The Anti-Adventurer's League Ch. 02

Note: Contains brief fight scene which does involve a bit of violence, strong athletic futa and female characters, a fanged Elf, and gloriously excessive amounts of cum.

The Anti-Adventurer's League

Chapter 2

'The Guardian'

Two riders moved along a well-beaten path, amidst old oaks and sycamores, headed deep into the Ricketdown Wood. It was a very old forest, known for it's seasonal fogs, wild pigs which sometimes grew to the size of brown bears, and the mysterious order of nature-loving monks who were it's only permanent residents.

The two riders moved at the center of an ever-shifting pattern of outriders. Draped and hooded as they were in heavy cloaks, the two might easily be mistaken for human. On spying the outriders, one would not make the same mistake. Beyond the fact they were smaller and mounted on large mongrel dogs representative of a vast variety of breeds, they mostly wore nothing on their heads. Thus it was plain to see that the outriders were goblins.

The party had camped the night before on the outskirts of the forest. Waking early, they had been ready to ride at first light. Here and there the path wound between great moss-covered boulders, down into narrow gulleys, or across wide, shallow streams. It was almost four hours later when one of the outriders called out in pidgin Elvish, pointing out the landmark for which they had been told to look.

About five yards off the path, partially overgrown by leafy, creeping vines, was a cairn. It might have been overlooked, taken for a few random stones, if not for the eye-catching chunk of quartz on top. It was the size of a man's head and flecked with glittering pyrite.

The party cut North, leaving the trail. Their intended destination was a temple inhabited by the aforementioned nature-loving monks. It had quite deliberately been built some distance from any of the obvious trails that led throughout the forest. According to their information, it would be no more than half a mile from the gilded cairn to the temple. On open ground it would have been hard to miss, but in a forest, on uneven terrain, it would have been all too easy to follow trail after encircling trail, never managing to gain sight of it.

And the terrain only became more difficult to traverse the further they went. The riders had been told to expect this as well. The monks, adept at working with the plant and animal life of the forest, had nurtured certain vines and undergrowth which grew quite densely in certain spots. They had shifted earth and stones and dead trees to form steep-sided ditches and haphazard barricades. There was an unlikely and increasing density of animal burrows, and the party learned a new level of caution regarding where they trod when a goblin rider dropped through some leaves and twigs to make the acquaintance of a most unimpressed badger.

With a few elegantly hissed curses, one of the cloaked riders called a breif halt. She spoke High Elvish, like reciting some intricate and melodious poem, in a rich mezzo-soprano which under other circumstances might have been quite disarming. Food and water were taken. The mounts were rested. The unfortunate badger-baiting goblin, having suffered one good swipe before escaping, splashed strong wine over the bloody grooves left in one of his scrawny arms, then bandaged the wound.

Mindful of all the impediments, the two cloaked riders trekked the rest of the way on foot, leading their mounts. They moved up a very gradual incline, finally noticing small signs in the form of tracks in the leaf litter, disturbed earth where a midden had been covered over, and a small, crudely carved stag left at the foot of a tree.

As the land more or less flattened out again, the party caught it's first glimpses of their destination. The foundations of the temple were stone - doubtless cut and shaped from boulders found in the forest. The rest of it was built in the style of a log cabin, though a very large one with balconies jutting from a second floor. Some species of climbing vine lined the walls and coiled up over the balconies, embellished here and there with black-star flowers and bunches of crimson berries. In the area around the structure, aside from the scattering of old trees, were fenced in gardens, livestock pens and small outbuildings.

The cloaked riders tied their horses' leads round a tree before approaching too closely. The shorter of the two issued curt orders, again speaking in High Elvish, while gesturing with gloved hands. In response, several of the goblins parted from the group to reconnoiter the perimeter or check the outbuildings. The remainder accompanied the cloaked figures to the front entrance of the temple, where two more were posted with orders to stand watch.

The last three goblin riders followed their cloaked employers, still mounted on their respective mongrels, over the threshold and into a short hallway. Along one wall, pegs at head height were hung with fur cloaks and caps. Lined up on the floor below were pairs of leather slippers with wooden soles.

Pausing, the taller of the two walkers unpinned her cloak and hung it on a free peg. A long single tail of straight black hair fell halfway down her back. The goblins glanced up to regard the half-orc, half-human woman called Rika. She stood almost six feet tall, every inch lean and strong. She wore riding trousers and very practical fur-trimmed boots. On her upper body she wore only a binding of soft, supple leather over her breast, leaving her long, pale green midriff bare. A stout length of knotted rope served her as a belt, from which was slung her weapon of choice - a short single edged sword with a belly toward the point. A chopping weapon.

While her skin tone and physique - as well as slightly elongated lower canines which protruded up past her lower lip - spoke to Rika's Orcish heritage, in many ways she favored her human blood. Her facial features were mostly human, lacking heavy, brutal bone structure. While she sported a great deal of lean muscle, her build was not overly broad or stocky. Moreover, her face, breasts and hips marked her out as decidedly female.

Rika's shorter companion retained her cloak, not even deigning to lower the hood, until they had passed from the hall into a large chamber. There were no windows in the room, and the only light came from beeswax candles which burned on carved stone alters situated against the walls to left and right. In the center of the room was a sturdy oaken table laid with cut flowers and bowls of incense. Directly across the room was another empty doorway, apparently opening onto another hall.

Of more immediate interest were the two figures already present in the chamber. Human, and doubtless resident monks. Off to the right, a short, shaven-headed man sat cross-legged. His eyes were closed and he shifted slightly forward and back, murmuring quietly to himself.

In similarly plain woolen clothes, a woman moved about near the center of the room, sweeping the floor with a straw broom. She was young and attractive, with auburn hair pulled back into twin tails which were bound with crisscrossing twine. Upon spotting her, one of the goblins produced an impressively lascivious hiss of approval.

After which several things happened in a very short span.

Lucianna Tepeshtiri drew back the hood of her cloak, revealing raven hair bound up in an elaborate knotwork of plaites and loose sheafs, fine Elvish features and the pointed ears to match, and skin too alabaster white for even the fairest elf. Her eyes were a brilliant blood red which seemed almost to glow in the dimness of the room.

Noticing the unanounced visitors, the young woman jumped, figuratively, and gave a short, sharp, and literal cry of surprise. Thusly were the meditations of the seated monk disturbed. He looked around in time to see Rika closing the distance between them with an air of purpose. As the man began to rise, before he could fully gain his feet, Rika's left fist hooked in to connect with his jaw. He crumpled and sprawled, limp and unconscious.

Meanwhile, the goblins trotted their mounts into the room. Two moved around the table, one to either side, while the third remained nearby the woman giving the orders on this mission - the Elvish blood-sucker.

"Bind and gag them. You can play with her later. First we find the apothecary and get what we came for." Lucianna ordered.

Before they had a chance to follow them, however, the young woman grasped a leather cord which hung about her neck. She drew from down the front of her top a wooden whistle. Lucianna bared her fangs in a silent snarl as the girl blew three piercing notes.

"Perhaps you could obey my orders now. Before that creature authors invitations to allied persons lying even beyond earshot of that infernal instrument." the vampire spat, falling into common Elvish in her anger.

The goblins followed the girl as she backed toward the doorway behind her. Before they had quite gotten close enough to grab her, the mongrel-riders abruptly reigned in their mounts. Their eyes, looking past her, grew wide. The girl was so surprised and confused that she actually stopped backing away for a moment. Then she felt a large hand settle on her shoulder, and realized why her would-be assailants had paused. The stress of imminent danger then at odds with the sudden feeling of relief made her knees weak.

"Go now, Merris. Tell the Abbot of our unexpected guests. He should instruct the others to stay clear. I will tend to matters here." The figure behind the girl spoke with a voice which was deep, resonant, and yet seductively feminine. She spoke the common tongue of the region with a distinctly far-Northern accent.

"Cowards," Rika barked at the now-quaking goblins, drawing her blade, "I'll cut you muck-grubbing knee biters down on my way to-"

The newcomer stooped, lowering her head, to enter the room. She half turned and gently but firmly propelled the girl, Merris, into the hall behind her. The goblins took this as their cue to wheel their mounts and flee.

The one rider, clinging low to his mount, managed to dart past Rika without suffering the violence she had intended. The rider who had hung back near the vampire turned in time to preceed his compatriot, and both of them surged past Lucianna while she came to grips with the appearance of their opposition.

It was what Southerners called a Northern Troll. Northmen had a different name for them. They were an intelligent race - nothing like the semi-feral beasts called Trolls in the South. They had been given the name only because they seemed to share the regenerative capacity of said beasts.

Beyond that, they were a bit like a mix of humans, elves, and orcs. This one stood at least a full head taller than Rika. In fact, in the same way that Lucianna was built a scale larger than the goblins, and Rika a scale larger than Lucianna, this 'Troll' - lean, strong and attractive - was Rika's body type, scaled up.

Her straight black hair was pulled back, hanging in two arm-thick tails, constrained by bronze rings spaced along their lengths, with a last ring held knotted in the end of either tail. These last rings hung behind the woman's knees. A few loose strands hung from where a pair of unusually curving horns, similar to rams horns, curled out around her head from high on her brow.

The horned beauty was dressed in a manner which was perhaps considered normal amongst her own kind. Not only did she go topless, full breasts bouncing free, but the sum total of her compromise with the social nicities of clothing was a suede leather breechclothe. Here and there her smooth, yellow-ochre skin was tattooed with runes of faded blue.

Given all else, one might excuse the two agents of the Anti-Adventurer's League for failing to make special note of the considerable bulge in the she-troll's breechclothe. Rika, at least, was busy noting that their opposition lacked not only clothing, but weapons of any kind.

Rika decided to retake the initiative, but Lucianna was faster. Her right hand darted out, snake-fast, and caught the last fleeing goblin by the neck. Easily wrenching it from atop it's bounding mount, she took a step forward and threw the astonished would-be deserter bodily.

With deceptively fluid movements, the she-troll swatted the screaming goblinoid projectile one-handed, sending it careening away to strike a wall and fall, silent. For a seasoned fighter like Rika, it was enough to serve as an opening. Lunging, the half-orc brought her blade down in an arc to bite deep into the nearer of the troll woman's thighs. The motion came to a juddering halt when the edge struck bone.

The towering troll turned a scowl toward the half-orc. She did not, however, hesitate a moment in swinging a hammerfisted blow at Rika's head. And she moved faster than anyone that size had a right to. It was only by leaving her sword where it was and twisting her body into a sort of backward barrel-roll that Rika was able to avoid being brained. She had little doubt that if the blow had connected, it would have put her to sleep, if not killed her outright.

Instead of pursuing an attack of opportunity, the troll seized the handle and with a grunt, unceremoniously jerked Rika's blade free of her thigh. A few rivulets of blood trickled down her leg. Despite the depth and breadth of the gash, the blood trails hadn't even reached her knee when the bleeding stopped, the wound already knitting and drawing together. Having kept her eyes moving, she was not taken unawares when Lucianna approached, hopping nimbly onto the table.

The troll swung Rika's sword in a flat arc. The table beneath Lucianna raised her to a comparable height, and the slash came rushing in at chest height. The vampire ducked the swing, then leapt, claws and fangs bared. If she could put out the beast's eyes, perhaps...

It became clear, several dizzy, painful moments later, that she had underestimated the troll woman.

As the sword was still shearing through the course of it's arc, and Lucianna was still shifting forward to leap, the great, bronze skinned guardian spun on one foot. Her other leg lashed out backward, pistoning her heel into Lucianna's chest. The little vampire was launched clear back into the hallway behind, sailing fully fifteen feet before landing in a tumbling tangle of hair, limbs, and fluttering cloak.

When she had righted herself, and the disorientation had passed, Lucianna pushed loose hair back from her face and growled a string of old Elvish curses she hadn't used in decades. Clearly she'd fallen to hubris. Too accustomed to being the strongest person in a room, or the fastest. Usually both. And she certainly wasn't accustomed to fighting anything with a capacity to heal and shrug off wounds comparable to her own.

Shying away from daylight filtering in from the entranceway, Lucianna moved slowly back from whence she'd been launched. She winced as broken ribs and bruised organs repaired themselves. Maybe she should give it up. Offer to leave peacefully. Collect Rika and get the hell out of here. Assuming Rika was still alive.

Rika's voice came to her, as she approached. Entering the room, Lucianna was greeted by a strained cry. It was the half-orc's voice, but it didn't sound quite right. Didn't sound like a cry of pain, exactly.

What she saw in the room made lucianna consider the possibility that her earlier kicking and subsequent crash landing might have scrambled her brain. Or left her unconscious, and this was a most unusual dream.

Rika was on her back on the table, the troll holding her down with one hand on her throat. Her other hand held one of the half-orc's pale green thighs. Neither Rika's clothes, nor the troll's loinclothe were in evidence. Extending from lean ochre loins to hang in the air, casting a shadow at least a foot long on Rika's midsection, was a tremendous, throbbing cock.

"That's it," the apparently hermaphroditic she-troll spoke calmly - almost kindly, "Don't fight. Save your energy, Fierce One. The wicked must be shown the error of their ways. This way is so much better than the others."

Rika gripped the forearm above the troll's restraining hand tightly, but didn't struggle. The troll shifted, the table legs scuffed the floor, and Rika gasped. Lucianna blinked, confused. If the troll's monstrous man-meat was bobbing in the air above Rika's tummy, why was she-

Lucianna took a couple steps closer, unable to resist her curiosity. The she-troll looked up, gave her a small, genuine smile, and drew her hips back. She had to half turn in order to provide herself enough space, but finally a second, twin shaft slid fully free of Rika's stretched and dripping snatch. The usually cool, composed elf goggled dumbly at the vertically stacked pair of pricks. The lower sprung up as it was released, bouncing the upper shaft so that the swollen glans, peaking out of it's foreskin, slapped against the she-trolls tummy. A thin, gleaming strand of Rika's juices stretched between the two rods.

Lucianna swallowed hard. On the table, Rika frowned angrily up, but a dark, bruise-like blush rose in her cheeks.

"I am called Fear-Horner. It means 'Four-horned' in your tongue." the she-troll explained.

Lucianna's eyes darted up to Fear's face for a moment before dragging themselves back down to her almost identical endowments.

"Uh..." In an unprecedented reversal, the vampire found herself enthralled and unable to look away.

The she-troll released Rika's thigh and shifted that hand low to cup a taut sac which might well have looked at home on a bull. From there she grasped her lower shaft loosely and stroked, oh so slowly, causing her foreskin to slide up and curl over the rim of the head before stroking it back down again. The coating of Rika's pussy juices created accompanying squelching and then peeling sounds which seemed very clear and distinct in the now silent room.

Fear raised her hand away from her crotch. When Lucianna's eyes remained glued to her crotch, the troll spoke in a quiet, sultry tone.

"Elf..."

Lucianna looked up. Fear held her first two fingers, sticky now from the juices on her cock, in front of her lips. When she had the little vampire's attention, she slid the two fingers between her full lips to suck them clean. When she had finished, she reached down again and casually gathered both her shafts, barely able to hold them pressed together with her fingertips and thumb.

"You want to be punished too... don't you?" the troll asked, making it sound as if she were uncertain, but hopeful.

Lucianna took a shuddering breath. She let her gaze wander down, over full breasts, washboard tummy, the hints of a small patch of soft black hair, and two purple-red cockheads pressed one above the other. She felt herself roll her lower lip back so that the tips of her fangs grazed the soft, plump flesh. Just then a big fat bead of pre-cum welled up on the tip of Fear's lower member, and Lucianna felt the last of her restraint quickly evaporating.

It was a secret she had never shared with anyone. As a vampire, blood was more than food to her. There was a certain aphrodisiac effect that came with good blood. A certain fetishistic aspect to the idea of bathing in blood, or licking it from another's body. But there was one thing which, for Lucianna, gave a much stronger thrill. The taste, the smell, the feel of it. In her mouth, her other holes, or all over her naked porcelain body. Her one true fetish was for hot, fresh loads of cum.

Better judgment out the window, Lucianna slowly approached. She moved well within arm's reach, but stopped short of lowering herself to indulge her fetish. As she moved closer, the she-troll deftly scooped up the glistening bead of fluid with a fingertip. Fear raised the hand between them, bringing that fingertip painfully close to Lucianna's lips, only to then draw it back.