Chapter 2: The Closest Thing to Home

The sun was halfway through its descent as I reached the top of the hill. Below sprawled a vast city built of white stone. Illiria. Once the elvish capital, now it served as the 2nd largest city behind the new capital city, Trinduan.

Ever since the exodus of the elves to their leafy halls, it was home to humans, dwarfs, halflings, and fae. Even the occasional Orc could be seen wandering the streets.

“Home sweet home,” I said quietly to myself.

After leaving the king’s army almost ten years ago, I had made my living travelling from city to city looking for work. Caravan guard, dock worker, mercenary ... anything that paid. I followed the work wherever it would take me. Despite this nomadic lifestyle, I always found myself drawn back here. It was as close to home as I knew.

From growing as an orphan, to running with a street gang in my teens and then eventually finding myself in the army, I had never really settled anywhere. I thought about it from time to time. Finding a wife, having a couple of kids. It just never felt like that was what the future held for me. Maybe after a few years of a nagging wife and screaming kids running off on some fool’s dangerous quest would be a blessing.

My most recent job had been artefact retrieval. A mage asked me to retrieve a black gem from an abandoned temple far to the north. It should have been a simple dash and grab. Instead, it was infested with goblins.

3 feet tall with leathery yellow skin, sinewy muscle and a thick skull they were nasty little bastards. They lacked intelligence and a great deal many things but should never be underestimated. Many skilled fighters had fallen to a rabid horde of roaming goblins.

I had to fight my way through to the alter room vault and nearly died several times on the way back out. I would be renegotiating my fee to include extra danger pay. Mages had deep pockets so I was confident be could afford it. If he refused, I’m sure I could find another customer. Even without the extra, no one paid so much of something wasn’t valuable. Everything has value to someone, the trick is finding who its most valuable to.

I adjusted my pack and clicked my tongue and led my horse on. I had been in the saddle for far too long and was looking forward to a hot meal, good beer, and a hot bath. I hadn’t slept in a proper bed since I passed a small farm almost 10 days ago.

For a few hours of work helping the farmer repair a broken fence, I got a free meal and a warm bed for the night. The young farmer’s daughter who slipped into my room that night had been an unexpected bonus.

Moderately pretty in a homely sort of way, she had painted me as some sort of rugged adventure type. I doubt she got much excitement living on the small farm. Despite her apparent seclusion, she was surprisingly talented in the use of her body for pleasure.

Nothing on the trained brothel hands I occasionally indulged in, but skilled enough. I had slipped out in the early morning leaving her passed out from the night’s vigorous activity. I didn’t want the farmer thinking I had corrupted his daughter and have him trying to stick his pitchfork in my chest.

I may have fucked his daughter, but she had long since been corrupted. Her virtue was lost before I got there. She was no innocent maiden that’s for sure.

Energised by the idea of a soft bed and a full stomach, I kicked my horse into a trot and joined the hard-packed dirt road that led towards Illiria and a well-deserved rest. Even without negotiating a higher amount, the payment for this job would afford me a few weeks off before I would need to take on another job.

I was looking forward to taking a few weeks to rest, recover and heal up from the harsh conditions my choice of employment caused. My equipment was almost as battered and broken as I was and needed some repairs and maintenance before I took anything new on.

The board looking guards recognised me and nodded to me letting me pass. The huge yawning gateway was easily large enough for 6 horsemen riding side by side with room to spare. I pulled round to the left where a large stable block stood. Unless you were a trader heading to market, commoners weren’t allowed to ride within the city walls.

I slung my heavy saddlebags over my shoulders grunting at the weight and handed my horse over to the young stable boy.

“Brush him down, keep him in fresh hay and oats, plenty of water,” I said handing over a small handful of bronze coins.

Giving her a final pat, I left her in the stables trusting them to care for the closest thing I had to family. She had faithfully and safely carried me from the tundra in the north to the endless deserts in the south and everywhere in-between. Her sure-footed swiftness and relentless endurance had saved my life many times. She deserved a few weeks to grow fat and lazy before we headed out again.

A recent stint of small paying jobs had kept us from earning enough to stay anywhere for more than a few days at a time. As unexpectedly dangerous as this job had been, the few weeks of rest it allowed us to enjoy was sorely needed.

I wouldn’t be meeting the mage until tomorrow but I did stop by the magistrate’s office. Heading into the law keepers building, I handed over a bag with 36 goblins ears. A little souvenir from the horde that infested the temple. Considered a plague upon the land, the king had declared an open bounty on any goblin killed. 2 bronze pieces per kill. The standard proof of kill was a severed ear.

“Trouble on the road” the portly guard manning the office said when he saw the number of ears.

“All quiet, the temple ruins not so much” I replied.

“Good to hear. I still remember when you couldn’t travel more than a day without being set upon by the little blighters.” He said heading to a large safe to collect my payment.

At the peak of goblin attacks, the king had been embroiled in a war with the barbarian tribes that had started to migrate in mass from the south. He couldn’t spare the soldiers to track and kill the roving bands of goblins that had grown increasingly bold. Times were hard and the open bounty had everyone who could swing a sword or use a bow hunting them. The cull that followed had almost eliminated their entire race.

The number of goblins I had fought my way through was the first large group I had come across in years. Unskilled and poorly equipped, small groups are rarely a problem. But when they gather into larger groups, they swarm and can overwhelm with sheer force of numbers.

With the bounty safely tied to my belt, I headed back outside and headed deeper into the city. I followed a familiar path well-trodden by many a weary adventure and worker. I passed only a few wayward citizens on my way. Finally arriving at my destination, I glanced up with a weary grin.

There was a wooden sign above the door. ‘The Busty Dwarf’ was written in white ink below a painting of the same. It was fairly busy inside but not yet in full swing. I scanned the room before heading to the bar.

On the far-left sat a pair of orcs who watched the room with a guarded gaze. The chairs they sat on doing an as admirable job of supporting their hulking weight. A large group of Dwarfs filled 3 round tables to the right each having loud conversations in their own rough language.

A few pixies flitted around ferrying orders from patrons to the bar. A number of humans spread themselves out across the room in a few small groups. Working girls strutted between tables looking for their next customer. The bar was sparsely populated by several solitary drinkers each ignoring one another.

The floor behind the bar was half as high as the bar itself. It allowed the bar’s namesake to serve the customers.

“Rurga, how are you” I greeted the buxom bar owner.

As are all dwarfs, Rurga was no taller than 4 feet, slightly less than half my height. Unlike her broad and blocky male counterparts, female dwarfs were much softer with shapely bodies. Her significant bosom was a racial trait all the females of her kind shared.

Rurga was overly endowed even for her kind. Her huge breasts almost spilled out of her half corset and white blouse outfit. Her voluminous bosom jiggling enticingly with every exaggerated swing of her hips.

“Ah, Magnus, the mighty adventure returns. How are you?” she crooned seductively, her voice rich and honeyed.

“Weary and in need of a room” I replied, taking a seat at the bar.

“Aye, how long will you be staying,” she asked, sliding me a heavy flagon of ale to which I nodded my thanks.

“A week to start. Possibly longer” I replied sliding a gold coin across the bar to cover the room.

She quickly swept it off the bar and it disappeared within the folds of her dress.

“A bath would be perfect too. I’ve grown stale on my travels” I said.

“I had noticed my love but it would have been rude for me to say,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I quite enjoy the aroma of a heroic man fresh from battle” a sweet voice purred.

I suddenly had a warm body in my lap, her legs wrapped around me and her body pressed against mine. Her small soft hands stroking my chest and arms, her soft lightly furred face rubbing against mine before nuzzling into my neck and breathing deeply.

“Kiara” I greeted the familiar werekin.

Unlike a full were who could change between man and beast form, werekin had only one form. A mixture of their human and animal forms. Kiara’s animal ancestry was that of a cat. Somewhere in her family tree, a full werecat had mated with a human passing on a diluted copy of the were virus.

She was petite at just under 5 feet tall. The proportions of her body slender body smaller than that of a human female. Her body was covered in a fine coat of dark blue fur, shortest on her face and hands. Her breast, just small handfuls, sat proudly on her chest, her nipples already hard as they rubbed against me.

As a kind, werekin whose animal spirit is feline are incredibly affectionate. Full of life, energy, and almost childlike innocence, they were always full of joy. They adore attention and skin on skin contact. They were also incredibly promiscuous.

It didn’t take much to turn their affection into arousal and unbridled lust. Kiara was no different. Her soft contented purring moved deeper in her throat as I slid one hand down to cup her pert little rear while my other scratched between her triangular ears. She wiggled in my lap grinding against me, her tail flicking excitedly.

“I missed you so much master,” she said, her naturally submissive nature coming through.

Kiara was just one of the girls who offered their services to the customers who chose to visit Rurga’s establishment. The sexy cat-girl in my lap was one of her “higher class” girls who didn’t work the bar floor. Of all the girls here, she was my favourite and always quickly sought me out whenever I returned.

I liked to think it was because she genuinely liked me rather than just the coin that I spent to enjoy her company.

“I’ll have one of me girls run ye a bath,” the busty barmaid said.

“I’m sure this one here will be happy to assist in ‘washing’ those hard-to-reach places.” She finished her emphasis on the word washing leaving little doubt as to what she actually meant.

I ordered a hot meal and Kiara took great delight in feeding me each tasty morsel while refusing to leave my lap. It freed my hands to stroke her naked body drawing ever-increasingly aroused purring sounds.

When it came time to head upstairs Kiara still refused to let me go. The sexy and erotically charged cat-girl wrapping her arms and legs around me insisting that I carry her up. Thankfully, the weight of her lithe frame was of no inconvenience.

The rooms upstairs were familiar as I had stayed here many times before often with Kiara. A worn but clean and comfortable double bed, a small bedside cabinet on either side and a wardrobe against one wall. A window looked out over the rear of the bar into the rear yard area stocked with empty crates and barrels.

A pretty young serving girl was just pouring the last bucket of water into the large wooden tub as we entered. She blushed prettily as I entered before turning to leave. I pressed a bronze coin to her hand before she left closing the door behind herself.

Kiara was kissing at my neck while running her hands all over my body. She was reluctant to release me with only the promise of letting her join me in the bath causing her to drop to the floor. I draped my saddlebags over a chair and kicked off my boots.

Kiara was an eager helper and quickly divested me of my clothing while touching my body as much as she could in the process. I sank into the bath with a sigh. The hot water felt amazing as the heat started to sink into my muscles.

Kiara climbed into the bath, the water up to her chin. Her yellow vertical iris cat eyes bright as she watched me with a hungry gaze, a sultry smile curling her lips. She glided towards me through the water, her wet fur giving her a shiny and sleek appearance.

She drew her legs up to kneel astride my lap. Her hands slipped between us to grasp my rapidly hardening shaft.

“Master is so large” she gasped her voice high and sweet.

“Such a mighty weapon,” she said, stroking my length.

Her playful words only lightly masked her arousal. She was already very familiar with my equipment and how to handle it.

“Such a large weapon needs to be sheathed,” I said back in the same playful banter lifting her by the hips.

She moaned as I lifted her up and positioned the head of my cock at her pussy. Her dainty little hands coming up to hold my shoulders. She gasped as my cock pushed inside her nubile young body. Her tail lashed from side-to-side flinging water from its tip.

Despite her teen-like appearance, she was actually older than I was. The were-component in her blood extending her life to far beyond that of a normal human. It wasn’t in common for a werekin, even one several times removed from their full were ancestor, to live two centuries or more.

Although in her 40’s, her petite frame, youthful looks, and exuberant nature made her appeared closer to a teen. She could be easily mistaken to be no more than 16.

“Oh master” she gasped.

Her pussy unfurled at the insistent pressure of my cock. I groaned as the heat of her cunt wrapped around me, noticeably hotter than the steaming water. Her pussy gripped my cock like a dozen small hands massaging my length as she took my full length into her. The head of my cock caused a sizable bulge in her slender stomach.

The way her insides gripped and massaged my throbbing cock was wholly different from a human. Or any other race for that matter. There were those who saw the mixing of races in any capacity as a crime. Purists existed to some degree in every race. One night with a cat-girl like Kiara would convert even the most fanatical racist.

Her soft hands slid up to cup my face as she started to slide up and down my length slowly riding me. We both leaned in kissing heatedly, her agile tongue playfully darting between my lip. She moaned into my lips as I grasped her orange size tits, her nipples hardened into little knots.

She purred deep in her throat as I pinched her nipples and lightly nipped her lip as we kissed. The wonderfully tight grasping walls of her pussy rippling along my length as she rode me. Each little spike of pain made her clench tighter.

“Master!” She purred.

Her hands moved to grip the edge of the tub and she stopped to grind against me, her hips moving in small circles.

“Just relax, master. Let this one take care of you.”