Barbarian Legends - Goblinslayer 02

The knocking came a third time, and he heard a woman's voice whisper, "Girn."

Girn tightened his grip on the handle of his greataxe. Just because he heard a girl's voice didn't guarantee that only she awaited him outside. There could be a group of tough individuals accompanying her, ready to attack as soon as he opened the door. For a moment, he contemplated not opening the door at all, or waiting until the girl and her companions attempted to force their way in. Then he realized how excessively paranoid he had become. Shrugging off his apprehension, he acknowledged that since the deaths of Sek and Tek, and the rest of his squad of sewerjacks, he had every reason to be on edge. Nonetheless, was he going to stay cooped up here all night? With a decisive motion, he slid back the bolts and swung open the door, revealing Mina standing there.

She looked up at him nervously, brushing a curl from her fore head. She was short but very pretty indeed, Girn decided. At her village, she would be the woman every young lad would be fighting for.

"I... I wanted to thank you for helping me earlier," she said eventually.

Girn thought that it was a bit late for that. Couldn't she have waited until the morning? Slowly, though, he began noticing the signs; tucking hair behind the ear, seeking eye-contact yet avoiding it when their eyes met, nervously fidgeting with the fringe of a sleeve. Realisation dawned on him. "It was nothing," he muttered, feeling his face flush. He scratched the back of his head.

Mina glanced quickly left and right down the corridor. "Aren't you going to invite me in, I wanted to thank you properly." She had to stand on her tiptoes to quickly plant a peck on his lips. Girn stood there dumbfounded for a second then pulled her into the room and slammed the door, slipping the lock into place.

He turned around and looked in the eyes of Mina before his gaze wandered down her nude frame, momentarily resting on her shapely breasts and trimmed triangle of pubic hair. She had already discarded her clothes on the floorboards. Without breaking eye-contact, she walked to his pallet and positioned herself on hands and knees.

"I'm not one to beat around the bush," Mina said and wiggled her butt. "Take your reward. Use me however you want."

Girn gawked at her glorious behind.

"I don't care if you fuck my pussy or my ass," Mina clarified. "Now get over here!"

Girn's erection had silently come to full strength, his cock a tentpole holding his loincloth up like a tent. He discarded the piece of cloth. He approached and grabbed Mina's hips, angling his cock and slipping his cockhead inside her. Although the initial tightness fought against his girth, her wetness helped to work his cock deeper until the resistance waned. Girn thought it felt like she hadn't been with many before him, and together with her whimpering, it made him so much the more horny to fuck Mina.

"There you go," she whispered back softly, "You earned it. Does my tight pussy feel good?"

"It feels amazing," Girn grunted. It really did, the feeling around his shaft wet, warm, and wonderful. "So fucking tight."

"I know how to keep it tight," Mina said.

Girn felt her pussy progressively contracting along his shaft, like the motion of a wave. Damn it felt good. Maybe she had more experience than he thought?

"You're also just huge," she breathed heavily. His slow, gentle in and out movement was already overwhelming her.

Girn answered by pumping his cock into her pussy. Unexpectedly, she responded by pushing herself back towards him. The sensations were tantalizing. He thrust forward again, and she pushed back. She was looking for rhythm. He pushed inside her and this time she moaned a little. It sent a spark flying through Girn, always eager to please the woman he was with. He thrust forward again, this time harder. She pushed back, again moaning. The pace picked up.

"Yes!" she moaned, "Fuck me! Fuck me harder!"

Girn picked up the pace even more, ramming her forward as she drove him back. She moaned again and this drove him nuts. He began ploughing forward harder, now nearly lifting her whole body off the bed with each thrust. She was loving it though.

"Oh yeah!" she goaded Girn. "Do it harder!"

Girn continued fucking her, gripping her soft love handles firmly. Mina was no longer pushing backward, overstimulated by Girn's large cock inside her wet pussy. She was just being impaled, being tossed forward with each thrust. Each time her only response was an 'oh' or an 'ah'. The pitch of her moans was also getting higher. As Girn's hips continued to smack into her ass, and as he continued to ram his cock into her wet pussy, all that could be heard was "oh-oh-ah-oh-oh-ah-ah."

The wobbling of Mina's ass cheeks was mesmerizing. He slapped one side and when Mina purred in response, he slapped the other too. A couple of slaps along, his hands were imprinted on her soft flesh. In between her legs, Mina was vigorously rubbing her clit. Girn's balls slammed against the back of her hand as he fucked her.

"Slip a thumb in," Mina whispered hoarsely over her shoulder. She was like an angel of desire, hair fallen across half her face, lips slightly apart, eyes burning with yearning. She gritted her teeth and groaned as his cock slammed balls-deep into her pussy.

"What?" Girn grunted.

"Play with my ass and put your thumb in," Mina exclaimed.

Girn placed a hand on each cheek and kneaded thoroughly, gradually pulling her cheeks further apart. He circled his thumb around her puckered hole. This already made her arc her back and throw her head back. He spat down to wet the entrance and then applied pressure, inserting his thumb up to the cuticle into her ass.

"Aah-mmmh," Mina moaned. "Deeper!"

Girn worked his whole thumb inside. The size of his hands and fingers probably made it feel like she was being penetrated by another cock. He kept bucking his hips and began moving his thumb in and out. Mina loved the double penetration as she began throwing herself back again.

Girn fucked Mina with force. His thumb in her ass made her pussy feel even tighter. And then she cried out, her pussy clenched down onto his cock. Like rolling waves, her pussy massaged his cock.

"I'm cumming too," Girn said and pulled out.

Mina got up unsteadily, knees weak, and then kneeled eagerly before Girn, mouth open and eyes on the prize. She kneaded her rounded breasts as Girn stroked himself over the edge. Brilliant spasms shot up his cock, followed by a spray of cum that not only covered Mina's tongue and filled her mouth but also coated her face. The pleasure was intense as Girn grunted and kept stroking until he was spent. With a flick of his cock, he flung the last drops onto her breasts which were already being glazed with cum dripping down from her face.

Mina swallowed her mouthful of cum, smacking her lips, and cleaned her face and breasts with a piece of cloth. Girn picked her up by the waist and she giggled. They got in the bed. She embraced Girn as he stroked her jet-black hair, their lips searching for each other's.

**********

As his assistant Prattle reached twelve in his muttered count, Skrag Nrak of Clan Dagger smacked his lips and sampled the taste of the night air. Strange, he thought; so like the stink of the man-cities of the south and yet so unlike. Here he could taste hints of beef and turnip and roast pig. In the south it would have been cooked mutton and rice. The food smelled different but everything else was the same. There was the same disgusting flavour of overflowing sewers, of many humans living in close proximity.

He opened his ears as his master had trained him as well. He heard temple bells tolling and the rattle of carriage wheels on cobblestones. He heard the singing of drunks and the call of the night watchmen as they shouted the time of night. It did not trouble him. He could not be distracted. He could, if he so wished, tune out all extraneous sound and pick out one voice in a crowd.

The goblin squinted out into the darkness. His night-vision was keen. Down there were the shadowy shapes of men and women leaving the taverns arm in arm, heading for brief liaisons in back alleys and squalid rooming houses. Skrag did not care about them at all. His target was in the building that the human-filth called a tavern.

He pondered why the honorable shaman Utkut had chosen this particular target for inevitable death, out of all the souls in the city. Nevertheless, he understood it was his duty to facilitate the passing of this soul into the realm of the Ever-Hungry. Having already offered two sticks of narcotic incense and pledged their immortal essence for his dark god's feast, he couldn't help but feel a hint of pity for the doomed individual. He sat in the tavern, beneath the sign of the Full Tankard, and did not know that impending doom approached. Nor would he, for Skrag Nrak had trained for years in the art of silent death. Before leaving his warm eastern homeland to serve the Council in the cold western climes, he had been meticulously schooled in his clan's ancient technique of stealthy assassination. Even as a youth, he had been subjected to rigorous trials, such as running barefoot over beds of white-hot coals and pilfering coins from the bowls of seemingly blind beggars in human cities. Through these experiences, he learned that the beggars were often not as blind as they seemed, and many were skilled in martial arts, capable of defending themselves viciously.

Prior to his initiation, Skrag Nrak had honed his skills in various forms of unarmed combat. He had attained the rank of third degree adept in the Bloody Hand discipline and held a black belt in the Path of the Murderous Crow. He had committed numerous killings in service to the Council of Goblinkind. Notable among his accomplishments was the assassination of Lord Qruuq of Clan Slobber, who had conspired against Council member Frek the Filthy. Skrag had also served as the personal assistant to Agrok during the successful elimination of Lord Theobald Ravenclaw and his entire household. As a reward for his exemplary service, he had received one-on-one instruction from the Master of Assassins himself.

Skrag Nrak's list of triumphs was long, and tonight he would add another to it. It was his task to slay the barbarian. He did not see how he could fail. What chance had a large, clumsy human-thing against a mighty goblin trained in every art of death-dealing?

Skrag Nrak felt confident that he could take the barbarian. He had been almost insulted by Shaman Utkut's insistence that he take a full pack of shadow shivs. Surely the dire rumours of this barbarian were exaggerated. He could not possibly have slaughtered a unit of skullbashers single-handedly. And it seemed well-nigh unbelievable that he could have slain the goblin-ogre, Spinebreaker, without the aid of an entire company of hardened mercenaries. Skrag exhaled in one long controlled breath. Perhaps the shaman was right. He had often proved to be so in the past. It was simple prudence to assign the task of slaying the barbarian to an entire shadow shiv pack.

Prattle stopped counting at one hundred and tapped his superior on the arm. Skrag showed his teeth to show that he understood. The other half of his team, with the clockwork precision which characterised all goblin operations, would be in position by now. It was time to proceed.

He loosened his swords in their scabbards, checked to make sure that his blowpipe and throwing stars were ready at hand, and whistled the signal to advance. Like a dark wave, the half-pack of shadow shivs surged forward over the rooftops. Their blackened weapons were visible only as shadowy outlines in the moons' light. Not a weapon clinked. Not an outline was visible.

Well, almost.

**********

Hans made his last rounds of the night, checking the doors and windows of the lower floor to make sure they were securely barred. It was amazing how often thieves tried to break in to the Full Tankard and steal from its cellars. Not even the reputation for ferocity of Hans' bouncers could keep the desperately poor and alcoholic denizens of the Poor Quarter from making the attempt. It was quite pathetic really.

He made his way down into the cellars, shining his light into the dark corners between the great ale barrels, and wine racks. He went over and checked the secret door that led down into the sewers. It was hard to tell in this light but it looked undisturbed. He doubted anybody had used it since he and Girn had dumped those bodies two months back and saved everybody quite a scandal.

He turned and limped back to the stairwell. His bad leg was playing up tonight. It always did when there was going to be rain. Hans smiled grimly, remembering how he'd got the old war wound. It had been stamped on by an enemy charger at the Battle of Blackpeak Pass. Clean break. He remembered lying there in the bloody dirt and thinking it was probably a just payback for decapitating the horse's owner with his longsword. That had been a bad time, one of the worst he had faced in all his years of soldiering. He'd learned a lot about pain that day. Still there had been good times as well as bad during his career as a mercenary, he was forced to admit that.

There were occasions when Hans wondered whether he had made the right decision, giving up the free-spirited life of a mercenary for the life of a tavern keeper. On nights like this he missed the camaraderie of his old unit, the drinking round the campfires, the swapping of stories and recounting of exaggerated tales of heroism.

As he reached the head of the stair, Hans thought he heard scuttling on the roof. Probably a flock of birds disturbed by a cat. Yet somehow his old soldier's instincts were aroused, and they had saved him on more than one occasion. He hesitated. Best go get Girn, he thought. The barbarian was the most skilled warrior among his bouncers.

Only the real hardcore drinkers were still in the tavern by now. The rest were asleep, under the tables, in the alcoves, in the private rooms, or else gone home. There it was again, that scuttling sound, like footfalls on roof tiles. Hans was definitely worried now. That many feet running across his roof could never be a good sign. He came out in the main bar area. A handful of the bouncers chattered idly with a few of the barmaids.

"Where's Girn?" Hans asked. A burly lad, Iskander, jerked his thumb in the direction of the rooms upstairs.

**********

Girn and Mina lay on his palette, kissing deeply, when suddenly Girn shifted uneasily. He thought he heard the faintest of scuttling sounds from outside the window. He gently slipped his index and middle finger out of Mina's soaking pussy and untangled her arms from around him. He looked down on the serving girl's face. It was a little puffed on the left side from where the student had hit her but she really was very pretty. And seemingly a little disappointed his fingers were not inside her anymore.

"What is it?" she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He listened for a moment and heard nothing. "Nothing," he said, and began kissing her again, his hand nestling between her thighs again.

Despite himself, Girn untangled himself from Mina again and looked around. What was that noise? Mina was looking up at him, puzzled, wondering what was the matter. She opened her mouth to speak. Girn placed a hand gently over her luscious lips. He leaned forward until his mouth was over her ear.

"Be very quiet," he whispered. He could definitely hear a strange scuttling sound coming from over by the window. Girn lifted himself off the recumbent Mina and reached for his greataxe. He slipped backwards off the straw pallet and fell into a half crouch.

Placing one finger against his lips to indicate she should be quiet, he gestured for Mina to get up off the bed. She stared at him uncertainly, then followed his gaze over to the window.

That was when she screamed.

**********

Skrag Nrak watched as Duruk swung down on the rope. He felt almost proud of his pupil. Duruk had fixed the grappling hook in the guttering perfectly, then abseiled down the side of the tavern like a spider. He had sprayed the metal bars covering the window with acid, then filed through the weakened iron like a master burglar.

He reached up and gestured to the rest of the pack on the tavern roof. They fixed their ropes in position and made ready to follow Duruk. Skrag would be last in, as befitted the glorious strike leader.

Duruk kicked himself back from the wall, swinging out into space, gaining momentum to crash through the window.

**********

The window caved in and a black-clad goblin crashed through it. It hit the floor rolling and emerged into a fighting crouch, a long curved blade glinting evilly in each green hand.

Girn didn't wait for it to get time to orientate itself. He lashed forward with his own blade, almost catching the thing by surprise. Sparks flashed as the creature somehow parried his massive blow, deflecting Girn's greataxe so that it only seared along its cheek.

"Run, Mina!" Girn shouted. "Get out!"

For a moment, he thought the girl was too shocked to move. She lay on the straw pallet, her eyes wide with horror, perfect breasts bared, then suddenly she sprang up. The distraction almost killed Girn. The moment he took to look at her was a moment he did not look at his opponent. Only the deadly whine of the goblin's blade warned him. He jumped, and the sword passed under him. Girn lashed back instinctively. The goblin sprang away.

"Girn!" Mina shouted.

"Run! Warn Hans!"

Over the goblin's shoulder, he could see the window was packed with mangy, scarred goblin faces. Things did not look good.

"Die! Die! Stinky barbarian," the goblin screeched, bounding forward. It feinted a stroke with its right blade, then lashed out with its left. Girn caught its hand just above the wrist and immobilised it. Girn brought the blade of his greataxe down behind the goblin's ear, splitting its head in two. He let it fall on the floor. The goblin's flesh started to bubble and rot.

Girn heard Mina throw the door bolts. He risked a glance at her. She had turned and was looking at him in a mixture of horror and confusion, as if she did not know whether to leave him or to stay.

"Go!" he shouted. "Get to safety. There's nothing you can do here."

She vanished through the doorway, leaving Girn feeling weirdly relieved. At least now he wasn't responsible for her safety. As he turned to look back he saw that the goblin he had killed was gone. It had left behind only a pool of black slime and its rotting clothing. Girn wondered what deadly sorcery was at work.

A hiss of displaced air warned him of another threat. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of several glittering objects hurtling towards him. He dived forward, aiming for the bed, hoping it would break his fall. His mouth filled with straw from the mattress as he landed. Just in time. More shining objects spun through the air above him. He saw the throwing stars, smeared with some foul reddish substance, doubtless poison.

Two more goblins had extricated themselves from the mass outside the window and dropped into the room. They scuttled towards him with eye-blinding speed, evil shadows, their yellow teeth glistening in the lantern-light, their foul breath filling the air. He knew better now than to even glance at the doorway. There was no way he could reach it without taking a blade in his back.

Why me, he asked himself? Why am I standing here naked, facing a pack of goblin assassins? Then he understood this had to be a reckoning for what had taken place in Danton Lynch's mansion.

Girn hacked his blade through the first goblin charging him. His razor-sharp greataxe cut through flesh like butter. Black blood soiled the floor. The second goblin took advantage of his wide swing and sprang forward, both blades held high, swinging downwards like butcher's cleavers. Girn stepped aside and watched the flying goblin pass by, then used the momentum of his greataxe to cleave the assassin in half at the waist. Their bodies bubbled like boiling black water.