by ilo man
“None took.” Sorrell waved Vinnie’s concern away and primed his pipe pot.
Atrixa slapped Vinnie squarely across the cheek. “Wise up, Vinnie, now show me your ring…it’s…it’s important.”
Vinnie coughed, looked at the ground and mumbled, “It’s stuck. I told you, it’s stuck.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to show me your dick. It’s not like I haven’t seen one before.”
Vinnie hadn’t known Atrixa long enough to be able to comprehend her emotions just by looking at her, but if he had to make a stab at it, he’d have guessed at concern, curiosity, fear and intrigue, all mixed up with determination. He also decided that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Well…”
“Trust me, Vinnie, your life could depend on the next few minutes.” Her words resonated through him.
He nodded, slack-jawed and utterly convinced, and he unbuttoned his pants, nervously flopping his dick onto his open palm, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing for it to be all over. Atrixa gasped. Vinnie opened one eye, daring a peek.
She had her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “One ring to screw them all,” she gasped and reached out nervously.
Vinnie tried to slither backward, tried to evade her, but her pale, slim fingers gently touched his ring. Golden sparkles came alive again, tingling, cracking, infusing him with power. Vinnie hardened, and Atrixa rolled her eyes into the back of her head, her bottom lip quivering as shivers of ecstasy appeared to run riot inside her. She gasped, she moaned, her consciousness melded with his and swam in rivers of pleasure. Then he sensed her resisting, pulling away, and suddenly her essence was ripped from him as her fingers jerked back. She crawled backward, away from him, her hands up, eyes wide, jaw trembling with fear.
Sorrell took her place, reaching out. “My turn,” said the half-giant.
“Fuck off,” said Vinnie.
“Let him.” Atrixa’s terrified voice was no more than a whimper.
Vinnie screwed his eyes back up. “I’ve probably had worse,” he admitted.
“Thanks,” moaned Sorrell, clearly a little aggrieved.
“Well…”
“It’s not exactly my number one fantasy either,” Sorrell explained.
“Go on then.”
“I’m trying.” Sorrell inched forward.
“Just get it over with.” Vinnie’s eyelids were beginning to hurt, and the muscles under his eyebrows ached. “I can’t keep my eyes shut much longer.”
“Can I shut my eyes too?”
Atrixa let out a god-awful growling sound. “Will you two just get over it and get it done.”
Vinnie felt Sorrell’s fat fingers prod his shaft, without wanting too, he snuck a peak, he yelped, grimaced, and waited for it to be over. But Sorrell’s fingers lingered, and the half-giant started to groan with pleasure.
“Yes, oh yes,” Sorrell shouted.
Vinnie jerked away, eyes now wide, and screamed in disgust as he saw Sorrell on the edge of ecstasy. “Will you stop it,” he snapped.
Sorrell wobbled a little, then appeared to come back to some form of normality. He jumped up, rounded the fire and relit his pipe. “It’s the ring all right,” he confirmed, all manly now, puffing away and not looking at Vinnie. “Yep, that’s the ring, the ring.”
“What ring?” Vinnie asked, pulling his pants up.
“Hold on,” Atrixa lurched towards him. “One last thing, show me the invisibility.”
Vinnie sighed, flopped his cock back out and twisted the ring. He vanished.
“And back,” he declared, and he popped back into existence.
“Check your mana,” Atrixa demanded.
“Seventy-seven out of seventy-eight.”
“So, it cost you one mana to vanish. Okay, twist it again and then twist it back once you hit seventy-six.”
Vinnie vanished again and reappeared thirty seconds later.
Atrixa nodded sagely. “So, you can stay invisible, but it costs two mana a minute.”
“Okay, but how do I get it off?”
She cocked her head. “You have no clue exactly what the ring is, do you?”
Sorrell growled. “It is a great power, and with great power comes great—”
“Just tell me what it is?”
Atrixa grabbed his mug, filling it from the barrel. She passed him a cigarillo. “Let me tell you, but first…”
“Yes,” said Vinnie, eager, ready, lighting up.
“Do your damn pants up.”
Sorrell roared, but Atrixa was stoic. “This is serious. The ring has awoken. Turmoil has come to the land.”
“Why’s it so special?”
Atrixa took a swig of her ale, lit herself a cigarillo, and then cleared her throat, leaning in. Her eyes reflecting the fire’s dancing flames, and her voice just an ethereal whisper. “A long, long time ago, deep under the Twin Mountains, deep below the dragon’s lair, below even the dwarven mines and cities, down and down, beyond caverns scattered with diamonds, and streams filled with earthen fire, deeper than all, the goblins toiled and plotted. It is said that they looked upward with envious eyes, wanting beyond all hope to be free of the hot, close hell they lived in, to live in the fresh air and on dew-laden slopes. So they hatched a plan and sent a message to the king of the surface and asked him what boon they could make in return for some prime land in the sun.
“The king sent his reply, and the goblins set to work. It is told that they forged a ring, a ring that harnessed Earth’s Bane, a power so tuned to the Earth’s core that it would make its master irresistible, satisfaction guaranteed.”
“Earth’s Bane,” said Vinnie, trying to keep up.
Atrixa whispered it once more, then carried on with her tale. “One brave goblin was chosen, chosen to take the ring to the king of all the Earth. But the journey took its toll on her, the ring’s magic proving a hefty burden. Though she made it past the dwarven mines, even beyond the dragon’s lair, her health faded, and the goblin fell into a deep, deep sleep. When she woke, the ring had been stolen.”
“Just what’s all this got to do with…” he pointed at his crotch.
“Well, at that time, the king of the land was a giant, and the ring was to be fashioned in such a way that whenever he slipped it onto his finger, he would become the greatest lover in the land. It was filled with the passion of the Earth’s Bane and able to let that passion flow into any that touched it. But the King was also nefarious, and he had demanded the goblins craft it in such a way that he could twist it, become invisible, and sneak up on unsuspecting maidens, brush them with his ring, and then appear while they were caught up in the dizzy heights of passion. Once snared in the moment, the maidens would wish for the king to ravage them.”
“What a rat bastard,” Vinnie said, a little slowly, letting his comprehension knit in his mind. “So this ring was supposed to fit a giant’s finger?”
Atrixa nodded her head. “Once on, it encircles flesh and shrinks and binds forever. It becomes soul-bound.”
“I don’t quite get it. Lavender held it, and she kissed it, but I don’t think she made a wish.”
“Of course she did, at the time she wished for pleasure, to pleasure you, to pleasure herself, to forge a mutual orgasm.”
Vinnie mulled her answer. “But what about you, Sorrell?”
Atrixa smiled. “The ring will be infused with the first urges, to explode in ecstasy. Now the ring will enslave any to your desire, to your pleasure, if they touch it.”
Vinnie smiled, in fact, he beamed. “All good for the game then.”
“Not good, Vinnie. Where did you find the ring?” Atrixa was shaking her head, her lips pursed.
“Hartsfelt,” he said, a slight lie, but the truth as well.
“Where?”
“My room in the inn—on the first day.”
“And you touched it?”
Vinnie nodded. “Poked my finger through it, messed about with it, and then dumped it in my sack thinking it was a st
upid, oversized ring.”
Atrixa glared at him. “Where Vinnie? Where did you find it?”
Eyes downcast, Vinnie finally spilled the truth. “It was in my beginner’s sack.”
Atrixa gasped. “The leprechauns had a hand in it, then.”
“The what?”
“Who do you think makes the beginner’s sacks?”
“Leprechauns,” nodded Vinnie, knowingly.
“Well,” said Sorrell, “at least it explains why things have been so screwy these last couple of days.” They both turned slowly, facing the giant. Sorrell took a long swig of his ale. “Yup, screwy.”
“How so?” Atrixa asked.
“Rumors, mostly. Hey, maybe that was why Blanche appeared in Hartsfelt, why the evil witch followed soon after. Where are the bags stored? I’ll bet in the inn somewhere. There’s only a few coins in them, a common map, not much to speak of. Perfect hiding place, I guess.”
“But I’ll bet the adepts were drawn to the power. I’ll bet it called to those seeking love. I’ll bet it yearned to be found.”
I was seeking love, thought Vinnie. I was yearning.
“You know who will want it,” Sorrell said, laying back against a boulder, resting his head on his arm, pipe in the other hand.
“Oh god no,” said Atrixa.
“Yup.”
“Who?” cried Vinnie.
“Sivatious,” Atrixa said, in barely a whisper.
“And didn’t the drow say that the Witherers were on the wind?” Sorrell pointed out.
“Soul crushers.” Atrixa shivered, pulling herself closer to the fire and looking up at the night’s sky. “If they are abroad, scanning, looking for the ring, we’d best get to Hundenwyrdich as soon as possible.”
Vinnie shuffled close to the fire as well. “So, soul crushers, eh?”
“They are beyond ghosts, beyond ghouls, they are the dead reborn, but just skeletal bone, with blazing, red eyes and teeth as sharp as knives. They fly through the air, black cloaks for wings, scanning, scouring.” Atrixa held her head in her hands. “If they sniff out the ring’s scent, then they’ll surely find us.”
“These soul crushers work for Sivatious then?”
“Everyone under the Twin Mountains worships Sivatious. He is the most powerful player in the land. If he gets his hands on the ring and traps Princess Blanche, the land will become dark, and all hope will fade.”
Vinnie thought and thought. Though he hadn’t had a lot of luck so far, in fact, he’d have gone so far as to say the land had it in for him; he had still loved every minute, well, most minutes. Meh, a lot of minutes—most were okay. Whatever. He certainly didn’t want it to go dark and descend into evil.
“Why don’t I just find out where Princess Blanche is laid out and you know, just…” He looked at them, hoping beyond hope for some help. They both looked blankly back. “You know…” He glanced around again. “Why don’t I just find her and flop it out on her face?”
Atrixa took a deep breath. “For a start, invisibility or not, you wouldn’t get close. She’ll be in the King’s palace in Craggle Sea Bay, guarded by the King’s guards and the land’s greatest wizards. Rogues patrol the shadows, archers man the hundred foot high towers, and demons guard the cellars and dungeons. Nope, you wouldn’t get close. Secondly, yuck, you’re sick!”
“So, it’s the Wanton Witch then,” Vinnie muttered, curiously resigned, but strangely content, ish, content-ish. At least it looked like it wasn’t his entire fault. Some other power was definitely at play. It had put the ring in his starter bag. It had drawn the folk to Hartsfelt, and he’d merely got caught up in a grander plot. It was important to him because it lifted the gloom from his shoulders. The land hadn’t taken a hearty dump on his head; he’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I’m not giving it up,” he said, determination coursing through him.
“That’s the spirit,” said Sorrell, lazily, like everything they’d talked about didn’t concern him, and like he was just about to drift off. “Of course, Sivatious won’t worry if you give it up or not. He’ll just cut your dick off and then scrape out the inside of the ring.”
“Comforting. Thanks for that, Sorrell, my old mate.” Vinnie’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“No problem, just sayin’ it how it is.”
“Well, I’m not giving it up, never, ever, ever.” Vinnie slumped down by the fire, fishing inside his pants, grabbing the ring and holding it tight. “Mine, it’s all mine,” he grumbled.
Atrixa stared down at him, clearly worried. “We best get you to Hundenwyrdich fast. We best hope the Wanton Witch can save you.” She lay down too but didn’t sleep. “One ring to screw them all,” she muttered under her breath, “but it only, truly, screws one person.”
Chapter Sixteen
Vinnie decided, imaginary land or not, rock superstar idols and the great outdoors were not compatible. Sorrell rousing him when he’d only just dropped off to sleep certainly didn’t help his mood. His ass hurt, his back hurt, his shoulders ached, and he had a crick in his neck. Everything throbbed, every single, fucking thing. Not only that, it was raining, and not the decent type of rain either. Decent rain made its intention clear, it fell from the clouds and drenched you. This rain was sly, sneaky, misty rain that brushed your face, washing you, making you think it was just a mild shower while making you wetter than a ring lusting nymph.
In short, he was tired, soaked and miserable. “Where’s my fucking castle?” he grumbled.
A castle was the least a VIP like him should expect. He ought to be sitting on a throne not a sopping wet boulder ankle deep in mud. As it was morning, some lush, lithe servant should be drawing him a bath, a hot steaming bath, and readying perfumes. A towel would be draping over his massage table, and fresh morning wine breathing in a golden jug on a marble table, two sculpted goblets either side—one for him and one for his spent lover, currently sprawled naked on fresh white sheets.
“And you can have all that,” Little Red’s voice swirled through his mind.
“How?” he whispered back.
“Feed me blood. You could have killed a few nymphs for me, plunged me deep inside their pulsing veins. Once I am strong, I’ll build you a castle to end all castles, a place of rock and iron.”
“And fresh, white sheets.” How he yearned for fresh white sheets.
“And a lover draped over them.” Little Red’s promise dangled before him like a virgin quest. “Blood, Vinnie, get me blood.”
“Anything Red,” he promised, then jerked back in surprise.
“Vinnie, you with us?” Sorrell was bending down right in front of him.
Vinnie shook his head. “Sorry, miles away.”
“We gotta get going. The Witherers and all.”
Vinnie stood, noticing Atrixa wasn’t around. “Where’s…”
“Scouting, doing Ranger stuff. She told me to take you that way.” He pointed a stubby finger toward a narrow trail that led off into the shadows. Vinnie took the half-giant’s hand and let Sorrell pull his aching bones up. He pulled his hood over his head to stifle the rain and hide the miserable morning, and they set off. “She told me to give you one of these.” Sorrell handed him a staff.
Vinnie took it, momentarily at a loss what to do with it. He studied its knotted, rough-carved shaft of oak. His hand easily gripped it. It was sturdy and thick without being too fat, and at around six feet tall, it was much the same height as him.
“What the hell do I want with a staff?” Vinnie held it slightly away from him like it had the plague or pox or some such disease.
“Walk with it, try it,” Sorrell replied in his easy, gentle lilt. “You might find you like it.”
The half-giant forged ahead. Vinnie followed, his boots squelching, his damp crotch rubbing. His new staff somehow comforted him, reassured him and made him feel…sturdy. He planted, he walked, planted and strode, and he immediately felt quite at home with his sturdy new friend.
“Yo
u can whack things over the head too,” Sorrell told him. “Staff’s are good for bashing things to a pulp.”
Blood thought Vinnie, good for getting blood.
“That’s the spirit,” whispered Little Red.
The forest engulfed them like a thick emerald cloud. Roots the size of Sorrell’s forearm tried to trip them. Great sturdy trunks rose up like sentinels, spreading to a thick, verdant canopy. Chaotic bursts of brambles like rolling waves about to break, partly concealed banks of shelved rock, moss-clad, vivid emerald, bathing in the misty rain. Black rock then corralled Vinnie and Sorrell along, choosing the path for them. Vinnie hoped it was Atrixa’s path. They wandered up trails, along slopes, through brief clearings, and over babbling brooks.
Vinnie became subliminally aware of the forest’s age. He could almost hear the trees moan, like old men sharing a tale over a mug of ale. The trees were ruing the rise of the dark one but didn’t name him, though Vinnie supposed it must be Sivatious. They mumbled and groaned the way only old men could, full of malice but only hinting at action. As Vinnie wandered along behind the half-giant, he found himself agreeing with the trees and wondering why bad folk packed the land.
Deeper in, the emerald forest started to become oppressive, its musty, mossy smell overpowering, and the rain started to fall thickly. Hood down, Vinnie forged on, just keeping sight of Sorrell’s boots and pale blue, mud-splattered breeches. His mind began to wander, and he recalled his new point in esteem—the one given him after he’d sated Lavender—before she turned into a maniacal psychopath. “Humpf,” he muttered. It was not the ideal end to their courtship.
He decided to check his stats.
Attribute (Value x Esteem modifier = True Value)
Health: 2 x 1.5 = 3
Stamina: 3 x 1.5 = 4.5
Strength: 2 x 1.5 = 3
Agility: 3 x 1.5 = 4.5
Intelligence: 6 x 1.5 = 9
Mana: 60 x 1.5 = 90
Virility [Cumulative True Value]: 6.75 x 1.5 = 10.12
Perception: 2 x 1.5 = 3
His summation was, in the right direction. He had 3,800 XP, a mere 1,200 to go until he hit level 5. He had no skills yet and felt like he desperately needed one—especially the weapons one. Loot wise, his Little Book of Spells sat annoyingly blank in the bottom of his Grand Sack of Holding. Apart from that, the magical ring around his cock, and the tiny blood-drinking demon inside the crystal core aside, he only had a couple of mundane items he’d collected along the way and a handful of coins.
