The Song of Roland

Roland's eyes trailed across the length of the large tavern, watching the multitude of different peasants, merchants, knaves and drunkards sitting across, between and around each other as they all partook in one of the most ancient traditions of civilization: inebriation. There was little room, with the only real seats of substance at stools upon the bar itself, several customers having just left the space empty. As he strode to the bar, his eyes trailed across a few vagabonds who sat, wearing lamellar armor and bearing weapons as fearsome as his.

Fucking hell

. He thought to himself, as he realized he recognized them.

It's the Briar Dogs

.

Doing his best to be covert, Roland cautiously made his way across the noise-filled tavern and took a seat at the bar, signalling the aging bartender when he had a free moment. "Ale. Two mugs, as tall as you can make 'em." The fellow nodded and reached to get them. Placing two equally filled cups in front of him, the barkeep waddled onwards to further service. Roland stared into the foamy beverage before taking the mug and downing a mouthful. The sound of booted feet and clinking metal caused him to close his eyes, let out a sigh, and then slowly put down the mug.

"Well look who it is." He heard the gratingly familiar voice say behind him. "A red-headed stepchild and a dead man walking." Roland's back bristled, but he forced himself to remain calm, lifting the mug to his mouth and taking a second gulp. He didn't turn to look at them. They came from behind him, three sets of feet. The mercenary counted. One stepped loudly, like he was wearing plate The second was just as careless but clearly less burdened. The final one was almost indistinguishable, his soft footsteps only really becoming known as he and his compatriots circled him at the bar, entrapping him.

"I'm drinking." He said, pointedly ignoring them. "Piss off, will you?"

A hand placed itself firmly on Roland's shoulder, and he was forcefully turned to the left. The big brute in steel sneered at him, bald save for a patch of moustache gracing the line of his lips. His large, brown eyes would look good on a puppy... or an ogre. "So quick to forget your old friends, are we, Roland? I shouldn't be surprised."

"I said piss off, Jerric. I'm not in the mood to scrap with you or the boys." He knew all three of them: Sadsong Jerric, the blonde beauty with the bow Carl Hale, and that pockmarked prick of a Captain: Derion, standing behind them like he owned the place. Jerric chuckled; the squinty eyed brute never sounded joyful when he laughed.

"That's funny, coming from

you

, Roland." Jerric said, planting his other hand down onto the bartop, preventing him from leaving. "Last time we saw you, you were ridin' off with that little lord's lass we'd all worked so hard to bring in."

"Aye, and she paid well for the pleasure, too." Roland lied. He'd let the girl go a half mile away from her castle, untouched and unmolested by the company he'd abandoned. "Now leave me in peace, I'm still drinking off the payment her father gave me."

"That so?" Derion said, smiling his smug smirk. "I hope it was worth it, you red-faced barbarian. D'you remember Little Marcus, Tom of Heddlestreaks, Brimley the Bard? They're dead now 'cause of that job. And yet you're the only one who's sitting here, drinking two mugs like you've actually grown a conscience and are trying to drown it all in drink." Roland said nothing. "Care to buy your former brothers in arms a mug?"

Roland gestured roughly with his arm. "Bar's right here; help yourselves if you've got the coin."

"You're a right raw prick, aren't you, you son of-" Jerric began, his hand tightening on Roland's shoulder. Derion held up a hand.

"Simmer, Jerric. No need for violence if we can help it." Derion stepped up behind Roland, his hand moving to his ear as though he were revealing some dreadful secret. His voice was low but filled with menace. "I'll tell you this, you ruddy bastard: I've got ten men in this city and a bar full of patrons who wouldn't give two shits seeing an avaricious fuck like you take a dagger to the eye. If you want to keep your lungs intact to continue breathing that corrupted air you're sniffing you'll buy me an' the boys a drink. Then you'll pay our tavern costs too. And if you don't like it we can make sure you get the chance to meet Marcus, Tom and Brimley in the eighth hellspire tonight, arright?"

Roland didn't immediately respond. Taking his silence as assent, Jerric reached across his chest to the still-full mug sitting at the bar. As casually as he could, the mercenary over-reached the brigand's arm and grabbed his own, tossing the half-drank contents in Jerric's face before smashing the metal cup against his head. The big man let out a surprised yelp and stepped back, allowing Roland to turn to his right and punch blonde Carl hard across his boyish, chiseled jaw. Cursing, Derion grabbed Roland by the back of his head and smashed it down onto the wooden bar, missing breaking his nose by inches but leaving a bruise and a ringing forehead in his wake.

Letting out a roar, Roland staggered to his feet, kicking Carl back from him as he swung wildly at Derion, who moved back in time for a wet and angry Jerric to step between them. He closed his mailed fist and swung, the red-maned merc dodging left as Derion lunged forward and punched him in the gut. Then sheer numbers began to work against him, the three surrounding him as blows began to rain down on him on the ground. He curled up to endure the beating as best he could. The exclamatory voices of terrified patrons and bar wenches were cut by the sudden, booming noise of someone shouting at the top of their lungs.

"Hey!" Kelsea said, her voice amplified, "What's going on? What are you doing to him?" Carl glanced back at her but the other two continued their assault. Seeing that no one in the bar was moving to get involved, the young Succubus stepped up, putting a hand to Derion's shoulder and roughly grasping his leather pauldron.

"Listen, missie, this bastard's-" He began, but she cold-clocked him across the jaw, sending the Captain of the company spinning into the table next to them, scattering the patrons. People began to clear from the bar. Blood dribbled from the side of his lip where he'd hit her, and Derion gave her a black stare. "You little

bitch

!" He said, moving to stop her. She leapt atop Jerric, her teeth sinking into his neck as he let out a cry at the unexpected bite. "The

fuck

!" He yelled, his armored arms reaching up in vain to get her off him. Roland caught the boot of Carl and twisted hard, snapping something and sending the pretty boy to the ground next to him, letting out a tortured shout.

Derion punched Kelsea in the kidney, causing her to unlatch her jaw from its death grip on Jerric's neck as she let out a grunt of pain. The pockmarked man with the mop of brown hair grabbed her by the shoulders, doing his damndest to drag her off of Jerric; she clung to him with superhuman strength. When that didn't work, he began to strike her in the face. Scrambling to his feet, a bloodied Roland was just in time to spot Jerric reach for his blade, holding the sheath with his left hand for leverage as the other gripped the hilt to draw it. He saw in an instant that Jerric wasn't looking at him as he drew. Without thinking, the mercenary leapt forward, taking the bald bastard's left hand and thrusting it up against the partially exposed blade. At the same time he smashed his other hand down on the pommel, shoving the blade back down into the sheath. The result was that part of his finger was trapped between the crossguard and the sheath as it sliced down. Jerric yelled at the top of his lungs, dropping to his knees and clutching his bleeding hand. With a sharp knee Roland smashed against the big brute's face, who crumpled to the ground.

Derion struck Kelsea across the face, her head whipping around from the force of the blow. A sudden, inhuman scowl built upon her countenance, and when she opened her eyes Roland could see that hey were red-tinted and no longer blue. Her hand swung and connected with Derion's before Roland could reach him, sending the man sprawling out onto a table, knocking over chairs and abandoned mugs from the rapidly emptying tavern. With a loud cry she leapt atop him on the table, straddling him as though she were about to initiate tender coitus. Instead she struck him several times across the face, to the extent that Roland had to pull her off him for fear of taking his life. Despite his own hatred of the man he didn't wish to be charged for murder in the company of a demon. "Kelsea-

oi

!

Kelsea

!" He shouted.

She turned to strike him, her eyes burning with anger as blood dribbled down one corner of her lips. As she lifted her hand Roland desperately gripped her wrist to prevent a painful blow. She turned to face this new attacker, but her eyes softened, her tense muscles slowly lowering from the emotional high of the moment. "Roland." She said, as though his name were a talisman of sanity. She seemed to realize where she was, blinking and allowing her eyes to return to their natural color, her brow returning to a more humanlike expression. "What was this chaos all about?"

"The cheeky pricks wanted your ale." He joked, thrusting a finger at the untouched mug sitting on the bar. "I saved it for you."

He pulled her off of Derion, who groaned and rolled over onto the other side of the table. "You and your whore friend are going to regret this, Roland." He groaned, staggering to the door. Jerric ran past them, knocking the two to the ground as he dribbled blood from his wounded hand. Hobbled as he was, Carl couldn't follow. "So help the Gods, you're a dead man." They slammed the door behind them, the tavern going dreadfully quiet at the sound.

Letting go of Kelsea for a moment, Roland strode over to Carl who clung desperately to his injured foot. Pulling the man's coin purse free, he tossed it to the Barkeep, who stood slackjawed at the whole exchange. "Sorry about the mess. Can we have our room for ten minutes? I need to make sure my companion is all right. Oh, and maybe call for a healer for this git."

"No more blood on the floor... promise?" The man said in a quavering voice. Roland nodded, taking a confused Kelsea by the hand and leading her to their room. No sooner had he slammed the door shut then he was on her, pressing her body roughly against the wall as he fiercely embraced her wriggling form. "You." He said, planting a deep kiss against her lips, "are the sexiest thing alive, d'you know that?" He tasted blood on her, and he licked his lips, his hand stroking her face tenderly as he stared into her eyes.

"I aim to please," she said, getting into the spirit of things, "If you think it'll help, I can go back and kick that blonde guy in the face while I jerk you off." Roland laughed, ignoring her words as he massaged her neck and shoulders with his hands.

"You could always use the Man-Catcher on me, though I think the spikes might smart a bit." He kissed her again, his hands circling her ears as he clung to her face. She didn't change her appearance; he had never been with her while the illusion was up.

"I don't need that 'tool' to catch you." She said, smirking as she leaned into his kiss. "I've got a far warmer cage for that." He stripped her, ripping at her clothes as they engaged in the battle of carnality. He had her shirt off before she his, and he buried his face within her bosom. Though she looked human, she still burned like a furnace. His mouth encircled one of her nipples and nibbled on it. She gasped, her hand threading through his long red hair as she clutched his head to her. "That guy got me good on the mouth." She said, sucking on her injured lip. "Were they friends of yours?"

"They're the Briar Dogs." He said, peeling her pants off her body as he bent down to his knees. "Mercenary group. Used to run with them down south before I realized what they were; bunch of rapists, murderers, and scum. You'd like them."

Kelsea creaked a smile as she felt Roland plant his lips against her pussy, "I've already got a pretty intimate knowledge of the one fellow. I like rough, not grindstone rough...

ah!

" She quirked her back as Roland began to lap greedily against her cunt. "You're getting better at this." Roland took her by the back of her thighs, lifting her up so that her ass hung in the air level with him as he stood. She let out an appreciative cry when he pushed her up along the wall, diving his mouth deep within her slit as he worked in a rough circular motion around her insides. She came from the ministration, her fingers in his hair as she squirmed beneath his grip. He removed himself from her sexual hole long enough to latch onto her clit, his tongue wrapping and kissing and suckling on it like it was a favorite sugary sweet. Electric thrills ran up Kelsea's spine as she let out a muffled cry, covering her mouth. "Gods, let me get at you!"

He dropped her down to the ground and she immediately leapt into his arms, shoving his leather trousers down with her toes which she hooked into his waistband with nary a second thought. Straddling him she humped fervently against him, her blue eyes staring longingly into his as she breathed deeply. "Is this what you really used to look like?" He asked, his voice soft and tender despite the sudden intensity of their lovemaking. Her short, cropped black hair, the button nose, the pursed lips as she looked at him. Those blue, expressive eyes... She nodded. "I'd have liked to have met you, then. You're beautiful like this, too." He was astonished at the very human blush that rose in her cheeks.

Eager to begin, she grabbed his member from between their bodies and angled it up against her slit. She let out a deep moan as she felt him sink into her vagina, his thick head piercing her as they moved into their manic quickie. He kissed her chest, slurping his tongue against her heated skin as she lifted and lowered onto his cock, taking him deeper and deeper with every thrust. Soon he was bumping against the edge of her lips, the whole of his shaft within her as she quivered and cried into his hair. She nibbled on his ear, licking the lobe before leaning in for another kiss with him. She was hellfire.

Roland used his body weight to thrust her down, smacking her plump rear and eliciting cries as she kept her tits pressed tight against him, the friction of her nipples providing a pleasurable contrast to the heavy pressure of her insides against him. He felt her walls ripple upon contacting his cock, her 'human' pussy seeming tighter and less immediately yielding to his prick than her normal demonic presence. For all the good it did him, even with her holding off the majority of her sexual might she still managed to make him groan and cum within seconds of her entry into him. It was no longer much of an impediment for him, however. He merely removed himself from her momentarily, and set her down onto the ground.

Taking the hint, Kelsea spun around, sticking her ass up into the air as she braced herself against the foot of the bed, her hips swaying as she enticed him with her sex. Unimpeded by his previous pernicious use of her pussy, Roland stepped forward and poked against her ass, spreading his and her sexual juices over the winking thing as he pushed into her rectal walls, letting out a grunt of pleasure as he felt a still tighter constriction cover his cock. He pushed past the ring of her sphincter, his throbbing head sinking down into her as he crushed her asscheeks together, adding to the tightness. She squirmed and stuck her ass back, spearing herself further against him as she cried out in pleasure. Her hands went to her already used vagina, fingering herself fiercely as Roland began to hump again.

Their movements were near-robotic in their precision. By this point both had become supremely accustomed to the other, and as such needed little coaxing from either to engage in such depravity. By the time Roland was balls-deep in Kelsea, she had already begun to fondle his sac from beneath her legs, her head leaning against the mattress as her tongue lolled out, a lewd display of the joy he was bringing her. "Why didn't anyone ever

tell

me bar fights were so much fun?" She exclaimed, letting out a joyous croon as Roland hilted himself again, this time to fill her ass with the same feeding force that he'd already graced her sodden box with. Kelsea's back arched and she let out a deep moan, shuddering as she turned her body, her eyes matching Roland's as a teasing grin grew upon her face. She maintained the contact as she twisted and shuddered, his dilating cockhead spewing forth large blasts of jism into her rectum as she came from the contact. She was blisteringly hot on the inside, and his warm cream did nothing to sate her temperature.

Panting, the two continued to rut, Kelsea lifting up off the bed to meld against Roland's body. She acquiesced to his kisses and licks down the back of her neck and along her spine, her shoulders shivering as he sucked on the bend near her neck. Her hands reached up behind and played with his hair, her fingers finding purchase in the long locks as she hummed against him. The sound of knocking at the door broke both lovers from their reverie, causing both to jolt in surprise. They must have been doing this for over an hour. "You don't think..." She said, tilting her head.

"Derion's a fucking coward." Roland said, "I don't think he'd risk bringing his men in the middle of a tavern."

"City Guard!" The voice called from behind the door. "In the name of the Council, open this door!"

"Aw, shit." Roland said, stepping back from Kelsea's human form with the kind of hesitation that came from weeks of corrupting influence. She turned around to face him, her naked body shining with sweat and her face red from the unexpected coitus. "Don't drop your appearance, no matter what happens." He whispered to her. She put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him deeply.

"I wouldn't dream of it, love." She murmured back, licking the tip of his nose and beaming that insufferable smile back at him. "I don't think I want any sloppy seconds that dont involve you after this little stunt of yours. So try not to break your own arm, okay?" Roland flicked her cheek and she laughed. "Open the door, I'll put on some pants."