Call of Duty
[Author's Note: This is a revision of an older story, previously posted elsewhere. For those few whom may have read the original version, I assure you that changes are minor.]
* * *
Komiere's every footfall resounded with a litany of metallic clinks and clanks. For the pilgrims, adventurers, and merchants that frequented the continent's major thoroughfares every day, it was quite the ominous soundtrack to precede her. To see Komiere would have done little to assuage the apprehension that most felt at her approach.
A fine specimen of a wolftaur, she cut an imposing figure. Her long frame was layered with corded muscles that flexed easily in the manner of one trained intensively in the art of combat. Komiere's coat was a luxurious silver hue that bore much the same sheen as the polished armor she wore. A plate cuirass and rounded pauldrons adorned her torso, covering a modest bust, while her arms and four legs were equipped with matching vambraces and greaves. Woven skirts of ringmail hung around those areas that needed to remain flexible and was draped over her hindquarters as well.
Her helmet, custom fit and intricately wrought with the story of her noble lineage, was the badge of her station. It was also the only piece of equipment that she could afford to remove in the summer heat. The fluffy mane of Komiere's hair seemed impervious to dishevelment, no matter how much she sweated. A thick lock of it hung in front, artfully complimenting the angular planes of her lupine face.
The Pilgrim Knights of St. Aejolle The Martyr -- or the Knights of Aukanna, as they were more colloquially known -- were the esteemed police force of the Lenoan continent. As an Arbiter of the militant order, Komiere was sworn by duty to remain in armor while traveling as a measure of her vigilance. Among the lesser families whose tongues were less discreet, it was sometimes considered a burden. The wolftaur silently agreed; she was roasting alive under the noon sun.
It would have been even worse had she chosen to take the most direct route to her goal. The Great Central Road that ran northwesterly through the continent was almost a straight line, passing through both the Aukanna castle town and the market-city of Vafoso. Ultimately, it became the only trustworthy path through the vast Moriac Desert. Komiere's destination lay beyond even that, well into the Unclaimed Northlands.
She decided early on that the direct route was unthinkable, so now the wolftaur suffered only marginally less. It didn't help that, while knights were typically a mounted force, she as a furkin of the four-legged variety had none. Those beasts which could bear her kind were dark creatures, considered unclean and ignoble. Her surly mood, combined with the reputation of the knighthood for being strict and swift with the hand of justice, provided more than enough incentive for any traveler to get out of her way.
By dusk, she had crossed the unmarked boundary where the Unclaimed Northlands officially began. It was a sparsely populated region ribbed with rocky cliffs. What little traffic there was between settlements usually comprised of the unsavory sorts that needed no additional reason to hide from the law.
Night brought with it a cool and refreshing breeze off the nearby gulf. Komiere settled down in the lee of a steep hill. Her provisions were eaten cold. The smoke and light of a campfire was like a signpost for brigands that said, "Here I am, rob me." As unappetizing as her meal was, it was a long day of hard travel and the knight ate her fill. So much so that she was running low and hoped her destination would be soon coming.
Before going to sleep, Komiere commenced the ritual that had been pounded into her during her years as a squire: tending to her equipment. She oiled her armor, as well as she could while wearing it, then secured the cap on her arrow quiver and unstrung her composite bow. If she were attacked in the night, it would be all but useless in the pitch blackness anyway. More importantly, the wolftaur polished her shield and sharpened her sword.
Aukanna Knights were an eclectic sect of peacekeepers and they had few restrictions on what types of arms they may bear. Those among the order whom hailed from nobility oft favored the traditional long sword or the elegant rapier. Komiere found those didn't take advantage of her physical strengths and chose for herself a gladius, the single-handed short sword made famous by Inkatti gladiators. Its broad blade was ideal for both thrusting and slashing, and best combined with a stiff defense. Komiere was adept at charging through the enemy to deliver a crippling assault at close-quarters and quickly gained renown on the battlefield.
As she felt the onset of slumber, the wolftaur's mind turned to the memories of her youth. She wasn't quite old enough to remember them with the rose-colored glasses of distance. The years of harsh squirehood, the political wrangling of the nobility, the sting of lost love, all came back to her in the night.
Standing out amongst the pain was the kind face of her lifemate, whom had died in what became known as the Conflagration, the start of the Burning of Ychisso. He too was a wolf -- but of the two-legged variety -- and as brave a furkin as you would ever meet. Alas, he fell defending the innocent against desperate odds. Komiere's beloved was honored appropriately with a stained glass likeness in the Hall of Remembrance, mausoleum of especially dignified personages in the Aukanna Temple atop Mount Aejolle.
Whenever the knight attended services on this most holy of ground, she would find time to gaze up at her beloved, now backlit by the sun with the glow of an angel.
Komiere missed more than his presence. No lover she'd ever taken before or since could compare favorably to his vigor. Forsaking the pleasures of the flesh, she had committed herself wholly to the order. The loss of her for the gene pool of nobility was considered a great tragedy, but she could not be swayed.
Laying sore and alone in the distant Northlands with just a memory to warm her, Komiere felt truly empty.
* * *
The next day was mostly uneventful. Other than her equipment and some provisions, Komiere traveled light and she made good time that morning.
As the terrain turned mountainous and the elevation rose, the air became thinner and cooler. It was certainly more pleasant than the previous weeks of traveling. But a distant rumbling could be heard coming in from the mountains. Rather than a volcano, of which there were many in the northern range, it appeared to be a brewing storm. She expected to reach her destination before nightfall, if the weather held.
Only one matter of note occurred that day. Shortly after noon, Komiere stopped by a sparkling stream for a much-needed drink. Her lupine snout dipped into the cool water gratefully, but a sudden commotion around a bend in the road caused her head to snap up at attention.
The knight donned her helmet and rose from the bank of the stream, then carefully picked her way along the road, hoping not to make so much noise that she alerted whoever was causing such a ruckus.
Upon rounding a particularly robust pine, Komiere had her answer. A pair of ruffians were accosting some peasant goat-woman whom had made the mistake of traveling alone.
One of the brigands was a human. He was crouched, laughing and rifling through a heavy pack that likely belonged to the cow. That one wouldn't be a problem, as his hairless breed were easily intimidated by the natural superiority of furkin warriors.
The other was another matter; he was an elephant and bore all the earmarks of his kind: Almost as wide as he was tall, the pachyderm had leathery grey hide that hung in loose folds over a stout body. He was holding down the goat-woman as she kicked and screamed, his long nose sniffing her lecherously. A misshapen appendage hung between his legs and it took the knight a moment to recognize it as his semi-erect manhood.
Komiere sighed. This was bound to slow her down. She knocked an arrow in her long bow, then reconsidered letting it fly into the elephant's broad grey buttocks. Her fluffy tail swished, a habit of hers when she had a clean shot. She aimed a bit higher and loosed the missile.
THOK!
The elephant-man looked up in surprise. He saw the arrow first, where it stuck out of a tree ahead of him, still vibrating from the impact. A few leaves floated to the ground, knocked loose by the disturbance. Then the pain registered. With a great trumpeting cry, he clutched the bloody hole punched through his plate-sized ear.
"HALT!" Komiere barked, stepping out to where she could be seen. "In the name of the Knights of Aukanna, I command you to surrender!"
The grey-skinned brigand whirled on her, murder in his tiny eyes. His human toady fumbled in the effort to find his knives. They both froze as the wolftaur notched another arrow and drew it back to a point by her ear.
"This is a two-hundred pound bow. At close range, it'll go right through you," she warned, menace in her voice. Komiere caught the eye of the goat-woman. "You there, are you unharmed?"
"Aye! Jes' get this putrid beast offa me, if yeh please," the victim replied. Her voice rolled with the brogue of the Northlanders. She appeared flustered, but none the worse for wear.
Komiere motioned with the deadly point of her arrow. "You heard the lady. Get up and get moving. I don't have the time to waste killing you like I should and sending the proper report back to Aukanna Keep." The pachyderm quivered with rage as he glared at her, but grudgingly obeyed.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed the human finally unsheathe a rusty dirk. Komiere spun and wasted her second arrow by shooting him through the wrist. Blood gushed from the neat wound and he clutched it, strangling on his panic, his weapon lying forgotten in the grass.
It should have ended there, but the elephant-man didn't know what was good for him. He stampeded towards her, swinging his ham fists in blind rage. Komiere reacted in a heartbeat, drawing her gladius with a reverse grip. A sharp punch drove the heavy pommel into the ruffian's gut. That wouldn't have been enough to hurt him, but he stopped short all the same. The razor edge lay against the base of his now flaccid member. No further threat was needed.
"Leave from my sight!" Komiere growled, her fangs bared. She clanked forward, forcing the pachyderm to back up off the road. "I will be returning back this way. If I hear even a whisper of you causing more trouble, I will hunt you down and claim that disgusting lump between your legs as my trophy. Now go and tend to your friend before he bleeds to death."
As the pair of shaken ruffians disappeared into the hills, the goat-woman rose and gathered her things. "Yeh have my thanks, dearie. I dare say we need more upstanding folks such as yerself up here in tha boonies."
"It's all part of my duty, ma'am," Komiere replied with the standard amount of modesty. "But you should be more careful yourself. It is unwise to travel these back roads alone."
"Can'a be helped, I'm afraid. All me friends and family are right fools, they are. Those tha're left, anyhow. Won' see tha sense in gettin' while tha gettin's good. But I won' be caught sticking around, waitin' to be taken by tha Mountain Beast, no dearie!"
Komiere had been itching to get back on her way, but at mention of this, her ears pricked up. "Mountain Beast, you say? Might you be from the village of Toma?"
The caprid laughed; a rich, matronly sound. "All tha villages up here are called 'Toma', dearie. It means nothin' more than 'my home' in the old tongue. But only mine is tha one what suffers this unholy curse, so I might'n be after all," she finished, an amused note in her voice.
"Have no fear," the knight replied. "I have been sent by the Knights of Aukanna to investigate and rectify the situation. To those ends, I would appreciate it if you could guide me to your village, or point me in the proper direction if you still choose to flee."
The peasant woman now regarded Komiere seriously. "There be no roads, but if'n yeh follow tha wagon tracks until tha mud turns to rock, then head towards tha settin' sun, yeh'll find it rightly enough." She craned her neck as if looking for someone behind the wolftaur. "Tell me, dearie. Be you the vanguard? Yer company not far behind?"
"I travel alone, but have faith, ma'am. One Knight Arbiter is worth a full company of lesser soldiers. I am more than sufficient for this task."
The caprid hefted the pack that held all her worldly belongings and slung it over her should, shaking her head gravely. "Then may luck be with yeh, dearie. An' yeh best be watchin' yer arse, I think."
She hurried away before Komiere could reply, leaving a confused and irritated wolftaur alone on the road.
* * *
A light mist began to fall, eliciting a muttered oath as reply. The wispy leading edge of the storm swept in, ushering with it night a few hours early. Komiere would ordinarily have found cover from the rain, but she could see the flickering of many torches in the distance and hear the revelry of the villagers. She had to be close. The wolftaur wondered if it was a harvest festival; the climate was different this far north and perhaps the growing season had already ended.
Komiere crested the last ridge between her and Toma. She looked down into the valley, a humble village sprawled out before her. It was pitch black, save for the many torches set up on and around a makeshift pavilion at the foot of the mountain.
Something was amiss. There were no decorations. What music that was playing had a slow, regular beat and no other accompaniment. It was not the sort of tune one could dance to -- of which there was none, accordingly. As Komiere watched, she became aware that the sounds of the villages were not cheers and laughter, but the wails of a people in mourning.
Wiping away the mist that coated the fur of her face, Komiere shielded her eyes. She focused more intently on the pavilion and could now distinguish the activity on it. Someone in an elaborate headdress was leading a ceremony, but definitely not one for the harvest. At the highest point of the crudely constructed platform, with her hands outstretched to the poles beside her, a young girl fought against the ropes that bound her.
The knight gritted her teeth and swore again. Holding aloft her shield that bore the heraldry of the Aukanna Knights, Komiere charged down the slick, rocky hill.
The howl of war that echoed down into the valley struck to the heart of every villager. To a one, they fell upon their knees, as if fearing the might of an angry god. In the next moments, the crash of Komiere's armor sounded like thunder as she ran full tilt towards the pavilion. When she came into view, appearing quite alien in her steel vestments, man and woman broke before her as the earth parts for a plow.
Komiere bound up the steps of the pavilion and drew her gladius. A beaver-man cowered before her, age and elaborate dress marking him as the village chief, his gnarled staff held up in meager defense.
Her blade came down in a flash, chopping it in half. What courage the chief still held fled from him like his villages fled from the wrathful knight and he scrambled away on all fours, tumbling off the end of the pavilion, into the mud.
With a flick of her wrist, Komiere cut the binding ropes. She caught the girl, a vixen with gray/brown fur, and scooped her up. Choosing a darkened hut at random, the wolftaur forced the door open with her shoulder and carried the she-fox in, setting down her shivering form on a bed of straw and wrapping her in tattered blankets.
The girl's brown eyes opened weakly. Her cheeks were flush with fever. As the knight tried to make her comfortable, a few of the villagers crowded around the ramshackle domicile.
The village chief approached cautiously, the robes of his modest office caked with mud. "Who be yeh, stranger? Yeh bring upon us ill fortune, more than we need!" he said, managing to sound somewhat authoritative around his buck teeth.
Komiere rose to her full height, nearly twice that of the chieftain, who was hunched with age. She presented her shield and rapped it with the flat of her short sword.
"Are you so isolated that you do not recognize the mark of the Pilgrim Knights?" she demanded, barely containing the frustration that had been culminating over the course of her travels. "A fortnight ago, our order received your distant plea for aid. So, I have come and what did I find? A pagan sacrifice! Are you all daft?!"
Even before her explosive litany ended, a hushed murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. Whispers of 'a knight?' and 'our savior!' came back to the wolftaur's ears.
The beaver-man bowed shakily. "Forgive us, madam knight. We didn' think yeh'd come. We're right desperate to rid ourselves o' this Mountain Beast." Tears began to flow down the elder's furry cheeks. "It comes wit no warnin' or reason, first taking tha livestock, then spiritin' away our people!"
A younger woodchuck, though not by much, took the chief's elbow to support him.
"My wife was tha first," he said gravely. "But she weren' tha last, no ma'am. It takes our mothers an' daughters, at any time of day. We ain't even safe in our own homes."
He guided the chief to a roughly hewn stool. After taking a moment to organize his thoughts, he resumed.
"Tha bravest of us have tried ta fight back. Some went up tha mountain. None came down. Yeh don't know what it's like, hearin' the cries of our young'uns in tha night, bein' eaten by tha Beast! We'd do anythin' to end it. Anythin' at all."
The wolftaur looked into the faces of the villages that peered at her, seeing the horror there and knowing their words to be true. She removed her helmet, hoping the simple gesture of showing her face would be seen as one of sympathy.
"Go back to your homes. Rest. Leave this to me."
* * *
Rain pounded the walls of the hut, coming down in a vicious gale. The village was cast into total darkness now that the torches had been doused. Had she not already made it inside, Komiere was certain she would not have been able to see the village from the ridge now. She was doubly glad to be protected from the elements.
The wolftaur was in the process of removing her armor for the night when the she-fox opened her eyes again. The young vixen's brown orbs scanned the room, recognizing it as another's home, but not caring what arrangements had been made.
She looked to her savior, amazed by the seemingly unnatural vision of strength and beauty that was undressing before her. The wolftaur's muscular form moved slowly, methodically, removing bits of steel and revealing her naked elegance. Her silver fur reflected what little light there was, making her appear ghostly.
Komiere pulled the heavy skirt of mail from her hindquarters, relieved to be rid of its weight. She stretched, working the kinks out of her back. Finding a fluffy rag in a cabinet, the knight toweled herself off, then dried her armor so it didn't rust. She removed the padded tunic that she wore under the chafing metal and leather, then shook her hair out, casting a sprinkle of water droplets into the air.
The rustle of straw as the young fox-girl rose could barely be heard over the staccato of rain on the hut's thatch roof. She shed the tattered blankets and approached Komiere from behind, her hands outstretched in a longing manner. Trembling, the vixen was nearly able to touch Komiere's supple hindquarters when the chiseled muscles of the wolftaur's back tensed.
Sensing that someone had come up behind her, the knight smoothly turned and stepped aside, out of reach. She blinked, bemused by the strange expression on her delicate features.
"You should get back to bed. You've been exposed to some harsh weather and you don't wa--what are you doing?"
The she-fox's hands snuck up, lightly tracing over Komiere's svelte abdomen. The knight slapped her away. But the young girl wouldn't be dissuaded and stepped in for an embrace, wrapping her thin arms around the older furkin. Growing annoyed, Komiere grabbed the vixen by the wrists and shook her roughly.
"What is the matter with you?"
"Elise," she fox-girl said. "My name is Elise."
"How nice for you," the wolftaur sneered. "Keep your hands to yourself."
The vixen craned her neck, trying to move her face closer to the knight's, who recoiled.
"I wanna thank yeh," Elise insisted.
"You just did; now cease this at once. I don't know if you're delirious or just crazy like the rest of these villagers, but you should be quiet and go back to bed."
"Come wit me?"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
Elise struggled and grabbed the front of her modest peasant dress, tearing it open. A wooden button bounced off Komiere's chest. The younger furkin had a generous bosom that didn't seem to need much help with the bursting process. They now hung out in the open, topped by hard black nipples that tantalizingly tickled at the wolftaur's furry stomach.
"Keep me warm?" the she-fox pleaded again. "Yeh saved more than my life tonight. If I can'ah give yeh somethin' in return, I'll nevah live it down."
The vixen's breath was hot on Komiere's neck. Her acute nose could detect the musk of the girl's awakening arousal. She felt her own heartbeat quicken. It had been so long since the wolftaur experienced such advances; her resolve wavered.
"We--I can't. It's not proper . . ."
"Do tha knights keep yeh from enjoyin' yerself?" she asked, pushing against the wolftaur's slackening grip. "Yeh didn' swear an oath o' celibacy, didja now?"
"Why? Why like this?" Komiere demanded, trying to give herself an excuse to reject the alluring young lass.
For the first time since she awoke, the she-fox halted in her advances. It was the not the sadness in her eyes that surprised Komiere, but the strange look of one who expects the inevitable.
"Tha Mountain Beast, it doesn' just kill 'er eats us. Rumor says it . . . has its way wit its victims, yeh know? Takes 'em in an evil appetite."
The knight swallowed hard, recalling her education in dark monsters. "No beast does that," she concluded.
Elise laid her head on Komiere's chest, calmed by the strong beat and steady whisper of breath from within.
"It keeps me up at nights, fearin' tha Beast'll snatch me away. It'll split me in two, easy enough. I wanna enjoy one night while I still can, yeh know?"
The vixen's pointed snout lowered, kissing and nuzzling between the Komiere's breasts. The older furkin clenched her long jaw and pushed her away.
"Then find some willing farm boy," she snapped. "I can't be bothered with this."
"A bother now, am I?" the fox-girl shot back. "Maybe yeh shoulda left me tied up then, eh? Let tha Beast come fer me as bait. Then yeh could kill it an' be done with two bothers!"
"Hold your tongue, wench!" the wolftaur growled. The smaller furkin simply didn't have the strength to resist as Komiere forcibly led her back to the straw bed. "You don't have the right to get testy with me!"
The vixen jerked back suddenly, pulling the wolftaur off balance. She landed atop the young girl in a cloud of straw, pinning her to the bed with her greater mass.
Glaring up at her, the she-fox squirmed pleasantly beneath Komiere's forehips, struggling half-heartedly. The knight felt a heat rise in her, a reminder of the desire she had long stifled. It burned in her middle now and refused to be squelched.
Komiere roughly pressed her lips to the fox-girl's with a grim desperation. Elise responded by slipping her tongue into the kiss, enticing the older furkin into a moist dance. Her small hands slipped out of the wolftaur's grip and ran over her silvery fur, massaging the tight muscles beneath them. She was pushed away again as Komiere established dominance, holding the farm girl's hands over her head to ravish her without interruption.
Elise begged to be released, but the knight did not relent. Her free hand tore at the peasant dress and exposed more of the vixen to Komiere's exploring lips. She suckled hungrily on the stiff nipples, playful nips making the younger furkin moan delightedly. Elise's legs wrapped around the wolftaur's torso so she could grind against her stomach, a bushy brown tail tickling Komiere's underbelly.
A strong hand came down, pushing the she-fox's hourglass form into the bed. "You must learn your place, wench," Komiere growled, this time her voice heavy with lust.
She slipped further down, out of the younger furkin's grasp. Settling back on her hindquarters, her hands grabbed Elise about the knees and hauled them up over her shoulders. The vixen's embarrassed shriek cut through the sound of the pounding rain as Komiere assaulted her womanhood.
A long tongue wormed its way between the virgin folds, caressing them with heat and encouraging the girl's juices to flow freely. The sweet taste of her arousal filled the wolftaur's mouth and sated her years-long thirst for sex.
The she-fox's back arched and her hands pushed against the wolftaur's angular face, grabbing at her ears. She never would have expected the sensations that now overcame her, filling her and threatening to explode. Fingers and toes itched with the need to touch something, anything.
Elise pawed at her heavy breasts, squeezing the furry globes and tweaking the red hot nipples that capped them. The stiff nubs and swollen areola gave way under her pinching, twisting, and pulling. Stabs of pleasure pierced her with every motion.
Between the vixen's legs, Komiere ceased her ministrations. Elise gradually began to notice the emptiness left behind as the wolftaur's tongue was withdrawn. She whimpered and thrust her hips at the older furkin. The knight lifted the farm girl and rolled her onto her stomach. She slid a hand under the vixen's bushy tail and teased her two sensitive holes, stroking and prodding.
"Are you enjoying this, Elise?" the knight asked. "Is it everything you hoped for?"
"An' moooore!" the fox-girl groaned. "Oh, please don' stop!"
"Do you wish for me to continue?" Elise gave a vigorous nod, her voluptuous body writhing futilely while pinned to the bed. "Then you must do as I command, wench. If you satisfy me, then I may see fit to allow you release."
"Anything!" her sexual captive gasped.
Komiere rose and positioned her lupine hindquarters over the vixen's head. Her own womanhood, aroused by the feeling of control, dripped with juice. Elise's tongue stretched to reach the droplets of cream that splattered on her cheek. Then the wolftaur sat, nearly suffocating the girl-fox with her ample rear end.
"Start licking, wench."
Elise tried to push away and get some air, but she couldn't contend with the older furkin's strength. The musky aroma of Komiere's sex filled her nostrils and made her feel lightheaded. With nothing else left to do, she wrapped her arms around the hindquarters atop her, digging her muzzle into the sodden fur. She licked as well as she was able and attempted to duplicate the wolftaur's technique. The abundance of juices ran into the she-fox's eyes.
Komiere crossed her arms, savoring the feeling of power that resurfaced from her memories. Her lifemate had been most receptive to her sexual quirks and eagerly dove into his duties. Though this simple farm girl's efforts were barely noticeable, it did raise nostalgia of a more promiscuous time, which was more than enough to wet her proverbial breeches. The wolftaur ground her hindquarters into the vixen's face and smiled toothily.
She yelped.
Elise had nipped at the swollen nether lips that smothered her. Anger flashed in Komiere's eyes and her long jaw tightened. Reaching down beneath her, she dug her strong fingers into the she-fox's womanhood and squeezed the spongy flesh pitilessly. A muffled cry reverberated through the narrow muzzle pressed into her crotch.
"Mind your teeth, wench!" the knight barked.
Sufficiently mollified, the whimpering fox-girl continued her efforts with a gentler touch. She slipped her thin fingers into the lupine sex, not pushing so hard or fast as not to prompt another violent rebuff. The fear abated slightly as Komiere sighed contentedly and rose her haunches a bit.
Elise couldn't see with the juices coating her facial fur, so she had to operated by touch. The lupine taur's depths were far more expansive than a bipedal furkin's birth canal. Though she'd never copulated with another person, the farm girl once took her own virginity with the wooden handle of a trowel, so she was somewhat familiar with how much could fit. As it was, she had no idea where to start in order to satisfy the deep, muscular folds.
Her tongue proceeded around the inner lips, finding another small orifice. It tightened at her touch and the wolftaur's sour cream trickled from it, coating Elise's tongue. The flavor made her gag and she moved on. The fox-girl's fingers met a stiff nub. Stroking her broad tongue across it, her savior -- her captor -- shuddered in response. Elise wrapped her lips around the thorn of Komiere's womanly flower and suckled on it like a nipple, occasionally flicking at the tip
The knight arched her back, almost jack-knifing, and groaned in ecstasy. She reached behind herself and clenched her ass, then pressed a pair of furry digits into the ring of her anus. They pumped furiously, trying to hurry along the orgasm she felt rising. Perhaps this farm girl wasn't a total waste after all.
Having been suppressed for years, Komiere finally came. Her prized strength drained from her in a flood of orgasmic cream. Elise began to choke on the sourness as it filled her mouth and nostrils, unable to escape from beneath the wolftaur.
The knight eventually stood with slow deliberation, less sure of her footing but determined not to show any weakness. The last of her womanly juices dribble out, splattering the vixen's back as she rolled over, coughing up the vile-tasting stuff.
Komiere came around and settled onto the bed of straw next to the sobbing young she-fox.
"You did very well, Elise," she said in her most comforting tone, running her strong fingers through the farm girl's disheveled grayish brown fur. "Are you ready for the finale?"
"No more," the vixen cried. "I can'ah take it."
The wolftaur licked her own cream off the younger furkin's face and drew her into a gentle kiss. "I swore I'd satisfy you in return, my dear," she replied after breaking away. "A knight always honors her word."
Sliding a hand down the fox-girl's belly, it came again to the mound of her pubis. The spot was still raw from its abuse and Elise winced involuntarily. Komiere nuzzled her under the chin while her fingers penetrated the furry nether lips, which were still moist with arousal despite the girl's apprehension.
The vixen tried to squirm away, but the knight drew her onto her chest, face up, so she could hold the exhausted girl steady with her forelegs. With her free hand, Komiere guided Elise's tired hands to her heaving bosom, encouraging the she-fox to fondle herself.
The knight whispered instructions to take a deep breath, then clamped her hand down on the poor girl's throat. Big brown eyes rolled back into Elise's head and she tried to grasp, fearing she would suffocate, not for the first time that night.
Seconds seemed like minutes and she became acutely aware of Komiere's every touch. The furry fingers that massaged her tender womanhood felt surreally pleasurable, filling her, tickling every fold. Two pinched her clitoris and a third rubbed it fiercely. Spots began to fill the vixen's vision.
There was an explosion of relief as the grip on her throat relaxed and she simultaneously reached her climax. Elise couldn't make a sound as she gasped for breath, but that sudden rush of sweet air served to only enhance the pleasure which overpowered her brain.
Her first orgasm was as violent as to be expected. The vixen's limbs flailed, barely restrained by the strong knight, while a pressurized stream arced from between her legs, soiling the straw bed and tattered blankets. After the initial gush, it lessened to a trickle across the wolftaur's underbelly, mixing with her own sour cream that smeared the silver fur.
Komiere laid back, admiring the distance with which Elise came, comparing it to the memory of the arc her lifemate's seed had taken. They would then cuddle up and fall asleep, glued together by their mutual fluids. Something told her the vixen would not handle it as well, but she would learn. The knight decided to take the farm girl with her back to Aukanna Keep once this mission was over.
Stroking Elise's fur soothingly and humming an off-key lullaby, Komiere let a satisfied fatigue take her into slumber.
* * *
A flash of lightning penetrated Komiere's heavy eyelids, instantly awakening and blinding her at once. Thunder rolled above the village, trapped by the valley walls and resonating over and over, causing the ground to tremble. The knight tried to rise and found herself unbalanced.
Looking out the window, she could not tell if dawn had yet come. It was impossible to tell, what with the tumultuous weather. The grim sky had a ruddy glow and the rain seemed to have been replaced by a dark ash. What Komiere first took to be thunder may have indeed been the rumbling of a distant volcano. But the lightning was real enough; a bolt struck the villager's crude dias, illuminating it for a second before a chunk of the wooden scaffold was vaporized.
Komiere attempted to stand again and felt herself weighed down. Elise's arms were locked around her waist in a death grip. "N-no more, no more..." she mumbled, perhaps misinterpreting the mayhem around her. A sharp slap from the wolftaur nearly took Elise's head off, but her eyes cleared all the same. "It's come!"
"Then unhand me, wench!" Komiere shoved the vixen away and bounded across the room to her armor. Steel plates and leather straps were not designed to be fast or easy to don, but the knight hurried as best she could, stuffing in her padded tunic and throwing on the skirt of mail.
"Don't go!" cried the she-fox hoarsely. "Yeh can'ah fight tha Mountain Beast yehself!"
"I can and I must," replied the knight, buckling on her sword belt. " 'Tis my duty."
The carnage that greeted Komiere upon exiting the tiny shack took her breath away. She had seen battle before, but this was a slaughter. A massive shape barreled through the village, flattening the humble structures and sending their occupants flying. The screams of those unfortunates who remained in the Beast's path painted a horrifying picture before the knight's eyes.
The twilight-like gloom and occasional flashes of lightning played havoc with her vision, but Komiere could make out four legs and a pair of massive wings. She notched an arrow and let fly at the monstrous shape. To her surprise, it wheeled around and nimbly dodged the missile, glaring at her with two glowing points and a bloody corpse in its jaws.
Able to see it fully now, the Knight Arbiter knew at once that this fight was beyond even she.
The ferocious Mountain Beast before her was perhaps thrice again as large as the wolftaur and covered in copper-hued feathers. Brilliant blue eyes reflected the barest glimmer, set behind a fierce beak shaped like a battle ax. Its forelimbs were scaled and clawed like a typical raptor's, but the creature was clearly quadrupedal and the rear half was built more along the lines of a feline, complete with a swishing tufted tail.
Komiere raised her shield in a shaking grip, a shield which bore an image that mirrored the beast before her.
Rising upon its muscular hind legs, the Mountain Beast threw its victim away and crowed to the stormy sky, a sound like rending metal. It shook the wolftaur from her revere and years of training took over.
The beast's feathered wings spread wide and beat down powerfully, raising its huge body off the ground. Komiere tossed down her shield and grabbed a handful of arrows. She set them all against her bowstring in a bristling line, tracking her target as it climbed.
The creature paused in its ascent and dipped its head, perhaps sighting its next victim. This pause was all the knight required. She released her handful of missiles and they streaked through the smoldering air. Another ear-piercing shriek echoed across the valley as Komiere's arrows found their mark. One could be seen falling past the beast, but the other two protruded from its broad right shoulder, just below the wing.
Whatever pain it felt, the beast could not summon up the strength to soar higher into the clouds. Komiere raced through the ashen mud in order to keep it in sight, watching the creature head for its mountain lair. She left the village and its terrified inhabitants behind.
* * *
Komiere panted, struggling through the craggy foothills leading to the mountain. She had expended quite a bit of stamina during her initial arrival at the village and subsequent bedroom antics with Elise. Her own proclivity for quick action was coming back to bite her on the tail.
This so-called 'Mountain Beast' was no ordinary dark monster, of which there were many in the Unclaimed Northlands. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized she was woefully under-prepared for this battle.
Among the legends and histories of Lenoa, some few mystical beings held great power, but were long thought to have disappeared from the mainland. While Elder Dragons once lorded over all that could be seen, they were eventually wiped out by war, leaving behind only their lesser breeds and relatively civilized wyrmkin. Sphinxes were more common on the southern continents in the first place, but a particularly famous sage of their kind disappeared for parts unknown a lifetime ago. And the death of the last known Manticore was well documented; it was slain as a spectacle in the Grand Arena of Inkatti.
While those beings demanded respect -- and sometimes fear -- none had quite the reputation of the Gryphons. The half-eagle/half-lion creatures were intelligent and noble, symbols of virtue. So revered were they by the Aukanna Knights that they even appear on the heraldic crest. There were tales of a mated pair in the Kingdom of Ghala, which the Knights had petitioned to view many times and were refused at every turn.
Komiere was positive that's what saw in the village: a Gryphon. The grand beast's murderous rampage was then all the more confounding. How could this mad behavioral twist occur? To face such a powerful being raised an anxiety in the knight the likes of which she'd never felt in her decades long career.
Even so, the wolftaur's four paws carried her ever further up the sharp, volcanic stone of the mountain. Her target was forced to fly low in retreat and Komiere managed to spot where its lair was dug into the cliffs. Otherwise, she never would have noticed it amid the deep shadows and plumes of ash.
As she grew near, she began to see some distinctly manufactured features that were certainly not part of the natural terrain. The path became straighter and the foundations of crumbling pillars could be discerned. The knight even paused in her trek upon spotting the remains of a fallen statue, the familiar lines and curves of armor evident despite centuries of weathering.
Finally, she came upon the entrance of the Gryphon's lair and found it was no craggy chamber, but the graceful architecture of a ruined temple. Narrow arches and flying buttresses in the gothic manner created an angular, uninviting foyer. The black, reflective obsidian from which this ancient temple was chipped were steaming hot. No doubt there was a vein of magma running behind the glassy walls.
Komiere picked her way carefully into the ruins, using the crumbling decorations of old saints and forgotten heroes as cover. The deeper she penetrated, the more she saw the remains of the Gryphon's meals. Skeletons were strewn about, some relatively fresh while others were little more than piles of dust; men, women, and beasts alike. More than a few had curiously crushed pelvises.
Several side passages led off in other directions, alternately dark and empty or glowing with exposed flows of lava. A blistering draft blew through them, generated by the natural forge of the volcano. She decided to forgo exploring them, spotting a large shadow moving about the dilapidated nave, which showed signs of having been converted into the Gryphon's principle domicile.
A warbling shriek cut through the still, dry air. Komiere could also hear the rustle of feathers and scrape of claws as the legendary monster seemed to be fussing in its nest. She knocked an arrow in her bow and approached at a crouch. Being a quadruped herself, it was a simple feat to move smoothly over irregular terrain, even in full armor. She peaked over a cut stone pew -- fractured in the middle -- to spy on her daunting target.
At close range, the Gryphon wasn't quite so awe-inspiring. He appeared to be of advanced age and was clearly malnourished. Whether he was molting, Komiere could not tell, but copper feathers were missing in great clumps. There were a number of battle scars visible on his hide and the knight's arrows still protruded from the great beast's shoulder. He was apparently unconcerned with removing them, his attention on another part of his anatomy.
The swollen red flesh of his manhood was flopped out on the floor. It was long and cone-like of shape with prominent ridges of cartilage and a pointed tip. Though flexible and dexterous, the Gryphon was unable to manually manipulate the pulsing meat of his lust. The way he was grinding against the cracked, pebbly floor looked extraordinarily uncomfortable.
The wolftaur swept a lock of silver hair from her face and raised the bow. Komiere knew she wouldn't get such a good opportunity again. Planning to fire an arrow past his collar bone, she hoped to hit a vital organ in the chest cavity. Her lupine tail swished in anticipation.
Clink!
A tarnished goblet, buried unseen in a pile of rubble and ash, was knocked aside by the motion of Komiere's tail. It would have been too much to hope that the Gryphon didn't hear it. His raptor's head angled up, fierce blue eyes sweeping the old temple chamber.
There was no help for it now. The knight stood and loosed her arrow. The Gryphon easily snapped it out of the air with his ax-like beak, but by then, Komiere had already cast aside her bow and leapt over the stone pew. She drew her gladius and charged, howling a guttural war cry.
Komiere's overhand stroke had enough power to split a skull in twain. The Gryphon dodged, losing only a few feathers, but he was already off balance and could counterattack with only a swat from his broad, uninjured wing. The knight used her free hand to deflect it as best she could. Her four paws spread out to maintain a solid stance and she quickly recovered, bracing the sword's pommel for a thrust.
Now the monster's claw came up. The blade, however sharp, did little more than scratch the tough scales. Meanwhile, the chipped talons of the beast were honed to a razor edge and a mere glancing blow split the knight's vambrace, drawing a deep gash in her forearm.
On his feet at last, the Gryphon reared up and kicked his mighty forelegs, forcing Komiere to retreat. He came crashing down in pursuit, catching her mail skirt. It tore under his strength like cotton and the steel rings snagged on her pointed greaves, tripping her up. The knight cast a fearful eye back and saw the great beast bearing down on her. She panicked.
Komiere slashed wildly. Even a random swing from the mighty wolftaur would have given most combatants pause. But the Gryphon was not most combatants and he merely barreled into her range, causing the gladius to land shallow and glance off his ax-like beak.
The reverberation traveled up Komiere's arm and it went numb. Her sword spun into the darkness, its clatter unheard over the Gryphon's screeches.
Talons raked across the knight's torso. Only the thick, well-crafted breastplate saved her from being eviscerated, but she still cried out in pain as the jagged tips sliced past fur, into skin. The Gryphon then bowed his massive head and bludgeoned Komiere with blunt force. She was propelled across the chamber and rebounded off the wall. Bolts popped and leather snapped. Pieces of armor fractured and split off. Her right shoulder, smashed inside a heavy pauldron, dislocated.
Dazed, she slumped to the obsidian floor.
Seeing his prey lie prone, the Gryphon approached confidently. The wolftaur twitched and groaned, her silvery fur stained with blood and ash. What remained of her knightly armor were a few twisted plates, ripped apart as easily as paper, as well as the tatters of mail and padding.
As the beast drew closer, his sharp blue eyes discerned feminine attributes that were previously hidden beneath steel. The nose atop his great beak was not as keen, but could detect the lingering traces of sexual secretions.
The legendary monster snorted, drinking in the scent. It was something he missed and craved. His head lowered and a long, narrow tongue slid out, which snaked over Komiere's lupine body, matting her coat in saliva. The feel of the slimy muscle roaming her body, slipping between limbs and under clothing, roused her from unconsciousness. Frightened and reviled, she tried to crawl away.
But the Gryphon would have none of it. His powerful claw swatted the wolftaur like a toy, sending her sprawling across the polished volcanic stone. Pain speared through her dislocated shoulder and she clutched it weakly, curling into a ball to protect herself as much as was possible.
Again, the beast was upon her, straddling her elongated form and pressing down with tremendous weight. His feline hips lowered and the twisted crimson member prodded her. The Gryphon began to thrust blindly, stabbing Komiere's hindquarters with the pointed cartilage tip. He was at first satisfied with merely grinding, but the wolftaur realized with a growing anxiety that his motions were getting closer to the mark. Her lupine womanhood was still moist with arousal, despite -- or perhaps because of -- the violent encounter. Komiere cursed herself for her own perversion.
The deep sense of violation that overtook the knight chilled her despite the intense heat that permeated the temple. The Gryphon's alien manhood finally found Komiere's feminine counterpart. Her furry nether lips parted for the tapered head. She willed herself to reject it, but could not prevent her inner folds from enveloping the contorted shaft.
The throbbing mass was neither soft nor smooth. Its rough texture felt like the sharpest of barbs to the sensitive petals of Komiere's womanly flower. Muscles in her long jaw twitched as she gritted her teeth. Each thrust drilled into her, bruising flesh and bone. To be impaled on a spear would surely be less agonizing.
Even then, a new feeling swelled within her. The knight always used her strength to sexually dominate her lovers. But now she was the one being dominated; held down and forced to submit. Humiliation began to arouse her.
The mournful-sounding howl that echoed around the valley and was heard by the cowering villagers contained not fear, but lust. Komiere panted and moaned, writhing under the Gryphon, a climax fast approaching. It came over her like a seizure and her lupine body convulsed, the muscles of her womanhood squeezing the beast inside her.
The force of her orgasm coaxed a blast of hot ejaculate from the Gryphon's twisted member. Like a volcanic eruption, the rush of seed utterly filled her with searing heat and then overflowed, staining the obsidian floor with pearly cream. The Gryphon's seed would not stop gushing. He continued to pump, his efforts increasing in fervor, spilling more beastly semen with every monstrous thrust.
Komiere's lust was sated, but she continued to endure the Gryphon's. On and on he went, rutting the wolftaur mercilessly and eventually, all sensation faded into numbness. The sexual act became a mechanical one, a repetitious motion that rocked her battered form without end. She barely noticed when he came a second time, alerted only by the sudden draft created by the triumphant flapping of his wings.
There was no sense of time deep in the earth. The knight was aware of little more than flickers of light and the rumbling of the inky blackness surrounding them. Then, a strange sort of clarity awakened parts of her mind not directly involved in the meeting of flesh and exchange of bodily fluids.
Komiere looked around at the temple walls and noticed, for the first time, ancient words carved into them. The ages old text was partly iconographic with only the crudest use of a traditional alphabet, but it seemed tantalizingly familiar. Something tickled the edges of her memory and the knight recalled some distant instruction in the history of her order.
The beliefs they held evolved many times over the centuries, often from assimilating a new faction into the main body of their order. One of the earliest knightly bands to be absorbed were little more than mercenaries that took on contracts to protect trade routes in exchange for wealth, drugs, and slaves. There was a long tradition of lawlessness and paganism in the Unclaimed Northlands. That such depravity once afflicted the Pilgrim Knights was among their dirtiest secrets, known only by the highest ranking nobles.
This temple was evidence of that dark time. As Komiere's lupine eyes -- already possessed of excellent night vision -- grew accustomed to the ruddy gloom, she made out the inscriptions of perverse rituals that were held in this very temple. It was then only natural to see how such a virtuous creature as a Gryphon could become so twisted.
Conscripted to defend a den a sin; witness to the most disgusting of violent and sexual acts. According to the carved histories, participating in the rape ritual was even part of the temple guardian's duty!
She now realized that all those corpses with crushed pelvises were the Gryphon's previous victims, abused as playthings, then consumed as a meal. At least, she hoped it was in that order. The possibility that he might have taken to molesting a half-eaten corpse inspired, not so much fear, but a great surge of pity for the legendary beast.
The wolftaur raised her eyes to the shadowed ceiling as one particularly violent quake filled the temple, creating new fissures in the obsidian walls. Glass dust rained down on her. She noticed a glowing slash along the wall where a vein of magma flowed to close to the surface. Though her gladius was out of reach, a large chunk of sharp volcanic stone had been shorn off a pew during their struggle. A plan formed.
When the Gryphon arched up for his latest orgasm, Komiere extended her good arm as far as she could and seized the stone shared, then whipped around, slashing him across the feathered neck. A gurgling shriek erupted from the monster as he staggered away, ripping his contorted member from her vaginal canal. Two geysers erupted from his body; one red and one white.
There was no time to lose. Every last ounce of strength and discipline remaining in the knight was harnessed, propelling Komiere to her paws and across the temple chamber. She leapt the ten paces to her gladius, swept it up and drove its heavy blade into the wall.
One strike. Two! Three!!
The pounding of the floor told her that the Gryphon was coming for her again. She did not sway from her task. Another strike, and success! The obsidian shattered like glass and hellish magma poured forth. Komiere withdrew her hand to avoid losing it to the earth's lifeblood, but the mere heat of proximity singed her fur.
With all the strength that remained in her, the knight fled.
A deafening cry filled the decrepit halls and Komiere could only imagine the Gryphon, now awash on liquid fire. Battle-hardened veteran though she was, she could not summon the courage to watch a once proud creature suffer such a tragic death.
* * *
Shaking legs and sore paws somehow carried Komiere down the mountain. She cradled her dislocated arm like a baby, for every step elicited a new surge of pain.
When she finally looked back, the wolftaur saw a river of lava flowing from the temple's entryway and noted how no more ash plumed from the volcano's summit. The pressure had been relieved. Toma was far enough away that it was no longer in danger.
The desire for sleep stalked her through the rocky foothills, but she stumbled on, unwilling to surrender. As she grew near the village, her half-mast eyes made out the glowing points of many torches. Its inhabitants were familiar with the moods of the volcano and sensed immediately when something changed.
They were gathered around the wooden dias, now little more than kindling, awaiting Komiere's return. That she did at all was proof enough the 'Mountain Beast' was dead and a whooping cry went up among them as they broke into celebration.
One lone figure did not join the festivities. Elise the fox-girl remained rooted to the spot, conflict evident in her bright brown eyes. She did not know whether to run from or towards the knight, whether to escape or embrace.
Komiere, too, was uncertain. She couldn't help comparing herself to the poor wretch whose bones were now dissolving in magma. Was she also a tool of the nobility, performing the tasks expected of her through rigorous conditioning? Or was she merely looking for some scapegoat on which to blame her own sickness? What was it worth to simply fulfill her duty if the spirit of the knight, the honor and desire to protect others, did not persist?
It did not seem like she could be any more depressed than she already was upon taking up this mission. The spiritual gravity that burdened her now was far worse; the emptiness in her heart and between her legs were inconsequential by comparison. What could her lifemate be thinking of her, watching from the afterlife? Was he ashamed of her fall or proud of her awakening?
Whatever fate had in store for Komiere, she was at least sure of one thing: Things were going to be different from now on.