The Fall of Marigill (closed for Poprockz)

[draco519]

Orson watched as cheeks bulged when long tongues danced and clashed. The soft hand on his cock continuing to stroke as they worked together to make him as wild as he dared to be. Which was a lot; his only regret was he couldn’t think of more. He eventually wanted more.

His hands came down to Senni’s hips, and he lifted her and threw her over his shoulder. A slap to her ass with his free hand, he leaned down and collected Zandy next, over his other shoulder. Walking around the side of the bed, he threw Senni down on it, then his hand hooked her leg and pulled her hips to the edge, his cock just over her mount and resting on her stomach.

“It’s time. Put me in.” He told Senni, and there was her glorious entrance. He shoved inside of her about halfway, his hand hooking her hip so he could bury himself the rest of the way without his hips driving her away from him. All while he still held Zandy over his shoulder; his cum running down her thighs.

His hand left Senni’s hip to bring a slap down across Zandy’s ass and he rubbed it as he fucked Senni. In and out, deep and slow. He wanted to feel every bit of it. He looked to his right, kissing Zandy’s hip before he bit the skin playfully…

Then he brought his hands to Zandy’s hips and extended his arms out so she’d straddle Senni’s face. “Sit.” His eyes moved to Senni.. And then he gripped Senni’s thighs, driving his cock into her like a wild man now that his hands were free.

 

[Poprockz]

Y'Sennia had done as she was bid, scooting closer so she could reach down breathlessly and guide his mushroom head between her slick lips. When he shoved himself inside her, she moaned loudly in appreciation. Yes... This was what she had been waiting for. Ever since he had left her in the bathing room, she had been biding her time until she could feel that dick again. It was a bit funny: depending on the circumstances, sometimes she had to go months without being ravished by him and she was able to bear it. Now that he was close, the war was over, and he was married, she felt even hornier for him. Perhaps she was making up for lost time, or perhaps deep-down she was afraid that he would grow fond of Dremara and call off their sexual rendezvous.

She looked at him lustfully until a very nice ass and creamy pussy blocked her view. Zandy perched just above her mouth, gasping when she felt the vampress's slippery tongue dive back into her snatch. A pair of hands grabbed her hips and pulled her closer so Y'Sennia could really get deep, just as Orson's own cock was filling her up to the brim.

Zenny reached down and massaged the pair of tits in front of her that jiggled each time Orson's powerful movements jostled her. She could feel the vampress moaning into her cunt, and she knew she was in heaven right now. The succubus leaned forward and gave the man a meaningful look, her eyes flicking down to his lips and back up. Perhaps he needed something to wet his lips? What better to do so than the lips and tongue of a beautiful woman?

 

[draco519]

Senni’s pussy. Such wonderful, familiar territory that always made him cum so much. He drove as deep as he could get with each thrust. When she gazed up at him? He was meeting her gaze. An understanding between them; that she would always give herself to him. And he’d take her. His hands on her hips keeping her from sliding away from him as he railed into her. “Ah.. fuck.” His head fell back, his eyes closing..

And when he opened them? He saw Zandy getting herself settled, and Senni’s hands holding on to Zandy’s hips to prevent her from running from her. He knew that Senni would be hard at work. Dutiful woman that she was. An enthusiastic lover and a diligent worker; he had no doubt Zandy would be well and truly cleaned by the time Senni herself was ready to receive such treatment.

When his eyes crept up over Zandy’s body? He reached out and his hand cupped her breast, his fingers flicking along her nipple and the piercing. Then their gaze met. And she was leaning forward for a kiss. He started to lean forward, then he remembered she’d just had his cum in her mouth from Senni. And that thought? It’d take more than a Night Enchantress and a Succubus to entertain such a thought. Perhaps there was no such creature worth that.

Rather than kiss her, he guided her head down as he leaned back and revealed Senni’s mons and he had little doubt the succubus’s magical tongue could do something to enhance her mistress’s sensations. Her clit? Perhaps wrapping her tongue around his cock so it went in along his shaft? He knew she was rather creative.

 

[Poprockz]

She was a bit surprised when he avoided her kiss until she realized why. A chuckle left her before she allowed herself to be bent over. It was understandable, not wanting to taste one's own cum. Plenty of men and demons had the same reservations so she didn't blame him.

Zandy grinned as she realized what he wanted her to do, and she looked up at him to give him a wink before she subtly changed herself. She started to play with her mistress's clit, though at the same time, a second, longer tongue came out of her mouth. Her original tongue had been split in two, each side moving independently as they set out to do her bidding.

The longer one wrapped snugly around the base of his cock, the coils of it spreading and condensing like an accordion upon each thrust. Now that her hands weren't concerned with the large melons she had been squeezing previously, she instead used one arm to prop herself up and the other to reach around and cup his balls. They were nice and full, just as she had intended.

The magic she had used on his sack was a one-time deal, though she could make it more prolonged if she wanted to. That involved something unpleasant to most men though: a prick in the hip from a stinger that could come out of her tail if she willed it to. The venom from that stinger could do a number of things depending on which of her glands she activated. Endless semen... Mindless lust... Even a larger cock if one desired. She doubted he would want the lattermost option though- his cock was plenty large enough as it is.

 

[draco519]

“Fuck, woman..” Senni’s pussy was gripping and cajoling, squeezing and stroking. He looked down as Zandy leaned forward and began her ministrations. Feeling her tongue sliding against his abs and then wrapping around his shaft. It made his grip on Senni’s hips tighten as he stuffed his cock into her over and over. It was heavenly; but with Zandy’s body over her? He couldn’t reach Senni’s throat to choke her.

His hand left Senni’s hip to run over Zandy’s shoulder, then around to cup one of the Succubus’s breasts and he squeezed as he felt Senni’s hips jumping up to meet him as he pushed into her. “Mmph!” He shifted his knees forward, releasing Zandy’s tit to run his hand over her back and eventually found the small of Zandy’s back.

Pushing down on Zandy’s hips, he thrusted harder and faster until he heard how muffled Senni’s voice was. He wanted her air cut off. He waited a beat, knowing Senni’s limits by now, as he gave her his cock over and over; and Zandy’s tongue working over everything it could get to.. He eventually released the pressure of Zandy’s back and listened for the gasps that made his cock harden even more. So he’d been right.

Pulling out of Senni suddenly, his opposite hand moved from Senni’s hip to Zandy’s cheek, guiding her mouth to his cock and he pushed all the way down her throat; his opposite hand pushing down on her back. He wanted them both to squirm and beg him for air. His grip tightened on the back of Zandy’s head, backing out just half an inch and pushing back down until he released them both.

Letting the ladies breathe, he pushed his cock back into Senni and continued about his business. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. Not with Zandy’s tongue and Senni’s pussy working on him. Not with the knowledge that Senni’s tongue was lapping at a massive load, even still, that he’d dropped in Zandy.

 

[Poprockz]

The ladies gasped and moaned at his beck and call, each of them completely immersed in the steamy threesome. It was a celebration of thrusts, licks, coughs, whimpers, and wails, all committing to their hedonistic display with honesty. One's body couldn't truly lie when interrogated with the most silver of tongues or persuasive of instruments. Each shiver told a story of desire, while each slurping tongue denoted a devotion to their cause: to have each of them cum for one another on that large bed.

Though she couldn't explicitly say it, nor even give him a meaningful look with a pussy on her face, Y'Sennia told him with the way her legs hugged his hips and her pussy squeezed him that she wanted him to use her and fill her up just as he had the succubus. Both of the ladies were starting to reach their own limits, the succubus once again struggling to keep her moans from entering the physical realm.

 

[draco519]

Moving the hell on already!
The next day…


The chill of morning crept in through the stone-veined walls of Y’Sennia’s guest chambers, brushing Orson’s bare skin like a cold breath from the gods. The chamber still smelled faintly of sweat, lavender, and the copper bite of blood. A low fire crackled in the hearth, but it had long since lost its battle with the high tower’s draft.

Orson stirred. He lay half-covered by furs on the edge of the bed, not asleep, but not yet willing to rise. The room was quiet now. No whispers. No promises. No shadows dancing on the ceiling. Only the slow drip of meltwater down the window’s frost-rimmed glass and the distant cry of a hawk over the moors.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and winced. Old bruises ached. His thigh, still sore from the Glacivyr’s ice shard, pulsed faintly with pain, though Dremara’s healing had kept it from festering. His muscles bore the weight of victory — and the price of survival.

Into the washchamber and the carved tub in the floor, faintly scented with pine ash and yarrow. Steam curled above it like breath in the cold air. He stepped in with a slow exhale, lowering himself until the heat reached his ribs, then his shoulders. He closed his eyes.

For a few heartbeats, there was only the sound of water lapping against metal, and the whisper of the wind outside.

He washed methodically. First the dried blood at his thigh, the sweat and scent of the night before. His fingers paused at the scar beneath his eye, then moved on. He submerged fully once, holding his breath, emerging with his hair slicked back and eyes open to the frostbitten dawn through the high window.

When he rose from the bath, the air bit at his skin like tiny knives, but he didn’t flinch. A thick towel, soft and bear-pelt-lined, waited near the fire. He dried himself briskly, then dressed without ceremony—muscle by muscle, layer by layer—until the weight of the chieftain settled back onto his shoulders. A dark wool tunic trimmed in Kota bear-hide. The crescent brooch of his station. Fur-lined boots. The Stormweave Band gleamed faintly as he fastened it around his wrist.

Rune-etched longsword on his hip, Orson went to go find breakfast. And Faagen. Hopefully in that order.


The city was beginning to stir. Smoke drifted from chimneys, muffled voices barked from alleyways, and a line of sled dogs yawned and stretched beside the kennels. Across the frozen river, children skated with carved bones on their feet, their laughter bright against the snow. Even in winter’s grip, RimeHaven breathed.

He found Faagen already waiting outside the main hall, wrapped in a thick elk-hide cloak, flanked by a pair of bone-scribes. The steward’s expression was lined with fatigue — eyes shadowed, but alert.

“Chieftain,” Faagen greeted with a short bow, voice rasping from cold or age or both. “We’ve begun clearing the northern trails. The snows are heavier than usual, but the herders sent back word from the passes — the frost boars are moving early.”

Orson nodded. “Then the Frostclaw Vigil will begin on time.”

Faagen gave a wary grunt. “If the spirits allow. The Glacivyr raids set some of the lowland kin on edge. The southern watch reported strange lights last night, near the Amberheart. Dagris says the ice is speaking again.”

Orson looked toward the standing stones beyond the valley, their claw-runes barely visible in the light of dawn. His jaw clenched.

“Let it speak,” he said. “We’ll listen. And then we’ll answer.” He looked over to the servant that brought him his morning coffee. Nodding his thanks, he took a sip of it.

He stepped forward, closer to one of the large hearths. “Gather the runecasters tonight. We’ll prepare the rites. The Ice Hunt begins in two days.”

Faagen smiled faintly. “Much to celebrate this year.”

“And Dagris?”

“He’s been carving claw-runes since before dawn broke,” Faagen said. “He says the Bear is stirring early this year.”

Orson looked to the horizon, where the sky bled gold behind the white peaks. A storm was coming. But so was the Vigil.

“Good,” he muttered. “Then let’s meet him standing. We-”

The gate bells rang once. Then twice. Short pulls. Urgent.

Orson sighed, burning his tongue on a longer gulp of coffee before he sat it down and turned to go see what the commotion was about.

A guard came running through the steps of the palace, breath misting, cloak trailing snow. Behind him, a second figure mounted the steps, wrapped in Gollian red, the salt-stained cloak stiff with travel and wind.

“Messenger from Gollia,” the guard called. “No blade drawn, no retinue.”

Orson stepped forward, his expression sharpening. “Speak.”

The woman bowed low, her cheeks flushed raw from the tundra winds. “Chieftain,” she said, breathless, “three nights ago, our scouts saw firelight in the chasm. The Great Divide.”

Faagen stiffened. “Firelight?”

“Not ours. Not miners. They tracked it—shadowed shapes moving along the rim. Blue skin. Red eyes. Fur cloaks. Silent.”

Orson’s jaw tensed. “How many?”

“Too many for raiders,” she said. “But not an army. Runners, perhaps. Or skirmishers.”

Faagen muttered, “Yorcs.”

The messenger swallowed. “The old tales say they were wiped out.”

“They were,” Orson said flatly. “And yet they howl again.”

The wind shifted, rustling the banners above the gate. Somewhere in the distance, a sled dog began to bark.

Faagen looked to Orson. “Frostclaw Vigil’s two nights away. We’ve got clan folk arriving by the hour. If the Divide stirs…”

“We’ll keep the Vigil,” Orson said, turning toward the steps. “But the watch must double. And I want eyes on every path east.. Pull Roric from the training yard if you have to.”

“And Dagris?” Faagen asked.

Orson hesitated. “Let him know. But quietly. The last thing we need before the FrostClaw is all the runecasters in a panic; seeing things that aren’t there.”

The Gollian messenger looked exhausted.

Orson looked to her. “What’s your name?”

“Clara, servant of Bramir the Stonefist.”

“The Stonefist sent one of his personal servants?” Orson cocked an eyebrow. That was.. interesting.

“He couldn’t spare men. Yorcs have been skirmishing with them to the south of Gollia towards the divide. We’ve sent ravens, but.. Either the cold got them, or the yorcs did, it seems.” She was confused. Genuinely. “You’ve had no sightings of yorcs?”

“We’ve been dealing with other matters.” Orson saw no need to scare this girl any more than necessary. “See Clara to rest and food and guest chambers.” He gave instructions to Faagen.

Faagen eyed the way Orson seemed to evade his gaze at this moment. It was indicative of when the man was thinking something he wasn’t saying. Which was often these days. “As you wish, Chieftain. Come, Clara.” He smiled at the woman. “Let’s get you cleaned up and your RimeHoof stabled.”

“You’ve my thanks, Chieftain.” Clara curtsied, awkwardly, to Orson before she followed after Faagen.

Orson’s troubled gaze went out towards the Northeast, now. Over the fertile lands between RimeHaven and the Great Divide and Gollia beyond. Glacivyr to the Northwest, Yorcs to the NorthEast.

These were troubled times, indeed.