studiobondurri Chapter 249 Tribes Of Sorcese
Chapter 249 Tribes Of Sorcese
[ONE SECOND REMAINING. . .]
Peitho played the part of Israfel's confidante very well. Like a faithful hotel concierge, always out to outsmart the Madame and inform the Lord, or Viscount, or Marquis, or General—or whomever the cheating bastard might be—of his wife's presence in their establishment before ever the said 'cheating bastard' could get caught in the act.
Always, the Mistress was one leg out the window right before the Lady wife swarmed in to confirm her doubts—only to find an empty, spickspan hotel room. Such places weren't [5 stars] for nothin'.
Tonight, Peitho was Rafel's concierge.
And though he didn't need keep his skullfucking the [Critch] butcher a secret; his harem would need to grow at some point, Rafel enjoyed it more being clandestine. Being sneaky with Mama Mia was part of her allure. Of course her one horn and mighty cleavage came in first. 'I wonder how she lost the first horn, huh? I'll remember to ask the next time we do this.'
Pop! He slid out from mama Mia's mouth with a very wet pop. Her sucking action left his balls drained.
Still, she licked at them, tonguing cherishedly his sac.
"Wow, look at her go," he thought.
[Lord host?] Peitho warned.
"Ugh." Rafel hastily pulled up his pants. He ignored the uncomfortable feeling. "You have to go." He sat up from his visitor MILF's prodigious naked titties, almost groaning when she covered them with her abandoned bra. She followed his line of sight to her bust and smiled. "Raincheck?"
"Yes, please."
Rafel asked, hearing footsteps approaching: muted echoes through the tinted glass. "Do I portal you?"
She laughed. "Oh no dear. I may be a butcher. But I am a Critch first."
Before he could react, she leapfrogged out the long window in the darkglass chamber. Her satyr hooves carried her dozens of feet high no human athlete could achieve. Rafel rose from the sofa and peered out the window. She was skirting the dome's grounds, clopping happily away.
"Damn, Mama Mia!"
All these he managed within the space of a second.
Peitho must've used [Time Glitch] or something because...
The door abruptly squealed open. Rafel turned from the window, catching Ravenna's cheery announcement as the three girls walked in.
"We're back." Hosanna wasn't with them. Cora trailed up to him, kissing his lips first and his lopsided smile. "Did you miss us?"
"Oh, you have no idea." He breathed in deeply her jasmine. Inwards, he said to Peitho, 'whew! That was close. Thank you. You're a proper wingman.'
[I do not wish for you to view me as a male creature.]
Rafel smiled big, while hugging Cora. "Trust me, I could never, even if I tried." He hurled the bags of meat to Aya by [shadow levitation]. "Get cookin', slave." The succubus took one look in: "Snails? Yippee!" She bounced away. "Hark!" Cora freed herself of Rafel, disentangling with a final swift peck of his earlobe. "—wait for me. Don't ruin that good meat, bitch."
"I can cook too." Aya yelled back. Israfel fell back on the sofa, this time with a really freaking big smile, watching his waifu [Bond] and his dyke concubine go at it. Soon enough, the aroma of wonderful snail soup filled the midnight glass suite.
Three days later, news came from Helladeep: from the Junker queen. Dementa, in her message to Rafel—blue ink inscribed to the back of a young Deathlie boy, which really looked like [Amorite] symbols—addressed that she had intercepted a fleet of Blackguards: Lilith's elite [Transmutant] soldiers, bearing the banners with the Morningstar crest; their single mission to seize the Kingslayer and the runaway Queen, and bring them back home.
Interpretation: Israfel and Ravenna.
[. . .I was only able to gain advantage over the troops because they lacked knowledge of the lay of the Badlands,] Dementa wrote.
Cora, who was intelligently reading the symbols pointed to one at the tail end of the boy's back:
"Here. Look at this. Dementa killed them all."
"How?"
Rafel stood with Lord Zaftig, all of them in the throne room.
"Spiked wheel crucifixion." Cora dropped the bombshell.
The dust was clearing and the area sharpening into focus. Sure enough, the company saw shadows of men skirting in the paths. They were rising from their hiding places like angry trees. The shadows had hands that grasped at throttles. And not one second later, Rafel heard them pump up their bikes: BRUUUUM! BRRRUUUUMMMMM!
Fifty men charged out from nowhere. And women too. They were wearing grotesque cave masks. It made look like hideous plague doctors.
All the dust fog rolled away. The sun beat down again. The stretch of the place the caravan stood became clear as could be; Rafel found they stood on a flatland. It was a mountains region. Still barren though. The bandits began taking off their masks. Khalifa pulled down her veils an inch. She frowned and scoffed. "Highwaymen. I hate these motherfuckers."
She looked around to make sure everyone was okay. No shots had been fired yet.
"See the hideous incisions on the sides of their heads?" She told aloud to Rafel. She waited for him to notice and nod. "Yeah, those are their tribal marks. These are the Tribes of Sorcese. Mountain people."
"Just to be clear," said Rafel, "this is still Lord Zaf's territory?"
"Yes, Ser." A Deathlie girl in front, tatted up to her forehead in red ink tossed back. She was part of the caravan's front march.
"Good." Rafel smiled darkly. Then he instructed all of the company. "Wait here."
The gangs were still throttling their frightful metal excuse of machine-vehicles, causing an annoying amount of dust particles to dangle perpetually in the air. One of the biker dudes did a full Eight with the back tyres of his tricycle. Then he planted on his sun-burnt, dry-cracked, bleached face a grin Rafel knew he wouldn't hold for long, and patted the coyote skull between his handlebars.
Rafel stepped up to man in the fifty-gang fleet: a bear. Black as the soot on Rafel's boots—and this wasn't racist or anything.
This fella was dark!
The black hulk was full goth in his regalia and sat on his [Marauder S Class] bike with the silver streams, one sturdy leg down in a classic Bonelander pose.
He chewed on a dry chicken leg.
Rafel took one look at the bone and wanted to say: 'Oh, my friend, where did all the meat go?'
These tribes ate vultures he heard—and people.
Rafel looked upon the black outlaw, visibly taller. "Hey. We want no trouble. We only seek passage through these mountains. We're headed up to Grone's hill. I have business with the Skullrider. Let us pass and we'll forget you damn near choked us to death with your cheap [smoke cores]. I MIGHT FORGET." Rafel hardened. Real fire pit into his eyes.
The black hulk did something he didn't expect at all: he reared back, put out the bone in his mouth and did a full belly shaking laugh.
"Let you pass?" He laughed harder. He belched, his massive waist bouncing up and down.
The dude had some stomach there!
The marauder finally brought his head back down; his own eyes were evil obsidian. "You want to pass," he offered with no smile. "That depends. You got a [Panda] idol?"
Rafel didn't think he could get any angrier. But he did. Money? FUCKING REALLY? A [Panda] idol was a cool 1 million survivor coins in any [Thrift Shop] of available systems in the Badlands. It had become a standard unit. Rather than say one mil. you just said a [Panda].
One million survivor coins was... [10 000 000] soul coins.
Hell nah!
Rafel chose his demonic side this time.
"Peitho. Unleash THE CAULDRON!"
Many things happened at once. But the most evident was that the black dude's body lit like hot embers from the inside. His oiled tar skin began to steam, like a boar hissing above a furnace. His veins glowed red as magma rushed in his veins.
[Helflame].
He tried to speak but smoke poured out instead. He was boiling from the inside. When he realized what was happening, he took another VERY SLOW look at the people he just tired to rob. Rafel saw his midnight eyes instantly bulge. 'Yeah, motherfucker. Look again.'
[The Cauldron] was a Red Titan Influence.
And the tribes of Sorcese were just realizing that the redhaired traveller was the. . .Red Titan.
"Fuck—"