FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Note: This is a collaborative story created from an RP done by myself and the very talented and sexy kobold Sovandar. Enjoy!

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There were few places in the world more forbidding than the Rutgrane Marshlands. Though the summer's heat had long since banished the monsoon-like rainstorms from the swamp, a thick blanket of sticky-warm humidity still hung over the land. Finding a reliable path through the mud, muck and quicksand was both tedious and deadly; a chore made all the worse by the stinging insects and venomous serpents that made the swampland their home. Hushed, fearful whispers warned of more exotic dangers; hags and dragons, the undead and the unliving...

Merton, though, was a trained soldier; one of the best, he often boasted. Armed with his trusty longsword, clad in the leather armor that he had been issued before the Battle of Baden Ridge, he felt he had little to fear. The Marshlands were dangerous, but the dangers could not be as deadly as the stories told - frightening to peasants and serfs, perhaps, but if it was so deadly, who told the stories?

The expanses of the Rutgrane stood between him and the buried, waterproof strongbox containing a small fortune in art, magical tomes, silverware, jewelry and coins plundered from the enemy populace. The depths of the marshland, he and his co-conspirators had reasoned, would not be a place anyone would be searching for buried treasure; the loot would remain safely hidden until the campaign was over and the four men could return to claim it.

Merton, though, had no intention of letting them take their 'fair' share of the money; he had slipped away in the night, intent on finding the strongbox first, and firmly intended never to see his former comrades again.

So now, even though the path was dangerous, and impossible to travel by horse, it was a path he was committed to take. The King's Army did not care for deserters... but had been known to accept 'donations' in exchange for leniency. Money was his best hope of escaping the hangman's noose.

Still, retracing his steps through the ever-shifting, ephemeral landmasses that dotted the floodplains was no easy matter. Four times he had been forced to backtrack when the thin paths came to an abrupt and watery end or the ground beneath him became too soft to continue onward. While the haze of fetid fog kept the searing heat of the afternoon sun from beating down upon him too hard, it made him feel uncomfortably sticky inside his armor.

Before long, he began to find the blade-scarred rocks that his squad had left to mark their path. But strangely the first and second of the markers were slightly out of place and the third was missing entirely. The fourth and penultimate rock had been marred by another's blade. There were other signs around it, signs that set off Merton's well-honed survival instincts. The barely noticeable smell of burnt wood in the air, the patches of muddy grass that looked out of place with the surrounding foliage, the thick, muddy sediment in the water that looked a little too fresh.

Someone else had been here.

He had thought the path was hidden well enough that no others would find and follow it... which could only mean two things. Either some of the swamp-dwellers had stumbled across it; or one of his own squad, someone else who'd decided to claim the treasure for themselves like Merton had. Maybe even all of them together. Kithrin, the scout, had elf-blood in him; he could easily have found his way through at a far faster speed than Merton had managed, even allowing for the head start.

He cursed. He'd been forced into so many dead ends, he could easily have been overtaken by someone with a bit more luck... which meant he might leave empty-handed or have to cross blades with a former comrade before the end of this unpleasant affair. Neither thought was particularly appealing. He should have tried removing a few of the cairns along the route earlier, so that he couldn't be followed. Or, ever better, lure them in to a trap...

He was chilled as a thought struck him. If it was Kithrin alone, or even Kithrin and the nae boy Ginger, he might be safe. If Adrian, the callous Sergeant, had come here - the brute would have demanded the others alter the path, to deliberately get any pursuers lost, perhaps even to lead them into a cold, watery grave. If he could not trust the markers then he was lost in the heart of the Rutgrane; worse, the only people who knew he was here were the probable culprits, each of whom stood to gain massively if he was never seen again.

He started to search the undergrowth more carefully, looking for any sign of who might have trodden there last. If it was a swamp-dweller, he might be safe. If not...

His train of thought was abruptly derailed when his frantic search uncovered a swamp viper's nest in the undergrowth. The surprised serpent issued a warning hiss and prepared to strike, but Merton's reactions were fast enough to avoid what would surely have been a slow and lingering death. As he stumbled back out of the mud and bushes and into the next clearing, he saw the final marker stone a stone's throw away - and felt a surge of absurd relief as he realized that it sat exactly as he remembered it. Paranoia was an easy habit to develop in the cutthroat world of the conscript army.

The small cairn marked the narrow passage across a deep pool, to the strongbox's resting place, which was already emerging from the mists as he waded carefully across toward it. There lay the prize, in an almost perfect circle of sticky mud and dead trees surrounded by fetid waters, both indistinguishable from its surroundings and quite remarkable.

They had buried the treasure under a mere foot of sodden dirt and gravel; a few minute's work and it would be all his. The site did not look disturbed; he was in luck. But some lingering doubts remained; a faint aroma of smoke in the air suggested another's presence. A campfire, perhaps, set in the twilit hours, smoldering somewhere nearby. Perhaps it was innocent. Perhaps not.

Merton carefully prodded at the ground as he advanced forward, using the tip of his boot to test the solidity of the surface. The mud here was many feet deep in places, deep enough to swallow a man whole without trace. It would not do to come so close to the strongbox and meet such an ignominious end.

He walked carefully up to the old tree, the one that still had a branch sprinkled with dead, rotting leaves amidst the skeletal remains of the copse. He wondered idly how many decades, maybe centuries, this sad little grove had endured before succumbing to the corruption of the stagnant waters, how long it had stood watching everything around it bloom only with death and decay before it had finally given up the struggle.

But his ruminations did not last long. The treasure was here, scant inches away, under the dead husk of the tree. Taking his eyes from his surroundings, eager to claim it all for himself, Merton knelt and started to test the loose, waterlogged soil with the tip of the small, portable shovel he carried, and then began to dig in earnest.

Just as he felt his shovel strike the steel top of the submerged lid, Merton caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, and froze with shock.

All around him, the mud of the swamp began to rise, the sickly-brown stuff seeming to defy gravity. At first, the amorphous, liquid masses looked like sorcerous constructs made of mud, but as the figures rose to their full height the mud began to slough and slide off them, revealing their true nature: Lizardfolk. Even through the camouflage their long tails and yellow, slitted, reptilian eyes gave them away. He heard the all-too familiar sound of metal scraping against a scabbard, and saw mud-flecked bowstrings drawn taut as they drew their weapons. Crude though most of them were, rusty though the blades looked, it didn't matter; he was completely surrounded by the ambush party. He must have walked right over at least one of them as he walked here, while they waited patiently and motionless for him to take the bait, drop his guard.

"Trespasser," one of them stated bluntly, in a rough, sibilant cough of Common. His eyes narrowed, and Merton could see the creature's gleaming white fangs as it hissed.

Damnation! Merton thought in a panic. There were not supposed to be any tribes this close to the marsh's edge! He'd been sure!

He grabbed for his sword but already knew it was futile. Kneeling down and with both hands on the shovel, he could not hope to regain the initiative, stand, and ready his sword before his ambushers had struck while he was still off-balance. Looking around, he realized that they had positioned themselves so that if he tried anything, even if he managed to slay the nearest pair, the more distant archers would fill him with arrows before he could cross the deep mud between them. But, though he was surrounded by a dozen lizardfolk, though their weapons were trained on him, they didn't look ready to use them... yet.

He pondered a moment. Remote tribes were not known for mercy... but perhaps trespassing was not a capital offence to these scaly monsters. Maybe it was only a minor infraction. Besides, money talked; whatever strange laws these swamp-creatures had, Merton had yet to meet a sentient being that would not bend the rules when tempted.

So, offer them a toll, yes... the more he thought, the more confident he felt about the idea. He would have to time it right and work out the right price carefully too little would be an insult, too much would leave him penniless - or worse, give them the idea that they could gain the most by killing him.

He cleared his throat, and took his hand from the hilt of his sword. Raising his hands in the air, he gestured his surrender. "Ahem", he coughed, speaking slow, loud Common, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and feigning his best, most polite manner. "I mean no offense. Might I know what trespass I have committed, so that I might avoid it the better in the future?"

"Home-land," another lizard spoke, breaking up the word into two separate phrases. It repeated "Trespass", almost as an afterthought, while its long tail twitched, clearing some of the mud coating free and revealing some of the mottled green-yellow scales that made up the creature's tough hide.

Amid a chorus of threatening growls and hisses, Merton saw an unarmed, clean lizardfolk step forward. It held a crooked wooden staff in one its clawed hands, and wore a strange and complicated looking robe made of Roc feathers and tough leather; the other reptiles gave him a wide, respectful berth.

"Pardon ussss," the strange creature said, its Common heavily accented but much easier to understand than its fellows. "We do not see many humans in our lands; your tongue is not familiar to most of my people."

Thank the gods, Merton thought, a half-way civilized creature. Merton looked around, trying without great success to read the assorted creatures' body language. Between the muddy camouflage the ambush party was covered in, little except their eyes, teeth and weapons was distinguishable. The unarmed lizard-man - the leader, or a shaman, perhaps both? - was easier to observe, but alien enough that its intent was inscrutable.

"Ah! Good... are you in charge here? I believe there has been something of a misunderstanding... I am merely a traveler passing through; if you could see fit to release me, I will leave, and you need have no further concerns", Merton said, forcing himself to stay composed.

The lizard-shaman's eyes lit up and he let out a deep, sibilant laugh as Merton attempted to exculpate himself. When he was done laughing, he spoke something to his compatriots in the clipped, hissing language of the lizardfolk, making the rest of the ambush party break out laughing. Their laughter was predatory and inhuman, unnerving Merton to the point where he broke out in a cold sweat. It began to mat down his hair rather than evaporate in the warm, wet atmosphere, adding to his discomfort.

"A misunderstanding? A simple traveler? You are clad in the armor of the human-king and you bear his sword... and yet you are not with your friends like last time. I wonder... were you looking for this?" the shaman says, slowly fishing a golden coin out of one of his robe's many pockets. One of the pieces Merton and his conspirators had stolen and secreted away. No doubt the box had been re-buried empty or filled with stones...

"Even your smell is the same. Do not think we can be lied to, like children. You don't even show us respect, human", the shaman added, his demeanor suddenly turning stormy.

"Human-folk smell is like pork smell. Salty", another lizard interjected after flicking his long, forked tongue into the air. The sight of the obscenely long pink organ against the dirt-brown of his muddy form was strange, almost funny.

"He know too much", someone else said from behind him, and Merton heard the sound of broad, taloned feet stomping through wet mud. There were at least two, maybe three coming up from his blind spots, though Merton didn't dare glance around, conscious that any move might prompt the archers to let fly their arrows. But they wouldn't dare fire, though, once their comrades were closer...

The nervous tension of his feigned negotiation gave way to the sudden clarity of conflict. He tensed himself for the fight, his training coming back to the fore.

Take a step back at the last moment, to put some of the attackers between him and the archers to block their firing arcs. Then, elbow one to the right, and one to the left, aiming to push them into the mud, where the viscous muck would slow them for a few crucial instants... then he would have his sword drawn while the rest recovered from the surprise, ready to go down fighting...

But, deep down, he knew that in the instant after that, the pair of archers behind the leader would shoot him dead; there was no cover from the arrows they could loose at a moment's notice. Gods above knew what the shaman was capable of on his own, either. To live, he had one last chance before all hell broke loose.

"All right," he said quickly, frowning and dropping the pretence of innocence. "You like money? Let me leave, and I can show you were my friends buried another dozen boxes like that", he lied; it was plausible enough, hopefully. There was a momentary pause, and he could still hear the sound of footfalls approaching, closer. "I don't want to fight you, but I will! How many of your lives, is it worth to take mine? I've done you no harm!" he said, letting a warning note of anger enter his voice, and waited for their response...

"Money?" the shaman repeated, dumbfounded. "You think you can buy a ressspite with gold? No. Do you know what we want from you..?" He raised his staff ever-so slightly off the ground, and a greenish grow began to envelop it. The lizardfolk who were advancing on him suddenly broke off their approach and backed off, while the archers loosened their bowstrings a few noticeable inches. "We want our home to be hidden from your King's army. That means you are never leaving it, you nasty little rogue..."

The reptilian shaman waved his staff toward Merton, in a gentle, almost half-hearted gesture, and the green glow around it abruptly crackled into a wreath of purple-black fire, disappearing a split-second later. Suddenly, Merton's arms and legs went slack, as loose as jelly. His head began to feel fuzzy and a bit numb and his fingers and toes became as heavy as leaden weights. Blackness was spreading across his vision, and somewhere in the back of his mind a powerful, seductively sweet voice asked him in a wordless plea to close his eyes and sleep.

But... sleep would mean death. The shaman was clear in his meaning; he would never leave...

But... no, he was already defeated, he knew it. All that was left was the pain of the dying; sleep would be a mercy...

No! Merton had never given up a struggle in his life, and he fought back, mentally kicking and screaming at the imposition of the magic cast on him. Their guard was down! If he struck out now, he might have a chance, might be able to...

But he was not trained in the techniques to resist sorcery; the army did not plan for its recruits to fight mages and priests, the gifted who could call down incomprehensible powers upon their enemies. Even with all his will focused he was struggling merely to remain conscious. Merton dropped to his knees, barely able to lift a finger, barely even able mentally to process what he was seeing as the lizardfolk cautiously approached. It took him a moment to realize that the shaman's expression was one of wry amusement, and slight surprise at his resilience. It took him a moment longer to think that was out of place for an execution; but his fuddled mind couldn't fathom the dreamlike situation any further...

****

When Merton came to, the first thing that he noticed - besides the pleasantly surprising fact that he was still very much alive - was that his hair was full of mud. Not only his hair: it was everywhere; down the back of his neck, inside his boots and socks. Cold, slimy, disguising mud. And no wonder; he was being dragged through the swamp by two lizardfolk warriors, his body leaving a furrow in their wake between the two smaller trails traced by the warriors' scaly tails.

Merton's head still felt fuzzy and his mouth was dry. He felt like he had slept ages, though it couldn't possibly have been more than a few minutes; he could see the sun still shined through the swamp's haze roughly where he had last seen it. Though his arms and legs were numb and tingly, he could sense the blood flowing into them was slowly restoring his strength. But the lack of weight on his belt told him his scabbard was empty and he doubted any of his other possessions escaped their search.

Something about him felt different... nothing he could quite place. Perhaps it was a side effect of being dragged by his arms through the dirt; or perhaps the lingering aftereffect of the shaman's magic.

There was a bit of raspy, angry lizardfolk spoken above him as several of his captors argued with one another. The shaman looked displeased with the two who had been dragging him along. Blinking a bit to clear the blur sleep from his eyes, Merton could also see that he was just inside a small village of sorts; a few younger lizardfolk stared at him with wide, surprised eyes, but he could only see the legs and tails of the taller villagers. Apparently, humans were quite the curiosity for them.

Merton felt a lurch as he was picked up and hoisted upside down into a nearby canvas teepee, and then through the rough-hewn entrance to a natural cavern. Just ahead of him the lizardfolk shaman walked along languidly, supporting himself with his staff. Turning around, the spellweaver noticed Merton had awakened, and gave the human a toothsome, wry smile.

"Apologiesss for your rough treatment. Ssavak and Travas forget that human-skin is not as thick as ourssss." the shaman said, gesturing to the two burly warriors carrying him along.

"W...what are..." Merton began, refocusing himself. A cave, in a swamp? That did explain why there was a village here, however crude; rock for the foundations... He shook off the distracting thoughts with an effort. Thinking upside-down was not the easiest thing. But, where there's life, there's hope.

"Where am I? What am I doing here?" he asked the grinning reptilian spellweaver. His eyes widened a bit as he was dragged through the cavern's entrance. "You surely don't imagine you can keep me a prisoner here forever?! There will be others... if you don't want the King's army coming here, the best thing to do would be to let me leave."

The shaman's smile shifted subtly, but there was no other response. Merton felt prompted to continue. "Um, I'll swear never to tell anyone about this place. But you'll need my help to make sure others don't have a reason to come here!"

Merton looked the reptile in the eye, finding the slitted, inhuman pupil momentarily disconcerting. If he could get out of here with his life, he'd take that much and to the Hells with the rest. He could earn new riches later if he was alive. While he had never been a devout worshipper, he prayed silently that the shaman was not planning to use his reanimated corpse as a guard for the land; that was another possible solution to the conundrum of why he hadn't been killed *yet*...

The shaman did not respond to Merton, at least not directly. The two lizards carrying him made some sort of joke to one another, and the shaman joined them in laughing. Turning as he walked, the robed reptile grinned at the captured human.

"He said, after today you won't want to leave." The shaman shared, a predatory glint in his eyes.

The air grew warmer and more humid as they walked down through the winding, natural cavern, until Merton and his captors came to a burbling, natural hot spring. It looked to be more than just a simple underground spring, though; the walls were lined with glowing rocks that shed ghostly luminescence, and enough crude furnishings and shelves sat around the water that it was clear the shaman lived there. Chairs with tail-spaces in the back made of whicker surrounded a slab of obsidian covered in half-created poultices, and numerous jars and decanters sat around a strange, silvery statue of a lizardfolk holding a spear. Merton swore he could even see some of the books he had looted underneath the shaman's bed.

The shaman spoke an order to his guards and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. The two lizards set Merton down next to the warm edge of the springwater, and departed wordlessly. He was alone with his captor, though he doubted that put him on equal footing with the spellweaver. Merton scanned the room a moment, carefully considering the place from a military, tactical viewpoint. Only the one exit, presumably guarded... no obvious weapons, although doubtless a good shard of broken glass from the alchemical apparatus would serve if necessary... the sturdy obsidian table might block the shaman's magic if Merton could hide behind it... the pool of water might prove a problematic obstacle, depending how deep it was...

He dared not make a move yet, not with the shaman keeping a healthy distance from him, and watching intently. If Merton attacked, it would need to be quick and deadly, something that would prevent the shaman from crying out for help and not allow him even a moment to loose the impressive powers he commanded. On the other hand, there was a whole village out there... maybe he could take the shaman hostage? But accomplishing such a feat seemed like a fantasy at best.

Though the quarters looked unusually well-appointed for barbarians. Unusual even for a mere spellweaver; this creature had to be a King, Chieftain, Elder... whatever such creatures termed their leaders.

"I ask again", Merton repeated, wondering what the departed guards had meant or whether the lizard chief had deliberately lied about the translation, "what is happening? What am I doing here?" He paused a moment. He needed to try and create the impression of trustworthiness...

He paused to steel his nerve, and try to ignore the cloying mud that caked him. "I am glad that you, at least, seem a civilized being. I had heard tales... well, suffice to say the stories led me to expect more hostility." He paused again, trying to think what to say that wouldn't come across as a veiled insult. "I am... pleased that you can... foresee a peaceful solution to this problem! What price for my freedom? Not money, but there must be something you need..?" Merton probed, quietly shuffling a little closer to the obsidian table, hoping to spot an opening for an assault.

"I need nothing," the chief spoke confidently, stepping a little closer to Merton. His tail twitched behind him excitedly, the thick scales scraping against the stone with a raspy sound. "It'sssss what *you* need, human. You need a good reason to never tell anyone where my people live... and I'm going to give you one!" he followed with, cryptically, the emphasis slightly off. Merton was momentarily nonplussed, uncertain what the reptile was getting at.

The lizardman's slitted eyes settled upon Merton's, and the human felt drawn to them. It was like watching an eagle soar above a cloudless sky or lightning strike on a stormy night; deadly and yet irresistibly beautiful. He felt a faint tingle of something foreign; magic, perhaps?

The chief made a quick, curt wave with one of his hands and Merton felt a spasm of weakness in his feet send him to his knees. Quickly striding forward to close the gap, the chief placed the flat of his bare, thick-soled foot on the human's upper chest and pushed him backwards into the water. Merton felt thick, curved talons press against the leather of his armor, but thankfully they did not break through it.

Spluttering, the man surfaced again. Despite the shock of the sudden immersion, the spring water was pleasantly warm and clean, tinged with a hint of sulfur, saline and a fruity scent Merton couldn't quite place.

"Clean yoursssself, human. And be thorough." the chief said, laughing at his waterlogged prisoner. He kneeled down above the edge of the water, watching Merton carefully.

Merton was on the verge of snapping back a retort, when he bit his tongue and decided against it. He was not in much position to negotiate; at least, playing their game, he might be able to persuade them to have sympathy.

Besides, he couldn't deny he was absolutely filthy, though the lizardfolk had to take the lion's share of the blame for that. Some of the mud was merely wet dirt; but some of it was jet black, almost tarry; it reeked foully of death and stagnation, quite sickening. Merton shuddered to think of the generations of creatures that might have decomposed in the bog to make the dreadful stuff. But the water was pleasant, very pleasant; if not for the company, Merton could imagine the impromptu bath as a positive experience. Some of the spoiled nobles back home would pay through the nose for a visit to a place like this.

He removed the torso segment of his armor, noting with regret that the dagger he'd kept concealed was, indeed, missing now. He washed the armor in the cleansing water, watching the water turn muddy and clouded, then clear again as the flow cleansed the small pool. Then he removed his boots, emptying the muddy water from the inside before putting them beside the armor to dry, scrubbing at his stained clothes as best he could to remove the mud from them. He dunked his head into the water, too, wiping the mud from his short, military haircut, and off his face. For a moment, he hoped that he would get a chance to remove his clothes and bathe properly but it didn't seem like the chief was going to give him that chance.

Shaking his head, Merton looked up at the lizard quizzically, intending to ask without words for a little privacy, still a little unnerved by the lizard's intense gaze.

"Good. More", the chief said instead, looking pleased. He was reading through a book bound in a thick, leathery red material, occasionally stealing glances at the human. If he noticed or cared that Merton wanted some privacy, he didn't show it. At least the spring water was smoky-white enough to ensure most of his modesty was still intact, though Merton got the unnerving feeling the chief was enjoying the show more than his reptilian eyes let on. "What is your name?" the lizardman asked, almost offhandedly.

"Um..." Merton was taken aback, surprised at the sudden non-sequitur. But it was a good sign, wasn't it? Giving your enemies a name wasn't often a prelude to their painful death or torture... and the chief did seem to be reasonably friendly.

"Merton", Merton said. "What is yours?" he asked, absently, deciding that removing his shirt wouldn't pose any problems. A patch of mud was drying on the back of his neck, irritating the skin there as it shrank and stuck and his hair-wash didn't seem to have dislodged it. He started scrubbing at his bare, well-muscled abdomen and back, slightly self-consciously despite his pride in his warrior's physique. Had the lizard been a woman, Merton would have aimed to have her swooning by now; he remembered that one time, back when he and a few of the lads had gone skinny-dipping after a day's training, and three of the local girls had...

What an odd thing to pop into his mind now, he thought, shaking the delicious memory from his head.

"Merton... Merton... interesting. I suppose it shall do." the chief said, mulling the name over like a man trying to decide what he wanted to make for dinner. He still looked like he was paying more attention to the ancient book in his claws than his prisoner, though those reptilian eyes continued to linger on the human's musculature. It was a predatory, *hungry* look...

Suddenly, the chief's gaze locked on Merton's eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. "My name is Zaris, and I am chief of this tribe. I live to serve my people, to see them thrive and prosper. I don't know if you could underssstand why I defend them so zealously; you seem like a creature only in league for yoursssself. Typical of warm-bloods", he spat, his eyes narrowing as if recalling some unpleasant memory. "My father would have killed you and been done with it... but my ways are not his."

Zaris looked down at his tome for a second, turning the page with a single claw before looking back at Merton. "What do you think of us, I wonder?" he asked, looking into the water. Not much of the dim light reflected off the cloudy, muddy water, but Merton could see it faintly shimmer across the rippling surface.

Merton hadn't expected his capture to head this way. A pacifist? He suppressed a sneer. How quaint...

"I think..."

..you're a fool. You put your tribe at risk out of a vague sense of principle, rather than kill me to keep them safe?

"...I think you're a principled people, living in peace, and just wanting to be..."

...weak, unambitious, skulking forever on the corners of true power.

"...to be left alone, keep to yourselves, live a simple life."

I barely understand how anything with a brain could be so stupid!

"I can respect that... I... envy that", Merton said truthfully, surprising even himself.

Life had been so much simpler before the war, before the draft, before he'd been taught to kill, and forgot how to live life otherwise. He stopped, stone still for a long moment, feeling a sudden, nostalgic melancholia for those simpler, carefree days...

The lizardman smiled at him, and then dipped a single claw into the warm, calm water, stirring it around absentmindedly. "Your words and your body language - even your taste - is in conflict. You think we are primitive, yes? You think we are unsophisticated, savage, uncivilized. Maybe true, maybe. But I would not take such judgments as an insssult. How much war has your 'enlightened' society seen, young one? How much death?"

The lizard looked at Merton again, noticing how the young man's years seemed to suddenly wear upon him, how his brittle layer of emotional detachment seemed to crack, if just for a second. While the human sat deep in thought, Zaris slowly reached out and placed his hand on the human's forehead.

It was heavy and thick-scaled, surprisingly cool contrasted with the warmth of his hotspring bath. Whether the lizardman was unaware of how strong he was compared with the human or just trying to assert his position, it held Merton's head rigidly in place. Lightly, his clawed fingers ran through the human's short hair, playing with it curiously before the hand slid back around to Merton's neck. Holding the human tighter still, the Zaris pulled his prisoner towards the edge of the hotspring.

"No, I'm not going to kill you, but you are *not* free to go. Not until we teach you a path of peace. You are *mine*, until I see fit to declare otherwise." the lizardman said, pressing the top of his pointed, scaly muzzle into Merton's bare, wet shoulder, almost painfully. "The sooner you accept this... the better."

"Ack!" Merton exclaimed, jumping slightly as the rough scales scraped hard against his skin. Realizing how outmatched he was, he felt his fear suddenly returning, coated with a potent edge of utter confusion. The sense of something being *different* returned tenfold.

"Accept... what?" he whimpered, softly. "You want an answer, but you haven't even asked a question..."

"There is no question, there is only a *demand*," the lizard said, giving the back of Merton's neck a strong but almost tender squeeze. "I have two problems ... you know too much about my tribe; and your King's soldiers killed my mate a year ago. For these problemssss I have one solution: you are going to replace her", Zaris continued, sliding a second scaled hand up to Merton's cheeks and holding them together. He shifted the human's head from side-to-side, giving his face an approving hiss. "Do not worry. I will be gentle with you... the first few times, at least."

"W...what?!" Merton exclaimed, flabbergasted. Replace Zaris' mate?! The lizard really expected him to... Merton could barely even bring himself to consider the absurdity of the image, this lizard, a male lizard no less... wanting to...

His stray thought of the little orgy at the training camp made sense, now; the lizard's interest had brought the memory back, of course, that familiar, barely suppressed, eager intensity...

Merton realized he was staring into Zaris' eyes... the inscrutable gaze seemed softer somehow, patient, hopeful, determined, waiting for an answer. With the new suggestion of... carnality, in the proceedings, Merton suddenly felt small, inadequate; this was not something a soldier's training could prepare him for.

"But... I'm a... you're not... great gods, are you mad?!" Merton blurted out. In those eyes, he saw the hopeful flicker die instantly, snuffed out, and was surprised to find himself regretting his words immediately just for that. Why would he..?

But the die was cast; now was the moment to make a stand, strike out while the lizard had left an opening, let his guard down... but Merton found he couldn't quite bring himself to seize it.

Then the moment was gone.

A second's pause. Then, the lizard's grip tightened slightly on his head, and his cool, scaly hands began to grow strangely warm. "I told you; it is not your decision to make", Zaris whispered, the firmness in his voice brooking no argument.

What the chief said next, Merton did not have a clue. It was a deep and resonate tongue, the flowing and elegant words heavy with the weight of eons. Every verse of the incantation made the powerful hands holding his head grow warmer, made an electric tingling begin to build in his bones. It was magical energy; that much he was sure of. What it was doing was well beyond his understanding. A green glow suddenly flashed over his skin and made his vision go dark, and still the chief continued his chanting. Merton couldn't move a muscle, and yet his body kept sending him frantic sensations. His skin grew cold and the water around him boiled; he felt a lurch of vertigo and then the panic of claustrophobia.

When Zaris unleashed the full energy of the spell, Merton could feel the power surge through every part of his body in an instant. It thrummed in his bones with a dull ache and made him feel hungry, sore and tired, as if he had been traveling without food or rest for months. It felt like the warm embrace of the water around him - and Zaris's hand - were the only things keeping him upright. Merton stood unsteadily for a second; two; three. He felt so desperately weary all of a sudden... yet there was something else to it, an energy like a coiled spring wound up in his chest, desperately uncomfortable, and dreadfully, frighteningly alien. For a moment, he felt reassured by Zaris' touch. Then he shook his head, wondering why that should be, and half-afraid he knew the answer. This was the *something* that had been bothering him... intensified a thousand-fold.

"What was that? What have you done?" he asked, intending to sound confrontational and aggressive, but to his ear it sounded more terrified and plaintive, as if it was comfort he was really asking for, not an apology, not recompense.

"Shhh... don't talk..." Zaris said, sliding his legs into the water and rubbing the back of Merton's neck gently. "This might be... taxing... but it is necessary for you to understand the ways of sssscaly-kind, for you to be my mate..."

Merton opened his eyes again, filled with trepidation. So much was going on all at once inside his body that it was hard to sort everything out. Merton could feel the magic still settling in his bones, making him feel things in ways he has never quite felt before. His skin feels tight and hot and his fingers and toes felt tense; his insides felt soft and displaced, and his eyes felt twitchy. With a subdued crack, his spine shifted a little, almost as if it had just popped back into alignment. Strangely, a drug-like sense of calm warmth slowly began to trickle into his mind as the feelings crawled lethargically over his body.

But it was not over; more odd feelings began to envelop him. Merton felt his mouth fill with spittle and then felt his scalp itch unbearably. He even felt a spasm run along the tip of his penis through length of his flaccid manhood, before melting into his backside and making his rump clench involuntarily. It was as if suddenly he had become a stranger in his own body. Merton wanted to shout a retort, kick, lash out, break the infuriatingly tender grip Zaris held him with... but he didn't even have the energy even to protest. That was the only familiar sensation he could feel, that soft touch. Zaris was firm, but so gentle, caring... would it be so bad to...

Merton shook his head suddenly, a low, wordless, conflicted cry rising from his throat. It wasn't possible! It was completely insane, dangerously lunatic that the lizard would even consider such a thing! But Merton couldn't shake the sense of comfort he took from being close to Zaris, the friend, the tormentor, the liberator, the captor. Almost unbidden, he leaned forward, resting his torso against the lizardman's kneeling form, splashing water on the feathered robe as he did so.

"What's... happening?" he asked, in a throttled whisper as he let Zaris support him.

Zaris gave Merton affectionate, stroking pets on his head, pets that Merton couldn't help but notice were taking away strands of his short hair. "Dragon-magic, powerful magic. It is turning you into one of us, little human. You are going to join my people; it is the only way to ensure you will not harm us... the only way you could be a proper mate."

The chief's words rang true. Merton could see the splotches of thickening, darkening skin forming on his arms and legs and feel the hard, heavy clawnubs forming in his fingertips; he could feel the pressure in his sinuses as his face began to press forward against the shifting bones of his skull and he could feel the slickness in his mouth as his saliva became slimier. A bead of sweat rolled down his face and took several of his eyelashes with it; the tingling in his maleness grew in intensity as something began to grow and push inside his body, just above his testicles. Most of all, he could feel the thick lump growing in his backside, pressing against his waterlogged undergarments.

Merton rubbed his head back against the gentle strokes for a moment before snapping out of it. The lizard was insane, he had to be! But so strong, so caring...

Merton felt an unexpected stir of sensation in his alien, changing body... just a vague little itch, the faintest hint, of finding the thought of being pressed so close to Zaris... attractive. Just for a moment. With a resignation that was almost - almost - eager, he wondered what his new body would be like. He wondered if it would be as solidly built as the scouts who'd sprung the ambush, as handsome...

He shook his head, to try to clear out the thoughts that suddenly started filling his mind. Like the furtive, hopeful way Zaris had looked at him as he'd started to bare his body to the lizard; the tender roughness of his touch, the glint in his eye, the...

Merton closed his eyes, trying to will everything back to the way it was as he felt his changing penis start to inflate, slowly but steadily, pressing gently against Zaris' firm flank. He gave a whimper of mortified embarrassment at the realization, too late to avoid Zaris noticing.

"...and what isssss this? Are you already that eager to be mated?" the lizard asked, giving the transforming human a dirty smile, rubbing his thigh against his throbbing maleness. Merton felt a strong, firm hand slide down his front, under his belt, and wrap around his cock, giving it a possessive squeeze. The pleasure was sudden and intense; scaly roughness rubbing across his sensitive skin, combined with the thickening and throbbing of his changing maleness. Pleasure poured up into his testes and Merton felt them start to press upward, sinking into his body. It felt too like they were held inside him too tightly, like there wasn't enough room... but then his insides shifted a bit more, and they settled into a safe place. At the same time, a powerful throb in his backside made his growing tail-stub grow out another few inches; he could feel it, he could *almost* move it...

With a quick, powerful half-jump, Zaris' feet left the water. Hot drops of the opaque water slid down his feet and his flicking tail. He held out a hand to help Merton out. "Come on out... come to me. The change will be fasssst... we must prepare you for the mating ritual."

Merton took the hand with hesitation, conflicted thoughts swirling through his balding scalp. Zaris, now that Merton looked closer, had a certain... air to him. Something that Merton was finding harder and harder to deny, something that was inspiring outright erotic thoughts. He'd lain with women by the dozen, by the hundreds - so he bragged, at least. It was no exaggeration, though, to say he'd never once turned down the opportunity to exalt in his red-blooded manliness by claiming some naive farm-girl, seduced with tales of adventure and life-or-death skirmishes. But he had never, in all his years, felt anything like that rousing, powerful rush for another man... let alone a lizard-man, almost a complete stranger.

Merton knew it was the magic, something twisting his mind as surely as it twisted his body... but it wasn't his head that was driving him now. He paused only to unfasten his already-loose undergarments, and let them fall to the bottom of the shallow pool, before he took Zaris' offered hand and stepped from the pool, his changed maleness at half-mast, shrinking slightly in his nervousness, combined with the sudden chill as the cooler air of the cave hit him.

Outside of the cloudy water, his changes became more apparent and began to accelerate. Merton felt his rear clench again as his spine cracked and his tail grew out further, he felt his fingernails dissolve as the tips of his claws broke through his skin bloodlessly. Two of his middle toes were stuck together and merging, their own talons pressing out insistently against his skin. He felt a dull pressure in his face, and could see it begin to take up a little more space in his peripheral vision as it grew outward, forming a blunt proto-muzzle. It almost covered up his bare, hardening, splotchy-yellow skin, but not quite. Parts of his belly were already showing splashes of green and the outlined geometric shape of true scales.

"What... ritual?" Merton asked, somewhat calmer than he felt. Some part of him - a large part - was afraid it already knew, and was screaming at him to leave, now, to run, or fight, or... anything, other than give in...

A strong, guiding hand took a hold of his wet, bare ass, giving it possessive squeezes. Zaris felt the firming, leathery skin with his fingertips, hissing approvingly as he started walking out for the cavern's exit, pulling Merton with him. "A mating-ritual is a time of great joy and celebration for ussss... a rare and beautiful thing. Why would we keep it hidden and private?"

"Yesss... yes, you are going to submit to me in front of the warriors, young human. Accept your new life and your new body and you will live well." Zaris promised, somehow sounding both mirthful and solemn at the same time. He held Merton under his armpit to support him as they walked up the rocky incline, aware of how awkward movement was for the slowly morphing human. They stopped just outside the tent-covered exit, eyes adjusting to the hazy brightness.

"Mmmm... this sssshall be a good day for the tribe, Merton. A birth-celebration and a mating-celebration all at once..." Zaris sighed happily. He squeezed Merton's short tail, sending a spike of tingling, erotic, new sensation up the morphing human's spine... and then seizing the surprise it offered him to plant a powerful lick on the front of Merton's growing muzzle, slathering slimy, lukewarm saliva across his shrinking nose.

Merton's mostly-human face curled in an expression that mixed desire with disgust at the sloppy, reptilian kiss, and tried for a moment to deny it excited him. His new, half-human manhood was still only at half capacity... and was actually shriveling despite the arousing sensations of his changing body, and the feel of Zaris' hand still clasping at his buttocks. The intensely agreeable, yet novel and alien pleasures of his morphing flesh were being met head on by a bewildering maelstrom of other, less pleasant emotions.

The confusion of knowing he was about to lose his humanity; the remnants of disgust at the thought of submitting to another male; the wounding of his military pride at the thought of wanting this inhuman creature to ravish him; and worse, the sudden fear of being humiliated in front of others. But perhaps most of all, the shock at realizing how much of his humanity was already lost; the physical changes were increasingly obvious, yet the prospect of using - or being used by - another male was becoming less repellant by the second. Becoming, in fact, the opposite.

For a moment he imagined the assembled warriors, laughing and jeering at him while Zaris took him, took everything away. The humiliation of the moment, a proud - if wayward - soldier of the King's Army, being used like a woman for the perverse pleasures of a lust-addled lunatic lizard... It was an unbearable thought!

But then for a moment, he could see it vividly in his mind's eye: the hulking, muscular males watching with pants and gasps and eager strokes of their own erect phalluses, aroused to bursting at the sight of their chief demonstrating his power. The thought made him shiver, though he could not decide whether from excitement or horror.

Zaris' lust-filled eyes stared into Merton's frightened, human ones, and read the indecision writ plain there. Merton looked back, pleadingly, although he couldn't decide what it was he was asking Zaris for... for mercy, certainly, not to be paraded like a new toy before the tribe. But beyond that; was he asking to be forced, perhaps, so that later he could rationalize that there was nothing he could have done? Or for reassurance, that everything would be okay, to help Merton accept and move on?

The entire train of thought lasted perhaps half a second as Zaris turned away, pulled the off-color, deformed human forward with him into the open. As they walked forward out into the middle of the reptile's village, the smile on Zaris' muzzle began to slowly broaden before bursting into a hissing, victorious laugh.

The changing human felt his legs weaken as they began to morph into a digitigrade configuration, sending him sprawling onto his hands and knees. The bone and muscle felt like putty, forces deep inside his legs reshaping them and completely oblivious to his attempts to stand. Numbness and tense pressure radiated outward from his thighs, and Merton felt the skin around his legs start to tighten and harden as he writhed on the ground.

"I claim this male, this not-human assss my mate! Do any challenge me!?" the chief roared, casting challenging looks at the warriors and scouts milling about. They had turned, looking at first surprised and then pleased at what they saw. Merton felt their slitted eyes crawling over him, saw smiles come to their muzzles as they saw his hardening scales, heard their forked tongues flicker in the air, tasting his changing scent. They stopped their chores and slowly began to gather around him, forming a loose but tightening circle.

Zaris waited for them to gather close, and having heard no challenge to his authority or virility he took off his feathered coat and tossed it into the crowd before stripping off his loincloth. Bare, Merton could see that the spellcaster was all sinewy , dense muscle, bound tight by his scales. Even without the finery of his station, Zaris was an imposing presence. Commanding. When he looked at the other lizardfolk they visibly lowered their eyes and tails. The chief displayed his body to Merton proudly, walking tight circles around him and occasionally giving his bare bottom a firm grope or flicking at Merton's small, growing tail with his full-length, strong appendage.

Merton's gaze fell first on his changed feet and ankles, already more reptile than man. His longer, sprawled toes were tipped with blunt, growing claws, his ankles bent up awkwardly and - for now - all but uselessly, as the musculature beneath the skin shifted and reknitted into its new configuration. The yellowish-green hue of his skin was rapidly deepening, wiping away the tanned, fleshy tones, before the skin seemed almost to crack apart with a strong prickling sensation as each new small scale appeared and hardened.

His gaze was torn away from his transformation as he suddenly realized that he was the center of attention. Merton felt his cheeks blush hot and fast, very aware and ashamed at his nudity and the sheer sexual audacity of what he was being prepared for. His softened penis shriveled almost as if trying to escape the curious, eager, disgusted glances it was receiving, and Merton saw with a start of surprise that it almost looked like it was burrowing into his flesh.

In fact, with a ticklish but tense feeling he could tell that a new slit forming between his legs, a slit into which his manhood was rapidly retreating. His scrotum was gone entirely... was Zaris to claim his gender as well as his dignity, he wondered for a moment..? He had mentioned that his old mate was a female, after all..!

Merton glanced fearfully at Zaris as the chieftain cast off his clothing, relieved to see he also had no visible, external genitalia. Or perhaps, would not normally; Merton found himself staring without quite meaning to at the narrow slit in the middle of Zaris' groin. The dark green scales were swollen, darkened from shining green to muddy brown with the flow of blood under the shiny, slightly damp scales. The slit was just beginning to part; Merton found himself instinctively flicking his tongue out of his mouth as the lizardfolk did, trying to taste the air... but although his tongue seemed longer, it had not developed enough yet and he detected nothing. He heard a faint rustle of laughter from the assembled throng as he tried to make use of his tongue, which made Merton lower his head in shame, embarrassed half to death.

As he hung his head, he caught of Zaris' handsome, lean form again, laid bare before him. The sight began to arouse him again; his penis, moistened with fluids from his new genital slit, was starting to poke out of its new hiding place. Despite being thankful that he was still a man, Merton wanted to be anywhere but here... but, he realized, not without Zaris. He wanted Zaris to continue; he wanted to... well, he dismissed the thoughts as they formed, trying to will his arousal down.

He stared longingly toward the tent-flap to the hot spring... and heard a faint hiss of annoyance as the gaze was noticed. The changing human saw Zaris looming over him, the lizardfolk's swelling slit mere inches from his face. Zaris began to scratch the back of his neck, and Merton felt a raspy, strange feeling as his sharp claw dragged across the thick proto-scales that had grown there, from the nape of his neck all the way to his right shoulderblade. At least if he was going to be taken roughly, his scaly hide would be able to withstand it.

A sudden flare of transformative power ran through Merton's body - triggered perhaps by how his heart raced in embarrassment and arousal? - and the sensations pouring into his body became overwhelming, as the sensation of coiled, bunched-up power in his chest started to radiate through him. His hands dug into the soft, earthy dirt under him and twisted, black claws growing out to their full lengths. A feeling of puffiness in his upper mouth rose up as his jaw pressed forward and grew, his gums and teeth tightening and feeling dull. He could feel his front teeth sharpening in his mouth, running against his thicker, longer tongue as magical forces invisibly reshaped them into reptilian points. He felt his nascent tail gain another few inches, the swelling, warm feeling of growth heating up in his spine... and then he felt the tip touch the ground under him. Was it already that long? He could feel muscles in his backside growing, feel the ghostly tingle of new nerves growing, almost able to move it about already. His tail. A lizardfolk's tail, to balance their wide step, to propel them in the water, to... be lifted and held while they were mated...

Suddenly, Merton's thoughts were interrupted as Zaris seized his shrinking chin, pulling the new almost-lizard's still-blunt muzzle forward. Merton felt his snout bump up against the thick, warm scales that made up the chief's slit, and he could feel wet, warm musk wash over him. It was a thick, potent, cloying odor, reptilian, male, and rich. Overpowering. Every other scent from the stagnant swamp vanished, replaced by the other male's sex. Leathery, sweaty, virile maleness, of lizard and man both...

"Yesssss... get a good taste, hatchling. You're going to know my scent for the rest of your dayssss." Zaris hissed, grinding his slit against Merton's face. Merton felt little droplets of slitfluid land on his lips and soak into his nostrils, each one a hitting his senses with a potent explosion of musk. It was so powerful he almost couldn't hear the hissing laughter of the assembled crowd goading their leader onward. He couldn't understand their words, but their intentions were plain. They wanted to see him mated.

As he knelt, his short but growing muzzle held still, Merton felt his tongue tingle too... he felt the sensations from it separate and multiply as it split into a fork at the tip. Then, for an instant, the muscles of his face spasmed as they shifted to fit a more pointed, reptilian configuration. It was as they did so that his lips parted a moment and a smattering of stray slitfluids slid past his new taste-organ. The sensitive tastebuds tingled as the alien, alluring flavor of Zaris' musk burst upon them. Before he could quite stop himself, Merton tongue flicked out of his new mouth a second time, as involuntarily as the first. This time, it was not air that the appendage tasted, but flesh; his tongue rubbed the surprisingly warm, damp scales of Zaris' bulging slit and slid just over the tapered tip of an emerging organ in an explosion of flavor.

Merton tried to pull away as the rich, heady musk seemed to fill the air around him, pulling him onward inexorably to places he was not sure he wanted to go. But Zaris' strong hand held him there, and after the first impulse, his heart was not in the struggle.

He raised his increasingly-scaled arms, trying to push at Zaris' legs, give himself the additional leverage to escape the virile lizard's grasp... and found that his hands, almost of their own accord, kneaded at the solid muscle below the scaled thigh, stroking them gently instead. The morphing human tried to stop them, to move his hands away, and found, to his consternation, that he couldn't; it was as if an invisible, indomitable force had taken a hold of them, leaving his hands with a mind of their own. It seemed that to some extent the spreading numbness separated him not only from the sensation of discomfort and pain from his transformation, but from control of his own limbs as well.

His hands were not the only parts of his body giving him trouble, as his numb lips, without the decency to consult his brain for guidance, puckered up, and gave the half-inch of Zaris' exposed penis a gentle, almost loving kiss. Merton's senses all but erupted with the sudden influx of musk and male flavor; it was slightly salty, had a slippery texture, a scent that was somehow reminiscent of fresh water running in the forest - the smell of nature, primed and primal, ready and waiting. The taste of virile, life-giving male essence washed over him, so powerful it made his muzzle tremble.

Merton felt almost disappointed as his lips hardened and pulled back; his new scaly, reptilian lips were so much less mobile. He'd miss their flexibility, he thought for a confused moment, as some rational part of his mind pondered how and why he was now kneeling, unresisting, as Zaris' cock filled with blood and slowly everted into Merton's waiting muzzle.

Two clawed hands held his head steady, stroking the last few whisps of hair from it as leathery, slick scales replaced his skin. Everywhere, his tightened, thicken skin was bursting into scales, relief washing through his body as the tension of ambient transformative energy found release. His new skin felt so *heavy*; it was as thick as armor but free of any breaks. Looser around his neck and joints, softer around his belly and under his tail, but it covered him completely. He felt his claws and talons sink into the wet earth around him, and his slick, bumpy scales felt right at home in the muck. Armored, protected; even his genitals were safe and snug inside their new home. A slick, well-lubricated slit that cradled his manhood perfectly, a slit much like the one his pointy snout was now pressed into...

A trickle of reptilian preseed ran over the roof of his mouth, and Merton felt his mate's flavors seep deep into his mind. The chief's lizard-hood was growing, tinting a pinkish-green shade as it grew erect with the stiffness, color and warmth of fresh blood. As it grew it pushed deeper into his muzzle, brushing against his sharp teeth but thick and leathery enough not to be inconvenienced by such a casual graze. No, in fact it was pleasurable, judging by the sharp hiss Zaris let out as it happened. His mouth, his tongue, his muzzle were pleasing to his mate; the knowledge suddenly hit Merton, and he felt a warm sense of accomplishment in his chest. Involuntarily, his pulse began to quicken, and his still-growing tail twitched upward.

Thought he growing cock in his muzzle was drowning out all other sensations, on the very edge of his perceptions Merton could sense the growing lust in the crowd around them. Most of the lizardfolk- the *other* lizardfolk, that is- had stripped off their thin loincloths, beginning to rub each other's slits and tease one another's with their tails and tongues, making a warm fog of mixed musk begin to form in the swampy air. Merton heard their urgent, hissing talk as they began to form into groups around him, an unbroken ring of naked, virile, lizard-males... though their attention was still focused on him. His transformation, his taking was arousing them, though none dared challenge Zaris. Whenever their eyes lingered upon him too long, Zaris would hiss and growl at them, and buck his hips against Merton's muzzle, giving him another taste of salty, slimy preseed.

Merton almost cringed as he realized how much attention was being paid him... but then some part of him exalted at the nature of the attention, and the treacherous, almost fully-formed tail started to lift upward, exposing his bared, virgin rear to the crowd. Refusing to respond to conscious thought, the rebellious appendage did not lower itself to cover his shame, or preserve some semblance of modesty... what little there was to be found, at least, while naked, aroused, and slurping eagerly at a domineering chief's leaking cock.

Merton's hands dug into the compacted, moss-covered soil, while his legs, operating all but independently, scooted backward, until he was not only shamelessly exposed, but kneeling on hands and knees, his changing body all but pleading for more. He felt the firm, heavy mass of the muscle he'd developed over the months and years of army campaigns, seeming to dissolve, leaving his frame lighter, toned but far slimmer than the other males here, more agile... more flexible, perhaps.

Though his rational mind hated the way his body was behaving and was repulsed at what it was becoming, Merton couldn't resist the forces changing and controlling him. His changed limbs behaved almost as if they possessed a will of their own or danced to another's commands, as if he was a puppet dancing on invisible strings. Deep in his subconscious he was reveled in it, loving the sense of losing control, letting someone else take charge. An erotic thrill ran through him like a hot chill as he wrapped his much longer tongue fully around Zaris' rock-solid masculinity, coiling around it like a spring and dragging the strange new organ over the chief's sensitive hardness.

'It's to get this nightmare over with', some remaining doubt whispered to him. 'Finish this little task, and it'll be in the past, a lapse, an unfortunate event...'

But a more pervasive and growing part of his mind wondered with excited curiosity what his new mate's cum would taste like as he sucked firmly and eagerly on Zaris. That same part regretted that he had never tasted human semen to compare, as he felt Zaris start to shiver and writhe at the intense ministrations, hissing with desire...

Though he had never before pleasured another man, new instincts and new desires led Merton's tongue and muzzle to work in ways he never thought possible. He sucked Zaris's cock, he worshipped it with his tongue, suckled on its tapered head, drank down every little gift of musk-laden pre it gave him. Even when the stiff, hot maleness began to throb and gush great gouts of slick, natural lubricant and Zaris's hissing reached a threatening crescendo, the only thought running through the new lizardfolk's brain was to suck harder, to lick faster, to take more and more of it into his muzzle until his snout was stuck in his mate's slit. Warm, excess pre dribbled down his muzzle and splattered to the ground between his long, black claws. Between Zaris's legs Merton could see the chief's tail thrash excitedly and his digitigrade legs shake, his mate's talons digging deep furrows in the soft ground.

Merton saw the orgasm coming from far away; he could *feel* it coming, but there was very little he could do. Not with his head held firmly in place and his very body betraying him, growing ever-more aroused and completing its change to full lizard-hood...

Zaris bucked against his muzzle one last time and held himself firm, and Merton felt a sticky-hot blast of seed suddenly fill his mouth. The chief yet out a growling, triumphant roar, his maleness throbbing and gushing huge spurts of cum into the new lizard's muzzle and down his throat. The musky, rich, salty-sweet taste filled his taste-organ and tongue, rolled down his throat with sticky slowness and filled his belly with filthy, warm heat. The other male continued to excitedly hump against him, making the subsequent, smaller shots of seed splatter against his cheeks and the roof of his mouth, some of the excess smearing his stiff lips and filling up his mouth with thick, warm, overpoweringly musky stickiness.

The other lizards were cheering and jeering, celebrating the display of male virility their leader had just shown. Panting, Zaris acknowledged them with a smirk and offhanded, hissing barks, finally letting Merton's muzzle go and letting his mate rest.

Merton's enthusiasm abated slightly as the slightly bitter fluid washed down his throat; unsure if he liked the taste or not. But it didn't much matter, and without quite meaning to, he kept his head in place after Zaris relinquished his grip, still licking gently at the softening organ, getting as good a taste as he could, getting used to pleasing his mate. He knew it was the right thing to do as he heard Zaris' contented hiss and felt the warm, affectionate touch of his hand.

"That wasssss... good. You are a talented little cock-ssssucker; one of the best males to ever pleasure me." Zaris said, affectionately petting Merton's snout and his wet lips, rubbing a sample of his own cum upon one of his claws before tasting it with the tip of his tongue. "Now that you have accepted your place and body, we can properly mate."

It was then that Merton noticed something inside Zaris's lewdly bulging slit; his second hemipene. It was already hardening next to its softening twin, the reptilian maleness glistening with preseed even as fresh cum dried on the other. The crowd around Merton was already kissing and licking one another, their own twin malenesses proudly erect between their legs as they prepared for the coming orgy.

Merton's body tensed as Zaris proclaimed that they would mate 'properly'. He had a sudden idea what that might mean, and the last of his pride rebelled against the lust-filled fog that clouded his head; with Zaris' cock removed from his mouth, his thoughts felt a little sharper, a little clearer. But his body, almost completely changed now, was having none of it. Even as his mouth, still dripping with Zaris' cum, started to form the silent words of a refusal, his traitorous new body - or perhaps, the body of the person he was becoming - took it upon itself to sit back upright on its knees, and then lie flat on its back. He felt his forming dorsal crest press into the damp, torn moss beneath him, like an exquisite, luxurious bed of some kind. When he tried to squeeze his knees together, they instead parted, laying himself open as his slitted eyes watched Zaris' second penis - hemipene, said some new instinct, in some new language - evert slowly, pushing the first aside. He wondered if he had a second one already, or if it was still to come...

He wanted - he really wanted - his body to stop what it was doing, stop leading his mate on like that... Zaris' new status slipped easily into Merton's thoughts without the former-human even realizing. But, his tail, with what might have been mischievous glee if it had been a person unto itself, had other ideas. It curled itself up, settling around Zaris' ankle, squeezing gently, rolling through the slightly muddy, sticky mess of Merton's own spilled precum, and Zaris' fresh seed. Then, without warning, it uncurled from Zaris' ankle, and doubled back on itself, and Merton gave a surprised, slightly horrified gasp as the tip of the renegade appendage tickled lightly over his tailhole, teasing at it. The gasp turned to a pleased groan as the narrow point, slick with their combined juices, slid easily in, parting and lubricating the orifice, before departing to lie flat on the ground, waiting for something more fulfilling to take its place.

Zaris smiled. His second hemipene had nearly swollen to its full size just watching the erotic display, the former human's tail preparing his own tail-hole for a rough and thorough mating like the needy little hatchling he was. It was beautifully erotic, and it reminded Zaris once more of how much better the new ways were. Why kill off the invading humans when it was so much more productive, so much sweeter to welcome them into scalykind? He was already kneeling down between his new mate's legs, balancing on his tail while he leaned forward. Merton could see his own slit swelling slightly as the chief placed a hand upon it, massaging the submissive lizard's internal testicles and penes tenderly. The disconnected but powerful spikes of pleasure told the erstwhile human that the last vestige of his humanity, his manhood had grown, twisted and changed by the chief's magic into a lizard's mating tool. He was one of them now in body, if not soul. Though that too was slowly changing, as reptilian instincts crept insidiously into his mind with every passing second.

Merton knew that he was a true male, but he was a submissive-male, and his place was underneath his mate. He knew just how to hold out his tail when walking on a narrow path to balance best, he knew how the tines of his tongue should be held to taste distant prey, and he knew how to properly lick a set of hemipenes clean when they were messy... but he also knew that he was a soldier in the King's army and a human man, a victim of insidious and powerful sorcery, a looter and a deserter and yet a survivor.

"Merton..." Zaris began to say, resting his hemipenes on top of the confused lizard's tailbase. All around them, sounds of hissing and scales sliding across each other and animalistic sex filled the village... yet Merton found his eyes drawn towards his mate's slitted, almost hypnotically strong gaze. "Tell me what you are. Tell me what you want."

His mouth started to form the words hesitantly. "I... I'm... I'm a..."

Soldier... he'd fought and killed and nearly died for his country. But he was a conscript, for all his skill; it wasn't what he'd wanted.

Deserter... he'd fled the army at every opportunity, spent so long on campaign dreaming of the looting and pillaging, only because the riches he might carry away would be his escape to a better life.

Victim... victims felt bad, didn't they? Victim's didn't thrill at the warm pulse of their captor's heartbeat through his twin cocks, didn't find the teasing of the organs' gentle touch at his tailhole so exquisite.

Cocksucker... his mind half-remembered it as an insult, the same thoughtless jibe the human soldiers had tossed at each other constantly, sometimes several times a minute. But some deeper undercurrent in his mind had heard only a compliment when Zaris said it; his mate's honest expression of appreciating Merton's skill at bringing joy. Really, what higher calling was there than to bring such bliss to others?

Male... Merton's eyes closed over as a nictitating membrane flickered across them, a residual human instinct, as he felt his painfully erect, maleness throb inside his slit, now two separate, needy halves. The sensations were wonderful but somehow distant, as if happening to someone else.

Lizard... Merton remembered the reptilian taste as Zaris' preseed had flowed over his eager tongue, remembered the ruggedly handsome sexuality of the almost bare-skinned warriors who'd ambushed him, and who even now had started to grab and stroke at each other's hemipenes, the rich aroma filling the air so powerfully it was getting hard to think.

Mate... Merton looked up at the beautiful sight of his mate, erect, looking at him with undisguised lust and desire, waiting patiently for an answer. Merton's dripping, divided cocks gave a jump as he remembered having Zaris' spurting length fill his mouth. That taste was still lingering in his mouth; it was an expression of happiness, a compliment to his skill and attractiveness that no mere words could express. He licked his lips, cleaning the last few drops of cum from them, savoring them for what they represented, tasting the unique and subtle flavor of Zaris.

"I'm yours..." he breathed, even his voice showing more decisiveness than his head now. "I'm yours! Take me, fill me, mark me! I want to feel you in me..." Merton paused as he took back control of his voice, but all that what little of his humanity remained wanted to do was add respect to his plea, as the chief was due: "...please?" he added, looking deep in Zaris' eyes, wrapping his legs around his mate's hips and tail, urging him forward...

There was nothing unreadable on Zaris's expression now, though he didn't speak for some time. Merton could see the savage, passionate love in his reptilian eyes, the pride and need and dominance and affection that his mate silently displayed. His tongue flicked out again and again, and Merton knew that the chief was tasting him, *his* musk, saturating his taste-organ with it so that he would never forget it. It was a strange and wholly reptilian gesture, but one that made him feel warm, loved.

"Mmmm... I will. I will." Zaris began, spreading Merton's legs even wider, exposing his puckered tail-hole. The former human could feel his knees weaken and his tail reflexively flex towards the ground under him, submitting to the stronger male. Zaris's head suddenly dropped low and Merton felt sharp teeth sink into his tailbase, making the scales but not piercing them.

"Everyone who sees you, everyone who can tassssste you or ssssmell you is going to know you are *mine*, hatchling. You're going to have my musk upon you, have my cum in your rump and your belly, ssssssleep under my arms at night, your tail wound with mine. My little tail-raiser... my special cock-sssssucker... my lover... my mate..." Zaris promised, his words trailing off as his muzzle crept upward.

Merton felt warmth spread across his rump as the lizard's tongue slowly dragged between his spread cheeks, taking extra time to tickle his tail-hole. The chief was a true lizardfolk and very skilled with his tongue. The forked appendage delved deep and quick into the virgin lizard's hole, quickly making it warm and slick with saliva, finishing the job that his own tail had begun. But while it was smaller, it was infinitely more dexterous. Merton could feel it linger inside him and press against something deep inside him that made his hemipenes harden and throb, feel it flick from his master's mouth and force its way past his clenched hole with a single push.

A tingle began to build in his penes and his heart beat quicker as reptilian instinct told him what was happening: he was nearly ready to be bred. The mere thought made Merton's claws tighten against his leathery palms, made his body tense with anticipation. He felt his body go limp, all but melting into the intimate touch of the agile tongue. On an abstract level, he could remember that only minutes ago the thought would have revolted him; being bred by a male... but now, the dominant thought in his mind was how much he wished that the tongue would be replaced by Zaris' thick, proud shaft, desperate suddenly to feel Zaris squirt him full.

The mere anticipation of that sensation only made his new hemipenes throb harder, and he wanted so much to just grab them, stroke himself to the new heights of a twin orgasm as his mate, his Chief, pleasured him. But again, his body would not obey; in deference to his Chief, his new instincts held him immobile until his mate was as ready as Merton himself. Merton felt suddenly, absurdly proud of himself; moments before he'd been fighting those same instincts to reclaim his humanity, his freedom, his pride... now he fought them so he could abandon his past the more fervently, and wished he knew how to tell Zaris this, wanting him to be proud too. But the insistent tongue, already withdrawing with its work done, left his mind too filled with pleasure for words to find purchase, and Merton could only gasp and moan eagerly with anticipation.

Merton felt a sudden lurch as Zaris flipped him onto his belly and then pulled him backward onto his knees, mud and spent fluids coating his scales but not sticking to their slickness. A kiss flickered across the upper base of Merton's tail as Zaris finished his preparations, and then the submissive lizardman felt a pair of strong talons abutting his own scaly feet. They were close to mating, the last few seconds of preparation seeming like eons. Merton felt the larger reptile slowly began to settle his weight upon Merton's back, his sharp claws getting a solid grip on the thick scales of his sides. Though Zaris's claws dug deep into his leathery hide, they couldn't break his armored exterior. In fact, the feeling tickled. So close now ...

Warm breath blew past the nape of his neck and a gentle but firm nuzzle pushed his head downward, so that his lengthy muzzle nearly touched the mud. So very close. With a growling hiss, a lizardman in the close circle around them came into another's palm, and the hot-sweet-other-male smell of reptilian essence saturated the impromptu gathering of lizard males. Merton felt his chieftain, his master, his mate, his lover yank his tail upward, hiking it nearly over his shoulder. Agonizingly close. Something hot and moist and very stiff poked his flat, scaly rump, leaving a streak of slick warmth across his backside as it slid sideward and settled into the cleft between his cheeks and his tail. It was happening; right this very moment it was happening...

It was so gentle, a smooth and exquisite sensation not at all like the savage and painful penetration he might have been expecting. Zaris's slick, tapered hemipene pressed open his prepared tail-hole with nothing but a warm, powerful, pleasant tickle, followed by the sensation of suddenly having something very large filling his ass. A massive, throbbing lizard-cock was impaling him and slickening his tailpassage with preseed, and it was glorious. Instinct told him his purpose in life was being fulfilled, rewarding him with pleasure beyond the cage of words and thoughts. Merton felt a hot, electric jolt run through his altered maleness, making both of his cockheads quiver with irresistible, mind-melting arousal. He almost didn't hear the cheers and hisses from the assembled crowd, praising the powerful male claiming him.

The sensation of the first inches sliding into him nearly made Merton spill his seed right then and there; but as the massive shaft pushed in further, the sensation changed to one closer to a burning pain. The fire of protesting flesh met the lightning surge of pleasure, like a meeting of elemental forces deep within him. His throbbing hemipenes did not waver in their hardness, and Merton was thankful for the momentary distraction of the pain; instead of the fear of being humiliated by being displayed before the tribe's warriors with a lizard thrusting up his backside, he was afraid instead of cumming too quickly. Of appearing like a novice, even a virgin, in front of his mate, and his tribe - never mind that, anally, he was. He didn't even notice his sudden sense of kinship with the reptilian males around him.

Zaris' cock rubbed gently but insistently against his prostate, making him gasp, a small flood of preseed dripping lewdly to the muddy ground beneath him, and he hissed in satisfaction as he heard the warriors around him hiss encouragement, to him, to his mate, and to each other.

As Zaris' bellyscales pressed and rubbed at the scales of his tail and his back, he took the Chief's weight on his arms; he couldn't now use either hand to pleasure himself, but that didn't matter, as long as his mate was happy. He squeezed his lithe, scaly legs harder against Zaris', toying with his mate's toes as he did so, relishing the complete contact, the unprecedented connection he felt with the lizardman above him, the arousal of playing host to such a beacon of masculinity, more erotic than any woman he'd ever taken.

Zaris waited, inside Merton to the hilt, for several long seconds, letting him adjust, and Merton turned his snout to lick at Zaris', wanting Zaris inside him in more ways than one. At his tail, he felt Zaris' other hemipene start to stiffen and slide back out of its genital slit, ready for more already...

His chieftain smiled indulgently, letting Merton lick at his muzzle and neck as he ground his slit up against his submissive-male's backside, his mate's hardening second hemipene brushing preseed over the back of his thigh. Zaris's scaly face tasted so much like his seed, although the musky, natural flavors of the slick scales there was subtler and softer. Not at all like the raw potency of his essence, but in that way much easier to savor and enjoy. But before long Zaris pressed forward and captured his muzzle mid-lick, locking Merton into a powerful, deep kiss while simultaneously pulling his hips backward. The chief's tongue tasted of his own flavors, having feasted upon his body's curves and crannies earlier. So strange to taste himself, his own essence on the tongue of another, the flavors mingling and mixing like their bodies were now.

The lizard chieftain's mighty cock slowly pulled out from his body until only the tapered head was left, securely surrounded by the tightness of the smaller reptile's muscular ring. Merton felt a feeling of slick, watery warmth and emptiness inside his tailpassage, the lingering feeling of penetration and the knowledge more was coming making it nearly impossible to relax and literally impossible to stop his own shafts from soaking the mud below with pre. Zaris's second thrust was a demonstration of his power and virility, so fast and strong. Merton felt a spike of pain as his mate's cock speared him, the lizard's pubic scales slapping wetly against his backside from the speed of their joining. His passage clenched down hard as it tried fruitlessly to expel the huge, hot, stinging invader. But the pain seemed to dull when he felt Zaris moan into his muzzle with pleasure from the tightness engulfing his cock. Somehow, knowing that his mate was pleased made everything alright. More than alright, in fact; Zaris rewarded him with another long grind against his prostate, the large maleness deep inside his body rubbing every delicious, tender inch of the swollen, needy male-gland, that pleasure-center he had never even felt as a human...

Merton gave a sudden intake of breath as Zaris rammed back into him, his mate's leaking pre lubricating the entry well, but not quite enough for so large a tool in his seemingly-smaller body. The lungful of air he drew filled his sense of smell with the scent of Zaris, and he moaned happily as Zaris' tongue finally withdrew from his.

He heard a cheery hiss from the crowd, and saw another of the warriors bring one of his hemipenes to orgasm, the rich, musky scent filling the air. This made Zaris chuckle, a soft hissing laugh, and Merton couldn't help but join in, feeling deliciously fulfilled at being part-way the cause of so much pleasure. Zaris' shaft withdrew again, and again plunged in to the hilt, making Merton groan, his hemipenes jumping at the thrust into his pleasure spot.

"Mmm! A...again!" he said, his voice low, degenerating into a wordless hiss. His wish was quickly granted.

"Harder! Please! More!" he said, feebly but enthusiastically, as Zaris started to thrust into him faster. He watched as one of the warriors knelt before another, taking both hemipenes into his eager muzzle, sucking hard while pumping at his own lengths, and both parties watching Zaris claim Merton with one slitted eye apiece.

The pain of entry was a distant memory now, as distant as humanity, the farmstead, the King's Army, the treasure. Nothing mattered but his incredibly sensitive, freshly changed cocks, and the twin shafts of his lover, one plunging into him, one rubbing wetly and slickly over the scales of his back. Nothing mattered but the soft hisses and groans as the tribe's males pleasured themselves or each other around the copulating pair; nothing mattered but Zaris' powerful chest rubbing across Merton's changed, slender back, Zaris' hissing and panting in his earholes, Zaris' preseed leaking copiously into Merton's hot depths.

Merton wanted something else spurting inside him, and its absence was driving him wild with anticipation.

"Cum! Fill me up! Pleassse!" Merton huffed to Zaris, clenching his tailhole around the thrusting shaft, hearing Zaris' pleasured hiss as the ring tightened around his cock. Merton new his place... if he was not being mated by Zaris, he wanted to be lying, panting, with Zaris' fresh seed filling his belly, dripping from his tailbase... it was his place, the best thing in the world. If his eyes had still had tear ducts, he might have wept with how perfect everything was.

Zaris was used to being obeyed, but when the needy human turned lizard begged for his seed he couldn't help but acquiesce himself. Gripping the scaly scruff of Merton's neck in a tender mating bite, he hilted his hemipene hard into the crushingly tight passage and came. Merton felt a rush of warmth in his innards as a veritable flood of lizard-seed shot deep into his body and leaked from his tail-hole, the sticky seed turning making their joining audibly wet. Everything about the orgasm was perfect, from the way that his lover's sharp talons nestled twined with his own to the way that the cumming, quivering cock buried inside him was firing shots of seed right against his anal pleasure center. He could feel every powerful spurt as a searing wave of pleasure that radiated into every inch of his body, from his quivering, tightly-held tail to his trembling, forked tongue. It made his internal testicles tighten so hard it almost hurt, made his own penes gush constant streams of preseed as seed began to fill them. He felt like he could cum for hours, for days... and even then might not be able stop.

A single smooth claw rested against the base of his hemipenes, stroking the tender spot where his shafts divided into two. Zaris was stroking it ever-so slowly, making sure that his mate's first true orgasms were almost entirely due to being mated. Being bent over and *fucked*, tail raised high, his ass so full of fresh seed, his neck held fast in the other male's strong jaws. Merton had never taken any girl so completely, not even the young and naive farmgirls who had spread their legs the instant they learned he was a soldier. Not even animals could rut with such passion, no; it took a creature with real intelligence to lavish such careful, such intoxicating, such all-consuming pleasure on another, dominating them mind and body both. Zaris was his mate, his master, his world, and the thick lizard-cum still gushing into his body and making his own climaxes build was inconvertible proof of that.

Merton's body tensed, the pleasure suddenly focusing and rising, and he felt his seed, reptilian and the dregs of his humanity mingled together, begin to flow deep inside. He gave a low hiss, rising in tone, as the feeling built up, a little further with each spurt of Zaris' wonderful shaft inside him; as if his own seed could not bring itself to stay within him now that Zaris was filling him to the brim.

"Z...Z...Zarisssssss!" he shuddered and groaned, loudly, as Zaris' excess seed started to drip for his overfull tailhole, every muscle in his body going tense as the pleasure became unbearable, his hemipenes quaking with impending climax.

Zaris gave a joyous hiss as Merton's passage tightened uncontrollably around him, harder then before, and his shaft emitted another powerful rush of seed as it did. That was all Merton needed; the slight tickle of the harder shot entering him set off his own mind-blowing climax. For an instant, everything else in the world was gone, blank, a void; there was only Zaris's shaft bucking and spurting inside him, Zaris' heavy weight on top of him, the pleasurable stretch of his tailhole, and of course, Merton's own hemipenes, as they erupted in lewd acknowledgement that he *loved* Zaris. How could he not love his chief, his wonderful, thick-cocked mate, how could he not want to slake Zaris' every lust, every need?

The impact of the twin jets of his seed in the spreading puddle of slick precum beneath him was audible, a muffled splash, each shot draining him, a feeling like a tidal wave hitting with each jump and pulse. So aroused was he that he came to orgasm without being so much as touched, Zaris' talon barely even teasing... and so, both cocks came together, a union of redoubled pleasure that made Merton go instantly weak.

He heard the eager, satisfied, lusty hisses around him, and smelled his own potent musk for the first time, tinged with Zaris', as it should be; but only an instant, as the mixed scent of the other warriors' self-pleasure spread rapidly through the assembled throng, a heady mixture of sex and desire.

Merton could support his weight and Zaris' no longer, and they collapsed into the pool of Merton's seed and preseed, Merton's cocks pressing into the mud, still shooting feebly. The definition of his muscles was gone now, he noticed; but that was only good, it made him look sexier, he thought, marked him out more clearly as a servile male. Zaris would protect him, keep him safe, and he hissed in loving contentment as Zaris' strong talons left his groin and grasped his chest, hugging their bodies closer, and thrusting again softly, less needfully, gently rubbing the hemipene still sandwiched between their bodies over their rough scales...

The smell of male-seed mingled with the humidity in the warm, swampy air, making Merton feel like he was breathing in a solid fog of musk. His ass was a bit tender and his tail was sore from being held so tightly against his back, but none of that seemed to matter. All that mattered was the tongue licking the back of his neck, the goopy mess of cum, preseed and mud his softening cocks were pressed into, the sound of other male lizards sharing equal-sex with one another, not quite as passionate as the dominant-sex that his mate had just taken from him but a wondrous and arousing sight nonetheless. Though some of them were clearly attracted to the panting, submissive lizard who had once been a human, none dared approach. They knew who he belonged to.

"Good male... ssssuch a good little male... such a good mate..." Zaris whispered to him between gasping breaths, stroking the top of Merton's snout affectionately. Had the whole tribe really just seen everything? Seen his ass claimed with his tail in the air, heard him beg to be bred like a female? It was a humbling yet arousing thought, but somehow it felt right.

Zaris hissed a curt command to one of the nearby warriors, who had just finished a sixty-nine with a smaller lizard scout. The burly reptile's facepaint was marred by a splattering of seed which he continued to lap at as he nodded in acknowledgement to Zaris. Though he couldn't yet understand the reptilian tongue of his new people, his chief soon told him what was happening. A great feast was going be held that evening in honor of their joining... once their mating was over. Merton heard and felt Zaris withdraw his softening cock from his tail-hole with a wet squish, and then felt its hard and eager twin begin to press against his entrance, gentle but insistent...

****

Four Days Later...

****

The grizzled, middle-aged ex-Sergeant swatted a mosquito as it landed on his neck. "Thrice-damned insects! I'm surprised there's any blood left..."

The youngest of the trio, the fiery redhead they nicknamed Ginger, pulled his heavy uniform collar up a little further, nervously. "Ugh. They carry fever, you know, sir."

"Hell's bells, kid, you wait until now to say that?!" demanded the irate leader.

"Heh", chuckled the third, a thin half-elven man. "Drop the 'Sir', Ginger. Away from the Army, he's back down to our level, ain't that right, Adrian?"

"Aw, shut up, Kithrin", snapped Adrian. "We'll be bloody lucky if that double-crossing bastard Merton's not made off with the whole lot, thanks to you and your getting us lost."

Kithrin's good-natured expression darkened. "Hey, now, that's not my fault. Someone moved the bloody cairns! Probably Merton, trying to get us lost. You're lucky I've got a good memory!" he tapped the side of his head, smugly. "It's not far now, just across there. See the dead trees over the mist there?"

Pushing Adrian aside firmly but gently, Kithrin led his colleagues down the partly-submerged path toward the dead copse. He'd almost reached the fallen log that marked the treasure, when Ginger nearly ran straight into his back as Kithrin stopped suddenly, staring intently at the ground.

"Oof! What the hell, Kith?!" He exclaimed, clutching at his nose. "That hurt!"

"Damn it, Ginger, watch where you're going, then!" he shot back. "Look - someone's been here before. The soil's been disturbed..."

"Aw, *no*!" exclaimed Ginger, suddenly sounding desolate. "He's not beaten us here, has he?"

Kithrin held up his hand to silence the boy. "I don't know... There's footprints around here. Well, clawprints. Someone, not a human, has been here recently..."

"Some *one*? Not an animal?" asked Adrian.

"...maybe. Probably lizardfolk, though. The impressions aren't very clear..."

Ginger grabbed hold of Kithrin's arm suddenly. "Oh! Gods, look, there's one, right there!"

Adrian and Kithrin spun to see where Ginger pointed, and saw a lone lizardfolk standing barely ten feet from them. The creature was about their height, but skinnier, lithe, vaguely feminine-looking; its only clothing was a strip of cloth at its waist, from which hung several unidentifiable pouches, and one wickedly curved dagger of bone. Despite its effeminate appearance, there was a definite masculine gravel to its voice as it opened its mouth and spoke in clear Common.

"Looking for something?" it asked, smiling at them.

"Ah, yes, as it happens, have you seen..." began Kithrin.

"Piss off!" exclaimed Adrian. "I am not in the mood to have the bloody natives babble at me!" He placed a hand menacingly on the hilt of his sword.

The lizard's hand went quickly to the hilt of its dagger. "I must strongly recommend that you do not draw your weapon against me..." it curled its reptilian lips in a leering smile. "Deserters. There would be no penalty to pay if *you* die out here."

"Wh-?! How'd you know we're..." began Ginger, before Kithrin elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Oof!"

"We are soldiers in the King's Army, reptile. You cannot stand against three trained warriors", said Kithrin, stoically. "We have come to retrieve a package we left here some weeks ago. Then we will leave - and you will not stop us."

"Oh, the coins, the books, the painting?" said the lizard, faux-innocently. "Those look so very good in my chief's home. Perhaps we should thank you for the gift? It was buried in our land, after all."

Kithrin had time to think that something in the taunting, sibilant tone was familiar somehow, before Adrian shouted, "What?! The fucking lizards are getting their filthy claws all over my bloody money?!" His face turned scarlet with fury. "That does it, you are fucking dead!"

There was a *schink* as the steel longsword emerged from its scabbard, and only a momentary pause before Ginger and Kithrin drew their weapons too.

Then, to their horror, from the mud all around them more than a dozen reptilian shapes emerged. The glint of sharp steel was all around them...

"Don't be in such a rush", chastised the smaller lizardman, stepping back out of easy reach of the three startled soldiers, "You'll like it here once you're settled in." Its forked tongue flickered out, tasting the air, a teasing look in its eye. "Ssavak there is due a reward for keeping the tribe hidden so well..." he glanced toward one of the archers, a burly hulk of a reptile, "...so he'll be having first pick of your tails when you're done. I'd suggest coming quietly - you'll enjoy it, I did!"

The soldiers stared blankly at the lizard, wondering what it was talking about. Only Ginger realized that Merton must have been here before; he noticed the scoundrel's locket was wound tightly around the creature's waving tail, like a bell on a cat. The thieving scumbag must have met a bad end at these barbarians' hands.

But, then, a thought struck him...