The Thunderborn's Destiny

When Vespire turned back to Gungir, she was already dismissing her armor yet again, sending it back into the extradimensional space that it occupied when not in use. Handy enchantment, that. To her delight and relief, Gungir had already removed his hide armor and boots, and his kilt was wadded up on the ground, leaving the unsheathed greatness of his intimidating cock bare before her.

Half-limp and still thick as her slender arm, she reckoned that any average woman would have quailed at the sight of the thing fully erect and engorged with thick minotaur blood.

But Vespire was nothing, if not a size queen. Her legs went a touch wobbly at the sight, her loins instantly heating and dampening. "Watching gods, Gungir. That thing gets me wet as a watersoul," she sighed, marching right up to the bull-man and kneeling. The animal musk that accompanied his naked virility was not unpleasant, and she'd even learned to enjoy it. It was rich and primal, thick with an unabashed bestial need that his kind were known for.

Both hands wrapping around the massive, deep brown cock, she lifted it up to her mouth, her lips and tongue teasing the crown and caressing the sensitive underside just below the glans. He let out a long, low sigh, tossing his horned head side to side in anticipation. Vespire had learned that particular action was a sign of anticipation for the bull-man. It was a good thing, she knew. It meant he looked forward to her ministrations, and not just orally, either.

Rapidly, the girthy mass before her thickened and stiffened, growing slightly longer, but not overmuch. All told, she could have held out her arm, palm to the beast's groin, and the cock head would rest just within the crook of her elbow and still press firmly into her bicep. The thought aroused her, and even the wispy garments she usually wore to show off her arcing, elegant energy lines became burdensome. Not enchanted as her armor, she used one hand to slip her soft silken gown away form her body, the other stroking the massive cock as she mouthed the crown with wet, sloppy motions. Her drool was sliding down the beast's member, helped in part by her hand and in part by gravity as the upturned log met her lips.

When she was nude, and her taut abdomen and small breasts were completely visible, she knew Gungir wouldn't waste much more time before fucking her. Glad she was that she moistened so easily around him. Creeping into her mind like a thief in the night, the thought of taking Hammer in such a way thrilled her to her molten core. Her skin felt hot as a firesoul in the desert, her cunt wet as a watersoul, and her heart pounded in her chest like the thunder of a stormsoul. For a brief moment, the intelligent woman wondered if she didn't have a bit of those different elemental manifestations lurking within her.

Gungir grabbed her by the shoulders, then, taking her away from his cock before she'd even gotten a chance to try and throat him. The impatient sod never let her try and give him a good blow. She wondered if Hammer would be so demanding. Planted firmly on her back, her thin, athletic body writhing under the massive minotaur's hands, such thoughts were shoved from her consciousness as he planted his thick, swollen head at the nexus of her thighs. Grunting, she parted her thighs wide, did her best to relax her nethers, but knew it'd hurt like all the hells when he thrust his meat-spear into her small pussy.

And it did. Twisting her head, she bit down savagely on the beast's wrist, muffling her sudden cry of anguish even as it transformed into a cry of pleasure. Every time, it was quicker. The minotaur thrust his broad, uncompromising length into her without compassion, seeking only to slake his animal lusts, and the genasi loved that about him. She took his cock as a challenge, and mastering it only got her off all the harder. She wasn't afraid of a little pain where sex was concerned, and damned if she'd balk at taking a beast of his stature in the doing.

Tears welled in her eyes, but as she blinked them away, they fell down her cheeks in blazing trails. She grinned, regardless, baring her teeth to the savage minotaur above her. His cock drove mercilessly into her womb, hammering through any resistance she could have mustered, and stretching her cunt twofold with his girth. She was certainly never meant to take such size into her loins, but Sharess had gifted her with certain blessings.

Blue fire crept along her thighs, setting them to tingling, and coursed up into her canal. Her spellscar activated as the pain hit a peak, Gungir's cock breaking into her cervix. It numbed the pain and loosened her flesh into a more elastic form. The minotaur snorted over her, the process setting his cock to tingling as the blue fire danced at his cock. The heavy, furless sack hanging from his cock slammed against her vulva and her anus. Yet another reason for her to love this minotaur's rutting.

Her pussy mastered the imposing size. The blue fire spread throughout her insides, setting her entire body to burning with the heatless, miniscule flames as they danced along her silvery energy lines. They pulsed with her heartbeat, the silvery light mixing with the blue fire as it flickered in and out of existence along her flesh as the minotaur hammered her.

And still, before her aching, humming pussy could climax, the minotaur heaved his massive prick out of her, leaving the pink folds gaping at the sudden absence, and issued a thick, ropy torrent of jizz across her thin stomach, marking her hipbones and small breasts with steaming white cum. Her sky blue nipples and areola drew tight, the skin hardening and sticking straight up from the coarse areola. She was suddenly cold, the minotaur's heat standing away from her, and the cum instantly cooling.

"Get what you needed?" she asked the sweating minotaur, his cock quickly flagging. The beast looked at her quizzically, then looked away from her as another set of feet entered the campsight.

*****

Shirtless and with bulging trousers, Hammer watched with dismay as the minotaur spent himself.

"Shame," the barbarian said, one hand moving to idly undo his belt and loosen his trousers. His cock was massive within, rivaling the minotaur by his own estimation. The genasi peered at him with hungry eyes, writhing on the ground as the minotaur moved to block his approach.

Hammer stepped to the side, veering away from the hungry, lust-laden genasi, and the protective minotaur. Smirking, he drew out his cock in plain view, showing the genasi that he was not, perhaps, as big as the minotaur, but was certainly as thick, and would likely root himself perfectly within her loins. Vespire moaned softly, and the minotaur growled.

Hammer urinated, watering some foliage, his eyes never leaving Vespire, and her's never leaving his cock.

The piss stopped, he tucked himself away, and turned to leave, his broad back rippling in display for the genasi.

Gungir growled something uncomplimentary and Vespire discharged a bolt of energy at the minotaur. She knew it'd be harmless against him, but it stung no less. "Next time a man approaches me with a hard cock and no shirt, don't stand in his way. Not like you're doing anything to slake MY hungers."

The minotaur growled and donned his armor again, moving away to join the others. Vespire laid on the ground, her fingers finding her cunt. They went to work on her quivering quim, quickly and efficiently bringing herself to one, two, and three orgasms, her juices flowing freely from her pussy in the process and staining the earth.

"Oh well," she moaned, licking her fingers clean. "So much for leaving no trace."

*****

Summoned armor wrapping her lean form and rapier bobbing at her hip, Vespire joined the rest of her companions in short order. Hammer wore a slight smirk, Lark was completely oblivious to it, and Vespire winked at him. Gungir seemed as though nothing had happened. The windsoul surmised that was precisely how he felt, too. Gungir was far from an affectionate lover. He slaked his needs and went about his way with little regard to others.

In a way, that was exciting to her, but the excitement did not counteract the aching desire the self-styled size queen felt when he'd left her wanting. Every damn time.

"Lady Wintersoul, so glad you could join us," Allander said sarcastically. "Shall we be off?"

"Indeed," Vespire said, pursing her thin bluish lips as she breezed past him. "Try to keep up."

Standing next to Hammer, Lark touched his arm to get his attention, and said, "Do you know what took her so long to join us?"

Hammer laughed quietly as they took up the rear of the group. "Oh yes, I do. She likes minotaurs, it would seem."

"Ah," Lark said absently. Then the realization hit her. "Oh! What a slattern! How can she—her body is so small—he's a bloody minotaur, Hammer!"

"Aye, and I'm a savage barbarian," he said, pausing his stride long enough to squeeze her bottom and give her a quick kiss. She flushed visibly, grinning girlishly as he again took up the trail.

"So...you saw them?" Lark asked in a conspiratorial voice. Her hand snaked into the crook of the barbarian's muscular arm.

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"And?" she asked.

"And what?"

"And what? Don't be coy, Hammer. Was he enormous? Did it break her or did she handle it well? Did it satisfy her?"

"He was no bigger than I, and she handled it very well. I think she uses her wizardry to help, but I can't be sure. With her body, I am surprised it didn't hurt her, truthfully. But no, she was not satisfied. I don't think the minotaur cares."

"Maybe he just needs someone to open his heart to others' desires," Lark said. Hammer's pace faltered slightly.

"What are you thinking?"

"I know Vespire desires you. And it saddens me when men fail to please their women," Lark said tentatively. She shrugged.

"And you think you can fix that," Hammer finished. She shrugged again. "And you want me to show the genasi how barbarians treat their women."

"Don't be hasty," she said quickly. "I don't want you to fuck that seductress. I'd prefer you just remain with me. But I hold no leash on your heart or your cock."

"True enough," the barbarian said. He smirked when she slapped his chest admonishingly. "Fear not. Though the minotaur did not break her, I'm not convinced he's as mighty as his race suggests."

"Ware your words," the minotaur said. "Minotaurs have keen senses when they need them."

"Silent, imbeciles," Vespire snapped from up ahead. Hammer realized that her sword was drawn, diamond-dust glittering along a surprisingly dark blade. Allander was likewise armed, sword and shield brought to bear as they turned about in a circle. "We're surrounded."

Lark drew her weapon, Hammer fell into a slight crouch, hands at the ready, and the minotaur drew his spear and shield as well.

A flash of shadow signaled the start of the battle, and Hammer looked toward the genasi. Her sword had slashed into the flesh of a small, green-skinned creature, one Hammer recognized as a goblin. Bellowing, he fell into his rage and charged the prone creature as shadows streamed from the genasi's blade. His hand blazed with gray light along his veins as his fist came crashing down on the creature. It caved in the goblin's skull, sending greasy brain-matter splattering out its eye sockets.

He turned to find his next quarry as a slew of bandits dashed down upon them, eerily silent. Magic, Hammer surmised. He cast about for a wizard or sorcerer of some sort, but failed to find one. Instead, he charged another bandit, this one a bulky half-orc with a pot-belly. His fist slammed into the orc's stomach, doubling him over as he bore him down to the ground.

The fray exploded around him. Allander shouted prayers and the Red Knight answered him. Ruby and steel gray light exploded from his blade, and he hacked and hewed through an orc that faced him. Even as the green-skinned beast tried to turn away and assault another, the paladin lashed out with another weapon. Vivid blue bolts of force shot from the glowing sword to slam into the creature, sending it in a forward tumble with blackened holes shot through its grubby clothing.

Lark finished the creature off, then shouted her own prayer, and Sune answered. One of the bandits, a human female, stopped mid-attack and stared at Lark, smiling warmly. The woman then turned on her comrades, daggers stabbing and slicing. Dominated by Lark's prayer, the woman flung herself into danger, and that was when the mage showed himself. Standing barely four feet tall, a halfling wearing a short robe that reached only to his knees chanted a spell, pointing a staff at the enspelled woman. The magic took effect with an audible popping sound, and the woman stumbled, her domination broken. Lark sneered at the mage, displeased, but the bandits didn't know better.

A man ran her through with his broadsword, spitting in her face before pushing the woman off his steel.

Vespire, having called upon her natural affinity for the winds for a measure of flight, descended on that same man, her rapier flashing with fire as she slashed him across the throat. He roared in surprise, fire dancing along his flesh, and the swordswoman shouted the words to another spell, thrusting her sword toward the knot of bandits behind the man. A sheet of fire exploded from her extended sword, immolating the flesh of those bandits.

Gungir charged. The minotaur thundered forward, his horns lowered into a severe angle, aimed straight for the halfling. As he made contact with the mage, though, the halfling flashed away, suddenly standing several paces away, grinning wickedly at the minotaur. The warden realized the mage must have used a spell of illusion, roared, and suddenly pivoted.

The halfling's grin vanished as the minotaur's shield slammed into him, sending him hurtling several running steps away. The earth roiled around the minotaur, and he threw his spear. It skewered the halfling through the gut, then planted into the dirt, propping him up as he writhed in death throes.

"Damn it, Gungir," Vespire snapped, rushing over to the halfling. Hammer realized of a sudden that all the bandits were dead or dying. The entire battle had lasted mere minutes.

The genasi grabbed the halfling by his collar and shook him into lucidity. "Who sent you?" she asked. The halfling only grinned, sputtered as he coughed blood over his robe, and expired.

She tossed the halfling aside, pulling the minotaur's spear from the dirt and corpse. She threw it at the minotaur as if she meant to impale him as well. Gungir merely caught it by the haft, wiped the blood on his kilt, and slung it over his shoulder with his shield.

Hammer watched Vespire intently as she dared a look at Allander, who was also giving her a grave look. Suddenly, the barbarian discerned an underlying fear between the two. Despite her bravado, Vespire was concerned about something, and Allander shared it. Lark realized it too. Slamming her sword into her scabbard, she approached the genasi and the paladin-sorcerer.

"Who are you, really," she demanded. "And who hunts you."

"Do not speak to me like—"

"Vespire," Allander snapped, his voice sounding deeper and more commanding. The genasi looked at him with a surprised eye. "Be silent." He turned to Lark and Hammer, then Gungir, in turn. "I am a Sorcerer-Knight from Battledale, a village far from here, to the east. I serve Tempus and the Red Knight, this much you know. My companion is indeed Vespire Wintersoul, from Airspur, the genasi capital far from here. Our lives are not lies, but our appearances may be deceiving. Vespire is a noble bladesinger, trained by the eladrin of Evereska to meld the martial and the arcane.

"I am Sorcerer-Knight Allander Foresworn, a wielder of the arcane and the divine and master of the blade you see at my hip, Foehammer's Fury. That which chases Vespire from her homeland has demanded my attention in this region."

"An assassin," Vespire said, before either Hammer or Lark could query. "My people call him the Warsoul. Allander calls him—"

"Heretic. He stalks the shadows murdering those he deems worth murdering, not those Tempus would command. He fancies himself an agent of divine retribution, and perhaps in his convoluted mind he is. He has terrorized the genasi and the dragonborn alike, all under the banner of Tempus, or Torm, or whatever deity he figure fancies his purposes, leaving marks of the Foehammer on his victims. The man is nothing more than a sociopathic murderer that believes the dragonborn and genasi are a blight on this world since their coming after the Spellplague."

"He is a master of guises," Vespire said. "Using arcane tricks, he disguised himself as a genasi, though no elemental manifestation any of us have ever seen. Skin steel-gray, energy lines of gleaming ruby and gold, and a bald pate. It is him that has sent us toward Silverymoon, and thanks to my extensive studies of this continent you call home, I know the area best. It's why I play scout for the Sorcerer-Knight."

"And you just happened to recruit us for defense, knowing full well that you would place us in danger?" Gungir asked, his ire clearly sparked.

"Yes," Vespire said, and Allander sighed.

"It's not that simple. Yes, the added numbers makes us safer, but at our hearts, we seek companionship. I've always been loyal to my brothers of Tempus, more so to the chosen few that the Red Knight speaks to."

The knight stared hard at Hammer, seeking some reaction to that statement. Hammer gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

"I think he's eladrin," Vespire said offhandedly.

"Another bladesinger?" Lark asked.

"It's not implausible," the genasi shrugged. "But I have a suspicion. I think it's a warlock I met while I was in Evereska. Supposedly he served Tiandra, Queen of the Summer Court."

"The Summer Court?" Hammer asked.

"One of the Arch-Fey factions, best I can tell," Vespire said. "Regardless, it's probably a lie as well. Everything with him seemed to be. Everything from his bright green eyes to his strangely indigo hair."

"We should seek out this warlock," Lark said.

Allander nodded. "That is another reason to go to Silverymoon. Last we heard of this strange warlock, those were his whereabouts. It shouldn't be hard to find him. Unless, of course, he is in guise."

"Which adds to our case against him," Lark surmised.

"Case?" Vespire arched a thin, hairless brow at the woman. "You speak as if he'll get some sort of trial, due process, or such like. If he's the murderer, then he dies."

Hammer nodded. "I agree."

Lark seemed to bristle a little bit at that, but said nothing else. Allander didn't seem too thrilled about ignoring official justice either, but he served the Foehammer, not Torm or Amaunator, or any other deity of order. War was, inherently, chaos, and even the Red Knight's teachings of strategy and skill made room for the inherent chaos of battle.

"None of this answers why these bandits attacked us," Gungir pointed out, speaking up finally.

"Indeed," Vespire said, kneeling to rifle through the halfling's belongings. Hammer watched intently, hoping he'd catch sight of something she might miss, but the windsoul moved to quickly for him to track. "Ah-hah!"

She pulled out a many-times folded piece of parchment and opened it up. She knit her brow together as she read, studying the words carefully by all appearances. Her excitement drained from her face, replaced by frustration.

"Hells," she swore, tossing the sheet to the ground. "Just a contract for brigandry. They aren't hirelings, just a band of, you guessed it, bandits seeking plunder for their boss."

"A boss that we don't know, yes?" Hammer said, bending to pick up the parchment. He looked at the words, and though he could read better than most of his people, he didn't recognize some of the words. Perhaps they were names, or overly-flourished writing. He'd heard of humans in civilized lands using dandied up language to impress ladies. Smirking to himself, he remembered how he'd impressed some maidens in years past. Severed orc heads, the horns of one beasty or another, bloody duels, feats of strength, and such like. Indeed, if he'd tried to dandy his words for the women of his tribe, they'd probably sent him to Grunwald much earlier to seek out one of the weaker humans' boy-lovers.