Goblin Wives -- Arden Valley Pt 1
© JAKwriter aka writerJAK -- December 2023
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Fucking cocksucker! Where is that gods damned asshole!
Yeah...I'm Jak: Jak from Arden, Jak from Arden Valley, Jak from Greystone, Jak from...well, you get the idea. I'm a Hedge Wizard from the scenic village of Arden, in the Arden Valley, in the foothills of the Greystone Mountains. We're a bunch of hicks on the outskirts of civilization. Last town on the western edge of all the great empires that are and used to be, at least that's what all the visitors tell us.
So, what am I ranting and raving about? Well, that cock sucking 19 year old asshole Chadwick, don't call me Chad, son of the Harlan, the self-proclaimed leader of our little burg, has gotten himself lost. So, Mommy and Daddy have me out looking for him. It's only late fall and the first major winter storm is only a few days out. How do I know? 'Cause I'm a Hedge Wizard! Besides, anyone with half a brain can feel the weather changing for the worse.
What's a Hedge Wizard? It's the male version of a Hedge Witch. Still confused? OK, it means I never went to any of those fancy schools, academies, colleges, monasteries, and what not where you have instructors who spend decades teaching all the wonderful ins and outs of magic. Hedge Wizards, and Witches, are self-taught. Sometimes we're lucky enough to have a grimoire or two handed down over the generations. I'm luckier than most, since a mage fleeing the destruction of the Daylen left most of his library in his manor, the ruins of which are part of the current village of Arden. A past Hedge Wizard or Witch found them and kept them safe, passed down for 600 or so years.
One other tidbit about Hedge Wizards, and Witches, is that we aren't like the pansy assed mages from the finer parts of the world. Unlike them, we don't need a dozen or more guards to keep us safe any time we walk out the door. When we leave our homes, we kick ass and take names. No assistance is necessary.
THAT is why I'm walking out of Arden all by my lonesome. Well, not completely alone. I sent my familiar off ahead to scout around for Chad. My familiar is a Raven, a big assed Raven, name Biscuit. Why Biscuit? 'Cause we bonded just after she stole a biscuit out of my hand when I was still a lad of eight years, some 45 years ago, when I was learning magic from Hedge Witch Greybel.
The raven stole the biscuit. I chased after her. She dropped it. I caught up. As she grabbed the biscuit, I looked her in the eye. Next thing you know, she's talking to me in my head. Greybel explained I now had a familiar. Overall, a good thing, but Biscuit is really bossy, almost like a wife. Sometimes I wonder if she really thinks she IS my wife.
Anyhow, I keep rambling. I really want to be home preparing for the storm. But that's why Harlan and Lianne, his wife, are paying me five silvers to find him. They want him home before the storm hits.
Five silvers may not seem like much, but it's enough to feed a family of six or seven for a couple of years. Confused? There's a 1000 silver in a gold, and 1000 coppers in a silver. Coppers are divided into halves, quarters, and tenths. Tenths are known as bits. Still confused? A quarter copper will buy a mug of beer in Arden's only tavern, a full copper if you aren't a local, and two or three if you are one of the stuck up prig adventurer types. So, five silvers are worth about 20,000 mugs of beer. Think about it for a minute...you're close....20,000 mugs of beer or the equivalent. That's a fucking LOT of money.
Arden mostly relies on barter, so Harlan offered money for two reasons. First, he doesn't have anything to trade with me and doesn't have anything I want. Lianne definitely has something to trade but I want nothing to do with the fucking bitch. The second reason was that he has money, silver, and some gold, and is pretty worried about his son.
Chad went out hunting. Wanted to find a 12-point buck before they started shedding their racks. The problem is the bucks started shedding their racks a month ago and it's pretty damned unlikely that any still have theirs. Didn't stop him though. Left three days ago and refused to take anyone with him. Big problem is Chad is the closest thing we have in Arden for a pansy assed man or woman. He gets in trouble even in town and definitely is NOT a hunter. Gods forbid what might happen to him in the "wilds" around the village. So, he snuck out one morning before dawn and hasn't been seen since.
So, we're back to where we started, just a bit farther out of town. Overall, the day was pretty nice. Probably the last nice day of the year. The sky is clear. The air is warmish. Definitely won't last, but nice for now.
Off to the west, are the Greystone Mountains. On the flank of one of the larger mountains is a black tower, standing out against the lighter stone around it. According to scholars who have visited it, the tower is 1000 feet tall, give or take a few feet, and 100 feet in diameter. The eggheads that have passed through Arden believe it was built a few thousand years ago by some wizard named Greystone. So, the mountains, and tower, are apparently named for him. Us hick locals have lots of pet names for it: Cock/Dick/Dildo/Finger/Middle Finger/etc.... In the winter, when the weather clears, the tower peak is usually covered in snow. Again, us hicks have a few other ideas what that white stuff might be.
Currently I'm on the ancient road through the valley that, eventually, leads to Greystone's tower. Checking in with Biscuit, looks like it's time to head off cross country into the Daylen Hills. We're triangulating, surprised we know a big word like that, on Chad's location. I've got one bearing and Biscuit has the other. Magic tracking is more of an art, so exact direction and distance are fuzzier the farther away you are. Best guess is he's at least five miles away, maybe six or so, putting him somewhere in the Arden Forest, just past the last of the Daylen hills and in the foothills of the Greystones.
The Daylen Hills are named for a guy named Daylen that built a fort, later a fortified manor/castle, one valley to the north of Arden. Someone attacked the place 600 years ago and it's been in ruins since. Scholarly and adventuring types have been passing through Arlen for centuries, off to the ruins to study and loot the remains.
Nothing of any value has been found in the Daylen ruins for twenty years. The hills and ruins are better used by us as grazing for our sheep. The payoff in wool and meat is more reliable and useful. But we still visit the ruins every spring before any outsiders show up. The last thing of any real value was found by Harlan twenty years ago, a gold ring. He thinks it's magical, but it's only a gold ring. Its "magic" is that just from metal content, it's worth 20 gold pieces. That's 80 million mugs of beer! It's amazing what things you can do when people think you are rich. It got him sheep, some trade deals, and his wife, Lianne, who is the youngest of six daughters of a trader who lives about two days travel from Arden. Best of all, in his view, he never had to sell or trade away his "magic" ring.
All this rambling has passed the time. I've entered Arlen Forest and between Biscuit and I, looks like Chad is a mile or two away. She's homing in and hopefully will report back soon. Meanwhile, I'm slogging through the underbrush, trying to follow game trails heading in the direction of Chad. It's slow going mostly because the trails weave through the forest. There's no straight or mostly straight line to take, like I could in the valley or the hills.
It's just past midday and I'm taking a break. Maybe a half mile to go. Maybe a bit less. Time to get a drink and eat. Hopefully, he's OK. Really don't want to have to heal him up enough to get home. Sure, don't want to haul his ass home either. Sniffing the air, yeah, that storm isn't going to hold off. Probably will start snowing by this time tomorrow. Chad better be OK and better be able to hoof it home ASAP.
Break done and Biscuit starts telling me to go back home. Forget Chad, just go home. Give back to Harlan the five silver pieces I hadn't actually gotten yet. Of course, the bird can't tell me WHY! I keep asking and it keeps telling me to turn around. One of those old books the Daylen mage left behind says a typical human uses about 10% of their brain. A mage uses about 15% and a familiar uses around 10%. So, a mage uses more brain power than normal due to having to sling magic. The familiar is using as much as a normal person. So why can't the fucking gods damned bird tell me WHY I should turn around?
Yeah, I know, trust your familiar. But you don't know Biscuit. Trust her with my life, but at least half the time, her definition of something bad happening is way overstated. And the other half, she's close, but rarely outside my definition. Remember, we're at the edge of civilization. No one is farther west than we are. That means all kinds of nasties are running amok and that's part of my JOB as a Hedge Wizard. Remember, kick ass, and take names.
Biscuit wasn't being helpful, so I started down a trail that looked like it would get me to Chad's location. Half an hour later, maybe a bit more, I came upon a clearing in the forest. There was Chad. There was Chad with SIX female goblins. Four were sprawled on the ground with a happy look on their faces, legs spread, and Chad's spooge leaking out of their cunts. Chad was plowing another one doggie. Her face was all tensed up, holding back her cum, waiting for Chad's. The sixth was jilling herself, keeping her pussy nice and wet for Chad for after he finished with number five.
They were typical goblins: green skin, between 5' and 5' 6", obviously female, red hair, dark purple/dark red lips, yellow irises, etc... Two of them had their cunts completely shaved, with one having small tits and the other medium. Two had trimmed but full bushes, both with larger tits. The one being fucked appeared to have a landing strip and a large rack that was bouncing back and forth as Chad kept pounding into her. She was definitely not shaved and definitely didn't have a full bush, but I wasn't exactly sure how furry she was. The one jilling herself had medium sized tits and a trimmed triangle of hair aimed at her clit and slit that she was very aggressively working with her fingers.
"Hey Chad, I see your OK. Your Mom and Dad want you home for dinner tonight."
"Uh....uh...yeah...as soon as I'm done here."
"Finish up and get moving. A storm is coming in tonight."