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Aurion Ch. 01

By: luciusgrey



Have mercy on me, this is my first story of any kind, let alone first posting on Literotica. I am only now really developing an interest in various Fantasy topics and Worlds as I spent my youth as a Jock and adulthood as a Marine. I hope you enjoy this story and I hope to progressively improve as the parts add up. Also, I have started a story in mind about a hostile take-over and uniting of the various gangs and factions that comprise the Los Angeles underworld. Glad to hear any constructive thoughts and willing to implement suggestions, if you find it worth your time. Thank you! Enjoy!

*****

The man awoke to soft sunshine on his face. He was lying amidst a bed of soft green grass, in the middle of a small meadow. As the man rose to his feet he realized that he had absolutely no memory of how he came to be at that place, nor memory of anything at all before waking in that field moments before. 

His name was Michael, that much he knew, though he had no idea how. Michael knew he was a Warrior of some kind. Even if he hadn't inherently known as much, his outfit was obviously a dead giveaway. Yet, somehow, any observer would tell you that the title of "Warrior" seemed wholly inadequate. 

He had a face that was somehow hard and soft, kind and firm as well as exotic and aristocratic all at the same time. His alert eyes shined with an unnatural glow from their stunning Emerald irises. His black hair shined with a hint of blue any time the sun passed through it. His unblemished skin lit with a vital glow under his golden complexion, intense, direct sunlight causing a near imperceptible sparkle. His body naturally hairless below the neck, he kept his face shaved cleanly. 

His full body suit of scale armor clung to his body like a second skin, allowing uninhibited range of motion, the overlapping metal scales allowing flexibility as well as guaranteeing the any incoming blow from an enemy would be met with multiple layers of metal. 

The beautiful summer morning was rich with the sounds of happy birds and the smell of fragrant blooms as Michael made his way through the countryside, eventually finding a wagon path lined with ripe fruit trees. He carried on along the path at a pleasant walking pace until midday, at which point he sat under a nice pomegranate tree to enjoy the ripe fruit along with some peaches he had picked from trees along the way. 

The fact that the trees were still heavy with ripe fruit this late in the season was yet another indicator that this fertile valley had long since been abandoned by men. Michael

sat, simply enjoying the songs of the birds, the soft sunshine and cool breeze as he considered his options and his unusual situation. 

Before he was able to reach any sort of consensus, Michael heard the soft whisper of leather coming from the long green grass at his back. Since he doubted an innocent traveler would try to sneak up on him and he didn't think any of the local animals wore thick leather and approached men, he expected some sort of attack to come from the direction his back was currently facing. 

When the hidden enemy did burst forth, Michael was ready, and before the attacker could process what was happening they were pinned on their back with a long blade to their neck. 

It's an Orc, thought Michael. A female. A damned good looking female at that. He looked down below the fearful eyes and saw huge tits covered only by a leather band that barely concealed her nipples, and a fur loincloth wrapped around her hips. He slowly lowered the blade of his Falcata from her throat and asked, "What are you doing attacking me?" 

"Slave" she said. 

"You want to take me as a slave?" 

She nodded. "But now I am your slave. I challenged you and lost. Me and all that I have belongs to you. It is Orc law." 

"I hardly think I defeated you. I simply reacted more with quickness and surprised you. So do not feel that you are beholden to me. In fact, you are free to go."

The She-Orc looked puzzled for a moment before slowly rising to strong sandaled her feet. "I...free?", she asked. 

"Yes, free." answered Michael. 

The She-Orc grinned, her beautiful emerald green skin a contrast to her sharp white teeth, her vestigial tusks barely poking up above her lower lip.

"If I am now again free, then I am free to capture you. You will no surprise Talasa this time. I drag you back to Orc camp. You make good slave. Fetch good price or maybe I keep you. Human slaves are very prestigious. They say you're small pink cocks are no good for sex, but very pretty, you are, so I may try you once but Talasa need big cocks for pleasure-not puny pink worm. Come here pretty boy, no more playing around." said Talasa as she advanced to lunge forward. 

Michael laughed and snatched her ankle off the ground, flipping her and dropping her on her back. He then stepped back and allowed her to get up, only to drop her again the next time she charged with a sweep of his foot. Again and again Talasa charged forward only to be dropped to the ground, thrown or flipped, her anger and pride quickly turning to lust and respect for his skill and strength, more so with each round. After several rounds Michael even allowed Talasa to close with him and assume a wrestling stance. He simply smiled as they locked arms and she tried to roll him.

Talasa, for her part, couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. The man was like a solid stone statue chiseled from an enormous underground boulder. In fact, with the amount of force she was bracing from her legs and back and pushing out through her arms, she would have been able break a statue carved from an underground boulder, she was sure of it. Yet, he was not moving at all, there was no give. Worse, he was no starting to push back. As she tried to fight his strength she realized that he was still not breathing hard and she could feel his heartbeat through the holds her hands had on his upper arms. It was not even slightly elevated. She was wet. When did that happen, she thought. About the time I ended up on my back gazing up at that impossibly beautiful face with a snout full of a scent that was literally heavenly. 

Enough of this playing around, indeed, though Michael. He quickly flipped her, ensuring she land squarely on her toned abdomen and fluidly barred her arms and pressured her shoulders. 

Finally, ass up after being handily pinned face first on the ground for the seventh time, Talasa quietly said, "Take me. I surrender, Master." 

Michael smiled, "What was that? I couldn't hear you. Say it louder."

"You are my Master. I submit, I am defeated, all that I am and all that I have is yours. I swear it. It is Orc law."

"Just making sure", he smirked. "What is your name, girl?"

"Talasa, my lord." she answered.

"Talasa, I am Michael. Now kneel before me." 

She did so. 

"Tell me, Talasa. You were saying that human men have small cocks and only a big Orc could satisfy you" he said, as he unbuckled his belt and unstrapped the chainmail skirt wrapped around his hips. "So how big is an Orc cock, then?"

She looked up at him nervously, fidgeting. "About this big, Master." she said, as she gesturing towards one of the solid silver plates that linked together to comprise his belt. 

"So about five inches?" 

"Yes, Master. That sounds correct." 

"And anything less than five inches won't satisfy you?" he asked. 

"I'm sorry Master, I didn't mean..."

she started to protest in a panic, quite suddenly fearing the tales of ancient Human Mages that enslaved Orc females with powerful, cowardly sorcery. Some of the tales even said the cause of these horrors were often the Mage's insecurities caused by him having a small spear. So, said the tales, the Mage would go out seeking to enslave the largest, proudest and most sensual "beast" he could locate. It was often a beautifully voluptuous Orc that was fated to suffer his demeaning wrath, as the busty Minotaur cows were rare in the surface, the seductive and magical Fae were far too elusive, to kidnap at Amazon would invite reprisal so severe as to render the whole endeavor far too expensive and both the Elves, and even more so, the Dragons were too arrogantly powerful. 

"Calm yourself Talasa. You haven't offended me. Tell me, do She-Orcs suck cock?" Michael asked. 

"Yes, Master. Though very few can tolerate the foul taste of seed, Orcs often use a She-Orc's mouth for pleasure. I never enjoyed doing it before but I will do it for you! Your scent is unlike anything and you are something far more than beautiful... I do not even have the words, forgive me. So I may prove to like it! she said with a smile. 

"Well then Talasa, shall we find out?" he said, unbuckling the last snap on his armor and dropping his chainmail skirt. 

Talasa was completely silent, eyes as big as saucers as she took in the sight his hanging cock. It was WAY bigger than any Orc dick. WAY bigger than she would even think possible. It simply defied explanations. Even in it's limp state it was twice the cock of the biggest Orc. More than that it was smooth, covered in soft golden skin and shaped like a sculptor's masterpiece. The smell of it was intoxicating and drew her in, heart thumping, butterflies in her stomach and hands shaking, she couldn't believe something like this could be real. As the hugely long, thick cock started to swell and rise before her, she could no longer hold back and dove on it like a woman starved. 

Using both hands to hold the impossibly beautiful monster cock she quickly stuffed it in her mouth, the huge cockhead stretching her lips before they barely managed to close around it. The head of his cock alone filled her mouth and lewd slurping and sucking noises came from the She-Orc as she fellated the most beautiful male organ she could imagine, all the while sitting right in the cusp of climax without ever being touched. She knew that a hard breeze on her clit would be enough to send her over the edge, so intoxicated was she by the scent of her master's manhood, the taste of the precum leaking into her mouth at a steady rate, the satisfied moans he was making and the very idea of her Master's strength and unbelievable virility. 

She started trying to fit more and more of her Master's giant organ into her throat, knowing she was tougher, stronger and more robust than the weak human women that probably usually pleasures his cock, or worse, some stuck-up Elf bitch. Oh no! She was going to prove that only she could take her Master's cock and only she deserved it. The instant that she finally managed to open her throat up enough to slide just her Master's cockhead in and he groaned in obvious pleasure, she couldn't take it anymore and a large orgasm over came her without any tactile stimulation. 

As she thrashed around in orgasm her movements unintentionally pushed more of Michael's cock down her throat, causing him to groan even deeper and flash a brilliant smile down to her. His satisfaction and pleasure extended her orgasm as pride bloomed in her chest for the bliss she brought her Master, the only male that deserved her. He immediately proved himself superior in strength, speed, intelligence, skill and sexual attraction to any other male she ever met-and she wasn't about to let that slip away. Plus, she told herself, if he can give me an orgasm while I fuck his cock with my mouth and don't even touch my cunt, then I have no interest in seeking another male. 

She had approximately half of the giant cock worked down her throat as she bobbed on it and jacked the slobbery shaft with both hands when he said, "I'm close, beautiful. Do you want my spend?"

"Yes, my lord. Please, show me how much I please you. Give me your seed!" she yelled, diving back down on his cock and taking just the cockhead in her mouth while both of her hands rapidly jacked and twisted up and down in a corkscrew motion along the sluck shaft. 

"Uhn. Uh, here it comes Talasa. Oh, shit!" he said as the first blast of cum exploded in her mouth, filling it completely just in time for the second shot to push her mouth past overflowing. Thick, white cum burst from the corners of her mouth and splashed down onto her huge tits. She greedily gulped and swallowed thick warmth that tasted nothing like the slimy, sulphuric Orc spend she was accustomed to, but couldn't prevent the musky cream from gagging her and bursting out of one of her nostrils. At that point Michael pulled out of her mouth and proceeded to cover her face with the next long stream. As it drooped and hung off of her nose and jawline in thick ropes from her covered face, he aimed at her tits and proceeded to splash them with his next three large blasts, pooling in her cleavage and hanging off of the leather strap that she wore around her breasts. At this point Talasa exploded in a huge orgasm, be finally pushed over the edge by the taste, smell and feel of being bathed in warm seed that tasted divine and made her skin hum with warmth wherever it touched. 

Collapsing onto her back, her knees still bent out in front of her, Talasa was awash in the euphoria. As she opened the one eye that wasn't glued shut completely with spunk, and looked down at her body she saw her torso was covered with cum in the form of both large pools and thick crisscrossing ropes. She looked down just in time to see Michael kneel down over her now exposed pussy to aim his last three main cumblasts right at her mound. The first blast rocketed right into her exposed clit as her fingers blurred over it in rapid movement, sending her into yet another orgasm as the last two blasts completely covered her pubic mound and ran down over her thighs and hips. She was covered. There was more spunk here than a dozen Orcs could produce in a gangbang. The difference was this wasn't the foul tasting seed that Orcs produced but rather a soft, floral smelling semen with an earthy flavor and a slight musk. 

"Oh! I must've needed that!" He said. "So Talasa, do you like tasting me?". 

Talasa just gave a demure smile through her mask of cum as her tongue snaked out to clear her lips and she used a finger to clear the jizz from her eye so she could open it, before licking the finger clean. Gone was the arrogant, perpetually unimpressed Orc Warrioress. In her place was a smitten and thoroughly pleased young girl who just discovered what "Love" really was. 

As she lay panting on her back, legs spread and drenched in his seed, she took a moment to look up at him. Michael cut a glorious figure. His beautifully sculpted face framed by silky hair looked back down at her with a vital gaze. His form fitting armor clung to every curve and swell of his body, the overlapping metal scales appearing like a second skin. His fur lined cloak giving him a regal bearing, to Talasa he looked like some lost Prince of old. From his left hip hung a Falcata sword that seemed to be made, blade, guard, grip and pommel, with impossible skill from a single, solid piece of shining metal. The forward lean and flare of the upper blade subtle yet still offering an increase in swinging power. On his right hip he wore a Gladius short sword. The round guard, spherical pommel and ivory grip protruding from an odd harness that left most of it's blade visible. The blade itself appeared a glossy black from a distance, however on closer inspection it was clear that the blade was composed of a dull black metal with swirls of dull grey and shining silver in intricate patterns hinting at the sword's composite construction from multiple materials. Ancient Runes ran up the center of the blade in place of a fuller, written in a bright metal that reflected with a slight blue tint. A pair of long, thick bladed daggers with narrow profiles were strapped under his cloak in odd metallic sheaths. He also wore an Gorytos (combination bow case /quiver) over the cloak on his back that contained a solid black composite recurve bow adorned with a sparkling silver metal bowstring as well as fifty multicolored arrows of varying shape and size, some of which were clearly exotic special purpose arrows. 

"Where do you come from, my lord? The Human lands to the West?" asked Talasa

"I do not know, Talasa. I awoke on this morning with no memories preceding that moment." He answered. 

Talasa merely gave him a puzzled look and said, "Then, you do not know who your people are or where your home is?" 

"No, I suppose I do not. However, there are some things that I just KNOW. For instance my name, or the fact that I am a warrior. Also, I know my duties. Chief among them being to opposed and defeat the Demonic hordes that have ever plagued the Universe."  

At this Talasa's eyes widened and her demeanor perked up. "My lord, the Demons and their dark Orc slaves have been preying on the people of my land. The very purpose of the trip that brought here was to seek aid in defending our homeland. However the Plains Orcs, our supposed allies, turned me away." 

"Well then, it would appear that we are to be heading to your homeland."

"Truly! Oh, thank you Master!" Talasa exclaimed. She wasn't sure how any single warrior could help turn back the tide of dark Orc raiding parties, or the Demonic army they feared would follow, but his powerful presence made her feel calm, strong and in charge nonetheless. 

It was only then that she realized she was still laying on the grass, her soft face, oversized breasts and entire pubic mound covered with thick white seed. She cast Michael a seductive look and started rubbing her hands around her stomach, rubbing in the stripes of spunk that crisscrosses her abdomen. She also noticed that, impossibly, Michael's divine length was still fully erect. 

"Would you like me to take you now, Talasa?" he asked. 

"Yes, my lord." she said, as she started to move to all-fours to assume to only mating position used by Orcs. 

"No, beautiful. I want to see your face." he said, as he pushed her into her back. 

Talasa gave a puzzled look but complied. Her heart beat out of control as Michael kneeled between her spread legs and brought his divine spear to bear on her undersized opening. He beared forward as her little lips yawned and stretched under the pressure of the his huge cockhead. She felt a flash of pain as her labia flared before finally swallowing his thick helmet. 

"Oh! Oh, Master I've never felt so full." 

"Are you in pain, little one?" He asked the indomitable Orc Warrioress. 

"Yes! No! Just keep going, please!" She replied in a delirious haze of pleasure as his shaft was inserted ever further. 

To say it was a tight fit would be an understatement. Talasa didn't just feel stretched, she felt like her anatomy was being delightfully rearranged. For Michael, her almost painful tightness was divine. It took a good deal of control for him not to simply bury himself to the hilt in her impossibly tight box. 

Just as the overtaxed lips of overly full sheath were stretched to the tearing point, Michael's swollen tip firmly tapped against the mouth of her cervix and a huge orgasm exploded from Talasa's core. When she came to minutes later, Michael was slowly moving in her with soft, shallow thrusts. Almost immediately she felt another explosion building, this one fueled by the soft warmth and heavenly smell of of the semen that still covered much of her body. Thankfully too, as the large eruption of cum that covered her pubic mound aided as lubrication in their unbelievably tight fit of their union. At that point, Michael started to slowly quicken his pace, causing Talasa's second orgasm to almost immediately explode from her with a scream. Michael continued the steady beat his ever-escalating thrusts as she slowly came down. However, by the time her mind was back in her body, another was already building. Mercifully, Michael pulled out. However, he quickly flipped her over effortlessly and thrust himself back in, taking her from behind as she tried to work her way to her hands and knees. Just as she finally managed to make it to all-fours another explosion rocked her center but Michael still did not slow. At this point Talasa could hardly believe it. She had never achieved release more than once rutting with even the best of her fellow Orcs. She didn't have long to ponder this though as Michael really started to ram her. Quickly, she came again. And again. And again. When she finally came somewhat back to reality she had no idea how many times she had cum. Just when she thought that there was no way her overly sensitive and widely stretched self could continue, Michael said, "I'm going to cum." 


Aurion Ch. 01



"Yesss! Fill me up!" 

Michael certain obliged her. Roaring with a sound more akin to a Lion, he erupted inside her. His first jet against her cervix set off her biggest orgasm yet, causing her to lose consciousness and the mouth of her cervix to dilate as she was filled with an inhuman amount of seed. 

When she came to hours later, she was confused. She looked around at a little makeshift camp as the sun set far in the distance. It all came back to her as her eyes met Michael's and she gave him a blush and a demure smile. 

"Ah, she awakens! I hope you're alright, I might have gotten a little carried away. You didn't even stir when I carried you down to the stream to bathe you." He said. 

"How... you carried me? Where are we?"

"About three miles down the path from the place we met." 

Talasa nodded and blinked to clear the sleep from her eyes. She gasped as she looked down and saw the pronounced bump in her usually flat stomach. 

"Ah, sorry." He said with a terribly cute sheepish look, "Like I said, I got a little carried away. I must have pushed a bit too far in the heat of your release. It appears my seed flowed directly to fill your womb instead of being blocked by your cervix. It will eventually work its way out but I'm afraid it might prove an annoyance." 

"It's alright, my lord. A small price to pay for the pleasure you gifted me." She said with a sly smirk. 

"I surely don't mind, if you don't." 

"Do... Do I carry your child?" 

"I don't know. Though I would have to say the odds are very good that my seed would take hold. Would you mind if did? I wouldn't force you to carry my child..." 

"NO!" she said with a ferocious expression, "No one will hurt my... our child, least of all me." she said, holding her hands protectively over her sperm swollen belly, as if a child already grew. 

"Good. I wouldn't want that. I just didn't want..." 

"I am yours, my lord. I don't know how many times I will have to tell you before you believe me. You are unlike any male I have ever encountered and I find myself ever grateful to be in your hold." 

"Very well then, my buxom servant. At first light we will be heading to your tribe's territory. You should get some rest. There is no telling what lies between your home and our current position." 

Talasa wasn't really tired but he had a point. They continued to converse as things settled down and he added wood to the fire before settling in himself in his cloak under the impressive temporary shelter he had constructed out of tree branches, leaves and Pine needles. As they carried on with their small-talk she pondered much deeper topics. Or rather A topic. She had finally found her Lifemate, her true Mate, even if he didn't know it yet and she had no intention of allowing any harm to come to him, whether the attack came in the form of large winged dragons attacking in number or leg-spread Elven maidens attacking with their virginities. He was hers. 

:.

Michael smiled as he reflected on the only day in his memory. Talasa was more than simply beautiful. Somehow, he knew that Orc females were often ugly but nearly as often they were simply thick. There was a decent minority that ended up built like really tall voluptuous Han women with hourglass builds. Talasa, being a warrior, was without even a shred of fat on her unusually thin body. Her enormous breasts looked offensively lewd in just about any situation or adornment. However, her tall and shapely figure allowed her body to not be terribly thrown off balance by such large protrusions. Her shapely hips flared out from her flat, narrow and toned midsection. The skimpy dark fur skirt she wore just hardly covered the curve of her Apple shapes rear, thus it was obvious that even her generous-but-not-oversized ass was finely carved and highly defined, without even the smallest bit of unnecessary flesh. The leather strap that covered her nipples but left the tops and bottoms of her unnaturally large bust visible as the hung against her chest in a perky but obviously real display that would give a gay man the Spear of Longinus. He was indeed one fortunate individual. Normally he didn't condone slavery as a practice. However, somehow he knew that in this case to "free" Talasa would actually be an insult to her, no matter how he went about it. Even more, he had a nagging feeling that life in his company would be an improvement to the comfort and possibly even safety of her life. He decided that he would wait until he had a better picture of this world and her existence in it before he made any changes or went against the cultural flow of things, short of condoning a severe violation of his morals. 

These were but a minute fraction of the thoughts that ran through his mind as he walked besides Talasa, the two of them navigating the trail in the morning light. They had left the wagon trail shortly after arriving at the foot of the mountain range and now traveled along a footpath that was barely more than an animal trail. And if the animal droppings littering the way were any indication, it was primarily just that. Their passage was easy and the view was magnificent as they climbed higher and deeper into the mountains at a slight and subtle incline. 

Eventually the brush on the sides of the trail started to fade away and the trail gradually began to become much steeper. By the time the sun was at it's apex, they were picking hand grips and footholds to ascend the difficult path the comprised the only route to the Mountain Orcs' homeland from the lowlands that long ago were inhabited by Humans. Talasa was further impressed with Michael's climbing skill as well as the fact that he hadn't complained or asked to slow down once. Again, he hardly looked flustered and his breathing wasn't even a little exited. Indeed, he seemed much more preoccupied with the impossible scenery from their extreme death defying climbing perches. Talasa would've sworn that at one point, when they were hanging nearly perfectly upside down, she saw the gleam of childlike wonder and amusement in his face before she had to look away for her own handholds. It was as if Michael was rediscovering many of the simple pleasures and beauties of life. She had thought the same back when she saw him admiring the valley that ran before them, rimmed with blooming fruit trees. Probably why he's such a beast in the furs, giggled Talasa to herself, that or his godly spear. Well, probably some combination, thought Talasa. This time she wasn't able to keep her giggle internal and Michael looked at her and cocked an eyebrow.

"It's nothing," she giggled, a highly unusual sound for her, any who know her would attest. 

"If you say so. Here." said Michael as he grabbed her hand and pulled her up over the lip of the mountain face, at last. And not a moment too soon, though Talasa as she gazed at the sun preparing to drop off over the horizon. 

"My lord, we are now on my tribe's lands. We will be arriving at our central camp shortly after sunset." Talasa said, clearly more comfortable on her home turf. 

"Are you worried about my reception at your camp?" he asked. 

"I don't know, honestly, my lord. It has been at least fifty years since Orcs of my tribe interacted openly with Humans. There are many rumors and prejudices that my generation has lived with but never experienced. Clearly some of them are false," she breathed, looking at his groin with smoldering desire. 

"If it helps, I'm not sure that I am human. In fact In pretty sure I'm not. At least not a normal human. I might not have any memories from before yesterday, but there is much that I simply KNOW. I have no explanation as to how but somethings I simply know to be true. And one of these things is that a human, no matter how large in size or magically inclined, could come anywhere near my raw strength. I don't think myself unbeatable, but I simply know that like a Wolf to a Flea, I am more. I suppose, though, that even enough Flea's could drag down a Wolf. There is no shame for you, however, in being bested by me. I think you already know this but the situation is just making much sense to you. If it be any consolation, the situation makes even less sense to me. I can promise you, though, that your trust and service to me is not misplaced and I will strive to be worthy of it as long as you desire it." 

Talasa blushed heavily, her emerald skin hiding it to sone degree, but the purple flush that overtook her face and upper chest was impossible to hide. She was truly flattered. What was more, she never acted or reacted like this. The male gender as a whole had failed to seriously impress her. The main reason why, adult twenty-eight Winters, she remain unmated. What was even more unbelievable to her was that she found her True Mate. Something all Orc females desired and read about in stories and plays, but was quite rare in reality, especially the willful isolation of the Mountain Orcs. In a storybook that she had stolen from her brother as a young girl, Human stories being her Brother's favorite. In the story a dashing Human Knight in a great white steed had ventured to save a beautiful Maiden from a fire-breathing Dragon. In the story, she had read that Human's called such a connection that of two "Soulmates". She liked that term. 

"Could I ask a favor of you, Talasa?", Michael asked. 

For a moment she thought he was kidding or playing some game. However as soon as she glimpsed his face, the serious look in his eyes told her he was deadly serious. "Of course, my lord. I, and all my possessions, are yours to command."

"I would ask that you tell no other of my suspicions that I may not be Human. I feel the fear and distrust will be high enough as it is without them thinking me the son of some wrathful

God."

"Of course, anything for you, my lord. I will not mention your suspicions or any more-than-Human feats I see you perform," she said, "...like out muscling a large female Orc warrior without breathing hard."

He simply smiled in response as they continued along a winding path amongst a small forest that sat upon the faces of the mountains on the Eastern section of the range. 

"Not long now, my lord. Surely one of the watchers has seen us and sent word to my Grandfather that we approach."

"Your Grandfather? Is he the Chief or Head Warrior or diverging?" Michael asked. 

"He is the Chief. My Uncle is the Head Warrior." she answered. 

"So, you're a Princess?" 

Talasa simply blushed purple again and nodded. 

"Great. This is going to go well," he mumbled under his breath. "By Orc law, any Orc can challenge another, and if he wins, he get's all that person's belongings as well as that person themselves?" He

asked. 

"Yes. But most conduct themselves with honor and don't simply take everything with in their power to take. Even when one Orc fails in a challenge, the winner usually allows them most of their belongings and the arrangement ends up being more of one Orc owing another Orc a big favor, though it could be outright slavery if an Orc was cruel enough and cared little enough about the way his peers see him." she answered. 

"Ah. I see." he responded. "Anyway, I can sense it. We are almost there." 

Talasa gave him a curious look but nodded in agreement. "Indeed, once we break clear of the forest we will be near the entrance to our Laager. We circle the military wagons, the unused as well as the personal wagons of the Warriors in a ring around our camp, with all the Merchants and administrative wagons were put in the center among the tents." She responded. 

"I figured as much. I don't know how I knew, but I knew. It is because if your largely nomadic nature, am I right? He asked. 

"Indeed, my lord. We often move camp with the game or the weather. Permanent buildings like Humans of Elves would serve us ill." 

"Somehow, I can think of many such cultures and people. Most of whom base their lives around livestock. Usually supplemented with hunting and gathering as they traveled and moved about, though." He lamented. 

"Such is our life. It can be a hard one, that is certain. The strong fare much better and it is always a struggle for the weak. Often times even the average struggle and in war, as always, it is the strong who suffer. Though it has been many years since we Mountain Orcs fought an open, full scale War. We have stayed sharp out of necessity with all of the tribal skirmishes, sometimes even amongst our tribe when rival clans meet in skirmishes."

"A sad part of life, truly." Was his only response. 

As they moved along the Pine needle covered trail and the forest grew thicker he changed the subject, "What kind of game inhabits these mountains?" He asked. 

"There is much wildlife in these mountains and the plains below. It is said that Orcs have a better understanding of nature and our place in it than Humans do. As a result, we do not drive animals to the brink of extinction. In fact, there are a few species that have gone extinct everywhere in the world except these mountains. My tribe mostly encounters, in one way or another, or at least has to consider Grey Bear, Mountain Leopard, Greater Black Lion, Wolverine, small Red Deer, Blacktail Deer, Kingsbuck Deer, some of the last "Greatbeasts", they only live here and usually weigh well over a ton as well as having a height that puts their eyes above the height of a large male Orc. Their antlers are just magnificent. We also have many Aurochs, which are giant wild cattle, the large males often weighing two tons. Great Horned Mountain Rams are another animal that live her exclusively. We also have the largest Wolves here. It is thought that they have a large amount of Direwolf blood in them, as the abundance of Greatbeasts living here after going extinct elsewhere allowed the great Direwolves to survive much longer in these mountains. Eventually they started interbreeding with the already very large Grey Wolves inhabiting these mountains, producing the giant hybrid Wolves we have to deal with here. They thrive on the abundance of extremely large game, sometimes growing in excess of three hundred pounds and, in extreme cases, large Alpha males well beyond that. They are extremely smart though, and we treat them very well so they don't often harass and attack us like they often do in human lands. Maybe that is another reason our forest is so healthy, for I know Humans trap, poison and hunt the wolves in their land instead of simply accepting that losing livestock to wolves in desperate times is just part of raising animals. Wolves have their rightful place in nature and do much to keep the animals they prey on in good health and number, ensuring that any sick animal dies before it can infect others, a weak animal dies before it can reproduce and a stupid animal falls before he can prove a crippling vulnerability to the herd. The other predators as well, though the Black Lion and occasionally the Mountain Leopard or the Grey Bear were the only predators that shared primary prey in common. None of which, including the highly rate and unusually large breed of Black Lion which often weighed a half-ton and measure a dozen feet from nose to rump, were a match for a Wolfpack though. They are the Lords of these mountains as much as we Orcs are." She laid out for him. 

"Interesting. You say the animals in other places tend not to be so large?" He asked. 

"Not generally. Though there certainly are exceptions, of course. The Giant Crocodiles of the Southern Swamps. The enormous Golden Eagles of the Great Plains. The huge Greatbears of the Elven forests in the far West. But, aside from those species exclusive to our mountains, in most cases the animals in these mountains outsize their counterparts elsewhere. The Golden Lions of the plains are very large, often weighing as much as six hundred pounds, and though they are much more numerous they are not near the size or strength of the Black Lion. The Grey Wolves of the Great Plains are very large as well, most males weighing well over two hundred pounds, yet they are not near so large as our Mountain Wolves. And, of course, our giant Kingsbuck deer and enormous Auroch steers dwarf even the large Buck or Bull in Human, Elven or even the wild lands." She explained. "Of course, there are many more animals as well as many that only inhabit certain parts of our mountain range. Anything else will have to wait. We are here, my lord."

Michael could tell. They were just now emerging from the Pine forest to see the huge clearing on the top of one of the lesser peaks in the center of the mountain range. In the center of the clearing was a large wagon Laager with a multitude of yurts (a round tent-like like dwelling made from wooden poles, fabric and often times woven reeds or wooden pieces with an opening in the fabric at the top of the dwelling for smoke to escape) in the center with wagons spread amongst them and throngs of people moving amongst them in their nightly routines. There was an opening in the wagons at the front that acted as a gateway, with a large

Orc standing at guard on each side and a row of sharpened wooden stakes situated as rows on "X"'s meant to be dragged across the mouth of the entrance in times of danger. Their stone complexions blanched the instant Michael and Talasa entered the light cast by the torched mounted on poles on either side of the path leading to the entrance. 

"L... La... Lady? ...?" Asked the younger and larger of the two sentries. 

"Yes, Akhal. It's me, Talasa." She responded. 

"Of course. Apologies, my lady." 

"Apologies? For what, Akhal?" She teased. 

"I... Uhm..." He started. 

"I'm just teasing you Akhal." She soothed. 

"My lady, may I ask? Did you capture this Human? He appears very impressive." He stated, confident the "Human slave" could not understand the Orcish language. 

"No." Was her simple response as they walked past and entered the camp. 

"I meant to ask you about that," she mentioned, " how can you speak my language? Or do you not remember?" 

"I can't remember the How or the Why but I do know that all language sounds the same to me. So, I guess, technically I'm not speaking Orcish." He explained, as people started to take notice of their presence. The returned daughter of the Prince walking with the unbelievable sight of an impossibly beautiful Human warrior. Several mothers quickly ushered their pointing children inside while others simply gaped, their eyes like saucers as the pair made their way towards the Chief's huge yurt. The fact that the Human man walked with his chin held high, exuding obvious strength and confidence, simply served to further their bafflement. Unsurprisingly, the reality of the situation wasn't a scenario that any of them allowed for. 

The two very large Orcs standing guard outside the Chief's yurt did slightly better at concealing their stunned reactions to Michael's presence, though by then rumors of a human warrior in camp had already buzzed by them. As they both inspected him, he decided to do the same. After all, it'd be a good idea to get a sense of what Orc warriors are like, and these two were obviously some of the elite. Being members of the Chief's Personal Guard meant that they were not just bigger and stronger but better armed and armored than the average Orc warrior. Michael estimated them at about 6'10", their denser muscle, thicker bone and leathery skin giving a lean weight of maybe 340 lbs, about fifty or sixty pounds heavier than a Human man of the same height and build would be. It was obvious when looking at the two that they were twins. Both appeared to be in their early twenties and had light grey skin. 

While it was immediately obvious that the Mountain Orcs weren't the most artistic of blacksmiths it was also obvious that there was no shortage of iron here in their home range. The two guards were adorned in matching steel breastplates, long swords hung from baldrics, heavy bearded battle-axes were strapped to their backs, in their left hands they held large, round steel shields and in their right hands they held spears with leaf-shaped steel spearheads. Their steel helmets obscured their foreheads as well as their cheeks and nasal, giving them an even more fearsome appearance. Their torsos, underneath their breastplates, were covered with long sleeved chainmail tunics that hung down to their thighs. Thick gloves of boiled leather and iron studs covered their knuckles and hands. 




Aurion Ch. 01



"I'm here to see my Grandfather," she said, unimpressed by the two heavyweights. 

"Of course, my lady." They echoed, their eyes both flashing to Michael in warning before parting to allow them passage. 

The entered the Chief's tent as some sort of council meeting was already underway, most of the tribal leaders, advisors and clan heads being present. Upon their entrance, all eyes flicked to them and every action and conversation ceased quoted suddenly. 

"Hello Grandfather." Talasa said after a moment, breaking the awkward silence. She spoke to an older looking Orc who was large, but not the largest Orc in the room. However, unlike some Orcs, his eyes contained the spark of wary intelligence as his eyes quickly roamed over Michael. He sat on a large throne chair made from the carved bones of various Greatbeasts and obviously very old. To his left was another old Orc dressed in dark blue and grey ceremonial robes with a leopard pelt hanging from his shoulders and Obsidian and Silver jewelry on his fingers and neck giving Michael a shocked but disapproving glare. On his right was a large warrior with customized armor and an enormous broadsword, he looked at Michael with a measuring stare. 

"Hello dear, it is good to have you back with us. I see you bring company with you. I assume this is a human you took as a slave?" He responded. 

"No, Grandfather. I happened upon this human in my travels. His name is Michael. I challenged him with the intention of capturing him but he bested me honestly, in unarmed combat, multiple times. It is I who am his slave." She stated without shame. 

There was immediately a huge outburst of protesting voices that were almost immediately cut off by the Chief bellowing, "Leave us!". All the Orcs in the room immediately complied, leaving Michael, Talasa and

the Chief alone in his grand yurt. 

The chief looked to Michael and said, "What do you have to say about this?".

"I don't understand," Michael said with a puzzled look. "everything she said truly happened."

"I don't doubt that" said the chief, "I simply thought you might have something to add." 

"I did not seek to capture Talasa, it simply occurred. I am not from this land and I found myself in her path purely by chance." Michael responded. 

"You do not hail from the Human lands to the

South? Where are you from then?" Asked the chief. 

"A land far from here. It has yet to be discovered by the people of this land. I do not even know how I ended up in this land. I suspect I was wounded and lost in the course of a battle, as I awoke wearing battle armor with a blank spot in my memory." 

"Interesting. There hasn't been a human in this land in something like fifty years. You are sure to cause quite the stir. I'm afraid you may be met with more than a lite suspicion as your timing is less than ideal. We have been suffering increasing raids from the dark Orcs to the Northeast. Our Wisemen are sure that the raids are just preparation for a whole scale invasion by the dark Orcs and their Demonic masters. There has also been an increase in Demonic beast and monster sightings. As such, you may not be greeted with the warmest welcome." The chief warned. 

"Thank you, Chief." Michael answered. 

"Koran. If my granddaughter is going to be bound to you, I would have you call me Koran." The chief insisted. 

"Koran, then. I am Michael, it is an honor to meet you." 

"Indeed, I would say the same, mysterious warrior. I would let you get settled. If there is anything you need, I am sure my granddaughter or her maid will fetch it for you. Will you be staying in Talasa's yurt or establishing one of your own?" Koran asked. 

"For now, I think we will just stay in Talasa's furs. At least until we know what we plan to do." 

"Very well. Also, I should warn you, you are likely to receive a few challenges. My granddaughter is very desired among Orc men and she has easily beaten all who have challenged her in the hopes of winning her. Many will have a hard time accepting the fact that she has a Human master. What is more, my eyes and my nose tell me that she is obviously more than happy with your arrangement. Frankly, it's hard for even me to believe. I never thought I would see her so blissfully content and clearly impressed with any male." 

Using the opportunity to speak up, Talasa said, "It's true, Grandfather. I can scarcely believe it myself but he is everything and more that I could ever want in a male. I already count myself fortunate." 

"It us a rare thing, such a quick connection, but I can see the worship in your eyes. As such, I am inclined to believe you. Either way, you must rest. You are free to go."

The two of them bowed respectfully and walked out of the chief's yurt. The crowd gathered outside stared at the pair in a mix of disbelief and suspicion as they worked their way over to Talasa's yurt, which wasn't far from the chief's. 

They quickly ducked into her yurt before they any could engage them in conversation, so neither of them noticed they cold blue eyes that monitored their progress and had done so since before they even entered camp.

Talasa's maid, Rea, was startled as the pair entered but quickly rose to embrace her mistress. "Rea, it's good to see you!" Talasa said, stepping back. "This is Michael, he is our master now. You should be as proud to serve him as I am."

Rea's eyes quickly ran over Michael's sculpted form, her breath catching in her throat, she quickly bowed and scurried back. "Master." She quietly said in a deferential tone. 

"Why don't the two of you help me with my armor?" Michael suggested. 

"Of course, my lord."

"Yes, master." 

They replied as they started to search for the release latches and buckles. Michael unsnapped his sword belt and removed his bow and arrows on his own, setting them down next to the pile of furs used as a bed. 

"I'm sure we are both quite tired and you are probably quite sore, so we will probably refrain from having too much fun tonight." He said. 

"Yes, my lord, I am indeed very sore. However, Rea here would be happy to be at your service." Talasa said, Rea meanwhile simply blushed furiously and gave a terribly cute smile as the two of them sank down to remove the greaves that protected his shins.  

"I'll have to keep that in mind, my lovely Orc lass." quipped Michael with a silent wink at Rea, who was herself quite shapely and curvaceous. The fact that she was much shorter than most Orc females only enhanced the look. Her short black hair framed a deceptively innocent face, though there was certainly a hint of the devil in those eyes. 

As the the two She-Orcs finished removing his armor, Michael plopped down on the furs with a sigh, "At ease, ladies." He said, when they simply looked at his lounging form with expecting expressions. 

Talasa and Rea both quickly payed down on both sides of Michael, eagerly snuggling into his sides only to realize that he was already lightly dosing. They both simply shrugged to each other and closed their eyes, resting their heads against their new master. 

It was only a couple hours later when Michael awoke suddenly, fully rested. As he extricated himself from the pile of limbs, breasts and fur he couldn't put his finger on the sensation that woke him. 

He quietly exited the tent, careful to not wake Talasa or Rea. The night sky was full of stars yet the moon was notably absent. He made his way through the subdued camp as to the outer wagons that ringed the encampment. It was barely a minute later when he said, "Can't sleep?", startling the figure silently approaching his hear. 

"No. Sleeplessness is an old man's prerogative." Koran answered, crossing the remaining distance without the attempted stealth with which he had been previously attempting. "What is your excuse?"

"Sleep actually found me quickly, it simply wasn't long in its grip." Michael responded. "I do not know what woke me."

"I do sense evil doings this night. Perhaps it was the same sense that disturbs your slumber?"

"Do you speak in generalities, or do you particularly mention the dark Orcs?" Michael questioned. 

"A bit of both, I suppose. What do you know of the dark Orcs?" the chief asked. 

"I know they are slaves to Demonic overlords. I know they Harry your borders, raid your lands and you fear they prepare for an invasion. As you mentioned. Beyond that, I know little of the politics of this land."

"I suppose you already possess the relevant information. I have not voiced my concern that we may not have the strength to beat this threat. My generation, in the past, believed isolation to be our greatest defense. Now, however, I fear it may be our downfall. It will likely only be our destruction that makes the rest of Aurion sit up and realize that the entire continent, indeed the world, is at risk. Even if they realized sooner, few would be inclined to help the Orcs defend our lands from the invaders. Indeed, they would probably even welcome the time our slaughter would buy them." Lamented Koran, as they both gazed out over the forest surrounding the perimeter of wagons. 

"I feared as much. However, I have been pondering the situation since I learned of it. I have sworn an oath to fight darkness and purge evil where I find it, it is one of the few things I know at the moment. The fact that these dark Orcs are being led by Demonic masters puts them right in my domain. I begin to consider the possibility that I was sent here for a reason, one which may involve my inevitable confrontation with the evil invading this world." Said Michael. 

"So, you would help us? I'm grateful for the gesture and I'm sure you are very skilled but I don't see how your sword will make much difference." Worried Koran. 

"I have a feeling a may suppose you yet, old man." Michael responded with a wry smile, "but even if I don't, I intend to raise an army. Do not fret, I will not leave your lands barren of strong fighting men, even if they would follow me. No, I will gather men. Men and any other races that wish to defend their homelands by our sides."

"I wish you luck but I fear that such a thing will not be easily accomplished." Koran said. 

"I expect not." Was Michael's simple reply. 

They both sat silently for a while, simply staring out into the darkness. Suddenly, Michael tensed, "Alert the Warriors, there's going to be an attack, now! Quietly, go,

they won't listen to me!" Michael urged, at Koran's puzzled expression. 

"Are you sure...?" He hesitated. 

"Yes, there is darkness descending on this camp in but a moment. Go!" Michael insisted, and the chief was off to silently raise the alarm. 

Michael himself quickly made his way back to the Talasa's yurt. He stepped in and quickly woke the girls as he swiftly strapped on his armor and weapons. 

"What is it, my lord?"

Talasa asked. 

"The camp is about to be attacked. There isn't time to explain. Just get your weapons and prepare yourselves for battle." He urged. 

Talasa nodded and quickly strapped on a belt holding two shortswords and a quiver stuffed full of arrows, after sliding on a long sleeve chainmail coat that was lined with thick black fur. Rea promptly secured a tunic made from thick, boiled leather covered in overlapping steel scales styled to look like a snake's scales. The garment left her arms completely exposed with the exception of a bracer on her left arm, in favor of her primary weapon. She smoothly brandished a beautiful longbow, made from smooth blue wood and taller than Rea's body, thin steel blades protruding past the nocks, mounted on the ears of the bow. Such a prize would be doubly valuable amongst the Mountain Orcs, as the blue Ironwood only grows far to the north, as well as rare, for the fact that Orcs in general favor thick crossbows, requiring less time to train and finesse to operate. A large quiver was strapped to her back, filled with several colors of fletched arrows. When Michael turned back to Talasa, she had picked up a large crossbow in addition to the composite recurve bow slung over her shoulder. 

"You ladies ready? Make sure you bring any silver or silver painted arrows, if you have any. Always helpful to have on hand when going against Daemon forces." Michael said. 

"I have some silver painted broadheads and a couple solid silver bodkins in my quiver." Rea answered. 

"Half dozen silver painted barbed broadheads." Responded Talasa. 

"That'll have to work. Talasa, I want you to send some people to carry any oil and pitch you guys have in camp to the outer wagons. Rea, I want you to guard Talasa and make sure she doesn't get herself killed." Michael said. 

"But... What about your safety, master?" Rea said, finally speaking up. 

"I'll be fine, love. I fully intend to get aquatinted with you... Much more thoroughly." He said with a wink, causing her to blush a severe purple despite the impending threat. 

Michael quickly ran to find the chief near where they had sat earlier in conversation. He noticed not a few dirty looks from Orcs who surely didn't trust his warning and obviously thought their chief in fault for listening to him. 

"Chief, I think it would be a good idea to tip these wagons in their sides. It would offer more of a barricade to the dark Orcs and whatever else they throw at us." 

The chief hesitated but eventually turned and issued the orders, to the chagrin of all those in earshot. Within moments, all down the line, wagons were turned on their sides as large baskets of the thick crossbow bolts favored by the Orcs were brought up along with piles of long thrusting spears to be used defending the make shift barricades. Most of the Orc warriors were already armed with longswords and battle axes. The women and noncombatants carried hatchets, hunting bows or extra crossbows. 

Talasa approached a moment later and informed them that the large vats of oil had been carried up to the outer wagon ring. "Good. On my signal, make sure they know to dump the vats over the wagons, but not light them until I say." 

She nodded and moved off, shadowed by Rea, who looked strangely confident for a maid in the middle of battle preparations. Michael was turning to speak to Koran when a warrior a few wagons down sprouted an arrow from the front of his throat, quickly followed by several more to silently fall to the arrows before the officers realized what was happening and ordered the fighters to take cover behind wagons and shields. 

Michael drew his bow and nocked an incendiary arrow before quickly standing up and loosing into the darkness. There was a visible burst of flame and shower of sparks as several small fires were started and the Orcs got a look at the enemy creeping through the forest around their position. On Koran's instructions, several arrows wrapped in oiled cloth were distributed before being lit and shot in a volley. The flaming arrows rained down amongst the trees, lighting branches, sticking in trunks, and striking exposed enemy fighters, many of whom burst into flames with an unexpected swiftness. The flames lit up the forest surrounding the wagon laager, allowing the first good look at their enemy. 

As expected, there were dark Orcs, but surprisingly there was also humans mixed amongst the enemy lines. However, the majority were tall, lean, thinly furred beasts on two legs with clawed hands and high ankles feet. Their general strong canine appearance was betrayed by the piteous whines and yelps that came from their thick fanged snouts. Most of them carried clubs or hatchet, though a few were armed with bows or spears. They were covered by nothing but loin clothes, the majority of their mangy, oily fur exposed. They were the Han. Foul, hated Hyena-Men. Faster, stronger and fiercer than men, with a sense of smell rivaling a Boar's. They were fairly simple beasts though, and in daylight their eyesight was poor. The Han were not demons themselves but rather fiercely loyal slaves to several Demon Lords. They gave an inhuman shriek and charged forward with a clamor. 

Koran yelled, "Archers! Prepare to fire on my command. Aim at head level and reload as soon as you fire. Now, ready... Loose!" 

The archers and crossbow men loosed their projectiles, their slightly elevated position allowing for a better field of fire. The first few lines of charging enemies were cut down by the wall of projectiles, though more took their places. Three more times Koran ordered volleys that slammed into the enemy before he gave the order to lower spears in defense of the barricade. Michael continued to fire arrows at an amazing pace long after the others had abandoned their bows to man the barricades against the Han who were suicidally throwing themselves into the spears and swords of the Orcs. Oddly, the enemy dark Orcs stood at the rear of the lines using crossbows to fire bolts at anyone who attempted to rally the defending troops, instead of their normal mad rush to melee. The humans allied with the dark Orcs were nowhere to be seen. 

Michael quickly ran down the line until he found Talasa directing the defense of her part of the wagon line. "Talasa! Send the order for the oil vats to be dumped." He yelled.

Moments later thick oil and Pine pitch was running, splashing and puddling across the solid rock ground as it's tide advanced down the slight slope into and amongst the enemy ranks, unnoticed. It was just then that humans approached the battle through the enemy lines, carrying large crates like litters. Inhuman snarls and powerful snaps emanated from each crate and several men struggled under the burden of each crate. Once they neared the lines, the men set the crates down, quickly retrieving their weapons from the tops of the covered crates. These men's faces and heads were covered in black wraps and their bodies covered in thick black leather armor with bronze torques covering the torsos and long, wrist mounted blades protruding like huge curbed claws. These blades prevented the men from wielding a bow or successfully using sword and shield. As a result, they fought with pole arms, their poleaxes long and heavy. Thrust like spears or swung like an axe, these weapons had the reach and power to carve even a shield wall apart. On their backs they carried a harness with a bundle of short javelins, equipped more like assassins than warriors. While each group of men quickly passed around a bundle of green plants, rubbing it into their clothes and armor, one of their number stepped up besides each crate before hefting his poleaxes over a shoulder and swinging it down onto the bronze chain securing the gate of each crate. 

The crate doors dropped and out of each box walked a nightmare unseen by all but one of the defending force. "Cerberus.", whispered Michael. "Rea! Quickly, you must go to the healers or herbalists and see if there is any Monkshood in camp. If there is, squeeze as much juice as you can out of the roots and use it to coat the heads of as many arrows as possible. Go no!" He instructed. She quickly was off towards the center of the camp. 

Talasa looked aghast at the beasts slinking forward from each crate. Even on all-fours, their heads had to be at least five feet off the ground. They were larger than a Direwolf but they had gleaming, curved black claws on their feet, intelligence in their eyes and movements more reminiscent of a large Feline than those of an oversized, jet-black wolf. However, the most terrifying aspect of their appearance was the fact that each of the horrible beasts had three snarling heads growing from their large, thick necked bodies. As they quickly moved to jump forward, Michael had Talasa give the signal and thrown torches ignited the oil and pitch that had worked its way among the feet of the enemy as well as being splashed, wiped and rubbed around other areas of their body as they unknowingly fought amongst it in the dark. With a huge "woosh" the flames jumped to life, immediately engulfing most of the enemy line and, more urgently, stopping the Cerberus' advance. More than half of th were consumed by the fire and most of the rest pulled back out of instinct just far enough not to burn. However, three of the three headed beasts made it through the flames and over the barricade to fall on the defending Orcs from within their line. They were all quickly surrounded and many fell, especially the youths and Champions who sought to gain fame and respect from the slaying of such fearsome, and better yet unknown, beast. There were many who landed blows but the skin of the Cerberus was much harder than a normal Wolf and their muscles much denser. As a result, the three intruding and surrounded monsters were often cut but seldom truly wounded. Michael put a silver painted, barbed three-bladed arrow through all three heads of the Cerberus about to rip the left arm off of Koran's Warchief that he had seen beside the chief earlier. As Michael moved away from the outer ring and further into the camp, he chances a quick look at the situation. 




Aurion Ch. 01



The burning oil had consumed or driven back any of the enemy who were close to the barricade. This meant that the remainder of the attacking force couldn't close with the tired and battered Orcs defending the wagons without being consumed by fire. Talasa had seized the opportunity to order around the perimeter for the defenders to rearm themselves with bows again before coordinating volleys against the exposed and vulnerable enemy, who were unable to charge through the flames and we're stuck on exposed ground with no cover and few shields. As the survivors were cut down, Michael moved to deal with the two remaining beasts in camp. He quickly stumbled on the first as it tried to bite a giant man with light blue skin and dark blue tribal tattoos. The man had thick cylinders on ice around his forearms, protecting him temporarily against the snapping bites of the three heads. Two more Frost Giant stood on either side, trying to overcome the beast using a long chain that had been wrapped around the beast's lower neck and a spear that was being used to jab at the face and eyes of the Cerberus to keep it at bay. 

Michael didn't hesitate as he ran forward and spiraled through the air over the beast's back, allowing his natural momentum bring his sword arm around in a backhanded swing as he barreled past. The blow from his Falcata landed perfectly between the beast's ribs to slice through, as though without resistance, to sever the spine and continue through on it's deep path, leaving a handful of intestines and a length of skin as the only things connecting the front and back half of the three headed monster's body. 

The three Frost Giants simply looked at him in awe as he casually moved as if such feats of martial prowess were simple, everyday occurrences. Indeed, they were. Michael simply gave them a nod before continuing on. They simple watched him go, still not quite believing that a human could cleave a large monster in half in mid leap-a feat requiring at least as much strength as they themselves poses in their blue, 8-10 ft. muscular frames. 

Michael found the last, and by far the largest, of the Cerberus in almost exactly the center of the camp. As he approached, Michael saw the monster snapping and pawing at a little blue skinned girl who was crying for help and sobbing underneath a pinned wagon that was seconds away from shattering under the Cerberus' onslaught. Michael called out to the beast and it turned away from the wagon to face him, glaring and shaping all three of its jaws while poisonous saliva dripped into the ground at it's feet. The three headed killer charged Michael almost immediately. Michael charged to meet it with a loud roar, moving with incredible speed that surprised even himself Michael brought his sword from low and behind him across his front in an invisible blur as his charge met the Cerberus' head on. In front of a now huge audience Michael's Falcata effortlessly sliced through both of the Cerberus' front legs causing the beast to slam into the ground neck-first, with all of it's body weight and momentum, instantly snapping it's spine right underneath the junction with it's three skulls upon impact. 

Michael looked up to see everyone staring at him in awe, many of themselves struggling greatly with many comrades to slowly drag down one of the beasts. He quickly moved over to the wagon to help the young Frost Giant girl hiding beneath it. 

"Are you alright sweetie?" He asks as she straightens up and dusts herself off.

Eventually she says, "I am alright. I miss my Mother."

"Where is your mother, dear? I'll take you to her."

L

"You can't. My mother...my father...both my parents are gone. I am fine now, thank you." 

"If you say so... Let me know if you ever need anything." He assured her as she walked off into the crowd. 

Michael immediately went to see if his girls were alright. Before he could track either of them down, they both came barreling into him, smothering him in kisses and pressing his face into cleavages. He laughed loudly as the two smothered him in affection, which he gladly returned. 

"I looked up and all of the sudden you were gone!" Talasa exclaimed. 

"A few of the beasts got inside the camp, I went to deal with them before any of the noncombatants were hurt." Michael responded, as Koran approached with a relieved look on his face. 

As he was about to speak, an Orc scout ran up and panted, "Chief, we've driven them back and the survivors appear to be regrouping a few hundred meters into the forest."

Before he could respond, Michael simply said, "I'll deal with it," and was quickly padding off on silent footsteps. Several minutes later the forest erupted in inhan screams and bright flashes of white light. Koran quickly held back a worried Talasa from running out to aid her lover. All the while thinking, who is this man?

:..:

The next day Michael and Talasa left the Orc camp, leaving Rea in charge of Michael's new holdings. After the stories of Michael's deeds in the battle spread, the jealously and spite boiled over. Several Orcs, who desired Talasa for their own or thought an undeserving Human hardly an obstacle, had challenged Michael, despite the warnings of the few Orcs who had clearly witnessed his skills or seem him march off into an enemy infested forest to return unscathed.

Michael tried to exhibit restraint and compassion but it was soon clear that if he didn't make an example of someone, he was going to have to put down half the Warriors in camp. When an extremely large and vicious Orc stepped forward, giving a lecherous look to Talasa before challenging Michael to unarmed combat, Michael obliged. When Talasa told Michael that the Orc was said to take part in heinous war crimes, but as his old and respected clan's head, he was more or less protected, the Orc's fate was sealed. As the match began, the Orc charged forward in an attempt to sweep Michael up in a crushing bear-hug, having seen his speed and skill with weapons. Michael, however, didn't dodge or even move out of the way. At the last second before contact, Michael's hand simply shot out, with a crunching thump it tore straight through the skin, tissue and ribs of the giant Orc only to reemerge an instant later holding the Orc's quivering heart before his severely confused face. After that, there were no more challenges. 

Now, the pair made their way through the mountains heading west toward the Human and Elf lands. They exchanged stories and bantered as they made their way down the trails and animal paths to the bottom, often glimpsing the exotic wildlife that made it's home only in those mountains. As they finally reached the bottom of the mountains, Talasa was in the process of explaining how a small group of peaceful Frost

Giants had broken off from the large host that came south years ago, waging an ultimately unsuccessful war against the human governed

Aurion Empire. The small group of peaceful Frost Giants had been accepted into the tribe of the Mountain Orcs, as their isolation served the Frost Giants as well. Before Talasa could go into more detail however, Michael stop her and pointed off into the distance. Now that they were on the open steppe it was easy to see a column of smoke rising into the dusk sky. It appeared to only be a few miles across the soft rolling hills of the mostly-flat plains. 

"Let's go. Be prepared for anything and keep your eyes open."

Talasa nearly nodded in response as she secured her beautiful black hair with a leather strap and the two were off at a quiet canter. Her beautiful golden eyes filled with resolute determination, Talasa had absolute faith and trust in Michael. It was curious to say the least. Whenever she looked at him though, she was amazed at her own reactions. Outside of his inhuman beauty and divine image, he simply elicited desire, loyalty and a burning desire to please. It made a girl want to seek his approval over all else before she even knew his name. It was like sorcery except...not. She felt the same desire even simply watching him sleep and it was such a pure and wholesome feeling. Sure, there was plenty of lust, but most of that was based on his scent, appearance and the knowledge that he has more Vick than any man should and his seed was divine in and of itself. No, her desire for him was more than lust. It was also more than service. She truly, objectively, had genuine feelings for the man himself (or whatever he is). The fact that her knowledge of him consisted of a few days of stories from an amnesiac should have bothered her, it just quite simply didn't even when consciously analyzed, though. His strength, his generosity, his lack of entitlement and egotistical bluster separated him from any Orc strong enough to challenge her and his noble bearing all served to separate him from her preconceived image of the male gender. In fact, her only concern was whether or not he would be interested in her for more than pleasure and companionship, both of which he proved to offer quite freely, never flexing his power over her or reminding her of her technical status as his slave. She wondered if such a beautiful and powerful being could even be expected to look open her as an equal in any relationship. This worry took root in her mind and soon she was wondering if she even COULD keep satisfied sexually, as multiple orgasms would have her out cold before long and he could last forever. Surely at least one of the other females he would take as wives or concubines would be able to keep up with him in the bed. As it was, there was still more than a fistful of cock outside her body when he buried himself in her sex to the cervix. Talasa quickly locked away these doubts and insecurities and prepared her mind for potential battle as they crested the last low hill between them and the town. 

:..:

Felix watched as the man led his Orc female, presumably his slave, through the burned out town. He was hoping they would simply move on without settling in more and more the longer he watched. He assumed the man was some sort of mercenary, possibly under the current employ of the forces that had invaded this land barely a week ago. The problem was the skill and confidence with which the man carried himself. He was worried that if it came to a fight, it would cost him several of his men to bring the warrior down-and that's before the Orc was accounted for. Several of the weapons carried by the man appeared to have been constructed with magical properties to his veteran eyes. 

Felix quickly sent word to the other retired veterans that had assembled to prepare themselves but to wait and observe, for now. All of the men lived on farms in the Rhyne Valley just to the south, rewards for fifteen years serving in the legions of the Aurion empire. It was been the way of the legions for centuries to settle wild, border or frontier lands by awarding plots of land to legionnaires at the end of their full service of twenty years (though in extended peacetime the Emperor often decreased it to fifteen years for the men of the file armies). 

Felix had been a Centurion, and a damned good one. He had led his hundred man unit for more than a decade from the front. Always offering any comfort to, living amongst and taking all the same risks as the men below him. Always an advocate for the common fighting man, he had managed to petition the Emperor's court to allow the veterans of his century to settle together in retirement, since most of the unit he led found themselves at the end of their service at around the same time. The court had agreed and he had been even more surprised that they had been given plots in the Rhyne, as it was a very fertile and beautiful land that supplied most of the fresh fruit and much of the fresh produce to the whole Northern Lordship. This meant that their farms would be both beautiful and prosperous. 

Life had been good. Most of the men had taken wives and many had children over the past five years. Even Felix himself was starting to consider finding a woman. That thought was put on hold though the moment word reached their homes that, somehow, a demon led army had made it south of the wall and were ravishingly the countryside. Even more unbelievable was the news that the Warden of the North had been defeated in battle on the walls of his ancestral castle at Winterhaven, both himself and his son and sole male heir perishing. 

Felix immediately called his men back to arms. With consummate professionalism they sent the woman and children to a cave system in the nearby hills, made sure they were adequately hidden, fed and protected before heading back to their farms and releasing all their livestock, harvesting what they could early and dusted off their kits. 

They had seen the smoke and known that the trading village at the edge of the plains a days March east was likely being sacked. Not long after they arrived, they had used the falling darkness to sneak close and set up positions around the village. 

Shortly after the mysterious warrior arrived with his servant, people started to emerge from hiding places. Mostly women and children, as the elderly hadn't been able to move fast enough and the men had tried to fight. 

Felix issued the order to be ready. He decided he would attack if the warrior moved to harm the village people in any way. However, to his surprise, the warrior immediately began to comfort and aid the newly made refugees. To Felix, it was a good sign, perhaps even an omen, that there was still kindness in a time and place like this. And from a man who could easily take whatever was left of these people's belongings and virtue. He was preparing to reveal himself, but not his men, to the stranger when one of his men sent hand signals down the line indicating an enemy was approaching from their right, the front of the village. A moments wait revealed a group of Han approaching with malevolent grind on their fanged faces. Armed with clubs, hatchets and makeshift weapons, it was clear that they were not the warrior elite, however the man and his Orc were badly outnumbered and after they fell, the helpless townspeople would too. 

Felix saw the Han leader step forwards and say something to the man who had interposed himself between the innocent people and the approaching Han. The Han leader laughed and started to say something but before he realized anything was happening, he was in the ground disemboweled and the warrior was amongst his men cutting and thrusting in what appeared to be lazy movements. A movement above him caught his attention just in time for him to see the she-Orc smile and remove his head with a shortsword. 

Felix couldn't believe it. It was over in seconds. He had never seen such speed or such skill. Not once in his two decades of fighting all manner of species in all manner of places had he seen anything approaching that. Worse, he was sure the man hadn't moved his lips to utter a spell or combat magic. 

As all this raced through his head he saw the warrior kneel down and whisper to a young boy who quickly came over to Felix's hiding spot. "He says you are welcome to come down now, if you so wish...", the boy said. 

Felix was already too shocked to do more than simply nod. He still was having a hard time digesting the fact that he had just witnessed a man cut down twenty something Han like it was nothing, often moving faster than eyes could follow. And apparently his men felt the same as they marched down in formation to the village center. 

"Greetings, my lord. My name is Felix. I am...was, the centurion to these fine men. We were given farms as a reward upon completion of our careers in the Rhyne valley. We came here in an attempt to offer any aid. We would be much obliged to be welcomed under your command. I have never seen such speed or grace..." He said, monentarily getting distracted before continuing, "...and as you are obviously of the noble class, I believe I speak for all my men when I say that, if you intend to fight the Daemon army, we will fight with you. Our homes and families are already at risk, though we have taken all possible precautions." 

"I would be glad to accept your service, as long as it does not interfere with your oaths to the Emperor and you only serve until this conflict concludes. You may simply call me Michael, my story will have to wait, though. Go, discuss matters with your men and see if they share your heart." 

It was less than five minutes later when Michael turned around to find them all kneeling, still in formation, with Felix at their head. "We have agreed. We fill follow you." He declared. In truth it hasn't exactly been a hard sell. To have seen Michael's speed and skill in dispatching his foes, when most generals never even bloody their swords. Or to see him helping even the worst off of the refugees without judgement when most leaders couldn't be bothered to even consider peasant's welfare.ore than that, there was just an inherent magnetism to him. It compelled one to follow and to be secure in the comfort of his pure presence. You simply knew he would protect you and advocate for you if you deserved it. It was s righteous strength born in a humble package and the feelings it elicited gave heart. 

Talasa simply watched all of this take place, ever more in awe of her lord. She had only gotten the chance to kill three of the Han, not including the leader that Michael cut down and she finished off. They were all just dead in the blink of an eye. It was only then that she realized Michael truly had been toying with her when they met. She hadn't seen what he was capable of, by a long shot. 

She considered all of this as they set off at a brisk trot about an hour after the quick fight with the Han. Michael had accepted Felix and his men. However, because they needed to move quickly, he took only those who could both ride and fight from horseback. Of the one hundred and thirty veterans, exactly one hundred and one had sufficient experience, as legionaries mostly serve as heavy infantry with only a few inserting as cavalry. 

A stroke of luck came in the form of supplies. Apparently the Han that had attacked the town had simply slaughtered everything in sight and moved on, which explained the decent number of hidden survivors who were now under the care and protection of the thirty legionnaires they had left behind. There were plenty of food, grain, horses and armament for all to be heavy supplied and still leave more than enough for the villa he's remaining inhabitants. Wherever they would go. 

It was one of those inhabitants that had told Michael of the abduction of the Lord's daughter. Apparently some barbarian chief's son had showed up with his war party just after the Han attack and rode off with the weakened and wounded Lady, who had taken shelter in the village after her home of Winterhaven was sacked and her father and brother killed. Apparently she had said it was only their deaths that had allowed her and a few others to escape. 

Now Michael was going to free her. Talasa thought he seemed especially angry about a human preying on another human during the hardships of war. She could also tell that it wasn't the first tine that he'd seen it. She wondered if he even realized why he felt that way, without a memory to guide him. It wasn't really relevant though. Nothing was going to stop him and if she was sure about any of the little she knew about him, it was that. 

:..:

They arrived at the foothills that the barbarian camp backed up to well before dawn. The Xia tribal confederacy were plains dwelling nomads who both lived and fought from the saddle. Their ever-moving camp was composed of yurts spread out in a roughly circular pattern with no walls or gate, as anything more than wagons turned on their sides in a laager would be impractical. 

Michael ordered the legionnaires to stay put and sent Talasa to disarm and capture the warriors sure to be posted in the hills overlooking the camp before setting off himself. He moved casually at a trot on the black stallion he had taken from the guards stables back at the town. All of the men had to choose horses that they knew were trained for war, as you can't just ride a normal horse into the noise, fire, scent of blood, shield walls and arrows of combat as it will panic as well as not know what to do or how to effectively help it's rider fight with it's positioning, angles, speed or even it's very teeth and hooves. The Xia train their horses to fight with their hooves by trampling enemies dismounted by their deadly lassos or rearing up and kicking out with both front and back legs when in the midst of a melee. They even sharpened their horses hooves to make them even more deadly since the Xia didn't use horseshoes on their mounts. They were equestrians from birth who specialized in breeding, raising and training horses like no other people. In battle, their warriors are all mounted, having no infantry among their armies other than men who dismount to fire their bows from foot instead of the saddle or their allies or subject tribes that fight on foot. Each warrior has three or four horses when on campaign, constantly switching mounts to keep them fresh and using his multiple horses to handle all of his pack needs, eliminating the necessity of bringing slow wagons or even camel trains. Because of this, they can move over one hundred miles per day for weeks, and without resupply. They carry dried meat, dry cheese and maybe a little rice or grain as food supply but they are also furnished with hunting arrows and fishing hooks to magnify their already significant ability to live off the land in harsh climates. 




Aurion Ch. 01



In warfare, mounted archery is their main weapon. Most of their horsemen wear thick boiled leather scale or lamellar armor which gives protection superior to what most believe. Their heavy troopers, called Cataphracts were covered head to toe with steel scale armor. Even their mounts were covered in the overlapping steel scaled set into a heavy silk and rawhide backing. In addition to their swords, they wielded large lances with two hands since their heavy armor allowed them to carry no shield. In the melee after the charge, the Cataphracts often brought out one-piece solid steel flanged Maces that battered and crushed through even armored foes. It was their job to charge the enemy after they had been weakened by storms of arrows shot from bows with armor piercing heads and shield piercing strength, often nailing enemy shields to arms and feet to the ground. Their fleet nature and fast horses ensured that they could stay out of their enemies reach. If the enemy sent horsemen out to deal with them, they simply rode away and after they had pulled the enemy horsemen away from support, they spun in the saddle and started loosing arrows over their horses hindquarters right into the faces of the chasing horsemen. They would cut into the enemy cavalry until they finally gave up the chase and headed back, but by then they were easy prey with their wounded bodies and tired mounts. The Xia light horse would then wheel and chase down the now fleeing enemy cavalry, who often succumbed to the arrow storm before the Xia even fully caught up. 

It was the way of the steppe warrior and Michael knew it well. He had no idea just how he knew it, but he did. He was also familiar with some of their ways and laws. He was actually betting on his knowledge so he hoped this would work. Otherwise it might get painful, to say the least. He knew he would've been spotted and an alarm raised already if it Talasa hadn't succeeded in neutralizing their over watching scouts. She was not happy to be left behind by him, though she daren't say so. He was betting whatever poor souls were up in those hills tonight bore the brunt of her wrath. 

As he passed through the camp, he attracted a few odd looks before the people realized he wasn't supposed to be there right about the time he had approached the Khan's Ger. The eruption of activity from the camp drew the old Khan outside. His face held a puzzled expression as he beheld Michael, before he crushed up with an iron will and summoned back his cold face. 

"Lord Khan, my name is Michael and I have come to offer you my aid for the coming storm." 

"We need no help and I don't want any from you in any case. Now, be gone." He dismissed, turning to return to his ger. 

"I assume you know about the Demon hordes coming from the north? I don't think the empire will be much inclined to help the Xia when they hear of how your son kidnapped the Lady of the North and heir to the wardenship for his own personal gain. No doubt he thinks he can marry the Lady and acquire her land and titles. However, we both know he would never be able to defend on keep his holdings in the coming invasion. Even if he could, there is no way the Empire will allow him to bully his way into ruling the North. That probably won't matter since any humans who do not unite WILL be slaughtered. I can see that you're a wise man and therefore I doubt that Im telling you nothing that you haven't already realized." Michael said. At the Khan's silence, he continued, "Order your son to release the lady and move your camp south to join in an alliance. I give you..."

"We want nothing from you! Who are you to come dictate our actions!" A voice rang out from the gathering crowd. 

Michael turned to see a younger man approaching with a face of petulant fury, presumably the troublesome Prince he had come to deal with. Behind him, in chains, he dragged a tall woman by a collar. Michael realized this must be the Lady. She was a vision. At over six feet tall but thin and toned, her slim build didn't prevent her from having wide womanly hips that flared from graceful, long legs. Her breasts were obviously prominent but currently concealed from view by the baggy tunic she had been forced to wear. She stared daggers at everyone except Michael, whom she eyed suspiciously. 

Michael flashed a brilliant smile at her and bowed, showing the respect due a woman of her station. "My lady, my name is Michael. I am honored to meet you. I offer my most sincere condolences for your brother and father's heroic sacrifice."

"Do not speak to my wife without my permission!" The Prince yelled. 

"She's not your wife. A marriage requires consent from both parties. Not to mention, a real man would never keep a wife in chains, especially one as strong and intelligent the Lady here. No, you are not a man. You are a petulant boy who will be the death of his people. And all because your ambition exceeds your ability." Michael casually replied. 

"You dare to speak to me thus!" the Prince responded. 

Michael just ignored him and addressed the lady, "My lady, you are indeed fortunate to have such an impressive male specimen desire your hand. However, I must still beg you consider my offer. I would be quite proud to have you accept my offer to become my betrothed," he leaned close and quietly said, "however briefly", before winking and clueing the Lady in to the fact that he would have no expectations and was simply trying to turn the situation to their advantage. 

"I'll kill you!" Shouted the Prince, reaching for his sword. 

"Then challenge me!"Michael's voice boomed, startling everyone there in it's sudden volume. 

The Prince sneered, "Very well. I challenge you for your life, your slaves and all your holdings. Now prepare to die!" 

"Very well. I accept your challenge. After all, I cannot allow you to doom your people. Not to mention the fact that only cowards prey upon their own kind in times of misfortune. You're nothing more than a weak opportunist. Now, cone show me that pathetic strength." Michael taunted. 

The Prince gave a shriek of rage and yelled, "Draw your sword or I'll cut you down where you stand!" 

Michael casually reached down and drew his sword. However, instead of taking up a fighting stance he simply layer the sword on the ground. Then he looked at the Prince and gave a cocky smile and waved him forward. 

The Prince bellowed incoherently and charged forward as the crowd got ready for a lengthy duel between their confident Prince and this mysterious warrior who appears from the plains in the middle of the night, wearing exotic armaments that they had never before seen. They were about to be surprised. 

The Prince, dressed in fur-lined silk robes lunged forward and swung his curved scimitar for Michael's neck in an attempt to decapitate him early. Moving faster than their eyes could track, Michael's empty hand shot forward with forefinger and thumb extended to the front. His fingers impacted with a sickening crunch long before the Prince's swing was even at it's apex. Immediately, the Prince froze, his body locked up and limbs not responding to his commands. He realized he couldn't breathe as his face took on a surprised expression. Michael took a pace backwards as the Prince began sway without the control of his legs. As his inevitable forward fall began, Michael swiftly snatched the Princes sword from his hands and planted the sword, hilt first, into the ground so it's blade protruded upwards-right in the path of the toppling Prince. 

A split second before the Prince was impaled on his own sword, Michael said, "I accept your defeat in this duel, along with all of your wealth, women and holdings." The Princes eyes widened as he realized this really was the end for him. He didn't have long to contemplate though, as the lifeblood left him. 

"It appears the Prince could not live with the dishonor associated with his recent actions," Michael said, looking at the still shocked Khan, "Lord Khan, you are indeed fortunate that you had such a son who would sacrifice his life to preserve your family's honor." 

It was obvious that few mourned the Prince's passing, as he was a bully and a petty man who used his position in place of merit or skill. Though the Khan was grieved to lose his eldest son, he recognized the favor Michael had done by not killing his son with his sword but instead assisting in a "suicide". This allowed the Prince to be remembered and spoken of in a slightly better light, it preserved the Khan's family honor as well as preventing any retribution from the Empire for his son's impulsive kidnapping of the Lady, who now wore a shocked look along with the rest of those assembled. 

"My condolences for your loss, Lord Khan." He said genuinely. "However, if the Lady accepts my proposal, we will need to be quickly moving. After all, the North must be prepared for the war to come." 

Right as the Khan opened his mouth to speak, a terrible laugh echoed loudly through the camp before a large climb of black flame erupted in the midst of the assembled people, sending people scampering back, screaming, from what was obviously a full fledged Demon. It had seemingly just materialized, a huge Taurodaemon standing taller than a Jotun frost giant or a Minotaur. Taurodaemon's are, in large part, responsible for the bad name Minotaurs suffer, as there are some superficial similarities that could be confused under the cover of night or in the confusion of violence. 

The two men from the Keshig, Royal Guard, standing besides the Khan charged forward in an attempt to end the threat standing in front of their Khan. The Daemon laughed as their curved scimitars shattered on contact with the bulging muscles of it's unholy flesh. A disdainful backhand from the Taurodaemon crushed the helmeted heads of both guards, their skulls fairing about as well as a bear batting sparrow's head. 

He turned to the terrified Khan and said, "Worry not. I'm not here to harm your people. After all, your warriors will serve me as fine cavalry. No, I am only here to finish what I started when I slaughtered the Warden of the North and his pathetic son." He said, gesturing to the Lady Diana. 

The lady was terrified but knew well how to keep it under control (though it was hard in the face of this giant monster, the likes of which hadn't been seen on Aurion since the days of the Draco Wars millennia earlier. However, the fact that this thing killed her family and destroyed her home helped her to steel her resolve. Plus, if this thing was going to send her to meet her father and her brother, she was going to go down fighting. Maybe when the southern lords hear that an unarmed noblewoman could fight, they'd finally stop squabbling and unite for a common cause for once. 

Her face grew scarlet with rage as the Demon drew an enormous sword. It was a giant broadsword with a black steel blade and an ivory pommel shaped as a wolf's head. It was her father's sword. Her family sword. 

She snarled as the Demon moved to take off her head, but they blow never landed. Instead the Demon, along with the crowd, were suddenly staring a bloody stump where the Demon's sword hand used to be. 

"Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. I am Michael." He said with a half bow as he approached. 

The Demon gave an incoherent roar and tried to decapitate Michael with a swipe of his clawed left hand. Michael ducked under the blow, dragging his sword behind him as he spun and neatly removed both of the Demon's legs below the knees. 

As the Demon roared on the ground in futility, Michael turned to Diana. After picking up the giant sword, he approached her and kneeled, offering the sword with both hands. 

"My lady, I believe this belongs to you." He said. 

With an unexpected dexterity, she grabbed the sword and twirled it in her grip. 

"It is your right to take vengeance on this trash, as he stands the murderer of your father and brother." Michael stated. 

The Lady gave Michael a look of genuine gratitude before her features went cold and she turned to the Demon. 

"Go ahead! Kill me! It makes no difference! My Lord will BURN this land. My war parties already rape and pillage throughout the countryside. It has already begun. I swear...". There was a crunch as his head hit the ground. 

:..:

Having defeated the Prince in an honorable Life Duel, Michael now owned and commanded all that the Prince did. Further, the Lady Diana had put up a stoic front when she accepted his marriage proposal (with the understanding that it was simply a technicality, and a temporary one at that. However, this greatly benefitted the upcoming war effort as not only did it lend Michael title, authority and legitimacy but also made him the legitimate claimant to the Northern Ward. He assured Diana that she would not be forced to make any commitments or fulfill any obligations that she chose not to. Indeed, she was surprised that Michael seemed to view her as an equal, even soliciting her opinion. She had known he was a better man than the barbarian Prince that was her other option but she still expected him to view her as an avenue to power more than an individual. Yet he had surprised her. The man himself was an enigma. Clearly as skilled as any fighter she had ever seen, he still didn't use that strength to bully or get what he wanted. In fact, he wasn't even cocky. He just gave off an aura that demanded confidence, trust and comfort. Yet still, she was wary. He seemed far too good to be true and she knew that one of the main tools at a full demon's disposal is temptation. 

And good Gods was there was more physical temptation packed into that man than the finest male escort. She decided that she would wait and see what kind of man he was before she put her full trust in him.

They were now on the move again. They had met back up with Talasa and the legionnaires and were headed west. In addition to the one hundred legionnaires, Michael also now led the over five hundred horsemen that the Prince had commanded. Michael had released all of the wives and slaves, dividing the Prince's wealth among the startled former slaves.

However, there was an episode involving the one of Prince's wives named Kokochun who refused to be commanded or dismissed. As both the Prince's first cousin as well as a full warrior, she was not required to submit to anyone besides her hereditary ruler unless that person could challenge and defeat her. It quickly became obvious that sparring was a form of foreplay to get and she really had no expectation or intention of defeating Michael, as she clearly desired him. 

However, even the tall, thin Xia Warrioress was surprised when Michael had toyed with her before pinning her and swiftly mounting her right in the middle of the sparring circle. Even now, hours later, she sat tenderly in the saddle with a far-away blissful look on her eye, his prodigious member having taken her far beyond the bounds previously thought possible. For a tough warrior woman raised in a tribe of horse lords, who gauged men based mainly on how well they fought and fucked, she had more than met her match. The conversation they shared on the ride West and his kind and intelligent wit simple cemented her bond to him. 

So it was that five hundred elite nomadic cavalryman, one hundred veteran legionnaires, a mysterious man and three beautiful women rode off to save a world from darkness.



Aurion Ch. 02



 Sorry for the wait! Real life sent me a few harsh blows in a combination so rapid that it would've made Ip Man proud. As such, it took me a lot longer than intended to get it posted. Although, to be fair, I chose to extend the chapter a little bit right at the last minute-which combined with my schedule to cause another two days of delay. However, the wait is over. Here it is! Enjoy!

*****

After seven days of riding at a pace that only the Xia and their stout and hardy little horses could muster, they had covered more than eight hundred miles and would arrive in Doria early the next morning. 

Michael still had no actual memories but the information accessible to his mind seemed to be multiplying. However, the information was only that. He had no emotional connection to any of it, it was simply data. And, of course, none of the information had to do with who he was or what he had experienced. Hells, he didn't even know WHAT he was. He was pretty sure most humans couldn't punch through an Orc's thickly muscular chest, let alone pull out the offending Orc's heart in a movement too fast to see.

There were other examples as well, but more than anything, he simply felt like he COULD do more. Much more. For now though, he would occupy himself with re-examining the information that he did have. Because one thing he was sure of is that he had an absolute need to extinguish evil whenever he came across it. It was more than a dislike it even a hate. The sensation was truly physical even. He could FEEL it in every fiber of his being. He couldn't explain it but that sure wouldn't stop him from acting in it. 

He also found it peculiar that he somehow knew that Demons came in varying levels of evil, containing varying levels of Dark energy. Nothing was immune to Dark energy. Not even Gods, though most of them have built up huge tolerances to it over the years. Which, combined with their immeasurable power, created a situation where some lowly Demon was highly unlikely to present a threat to such a powerful being. 

Gods weren't likely to be much of a factor in this war, though. This war was going to win or lost mostly by humans, hopefully with significant aid or allegiance of the Orcs and the Elfs, for they were the races who stood to lose the most. 

There were many warlike cultures on Aurion, though few of this generation hadn't seen anything like the all encompassing war that was ready heading their way. There was the Aurion Empire who ruled the lands. Their Legions were highly trained, impeccably organized and they had a major network that supported all of their logistical needs. They are also not hesitant to embrace weapons, techniques and tactics of other people, especially their enemies.

It had been the Empire who had led the Aurion against the Jotun invasion of Frost Giants and their allies. They had then built the Northern Wall to defend against any future invasions, though the Jotun were badly mauled by the end of the war and only a handful of their warriors ever made it back to their homelands. 

The Xia were also very warlike and their lack of organization and absence of infantry and siege capabilities were the primary reasons they weren't a major threat to the Empire. There was little doubt that they produced the best mass cavalry force in the world. Xia parents spent their time riding, breeding, training or tending their animals. In order to keep their young children where they could keep an eye on them, their toddlers were lashed to the backs of sheep with leather straps before they could even walk. Every one of them, man and woman, could ride long before puberty. 

This meant that any who chose to be warriors were already expert horsemen as well as archers. A powerful Longbow could fire a light arrow out to three hundred, maybe a little further. A powerful standard composite bow could reach out to four hundred meters or so. A Xia archer could launch an arrow five hundred meters with enough accuracy to hit an enemy shield wall or group. At two hundred meters they could hit a man's torso ten times out of ten, with enough accuracy to hit his heart, liver or lungs and with enough power to penetrate all but the thickest metal armor with lethal energy to spare or kill a horse with a single arrow. 

And any enemy near or less than one hundred meters could expect an arrow through their eye socket. And that is when they are firing from the saddle. They were even trained to use their bows as close range weapons, trusting their intuitive horses to keep them moving and making them a hard target for any swords or spears. Their stirrups and inherent equestrian ability obviously didn't hurt once they had closed with their enemy, usually after picking apart their formations with waves of armor piercing arrows.

Their dedicated close combat weapons were the horseman's Saber, Crescent headed battle axes, Kontos lances for the steel scaled heavy Cavalry on the charge and the ever-underestimated Lasso for the boiled leather clad light horsemen. The Xia were extremely skilled and accurate with their ropes and each man carried one on his saddle. However, there was also an elite unit tribal horsemen called "Ropers". The two thousand man force highly feared by all who faced them.

Clad in only leather breeches, without armor or even shirts, they painted their faces, bodies and horses with intricately designed war paint. They carried no swords or spears and even their bows stayed in their saddle mounted bow-cases most of the time. Their belts carried long, wickedly shaped daggers and each had several coils of braided hemp and leather rope. A heavy shield wall was their best target. All those closely grouped and stationary men in an even front made an enticing target.

The riders could approach without much concern, especially after any javelins had already been thrown, and cast their nooses over the bodies of the men before tearing up and using the strength of the horses to snap their necks or yank them out of the protection of the phalanx to be kicked and trampled to death by sharpened hooves. Then the next line of Ropers would appear as they attacked in waves to give their riders time and room to maneuver before retreating back out of range before any retaliation could be thrown, shot or sallied forth from the enemy phalanx. 

A technique often not appreciated without bearing direct witnessed, one would think a horse and a rope would make it rather obvious that there was a painful death in store for any ensnared but many fighters get caught up in the clash and glory of steel. 

The Xia also used well bred and highly trained plains Wolves in the place of dogs for guarding, tracking and fighting. Many warriors, especially officers, had large Wolves that accompanied and guarded them in combat. However, their main impact was made through a huge unit of precisely trained Wolves who were led and cared for by handlers but simply released off the leash for an attack in battle. A huge wave of a couple thousand large Wolves who could bring down horses and leap shield walls often served the purpose of infantry, being released in unison after the enemy was tired, thirsty, isolated, low on morale and riddled with arrows. If the enemy broke and fled...well, good luck outrunning a Wolf. Often times, the Wolves were covered in thick boiled leather armor, sometimes enhanced with metal spikes and claw extensions. 

Being from an area that was both isolated and near the Dark Orcs and Jotun Frost Giants meant that the Dagdaii on the mainland and their crazy cousins, who called themselves the Seal People and lived on the islands off the coast, had to be fighters or corpses. The fact that they come from a hard and cold coastal land makes the tribesmen tough from youth. The fact that they had no organized heavy infantry, cavalry or navy, yet are still there, is an indicator of their fearsome wrath and intense Guerrilla Warfare tactics. 

They too, can live off the land without much in the way of crops or resupply. They fought with the aid of huge, shaggy oversized hunting hounds (an ancient mix of the Giant Sheep Hound, Westero Wolfhound, Great Moutain Mastiff and the Mountain Dire Wolf (that now only inhabit the Eastern (Orc) Mountains, along with a few other otherwise extinct species). And the Seal People were fast enough on foot to keep pace with them. The fact that they knew every foot path, animal trail and shortcut in their home range made them like Ghosts. 

They occasionally wore bone armor and thick pelts, but most usually made do with nothing more than blue war paint in tribal designs, swirls and flourishes all over their exposed bodies. Their scarcity of good steel was overcome by only using steel for their limited number of swords while arrowheads were made from bronze, bone or obsidian and axes, spearheads and maces were made from obsidian, bronze or sometimes even flint. They used baked clay, wood, whale bone and plant fibers for most of their construction and art work. Gold, silver and ivory made up most of their jewelry. 

The Dagdaii had access to much more quality steel, though their weapons were mostly the same in all but construction material and quality, as the Dagdaii favored swords, spears, axes and longbows. Their lands also contained more timber and precious metal than the Seal People, which allowed them more wealth, trade and a wider range of resources. The fact that they weren't isolated on a chain of island tundras also helped greatly. 

In the west, there was the Amazons of Olympia who use their jungle to enhance the effectiveness of their ingenious traps, natural fortifications and impossibly strong bows. 

There were the Viking Marines if the Western Isles who used their sleek longships to raid along the coasts and rivers of the main island of Wessex when they weren't fighting on the seas and coasts. 

Even the isolated and primitive clans of the Black mountains were masters of mountain warfare and Guerrilla tactics, using their bronze spiked rawhide boots to provide them with a firm platform on the icy mountains to launch their huge javelin-sized arrows from longbows or swing their pole arms, the inner curved blades of their Falxes cleaving shield and limb alike. 

However, the purest and most dedicated people were the Hoplites of Doria.

Their children were examined for weakness or deformity at birth and their males start military training in their brutal academy at seven years old. Weak children were to be abandoned and those who failed the academy couldn't attain full citizenship. 

Both were rare, though, as Dorian couples were only allowed to have children if both parents were unusually strong and intelligent and they lived up to the Dorian ideals. A couple thousand years of selective breeding turning the average male into a specimen of masculinity and the average female unusually strong, capable and attractive. With all of the fit citizen men of age in the military, it fell to their large slave population to work the fields, cut the lumber and smith the metal. 

In fact, there were technically more slaves than citizens in the land. The Dorians also treated their slaves unusually well and most were slaves to the state instead of privately owned, being allowed to do all but vote and take part in certain ceremonies. Slaves couldn't be the armored Hoplites that the citizens served as, yet there were many in the army filling the roles of archers, light infantry, Rangers as well as medical and support personnel. 

The Dorian Cavalry were mostly auxiliaries that came from the allied tribes of the nearby desert. The tribes were mostly quite happy to be their allies as only the stupid and the suicidal try to venture anywhere near Doria with malevolent intentions. Even large armies have always sacrificed several days' march to cut Doria a wide berth. 

Located at the junction of mountain, forest and desert, it was a hard land but also a beautiful one that was rich in natural resources. They operated many mines, raised the finest pigs and grew high quality oats that were valuable anywhere in the grain-powered empire. Additionally, unlike most armies, theirs didn't disperse the loot among the troops after a victory. The Dorian troops never broke discipline to loot or rape in battle and they all believed in sacrificing themselves for the good of their mother Doria, never having once been documented to surrender in battle. 

Isolation was another of their defenses but they weren't hostile, though maybe a bit superior, to the rest of the world. Even the Empire had never asked for more tax than the Dorians freely offered. Much of that is respect too, as in the early days of the Empire, the Dorians pulled them out of the fire and came to their aid in multiple occasion. 

The Jotun invasion was one such time. Even though the Frost Giants claimed to fear no "puny human", they tried to march around Doria on their path South. It didn't work. As they tried to navigate the mountains to bypass Doria, their men were picked off by unseen archers, large groups harassed and small ones rode down by Rangers and Desert horsemen with a seemingly unending supply of arrows being transported over hidden passes by camel trains. 

The Jotun also lost almost as many men to traps as they did ambushes. When the giants tried to confiscate the boats of the locals to lash together into a bridge, giant logs with sharpened ends came floating down the swift river in the middle of the night, smashing into the boats and their "crews" as black painted men cast aside hollow breathing reeds and kept naked from the river to cut the lashings and ropes short swords before disappearing downstream underwater. 

After a an entire week of delays the Jotun had the bridge back up but every day they were delayed was another day the Empire could muster their armies. Naturally they were unhappy when, the night they were to cross the river, there was another nasty surprise. With their warriors bunched up and in the process of crossing over the thousand meter river on their makeshift bridge, they were hit. The long chain of boats tied together again fell victim to something the current brought from up stream. The had Jotun hoped to use the moonless night to cross undetected but in the end it simply kept them from seeing the danger until it was far too late. 

The Dorians had brought six large grain barges downstream filled with old, dry grain and barrels of Naptha and surrounded by pebbles for shrapnel locked down in the grain lockers below deck. The men manning these barges waited until the last minute when they were closing fast before they threw oil lamps below deck and leapt over the side into the river. The heavy impacts of the barges triggering huge explosions of sticky, consuming flame. 

Hundreds of Jotuns were trampled to death by their brethren in attempts to escape. None succeeded, for the instant the barges exploded, multiple additional sources lit up the sky as Dorian catapults that had been snuck within range under cover of night let loose large, flaming barrels of oil that cut off escape at both ends and large boulders that crushed the center of the bridge and sank ships. Most Jotuns couldn't swim. 

In the end, after losing over two weeks and more than four thousand men killed and at least as many injured, the moved downstream until they found a bridge that hadn't been destroyed yet. They were horrified to find a small Dorian phalanx composed of a Dorian senator and his personal guards, privately hired yet not even real Dorian Hoplites, blocking the other end of the bridge. 

Because their overwhelming numbers meant nothing on a stone bridge, it took two full days of constant fighting to overwhelm the small unit of pseudo-Dorians. Citizen Hoplites or not, the bodyguards still held to the last man. The legend is a popular one, how the last guard with spear and sword long broken, picked up a battle axe meant for a giant of over eight feet, it's head made from twenty five pounds of steel. He proceeded to block the entire enemy host, who couldn't get past the swings of the large foreign weapon until the heavily armored man was eventually brought down by over eighty arrows. 

By the time the Jotuns reached the south, the Empire had raised its armies. And the main force of Dorian citizen Hoplites was with them. Which is why they were headed to Doria first. However, their reception was fated to be a surprise to them all.

:..:

Talasa, Diana and Kokochun had gotten to know and like each other rather quickly. They were all in high spirits the last night of the march as one of the Xia warriors had sent his Falcon back to camp and they were all relieved when the bird returned with a message from the Khan. Apparently, word had spread of the mysterious warrior slaying demons, saving towns and raising a resistance. 

This had not only given hope to many and the people were banding together. Even the Mountain Orc's had been welcomed into the ever-moving Xia camp with only minor distrust. It was amazing what the threat of painful death can inspire. 

So, drinking airag around the fire on the last night before their arrival in Doria, the three women had become fast friends after getting to know each other on the ride. Michael, however, sat alone staring out at the night sky while all of his men and women relaxed and socialized. He wasn't sure why but a melancholy had settled over him and he didn't want to sour anyone's mood. He knew he'd be ready for whatever came up tomorrow, though. After all, a world depended on it. 

:..:

Michael, Talasa, Kokochun and his supposed fiancée, Diana all rode into the Dorian capital the next morning having left their riders to make camp on the plains below the city. 

Diana had spent a good deal of time in the capital as a child since the King of the Dorians had been one of the most loyal vassals in her father's lands and they had been good friends. She was also good friends with the King's daughter and the two had been tutored together as children. It felt familiar to be back, though she wasn't quite sure if that was good or bad. 

None of the four newcomers paid any attention to the young urchin boy who ran down a back alley the instant they rode past him. The boy scurried through boxes and bins until he arrived at a brick wall. He quickly removed several of the bricks and removed a small wooden cage with a black clothes draped over it. He made scribbles on a small piece of paper before rolling it up and putting it into a small tube attached to a length of twine. 

Opening the door of the little cage and stepping back, covering his face until he heard the creepy flapping sound moving away from him. 

Nobody else noticed the small vampire bat that flew to an older residential section of the city before flying straight down a well and disappearing into the depths of darkness, carrying a small tube. 

Michael liked what he had seen of the city so far. The open architecture was very attractive and he liked the stone columns and pillars that commonly stood in front of many of the larger buildings. The stone used in construction was mostly off white, grey or sand colored and built in large blocks and tiles. There were also a large number of sculptures and statues throughout the open squares. 

As they rode right up the the steps of the Royal palace, the King appeared at the top of the steps wearing a huge grin. 

"Uncle!" The lady shouted as she dismounted and proceeded to race up the steps. 

"Diana! Look at you! As beautiful as ever!" He laughed and wrapped her in a hug as she jumped on him. "I'm so sorry about your father and brother, I only just heard. Gods I'm sorry!" 

"Th... Thank you, Uncle." She sobbed. However, she quickly composed herself. 

Turning to her companions, the King proceeded look over Michael and, to a lesser extent, his women. "You are welcome in my land, lord...?" The King led. 




Aurion Ch. 02



"You may simply call me Michael, your highness. The truth of my bloodline and station is quite complicated and at the moment there seem to be greater concerns." 

"I agree that there are important things to discuss but I think your rank and bloodline is going to be quite important as well if you truly intend to marry the Lady Diana as I have heard." 

"That is true, though I have no intention of forcing the Lady into an unwanted union. For the moment it is advantageous to any Northern resistance that I be her betrothed, as it was in the Xia camp when I 'proposed' to her. I will not insist she honor what was ultimately a technicality in her time of woe." Michael stated. 

Diana was rescued any further embarrassment when a commotion broke out among the Senators at the top of the steps. "Damnit man! Can't you see Im trying to examine this young man! What are you fools arguing over?" The King boomed in annoyance. 

The senators, mostly older men, quickly hushed upon realizing their King had noticed their squabble. One man, appearing closer to ancient, stepped forward and slowly rose a finger to simply point at Michael without words. 

"What? What about him?" The King asked again in annoyance. 

"The Prophecy." The old man rasped. At this the King did pause. The color drained from his usually stoic face as he turned to look at Michael who was flanked by Kokochun (holding her huge bow), Diana (with her family's huge broadsword) and Talasa (who was carrying the severed head of the Demon on Michael's instructions, should they need proof of the coming calamity). "...and so he came on a tide of darkness, arriving with three beauties bearing a divine bow, a divine sword and a demon's head respectively, he will leave with four. His arrival will herald the mankind's last stand and final battle. The savior will prove himself by charming an Elf, blinding a Seer and killing a Manticore, defeating each at their own strength. He will unite an army and replace evil with death as he unleashes the wrath of Heaven against the sea of the Unholy..."

The King said out loud. 

"Excuse me? Your majesty?" Michael asked. 

After a moment the King simply said, "come, there is much we need to discuss." 

:..:

Later that day, Michael decided to go explore the city and some of the surrounding countryside. He started in the forum as it was the center of all life and commerce in the capital of the Dorian City state. 

The forum itself contained mostly government and economic buildings but if one traveled in any direction they would find all sorts of merchants and stores. The shops got steadily smaller and generally more exotic the further one traveled from the forum itself. 

There was an abundance of brothels, small gladiator arenas and taverns in the particular area that Michael found himself in after his initial pass through some of the more mainstream areas. He had simply wandered until he saw an odd offshoot from one of the more isolated traffic arteries. 

After following the small boulevard for several blocks he started to notice the increasing amount of wooden construction compared to the large blocks of marble and stone that was used in and around the forum. The large number of public bathhouses and government owned public service slaves meant that even the lower income areas remained surprisingly clean and presentable. 

The main indicator of the separation of the classes was simply the size and construction materials of one's home and whether their toga was made from wool or silk. Slave ownership was not uncommon even in the low income areas, though these slaves were mostly the children or grand children of slaves the family had bought during a better time years before. 

The allocation of public service slaves by the Senate to clean and maintain less affluent neighborhoods was not an act of charity. No, Michael saw the intelligence behind the economic move that motivated the policy, not to mention whoever first pushed that through the senate surely gained a huge amount of support from the Plebeian class. Most important were the long term effects though. Any disease outbreaks or attempts to spread were highly limited by the lack of garbage, waste or rotted food clogging the streets, spreading disease or attracting filthy stray or wild animals. 

The Dorians were also widely famous for their complex subterranean aqueducts and canals, which extended beyond the city itself. The swiftly flowing underground canals that branched off the larger, main aqueducts supplied clean water fresh from mountain springs to provide good drinking water and to assist in plumbing. 

The swift currents carried any sewage to a natural subterranean thermal vent before it disappeared deep into the water that boiled in tunnels deep beneath the earth. 

The unusually large canals were made from rough stone bricks held together with limestone mortar and covered with a layer of bitumen before being covered with red clay and heated with mass underground fires that both hardened the clay and allowed workers to dispose of all their left over work materials instead of dragging them hundreds of meters to the nearest access point. Most of the canals were the standard thirty three meters across with a height of half that. Along the sides there was raised walkways for maintenance and workmen to use when the water level is low enough. There was a strategic network of dams to stop, direct or control the flow of water and allow access for maintenance. The size of the canals made blockage by tree limbs or garbage build ups extremely rare as even at the smallest offshoots were twelve feet across. 

Michael made sure to flirt with a few working girls as he passed them, though most of them were inside, there was still a good number who seemed to be going from one place or another. He was quite tempted to partake in the pleasures of a few that he met but he decided to get the lay of the land before he began to relax. He did, however, make a note of where to find a one or two of the most enticing. Perhaps Talasa or Kokochun would like to make it a party and join him. Maybe both? He chuckled at the inexhaustibility his own appetites. 'This is what I was made for', he told himself, 'killing men who want to fight me, and bedding women who want to fuck me'. 

He was just finishing a seasoned leg of juicy lamb when his roving eyes swept over a hooded figure that made his neck tingle. Naturally, this drew his attention. 

Furthermore, this hooded figure wasn't with the group that had been following him discreetly and with great skill. He had assumed they were King Domitus' agents sent to watch over him since they never made an aggressive move, nor did they ever assume a position or angle ideal for attack or anything other than general overwatch. 

This newcomer though, seemed to be unaware that he was even there. Add that to the fact that they were visibly much smaller than the others and wearing a dark grey cloak compared to their black hoods. So, even if they hadn't made his neck tingle, they would have piqued his curiosity. 

As the figure turned down a side alley in an effort at a shortcut, Michael sighed as he saw three large, bald headed men enthusiastically follow her. 

A free citizen soldier of Doria was the only man who was allowed to wear his hair long as it was an ancient custom more than a millennia ago among their ancestors to differentiate them from the other city states that Doria eventually absorbed. 

As such any man who was considered a criminal was forced to shave his head and never again grow it out. If he was caught trying to grow it out, his scalp was to be branded as punishment and to prevent any even growth in the future. These men were also not aloud to breed with female Dorian citizens, instead having to rely on whores, outcasts, slaves and tribeswomen. 

And these three were looking particularly lecherous so he figured the odds were pretty good that the tiny figure belonged to a tiny woman. At least he hoped she was already a woman. 

As he turned the corner into the alley, he could see that they already had her cornered. He caught a quick glimpse of her face and was damn near sent into a rage when he saw her extremely youthful features briefly. She was beyond beautiful in a fragile sort of way but she was also clearly still a child. 

When he saw two of the men grab her arms as a third lowered his breeches and her eyes bugged in horror at what he presumed was the size of the man's appendage, he struck.

Coming up behind the man as he exposed himself, Michael moved casually as he sent a crushing uppercut directly into the man's lower spine. His fist only traveled perhaps nine inches in it's flight, yet this was more than enough space for it to gain the force to shatter the man's spine. He screamed and went down as Michael looked to the other two before pouncing like Leopard. 

He lunged between them with both arms outstretched and his hands open, palms forward, as they released the girl and stepped up to meet him. His palms impacted their bodies just below the sternum, knocking the air from their lungs and doubling them over. Michael used his right foot to sweep the feet of the man on the left with a spin before reversing his foot to slam it into the man's side, several ribs crumpling under the force of the impact. The man on the right tried to regain his breath and feet only to be wrenched off the ground by his throat. 

"You disgust me. Your lucky I'm leaving you crippled and not dead. I've seen your face now and you better believe that I'll finish you if I see it again." He growled before sweeping his arm in a lazy movement and sending the would-be rapidly through the plaster wall of the alley. 

Turning to ten girl, Michael asked. "Are you alright, sweetie? Are your paren..." 

He froze as he got his first good look at her. What he had thought to be a preteen girl was actually a full grown female Elf! Her small pointy ears perked out from behind her silver hair. The wonderfully delicate features of her face looked upon him with a puzzled expression though she obviously liked what she saw. 

"I apologize, miss. I thought you were a young human girl as I'm not very familiar with Elfkind. I do hope you will accept my apology though. My name is Michael."

The little she Elf gave a shy smile as her eyes roamed over his features and her face took on a bashful expression. "Hello, my lord. I am Amila. It's very nice to meet you. I'm grateful for your intervention. I only carry lethal weapons at the moment and I didn't think killing men would endear me to your King."

"Even if it was the only way to stop them from raping you?"

"My honor is inconsequential when compared to the cause for my visit. Demonic war parties have invaded our forests and isolated us from the lands of men. I must warn your King, others have been sent to beseech the Emperor, they they may prepare. My King does not expect any aid from men but many of our kind secretly hope men will raise an army to send to our aid. It was only once I was on my way here that I heard of the other war parties that came through the Orc mountains in the East that had invaded and overwhelmed the Warden of the North." She explained before wincing and adjusting the sculpted breastplate that covered her torso. 

"Your injured!" Michael said before kneeling down to take a closer look at her side. 

"Yes. The Demons tried to prevent anyone from getting through their lines to raise the alarm. I evaded their troops easily enough but apparently my stealth formula doesn't work on Manticores. I think it was only able to smell me though since I'd be dead for sure if it had seen me. I've been playing hide in seek with it ever since."

"Manticores? Nasty creatures. And fast. Really fast."

"They sure are. Faster than anything I've seen or heard of. At least over short distance. Umpf!" She huffed as he opened the breastplate. 

"Sorry." He winced. Looking closer now, it was clear that four slashes had cut through the breastplate like butter, deeply scoring her ribcage. He put a hand over her abdomen as he considered any internal damage that might have been done. He didn't even notice the light that started flowing from his hand as the wounds closed up before their eyes, not even leaving a scar. 

"How...?" She started. 

"I... Uh. Don't really know." 

"But... You didn't even cast anything. There was no spell or potion. You just... DID it. That's not possible! All magic had to be channeled or sculpted." She said, clearly in awe. 

Michael, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, spoke, "the truth is, I don't know. I don't even have memories that date before a couple weeks ago. There are many things I seem to know but none that directly involve me or have any emotional context." He said, choosing not to mention the dreams that had started a few nights before. 

"Who are you?" She asked, her eyes worshipful. 

"I just told you, I don't know anything beyond my name."

"Then what are you doing here? I figured you for Dorian nobility with your unusual armor and the long hair."

"I'm raising an army and possibly arranging terms for my wedding."

"Your wedding?" She asked, disappointment evident in her face. 

"Yes. I proposed to the Lady Diana when she was being held captive in the Xia camp. Although I have no idea if my betrothed wishes to actually go ahead with it as my proposal was simply meant to prevent her from being forced into a union as well as aid in raising a Northern army."

"THAT's you!? The one who saved the Orc's and avenged the Warden of the North?"

"Well, yes. Though technically, it was my betrothed who struck the final blow against her family's murderer. I simply aided."

By this time, they were only a few streets from the Palace. Michael was about to speak again when they heard an unnatural roar, followed by shocked and fearful screams. He had barely turned towards the source of the terror when he was powerfully slammed into and sent flying through the air. He landed with a crumpling thump, dazed and in pain, and still hadn't even later eyes on his attacker. 

:..:

Talasa had been secretly quote intimidated by the large city and all the tall buildings. A far cry from the yurts of her home mountains. She had never understood why humans would want a house that you couldn't move with the seasons, though looking at the many pleasures and comforts on offer now, she could see the appeal. 

Her master had gone off to explore by himself, leaving her to hang out with the girls. The three of them had gone straight to the Royal baths after getting settled in. She had almost growled at a servant who tried to lead her to her own room, thinking they were trying to separate her from Michael, before she realized that it was simply the human way to have individual bedrooms for the non-married. After that, she was glad that she hadn't growled, as it would have been presumptuous for her to expect the treatment of his wife. She had horrified but also secretly excited. She had never dared to think of herself as his equal and the idea that such a male would want her forever almost broke her heart. 

After all, what mortal truly expects to be married by a god? And that is exactly what she saw him to be. It was only then she realized that she was the only one who knew about Michael's questionable origin. They all thought he was human, more or less.  

But he had confided in her weeks before that he was pretty sure his species wasn't that of man. She accepted it so naturally because of the pedestal she held him on. In fact, it would make sense that someone as beautiful and divine as her master wasn't a mere human. 

The Royal bath had been an amazing experience, even if it was obvious that none of the bath slaves had ever seen am Orc before. They clearly had expected her to be a savage that never bathed or cleaned herself. The shocked looks she garnered upon being seen nude were priceless. 

The females blushed and the male slaves had very predictable reactions upon seeing her obscenely large breasts, narrow waist, flared hips and long legs. Of course she hadn't realized that her build was that of an ideal human woman in the eyes of most. Her Emerald skin and wild scent obviously was exotic to the Dorians. 

After they bathed in the cold water, Talasa was confused when they headed to the warm water pool to rinse before moving again the a large pool filled with hot water to soak. She had never immersed herself in water so warm. After the initial instinct that she was being cooked in a giant pot faded, the experience was awesome. 

As they soaked, she took a minute to observe her body, and was certainly happy with what she saw. Besides the soft whitish lines of a few battle scars that marred her physique, she thought she looked damn good. Most Orc females had large breasts and butts but few had a figure that was as extreme as hers. Her tiny waist and toned stomach was fairly uncommon among the thickish Orc females of her tribe. Many were tall like her though few had skin that wasn't grey or greenish grey in color and she had never before met anyone who had skin as bright green as her own. A few of the females in the chief's harem had dark green skin, the color of dark pine needles, but none had the Emerald coloring that she did. 

She looked over at Diana and Kokochun. Both were very beautiful, even to her. Diana's skin was like glowing ivory, seeming so untouched by the world. She was tall also, almost as tall as Talasa, and her shiny raven hair framed such a sculpted face, her cheeks always flushing bright red when she was embarrassed or warm. Talasa thought her breasts were very nice as well, certainly bigger than most of the humans she had seen so far. They were almost as big as Talasa's breasts though they had a soft teardrop shape as they hung heavily against her ribs where Talasa's breasts were firmly rounded from her chest like two large melons mounted to her flat stomach. Their build was much the same though, with a small waist leading to flared hips and a heart shaped rear on top of long and athletic legs. 

Kokochun was built similarly to both, though a bit more thin and toned. Her body didn't have a single soft spot on it and her abdomen showed toned muscle with dark areoles capping handful sized breasts that looked too big and too round on her thin body. Her body had a sinewy strength about it and her slanted eyes and exotic features made her very enticing. Her hair was a shade lighter than the shiny black hair common among her people, causing to to give a bronze shine off of it's dark brown body every time it was met by strong direct sunlight. The fact that she was obsessed with Michael was something she didn't bother hiding. 

She had none of the issues with modesty or ego that many of the highborn ladies do in the Empire. A few days after they had left the Xia camp, Diana had expressed amazement that Kokochun could be so certain she was in love after such a short period of a couple days. She had replied that there wasn't much to consider, as even if she didn't love him, she still had to serve him. She calmly proceeded to explain that her infatuation came from the fighting and fucking prowess of Michael as he had already proved himself a good man with an intelligent head on his shoulders. 

Furthermore, he was the first man that ever actually impressed her while also attracting her. The second that he had defeated her in wrestling and taken her right there for all to see, her mind was made it. A few minutes later, once his 'horse cock' was inside her, she was his for life. This had caused Diana to blush and it was obvious she wanted to know more but didn't want to offend anyone. 

'Do you want to know what it was like? To be speared by such a man.' She had asked without a hint of embarrassment. When Diana gave a shy nod, Kokochun continued, 'well, didn't you see him take me right there with that impossible thing between his legs?' Diana said it was too dark to see anything clearly in the circle of flickering torchlight since their backs were turned to her when he mounted her from behind. 




Aurion Ch. 02



All she could tell was that he seemed to be thrusting into her from really far away and that it took unbelievably long for them to get started. 'Michael's cock is at least as big as your forearm' Kokochun had told Diana, who had immediately contested that something that big was even possible on a human man. Kokochun didn't even blink, she just shrugged and said she had no doubts. Then, with an evil smile, she had drawn Talasa into their conversation. 'Talasa, how big is our lord's 'sword'?' She had asked. 

Talasa's cheeks blushed purples as she said, 'bigger than anything I ever thought would enter me. Even after he is at the door to my womb, I can still wrap all the fingers on a hand around the remainder. After our first time, I was so bloated with his seed that I looked pregnant for a day after while it worked its way out of me.' Kokochun then piped up, 'ohh, his seed. It does strange things to me. It tastes and smells so wonderful and I feel warm comfort wherever it touches my skin. I could live off the stuff. It makes me hornier than Hades though'. 

Overall, they had both made Talasa feel very welcome and comfortable after the initial awkwardness. They knew that she might be self conscious being so far out of her comfort zone. 'Look Diana' Talasa had said, 'Orc men, despite their large bodies, are smaller than human men on average when it comes to cocks. I had lain with warriors long before I met our lord but I still had no idea what pleasure I was in for. I'm fact, I'm going to be in trouble if he ever tired of me.' 

'What do you mean?' Diana had asked. 

'He has ruined me for other males. His beauty and scent alone have doomed me from ever settling for the satisfaction of another male. Even had it not, just look,' Talasa said as she sat up on the side of the pool. 

She spread her legs, allowing Kokochun and Diana to get a clear look at her core. 'Wow' both women said simultaneously. The tiny little pussy was stretched beyond its usual state, the lips gaping open like a flower turned inside out. 

By that point, the three were getting quite worked up and Diana had suggested they move to the massage tables, clearly worked up. 

The large padded tables had been very comfortable and the masseuse slaves were very pretty looking males with all of their body hair shaved. Between their low expectations and her exotic beauty, the two men massaging Talasa became extremely excited. She had noticed their erect shafts were much larger than an Orc's but still barely half of her master's length and width. 

Once they worked their way to her front side and she rolled over, they could barely control themselves. A few minutes later, the slave massaging oil into her breasts lost control and ejaculated ropes of white across her stomach. The man, horrified and absolutely sure he was going to be executed, was startled when Talasa simply laughed and said, "thanks for the compliment. I think you are quite handsome too!" in a joking tone. As the relieved man quickly scurried away, she turned towards the other shave who was busy staring at her tiny opening. 

"Sorry, my pussy is only for my master. I'm not a cruel female though. Come here!" She said. 

"Uh... I mean... OH SHIT!" He started before exclaiming as she grabbed his ass cheeks and pulled in forward, swallowing his impressive cock in a single smooth action. Immediately, he cock started spurting straight down her throat as she fucked her throat with his cock. 

"Not bad." She said, smacking her lips. "Now get lost." She dismissed. 

"You didn't have to do that!" Diana giggled. "The poor guys probably expected execution."

"I know. But like I told him, I'm not cruel." She said, with a wink. 

The three giggled about the incident and soon were being dressed to meet with the King to discuss plans for the coming war. Talasa had never felt anything like the heavy, well made silk gown that she was dressed in, leaving one of her arms exposed and the top of her heavy breast spilling over the top. She was surprised to find that the garment didn't restrict her movements or flexibility like she thought it would. 

They were just arriving to the Palace steps when they heard a distant roar followed by screams and shouts of alarm and fear. A second layer there was a new sound, "...uuuuuuuuck!" followed by a CRASH as something slammed into the stone tiles a few meters away. When they looked up they saw Michael picking himself up slowly. He grimaced and spit out a mouthful of blood along with a molar or two. 

When Michael's eyes shifted to them, he yelled, "Get inside! Now!" A second later, a large dark shape followed along the path he taken through the air, landing from a giant leap and coming to a stop a few meters from Michael. 

All of the citizens screamed and ran upon seeing the beast. It was a disgusting creature with the body of a very large lion, a huge barbed scorpion tail and a grotesque facsimile of a human head with dead eyes and three rows of serrated teeth on each jaw. It was a Manticore. 

The beast flexed it's long black claws and growled as Michael stood up. It pounced forward immediately, trying to wrap those deadly claws around his body to drag into the razored maw of it's jaws. Michael barely dodged to the side before it came back for another pass and he was forced to throw himself on his back to avoid it. 

Finally drawing his Falcata in hand, he proceeded to engage the Manticore in a flurry of blows that were far to fast for the eye to follow. Their speed was such that it appeared they were teleporting from place to place as they battled. By this time, King Domitus and his bodyguards had appeared at the top of the Palace steps before freezing, in awe of the performance in front of them. It had always been considered impossible for a single man to survive against a Manticore. They were the only beasts the desert tribes truly feared and tried to avoid at all costs. Even the Dorians of legend had never managed to defeat a Manticore in single combat. In fact, one of their heroic tales is about three Hoplites who hunt a murderous Manticore and only succeed at the cost of two lives. The fact that they were very uncommon and rarely seen or encountered lent to the fear that they inspired, as over time men had learned to live with or control all the other beasts. Manticores were different. 

So caught up with the battle was everyone, nobody noticed the small she-Elf that had cautiously approached Talasa, Kokochun and Diana. They all watched in awe as, yet again, Michael tried to do the impossible. As fast as it was, he was going to have to fight smart. There was no way that he was going to land a solid blow by simply trying to catch it with a swing. It always seemed to see the blows coming with enough time to dodge and often counterattack. Michael was hard pressed to keep from being impaled by the giant venomous tail and its staccato attacks. 

Michael felt fear rise up in his breast at the realization that the beast was actually the faster of the two-and certainly the stronger, before he crushed it and steppe up with game. From somewhere in his mind, some ancient training dictated that 'stone is harder than water but always wins eventually'. 

Without conscious thought Michael began to adapt fluid movements that seemed to flow around and out of the way of the manticore's attacks. This change seemed to frustrate the beast before, without warning, Michael's free left hand snagged the Gladius from it's sheath in a reverse grip as the short sword whirled in a short, harsh arc that cleaved the venomous barbed head from the manticore's tail. 

The beast screamed and screeched in it's inhuman voice as the severed tip of it's tail twitched on the ground. 

However, before Michael could bring his other sword around, the headless scorpion-like tail lashed forward like a whip and landed with a deep thud against his armored chest. Michael grunted under the blow as it propelled him backwards into a marble column that, amazingly, cracked under his body's impact. 

'I'm going to have to thank whomever made this armor', he thought, as he gained his breath. The manticore screamed again as it launched its self back at him before he was ready. The outstretched claws stretched and triple rowed serrated teeth extended yet further as the beast's evolved instincts told it's brain that it finally had it's prey. 

Michael, without sufficient time, simply bent backwards at the waist as the beast speed through the air, confused, where his throat had only just been. Yanking his knees up to his chest, he kicked up with both armored feet as he threw himself down on his back. The startled beast grunted at the collision of his feet with it's ribs before crashing into a stone wall. It only took a second for it to regain it's bearings. Thus time, though, it didn't roar or charge. It started to smoothly pace in a wide circle around it's opponent. 

Amila produced a vial of clear liquid and prepared to hurl it at the distracted monster before Diana reached out and stayed her hand. "He has to do this alone. It will be his strength that he lives or dies by. We can't risk interfering with the prophecy."

Amila just nodded. She had no clue about any human prophecy but she did know it wasn't the time to discuss it. The truth was, she was unaccountably worried. She couldn't quite figure out why but ever since she met Michael she had been drawn to him like a light in the darkness. 

His presence seemed to affect her deeply on a way that was completely foreign to her. Oddly enough, her attraction had little to do with his impressive looks and lean figure. 

Watching him twirl and dodge was like watching a lethal choreographed dance. His coordination and speed were awe inspiring. In truth, the man was more than her tired and stressed mind could digest. Her trepidation rose at the sight of the manticore circling him in it's inherent predatory fashion. 

She quickly glanced over at the King on the off chance that he had seen enough and would be willing to have his men aid Michael. The King stood transfixed, however, at the sight of the unbelievable fight before him. 

Amila was the granddaughter of a High Priestess. As much, she had a highly enhanced sense of light and dark as well as the ability to see beyond physical masks worn by beings. In her stressed state she unknowingly activated her 'Sight', causing her to perceive the world outside of it's physical bonds. 

She gave a startled gasp and she beheld through the aether something she had never before witnessed. In the place of their physical bodies, the true spirits of both man and beast were exposed. The manticore, being a foul creature of the underworld, looked about like she would expect. 

A snarling, swirling mass of dark energy in the shape of a deformed feline-human hybrid. It was like someone took the dark soul of an evil man and twisted it up with that of a shadow cat from the dark realms. As shocking as the appearance was, it was Michael's spirit form that truly shocked her. Instead of a man's soul, which took the form of a humanoid spirit with varying amounts of light and dark speckled through it's soul. Michael was something else altogether. 

Where his human form stood and fought was a radiant being that appeared to be constructed of sculpted rays of light. As far as she could tell through the intense glow, he appeared in the shape of a man with the exception of the large wings protruding from his shoulder blades and the blinding Halo of light above his head. 

The wings, halo and eyes were made from a glowing blue-white light, whereas the rest of his celestial body was composed of a sparkling golden glow. She could only study Michael's spirit form briefly, as it was like staring straight into the sun. She gasped again when the monstrous dark spirit of the creature that she perceived became a blur of swirling darkness around Michael's celestial form, being startled from her Sight trance. 

Watching him disdainfully eliminate her foul cousin/husband had caused her clit to vibrate with need for the newcomer underneath her leather skirt. As he handily played with her and easily wrestled with her victoriously, she derived more sexual pleasure than she had from intercourse with any other man she had had before. 

As he bent her defeated body over and aligned himself behind her long athletic legs, she came. For the first time since she was a girl, she was horribly embarrassed after having made such a big deal about him 'earning' his claim to her. To her immense relief and the increase of her affection, he did not react harshly. 

In fact, her unstimulated orgasm seemed to turn him on further. She had never come like that before, being a woman who was lucky to get a single orgasm from a man when she joined with him. Her princely 'husband' had never gotten her off, a fact she didn't even try to hide or fake her way through. In fact, her only source for sexual pleasure had been her servant and guard, Altai. Altai was a veteran warrior who had been one of her father's sworn bondsmen who became lost and without purpose when her father had died, having faithfully served him since they were both children. Initially, Altai had been highly resistant to the idea of an affair with his God daughter. The fact that he was over forty years old but still very virile and energetic made it a doomed mission for him to resist a tall, lightly curvy and playful Warrioress that was half his age. At the time, Kokochun was certainly no inexperienced virgin, however few Xia men were built with Altai's powerful body and broad shoulders. And, as she found out that first night, few Xia men were built with Altai's cock either. Simply put, he was huge. His long, pale shaft was as thick as her wrist and gnarled with thick veins. Thankfully, Altai's cockhead was relatively small compared to the size of his equipment, though still certainly the largest helmet she had had. She had stripped down to the skimpy leather bikini top and thong that she wore underneath her armor to protect the sensitive nipples of her Apple sized breasts and her relatively thick clit before removing her wet leather thong and shoving into Altai's sleeping mouth in the same instant that she pulled down his leggings and deep-throated him in one smooth motion. At least, that was what she had intended. Being surprised by the size of the mostly hard cock, she loudly gagged and gurgled as she forced her throat down on the oversized cock. A deep rumbling moan escaped from around the thong stuffed in Altai's mouth as she continued with the sloppy, almost self degrading blowjob. Kokochun had a natural talent for sending what her lover wanted and enjoyed and she knew that her gagging and gurgling noises were dooming her servant to an explosion in the near future. Even after she managed to adapt to the unusually large appendage, she still proceeded to make theatrical gagging sounds and whimpers until her mouth was flooded with several large spurts of salty semen. After that, they coupled whenever there was time or opportunity. She knew that it was highly unlikely that she'd ever find another cock like Altai's but she often dreamed of meeting a man who was lean, muscular and handsome as opposed to Altai's aged average looks and large, but padded, bulk.

So her slanted brown eyes had widened as Michael began to line himself up with her tight slit and she felt him press and grind his fist into her gash and he responded to her demand to just fuck her with, 'I am' and she realized that both of his hands were already on his hips-meaning that it wasn't a fist being ground against her slit!

It had been a huge help that her pussy was already gushing and winking in orgasm when the enormous cockhead stretched her lips to slide in. Without a year of Altai's stretching her, she certain would've had some tearing. As it was, she could tell that she was stretched to maximum width. 

After a few minutes of softly sawing back and forth and gently pushing deeper into her depths, she already felt fuller than Altai had ever made her. Because of this, she shuttered and came again the instant that she reached back around to cup Michael's balls but found only a fist full of shaft too thick to surround with her fingers. 

When she turned to look over her shoulder, Michael still seemed too far away. It was only when she looked down that she realized that he wasn't flush up against her because there was still nearly half his cock outside of her poor, already swollen lips. A moment later the huge head softly tapped her cervix, causing her to shutter with over sensitivity yet still came again. 

It was with a little disappointment that Kokochun realized she couldn't handle his whole cock. After that, Michael proceeded to tweak her now exposed nipples and thrum her slick clit as he began to slide in and out of her faster and harder. That was the point that she began to cum nonstop, causing her to black out. She came to as he slowly pulled out of her, quickly scrambling to turn on shaky knees just in time to catch his first heavy blast in the face as more than a dozen impossibly huge shots painted her face, hair and chest, hanging off of her chin, nose and cheeks in heavy strands and dangling ropes of jism. It was then that she lost all drive to find another man. Now she watched as he dangled from the edge of oblivion. 

As the monster paced around Michael, eyeing him warily, only slowly started to gain speed. Soon, the manticore was moving in circles around Michael's stationary position so fast that the air and dust was whipped into a small tornado with him stuck in it's central eye. Paws shot out of the swirling mass, the long curved was connecting against his armor in various places with a screeching sound as Michael failed to track his impossibly fast moving opponent as it whirled around him in a circle. 

Stilling his mind and slowing down the world around him,Michael focuses on dodging and counter attacking the flash of darkness. He spun and leaped, twirled and danced, in an effort to make himself a more unpredictable target. Knowing that it was only matter of time before one of those flashing paws connected with his unprotected head, he kneeled down before pushing off the ground in a great jump up into the bent knee of a giant statue of a Titan at the base of the palace steps. He barely managed to push off before the inhuman beast launched itself after him, it's weight crushing the statue's leg into rubble as Michael landed behind it. 

Giving it no time to recover or regain it's balance and bearings, Michael quickly grabbed the remains of the mutilated tail in both hands and, using all of his strength, he spun and heaved the beast towards the wall of the government steel mill. He was already on it by the time the manticore realized it had crashed through the stone wall into the bowels of the steel mill.

It's left front limb was twisted at a grotesque angle and acidic black blood flowed freely from it's foul mouth and flattened nose. It looked up and located Michael as it fought to gain it's feet, whimpering as it attempted to put weight on it's crushed left forepaw. It only had a split second to realize what was going to happen as Michael raised his Falcata in his right hand and brought it across in a backhanded side cut that cleanly cleaved the bottom off of the stone basin in which the molten run off of iron slag accumulated. 

An horrible inhuman sound burst from it's doomed breast as hundreds of gallons of glowing orange molten iron poured onto the manticore's body, it's flesh sizzling and popping. The pain was so overwhelming and distracting that it never even saw the lazy arc of the Falcata that cut off it's unholy head. 

Outside, everyone waited with bated breath as the commotion died down in the forge. Various expressions of glee, love and hope burst from the people as a single battered figure emerged from the broken rubble through the large hole in the stone wall facing the open square. When the gorgeous man smiled through a bloody mouth and raised his hands, one holding his Falcata sword and the other grasping the disgusting severed head of the most feared and hated of beasts, the crowd exploded with cheers. Talasa chief among them in the front row. She knew if there was one with the ability to conquer such foul strength, it was her master. Still, to witness such was far more than she felt she ever deserved. 




Aurion Ch. 02



Never would she have imagined such a path back in her home in the mountains, among the isolation of the Orcs, where she could muster little admiration, let alone attraction, for those who fancies themselves her suitors. Her, and now, she was truly lost in her amorous worship of the divine golden man she watched accomplish the impossible time and again. She truly was in love. Something more perhaps. Now she roared her approval with the others as her loins quivered and quaked with a near painful lustful drive for her master to conquer her as well. 

The need and hope in one particular Lady's breast finally burst open and she accepted the genuine loving admiration she felt towards a certain battered but beautiful hero, while across the square, watching unseen from the shadows, a different woman had a similar reaction. 

She was of average height and thin build. She had thick lips, large round eyes and high cheekbones that projected both a seductive image and a look of innocence. Her tan skin covered very small breasts, a flat stomach and a tiny waist that flared into an athletic world-class rump that seemed capable of great gymnastic feats as well as causing explosions of lust in men and women alike and her long legs were only slightly less bewitching. None of this could be seen through the dark hooded cloak that covered her features. 

She turned away and melted into the shadows as she reached into her cloak and released a small, furry, pet vampire Bat that streaked through the Rays of sun that harshly bombarded it before diving down through an exposed pipe and into the massive complex of underground tunnels and canals on it's quest to carry it's urgent message. 

The bats of it's kind was capable of thoughts far more complex than any normal bat. A millennium of accelerated selective breeding, the bats possessing the desired qualities were bred with each other immediately upon reaching sexual maturity, generation after generation. All the while they were trained and enhanced biologically and magically until they had the desired abilities as well as intelligence and awareness that surpassed even the smartest dog. 

And the thought in it's small furry head as it navigated the stygian tunnels beneath the capital was that his mistress must have finally gone into heat, for his sharp little nose recognized the smell of mammalian female arousal. Even if it was a bit stronger and differently flavored than that of his own mate currently looking after their new litter back in his cavernous home in the subterranean network used as the base of Ops for the Order of the Demon's Head.

He had no way of knowing that the message he carried would be disseminated out to all of their operatives and would change everything. It said, "The Prophecy has been set in motion. A true Chosen One has arrived in the capital and proved himself. Muster immediately."

:..:

In the war room of the Royal Palace, the prophecy was explained to all and preparations were started for a long and nasty war with the invading Daemon hordes. 

King Domitus freely offered Michael overall military command of all Dorian fighting forces.

This included the famed elite citizen Hoplites of Doria, the large number of Helot slaves used in the army as light infantry, Rangers and archers (in addition to medical personnel, combat engineers, siege engine operators/siege assault troops, specialized combatants and messengers), Auxiliary Cavalry from the desert tribes to the south and the steppe clans to the north that had been formed from personally skilled independent warriors into a mounted fighting force whose discipline and organization rivals the Hoplites as well as any subject or vassal tribes under Dorian protection. 

The arrival of Amila and the information she brought with her further complicated things. Now, apparently the enemy wasn't only to the East and North, but present in a force that had the Elves isolated and besieged in West. 

A curious thing happened before he could do more than order a total muster of the Army (along with all their allied tribes and send riders and messengers to recruit mercenaries, citizens, farmers and even refugees to Doria to assist in the fight, support construction or, in the least, be protected. Even the Xia and Mountain Orcs were nearing the Dorian Capitol). As they were looking over a large map of Aurion, an all black figure dropped down from the roof and swung through the open window. The guards and advisors were caught by surprise and the King and his guards drew their swords in response to the silent figure's sudden entrance. Before the figure could recover from the somersault that brought them to the room's center, there was a Falcata pressed to the back of their neck with more speed and ease than even the figure had ever witnessed. 

Unused to being detected and reacted to with such speed, it was with effort that the figure kept a composer facial expression as she removed the black head wrap, allowing beautiful chocolate hair to spill out around a sternly handsome female face. She was of the Demon's Head, a semi-legendary cult of the world's most lethal assassins that was often dismissed as merely fiction. 

However instead of a swift and lethal attack, she shocked the room by kneeling before Michael, seemingly unconcerned with his blade now at her throat, and said, "Slayer of the Demon, Carrier of the Demon's head and Salvation to man, I hereby swear my allegiance and that of my followers. The Cult of the Demon's Head honors you as the Chosen One and willingly submit to your leadership. My name is Nyssa, your first servant... My Lord." 

She suddenly executed s perfect backflip that carried her backwards out the window. When the guards rushed to the window, she was nowhere to be seen below. 

"Well, that was unexpected!" Michael laughed. Everyone looked at him like he was madman. 

Having already been made privy to the Prophecy, he wasn't too surprised to find that there was a Cult or Sect dedicated to it. King Domitus went on to explain further regarding the Cult while his guards fruitlessly searched the Palace grounds for the mysterious woman who seemingly came only to make her single declaration of fanatic loyalty. 

After that, the war council resumed relatively quickly but Michael was tired and sore plus he wanted to digest all of this new information before he made any plans. So, after introducing Amila and making sure she had everything she could need, he retired to the baths. 

:..:

Michael floated in the hot pool of steaming water, his eyes closed, deep in thought. However, there was a part of him that was aware of his surroundings. Including the shocked gasps and moans of the pretty young bath slaves as they beheld his chiseled body and freakish endowment. But it was the faint squeak that came from the doorway that finally drew him from his reverie. 

Amila had been watching Michael all day, ever since their unusual meeting. She couldn't quite describe, let alone understand, the feelings he elicited in her. True, he was without a doubt the most wonderfully hot male she had ever seen. True, the unusual blend of immense strength and selfless kindness touched her deeply. And, true, his general aura and presence made her quim weep and her skin tingle. However, it wasn't his strength, character or divine appearance that had her most intrigued, though they certain did finalize her desire. No, it was the beautiful spirit of his that she saw with her Sight that entranced her. 

He had glowed with a beautiful, celestial light that left one feeling safe, secure and clean. Never before had she seen such a pure and benevolent spirit within a being. Light Magic was the domain of the Elves yet such powerful source of Light Energy had never been recorded, especially within a single individual. And it had added a deep curiosity to her already considerable attraction. 

She had watched him from behind as the slaves removed his armor, piece by piece, and then his clothes. She had felt her tiny areoles tighten and her nipples harden as his sculpted back came into view. He was so much more lithe and muscular than Elven males, his body build being somewhere between a muscular human and a handsome Elf. As muscular as he appeared, he wasn't bulky. The golden skin rolled over the tight muscles as his body moved and flexed smoothly in it's disrobing movements. His ripped chest and shredded abs and narrowed into thin waist that have his torso an overall 'V' shape before molding into the most amazingly rump she had ever seen, his golden skin without a single flaw or tan line. Even the bruises and marks from his fight with the Manticore were already fading. 

Just as she began to think that he had a body and build so perfect that her mind couldn't imagine a single improvement, he turned around and the trance was shattered by her shock. 

Hanging limply between his legs was what had to be a deformed penis. Because there was simply no way that a cock that huge was natural and healthy. It wasn't even practical. What would a woman even do with that much meat? In Elven culture, men envy flexibility over size when it came to equipment.

An Elven penis was smaller, proportionately, to that of most human men. The difference was, much like a prehensile tail, an Elf could bend and work even the shaft of his rod, massaging a cult from the inside with it's movements. Most male Elves were between three and four inches in length. Amila's fiancée had, by far, the biggest cock she had ever heard of in an Elf. He was a legendary libertine among She-Elves and only proposed marriage to her for the political and personal benefits. 

Vitginity had no religious or social significance to Elves, so she had lain with multiple partners in her century of life. Still, none of that had prepared her for taking her fiancée's almost six inches of Elven dick in her ridiculously tiny box. 

From that moment on, she had realized how good it felt to be stuffed full of cock. And unlike most Elven females, she liked it better than the wriggling and bending of more flexible dicks. This led her to experiment on a few occasions with human men. Their comparatively huge cocks, string musk and feral nature drove her wild. 

What she didn't know, what high ranking Elves had suppressed, was that the pheromones released by a horny human make were nearly addictive to female Elves, so strong was the euphoric arousal. The musky scent triggered a primal animal that created desire that could scarcely be controlled. Human men, being much more virile, also had different qualities to their semen. It was not only much more potent than Elven seed but also an unnaturally potent aphrodisiac. The fact that Elven males couldn't achieve orgasm more than once in a day, and often couldn't get hard for days after a sexual liaison, served to further enflame the interracial attraction of the female Elves. 

Naturally, after large numbers of females (many of whom were high born) initiated human relationships that usually ended in marriage and children, the High Elves decided it was best if the biological reactions of their females weren't widely known. 

Now, looking a cock so giant it was a little gross and a LOT intimidating, she decided that she wouldn't let it detract from her want. After all, it wasn't like a man could control what he was born with. 

Soon, though, she watched it begin to stiffen and grow. It shocked her that it could get yet bigger but, even more shocking, her lust just suddenly bloomed at the thought of such a huge appendage. What was more, it's shape was as sculpted as that of an aartist's masterpiece and the smell was already affecting her. It looked like the bath slaves were having a similar reaction as their shock and fear morphed into something else. Something naughty. 

Right as her lust was finally outweighing her caution and propriety, tempting her to actually approach Michael, she saw another figure enter through the steam. After a few seconds, the swirling steam surrounding the cooler entrance parted enough for Amila to emerald green skin and curves so severe that they bordered on obscene. 

She watched as Talasa approached the edge of the steaming pool and spoke softly to the divine shape softly floating on his back in the pool's center. In response to a smile from Michael, she slowly lowered herself down into the steaming pool. 

For a few minutes, Amila watched

from a distance as the buxom she-Orc massaged the granite-like muscles of Michael's golden back. She was almost as surprised as Talasa was when, after a few moments, Michael moved quickly to spin around and pick Talasa up with ease. 

Lifting her straight up by her hips with very little effort, Michael maneuvered her legs around her neck and buried his face into her core while still holding her aloft in midair with his hands on her hips. 

Talasa roared out in a sound akin to a startled Leopard as her master once again pleasures her with my mouth. Having no familiarity with cunnilingus beyond his initial sampling of her right after their initial meeting, she had no defense against his talented tongue. 

She couldn't believe her Lord was doing that thing with his mouth again to her. Initially, she had felt surprised and somehow self conscious when he had first put his mouth on her down there, as if it might be gross for him. After all, an Orc male would never do such a thing to his mate. It was true that female Orcs were often forced, and occasionally willing so, to use their mouths to pleasure and clean their mate's 'spear'. But, for some reason, it seems like it never occurred to any Orc female to expect it in return. And they were SO missing out, thought Talasa as her third orgasm in as many minutes threatened to rip conscious thought from her grasp. 

Michael, enjoying her taste and the sensitivity of her tiny, undersized opening. It was an odd thing that such a strong and physical race would have such small genitalia when compared to the smaller and weaker humans race. If one were to consider adjustments made for 'genital size relative to body size' then the difference would be even more glaring. Luckily for Talasa, it appeared Orcs also had more elasticity in their skin as well. Lucky for him too, de he'd have never fit himself into her. 

These were all things that ran through his mind without much conscious notice, as he feasted on the earthy forest like taste of the tiny green tunnel in front of him. 

He teased the lips before shockingly burying his tongue as deep into her tight little opening as possible, causing her to cry out in shocked pleasure. He then rimmed the convulsing walls with increasing speed before moving up to circle her little clit without ever making direct contact. 

After a moment of teasing her lips, he lunged forward and coveted her entire opening with his mouth as he proceeded to suck on her whole mound and wriggle his tongue around inside her clinching tunnel simultaneously. 

It was this point that Talasa truly passed out and Amila watched as Michael lovingly held her and caressed her skin. 

When she regained consciousness, he proceeded to whisper something in her ear that caused the beautiful she-Orc's gave to light up as she squealed happily and jumped on him. As Talasa delivered sloppy kisses to Michael's whole face, Amila snapped out of her reverie and retreated back down the side hallway from whence she came. 

She was so effected by the intense sexual display that she failed to notice the hooded black figure that had observed her throughout the entire affair before retreating into gated tunnel used for the maintenance of the complex canals that brought the bath water up from the subterranean hot spring below. 

:..:

Nyssa smiled for the first time in as long as she could remember as she navigated the near total darkness of the tunnels down below the bathhouse, spreading out through the capital city like unseen arteries and veins. The prophecy had not only been fully completed, but she had witnessed the events with her own eyes. Centuries of dedication would now pay off as the Cult of Assassins would be on the front lines of the greatest and most glorious War the world had ever seen. 

Once again, her trusty pet bay carried a message through the darkness. And once again, that message was to be disseminated to Demon's Head operators everywhere. 

In one dark dungeon, a minor Lord was getting his sadistic thrills from a young servant girl whose wrists were held fast in shackles. He didn't even notice the small black bars that fluttered in through the cell's tiny waste chute. But the girl noticed. And in a flash her legs snapped up to surround the torturing sadist's neck. The loud snap of his spine nearly corresponded with the clattering of her wrist irons falling from her hands. Then she disappeared through the servants tunnel, never to be seen again. 

Across Aurion there were many similar scenes being played out. There was also a corrupt Achbishop who caught a crossbow bolt in his throat after it flew through the small window of his armored carriage, as it flew through the night, in a near impossible shot. Politicians were poisoned by disappearing servants. Warlords were being found with throats cut in their most secure rooms. Many others fell in ways that appeared accidental or natural. The only mention of a Cult of Assassins in relation to these events was the whispers of the crazy or outlandish. Nobody listened. 

...

As a mixed force of elite troops consisting of more than a thousand mounted fighting men and women, with a free herd of over three thousand highly trained War Horses, both the Xia's Steppe Horses and medium-large sized Akhal 'Golden' Horses (with their high strength, speed, endurance, sure footing, sharp senses, near predatory instinct-as if it they were Lions trapped in the bodies of horses, and fiercely loyal nature) along with the beautiful, Dorian's (desert tribe-bred, high flanked horses with softly curved foreheads, shiny coats with a thin silky texture, graceful movements powered by near feline muscles and huge, overdeveloped lungs to power their long, keenly muscled legs) horses used by elite Dorian mounted forces in tow, thundered across the steppe, a biting rain started to lash their faces and exposed 

Michael liked the way the cool rain ran down his face. It was refreshing and cleansing. 

They had left the Capital the day before, leaving behind everyone except him, Kokochun and Amila, Michael's Xia Princely Guard of 500 Heavy Cavalrymen who simply were in awe of their commander and Prince (few knew that the Xia Khan had quietly given Michael the title of Royal Prince and Heir to the Khan) and his Centuria of one hundred dedicated veteran ex-Aurion Legionaries riding as mounted infantry (who held Michael in only slightly less awe than the Xia but felt bound to him by the way their inherent sense of honor was subconsciously attracted to the divine righteous light that dwelled within him). 

There was also the 128 men of 'Wolf Company' of the Dorian Ranger's Sylvan Division, so named because a millennia ago, during the War with the Jotun, a lost group of isolated, battle weary and wounded Dorian Helot Archers managed to somehow win the respect and admiration of the Sylvan Elves. By the time the Company of 128 Archers were fully healed, they forest had been snowed in, leaving them no choice but to spend the Winter with the Elves (not exactly viewed as a dreaded concept by most of the men). Over the course of that Winter, the Dorian archers learned from the centuries old men of the Sylvan Rangers. Men that had spent hundreds of years studying field craft, trapping (animal and human), raw survivalism, extensive plant and animal knowledge, every form and manner of hunting, stealth (around man, animal or monster), countless tricks and shortcuts of life in the woods, field medicine, field alchemy and herbalism, bow making, fletching, field metallurgy and blacksmithing, master-level archery with their spelled, collapsible Steel recurve bows fitted with a micro-braided, carbon steel wire bowstring, mastery of the short sword as well as the secret akimbo Ranger, style of combat with extra long, dual edged daggers with a two-edged, thin and pointed razor blade, strength and accuracy with their telescoping steel javelins and barbed, use of grenades (Teargas, Hell Fire, Explosive and Poisoned gas), garrotes, lasso/rope, rock-climbing equipment, gas mask (with charcoal and lime filters and enchanted 'night lenses') as well as Advanced Guerrilla Warfare and Ambush, not to mention many other areas of expertise. 




Aurion Ch. 02



And when the Dorian archers returned to the Dorian Army as 'Rangers', it set in motion a series of events that eventually led to the establishment of Dorian Rangers trained in the Sylvan fashion. 

In addition, King Domitus had sent along 300 Dorian citizen Hoplites from one of the Army's Elite units, along with a few specialists troops that would add versatility to his force.

His force might've been small on the scale of Armies but it certainly consisted of some of then world's finest fighting men. 

He had decided that, while the Xia, the Mountain Orcs and many other human tribes and clans assembled before the Dorian capital, he would head up to straighten out the rumors of rebellious Northern Lords siding with Demonkind of their own freewill. 

In doing so, he not only intended to clear their northern flank, but also divide the enemy force in the West besieging the Elves from the main invasion coming from the Northeast. Without resupply, communication or reinforcement, the war parties besieging the Elven forests will be weakened and demoralized. Possibly to the point of retreat, but Michael wasn't counting on that. Plus, he didn't want humankind divided at all in the upcoming struggle. 

The friends and allies had been concerned that he only intended to ride with such a small force, but he didn't want to weaken or delay the full muster of the combined army they were in the process of building. Talasa had been near feral, even to him, at being ordered to stay in the Capitol while he risked his life in battle. Diana had been less than enthusiastic but more easily recognized the need for both her and Talasa to be present to unify the huge numbers men and orcs soon to arrive in Doria. 

Kokochun might have been helpful with integrating the Xia but his position and power amongst them made her unnecessary to bring them into the fold. So she rode with him, along with the curious little she-Elf Amila, to face unknown enemies and near certain danger. 

Michael knew that, if his suspicions of finding considerable enemy forces in this land were correct, they would likely need to organize a legitimate Resistance from the refugees and defectors from the lands of the enemy human Lords. Each of whom had at least a few thousand men between his own private Household guard, his militia and ample hired mercenary companies. And they would all be prepared, well armed and mustered. It would not be a situation where brute force was the answer, that much was for sure. 

And because of that, he was quite happy when Nyssa, followed by twenty of the world's finest Assassins, simply appeared in camp on the first night out of the Capital. She once again kneeled and gave her oath of loyalty. This time, however, she handed him an intricate bejeweled dagger with a curved blade. It was carried by the leader of the legendary and semi-mythical cult of Demon's Head, and had been for centuries. 

:..:



Aurion Ch. 03



Lord Cal Kandor was an ostentatious man. However, he was also politically shrewd and highly intelligent. He knew just how to take advantage of the fact that his lands bordered the Dorian Kingdom to the southwest. He was also extremely selfish, greedy and sometimes outright cruel. Despite his young age and short reign, his selfish leadership style and personal decisions had already stirred discontent and hatched multiple plots against him.

Unfortunately for the just, or at least the less selfish, the political opponents of his Lordship never had any success in replacing or moderating the young man's excesses. Lord Kandor actually seemed to enjoy participating in the conniving plots commonly surrounding men of his station. 

Beyond political savvy and intelligence he also had a huge network of spies and informers in addition to the 2,200 man Kandorian City Guard as well as his own stable of Gladiators. It was said that he often employed the Gladiators as enforcers or hitmen for internal dissent or political rivals. He had no standing army, relying on the feudal obligations of the Knights and men-at-arms. 

The source of his true strength, however, was his blackmail files. His widespread network of spies and informants not only warned him of plots against him but also the secrets and weaknesses of many. He had at least one dirty, dark secret about each and every one of his Knights to ensure their loyalty. 

Most Knights were wealthy landowners with their own servants and retinue. In a battle, the Knight was immediately assisted by his squire while his orders were given and relayed to the three Archers by his Sergeant. The six-man unit was called a 'Lance', tactically consisting of three archers and three armored men-at-arms. All of the men in a Lance were mounted but the archers were not true mounted archers, not being skilled at firing from the saddle at full gallop with accuracy. Unlike mounted archers who carried composite bows, they instead carried longbows. (reminder: Composite bows consisted of a flat wood core with thick layers of animal horn and sinew on opposite surfaces. The horn increased the compression strength and the sinew increased the tension strength, and when combined with recurved shape, allowed for a much shorter bows to generate force superior to the best longbow with a significantly lower draw weight and increase in mobility on horseback. The lower limb of the bow was often shorter than the upper limb which made mounted use easier but also stabilized the shots. With a composite war-bow in the same high draw weight as a military longbow and a good enough arrow, even good steel wasn't guaranteed protection, at least not in any level of thickness that could be worn as armor). 

It was the Knights and men-at-arms forming up and gathering with other Lances into anything from a group of a dozen Lances to run off bandit groups or raiding parties to hundreds of Lances formed into a proper army that provided the fighting force for a Lordship, instead of a standing army, which was expensive, difficult to build and high maintenance in return for use on highly rare occasions. In most situations it was easier just to hire mercenaries if you ever had need for more men than you had access to. The arrangement was not at all not unusual in the feudal times where Lords, and even Kings, simply hired mercenaries, drafted peasants into a Militia and called on their Lords who, in turn, called on their Knights, when in need of a large fighting force.

The fact that the Aurion Empire had a standing army in itself was an advantage. Said army was highly trained, impeccably armed, and possessed officers with extensive experience. The Legionaries were full-time soldiers who had no need to return home every year to harvest their crops or practice their professions. They were professional fighters who achieved high skill and group coordination by being trained every day that they weren't actually fighting. Only a few other people had warriors or soldiers that were full-time fighters and not farmers, shepherds or artisans who picked up swords to fight for their leaders in times of crisis or go raiding during the warm season before returning home for the harvest and winter.

Unsurprisingly, he had renamed the capitol of his fief after himself. Though it was originally little more than a castle surrounded by a few small urban centers, 'Kandoris' was turned into an opulent walled city filled with imperial architecture and material wealth. But, if you weren't rich, you were severely poor. The outskirts of the city, nearest the walls, circled the city almost entirely with the simple wooden huts of poor. They were crammed together and forced into an existence that was only separated from homelessness by having an eight by eight foot, non insulated wooden shack. The products of Lord Kandor's overtaxing and confiscation, clearly. 

Above all, the worst was the enormous statue of Lord Kandor himself located up the mountain slope directly behind the city, framing his 'palace'. The statue stood more than one hundred feet tall, with a body made from marble. The robes of the giant marble likeness were made from solid bronze while the generous jewelry was formed from solid gold. The area around the enormous stone base was leveled during construction for a couple hundred meters in all directions out, and up-down, the softly sloping ascent. 

Like many of the large or capitol cities in the Aurion Empire, Kandoris was built using surrounding terrain features as natural defenses. 

With it's back to a mountain that had no back paths or secret trails and whose only gentle slope were those leading down to the city's back, Kandoris had a distinct advantage in only needing three walls and having the high ground on any invaders who attempted to besiege their capitol city. 

They could also retreat up the highly defensible mountain at their back if the city itself was to be overwhelmed. In fact, there was already a few preparations permanently in place, were that ever to happen. 

Seeing the Lord Kandor's colossal likeness made Amila sick. It was shocking to consider how many people could've been properly clothed and fed with only the gold from the giant pieces of jewelry adorning it. 

Fortunately, his siding with Daemonkind meant that in addition to taking out the Raven Counsel's (composed of leading humans who, through one path or another, ended up siding with the Demons against their fellow man) main financier, they would also be ridding Aurion of a genuinel asshole, at least the way she saw it. 

The fact that Michael intended to sack Kandoris with just a company of Rangers and a handful of assassins had his men more than a little puzzled, yet they followed his orders. Sure enough, the next day there was a giant pillar of smoke emanating from the city's location and Michael and company had returned by early afternoon. 

Apparently, Michael had instructed Amila in creating a simple but powerful Alchemic mixture that was packed into barrels. The barrels were snuck up to the base of the giant statue located on the mountain slope above the city while the remaining barrel was hidden in the back of a wagon. Shortly after dusk, the wagon had been sent towards the gate without a driver, drawing the attention to the guards in the walls who had been doubled do to an unexpected occurrence earlier that day. (At midday, clay headed practice arrows had randomly fallen around the city from unseen sources. Each arrow had a message wrapped around the shaft, warning any innocent people to flee the city as the now famous/infamous Lord Michael was coming to burn it to the ground. This resulted in many leaving their homes to visit relatives or go hunting or camping outside the city, suddenly getting the desire to spend the night elsewhere. It also led to the infuriated Lord Kandor doubling his night watch, though he did nothing to try to stop the exodus from his city as he could claim the property or daughters of those that left by claiming they 'defected' as well as giving fewer mouths to feed in the event of a siege). 

Before the men guarding the front gate could move to act, the ground shook with a horrible sound like angry thunder and suddenly the giant statue of their leader had become giant chunks and slabs of stone that rolled and bounced down the mountain slope with great and ever growing speed. Unfortunately, those men never saw the destruction of their leaders villa along with significant portions of the city due to the fact that the unmanned wagon at the front gate detonated at that moment and ripped the iron gate apart while destroying the guard towers and a good length of wall to either side. 

The Lord Candor's guardsmen, who would've responded to any attack on the city, found themselves trapped as the doors to all four 500-man barracks had been barred before incendiary devices burst into flames on the barracks' roofs. The Gladiators had all been caged and therefore no threat. After that, it was a simple matter to eliminate the remaining guardsmen who had been on duty. The explosions took out a few dozen of the two hundred men who were on duty while the majority of the remainder fell without ever seeing their attackers. 

The 128 Rangers and 21 Assassins were darkly cloaked as they used their bows to easily pick off the small groups below from their rooftop positions inside the city. Some of the Assassin's closer victims fell to poisoned throwing stars and darts just as some of the Rangers made use of the heavy mechanical crossbows that supplemented their collapsible steel bows and were often used on oversized animals or beasts with armored hides and monstrous Trolls in the forests, Ogres in mountains or Cyclops in the stone lands. 

Their collapsible segmented steel bows were extremely powerful, being of much more efficient design and yet still having draw-weights of between 180lbs. and 240 lbs. when the average War bow for a skilled archer would be closer to 100 lbs.-160 lbs. When the increase in efficiency is added to the extreme increase in strength the Rangers were able to bury arrows deeply into a solid rock face. Deeply enough to seat a zip line, and certainly enough power to punch through most unspelled armors. They could also fire solid steel bolts with waxed leather fletching for dealing with world-class armor or, more often, large thick skinned beasts. 

However, the mechanical crossbow was always strapped to their backs, as a supplement to many more weapons, like their steel bows/quivers, long twin daggers, telescoping steel javelins with a hollow central tube that allowed it to double as a Blowgun and a thin but strong chain that could be connected from the javelin's rear to the wrist allowing retrieval as well as the capability to pull shields and anchor beasts, two axes (Sagaris battle-axe with rear spike and a heavy Francisca throwing-axe with S-shaped blade, or two), lasso, medical kit, fire kit, light ration (borts, hard cheese, pemmican, oats, sea-weed and almonds) fur-lined dark green/black/grey uniform and marble looking smoke/fire/flash balls (much like the incendiary/poison gas/flash/ smoke/fire balls were also used extensively by the Demon's Assassins).

However, their powerful mechanical crossbows generated nearly as much force as a Scorpion bolt thrower and mail armor actually made the wounds worse as the heavy diamond shaped head shredded it without effort before continuing into the body, carrying and spreading the broken mail links. The thin neck behind the heavy diamond shaped bolt-head allowed solid penetration with heavy plate armor with the thin neck and smoothly tapered shoulders allowing smooth progress through the larger square hole already torn open. The thick ironwood shaft barely fit through the breach but the bolt's penetration was not impeded. The solid steel bolts came in a few varieties (some enchanted) but were mainly intended for giant beasts like Mammoths or Dragons or penetration through multiple bodies. 

Dragons hadn't been seen in Aurion for centuries but the races, most extensively the Elves, still had knowledge of Dragons in the form of ancient texts in Citadels, oral traditions in tribal societies and the more accurate memories and recorded observations of the Elves. The legend surrounding them was often exaggerated but they were powerful beasts with intelligence somewhere between a man and a dog or pig. Contrary to popular belief, they were not invincible, just very formidable. It was true that, due to their Volcanic evolution, they could indeed produce fire by drawing an aerosol mixture of fat, sulfur, iron, petroleum, highly concentrated pure oxygen, fats and Dragon venom into their lungs from various biological sources 

and exhaling it while an organ in it's throat produced intense electrical currents that spark the Dragon's breathe and turn it into a flame-throwing maw. 

However the power and, primarily range, of the dragon's flame breathe had been greatly exaggerated through the fear of ancient peasants. While they could project Dragon flame, which was hot enough to melt steel, stone and flesh alike, their range was limited to less than ten meters of flame projection in most cases. This meant that they had to fly low, risking their more vulnerable underside, to set towns or castles alight with Dragonflame. Beyond that, and the high elemental iron content in their bones, claws and scales, they were pretty much just very large winged reptiles with unusually high intelligence. 

The Dragon does have its vulnerabilities, though. The scales along it's back and flanks provide very thick overlapping armor plates but the scales covering it's belly and throat are much smaller, thinner and they overlap to a much lesser degree. The wings are another vulnerability, the iron rich bones may be very strong but the membranes in the wings are barely thicker than heavy leather and are covered by very small and thin scales. If one could land a piercing blow to the front neck of a Dragon as it was spewing flames, or preparing to, the flames would explode out of the openings and rip the dragon open. There were also herbs, poisons and magics that were effective against Dragons. 

There are few weapons capable of actually penetrating a Dragons hide without sliding between scales or into exposed vulnerable spots. Most are Arcane in nature such as properly spelled or enchanted weapons (dragons had a resistance to many forms of magic due to practical reasons such as the speed, flight and distance of an attacking dragon as well as a general biological resistance to many forms of offensive magic), soul weapons, Dragon steel, Ice steel (good steel at a temperature below freezing will act like glass would against against human skin-prone to shattering but extremely sharp), Obsidian (the sharper-than-razor micro edges of Obsidian allow the otherwise brittle material to cut the material that makes up the scales-with their high iron content and a touch and texture somewhere between river stone and boiled leather), Dragonbane (consisting of a mixture of Wolfsbane, Ogresbane, powdered obsidian, Mistletoe, Sage and serpent blood) and Kraken venom (injected by the barbs on their enormous tentacles) mixed with human blood and serpent venom (preferably a species of Viper). 

Knowing that the mechanical Crossbow could take down such a beast under the right circumstances, it is not so hard to imagine that shields were penetrated, steel faced with heavy oak planks were punched through, their armored chests sprouting the thick stubs of deeply seated heavy bolts through heavy armor. The mechanical ratcheted hand-winch was strong enough to tow a boat and, when combined with heavy bar of pure, high quality, iron that was treated and beaten into a composite folded steel recurve crossbow prod, it was an amazing weapon. Even the oiled and waxed stock and woodwork built over a composite steel frame using the extremely strong but very lightweight Southern Ironwood. The marksman's Ranger Heavy Arbalest was referred to ironically by it's users as 'The Cure'. Amila was quickly able to work out a design before putting into production an idea called a 'Sniper Rifle' that Michael had shared with her from the advanced technology of a magic lacking world called Earth, inhabited purely by humans.  

Amila, aided by craftsmen and smiths and sped by her own Alchemic and magical abilities, created a telescope and mounting bracket for the tops of the Steel prodded mechanical crossbows of the Rangers as well as the Scorpion bolt-thrower. The telescopes allow 2x magnification in their fully collapsed form but with each expended segment the magnification doubled until the maximum of 10x magnification. This allowed unbelievable vision enhancement and with practice, made much easier by the markings on the lenses that helped the marksmen establish distance and the crosshairs placed at multiple elevations that sped range calculation and improved accuracy of shots. 

Soon, with much daily practice, the already extremely skilled Rangers found that their enhanced view allowed them to hit individuals at ranges that previously only allowed targeting of large troop formations. At over 200 meters, most could make a head shot through their scoped. At 500 yards most would be able to hit center torso. At out to 700 yards they could consistently hit troop formations, long before the standard enemy archers could approach to the edge of their 300 yard maximum range. If aimed in a high arc, while the scope would be useless, the weapon had a range of out to 900 meters. 

There were many different types of boltheads for everything from incendiary and consecrated silver plating to long needle nose armor piercing to multi-needle headed injection darts (reduced draw). However, it was the standard razor tipped diamond shaped bolthead with a square cross section that did most of the dirty work. 

Lord Kandor had been dragged out of his hiding place inside his luxurious villa while the men where busy loading wagons with gold, jewels, weapons and provisions. The Gladiators were given their freedom but warned against turning to banditry. Having only known a horribly harsh master, they were in awe of Michael and they agreed to join him to a man. Some of it might have been a result of seeing him easily kill their enraged Gladiator instructor, who was the meanest and toughest ex-Gladiator around. 

The men split into pairs and each two-man group was responsible for loading and driving a wagon back to the rendezvous point Michael arranged with the officers, having left Kokochun in overall command while Jelme led the Xia cavalry and Felix led the combined infantry. 

The men where in high spirits on their return. Nyssa was getting progressively worse at hiding her interest while Amila was openly infatuated with Michael, appearing like a smitten schoolgirl.

:..: 

In Aurion, there are two types of marriage. First, the 'Legal Wedding before man' was more common and was more about the Dowries, arranged alliances and merged assets of the union. The second type, 

'Loving Wedding before the Gods', was a true romantic ceremony meant to bind two people into one loving couple. 

Before leaving the Dorian Capitol, Michael and Diana underwent a stiffly formal Legal Wedding before Man (which technically requires no consumption) in order to give Michael the necessary authority to unite the North. King Domitus sent a message to the Emperor informing him of the appointment of Lord Michael as the new Warden of the North and Lord of Winterhaven by way of marriage to the sole surviving family member. Though the Warden's needed to be approved by the a Emperor himself, King Domitus' extreme support and the rumors flying around would almost certainly guarantee Michael's appointment and status would be confirmed. 

:..:

Michael sat around the campfire in front of his camp tent along with Amila, Kokochun and his officers, eating roasted meat, fruit, fresh bread, cheese and fish. They had taken a huge haul from Kandoris and now, in addition to being oversupplied, each man was legitimately wealthy from the huge amount of plundered gold and gems, even those who didn't participate in the sacking of the city. The fact that the Assassins refuse all material wealth meant there was much more to go around. 




Aurion Ch. 03



"The men are stunned by your generosity, My Lord," said Jelme, "as am I. I have issued your orders that the men find a good spot to bury their new riches so the extra weight won't slow us down. I think I now see why you chose Lord Candor as our first target. He was rich and powerful but complacent in his physical security. A sure win and lots of plunder: a huge morale boost." 

Jelme was the young man whom Michael had made Captain of his Xia Princely Guard. Jelme was young, barely twenty years old, but he had an intelligent, analytical mind and understanding of strategy and tactics that was far beyond most Generals. His youth hadn't been the only obstacle to his acceptance as the leader of the most elite cavalry force in Aurion. 

Jelme was from the small, isolated and northernmost Ulan Clan of the Xia Confederation. Their territory extends beyond the Northern Wall, though they rarely go to the Wild Side, and only then when absolutely necessary to retrieve resources or welcome the White Elk, Feathered Moose, the occasional Kingsbuck and Great Reindeer's southern migration. The only other wildlife migration considerations to be performed, outside of birds and airborne animals, were allowing the Arctic Auroch's, the Red Fox, Plains Lynx and a few others through with gates without allowing any Winter Bears, Sabertooth Snow Cats or Ice Wolves. 

Ice Wolves especially were highly fearsome, having mostly Direwolf DNA, though it mixed with the extremely tall, swift and athletic Arctic Grey Wolves, creating a Wolf whose head sometimes stood almost five feet from the ground while retaining a thicker, bulkier build than an Arctic Wolf would otherwise have and with longer legs, higher shoulders with teeth size and jaw strength that was nearly a Direwolf's equal. 

The Ice Wolves had further evolved to become even more fearsome. Their eyes, forced to function in either the dark of pitch black night or snow-blinding light, adapted over countless generations until their eyes were capable of increased light magnification and UV filtering. 

Their hearing also increased to overcome the howling winds, storms and frozen forests that drowned out or enveloped the sounds of prey. The same went for their sense of smell. Their skulls were slightly elongated with a longer nose when compared to a normal Grey Wolf which made them better trackers than Grey wolves. With the sense of smell of a Bloodhound, enhanced ability to separate mixed or covered scents and improved vision along with the improved oxygenation, elevated red blood cell count, increased efficiency and absorption of protein served to increase their strength, speed and healing. 

Only the strongest of each generation are able to mate as this peculiar race of Wolves also had a gender ratio of 1:4 female to male births and because of that, they evolved some physical defenses for challenges over mates; much like Wild Boars, they evolved thick cartilage shields over ribcage while thinner, more organic cartilage reinforcements grew along the contours of the neck, spine and head. 

The bone structure was composed of elevated elemental Iron, which the highest concentrations of Iron in the retracting, Tiger-like claws and overdeveloped musculature of the jaws, mixing with the native carbon to become steel. Their skin thickened and increased in elasticity while their fur became much stronger with the iron/carbon replacing the carbon based Keratin much like the claws. 

It was these attributes that made the Ulan and other far northern people some of the best hunters in existence and led to the Legionaries posted on the Great Northern Wall to fear the crossing of Ice Wolves almost as much as the Jotun, Dark Orcs, Giants, Trolls or other unknown northern monsters. 

The Ulan had a close working relationship with the Legionnaires stationed on the wall in their territoriy. In fact, many legionnaires took Ulan brides and they always provided the guard, overwatch and defenses every year when the vast herds arrive at the wall and Ulan herdsmen were sent out to funnel them through the few open gates. 

The Ulan Clan had also helped the Legionnaires in the past when enemies threatened to break through weakened portions of the wall or when Imperial resupply would've been impossible during winter months. 

As a people, they were strange. Instead of the tall, brave and fast 'Golden Horses', the Ulan used a particularly large breed of selectively bred Caribou for their heavy cavalry and even their war-sleds. They still made use of the short, squat, shaggy and hardy Steppe pony for their light cavalry but most of the similarities end there. They had always lived in self-imposed isolation. It was simply their way and few other men could survive as they did. 

His heritage meant that many weren't too happy about Jelme being given a position of power and prestige. But Michael saw his potential. 

The former Captain, Jurgen, had wanted to challenge Jelme but Michael convinced him of a better idea and soothed his ego. By the time he left, Jurgen was sure that he had been promoted. He was to be sent out into the countryside to spread the word of the Savior Michael, direct any veteran or mercenaries towards Doria while he recruited all the men he could find that were already proficient on horseback to recruit and train into a force of Cataphracts. 

Oddly, he had two further instructions that defied logic; to search for, capture, hold, care for and deliver all possible venomous reptiles, amphibians, animals and plants and to send all of the sick, diseased, poisoned or plagued to a prepared medical camp in the shelter of a small nearby forest. This very message was further spread to Xia, Dorian, Mountain Orc and defectors by Jelme's Golden Eagle and his Wild Hawk along with Nyssa's genetically, surgically, alchemically and magically altered Vampire Bat. 

Both airborne messengers also informed King Domitus back in Dorian of their plans to make a well hidden fort deep in the pine forest that sits with the open plains on one side and sheer ridges along the other that lead up to the extremely high elevation of the vast Northern Plateau (home to the Zaka tribe, a sea of grass located more than 20,000 feet above sea level that maintained unusually high temperatures. In the summer and fall months the heat often became near unbearable. But the winter months still brought a stiff chill and only occasional snow as they were located at the very bottom of 'The North'-just above both the Dorian Desert and the Black Mountains) 

Their camp, less than a week's march from Kamdoris, was between a raised series of pine covered foothills in the middle of a thick forest. It was surrounded by trees naturally but they improved upon that a great deal to create a solid ring of large trees to act as a defensive wall. Michael set up the tents and fires down in a small valley. There was also a large, dry creek bed that ran along the valley. It was there that the cooking fires were placed to provide further visual cover for the large fires. The heating fires at each man's tent was kept small and though thoroughly dry brush and wood were used to start good fires, it was mostly the soft glowing Coal fires that provided warmth without giving off the bright glow of flames that could give away their location. 

Michael again paired the Assassins with the Rangers to prepare a nearby decoy camp, laden with traps, underground tunnels for the assigned defenders that maintained the camp could safely flee through. The false camp was set up to make it appear that there were a lot more than the now total force of around 3,000 men, those currently traveling with him. He detailed a mixed group of two hundred men, including the full 100-man Century of veteran Legionnaires, (30) Dorian Hoplites and the remainder a mix of (20) Rangers, (12) Assassins, (8) Combat Engineers and several members (30) from each of the five Dorian Unconventional Special Warfare Groups (there were 500 men total in each of the five separate Special Warfare Groups). Each Group had contributed to the detachment on loan to the Warden of the North from the Doria King Domitus and having arrived shortly after Michael and Co. left to sack Kandoris, along with another two mora of Dorian Hoplites (each mora had 800 Hoplites and 200 Helots), the Special Warfare Groups' contribution consisted of a thousand men: (200) 'Sea Snakes' Combat Swimmers, (200) 'Hellhounds' PyroFighters, (200) 'Mountain Rams' Combat Climbers, (200) 'Sidewinders' tunnel rats and (200) 'Holy Hand' Alchemic Warrior Monks.

All of the members of these Special Warfare Groups were perfectly capable of fighting as full Dorian Hoplites or riding as Dorian Heavy Cavalry if the situational need arose, in addition to their specialized duties. However, they were rarely used for anything other than their intended purpose to preserve their numbers as well as keep the existence and details of these special units secret. Still, the legends of the men, their capabilities and, most of all, their weapons persisted. In truth, their unique weapons were nearly as noteworthy as their skills. 

The Holy Hand carried glass spheres filled with various Alchemic compounds as well as several smaller vials strapped diagonally across the solid Ice steel breastplates and gauntlets with the heavy white silk covered, steel scaled chain mail skirt, shoulder guards and gorget that was worn over the pristine white robes of the Warrior Monks along with well formed, solid steel greaves. 

They carried longswords made from repeatedly folded Ice steel. The swords were heated, hammered and folded many, many times while being alternately quenched in subzero sea water and a barrel of Kraken blood. 

The Holy Hand also carried highly powerful 7 ft. Ironwood Longbows with Napatha coated arrows or shafts capped with round spheres fitted with simple spikes and containing all sorts of poisons or Alchemic potions. 

The Sidewinders specialized in tunnel warfare which meant that most of their weapons were either area oriented or close combat, with a few exceptions of close quarters ranged weapons. 

Their main weapons were the pair of wickedly serrated knives with a slight backward curve and a fine tip along with the repeating crossbow (it carried 40-80 small bolts in a double drum magazine with a spring loaded drum cylinder located on either side of the weapon's body and was operated by cranking a handle that controlled all of the mechanics necessary to continually load, draw and fire bolts from alternating drums as long as the handle is operated. This semi automatic action allowed the weapon to fire a bolt approximately once per second, though the design couldn't offer much in the way of draw weight, or else it would be too difficult to smoothly operate the handle and it was quite heavy for it's size. 

The Dorians had abandoned the layered wood pieces used by the original inventors of the repeating crossbow in favor of a composite bow prod and higher draw weight, offering increased short range penetration and (though seldom needed) an effective range of over 100 meters instead of the original 20 meters. 

The small bolts were often poisoned (usually Wolfsbane root juice mixed with a little powdered silver and potent serpent venom) to increase lethality and thru had to be made heavy to maximize penetration since their overall size was quite short and thin compared to an arrow or even the average crossbow bolt, often times being made of solid steel and usually having diamond heads, Bodkin points or long and thin barbed heads. 

In addition to the repeating crossbow on a sling, each Sidewinder also had long, double edged daggers strapped to the outside of each of their thighs, hollow telescoping steel poles with a barbed tip that served as a steel javelin/blowgun with a thin chain coiled around the wrist connected the spear's butt for quick retrieval with a flick of the wrist and a pull. They also carried smaller blowguns and an abundance of poisoned darts, throwing stars and caltrops. They also carried flash, smoke and incendiary 'marbles'. 

They also carried a pistol crossbow with a small recurved steel prod and a stirrup for drawing. Their armor consisted of lacquered, rawhide backed boiled leather lames set onto a thick, quilted silk backing and spiked metal gauntlets and boots with spikes and folding blades for close quarters combat. 

The Mountain Rams were combat climbers with full climbing equipment, steel spiked boots, anchors, ropes, pulleys and carabiners. The Rams carried powerful composite recurve bows while approximately one in three also carried a mechanical crossbow on a sling. They had thick recurved steel prods and mounted telescopes, using solid iron bolts to anchor crossings and zip lines securely with steel cables as well as to take advantage of their inherent height to pick off targets with a long distance weapon. They also established Scorpion bolt-thrower nests up high, watching from the highly ground in hidden blinds. 

Their one handed war hammers had a curved spike on the back of their head that was used to aid in climbing but favored their notorious solid steel flanged mace for most combat situation though they often wielded both weapons akimbo, with one in each hand, though the steel mace was a heavy weapon. They also used ropes and lassos as both a tool and weapon as well as their iron weighted Bolas while their large Seax daggers often came in handy. They carried light pelte shields strapped on their backs and were protected by thick, boiled leather breastplate as well as greaves and gauntlets that fit with chain mail backed rawhide knee and elbow pads. 

The Hellhounds famously carried longswords made from Dragon steel (the high concentrations of iron in Dragon bones providing the raw material). They were also well known for the glass orbs and grenades that they carried as well as the pressurized flame-throwers that were worn by one man in every tent (8 fighters, 2 support). They also favored flaming arrows and had developed their own type with a hollow baked clay tip filled with Napatha that exploded and showered flame on impact.

They even had rockets made from arrows with small explosive packets secured to their shafts. These could be launched from large platforms or fired from rectangular boxes that could be carried strapped on a man's back that looked a lot like an arrow quiver and contained a similar amount of arrow-rockets. 

The sword of the Sea Snakes was a thick, wide bladed short sword with a diamond shaped cross-section and sharp point. They also had a dagger with a leaf-shaped blade that was nearly as long, though much thinner. However, what was remarkable was the fact that the swirling white and blue blades were laboriously carved from Kraken bone using diamond tools and high heat. 

Their common range weapon was a crossbow made entirely from oiled metals, even the braided steel cable. It came on both a full sized version as well as a smaller version with a pistol grip, though the metal's strength ensured both were extremely powerful. When fired underwater, especially using they special Harpoon dart, they were still extremely lethal. 

They also had a penchant for nets. Especially those made from the treated and woven fibers of the Swamp Tree. Swamp Tree wood was laden with naturally occurring waxes throughout it's structure, preventing any significant water absorption. The wood also sank in water and had a very high strength.

It was also used to make both the Sea Snakes' bows and arrows. Their arrow's had various types of heads but most of their fletching came from the barbed fines of various Stonefish, the webbing in between barbs being stiff but flexible. Each barb was sheathed but covered in a highly lethal paralytic neurotoxin and any significant disturbance or direct pressure near the heads meant death for the agitator. 

The two hundred men that Michael picked to prepare and inhabit the decoy camp got to work quickly making the camp appear less than formidable from the outside but tactically prepared. Although it's defenses were identical in organization and location to the main camp, much of it was made from local materials (giant crossbows with prods made from huge, rough and simple pieces of timber instead of the precision bolt-throwers and catapults that defended to main camp). 

The camp consisted of two columns of ten 10-man tents housed the fighters, with a few larger tents surrounding, just slightly off the center of the camp, while there are many simple tents hastily thrown up in all directions, to give the impression of larger numbers. Each man set three tents and lit five visible fires at night times. The hill with the decoy camp and all the empty tents, extra fires and Scarecrow-sentries had been placed on the visible side of a rather large hill top that was about a half day's hard foot march past the entrance to the valley where the hidden and camouflaged real camp was located, where they could sleep, eat, live and plan in privacy. 

The forest and ground around the decoy camp was also surrounded with traps, ambushes and surprises. There was a 16 foot heavy wooden wall made from thick beaches sharpened to stakes, with a heavy wall of thick 12 foot wooden planks sandwiching a three meter thickness of heavy stoned, wet clay and powdered soil in between the taller palisade of sharpened stakes and the shorter heavy, thick wooden planks. The clay and soil in between the palisade and the wall of thick wooden planks acts as a highly useful padding as well as a superior base for the wall's heavy fighting platform of cast iron faced 4' Cornel boards over 2.5' Yew planks and 4' solid Poplar pieces. 

The platform had simply made, crude but dependable heavy bolt throwers and catapults using the natural tension strength of tree limbs and gravity. A large number of 'un-Manned Bows were set up with tripwires and positioned in both in the surrounding area and also placed on the walls in plain sight as well as some hidden in various places-including small gaps or openings in the palisade (these huge bows were loosed by having their tripwires pulled instead of set across a trail or likely route for an enemy to unknowingly trigger). 

There was also a number of Scorpio Bolt-Throwers as well as bigger Ballistas (capable of using it's powerful energy to project spherical projectiles or, with minor modifications, fire large, spear-sized projectiles ranging from the equivalent of a fairly normal javelin thrown with damn near the speed of a Titan or a solid iron pole lwith variants between four and six feet in length which were capped by a large, barbed hardened steel head reminiscent of a heavy duty harpoon with smaller barbs and spiked strategically placed along the shaft), on a slightly raised platform in the center of the camp located just above the secret underground escape tunnel with explosive and incendiary charges set underground at strategic spots to trigger the full destruction of the camp, should they need to evacuate. 

There was a tall heavy wooden wall around the real camp down in the valley, near the dry creek bed, made from tree trunks that had been anchored underneath the topsoil, deep in the ground, with cement, sand, clay and stone.

The fort simply looks like a ring of tightly growing trees as there was no space for a person to find a gap between tree trunks. Many of the tree trunks still had their roots attached, or were capable of sprouting new ones, and they quickly gave the fort a stronger subterranean base and strengthened the walls. Stairs and walkways were built inside the wall for defense and patrol of the smallish base. There were many blinds, hides and perches in the thick branches of the trees that serve as the wall. This allowed archers great fields of fire with little risk of their position being discovered. 




Aurion Ch. 03



They also built bridges, ropes, rope swings and zip-lines to travel from Marksmen's tree stands (tree perch with enough space to stand or sit camouflaged with Longbow or Crossbow) to bolt-thrower's nest (heavily camouflaged armored treehouse with firing slots and supplies: food, bows, crossbows, arrows, bolts, darts, javelins, spears, swords, axes and hammers and heavy weapons). This gave them hidden access to a treetop area of operation on the canopy of the forest as well as underground tunnels for both safe retreat, unexpected attacks and safe rooms, hospitals, kitchens, stables and training grounds. The area around their fort was very well protected and well hidden. The decoy fort naturally had many traps both inside and out of the camp. 

Their base of operations was now prepared, it was time to begin a Guerrilla War in earnest. He said as much to his comrades around the fire.

"Lord Kandor had not only supplied us with wealth, food and weapons but, most importantly, information. And now that I have him infamous Blackmail Files, I control him and all those under his thumb. He has also proved quick useful as a source of information regarding the enemy. We will keep him around for now. Once he runs out of information or usefulness we can decide whether or not to execute or ransom him," explained Michael,"from here, we must defeat or unite the remaining Northern Lords before we can turn on the Demon Army besieging the Elven Forest in the west. We will be doing what we can to cut off their resupply and send long range attacks at their rear positions as well as intense phycological warfare. But our immediate focus is uniting the humans in the North."

"Where do we head out in the morning?" asked Kokochun

"We need a thorough scouting of the extended area out further around our position. After that, we shall be heading North to Winterhaven, Diana's home."

"Your home now too, you mean?" Kokochun teased.

"Winterhaven would be a perfect place from which to defend the North. Probably why the spot was picked in the first place. But you must be careful whom you trust," Amila advised, "I can make a special dormant toxin that a man takes when he pledged his allegiance or makes an oath to you and it is completely harmless as long as the guy doesn't break his oath. If he does, all of the blood in his body grows extremely thin and his immune system turns on his body and attacks in any and every way it can. Millions of White Blood Cells attack his own central nervous system and the unnaturally anti-coagulated blood is thinned to the point where the extremely high blood pressure from the toxin, fear, adrenaline and anticoagulant properties cause the hyper-thinned blood to bleed through internal barriers and start to emerge from all open orifices. The eyes, ears, nose, mouth and even the fingernail beds and genitals."

"Uh, that may be a little extreme but you might as well prepare some of that 'Oath Kill-Juice' or whatever it's called, since there's a good chance that it'll allow me to spare the lives of some defeated enemies that I would otherwise likely have to eliminate." 

"No problem Michael", Amila playfully responded in a sing-song voice. "I'll make sure to have them prepared along with more of that 'Black Powder' that you showed me. Im so grateful that you gifted me with that formula and I promise never to share it with anyone unless you tell me to. 

The amazing thing is how simple it is in it's most basic form: carbon, sulfur and saltpeter. While basic, that will give you a consistent and powerful explosive products that needs only flame to activate. The tighter packed and more strongly contained the powder is!"

"Thank you, dear," Michael responded before turning to the others, "Tomorrow we will have a better idea of what to expect in this area. Everyone best get some rest tonight, no way to know what tomorrow brings!" Michael responded 

After that, he quickly hurried back to his tent, knowing Kokochun would already be waiting for him. As it turned out, he wasn't wrong. The two lovers had a single quickie consisting of him holding her up in mid air while using just his hands and arms to bounce her up and down on his giant rod as her perky breasts shook and bounced out of the leather bikini that failed to cover her upper half. Her lower half was stretched obscenely wide open as Michael's thickened cock was more than a quarter of the diameter of her tiny waist and he labia looked pushed to the max and his slow thrusts combined with the way he was holding her off the ground gave Kokochun the best sexual sensations of her entire life. As Michael sucked at her breasts, he never touched her tiny nipples but kept her on the edge before he changed his thrusts and clamped down on her little nubs she exploded with no warning and no control. As Michael continued to slide himself into her at that particular angle, she orgasmed continuously as the hugely thick shaft moved at an angle that rubbed her anus, slid along her clitoris and ended up grinding into her G-spot. In no time at all she had passed out cold. 

:..:

"So, what's the plan?" asked Felix

"We get this information from the former lord Kandor while the men scout our current surroundings as well as the route ahead."

"And women. The men and women." Felix smiled. 

"Of course. How inconsiderate of me." Michael said with mock chastisement, "hell, as far as I can tell, the women riding with us are at least as much man as the rest."

Felix just smiled in response. He had grown to see Michael as a friend as well as a lord and commander over the past weeks. There was just something so pure and trusting about the man, though it was obvious he was no fool. 

As they held their conversation, the former lord Callen Kandor was sitting at the bottom of a pit, soiled in his own mess and desperately trying to keep himself away from the occasionally moving Dorian Vipers. There was no way for him to know that Michael milked the vipers for their venom and that each day he exchanged the current leashed snakes and replaced them with those who had just been killed that day. After all, the man was of little use to him dead. A healthy and robust man could just about survive a single bite to the extremities by a Dorian Viper but it was an excruciating process that often required amputation if the circumstances were right and proper treatment was not found. 

Michael had ordered all of his men to collect any venomous creatures, fierce beasts and poisonous plants they saw on their matches and patrols. He made sure each patrol had nets made from triple braided hemp, sinew, twine, rawhide and steel thread. He also made sure they had non-barbed arrows covered in a water soluble resin made of highly concentrated extracts of Opium Papaver and Valerian root with young Atropa Belladona sprouts, dried and powdered antibiotic mold, rock salt dissolved in boiled raw honey, mint, highly watered down baby Steppe Cobra venom to be used as sedative darts. Lassos and 10 foot lances that had notches, hooks and loops to mount the lassos around their necks for greater leverage and reach, while the lances had the heads of giant Boar spears with double barbe-ended cross guards based under a long and thick but narrow leaf shaped spearhead equally suited to cutting as thrusting that was attached to an Black Mountain Ash Tree wood shaft with a sheet steel sleeve highly covering it, giving the appearance of a solid steel spear and strength just short of it but weight much less. He also issued smaller, tighter nets and burlap sacks along with a couple smaller burlap pieces meant to wrap up the mound of soil around the roots of poisonous plants. 

He did this both to deny the deadly resources to others but to also use them to advantage. Exactly what, he wasn't sure. But the snakes did come in handy with tenderizing lord Kandor for interrogation. He had already been begging to spill his guts and rambling on for hours. Unknown to him, someone was recording every word and behavior through a small spy hole built into a tunnel adjacent to the pit.

:..:

The snakes were driving him crazy. He couldn't sleep and there was no food but an occasional piece of stain bread and raw meat. He had to compete with a multitude of rats for all of it. They had gone out and set traps all through camp as well as around the perimeter and nearby land. The resulting rats, mice and vermin were then thrown in with him to feed the snakes as well as himself. 

The occasional stale bread was simply a formality as he couldn't live in thrice the amount they tossed down to him, forcing him to learn to hunt the rats and vermin for food. The fact that the snakes were on rawhide leashes helped some to calm his nerves and to herd around his prey. If he sat still enough, sooner or later, one would climb onto his body or within reach and he would snatch it and squeeze. 

He tried so hard for the first three days to get a fire going of some kind but in the end he simply had had to eat the rat meat raw, gagging all the while. 

Later that day, he noticed a rips being lowered the thirty feet down to his twenty by twenty foot pit (between the few rock formations and the snakes leashed around the edges the practical space is certainly limited) and his hope dared to rise that maybe he would be lifted out the this foul cesspool filled with his own waste. Maybe he had been ransomed and he would sleep in a soft bed tonight! Of course, only after a hot lavender bath with a few young slaves! 

As it neared, he saw that it wasn't just a rope but also had a small package at the end, tied neatly. A quick shake of the rope and the package fell free as the rope retreated. He quickly scurried over and opened the butcher's paper wrapped package to find one of his favorite native foods! Thauk was a solid shredded beef and ground pork patty with oats, vegetables and cubes of sweetened cornbread, tightly pressed into squares and baked slowly in an underground charcoal pit while wrapped in a maple leaves, covered by mint paste and encased between stones with with river clay. However, this particular thauk had a little something extra added to it. 

Amelia had boiled down a light concentrate of tears of the poppy with ground Cocoa leaf paste before adding it to the thauk. The low doses and stimulant properties of the Cocoa would help to hide the effects and therefore presence of the tears of the poppy in the food. 

This pattern continued for over two weeks, each delicious thauk he ate had an increasing amount of opium and cocoa, which had him feeling unbelievably good some of the time (despite his situation) though his feces was starting to build up. In his narcotic induced euphoria he continued to unknowingly share information by taking to himself. 

Then one day, after more than a month, the thauks stopped being lowered to him three times a day. He wondered what happened and cursed his luck for a whole day. By the second day, he was raving angry and by the third day he was whimpering and shivering while he begged. On the fifth day, he was elated to see another package being lowered down. He opened it and sure enough, it was a thauk! He quickly scarfed down the patty, attributing the different taste to his extreme hunger. 

To his extreme surprise, another thauk was lowered down along with a wax sealed amphora of wine just after he finished licking the first from his front fingers. He relished the unexpected meal and started to feel great! He figured it was because of the end of his starvation and the first time he had drank wine since his capture. 

After about two hours, he started to feel edgy and anxious. Before long he was feeling even worse than he had before he ate. The chills, the sweats, the paranoia and terror were all coming back harder than ever. He felt physically worse than he had in his entire life and his mind was frantic with panic and fear. It was at that moment he looked up and again saw the rope descending, eliciting mixed feelings in his breast. 

After but a moments hesitation, he proceeded to open it, though he could tell it was shaped differently than a thauk. When the small purple and green snake was freed of the packing, he lunged forward and sank it's fangs into the very top of lord Kandor's nose, causing him to scream in enhanced terror and flail about. In his panic, he temporarily forgot of the other snakes lining the room and soon felt fangs sinking into his left leg as he there himself flat and rolled around. 

The small, strange snake finally released it's hold on Kamdor's nose before slithering straight up the sheer wall with a capability that none of the other snakes exhibited. As far as the small snake was concerned, she had down her job and was now able to return to the warmth of her mistresses hair and shoulders. She had sensed the greed and corruption in the man and she didn't like it one bit, which made it far easier to bite his big fat nose! She usually didn't like biting anything that wasn't prey, even with the non-lethal of her two venom sacs. It released a non-lethal enzyme that paralyzed the extremities and head, inducing horrifying dreams in all intelligent mammals that made it a very effective biological defense system while her lethal venom did the exact opposite and affected only the heart and lungs with total paralysis. 

Her mistress received her warmly. And, as usual, she had hidden a sugared grasshopper somewhere in her hair and she laughed as the eager young snake slithered around frantically in search of what she knew was there. She loved grasshoppers and when her mistress had shown her the delights of sugared grasshoppers in the city, she had been axed that anything could taste so good, so complex. And now they often played this game. 

"I assume you served our lord well? He didn't want his prisoner killed but he does want him to be vulnerable to a soft touch and completely broken of his evil greed." 

"I did, mistress. Although the man may prove to be greedy to the end. He is just smart enough to cause real trouble, despite his current predicament." The small purple and green snake responded telepathically in the method of all familiars and their masters. 

:..:

Michael had finally completed reading the very thorough scouting report of the land around him for miles with systems in place to communicate information or troop movements. 

After a month and a few bad drug withdrawals and venomous hallucinations, Lord Kandor was blubbering thanks as Michael ordered him fed an opium/cocoa thauk before being thoroughly bathed, twice, and dressed in fine silks as he was brought to Michael's warm and luxurious tent. Alone. Michael dimly regarded him through an unreadable but impossibly handsome face and Kandor found himself both scared and aroused by a man, for the first time. He told himself it was just the fact that he hadn't ejaculated in more than a month as Michael sat squarely behind his heavy oaken desk with maps, papers and drawings scattered all over. 

"Sit." Michael commanded. "And before we start, know that I can tell when I hear a lie, no matter how skilled the deceiver. If you lie to me twice, you go back to the pit for another month. Naturally, you will try to test me by slipping a lie into the mix. It won't work. Now, tell me everything you know about the movements, numbers and composition of the demonic forces.0

"I had little knowledge of the Demon's directly." He whimpered.

"But you were the bank and member of the Raven Council. So tell me about the men-at-arms of the human lords, your fellow traitors to humanity. Tell me all you know about military capabilities and strategies. I grow impatient." 

The terrified former lord spilled his guts about his fellow traitors and named them all, but used up his I've lie trying to leave out the leader that they elected as their 'Warden of the North'. Michael reminded him that another lie or half truth would result in a return to the pit. 

After that he began to discuss troop strengths and positions, to the best of his knowledge. They spoke late into the night and Michael treated him with courtesy and even respect, which caught him off guard and kept him off balance. As Cal went to retire for the night, he couldn't help but ask Michael about it. His response was just as surprising. 

"Despite my initial suspicions, you aren't an evil man. You are weak but that was only a problem because you thought yourself strong and treated all of those below you like objects instead of people. However, now I believe you are beginning to grasp just how small a fish you are, and the Sharks are here. I'm going to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself. And your going to take it because it is not yet too late for you to not only be redeemed but even become a hero in the war to come. Remembered as spoiled young lord who was harshly awoken to the realities of the world and rose to the occasion. And if a heroic desire is not enough to inspire you then know that the only way you will ever reclaim your land and title is to do your damnedest to wake up and become a real man," Michael said practically, "because the Demon's sure as hell wouldn't have let you keep your land. They are masters of treachery and oathbreaking. Why do you think they are sending their human forces out against us while keeping their Demon, Han and even Dark Orcs back. They set lord against lord, neighbor against neighbor, so they can create a giant vacancy that results from all the human lords killing each other. They mean to rule this land and this world, and they will not allow any human to keep a position of true authority. Eventually, you'll see that your defeat at my hands was closer to rescue than defeat. Think on it from an outsiders perspective tonight while you sleep. Goodnight." 

As the night grew late, the former lord did just that. 

:..:

The next morning, the first of the scouts returned bearing news as well as a small bundle containing a pair of Black Lion cubs, twin females that had been found alone and near death. The Xia riders had warned the pups and found a Doe who had apparently lost her young and was wandering listlessly and with near palpable depression. She never even noticed the riders who mercifully put her down and used her overflowing milk mixed with some warm blood to nourish the pups. Now that they were back at camp there were a few female hounds and several mares where lactating as well. Both cubs we're immediately drawn to Michael as they mewled and tried scrambled forwards him as one. He smiled and accepted both into his embrace as he listened to the much more grim report of the scouts. 

"My Prince," the Xia rider excitedly began, "there is a significant force a little over two days match to our north. It appears that they were headed to Kandoris but the entire mounted arm of the force peeled off and are presently heading forwards our position. I don't believe they are aware of our exact position but there are undoubtedly locals who witnessed our passing and probably relayed our general direction. And there are a ton of horse tracks in the soft wet mud that lead to the forest. I believe they are the Knights of the former lord Kandor and their men-at-arms, at least those that were mounted and broke off in our direction. They numbered about two thousand but the main body of troops that kept moving toward Kandoris and was composed entirely of infantry appeared to be almost entirely Myssan mercenaries. Possibly some local levies but not nearly the number you would expect. They appeared to be about 6,000 in number. At least 5,000 were Myssan mercenaries with their dreaded long pikes. They were moving fast, despite being on foot, as they are known to."

Michael thanked the man and had barely handed the twin cubs off to a squealing Amila before another scout thundered up and dismounted with the standards Xia salute, "My Prince, there are many local peasants streaming in to what appears to be a refuge camp at the forest's edge. They flagged us down and announced their support for you and willingness to fight to defend their homes and family from the invaders. Apparently many have alreagdy lost daughters and wives to emboldened bandits or soldiers, Han, Orc and even Demons sating their lust and taking slaves. Should I return to them with a message?" 




Aurion Ch. 03



Michael barely had to consider before responding, "bring me my Princely Guard Captain."

The man quickly remounted his horse in an athletic display before racing off towards the stables. Ten minutes later, Jelme approached before dismounting and kneeling before Michael, "My Prince?"

"I assume you've already heard about both of our approaching parties?" Michael inquired.

"Yes, Prince Michael. Both scouts reported to me after you debriefed them. I'm aware of the situations. How would you like to proceed?" He asked, still a bit in awe of his Prince and new friend. 

"I want you to head to the peasants with Amila, bring a hundred men as an escort, and then lead all of whom she approves to the camp we intended to use as a decoy. It's large enough to hold more than a whole imperial Legion. It will give them shelter and protection and we may still be able to use it as a decoy if someone tries to come root us out of the our little forest. Make sure to only take outdoor types. Shepherds, Hunters, Woodcutters, experienced ranchers, etc." detailed Michael, "send the inexperienced farmers back with orders to organize a home guard for their land in case they are attacked or we need their local support. Their main cause will be to provide and guard our future food supplies as well as provide us with local intelligence. We will accept their daughters and wives if their men wish for them to be out of harms way or to accompany their husbands. However the women will have to stay in a separate camp. We have more than enough manpower and materials to use in building them a secure camp." 

"Yes, my Prince. It will be as you say," responded Jelme, "may I ask about the two thousand horsemen heading towards us? Won't you need every cavalryman available to fight a battle where you are outnumbered two-to-one by a force consisting of entirely heavy cavalry?" 

"No. Not if things proceed in the way I suspect they will. Nevertheless, don't worry about anything besides retrieving the peasants and making sure a camp for women and camp followers is established near the camp. I'd like to keep our little fort here a secret for now, it's location at least." 

"Of course, my Prince."

:..:

The next morning Michael sat on his saddle at the edge of the forest in line with the approaching force of Knights. He sat out in the open, alone and confident. Just inside the tree line was dismounted Xia warriors with bows trained, Rangers with steel crossbows winched and steel bows ready, engineers with Scorpion bolt-throwers as well as the larger Ballistas at the ready though the large Onager catapults were still back at camp, his PyroFighters (the other specialist had been left to defend the camp and fort) were positioned directly in the center while the Dorian Hoplites were split into two large wedge formations and hidden on either flank. 

If the approaching horsemen attempted to attack, they would race straight into a covered trench with a spiked bottom. The trench, as well

as several spike pits and shallow holes dug with a single large stake anchored at the bottom in clay before both were hardened by fire, also served as their waste depository. It was as disgusting as it was necessary since they couldn't burn out their latrines like usual without giving more clue to their location and Michael wouldn't risk the spread of sickness or disease by letting it fester in holes through his camp or fort. This guaranteed an unpleasant death but he hoped it wouldn't be necessary. 

If it was, these heavy horsemen would lose their first ranks to the trench while those that followed were engulfed by incendiary grenades, lit by flaming arrows, burned siphon flame throwers, crushed or impaled by catapults and bolt-throwers or simply turned into pin cushions by arrows that were plenty capable of penetrating their armor-especially with flat shots at such close distance. 

As it turned out, the preparations were for naught. At least on that day, as the Kandorian Knights weren't like their leader. Men of honor from old families who had inhabited their home land for all of memory, they openly swore their oaths of allegiance to Michael through their appointed leader, Sir Austin. It was only after they had learned that the blackmail files damning them had been secured and would only ever be used in the event of open betrayal, but never as leverage, did they truly relax. 

They further grasped the wisdom of their situation as they were lead over the trench and through the nasty surprise waiting for any hostiles on one of a few safe trails meant for Michael's men to sally forward if necessary. They knew that they would've been slaughtered by a force of barely half their number that was totally lacking a mounted defense. Like most, these men had thought their heavy warhorses and mail clad bodies were all but unstoppable. Seeing the fate they escaped left them feeling shaken but grateful. They had made the right choice and they knew it. 

It was a good thing Michael had formed the fort with ample room for expansion. In addition to the two thousand heavy cavalry that had just joined him, he returned to the fort to find that Jelme and Amila had returned, and they weren't alone. More than 9,000 peasant men and 2,000 women had come to join him. 

There were so many that instead of putting them in the decoy camp, it had been necessary for them to build their own huge camp plus another for their women. Apparently, word of Felix and his men had gotten out and more than 4,000 of the men were veterans of the Legions, giving Michael nearly an entire Imperial legion. The other 5,000 were composed of men who would serve as archers since they were already armed with the bows they use to hunt or defend their livestock from beast and bandit alike. All hardened Northern men, strong and used to outdoor life in the freezing north. 

It was going to be next to impossible to keep his location secret from his enemies but the position was still extremely strong and the forest would allow hit-and-run attacks and guerrilla warfare. 

:..:

All of the men had immediately been set to drilling and trading out on the plains near where Michael accepted the paths of Kandorian Knights. He had many of the best fighters in the world as well as many that were simply men who had learned to live in a tough land by becoming tougher and smarter, but he had to get them to work together. Motivation wasn't difficult to inspire which made it easier to work on forming the men into a single cohesive force or, hopefully, even a force that could compliment it's individual parts to create a much greater sum. 

A few more men wandering in from the plains meant that Michael now had more than enough veterans to form a full legion. He took the healthiest men to form what he suspected may turn out to be his first legion. They already had all of their gear and equipment, as well as training and experience, so all they needed was a little time to shake off any dust and learn how to move with the new men next to them. Most had served together at one point or another so there was already a modicum of trust and respect and within three days the legion was already nearing cohesion. 

With the 5,000 Hunters, Shepherds, Woodcutters and all of the rest who had a strong bow and the skill to use it, Michael knew better than to try to turn them into legionaries. Instead, he made sure they learned how to move together and coordinate or concentrate their fire, as well as giving them some close combat training since they all carried hatchets and the Woodcutters had their large double handed axes. Both could be effectively used against the armor of downed Knights or bodies of opposing light troops, many of whom had only daggers to supplement their bows or slings. 

Michael and the legionaries also taught them how to protect themselves and their position by digging trenches and planting sharpened staves to stop or even funnel an enemy charge into kill zones or cross fires. They were also all issued a bag of small caltrops, taken from Kandoris' untouched siege warfare armory, to be spread about in front of a position to pierce the feet of even the heaviest armored enemy cavalry mounts should they try to ride down the archers. 

Each archer was issued high quality arrows from Kandoris' huge supply, including half a dozen flaming arrows and half a dozen poisoned arrows to keep in their quiver, since most of them only owned at most a dozen arrows. There were a few who traded in the bows they brought for Kandorian longbows either due to wear, age or insufficient power to make a good war-bow. It only took a fifty pound draw for a longbow to make a good stag hunting bow, unfortunately any stag hunter knows that he may have to contend with giant wolves, cats or bears for his prey so few of them carried bows that were underpowered. And if the hunter is one who targets the larger animals, especially predators, their bows often have a draw weight exceeding that of a typical war-bow (for example, Mammoth bows needed the strength to pierce several inches of the solid bone in a Mammoth's skull or fully pierce the body of a marauding 2,000 pound Brown Bear). 

The Dorian Hoplites were earning how to best work with the legionnaires in battle while the Helots (who served as light troops and with bows but they also carried a bundle of barbed javelins on their shoulder for heavier jobs at shorter ranges and a spear for close combat or planting in the ground pointing forward as a quick defense against a cavalry charge) prepared their bows and helped the Xia to further train the peasant archers in battlefield archery tactics and techniques. 

The cavalrymen trained longer each day than anyone, learning to work and move together as a whole or to compliment each other smaller groups. The fact that both man and mount had to adapt made things more complicated, as we as the fact that mounted fights move a lot faster and involved a lot more momentum than infantry battles. They made progress beyond even what Michael had anticipated in the first week. By the end of the second, they were almost an organic group. 

As it turned out, it was not wasted time. Nor was it a minute too soon. 

:..:

The scouts reported the enemy army approaching our current position on the edge of the plains while they were still more than three days out. The fact that the army consisted of mostly infantry wasn't nearly as comforting as it should've been since apparently the army consisted of the previous 5,000 Myssan mercenaries had joined up with another identical group of another 5,000 Myssans as well as an thousands more infantry levies. 

Despite the infantry nature of the approaching army, with more than 20,000 foot soldiers (including 10,000 of the infamous Myssan Pikemen), they still had around 6,000 horsemen. This meant that Michael was seriously outnumbered in both foot and horse soldiers. However, he saw it as an opportunity to wipe a significant force off the board and build morale by claiming a resounding victory in his men's first pitched open battle. He didn't even consider retreating, especially with all of the innocents now sheltering in the forest at his back. 

Fortunately, the battlefield he had prepared to fight the Knights on, if necessary, was still intact. He immediately set about extending the covered and spike-lined trench as well as adding a second one a hundred yards in front of the original. 

He had his catapults and ballista placed behind the infantry lines while he placed the scorpion bolt-throwers on the wings behind his cavalry positions on each flank. It was a risk, as of the positions fell, his men would be caught in a crossfire if the enemy captured the scorpions and turned the against him. However, it was a necessary risk to take.

On the flanks, out in front of the covered trenches, Michael had added many smaller traps in the form of individual spike pits, ankle traps as we as a few covered barrels of oil buried in the ground and covered with straw, wood chips and a light layer of dirt for concealment. The traps wouldn't stop them but it would get in their heads when random men in their line or company got their ankles caught in traps or fell into spike pits and ended up screaming in agony or dead and nobody knew if their foot or life was the next to be lost.

He also put a covered trench on each flank of his infantry line so it was angled out at 45 degrees to prevent any flanking maneuvers. The cavalry would be outside of the trench but their mobility was their main defense and they could still simply move back to the tree line before rising across behind the lines if they needed to switch flanks or retreat to the center. 

The night before the battle, the cooking fires of the enemy camp could be seen in the distance and they had completed their preparations with plenty of time to spare. Michael was quite tired and, after making his rounds and checking on both the men and their camp, he retired to his tent early and promptly dozed off. 

It was only an hour or so after he first fell asleep that he was silently awoken by the sense of someone quietly entering his tent. He didn't move or change his breathing patterns and, after slightly cracking one eye, he did t go for his sword because he knew the tiny form could only be Amila coming to his bed. He wordlessly sat up and slightly turned up the bedside lamp to softly illuminate her lithe body as she slipped a heavy cloak off her shoulders and stood before Michael completely naked underneath. 

Her silver hair, pointed ears and intense eyes gave her an exotic look that was only further intensified by the traits of her nude form. Amila's tiny waist, apparently long legs and soft skin was immediately evident. However, it was her tiny areola and hard little nipples capped all but nonexistent breasts that somehow got Michael as hard as a big round rack. Her coveted pussy consisted of a tiny little opening that didn't look to have any outer lips but rather appeared to simply be a little weeping slit. There wasn't a hair on her body below the neck which combined with her other features gave her an almost boyish look that somehow didn't subtract from her desirability at all. 

By now, Michael was sitting up in bed and Amila crawled between he legs with feline grace after yanking back his blanket to expose his prodigious appendage to her hungry eyes. The giant thing had been the fodder of her fantasies since she saw it in the Dorian Capitol but she knew that it wouldn't fit into her little pussy without some significant stretching. She simply leaned forward and gave the swollen head a playful lick before bringing both hands to bear and initiating a soft corkscrewing motion. 

It took her multiple tries but eventually she stretched her mouth wide enough to fit Michael's cockhead into her mouth, though her small teeth lightly tickled his crown as the head popped in the last bit. Once that happened, she became bear frenzied with lust. She couldn't escape the musky smell of him and she couldn't get enough of his taste, lovingly laving and slurping on just Michael's cockhead while her hands expertly loved on his ample shaft. 

Amila's body had worked it's way up the bed as she bobbed and twisted her head over his manhood and soon the bottom of his shaft was grinding against her flat chest and tiny nipples while her hands rubbed the top and pressed him into her torso. She occasionally let the head slip back out of her mouth while she proceeded to rub her small face all over his shaft like a cat rubbing on a scratching post. Inhaling deeply and letting the extremely heavy weight of Michael's cock cover more than half of her tiny face as she got drunk on his scent and the helplessness she ft under such strength and masculinity. 

When Michael finally exploded in her mouth she amazed him by swallowing more than a half dozen consecutive blasts of cum in a rhythm of repeated and well timed swallowing before it became too much and the remainder fountained up ridiculously to land back on Michael's sculpted torso and Amila's hair in a thorough drenching that the little elf proceeded to clean up with her sucking little mouth. 

Throughout the whole experience neither of them said a word vocally and when she had finished cleaning up with her tongue and mouth, Amila simple slipped down to rest her head on his abs as he lay down on his back. She took just the tip of his cockhead back into her mouth and proceeded to fall asleep suckling at it like a baby on the tit. 

Three times Michael was awoken by his own orgasms throughout the night and Amila lovingly cleaned him after swallowing as much as possible each time. All in all, it was one of the most relaxing nights in memory as, even in her sleep, she ran her hands over his muscular body and sensually messaged the skin she came into contact with over his torso and upper legs. 

When they awoke in the morning, Amila's hair was completely slicked back over her head and gelled to her skull like a helmet as milky crust coated all of her skin above the waist. The sight got Michael so hot that she sucked him off again. Though this time, halfway through, he picked up her light body and swung her around into 69 position and proceeded to attack her G-spot with his tongue tip while softly petting her clit with a wet thumb while his other wet thumb slowly stroked her anus. However, what pushed her over the edge repeatedly was when Michael would envelope her entire opening with his mouth before tonguing her clit inside his mouth while sucking her whole pussy intensely. Amila had never felt or wanted anything like it in all of her life. Now, she didn't know how she ever lived without it. 

:..:

Both armies took to the field in the morning and had formed their battle lines within a few hours of sunrise. With his back to the forest, Michael was sacrificing mobility for security and position. The enemy commander was no fool either. 

Infantry in the center and cavalry on the wings, but that is where the similarities stopped. Michael had placed his veteran legion in the dead center of the line with a Dorian Mora to each side and the archers outside of them on each side. The Special Warfare Groups were positioned directly behind them in the center while the ballista and onager catapults sat behind them just in front of the tree line (protected by yet another trench). Michael's cavalry had been divided equally on each flank, the line of Xia riders were positioned out in front of the heavier ex-Kandoris Knights and their men-at-arms, who preferred to charge in wedge formations to pierce the enemy formations with their large armored horses, heavy lances and Mail clad bodies.

The enemy cavalry was positioned directly across, consisting of barbarian tribesmen mounted on high flanked northern horses. With a total of 6,000 horsemen, the enemy commander had split them evenly between both flanks. These men were clad in rough furs and thick leather and wielding longswords and axes. In the center, the enemy infantry had been formed in three lines. The front and back lines were composed of Myssan mercenaries while the second line of militia men was sandwiched in between. Michael acknowledged that he would've arranged them the same way if he were their commander, who was obviously not inexperienced. 

The Myssan's were some of the only infantry in the world that could stand toe to toe with heavy mounted Knights. They fought in large squares, their pikes so long that the weapons of the first five ranks protruded beyond the front line. This presented any of their enemies with a veritable wall of large pike heads to penetrate before they could even reach the front line. In the past, the Aurion legions had seen some success by equipping their front line with axes and ordering the legionaries chop the heads off the extra long pikes to help them get in close, though this led to the Myssans adding a prominent spearhead to the butt of their weapons that they could simply turn the weapon around if their pike broke or lost it's head. 




Aurion Ch. 03



There was little that the Myssan pike square couldn't simply roll right over given momentum and open ground, though contrary to the beliefs of many, they weren't invincible. They could march at speeds in excess of that considered feasible by most infantry forces and, as long as they stayed in formation, they were very hard to stop. However, Michael intended to turn their strength to weakness. 

To maintain their high speed and properly handle their giant weapons, they couldn't wear more than a mail shirt as armor nor could they carry more than a long dagger as secondary weapons. Since their long pikes required both hands to operate, they could only carry a small buckler strapped to their left arms as a shield. This meant that, as formidable as they were, they were still a tightly packed group of lightly armored men on foot. And there was nothing an archer loved more than a tightly packed group with light armor. 

The enemy had numerical superiority in both horse and foot but they were lacking in missile troops. Their ranged combatants were composed of 2,000 mercenary Crossbowmen from the Western Isles, who usually made their living in piracy (often times being hired by rulers to put an end to raids perpetrated by their brethren or even themselves). Unlike most Crossbowmen, these men were armored and equipped for close combat as well as skirmishing. Their mail shirts were complimented by brigandines (heavy quilted cloth with small metal plates riveted or sewn between the layers of fabric) along with greaves and gauntlets. Their powerful crossbows could punch through chain mail at closer distances but lacked the overall range and reach of a longbow, let alone a composite bow. They also had large shields that covered their whole bodies called pavises that were anchored or spiked into the ground to provide cover for them to reload behind. 

The enemy had barely formed into position before their war horn blew and they began their advance. Smart, though Michael. The enemy sought to close the distance by advancing quickly to minimize the effect of his archers and siege weapons (which were rarely used in open field warfare, instead being reserved for sieges and the defense of fortified positions). Unfortunately for the enemy, Michael had considered that already, just like he predicted that they would try to sweep away his numerically inferior cavalry so they could sweep in from the sides as the pikemen rolled right over his infantry. 

As if on cue, the barbarian cavalry on the flanks gave their roaring war cry and brought their disorganized charge forward at their counterparts, intending to sweep all before them with the ferocity of their charge alone. Michael's cavalry just waited though, appearing unworried. The entire first rank, and much of the second rank, of the enemy cavalry ran straight into the covered trench. Those that weren't crushed by their screaming horses or impaled on the spikes lining the bottom of the trench were thrown clear, most being obviously injured, while many others throughout the formation fell in to hidden spike pits or triggered the traps that were spread over the ground. 

By the time the enemy had recovered, continued their charge and regained momentum they were just over 200 meters out. However, the hidden traps and trenches weren't the only alterations that had been made to the ground. Michael had had men divert a local creek into small canals that carried the water into the plains and soaked into the ground, turning it into a muddy quagmire. The charging horses got bogged down and Michael's archers (foot and mounted Xia both) and scorpion bolt throwers positioned on the flanks opened up on the stuck mass or horses and men. At a range of less than 200 meters, their fire was devastating. Men and horses screamed as their bodies were fully pierced by large bolts and armor piercing arrows from the bolt throwers and Xia mounted archers while the peasant archers rained massed volleys of arrows down on them from above. It was ugly work and it took several moments but not a single enemy rider made it through the hell that had been created just for them. Several managed to reverse their course in the writhing mass of perforated and dying bodies and successfully flee the battlefield, but they were clearly broken. 

At that point, despite the fact that the enemy infantry had yet to clash with his lines, he knew that his victory in the battle was a foregone conclusion. The Myssan infantry had endured losses and been slowed by the trenches, but the impact wasn't as pronounced as it had been with the cavalry on the wings. Their superior discipline, long pikes, lower height and slower speed softened their losses and allowed them to cross or bridge the trenches. 

Again, Michael had his men wait long after the enemy had crossed into bow range before ordering the first volley loosed. By the time the first line of Pikemen was closing the last hundred meters to Michael's frontline, the enemy cavalry on the wings had been defeated and the foot archers on each flank had turned their lines inward and set-up a crossfire on the enemy infantry while the cavalry circled around outside of the muddy quagmire. The onager catapults opened up first, followed a second later by the scorpions positioned on each wing, but instead of targeting the advancing line they focused their fire on the far rear line of Myssans positioned behind the enemy's second line of militia men. The surprised pikemen were crushed by boulders and pierced by bolts, enduring heavy casualties within the time it took for their commander to order them forward since the untrained militia positioned in front of them limited their movements. As soon as the enemy were all moving forward in an attempt at a final push, the catapults and bolt throwers stopped raining death on them, much to their relief. Few of them even considered the possibility that they were being corralled and herded. 

The intensity of the Myssan charge against the shields of the legionaries and Hoplites was blunted by the withering hail or projectiles, many flaming or poisonous, that came from the four hundred Dorian helots, the Special Warfare Groups and the Ballistas. Bolts as big as full sized spears punched through multiple men while an assortment of arrows, bolts and darts burned, poisoned or penetrated the men of the first line. In the rear, a wave of expertly aimed arrows started reaping death on those at the back of the third line. Being Myssan professionals, the third line did a smart about face and lowered their pikes to the rear to prevent a cavalry charge from sweeping away their ranks. The Xia, however, were completely content to continue riding and swirling about in dazzling displays of coordinated horsemanship, all the while loosing extremely powerful and accurate bow shots against a bunched up group of lightly armored men. It was battle paradise as far as they were concerned and they had relay teams bringing fresh quivers of arrows and skins of water for the mounted archers. Paradise indeed. 

The front lines of opposing infantry locked together upon impact, the large shields and extreme discipline of both the Hoplites and the Legionaries protected their users from the long pikes and absorbed the charge. Opposing men locked eyes over the rims of their shields as the tried to look for openings to slide a weapon through as their feet churned up the mud and blood underfoot. 

The pikes were too long and heavy to be used with much precision, instead relying on force and momentum to defeat their enemies. Initially there was a stalemate as they stayed locked but Michael simply wanted them held in place. As soon as the opposing forces were well and truly locked, Michael ordered both Legionaries and Hoplites to step back and hurl their heavy javelins (both of which were meant to penetrate shields, making armor little obstacle) at the Myssans, the significant stand-off range of their long weapons providing the necessary space for a very close range javelin barrage. Devastating as it turned out to be, the javelin volleys were a distraction. 

Right after the wave of javelins came at them, dozens of individual masked men in concealing black suits came flying over their front ranks to land amongst the pikemen inside their formations. The long weapons were useless at such an intimate distance and the few with the wits to drop their two handed pikes and draw their long daggers were immediately cut down with speed and skill far in excess on their own. Venom covered steel spikes and throwing stars flicked outwards in arcs to bury themselves in the exposed faces, necks and arms. Spiked steel balls attached to long chains lashed out to tear flesh, crush skulls or painfully entangle limbs. Curved shortswords with sickle-like blades flashed in short arcs that removed limbs and heads with frightening ease while many others fell to the bare hands of the masked assassins, whose hands shot out with palms flat and fingers extended to spear throats and crush tracheas, quarter fists impacted the base of skulls to snap spines while others struck the palms of their hands at a particular angle into the foreheads of their enemies as to snap their necks with whiplash. Large gaps opened in the enemy formation causing their lines to buckle in multiple locations before the black clad killers retreated back over the friendly shield wall. 

Many of the Myssans had fallen, revealing the untrained militia pressed in behind them desperately. The third line had also been forced back by the deadly hail of Xia arrows, to the point that the enemy was forced into a tightly packed mass. The foot archers that had swung inwards from the flanks opened up their crossfire and the catapults and bolt throwers opened up in concert, concentrating fire from the outside inwards. In short order, the enemy had been reduced to a giant writhing ball of dying men in the center of the battlefield. Every bow, dart and javelin was turned inwards against them and they had no order, large shields or heavy armor to delay the inevitable. 

By the time it was said and done, Michael's men and women were exhausted but they had lost only a dozen dead and thirty wounded. It was a truly epic victory that was easy to win and would boost morale among the fighters and provide experience to those still learning. 

:..:

Over the next several weeks Michael's fighters operated in small groups spread widely through the land. Supported and supplied by the locals who had pledged to Michael's cause, they worked together in large networks to herd, surround and defeat enemy war parties and formations. 

They also cut off and intercepted any of the enemy's attempts at communication by capturing riders and shooting down messenger birds. The enemy coalition used Ravens as messenger birds in a world where everyone else used Doves as messengers and royalty used trained Falcons. This made it very easy to identify enemy messenger birds in an area where Ravens weren't indigenous. In the North there were only Crows, as many smaller birds fell pray to the giant Golden and Bald Eagles that only lived in the North. 

Michael had ordered physicians to the camp full of the gravely ill people that Jurgen had directed their way. Michael had searched for, vetted and generously rewarded all of the physicians he had brought on, wary of butchers and charlatans alike. Michael also aided the men and thoroughly educated the otherwise proud men in germ theory and the importance of a clean and stable environment. The men listened eagerly, which surprised Michael, but when asked the men explained that the information was confirmation of their private theories and suspicions. Of course, genuinely intelligent and compassionate men wouldn't be able to help noticing the difference in their patients in filthy environments versus clean ones. 

Any doubts that they may have harbored were immediately crushed when Michael had them watch as he healed many who were considered terminally ill before explaining his secret was a strong antibiotic compound that he and Amila managed to concoct from the molds of particular breads. After experimenting on many of the wild beasts captured and brought in by the men that were sedated in large pens, they tried the compound successfully on a soldier with a rotting wound. 

The physicians, being among the best in their field, were aware of plants with antibiotic properties that they used in poultices and wraps. However, they were truly amazed at the results they managed when treating the men wounded in the skirmishes and ambushes happening on an almost daily basis. Using Michael's regimen they found that the majority of the patients that lived long enough to reach their care managed to survive. Even massive tissue damage was treatable. If there was one thing these men's skills were far beyond Michael in, it was surgery. They were truly amazed and content with their successes. 

Using surgery to repair or contain any damage, leeches to aid in circulation, maggots to clean away any dying flesh with oral and topical application of their powdered antibiotic (which had powdered copper, silver and a few herbal concentrates added to the powdered mold) they saved many who would have otherwise died and took pleasure and comfort in their achievements. Unfortunately, there were still many who suffered from viruses and plague that simply couldn't be helped. 

These individuals, most aware of their own imminent demise, were quarantined in their own camp and attempted to be given every comfort. It was therefore with some surprise that they dictated a message through the fence to be delivered to Michael directly. What was of even more surprise was the contents of the message. 

Apparently, one of the ill was a charismatic and genuinely compassionate Knight named Sir Henley. Feeling helpless and wanting nothing more than to aid the cause of Light in it's struggle with Darkness, Sir Henley came up with a plan and even managed to convince the rest of the gravely ill to join him in his mad plan. He wanted Michael to leak information about their location, located miles from his own, that the enemy might come to capture or kill all of the undefended-infecting themselves in the process, who would in turn infect the rest of their Dark army. 

It was a cold blooded plan and Michael was a little disgusted with himself when he realized that he had all but decided to agree with the plan as soon as he heard it. He did recognize and respect the sacrifice and he knew the difference between dying for something and dying for nothing. Not to mention the fact that death by the sword was a much less painful prospect than to continue on in the present state. Lord Henley proposed that they wear fine clothing to improve their apparent value as hostages and use make-up to cover any lesions or unhealthy skin. A few of the more attractive bitter females and many lesbians made themselves up like whores (even if many of them really were whores) and planned to welcome any assaults on their contagious womanhoods. 

As Michael sat staring into the flames in front of his command tent, Amila quietly approached and sat down beside him. For awhile they simply say in companionable silence before Michael spoke, "do you think me a monster that I would even consider such a course of action?" 

"Oh Goddess, no. Those men and women are already dead, time just hasn't caught up with them."

"The same could be said for us all. All men die." Michael responded, a faraway look in his eyes. 

"Maybe. But not all men are stricken with incurable plague and living out their last days. You are allowing them to die with honor and purpose, instead of wasting away in some sick tent and possibly infecting their comrades or families."

"I know. I've been telling myself that very same line. I just can't help but feel like I am abandoning them. Plus, germ warfare is a dirty and dishonorable way to fight."

"But this isn't a fight. It is a battle between good and evil. Life and death. Whether the universe will be bathed in light or consumed by elemental darkness. You will do whatever it takes and I will support you, because I've come to believe in you."

After that they both sat quietly, staring at the crackling flames, before Michael randomly asked, "do you miss your home?"

After a moment of consideration, Amila replied, "yes, in some ways. I miss living hundred of feet off the ground in our treetop city built among the can spot of the great forest. I miss a few of my friends, though I never really fit in. And I miss my family. But since meeting you, my eyes have beheld wonders and beauties only written of in our ancient texts. As it is, I am perfectly happy to be by your side. You are one of the few people I've ever met who didn't use his power and strength to further his own means at the expense of others. No, you won't be getting rid of this little Elf that easily Lord Michael." 

Michael chuckled and wrapped an arm around her, "thank you. I needed that". 

They sat together in silence for awhile longer before Michael finally got up to give the order. He called his men and informed them of the plan, as well as his reluctance to commit to it. However, in the end, he got their support. 

It was a pretty horrible plan but Michael finally made the decision when he realized that to deny it would be to condemn all of the ill to a slow and purposeless death. With a heavy heart, he agreed to the plan and used the anonymous spy network he had inherited from the former lord Kandor to distribute the camps location and state of vulnerability. He made sure to claim that his overconfidence was to blame for the camp's vulnerable state, as he wanted his enemy to believe that he was under the impression that the war was all but won. 

Up until that point, the enemy had only managed to successfully build two forts in their area of operations and neither had survived the first night. The first had been built in the style of the Aurion Legionary camp, surrounded by an eight foot trench with the excavated soil was thrown inwards and packed into a rampart from which sharpened wooden stakes were implanted. Behind that was a twenty foot wooden wall with watch towers built along it's length. 

The Rangers and the Assassins were paired off into teams to deal with the men on the wall, who were promptly yanked off the wall by lassos only to be replaced seconds later by assassins wearing their helmets and cloaks. After that it was a simple matter quietly open the gates to roll in the animal carts and caged. Before silently exfiltrating themselves, the men quietly cut the throats of the officers and deposited bags filled with venomous snakes into the large tents of the sleeping soldiers. 

As the animals roused from their sedation, they found themselves momentarily confused before becoming scared and angry. They also found the gates to their cages open. Soon there were hundreds of Bears, Wolves and Lions shaking off their drowsiness as they spread through the camp. Before scaling the wall to join their comrades, the last few dozen men tossed boxed Hornet and Wasp nests into the group tents nearest the outer walls. 

The screaming soldiers reacted to their hellish wake-up call by screaming and streaming out of their tents to roll around on the ground. The commotion woke the camp but many of the enemy soldiers were met with hisses and shooting pains when they suddenly stirred or tried to race outside, usually falling to be immediately struck again by the snakes twisted underfoot. Michael's men had ensured that there were no officers alive to bring order to the growing chaos and the few soldiers who tried to step up to lead found it very difficult to command men who were being mauled by giant wolves, stalked by hungry Lions or chased by roaring Bears. 

There had been a moment when the enemy started to gain some semblance of organization in areas not populated by the roving predators who had every advantage in the dark, especially since the woken men wore no armor in the middle of the night. However, a volley of flaming arrows instantly returned chaos to both man and animal inside the camp. Michael had ordered the gates opened before the camp was consumed by flames but the men inside were to panicked to surrender and wildly charged at his men only to be cut down in a storm of concentrated arrow fire. Many of the animals survived and simply fled back into the night to return to their lives or, more likely, wait for Michael and his men to leave before returning to feast. 




Aurion Ch. 04



The Han war party saw the streaking comet fall from the Heavens land with an audible impact a few miles from their current camp. Anxious to lay hands on the priceless star-iron likely contained in it, the Hyena-men immediately set off in it's direction. Their elongated canine-like ankle and clawed feet propelled their furred bodies faster than any man, their elongated snouts full of sharp yellow teeth upturned to sample the scents carried on the wind for danger and prey alike. 

A mere ten minutes, later they had covered the nearly three miles to where they had seen the meteor land, their lack of armor or heavy weaponry allowing them to move over the open ground at full speed. Unstrapping the crescent shaped bronze battle axes from their backs, the thirty Han males approached the large crater in the ground as soot and dust still hung heavily in the air. Their silent advance froze as they saw a lone figure standing in the crater's center instead of a meteor but their confusion was short lived. 

The figure had black hair, cut short in the timeless military fashion, and blue eyes that literally glowed with power stared out from an indescribably handsome face. His body was almost naked, covered only by a silken wrap around his waist that left his sculpted torso, arms, calves and golden skin exposed. There was what appeared to be a crown on his head in the shape of an olive wreath, though it was constructed of solid gold shaped like leaves that wrapped around the top of his head. A golden chain at the top of his chest secured a full cape of Dragon skin, however it had to have been taken from an impossibly large and powerful specimen as each black scale was the size of a saucer and the Crimson colored skin underneath seemed to move with a will of it's own. Even more shocking though, was the large avian wings protruded from the center of his back, their surface covered with what appeared to be rich black feathers. 

Before they could act, the figure raised a single hand as it began to glow with golden light. The forward facing palm of the hand exploded with a painfully bright beam of golden light as concentrated Solar light engulfed them with more than enough heat to vaporize anything it came in contact with. They were dead before they could scream. 

Michael dispassionately looked at the ashes that had been living beings a second before as they were carried away and scattered by the soft wind. His rebirth at the hands of his Father had restored all of his immeasurable Power as well as all of his memories. He remembered fleeing Heaven in disgust at the horrendous actions of the humans on Earth that he had so long protected. He remembered containing and isolating his Light into a compartment inside his physical body leaving him as, more or less, a genetically perfect human when he arrived on Aurion-his newly human mind being unable to contain the vast information and memories of millennia meant that he had arrived on this world as an amnesiac as well as a mortal. He remembered the people he met and the Elf he had grown to love as well as the she-Orc that was wholly dedicated to him and the women that he now realized loved him. All of whom no doubt think him dead. 

He hadn't been sure that his Father would resurrect him, leaving Heaven meant that he was technically now a Fallen Angel-his newly black wings attested to that. Father had respected his choice though, content to offer a reprieve from the centuries serving as God's right hand. And everyone knows that a right hand is the one that wields the sword-something that his brother Gabriel had never let him forget, though perhaps that was because the sanctimonious prick of an Archangel was referred to as the 'Left hand of God' and often showed jealousy at the fact that Michael had been the one to defeat Lucifer in single combat and slay the primordial Dragon and enforcer of Hell, Satan. Something Gabriel had attempted and failed prior to his success. 

He noticed that his previously long hair was now cut in a fashionable version of a short military style and his full body suit of armor was no longer covering his body. Normally he would simply will his armor onto his body, a simple thought all that was necessary to summon armor or weapons from Heaven's armory, but now that he was a Fallen Angel, he was on his own. After all, his wings turning from an bright white to a deep black were not the only changes to take place when an Angel fell from Grace. 

His formerly pine green eyes would continue to glow bright blue for awhile yet, at least until his epic power finished settling into his physical being. With a quick push of his legs he shot straight up into air faster than any mortal eye could follow, his powerful wings capable of sending him past the speed of sound with a single thrust. However, instead of heading back to the east and the Dorian Capitol, he headed in the opposite direction. There was still an entire army laying siege to his love's people and the forest that she called home. 

At such speed it didn't take long to reach the Elvin Forest on the Empire's western flank. Clearly visit from his airborne position, the dark mass of the Demonic army stained the western edge of the steppe where it met the tree line where the forest started. Using the sun and his speed to prevent being observed, he flew over the forest before circling around and landing in a small clearing less than a mile inside the magical barrier that currently held the enemy at bay and prevented the destruction of the Elves and their forest. 

He had intended to make his way to the central treetop village of the Elves to establish contact with them, but as he moved off further into the forest toward the village he heard the tell tale sounds of a fighting back at the tree line and he quickly was off at a sprint, his power carrying him at hundreds of miles per hour. In a matter of seconds he was standing at the tree line watching a small group of Elves attempt to reach the safety of the magical barrier at the tree line. It was obvious that they had attempted to sneak past the enemy army's notice and they might have succeeded if it wasn't for the fact that, despite the enemy army being made up mostly of Hyena-men and Dark Orcs, Demons were also present. The Dark Mages having detected the small party, the Demons were able to to close the great distance to reach them before they could scamper over the carrier to safety because they could fly. 

Three Demons had coasted down from the sky leisurely to cut off the small group of Elves. That was bad. Three Demons was massive overkill and their relaxed demeanor meant that they were almost certainly intending to have some fun with the Elven lasses, and maybe a pretty male or two. A lone female Elven Mage was the only thing keeping the three predators at bay, using pulses of Light from the end of her wooden staff. Very impressive. Unfortunately, she was not capable of mustering or channeling enough power to generate lethal blows against Demons, and she was quickly tiring. 

The others, mostly women, huddled by the wagon that accompanied them while the few guards they had stood in front of the female Mage as she did her best to hold the Demons off. The Guards were obviously the Household Guard for a Great House, despite their armor being a suit of heavy plate, it was custom fitted and conformed to every contour of their bodies and offered total coverage, even the joints overlapping to eliminate vulnerable junctions. 

Since they had cut off the Elves path to the tree line of the forest, the Demons were located directly between Michael and the Elves, which suited him just fine. They didn't even notice when he stepped of out the trees twenty meters to their rear. 

"Hey boys! If you're looking for some sport, I'll happily oblige you", said Michael with a smile that seemed more devilish than any Angel should be capable of. 

Turning to look at him, to Demons simply smirked at the unusually attractive man, not seeing him for what he was. One of the three licked his lips, the burns on his body from the mage's attack ready starting to heal, and started towards him while the other two turned back and continued towards the beleaguered Elves, the mage panting on her knees, totally exhausted. 

Before the Demon could take three steps, Michael's wings unfurled from his back. The Demon's eyes bulged at the impossible presence of an Angel, along with the eyes of the mage and many of the elves. Before he could say or do anything, Michael had closed the space between them, grabbed him by the throat and yanked him up into the air and away from the ground with his immensely powerful wings. In a fraction of a sec a thousand feet off the ground and Michael simply kept his grip on the Demon around the throat while pressing his other hand to it's forehead and pushed holy Light through each hand, instantly incinerating the fiend, it's body turning to five ash and dissipating. The entire encounter took just over one second. 

Turning around in confusion, the Demon's giggled at the absence of both their comrade and the 'human' that had approached. The Elves were shocked too, the winged man that they had seen moved so fast that it appeared he teleported to the Demon before there was the flicker of a black streak moving straight up into the sky. 

The two remaining demons spun back around towards the terrified Elves just in time to see Michael land gracefully in between them and their intended prey. The Demon to his left, 'Lefty', goggled, "No! It can't be... This world isn't in the jurisdiction of the Angelic Host! Nor is it covered by the treaty between Heaven and the Seven Circles! We are not violating the ceasefire!"

"You're right. This world isn't under the protection of Heaven. But, in case you haven't noticed from the color of my wings, I'm no longer bound to Heaven's service. I'm now one of the Fallen!" Michael said calmly, his voice escalating only with his final sentence. 

"Who are you Angel?" Lefty asked, the word spit from his mouth like a curse. 

"Who am I? Who am I! I am Michael the Archangel! Prince of Heaven, Marshall of the Divine Armies, Right Hand of the Lord and the Slayer of Satan. I. AM. The Wrath of God!" He roared, the ground literally shaking with his words. 

"No... it can't be! You were gone! You're dead!" Righty screamed in absolute fear. 

"I am Fallen. Not dead...", whispered Michael, causing the two Demons to turn, unfurl their bat-like wings and take to flight in terror. Or at least attempt to. 

The nearer of the two had barely managed to turn when Michael raised one hand, palm forward, and a bolt of concentrated holy Light lanced out from his hand. The demon, Lefty, lurched and it's feet and wings failed to respond to his mind's commands causing the demon looked down to see a saucer sized tunnel running completely through the center of his torso as the charred flesh surrounding the lethal wound gave off light wisps of smoke. Light now passed easily through the area where it's heart used to be as one could see completely through Lefty's chest cavity. 

As the Elves looked on, rooted to the ground as audience to something that was far into the realm of impossibility just moments before, the second demon, Righty, actually managed to to get about a meter off the ground. As Righty was struggling to get airborne and create distance, the Light glowing from Michael's right hand solidified and formed itself into an extremely long bullwhip that pulsed with a golden glow and looked like it was made from tightly woven metal bands. The whip coiled before snapping out and slicing downward through the air at a slight angle, Michael pulled lash through the air until the glowing tip made contact with the fleeing demon. The last demon's body posed next to no resistance to the weapon made of holy Light as it sliced through it's flesh and bone, completely bisecting the entire body. The two pieces of Righty's corpse hadn't even fallen to the ground before they began turn to ash. 

The Elves continued to stare at him in awe but there was also some wariness in their stances. Just because Michael had destroyed some demons didn't mean he was necessarily their ally. Michael calmly approached the caravan before stopping twenty yards out and waiting for someone to approach as he wanted to show them that he wasn't going to attack but did want to talk. After less than a minute, the female Mage approached Michael. He noticed that she was very tall for an Elf, especially a female. She had platinum colored hair and small pointed ears as well as beautiful but severe features. However her face lit up substantially when she graced Michael with a soft smile on her approach. 

"Gratitude. We owe you a life debt. I do not know who you are but I grateful for your intervention," the Mage said, "my name is Emilae."

"I am Michael, Warden of the North and leader of the Armies of human resistance. The Orcs have joined us from the east and are at the Dorian Capitol right now."

Emilae appeared distressed but instantly hid it well, "did you not receive our messenger? She is my sister so I'd really appreciate knowibg whether or not she made it to human sanctuary."

"If you are speaking about Amila, then yes. It was a close thing, as they sent a Manticore to hunt her and it finally caught up as she was just entering the Capitol, but she made it and is safe this moment."

"Oh thank the gods!" 

"You are Amila's sister? Truly? She mentioned that she had a sister but she never told me her name." 

"Are you close?" Emilae asked. 

"Yes. Yes, we are. I care for her a lot. She is very admirable and likable. So very bright." 

Emilae just smiled and nodded, clearly keeping her thoughts to herself. 

"You should get moving. Get back to your central village as soon as you can. I'm going to go fetch your sister and then I will return. It was a pleasure to meet you, Emilae." 

And then he was cutting through the air with a single stroke of his wings before she could respond. 

:..:

Talasa laid on the large bed in her luxurious room in the Dorian palace, trying to cope with the soul crushing hollowness of losing the one she loved more than life itself. Subdued depression seemed to permeate the air throughout the entire palace and Amila was even worse off than herself. The little elf had locked herself in the room they had offered her and wouldn't speak with anyone. The muffled sobs escaping through the door were the only indication that she still lived. 

Laying on the bed, she stared through tearful eyes at the Michael's Falcata as she ran her fingers over the grip and wondered if it was even worth it carry on. She had only got to be with him for such a short time and she knew her heart would never recover. Orcs usually moved on fairly quickly after the loss of a loved one, content to avenge their loved ones and move on with life, but she couldn't love another make after this. Who could possibly measure up?

"Are you thinking about me, love?" A familiar voice said from the open balcony. 

Her eyes widened as she rolled over to see her Lord standing there, looking better than ever. His hair was cut short and his body was nearly bare with it's usual armor suit. She noticed his glowing blue eyes but didn't care as she jumped up and ran over to him, wrapping her arms around him and crying joyfully. 

"How!? We saw you. We watched as you were..." Talasa sobbed.

"Shh. It's alright. I'm here, baby. I'm here."

After a moment of silent embrace, Michael spoke, "where is Amila? I can feel her pain and despair". 

"I'll take you to her. She hasn't been coping well with losing you. We all felt so lost but she just shut down. She won't see anyone. She won't believe that your alive!" 

Walking out of her room, Talasa led Michael down the deserted hallway to another door on the left side at it's end. There was no reply when Talasa knocked and the door was locked when she tried the handle. Michael just smiled and waved his hand, causing a faint click to be heard, before opening the door by the now open handle. No candles had been lit inside the room so the moonlight streaming in from the open balcony was the only illumination. 

Michael silently padded over to the bed, where a very small figure lay under the covers motionless. Wordlessly, he climbed into bed with her and wrapped his arms around her tiny form. Without opening her eyes, Amila pressed her face up to his bare chest and inhaled deeply. A lone tear ran down her cheek and she whispered, "I've missed you".

"I'm here, my sweet, I'm here"

"I don't want to wake up. I know you'll be gone when I do. Can't I just stay here with you?" Amila sobbed. 

"I'm really here. Baby please, just open your eyes."

"Why? Haven't I suffered enough? I'm not like these humans, we Elves bond for our souls for eternity. I lost you before we could even begin."

Without another word, Michael leaned in and softly kissed her lips, "it's really me, my little lovel. I'm not here."

Reluctantly, Amila's eyes opened to see Michael's face right in front of hers. After some momentary confusion, her eyes bulged widely and she raised her hand to stroke his face, as if verifying that he was physically present. "You're really not here? We saw you... We saw you die!" she sobbed. 

"I know, love. It's really me. My father sent me back. I'm whole now. My power and strength has awakened."

Talasa, who had been silently watching the exchange with tears in her eyes and a bright smile on her face, spoke in highly improved human language, "it's true Amila. It's really him. He's a bit different now but it's truly him."

"Your father? Does that mean..." Amila started.

"Yes. Your initial suspicions were correct. I am what your ancestors knew as 'Angelis'."

Amila was overwhelmed by everything. The Angelis were legendary as the first warriors who drove the Darkness out of much of the universe. The champions of life and Light. To have her love back, and confirmed as one of their number, was an overload of both her loving heart and her intellectually curiosity. Lighting the bedside lamp, she gasped at Michael's new appearance. Both women gasped as his large wings unfurled from his back.

"It's amazing. You're so... so beautiful."

Giving a playful pouting face, Michael said, "I thought I was always beautiful!"

Amila just giggled and wiped the tears from her eyes as she ran her hands over the surface of Michael's wings. It quickly became apparent that black 'feathers' covering his wings weren't actually feathers but more like thin and smooth scales. She appreciated the golden skin that seemed to sparkle when the light hit it at certain angles and covered sculpted muscles of his torso. 

"I need you. I need you in me right now. Prove to me that this is real. Please!" Amila pleaded as she began to shed her sleeping gown. 

Looking at the two side by side, the dichotomy was extremely exciting. Amila's childlike cuteness next to Talasa's nearly obscenely voluptuous femininity had his cock lifting up the silk wrap that adorned his waist immediately. Wrapping Amila up in his arms, they exchanged a scorching kiss as Talasa untied the strings at her shoulders that held up her revealing gown. Her smooth Emerald skin stoked his fire as her huge breasts became visible, their round masses barely hanging at all as her flesh defied gravity. The gown got stuck around her wide hips, leaving her bare from the waist up, as she quickly found her place kneeling before Michael. 

Opening her mouth, she stroked his impossible length as she took Michael's cockhead into her mouth and began ravenously slurping and pumping. As Talasa's head of black hair bobbed up and down in front of his groin and her hands moved up to grope his divine torso, Michael continued to make out with Amila while slipping a finger before her tiny folds and pressing against her little nub. 




Aurion Ch. 04



"Oh, you've been practicing!" Michael exclaimed when Talasa slipped his cock into her throat and began bobbing faster as sheathed to throat more than half of his prodigious monolith, her throat tightening around and clenching on every upstroke. 

Michael didn't even try to hold back. His skin began to glow as he exploded down her throat, pumping inhuman amounts of semen straight into Talasa's stomach. After a dozen or so enormous pulses, she backed off his cock and began pumping him straight into her open mouth, which quickly overflowed and began falling in heavy gobs down onto her tits, despite her efforts to swallow in large gulps. The energy released by his climax sent both women into intense orgasm. 

Before either could regain their bearings, both women were flat on their backs on the bed, side by side. Michael quickly sheathed himself into Talasa's undersized cunt and proceeded to pound away at a fast pace until she screamed again and squirted as contractions overtook her beings for the second time. 

Using both hands to grab Amila by the waist, he picked up her small body completely and set her legs on his upright shoulders as he buried his face into her tiny mound. Standing upright, with the little elf on his shoulders with her legs wrapped around his head, Michael shifted his angle of penetration on Talasa so that the blunt tip of his huge prick was grinding along the top of her tunnel with each inward stroke while his left thumb roughly rubbed her clit and his right middle finger thrust in and out of her anus. All the while his tongue was buried in Amila's tiny slit and his teeth were softly scraping against her little button, not stopping even after another orgasm was wrenched from her. 

By then, Talasa was screaming gibberish and coming over and over again. With a final deep thrust Michael began unloading blast after literal blast of his seed directly against her contracting cervix. Again, his orgasm triggered climaxes in them and Talasa passed out soundly. As Michael lowered the panting elf from his shoulders onto her weakened knees, he pulled out of the unconscious she-Orc, causing a huge gush of cum to cascade out of her gaping cunt to form a dinner plate-sized puddle under her ass that was steadily growing with the constant milky stream issuing from in between her stretched and battered labia. 

Picking her up again, Michael lowered Amila softly down onto his cock, waiting patiently for her tiny cunt to adjust after she into ally squeaked at the searing pain of admitting a cock into her whose head was thicker than the length of her cunt lips. After several full minutes, she had admitted his member up to her cervix and she began slowly pulling herself up with the hands she wrapped over his shoulders before slowly lowering herself in excruciating pleasure and more than a little pain. The pain from being so overly stretched was welcome, as she needed to know that this wasn't another of her hopeful dreams. It also helped that the pain didn't stop her from cumming the instant she felt the huge tip come to rest against her cervical neck. 

Before she could really start to leverage herself up and down on the huge prick, she squealed as Michael's wings flapped once and sent them shooting out of the open balcony doors and into the sky of the sleeping capital. Flying through the air under the stars, hundreds of feet off the ground, Michael continued to use his hands around her waist to pull her entire body up and down his length, treating her like a living cock sleeve. She squealed and grunted as her entire being was pierced by the biggest cock she had ever encountered or heard of. Not normally a size-queen, something about trying to take more cock than she could handle had begun to stimulate her mind in sexual ways she had never encountered or considered. 

"Yes! Love me like a wife but fuck me like a WHORE! Give me that giant cock! I want you to pierce my womb again, you big dicked motherfucker!" Screamed the very proper Elf. 

"You asked for it!" Michael grunted. 

"YES!" Amila screamed as one of the tiny nipples on her flat chest was enveloped in a warm and wet mouth and Michael's skillful tongue swirled and laved her entire areola, sending her into another peak. As she came, her cervix dilated further and Michael jerked as his next thrust pushed through the hard neck at the back of her box and his cockhead was admitted entrance directly into her womb. 

The increased sensation put them both over the edge and Michael proceeded fill her with his direct deposit, her belly again becoming distended from the superhuman amount of divine seed injected straight into her womb. Still airborne, the two remained locked in tight embrace as they regained their wits, Amila's small head pressed against Michael's bare sternum due to her short stature.

"Let's go back and get Talasa. I need to speak with the King before we head back to your homeland. We are needed there." Michael whispered into Amila's ear. 

"Mmm M'kay. But, wait. How are we going to get there? It'd take us a month on fast horses!" Amila squeaked adorably.

"We are going to fly. You, me, Talasa and both of my Lion cubs." 

"If you say so." 

:..:

The central Elven village, Sylva, was built in the canopy of the giant Pine, Redwood and Ash trees more than fifty feet off the ground. Using the huge trees and their branches as frames, large houses and halls were built along with raised roads and walkways, some of the branches being magically altered or reshaped. There were also extensive defensive works around the perimeters and throughout the village dating back to their ancient conflict with the Dragons and their Dwarf allies. 

Although ultimately victorious, leaving Dragons all but extinct and Dwarves confined to the Black Mountains that separate the North from the rest of the Empire, the Elves paid dearly for it. It was after that war two thousand years ago that humans began to thrive, eventually taking the place of the Elves as the dominant race of Aurion, and since defeating the Jotun Frost Giants a thousand years before humans had been growing stronger and more populous. 

Giant mechanical double bows that fired multiple giant arrows and bolt throwers that propelled spear-sized missiles faster than any arrows were mounted around the edge of the village. There were also pivoting stands mounting large formations of hollow tubes containing arrows with fused iron rockets attached to the shafts, allowing the user to aim at a target on the ground or in the sky after lighting the fuse, which split off into individuals to caused simultaneous detonation of the dozens (sometimes hundreds) of rocket propelled arrows contained within. The arrows were propelled at a far higher velocity than any bow could muster and proved a very effective weapon against the airborne Dragons. Their war with the Dragons had also led to them developing air-burst projectiles for their ballista's, which would explode in midair and scatter flames or shrapnel, eliminating the need for a direct hit against a flying target. 

Much as the Dragons had attacked them by air in the war, the Dwarves had sought to attack them on or under the ground. From their treetop positions, they had a great field of fire against any attackers on foot and any who sought to climb trees and bring the fight up into the canopy would find themselves fighting against the extremely coordinated, agile, lightweight and dexterous Elves who could dance and leap over branches like a gymnast. The fact that the Elves favored archery over any other forms of combat meant that they were never lacking for archers, and the fact that Elves had lifespans spanning as much as thousands of years meant that they had plenty of time to build their skills to otherwise unimaginable heights. 

The Dwarves had found themselves fighting spike covered ground, spelled Bears, Forest Baboons, Wild Boars and Jungle Cats compelled to attack them, giant logs and spiked balls swinging down from the canopy, Hornet nests, white hot sand and pots of oil falling from above in addition to lone sharp shooters. 

The treetop marksmen would usually wait until the Dwarves passed their position before opening up into the exposed backs of the enemy below them with their bows (occasionally mechanical crossbows would be mounted on tripods up in a treetop platform while other times the sniper would use a repeating crossbow to quickly pump out a dozen bolts before escaping). After their attack, they could swing by rope to another tree or slide down the hollowed out trunk of the tree holding the camouflaged firing platform and into the subterranean tunnel network that led to underground armories, hospitals or mess halls as well as paths leading to other hollowed tree trunks to facilitate ascension in another area. These tunnels were protected by geo-spells that prevented an enemy from tunneling in to infiltrate their network and there were no entrances from ground level. 

As peaceful as the Elves were, they had learned the need for protection and self defense the hard way. This attitude was even evident in their magical practices and talents, most of which were either directed towards growing and healing or defense. There were very few offensive spells meant for attack. There was a significantly higher propensity for magic with Elves, when compared to the other races, as magical potential was much more common. However, it was the six great houses whose bloodlines held the most arcane power. 

The Ruling House provided the leader for all of Elfkind, currently occupied by Queen Gwynen. The Queen's husband had died in the Dragon War and she had never remarried. The primary ruler could be male or female, whoever was the leader of the Ruling House would be selected as the King or Queen of the Elves, whether they married or not. If married, their spouse would still always be second to them in power. By all accounts, the Queen was a righteous ruler with a great, but distant, beauty. 

Michael landed on the large lawn covered platform in front of Amila's ancestral treetop estate, setting her down along with Talasa and the large Black Lion cub wrapped in her arms. Apparently, in Michael's absence the two young Lion cubs had imprinted onto Talasa and Diana. Leo, the male, had taken to Talasa delightfully while Lucilla, the female, had become totally attached to Diana. Due to his Angelic nature, both of the Lions had been happy to see him when he greeted them at the palace but it was clear who their true mistresses were. 

Diana and Nyssa had both been visibly happy to see him alive, to the point where he was a bit surprised by the affection shown by the usually proud and dignified ladies. Before leaving he had instructed Nyssa to begin advanced training for Diana in fencing, archery and unarmed combat. Being the daughter of a famously heroic Lord, Diana had been trained by the best instructors in using the sword, the bow and the horse as well as wrestling. Her skills were already at least equal to those of a skilled Legionary, her archery better for certain, but Nyssa would improve those skills as well as teach her the ways of an Assassin and martial arts expert. Both women had been surprised when Michael sensually kissed their lips before his wings burst from his back and he departed in a blur, leaving both women and all of those in the throne room wide eyed with shock. 

At once, Amila's handmaiden came rushing out of the wooden mansion and into the front lawn to greet her mistress. "My lady! I had no idea when you would return! I'm so glad you're back safely..."

She pulled up short as she finally saw that her mistress was accompanied by a sinfully handsome human man and the most beautiful she-Orc that the maid had ever heard of. It was the man who stepped forward to greet the maid first, Amila simply blushing in her girlish way at the thought of introducing her love to her best friend and maid. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you...?"Michael asked. 

"Pendry, my Lord. Welcome to Sylva!" The pretty maid responded.

"Pendry, this is Michael... Michael Angelis. He is my everything. And this is his servant, and my friend, Talasa." Amila said, all the while clinging to Michael's arm, which earned a curious look from Pendry. 

"Wonderful. I'll prepare rooms for them..."

"No, that won't be necessary. Michael and I share a bed and I don't want Talasa to feel left out. We can all share my suite." Amila responded.

"Master, I can sleep separately. As long as I am near you, in case you need something." Talasa offered.

"I haven't seen you in months, beautiful. I want you with us. Ive missed you." Michael said, drawing a single finger along the curve of Talasa's jaw. 

The she-Orc purred at the praise and leaned into his hand like a favored pet. Pendry at once felt turned on and wistful at such an open display of obvious affection. She could definitely see what her mistress was drawn to in such a man, even after just a few minutes. The way both women looked at the man with such longing and love in their eyes made her heart melt. 

"Well, baby. Are you going to show me around?" Michael asked teasingly. 

"Of course, old man" Amila joked, "or maybe I should just call you Daddy!"

Pendry didn't understand the joke, her mistress was older than just about any human and the epically attractive human man didn't appear to be over thirty years old, if that. She just shrugged if off and then squeaked when she noted card the Lion cub for the first time as he clawed at the grass at their feet. 

"He'll be okay, don't worry." Amila assured her, "he just needs some fresh meat and milk. He can run around during the day and sleep in my room on a pad at night."

"Yes, my lady. I'll run to the market and grab some wild pork, venison and reindeer milk. You know that we rarely keep meat in the house when you aren't here." Pendry said, as most Elves eat little meat, preferring nuts and cheeses as sources of protein. Amila, however, could be quite the meat eater.

Being the last living member of her family besides her sister, the servants were the only other occupants of the estate. Michael was surprised to learn that her family was one of the Great Houses, and the richest one at that, though imagery were quite isolated and had stayed seay from politics for the past several generations. However, the acted as a bank for many of the other houses, large and small, and held debts over most of the Great Houses. This also made Amila a hugely desired bride amongst those looking to rise above their station or attain more power. It was then that Michael became somber, remembering that she was already engaged to be some guy's lifemate. 

As Amila showed Michael around the vast treetop mansion, she noticed his withdrawn mood. "Hey, what's wrong?" 

"Ah. It's nothing. I was just thinking. I didn't mean to drag you down, I'm enjoying the tour. Really. I love the place and I can't get over the novelty of how they were constructed in a forest canopy. Especially one this big..."

"Ah. Ah. Don't try to change the subject. I'm serious. Tell me what's wrong?" Amila persisted. 

Michael exhaled deeply and looked down for a minute, "well, just being here has reminded me that your not really with me."

"What!? What are you talking about?" Amila said, early incensed. 

"I love you," Michael said tenderly, "but you are engaged. You're going to be marrying someone else. And I was just thinking about how hard that's going to..." 

"Shut up. You can't really think that I would still go through with even a political marriage after everything that's happened with us? I mean seriously, how could you think I wouldn't do anything and everything in my power to be with you."

"You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that," Michael said as Amila wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as they fell back into the couch in the second story study. 

:..:

Michael accompanied Amila into the Royal Hall, where the Elven court met and home to the Sylvan Princess and ruler of the Elfkind, Princess Frey. The entire court and all of the heads of the great houses were present, including House Owain, who still expected Amila to marry their heir, Morae. Many eyes focused on Michael, whom they assumed to be human since his great feathered black wings weren't visible. Many of the men looked overly prideful and the women tried to disguise the fact that they couldn't take their eyes of off his exposed body. With only a silken wrap around his waist, Michael's unblemished golden skin and divine body were bare for all to see. The golden wreath wrapped around his head was the only other accessory he wore, even his feet were bare yet somehow perfectly clean. Taller and more muscular than any Elf present, Michael was still somehow more beautiful than any of the Elven maidens present yet clearly masculine. 

The crowds whispers and murmurs died down as Amila reached the foot of the great wooden throne on which Princess Frey sat. With practiced precision, Amila offered a formal bow. "Your highness, I have returned."

"So I can see. And you have brought a visitor from your trip to the human lands. Or is this all the reinforcements the generous humans could supply?" Princess Frey said, to the chuckles of the court. 

"The situation is far more complicated than that, your highness. However, the important thing is that we SHALL have human support and reinforcements." Amila declared, causing a great many whispers to ripple through the onlookers as most had assumed the humans would stick to their usual selfish behavior. 

"Oh? The Emperor has sent troops to our defense?" The Princess asked, clearly skeptical. 

"I didn't speak with the Emperor, as he was in the southern Capitol. The Warden of the North has pledged to our cause, however. He..." Amila started before the Princess cut her off. 

"The Warden of the North is dead. Even we isolated Elves know that much!"

"The Emperor has appointed a new Warden. He said..." Amila tried again. 

"Where is this Warden now? Where are his troops?" Asked the Princess.

Michael, tired of hearing Anila treated with such a petulant attitude, stepped forward, "perhaps if you listen instead of squawking because you aren't hearing exactly what you want to hear, you would have better luck."

The entire court froze in shock as the Princess tightened her jaw and spoke in a deceptively calm voice, "and who would you be? A messenger?"

"I am the Warden of the North", Michael stated firmly, causing more whispers, "I have come to discuss matters of alliance and strategy."

"I've never seen a human like you before. You dress like a southern islander yet they don't have fine silks and such fine gold work. Where are you from?" The Princess inquired. 

"I am from far from here. A land that your people have not yet discovered. However, that is beside the point."

"A foreigner? How did you become the most powerful Lord in the North, then? Answering it to the Emperor himself, you must have saved his life or something?" 

"I've actually never meant the Emperor. I simply raised an army and began to organize the peasants and farmers in a resistance to the invader's advances. After some successes and the endorsement of the Dorian King Domitus, the emperor appointed my position. I've also been adopted as a Xia Prince."

"Now that is a story I look forward to hearing. For now, what would you like to discuss in regards to the current issue at hand? We must drive off this horde, and soon. The magical barrier that protects our forest is crumbling in the face of so much pure Dark energy."

"I agree. However, I slaughtered killed of the six Demon commanders leaders big the horse against your lands. I..."

"Liar!" Morae Owain yelled, "no Elf could kill two demons singlehanded, let alone three. You expect us to believe a single man managed to do so?"




Aurion Ch. 04



"I don't really care what you believe. If you took the time to debrief the small group that came in yesterday, you wouldn't look like a jealous fool now for they witnessed the event. Now sit down, shut up and let your betters speak BOY!"

Morae glared hate at Michael while several others looked silently outraged. "I dont know why you are all behaving this way but you should be ashamed. The wise and noble Elves showing poor hospitality and bickering like children! Not sure what gives you the idea that you are entitled to human defense but many men and women are going to die to ensure you retain your pampered comfort. So SHOW SOME RESPECT!" Michael roared. 

The Princess, suitably chastised, said, "he's right. We stand here arguing as our enemies spend every minute hastening our demise," turning to Michael, "what can we get you?" 

"I would have your generals, lead armorers and smiths meet me after dinner at Amila's house. We have much to discuss and there is some information I will need to send to my men. I have a force already moving this direction so we will also need to work out a way to sneak them past the enemy and into the forest so that we may coordinate a single battle line. I will know more of what we need when I have a plan. For now, have your people start gathering any extra food, metal and wood. That'll be all", Michael said. 

"Actually, there is one more matter if like to discuss, your highness." Amila said. 

"Of course, Amila. What is it?" Princess Frey replied. 

"I would like to motion for a dismissal of the nuptial engagement between myself and Morae of house Owain."

The crowd was again frozen silent. "On what grounds?" Frey asked, looking truly interested for the first time all night. 

"Pregnancy", Amila all but whispered. 

The bystanders looked around at each other, clearly puzzled, while all of the Morae looked troubled and Owain looked furious. "Care to explain what you mean by that?" Frey asked. 

"The child growing in my womb, and my heart, belong to the man I love. That man is not Owain. That is all that's relevant."

"Who is it?! I'll kill them for this dishonor!" Owain screamed.

Michael, meanwhile, turned to look at Amila as his eyes began to softly glow blue as he used his 'real' eyes to examine her body and energy. Sure enough, there was another soul tethered to hers. One of immense power. Because of the seating arrangements, only a few Elves were able to see his eyes change-and they were still too shocked to point it out in the middle of proceedings. 

Amila turned and looked up at Michael with a worried but hopeful look on her little face, her large silvery eyes fixed on his expression. Waiting. 

Catching the look, Owain exclaimed, "him! This human! You would pollute your House's bloodline by mating with a human? How where you even fertile? Had you already been whoring yourself out before you left? Answer me!"

"Careful, child. You know not of what you speak. There is more on the line than your wounded pride," Michael menaced Owain. 

"I exercise my right to challenge! And I declare that only blood will cleanse this insult to my house!"

"You have no legal..." Lady Frey began. 

"It's quite alright, Princess. I accept any challenge directed towards my House Gwynnaed. If Amila would approve, I would act as Champion in her name,"Michael said. Realizing he had yet to answer Amila's uncertainty, he turned to her and whispered, "this is an infinitely happy day, my love. Please, do not worry about upsetting me. I'm honored to be the father to our child. I may have many women in my life, and I may love them but you are one of the few that I am in with love, truly."

With tears in her eyes, Amila smiled hugely and wrapped her arms around his bare torso. Looking at Owain, who had stepped over to the seldom-used ceremonial challenge circle, she said, "you are wrong. I didn't lay with Michael until very recently and I was true to our agreement until my true heart set me free of that obligation."

"Oh? How were you fertile then?" Owain sneered. Elves were only fertile after their bodies adapted to a male partner. Usually this took at least a year, the fact that Michael had impregnated her in a matter of weeks spoke immensely to his vitality and fertility. 

"Because my Michael is more may and virile than you'll ever be"

"Have it your way. Our people will never accept a half human bastard!" Owain growled. 

"They won't have to," said Michael, "for I am not human". With that, Michael's irises glowed fiercely with blue light and his large black wings unfurled from his back to spread widely in a proud display of his Angelic heritage. 

"It can't be!"

"A celestial!"

"Impossible!"

Various responses softly issued from the stunned group and Owain began to show his fear. Michael stepped forward, entering the circle meant that he had formally accepted Owain's challenge. The angry Elf just continued to look at him with eyes wide and mouth gaping before stuttering, "I... I..."

"Don't bother. I've formally accepted your challenge, there's no backing down now. Besides, you insulted one of the women I love as well as my unborn child. If you survive long enough, you'll learn that nobody threatens my family. Now, choose your weapon, you insect".

Owain struggled to get ahold of himself and turned towards the weapons rack beside the sparring circle. He quickly decided on a dragon forged Rapier instead of the standard Elven battle sword, which was like a Knight's longsword with a thinner blade, as it was often the choice for single combat. With a sword in his hand, some of Owain's confidence resurfaced, and with it his rage. Michael declined to select a sword off the weapon's rack and simply walked to the center of the circle and turned to the dais that Princess Frey's throne was on, waiting expectantly. 

"You have not selected a weapon," the princess observed. 

"My opponent does not rate my use of a weapon. If I do end up needing a sword, he was kind enough to bring one with him. Why? Is there a rule that says I cannot decline a weapon?"

"No... I guess. It's just that nobody has ever done so," the princess replied. "Alright, fighters. Take your mark. The contest begins when my scarf hits the floor," she said, holding a green silken scarf in one hand. After a pregnant moment, she dropped it. 

Michael knew that Owain was said to be the best swordsman, or at least duelist, among all the Elves. His dragon forged sword was of very high quality, the only thing better would've been a sword of dragon steel; a dragon forged blade made from the iron in dragon bones. Still, it wouldn't help him. Besides his poisonous attitude and terrible words, Michael had been waiting for the first person to step out of line so that he could make an example of them and hopefully not have to harm any others repeating the process. 

Owain didn't charge forward madly in his rage, to his credit. Instead, he advanced fluidly with artful footwork as he kept the blade of his blade from telegraphing his movements as it cut lazy circles in the air. Any other man would've been skewered through the throat by his sudden lunge, yet Michael simply moved around behind him with such speed that he seemed to simply disappear to Owain's perception while to the spectators he seemed to teleport. His lazy open handed slap to the head sent Owsin stumbling forward as his ears rang. 

The Elf spun around using his body to hide the movement of his sword but only found air as Michael reversed his prior move and ended up back at his starting spot. Owain was enraged at the way the angel seemed so unconcerned as he sat there examining his fingernails with obvious boredom, the tip of one great wing scratching the back of his leg. 

The angry Elf tried to vary his next attack with an upward slash but Michael simply leaned to the side as the blade passed harmlessly less than an inch from the surface of his exposed skin. He evaded the Elf's backhanded reverse in the same manner, this time swatting the Elf across the face disdainfully, leaving a red handprint plainly visible. Despite the lack of success, the fact that Michael had not yet attempted to truly strike back emboldened the Elf. That was about to change. 

The Elf's next attempt was a downward slash, however this time his sword clattered to the ground right as his blow was about to land. It took him a second to realize that his sword hand was still wrapped around it's hilt and his wrist was now a smoldering stump that had been immediately cauterized by the glowing tip of Michael's left wing, the great heat preventing blood loss. Owain fell to his knees screaming as the pain finally caught up with him. 

Michael wasn't done yet. Walking up to the kneeling Elf, the fingertips on Michael's right hand began to glow brightly with golden light. Reaching out to the downed elf, Michael ran his slightly parted fingers down Owain's face like a beast raking it's claws, burning deep furrowed into the screaming elf's face and permanently disfiguring his extremely handsome features. 

Turning toward the stunned crowd, he said calmly, "I am an Archangelis, slayer of gods and Champion of Heaven. My forces have already killed thousands of the invaders, led by my hereditary enemies. I have personally slaughtered multiple demons and am currently the only individual here powerful enough to destroy even one on my own. You have have all day here safely behind your magical barrier, uncaring of all the other people that fall outside your lands and unwilling to help. That's fine, as it is your way. But now the invader us at your door, your barrier of Light will not protect your forests much longer and you must fight. If you think you can do so without me and my men, speak up now and I will leave. No?"

As if nothing had happened, he turned to the other representatives of House Morae and said, "if you hurry, you should be able to get that hand reattached. But he has been marked for the dishonor of putting his own needs ahead of those of his people, if anyone heals his face, I'll just do it again and everyone one can watch him whimper and scream through it once more. Your entire existence is at risk from a threat more ominous than any of you have ever seen. We should not be fighting amongst each other, especially for something as trivial as pride. Now go. And know that I have shown you mercy, as I was tempted to simply slaughter your contemptuous heir,"

Every member of House Morae breathed a sign of relief when Michael's foot set down outside of the circle. The angel immediately walked over to Amila and proceeded to lead her out of the chamber with his arm around her. As he retreated, he called out over his shoulder, "I'll expect your military leaders and strategists at sunset. I trust there will be no more unpleasantness."

:..: