Arcanum - Of Steamwork and Magic Ch. 02

"W-What are-" she started.

I crawled upon the bed. My hand slid along her belly, to her full, swaying breast. I squeezed and fondled her as my cock slapped against her sex. She tensed and quieted with a soft moan. Her teeth sank into her lower lip. And then I completed the act, leaning down so that my chest pressed to her back. I supported myself on two knees and a single hand, my arm aching ever so slightly. But it was not like I was about to stop fondling this deliciously full breast. I squeezed her and closed my mouth around her ear-tip in the same moment, and I felt her sex spurt a thin line of arousal along my cock as she mewled like an animal in heat.

"Ah...oh Ray!"

And at that moment...I plunged into her. My green shaft spread her lips and my hips met her hips and there was nothing restrained or mewling in her voice now. Her moan practically rattled the walls as she turned her head to give my lips better access to her ear. Her sex felt deliciously tight around me, eager and slippery with her arousal. I admit some small shame that I was also rather pleased by the wanton way she writhed against me. Knowing that her husband was dead meant that I shouldn't have felt guilt - it wasn't like I was cuckolding him. And yet...I was, in a way, wasn't I? Cuckolding his memory? My hips started to drive, animalistically, pinning Aribela to the bed as I shifted my grip to better prop myself up and give leverage to my thrusts. This sent rocking waves of pleasure through her as I fucked her into the bed.

"Oh Ray! Oh yes! Yes! Yes!" She cried out, her voice musical - again, a perfect combination of elven and human traits. The beauty of an elven voice with the earthy, raw pleasure of a human woman getting the fucking she truly needed. I ducked my head forward, planting a kiss her, there, everywhere on her neck, her shoulder blades. I left a bite or two on her neck, leaving dimpled marks on her skin that only seemed to drive the priestess more and more wild. Her sex clenched on me like a fist and I found I couldn't hold myself back.

I thrust deep within her, my full balls slapping against her belly, and she shuddered from head to toe. Her fingernails dug into the sheets, which balled and crumpled around her desperate hands. I managed to pick my hand up and turned her head, forcing her to look over her shoulder. IT was awkward, but there was no way I couldn't fasten my lips to her lips. Her tongue sought mine with the desperation of a drowning sailor seeking driftwood as my balls frothed, surged, and boiled over.

Jet after jet of thick, orcish cum spurted into her elven cunny.

I snarled as I kissed her, and a part of my mind gloated: Bet she never came this hard on a human cock. It was an unworthy thought for the woman's gentle and kind husband. But...after a lifetime of dealing with humans and their treatment of me for my skin and my tusks, it felt deliciously good to feel just how much better I was than them in this moment. Aribela shuddered and her eyes rolled up into her head as she sprawled beneath me. She twitched and shuddered, her sex milking every droplet of my cum as if she was dying.

I remained hilted within her, listening to her last gasps. Only once my balls had emptied themselves so utterly that I felt nearly limp did I slide from her. Then, sprawled next to her. Then, taking her into my arms, I held her as she quivered. Slowly, her eyes opened. The mage light had gone out - extinguished the instant fatigue had overcome her. That was the weakness of magick, that it had to be sustained by the energy and focus of the mage...not a good thing to pass out from bliss while sustaining even a simple cantrip.

Quietly, she whispered. "That was amazing, Ray..." her fingers caressed my chest. "I...g-gods, it was better than him..." She sniffled, then buried her face against my chest, her shoulders shaking. Guilt wracked her voice as she whispered. "How could I?"

I held her, searching for words. My hands caressed her back, and finally, I said. "Your husband loved you, didn't he?"

Aribela nodded, sighing as I continued to caress her. Her thighs spread, and she pressed her wet, dripping sex to my belly. Despite her conflicted emotions and thoughts, it was clear her body yearned for yet more green cock. I pushed that thought aside, instead saying: "Would he wish you to be a barren maid until you died of old age?"

Mutely, she shook her head.

I caressed her hair, slowly. "Then he would surely be happy that...for this night, you found something that he had given you many times. No?"

She nodded, her eyes closed. She crawled atop me and I let her rest against me, her eyes closed. We did not speak as she breathed more and more steady. Until, at last, she fell asleep. I remained there, caressing her back, holding her. And then my brow furrowed. My ears perked.

I swore I had heard...a very faint creak. Maybe a soft click of a latch.

But surely, I was imagining it.

Surely, Virginia, the Panarii priestess, would not be so crass as to spy upon two adults making love.

Surely.

I closed my eyes and soon found sleep as well.

***

Virginia and I bade a smiling Aribela goodbye. But before I stepped away, Aribela did take my hand. She squeezed it, then said: "As I can curse those who are evil, I too know the art of blessings." She leaned forward, then whispered in my ear. "I cannot undo the evil reputation that many half-orcs have. But I can at least ameliorate it, in some small way. For you." She kissed my cheek and I felt a strange glow fill me. It faded, and I felt...well, none different.

Virginia was steadfastly looking at the horizon and, speaking far too loudly, she said: "Onwards! To Shrouded Hills!"

It took us two days of hiking through the forests to emerge in the river valley that proved to be home to Shrouded Hills. The river itself went clear from the mountain to the sea, wide enough and fast enough to deter wanting to go across it. The town itself was situated near the bridge, but as the Elder Johanna waited for us in the village, we headed straight there.

The village of Shrouded Hills was as rustic as everything else out here. The largest building in the place was a stone church that had been dedicated to the Panarii, though it looked long disused and someone had knocked out the back wall and replaced it with some hasty wooden construction that had a ramshackle chimney thrust from the ceiling. A rather large amount of smoke poured from the chimney, and it didn't smell of cooking fires. Across from the church was a large inn that was creatively named The Shrouded Hills Inn. The inn was nestled against the main road, which wound past a simple well, and across the road from the inn appeared to be the town bank and several shops, including a blacksmith, who was out working on some farming implement. Farther to the north, the town spread out into scattered buildings, including a rustic mansion that was situated near what appeared to be a mine that led deep into the foothills.

"This is the place!" Virginia said. "Johanna is staying in the inn."

I nodded - then chuckled. "But first, I think we should say hello..." I looked at the man standing beside the well. He was an older looking gentleman, with a handlebar mustache that had gone quite gray, watery blue eyes, silvery hair, and a large constable's star pinned to his breast. A rusted old revolver hung from his hip, and he looked at me as if he expected me to come with a conquering hoard as if this was the Age of Legends.

"What brings you here?" he asked, voice flat. He didn't tack on 'you damn half-orc', but the words hung in the air.

"Sir!" I said, deciding to bludgeon him. Verbally. "I have just been in the most terrible blimp crash!"

Instantly, the constable's face reconfigured. His eyes widened and he looked shocked and deeply compassionate. "My gods...that must have been the Zypher! We heard the sounds a few days ago, and I was just about to organize a search expedition!" He sounded far too sure of himself and quickly tapped his badge. "That is my job, being...constable. And mayor!" He coughed. "But, ah, you know...did anyone else survive?"

"No," I said, sadly. "It seemed luck only favored myself."

The constable - Owens, if Fahrkus had told true, and despite my distaste for the brigand, he had clearly pinned the constable's lily livered nature - puffed out his cheeks, then sighed. "A damn shame. Well. Uh." He paused. "Please, forgive my shortness earlier. I am Constable Owens. I am the law and the mayor around here."

He did not hold out his hand and I did not hold my breath waiting for it.

"I'm Rayburn. Rayburn Cog," I said, nodding to the Constable. "And might I beg answer to some questions before I go?" I smiled. "I'm not exactly from around these parts."

Something tingled along the back of my neck. As Owens expounded upon all the ways that he could assist me - clearly the fact I was the sole survivor of a historic blimp crash was far more important than my green skin at the moment - I slowly narrowed my eyes and looked aside. In the small crowd of villages who were bustling by, many of whom were glancing our way curiously, I saw a gnomess. She was short and she was slender and she looked at me with clear interest. Before I could examine her further - beyond getting an impression of dark green eyes and full lips and hair so dark red it was nearly black - she ducked back into the crowd.

"And, of course, we have an importer!" Owens said.

"An importer?" I asked.

"Yes, a fellow named Ristezze," Owens said. "He buys jewelry and does some trade with Tarantian merchants who come on the way to Black Root and Cumbria." Owens hooked his thumbs under his suspenders, clicking her tongue. "At least, he did...before..." he trailed off, looking at me through his bushy eyebrows.

An idea percolated. I smiled. "Before what, my good Constable?"

"Well, you see...we have but one bridge across the Gorga river," Owens said. "And just a few days back, some brigands took possession of the bridge. They charge everyone a toll! It's strangling our lifeblood. That and the mine going sour has ruined everything. If only..."

"...if only someone could remove the bandits from your town?" I asked, slowly.

"Yessss...you see, I would! But...ah..." The Constable trailed off. I immediately saw that if I relied upon this man's courage and valor to see me over the bridge, I'd be better off simply swimming across the Gorga river and hoping the hypothermia would kill me before the rapids drowned me. I sighed, slowly.

"I would be honored, good sir," I said.

"Capital!" Owens said. "And, of course, I would be glad to reimburse you! Does fifty gold coins sound reasonable?"

I felt as if I had been slapped in the face. "Fifty gold coins!?" I spluttered. "Is that your salary for a day!?"

Immediately, I saw it had been a mistake. Owens might have been a coward...but he was a human. He was a human, leading a town of mostly humans, and I was merely some half-orc come in out of the wilderness smelling like I hadn't had a bath for a week, with some ratty girl in a robe. Surely, the word 'uppity' was already echoing in Owens head. "It's a fair pay for fair work," he said, stubbornly.

Yes, taking on three armed bandits for half the cost of a ticket on the damned train. I bit back my first, second, third and fourth response, and instead said: "I misspoke, sir. Fifty coins will be fine."

Owens, once more, did not shake my hand.

I walked off with Virginia, and Virginia muttered to herself. "What a...a...a...prig!" she hissed to me.

"Don't worry, Virginia," I said. "I've dealt with worse."

"It's just...they have a whacking Panarii temple right here, and the first teaching in the book!" She muttered. "Be kind and good to one another." She paused. "Or, was it...be generous and kind to all?" She cocked her head. "It might have been to simply be kindly and good and just. Either way! The meaning is clear."

The door to Ristezze Imported Goods opened easily as I stepped up to it while Virginia remained fuming and furious. The door was connected by a string to what appeared to be a coo-coo clock. The string tugged on the minutes hand and pulled it into the twelves place, which caused the clock to open up and a spring-board flung out, revealing an elegantly carved terror bird, whose beak opened and emitted a hideous screeching noise as metal ground against metal. This noise provoked an exclamation from the back of the shop - a shop as full of gewgaws and bric-a-brac as any I had ever seen in my life. There were broken clocks, stopped watches, cracked looking glasses, bits and pieces of firearms, disassembled and emptied bullet casings, large containers that looked like they were filled with carbolic acid, migraine cures, cotton swabs, bandages that looked like they had been used several times before arriving here, knives taken from the bodies of kites, scrap metal, screws, bolts, hammers, bone saws, whip saws, hacksaws and hatchets.

The owner of all these...fine goods was a rail thin, nearly seven foot tall gentleman who looked like he hadn't eaten more than two bites in his entire life. His jaw was sharp and his lips were concealed behind a profusion of hair that bristled out alarmingly, more like a cowcatcher on a train than a mustache. His eyes were concealed behind spectacles that looked as if they had been cobbled together by a half deranged technologist - having gearing and clockwork to allow lenses to be snapped in and out of position for...well, actually, I could see the use. If one wished to be able to examine things in incrementally greater and greater detail.

The only design flaw I could see was the lack of glass in the lenses.

"What is this!?" the man asked. "Who intrudes upon the store of the great trader and impeccable merchant, Ristezze!?" He flung one hand up in a dramatic flourish.

Virginia and I exchanged a glance. A very weighted glance.

"My name, sir, is Rayburn Cog," I said. "And I come to ask you a question. Do you know much about jewelry?"

"Does Ristezze know about jewelry?" he scoffed, standing up. He tugged off his glass-less glasses and set them down. His hair now thrust up into the air in curls and twists, tugged out of their formerly chaotic messy shapes by the leather strap. Which meant he now had entirely new chaotic shapes for hair. "You might as well ask if the sun knows how to shine! The hare knows how to hide! The orc knows how to be bestial and brutish!" He scoffed. "I, Ristezze, know a great deal about jewelry. But what possible jewelry could you, you...you!" He flung up his hands. "Bring to me? Surely it is as is everything else in this rustic backwater."

He touched his fingers close together, as if measuring the smallest increment in the world, shaking his fist in the air as he did so. "Nothing! Less than nothing! It is as the technologists of the world, the finest minds of the age in that great city of Tarant, call an atom. The smallest of things!"

I cocked my head. "So, are you willing to look at it?"

"Is Ristezze willing?? No! Of course not, Ristezze would rather not waste his short time upon this great globe!" He waved his hand. "Not on some filched, stolen piece of trash taken from your victim, blackguard! Why, Ristezze has half a mind to-"

I pulled the ring that Preston had given me and held it up. The gleaming silver of the ring and the expert workmanship on the gem setting stopped Ristezze nearly as suddenly as my fist plunging into his jaw would have. He gaped at the ring. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh oh oh oh oh, where did you get this?" he whispered, slowly. "Surely not from this town, no?"

"A dying gnome gave it me, and I need to find who owns it," I said, frowning slightly. "Does anyone here-"

"Does anyone here own this ring? Hah! It is to make Ristezze laugh!" He put his hand on his chest and let out a boisterous, entirely forced laugh. "No, no, no, no one in Shrouded Hills owns such a fine work of craftsmanship. I, Ristezze, would wager my very soul upon it."

"I'd wager your mouth upon it..." Virginia muttered, not quite softly enough for the room.

"What was that?" Ristezze asked. I cut him off.

"She was asking if you'd know who might have made it?"

"Let Ristezze examine the ring!" He said, snapping his fingers. I narrowed my eyes, but set it into his palm. I was ready to dash his head on the floor if he forced my hand, but I crossed my arms over my chest to try and keep my hands from curling into fists. Despite his insulting and...eccentric airs, Ristezze settled himself behind the counter. He examined the ring, pursing his lips as he looked it over. "Ah. Yes. Ristezze knows exactly who constructed this fine piece of jewelry and would be glad to tell you where it is!"

I thought: The but is coming...

"But!" Ristezze grinned. "Ristezze requires an exchange of equal value."

Of course. I nodded. "I have some gold. Some salvaged grenades, some-"

"No, no, no, no!" Ristezze clapped his hands together. "This town has but one thing of value in it that Ristezze desires. Have you heard...of Bessie Toonie?"

I sighed, slowly. "This is going to lead into a whole other quest, isn't it?"

"Bessie Toonie owned the town's silver mine," Ristezze said. "But in her old age, she began to act...oddly. Seeing things that weren't there. Her son wrested the mine from her control. When he sold the mine, she walked inside...and never came out." His voice was a hushed whisper. "Now, her ghost haunts the mine. And Ristezze want you to find something of her. Then Ristezze can sell this something of her to a spiritualist in Tarant who is fascinated by phantasmagoria and similar supernatural phenomenon." He puffed up his chest. "Ristezze is a good haggler and a great merchant, no?"

"So." I pinched the bridge of my nose, then slid my hand to my mustache. "You want me to go into a haunted silver mine, find a ghost, and take something from her?"

"Yes," Ristezze said.

"In exchange, you will tell me where this damn ring is from?" I asked.

"Ristezze is glad to see he is understood," he said.

"I need a drink," I said, bluntly.

***

"I'm sure that Johanna will be able to tell us where the ring is from," Virginia said as we approached the Shrouded Hills Inn. "And if not, we...could investigate this haunting. Ghosts are rarely dangerous."

"Rarely?" I asked, my face twisting into a frown.

"...I mean..." She paused. "Animated S-Skeletons tend to be more dangerous. Physically so, I mean. And with our combined skills, we can surely put paid to any-"

The front door of the inn exploded outwards. The wood door bounced off wooden walls and the man who had been tossed out hit the dirt before our feet and skidded a few feet. A crash of splintering wood filled the air, followed by a boisterous, female laugh. I ran towards the door, which had rebounded shut, and opened it to find that the inn's front room was devoted to a rather well appointed tavern that was currently being torn apart by a brawl. The man in the corner of the room playing the cheap piano had his head ducked low and his fingers worked the keys as wildly as he could - adding a jaunty tune to the chaos within.

Five men surrounded a single woman.

Ungentlemanly? Possibly. But then again, as the woman was an eight foot tall, twenty stone mountain of muscle with gray-green skin, it might not have been. She was clearly a half-ogre, though she wore the features well: Her eyes were narrow and slightly slanted, while her nose was flat enough to conceal the number of times it had been broken. Her hair had been allowed to grow into a long sailors queue, bound and whipping behind her like a whip. She wore a ragged burlap sack and homespun shorts, meaning that her arms, her muscles, and the ample curve of her breasts (each nearly the size of my head) was entirely on display when she faced me side on. Her muscles were taut and her skin was covered with a great deal of winding, vine like tattoos.