Barbarian Legends - Goblinslayer 03

"You want to fuck my tits, don't you? Cover them in your cum?" Mina teased, wrapping her breasts around his shaft and beginning to move them up and down. The feeling of her soft flesh against his throbbing cock made it impossible for Girn to hold back from grunting. The juices from Ruby acted as a perfect lubricant, making his cock slide between her breasts with ease. To make the feeling even better, Topaz stuck out her tongue and licked his tip every time it poked out of Mina's cleavage. This carried Girn over the edge. He pulled out from Mina's breasts, rapidly jerking his long and thick cock, aiming at her pushed-together tits.

"Get ready," Girn grunted. "Here it comes!"

Topaz was already in position and Ruby got down on the opposite side just in time. Girn fired off hot, white streaks of cum towards Mina's tits. The first few shots went past her boobs and landed on her lips and chin, while the several remaining shots coated her large tits in cum. Every stroke sent more cum flying through the air. Many strings deviated from their trajectory and hit Ruby and Topaz across their faces, tongues eagerly stuck out to taste his cum. After Girn finished releasing his powerful load, he took a step back.

Topaz moved closer to him, taking his tip into her mouth. The blonde enthusiastically sucked the remaining drops of cum from his cock. Mina sat up on her elbows while Ruby's tongue darted across her breasts and gathered up every streak of cum. As Topaz popped off his cock, her lips were quickly replaced by Ruby's, who slowly moved up and down his cock, savouring the final taste. When she finished sucking, she dove back into Mina's cleavage where there was still a huge load waiting to be licked up.

"Mmmm, that looks tasty," Topaz excitedly said, following her redhead friend's lead.

Ruby had gathered up a mouthful of cum from between Mina's tits and sat up. She leaned over Mina and dribbled cum from between her lips into Mina's mouth. Mina stuck out her tongue and smacked her lips. Girn watched for a bit as the three of them further played with his cum and Mina's tits.

**********

Shaman Utkut surveyed the vast chamber with his malevolent gaze, eyes sweeping over the sea of sneering goblin faces. He observed the bustling activity all around him and the dense mass of assembling goblin troops. Warriors from various clans, reinforced by contingents from powerful factions across goblindom, had gathered here. Despite the relief of being away from the sewers and back in the Underground, the subterranean network connecting cities worldwide, Utkut found no solace in the moment. His anger consumed him, overshadowing any sense of satisfaction. He fought against this emotion, reminding himself of the humans above, oblivious to the impending threat, going about their daily routines. They remained unaware that their era of dominance was nearing its end, their city and kingdom would soon fall under the iron hand of goblin military prowess. Yet, even these thoughts failed to uplift him or quell his rage.

Skrag Nrak grovelled in the dirt before him, awaiting she shaman's judgement. It had taken nearly a week for Utkut to track him down. The would-be assassin sprawled face down in the shadow of the shaman, continuing to mutter feeble excuses. The leader of the shadow shivs claimed betrayal had undone them. That the barbarian had been warned of his otherwise irresistible attack, of how vile sorcery had been used to defeat all his warriors. Above all, he emphasised that it had not been his fault. Nearby, Utkut's lieutenants stifled their laughter and concealed their amusement behind dirty hands.

Thousands of faces peered up at Utkut, eager to know what he would do next. Utkut let his glance rest on each of the clan leaders. They squirmed under his scrutiny. Their muttering stopped. None of them wanted to be the focus of his anger. But unfortunate for them, one was going to be.

Utkut looked at the representatives of Clan Frak, Clan Dagger, Clan Arx and Clan Pathos. All of them were his to order about, at least until his replacement, Warlord Gur, arrived. But that was hopefully not going to happen. Utkut had prepared a little surprise for the warlord. Gur would never reach this place alive. So much power he wielded. And yet...

He couldn't kill one barbarian. Girn the barbarian was still alive. It beggared belief! How could this be? It was almost as if he, the great Utkut, was under a curse. He shuddered at the very thought. Surely the Ever-Hungry would not withdraw his favour from one of his chosen shamans? No, he told himself sternly, that was not the real reason why the barbarian was still alive.

The real reason was the incompetence of his underlings. Utkut bared his yellow, sharpened teeth and allowed his rage to show. The accursed shadow shivs had failed him terribly. They had let the barbarian slip through their grasp. Utkut entertained the thought to have Skrag Nrak hung up by his feet and flayed alive. Only his fear of possible reprisals by Clan Dagger kept him from ordering his bodyguards to apprehend the assassin.

Rumour had it that Skrag was a favoured pupil of the Master of Assassins himself. That being the case, such straightforward vengeance was out of the question. But, there had to be more than one way to make Skrag Nrak pay for this monstrous failure. Someday, the assassin would pay dearly... Utkut's problem right now, however, was to find a way to safely vent the killing rage that was on him, without making powerful enemies in the process. He snarled in frustration.

Utkut glared at the monstrously obese goblin lounged on a palanquin born by goblin-ogres. Trolk Tul, the Clan Frak leader, had arrived this very morning, keen to take part in the triumph that was sure to follow this great offensive. He and his retinue had scuttled along the Underground from their base at Full Gullet in the Black Mountains. Trolk tried to hold Utkut's burning gaze but could not. He looked away and ran a hand over the largest of his goblin-ogres, a creature so massive that it made the late and unlamented Spinebreaker look small. The creature bellowed its pleasure as Trolk fed it a tasty human finger. Behind Trolk, other beasts stood waiting. Utkut decided that he would spare Trolk. He did not doubt he could destroy the fat one, but he was not so sure that he could survive an attack by the outraged beasts if they got out of control.

Utkut turned his attention to the rotting form of Leprous Foulbreath, diseasemonger of the sickly goblins of Clan Pathos, who stood alone, well apart from any other goblin. From within his cowl, pus-filled, fearless green eyes peered out. Utkut instantly dismissed the idea of venting his rage on the plagued one. Like every goblin, he knew that Clan Pathos was quite mad. It was useless to antagonise them. Utkut let his gaze slide slowly aside. The diseasemonger triumphantly blew his nose on the sleeve of his black robe, leaving a bubble of foul, yellow snot.

Next in line was the armoured form of Wrench Claw-Arm, master engineer of Clan Arx. Claw-Arm was small by goblin standards, yet his metal arm that was merged with flesh at the shoulder joint was a menacing sight. Utkut still suspected him for the assassination attempt with the exploding communications machine. But, in truth, it seemed unlikely that Clan Arx would be behind it. Intentionally blowing up one of their own precious devices to kill an enemy just wasn't their style. Utkut decided to spare Wrench and was not in the slightest bit influenced by the fact that his bodyguard's serrated long-knives looked extremely worn and well-used.

He understood he couldn't afford to punish these individuals. Their clans wielded significant power and influence, essential for leading the assault on the human city. However, he still felt compelled to execute someone. Doing so would reaffirm his own authority and provide him with personal satisfaction. It wouldn't do just to let them all off. It was not the goblin way. It was imperative to set an example.

One by one, Shaman Utkut directed his gaze towards the warleaders of Clan Gur. With the exception of Warlord Gur Gur, they were all present, adorned in the distinctive red and black livery of their clan. Each bore the signature scar from their left ear to their left cheek, proudly displaying their clan affiliation. Despite their status as formidable leaders of fierce warriors, each warleader quickly averted their gaze when met by the shaman's eyes. They were well aware of his notorious temper and reputation for volatility.

Utkut felt satisfaction. They were cowed. In a moment of self-assurance, he believed he could confront a member of the Council of Goblinkind and emerge victorious. However, this confidence was fleeting, replaced by lingering paranoia. Hastily, he singled out a target, pointing his accusing finger at Tix Gur, the least powerful of the Clan Gur leaders and coincidentally, the one with the fewest allies both here and back in Goblingard.

"You find something amusing, Tix Gur?" Utkut demanded in his most intimidating high-pitched screech. "You think something is funny, perhaps?"

Tix licked his lips nervously. He bobbed his head ingratiatingly and held up his hands. "Of course not, great shaman Utkut."

"Don't lie. If you find humour in the abject failure of the mighty shadow shivs, please share it. Your insight may prove useful. Speak!"

The goblins flanking Tix backed away, creating a considerable gap between themselves and their condemned comrade. Within moments, Tix stood alone in a thirty-foot-wide space. Glancing over his shoulder in search of an escape route, he found none. Even his personal bodyguard refused to stand close to him under the shaman's wrathful gaze. Tix shrugged and placed his hand on the hilt of his blade, evidently choosing to confront the situation boldly.

"If the shadow shivs failed it was because they were too subtle," Tix said. "They should have attacked head-on, in a massed rush, blades bared. That is the goblin way. That is the Clan Gur way."

Skrag Nrak glared across at the goblin warrior. If looks could kill, Tix would have been dead then and there. Utkut was suddenly intrigued by the situation. Here was an opportunity to twist the assassin's neck with no possibility of reprisals against himself. The shaman decided that he would let Tix live for a little while longer.

"You are saying that you could have handled the situation better than the shadow shivs? You are saying you could succeed where trained assassins of Clan Dagger failed?'

Tix' jaws clamped shut as he pondered the implications of the shaman's last statement, recognizing the trap laid before him. If he openly criticized Skrag, he risked making an enemy of the renowned shadow shiv, likely taking a knife in his belly as he slept. However, he also realized he had been singled out to face the shaman's wrath regardless. He understood it was a choice between immediate and certain death or potential doom in the future. Rising to the challenge like a true goblin warrior, he prepared to confront the situation head-on.

"Maybe," he said.

Utkut giggled. The rest of the goblins present echoed their leader's amusement with great roars of false hacking laughter. "Then perhaps you should take your warriors to the human-city above and prove it."

"Indeed, if that is your wish, great shaman," Tix Gur replied. His voice sounded relieved. He had a slim chance of living after all. "Consider your enemies as good as dead."

Somehow Utkut doubted it, but he did not say so. Then he cursed himself for his leniency. He had allowed Tix to wriggle out from under his mighty hand and not blasted him into a thousand pieces as an example.

At that moment, a runner entered, puffing breathlessly. In the traditional cleft thighbone of a human he carried, he held a message. Seeing Utkut he immediately abased himself before the shaman and prodded the bone forward. Utkut was tempted to blast him for his insolence. There was a fine old goblin tradition of killing the messenger who brought bad news to be kept up, but at this moment Utkut did not even know that the news was bad. Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled the parchment from the stick. He noted that the corners were creased and it had obviously been opened before. No surprises there, then. Doubtless every spy between here and Goblingard had bribed the messenger so that he could look at what he carried. That, too, was the goblin way. Utkut did not care. He had established his own codes, cunningly concealed within deceptively innocuous messages, in order to keep his communications secret.

At that moment, a runner burst in, gasping for breath. Clutching a human thighbone, he presented a message to Utkut, immediately bowing before the shaman and extending the bone. Utkut felt the urge to reprimand him for his insolence; there was a long-standing goblin tradition of punishing messengers who delivered bad news. However, at that moment, Utkut wasn't even aware if the news was unfavourable. Overcome by curiosity, he accepted the parchment wrapped around the bone. He wasn't surprised to find the corners creased, the message clearly opened prior to being handed to him; undoubtedly, every spy from here to Goblingard had bribed the messenger to inspect what he carried. Such behaviour was customary among goblins. Nevertheless, Utkut remained unfazed. He had developed his own methods, cleverly embedding codes within seemingly innocuous messages to maintain secrecy in his communications.

He looked down at the blocky runes scrawled in a strong goblin hand. The message was simple and a sense of triumph filled Utkut, dispelling his earlier anger. He fought to not show it on his face. He looked down at the messenger and sneered, knowing above all that appearances must be kept up and an example must be made.

"This message has been opened, traitor!" he snarled and raised his hand. A sphere of greenish light sprang into being around Utkut's clenched fist. The messenger cringed and tried to beg for mercy but it was too late. Tentacles of hideous magical energy leapt from Utkut's hand to encircle the doomed goblin. Energies flowed around the messenger, swimming through the air in the way that eels swim through water, with a horrible sinuous wriggling. After a moment, the bands of energy lunged inwards, stabbing through the goblin's body, boring through the flesh and emerging on the other side. Again and again they stabbed inwards, stripping away skin and flesh. The messenger let out high-pitched, agonising screams. The smell of soil mingled with the scent of blood and the ozone taint of the spell. In a matter of seconds only a stripped skeleton remained. It collapsed into a pile of bone and dust. The ribbons of magical energy flowed together, dissipating until there was nothing left of them. The whole assembled goblin host let out a great sigh of wonder and disbelief at seeing their shaman demonstrating his power in this satisfying manner.

Utkut raised his hand and gestured for silence. In a moment all was calm, save for a few coughs from the back rows. "Tragic news!" Utkut bellowed, and even the coughing stopped. "Mighty Warlord Gur Gur is dead, killed in a terrible accident. We will have the traditional ten seconds of silence to mark the return of his soul to the Ever-Hungry."

Immediately all the goblins started to talk among themselves. The chatter ceased abruptly as Utkut raised his paw once more, allowing the ominous glow to envelop his fingers. The assembled goblins immediately recognized the threat conveyed by this gesture and fell silent. None of them wished to be the next victim ensnared by those menacing tendrils of dark energy.

"Now we will prepare for the next phase of the conquest plan," Utkut said. "In the sad absence of Lord Gur, I must reassume control of the army."

"With great respectfulness, shaman Utkut, such is not the case. As senior goblin here, my duty it is to assume command." The booming voice of Trolk Tul filled the chamber. "Clan Frak has provided many gold pieces to finance this expedition and I must see that they are spent wisely."

"What nonsense is this?" Leprous Foulbreath inquired. The words bubbled phlegmishly from his ruined throat. "If any is to command here, it should be me. To Clan Pathos will go the honour of overthrowing the human-city. We have great plans! Our secret weapon will destroy the human stink-dump!"

"Stop! I disagree," called the reedy, high-pitched voice of Wrench Claw-Arm. "The siege machines of Arx will make victory possible and so to Arx should fall the leadership. Naturally, as the leader of Clan Arx, I will now assume my duties as supreme commander."

"You dare usurp Clan Frak's privileges?" Trolk Tul roared. The goblin-ogres, hearing the anger in his voice, bellowed with barely suppressed fury. The sound of their wrath echoed around the cavern. "This behaviour cannot be tolerated! For the good of the force, I warn you that one more treacherous word you speak will end in my warriors executing you instantaneously."

The bodyguards of Claw-Arm brandished their serrated blades. "Your warriors? Your warriors? There speaks a mad goblin. By what right do you name the warriors under my command your troops?"

"Both of you are trying my patience," Leprous burbled. "Seeing my two senior lackeys bickering in such a caveman manner cannot help but demoralise my army. Cease such mutinous behaviour at once or face the fatal consequences." He flexed his hands menacingly and suddenly there was a glob of filthy goop in his hands. No one present could doubt that it was dangerously toxic and deadly.

Shaman Utkut looked on in barely concealed glee. He half hoped that the various leaders would come to blows, that violence would erupt and that these upstarts would slaughter each other. Unfortunately, until circumstances proved otherwise, he had to assume that he needed all of their help to overthrow the human-city. So it was time to put a stop to this nonsense.

"Brother goblins," he said in his most diplomatic voice. "Consider this. Until the coming of Gur Gur, the Council of Goblinkind placed me in command of this army. Since Gur Gur is sadly no longer with us, the leader's place must still fall to me by edict of the Council. Of course, if any of you wishes to challenge the Council's ruling I will notify them of this at once."

Utkut's tactic had the desired effect of silencing them, as he had anticipated. No sensible goblin would dare to even suggest disobeying a direct decree from the Council. The formidable rulers of the goblin race wielded extensive influence, and their punishments were both swift and inevitable. By invoking the Council's authority, Utkut ensured the compliance of all present until they could consult with their clan leaders and representatives on the Council. Hopefully, by then, Utkut would have successfully brought the human-city to its knees.

"Of course, you are correct, shaman Utkut," Wrench said. "It is only that, as your second-in-command, I felt that these others were overstepping the bounds of their authority."

"I know not how Wrench can claim to be your second-in-command, shaman, when all know my respect for you is boundless, and my devotion to your cause without limit," Trolk Tul said.

Leprous merely coughed enigmatically and said: "It pains me to see these overbearing oafs challenging your rightful authority, shaman. Surely the power of my clan and my proven dedication to your person must mean that I rank second here."

"I have yet to decide who the second-in-command will be. I must retire to my quarters to contemplate strategy." So saying, he descended from the platform and the seething sea of goblins parted before him.

Utkut felt satisfied. For the moment, he had the challenge to his leadership under control. This was more like it, thought Utkut. Let them bicker over who gets the scraps. The glory would belong to him. As was only right.