3 comments/ 10100 views/ 4 favorites Zygurd of the House of Mourne By: miladygrimm Zygurd peered up over the arm of his lieutenant as the lances passed... his breath low but ragged as he kept concealed under the corpses. His face was caked with blood and sweat and dirt and all the gruesome bits that remained of his fallen comrades. His body lay flat against the ground , a jagged rock digging into the bottom of his ribcage, but he did not mind or care so much about that. His body had experienced, and currently was experiencing much greater discomfort. He stared out of the bodies, peering through the armpit of his fallen Orcish brother in arms, as the pale faced lances scoured the area for signs of life. It had been hours before... and he could remember the last time he'd seen his brothers alive... back near the base of the hill, in the woods where they made camp last evening. He had been strapping his boots up when Bargos and Lotar found him. Zygurd looked up at the two other Orcs with a nod of consideration. "What is it?" he'd said offhandedly, banding off the boots and tying the knot off. "Levtenan' come by, tell us you got the only good rubstone." Bargos said, brushing a wasp from his bare shoulder. The wasp however, did not yield and simply dug it's barb into him. Bargos merely gave an indifferent grunt, killed the buzzing insect and began picking the stinger of the callous it was buried in. Zygurd nodded, reaching for his whetstone to his companions. They'd sat down next to him on either side, taking turns with the stone and running I down the length of their axe heads and spear points. "What news from the Levtenant?" Zygurd had inquired. Bargos shrugged. "Bad shit going down today... the Imperials are marching towards the Fynne River... they ran into clan Grundyll last night while they were scouting around... bad scrap... take thirty.... Fo'ty maybe ... small fight.. But the humans routed... they know we're here and are going to try and shake out our ambush... like rattlin' birds outa der bush. " Bargos said, giving his axe a few good strokes and handing the stone off to Lotar. Zygurd looked back towards where the Lieutenant stood on post , peering into the surrounding woods. "What word of Reinforcements then?" Zygurd asked. This time it had been Lotar who'd answered. "A few pale skin humans... barbarians from the marshes and the woods... Picts mostly.... A few Highland an' Vanir but mostly Picts." Lotar muttered. "That's about it though... the goblins are tied up in a fuck over on the other side of the mountains...No one wants to get involved wit dem Imperials..." "Picts aren't that bad." Zygard replied. "Scrappy and they know how to fight in the woods...they wont be too bad as long as they can follow fuckin' orders...they got no love of Imperials." "They're brash and wild... " Bargos had grumbled. "So are we... when y' get down to it." "Got a point... " Bargos laughed. "But do that again and I clout your fuckin' nose off . " They had laughed and passed the stone back to Zygurd who glanced back at the Lieutenant. And here he was once again staring at the Lieutenant, his now dead left arm covering Zygurd's gaze as he watched the Imperial Lancers move away. Zygurd got up once they were out of sight and ran at a crouch back towards the tree line, his hand clutched to his shoulder as he struggled through the underbrush. He had made it... the flight from the battlefield was sure to have been seen... but he made it in one piece. Or so he'd thought. As soon as he stepped foot past the tree line he heard a sharp whistling. He turned in time to spot the arrow as it embedded itself in a nearby tree. He turned and saw them now, a small band of them descending from the hill after him, aided by a quiet hail of arrows from their archers. Zygurd ducked through the brush as the arrows hissed through the air after him, hitting logs and tree stumps with sickening 'thunk" sounds. He ran, his feet flailing about as he staggered through the mud and brush until he made his way to one of the shallow creeks that ran through he forest. He flopped down in the water, dropping down into the ditch it had cut through the ground over centuries, and lay down in the mud near the creek bank. He lay there for some time, hiding behind the ridge of the creek bank and waiting for the sounding approach of feet. He peered up over the ridge and looked across the forest floor and the fallen leaves about him. He could only see vague figures approaching through the forest. He looked around for signs of escape... that was when he saw her. She was crouched behind one of the trees; her hand gripping a mace, an empire made mace. She was not of their faction though, Zygurd could tell she was one of the barbarians that had come to their aid. Much good they had done. He watched her as she waited for them to approach... peering venomously out of her dark locks of tangled hair. Her face was painted with the tattoos of her clan, her body clad in strips of metal pieced together with leather and fur... made more for mobility than for protection. She was fierce, like a cornered animal. Zygurd ducked back down under the ridge and found his curved hunting knife... the only weapon he had on his person. He concentrated... forgetting now his wounded shoulder and how the blood was caking with the sweat to form a bitter scab where the sword had bit him. He forgot the pain and the sorrow and the agony that surged through his body and found the warrior buried within the raw emotion that made up his conscious mind. He clenched his teeth, his gaze becoming cold and his eyes loosing emotion bit by bit... He found the killer, and the hunter and the fighter and became him, feeling that mentality overcome him... He stood up and saw the exposed backs of the Human soldiers.... And he saw the angry frightened grimace of the woman as she leapt from her cover, seizing one by the neck. Zygurd watched as she moved, angry, scared, vicious... sloppy. She was not fighting as a soldier, but as a caged animal fighting at the bars of her cell. The men reacted quickly.. But not nearly quickly enough... One went down... there was a growl... a guttural moan of pain a crunch and a scuffle. Zygurd could not see clearly who was winning and who as being hurt where... it was gruesome and dirty... the way people really fought. He climbed out of the riverbed and moved in as the iron shirted men began to draw their weapons on the woman... She stared up with wild eyes as they readied themselves and began to move in. Perhaps in a different world they would have made an attempt to kill her... in a different world they would have succeeded. But they never made it past the raising of their blades. The woman could see nothing of their deaths but the sudden shocked look, a jerking of the body and a small steel point protruding from one of their chests. Zygurd drew his knife from the man's back and threw him to the ground to die on his back. With the other he had seized him by the neck and dug his sharp thumbnail into the vein below his chin... causing the man to cringe in pain. Zygurd slid his dagger home into the man's stomach, feeling the flesh part and the blood spill down the hilt of the blade as the man's eyes went wide and terrified. The Orc watched, feeling no remorse or sympathy for the man as he twisted the blade and felt the muscles in his stomach contract, vainly trying to stop the further agony of his wound. Zygurd looked on... cold ... unfeeling. He withdrew the dagger letting the man slump to the forest floor like a sack of potatoes, then curl up, clutching his abdomen and shuddering violently, spitting up blood and breathing heavily. The Orc knelt now and slowly crushed the human's throat.... And held his hand there , thumb on the jugular vein.... Slowly feeling the life leave him bit by bit as he died in his hand.... It all came back in a rush... he felt tired... drained from the exertion and from the brief reminder of just how much of his innocence had been lost up until that point. He sat there on his knees... taking a moment to breathe and to gaze upwards. The canopy lay above him... shafts of pure golden edged white light breaking through the foliage and casting it's purity in halos on the dark forest floor. All around these pools of light sat.... save for that spot where Zygurd sat with the bodies of two of the pale faced men. A moment of reflection now overtook him. They were men... with families and lives and hopes and dreams... and they were dead now. He had killed them. Such things entered the minds of every Orc, following the battle... it was a philosophy of compassion to those who suffered the burden of life and the agony of death along side you. They fought well... and died honorably... and in the end it was all he could say for them. Zygurd bowed his head in Respect... but his thoughts were soon roused by the presence of the woman beside him. Zygurd turned to her and looked her over. Palefaced, creamy skinned like the men he'd killed... a grim tattered woman but one who returned his deep respectful gaze with one of her own. Zygurd stood and looked towards the retreat, remembering his orders. Should the line rout, they would regroup at the far edge of the forest. He looked down at the barbarian woman and helped her to her feet. She said something, it was odd and foreign and smacked of that strange language the other humans spoke. Yet it held it's own dark and rich timbres that his own language held. Zygurd watched her speak, her voice sounding grateful. He shook his head. "I don't... understand." He replied. The woman said another thing. Zygurd simply turned back to the way he was headed. It would be a long trek and an ally would be good to have. He simply beckoned her to follow. This, was a gesture they both could understand. Night wore on... and Zygurd's vision began to sharpen as he led the way through the forest, tree by tree with the woman following behind him. She now carried one of the iron-shirt's swords and had given Zygurd the other. They did not speak as they walked, there was no use for it. Yet Zygurd noticed as they marched, that bit by bit the woman became less alert, and her body slumped. She was becoming tired, Zygurd could tell, even though she made no announcement of the fact. He turned towards her, looking her over, she made an attempt to straighten up, but she was swaying ever so slightly. Zygurd nodded and found a good tree for them to sleep under, figuring she might get the jist of his intentions if he started to make camp for the night. She followed quietly and helped him clear the leaves away and gather kindling for a campfire, they did this wordlessly and he pointed out the spot for them to lay it down... Before long they were sitting, The woman curled up on her own as Zygurd shed his mail Hauberk and his fur mantle, giving himself few moments to stretch without the added weight. From there he went about digging out the food he'd saved from the night prior... the only thing close to field rations he could manage. He sat down and unfolded the bit of cloth that had a few flattened bannocks, a handful of dry berries and a few smoked fish. He started on the bannocks first, taking a bite out of one of the dry pieces of coarse bread. He glanced over at the woman again, she had been eyeing the food but turned her head away once Zygurd looked over at her. He blinked a few times and sighed. Placing the cloth down on the ground between them and holding out one of the bannocks to her. There was a moment of reluctance... she held her hand out, but did not open her fingers to take it... Zygurd offered it again... she took it this time eating quietly on the morsel as the two of them turned their gaze once again to the fire. The moments passed... the two of them ate frugally and left enough of the food to see them through another night. Having finished their dinner they sat in silence... eyes on the flames. Then a moment towards each other. Zygurd felt that he needed to say something... anything would have helped ease the anxiety between them. So he said at last "My name... Is Zygurd." This he said very slowly, holding his hand out and gesturing towards himself. "It means, he who guards the victory...." And once more. "My name, is Zygurd.." The woman watched for a few moments and then nodded before repeating shakily. "Sig...gurd..." Zygurd nodded, it was close enough... her accent was strange. "Yes. Zygurd." "Sigurd.... Zygurd nodded his approval and sat back waiting to see her reply. She pointed to her chest and spoke clearly. 'Ilga" Zygurd nodded and repeated the name "Ylga..." Ilga nodded and then pointed to the dark wound on his shoulder. She asked now something in her language, more words that held no meaning to Zygurd. She seemed to point with urgency towards his wound... and said something now, a word... he assumed it must have meant wound or hurt or something of the sort. The orc raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "It's fine. Don't worry." he said, only capable of assuming her meanings. The woman did not cease though and bade him to come over and sit by her. Zygurd did so, but with reluctance. He sat down and peeled his tunic off, revealing his musclebound figure, cased in greenish grey flesh. He cast his gaze downward as she drew forth her waterskin and poured a bit onto a bit of cloth tartan cloth. She began to clean and wash away the wound, her hands warm and careful on the bruised and damaged flesh. He could imagine how she must have been outside of battle... maybe a mother or a wife or something... he wasn't sure. He was sure that this wild, armor clad and war painted woman was as much a creature of ferocity as she was a creature of compassion. He sat patiently and let her clean and dress his wound. Once done she turned to him and let him take a look. He nodded approvingly. "Thank you.." he said quietly and regarded her strange reply as a "you're welcome." They sat once more, the firelight casting it's glow as the eerie silence crept over them. The sky was still dark when a rustling sound roused the Orc awake. His eyes popped open and he rubbed them, getting the blur to go away and let him see clearly in the darkness again. His eyes peered around, first left, then right... then off in the distance. Again the rustling sound, footsteps approaching, pressing forwards past them... then voices. Strange ones... human ones. Ilga awoke now, only not seeing through the inky blackness as her companion could. Zygurd watched the shadowy figures move around in the darkness ... though as they moved through his field of vision he could not see their features, which were obscured by soft light from their torches. They shouted louder and louder, increasing in urgency... he could only make out a few words in their tongue... most recognizable was the word enemy. Zygurd looked down at Ilga, struggling against his arm as if wanting to scatter and hide.... Zygurd kept his grip on her strong and wrapped his hand over her mouth, urging her to silence. She struggled again for a few moments before stopping, her breath slowing to an even pace as more of the Ironshirt humans scrounged around trough the brush. With his back to the shadows of the tree he waited, listening intently and keeping his eyes closed... he couldn't bear for the life of him to have to fight off this many... just the two of them. He could feel her form now, even through the armor, soft and strong all at once. In silent fear they sat quiet as the footsteps rose to a peak... then scattered... then pulled together... then faded off... back towards the human lines. Once they were gone Zygurd could breath easier again and as he removed his hand from her trembling mouth. For a few more moments they sat there in the strange silence that followed . Zygurd stood and peered around each corner of the tree.... He sniffed the air.... Nothing, they had left. He sat back down and ran a hand through his hair before burying his face in his palms for a moment to get a grip on his senses. That was when he felt her hand on his knee. He looked over to her and saw a sort of grateful, warm look in her eyes. "Thank you..." she said, her accent strange but he could make out the words fairly clearly. He nodded and slumped back against the tree, guiding her once more to the soft crux of shoulder to rest her head, this time she wrapped her hands up around his neck and pulled herself closer to him, using the body heat of the mighty Orc for warmth as the night dragged on. Zygurd drifted off to sleep once more. ------------ "Lookit 'em..." Bargos muttered as they saw the picts shuffle up to assume ranks at the far flank of the field. ... ragged looking, clad in their rough hewn cottons and tartans... armored in lamellar and chain mail and carrying their curved spear tips unlike the very sharp and angular spears the orcs carried. Bargos shook his head. "They're right short fuckers... how'd you expec' em hold their line against the chargers?" The Leiutenant regarded Bargos with a snarl. "We're not here to ask stupid questions like that you shit... 's wot we got and we're going to damn well make do. So I don't wanna hear nufink outa yer shit-traps about it. Understood trooper?" Bargos glanced up at the Lieutenant and nodded. "Understood.... I'm jest wonderin' why we're puttin such faith in 'em... " "I thought I just got done explaining, Bargos..." The lieutenant reared... "I'm JEST SAYIN'..." A hand gripped Bargos by the elbow and pulled him back. "Leave the Levtenant alone Bargos...." Zygurd snapped "You're wasting your breath asking stupid questions like 'at.... Just get back in formation and do as yer told and you might live to see tomorrow." Bargos cast Zygurd's hand away and shuffled back into line with his comrades. Lotar snickered at watching Bargos getting put back into place, This however was met with a sharp elbow to the gut... which shut Lotar up immediately. The moved on... past the picts as they assembled, their leaders and lieutenants talking to the orc commanders. Zygurd shook his head and decided not to dwell on his doubts on their abilities and hefted his long handled great axe onto his shoulder. He looked around at his linemates...there they were, the fifteenth Huscarl regiment out of Nurdhim... the heavy infantry...Axes, Broad Swords, Maces, Falchions... It was their task to charge in as footmen to take down the enemy spearmen and tie up the infantry so the wolf riders could flank from the south...... To the left of them marched the Lances... poorer warriors who were given spears and taught to fight in a tight phalanx and drive off the cavalry... and to the right of them the Slingers.... A loose group of ragged and wiry looking orcs that the warlords had taken from the hunting and fishing villages near the dark forest. Hunters most of them, armed with javelins, and the crude but highly effective composite bows made by the sylvan orcs. Zygurd marched and moved with the rest of his squad, giving the Picts one last final glance before turning his head forward and fixing his skullcap down on his head securely. Through the thick of them he could remember that one dark haired woman with the fur and the tattoos... that bold and strong sort of look to her. ----- They reached the ford that day at about noon... the river ran shallow and it was to cross on foot through the stream, taking foot on the gravel beds. But there would be none of this for the two of them.... For the river meant a wide open space where they could be easily spotted by the patrols. So Zygurd led Ilga down along the riverbank, keeping to the tree line. A short march found them to the waterfall that fed the stream and kept it flowing southward. The waterfall provided a calm place for them to rest for a while. Zygurd sat down on one of the great rocks that sat over the basin of the waterfall. With a groan he stretched out on his back for a moment, feeling his back pop here and there. He glanced over at Ilga who nodded, setting her weapon down and undressing before him. Zygurd watched her shed her clothes and then turned his gaze to the woods as Ilsa casually strode past him to take a dip in the waterfall. She was pretty... Zygurd noted, rather unfazed by her nudity, that she was rather good looking. Zygurd of the House of Mourne He sat still... watching the waters flow southward from the basin in which Ilga bathed quietly. Zygurd contemplated once again, as warriors do, the connectivity of the world from that point. That water had cascaded down Ilga's body... and in that respect, a tiny bit of Ilga flowed perpetually through the world... And that perhaps they had come in contact before in this way... His thoughts dwelt there, more and more on Ilga. He noticed now a silence. An odd one that seemed pervasive through the clamor of the cascade behind him. Zygurd stood wandering over to where Ilga bathed.... And he saw them...A pair of figures... groping through the water for purchase... muffled cries, drowned out by the waterfall. Zygurd could see them. Men of the imperial muster... He did not tarry for a moment to see what they were doing, he assumed the worst for Ilga who struggled valiantly between them. A single cry suddenly pierced the waterfall as Ilga got her mouth free for a fleeting moment. "Sigurd...!" And like a wolf he was upon them, a snarling vicious beast, Wielding his stolen blade in a vicious metal arc. It was over quickly... Zygurd fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air through the battle-haze, his body shivering from the shock of returning to reality in such a short period of time. Their bodies lay dead... soaked corpses lying motionless in the water. He felt his mind calm as he felt a hand on his back... Zygurd looked up at the naked woman. He let out another gasp for air and stood up as she hauled him to his feet. Quietly she led him back to the rock where he had sat before and laid him on his back... She sat next to him, placing a hand to his heart as he let his chest heave, in and out with his breaths. She then ran her hand to his cheek and curled her hand in the thick forelock of hair. Then softly kissed him on the crease between his eyebrows. Zygurd's body seemed to relax instantly. "Ilga.... " he said softly... wanting to say more but unsure how to put it into human words. With a hand back on his chest she laid herself down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. For so many moments they lay like that, Ilga drying her wet body in the afternoon sun before putting her clothes back on. By an by zygurd sat up... and, seeing that there was no longer solace to be had here, they continued on into the woods once more. The wore on and the darkness once more gave clarity to Zygurd's eyes as they trekked through the underbrush. Behind him he could hear the soft footfalls of Ilga who followed the sound of his own steps through the darkness. There was a full moon that night, but unfortunately the heavy canopy of the trees robbed them of that luxury. Through the darkness, zygurd became their guide, his feet sure on the ground beneath their feet while Ilga stumbled every so often. Although they walked in silence, Zygurd could not help but glance back at her from moment to moment. She seemed to be trying to look back at him... her eyes unable to see clearly through the blackness and trying to make out his features. He could not tell for certain but he had a feeling that she must be trying to admire him in some regard. Of course, that, he knew was a foolish notion.... Perhaps she was just trying to get a better glimpse of the clearing that loomed in the distance where the moonlight from above managed to light the forest floor. Zygurd stopped rather suddenly, hearing a soft ruckus arise from behind him as Ilga's foot found a tree root and she stumbled forward. Zygurd turned, catching her by the shoulders and putting her back on her feet. She tottered a bit and reached out for him...his hand found hers and clutched it tightly... relishing that contact for a brief moment. She was warm to the touch. He pulled her forwards towards him feeling her body brush against his shoulder... there was a beautiful sense of closeness in that. Zygurd could feel his heart jump in that brief instant before settling. With a silent swallow to steady his nerves, he led her onward to the clearing. Zygurd, even being as much of a stalwart soul as he was, wasn't prepared to witness the scene that awaited them in the clearing. He stopped, his hands went clammy and his pulse rang in his ears. They lay in masses on the forest floor... piled up into heaps on the ground. Many of his fellow orcs strewn in the painful contortions that embodied their last moments of life. He fell to his knees.. Picking out familiar faces among them.... And some of them familiar faces that had been made obscure by horrific wounds wrought upon them by human blades. Zygurd staggered from heap to heap... taking in the carnage as best he could. True, it was no worse than the carnage of the battlefield behind him... but at least on that battlefield he was ready to experience such atrocity. Here , it was unexpected and shocking. He stood for a moment amidst it all... feeling sickness and woe churning in his stomach, but even still he kept a brave face on it. He simply stood there, his head bowed as he fought with his body and refused to let himself break down and discard his soldierly demeanor. For the second time that day he felt the soft touch of the human woman on his shoulder. He turned and saw her there gazing up into his eyes, showing a desire to share in his sorrow with him. He couldn't speak... just let his jaw tremble as he looked back at her. In his eyes, the woman could see that fear and pain welled up. Zygurd tried valiantly to hide it but it was of no use. She wrapped her arms around his broad back and pulled herself into him resting her head on his chest and listening to the beat of his troubled heart. Zygurd was struck dumb by the gesture... unsure of what to make of it aside from the gesture of sympathy. He moved his hand out awkwardly... unsure of himself in returning the gesture... and wrapped his arm around her waist. He wanted to cry... he wanted to scream this injustice to the gods and let them understand the woe they had inflicted upon him... but the woman seemed to silence this need altogether, suppressing his despair into soft sobs against her shoulder. He had known them, they were his friends... it was hard to say just what he had now... he felt empty inside and yet.... He felt at home here, huddled up in her arms. She took his hand pulled him towards a soft grassy spot on the edge of the clearing where they could sit and build a fire Zygurd could do nothing but watch as she gathered up the kindling, set the twigs alight and coaxed a healthy flame out of them. She returned once more and slipped her arms around him as he sat with his back to the tree trunk. She sat there; ear once again pressed to his chest, hearing his heartbeat before reaching up to his chin to tangle her fingers in his forelock as she had done that afternoon on the rocks by the waterfall. However she did not tarry or stop here as she did before. Zygurd heard her say something in her strange language before pulling herself up to him and pressing her soft lips against his, a hand on either side of his cheeks. Dumbfounded Zygurd protested for a brief moment before sinking back, finding comfort here and feeling her drag him in deeper into herself. A soft moan escaped his lips, slipping through hers. His arms found her, he crushed her to his chest and felt himself forget everything around him for a brief yet seemingly eternal moment. Their kiss seemed to rise in fervor... their mouths groping softly against each other wanting to come closer and closer. Her hands pressed themselves to his chest and began quietly pulling his hauberk off. She did away with his mail and his bracers and his mantle and finally tore his tunic from him to expose his bare chest. He stopped for a moment to let her do this and let her see his bare torso... laced with tattoos and scars.... Things that held significance to him... and could speak so many things to those who could read them. But they were there so that others would not have to look him over too closely to see who he was. To Ilga they held no significance, nor would they have if she could have read them. She looked and saw... green skinned as he was, that he was not so much different beneath the cloth. She smiled... not a giddy smile... but a warm and entranced smile. She lowered herself and kissed up from the short speckling of curls about his navel, up his chest to his neck where she paused to let her lips linger there. Zygurd watched again, as she pulled away, straddling his legs. She undid her belt and did off with her tunic and armor. She sat on his legs her breasts bare, full, and presented before him. He sat up, pulling her towards him and taking one of her soft nipples into his mouth, eliciting a sharp gasp from her as he swirled his tongue around the soft puffy pink nipple... feeling it harden in his mouth. He sucked lovingly on it... kneading her nipple into a soft lump with his mouth. He felt her hands press the back of his head into her that large soft mound... she arched her back towards his sucking mouth, gasping things in her strange language. She rocked back and forth grabbing handfulls of his thick hair and feeling his tongue work on the peaks of her sensitive nipples. He alternated his efforts, first sucking one, then releasing it before letting his tongue circle her aureole before trailing it between her breasts... licking up and down there before up the other side to her other nipple and sucking it hotly into his mouth. She fell to the side suddenly... throwing her self onto her back next to him and reaching for his breeches, rubbing her hand on the bulge that strained against the rawhide and fur. Zygurd quickly undid his belt but before he could get his breeches off she slid her hand down the front and gripped his cock... feeling the thickness in her hand. She let out a long moan and Zygurd saw her hand drift to the soft patch of hair between her legs. Zygurd could hear a soft wet slippery sound as she moved her hand back and forth on her sex... Zigurd licked his lips and looked down at her soft womanhood, her eyes met his and she drew back a bit, sitting up and spreading her legs for him, then spreading the lips of her pussy apart for him to see. He could see that wetness glistening in the moonlight, it was flowing like a trickling waterfall...dripping down between her lush buttocks. She made a small sound that forced him to look up at her and he was startled by the sudden look of pleading. He watched as she pushed herself towards him, speaking once more in that foreign tongue...she was asking...no begging for something. Zigurd brought his fingers to his mouth, and wet them with his saliva before slipping them along her dripping folds. She let out another low moan and keened her head back, feeling his thick finger slip within her tight silken folds . He let his digit wriggle inside her pussy and watched as she twitched and bucked her hips on his hand. She moaned out a single word, over and over again. To Zygurd it sounded much like the word "Please" or "yes" or "More"; something encouraging. He moved himself closer to her and worked his fingers in and out of her, then slipped them out and brought them to his mouth to taste her nectar. The sudden halt in pleasure drove her to fall forward onto him. Gripping his hip and his side for support as she felt her pussy cry out for more hot attention. Zygurd let the sweet flavor of her snatch linger on his tongue before slipping his fingers back in and exploring her pussy. She let out hot little gasps of pleasure her breasts rubbing against his side as she rocked back and forth on his fingers. Zygurd could feel her trying now to find some way to take her mind off it... she let her hand wander to his bulge once more. She pushed his breeches down, finding his cock full and erect. She slowly began working it up and down, pumping him with her hand and licking her lips at the sight. Zygurd's thumb found her clitoris suddenly... small, sensitive and somewhat hidden between her folds. The sudden shock of ecstasy sent shudders down her spine and she twitched on top of him. She redoubled her efforts as he did this and seized his cock in her hand wrapping her mouth around the head and sucking hard . This was a new feeling for Zygurd and he dropped his hand from her wetness and arched his hips up to her mouth... he simply groaned... begging to feel more of her hot wet mouth around his cock. She seemed to smile and took him into her mouth running her tongue up and down the length before bobbing her head up and down and creating such a beautiful suction on him. He felt himself building to a climax.. The feeling was too intense. He tried to plead... his voice coming as short spasms of air, attempting to coax her to stop and let him recover. She seemed to understand this well enough and stopped, returning to stroking the wet shaft of his cock with her hand. She looked up at him her eyes wanting to find approval in his. He pulled her by the arm back up to him and attacked her lips with his... She let her eyes close and straddled him once more her mouth connected with his and her hand not once releasing control of his throbbing member. She rubbed the head now softly against her puss lips... feeling it and rocking her hips back and forth with it, rubbing it up and down and feeling the large swollen head part her lips just a bit. The feeling of penetration was intense. He could see her eyes widen then squint shut as she slid herself down on him feeling his enormous length stretching the needy little hole of her pussy. She was tighter than he imagined... her muscles clamped down on his cock and put a great deal of resistance on him as he slid deep within her folds. She dripped around him... her wetness engulfing him and causing him to become slick and hard within her. She felt him slide to her furthest depth... becoming totally engulfed in her pussy and hitting her deepest parts. She let out a delighted shudder of pleasure before starting to roll her hips back and forth on him. He could see her in the moonlight... a silver-lined silhouette illuminated in parts by the firelight nearby. She gripped her legs tight against him feeling his cock move in and out between the lips of her vulva she gasped and dug her nails into his head as she pressed him once more to her breasts. Zygurd understood her invitation all to well and sucked on her nipple once more. As he did this she started bouncing up and down on him, letting her pussy slip off his cock until just the nice large head remained inside of her then settling back down on him. Up and down.... She rode him like a horse, feeling his throbbing cock within her like length of hot iron inside of her gripping pussy. She could feel her body begin to tingle as if set on fire all at once. She looked down at him, her eyelids heavy with the sweet lusty need that boiled in her She was approaching her edge... and Zygurd could tell all to well. He too could feel something almost like liquid hot flame burst up through his heavy balls as he listened to the soft slapping sound her body made as it connected with his. He felt a sudden clenching of her pussy as she threw her head back and mewled almost like a cat. Zygurd tried to pull her off him and let his seed spill elsewhere but she threw his hands off her and settled herself down hard upon his cock, her pussy milking it softly as he exploded within her. He let out a low roar and tossed his head to the side, his hips pumping up into her. She could feel each spurt deep within her body... filling her with the orc's hot cum. She snarled and buried her face into his chest, letting him expel his hot thick jets of cum into her while her pussy spilled it's juices all over his member. The two of them finished cumming and at once she fell off to the side, breathing heavily and looking up into his eyes. She brought her face close to his, stealing a kiss once more. Zygurd started to say something but cut himself off, seeing that she had already curled up, resting her body against his, and passed out. He smiled and felt himself grow weary now... with his newfound love in his arms he let his lids close and dozed off warm in her soft embrace for another night. _____________ Once again he awoke that night, Zygurd's eyes popped open as a strange moist panting breeze brushed across him. He stared forward his eyes adjusting to the darkness and found himself peering back into a pair of phosphorescent yellow eyes. A lupine nose pressed against him, snuffing about and taking in his scent. Zygurd sat completely still unsure of what to make of this thing. He could not see it fully... too much of it was in the way. Ilga awoke as well and looked up.. She made as if to scream but tensed up and stared on frightfully at the thing. Zygurd looked down at her and flattened himself against the tree trunk. Without warning the thing pulled away a few steps and Zygurd could see it. A massive wolf-beast... the kind ridden by the wolf riders. He wanted to relax but he knew he wasn't about to let his guard down yet. There were footsteps now and a gruff voice. "On your feet." came a familiar words from an unfamiliar voice. Zygurd slowly got to his feet. And peered at the source, he could see a broad shouldered figure helmet clad and clutching a cutlass. "What's your name trooper?" the voice asked. Zygurd cleared his throat. "Zygurd... house of Morne" he said his back pressed to the tree still. The figure approached and pulled the helmet off. Zygurd could see the green flesh and rough features... an Orc. "One of the Nurdim lads huh?... the scouts said your regiment was laid waste, no survivors... " "Well they were wrong weren't they?" "You survived... I don't know how, but when a unit takes a beating like that, it says something about anyone who manages to survive..." "Been trekking for two nights now... " "and who is that?" The Orc said, pointing at Ilga, slipping her tunic back on. "One of the human women..." "A prisoner?" "No... she was with the pictish reinforcements.... We've been traveling together." "Admirable... Two survivors then. Come... we've made camp by the hillslope.... We're moving back north... come." Zygurd motioned for Ilga to follow. They took their things, and marched alongside the wolf rider back to the camp. There they were, the elements left after the battle, mustering back up and licking their wounds. Zygurd walked amongst rows of the casualties. They moaned, finding themselves in various states of ill repair. Ilga strode on next to Zygurd. The rider showed them to the muster circle where the still well and standing warriors were gathering. The commanders were shouting orders and Zygurd found a lieutenant. An orc who hailed from somewhere near his home in Nurdim. "Zygurd from Nurdim... what news is there?" He asked the Orc. "Nurdim?... gods... didn't think one of you would make it back... we lost a few ourselves..." the lieutenant muttered. "Come, you're with us now... we can at least make sure you get back home at the end of the war... if you're still alive that is. " Zygurd turned to look at Ilga... he opened his mouth to speak when a sharp human voice called out. Ilga turned to see one of her fellow Picts beckon her over. She stared at Zygurd.. Their eyes met.. And that was the last time he was that close to her. He watched her draw away.... He called out to her... She seemed to resist the pull of her fellow humans pulling away and going their separate way.... The crowds parted.. The Orcs went one way, the humans went another... they picked up their wounded and made the long trek back to their lines. Zygurd marched forward, his eyes keen and his gaze steadfast... yet his mind would be elsewhere for some time to come. ____________ There was a path that cut through the town to the way outskirts. The path was covered by a small forested area. The stranger walked along it, the town behind him as he pressed on along the path. His face obscured by a great helmet. He could see a small clearing in the distance ahead. An inviting place that seemed to beckon him. He felt it must have been beckoning him like this for years now. He could feel his heart race with a sort of excitement.... Which stopped abruptly as something leapt form the brushes beside the path. Zygurd of the House of Mourne With a sort of snarl one might expect from a tiger cub, a young boy leapt onto the path. He was dressed plainly in tartan breeches and a small tunic, he was wielding a tree branch and baring a pair of short little fangs. The stranger looked the child over, a truly strange young boy. Long dark hair, a lupine nose and slightly greenish skin. The stranger smirked as the young boy, about 7, delivered an ultimatum. "Grrr! Nobody goes this way boy-o! better run back or Sigurd's gonna knock your head off!" The little whelp growled. The stranger knelt before the youth and smirked. "Who's this Sigurd then?" He said in an odd accent. "He must be a powerful warrior if he can knock my head off." "Sigurd is me!" the child stated proudly, puffing out his chest. "And Sigurd is the biggest toughest warrior in these woods! So you'd better not take another step! It's my duty to protect these lands from intruders!" The stranger laughed and patted the kid on his shoulder. "That is quite the task... And it is certainly becoming of a strong and courageous warrior." He looked the kid up and down. "You needn't worry about me then O mighty warrior. I am but a humble stranger coming in peace. I will not tarry here long, so long as you promise me you will always keep a watch here and guard this path and this home from it's enemies. Can you do that Sigurd?" The boy nodded and watched as the stranger stood up and moved onward down the path. The child smiled and turned back to the road, holding his stick like a footman's pike. The stranger smiled and moved to the house. He moved through the yard and found the door. He knocked twice and heard a reply from within. A very irritated feminine voice shouting out. "One moment! One moment!" The door swung open and the stranger could see the woman. A firm and beautifully built woman with dark hair. She carried a great wooden bowl against her hip and stared glaringly at the stranger for a few moments. He smiled and felt his heart race... yes... it was here... as beautiful as the day he'd seen her in the underbrush. The stranger pulled his helm off and the woman let out a gasp... the bowl clattering to the floor beneath her. Ilga could hardly speak... her voice cut off with a trembling sob as her fingers trembled. She placed a hand over her mouth and backed away. "Zygurd..." She gasped stepping back against the table behind her, tears welling up in her eyes. The orc approached her with outstretched arms and she flung herself onto him. Dampening his shoulder with her sobs of joy. All that Sigurd could mutter at that moment was. "Is he mine?" She nodded and pressed her lips to his. "Yes.. He is yours Zygurd... hes ours... " Zygurd pulled his head away and looked into her eyes. "He's beautiful.... He has your eyes Ilga." Ilga let out another laughing sob "It's been hard... here.. Without you... I've had to raise him on my own... we cannot live in the villiage with the others... we must live here... it's alright though... I can put food on the table... and he's so adventurous.. He wants to be just like his father... I told him about you every day. I told him his father was a soldier... I told him his father had saved my life... I told him that when we made him, we loved each other truly and passionately... I told him about you so much.. I just... I never told him that he'd get to see you....Please... I've been silly... I should have..." Zygurd shook his head and hushed her, tears of his own welling up . "No... it's alright... It doesn't matter. I'm here now Ilga... and I'll be a father to him... I've been searching for you for six years... You're everything I have now... I've lost much through the war... but I still have you... And if you'll have me, I'll make you my wife..." "Yes Zygurd...." They looked once more into each others eyes. ... They glanced out the window of the hut, seeing their son march up and down the road like a soldier... Just like his father. Zygurd turned back to Ilga and let another deep kiss swell between their lips. "I love you.. Ilga..." "I love you Zygurd..." The sun drew it's arc across the sky... setting in the west and casting the warm glow on the hut. As the sun set Sigurd ran home to his mother, unknowing that this would be the last time he called only her name as he ran through the front yard.