The Byzantia Quest - Chapter I

Chapter I

What daylight remained was not to be wasted. There were three of us, myself - an Arabian Knight-style fighter with a rapier and a bastard sword and a keen eye for trouble and the kinkiest of women. Second was Faraday Daniels - my best mate since birth with an equal eye for danger and no sense in limits. And third, his fiance Nagassa, who was the most stunning female I have ever laid eyes upon; her body was a gift from God; her breasts had been meticulously carved from divine breastmeat and topped off with the most exquisite nipples in all of Byzantia. Comparisons aside, she was gorgeous, although with blood spattered across her body, not so much now.

I plunged through the first several with my bastard sword while cutting their neighbors' heads clean off with my requisite rapier, transforming the nearby air into a stunning mist of gore. Faraday brushed off the attackers to his side of the caravan, easily dispatching several dozen with his twin bastard swords (which he claimed were such while myself and the entire community viewed them as oversized claymores). Nagassa trained her bow with uncanny speed and accuracy at jugulars from fifty yards off a sprinting horse, sliding in and out of the surrounding trees and picking them off at ridiculous paces.

Having squandered our fortunes at the seaside town of Gyildale, our band was low on fortunes until crossing paths with an unfortunate boy whose mage father was dying. He passed to us a prophecy which we threw off as nonsense until it began to materialize - we were to journey to Byzantium, the most amazing city on all the planet and find a princess of unparalleled beauty who would save the world. Whatever the fuck that meant.

We continued on our jaunt across the coast, pillaging, raping, and causing as much mayhem as possible before completely running out of funds and funds to steal. It was then we began our quest inland to Byzantium.

"And a fucking good quest at that," whooped Faraday, slaughtering the last of the marauders with ease. He bent to clean his giblet-drenched sword on the soaked green grass, then sheathed both monstrosities in equally-proportioned scabbards.

"That was easy," I stated, following suit while Nagassa began to collect those arrows she deemed reusable.

The captain of the caravan, a rather portly fellow by the name of Seymor Hartbos, ventured from under the closest wagon.

"I pray tell that won't happen again," he said with arrogance. Now myself and Faraday do not take well to arrogant portly bastards, and it was all we could do to keep from beheading the five-foot fuck.

"Clearly not," I said, winking at Faraday.

Seymor brushed some stray grass and an eyeball from his tunic before perching himself atop the driving seat. "We may move on."

"I'm glad I have your fucking permission, you pig," grunted Faraday.

"What was that, brute?"

"Fuck you," he spat, unsheathing his sword and lopping Seymor's head off, producing a hilarious fountain of blood as his tongue slid backwards and out his neck.

"Fuck!" I shouted, kicking the head in mid-arc out of frustration. Trust me - this was not the first of these occurrences.

Faraday recleaned his sword an replaced it by his side. "The bastard had it coming. I have no regrets."

Nagassa returned from her arrow-gathering tour and stopped when she eyed Seymor's head staring back at her. She glared at Faraday with that 'I'm pissed but I won't kill you right now' look. Then she chuckled.

"He had it coming, the bastard."

The rest of the caravan attendees came from their various spots of hiding and gathered around the two parts of Seymor more from confusion and lack of something other to do than pity - Seymor was a hated man in these parts.

"Back to Oakdale for another job, you ape," I said, kicking the head again, this time brilliantly as I topped one of the nearby sycamores and got the head to stick on a branch, draining blood down the dilapidated bark. "And that was an amazing kick. Holy fuck was that brilliant!"

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Back in Oakdale, a mere twenty minute slow-pace walk from the scene of so much chaos, we returned to "Ye Olde Tavern - Oakdale" in search of someone to purchase a shitload of spices, which we were entrusted to escort in the first place.

I went to the bar, where the barkeep was a personal friend. I leaned in close, beckoning Leonard to stoop. "Do you know of any spice traders in the immediate vicinity?"

Leonard nodded, gesturing to a man in the corner who was furiously puffing on a long slender pipe, making that entire side of the tavern an ordeal to maneuver. I, of course, maneuvered it with ease.

"Looking to buy some spices?" I said, sitting myself across from the man, who appeared gaunt.

"No."

"I have a shitload and, honestly, I don't need it."

"Fuck yourself."

"Five thousand gold pieces for ten wagons full - that's about six million less than they're worth in Byzantium."

"I'm not a trader, go away," said the man, raising his head for the first time and allowing me to see his face - that of a middle-aged, full-featured warrior - not the gaunt stature I had previously envisioned - clearly, the pipe contained more than tobacco.

"Do you want cheap spices then?" I pressed.

"No, you insolent fuck, what I do want is you to do a little something for me." He reached into the pocket of his cloak, but stopping before retrieving whatever it was. "It may be hazardous to your physical being, however."

At this point, sheer curiosity overpowered my six-foot-eight frame. "I think I can handle it."

His hand came free and set upon the table an orb of crystalline structure albeit evident magical properties. "This," he began, "is the Tal Rasa Orb." He paused, as if waiting for a gasp, and when none came he continued. "Forged in the Undervallies of Byzantium six hundred years ago, it is told that the God of Power, Tal Rasa, was defeated by a young barbarian. Before all of Tal Rasa's power diminished and he was cast out of the ethereal realm, he forged this orb and sent his being into it, henceforth producing the most powerful amulet the world has ever laid hands upon." He stopped, drew on his pipe, which rolled his eyes into his head, and continued on. "But this isn't mine. I thieved it from a traveling mage around fifty miles west of Byzantium, which is four hundred miles east from where we sit now. He unleashed a demon upon me, and I cannot shake it. But it is not an ethereal demon; this is a human Hunter, one of the seven which were born from Tal Rasa's abdomen - a superhuman whose very bodily structure is evil. I need you to dispatch the demon so I can study this orb and banish Tal Rasa for all time." He again puffed on his pipe.

"How much will I get paid?" I said, not giving one shit nugget about the story - I needed money to get to Byzantium so I could fornicate with this princess of unimaginable beauty.

"Twenty thousand gold pieces, but-"

"Done," I exclaimed, extending my hand to seal the deal.

"-the demon is female. Her name is Narxity and she is one of the most stunning females you will ever see."

"Great, so I'll fuck her first, then kill her," I said, shrugging off that fact as just another excuse to have intercourse.

"If you procreate with this demon, she will taint your soul and you will become the eighth Hunter. Narxity was the first Hunter; she has spawned all the others through her sexuality."

"Trust me," I said, calling over a waitress for a flagon of beer, "my soul is so far past fucked, if we did it, it would probably improve my standings on the ethereal side of things. And for the record, I can hold my own with demon sluts."

The man nodded. "Fair enough. Here is my contact name and where to find me. Narxity was only a few hours behind me, so she should reach Oakvale by nightfall." And with that, the man, who I learned was entitled Graves by reading the parchment, rose, puffed his pipe before setting it on the table beside of bag of foul-smelling brown leaves, and vanished in a cloud of blue smoke.

"Holy shit," I muttered to myself, "that guy is flying in and out of places fucked out of his mind!" I shook that thought off and chugged the flagon of cold, deliciously-golden liquid in two gulps - not one because I stopped to concentrate of the waitresses boobs and lost focus. I slammed the carafe down and rose, moving to where Faraday and Nagassa were clearly ready to take the party to a room, more than likely the outhouse.

"We've got a job," I interrupted.

"Goddamn it, can you not see we're-"

"-busy, I know, but fuck it later. We've got us a twenty thousand gold piece job."

The two separated, or more like, Faraday's hand detached itself from Nagassa's left boob (a good choice, might I add). Faraday made good use of that hand quickly, grabbing a flagon from a passing waitress' plate and downing it.

"What's the job?" he queried following a raucous belch.

I turned the other way to avoid the wave of stench. "Kill Narxity."

"Who the fuck is that?" questioned Nagassa, likewise turned to dodge the onslaught of reek.

"I chatted with this mage chap over in the corner and he said some shit about some shit, I wasn't really paying attention, and how a human Hunter was following him named Narxity. We can't fuck her, but we need to kill her, then go to Hollowpoint to get our twenty thousand."

Faraday nodded. "Fair enough. Where do we find this bitch?"

"She was chasing this fellow, and he said she would be here around nightfall." I looked out the window and was stunned to see blackness had already overtaken day. "Shit."

It was at that precise moment the door to the tavern opened and an eerie chill crept in, blowing out a good half dozen of the table candles and prompting every patron to turn and wonder 'what the fuck just happened?'

It was unmistakably Narxity; she was clothed in what appeared to be black leather belts arrayed across the good parts and complimented by strips of blood-red mesh cloth. On her hips swung dark blue bands of aged leather, and on each side were small daggers, more likely than not enchanted. And the mage was correct; she was amazingly attractive and I wanted nothing more than to get inside her. But, the mission called.

What should have transpired is thus: While she was preoccupied at closing the door, making a proper entrance, and declining the offers of sex, we would have tactically and stealthily surrounded her, then inquired about her name. At the precise moment, a signal would be given and, if it was Narxity, we would all three strike, myself and Faraday slicing with out swords and Nagassa assuring maximum damage with her bow.

However, myself and Faraday being barbarians and therefore prone to take the path of maximum violence, we unsheathed our weaponry and rushed forward, clamoring over and around tables, plowing through patrons and towards Narxity. We could hear Nagassa screaming "Fucking barbarians!" but we were too far into our attack to abort.

The woman, clearly at this point Narxity, spun left to avoid our stampede, then withdrew the daggers and threw one at each of our backs. Naturally, as barbarians, the damage was that of a pin prick or bent toenail. Narxity didn't show surprise and instead hurled a fireball at Faraday as we righted ourselves and began once again to charge - which, besides fear, was our primary tactical weapon.

The fireball, while looking impressive, caused no more than minor burns and we were both able to catch the Hunter as she attempted another dodge move. Nagassa had her pinned from behind, causing her that one instant of indecision, which allowed us to swing our dual tandems, one at quarter intervals on her body. She successfully avoided Faraday's head and hip swings, but my mid-torso and kneecap attacks were unavoidable, coming in at the angle of her avoidance.

Blood squirted from her abdomen and legs, and the damage to her knees caused her to collapse to the ground. Unfortunately, Nagassa had fired right as Narxity fell, putting that arrow into my shoulder.

"Goddamn it, Nagassa!" I roared as the blood began to erupt. "I fucking had the bitch!" I ripped the arrow, which was "V" shaped and rather lodged-in, from the muscle and hurled it in no particular direction, which happened to be precisely where one of the waitresses was standing, piercing her in the leg. "Fuck!" I shouted.

Narxity laid there motionless while we surrounded her with weapons at the ready. The tavern guests curiously surrounded us with expressions of perplexity, except the waitress, who was being attended to by Leonard. I gave her a wink and she smiled. She had big boobs.

And then she struck. At first, I thought she'd merely scratched my leg, which would have made no sense, and then I felt something graze my bone. And it fucking hurt a lot. I looked down to see one of Narxity's daggers in her hand, blood from my leg following the swing downwards. Faraday, logically thinking (which is unheard of in battle for a barbarian), tossed his weighted net over the Hunter, disabling her.

"Do you know who I am or what you have done?" she growled, as if we were to be impressed or frightened.

"Yeah," I said, brushing the pain aside, "you're Narxity, the human Hunter, who I'm not supposed to fornicate with because I will turn into the eighth one of you. Oh, and we're supposed to kill you."

"But I can't be killed. I'm a demon," she growled once more, pitifully trying to free herself. However, the magical net had other plans and further restricted her. At last, she gave in and fell to the floor completely.

"You're human," added Nagassa. "We can kill humans." And with that, Nagassa put an arrow through the eye of Narxity, pouring brains out her face and to the wooden floorboards. Faraday chimed into the violence, bringing one of his swords down and cutting the Hunter into two very distinct pieces. And that was that.

"Easy enough," he said, brushing the blood off on a bystander, who cursed and walked from the tavern in disgust - I think it was a preacher.

"Hey Leonard," I called.

"What now?" he said, moving over and surveying the carnage.

"For a hundred gold can you clean this up so we can get the fuck on our way?"

He looked at the brains, then at the gold in my hand, then took the coins. "Fuck you," he said under his breath, going behind the bar to retrieve a broom and dustpan. The waitress, whose leg was bandaged and appeared to be in good spirits, joined me as I sat at a table.

"I'm not going to apologize. That Hunter was pissing me off."

She smiled. "I don't really care. I'm a Maiden, and I just want to fuck."

"In that case," I said, "I'm sorry. Now?"

Maidens are a mysterious echelon of enchantresses from the Temple of Desideratio. They are the third in a chain of five tiers of Templaresses; first being the Virgin - who, naturally, is a young woman, generally in the ages of twelve to sixteen, who has had no sexual contact. Virgins undergo a year-long process of cleansing, upon which they are bestowed their first level of magical powers and the tier of Provata. Provatas are pupils of the magical arts, and are merely beginning the powers of the Desideratio and to comprehend the mysteries of sexuality. After a two-year intense study, they are given the tier of Maiden, in which they are engrained with their first sexual powers and allowed to utilize the powers of sexuality, learning and practicing Desideratio fundamentals. When the Dietess determines Maidens are sound in their ways, they are released into the world with the title of Priestess of the Desideratio, whence they can use their powers in any means they deem.

That aside, we clamored up the rickety wooden staircase and swiftly into a secluded room at the end of the short hallway, where both our garments were on the floor in the span of three seconds. We wasted no time with formalities or foreplay; Maidens, as they are the basic rudiments of their magic, can become aroused at any point, with no warning.

As she was ready, I lashed inside her with ferocity, spreading her apart and inciting her to cry with pleasure. I began to whip in and out, ignoring etiquette or position, paying no heed to her clitoral pressure. I did notice her magnanimous breasts as they lurched this way and that; they were massive. I was so enthralled in her bust that I lost complete control on my stimulation levels. Luckily, as I felt my climax begin, I hit the right spot and her pussy clamped down on me with vice-like grip, bouncing her tits with unmatched intensity as I exploded deep inside her again and again. After the bursts subsided, I collapsed on top of her, using her breasts as pillows. She relaxed her legs and allowed them to go limp over my back.

"I thought barbarians were supposed to be amazing in bed," she said, grinning as I raised my head, preparing to defend my sexual prowess. "I know," she winked.

Barbarians were humans, albeit immense and war-trained from day one, with no parental limits to their violence levels, causing them to have Herculean aggressiveness. Our magical abilities are lacking, due more to our ignorance than to genetic ability; we could learn magic, but a sword is much more effective at head cleaving.

As I woke, was I later determined to be fifteen minutes later, I could hear Faraday and Nagassa in the room adjacent to ours. Unlike my twenty-second stint, Faraday was doing it in the proper manner; paying attention to Nagassa's desires: changing position, giving her clit plenty of attention, and generally being her partner. 'Ah, the benefits of marriage,' I though to myself, rolling on my side and grabbing a handful of the Maiden's right tit, stirring her in her slumber but not waking her. Many ideas crossed my mind, but I ignored all of them, got up from bed, and reclothed myself. I needed alcohol, and the closest place was a thirty-foot walk from my present position. I debated the pros and cons of the journey, then agreed with my subconscious and began the arduous trek down the fucking rickety stairs and to beer.

Continued in Chapter II

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