After what felt like an eternity - though it could’ve been any amount of time based on how blitzed Vann was - he felt his peak rising, his balls slapping gently against the centaur’s cherry-sized clit with every thrust as he hilted himself inside her. “Gonna cum,” he warned.
“Give it to me,” the centaur panted, her eyes wild. “You’ve earned it, human.”
Vann groaned, closed his eyes, and crossed the finish line with a few more thrusts. As he reached his peak, he settled against her rear end, simply leaning against her bulk as his cock pulsed and filled the centaur. She cooed and sighed, hooves scraping against the table as she shuddered in contented bliss.
When Vann was done, he slid out of her, his cock dripping wet with his seed and her own wetness. He panted heavily, his head feeling like it was being whipped around in a storm.
“Oops.” The centaur lifted her forelegs, her face blanching as she realized she’d gouged several large grooves in the old wooden table with her writhing. “Oh, ancients, whose house is this? Dammit, they’re going to be so mad.”
Vann couldn’t help it. He started laughing, and didn’t stop until the spinning became too much and everything went black.
Chapter Seven – Eckert
Vann became aware of something large and warm against his back. He stirred, then groaned as a massive headache crashed down on him. He grit his teeth and let out a low moan, slowly cracking open an eye.
He was within some sort of dwelling, a home by the touches of domesticity around him – a shelf with some belongings, woven mats on the floor. Light streamed in through the open window, along with a cool morning breeze. So then what was...?
Vann turned his head to the side. Sleeping soundly behind him on her side was the female centaur from the group that had escorted them up the river, her golden hair cascading down her back freely. She wore nothing, and when Vann sniffed, he became acutely aware of the smell of sex in the room, and a musty stench coming from him.
Well, I did say it would happen if I got drunk enough.
Careful not to wake the sleeping centaur, Vann picked himself up, casting about for a bit before finding his pants and pulling them on. He found his shirt in another room and threw it over his shoulder, trying to take stock of what he was missing.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Rorzan casually floated through the wall, that big grin on his face. “Have fun last night, did we?”
Cup after cup of the yopou. Delicious grilled vegetables. Was that Arielle bending over a log with no pants? Vann rubbed his forehead. “What I can remember,” he muttered. “What time is it?”
Rorzan chuckled. “A little after dawn. Janaza's the only other one up.”
“Where is she?”
Vann left the house and found the orc sitting by the remnants of the fire, naked once again. It seemed to be a recurring theme of their adventures. She was leaning back, her breathing deep and even. “Hey, you.”
“Hey yourself,” Vann said, sitting down next to her. “What are you doing?”
“Inhaling the smell of the embers,” Janaza said, her nostrils flaring as she took a deep sniff. “Clears my head and lets me think a little bit.”
“What happened last night?”
She grinned. “How much do you remember?”
“Next to nothing. I remember drinking... a lot... then I think we ate? Then it's all kind of fuzzy. I think at one point Arielle decided to let the centaurs have a go at her?”
Janaza's entire face radiated amusement. “I never knew it was possible to be a slut for centaur dick but that elf took the cake. She must've gotten spread by half a dozen of them on the log.”
“Where is she? And where's Ori?”
“Arielle is snoozing with Ashern,” Rorzan said, floating in a circle around the fire. “Ori shacked up in one of the trees over there. She didn't do much of anything, just had one thing of yopou, got moody, and spent the whole night watching from the shadows. Can't get a read on her, honestly. Maybe being away from home is harder for her than she thought it would be.”
Vann held up a finger. “Where's my guitar?”
“You left it behind the house over there,” Rorzan said, pointing.
Vann went to retrieve the instrument, finding it facedown by an empty yopou cask. He hooked the strap over his shoulder, his head throbbing more. “I'm gonna go for a walk,” he called to Janaza. “Want to come?”
She shook her head. “I don't want to get up right now. You go on ahead.”
Vann blew her a kiss before turning and padding away through the village, winding his way through the tight streets until he reached the edge of where the residencies were, the dwellings butting up against the forest. He kept going into the treeline, stretching out his arms and taking deep breaths of the forest air to clear his head.
“Would that I could've partied with you last night,” Rorzan lamented. “You can go hard when you want to, Vann. Just over a month out of Papreon and you're already finding that metal spirit. Told ya you were cut out for this.”
“Kinda wish I could remember it,” Vann said, hiking the guitar up his shoulder.
“Eh, you'll have plenty more nights of debauchery. What's forgetting one?”
They reached a bend in the river, and Vann dropped the guitar down against a tree before falling to his knees on the bank and splashing water over his face and arms. The sounds of the forest swirled around him, from the early morning birdsong to the wind gently whispering through the tree trunks. It was quiet and serene, not exactly the type of place he'd expect to be allied with the old Rebellion. “So what were the centaurs to you back then?”
“They were good intermediaries between the Continents, helped me set up trade networks with many of the other people over here. They're also pretty damn good in a fight – hard for men to keep their cool when a couple hundred pounds of centaur is barreling towards you.” The ghost smirked. “Plus, though many won't admit to it, human women are one hundred percent down for centaur cock.”
Vann sat back on his haunches. “Have you formulated more of your grand plan yet?”
“I'm getting there, trust me!”
He looked up at the ghost. “Are you ever going to tell me about it?”
Rorzan floated down to his level. “Vann, buddy, I promise I will. I told you – I'm not going to lead you astray. Count on it.”
Vann started to question Rorzan again when a twig snapped behind him. He turned.
Then stared at the perplexing sight before him.
“Hello!” the man standing behind him said. He was a tall, lanky beanpole of a man, with long black hair the color of raven's feathers, dressed in a wide-brimmed black hat with a long coat that swirled around his knees as he leaned on a cane. Vann couldn't place the man's age owing to the thick layer of makeup on his face. Most of it was white, with black diamonds around his eyes and pointed streaks of black at the corners of his mouth, making his mouth appear twice as big as it actually was.
But what really unnerved Vann was the man's eyes. They were a striking blue, wide with laughter creases at the corners. Despite the jovial expression on the man's face, Vann got the sense that a lot of the laughing the man did wasn't wholesome and mirthful.
“Who the heck is this clown?” Rorzan said.
“Can I help you?” Vann asked tentatively.
The man put a hand to his chest in a foppish gesture. “Am I interrupting something?”
Vann became acutely aware of the fact he was shirtless. “Not really?” he said, hastily shrugging his shirt on. “Who are you? You're the first human I've seen in almost a week.”
“Ah, where are my manners?” The man took off his hat and dipped in a sweeping bow, holding the posture for several seconds. “My name is Eckert Jagran.” He looked up, his eyes boring into Vann's. “And you must be the Vann Fyfe I've heard so much about.”
Vann stilled, his paranoia ratcheting up a notch. “Who have you heard of me from?”
“Oh, several people.” Eckert straightened u
p, setting his hat atop his head lightly. Every motion he made seemed to have an elegant, yet exaggerated quality, as if he was deliberately fidgeting and never quite relaxing. “Lord Fandar Branna, his son Yilon. It's funny – they speak of you in quite different terms.”
“Lord Branna sent you?” Vann asked.
“Wait a second,” Rorzan muttered. “This guy seems a little familiar...”
“Well, technically,” Eckert said. “He has made a request of my liegelord Bosie MacAngus of the northern kingdoms to use our airship to pursue you across the sea. It's much more economical than conventional travel methods, you see. My Lord brought me along, and has sent me ahead to see if I may... convince you.”
Vann slowly began inching to the right, towards where his guitar was propped up against the tree out of Eckert's sight. “Convince me of what?” he asked.
“To come with me quietly,” Eckert said, giving his cane a little twirl by his side. “And speak with my Lord before we take you back to Branna's care. He has several questions he wants to ask you. I imagine young Yilon would like to see you as well.”
That made Vann stop. “Yilon's with you? Why?”
Eckert shrugged one shoulder. “I think he believes he can save you from his father's wrath. Though you seem smart enough to realize that there's almost nothing that could save you from that.”
Vann couldn't believe it. Yilon was still looking out for him, despite everything that had happened. But it seemed as though he didn't grasp the full measure of the situation. “You're right,” he said to the painted man. “I can't go back, which is why I won't be surrendering to you.” He lunged to the side and grabbed his guitar, quickly strumming the power chords to sharpen the edge. He held his weapon in both hands, making sure that Eckert could see the blade.
Eckert just smiled. “I like your attitude, Mister Fyfe. In another lifetime we probably would've gotten along just fine.”
“Shit,” Rorzan said, floating down behind Vann. “Vann, listen to me. Turn around and run. You can not fight this guy.”
“Rorzan, come on,” Vann muttered, watching Eckert for any sign of movement. “He's just one guy, I'm pretty sure even I can handle him.”
“See, you think that, but you're also hilariously, catastrophically wrong. Listen to the words coming out of my ethereal mouth-hole here, Vann. Turn around and haul ass back to the centaur village right freaking now.”
“Oh come now, Mister Diavolo,” Eckert said. “I really would like to see what your pupil is made of.”
Both Vann and Rorzan froze. “You can see him?” Vann said, his mouth getting away from his brain for a second.
“Most easily,” Eckert said. He tilted his hat back to a jaunty angle with a finger. “A hunter such as myself needs all the skills I can conceivably have to catch my quarry.”
Vann recovered from his shock, planting his feet and squaring his shoulders. “Just what are you?” he asked.
“He's an Avatarian,” Rorzan said. “A land far to the northeast of here. They paint themselves up to blend in with the snow to hunt bears.” He raised his voice. “But your countrymen were retreating inward when I was still walking around. The only Avatarians I ever met were mercenaries that worked for both sides of the Rebellion. What's changed?”
“Nothing!” Eckert said cheerily. “But my relationship with Lord MacAngus is on a need-to-know basis. So if you don't mind, I'd like to get started.”
“Vann, buddy, I literally can't stop you if you want to fight this clown,” Rorzan said. “But I would strongly advise against it.”
Vann weighed his options. Eckert was between him and the village, so any attempt by him to flee would likely be cut off anyways. His fingers tightened around the guitar. “I don't think I have a choice, Rorzan.”
Eckert's grin turned smug. “You really don't. Here I come!”
Vann was expecting a fake-out, some sleight of hand on the Avatarian's part. But Eckert simply ran at him, his legs carrying him forward with long, powerful strides, his boots crunching on the dirt below. As he got close, his cane whipped up and around, aiming at Vann's head. He lifted the guitar and blocked the strike on the bladed edge, the two weapons meeting with a loud crack and a hollow echo that resonated through the woods.
Eckert leaned into his cane, trying to force Vann's guitar to the side. For such a lanky man he was incredibly strong, and Vann struggled to hold him back. “Very good timing!” Eckert complimented him. “Plus, what a creative use of the guitar! I'm going to have to remember that one.”
He spun, and the cane whipped around. Vann ducked the swiped and shoved Eckert back with a shoulder to the midriff, then swung his guitar at Eckert's head. He ducked and jabbed Vann in the solar plexus with the butt of the cane, and it felt like getting shot with a crossbow bolt. Vann staggered back a little to get his footing, gritting his teeth against the pain radiating through his sternum.
Eckert twirled his cane by his side, tapping the end against the ground. “Take a moment if you need one!”
“Don't patronize me!” Vann snapped.
Eckert held up his hands. “Relax, Mister Fyfe! I meant no offense.”
Footsteps sounded nearby, and both Eckert and Vann looked towards them. Janaza burst from the foliage, wielding her bass like a club as she rushed Eckert. The Avatarian sidestepped her swings before drilling her in the sternum with his cane the same way he had Vann. Janaza growled as she staggered back. “That hurt, asshole.”
“Thanks for the save, Jan,” Vann said, moving to her side.
“I heard the power chords,” the orc said, spitting on the riverbank. “Made a new friend, did we?”
“You might say that.”
“I like to think we're getting along swimmingly,” Eckert said.
“Nobody asked you!” both Vann and Janaza said at the same time.
“Guys, seriously!” Rorzan said. “Don't fight this guy!”
“Relax, Rorzan,” Janaza said. “It's two on one now, we can take him.”
Rorzan threw his hands up in the air. “You two are something else!” he snapped.
Eckert smirked, adjusting his grip on his cane so he was holding it by the middle, tapping the top against his thigh. Now that his hand wasn't wrapped around it, Vann noticed that the end looked oddly like the pommel of a sword. “Two on one is alright with me,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “Now I actually have to try a little bit.”
He went on the attack again, crossing the distance between them in four long loping strides. Vann and Janaza moved to the sides and around so that Eckert was between the two of them. Janaza swung her bass at his back, and the Avatarian blocked it on his cane. At the same time, Vann took a swing at his chest.
Only for his attack to be blocked when Eckert wrenched on the top of his cane and yanked a sword out to clash against the edge of his guitar. Vann blinked and bore down on the man's arm.
“Nice toy,” Janaza said, trying her best to push aside Eckert's guard.
“Thank you,” Eckert said, his eyes flicking back and forth between the. “But it gets better.”
It was then that Vann noticed that only one side of the sword was bladed. The other edge was flat, with notches on the end and what looked like a piano wire stretched between them. The weapon looked like the lovechild of a short sword and a violin bow.
Eckert's foot snapped up, the toe of his boot drilling into Vann's thigh. The shock of pain made him falter for a moment. Eckert did a half-turn and kicked Vann away with the flat of his boot, before turning again to block Janaza swinging her bass down like an axe at his head. The edge of the instrument met the thick wire on the backside of his sword. The clash produced a strange pinging noise that echoed around the clearing for a moment.
Then Eckert grinned, the sound turned sharp, and the ground underneath Janaza exploded.
The orc was blasted head over heels across the clearing, hitting the dirt hard and rolling several times. Her bass thudded down by her head, the sharp edge almost taking off a chunk of her
hair.
“Janaza!” Vann shouted, rushing Eckert again.
Eckert turned, striking the wire on his sword with the sheath. The pinging noise sounded again, then turned sharp as before. This time, lilac purple magic flared to life along the length of the sword, and the Avatarian swung it in a diagonal downward slash. The magic lashed free, taking the form of a curved wave of power that screamed through the air. Vann flew himself flat and felt the air move as the attack flashed over his head. A moment later, wood splintered and cracked as the magic wave sliced through several dozen trees, felling them in a matter of seconds. Vann blanched at the sight.
Eckert scraped the sheath along the wire again, and the sword became suffused with magic once more. “Been quite a long time since I've had to actually break my weapon out. But I think this is a special enough occasion to warrant it.”
Janza picked herself up, spitting out a mouthful of blood and dirt, leaning on her bass for support. “How can he throw around so much power with just a simple noise?” she panted.
“He's. An. Avatarian,” Rorzan said slowly. “They're masters at this kind of thing.”
“You flatter me, Mister Diavolo,” Eckert said, spinning his glowing sword around, motes of power flecking off the blade like sparks from a fire. “Though I feel I must stress I am no novice. What you see here is the result of decades of training, beyond what most of my people do.” He slowly dropped back into his fighting crouch. “What next?”
Vann looked past their assailant to Janaza. The orc met his eyes, then flicked upwards towards the sky. She surged to her feet, barreling towards Eckert with her bass low to the ground. Eckert swing his sword, the magic flinging off it into another horizontal wave. Janaza slid underneath it, springing back up and roaring as she swung at Eckert again. His sheath cracked against the blade edge of her bass, and they got into it, clashing and parting as the cracks and clangs echoed through the clearing.
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