Barbarian Legends - Goblinslayer 07

Jamie blushed at the compliment. Lady Clair bent forward and met his lips with hers. They locked in a passionate kiss, not rough, but just enthusiastic enough to show they longed to have each other. With her hands on his shoulders, she guided him up while he placed kisses on her stomach and playful breasts along the way. Jamie teased her by avoiding her nipples by the width of a hair. A small moan escaped his lips.

Clair slid down her hands, feeling his fit body, to get the first touch of his erect cock. It was hot and hard and clearly ready for some action. She rubbed it slowly along its length and used one hand to gently tap his balls.

Jamie started off by placing small kisses in her neck, then traced his fingers along her sides to caress her breasts before cupping them in his palms. They were modest but size didn't matter to Jamie. He was a fan of all manner of breasts as long as he got his hands on them. He was now lowering his head and kissing her clavicle while she continued to stroke his cock.

Lady Clair levered his cock down to nestle it between her legs. As it touched her wetness, she moaned in his ear, eliciting faster kisses along her neck and tighter squeezing of her tits. She bucked her hips and made her moist folds glide along Jamie's tip and shaft. His cock gradually gained entrance and was now sliding between her lower lips.

In a sudden flash of movement, Clair jumped back onto a small table -- it creaked but didn't collapse -- and Jamie took the base of his shaft and angled it upwards. He eased his hips forward and slid his hard cock into her.

His girth stretched her hole wide as he entered her and she threw her legs around his back to allow him maximum penetration. Jamie met resistance as Lady Clair's pussy was still adjusting to accommodate his cock but with increased power he was able to push entirely into her.

"Fuuuck-gh," Clair moaned out loud, followed by deep breaths.

Jamie moved his hips and almost took his cock out of her before penetrating her again with his complete length. It was a slow fuck, but the long, deep strokes were filled with passion. Jamie looked up and saw Clair's eyes were aflame with lust. She swung her hands around his neck and pulled so her mouth could lock onto his in a deep kiss. Jamie wriggled his hands between their already sweating bodies to give a good squeeze to her tits. Clair's nipples were hard from excitement.

Her hands roamed over his body, nails provokingly scratching all over his back, fingers gripping his firm buttocks and down his crack to where his tight hole was. Jamie groaned when she gently ran her finger around the puckered entrance. When he didn't object to a little more applied pressure, she rubbed the entrance and slipped a digit inside him. Jamie gasped and a loud moan came from deep within him.

He started to speed up his fucking, and became more aggressive in his strokes, each time he withdrew quickly spearing his cock back inside of her. Lady Clair was so turned on from the intensified fucking and being allowed to finger-fuck his ass that she knew her body wouldn't hold out much longer. She wiggled her finger inside him, which in turn made him pound her faster. Clair felt the very familiar feeling in the bottom of her stomach as her orgasm approached. She moaned in delight as it ripped through her body, and cried out as wave after wave caused her pussy to clamp down hard around his cock.

The extra sensation along his cock put Jamie also over the edge. He thrust into her a few more times while his asshole clenched tight around her finger. "I'm cumming," he said hoarsely when he felt his balls churning and a hot stream bubbling at the base of his cock.

Lady Clair pulled her finger out and pushed Jamie back, releasing his pulsating cock from her gaping pussy. Her own juices were running down her thighs as she fell from the table to her knees. In the span of one breath, Clair's mouth replaced her lower lips and enveloped Jamie's cock. Just in time as the young man shot a hot load of sticky cum. She stroked his shaft vigorously while her lips stayed tight around his tip. It intensified his orgasm and seemingly increased its duration. Jamie felt his legs quiver and his cock throb as surge after surge of cum was deposited in Clair's mouth. Her eyes were looking straight into his, the same lust as before still burning within.

When his last spurt of cum had been shot, Clair increased the suction on his tip to drain the remainder from his shaft. Keeping eye-contact, she showed off her mouthful of hot cum and swirled it around with her tongue. After a gurgle, she spit it out in her cupped hands and held it above her face. Lady Clair closed her eyes and let his huge load drip onto her face. She blew bubbles with the strings that covered her lips. Clair licked her palms clean and gathered the cum in her mouth again, leaving her face shimmering as if covered in diamond dust. With another swirl of the tongue, she swallowed the load and smacked her lips.

"Yummy," she said. Jamie burst out laughing.

**********

Skrag Nrak drew his long black cloak in front of his face and stalked forward, blade in hand. He kept to the shadows, moving quietly on the balls of his feet, ready to strike in any direction at the slightest provocation.

Some distance behind him he could still hear the sound of fighting. From up ahead, he could hear the strange scraping noise that humans called "music". He followed the sound but was suddenly knocked aside.

Two figures, one a male and the other probably his fuck-slave, had thrown open a side door and stumbled out. Their clothing was in a state of disarray and it looked odd even for humans. "I was about to shoot a second load seeing you play with my cum," the male was saying before he noticed Skrag. Both stared at him and to his surprise emitted the strange wheezing sound that humans called laughter. They stank of alcohol and another smell he couldn't quite put a name to.

Skrag Nrak was so surprised that he paused in the middle of his death stroke. He had intended to strike them down and withdraw into the shadowy corridors. He quickly lowered his blade and held it behind his back.

"What an extraordinary costume!" the young man exclaimed. "Don't you agree, Lady Clair?"

"Absolutely wonderful," the breed-bitch said. She bent over and tugged at Skrag's cheek. "So realistic. As if it's his real face. Feel for yourself, Jamie."

Skrag had no idea what they were saying. He understood no words of their odd rumbling language but it was starting to filter into his brain that these people were wearing some sort of costume, like shamans performing a religious rite. And they appeared to have mistaken him for one of them. Was it possible that these people were so drunk and so uncaring that they did not realise that there was a goblin invasion going on outside? To his astonishment Skrag Nrak realised that it must be so.

The man reached out to touch his face. Contrary to when the bitch had done so, Skrag acted with an instinctual response. He swung the blade behind his back to the front and stabbed the man right in the jugular. He dexterously conjured a blade in his other hand and thrust it into the man's ribcage where his heart should be. With a soundless gasp, the man stumbled back into the room.

The fuck-bitch was shocked, eyes wide and lips trembling. She followed the man faltering backwards and simply forgot she therefore turned her back to the masked stranger. Skrag Nrak reached around and slit her throat in a smooth swipe, pushing her also into the room.

He closed the door and looked down the corridor. Save for a couple of blood specks on the walls and tapestries, it was as if nothing at happened. Skrag had lost two blades, still embedded in the male human, but he had enough hidden in other places on his person.

He considered ducking back into the shadows, just to be certain, but that meant the skullbashers and an angry Utkut could find him. Another plan struck him. He put away his blooded blade and walked further down the corridor until he stood looking down upon a huge chamber. The vaulted ceiling above him was painted with an enormous picture of the human gods looking down benevolently. Enormous chandeliers, each holding hundreds of candles, provided dazzling illumination.

Down below an orchestra played and many gowned breed-bitches and a few costumed males stood at ease, drinking and eating happily. The smell of food made Skrag's nostrils twitch and drew his attention to the tables below. They groaned beneath the weight of roasted fowl and pig. Platters of cheese and bread and all manner of savouries were there.

The twosome had mistaken him for a costumed reveller, thus Skrag simply descended the stairs and walked into the crowds of masked and disguised humans.

He helped himself to a savoury from a tray carried by a passing waiter, picked up a goblet of wine, and strolled through the hall, nodding left and right to those he passed. Perhaps if he could find the human leader, the man referred to as king, he might yet redeem himself in the eyes of shaman Utkut.

**********

Leprous Foulbreath looked up in astonishment at the onrushing horde of humans. Where had they all come from? How had they mustered such a huge force so suddenly? Had shaman Utkut underestimated their numbers? Certainly that was possible and, if so, just another example of the shaman's incompetence. Not that it would make any difference if he did not get out of their way.

He had spent the time since the invasion force had erupted from the sewer wandering lost through the twisting maze of alleys and lanes, killing any humans he encountered, and trying to locate Trolk Tul and the others. He cursed the initial blind rush which had separated them all. Now he was left to face this horde of humans without any sort of bodyguard.

He looked up and realised that he recognised the leader of the charge -- and what was worse, he recognised him! It was the barbarian who had interrupted his ritual and destroyed the Cauldron of Brutal Blight. For a moment, a vast righteous anger swept through Leprous Foulbreath. Almost without thinking, he summoned his powers and an eerie green light swept into being around his hands. He mumbled the chant that would summon destructive spirits of disease to smite his foes.

The humans did not even slow their headlong rush. Leprous realised that they could not. The ones at the back were pushing the ones at the front of the herd forward. If the leaders slowed they would be trampled. He kept chanting, desperate now to summon the powers which would protect him, knowing that most likely it was already too late. The humans were upon him. The last thing Leprous Foulbreath saw was a huge axe descending towards his skull.

**********

Girn grinned. He had recognised the robed goblin in the last seconds before the crowd had trampled it. It was the plague priest from the cemetery. And Girn was glad that it was him who had spit its head. Good riddance.

He was sweating now, both from exertion and the heat of the blazing buildings which surrounded them. He tried to ignore the screams of those trapped within and focus on taking vengeance on those responsible. He knew people were breaking off from their horde to help those in need and still they formed a formidable force even though it was mainly comprised of simple citizens with makeshift weapons.

Somewhere off in the distance he heard a crashing sound. A pillar of sparks rose skyward as a tenement collapsed. Girn knew that if anyone survived this, they would have their work cut out for them rebuilding the city.

They hit the slopes around the palace, and Girn noticed that many of the buildings here were intact. They were small fortresses as well as mansions, well protected by walls and household guards. Ahead of them was a force clad in the tabards of the Yeledor city guard. They had their halberds raised to repel a charge but lowered them confused when they saw that the mob were human, rather than goblins.

"Goblins!" Girn shouted. "There are goblin in the palace!"

He did not know whether the captain of the guard believed him or not, but he did not have much choice. If his men stood there much longer they would either have to use their weapons on their fellow citizens or be trampled underfoot. The captain made a snap decision: he barked an order and his men stood aside. Girn could see that the great gate of the palace was still open. It must have been left that way to allow the coaches of the guests to enter.

He rushed onwards, hoping that they were in time to save the oblivious nobles inside the palace.

**********

Rebus turned to look in the direction of the scream. Suddenly the balcony seethed with huge, black armoured goblins. Those were definitely not costumes, he could tell immediately. These were the real thing. Monstrous, man-sized goblins armed with huge scimitars and bearing round shields inscribed with the sigil of their evil god.

He saw a few of the guards, elite troops, move to interpose themselves between the guests and the goblins. They were cut down swiftly by the disciplined phalanx as it poured down the stairs and into the room. Slowly the orchestra stopped playing. The notes faded out into discordant echoes. Screaming guests in fancy costumes were herded towards the great throne dais by massive snarling goblins.

Rebus wondered if he should risk a spell, but decided against it. There were too many goblins for him to affect them all. Where were all the other guards, he wondered? Where were all the men who had gone to the battlements to look at the fire?

Then he sensed the presence of a terrible magical energy. Looking up he saw an intriguing goblin descending the stairs. With its clothes and staff it looked like an evil god come to bring doom to all mankind.

**********

Girn led the charge into the courtyard. Looking up, he saw a struggle taking place on the battlements.

"Quick!" he shouted to Hans. "Scour the battlements! Kill any goblin you find!"

"Right-o, Girn," Hans said, rushing towards the steps with some of the mercenaries in tow. "Follow me, lads!"

Girn glanced around at the mob pouring into the courtyard. They looked ferocious, ready to kill anything they saw. A number of them began to race after Hans.

"Where to now, barbarian?" Iskander asked. "My sword thirsts for more goblin blood!"

Good question, thought Girn, wishing he had an answer. Think, he urged himself. Where is the logical place to go? The shaman wanted to capture the king. Tonight he knew from Pazio a great ball was taking place. The logical place for the king to be was that huge hall that he had passed through the first time he had visited the palace. Now, if only he could remember the way there!

"Follow me!" he shouted, trying to figure out where to go on the way.

**********

Utkut strode forward across the corpses of the dead humans. At last, from up ahead he could hear a gratifying number of screams. It seemed that his skullbashers had discovered the Great Hall at last, and that the human leaders were finally within his grasp. Filled with a tremendous sense of his inevitable righteous triumph, the shaman advanced to victory!

Utkut paused at the head of the stairs to survey the great ballroom. He wanted to give the pitiful humans the chance to appreciate the full awful majesty of their conquerors. He wanted to savour his moment of ultimate triumph.

All eyes turned to look at him. He could tell the degenerate humans were impressed by his dignity and his presence. They always were. The majestic form of a shaman always inspired respect and admiration in equal parts from all who saw him. He glanced at the crowd and looked around to see if he could find his chosen prey.

In truth, he had expected to be able to tell him by the elaborate nature of his costume, and by the fact that he wore a crown, but he could see that all the humans present were garbed in strange disguises, with many wearing a crown of some sort, almost as if they had intended to thwart him. Well, well, he thought, they would see that a shaman was not so easily balked. He singled out one of the human males, a man garbed like some primitive tribesman.

"You, man-thing! Where is your chief leader? Answer me! Quick! " Utkut asked in his best common.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," came the reply. Sweat dribbled down the man's face. Utkut blasted him with a surge of pure magical power. Breed-bitches' screams filled the air as the blackened skeleton of his victim fell to the floor. Utkut selected another victim, a fuck-bitch dressed like one of the humans' goddesses.

"You! Tell me where is the chief leader? Answer! Now!"

The breed-bitch looked at him blankly. "What do you mean with chief leader?" she asked. Utkut's answer was to blast her with magic as well.

Another charred corpse tumbled to the floor. Utkut selected a man very cunningly disguised as a Clan Dagger assassin. "You! The chief leader! Where?" Utkut bellowed. The disguised assassin suffered under Utkut's scrutiny, its mannerisms remarkably like a real goblin.

"No, master! Don't blast me!" it cried in fluent goblin. Remarkable, thought Utkut. A human who speaks our language! Then he realised that this was no human. It was that damnable Skrag Nrak, hiding himself among the humans. Utkut looked at the assassin and licked his lips, thinking of how the assassin's folly had almost cost Utkut his triumph, remembering all the other failures Skrag Nrak had been responsible for.

This was perfect, thought Utkut. If anybody ever asked, he could claim that it was all a terrible error. He summoned all of his powers. Skrag Nrak screamed most satisfactorily as dark magic consumed his body.

Utkut gloated for a brief but joyous moment, then picked out another human. "You! Where is the chief leader? Answer! Or your miserable life is forfeit!"

The fat man garbed as a huge pink rabbit whimpered and stuttered. Utkut shrugged and blasted him. Yet more bones clattered onto the marble floor. It began to occur to Utkut that maybe there was something wrong with his strategy. The humans did not quite seem to understand what he was getting at. What could it be? Where were their feeble minds going astray? He had asked for their chief leader, after all. Perhaps if he asked for him by name? He singled out a cringing human, and pointed at him.

"You! Are you the chief leader called the king?" The man was obviously too overwhelmed by the sheer majesty of Utkut's presence to speak. He blasted him as a lesson to the others that they should reply when he asked a question. He selected another male, hoping that it would be slightly less witless than the first.

"You! Where is the king?"

The male shook its head defiantly. "I will never tell you. I have sworn to serve the King wi--"

Utkut yawned and unleashed another blast of dark magic before the human could finish its speech. He so hated it when they became contrary. An amazing race in some ways certainly, he admitted, but so stupid.

Out of the corner of his eye, Utkut caught sight of two humans muttering to each other. Slowly he swung his burning gaze towards them. As one the men straightened and one of them strode towards him. He pulled off his mask to reveal a proud and determined face.

"I believe you are looking for me," he said defiantly. "I am the King!"

Utkut was almost disappointed. He had been enjoying himself. There was nothing quite like the thrill of blasting lesser beings to bits. "Good! Good!" He said. "You will order your troops to surrender immediately and I will let you live. Fail to do so and everyone here dies!"

**********

Pazio shuddered as he watched the monstrous horned goblin stride through the crowd. Just the sight of it filled him with fear. It was the power it so obviously carried within it that was the scariest.