The Legions United in the Loss 2
The Dominion shall crush its enemies, even if they’re in prison
Commission for Remy
The Legions United in the Loss 2
The Dominion shall crush its enemies, even if they’re in prison
_The air was chilly.
So damn cold, everyone closed their arms. They acted as if the icy ground could bite them. The ice was so cold that every step might leave the paw pads glued to the surface. Luckily, they had boots and moved with regularity…
They advanced, forming a line with the Commander at the front, using a rod to check for any holes in the ice._
_“Was it ever so cold?” asked Rytlock, shivering and probably itching to pull out his flaming sword to get some heat.
“No,” groaned the Commander as he looked ahead.
Drizzlewood was not Southsun Cove. But it should be that cold. Not cold enough for one entire side of the valley to be encased in ice. Not for those structures, icy and tall, to stretch like towers or teeth from a giant dragon.
“It’s Jormag’s influence,” grunted the Commander, looking behind as the Charrs were definitely shaky and trembling. They were not as strong mentally. But they were the best for this mission, or so he was told.
“Yeah, I guess so. Ice from the Ice Dragon,” grunted Rytlock, shaking his head.
“Haha. Do not make me laugh,” grunted the Commander. “Headcount?”
“The same as before. No one ran away,” confirmed Rytlock, while the Commander raised his fist in a halt. They were so deep in Dominion territory. Even if the United Legions were winning, the support would be bare. Now? They were on their own. Entirely… And they had to climb the glacier for another purpose. A refinery where Smodur the Unflinching had recently been sent.
An assault, a last attack, but definitely… Definitely something they had to extirpate Smodur’s from._
_“Seriously. What are our chances?” asked Rytlock, making the Commander close his map and shake his head. He then signaled the soldiers to follow his lead as he pushed farther.
They were moving northwest, where the ice was the thickest, but the lines of sight were poor… So long no one lit a fire and created the equivalent of a visual flare.
But so far, they had luck finding caves or other hidey-holes where they could huddle during the nights or the raging snowstorms that had started to scour the region.
“Pretty slim,” commented the Commander, his voice low. “Null if we don’t save him.”
“What took him? To go on an assault on a refinery?”
“It is not only a refinery,” replied the Commander. “It’s the only spot in the region where they can produce fuel. And where they located most of their research and development. You saw the Ruinbringer?”
“Fucker…”_
_The Ruinbringer. The name was adequate. That monster of metal and steel rolled through the Wolf’s Crossing; linking both sides of the valley. It strolled like a titan and broke through every barracks, every camp, every fortified position.
It was comparable to a char. Yet, much taller with a heckton of canons strapped to it and reinforced metal, perhaps enchanted, that could endure the biggest of attacks.
Compared to that, the weaponry from the United Legions was akin to throwing sticks and rocks. It was thanks to that they lost Drizzlewood. And worse, there were signs that more of those were rushing south and east, targeting the Blood and Iron Legion lands.
If it reached the Black Citadel…_
_The thought made the Commander shudder before he shook his head and then stopped. His rod planted through the snow, and after shaking it, the thin surface gave way, revealing a massive hole. One the Charr circumvented, followed by Rytlock.
“Imagine if we still had Malice,” grunted the Commander.
“Or if Bangar didn’t betray us.”
“Heh, we have Efram, at least.”_
_He chuckled, but the sound was nervous.
“We’re fucked.”
“Yeah, we’re fucked.”
“You should have been Imperator.”
“And you can kiss my ass the day I take the role, Rytlock. Or we should both be Imperator.”
Rytlock grunted in disapproval, definitely not enjoying it. But he’d always hated doing anything but being on the front line. A Blood Legion through and through… Despite his unorthodox methods and the fact that he mainly focused on Dragon Watch._
_“Tai-“
“The communicator doesn’t work. I tried again,” commented the Commander.
“She would have known how to handle this.”
“This is our problem. Not hers.”
“We’re talking about Jormag.”
“Jormag is stable. And we are still unsure about Aurene,” mumbled the Commander.
“What?”
“Taimi can’t work on this. Drop it.”
“Braham.”
“The one who lost the very bow that led to this situation?”
“You’re still sore Bangar used it to shoot you down?”
“How could I not?” huffed the Commander, shaking his head._
_A fabled bow, stolen after Braham got drunk. All before Bangar used that bow to plant an arrow in the Commander’s chest. A wound like any other, but the delay in treatment had left him bedridden through the war.
Bedridden while the Dominion consolidated forces, and while Smodur had to trudge forward, pushed to the point of acting out and losing most political support._
_If he’d been there, the Commander was certain he could have helped Smodur. No, he could have even avoided the worst with the death of soldiers to take the bridge at the center of the valley. So many losses for nothing… And now, again on a mission, the commander had to take an entire Refinery, full of Charrs and weapons, with only a dozen soldiers. Maybe less.
“Headcount?”
“The same… Wait. Where is Khashar?”_
-
“… Commander. I need your help,” groaned Efram.
It wasn’t the constant ping against the bar that got on his nerves. That wasn’t the whines and grunts from the choir of Charrs in their cells. It wasn’t his own body betraying him and making him feel hot, bothered, and horny.
No… At the moment, in the middle of the ‘night’, if it was truly nighttime, what bothered the Commander was something different.
It was how… In strange circumstances, he’d been ‘privately’ acquainted with two individuals he’d fancied.
The Commander groaned, reaching for his forehead while he rolled his eye.
The cells were barely lit, but he could see the faint light coming from Efram’s hands, and so, he rubbed his eye while sitting up.
“Again?”
“Please. I’ve tried everything else.”
The Commander rolled his eye. He was certain Efram hadn’t tried everything. But asking it was beyond the point, as he scooted closer away from Rytlock’s side of the cell. Closer to the Flame Legion ‘Imperator’. The Shaman of the Flame had been the first to offer reconciliation, and now?
He was the one who had his erection pressed between two steel bars, rubbing his crotch against them despite the pain they induced, while his shaft, veiny and covered with papillae, dripped on the floor.
It was quite a cock. Well-shaped, with an arch up. And the sheer warmth it gave off, it was something else as the Commander approached, feeling how fiery Efram’s body was.
The Charr was a blond-coated Charr with red eyes and flames beneath his fur or interwoven with it around his fingers. Not so fit, with a bit of belly pudge, he’d been quite a diplomatic male.
But now? Oh, he was rubbing his groin against the bar, his cock bobbing up and down as he whined like a horny cub recently discovering his needs.
“Please. Only you can do this,” groaned Efram.
Technically, there was another Charr. But the one on the opposite side of Efram’s cage wasn’t willing to help. And… Efram heard the Commander’s confession to Rytlock, hence…
Hence, the Commander’s breath was but a breath away from Efram’s cock, watching that throbbing length and feeling it call to him… Enough that even his shaft throbbed and dripped.
“I can’t do this all day,” groaned the Commander.
“But… I can’t,” whined Efram, his burning fingers twitching. He was right… If he went to masturbate, there were chances he’d turn his cock into a burnt sausage.
Not that the Commander desired to see it burned to a crisp. So… He looked at it, watched it. He could touch it with his fingers, and that’d be all, but as he approached them… He bit his lip.
“I can… Even let you suck it,” mumbled Efram, his voice low and his head as well. “Please.”
Not a worded answer, but a nod.
Something that was both pitiable and yet… Something the Commander had desired to do for so long. So long as he watched that shaft bob up and down, watched that urethra being slightly dilated while delivering a bead of precum that went over the length and then… Followed the cock’s arch.
It was akin to observing a forbidden fruit, a reward for something undeserved. A yearning given shape… And it throbbed by his face.
“Are you sure?”
“Do it! I don’t care!” groaned Efram, one burning hand on his muzzle.
There was a faint sizzling sound while the Commander gulped and looked down. Then, with an outstretched mouth, he gave the first lick. One lick, going over the tapered end. The flavor was salty and intense. The saliva sizzled against the flesh before the temperature was under control.
For a moment, there was even a cloud of steam before Efram had it under control… And the Commander offered another lick, pressing his lips against the tip to suck it while his raspy tongue danced on the tip.
“L-Lower,” moaned Efram, his head against the bars, again.
And so, the Commander’s mouth lowered while his tongue, still slipping out, pressed against the cock. But lower, touching and caressing the throbbing flesh and the veins underneath. He sampled the flavor, feeling it burning his tongue.
Yet, despite this, it was a good taste. A good moment. A shameful moment as the Commander lowered his head, heeding the moans and groans from Efram.
The Shaman was definitely shaky on his legs, and his lips opened and closed for a moment. Whenever he snarled, the Commander knew he’d been too fast. Or that he needed to be more careful around a sensitive spot. Nevertheless, it was good. No, it felt good to have that throbbing cock in his mouth. To have Efram’s flavor against his lips… And to lower himself.
“The… My balls,” mumbled Efram, getting the Commander’s attention. Ears lifted, eyebrows raised. “My balls… Can you… Hold them? Yes. Like that.”
The Commander listened to the cooing sound and watched Efram’s ears flutter when the Commander grabbed his testicles and… massaged them. Rolled them in his hands. But without his hands down, he had less control over his mouth. And so, his movements were faster, more brutal… More intense.
But Efram’s voice was following a crescendo of pleasure. His lips twitched in a snarl. His clipped claws clicked against the bars. His legs shivered, while the Commander could feel those testicles were slightly pulled in pleasure.
Even the feet dug into the cell’s ground, while the Commander’s head bobbed up and down.
“Yes. Like that. Your… Your mouth is good, Commander,” huffed Efram.
“Shhh.”
Yet, Efram continued to moan and voice his pleasure. His shaft definitely throbbed inside the Commander’s mouth. It throbbed and released more salty and burning pre… But the flavor was good, and the Commander minded his breath.
Or so he thought until the back of his head burned and Efram had his fingers pushing against the back of the Commander’s head.
Efram couldn’t hold his head entirely due to the handcuffs. But he had enough leeway to force the Commander to take that cock in. To have that cock through the uvula, down that throat… So the Commander swallowed. Sucked. Kept that throbbing organ deep inside his mouth…
To feel that precum going down his throat, burning and pleasant…
And to have those nuts lifted, pulled closer to the Shaman’s abdomen.
The Shaman’s fingers dug into the Commander’s shaved neck and skin, but he didn’t mind. He had Efram’s groin pressed against his muzzle. He had that cock throbbing inside his throat in such a delightful presence. In such a sinful desire.
There were growls and grunts around, some from people moving in their sleep and perhaps a few acting as voyeurs.
But the Commander? Oh, he couldn’t care less. He focused on Efram, on using his tongue to offer a lick on a prominent vein whenever he pulled back… Before he slammed his head back onto it, impaling his throat on that cock until it burned.
And then… He went in faster and faster, his breathing reduced to a trickle while Efram’s voice continued to climb. He groaned, he moaned, he huffed when he closed his mouth.
But the Shaman was definitely climaxing.
He shot. His cock shot inside the Commander’s mouth, warm and thick. It was gooey, sticky, dense… Salty, but pleasant as the Charr pulled his mouth back to have that throbbing cock shooting that slightly glowing cum inside his mouth while he gulped it down. And then smiled, feeling better and more excited as he watched that orgasm recede… But that cock remained hard and bobbing.
Efram? He leaned against the bars, definitely out of breath and sweating. The Commander continued to hold his balls, stroking the checkmark where the fur was thinner.
“Oh… Commander. That was so good,” moaned Efram. “I’m sorry… I’ve had to use you.”
“Do not be,” said the Commander, before he stopped and coughed. “You needed it.”
For a moment, Efram remained silent while leaning against the bars. His cock still throbbed, with the tip pointed at the Commander’s face… Like a spear. A threat. Or a treat.
Either way, the Commander continued to stroke those balls, not thinking about moving.
“What… Do you think that mark is?” asked Efram.
“I don’t know,” mumbled the Commander, feeling excited while feeling those churning orbs. “But… We’re stuck with it.”
Or more like every Charr with that mark still had a boner. The one on each side of Rytlock and Efram had the cross… They were back to normal. Efram and Rytlock? They were hard. So was the Commander as he gulped down his saliva and sighed.
“Well. I can-“ began the Commander, releasing the testicles.
“Can you do it again?” asked Efram, point-blank.
“Suck you… Again?”
Again, Efram nodded without a word. His cock was speaking for him, again throbbing with energy and lust. A cock that was definitely hard and one… The Commander would have loved to worship. But as he thought about it, his groin ached. His groin was on fire, too… His testicles were heavy and churning… And at that moment, his cock throbbed while releasing a shot of precum.
A shot that landed on the ground while the Commander huffed and grunted.
“I need more, Efram. I… I am feeling it, too,” said the Commander, using his bars to help himself go afoot. His body trembled.
“Suck you. I-“
“Not suck me,” huffed the Commander, turning his back on Efram while bending over. He couldn’t spread his buttcheeks correctly, but if he went over enough, he could squeeze on his thighs from below and force them apart a bit.
Right enough to reveal his aching pucker in between, his slightly open entrance.
“Take me.”
“Like a Female?” asked Efram. “You can’t think that.”
“Like a male. Rub that cock against my ass.”
An order. Efram gulped. But as he looked down and carefully grabbed his cock, he pressed it against the entrance. The organ was warm, but after weeks of nothing… of restriction, of abstinence except a few yanking sessions… That burning cock was like bliss.
“Is this okay?” asked Efram, unsure.
“Yes, keep rubbing it. Use your pre to lube it up. Press the tip, too.”
He was guiding him, just like a virgin. But in a way, Efram was a virgin when it came to fuck other men. And now… His cock was sandwiched between the Commander’s buttcheeks, playing with the hole, smearing precum on it.
A burning precum, but it was better than going in dry.
Much better as the Commander’s asshole began to open, to be pried… And his entrance was revealed. Cleaned, thanks to the regular showers. But it was definitely something daunting for the Shaman as he gulped and then… Had his cocktip pressing against the entrance with force.
“Slowly!” groaned the Commander, huffing.
“Sorry,” said Efram, pulling back and resuming again… Rubbing, pressing, then inserting. Just the tip, but the Commander was biting his lips, and his cock was shooting precum ahead.
It was good… So good despite how inexperienced Efram was with males. It was also a fantasy, a desire as the Commander’s eye closed and imagined it. Not them fucking in a dirty prison. But then together in a real bed, getting stuffed, getting to share one another’s presence.
The Commander’s legs quivered while his tail smacked against the bars.
One inch…
Efram already had one inch inside, and it felt great.
Two? And it was divine enough to make the Commander almost purr while his legs and stance widened.
Three? Efram’s fingers closed on the Commander’s waist, holding him while the cock pushed deeper… And then, reached the spot. The Commander’s prostate. He groaned, he moaned, before he let go of his thighs to cover his mouth.
“Is it that good, Commander?”
“You cannot imagine. Fuck me, Efram… Keep that angle. Yeah. Like that,” groaned the Commander.
That cock was definitely hitting the spot, rubbing it, pressing against it. The mere throb was enough to make the Commander shudder and drool all over himself. But he was definitely enjoying it, his cock throbbing harder as Efram kept pumping inside him.
Kept touching his prostate and then… As Efram slipped and his cock pushed far deeper than before, the Commander howled… And came.
His balls were lifted, his entire groin tensed while an intense cold took over him… And then. A single cumshot.
One that flew across the cell in a single line. It was an impressive shot, one that was definitely eye-catching and… Tempting. Yet…
Yet, it was followed by a few more, more than the Commander mewled and his eye closed.
As his entire body shuddered while he slammed his posterior against the bar cells, even if it hurt and burned.
But it was pleasant, and it was everything the Commander had been yearning for in the last weeks. Pleasure. Orgasm. Release. His testicles were not aching anymore as he could feel them being pulled higher… Only to drop again, heavier than before.
But it mattered little. Very little as the Commander’s eye focused up and he licked his lips, his shudder followed that intense and delicious orgasm. One, he was still feeling the echoes even when it was done…
And one that felt was followed by another when Efram’s still hard cock was inside him, pushing against his prostate. Poking at the needy organ and making it thrum with pain and pleasure alike. Pain from the refractory period, pleasure from the acquired sensitivity.
“Commander… I- I need to cum,” groaned Efram.
“Do… Do that, Efram,” moaned the Commander, his voice a purr.
“Inside you? Do… You-“
“Like it? Yeah… Fill me, Efram,” groaned the Commander, biting his lower lip.
He rarely allowed it.
Shooting in his ass always made it feel weird. Well, not only from having something inside him. But as a soldier, any cumshot inside left him bothered and unfocused until he was thoroughly clean. Until he had a proper enema.
But… It mattered little here. He couldn’t walk, he couldn’t fight, he couldn’t aim or shoot. He only had to wait and see… And enjoy.
Enjoy as Efram had his head between the bars and bit the Commander’s shoulder. The pain shot to his brain, but so was the ecstatic and primal pleasure while Efram’s cumshot stuffed his ass, filled it. And in one glorious moment of… lust, the Commander came again. Less than before. And way less than Efram as the Charr pumped and humped as if he was rutting.
His legs trembled. His cuffs hit the bars. But the Charr wouldn’t let go as he humped until his balls finally dropped heavily between his legs and he sighed… His breath was ragged.
“Commander. Your- Your ass.”
“Fuck… Efram. I know why we call you Greetsglory,” chuckled the Commander, his ass disgusting but finally feeling satisfied.
-
The ledgers were always a chore.
So many books, so many numbers to juggle with. So many sources of problems, catastrophic company failures. Accounting might not be a glamorous line of work, but it was essential in many ways.
Where money bleeds. Where it comes from. Where it can be found. Where it cannot be taken.
Evon? Oh, he was smart enough to be able to cut corners, but with the wisdom to know where he had to stop.
Not so many could do so.
Sylvaris tend to proclivity. Humans underestimate the budgets. Asuras? They are good with numbers, so they can be left alone. Norns? Oh, they were the worst.
Amidst this, Evon Gnashblade was the one to balance the books with the help of assistants. He had to read the long columns to make it all add up, and when he was done, he had to go elsewhere. But just as his work with the books was done, he had to jump onto another topic.
Accounting done. It was time for the Captain Council matters and what they desired of his company. Even though Ellen Kiel saved his ass, she also shackled him… And now he was at her beck and call, answering their needs.
The latest requests? Housing for the Charrs refugees that had established themselves north of Lion’s Arch, right by the former encampment they used when Lion’s Arch was under siege.
Problem was… The matter was painful.
It was an investment in gold. Tyrian Gold. He had to offer a fair price and accept the requests, but not pay out of his own pocket for every project. Especially that one.
“Why are you so difficult, Evon? You’re not the one to refuse new clients.”
“A business Charr is smart enough to know when to back out of a poor deal. They are clients, but their background exposes them to danger. Danger means no trust, no trust means no investment.”
“Are you sure you want to refuse this?” asked Ellen Kiel again, her tone tense.
They exchanged glares at the council table. The other Council members dared not intervene or stop this. They were witnesses to a conflict involving Evon Gnashblade and Ellen Kiel…
They might presume it was his attempt to sabotage her Samaritan efforts. But it was not about that.
And he said it plainly as he slipped a paper across the table, right to Ellen. She glared at him, then snarled when she eyed the paper.
“What is this?”
“A request for a pardon,” said Evon, his voice calm. “If you get a pardon from Bangar, I will invest from my private funds. Otherwise, the Black Lion Company will refuse any option.”
“Evon, you wouldn’t dare-“
“Evon is offering an alternative, Ellen,” added Captain Shud, an Asura. “He was there to represent Lion’s Arch when the Asura Gates reopened. Without him-“
“Without him, you would have lost one precious gate,” said Evon, nodding to Ellen as she sat down, her own retort taken away.
“Bangar is open to discussion, though it might need time for him to offer that pardon.”
“Time during which the Refugees’ situation gets worse. The Vigil tells me they are settling, but the land…”
“Cannot sustain them?” said Evon, tilting his head. “I imagine I can send them supplies if the Council promises to consider my election next time…”
“Evon. This is low, even from you.”
“This is fair,” commented Farth Scarclaw, another Charr. “We can promise to consider it, but not to accept it, Evon. Is that good, Ellen?”
“It is,” confirmed the Human, though she seemed displeased. “Evon?”
“That’s all. I will supply them, but the Black Lion cannot sustain them. The Pardon…”
“Will be considered.”
The tension in the room was present, so heavy it could be cut through. But with a roguish smile, Evon bowed out of the room, stepping outside the Captain Council to be welcomed by bright sunlight.
He had to cover his eyes before he marched west, right back to the central ward, as he noticed something. A glimmer, a sign… And so Evon turned his heels and went south.
That part of Lion’s Arch was less developed and more chaotic, though some houses had cropped up lately. He only had to see a dagger planted at one door of one villa to approach it… And then enter through the open door.
Instantly, his body reacted.
His steps went heavier, his groin ached… And his mind was restless as he heard it.
“You can gain more. Much more.”
He nodded internally to the voice, feeling its sweetness seep into his mind as he closed the door behind him and advanced. The living room was chilly, plunged into the dark. Enough for his breath to condense before him as he approached and sat on a chair at an empty table.
Then, the door leading outside opened, and another Charr entered.
And another… Then another looking just like him.
More Charrs than before, at least a dozen who acted like him and waited… Waited until another Charr descended the stairs. One Charr clad in armor, with ice all over his body. One who walked heavily and whose presence inspired respect. Enough for all the Charrs to salute and then to be rewarded.
They all moaned, even Evon… Even he, as the Dominion Soldier, approached him and reached for his pants… One claw cut through the rich fabric, through the pants and briefs, to expose the Charrhood caged in ice… With cum dripping from it.
Every other Charr could see it, but they must be the same.
However, that was the first time Evon was picked… The first to feel the ice from the cage grow and then… Seep into his gaping urethra, like an icy shard. Icy, but pleasant. Icy, but tempting. Icy, but belonging there. With the Charr moaning and closing his eyes.
“Evon Gnashblade. What is your report?”
“The- The council is forced to consider the requests for pardon. They- They will probably send a representative or me soon.”
“Good… Bangar will reward loyalty,” said the Soldier, his icy breath brushing Evon’s ears as he groaned… And felt that icy shard hit him deep inside. Making him howl, yelp, mewl. And cum. “Charr above all!”
-
“We shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
“The Elders told us it’s dangerous. There is war there.”
“I know.”
“It’s Charr territory.”
“I know.”
“Let’s go back, please.”
A heavy grunt came from Eyjarr. The relatively young Norn grunted, scratching his budding beard before he turned to his younger brother. Even though he was an adult, as proved by the rites, he acted like a child.
He rambled about security and protection, even though they were hunters. The constant whining was grating, and worse as they continued pushing east.
They were descending the mountains, soon to be welcomed by the birch trees and the orange of old Ascalon and the Diessa Plateau… Something far more different compared to the icy foothills from where they came from.
But it was something Eyjarr had already done. His mentor, Vifill, had shown him the passage through the mountains and how to navigate to the richer Charr lands. However…
“Let’s go back. You showed me the way,” continued Aevar. His tone was so whiny that it was giving him a headache. “Can we leave now?”
“Leave? But we’re not even there yet,” groaned Eyjarr. “Isn’t it you who asked me to help?”
“I didn’t know you’d go there.”
“Because if I told you, you’d be telling the Elders. Now, shut your mouth.”
“I’ll go back.”
Eyjarr shrugged, listening to his Brother stop while Eyjarr continued his descent into the rich forest. They were north of Nolan. And from what he heard, the place south was a wreck.
Some scouts had been on the peaks, watching the fire from afar, as well as the siege of the Black Citadel.
It’d been bad. Bad enough that the Charrs lost to the Dominion. But they were all Charrs, right? Even though they were big, thuggish cats, they were all the same inside.
“Fine. I’m following,” shouted Aevar, running after Eyjarr.
The oldest Brother chuckled but said nothing before he reached and tousled the fiery red hair atop Aevar’s head… Before he reached for his bow and one arrow.
“Remember. We’re looking for the best beast. It’s the best place to find deer. But watch out for the devourers.”
“Ugh,” replied Aevar, definitely disgusted by those massive insects. Not that Eyjarr minded. So long as you gave them a wide berth, they were nicer than bears or wild boars.
However, as they entered the woods… It was different.
Silent. Not a bird. Not a cry. Not a distant sound of branches breaking. Only an eerie silence with the wind blowing through, and the feeling that the place was… Dead. No, colder, too.
They went down the valley, but it still felt as if they were up in the peaks, with the wind blowing.
And the spirits? The earth. It was silent.
“Eyjarr?” asked Aevar, his voice trembling before something.
“What’s this?” asked Eyjarr, turning and approaching his brother, who stood in front of… A corpse. A skeleton whose bones had been picked at. But the form of the skull, the limbs, the feet, the remnants of the rusty armor that was half-undone. Oh. It was Charr.
“Danger,” mouthed Eyjarr, squatting. His Brother covered his mouth and looked away.
“You… You told me the Charrs never went there.”
“Yeah, they never saw me when I came here,” said Eyjaar, frowning as he looked around the corpse. No arrows, nothing… The dirt hadn’t been moved recently. Whitecaps were growing around the bones. Except… Near the belly.
Eyjarr grunted and frowned, reaching there.
“Eyjarr!”
“Shut up,” replied the older Norn, shaking the dirt and then finding it. Two crushed balls of steel. Steel he lifted and showed to Aevar, revealing the used bullets. “See that?”
“What’s that?”
“Charr bullets,” said Eyjarr, pointing at the Charr’s legs and the lichen on some trees. “We’re north of Nolan. The Charr came from the south. He was perhaps a soldier or someone fleeing the conflict. He doesn’t come from where the Charrs are.”
“So?”
“So,” replied Eyjarr, shaking his hand. “It must be someone who died from wounds.”
It was mainly guesses. But Charrs wouldn’t leave a corpse behind like that. Still, he checked the armor plate, seeing the two holes inside the back of the rusty plate, before he planted it back into the dirt and frowned.
He would have preferred to get in and out quickly, but with Aevar around.
“We’ll do a cairn. A little one.”
“We shouldn’t have come.”
“Come now. You’ll say you’ve made a good action to appease the spirits.”
“That’s not how it works, Eyjarr.”
“Yeah, sure,” groaned the Norn, looking around for stones and being followed by his Brother, until they had a nice little cairn above the corpse. The metal had been put on top, helping cover the corpse and stack the stones… Making it look like a mess of rust and rocks. But it was better than nothing.
Something Eyjarr looked at with a hint of pride, his hands on his thighs, while his brother was less than appreciative.
“You want to say a thing?” asked Eyjarr. “You’re about to become a Havroun.”
“I’m not,” said Aevar, shaking his head. “Raven. Hum. May this soul find peace?”
“… That’s it?”
“What? That’s it?”
“May this soul find peace?” asked Eyjarr, laughing and leaning on his bow.
“I don’t know who that Charr is? What do you want me to tell?”
“Something more? Please. If I die, do not say that for my eulogy.”
“You’re too stupid. He’s probably taking the piss, instead!” retorted Aevar, his face burning. And more when Eyjarr slapped his face. “Ouch!”
“That’s a fool for you,” said Eyjarr, rolling his eyes and grabbing Aevar by the back of his fur coat. “And now, we’ll go back.”
“What about the deer?”
“Have you heard one?” grunted Eyjarr, shaking his head. “Or anything alive?”
“N-No.”
“You’re making a poor Havroun.”
Aevar cried and shouted back, saying he was an adult now and he had to be respected. But Eyjarr did not care. Aevar would be his little brother, and he had to protect him.
Even if it meant abandoning a hunt and returning empty-handed.
“Better face shame than danger.”
“What did you say?”
“I was talking to myself,” replied Eyjarr as he guided Aevar back on the trail home.
But as he stepped, he saw something. Light. Flashes on the right. Not like the light reflecting in the snow, as low as it was at those altitudes. It was something else.
“Stay here,” said Eyjarr, huffing and waving at his brother to stay back.
They were deep in the woods, and though the Charrs checked their territories, they never watched that passage here. And yet, as he approached… Eyjarr had to climb and sneak further, going around the many rocky fields until the traces of civilization became obvious.
Until he heard the faint sound of a drill in the distance, and then… Saw them.
The markers. A path covered with gravel, with cart tracks leading in both directions.
He waited by the path, watching for any guard to appear, but there were none… Or at least, until he heard the grunts, and then Eyjarr jumped back into the underbrush, hiding himself.
Naked Charrs, except for collars, pulled a cart. Another one, clad in armor covered with ice, shouted at them to keep pulling the cart filled with ore. It looked like it, though Eyjarr wasn’t certain as he watched the Charrs, old or veterans, dragging that chariot further north.
And then… he turned to the origin of the chariot, to the origin of the light.
“What are you doing?”
Eyjarr almost roared. He pulled his blade from its sheath, but he didn’t raise it as he turned to face the familiar voice. “Aevar? What are you doing?”
“You told me to wait, but you took too long. What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” replied Eyjarr, looking at the empty trail. Then he turned to Aevar. “Leave. Take the trail. I’ll join you.”
“But… I can’t.”
“What?”
“The Elders told me to keep watch on you. Because you always put yourself in danger.”
Eyjarr grunted, rubbing his head as he looked at that babyface of a brother. Then he sighed.
“Fine. But you follow me without a single word.”
“Su-“
“Not a single word,” grunted Eyjarr, shushing his brother while beckoning him to follow. There was enough undergrowth to progress. They were, in fact, so close it only took them five minutes for the drill to cover their approach. Ten for their noses to be assaulted by the scent of chemicals, of stone dust, and more.
Eyjarr covered his mouth, but Aevar coughed until a glare fixed that. They climbed onto a stone outcropping to hide themselves. They were in the middle of… A mining operation.
“It’s the Charrs?”
“Shut-… Yeah,” grumbled Eyjarr. He frowned, seeing so many Charrs. There were two distinct groups. The first were the clothed and armored Charrs, wearing blue-colored clothes or cloaks, their faces often hidden behind masks or helmets.
For the uncovered few, Eyjarr saw their blue piercing gazes and the tension in their steps.
As for the other groups, they were Charrs of all genders and origins, but naked.
They were handcuffed, muzzled, had weights attached to their legs, making it difficult as they dug the stone around a drill and dragged rocks away. Lamps were around, so powerful it was like looking at another star. It wasn’t… Mining. It was something else.
“What’s that?”
“Slaves,” mumbled Aevar, his voice trembling. “They’re slaves.”
Eyjarr didn’t peep a word. He yanked Aevar down as he noticed a Charr, one of the clothed, was about to look in their direction.
“What are they doing?”
“It looks serious. Look, that’s a drill from the Dredge-“
“What are you doing, rusty fuck? Do you want me to teach you a lesson?”
Surprised, Eyjarr and Aevar raised their heads from the hiding spot. One naked Charr had dropped a rock. In return, a Soldier was pushing the Charr to bend over that rock while he grabbed his loincloth. And… The naked Charr pleaded, but he was… Taken.
Eyjarr’s reaction was to cover his brother’s eyes, but the sounds were unequivocal. The shouts were loud.
“See! That’s how you’ll learn! With pain! You feel it? That’s the pain of betrayal when you betrayed Bangar!”
“I never- I never betrayed Bangar!”
“Tell that to yourself! You’ll learn to be loyal to your Khan-Ur! Or you’ll be like his whore!”
“No- Please no!” cried the Slave. But as he pushed back, the Soldier acted more cruelly.
He hit, spanked, and smacked.
Meanwhile, Aevar huffed and pushed against Eyjarr’s hand to see. To see an old Charr being fucked and humiliated while the soldiers around were stroking themselves… Approaching and forming a circle around the slave who started to howl, to beg.
“It hurts! Something is wrong! It hurts so much! Stop!” cried the Charr, one breath between each word as the Soldiers continued to close on him, and… Having fun.
“What is wrong with them?” asked Aevar, his voice shaky as the cries from the slave were getting higher and higher. So high, it was akin to a shrill note piercing their ears.
One Soldier had entered the circle with something akin to… An ice manacle.
The others chuckled and roared. The Slave cried and begged for mercy, for them to stop.
“No need to keep them around!” “That’s how it goes with traitors!” “You don’t like it?”
They cheered, laughed, and were amused.
Eyjarr? He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
He could only see all the Slaves trying to make themselves smaller. The female Charrs stayed far from the orgy but enjoyed the sight while making fun of the Slave.
Then, the scuffle became a fight when a Charr was punched in the face through the mask and had to hold his muzzle.
“That fucker hit me!” roared the Charr, holding his face. “Make him regret it!”
“My name is Fierhan! Sparwind! And I’ll make you regret this!” roared the Slave who was definitely putting up a fight.
As much as Eyjarr wanted him to win… The Charr was forcefully held down. Was forcefully put on his belly while the Charrs were taking turns… While they were abusing his ass, his mouth they held open with steel pincers.
It only took them less than five minutes. Five minutes of violence, of agony. Of disrespect. And it ended…
With a terrible vision of a battered Charr wheezing and crawling further.
One Eyjarr looked away as he grabbed Aevar by the shoulders.
“We need to leave, quick.”
“But-… We-“
“We need to leave, now,” groaned the older Norn.
“We must warn the Elders.”
“We saw nothing, Aevar. We went into the mountains and found nothing.”
“But-“
“We saw nothing!”
Aevar’s face burned, but he nodded… And followed his brother, his head low.
He didn’t even turn back to see what had happened.
If he had, he would have noticed the Charrs looking at their spot, and then seen a Charr approaching a Female. A Charr who’d been almost invisible until he saluted her.
“Scout leader Vaalr,” said the Charr, saluting. “My men are ready to intercept the Norns.”
“Let them be,” replied the Female, eyeing the former Tribune Fierhand Sparwind. The Charr-turned-slave looked pathetic with his ass gaping after being fisted with a gauntlet… With his dark balls crushed by the ice manacles.
“Are you certain?”
She took a deep breath, seeing the mountains ahead.
Then the hole in the mountain. Below their feet, there were remnants of the Molten Alliance stronghold. A heap of technology and dangerous knowledge the Khan-Ur wanted to acquire.
Yet, it wasn’t the sole reason for their presence here.
“Yes. They will spread the rumors. Have your people watch the passage and chase every Norn. Do not kill them… That’s what the Khan-Ur wants,” she said before she watched the scout disappear into the shadows.
It was finally time for the Dominion to reinforce its borders against outsiders and to show itself as a Bastion that threatened the Norns’ territories.
She smiled, then she turned to the men readjusting their loincloths: “Bring him back to camp! Everyone will want a turn with the new fuckhole!”