A Wizard's War

The arched, open Temple of Raigar the Earth stood at the edge of the Great Mythic Desert. The statue of Raigar stood with his back to the desolate sands and glared down over his people. At least Zolgrim always felt like Raigar was glaring. Zolgrim cursed to himself as he looked at all the sand accumulated on the temple floor again. Countless hours were wasted by servants tending to the temple and its marvelous open concept. If Zolgrim could turn back the centuries, he would gladly accost the architect who wanted to build such a thing next to open sands.

Zolgrim rubbed with a clawed hand at the rough skin beneath his robes. He was approaching his molting season, which was always refreshing, but the weeks leading up were a constant itching nuisance. As a devout priest at the temple, he could not allow these small problems to inconvenience him or keep him from his routine duties.

“Blessings, Ahir-Zolgrim”

“Oh,” Zolgrim turned to the young human who had just ascended the stairs from the lower chambers, “There you are, Luka. Best get the broom.”

“You realize your expectations are too high in terms of sand removal.”

“It is of great importance this evening. The Archfiend will arrive for the ceremony and I will have everything in proper order.”

“Of course, Ahir-Zolgrim.”

Zolgrim allowed the boy to set about sweeping, while he busied himself with preparation of candles, ornamented bowls and chalices. Soon other servants began filtering into the temple arranging fresh flowers and scenting the alters with the oils of bergamot and sage. Everyone had their place and knew their tasks. Zolgrim instilled timeliness and precision into all his servants whether they be serpent folk or human. To serve at the feet of their god was the highest honor, and the manner with which they conducted themselves should match said honor.

“Ahir-Zolgrim,” the timid Shassa interrupted, “There seems to be some issue which requires your attention below.”

“What could that be?”

“Orcs are attempting to enter the city.”

“Preposterous,” Zolgrim scoffed, “Such behavior is highly irregular. They know the specified boundaries of their parole.”

“Nevertheless, sir, they are requesting entry.”

Irritated by the poor timing of these orcs, Zolgrim descended the stairs which went away from the dais and then doubled back to disappear beneath the great statue above. While others could not see him, he rubbed again at his scaly skin and cursed the ceaseless itching. He straightened his robes and made himself more presentable as he reached the bottom. Proceeding through the great double doors, he arrived at the inner sanctuary where High Priestess Mirashtra would hold court.

Sure enough, waiting in the grand foyer were four orcs and their human slave. Although perhaps not a slave. Zolgrim scrutinized the fine garments, golden circlet, necklace, and armbands adorning the human companion. The human stood in the foreground, almost as an equal to the orcs instead of cowering behind.

“Ah, hopefully you can help,” the human spoke to Zolgrim, “We are passing through to continue North toward the Bastion. We require some supplies and accommodations for the evening.”

Zolgrim was speechless and looked uneasily at the orcs on either side of the man. They remained stone-faced and silent as they allowed the human to speak for them.

“They are with me,” the man indicated the orcs, “As protection.”

The man’s raised arm was briefly exposed, and the fabric bulged against the flexing of his biceps. It was clear his entire body was rippling with incredible muscles and his very presence exuded strength and virility. The idea this man needed the orcs for protection was almost laughable.

“I’m afraid they cannot enter the city,” Zolgrim shook his head, “It is law, set down during the formation of the Votu Alliance. We occasionally purchase, or as I like to say ‘liberate,’ a servant from their selection, but beyond these transactions they never set foot beyond these halls.”

“Many things are changing within the Savage Plains,” the man persisted, “King Tetlak wishes to renegotiate the terms of this alliance. I am but a humble emissary sent to present these arguments before the High Counsel at the Bastion.”

The elevated status of this human among this group of orcs began to make some sense. The Bastion would never meet with an orc, but a human emissary may have a better chance. It was not unheard of for the orcs to completely break a human slave to the point that they would betray their own kind. Perhaps this man was simply obedient, but it was hard to imagine such a strong specimen submitting easily. What fearsome creature was this King Tetlak? And how had he defeated the notorious Rom Hammerfist?

“I will send word of your intentions and speak with my superior Ojahir-Mirashtra. Who might I say is here to represent the Orc King Tetlak?”

“The orc king has honored me with the title Simon Kingmaker.”

“Indeed,” Zolgrim nodded nervously, “I will get someone to find you proper accommodations while we deliberate and send word of your request.”

Zolgrim passed along several orders to servants and ensured the guests were well cared for and most importantly always watched. He summoned Shassa to personally report to him if the orcs or their human strayed too far from their apartments. Then Zolgrim descended once more to the lower chambers and discovered his superior in her office.

“This had better be important, Zolgrim,” the woman commented without looking up from her writing. She was a noble and radiant serpent folk with rare reddish skin tones. Her rich silk robes and ornamentation betrayed her high station within the temple. Around her neck hung the symbol of Raigar’s left hand which in the old speech was synonymous with the word for moon.

“Ojahir-Mirashtra, I have just encountered a human in the company of orcs.”

“Hardly the most shocking thing I’ve heard today,” Mirashtra glanced up annoyed.

“Allow me to explain,” Zolgrim began as he recounted his brief meeting with Simon Kingmaker. Mirashtra’s unease grew.

“The Bastion would never allow such a thing,” Mirashtra spoke when Zolgrim finished.

“As I suspected,” Zolgrim nodded, “but if the human should wish to proceed alone?”

“That may be a possibility, but I would not offer such a solution willingly. It’d be better off if they just return to the Savage Plains and leave it be.”

“Understood, Ojahir-Mirashtra.”

“How go the preparations?”

“I’ve been distracted, but only a minor inconvenience. We shall be well prepared when the Archfiend arrives.”

“I expect nothing less. Now leave me, this sermon will not write itself.”

“Your prose, as always, will surely inspire and elucidate.”

“And apply oils to your scales, Zolgrim, I don’t need you fidgeting and itching before our guests.”

“I didn’t realize I had done so…”

Embarrassed, Zolgrim left the high priestess in peace. The afternoon wore on with much hustle and bustle in preparation for the evening’s festivities. Zolgrim was relieved when another priest arrived from another sanctuary, on the far side of Votu N’Saga, to help prepare. Zolgrim took the opportunity for a much-needed break. He found Shassa and listened to her report on the human and his orc companions. Apparently, the human had requested to see some of the city and then retired back to his chamber with the orcs.

Zolgrim found a quiet hall to rub his scaly skin and quite unconsciously he found himself in the west hall where the guest apartments were located. He had flashes in his mind about the human’s bulging muscles beneath the fine white garments. The way the cloth clung to his flesh left little to the imagination. Zolgrim had never looked at a human with any type of lascivious thoughts, but this human had evoked in him his deepest desires.

Zolgrim felt a rush as he stood outside the doors to the apartment, he could feel his dual hemipenes begin to swell below his waist. For now, they were just fleshy lumps swelling beneath his robes, but the pleasure he felt allowed his mind to abandon the thought of the constant itching.

Easing the door open, Zolgrim could hear soft moaning within. He eased the outer door closed and peered through the slightly ajar inner door to the chamber. There he could make out Simon Kingmaker looking directly at him. He gulped and pressed himself against the wall where he could not be seen. But after a moment to process the scene, he realized he had not been spotted.

Simon was rising up and down in a synchronized bobbing motion. His exposed muscular, upper body was all that could be seen above the back side of the sofa. His eyes were not focused on anything, but glossed over in the throes of passion. He moaned softly as he pleasured himself. One of the orcs came into view, completely naked, with the most massive erect shaft Zolgrim had ever seen. The orc stood on the edge of the sofa and Simon eagerly took it into his mouth.

Subconsiously Zolgrim was eager to leave as his body trembled with disbelief, but something kept him rooted in place. Zolgrim stood in spellbound as his two hemipenes began to expand and grow into two pink, fleshy, conical erections. Zolgrim rubbed them absently beneath his robes as he watched the scene unfold.

Simon rode one orc for a time, clearly enjoying the full feeling of the orc’s massive cock, then the orcs traded off and laid Simon on his back. They filled Simon from both sides and at last one of them expelled copious amounts of seed into Simon’s rectum. Simon rose from the sofa, not brutalized or beaten by the experience but somehow rejuvenated. His eyes were glowing yellow from some inner light.

“We demand more,” the human spoke with a gravelly voice, foreign to Zolgrim’s ears. Simon had sounded kind and compassionate, but this creature was driven only by lust and power.

The orcs obeyed his command without question, filling Simon again and again with their massive erections. Simon was thrown over the sofa and penetrated with such force that wet slapping sounds began to fill the chamber. The wet slurping of Simon’s eager asshole, already filled with semen, was audible and arousing.

Few humans would be able to breed with a serpent folk, but as Zolgrim stood aroused and swollen with lust, he knew that Simon would be able to take both of his hemipenes deep and never bat an eye. Even with both cocks, Zolgrim could never match the size and brutality of even one of these orcs. It was a rare sight, and the sudden pleasure after so many years of repressing these feelings was unbearable. Zolgrim caught himself moaning and quickly through his hand over his mouth. He pressed himself against the wall and listened.

The brutal onslaught of orc dicks pounding Simon did not abate. The slapping of flesh so loud that they did not hear Zolgrim’s outburst. So Zolgrim looked again, his mind eager to absorb more.

Both orcs were now holding Simon aloft. Simon clung to one of them around the neck as he was lowered down onto the massive shaft. The second orc supported Simon from behind and helped him ride up and down as the other orc held his legs splayed open in meaty fists. After a time of riding, Simon looked back at the second orc.

“Do it,” Simon growled, “I know how much you want to.”

The second orc didn’t hesitate and began trying to insert his own orc cock along with the first. Simon cried out as the second orc’s cock head stretched and obliterated his hole. The ass proved to be too tight and both orc’s cocks came flopping out because of the strain. It was only a momentary set back for Simon as he demanded they try again.

Zolgrim stood holding his breath, he felt like he was miles away from his body and was glimpsing an impossible dream as only unbridled lust could conjure. Those dreams late in the night that would leave your undergarments damp with unexpressed need. Only in a dream could a human body be so used to please two massive orc cocks at the same time.

But it was not a dream and for the briefest of moments Simon was riding both orc cocks at once as he screamed and growled like some sort of beast. His body for the briefest moments became that of a beast; swollen with muscles and gleaming with sweat. Both orcs quickly began to ejaculate as the tight hole squeezed on their massive shafts. Thick wet ropes of cum dripped from Simon’s hole as his body grew rigid and hard. Simon threw back his head and laughed in triumph. An unearthly, dual voice that sent shivers down Zolgrim’s spine.

Zolgrim watched Simon find his feet again and then look calmly for his robe. Any other human would have been broken and unable to walk after such an experience. Zolgrim knew his time to slip away had come, it appeared from the sight of the orcs’ deflating phalli that the sex was over. Zolgrim turned his back and took a step away and then he froze.

“Don’t go,” Simon spoke from within the inner chamber.

Zolgrim felt his dry throat click as he tried to swallow. He turned nervously around and found Simon standing in the doorway. Simon had thrown his white robe casually over his broad shoulders, but the front of the robe was still open. Zolgrim could not help but look down the sculpted ridges of the abdomen and the treasure trail of hair that radiated out below the naval. Simon’s shaft hung semi-hard between his legs almost as large and girthy as that of the orcs. It was an inhuman marvel protruding from the most extraordinary human Zolgrim had ever seen.

“Did you like it?” Simon asked.

“I…” Zolgrim tried to find his voice, “I shouldn’t b-be here.”

“Why did you come here?”

“To see you, I suppose.”

“Did you find what you expected?”

“I found…” Zolgrim considered, “I found so much more.”

Simon closed the distance between them and Zolgrim found himself unable to react or recoil, even when Simon’s hand reached out and caressed his hemipenes from over the top of his robes.

“This is different,” Simon remarked calmly, “You have two penises?”

“I suppose you can say that,” Zolgrim nodded. His body was tingling and he felt light-headed in response to Simon’s delicate touch. His body wanted so much more, but his heart was pounding nervously.

“Do you want me to give you pleasure?” Simon asked seductively, practically whispering right next to Zolgrim’s auditory canal.

“It…” Zolgrim spoke with some effort, “would be forbidden. I have taken an oath of chastity.”

Simon quickly removed his hand and stepped away.

“I understand,” Simon cleared his throat, “I momentarily forgot you were a man of faith. I would not want to make you do something you might regret.”

“You wouldn’t make me… I want it more than I thought possible,” Zolgrim almost whimpered; tears were in his eyes at the absence of Simon’s hand. It took every ounce of Zolgrim’s will to stay in place and not get on his knees and beg for Simon.

“From what I understand,” Simon smiled and casually closed his robes, “you are preparing for a great event tonight.”

The change in subject left Zolgrim disarmed for a moment. It took time to remember where he was and all the responsibilities that existed outside of the room. His mind didn’t want to come back from the pleasurable dream land to which it had escaped, however brief.

“Yes,” Zolgrim cleared his throat, “Tonight is the night of the new moon and we must make a sacrifice to Raigar to protect his people through the darkness. The Archfiend, who is ruler of the serpent folk will come and pay tribute to our god.”

“Are outsiders allowed to attend?” Simon asked, “I would be very much interested to see the festivities.”

Zolgrim looked at the man’s face now. He didn’t see the strong beast who had exuded power and control over two massive orc men, but the face of a boy who was innocent and eager to see the world. Zolgrim was certain the excitement of seeing and experiencing something new was not a ploy to gain access or calculated in any way.

“Who are you?” Zolgrim asked under his breath.

“If it is too much of an inconvenience for an outsider to attend,” Simon spoke as if he didn’t hear Zolgrim, “I would understand.”

“I would be honored,” Zolgrim spoke after a moment, “but the orcs must remain behind. They have never been allowed into the temple and that would take higher authorization than I can give.”

“I understand,” Simon nodded, “Send someone to escort me when the time comes, and I will see you there.”

* * * *

As night fell, Simon prepared himself with all the fine ornamentation and golden circlet of his new position.

Simon recalled the seriousness with which Tetlak had bestowed the title of Kingmaker. Gathering the orcs and advisors closest to him they had taken gold items from their own body or coins from their pocket and added it to the smelter. Tetlak had the molten gold poured into a mold and they had all watched the fine golden circlet be made. It was so slender and almost effeminate in its style and any orc would have felt ridiculous in it. But on Simon, Tetlak commented that it accentuated the powerful young man’s beauty and grace.

Simon wore the circlet with the same reverence with which it had been given.

There were still plenty of enemies within the tribal leaders and those loyal to Magister Sylas, who had yet to be captured. They had to tread carefully and come up with a reasonable pretense by which Simon could take his leave to the Bastion. The idea of peace with the human nations was a lofty and noble one, but the reality of such a thing was unlikely. Many of the orcs were satisfied, assuming the new orc king was simply sending Simon on a fool’s errand to be killed in the process. But Tetlak had chosen his two most trusted companions from his years in the kingsguard to escort Simon north.

“You should not go,” Fogrot snorted as Simon finished dressing.

“You worried about me?”

“We need not stop here. Continue North.”

“Fogrot speaks true,” Rummert nodded, “Why stop here?”

Simon considered the question and felt some embarrassment about his motivations. The truth was he’d wanted to see the civilization of the legendary serpent folk. He had wanted to gaze up at the awesome statue of Raigar that stood over the city. He had desired company of individuals who were not brutish orcs. He had descended so far into a den of beasts controlled by lust and the will to dominate that he had started to become one himself.

“And what is wrong with that?” Yidian had sneered inside.

Simon had almost forced that serpent to submit to him earlier. It would have taken little effort and that priest would have filled him with his two cocks. The idea of being fucked by a person with two was still so intoxicating. But the beast had to be controlled or Simon would be lost.

“It is just something I must do,” Simon finally responded to the two orcs, “If I’ve not returned by morning, then you can tear this temple apart to find me.”

Both orcs smiled eagerly at the prospect of getting to rampage through the temple.

Simon left the apartment and was escorted by a bashful serpent girl named Shassa. Shassa had been kind enough to arrange a small tour of the city earlier in the day for Simon. But Simon knew the kindness and the armed escort were not to protect him but to keep an eye on him. They had likely never seen a human who commanded the respect and loyalty of orcs before.

The Temple of Raigar was beautiful at night, lit only by the glow of candles and bathed in a sweet and tangy fragrance. Throngs of people filled the space and those who could not attain the honor of standing in the temple proper were gathered down the steps and in the city streets. As far as Simon could see there were humans and serpent folk packed shoulder to shoulder. It was possible the whole city had arrived for this ceremony. As a guest, Simon was given the honor of standing within the temple near a large stone column. He smirked as he noted the armed serpent guards watching him.

The serpent from earlier, Zolgrim, was now following behind a serpent woman in extravagant robes. Zolgrim maintained a different posture around her, one of deference and servitude. The woman had unique color to her scales and in the candlelight she was practically blood-red. Paired with her many hooped earrings and nose piercing she had a formidable presence that could not be denied.

“People of N’Saga!” the woman cried triumphantly and pumped both hands into the air. The voice was propelled by magic as it echoed off into the distance and through the streets of the city. The roar of the crowd began to subside as the ceremony began.

“We gather on the night of the New Moon… when we are farthest from the protective right hand of our god! Raigar has given us the ground beneath our feet and the harvests that spring forth. All the beasts of the land must bow down and kiss the feet of Raigar in thanksgiving! The god without which, we would not exist! The only god to take mercy upon those crawling upon his surface! We are but insects in the eyes of our god and we must be grateful for each day he allows us to draw breath! The cold grasp of Vale is never far and, in the night, her presence is strongest. It is in the darkest times that we must remain steadfast to our protector and our provider. And in the darkest times we must be willing to sacrifice of our own gifts to appease our god.”

Zolgrim disappeared to the side of the altars and the High Priestess swept a hand to her left. A noble serpent with dark black scales stepped forward. He was dressed not in robes or ornamentation, but the full regalia of a knight prepared for battle. Simon would have believed this man had seen real combat, but the armor had not as it gleamed gloriously in the candlelight.

“Archfiend Jalwa!” the woman continued, “As leader and protector of N’Saga we ask that you share in this sacrifice! Let the power of Raigar the Earth fill your being and may his left hand guide you even in our darkest hours.”

“Thank you, Ojahir-Mirashtra,” the Archfiend nodded solemnly and then he approached the foot of the statue. Everyone watched in silence as the armored leader knelt before the statue of his god and kissed the feet. When the leader took a knee, Simon followed along with the crowd as everyone also fell to their knees. Some even lay prostrated fully upon the ground as they also kissed the earth beneath their feet. Archfiend Jalwa raised his head to gaze up at the statue and his lips moved in inaudible prayer to his god.

Simon had no idea how long they remained in this position, but the moment seemed to stretch on forever. He was almost relieved when the Archfiend finally rose, but the people remained kneeling. Zolgrim came back into the temple with a bleating goat, which was led by a rope.

“Spawned from the dust, molded by your hands, fed and nurtured by your creation,” Ojahir-Mirashtra laid a hand upon the goat, “This creature is a blessing, providing milk and joy to those who dwell in the temple. I freed her with my own hand from her mother’s womb and held the bloody youngling in my arms. Her flesh will go on to feed your followers and provide life-giving nourishment. But in this moment, this creature is all of us. Each of us who walk upon your hollowed ground and draw breath. Any wrongdoing or doubt as we walk our path of faith can be seen in this creature’s eyes. Our lives, our flesh, and our devotion are yours.”

Simon almost gasped as the High Priestess pulled out a knife and slashed the goat’s throat. Blood spurted out on the temple floor and Zolgrim hurried to catch some of the blood in a chalice. The goat crumpled to the ground and made awful gurgling sounds as it choked on its own blood. Its wide eyes never closed as they all watched it struggle and finally grow still. Simon felt a tear fall down his cheek and realized he was holding his breath.

“This sacrifice for you,” Ojahir-Mirashtra took the chalice from Zolgrim and raised it high, “For Raigar!”

“For Raigar!” the crowd suddenly shouted, leaping victoriously to their feet. There was chaos and shouts of praise and thanksgiving. Everywhere people were giving over to the emotion of the moment and appreciating the life they were given. The god had been appeased and a sacrifice had been offered in the darkest hours.

Mirashtra offered the chalice to the Archfiend and Jalwa raised it up.

“For Raigar!” he roared, “May he guide me!”

Jalwa drank from the chalice and the blood of the goat, the blood of Raigar’s people, became a part of him.