A Rogue's Quest Pt. 02

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is no sex in this chapter of Duncan's story, but he will be back to his usual exploits soon enough. If you haven't already, please read the first installment, and please leave a rating and a comment!

Duncan sank into a combat stance, his left arm raised, holding his dagger backhanded, the sharp of the blade pointed towards the beast in front of him, his right hand gripping the blade of his other dagger between his thumb and forefinger, ready to throw it.

The jabberwock opened its gaping maw again and screeched, making Duncan's ears ring painfully. Its mouth was huge, the inky blackness of its throat fringed on both sides by inch long knife sharp teeth. Noxious grey saliva sprayed from its mouth as it roared, and the moss upon which the spittle landed sizzled and produced an acrid smoke on contact. The monster stood at 8 feet, it must be an adolescent, Duncan wagered, but its thick scaly hide rippled with muscle, and it looked as if Duncan's blades would not even penetrate it.

Suddenly the jabberwock made its move, charging forward and catching Duncan off guard. Duncan flicked his right wrist without thinking, launching his dagger, which sailed through the air and struck true, embedding itself to the hilt in the monster's eye. The jabberwock screeched and pawed at the knife. One of its claws hooked on the meagre hilt of the dagger and ripped the blade from its eye, sending it flying to land several feet away at the edge of the forest, coated in

thick black blood. To Duncan's dismay the monster hardly slowed, he had blinded it on one side, but this would be no easy fight. Duncan dug his heels into the ground and charged at the jabberwock, eating the ground up between them in a matter of seconds. When he was just shy of the jabberwock's striking distance he leapt, flying between the jabberwock's legs and rolling as he prepared to land. As he spun in the air he flung out his left hand, slicing at the jabberwock's right hamstring and its left achilles tendon in one slash.

Duncan landed hard on one knee, plowing a furrow into the mossy carpet. He panted heavily and took stock of the damage he had inflicted on the beast, he saw trickles of black blood, but the wounds themselves looked miniscule, more like a a paper cut than a battle wound. Duncan growled, if he survived this, the warlock would pay harshly for his trick, he vowed.

The jabberwock turned slowly, evidently tired after its charge. News of a jabberwock would spread quickly if it had been devouring as many livestock as it needed to be properly satiated and as Duncan had heard no such reports, it was safe to assume that the monster was living on a meagre diet of whatever wildlife it could hunt. Duncan felt a grin spreading across his face, the beast was undoubtedly dangerous, and well protected by its thick hide, but he could outlast it.

He rolled to the side and picked up his other dagger, the handle sticky with congealing blood and steeled himself for the next melee. The beast roared once more, attempting to intimidate the warrior before him, perhaps concerned by the damage already inflicted by its adversary. The beast would find no luck in these tactics though, Duncan had a quest, and his reputation and ego would not allow for failure.

Duncan flicked his right wrist again, aiming for the other eye, knowing that a completely blind foe would be easy pickings. The jabberwock was ready this time, however, and slapped away

the blade, sending it spinning into the forest as it stomped towards Duncan, slowly closing the distance.

Duncan grunted angrily, this would be a much more difficult fight now, and he had no room for error, taking on a jabberwock unarmed would be suicide, and would force him to retreat, more embarrasingly he would be retreating completely naked. Once again Duncan charged at the hideous creature before him, closing the distance rapidly. The jabberwock anticipated Duncan's move and dropped low to slash at him if he tried to dive between its legs once more.

This time however, Duncan leapt high, sailing over the monster, and slashing with his blade as he did so. He felt the blade slice, he had hit his target. At the same time he felt a shock of indescribable pain and cried out. The agony threw him off of his landing and he hit the ground hard, landing flat on his back. He was terrified to look down, half expecting to see his guts laid bare, but what he saw was equally terrifying. His crotch was a bloody mess, and his manhood was nowhere to be seen. The jabberwock had slashed at him as he flew over its head, and it had found its target,

its razor sharp claws rendering Duncan a eunuch instantly.

Duncan felt a tear well up in his eye, partly from the pain, which had surely been dulled considerably from the adrenaline, but mostly in mourning. He had many memories of good times that he could reminisce on as he laid at night, waiting for sleep to take him, and a great many of them were of romantic conquests, many unhappy wives taken without the husband's knowledge, a fair few virgins deflowered, all of them given bliss and orgasms by Duncan and his beloved cock. The wound gave him extra resolve to survive this encounter though, the warlock must pay.

He would make Duncan whole again, then he would pay. He looked for his dagger, having lost grip of it while airborne, but could see it nowhere. He cursed, the jabberwock was surely close to defeat, and Duncan couldn't run with his tail between his legs, he had nothing between his legs now, he thought bitterly.

Then, in the corner of his eye, Duncan spotted light. Perhaps the villagers had heard the jabberwock's roars and come to investigate. He would not want to be seen in this state, but he would begrudgingly accept help to slay the beast. The light came from a single point though, it

couldn't be a group.

Suddenly Duncan was shaken from his thoughts by a loud thudding and snapped his head up to see the jabberwock bearing down on him. He had struck well with his dagger, but missed his target by a matter of inches, and a long deep wound adorned the face of the jabberwock, just

next to its one remaining good eye. The jabberwock swung its right arm at Duncan, its black claws ready to deal the death blow, but Duncan rolled backwards and kicked up, propelling himself clear of the strike. He could feel the huge arm of the jabberwock rush past him as he dodged it just in time.

He landed several feet away and got to his feet, warily backing away, the pain between his legs throbbing violently now, blood trickling down his inner thighs.

The light bobbed and weaved in the forest until it suddenly burst into the clearing. "DUNCAN!" a voice yelled.

Duncan snapped his head round and saw a shortsword flying towards him. His

eyes widened as he realised it was coming at him blade first. He leant back, letting the blade fly by him, before grabbing the handle, snatching the sword out of the air.

He turned again to locate the source of the voice and with a shock he realised it was Arabell, evidently she had run into town, perhaps looking for help? She was definitely alone so she must have failed on that front, but she had returned with a weapon, and that was infinitely more

valuable to Duncan. He also realised that she was still naked from the waist up, the remainder of her modesty covered by her skirt. He chuckled a little, the sword was most like to be her father's and unless he was already sleeping when she grabbed it, that would have been an awkward conversation. He drank in the spectacular view of her wonderful pale teats for a moment before he turned his attention back to the jabberwock.

Like Duncan, the jabberwock's attention had been turned to Arabelle, most like because of her yell and the light source rather than her heavy bosom, and was stomping towards her. Duncan realised he could use this distraction to his advantage.

He rapidly ran towards the jabberwock, his already light footfalls rendered completety silent by the soft moss underfoot. He got behind the jabberwock and with a more substantial blade in his hands, slashed with all his might at the beast's legs. The blade must have been well looked after, because it cut completely through the right leg of the monster, and cut a deep gash into its

left leg.

The monster screeched horribly as its blood pumped out of the massive wound, and it fell to its side, landing heavily. It turned and clawed desperately at Duncan, but he merely danced out of the way of each futile swipe, before dodging closer, raising the blade high above his head

bringing it down with full force, and severing the monster's head, silencing its blood curdling screams.

Duncan looked down at the body of the creature before him, that confusingly was appearing to move away from him. Duncan furrowed his brow, he wasn't moving, why was the body moving? His vision began to tunnel, all but the very centre of his vision turning to inky blackness, then all of a sudden he was hit with a wall of tiredness, he felt himself beginning to fall and he lost

consciousness before he hit the ground.

Duncan found himself floating through layers upon layers of tortured nightmares, punctuated with the odd pleasant dream, seeing himself from outside of his body spinning and slashing at enemies. He saw the first time he held a sword, a very old but cherished memory, painted in sepia, looking up at his father, full of childlike glee as he smiled. His first battle, that gave him his first battle scar. His first love, whom he lost his virginity to in a farmer's hayloft.

But mostly in his sleep he suffered, plagued by nonsensical night terrors brought on by the pain and his loss. Slowly, and with considerable mental effort, he began to claw his way through the many layers of his feverish slumber, until he gradually awoke, coated in a sheen of sweat.

His vision was still blurred for a few seconds, but he could make out the form of a woman slumbering in a chair beside his bed. He blinked, pushing away the fog in his brain and the blur of his vision until he could see that it was Arabell, she must have taken him in and taken care of

him during his bout of unconsciousness. He cleared his throat and Arabell shifted, her eyes fluttering open. As soon as she saw that Duncan was awake she shot up out of her chair and exclaimed.

"Duncan!"

She bent down and hugged him, grabbing him almost violently and pulling him into her chest. "| was afraid you would never wake," she said into his ear, stifling a sob. She straightened up and took a calming breath before continuing.

"You were jerking and mumbling for a while and I thought you would be okay, but then you fell silent," her concern was reflected clearly in her eyes, Duncan could see fear in her expression, like she really cared for him. It was an odd feeling.

"I tried to stay awake until you yourself woke, I don't know when drifted off." Her concern was now replaced by guilt, as if she would somehow be to blame if Duncan had passed while she slept. She was no healer though, Duncan thought, there was not much she could have done, even if she wanted to.

She bent down and pulled him tight to her again, whispering in his ear "I'm so glad you're alive you saved me, saved us, from that horrible monster." Her voice was full of sincere gratitude.

Duncan wrapped his arms around her, returning her embrace, and shrugged "I was charged by a warlock to find and dispatch the creature, I was honour bound to kill it." Then he remembered the terms of his quest, and the jabberwock's head that would make him whole again

"The head!" he said hurriedly, "where is the creature's head? I have need of it"

Arabell pulled away "still in the clearing I would wager," she replied nervously "I would not have been able to carry both you and the head, and you were in dire need of help."

Duncan had to concede that that was true, there was no sense in having the head if he had perished. "True enough, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your help. I would surely be dead now if not for you."

Duncan made to sit up, but was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness that forced him back down.

"You should rest for a while Duncan." Arabell said, with care in her voice "You were very badly injured, you need to recover."

"lt appears that I have no choice in the matter." Duncan replied gruffly "But I need the head, the warlock will not pay me without it."

You rest, I will bring the head" Arabell said with a slight smile.

As Arabell began to remove her nightclothes in order to replace them with more suitable garments, Duncan found himself being dragged back into sleep again. He had never suffered this badly after a fight and it concerned him, then again he had never sustained such a grievous injury before.

The warm embrace of sleep snatched Duncan from his consciousness once more, and once more he found himself assaulted by feverish visions. He experienced many dreams and nightmares that stretched out before him in a flood that seemed endless, and yet when he

stirred again to find Arabell just returning. it felt as though he had only been sleeping for a handful of minutes

"I have brought the head," Arabell said, tugging at the strap of a large bag slung over her shoulder, "I have your clothes as well." She gently dropped a smaller bag from her other shoulder onto the bed.

Duncan reached for the bag, sitting up and fighting another wave of light-headedness to do so, he grabbed the bag and reached inside, and after a few moment of rummaging he produced a small phial, containing a translucent green liquid. He uncorked it, breaking the wax seal, and

with a grimace took a long pull on it, ensuring he drank every last drop. He had to supress a gag at the violent bitterness of the concoction, but within seconds he found himself feeling revitalised. He turned his head and saw Arabell looking at him curiously.

"What was that?" She asked sceptically

"A healing potion," Duncan explained, "unfortunately it's not powerful enough to grow my cock back, but it will stave off fever and infection long enough for me to return to the warlock."

Arabell seemed pleased enough with the answer, but she still gazed at the now empty phial incredulously. Duncan was hardly surprised, she was from a small village, far from any large settlements, she had most likely never encountered real healers or warlocks, only hearing of them from stories and old wives' tales.

'I have not encountered your father yet, how did he react when you brought a cockless vagabond into his home" Duncan asked Jokingly.

"My... my father is dead" Arabell replied, "he passed from a pox five summers ago." Her voice was thick with sadness, but her eyes remained dry. Duncan understood now the way she had gazed at the healing potion, there were limits to their effects, but a pox would be easily cured with a good quality potion like the one he had just quaffed

"I am so sorry for your loss," he didn't want to be uncouth, but curiosity won out, ""The... the sword?"

"It belonged to my father yes. After he died I resolved to keep it in a condition he would be proud of, to serve his memory."

"I am bloody lucky that you did, if it hadn't cut through that monster's leg as well as it did, I may not have been able to defeat it." Duncan blinked as he came to a realization, "I owe you my life in many ways, is there any way I can repay you?"

Arabell thought on his question for a moment before she replied, "I am content here, we look after each other, I want for nothing but to live a simple life." She turned to look at the sword, mounted above the hearth, already cleaned of the black blood that had coated it mere hours ago.

"I want you to take my father's sword with you on your travels, you haven't your daggers anymore so you will need a weapon besides. But I think he would be happy to know his blade was in the hands of a good man such as yourself, instead of resting on a mantle forevermore."

Duncan chuckled inwardly, her father might not think him a good man if he knew Duncan had speared his daughter mere minutes after meeting her, but she was right, he was in need of a weapon.

"I will wield it in his memory, and strive to make this land a better place whenever I must use it."

Duncan's answer was what Arabell wanted to hear, and a bittersweet smile spread across her face. No doubt she would miss the sword, but a fine piece of steel such as that deserved to be wielded.

The potion had had its intended effect and Duncan felt ready to begin his journey back to the warlock, enough time had passed and the old sod must have thought that he had died to the monster. He would need to get on the road quickly.

Duncan pulled back his sheets and saw his crotch neatly wrapped in bandages, Arabell may not have been a healer but she had done an impressive job of patching him up. He sat up and turned, planting his feet on the cold floor and easing himself to his feet. The healing potion had taken the edge off of his pain and had stemmed the fever that he was sure had been building but it had done precious little to stop his limbs from aching. He dressed quickly, slid his new sword into its scabbard slung the bag containing the jabberwock's head over his shoulder and made to leave. When he reached the door Arabell called out to him.

Duncan!" she ran over to him, taking his left hand in both of hers, "stay safe out there, please."

"Do not worry on my behalf, I have your father's blade to protect me now," Duncan replied smiling. "Perhaps one day, when I have tired of life on the road, and your father's blade has fulfilled its duty, I will return. Your father's sword can reclaim its position of honour on your mantle, and we can finish what we started last night." Duncan slid his hand out of Arabell's grip and left through the door. Just before he rounded a corner onto the Knight's Road he turned and called after Arabell, who was standing in the doorway.

"Farewell young maiden!" he shouted with a wink. He turned and was on the road, his mind bubbling with thoughts, memories of the passion that he and Arabell had shared, and of her tight ass that she had offered to him, and of revenge against the warlock who had sent him to stare death in the face.

It was past midday by the time Duncan was on the road and his stomach was painfully empty he had not had a proper meal since the tavern two nights ago, it was unremarkable in flavour and yet Duncan still found his stomach growling at the thought of it. He kept hunger pains at bay

by picking at fruits he could find in the forests along the edges of the Knight's Road, an apple or two, a handful of blackberries, and a few cobb nuts. He still had some gold in his pockets and he contented himself with a mental note that he would visit the more expensive tavern in town once he had dealt with the warlock. The rest of his journey was unperturbed by trouble or interruptions, save for a couple of wagons passing him, and he arrived at the warlock's tower a

scant few hours after the sun had set.

He walked up to the warlock's door and none to gently rapped on it, hopefully the warlock was asleep and had woken with a start, Duncan thought to himself. Moments later the heavy wooden door creaked and swung outwards slowly. The door eventually revealed the warlock, a glowing orb of mana floating in his hand, no doubt preparing for the worst at the unexpected late caller.

"Ah! Young warrior! I had thought you dead, you told me you would be back much sooner than this!" exclaimed the warlock, "Come in, come in!" he extinguished the orb in his hand and stepped aside, granting Duncan entry into the tower.

He stepped inside, his crotch beginning to throb in pain, the effects of the healing potion long since having diminished and the long walk exacerbating the pain. He would have to conceal his anger well, lest the warlock sense danger and attack him. The door slammed shut behind him and the warlock walked around to stand in front of Duncan. Duncan shrugged the bag off of his shoulder and dropped it at the warlock's feet, the head landing on the floor with a dull thud. The warlock picked it up and peered inside before pulling the head out, struggling with the weight of it.