This is a fantasy story set in a fictitious land and in a time of medieval sorcery. All characters depicted are 18+. Although this story is in a time where safe sex is not heard of I would always recommend the practise of safe sex.
CHAPTER 4 -- The hunt is on
Abloo wakes up rubbing his head.
'Ow what the fuck hit me?' he thinks.
He looks around the shack, there's no one around, he walks outside, his horse is gone. He remembers what he was doing before he blacked out, damn he so wanted that boy's ass, he felt sure he was going to get it. He's gonna make Vernon pay for that. Where too is his bodyguard, not much of a bodyguard if he can't stop a couple of simple farmers from attacking him, he would fire him if he wasn't related.
He looks in the distance and sees a group of men on horseback heading towards him. Soon they reach him and dismount. They look like soldiers and he recognises the emblem as belonging to Lord Soltan.
"Good afternoon gentlemen can I help you?" he asks.
Phabian walks up to him while the others spread out.
"Maybe, we're looking for a boy and an old man, have you seen anything?"
"Not an old man, but a middle aged man and a young blond boy live here. And they attacked me."
"That's no concern of ours," he says dismissively.
"But they almost killed me!" Abloo protests.
"Sir over here!" A soldier shouts out. Phabian rushes over to the soldier and finds him standing over a grave. "It's fresh sir."
"Dig it up," he commands.
"Excuse me but that's my land your digging up!" Abloo pants catching up with them.
"And you are?"
"The landlord, I own this land."
"Well unless you want to end up in that grave with whoever is in there I suggest you shut the fuck up!"
Abloo stands there stunned.
Shortly they reach the body.
"It's an an old man, he looks like the one from last night," the soldier says.
"Does he have any injuries?" Phabian asks.
"Yes there's wounds in his back."
Phabian turns to Abloo, "Can you describe the man and the boy to me?"
"Well I'm sorry but I don't like your tone, I think an apology would be in order," Abloo foolishly says.
Phabian's hand shoots out and grabs him by the throat lifting him up. Despite his large size Abloo is almost on tip toes.
"Look you lowlife leach, either you tell me what I want to know or you share that grave with the old man in there."
"Well if you put it like that, he he" Phabian releases his grip, "The man is around 45, slim but muscled, dark hair and green eyes. The boy is of a similar height much thiner but toned too with beautiful blond hair and the biggest bluest eye's you've ever seen, oh and the prettiest ass too."
Phabian raises his eyebrow and Abloo, "How long ago did they leave?"
"Oh I'm not sure, they knocked me out," he looks up at the sun now heading for the horizon. "It was shortly after midday when I got here so a few hours I guess."
Phabian marches back to his mount, "We head south," he commands his soldiers.
"Wait! What about me, you're not going to leave me here?" Abloo protests.
They did.
Abloo sits on the step outside the shack cursing and rubbing the bump on the back of his head when he sees some more riders heading towards him. This time he recognises his bodyguard, the sheriff and a priest.
"Where the fuck have you been?" he shouts at his bodyguard.
"I ain't going back in, it's cursed!" he complains.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Abloo asks.
