A Rogue's Quest

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This is my first attempt at writing anything substantial, feedback is appreciated!

Night was falling. The sun was low and the very last rays of light were that of smouldering embers. To the eyes of any regular man this light would be just barely enough to see by. They would stumble and peer sharply at the path in front of them before quickly conceding defeat and lighting a torch. But to Duncan it might as well have been noon, with the sun directly overhead.

Duncan had, just a night ago, had a warlock augment his eyes, as payment for procuring some ingredients. Naturally this involved little foraging or haggling with shopkeeps, instead leading Duncan into the wilds to slay various dangerous beasts and monsters. When Duncan had returned, his knapsack heavy, stinking and stained with various bloods and bodily fluids, the warlock had offered him a choice of reward. First, and most obvious, the warlock offered a coffer of gold and silver; second the warlock offered three bottles from his stocks of tinctures elixirs and potions. Thirdly, and most intriguingly, the warlock had offered to augment Duncan's body.

"I can bestow upon you the keen hearing of a jape rabbit, or the sight of an archer hawk. I could strengthen your soles, that they never tire or ache, or I can thicken your skin, to protect against but the sharpest of blades." The warlock had said.

Duncan had always hated warlocks, they prattled on too much, full of self importance and hot air. It was if they would float away if they didn't expel as much as they could, as often as possible.

Still though, the warlock's offer had piqued Duncan's interest, and a thought began to form in his mind. A small smirk played across Duncan's lips, before he stifled it and straightened his face in preparation for haggling.

"I am awed by your generosity, o great warlock. Many before you have viewed my payment as merely a dirty afterthought, tossing a bag of coin at me and sneering as they left." Duncan gushed.

Warlocks were particularty vulnerable to flattery, and even the most wooden of actors may find success with this tact, such is a warlock's ego. Luckily for Duncan, he had honed his craft over

many years of lying and stealing, often fooling city guards and brainless bandits

"But I find myself dismayed at the opportunity you so benevolently present to me." Duncan continued, making as much use of his lexicon as possible, to further engender the warlock's fondness for him, and hopefully, make him more malleable in negotiations

"And why is that young warrior?" The warlock asked, taking the bait.

"So few of us in our lives find ourselves in the debt of a powerful warlock, fewer still are presented with the opportunity to enhance themselves further than the gods intended. I am very aware of the peril of choosing poorly and coming to regret my choice in the future." Duncan

explained, injecting all the gravitas he could muster.

The warlock smirked, the flattery had had its intended effect, which made his long, dirty grey beard rise almost comically to one side

"I believe that I can gather what it is you are angling towards ser and I am willing to come to a compromise. I shall enchant you in one facet immediately, you shall gather one more vital ingredient for me. Then on your return I shall grant you once more the opportunity to improve yourself. Do we have an accord?"

Duncan dropped to his knees.

"O wise one, you are as magnanimous as you are magnificent. I promise I shall make haste to fulfil our agreement, and you shall have your boon on the morrow." With his head lowered, and his face hidden from the warlock Duncan grimaced, he had definitely overdone it with his last

sentence. He could only hope that the warlock would not notice his efforts to sound more scholarly.

"Rise then, young warrior, and allow me to bestow upon you my first gift." The warlock declared.

Duncan stood, and the warlock placed his hands on his shoulders.

"What is your choice?"

Duncan considered for a second before answering.

"I would ask for the sight of a feline, so I may see as clear at dusk as one may at noon. And to see at night as one may see at dusk." Said Duncan.

The warlock nodded solemnly.

"Very well, a fine choice for a warrior indeed."

The warlock removed his hands from Duncan's shoulders and moved to the centre of the room, where a wide, black metal bowl stood upon a podium of ornate brickwork. He raised his hands over the bowl and began speaking in an ancient tongue, his voice echoing around the chamber.

At once the candles lighting the room began to flicker, their flames growing and being pulled toward the bowl. In a flash the candles had extinguished, the flames stolen from them by the bowl, which by this time had began crackling fervently. Huge fingers of flame were dancing from the bowl, their colour that of a cloudless sky. Duncan was cowed by this, uncertain of his greed that compelled him to seek enhancement, and regretful that he hadn't just accepted the coin as payment.

The warlock's chanting grew in intensity, and in the echoes Duncan was sure he could hear another voice, different to the warlock's, deeper, with an otherworldly quality.

The warlock's chanting reached a crescendo, and he turned suddenly, flinging his hands toward Duncan.

Duncan almost flinched, and later he would almost wish that he had, because the flames followed the warlock's hands as if they were connected. The flames leapt from the bowl and struck Duncan directly in the face, plunging him into darkness.

When he awoke his face was hot and the light was almost blinding, then his eyes adjusted, and the light merely became uncomfortably bright.

"You will need some time to adjust to the change. Your eyes will be particularly sensitive to light for the rest of the night. I would recommend you find an inn to rest." The warlock explained.

Duncan squinted and sat up. He nodded his assent to the warlock's advice as he stood.

"Very well, I'm sure I can find a room in the town."

"I must also warn you that your appearance may be a little disconcerting to others."

Duncan gulped, he had hoped that the warlock's magic would simply bestow the gift of night sight without affecting his looks.

"How so?" Duncan asked warily.

"In sunlight your pupils will be like pinpricks, only at dusk will your eyes appear as normal, and at darkest night it will be as if your eyes had no colour at all."

Duncan let out a shaky breath, it was not as bad as he had imagined. He had expected the warlock to tell him that his eyes were feline in looks as well as function. While he conceded that that would act as effective intimidation, he was not prepared to live the rest of his days looking like some half-breed freak.

"I can handle that." Duncan said gruffly.

"Now what is this ingredient you wish me to fetch?"

"Hush, rest now. Return on the morrow and we shall discuss your task."

With that Duncan left the warlock's tower on the outskirts of the town, and made for the nearest inn. The light was soft, a scant hour perhaps from dusk, yet Duncan found himself squinting all the way through his short journey, and battling against a throbbing headache emanating from behind his eyes.

He found an inn on the fringes of the town and made his way inside. Luckily there were several rooms available, much of the inn's business having been snatched up by a higher class establishment in the centre of the town. Not that Duncan minded, any bed was more like to be comfortable than the bedroll he had become accustomed to, sleeping a few hundred yards off of roads, most like on hard ground. Every so often he had found small clearings, with a thick carpet of soft moss on which to make camp for the night. These were rare treats, and sorely appreciated after long days of travelling.

Duncan also purchased some food, a hearty, if plain, stew of rabbit and root vegetables that warmed him through and left him comfortably full. Afterwards he retired to his room, and on the straw mattress within, fell into a troubled sleep, fraught with night terrors and echoes of the otherworldly voice he had heard in the warlock's tower.

In the morning he broke his fast with oatmeal and a slice of salted bread, and while he chewed, his mind wandered. What was this ingredient the warlock desired? Why had he not asked for it in the first place? Why was he so eager to grant Duncan's wish of another enhancement? After considerable thought he couldn't help but conclude that the warlock had played him like a fiddle, and that he had gotten himself into a dangerous situation.

Duncan left the inn with a knot in his stomach. He was a skilled fighter, more adept with daggers than any in the world, or so he would wager, and proficient with longer blades. His reactions and speed had often caught his adversaries by surprise, and he could tell by the abject terror in their eyes that he was unlike any foe that many of his enemies had even witnessed, let alone faced.

Yet still he could not help but feel some fear at the warlock's task. That the warlock would hide his request behind the promise of a second enchantment meant that it would surely be life threatening, and like to test Duncan more thoroughly than anything he had encountered before.

Duncan was thankful to the Gods that his eyes had recovered while he slept. He could only imagine the agony that the morning sun would cause.

When he arrived at the warlock's tower, he found the warlock standing outside, waiting for him

"Good morrow young warrior!" The warlock called to him.

"And to you, good wizard"

"I see you have gotten used to your new sight" the warlock said, nodding self-assuredly.

"And praise be to the Gods that I have, the morning light would surely have rendered me a quivering mess elsewise."

The warlock laughed.

"Aye, had I not performed the ritual at dusk, I would have surely had to send you away in a falcon's cap" He jested

Duncan too laughed, tickled at the thought of himself stumbling around blindly under a cap.

"To business then," The warlock declared, "I need you to bring me the head of a jabberwock. Intact, I have need of the teeth, and the venom it produces besides."

Duncan was taken aback. Jabberwocks were more the stuff of legend and myth than of reality. They were said to be 10 foot tall, sporting thick scales and long knife-like claws, with the ability

to spit acid and, as the warlock had said, possessed a venomous bite, They were popular stories to be told at bed time, Duncan's own mother, before she passed, had regaled him with tales of brave heroes traveling the length of the kingdom and ridding towns and villages of jabberwocks that had eaten whole flocks of sheep or cows.

"l'm sorry, I may have misheard. Did you say jabberwock?" Duncan asked incredulously

"You did not mishear, their venom is amongst the rarest of substances in the realm, especially since they've nearly been hunted to extinction. But I have heard whisperings of one that has taken residence in a cave, only a half day's ride from here."

So the stories were true, thought Duncan. But the stories were told of groups of heroes and men slaying the beasts, Duncan had never heard of a single man battling against one.

"You expect me to attack this monster alone?" Duncan asked

"Alone, or you can hire some brave sellswords. How you complete the task is of no interest to me, so long as I am brought the head." The warlock replied smugly

Fucking warlocks, Duncan thought

Very well," said Duncan tersely "Point me in the right direction and you'll have the head."

And so with that Duncan began his journey along the Knightsroad in search of the cave with its fatal lodger. He had called upon every small village and town he came across along his journey.

in search of sellswords to rally to his cause. He had promised them everything he could, gold, glory, women. But every one of them baulked the minute he revealed the target of his quest. Either they laughed in his face and called him a fool for believing the warlock, or they told him in no uncertain terms that they were quite fond of living, and had no interest in giving up their life for some gold and women.

Night was now falling and Duncan was certain he would come across the cave in a matter of minutes. The warlock had described to him how he would know he was near. Firstly the cave was just past a sign that pointed out the nearest villages, a small village with an inn and not much besides was around a mile past the cave. Secondly there was a large boulder, cracked almost in half, covered in lichen and moss, that sat next to a small trail that led to a hot spring. The cave was in the woods near the hot spring, the warlock had been no more specific than that, a fact that once again left Duncan cursing both his current situation, and the warlock.

Mere minutes later Duncan came upon the boulder. Large was an understatement, the rock must've been 20 feet tall, and 10 or 12 feet across, but its size made it conspicuous, along with the obvious crack in its face. Duncan found the trail, barely a foot wide and with grass trying to grow through the hardened ground, as if it had not been trod in a long while. Most like

due to tales of a jabberwock Duncan though bitterly. Still, he pressed on and into the forest.

His newly acquired sight was most assuredly coming in handy as he made his way deeper and deeper into the trees. The path had returned to nature many yards ago and Duncan was having to weave in and out of trees in order to continue forwards. After ducking under a low limb and carefully picking his way through a thorny bush Duncan suddenly found himself in a clearing.

The ground was entirely covered with moss of a deep healthy green. It felt thick and soft underfoot and was immensely satisfying to step upon. Most eye catching by far was the spring in the centre of the clearing.

It was almost perfectly round, with one edge protruding outwards by a few feet. Steam was rising from the surface of the water, hinting to its temperature, and the water was a mesmerising sapphire blue.

Duncan walked towards it, drawn by its beauty and heat. He peered down into the water and saw that beside a small ledge encircling the whole pond, the centre of the pool had no bottom that he could see. While he was standing over the spring, almost hypnotised by the deep blue hue of the water, he heard a rustling, and then the snapping of a twig under foot.

Duncan spun, rapidly drawing a dagger with each hand and dropping into a fighting stance, his left arm extended holding the dagger backhand, his right arm drawn back, ready to hurl the dagger at any enemy that revealed itself.

Instead of an enemy though, a young woman emerged from the woods, a flaming torch in hand. She was a vision nearly as enrapturing as the pool. She was a head shorter than Duncan, with long flowing blonde hair, and a bust that was straining against her bodice.

She looked up and saw Duncan, daggers in hand and ready to fight and she let out a shocked gasp. She held her hands out in front of her, dropping the torch, and spoke in a panic.

"Please don't hurt me, I came only to bathe in the pool. I will leave the pool to you."

Duncan relaxed out of his stance and stood at ease, returning the daggers to their scabbards on each thigh.

"I am sorry fair maiden, I did not mean to scare you. Please, come, bathe. Perhaps we could bathe together, I have been on the road all day and the water looks very inviting."

The young woman hesitated, picking up her fallen torch, before stepping closer.

"How do you know I'm a maiden?" She asked, tilting her head.

"I saw no ring on your finger when you thought I was going to skewer you." Duncan replied.

She nodded gently, satisfied with Duncan's answer, before walking confidently towards him.

"I may be unmarried, but I am no maiden. And I'm thinking that maybe I would like a skewering." She said in a seductive tone as she passed by Duncan, untying her bodice as she walked.

Duncan stood perplexed for a moment, and when he turned to reply the young woman was just slipping into the water, completely naked. She glided across the pool and came to rest on the opposite side, sitting on the small ledge, with her arms outstretched on the mossy carpet.

The water distorted and blocked the view of her body, but what Duncan could see he liked very much.

She smirked at him and in a teasing voice asked

"Am I to be bathing alone after all? Is somebody shy?" She giggled.

"Not shy my lady, merely aware that you will see my body without revealing your own." Duncan replied.

"Very well good ser" she said, before bringing her feet up onto the ledge and standing. Her body was a magnificent pale hourglass with thick thighs, and the water streaming off of her only served to make the sight more tantalising. Her breasts were almost gravity defying, they were huge but perky, sitting high on her chest. Her nipples had hardened from the cool air and they were surrounded by light pink, slightly protruding areolas.

Duncan got a good long look and could feel his cock stiffening by the time she sat back down in the water. He took this as a hint and began to remove his clothes. He untied his tunic and pulled it over his head, revealing toned muscles and many scars. He could feel the woman's eyes on him as he bent to remove the daggers from their sheaths, before placing them next to the pool. He had learned from experience that in times of vulnerability it was always best to have his weapons easily accessible. Next he began to remove his trousers, pulling them down slowly to tease the young woman.

Duncan's cock was only semi hard, but he was blessed by the gods in this department and his length and girth even now was enough to draw a reaction. The woman gasped and bit her lip as Duncan exposed himself, kicking his trousers to the side. He walked the short distance to the edge of the pool, his manhood and his balls swaying with each step.

He lowered himself into the water and sighed appreciatively at the warmth. It was as if he had slipped into a bath of the perfect temperature, and after a long day of walking it served perfectly to relax his muscles.

"So, brave adventurer, perhaps we should exchange names before we get to the skewering." Said the young woman, reaching across the pool to extend her hand "my name is Arabell."

Duncan took her hand and shook it.

"Duncan. And you're serious about fucking?" He almost didn't want to ask, but he hadn't come across many women as forthright with their desires, and none that were from small villages, whom tended to be more reserved.

Arabell smiled "You said yourself you've been on the road all day, what better way to finish a long day than by sticking your cock in a wet cunt?"

"I can think of one better," Duncan countered before lifting himself out of the water to sit on the moss, his feet on the underwater ledge. He took his cock in his right hand and began to stroke himself slowly. "Having a young beauty suckle on your cock before you stick it in her cunt."

Arabell took the hint and gracefully moved through the water, coming to a rest between Duncan's legs. Duncan let go of his cock and his hand was replaced with Arabell's. She began to stroke it, slowly and gently, her grip almost as soft as her hands. With her other hand she cupped his balls, caressing them and rolling them in her hand. Duncan let a small moan escape his throat and he could see a smile forming on Arabell's lips.

The smile disappeared as she opened her mouth and began eagerly licking the underside of his cock, slobbering lustily before taking the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue as she suckled and bobbed her head. Duncan's head rolled back in pleasure as Arabell took more and more of his length with each bob. Duncan was very well endowed, measuring around eight inches when hardened and with considerable girth, and Arabell, to her credit, was taking it expertly. Many women had struggled to take more than half of his length in their mouth, gagging and sputtering before giving up and using their hands instead. Duncan was considering this, and how good a cocksucker Arabell truly was, when she suddenly changed her angle of approach slightly and took all of his cock, the head pushing down into her throat and her nose pressing firmly against his crotch.