Aurion Ch. 02

Never would she have imagined such a path back in her home in the mountains, among the isolation of the Orcs, where she could muster little admiration, let alone attraction, for those who fancies themselves her suitors. Her, and now, she was truly lost in her amorous worship of the divine golden man she watched accomplish the impossible time and again. She truly was in love. Something more perhaps. Now she roared her approval with the others as her loins quivered and quaked with a near painful lustful drive for her master to conquer her as well.

The need and hope in one particular Lady's breast finally burst open and she accepted the genuine loving admiration she felt towards a certain battered but beautiful hero, while across the square, watching unseen from the shadows, a different woman had a similar reaction.

She was of average height and thin build. She had thick lips, large round eyes and high cheekbones that projected both a seductive image and a look of innocence. Her tan skin covered very small breasts, a flat stomach and a tiny waist that flared into an athletic world-class rump that seemed capable of great gymnastic feats as well as causing explosions of lust in men and women alike and her long legs were only slightly less bewitching. None of this could be seen through the dark hooded cloak that covered her features.

She turned away and melted into the shadows as she reached into her cloak and released a small, furry, pet vampire Bat that streaked through the Rays of sun that harshly bombarded it before diving down through an exposed pipe and into the massive complex of underground tunnels and canals on it's quest to carry it's urgent message.

The bats of it's kind was capable of thoughts far more complex than any normal bat. A millennium of accelerated selective breeding, the bats possessing the desired qualities were bred with each other immediately upon reaching sexual maturity, generation after generation. All the while they were trained and enhanced biologically and magically until they had the desired abilities as well as intelligence and awareness that surpassed even the smartest dog.

And the thought in it's small furry head as it navigated the stygian tunnels beneath the capital was that his mistress must have finally gone into heat, for his sharp little nose recognized the smell of mammalian female arousal. Even if it was a bit stronger and differently flavored than that of his own mate currently looking after their new litter back in his cavernous home in the subterranean network used as the base of Ops for the Order of the Demon's Head.

He had no way of knowing that the message he carried would be disseminated out to all of their operatives and would change everything. It said, "The Prophecy has been set in motion. A true Chosen One has arrived in the capital and proved himself. Muster immediately."

:..:

In the war room of the Royal Palace, the prophecy was explained to all and preparations were started for a long and nasty war with the invading Daemon hordes.

King Domitus freely offered Michael overall military command of all Dorian fighting forces.

This included the famed elite citizen Hoplites of Doria, the large number of Helot slaves used in the army as light infantry, Rangers and archers (in addition to medical personnel, combat engineers, siege engine operators/siege assault troops, specialized combatants and messengers), Auxiliary Cavalry from the desert tribes to the south and the steppe clans to the north that had been formed from personally skilled independent warriors into a mounted fighting force whose discipline and organization rivals the Hoplites as well as any subject or vassal tribes under Dorian protection.

The arrival of Amila and the information she brought with her further complicated things. Now, apparently the enemy wasn't only to the East and North, but present in a force that had the Elves isolated and besieged in West.

A curious thing happened before he could do more than order a total muster of the Army (along with all their allied tribes and send riders and messengers to recruit mercenaries, citizens, farmers and even refugees to Doria to assist in the fight, support construction or, in the least, be protected. Even the Xia and Mountain Orcs were nearing the Dorian Capitol). As they were looking over a large map of Aurion, an all black figure dropped down from the roof and swung through the open window. The guards and advisors were caught by surprise and the King and his guards drew their swords in response to the silent figure's sudden entrance. Before the figure could recover from the somersault that brought them to the room's center, there was a Falcata pressed to the back of their neck with more speed and ease than even the figure had ever witnessed.

Unused to being detected and reacted to with such speed, it was with effort that the figure kept a composer facial expression as she removed the black head wrap, allowing beautiful chocolate hair to spill out around a sternly handsome female face. She was of the Demon's Head, a semi-legendary cult of the world's most lethal assassins that was often dismissed as merely fiction.

However instead of a swift and lethal attack, she shocked the room by kneeling before Michael, seemingly unconcerned with his blade now at her throat, and said, "Slayer of the Demon, Carrier of the Demon's head and Salvation to man, I hereby swear my allegiance and that of my followers. The Cult of the Demon's Head honors you as the Chosen One and willingly submit to your leadership. My name is Nyssa, your first servant... My Lord."

She suddenly executed s perfect backflip that carried her backwards out the window. When the guards rushed to the window, she was nowhere to be seen below.

"Well, that was unexpected!" Michael laughed. Everyone looked at him like he was madman.

Having already been made privy to the Prophecy, he wasn't too surprised to find that there was a Cult or Sect dedicated to it. King Domitus went on to explain further regarding the Cult while his guards fruitlessly searched the Palace grounds for the mysterious woman who seemingly came only to make her single declaration of fanatic loyalty.

After that, the war council resumed relatively quickly but Michael was tired and sore plus he wanted to digest all of this new information before he made any plans. So, after introducing Amila and making sure she had everything she could need, he retired to the baths.

:..:

Michael floated in the hot pool of steaming water, his eyes closed, deep in thought. However, there was a part of him that was aware of his surroundings. Including the shocked gasps and moans of the pretty young bath slaves as they beheld his chiseled body and freakish endowment. But it was the faint squeak that came from the doorway that finally drew him from his reverie.

Amila had been watching Michael all day, ever since their unusual meeting. She couldn't quite describe, let alone understand, the feelings he elicited in her. True, he was without a doubt the most wonderfully hot male she had ever seen. True, the unusual blend of immense strength and selfless kindness touched her deeply. And, true, his general aura and presence made her quim weep and her skin tingle. However, it wasn't his strength, character or divine appearance that had her most intrigued, though they certain did finalize her desire. No, it was the beautiful spirit of his that she saw with her Sight that entranced her.

He had glowed with a beautiful, celestial light that left one feeling safe, secure and clean. Never before had she seen such a pure and benevolent spirit within a being. Light Magic was the domain of the Elves yet such powerful source of Light Energy had never been recorded, especially within a single individual. And it had added a deep curiosity to her already considerable attraction.

She had watched him from behind as the slaves removed his armor, piece by piece, and then his clothes. She had felt her tiny areoles tighten and her nipples harden as his sculpted back came into view. He was so much more lithe and muscular than Elven males, his body build being somewhere between a muscular human and a handsome Elf. As muscular as he appeared, he wasn't bulky. The golden skin rolled over the tight muscles as his body moved and flexed smoothly in it's disrobing movements. His ripped chest and shredded abs and narrowed into thin waist that have his torso an overall 'V' shape before molding into the most amazingly rump she had ever seen, his golden skin without a single flaw or tan line. Even the bruises and marks from his fight with the Manticore were already fading.

Just as she began to think that he had a body and build so perfect that her mind couldn't imagine a single improvement, he turned around and the trance was shattered by her shock.

Hanging limply between his legs was what had to be a deformed penis. Because there was simply no way that a cock that huge was natural and healthy. It wasn't even practical. What would a woman even do with that much meat? In Elven culture, men envy flexibility over size when it came to equipment.

An Elven penis was smaller, proportionately, to that of most human men. The difference was, much like a prehensile tail, an Elf could bend and work even the shaft of his rod, massaging a cult from the inside with it's movements. Most male Elves were between three and four inches in length. Amila's fiancée had, by far, the biggest cock she had ever heard of in an Elf. He was a legendary libertine among She-Elves and only proposed marriage to her for the political and personal benefits.

Vitginity had no religious or social significance to Elves, so she had lain with multiple partners in her century of life. Still, none of that had prepared her for taking her fiancée's almost six inches of Elven dick in her ridiculously tiny box.

From that moment on, she had realized how good it felt to be stuffed full of cock. And unlike most Elven females, she liked it better than the wriggling and bending of more flexible dicks. This led her to experiment on a few occasions with human men. Their comparatively huge cocks, string musk and feral nature drove her wild.

What she didn't know, what high ranking Elves had suppressed, was that the pheromones released by a horny human make were nearly addictive to female Elves, so strong was the euphoric arousal. The musky scent triggered a primal animal that created desire that could scarcely be controlled. Human men, being much more virile, also had different qualities to their semen. It was not only much more potent than Elven seed but also an unnaturally potent aphrodisiac. The fact that Elven males couldn't achieve orgasm more than once in a day, and often couldn't get hard for days after a sexual liaison, served to further enflame the interracial attraction of the female Elves.

Naturally, after large numbers of females (many of whom were high born) initiated human relationships that usually ended in marriage and children, the High Elves decided it was best if the biological reactions of their females weren't widely known.

Now, looking a cock so giant it was a little gross and a LOT intimidating, she decided that she wouldn't let it detract from her want. After all, it wasn't like a man could control what he was born with.

Soon, though, she watched it begin to stiffen and grow. It shocked her that it could get yet bigger but, even more shocking, her lust just suddenly bloomed at the thought of such a huge appendage. What was more, it's shape was as sculpted as that of an aartist's masterpiece and the smell was already affecting her. It looked like the bath slaves were having a similar reaction as their shock and fear morphed into something else. Something naughty.

Right as her lust was finally outweighing her caution and propriety, tempting her to actually approach Michael, she saw another figure enter through the steam. After a few seconds, the swirling steam surrounding the cooler entrance parted enough for Amila to emerald green skin and curves so severe that they bordered on obscene.

She watched as Talasa approached the edge of the steaming pool and spoke softly to the divine shape softly floating on his back in the pool's center. In response to a smile from Michael, she slowly lowered herself down into the steaming pool.

For a few minutes, Amila watched

from a distance as the buxom she-Orc massaged the granite-like muscles of Michael's golden back. She was almost as surprised as Talasa was when, after a few moments, Michael moved quickly to spin around and pick Talasa up with ease.

Lifting her straight up by her hips with very little effort, Michael maneuvered her legs around her neck and buried his face into her core while still holding her aloft in midair with his hands on her hips.

Talasa roared out in a sound akin to a startled Leopard as her master once again pleasures her with my mouth. Having no familiarity with cunnilingus beyond his initial sampling of her right after their initial meeting, she had no defense against his talented tongue.

She couldn't believe her Lord was doing that thing with his mouth again to her. Initially, she had felt surprised and somehow self conscious when he had first put his mouth on her down there, as if it might be gross for him. After all, an Orc male would never do such a thing to his mate. It was true that female Orcs were often forced, and occasionally willing so, to use their mouths to pleasure and clean their mate's 'spear'. But, for some reason, it seems like it never occurred to any Orc female to expect it in return. And they were SO missing out, thought Talasa as her third orgasm in as many minutes threatened to rip conscious thought from her grasp.

Michael, enjoying her taste and the sensitivity of her tiny, undersized opening. It was an odd thing that such a strong and physical race would have such small genitalia when compared to the smaller and weaker humans race. If one were to consider adjustments made for 'genital size relative to body size' then the difference would be even more glaring. Luckily for Talasa, it appeared Orcs also had more elasticity in their skin as well. Lucky for him too, de he'd have never fit himself into her.

These were all things that ran through his mind without much conscious notice, as he feasted on the earthy forest like taste of the tiny green tunnel in front of him.

He teased the lips before shockingly burying his tongue as deep into her tight little opening as possible, causing her to cry out in shocked pleasure. He then rimmed the convulsing walls with increasing speed before moving up to circle her little clit without ever making direct contact.

After a moment of teasing her lips, he lunged forward and coveted her entire opening with his mouth as he proceeded to suck on her whole mound and wriggle his tongue around inside her clinching tunnel simultaneously.

It was this point that Talasa truly passed out and Amila watched as Michael lovingly held her and caressed her skin.

When she regained consciousness, he proceeded to whisper something in her ear that caused the beautiful she-Orc's gave to light up as she squealed happily and jumped on him. As Talasa delivered sloppy kisses to Michael's whole face, Amila snapped out of her reverie and retreated back down the side hallway from whence she came.

She was so effected by the intense sexual display that she failed to notice the hooded black figure that had observed her throughout the entire affair before retreating into gated tunnel used for the maintenance of the complex canals that brought the bath water up from the subterranean hot spring below.

:..:

Nyssa smiled for the first time in as long as she could remember as she navigated the near total darkness of the tunnels down below the bathhouse, spreading out through the capital city like unseen arteries and veins. The prophecy had not only been fully completed, but she had witnessed the events with her own eyes. Centuries of dedication would now pay off as the Cult of Assassins would be on the front lines of the greatest and most glorious War the world had ever seen.

Once again, her trusty pet bay carried a message through the darkness. And once again, that message was to be disseminated to Demon's Head operators everywhere.

In one dark dungeon, a minor Lord was getting his sadistic thrills from a young servant girl whose wrists were held fast in shackles. He didn't even notice the small black bars that fluttered in through the cell's tiny waste chute. But the girl noticed. And in a flash her legs snapped up to surround the torturing sadist's neck. The loud snap of his spine nearly corresponded with the clattering of her wrist irons falling from her hands. Then she disappeared through the servants tunnel, never to be seen again.

Across Aurion there were many similar scenes being played out. There was also a corrupt Achbishop who caught a crossbow bolt in his throat after it flew through the small window of his armored carriage, as it flew through the night, in a near impossible shot. Politicians were poisoned by disappearing servants. Warlords were being found with throats cut in their most secure rooms. Many others fell in ways that appeared accidental or natural. The only mention of a Cult of Assassins in relation to these events was the whispers of the crazy or outlandish. Nobody listened.

...

As a mixed force of elite troops consisting of more than a thousand mounted fighting men and women, with a free herd of over three thousand highly trained War Horses, both the Xia's Steppe Horses and medium-large sized Akhal 'Golden' Horses (with their high strength, speed, endurance, sure footing, sharp senses, near predatory instinct-as if it they were Lions trapped in the bodies of horses, and fiercely loyal nature) along with the beautiful, Dorian's (desert tribe-bred, high flanked horses with softly curved foreheads, shiny coats with a thin silky texture, graceful movements powered by near feline muscles and huge, overdeveloped lungs to power their long, keenly muscled legs) horses used by elite Dorian mounted forces in tow, thundered across the steppe, a biting rain started to lash their faces and exposed

Michael liked the way the cool rain ran down his face. It was refreshing and cleansing.

They had left the Capital the day before, leaving behind everyone except him, Kokochun and Amila, Michael's Xia Princely Guard of 500 Heavy Cavalrymen who simply were in awe of their commander and Prince (few knew that the Xia Khan had quietly given Michael the title of Royal Prince and Heir to the Khan) and his Centuria of one hundred dedicated veteran ex-Aurion Legionaries riding as mounted infantry (who held Michael in only slightly less awe than the Xia but felt bound to him by the way their inherent sense of honor was subconsciously attracted to the divine righteous light that dwelled within him).

There was also the 128 men of 'Wolf Company' of the Dorian Ranger's Sylvan Division, so named because a millennia ago, during the War with the Jotun, a lost group of isolated, battle weary and wounded Dorian Helot Archers managed to somehow win the respect and admiration of the Sylvan Elves. By the time the Company of 128 Archers were fully healed, they forest had been snowed in, leaving them no choice but to spend the Winter with the Elves (not exactly viewed as a dreaded concept by most of the men). Over the course of that Winter, the Dorian archers learned from the centuries old men of the Sylvan Rangers. Men that had spent hundreds of years studying field craft, trapping (animal and human), raw survivalism, extensive plant and animal knowledge, every form and manner of hunting, stealth (around man, animal or monster), countless tricks and shortcuts of life in the woods, field medicine, field alchemy and herbalism, bow making, fletching, field metallurgy and blacksmithing, master-level archery with their spelled, collapsible Steel recurve bows fitted with a micro-braided, carbon steel wire bowstring, mastery of the short sword as well as the secret akimbo Ranger, style of combat with extra long, dual edged daggers with a two-edged, thin and pointed razor blade, strength and accuracy with their telescoping steel javelins and barbed, use of grenades (Teargas, Hell Fire, Explosive and Poisoned gas), garrotes, lasso/rope, rock-climbing equipment, gas mask (with charcoal and lime filters and enchanted 'night lenses') as well as Advanced Guerrilla Warfare and Ambush, not to mention many other areas of expertise.