The Test of Ostra

by Rory D Nelson

  “If he has it, it would have been done without my knowledge.”

  “Do not be coy with me!” He booms. Several men in his posse cock the hammer of their rifles and point it directly at Domithicus, who doesn’t even flinch. “Produce the document or see brains exit out of the back of your head!”

  “You might have trouble ever obtaining document if you did that,” replies Domithicus nonchalantly.

  “Does your comp have it?” He asks.

  Domithicus relents. He nods. “Ai. Do believe he may have absconded with something. Shariff, have your men lower your weapons and approach me. What I have to tell you is not meant for all ears.”

  “I will approach. But you must get hands up as I may see you are not up to no-good shenanigans.”

  “Ai. Of course, Shariff.” Domithicus steps back and puts his foot on the lever, depressing it. Quietly, a set of pulleys, wires and springs initiate on the contraption, pulling his arms up. With his real hands, Domithicus cuts himself out of the thick mortar tape, which is holding his hands behind his back.

  Shariff approaches him and looks around at everything as if to confirm that nothing is amiss. After a quick assessment, he seems satisfied. He ventures even closer until he is a few feet away from Domithicus.

  “It is as you say, Shariff. My comp has the document you are looking for.”

  Martimus sighs and nods. “Where is he?”

  “He will be here shortly. In fact, I will bring him to you. But I must ask you something and please be honest with me.” He says, in a beseeching manner.

  “Ai. So, I will. You have showed deference and cooperation.”

  “When we give you that document, are you going to kill us? After all, we have seen it. We are not stupid, Shariff. Your sponsor will demand our blood, lest it be your own.”

  Martimus nods. “You have my word, set watch and warrant it so, on all that is holy. I promise that you will receive a quick death, a bullet to the head.” He looks at Domithicus to reinforce this point. “But if you toy with me and do not produce that document, you have my word that I will torture you in the most sadistic way imaginable. Your death will be very slow indeed. You may save your comp from such a fate as well if you cooperate. You ken?”

  Domithicus nods solemnly. “Ai. That is a fair proposition indeed. I’d be remiss if I did not accept such an offer. Your honesty duly noted and appreciated.”

  Domithicus smirks sardonically for a second and Martimus is taken back. “I would shake on it, but my hands are predisposed, as you can see. I say thankee, Shariff.” Domithicus cuts through the last bit of tape, exposing his arms behind his back. In an excruciating movement, he puts his shoulder joints back into place. They notice the sound but assume it is the wooden porch settling.

  “I say thankee Shariff.”

  “For what?” asks Martimus.

  “For allowing my man to get the drop on you.” With lightning quick ferocity, Domithicus takes the knife that helped free his hands. He jams it into Martimus throat, expelling a gushing of crimson. The look of shocked incredulity on his face is present as he drops to his knees. Life quickly drains.

  The three men are caught completely unawares. They try to aim and fire but to no avail. In one seamless move, he reaches for his two speed shooters and fires off simultaneous rounds, hitting the two men squarely in the chest. They fall back and clutch their chests, reflexively as their life drains from them.

  From across the tavern, Atteus fires a shotgun blast directly at Martimus, knocking him back into Domithicus and through the glass picture window of the tavern. The high caliber shot blows a cavernous hole through the Shariff, exposing tendrils of intestinal matter, gore, and blood. The bullet which has lost its stinging power with the penetration of Martimus, slams into Domithicus bullet-proof tortoise shell lining. It cracks from the pressure, but his encased body is intact, though seriously bruised.

  The force knocks the air out of him. He sucks in air even as he pulls off his outer shell lining, throwing aside his fake arms. Four men walk cautiously into the Tavern. Domithicus pulls his shooters and fires several rounds, hitting two of the men and knocking them to the floor.

  The two other men quickly return fire. Domithicus takes cover behind a large beam and then retaliates, hitting one of the men directly in the head. He falls back dead.

  Atteus emerges from the street and fires upon a man in the horse, hitting him directly in stomach, knocking him from his horse. Blood gushes from his midsection, along with his entrails. Several other men fire back.

  One man atop the roof prepares to take aim at him. He rests his hand on the trigger, but a loud crash diverts his attention. The large wooden door nearly disintegrates off his handle from the force of the crash. A massive wolf emerges through the door. He turns to fire, but the wolf is ridiculously fast. Before he can line up a sight, the wolf pounces on him and latches onto his arm with the power of a vice.

  His jaws seize his arm in a vise-grip of death as crimson flows in spurts. One of his veins is severed. He screams out in excruciating pain. With a simple twist of his head, Troubadour severs the arm which was rendered useless with the first penetration of his powerful jaws. The man cries out, now more in horror than pain as his arm is spit out by the massive beast.

  Troubadour closes in on the man and chomps down on his neck, ripping out his larynx and his life force. His eyes roll back, and he twitches one last death throe. Troubadour looks off into the distance and assesses the leap he will have to make. He races from one end of the roof and takes off like a bullet. It will be very close.

  Another sniper on the roof adjacent from the dead man, takes aim at Atteus and tries to fire, but his attention is diverted at the last second by the sound of Greylady trying to crash through the door. He fires a shot at her and misses her.

  It does succeed in knocking the door further off its hinges, allowing Greylady the opportunity to blast through the door. The sniper takes another shot but is knocked off course as a bullet nearly grazes his head. Greylady emerges through the door and goes for him. He lines up a sight on her and puts his finger on the trigger but is knocked off balance by something massive.

  Reflexively, he reaches for his gun but is unable. Something latches onto his other hand in a vise-like grip. He screams in excruciating pain as his bones are pulverized to fragments.

  Greylady reaches him and seizes his other arm, aware that he is trying to reach for his gun. The two of them rip and tear until his sockets inevitably give in and rip apart. He screams in revulsion and agony. Blood spurts from the severed appendages in copious amounts and he falls to the ground, too weak to stand on his own. In less than a minute, darkness overtakes him.

  Atteus hides behind a large beam as a man fires multiple times with a large caliber shotgun. One of the shots comes precariously close, knocking out a chunk of wood on the beam directly in front of him. The man fires again.

  Atteus rolls out from the beam and fires consecutive shots, hitting the man squarely in the throat and jaw, nearly demolishing his face. The man tries to scream but manages to gurgle blood as his lungs quickly fill with blood. He clutches his throat reflexively. Atteus puts another bullet in his chest, ending his struggles for good as he is blown back ten yards and breaks his back from the impact.

  Two other men emerge, who were taking cover behind a large trough. They attempt to fire but are much too slow for Atteus. One man manages to get off a shot, which grazes Atteus’ shoulder. He is barely aware of it.

  Atteus fires consecutive rounds, hitting one man in the shoulder who cries out in excruciating pain. The other man is slammed violently with a bullet to the belly, creating a cavernous hole, expelling copious amounts of blood. He clutches his belly in response and cries out.

  Atteus expends the bullets in one gun, but in one seamless move, transfers it to his holster and then uses his other hand to cock the hammer, so he can fire continually. The other bullets catch both men in the head and belly, dropping them to the floor. They are bo
th mercifully dead the moment they touch ground.

  Atteus gets up and assesses the situation. Several other men have joined the fight, but they are prudently not taking any chances. He notices that several men are holed up in the top of the general store across from the tavern. He smiles to himself. And then pulls out his long rifle and takes careful aim.

  He fires on one of two strategically placed ethane lanterns in front of the window. The effects are immediate and devastating.

  The shot punctures the top of the canisters, igniting them into a fireball. The top of the general store is engulfed in fiery flames. As the cannonball explosion, it sends shards of glass, debris, and wood. Body parts are hurled out indiscriminately.

  Several of the men look on in horror as their men burn to death. Several men fall to the ground, unable to speak or cry out as their larynxes have been scorched to death. One man’s skin bubbles up in a sickening mess of congealed flesh. He tries to cry out, turns, and collapses.

  Domithicus takes advantage of the diversion to emerge from his hiding place. When two men turn their head towards the cacophonous boom that rattles the doors, floorboards and irritates the ear drums, he pulls out his speed shooters and fires.

  Two men are caught off guard and receive a barrage of bullets in neck and chest, causing blood to gush uncontrollably from severed arteries. A couple of more bullets finishes them off for good.

  Two other men try to reach for their guns but are stopped short by Domithicus indiscriminate bullets. One bullet rips through a man’s larynx, severing his carotid artery and causing crimson to flow in rhythmic spurts. He chokes on his own blood as he is driven to the floor.

  Another man is hurled across the room by two consecutive bullets to the chest. The second bullet rips through his heart mercifully, ending his struggles for good.

  Finally, free of the men that had been taking potshots at him, Atteus emerges from his hiding place and opens fire on a group of men, who are still mesmerized by the blaze and not yet under cover.

  His bullets penetrate one man in the abdomen, causing him to reel over in excruciating pain. He fires consecutive shots and cuts off the man’s cries for good. Another shot penetrates a man’s cheek, shattering a chunk of the jaw and breaking open the surrounding flesh. He tries to scream in revulsion but is stopped. The next shot enters and exits his eye socket and hurls him back against some wooden steps where he twitches several times and then is still.

  Several of the other men retaliate, but Atteus takes cover behind a trough. He reloads quickly and looks around the trough. As soon as his head emerges, a bullet takes a bite out of a post a couple of feet away from him.

  Atteus hears approaching riders and looks to the east in confirmation. At least twenty riders are approaching to join the fight. Atteus takes out his dog whistle and blows, calling them into action. Troubadour emerges from a door that has almost been torn off its hinges. He is quick, but not nearly as fast as Greylady, who emerges from another door and seeks cover.

  Several of the men turn towards them. Atteus takes advantage and fires off several rounds, hitting vulnerable flesh with every shot. Using his thumb to cock the hammer nearly simultaneously, he can fire in rapid succession. Several of the men clutch their necks and stomachs, in a vain attempt to stifle the blood flow that gushes forth.

  Other men fire back, but to no avail. Atteus jumps down and takes cover. Domithicus begins his barrage of gunfire, finding numerous successful targets. Other soldiers begin to take cover to preclude a direct hit, but they are being hunted silently as well. Two unsuspecting soldiers take cover behind a fort wagon wheel well, hoping to avoid the barrage of relentless gunfire. One man had been grazed by a bullet and is silently reloading. The other man is intact. Troubadour silently sneaks up on them. When he is about ten yards away, he bolts at top speed, slamming into one man and head-butting him. His head slams into the wheel well, fracturing his skull and breaking the wheel frame.

  The other man is unable to react in time. He reaches for his gun but is stopped as Troubadour seizes his hand in a vise-like grip of monstrous strength. He cries out. Troubadour shakes his massive head and rips out the appendage at the wrist, causing the blood to flow freely.

  With the appendage severed, Troubadour goes for the neck, ending his cries for good.

  A couple of nearby men hear the horrific cries and look in the direction. Domithicus uses their inattention to emerge from the devastated Tavern to open fire, using a shotgun. The first shot blows a man nearly in two, hurling him back against a fort wagon, his entrails billowing out as he lands askew in a grotesque mess of gore, blood and devastated organs, a look of surprise still registering on his face.

  Several other men fire back. Atteus fires in response and brings down several more. One man takes cover and then continues to take several potshots. He has stayed alive merely by avoiding the unrestrained gunplay and staying put. He edges closer to the pair, hoping to line up a very deliberate and deadly shot.

  He observes one of the pairs. The man is an expert marksman and ridiculously fast on the draw, but he is not impervious to bullets. He lines up a sight, breathes deeply, and rests his hand on the trigger. And then excruciating pain. He cries out in agony and instinctively smashes his hand into the animal but to no avail. It is much too powerful. Much to his chagrin, the surprise causes him to drop his rifle. He tries to reach for it, but his face finds the floor and a small laceration opens on his forehead. He is barely aware of it.

  Greylady slowly drags him away. She bites down harder, and he screams as agony courses through every fiber in his body.

  Greylady shakes her head viciously from side to side and rips a large chunk of flesh from his waist. Blood gushes uncontrollably from the hole, his femoral artery severed. She goes for the kill and savagely rips out his throat. His head slumps to the ground and darkness overtakes him, a look of horrific surprise still plastered to his face.

  Atteus calls out to Greylady and Troubadour and they come. He pats them affectionately. “Good girl, Greylady. Well done Troubadour.”

  He looks around at the carnage and confirms. Domithicus emerges out in the open and approaches. “Comp. Well met,” says Atteus.

  Domithicus nods. “Ai.” They look off in the distance and see other riders approaching. Two buildings down from the tavern is a livery. The general store and the tavern are devastated, so those are not options. The only place high enough to take out the approaching posse is the livery. They look at each other, with ostensibly the same thought.

  “The livery?” asks Domithicus.

  Atteus nods. “Appears to be the only thing left with an adequate second story from which to assault.

  “Ai. My thoughts as well. Let’s take the henry, you ken?”

  “Ai,” says Atteus. “We should bring the faulkner as well. We’ll need some rapid fire, I ken.”

  Domithicus nods.

  They make their way to the livery and ascend to the second floor. They open a large hay feed door and look out. Without uttering a single word, Atteus sets up the henry and takes aim. Next to him, Domithicus sets up with the faulkner. They look at each other and nod. And then the gunfire begins. They are accurate from a thousand yards. At this distance, it is a chump shot.

  The powerful calibers knock several riders from their horses, their bodies landing askew, bleeding from cavernous holes. Several other riders fire back but to no avail. Atteus and Domithicus fire again and take down several more riders. Some of the riders high-tail it out as fast as they can. Domithicus and Atteus permit them to flee. They cannot hold back the reigns indefinitely.

  They pick up the rifles and seemingly have the same thought. “We should leave. They will bring back more reinforcements. I believe our welcome has passed. We have the deed,” says Domithicus.

  “Ai,” agrees Atteus.

  Chapter 11: A Summons for Felinius

  Felinius bites down hard on Rochella’s ample bosom, eliciting cries of pain from her-just the way she likes it. He doesn�
��t draw blood or leave a mark, but the pain is intense for several seconds. His cock is engorged to the point of painfulness. He wants badly to cum, but the concentrated pixie weed, known as Orange Glow Kush, postpones his ability to orgasm. It is a mixture of mind-blowing ecstasy and frustration. Soon, he will spill his seed again, but not before Annabella has had her fill of his engorged cock. She absorbs his frenetic bucking with pleasure, moaning with every one of his pelvic thrusts as it slides into her deeply.

  He fills himself beginning to succumb to the climax. He moans. At the last second, he pulls himself out of Annabella and shoots his load all over Rochella’s breast and on her face. She licks at it and smiles in response. “There you are, my little Attiluses.”

  Still out of breath, Felinius nods. “Ai. You have brought me to fits again, so you have.” Here in the town of Nicea, Felinius is known as Attilus. Occasionally, he is recognized for who he is, but his substantial coin and Herod’s influence assures he will not be met with incarceration.

  He kisses Rochella sweetly and then Annabella. “This is what life is about, my loves. To be with such goddesses.” Completely spent, he rolls over and passes out.

  After several hours, Felinius emerges from his slumber, groggy, and fighting off the vestiges of the concentrated pixie. He rubs his eyes and reaches for his pixie bong, but Morgana grabs it from him. She seems to materialize out of thin air. He isn’t sure if she is real or a figment of his imagination. He smiles in response.

  “Enjoying your little repose, lover?” asks Morgana playfully.

  He grabs onto her seductively, feeling her tight ass. His cock instantly salutes in response. “I could enjoy it a little further.”

  She grabs onto his rock-hard cock teasingly. “I shall make you wait until we reach our grove. Only then will you enjoy the fruits.”

  The smile disappears from his face. “He has summoned me then?” He asks.

  “Ai.”

  “All is forgiven, then? We carry on? Is that it, then?” He asks impatiently.