Cursed Gold 5: Remel's Travels
Cursed Gold
Part V
Remel's Travels
"Can you carry a sword?" The rotund caravan master said gruffly as he folded his thick arms, studying the scrawny man before him. The man shook his head with confusion.
"Can you carry a sword?" The master said more forcefully, becoming impatient. "Are you any sort of a swordsman? Bowman? Any weapons skills?"
"Well, I've... um..." The caravan master grumbled at Remel's weak answer.
"I've no use for a man who can't defend himself, let alone the caravan. Look, I'll be back in a few months, if you have enough gold then..."
"Please, Master Terlane, I must get to Cyranith... You see my wife; she just, uh... died... maybe..." Remel explained, putting on his best traumatized husband face. Terlane grumbled again, while a hard man, he wasn't without a heart.
"Alright, alright, but you're on a horse, no riding the wagons for you. _And_I want you to spend some time with Gerick, our weapons-master. It's a long road to Cyranith, and the Anens are raiding more than ever."
"Oh, thank you sir!" Remel eagerly shook Terlane's hand. "Thank you!"
* * *
Remel once again looked at the sun, with a grimace and a frown. The steppe surrounding River's Ford was harsh anytime of year, but summer was brutally hot. He had been riding for several hours, with only a brief lunch at noon. The mare he rode was an antsy animal, and Remel's poor riding skills only made things worse, for both man and beast. The heavy sword beat against his back with an annoying rhythm, while his chain mail shirt smelled and itched. Remel decided he did not like this caravan work.
"Hoy, city boy!" Remel groaned when heard Gerick call out his name from behind. He decided he'd better stop, rather than incur Gerick's wrath once again. The weapons-master had a short temper.
"Yes, sir?" Gerick angrily eyed the man before him, not at all pleased that the caravan master had put him with his carefully trained guards. This Remel was selfish, dishonest, and entirely too lazy.
"Get ready to make camp. Don't dally; we'll need your help with the other tents. You know the procedure." Remel grumbled. "Yes, sir..."
Remel happily slid off the jumpy mare, glad to be on the ground once again. While he stretched his sore muscles, he watched as the others in the large caravan pulled of the road and began making camp. He held had no intent of hurrying; in fact, he had every intention to take as long as possible with his own affairs. Remel smiled to himself. Hopefully, it would too dark by the time he was ready to help.
Lazily, Remel laid his tent out; thankful he wouldn't be sharing his sleeping quarters with the other guards. Gerick had griped about this, saying that the guards should be a unified force, but Remel simply wouldn't sleep in the same tent as those smelly brutes, and had provided his own tent.
As he unloaded his belongings from the mare's back, a sparkle of gold caught Remel's attention as it fell to the ground. As he scrambled to recover it, Remel remembered what it was. He had found the ring among the debris on the floor of his ransacked home. At the time, Remel figured that Liana had simply hidden it from him, or perhaps stolen it recently. She certainly didn't have the money to buy it, he had made certain of that. He felt that a man must carefully control the purse strings of his wife.
It was nice ring, Remel thought as he looked at the simple ring in the palm of his hand. Taken by a sudden unexplainable urge, he slipped it on to the ring finger of his right hand. Suddenly, his body was over taken by a terrible cold chill and tingling in his spine. Remel shook it off, thinking it was odd, but hardly anything to worry about.
* * *
Remel slept fitfully, tossing and turning, his mind full of dreams and strange images he couldn't understand. Around mid-night, Remel became powerfully aroused, his erection finally awakening him when it became undeniable and almost painful. He lay in his bed roll for sometime, pleasuring himself, but finding no relief.
"Ohhh, I've... It's never done this before!" Remel moaned into the cool night air. "Damn it! It's so fucking big!" He groaned as he beat off. "Someone's... Someone's gotta help me!" Remel crawled from his bed roll, finally deciding in his desperation to find one of the camp's women, and ask if she would be willing to provide the services he urgently needed.
Upon opening the tent door, Remel was hit with a powerful wave of a strange new scent. His cock strained even more as he drank in the wonderful odor wafting through his nostrils. Remel was so distracted by his new pheromone sensing abilities; he failed to notice his engorged shaft's new mottled, animal like appearance. The member's form resembled that of a small pony stallion, mottled brown and tan, with a broadly flared end and was quickly growing. His testicles had already reached their massive full size, sending massive amounts of powerful hormones coursing through his veins.
Remel scrambled from the tent, following his enticed nose, his widening nostrils drawing the perfume. New instincts invaded his mind as he stood, not noticing the changes were beginning to appear across his body. His pelvis had begun to take a quadruped shape, forcing Remel to hunch over as he sniffed the moonlit air, his ears, now located atop his head swiveling for sound. His face was broadening as well as lengthening, giving him more prowess in finding his mate.
She was grazing just a few yards away from the tent, tethered to a small scrubby bush. The dapple grey mare that Remel had ridden earlier that day hardly recognized the man that had been her rider. He smelled different, barely reminiscent of what he had been. Now he smelled more like a stallion, a stallion that she needed; her heat just beginning days before, the cause of her anxiety.
Remel was hardly aware of what he was doing; instead powerful new instincts controlled his actions. The stallion-man tried to mount the mare, but failed as he was too short, and the mare, being the tease that mares can be, skirted away, squirting her fluids.
Remel snorted with frustration, his great organ slapping his belly. The bones in his hands and feet creaked and cracked, adapting to equine locomotion. The undergarments he wore to bed strained as his frame grew, the seams ripping. Remel fell on to his forelimbs, his hands and feet now hooves, hardly resembling what they once were.
The stallion stuffed his muzzle under the mare's tail; his fuzzy lips buried in her cunt. She nickered, spreading her legs, steadying herself for Remel's advance. He neighed loudly, his garments tearing as he reared up. Little was left of the old Remel as he bit the mare's shoulder with thickening teeth. Black fur covered his body, the last remnants of his clothing falling away as he thrust his organ into the excited, squealing mare.
* * *
"I don't know sir, we found him this morning. He was, er, doing what he's doing now." The told guard said, indicating the black stallion mounted atop a grey mare. Gerick grunted.
"And there's no sign of that Remel fool?" He asked. The guard nodded.
"Just his empty tent, sir. Oh, and this." The guard produced a plain, golden ring. "We found it lying in the dirt, near the horses. May have been his."
"I doubt it; scum like Remel can't afford dainties like this." Gerick took the ring. "Still, both it and the stallion should fetch a good price in Cyranith, a fine animal really; perhaps I'll take him as my own... once he's finished."
END