Diaspora of the tribes I
#7 of The Kiroth Wars (old)
_I received some emails with ideas for chapter VII of the wolf thread and many of them were really helpful - thanks alot to all of you!
I guess its time to give the plot a new twist in another way too - This is the first chapter of another thread to this story, one that is closely interwoven with the wolf thread though :)
Warning! To those whom it might offend - there is a slightly violent M/M scene in this one!_
The Kiroth Wars - Diaspora of the tribes I
Sloth slowly trotted along the path between the stables and the barracks. He was a Kiroth underling of the second-lowest rank, a "crawler" - just above the lowest which would translate closely to "doormat". Dispite his name he was in fact a very diligent worker, but his superiors just loved to mistreat and humiliate him. They would always give him tasks in the hope of seeing him fail and even when he succeeded the best he would receive was a mild punishment. This time he had actually been given an important task, of course without them failing to point out that it would be his head in jeopardy if he would disappoint them.
Managing the breeding of the whorags wasn't at all easy. He had to select females and find males that the females would accept. Most of them seemed to utterly reject the studs the Kiroth had selected by now, hating them as collaborators. However, he had been lucky to find a suitable human male that would do just fine, there was even already a successful pregnancy. Sloth ensured that the breeders received good and plenty of food and had begun to add a little Kamoona root to it to boost sexual activity of the male.
Two days of foot march away to the south-east, the Kiroth had erected the camp of leaders for this year. Each year it would be moved at springtime to follow the frontline of the war. Recently there had been much successful conquest and this year the camp had been moved as far as 50 miles into former enemy territory. The Kiroth had almost advanced as far north as they could without loosing great numbers of their soldiers to the cold climate of the northern badlands. They would use the summertime to create a broad region of desolation, burning every town, village and solitary farm, making it impossible for the human enemy to easily retaliate because they would have no place to gather supplies.
Inside of the great tent the chieftains were gathered to watch the traditional showfights that were held each year after the rebuilding of camp. The fights were based on an ancient system of rules and movements. The combatants were naked and the claws of their feet and paws had been covered in a thick layer of bandages. The best warrior would have to prove his worth by means of agility and strength, the looser would be utterly dominated in a ritual demonstration of the unquestionable superiority of the Kiroth race.
The two opponents were standing motionlessly on opposite sides of the ring, sizing each other up coldly. The drums started beating and they began to circle the ring counter-clockwise. The drums stopped and both fighters charged with a sudden burst of speed. One of them, more agile then the other, attempted a high lunge, but his stronger opponent reacted in time and evaded. Before the other could react he had rammed his bulky fist upwards into his stomach and against his ribcage. With a roar of pain the Kiroth dropped to the ground, clutching his stomach, unable to breathe properly. Blood was dripping from his nostrils and his eyes were wide open as he tried to feebly crawl away from his enemy.
A malicious scowl formed on the face of the victor as he quickly bent down and grabbed the tail of the defeated, yanking it upwards, making him fall onto his face with a yelp of pain. He looked around the room in triumph and received appreciating nods from many of the watching tribesmen. In the meantime his member had been slowly growing from his sheath. The Kiroth on the ground in front of him began to try harder to get away, but he was still critically weakened. The victor turned to face him and looked him right into the eye with unequalled cruelty and a rather simple message - he would have the choice between submission and just getting dominated or complete and utter destruction. He was at the brink of panic as he lowered his eyes and signalled submission, knowing he was beaten beyond hope and had to accept the inevitable. After all he had well known the risk when volunteering for the fights.
He felt his hips held in a grip of steel as the victor let out a carnal roar of victory and plunged into his anus. The pain was absolutely excruciating and he hoped he would pass out soon. Faster and faster came the thrusts into his now bleeding tailhole and still no merciful faint came upon him. He felt the invasion of his body deepen as the shaft of his enemy began to push his organs. Tears were running down his face and he drooled from the mouth, hoping he would survive at all. Suddenly he felt a violent pressure all across his loins. It was driving him insane with a totally new sensation - the shaft of his rider was now hilted with every push and gave powerful squeezes to his prostate. Soon he was trembling and moaning as he felt himself forced to ejaculate violently again and again.
After the fifth time he finally passed out, cum still shooting from his now limp length. Soon after, the victor that had claimed him reached his peak and, with another even mightier roar, he hilted himself once more and released his pulsing orgasm into the rectum of his inferior. He pulled out, leaving thick ropes of his ejaculate on the prostrate form of his enemy, bowed to the head of the council and dragged his prize out of the tent by the leg.
With the competitions being over the council of chieftains prepared for session. Danuk, great chieftain of the Skullplougher clan, was head of the council this year. Unlike most of the others who had gained their position in combat he had used cunning and fear to assume and secure his rank. His intelligence was respected, but most regarded him as honorless, which was one of the worst flaws anybody could possess in the eyes of a Kiroth. There had been other candidates for the head of council of course, but they had either disappeared or suddenly changed their minds.
When the meeting was finally opened and the initial murmur and chatter had seized, Danuk stood up and waited until all eyes were upon him.
"Brothers", he exclaimed with an expansive gesture while ignoring the frowns on many of the faces, "As you all know we have been in a long and bloody war for more then 10 generations now."
He looked around to see some councillors nod while others still fixed him with their eyes, waiting for him to continue.
"Again and again there have been minor.. disagreements among the tribes that are one of the main reasons for the detainment of our ultimate victory. We have all suffered greatly and innumerable sacrifices have been asked from us. Now we are are a hair's breadth away from ending this war, but there is one last sacrifice necessary."
At this he waved a paw and a dozen of soldiers entered the room, between them twice as many carefully bound and gagged Kiroth youths and some elders too. A roar of protest thundered through the room as each of the chieftains recognized a son, a daughter, brother or sister. Finally Danuk managed to calm them and while they all stared at him with outraged expressions he resumed his speech:
"Do not worry my friends. I took the liberty to grant my hospitality to these fine males and females to ensure your faithfulness to our common cause. They will be treated like they were my own children."
The sarcasm in Danuk's voice was too much for one of the older chiefs. He sprang to his feet and pointed a threatening finger at him:
"You rascal! You son of a dirty human! Our kind has never taken hostages! You dishonor not only yourself but our entire race!"
Danuk's eyes had turned into tiny slits by now. He gave another wave to the soldiers and one of them raised a dagger to the throat of one of the females.
"I assume you will not hesitate to sacrifice your daughter then for the sake of what you believe is honorful? Or do you have the wisdom to see the truth in my decision after all."
With a defeated grunt the old Kiroth sank back into his chair and said no more.
"Good. No more objections I see. I expect everybody to do their best for the upcoming campaign, everything else could seriously change my perspective on.. hospitality. We will purge this land of the humans once and for all - you might hate me now, but in a few generations at most our kind will see the greatness of my deeds!", his eyes flickered madly, "And now out and to work! This meeting is closed."
It was angry and abashed faces that left the tent. Each went on their own way, not daring to even confer with any of the others about what had just happened. In the great council tent Danuk was still sitting on his elevated chair, his eyes ablaze with a piercing intelligent madness, focused far beyond the confines of the room. After a while he rose and shouted for a servant. The man arrived breathlessly and bowed lowly. Danuk's finger shot out towards the chair and his voice had a sneering angry quality:
"Get that thing out!", and with a far-away tone to his voice he added, "Build me a throne."
The new thread should more life to the world of the story - before it had only been Kor and the wolves inside of a small room. I hope you appreciate the extension :)