KingOfNowhere

"Home Again" -- Adventures in an Ancient Land of Magic, Monsters, and Mysteries

Map of the Known World

Horath of Un
Dwarven warrior by training and miner by heritage.
66 years old.
5'4", 170#; squat and heavily built; powerful legs, arms, back, everything essentially.
Reddish-brunette hair in a horseshoe hairline (bald on top, hair from ear to ear; it is straight and fine and reaches down onto his upper back.
Traditional Dwarven tattoos cover his baldness.
Full beard of the same color, with traditional braids.
Deep brown eyes.
Big, round ears with pierced lobes (unseen in the image).

Horath sat on his bum in the bottom of the boat, his feet braced under a wooden and iron-braced seat to keep him in place. He was clutching three different lines attached in various points to the mainsail. His weight and strength were all that were keeping the sail taut, preventing it from luffing worthlessly in the wind.

He didn't know anything about sailing, of course. He was, after all, a Dwarf. Dwarfs ... didn't ... sail. Killian had shown him what to do, though. Horath had been recruited by their Human savior to become crew rather than passenger as the wind had picked up. Without Killian's leadership and Horath's strength, the boat and its 13 occupants would have been doomed.

"Shouldn't we let the sails down?" Horath asked over the wind for the fourth or fifth time. The boat tilted over dramatically each time a big gust of wind hit the sails. It seemed to make sense to let them down or let them luff, a term he'd only just learned hours ago.

"No!" Killian called back. "We need the sails to keep us directed into the waves! Otherwise, we'll keep over ... swamp and sink!"

Keel over meant nothing to Horath. Swamp and sink did, though. So, he held on tightly. He let line out when Killian commanded. He pulled it tight again when that was the order. Other than that, Horath simply held on for dear life, much like the other passengers and, in particular, the the beautiful Elf looking down at him.

Horath had always been considered somewhat of a Fulug-zâram -- a freak -- by his fellow Dwarves for his appreciation of Elven beauty. Most Dwarves found the smooth dark skin, pointy ears, and often very dark hair as ugly and repulsive. Horath had always felt the opposite. He found Rayna to be the epitome of Elven beauty, maybe of beauty regardless of Race.

There had been a suspicion within his Clan as to why Horath had these feelings. There had been a tale, unproven and possibly unfounded, that he had an Elf in his ancestry. Interbreeding between Dwarves and other Beings was, of course, an abomination. Most Dwarves believed it to be impossible in the first place; the other Creatures, be they Elves or otherwise, were lesser, inferior races, obviously.

But Horath knew for a fact that it was possible for Dwarves to cross breed. Of course, the example about which he knew personally hadn't been between Dwarf and Elf. It had been between Dwarf and Human. And while the child had been brought into this world safe and healthy, it disappeared from existence within hours, never to be seen again. The extrication of such a half-breed had been done to save the parents, the Family, and the child from a life of hardship and grief. Again, obviously.

Regarding Human Beings, it seemed as though they could cross breed with just about any Being. The reasons for this no one could explain. Horath had heard of successful Human-Dwarf, Human-Elf, Human-Fairy, and even the gross and unimaginable Human-Orc cross breeding and births.

Each had taken place between a Human male and a female of the Creature Race. Hell, it was popularly said that a male Human could and would breed with any Creature that had a wet, warm hole between its legs. Hell, it was said that Human males would do it with sheep if there were no Human females to be had. Sometimes a lack of Human females wasn't even necessary. Or so Horath had been told.

There were far fewer tales of male Creatures breeding with Human females. But Horath had heard of such pairings, too. He simply had never seen or even heard of a successful birth of such a match.

Horath held on to the lines, his arms and legs tiring. His eyes didn't tire of the Elf, though. He could stare at her all day long. He imagined the two of them naked together in a deep dark cave, fucking on the cold stone floor.

Maybe in a humid, bug-infested swamp? he wondered. He and Rayna had had the opportunity to speak of her People's homeland. Either works for me, he thought.

"Home Again" -- Adventures in an Ancient Land of Magic, Monsters, and Mysteries

"Home Again"

Adventures
in an
Ancient Land
of
Magic, Monsters,
and
Mysteries

CLOSED

Killian (soon to be known as "The Valiant")
Human Being
35 years old
5'10", 190#; muscular, strong
Wavy, brunette hair, worn loose onto his shoulders.
Light brown eyes.

The middle of the night
Sometime in late winter:

Killian stood at the ship's wheel, struggling to keep the vessel heading into the wind and waves. The storm had struck suddenly without warning, as if the Gods didn't want them to reach their destination.

The irony, of course, was that the Known World, as it was called there, had already been in their sight for six hours before the sun went down. Killian estimated that they'd been less than 6 miles from the Mouth of the Western Yall when the sun went down.

With reefs and shoals, it had been too dangerous to attempt to enter the river in the dark. They'd decided to wait out the darkness, using the drift anchor to keep them steady in the swells and pointing one specific direction. They had only to wait until sunrise to enter the bay and find a nice place to port.

The storm had changed all that, of course. Killian had no idea where they were now in relation to the Western Yall. He had no idea where they were in relation to the coastline at all. Or its reefs. Or its shoals. There was nothing but blackness around them, blackness and rain.

A bolt of lightning shocked Killian. Not because of the light of death but because of what it illuminated: land, very near to the ship. Killian attempted to steer the boat south away from the land but to no avail. A moment later, the boat rose high on a swell, surged forward toward the land a hundred feet or so, and then came down, right upon an underwater shoal that immediately and naturally ripped through the hull.

"The Girl in the Box" -- An Adventure in an Ancient World of Magic, Monsters, and Mysteries

If anyone's been reading along, I am sorry to disappoint you by saying that we are moving to a different story.

"The Girl in the Box" -- An Adventure in an Ancient World of Magic, Monsters, and Mysteries

(Map)

Annie pouted out her lower lip at Killian's refusal to help her. He felt sympathy for her. How could he not. What was happening to her simply wasn't fair, let alone moral. Slavery had been outlawed in the Republic of Yalla for more than a century. He didn't know for certain that the Gorthins intended to enslave Annie in the strict sense of the word. But if they didn't, the alternative wasn't likely any better.

"No! I don't think you are," she responded when Killian said that he was sorry.

They talked more. Then Annie told him, "And ... in the meantime ... while we travel..."

She smirked and pulled down the front of her blouse. Her tits just popped out. Killian's eyes widened at the sight. Her bosom was perfect. Full, round, firm. Her nipples were pert and darker than any he'd seen on a woman who wasn't Black or Brown as some of the Known World's ethnicities were considered.

"...we could get to know each other ... intimately," Annie continued. She asked, "Have you ever fucked an Elvish woman, my good man?"

"No..." Killian murmured under his breath, more to himself than to Annie. His gaze was fixed on her delicious bosom, his brain unable to pull them away. Finally, he tore his eyes away, stepping a few yards away as he said, "No, no!"

He paced back and forth, the voices fighting in his head. One was saying, Fuck her! Fuck her! Then, take her to the Gorthins. A second was warning, You can't do that, take advantage of her and then turn her in. The third voice in the mix was soft but still getting through. It was reminding him, rich beyond our wildest dreams. She'll make us rich ... beyond our wildest ... dreams.

That same voice continued pushing him, telling him And it's the right thing to do. She's a Princess. She's an Elf. She shouldn't be handed over to the Gorthins. It's wrong. So wrong.

It was probably also wrong that as he paced, Killian couldn't help but frequently peek back to those wonderful tits. He wanted so badly to take a hard turn toward Annie, take one of those pert nubs into his mouth, and suck on it while she stripped her of the remainder of her clothes.

"Put those..." Killian waggled a finger toward Annie's breasts. He meant put them away, of course.

He came to a stop, looking out at the ocean for a long moment. He looked back to her again, drew a deep breath, and gave it out in a resigned sigh.

"What would you need me to do?" Killian asked. "And ... what exactly do you mean by rich beyond my wildest dreams...? Because I have incredible dreams."

"The Girl in the Box" -- An Adventure in an Ancient World of Magic, Monsters, and Mysteries

“My name is Annabelle f’Allordan f’Gree f’Aw f’Pewn,” the Elf explained.

Killian stared silently at her. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He wouldn't believe what he was hearing. Elves simply didn't come to the Republic of Yalla. Hell, they didn't come to any place because they weren't even supposed to exist anymore. (map, lower right)

The Elves had died out long before Killian was born. Before his father or grandfather or great-grandfather had been born. At least that was what his father had raised him to believe. Oh, sure, when he'd been a boy, Killian had once seen the skeleton of an Elf. His father had paid a penny each for them to see it at the Traveling Oddities show in the next town over from where they'd lived.

The proprietor purported the skeleton to be that of an Elf who had only recently been captured, killed, and boiled down to its skeletal frame. But Killian's father had told him otherwise after studying it for a long moment.

"It's just a deformed Human skull mixed with Human and animal bones," he'd reassured his son. "It's what makes it look different. Taller, stronger ... scarier. It's a farse, and I'm going to get our pennies back."

No one had seen an Elf one in more than three or four centuries to the best of Killian's knowledge. Hell, most people thought they'd never existed in the first place.

When Killian didn't respond to her other than to simply stare in shock, the Elf emphasized “Princess Annabelle f’Allordan f’Gree f’Aw f’Pewn … of the Royal House of Fenwater.”

"Princess?" he responded, finally able to form a word. "How ... how ... how--"

He wasn't getting anywhere, obviously, so she continued, “I have been kidnapped and held in chains for three, maybe four moons … the purpose being to be sold to the Gorthin Family for reasons unknown to me.”

Annie had her own opinions as to the Gorthin's intentions: Magic Killian laughed aloud and offered his own opinion. "Because they are powerful and wealthy and ruthless ... and anything valuable or interesting or unique in this world upon which they can possibly lay their hands--"

Killian's gaze lowered to her body as he finished, "--they will lay their hands, no matter the cost."

Killian finally let his eyes take in the Elf's form for the first time since approaching her. He would have thought her to be just another beautiful Human woman if he hadn't seen her ear. Very beautiful Human woman, he thought to himself.

She had incredibly wonderful curves in all the right places. Her clothes emphasized that point. They were still wet from her adventure in the box in the surf. The thin fabric was pasted to those wonderful curves emphasizing her body. Her hourglass figure, her generous bosom, her large nipples which so conspicuously pressed forward for his viewing.

She lofted her shackled hands before her, asking, “Can you get me free of these, please?”

"No," Killian said without even thinking. Then, actually thinking, he continued, "No, no, no, no, no. Uh-uh, no I can't."

Annie obviously didn't understand his answer and responded as she felt due. Killian explained, "No, you're ... you belong to the Gorthins. They'd skin me alive if I let you go. No, sorry, but ... I have to take you to them. If I don't..."

He'd already explained that, of course, so he didn't repeat himself. Killian looked up and down the beach again. There was no one else alive there with them. He was certain that at least one crew member from the vessel would have survived and would be coming here to claim the Elf. But no. It was just the two of them.

"Listen, I'm sorry," he said, looking back to Annie. "I understand that this is not right. You know, you being chained and a prisoner and being sold. I mean, no one should have that done to them. But ... well ... I'm not a brave man! I mean, I am! I was in the Guard, and I did fight in battle.

"But that was just war," he continued. "There were rules and there was chivalry. The Gorthins! They know nothing of these things."

"The Girl in the Box" -- An Adventure in an Ancient World of Magic, Monsters, and Mysteries

Killian caught the woman checking his weapons. He didn't think much of it except that she simply did it. He had no reason to think she was judging him as being from her ship or not. He mistakenly assumed that she knew he wasn't.

She sat up, looking up and down the beach. Killian assumed she was looking for other survivors. He was about to tell her he'd found none.

Then she spoke in a tongue he didn't know. "Mae henui? Mae henui a 'ú? A 'ú Gorthin?"

Killian just stared, unsure of what she was asking. He'd heard a lot of languages in his life. This one was not like any of them.

She then spoke in barely comprehensible Common, asking, "Who are you? Who are you with? Are you Gorthin?"

“Um, my name is Killian,” he answered. “I'm not really with anyone.”

Killian had heard of the Gorthin, of course. They were a wealthy and sometimes ruthless Family. Despite not being Nobility or Royalty, they held great power in the Republic of Yalla.

He was concerned, of course, about her connection to the Gorthin. She was shackled and being transported in a box by sea. Killian doubted very much that she was an honored guest of the Gorthin.

She had to be their captive. She'd either been bought or was about to be. And if she was, it was incumbent on Killian to make sure she was turned over to them. To not do so could mean him losing a finger or worse.

The woman suddenly grimaced and grasped her head. In doing so, she inadvertently pulled her hair back and revealed a pointy ear.

Killian freaked out, withdrawing a couple of steps in panic. He took a bad step and fell to his ass in the dry sand as he again exclaimed, “What the fuck!”

He rolled away and scrambled to his feet. Pulling his danger, he spoke the obvious, “You’re an Elf! An Elf! What the hell? Who are you…?”

"The Girl in the Box" -- An Adventure in an Ancient World of Magic, Monsters, and Mysteries

The Girl in the Box

CLOSED
Please do not post here
unless you are a contributing writer
Thanks.

Characters:

• Killian -- description to follow as it is posted in the IC thread.
• Astra -- "the girl in the box"; more to come.

"The Girl in the Box" -- An Adventure in an Ancient World of Magic, Monsters, and Mysteries

(OOC -- And you can imagine my guy in a forest in that first post and now on the beach. Context, context, context. ;))

Killian most certainly hadn't expected to find a person inside the crate. In turn, he most certainly hadn't expected to get smacked in the face by the door. The strike was so hard that it threw him back into the surf, nearly unconscious.

He regained his senses, rising out of the waves to cough out vast amounts of seawater. Another wave hit him, then a third and a fourth. Finally, Killian rose from his knees to his feet. He wobbled back and forth, the swimming brain and moving water confusing him.

Eventually, he caught sight of the woman running up the beach. She wasn't having much more luck that Killian was in remaining standing. He looked into the crate, finding what might have been clothes and a blanket or two. A bucket was half submerged. He would realize later that it had been a shit bucket.

It didn't take a genius to understand that the woman had been being held captive in the box. Killian started up the beach toward her, only just now seeing the shackles on her wrists. He reached his gear and donned it once more. Then, moving toward her, he asked rather bluntly, "What the fuck?"

"The Girl in the Box" -- An Adventure in an Ancient World of Magic, Monsters, and Mysteries

The Girl in the Box

An Adventure
in an
Ancient World
of
Magic, Monsters,
and
Mysteries

CLOSED

Killian rose slowly and quietly from within the thick underbrush and aimed his notched arrow. He'd expected the buck to emerge from behind the big Fir tree beyond which it had been feeding at any second. And yet three or four minutes had passed with Killian seeing nothing more than the tips of the buck's big rack shaking about as he nibbled the grass.

His arms were beginning to tremble, and he was about to return the bow to an idle state when suddenly his prey stepped forward and presented its neck. Killian let the arrow fly, watching it whiz over the underbrush, between the two big Firs, and – because of his trembling, exhausted arms – over the buck's neck and off into the forest.

The buck leapt upwards at the surprise and bolted away. Killian quickly snatched another arrow from the quiver hanging at his hip, notched it, and aimed for a second shot. He wouldn’t have the chance to get it, though.

He stood and walked forward, beginning the search for his wayward arrow. He could have just let it go, but arrows didn't grow on trees.

He'd traveled through over two hundred feet of forest before he found the arrow stuck in an old rotting tree. He cocked his head at a new sound, listened for a moment, and realized it was the crashing of waves upon the seashore.

Killian loved the sea but only from on the shore. He'd never been on a sea going boat, unlike his grandfather who’d been a merchant sailor all his life. Still, Killian enjoyed the sand and the smell of the salt in the air and even wading into the surf and feeling the waves slam into him.

He continued onward, abandoning the hunt and emerged from the treeline to a very unexpected sight: the wreck of a merchant vessel on the reef just a couple of dozen yards off shore.

Just as interesting, though, was a large crate sitting in the surf, being battered by the waves. It appeared to have breathing holes along the top edge and was large enough to hold perhaps a dozen goat kids or other animals of such bulk.

Killian looked for survivors of the shipwreck. He saw a half dozen bodies littering the beach in both directions but saw no one seemingly alive. Taking the animals while crew and/or owners were still alive was, of course, a crime. But if there were no survivors to speak of, such taking was considered legal salvage.

Killian stripped off his quiver and pack, then hurried down to the crate to see what treasures – living or otherwise – might be his. He checked for locks but found only clasps with pins through them.

“So, who's inside here?” he joked softly to the animals as he unfastened the clasps and opened the gate just enough to peek inside. He added, “And will I be eating you tonight or milking you so that Stella can make cheese?”

"Aftermath" (closed, but feel free to read along)

King had thought he saw the ocean's surface breaking over something and rose to look over the bow. Just then, the boat hit the shoal, sending him tumbling to the front of the boat. He scrambled back upright to see the water spraying into the hull.

"Flag my father!" Annie called to him. "Get his attention!"

King wanted to help with stemming the leak, but his boatmate insisted he communicate with her father. He stood and grasped the mast with one hand and the other waved back and forth frantically for attention from the other boat. Annie suddenly turned the boat hard, almost sending King into the ocean. He dropped down to avoid the swinging boom, then stood and began waving again.

It was nearly a minute before either one of the men looked their way. King found that tragically ironic seeing how Paul hadn't been able to stop leering at him ever since he'd started the second leg of the trip in Annie's boat. Then, finally, Bran looked his way and noticed the waving.

"They're looking this way!" he told Annie. "What now?"

"Keep watching for rocks," Annie told King as she gestured him to take the tiller. She started signaling her father in a sign language that King didn't know. After a minute, she explained to him, "They're going to go to Black Rock. We'll beach and walk there, if we beach I mean. You bail water, and I'll get us to shore."

She moved back to the tiller, simultaneously operating it and the sails to get as much speed toward shore as she could. King grabbed a bucket that they'd used for gathering fresh water and began bailing. He began to tire after what felt like hours but was actually only ten or twelve minutes. He finally spoke up, saying, "This isn't working! It's just coming in too--"

He went silent as he looked seaward and saw a massive swell coming their way. "Hold on!"

But it was too late, and as the wave hit, King was thrown against the mast and dumped into the flooded hull of the sinking boat. He struggled to get control of himself, asking, "Are you okay...? Annie...?"

But a quick search of the boat beyond the boom and sail revealed that his boatmate was no longer a boatmate; she was a castaway. King hurried toward the stern, searching the water, only to find Annie in the water several yards away just as another big swell once again threw him about.

The boat was now on its side, the mast and it loose sails in the water. King crawled onto the boom and searched for Annie in all directions, calling out for her at the top of his lungs. Finally, he found her, floating face down just a couple of yards away.

He dove into the water and swam hard and fast for her. Reaching her, he turned her over, pulled her to his chest, and immediately began kicking for the shore. Another big swell brought the boat up high above them, threatening to bring it down onto them. Luckily, though, the water caught and carried them toward shore as well, saving them from being struck.

King, too, was a good swimmer, kicking with both feet and paddling with one arm while the second arm clutched the unconscious girl to him. His swimming efforts kept them aiming in the right direction, but it was the incoming swells that did the most in moving them toward shore.

Peeking over his shoulder several times, King kept them heading correctly. Eventually they reached the surf, and he felt sand beneath his feet. He struggled to his feet with Annie again over one shoulder, falling several times before and even after he'd reached high enough on shore to finally stop.

King rolled Annie to her back and checked for a heartbeat and breathing, both of which he found. He looked up and down the beach for signs of other human life, of which he found none. He looked back to the sea again, and only after a long minute or two of searching did he just barely see the top of the other boat's sails. They were just disappearing beyond Black Rock. King wondered whether or not they'd seen his and Annie's boat sink.

Looking up to the sky, King estimated the time at somewhere midday. Looking inland, he found the edge of what might be a forest. Struggling against exhaustion, he again tossed Annie over a shoulder and headed up the slope. He had to stop four times in just over 60 yards to rest, but eventually he reached his destination.

The forest he'd hoped would provide them with shelter and fire fuel turned out to be a tiny grove of maybe a dozen trees and twice as many small shrubs. Again, he laid Annie out as comfortably as possible, then went to work gathering the driest burnable debris and limbs that he could locate.

He'd never been very good at primitive fire starting, and it seemed to take him forever to get smoke, then flames. Eventually, though, King had a healthy fire burning near the still unconscious Annie. He used green limbs broken off tree trunks to build a teepee over the fire, stripped off all his clothes except his underwear, and hung them to dry. Then, in nothing more than his underwear and boots, he went out again to collect firewood, dried moss, brown litter, and anything else that might burn.

He also looked for anything that came in a sheet shape, namely flat rocks and chunks of bark from large fallen trees. He didn't have much to choose from, but it was enough to build a bit of a reflector to kick some of the radiating fire heat back. It would have been better with sheets of steel or aluminum manufactured many, many years prior or at least with more flat rocks, but it was all he could fashion with what he could find.

One last trip out into the woods resulted in a couple of armfuls of dried most and pine needles. King laid them out to create a barrier from the cold of the ground and gently moved Annie to it. She was now between the fire and the reflector.

Annie had been shivering ever since King had taken her out of the sea, and her wet clothes weren't helping. He stripped her from her own clothes and put her in his, which had dried somewhat and, at the least, held a bit of warmth from the fire. He put her clothes where his had been, then laid with Annie and pulled her tight to him. After a few minutes, his body heat and the fire's direct and indirect heat were enough to stop her shivering.

Hours passed, and the sun was about to fall behind the tall hills to their west. King had intended to put Annie back in her own clothes, but exhaustion got to him. He fell asleep, shivering against Annie as she originally had been doing against him.