bluster, hastily pulling the canvas back down to cover her again, shutting out her view of the world. He turned back to the minotaur. "What do you say, friend? You're quite the formidable fighter I'd say. Care to test yourself against my pet?"

 

[milkmaiden38]

Nas

He lay atop his mountain perch surveying the lands below him. His lands. He was the ruler of all he glazed upon. He was Nas the horrible, Nas the destroyer, Nas the terrible. The humans feared him, elves flee before him, but goblins … goblins dreaded him … curse his very name, prayed to their slimy god to be free from his wrath!! But he would NEVER stop killing goblins not until there remained none alive. Nas’ hatred of this race was stronger than his love of gold and treasure. For a Dragon that was a strong statement.

The sun was high in the sky this time of day warming Nas’ body. He was a monster to behold. As big as three elephants in length with a wing span to match, His powerful tail lay along his side, much like a house cat would sit, waiting for its prey. His head had the typical reptilian shape with frilled bat like ears, two large horns raised up over his eyebrows. Traveling down his back and along the tail was a series of spikes. His powerful jaws were shaped like a beak with rows of long teeth. His black eyes shined with his single minded hatred of the goblin race. At first glance, an inexperienced person would say he was a red dragon, but his scale color was a mixture of red and bronze and his head features were more like a bronze dragon than a red.

Here he sat … dwelling on his hatred. For all his power he was actually a broken creature. Physically he had no wounds, but the scars on his mind and soul were deep. Hatred surrounded him. It ate away at him every day for more than 100 years. He was one of the most powerful creatures on the planet, but he could not break free of his own hatred.

His eyes fell upon some movement in the forest. He looked closer at it. GOBLINS!! He thought as a small chuckle rolled through his body. He could see them now more clearly, sneaking through the forest, heading towards the humans at Bulkenhold. It was a large force, with mountain trolls and engines of war. Nas thought to himself “How daring of the putrid green skinned truds, a daylight attack on Bulkenhold during their spring festival … The humans will not be expecting it and will be slaughtered. I must watch this … then when the goblins are raping and celebrating their success … I shall do my own surprise attack. My belly will be full of both humans and goblins before night fall!!” Nas thought with excited glee as he licked his lips with his forked tongue. He launched himself into the air … flying towards a hiding spot near Bulkenhold to watch the slaughter.

 

[milkmaiden38]

Bulkenhold next to the wagon

Zarik looked at the human with contempt there was extra fire in his eyes a clear warning to the human he should extra careful with his next set of words.

“Human, that is not a pet … it’s an Andaman … a cross breed between animal and human. Just as Minotaurs are … are you calling me your PET!” Zarik stated hoping the man was foolish enough to take the bait. When the man said nothing Zarik continued.

“I have never met a leopard andaman before … but I have met a lion-man before. They are an honorable and proud race. I hope this festival does not condone this kind of slavery” Zarik said looking at the leader at the fight sign in table.

The knight-in-training nodded in agreement with the minotaur saying “The minotaur speaks correctly; you will not be allowed to enter the fighting contest. Please enjoy the feast, beauty contest or any other contest but you are not welcome here.” He said firmly.

Bulkenhold like all town in this time period had livestock that wandered the Streets. Pigs were the most common. This was because pigs are cheap, and a good source of food. Poor families had small gardens, so pigs were often let out into the streets to forage. If a stray pig became a nuisance they could be killed and the owner charged for the return of the dead animal.

As the knight-in-training finished telling the slaver his “pet” could not fight, a small pig came wandering between the legs of Zarik. He reached down and grabbed the pig by the head with one hand.

As the pig squealed Zarik said “I DON”T LIKE YOU, HUMAN!!” His statement finished he crushed the pig’s head with his one hand. Brain matter oozing between his fingers. Then he tore what was left of the pig’s head off. The blood sprayed out the neck all over the Human slaver’s cloth as Zarik lifted the canvas up again and took the pig’s remains and smashed it through the bars into the leopard women’s cage.

“Learn to feed your fighters better” Zarik said. Zarik had only a few moments but he looked into the leopard women eyes and tried to answer her questions. His knowledge of sign language was weak

<Bull-man talks? Yes>
<Fight in pit? No>

Then he asked his own question <You want Freedom?>

He watched for her replay and then he turned away. His fearsome display complete, Zarik stomped off towards the pub for his riddle contest … all the humans scattered out of the way as he approached!!

Outer Wall of Bulkenhold

A very awkward encounter was about to happen at the outer wall at the far end of the town of Bulkenhold. There among the shade of the trees came a band of 3 minstrels, playing their harp, flute and tambourine. The baron had hired extra minstrels for the spring festival and feast. It had been costly, but he wanted every part of Bulkenhold to be filled with music and joy. The presence of the minstrels added to the festival’s celebration of spring. All the minstrels had been told it was their duty to strike up merrily in any that looked sad. These three visiting musician had seen the great knight on his horse in the dark shadows and headed over to him at once. There was almost a sense of sadness and death around the Knight, so they merrily played music around him to brighten his mood. As the knight did not react, finally the tambourine player stopped and asked him “Sir Knight … Please … we wish you to be merry …what can we play to lighten your mood!!” He asked.

 

[DeathsKnight]

Maut al Feres

He felt the presence of a huge creature approaching, somehow it seemed familiar, then humans approached him. They danced around him, singing and playing joyful music. Things that he could enjoy no more, he had enjoyed it in life, yet there was nothing about what they sang about for him to enjoy anymore.

“Sir Knight … Please … we wish you to be merry …what can we play to lighten your mood!!”

He considered the man's words and a cold grin split his dead lips, when he spoke his voice was hollow, cold and filled with the lamentation of the dead and tortured souls.

"A funeral dirge. It suits me."

His laughter was just as cold and haunting as his voice, instead of glee it sounded more like an invitation to a cold, open grave. The minstrels fled in horror from him, he looked after them, there was no mirth in his eyes, though it did amuse him. Silly creatures, how they fled from what they did not know and understand. He sensed death from inside the town, a violent death, something had been killed in an instant with only a moment's worth of terror. The creature he sat on snorted, even though there was no need for it, it did it anyway, silently the two sat further in the shade, staring out over the town as death approached.

He nudged the horse forward and they cantered towards the gate, minstrels had already ran past the guard and he was staring after them. The guard looked startled when a gold coin landed on the table where he stood and a cold shadow fell over him. He looked up, his eyes widening as he took in the mount and then widened even more as he took in the armored knight seated on top of the creature. The family crest the stuff of legend and the guard shuddered.

"That will get me inside yes?"

A mute nod was all he received and his mount entered through the gate, inside there was a milling of people, chattering, eating, drinking. His cold gaze took it all in, he cut a solitary figure on the black horse, there was no other rider in the plain and the people found a slight discomfort, as they saw the family crest the discomfort became shudders of dread. Many have heard the tales, the fables, the songs of the dead knight of the De Grange family, which sought his eternal peace.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

His heavy jowls framed his chin, the lines growing deeper with his scowl. He didn't like being talked to this way. But the minotaur was a formidable presence, and at his core, the slave master was a coward, as most bullies usually are. He didn't dare to reply.

The confirmation by the young knight in training who was running the entries for the fighting contests only soured the slave master's mood even more. All of his plans were coming to naught. He had thought that bringing his killer beast to one of the outlying regions would give him the leeway to skirt the laws where he usually operated. Owning slaves was not illegal. But there were laws about how they could be treated. He'd hoped that the yokels in this corner of the realm would know about such things.

But it was clear now that there would be no profit made on wagers here if He could not enter her in the fights. He wasn't happy.

His mood soured even more in the next moment when the minotaur bellowed in his face just before pulling the head off a stray piglet, splattering it's blood all over his clothes. He flinched, and could do nothing to stop the beast man from shoving the ruined animal through the bars of the cage.

Breed was quivering in her rage against Him. She wanted to kill, longed to feel her claws ripping into his soft flesh. But what happened took her by surprise. Ironically, it was the tang of sudden bloodscent that brought her out of her rage. Her belly rumbled with sudden hunger as the smell of a fresh kill hit her nostrils. Her rage forgotten, replaced by another primal urge, she watched, astonished as the bull-man stuffed the piglet's body through her bars.

The still spraying blood quickly spread on the floor of her cage, but she wasted no time pouncing on the fresh meat. Her fangs sank into the savory flesh, ripping a large chunk out. She swallowed greedily, then her eyes rose to the bull-man again in gratitude. To her surprise, he 'spoke' to her, answering her questions, and posing one of his own.

It hit her hard. She was stunned for the moment. Since the day long before when the nets had fallen upon her, she'd longed for it, dreamt of it, wanted to die to achieve it. That one word, one concept: Freedom.

Her eyes showed the yearning in her spirit, and her hands, claws covered in the blood of the piglet, hastily formed the sign to give expression to her long felt desire....<Yes!>

She wasn't sure what she saw in his eyes, but he turned away, letting the canvas covering drop again. She was alone with the meat he had given her. Her growls accompanied the sounds of ripping flesh as she began to tear large chunks of the flesh from the kill, hoping to fill the sudden aching emptiness inside her that had nothing to do with hunger.

Outside the slave master shook in impotent rage. One of his lackeys stepped up beside him, asking, "Milord, what do you want us to do about the piglet? She's not supposed to be fed for another two days according to your schedule."

The slave master looked at his underling with rebuke. He let the sounds of her growls and the ripping flesh fill the silence between them before answering sarcastically, "You want to try taking it from her?"

 

[milkmaiden38]

At the edge of the Forest near Bulkenhold

Lurking in the forest near the town of Bulkenhold was about half the goblin tribes of the Dragon Tooth Mountains. Banded together, this force of over 2000 goblins and 200 hobgoblins and some huge trolls was on a single mission: kill every living creature in the town of Bulkenhold. This particular force had shown uncommon discipline in moving so quietly and so close to the town without being detected. The light wind blew into their faces and they could smell human and elven flesh! They licked their gnarled teeth as they drooled, thinking about how wonderful humans and elves taste!

The sadistic leader of this attack force was none other than the goblin high prince Marslug. His presence explained the discipline of the force, for if any goblin failed to follow his instructions, their death would be slow and most horrible. Marslug told his ten sub-commanders “Greenskin brothers, tonight we’ll have more humans and elves to eat and rape then we have had in 100 years!! I’m not sure which part of me is more excited my cock or my belly!” There was laugher all around as they were very confident of victory. If the town had been alerted the battle would be more difficult, but with the element of surprise the town was doomed against this much larger and powerful force.

Goblin scouts brought forth an elderly human woman, who was too weak to walk, shaking in terror, and was gagged so she could not give warning. She looked to be from one of the small farms near the town and had been left behind while the rest of the family enjoyed the festival. “My lord … we have capture another human” They reported.

Marslug was a six foot tall hobgoblin, powerfully strong; he walked over to the older woman. “These humans are so careless … how many have we found … just sitting around … unprotected?” he asked his sub-commanders. Counting was not a goblin strength so there was just a bunch of shrugs at his question.

“Well spy … I cannot let you report what you have seen” he said with a wicked grin on his face. As he pressed his thumbs into her eyes until they POPPED, then he drove his thumb in all the way to her brain and her body slumped over dead.

“Too old to taste good … feed her to the trolls” he laughed

“We attack at the conclusion of the beauty contest!!” He told his sub-commanders.

 

[milkmaiden38]

Bulkenhold’s Beauty Contest

The town’s bell signaled the start of the noon time feast. All the festival goers had taken seats among the long tables and began to enjoy the finest foods Bulkenhold chefs had prepared. The sounds of merriment and joyous laugher were everywhere, as attendants hurried to refill tankards of ale and bring out more of the delicious dishes.

Isola was smiling as the pageant was about to begin. She had changed into her most expensive and sexist dress. This outfit was sure to impress the judges and just wearing it made her feel more confident and beautiful. It was an emerald encrusted long green evening gown, low cut, which displayed her eye popping cleavage, as the garment struggled to contain her big sexy breasts. The back of the dress was open all the way to her mid-back exposing more of her smooth and prefect skin. The dress also had a split up one side, revealing her long toned legs. Finally, she wore her large green emerald necklace that matched her dress and eye shade perfectly; her full lips were in a red burgundy color closely matching her hair color. The combination of her long silky burgundy colored hair and the green sparkling dress made her stand out among the other contestants.

Trumpets blared signaling the contestants to parade out for the pageant, with this dress on; Isola entered the feasting area and walked on to the stage. There were 24 beauties from the entire region lined up as the crowd cheered and clapped for their favorites. It was an honor to participate, and Isola was proud to be among the other girls on the stage. Indeed, being part of the pageant was not only good for the contestant afforded the woman with great respect, but also would elevate her family name and indeed the town or province. There was a great sense of local pride in this contest.

"Gentlemen and dear ladies of Bulkenhold, guests, this year’s Spring Festival Beauty Pageant contestants awaiting your approval.” The town crier announced as each girl was called forth, her name read, and then she walked in front of the visiting dignitaries and the judging panel. This year there was an equal mix from the northern provinces, mostly fair-skinned blondes and brunettes and the more southern parts of Palamar Kingdom with the smaller, darker women with black hair. The Judges were the baron himself, dressed in his ceremonial armor, and two past winners of the contest.

Parts of the crowd cheered loudest as a contestant from their region was announced. Unfortunately for Isola, there were few people from the most eastern parts of the kingdom here, so she got a few cheers. But being the only redhead, and the grown she had chosen to ware caused gasped of awe and amazement in the crowd which made her feel good. All twenty-four beauties knelt in front of the baron, until he dismissed them.

This year there seemed to be a lot of different fashion on display than past years. Lots of girls had full flowing white dresses, and many outfits had various flowers attached. As far as shape and sizes most of the girls were younger than Isola and all were more petite. Isola was the most buxom of all the 24 girls.

It was frowned upon, but coins could be seen being passed between tables and betting pools were established. The judges discuss their scores and thoughts and the finalist were announced. Isola had butterflies in her stomach as she listened to the town crier.

“The first finalist is” he paused for effect … “Celictic of the northern village of Hammerstein!” The young girl with an exquisite figure took her place in the finalist circle. As the crowd cheered and clapped. “Our second finalist is … Valentee from the southern town of Mesafornia (only 5 days ride from Bulkenhold). There was a very large cheer when her name was announced. She was an olive-skinned beauty with a small waist and full luscious black hair. “Our final finalist is …” the crier said “Isola of Miller’s Ford!!” Another loud series of cheers as Isola moved into the finalist circle. Each woman was very beautiful but in different way.

The final step of the contest required each finalist to talk to each judge for a small interview. The contestants walked back over to the judges. As the last finalist selected, it was Isola luck to be interviewed by the baron. Isola was familiar with royal etiquette and curtsy and addressed him as “Lord of Bulkenhold”. The interview seemed to be going great, when there was a strange horn blowing noise from the forest near the town. The baron eyes filled with concern. “Goblins!!” he whispered.

Then he stood up, and spoke in a loud commanding voice “SILENCE EVERYONE …THAT IS THE SOUND OF A GOBLIN WAR HORN” he stated. Everyone at the feast fell silent. As the watchman in the town’s bell tower yelled down to the baron confirming his fears. “GOBLINS, GOBLINS … a horde of them … approaching from the western forest!! TO ARMS TO ARMS!!” he yelled and started to strike the warning bell. Isola stood there a bit in shock and then said “BLOOD AND PISS!” in total frustration at the situation.

The baron looked at her crossly … for issuing such un-lady like words … A few seconds later a massive rock came flying into the feasting square, smashing tables as people screamed and ran for cover. The Baron struggled to find the right words to say and then looking at Isola he yelled “BLOOD AND PISS!!! … THEY HAVE ROCK THROWING TROLLS …” He said more quietly to Isola “thank you for those find words.” Dressed in his ceremonial armor he drew his sword and commanded “TO THE GATES … ALL SOLDIERS TO THE GATES!!” He ran off towards one of the town’s gates.

Isola saw another rock come flying in smashing chairs and tables in the square… She too took off running. “Perhaps some magic at the gate would be useful” she said to herself and there was a small twinkle in her eyes as she grabbed the large green emerald hanging from her necklace.

There were four gates into the town, north, south, east, and west. The fighting contest members had been closest to the south gate and had secured it. The knights-in-training and various squire were engaged in a pitched battle at the north gate. The east gate was on the opposite side of the main attacking force and no goblins or trolls had attacked it yet. The west gate had only a single guard to collect the entrance toll. He bravely stood his ground as he yelled … no make that SCREAMED for help … from anyone!! As hundreds of goblins ran directly at him!!!

 

[Mantra]

Nas

Nas had made his way to the very top of his nearby hill and almost coiled his bulk around the hill cap so that much of his body was hidden from view, but could still see the vast expanse of land below him. He had come up to see the fight; something that he had considered to be worthwhile entertainment, but what he saw only agitated the dragon far more than his usual demeanor.

"No, no! NO!" he growled into the empty air before him. "They have siege towers coming up the main road you stupid, useless mammals! Can you not see what is right beyond your walls? IDIOTS!!"

Nas let his head slump onto the hill top with a thud and a groan of contemptuous dispair. He hated the humans; foolisy bumbling, yappy little creatures that they were. He hated the elves; their slender, flowing grace and airy words and motions making Nas ill with their higher than thou attitudes. He often wondered how the elves avoided all the roots and potholes in the world, considering their noses were always pointed up in the air. Worse still were the goblins and their ilk; trolls, hobgoblins, whatever. they were all really the same whatevers they were anyway, some were just bigger, dumber and smellier than the others anyway. But whatever size the goblins were, Nas loathed their very existence. The moment he had seen this motly collection or vermin, Nas knew that he had ignored them for too long. Only just a decade ago, the green-skinned nasties would have wept in fear for just staring too hard in the direction of his hill range. Clearly they had forgotten just why they were afraid of the dragon in the hills and why they cursed his name in the silence and darkness of their rat-holes.

The war horns, (pitiful moanings from creatures who did not have the power of a worthwhile roar) made him open one eye and glance back towards Bulkenhold and groan. He did not care for the city; in fact, he could easilly have destroyed it several times over if he had wanted to. No bulkenhold existed because Nas wanted it to exist, all preening bravado from the human knights inside not withstanding. It was simple economics and common sense to Nas. If there was no Bulkenhold, then there would be no cowardly mayor to pay him tribute every month. No farms meant there was no livestock to pillage. No trade hub meant there were no caravans to extort.

And now these stinking, repulsive, nasty, green-skinned savages were going to destroy his little money-maker because the human animals were too busy oggling their females and glutting themselves in freshly harvested weeds to look up.

"Dammed stupid, STUPID, two-legged creatures!!" Nas growled as thin trails of smoke drifted up from his nostrils.

His massive, leathery wings unfurrled and with a downward stroke of his wings and a jump with his powerful legs, Nas was airborn, flying straight up and into the clouds.

 

[DeathsKnight]

He turned his steed and stared coldly at the guard who yelled for help, great stones came crashing down among the people, tents, houses, stables, feasts. Death have arrived, just as it seemed that the guard at the West gate would be swept away, fellow guards joined him, soldiers swarmed passed him to secure the gate, the baron hot on their heels. He sat stock still, death would come and he would sit there, absorbing the energies, the release of life and souls ripped away to the after life, dead lips curled away from strong, white teeth. Under the helmet he could not be seen, from outside he looked a statue, it was that final moment, right when all went silent, before the first impact and the first death...he raised his head, another life force moved, it was huge, it felt familiar...his dead eyes burned with unholy light as he scanned the skies, moving away his mount just in time to avoid a crushing rock. There was something out there, something he knew, the cold, dead grin turned to a study of a fallen smile and a grimace of pain.

He turned his attention to the chaos ready to erupt, reaching out with his senses he tried to contact the dead and rise them. But the only dead remaining was age old farmers, no warriors. All soldiers, all warriors were given a warrior's burial. Burned on pyres. All that was left was mouldy and half-rotten bones, he threw back his head and laughed, his laugh echoeing around him, making grown men shudder at the image of the cold grave that flashed passed their eyes. Bewilderment took hold, was the knight their enemy? Or was he more? The harbinger of death and ill omens?

 

[milkmaiden38]

The guard at the west gate stood … bracing himself as the goblin horde approached. He was still screaming for help as two fellow guards joined him, he knew it was not enough but his courage to stand is what had made them come and stand with him. Next came the Baron himself.

“Stand fast men … we must not let them breach this gate …” He ordered. The guard stood shaking as the horde was almost upon him … he knew he was about to die … and there was nothing that could prevent that. Then something happen the guard had not expected. It was so surprising he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. The horde stopped. Just stopped!! There was concern in those goblin eyes … but why?

As if to answer his question a massive Minotaur, his battle axe in his hands now stood next to him. There was battle lust in those minotaur's eyes. “I answer your call for help … protect my flank and stay clear of my axe” he declared, then seeing the fear in the guard’s eyes he grunted “If you are afraid to die, you are already dead” (Side note … this is a famous minotaur expression)

The Minotaur BELLOWED his challenge to the stopped horde. That triggered the goblins to attack. They screamed in response and descended on the figures guarding the gate. Isola reached the gate just as the goblin forces smashed into the defensive lines. Isola almost felt sorry for the goblins!! The Baron and the minotaur fought side by side … in the center of the lines … A guard on each of their sides finished the fragile line of defense … the remain guardsman used his halberd to thrust between the fighters helping anyone in trouble and kill any goblins that slipped past the defenders. Watching the Minotaur’s axe swinging back and forth in a powerful rhythm the first few goblins which approach him were chewed up and spit back in small pieces!! There were more screams from the goblins and a bigger number of them attacked Zarik; again the same results … cleaved goblin parts sprayed all over the gate. Despite his age the baron fought with grace and skill, with those two anchoring the line it held.

The attacking goblins redoubled their efforts but there was just not enough room to get more goblins against the defenders. Their third assault ended with broken and dying goblins all over the place. Then three huge trolls appeared. Each held massive rocks and they prepared to throw them at the defenders. The baron yelled for archers to attack the trolls. But there were no archers on the walls.

The rocks came flying in … the defenders had to move … side stepping the rocks … but this broke the defensive line as the goblin swarmed into the town. The Baron realized this and yelled for the fighters to plug the opening, but he knew they needed more help and fast!! In the few moments when the defensive line was open … so many goblins got in … that they seemed everywhere … one of the guardsman lay dead. Zarik and the Baron fought heroically and re-plugged the gate … but it would not last … as the trolls picked up more rocks.

Isola had to do something and had to do it fast. She closed her eyes, her hand on the green gem. The emerald was dull now as it sensed the presence of evil. The stone enhanced Isola small magical abilities as she tried to place a “suggestion” spell on one of the trolls. Casting the spell on the troll was like running through waist high water. The creature was very dumb. But the suggestion sank in and the troll picked up another rock and smashed it into the head of one of the other trolls standing near him. Surprisingly even with a crushed in skull the injured troll did not die. The three trolls were fighting each other and not throwing rocks. Isola had no other weapons … so she went over to the dead guardsman and grab his halberd. Holding it all wrong … she rammed it into the back of a goblin that had gotten in the town. Killing him dead.

 

[DeathsKnight]

One goblin who had slipped passed the defenses was a rather smart little fellow, he knew that when houses burned humans tried to stop the fire. Fire would be a useful distraction to bring more of his kin inside the walls, he scampered away to find fire. Two more goblins had smelt blood and was boring down on the smell. Under a canvas they could smell the blood, they grabbed hold of the rough material and yanked it off, it revealed a cage, inside of the cage they found a fearless angry creature which they could see to be another creature, female. They attacked the cage, stabbing with swords inside, trying to kill or maim the creature inside.

The smart goblin had found a feast fire, he grabbed a piece of burning firewood and rushed towards the buildings at the backs of the defenders, only to find a knight seated on a horse. The knight did not move, he did not even acknowledge the presence of the goblins. There seemed to be something different about this knight, but he was not sure what. Brandishing the burning wood like a club, he rushed forwards and jumped, weapon held high.

Muat turned his attention to the threat at the last moment, the small fire made his undead body cringe and he could feel his skin crawl. His left hand lashed out and grabbed the creature around the throat, the burning wood swung forward, hitting him on the head. With a snap of his clawed gauntlet, the goblin's neck broke, up until then he had savored the death, the magic, the energy. Now these creatures dared attack him? The IMPUTANCE...the ARROGANCE! He turned his attention to goblins worrying a cage with a creature inside. Drawing on the powers of death, two black flames appeared in his hands, leveling his hands at the two creatures, he released the fire. The magic slammed into the goblins, they burst into unholy flames, screaming as their flesh melted away, one of the bolts hit a corner of the cage, rocking it, but also ripped the bars apart.

Muat lifted his left arm, a shield materialized on his arm, from his back he drew a war axe. He slipped from the mount and walked towards the gate, nothing attacks him and lives, nothing. He noticed a woman holding a halberd, she seemed to hold of a few goblins with swipes and stabs from the weapon, at a glance he was not sure if the goblins was after her for food or to rape her. Two swipes of his axe and two dead goblins fell to the ground, leaving one for the woman to kill. To make the kill easier, he nudged the goblin with his axe as he passed. He stepped between the baron and the minotaur, swinging his axe at the hordes in front of him, light blue fire danced over the dull metal as blood, armor, clothing and body parts flew in all directions. He met a few blows with his shield and then dished out more of his own, his magical blade cutting through weapons and shields like they were paper. The dead heaped up as he kept on swinging his axe, there was no battle lust call, no defiant shout, no challenge, just dead silence from the knight as he swung his weapon, killing goblins and hobgoblins as they came towards him.

A new troll ventured closer, raising a rock, leveling the blade of his axe at the creature, blue fire sparked and danced all across the blade and a heavy bolt of fire erupted from the blade, impacting with the troll's face, it's scream of pain cut through bone and marrow before it fell lifeless to the ground. The goblins paused at this show of power, then they rushed forward, hoping to put and end to this knight and his fellow defenders.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

She was cracking the bones of the piglet for the sweet marrow within when the strange horn sounded. It reminded her of a hunting horn from the days before her capture, and her ears perked up. She grabbed the bars of the cage, straining to see something through the thin gap in the canvas covering. To her keen ears came the sound of cries of alarm. Men and women were running nearby, seemingly excited or panicked.

His voice came loud and close, "Hitch the wagon, the town is under attack. Make haste and we may yet get through the Eastern gate." She could smell his fear, and something else.....far away still.....but she knew that scent. She'd fought them before, in the pits. He'd dumped her in with three of them, armed with knives against her claws and fangs. It had been one of the closer fights, but she'd won, eventually.

She could feel the jostling of the wagon as they hurried to hitch the team and get away. But before they could, she heard the clang of weapons, the shrieks of battle of the goblins attacking. Breed's thick tail lashed in adrenaline fueled anticipation. It was the feeling she had before they would dump her into the pit. Already she could smell more than the pig's blood that stained her cage floor.

The wagon shook and then grew still. She heard the running footfalls of the men near her wagon, then the gibbering screeches of the goblins. The canvas tarp covering her was suddenly ripped away, and the bright sunlight hurt her eyes. She cried out, an angry yowl of warning and threat. Two of the goblins pressed close, drawing their wicked blades.

Had she been simply a leopard, they would have only killed her. No sense in risking a dangerous animal getting loose. But she was more than a leopard. She had the enticing shape of a womanly form as well. If she had been only a woman, she would have been subdued and raped, and eventually, when they had finished using her, they would have killed her. But she was more than a woman too. They had to wear her down before they could safely take her body.

They chattered in their harsh gibbering tongue, taking turns stabbing into her cage for sport. Their blades nicked and cut her, despite the agility of her attempts to escape their torment. When she could, she lashed out at them, but they always danced back nimbly. She hissed and bared her fangs, growling in fury and frustration, but it was no use.

The first warning she had was when the fur on the back of her neck stood up, bristling with the sensation of the arcane power building in the vicinity. Then one of her attackers was screaming in horrific pain as eldritch black flames licked up and down his body. He fought to put out the flames but it was no use. His immolation took only seconds.

Before the first had stopped screaming, the cage was rocked profoundly. Breed's ears hurt with the shriek of tortured metal, and she shielded her eyes from the bright flash that accompanied the blast. When the wagon stilled and she opened her eyes again, there was nothing left of the second tormentor, but the corner of her cage had been scorched and the bars broken and twisted. Her heart leapt inside her! Here at last was her chance at the freedom she had longed for!

She wasted no time in wriggling through the gap in the bars. It was only a short drop to the ground, and for the first time in years, she felt green grass under her feet. She was free! She cast around for a place to flee and to hide, but there were goblins swarming all around. Even now, no fewer than half a dozen were headed her way. She crouched warily as they approached. A quick glance to the side showed one of the knives the other two had dropped nearby. But there was no time to get it. The first of the six was already upon her.

She shrank back, as if cowering in fear of them, but in reality she was only gathering herself to spring. He raised his sword across his body in a back-slashing motion. That's when she launched her compact body at him with full force. She came at him partly from his weapon side, before he could swing. For all the world he thought he was defending against the pounce of a wild animal. But Breed was much more than that.

She'd had the experience of half a hundred fights in the pits. Killing was in her blood.

She hit the goblin high, her clawed feet raking his arm as she pushed off from him as quickly as she made contact. Her claws shredded his arm from shoulder to elbow, leaving the muscle in ribbons. Already she was launching towards the next nearest goblin, even as the first dropped his weapon and went down, holding his useless appendage.

The next was slightly better prepared for her, having seen what had happened to his comrade. He raised a small buckler shield to ward off her claws. He grabbed it's rim, her claws hooking under. Twisting her body, cat-like reflexes serving to orient her in midair, she flipped end over end, pulling his arm with her. The motion and her momentum yanked his arm severely, dislocating his shoulder before he fell. She was on him in an instant, her fangs closing over his trachea, then tearing the flesh until his blood burst into her mouth like the juice from an over-ripe peach.

She snarled, fangs dripping in blood, her muzzle covered in gore as the other four circled her, surrounding her, spears and swords leveled at her. In the space of six seconds, she had dispatched two of their number. They were not about to take chances this time.

 

[Mantra]

Nas

With a final snarl, Nas tipped his wings forward and dove. His timing and placement were superb, winging through the clouds just behind the rear of the goblin force and following up the same road that the green-skins were using for their supplies and reinforcements.

Shrieks of alarm went up from the hoard as they saw Nas, but by then it was too late. Cruising by, Nas exhaled, sending a stream of orange and red, flaming napalm from his jaws. Below him, the clogged roadway became a river of fire, choked with writhing, screaming figures. Four of the heavy but effective siege towers likewise went up in flames, turning the trolls who had been tasked to push them into wheeling torches, running panic stricken through the goblin host in all directions.

Turning slightly, Nas touched down, running along the earth but kept his wings extended, letting the dragon literally glide across the open fields with a surprising grace in spite of the chaos that followed in his wake. Scores of creatures were crushed and trampled as he bounded through their ranks. As he ran, Nas’s long tail whipped from side to side, sending dozens of others flying violently away from the dragon’s flanks.

Nas really did not wish to truly defeat the hoard, just make sure that the stupid humans might not be all massacred before they could put up a real fight. Besides, hearing the screams and crunching of bones beneath him soothed his irritation. Seven Hells, he might even consider letting whatever leader that had scrapped this rabble together live….maybe.

 

[milkmaiden38]

Isola Battle

It would have been funny if it was not so serious … but Isola still in beauty contest gown was holding a halberd all wrong trying to defend herself against three attacking goblins.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME … YOU LITTLE GREEN …(she could not think of a good word) … TURDS” she finished. Then out of the corner of her eyes a knight in shining armor with a battle axe swung his blade and in a few seconds there were two dead goblins on the ground, leaving one left for her …

“HEY … YOU FORGOT ONE!!” she yelled at the knight … the Knight as if he heard her nudged the goblin with his axe as he passed. The goblin was off balance and Isola saw her opening and rammed the halberd into the goblins neck pinning him, to the wall behind. There was a great spray of green blood that squirted out all over Isola fancy dress. The goblin was dead, but the FURY in isola eyes would have scared even a full grown dragon!! NO ONE MESSES WITH HER CLOTH … NO ONE!!!

Isola left the goblin pinned to the wall. Grabbed the goblin's short sword from his dead hand and SCREAMED IN A BLOOD RAGE and ran off to find more goblins to kill.

At the West Gate

The deathknight’s actions had thrown confusion into the goblins attacking the west gate. All of the goblins in this area were now attack solely the knight. The defenders at the gate had a moment to regroup. Zarik eyes were still on the goblins in case any decide to attack the gate as he asked the Baron a question:

“That is no ordinary knight … he does not seem to fear death … not even our strongest and bravest fighter would have walked into that sea of goblins!!”

The Baron shook his head “I know that family crest, I have heard the tales, the fables, the songs. He does not fear death … because he is already dead!! He is the dead knight of the De Grange family, Maut al Feres. I do not know what he seeks … but for now he seems to be on our side.”

Finally 4 more guards joined the defenders. The baron looked up and saw three archer on the wall above. The dead knight had bought them much needed time. "well help is finally here" the Baron said to Zarik.

"Great ... now it is only 11 ... 12 if you count sir dead-a-lot ... against 2000 ... I don't think the goblins have a chance!!" he said a grin look on his bull face.

 

[milkmaiden38]

Marslug command tent

The third dead messenger lay on top of the other two on the tent floor. High Prince Marslug hands were covered in the messenger’s green blood. The prince may have been a sadistic egomaniac, but he was not stupid. He realized his tactic of killing every messenger until they brought him good news was not working. He grabbed his magical war blade named “human gutter” and his helm and stormed out of his tent.

His evil red eyes looked over the battle field and all he saw was disappointment. His forces had surrounded the town but had yet to penetrate its walls. The primary gate he had chosen was the west gate. His forces were bottlenecked there unable to get past the few defenders. His scouts had told him the baron himself stood at the gate defending it. He had laughed “Tell the trolls, Baron flesh tastes the sweetest!!” The additional trolls still had not dislodged the defenders. He ordered his siege towers to be moved into position … he saw them now moving up the road.

Then he took an involuntary step backwards … almost stumbling … He saw THE DRAGON … He found himself almost pinned under the gaze of serpent’s two eyes. There was a powerful roar and a blast of fire and his siege towers were in flames!!

In total shock and dismay … It was at this very moment he uttered the words he will be forever famous for “Nothing ruins a battle plan … like a dragon!!”

One of his sub-commanders turned to him and “My Lord … what do we do??” he asked. Marslug plunged his sword deep into the sub-commander’s belly. As hot green blood gushed forth, he answered his question “Die …” he said simply.

He turned to his remaining sub-commanders “YOU ALL NEED TO BE MORE SCARED OF ME ... THEN THOSE WE FIGHT…NOW KILL EVRYTHING ON THIS FIELD!!!” he screamed. All the goblins and all the reserve units were called up and thrown into the attack. Marslug himself ran to the west gate. He would dislodge the defenders himself if he had too!!

 

[DeathsKnight]

Maut al Feres

He moved with the practiced ease of a man swinging a training axe, green blood splattered everywhere, yet seemed to glide from his armor, like the metal was as smooth as glass and nothing stuck to it. The flow of the battle had carried him away from the gate, but in the position he was, he still commanded the attention of the attackers. Steadily the mass of their bodies overwhelmed him, he could swing the axe no more, he dropped his weapon and shield, the goblins first thought him to surrender and eagerly advanced only to meet the claws of his gauntlets.

Still no sound issued from him, only the dying's cries for mercy and death filled the air, in the close confines blades met his armor, but could not penetrate, armor, skin, flesh and bone tore and ripped under the impact of his strikes. But as the attack force surged ever closer, not even he could stand his ground anymore and the bodies overwhelmed him, sending him crashing to the ground, goblins and hobgoblins tearing at the armor which refuses to dent or scratch. Still even on his back he continued to fight on, guts spilled, ribs splintered, lungs and hearts ruptured, the bodies pressing in and swarming over his form collapsing on top of him, pinning him. Claws and weapons points surged to find the slit of his helmet, trying to pry open the faceplate, to drive a weapon into his eyes. Faintly a roar and a new tumult came to his senses, it was the roar of a dragon, drawing upon the last of his resources, black tendrils of a smoke-like substance burst from the ground around them, the attackers froze in supernatural awe, the tendrils sought and found Maut, the unholy black flames licking at the corpses on top of him, burning those still trying to remove his helmet, with his arms free, Maut threw open his arms, letting streaks of magic fly out and slam into the attackers, scores died in agony as their flesh melted away.

Maut knew that he was done, there was no more dead here for him to draw power from, he only had time to get slowly to his feet, picking up the shield and axe before a fresh wave of attackers slammed into him, carrying him back towards the gate, his axe started swinging again and he finally found his feet, only to be bowled over by the momentum of the attackers, from his knees he fought, knowing that if he did not receive help, his eternal peace might just come to him in a very degrading manner and he refused to stand before Death being trampled to death by goblins.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

The four circled her warily, each one searching for an opening. Their strategy was to surround her, hoping that while one could strike at her, another could hit her from behind. Two were armed with swords. One had a mace, and the fourth had a spear. With the longer reach, the spearman advanced upon her from the front, initiating the attack. He lunged quickly.

Breed dodged the lunge, but one of the swordsmen pressed her from behind, slashing wickedly. She whirled like a dervish, but was caught between the spearman's shaft and the blade of the swordsman. As the sword bearing goblin drew back, the blade raked along her ribs, slicing through fur and flesh, spilling crimson blood. She yowled in pain and anger, grabbing the spear shaft and twisting violently away from the sword blade.

The spear wielding goblin expected her to pull away, as most enemies would trying to escape his vicious thrusts. But Breed was not going to do as he expected, especially when the goblin's sword behind her goaded her into moving. Instead of pulling on the spear shaft, she pushed, charging straight for the wielder of the spear. He would not let go either, and the result was that she pushed him at the other end of the shaft until they both were out of the range of the other circling goblins.

Once clear of their slashing weapons, she leapt into the air, using the stiff shaft of the spear as a pole to vault over the goblin holding the other end. As her body pirouetted over his head, the momentum switched their places, leaving her outside their circle, and him with his back to the others. Now she pushed again, driving him backwards. Hastily he scrabbled back, but he'd had no time to check his path. She ran him onto the blade of the sword wielding goblin behind him who had cut her ribs.

As the wicked barbed blade entered his back, the goblin shrieked and let go of the spear. His comrade, too late to anticipate the maneuver, now saw the armed leopard-woman reversing her grip on the spear, bringing the sharp end to bear. He didn't like the look he saw in her slitted green eyes. Desperately he jerked his sword, trying to disentangle his comrade's body from his blade.

The other two goblins moved to flank her, one on either side. She held the spear at the ready as they moved in. At a hidden cue between them, they both charged her at once. To their surprise, she brought the spear shaft into play like a quarterstaff, fending off their thrusts with skill and dexterity. She managed to fend them off for a few precious minutes, but time was on their side. She was losing blood from the wound in her side and the half dozen or so smaller cuts she had sustained while trapped in the wagon. And though she was able to hold them at bay, she wasn't able to find an opening for her own strikes with out exposing herself to a counterattack from one or the other of them. And even as the conflict played out, the other sword wielding goblin was freeing his weapon from the body of his fellow and moving to join the other two in surrounding her.

She tamped down her rage. She knew she'd have to use all her fighting skill to survive this; she could not act rashly. A sword thrust at her from the right. She deflected the thrust with the haft of the spear, but the mace wielder charged her at the same moment. She dodged his attack but took a glancing blow to her hip, staggering her. The other goblin, sensing weakness, moved to slash at her with his now free sword. She feigned being off balance, encouraging him to overreach in his attack. He charged her, sensing an easy victory and eager to claim the right to it before his fellows.

Like lightening, she reversed her hold on the spear, thrusting the point backwards under her arm. The charging goblin's own momentum carried him forward. Too late he realized his mistake. He could not check his momentum. The spearpoint entered his stomach, piercing easily through the leather hides he had used for armor. As his body fell forward, impaling himself on the shaft as he died, his outthrust sword came within her grasp. She pulled it from his now unresisting hand, using it to block the other descending sword blade from one of the remaining goblins. The mace wielder swung at her again, and struck the handle of the spear shaft, breaking it in two.

Finding the broken shaft portion in her hand suddenly free from the weight of the dead goblin she'd run through, she brought it around and thrust the sharply split wood into the belly of the other sword-goblin. As his eyes fixed and began to glaze over, she looked into them and grinned a feral grin of a predator. She exchanged the broken spear shaft in his gut for the sword that he held as he slowly sunk to the ground. Turning with that same predatory grin, she stood to face the mace wielding goblin, now armed with two swords to face him with. Her low rumbling growl was still echoing in his ears when she scissored the blades through his neck, separating his head from the rest of his carcass.

With grim determination, she looked around for her next kill.

 

[milkmaiden38]

Not far from Breed

The baroness had put on one of her finest and most expensive garments which featured detailed embroidered silk panels and elegant stitching in gold and silver thread. She had worn her royal crown and her best shoes. As the baron's wife she had many duties at the festival. One of them was to be a judge at the riddle contest. The contest was excellent and ended in an exciting duel of wits, between an elf from the forests of Idoor and a massive minotaur named Zarik. She had never seen a minotaur before and after getting over the shock, she had been very impress with him. He was well mannered and funny. In the end, the elf had won the contest. But the minotaur was a good sport about it and shook the elf’s hand. For the crowd he told a joke/riddle about elves:

“Why do elves have pointy ears?” He asked and then answered himself “… There has to be some point to them.”

The baroness had laughed so hard … she split the seam on her expensive dress. She and her hand maiden headed back to the castle to make repairs to the outfit before the feast. She had been on the way back to the feast when the attack happened. Now she and her hand maiden were hiding behind some beer barrels as bands of goblins patrolled the streets.

“This is terrible … we have to get out of here … they will find us for sure” the baroness whisper to her hand maiden.

“My ladyship … we must wait …” She said. Then she went quiet as two more goblins approached. Walking right next to the barrels. One of them stopped.

“Lukkrest, do you smell that” He asked his follow goblin

“Yes … smells like human …” Lukkrest said and looked over the barrels to find the two humans! The goblins crackled in glee … as the baroness and handmaiden tried to fight them … but it was short swords against hands … the women had to surrender. The goblins order both of them to disrobe.

The baroness tried to stop the handmaiden but she spoke too quickly.

“No … this is the baroness …you cannot ask that!!” She said. The goblin smiled evilly at her and thrust his sword right through her chest … killing her dead.

“The Baroness!!!” the other goblin laughed … “I have never raped a royal before … does this mean I need to wash my cock before I shove it in you!!”

 

[Mantra]

Nas

While Nas considered his reign of terror among the goblins amusing, he was not so foolish to realize that the enemy was starting to recover from his sudden appearance. More and more green little creatures were approaching him, many for the last time certainly, but on every side, with every turn a blood spattered patch of ground that he had just cleared away was covered by more vermin. Likewise the number of spears and arrows lobbed in his direction were increasing. They were little more than bee stings, those that actually managed to make it into a chink in his scaled hide, but eventually Nas tired of stinging pests.

Nas turned in a wide circle, his wings, head and tail stretching out and once more sent a score of enemies tumbling back. As he finished his rotation, the dragon’s powerful legs tensed, then released as he sprang skyward again. His wings snapped downward, carrying him up and over the battlefield. The stinging arrows had soured his mood and Nas considered just killing everything and being done with it all. At that point, he spied a small group of houses along the bend of a nearby river outside of the walls. It was little more than a farmhouse, barn and a miller’s waterwheel. Probably used by the locals to aid in growing their weeds or something, but it looked to have been overrun by the greenskins now. Still grumbling, Nas turned and with a low sweep, set the wooden slats and thatched roofs ablaze before turning back towards the thick of battle.

“Stupid vermin.” Nas grumbled as he admired his handiwork. “All the advantages in the world and they still cannot breech a simple pile of rocks in their way. “
There seemed to be a pitched battle by one of the humans’ wall gates or something like that.
And these humans; Feh! It is probably fortunate that they breed so quickly, lest they be exterminated overnight for their failings.”

Nas swept in, following the contours of the city walls towards the center of the fight. With a huff, the dragon let loose with another burst of flame, sending a stream of fire to spray straight through the thickest part of the melee below him, not really caring if it was human or goblin that felt his wrath.

“I suppose I should consider letting one side or the other win. “ He mused as the heated air currents let him glide around. “The green vermin are filth, no doubt, but the stupid mammals, the haven’t paid me for this month yet… perhaps I should-“
Nas did not finish his thought; in fact, he didn’t have the luxury of thinking much at all at that moment. There was a thunderous *CRACK!!* and stars exploded inside his head, dulling all else. Whether by superb skill or extreme luck, a thrown boulder, loosed by one of the trolls smacked Nas directly in his left temple.

The pain in his head was only compounded as the dragon crashed into the curtain wall, causing a nearly 15 foot section to crumble around him in a deafening thunder and massive cloud of dust. Nas laid there among the rubble for long seconds before his eyes fluttered open. He still saw sparkling dots dancing in his vision, but the great, throbbing pain in his head and body told him that he was still alive.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “I’m just killing everyone...” He tried to rise but pain lanced through his wings and head. He gave a massive sigh which kicked up another puff of dust. “…Tomorrow…”

Nas would have been content to just lay there until the dwarves in his head would stop their incessant pounding. But the sound of many approaching bodies made him reluctantly open his eyes. Several nasty-looking creatures were advancing cautiously, casting useless taunts, probably to steel their own bravado. It took a moment for Nas to recognize that they were goblins…or maybe trolls… possibly humans… what the hell did it matter anyway. It took another moment to realize that they were all upside down… or maybe he was just lying on his back… stupid two-legs! Didn’t they have more important things to do than bother him now?

Nas made the attempt to right himself, turning over slowly but sharp bolts of pain raced up his right wing and into his shoulder. Likewise a great weight pinned that wing down, preventing him from rising. The pain made the dwarves hammer harder and Nas groaned again and let his eyes close. The goblins, or whatever they weres were closer now, still taunting as they came in for the kill. Nas barely considered their words…Big lizard… can’t fly straight… whatcha gonna do now… Yeah, yeah, whatever, but then the laughter started…high pitched, squealing and damned irritating, especially now. Nas did not open his eyes again, he didn’t need to. Instead he simply took a deep breath and a split second after the attackers realized what was Nas ‘Could’ do to them, spat a stream of fire into their ranks.

Nas’ head spun from the exertion, but after a few moments of screaming, there was blessed silence… except for the crackling of flames of course. Nas opened one eye. The field of wheat around the now-dead attackers had ignited and was burning quite fiercely.
Nas groaned once more. While dragons had little to worry about from heat and flames, dragons were not immune to fire completely.

“Aw bollocks…” he grumbled.

 

[milkmaiden38]

At the West Gate

The defenders watched as the deathknight had finally fallen … he had delivered a terrible toll on the attacking goblins. There were so many dead around him … but now he seemed done for … The goblin were relentless and pushed the knight around … to Zarik dismay the goblin actually pushed the knight closer to the gate. Zarik knew he could not let the deathknight die … or whatever the right term was … he had to do something.

“Baron … I must go out and save that knight” Zarik said

The Baron looked at the Minotaur “I have seen many die in battle … I know … it is hard … but this is not the time to be a hero … stay here at the gate”

“Heroics … I can choose …” Zarik said with a smile “but I shall always be a minotaur.”

And with that statement, Zarik issued a massive war cry that made the goblins stop and look towards him as he charged into their ranks. His battle axe battering them into pieces, as his skill and power crushed the small goblins in his path.

The Baron yelled to the archers above “Cover the minotaur … slay any near his back!!” He turned to the remaining guardsmen “You two, remain at the gate … the rest come with me …” he ordered and the remaining defenders charged into the goblin lines.

The minstrels would write ballads of the courage of the deathknight … and of his rescue in the months to come. But more importantly, future classes at the knights-to-be training school at the capital city of Palamar would debate the pure stupidity of this tactic for years!! This lesson would teach future knights … when you have a good solid defensive position … don’t leave it!!

The Minotaur reached the fallen knight, he cleared off the goblins on top of him with a sweep of his might battle axe. Grabbed the knight and pulling him to his feet. Just in time for the goblins surrounded the two. With wicked grins on their green faces, they prepared to finish them off …the baron and his small attack force had made little head way into the goblin force. Then, as if sent by the gods themselves, a mighty dragon let loose with a burst of flame, straight through the thickest part of the goblin attack force burning all the goblins to ash. There was total confusion in the goblin ranks … and now the way back to the gate was clear … the deathknight and the minotaur rejoined the defenders. The goblin did not continue the attack, they had lost the will to approach the gate.

More troops were now reporting to the gate and more importantly more archers. Things finally appeared to be going in favor of the humans, until Prince Marslug showed up!! .

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Breed scanned the grounds of the ruined festival, looking for more foes to take out her wrath upon. She was searching for Him really. Only by killing Him could she be sure He would not try to capture her again with the little stings that made her sleep. But she didn’t see Him.

What she did see, nearby, was a human female, dressed in colorful clothing. The sight touched her memory. The bright colors and shiny texture of the fabric reminded her of the clothing worn by the elvish pleasure slave who had befriended her after He had taken her from the life she knew. The elf concubine had treated her kindly, and had taught her the ‘hand talk’. Now this human female might be the same kind of slave. Maybe she could talk the ‘talk’ as well. But just at the moment, she was being threatened by two of the attacking goblins. They had already killed another female, right next to the one in the fancy clothing. Breed did not want them to harm the one person she might be able to talk to. She sprang towards the goblins and the woman.

All was chaos in the festival grounds. Before she could reach her intended goal, another goblin menaced her with a spear. He thrust at her, totally underestimating her speed, perhaps believing that she was slowed by the injury to her ribs. She side stepped to avoid the thrust, and before he could pull back for another, she spun inside his guard, reversing her grip on one of the swords in her hands and thrusting it back under her arm as she collided with the goblin. The sword lodged in his breast bone and was wrenched from her grasp as he fell. But he surrendered his spear on the way down.

Ah, here was a weapon she was used to! As a hunter for her people she had used a spear to secure food for the other members of the tribe, many cubs’ hunger was sated by her skill with such a weapon. She hefted the spear, finding its balance as she continued towards the fancy dress wearer. Suddenly her eyes sparked in renewed rage as the goblin grabbed the woman’s dress at her breasts and yanked. The sound of tearing cloth was loud, even among the din of battle, and the sudden yank pulled the female forward, off balance. The goblin followed her down as she fell, covering her with his foul smelling body. Breed saw that another stood just behind, awaiting his turn at violating the female.

Knowing what they were going to do also brought back memories of how He had forced her, and her rage burned hot in her breast. She paused in her charge only long enough to cast the spear with everything she had. The range was not far, maybe 20 yards, but the spear flew true and passed entirely through the body of the goblin awaiting his turn. He was dead before he fell, and the shaft of the spear propped him up partly, like a tripod leg to his other two.

His companion, intent on his rape attempt, trying to subdue the struggling woman beneath him, failed to notice the impending doom bearing down upon him in the form of a hundred and forty three pounds of fanged and clawed fury bearing one of their own wickedly barbed swords. Death came to him swiftly as she sliced across his skull without even slowing. Blood and brains spewed all over the woman struggling under him in a warm splatter. Before the rest of his body joined the piece of his cranium that had been separated from his skull on the ground, Breed turned back to continue the attack, slashing and chopping at his corpse with unreasoning savagery. What finally fell to the ground beside the woman’s gore spattered body hardly resembled the goblin it had once been. Now it was nothing more than butchered meat, unrecognizable.

The leopard woman stood over her victim, breasts heaving as she caught her breath, covered in the cast off splatter of her prey’s life blood. Her sanity slowly returned to her, now that she had symbolically killed her long time Tormentor by proxy. At last she turned her gaze to the woman, who lay still, staring up at her with horror stricken eyes. The baroness must have wondered if this was some new horror come to menace her.

But as she tried in vain to gather the ripped shreds of her garment around her creamy breasts to protect her modesty, Breed reached a clawed hand down to help her up. When the woman seemed to be in too much shock to respond, the Andaman woman grabbed her arm, firmly but with unexpected gentleness, and pulled her to her feet. The leopard woman tucked the blood soaked blade under her arms to free her hands, and signed to the human woman, <Safe you now. I help. Protect, fight. You talk?>

At the woman’s perplexed expression and lack of response, Breed leaned in close to sniff her, wondering if this one was damaged in her mind. She smelled normal, or at least as normal as Breed imagined a human concubine could smell. They liked to hide their scent in unnaturally strong flowery smells, and this one was no exception. Breed wondered if this woman wanted her to slay whatever ma’an was forcing her as her master. She decided to stay close to the woman, in case she’d get the chance to slaughter any other slavers.

As the shocked woman slowly regained enough of her wits to try making her way from the battlefield, her furry, savage, blood covered and bleeding companion stayed by her side, goblin sword held tightly in her clawed hand. Her thick spotted tail swayed and lashed behind her at the thought of encountering this female’s master and killing him.