Tsunami Saga 2

From Grigbertz

The desert was indeed a cursed place, since times so ancient that every tribe on the sands seemed to have its own theory for its existence. What rare beasts and creatures survived the place had long evolved to new and strange forms to survive, from the long, diamond-hard sand snakes to the bright and poisonous schools of fish that fly trough the winds or swim trough the sands, to the gigantic, predatory scorpions that lurked under the surface of the desert, wary and ready to emerge in a explosion of sand and death as soon as the light of the suns was gone, and the glow of the moons made the sands shine like the eyes of a demon..

It had not been as short or easy a trip as he had hoped for, but he found some comfort in the truth that they very rarely are. On the third night, a large school of flying fish had located his tent and swarmed from all around, biting and nibbling with teeth like needles until the smell of blood was in the wind, luring in the larger, sand swimming fish that preyed on his attackers. He was pleased to find far less trouble fighting off the larger predators than against dozens of the smaller monsters. As a bonus, the larger fish had proved non poisonous after rubbing a bit of their flesh against his skin and checking for reactions, thus enlarging his own rations. He skinned them and found their hides to be sturdy and flexible and very similar to leather, keeping them in case he would ever find a use for them later. The smaller fish where poisonous, but had attractive, colourful fins like feathers that he also kept with the hope of trade once he went back to his land.

The traveller wrapped his sturdy cloak of fish skin even tighter around himself, not to ward off the cold, far from it as the heat was enough to force him out of his armor and make the air dance with waves of heat, but to escape from the terrible bite of the coriollis winds and keep them from tearing skin and flesh from his bones. The sandstorm had hit precisely as he approached his target, the abandoned temple barely noticeable over the sands, with what had once been windows barely over the sands, and most of its once mighty statues and monuments chocked by the desert.

As the wind picked up strength, it began to peel off even the fish skin of his cloak, and he rushed into the temple from the side opposite to the wind, the weak sunlight that made it past the sand storm showing him a ground covered in a carpet of black vermin; tiny creatures so numerous that the ground itself looked as dark as night with their presence.

Immediately, he too out a pearl of light and took a look around himself, the walls and floors had been lacerated by the winds and sands with the passage of time, and even now some of it made it into the room, the sand cascading down into the room trough cracks and openings on the walls. The roof seemed solid, and the large chamber had stony pillars wide and strong regularly about its floor. Judging it safe, he moved further into the room, grinning darkly to himself as he realized that even if it wasn’t he would still have had to do so.

Tristan: -with his mind, he called for her- . o O (Mako, can you sense anything?)

From inside the amulet at his neck, the spirit answered to his mind, her vice, no, her essence fresh and soothing in the blasted place.

Mako: . o O (A great power lies under your feet, master. I can also feel the corrupted essence of the unnatural)

Tristan: . o O (That is hardly surprising, seeing where we are. Can you be more specific?)

He looked around himself as he moved into the vast chamber, now away from the reach of even the wind filtering into the room. T was dark and cold, and surprised him to feel such after the blazing heat and light in the sands outside. With care, he studied the pillars for signs or glyphs, yet finding nothing more than decorative patterns; he resumed the search for a way down as he waited for his enthralled spirit to announce something.

Tristan: . o O (Anything?)

Mako: . o O (The air to your far left feels dirty, tainted. It could be a sign from a lower level, where foul things reside)

Tristan: -speaking normally- “Foul things, is it? You should express yourself in a more casual manner, my lady. “Monsters” would be more than enough, unless you could be as specific as their kind?”

Mako: . o O (Y-yes master Tristan… the air is tainted to your left with the essence of the undead. I believe they are on a lower floor, you should find a way down in that direction)

Tristan: “There, that wasn’t hard now, was it? Let’s see what kind of creatures I am dealing with, now”

Drawing a second and a third pearl of light, he tosses them towards the left, and sees them fly trough the air, one landing on the floor near the beginning of a descending stairway, the second flying trough its threshold and going down to the next floor. He moved carefully but confidently and retrieved the first pearl, putting it away on his pouch as he looked down to the other.

Not as soon as he had done so, he fell flat on the floor in answer to a telepathic cry from Mako, a lightning bolt flying over him and ricocheting on the stone roof, then bouncing like a maddened bat throughout the room before dissipating at the end of its blast. He looked up and saw several skeletons armed with rusted blades and the remaining tatters of what may have been clothes and armor, rushing upstairs while one adorned with jewelry and the symbols of some forgotten deity started chanting to toss some spell or another in his direction.

Tristan: . o O (How, by the great spirits, does that thing speak without lungs or tongue?!)

Mako: . o O (I believe it’s in the nature of whatever magic keeps it from the grave, master)

He had not meant to ask her, but he didn’t dare to chastise her for trying to be helpful, either. The great spirits knew she was already more than shy enough without him admonishing her for being helpful. Besides, he had no time. He drew his blade and sighed a little at how poor a weapon it would prove itself against the fleshless bodies of the creatures, its edge finding precious little to cut in their carcasses.

Their cold blades shone with a cold, unnatural glow, and he wondered if it was the effect of whatever spell their leader had used, or some attribute of the blades themselves. A cut on his left arm sent shivers up to his shoulder, and made him snap out of his thoughts, even while the gentle touch of Mako`s healing gifts healed his body and fought off the paralysis that threatened to hold his body. With a swift spin of his blade and a low kick to the kneecaps, he took down his closest assailant just in time to parry a blow from another and move to his side to dodge an attack from the one after it. Quickly, his mind seized the situation, and he grabbed one of the monsters to push it to keep them all in the stairs and reduce the number of opponents he had to fight at a time.

It worked, and he thankfully picked up an old morningstar from the disembodied hand of one of the creatures, finding its blunt head and .short spikes better suited to smash skulls and shatter bones than the edge of his fine sword. Soon, the creatures where finally embraced by a true death, and his sole opponent was their leader, the jewelry it carried marking it as some kind of priests, Tristan gestured with his hand stretched and kept his weapon low in a sign of respect ingrained in him towards the religious elite of his lands. That is, until the thing tossed a black ray towards him that seemed to drain all the strength from his body and darken his sight, and then he tossed his weapon to its head and smashed it against the pillar behind it, the body collapsing like an abandoned doll.

By the time he woke up, the place was quiet. He was lying down over his blankets in the floor, and immediately noticed the line around him on the floor. Bright and clear sparkles of warm, slightly bluish energy floating upwards from it like the spray of a waterfall. Beyond the delicate barrier, a numberless amount of the creatures walked and dragged their feet over the floor, the few missing limbs giving him the entire clue he needed. Immediately, he sighed, and followed the bright line to confirm that indeed it surrounded them wholly.

Tristan: “Lady Mako, you know you are not supposed to interfere, don’t you?”

The delicate water spirit looked down at him, her hands caressing his face, his head resting on her lap while she quietly kept the barrier. The curse of the desert repelled all water, and Mako, a manifestation of it had an especially hard time enduring the sands. He had told her to stay in her medallion and out of sight, so now he would be forced to discipline her for saving his life. Bad if you do, bad if you don’t. It was this kind of things that made him regret to have Mako as a bound spirit instead of a free companion. Then again, the possibilities for many different “punishments” were sometimes enough to make him smile, and they both knew that, just from time to time, he would give her a task she was expected to fail at, so he would have an excuse to be slightly rougher than usual.

Mako: “I am sorry, master Tristan, should I lower the barrier now?”

Looking around, he saw there would be about two dozens, maybe more of the mindless undead, yet not one amongst them seemed as dangerous as the one he had took down before fainting.

Tristan: “Let me stand first”

He found his footing firm and steady; she must have cured him as well. This time he was really worried as he looked down at her. Beautiful and fresh, the heavenly beauty was sitting on her heels, her hands on her lap as she looked up at him with the most beautiful eyes. Her clothes where simple and clean, of a white and light blue fabric, showing her neckline and shoulders and parting over her thighs, a delicate collar of ice shining like diamonds around her soft neck. She knew he liked her taste, and once he found she could change her clothes –she could change anything about herself, really, but he enjoyed and loved her as she was and didn’t liked it when she changed her appearance beyond her clothes- every time she manifested from the amulet, he had tasked her with doing so, keeping in mind her status and displaying herself beautifully and simply. It annoyed him to see her on the floor. He knew she would excuse it as holding his head on her lap, but the truth she was probably exhausted after manifesting herself so close to the sands, healing him and even rising a barrier. It was why he had forbidden her to manifest for the time being.

Tristan: “Return to the amulet, I will discipline you later. And drop the barrier”

This time there was no playfulness on his voice. It was not her choice to risk herself like that. What would he ever do if she was hurt? The idea was far too painful to consider, and he couldn’t help but sound angry at it. Furious, even, for if he had not fallen she wouldn’t have had to risk herself.

Mako: “Y-yes master”

She knew he was angry, and quickly did as she was told, taking his concern for anger, while he unloaded it on the mindless dead that moved forth as soon as the barrier was gone.

Tristan:. o O (One of them could have touched you!)

He smashed a skull with the morningstar with such fierce blows that the feet of the skeleton shattered under its legs and it was nailed knee-depth in the floor from the sheer might of the blow as the warp-spasm of the warrior’s frenzy transformed Tristan’s body. This time he did not fight it, but embraced, the thought of Mako`s flawless, heavenly body fouled by the creatures made his teeth shut tight like a dragon’s maw, and his muscles bulge against his clothes and fill the loose garments, the hero-halo rising behind his head while he grabbed the nearest skeleton by its eye sockets and upper jaw to lift it with ease, swinging it as a whip with such strength its bones came off its body and there was naught left but its spine.

Tristan: . o O (Do you want these things to touch you?! Do you want to feel their claws over you, is that it?!)

Mako: . o O (N-no master, I didn’t…)

He cut her off with a mighty roar as he swung the bones like chain and ball into the nearest monster, shattering bone and rock as the still conscious skull clashed into pillars and floors. Reintroduced the undead to fear, he wrapped the spine around his left and held the skull from the inside trough its nose and eye sockets like a hard glove to punch and smash with it with his fist while the other held the morningstar with such strength the skin of his hand began to peel and blood dripped to the floor. Yet further his muscles bulged, and his figure bent slightly to accommodate the increased mass on his shoulders. In such a state, he began a run into the temple depths, decimating the unnatural inhabitants of the place until there was not one left that would approach him.

And then he gasped and howled on the floor, at a unknown depth under the sands and alone in the dark, with walls and roofs collapsed behind him, bloody body parts of monsters spread along a trail that marked the exact length of his frenzy from beginning to end.

For even the soulless and the soul-eaters knew to stay away from his path, and the power of his rage threatened to tear his body as he had no one left to rage against but himself, a poisonous wind coming out from his nose and between his teeth, his eyes bulging as large as his fists, and blood shot in rage and uncharged bloodlust. It was then that his bound spirit, loving and gentle Mako chooses to again disobey, and manifest by his side and reach out for the nail-hard hairs on his head, each as long and straight as a sun ray, and just as hot. Instantly he turns and pounce her, a powerful hand holding her by the throat with inhuman strength while the other reaches for the front of her clothes and tears then to shreds, exposing her perfect breasts to the ancient cold of the chamber. He bites one and draws her blood, and licks at her, soothing the fire of his warrior-frenzy in her beautiful body. Incapable of taking off his clothes, the white-hot iron of his malehood strains and rips them open as he embraces her silken, gorgeous body and enters her in a swift stroke with a grunt.

By now, the sight of his fury had scattered his enemies away. She lets out a little cry and whimpers delightfully as he wraps his arms around her soft body. With a hand, he reaches to one of her full, silken breasts while the other takes hold of her right wrist and pulls it back, pinning her to the ground as he starts to move above her and into her, the head of his malehood spreading open her tight passage with force, the heat of his fury turning to the heats of lust as he enjoys her in a primal form. Her round, firm buttocks bear the brunt of his thrusts while her delicate face rubs against the cold, dirty floor, little whimpers and his powerful noises the only sound to echo trough the chambers as he mates with her for hours, pushing even further into her until his malehood enters her womb in a mighty trust, sending shivers trough her body and shivers up his spine. His seed flows into her as he sits and lifts her to his lap, his seed shooting upwards against the roof of her womb until the head of his member stands in a sea of white cum like a volcanic island spewing white hot lava.

His touch turns kinder, his fingers more dextrous as his fury cools and wades, her body trembling as he begins to please her without changing their pose, having her on his lap with her back towards him as he caresses and kisses her sensual figure. His hands roam over her perfect curves and caress her sensitive spots, one caressing around his cock still imbedded in her, the other cupping a large breast and playing with a nipple as hard as a little pebble. She moans and squirms, then twists slightly to meet his lips in a lustful kiss while he loves her, his hand moving from her feminity to her thigh and around it to her firm bottom. He breaks the kiss and smiles at the gorgeous slave before tenderly kissing her once more and then slapping her butt to get her to move, now enjoying the feeling of her perfect body as it rubs against his, his malehood still imbedded into her, going up and down in a sea of cum as she moves until she whimpers and tenses and begins to go even faster, her own orgasm approaching. Tristan: “Sweet slave! –smiles and grunts as he cups her breasts with his large hands- You can’t come yet!”

The girl whimpers and shivers, slowing down and straightening a little bit, but he squeezes her bottom and has her lean down towards the floor, until she is not unlike on all four, her elbows and hands on the ground while she sits on his lap with her long, smooth legs at each side of his. His malehood thus rubs inside her at an angle and her delicate clit is forced against his shaft, increasing her sensations and making her gasp as he holds her by the thin waist and slaps her bottom once more, having her speed up until she is quickly impaling herself on his malehood, her beautiful body exposed to his sight with her silken hair spread on the floor. Like this, he keeps her for the longest while, all along spurring her on but keeping her from coming until he feels his own orgasm building up again and only then he allows her to do so, shooting into her while she cries and tenses, squeezing his malehood in a warm vice of silk before falling down to the floor, exhausted.

By now, her mystical body has healed the wounds her rough master did upon her in his fury, and her flawless skin shows no sign or bruise. He slides out of her with an obscene wet sound and lies down with her, spooning around her lithe form as if to protect her, wrapping an arm around her waist, his hand between her legs, familiarly caressing her clit while the other moves to cup and caress her face.

Tristan: “Lady Mako, didn’t I told you not to come out?”

She merely nods, too exhausted to do more.

Tristan: “Then maybe you forget your place at my side. When we return to civilization you shall be pierced and ringed, so you will carry my steel in your flesh and know yourself mine”

Mako: “B-but… I’m already yours…”

Tristan: “Then don’t disobey me again, not even for my sake! …I can’t bear to lose you…”

Mako: “I… “

For a while, they rest like this, his hands gently caressing and arousing the beautiful body of the girl, her small clit a prisoner between his index and thumb as they tease and torment it with an expert’s touch.

Tristan: “My lady… how can you be here? Didn’t the curse prevent you from leaving the gem?”

Mako: “I believe it –she lets out a tender moan as his fingers give a soft pull to her clit- only works near the surface, we are too deep now”

Tristan: “I see”

He nods and looks around for the first time, until now his senses focused on her stunning figure. The room is quite different from the one at the top. Small and apparently carved in a single, gigantic stone, it must be deep under the desert indeed, probably even before the sands reached and drowned the temple. Maybe a room near its foundations or even in themselves. There are intricate engravings on the walls, depicting images of black birds flying over a lush jungle, and a vulture headed male body sitting atop a throne of bones over a temple not unlike this one.

He kisses the slave girl and fixes his clothes after standing up, leaving her kneeling on the ground, sitting on her heels. The warrior moves towards the walls and begins exploring them, from time to time knocking into it with the pommel of his blade until he hits an interesting spot on the sun above the bird headed man. He stops and examines it, then tries to push it to no effect, before managing to spin it to the left.

It takes a few seconds, and then with a shower of sand, the wall parts and reveals a thin hallway, carved into the solid rock with rivers of black, flaming liquid on its sides next to each wall. The hallway seems to lead to a ceremonial chamber rather than a treasury, and he stumbles into no trap, or perhaps the passage of time has worn them down and useless.

Beyond the hallway there is a large chamber some hundred feet long and near thirty feet wide, with four well preserved stone statues, fire birds holding the tall roof with the tip of their uplifted wings. Between them are three pillars of thick stone to help them in this task, and lines of liquid fire cross the floor in seemingly random times, drawing arcane patterns. The room has been spared by the touch of sand or time that has befallen the rest of the temple, everything looking bright and clean somehow, the hand of unseen servants or spells keeping it in pristine condition.

At the end of the room sits a natural sized statue of the vulture headed man over a throne of copper and steel, its body nude from the waist up, its arms resting on the arms of the throne. His body seems thin but powerful, wiry and muscular. The bird head looks forth, straight to the warrior, and on the left hand of the statue there is a globe of living dark, a burning orb that glows and covers the room with a glow of purplish red and black, pulsing in waves with the sound of a heartbeat.

As he crosses the room, it seems as if the eyes of the stone birds in the room were following his figure, the orb glowing dangerously as he approaches.

Tristan: “I am one of the Chosen, a Seeker that has Found you”

He extends his hand towards the orb and it goes dark for a moment before a dark wave of sheer energy tosses him backwards a few feet and presses him into the floor like a rock, pinning him down with terrible strength. His shock lasts for a few moments and then…

Next chapter ready, will post it if there seems to be enough interest. As you may have already guessed, it will be a chapter of Plot and Smut, and one chapter of character background until all the characters are introduced and explained, then it will go more like other stories with plot and smut in every chapter.

Feedback is appreciated, constructive criticism will be considered and thanked. Flames will be archived for my personal amusement .