Portal - A Rogues Journey [Black Out and Whispered Secret] NSFW

[Black_Out]

Portal - A Rogues Journey
Led Zeppelin - In The Light​

The city of Lorelin had put up one admirable fight. But like most any other city that the ever expanding Empire of Merasheel came upon its defenses finally folded and fell. In the weeks after its surrender the ranks of the Empire surged inward and declared martial law over the rubble strewn remains of the ounce proud metropolis of Lorelin. The grand courtyard beyond the main gates had been cleared of the rubble and debris that remained from the exhaustive siege. What buildings that still stood were torn down, leveled, and cleared away with the rest of the refuse until only a flat and vacant space was left where once a bustling main thoroughfare had existed. When the burden of that task had been completed and whatever notable pockets of resistance that remained had been rooted out, the Empire prepared those wind swept grounds for the next step in the subjugation of Lorelin and its populace. The stage would soon be set for the Inquisition of Lorelin to begin. Soon the heretics, the unholy, and those that followed the old gods would be banished from the lands forevermore.

- Present Day -
​

Sir Ander Brandthaven wasn't aware just how much his life was going to change when he woke on that fateful morning and pulled himself out of the comfort of his bed. It was business as usual, or so it seemed for the veteran knight that had served under the banner of the Empire of Merasheel for nearly a decade now. He washed the desire to crawl back into bed for just a little more sleep out of his system as he stood before the ceramic basin and splashed freshly drawn well water across the rugged and scarred features of a face that looked older then the thirty years of age that belonged to it. After that he tossed on his leggings and padded shirt before calling for the young lad who lived under the roof of the home that had been claimed by his superior, Inquisitor Layne, as their temporary shelter in the city of Lorelin while the Inquisition of the city was being carried out. Ander gave the boy a quick pat down before he allowed him to assist in the process of getting into his heavy armor. Locals couldn't be trusted, even a young and simple looking lad like this boy might very well be hiding a knife, waiting to stick it into the ribs of someone just like Ander.

Such was the life of a conquering knight. To always be on ones guard was a mentally exhausting affair. But to let ones guard down could and most likely would eventually lead to an abrupt and dishonorable end. There was rarely any form of respite to be found. Not now, not when the Empire and the constant march of its war machine brought them to every city, village, town, and camp that remotely crossed their path. Few ever welcomed them and those that did were never trusted until the Inquisition had a chance to weed out the nonbelievers or prophets of the false gods that plagued the lands.

So of course Anders was suspicious of that young boy. He was just as wary of him as he was of the boys mother, despite enjoying the pleasure of her flesh on more then one occasion during their tenure under her roof. Every morning he insisted on having the woman and her son consume a bowl of their daily helping of bland porridge that she prepared. Not that he suspected the woman of being a witch. No, if she was Layne would of sensed that unholy aura and her fate would of been sealed in a most gruesome fashion. After Sir Brandthaven was convinced that their simple breakfast was safe for consumption they gathered hands as Inquisitor Layne led them in prayer.

"Our lord and savior, he who has risen from the ashes, we humbly thank thee for this daily bounty of your harvest." As Layne droned on, Ander recited the familiar versus to himself along with the other three knights that had gathered around the modest table. "In your name we serve.." The foursome of soldiers humbly intoned in unison when the proper moments arrived throughout the ritualistic prayer. "Bestow upon us the graces of your holy blessings, so that we might cleanse the land of those who stand against you. For you are the one, the only, true god. In your name we pray." The Inquisitor drew the rite towards its close as the gathered servants of Merasheel proclaimed in harmony. "In your name we pray."

They set out shortly after their bowls were emptied. Scouring the streets for any that Inquisitor Layne might lay judgement upon with the but a point of his finger or a word. By noon, dozens had been led away by wagon. Shipped off to the prison camps that had been erected outside the walls of Lorelin. There they would remain until they were summoned to the Portal were they would face their final judgement before the unscrupulous gaze of the High Inquisitor. It was shortly after lunch when Anders day took a turn for the worse.

- The Chase -
Janes Addiction - Been Caught Stealing

"Don't just stand there! Stop her! Get her!" Layne screamed like a banshee as looked up towards Ander and the trio of other knights that were under his service. The young Inquisitor was downright furious at having been knocked over by the brash young woman that had dared to defy his orders to halt. He was even more enraged at the flock of knights that traveled with him for being unable to get a grasp on the slippery lithe figure before she darted off. Already the trio of younger knights were off in pursuit of their elusive quarry as she vanished around a corner. Ander remained by the fallen Inquisitors side though as was customary for the senior most knight that was under the service of a man of the cloth. His hand remained attuned to the well worn handle of his blade, his every fiber alert for any sign of danger that might present itself as he kept guard over his most holy charge. "You! Ander, help me up you fool!" Layne barked in frustration as he thrust his hand up towards his personal guardian.

As much as Ander wanted to tell him off, he knew better then to chastise anyone who wore the robes of the Inquisition. Instead he bit his tongue while his amused smirk was fortunately kept hidden beneath the drawn visor of his helm. His fingers relaxed and fell away from the handle of his sword as he complied with the request and reached out to take the ill tempered and youthful Inquisitors hand in his own. "Thanks.." Layne hissed out under his breath as he let the stronger knight drag him back up to his feet. The Inquisitor glared in the general direction that the young woman had scampered off in as he muttered under his breath. "Was it her? It was her, wasn't it, the same one that dared to pick my pocket?"

Ander nodded once, his voice flat and emotionless as he responded, confirming his superiors suspicions. "Yes, most holy Inquisitor, I believe it was." His eyes hardened upon the corner where the buildings rose up to block the view of the chase that was taking place. "I'm sure it was." He added as an afterthought while Layne was busy brushing the crumbs of dirt away from his usually pristine robes. Ander recalled that still fresh in his mind encounter with the young thief from several days ago. He had gotten the best look of any of them at the dazzling green eyes that adorned her almond shaped face when he had grabbed the young lady by her wrist while she was trying to make her escape. He would of had her too, if she hadn't of driven her foot up into his crotch and slipped free from his grasp. As humiliating as that quick exchange between them had been, Ander was quite thankful that no one else was around to witness that humbling moment. While that brief run in with the slippery redheaded mischief maker flashed through Anders introspective musings, Layne took hold of the star encrusted holy symbol of Merasheel that hung from his neck and murmured forth a quiet prayer. That meager miracle washed over the dust and dirt that had clung to his most holy robes and swept the dirt away, leaving him looking as crisp and clean as could be.

Sensing that his holy charge was ready to move forward and join in the pursuit Anders moved forward and took the lead. "I don't think she'll be getting away this time, holy one." He commented, sparing a glance back over his shoulder before returning his attention to the thickening crowds that rose up before them. "She's heading right into the Inquisition, they'll be nowhere for her to go." He drew his sword in preparation for any trouble that might arise while he scanned the gathered throng of common folk that were converging towards the open flat courtyard up ahead where a host of knights and holy men far more prominent than the two of them were holding court.

His sharp eyes caught sight of his men giving chase and his ears caught their muffled calls for her to stop as they breached into the fringes of the crowded courtyard. A silent curse fell unspoken from his lips but rang loud in his thoughts at the situation unfolding before his eyes. He could hear the booming voice of the High Inquisitor echoing over the din of the crowd from his distant perch before the shimmering glow of the portal. There were other guards responding to the call for assistance, sweeping inward through the congested gathering in search of their shifty prey. "Go on, bring the scoundrel before me, she has sins to pay for." Layne commanded in a shrill tone of disapproval. "I'll remain here." He added, fully aware of how perilous it might be for him to personally get entangled in the potentially disruptive endeavor that loomed before them.

The last thing Anders wanted to do was wade knee deep into this situation, but his service to the Inquisitor came with little choice to exercise disobedience. With a grunt the grizzled knight strode forward, blade in hand, his voice barking out at the crowd of onlookers that were working their way forward to get a better view of the judgement that was being dispensed. "Step aside!" He pushed his way through, the conglomeration parted for his passage when they took notice of the lumbering knights approach. He could see the rest of his troupe up ahead, plowing through the sea of people. Anders paused, tossing his visor up before cupping his hands to his lips as he shouted over the discordant murmuring of the gallery of spectators. "Red hair! Green eyes! Find her!"

As he suspected, his call fell on mostly deaf ears, but as he hoped, one of his men caught the sound of his words. Soon that call was rising out, being repeated by the guards and knights that were growing in number by the minute as they pressed their search through the packed house that was in attendance. "Red hair! Green eyes! We're looking for a woman with red hair and green eyes!" The simple description proceeded to multiply as Ander sifted his way through the gathered masses, grabbing ahold of anyone who he remotely might of suspected as his prey and turning them abruptly about so he could get a look at their face. Face after face was turned to no avail as the crowd began to grow restless around him.

Up ahead he could hear the distinct bellowing voice of the High Inquisitor growing clearer with every step that led him towards the enigmatic portal. "Timeron Yurdale, you have been found guilty and lacking in faith! You are banished forever more from these lands by means of the portal!" A meager cry rose up from the crowd as the few that dared to protest the verdict did so from the cover of the cluster of men and women that had come to observe the proceedings. "Bring forth the next heretic!" Anders gritted his teeth as he could feel the sweat building across his body as the intensity of the moment began to truly sink in.

They had to find this spry woman, and fast, before she caused more of a scene then she already had.

 

[Whispered Secret]

You would think that years of survival on the streets would make a girl more cautious, the dangers of apprehension in the very front of her thoughts at all times. Those thoughts would have been entirely true not too long ago. Before the Merasheel arrived, overrunning and possessing the city with a zealous viciousness that was completely foreign to the people of Lorelin. That said, the Lorelinians had never been peaceful, meek, or passive. On the contrary, their class divided system had secured the differences between commoners and the upper classes to the point where almost anything was allowed…as long as you had the means of paying off the right people.

Need a relation to disappear because they were competing for the same inheritance as yourself? A suitably skilled person could be found and hired, deep in the bowels of the city. Any and every service was available, be the intent murderous or pleasurable, a person needed only the knowledge of who to make their inquiries to, and the funds to pay for said services. So no, Lorelin wasn’t a peaceful, fair society …but the reasons behind most lawless acts, were recognisable to all.

Greed, lust, vengeance…or just plain and simple survival.

The Merasheel were different. Their acts of torturous violence sanctioned by nothing other than their fanatical beliefs. Their rabid conduct and sadistic practices grounded within their faith and convictions of one true god. A being that demanded everyone’s devotion, without doubt or question. THAT kind of mindless deference was something the people of Lorelin found hard to swallow. After the short, bloody war that finally lost them control of their city, the people were subdued. Those that could, escaped when possible and the rest tried to hide and avoid any unwanted attention. Their conquerors didn’t make is easy to stay out of sight. Invading their homes, forcing themselves into the lives, and sometimes beds, of whichever inhabitant caught their regard.

The female currently running as though her life depended on it, which it did, was not one of the everyday city population. Neither upper, middle, or lower class. She had resided on the outskirts of society. Only dipping her toes into the waters of humanity when her continued survival demanded it. Once upon a time, the girl had been in the grasp of relative normalcy. Growing up in an orphanage that worked the children they had custody of, into the ground day and night. Supplying wares for their so-called caregiver to sell off and live in luxury while the children were in rags, fighting over the scraps allotted them after each work shift.

It was there the girl learned to fight, to steal….to survive. And it was there she had been given the name she now went by. Her name was now Newt. It hadn’t always been her name, but she couldn’t remember what her first name had been. It died along with the family she had been born into all those years ago. Not that many people knew her at all, let alone the name she now claimed. Newt rarely interacted with anyone. Since her escape from the workhouse of her childhood, she kept her own company whenever possible. Distrustful and suspicious of everyone. There had been two shops she visited to sell or exchange her stolen wares, and both were gone now. The war claiming the owners either in death or flight. Newt hadn’t known them well enough to have any knowledge of their circumstances.

Since the changes forced on them by the Merasheel, hiding and keeping to herself had been impossible if she wanted to continue to survive. Jobs that required her skill as a thief were non-existent now, people were more worried about keeping what they had, than in acquiring new treasures. So, food was scarce. Newt was small enough that she couldn’t afford losing much weight without it effecting her health. Just over 5-foot-tall, a slender athletic form allowed her to slip in and out of crowds and dark alleyways practically unseen. The long woollen cloak, one of her few treasured belongings, easily pulled up to cover her bright red hair. She usually kept the wild tendrils bound tightly in a thick braid and tucked into the collar of her shirt. She loved her hair, her one true feature that set her apart from so many others, but she hated herself for the vanity. Knowing it would likely one day, be the cause of her demise. The thick, red strands almost glowed under the sunlight. Far too recognisable in a crowd, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to chop them off.

To compensate for her weakness, she had long ago invested in the black cloak slung tightly about her slight form. It was light enough to wear all the time, but long enough that she had often used it as a warm blanket on cold nights in the abandoned properties Newt called home. It had been a gift to herself after a job a few years back. Spelled to stay clean and keep her warm when needed, it had cost her more than anything she had previously purchased, but the garment had been worth every hard-earned coin.

Other than the cloak, her most prized possessions where the two stiletto blades, one sheathed on each of her upper thighs, and the numerous small throwing knives hidden about her body. Newt rarely used the blades with intent to harm, but they were her only protection in an extremely dangerous existence. Not to mention, they were a great way to pass the long lonely hours away with. Practicing until she could hit a mark dead centre, every single time.

Anything else she called her own, was easily replaceable. She found it safer to travel light and not get attached to anything, which was to her advantage now as she raced throughout the crowds, trying to escape her pursuers.

She had been so foolish, Newt knew better than to hit the same mark more than once, but the pompous man had been walking down the street as if he owned it, sneering at people as though they were dirt under his feet. She had remembered his outrages cries last week when she ran off with his coins and wanted him to feel the helplessness and humiliation once more.

Walking into the fool to lift the nice bag of coins hanging from his belt, she saw his guard take notice of her before she could slip away this time around. The lead guard, a man scared and vicious looking with cold eyes, had sent his men after her right away, and the crowds had turned out to be just as much a deterrent as a cover for Newt’s disappearance. Too many people, travelling like sheep, all in the same direction. She became trapped by the extreme masses of barely moving bodies, only able to remain a precious few step ahead of the chase.

Suddenly, the small, young woman was trapped between a group of guard’s intent on her capture and another group of them standing before the huge magical portal to what the Merasheel’s high priests claimed was a gateway to hell. The place they sent the tortured and halfdead people of Lorelin who refused to comply with the new order. Or at least the people the Merasheel’s wanted to get rid of for one reason or another.

The loud shouts behind her mixed with the even louder bellow from the pious, deviant looking man ahead of her, condemning the pitiful citizens and Newt had to think fast. How was she going to get out of this one?

“Newt, you are a complete and utterly overconfident fool,” she thought to herself. If she were caught, she would be punished for humiliating one of the Merasheel…most likely tortured to death and tossed into the brightly lit portal. Looking around desperately, she noticed her mark sending his last guard after her. She had no doubt that HE, would be able to apprehend her. He was too observant, too tenacious looking for her peace of mind.

She was stuck…for the first time since her escape from the workhouse, Newt would be captured. There was no route for her to slip through, no passage she could slip into and disappear. She would be caught.

Unless….

The guards in front of her had no idea she was being pursued, and she very much doubted they had ever needed to keep someone AWAY from the huge round evil looking portal behind them. Shoving people INTO it was what they were used to fighting with. She had a choice now. Jump willingly through the gate, remaining healthy and hale, or be thrown through later, most likely dead or at least wishing she were.

“Healthy and hale…” she muttered under her breath, making her decision while breaking through the crowd of onlookers. Staying low, her cloak pulled over her head, she moved closer and closer to the portal, only her hunters paying her the slightest bit of attention so far. Even they seemed reluctant to interrupt the rambling man passing judgment on yet another poor soul. The closer to the ring she became, the more she questioned her judgment. There was a wicked looking skull staring down from the top of the ring, lit up with the fire red light originating from within the circle. Her feet soundlessly took the first step leading into the abyss and a gasp rang out behind her. The audience finally reacting to the female stepping willingly towards what all others feared more than death itself.

The gasp jolted Newt and she knew she could no longer linger, doubting her choice. If she didn’t move forward, she would be yanked back and into a world of pain and who knew what else. Better to step into the unknown and take a chance then except definite defeat.

With that, her cloak fell from her head to rest on her shoulders, her hair blowing lose, caressed by the power of the portal itself, lighting the waves of tendrils in a fire like display of their own. With a last look back, her green eyes sparkled…and she stepped through the portal, the first person in history to ever do so willingly.

 

[Black_Out]

- The Aftermath -
White Zombie - Super Charger Heaven

​

Ander looked on in horror as he caught sight of that waif of a girl breaking through the crowd and making her way towards the pulsing red energy of the portal that loomed a short distance beyond the pulpit where the High Inquisitor whose attentions were currently fixated on the next poor sod to come before him. Fear gripped the knight something serious. For a moment it felt like his heart seized up in his chest, but that was just the precursor to the palpitations of dread that beat deep in his chest. Against the voice that was screaming in his head to get the hell out of there and find some hole to hide in, Ander instinctively broke into a run. A silent prayer formed in his mind as he saw the red haired youthful vixens face come out from under the cover of her hood. By Merasheels will woman! Stop! Turn around and give yourself up! As Sir Ander Brandthaven barreled his way through the crowd, sending commoners sprawling to the turf as he tore through their ranks, he could tell that this wretched woman had no intentions of answering that prayer.

But Ander wasn't the only one who saw Newt make her desperate dash for the unlikely beckoning entrance of the Portal. As Layne had Sir Ander Brandthaven as his personal guardian and protector, so to did the High Inquisitor have his own intimidating shadow of armor and steel always lingering nearby. Ever watchful, Sir Fyndrake bore witness to Newts intrusion before the crowd even could breath out its gasped response at her bold entrance. That mammoth knight who rode a fire breathing land drake into battle didn't hesitate to react to the diminutive figure that had just spilled out of the crowd and was heading right towards his most holy of charges and the Portal beyond him. "Assassin!" His voice bellowed out over the crowd as his initial suspicions caused him to break towards the lectern where the High Inquisitor was blissfully scorning a woman suspected of witch craft that had been thrust before him.

In truth, it wasn't the first time that someone might of attempted to disrupt the proceedings of the Inquisition. Fyndrake could count the attempts on the High Inquisitors life on two hands by this point. Few people, save for those in the inner circle of the Empire knew of the precautions that had been taken to keep the High Inquisitor and the Portal itself from being harmed. But he was left stunned for a breath when he arrived at the High Inquisitors side with his shield held out to cover his charge from assault while Newt passed right on by on her way to the waiting entrance of the Portal. As the spry rogue launched herself into the yawning portal of red that led to an uncertain fate, Fyndrake dropped his sword. It clattered upon the floorboards of the raised platform that overlooked the proceedings as his hand swiftly gathered up a throwing axe from his side. That hefty tool of destruction was sent chasing after Newt as she plunged into the red abyss where she vanished along with the axe that was cutting through the air towards her.

Ander broke through the stunned flock of commoners that was gathered around the scene just as Newt disappeared. His timing couldn't of been worse as the outraged eyes of the High Inquisitor fell directly upon him as he stopped dead in his tracks off to the side of the judge and jury of the Inquisition. Sir Ander felt himself shrink under the weight of that mans gaze. Right then and there, the knight knew he was sorely screwed. Fortunately for Ander there was an uprising forming in the wakes of chaos that Newts actions had ignited. His judgement would come, but for now it would have to wait. That fact still weighed heavily upon the knight, but he was glad to at least have some skulls available to let his anger out upon. Perhaps if he cracked open enough of them he might be granted a pardon.

- Beyond the Portal -

While it wasn't quite hell that greeted Newt on the other side of the Portal, it probably wasn't far off from that devils playground. She fell straight down through the dark night time air that was tinted red by the hovering vertical plane of swirling energy she emerged from. That unexpected drop of some twenty odd feet wasn't a pleasant affair as she fell out of the glow of the Portal and briefly passed through darkness before meeting a mangled mess of bloated and decomposed bodies that pillowed her fall. The heavy thunk of Fyndrakes axe burying into the shoulder of some long dead and swollen body by her side caught her attention as she gasped for those first breaths that her impact had stolen from her lungs. As she laid there upon a mound of death the grim landscape surrounding her began to be revealed as her eyes adjusted to the twinkling bright pin drops of stars peppered across the sky along with the glow of the half moon that peered out from behind clouds that were washed with the warmth of its light.

It was as if the soft light that was being revealed to her eyes was a curtain parting slowly before her, unveiling just a fraction of the mysteries that hid beyond its veil. First the bed of recently deposited bodies she had landed upon was made clear to her awakened eyes as their red tinged pallor came into focus. Just with a simple look about the expanse, Newt could see death everywhere, masses of corpses piled atop each other, shaped like rolling hills and mounds that one might find in a meadow. But this meadow didn't smell anything like flowers and crisp air, it smelled of rot, puss, and entropy. She could feel the clammy cold skin of the freshly dead beneath her and the further her yes ventured from her landing spot the more decayed and decomposed the bodies became. She could see one man clad in rags that wasn't far away, his hands were clenched over his mouth. Blood bubbled up from his mouth and seeped through his hands as his gurgled struggles for breath reached Newts ears. He was half way dead already, his vacant stare that gazed at the swirling energies of the pulsating portal above them showed that he knew it too.

The were other sounds that came from suffering silhouette beyond the babbling of the tongueless man bleeding slowly out not far from Newt. Tortured souls that had been suspected of witchcraft, individuals that gave their faith to gods over then Merasheel, and demi-humans that were far removed from the stock of humanity that formed the bulk of the Empire's forces. These men and women always suffered the worst at the hands of the Inquisition before they were tossed through the gates to die in the cold and unwelcoming hell that greeted them on the other side of the Portal. Then there were the insects, the carrion feasters that scoured the mounds of mangled and rotted corpses like it was some buffet. They were far larger then they had a right to be, their disturbing shapes could be seen in brief flashes scurrying over, under, and through the mass grave.

But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light that the dead of night provided her, Newt could see one place that stood out in stark contrast to the mountain of despair she had been spit out onto. It seemed so distant from where she lay beneath the groaning portal that bled red light down over her back, but at the same time the warmth that seemed to emanate from the grassy hill reached out to her, making it feel tangibly closer then it truly was. A great tree rose up from its precipice, the only solitary landmark upon the lush landscape of the fertile hills slope. Shadowy figures could be seen gathered in clusters about the gentle slopes of the welcoming hill. Water that she could practically taste worked its way down the hill in the shape of babbling brook that danced with motes of moonlight that played across its inviting surface. It seemed to call to anyone, and everyone that had the strength in them to make the journey to its sanctuary.

 

[Whispered Secret]

Godsmack - Voodoo​

Without making a conscious decision, Newt began to make her way towards the siren’s call of what looked to be a safe haven. Crawling and stepping over bodies of men and women. What should have been a place of rest for the empty husks was a feasting ground for carrion eaters. Bugs and birds swarmed the abhorrent mounds of decaying carcasses, searching for choice bits and mouthfuls.

The sensation of her foot sinking into the belly wound of a large man, broke whatever spell had taken hold of Newt, smothering her awareness to the point all her instincts had been buried too deeply for her to listen to them. Throwing off the numbing sensation unfortunately also heightened her senses to the carnage surrounding her.

Her stomach churned; the smell alone brought bile to her throat. Newt HAD to climb out, but any movement increased the stench of death tenfold. Closing her eyes to the butchery surrounding her, Newt attempted to distance herself from reality. Ignoring the rotten smell that was so intense she could practically feel the decay inside her mouth. A whimper escaped her, and she shook her head.

“Stop it!” she scolded herself, “they aren’t alive…just a pile of death that has no feelings or pain anymore.” Trying to convince herself of that wasn’t easy when she could hear muffled death rattling cries within the mountain of anguish. There was nothing she could do for them though. Newt had to take care of herself or the desperate choice of entering this hellish world might end worse than anything she had imagined back in Lorelin.

With one last, not so deep breath, Newt opened her eyes and searched the horizon. She was careful to avoid looking towards the temptation of water, knowing a trap when she felt one. When her view was disturbed by the huge axe that had been thrown at her with deadly intent, she reached for it, giving it a tug, trying to dislodge it from the thick thigh it was embedded in. Any extra weapons could be an advantage for her. Unfortunately, the massive cleaver was too heavy. Dragging it around would be more of a hindrance than help so she let it be. The thought that there was a man that could easily toss the axe she could barely wiggle, caused her to wince. Thankfully, she had never ended up in THAT beast of a man’s hands for punishment.

“That’s right Newt, look on the bright side…he’ll never get a hold of you now.” Talking to herself seemed to take her mind off her grisly surroundings. Though Newt couldn’t bring herself to smile, the thought of the pandemonium she had left behind, did lighten her mood a little. No matter whether she lived to see another day or not, she had bested the Merasheel. The great conquering Empire that invaded and cowed nation upon nation had been defeated, in at least a small way, by a young girl of no importance.

Imagining the looks on the despicable priests’ faces was the closest she had felt to satisfaction in an exceedingly long time. No one would ever forget what she, Newt the street thief, had accomplished that day, and no matter what the Merasheel did to deny it, stories would travel far and wide. Though…. with a drawn-out sigh or regret, she wished someone else had dared to defy the army of religious fanatics so that she could have safely watched the outcome from afar.

Regrets would get her nowhere though, and looking around, the young thief realized that her wandering thoughts had distracted her long enough that she was finally able to see true dirt beneath her feet rather than layer over layer of death and destruction. She wasn’t by any means clear of the vomit inducing rotting flesh, but at least she was no longer knee deep in the remains. The further she travelled in the opposite direction she felt drawn towards, the fewer, wet and bloody bodies there were. It looked as if large creatures had pulled and dragged meals off the stack to enjoy their feast in private. As time passed, half eaten bodies gave way to skeletal, gnawed on bones. The longer she walked, the less death encompassed her and the easier it was to breath. At the same time though, she didn’t see any signs of life either. No other human survivors, no water or anything that looked eatable. Companionship she could do without entirely, food for at least a week or more…water was going to be a problem though. She couldn’t last more than a day…two at the most, without something to rehydrate with.

She had taken to walking dead opposite to where the sweet smelling water had been located in an attempt to do the unexpected and give herself a better chance of survival. Newt would stick to her plan for a day, continue walking and traveling in hope of finding resources that would meet her needs. If she didn’t find anything before sundown the following day, she would have to head back and try to figure out what to do next.

One short step after the other, Newt continued her exploration. Keeping a keen eye open for anything unusual. As the night progressed, the air grew chill and she was happy to still have her woollen cloak around her. The magicked material had resisted the stench of death, but she knew everything else on her body…as well as her body itself, most likely reeked with the foul smell. Her nose scrinched up, imaging what might be in her hair, on her boots…

Every so often she would spot a darker spot in the skies and guessed it to be one of this world’s native inhabitants. How long exactly had the portal been feeding this world. Could the natives have stopped Merasheels dumping their unwanted into this realm, or did they even want it stopped? So many questions were a chaotic swirl in her mind while she tiredly dragged on. Always moving forward for fear that stopping and taking a break would end badly, hour after hour.

Newt thoughtlessly twisted and twirled a stiletto’s in one hand while keeping an eye on the horizon. It was getting lighter and what appeared to be a mountain range was off in the distance. “As good a place to start exploring as any,” Newt groaned to herself, knowing there were hours of walking ahead of her before she reached the base of her chosen destination. But at least now she had a goal, could see her path in front of her. With that choice came a spurt of new energy. Hopefully, she would find shelter and water somewhere there. If nothing else, somewhere hidden enough that Newt would feel safe enough to close her eyes for a few hours. As the ominous darkness of night faded, signs and sounds of life began to emerge.

Her eyes wide open, Newt was alert for danger. She wasn’t safe yet…if she ever would be in this new, exotic environment. She drew her second stiletto from the sheath on her upper thigh, and carefully continued her journey.

 

[Black_Out]

- Spring in Hell -
Metallica - Wherever I May Roam

As the dawning of the sun rose from over the horizon and shed its array of brilliant oranges and yellows across the rolling fields that Newt had been tirelessly trudging her way through for half of the night, several stark observations rose with the sun and dawned upon the solitary traveler. Autumn was in full swing back home in Lorelin, but here as the light of day landed upon the ground, the lands were enraptured by the rising tide of Spring. Despite the comfort provided by her trusty cloak the sun granted her pale skin a welcome warmth that soon replaced the chill of the nights air. As the land gained definition before Newt, it became readily apparent that the handful of trees that sprouted up around her were becoming thicker in the distance and that those rolling hills were growing steeper as they encroached upon that distant expanse of mountains. Hours, no, it would take days perhaps to make that long trek to the fringes of those peaks.

But at long last as Newt continued forward her sparkling green eyes caught sight of a most welcome little creek that cut through the deepest part of the valleys that swirled between the hills. For as much as Spring was blooming across the lands, there was a distinct lack of definitive food, although Newts astute eyes did take notice of wiry squirrels scampering about the lush grasses and scurrying about in the branches of the trees that dotted the landscape around her. Closer to the crystal clear water that her parched throat begged for her to head towards she could see a thick swath of mud near a shallow pool that looked perfect for bathing.

There was just one problem as she stood on a ridge and looked down into that valley where the thirst quenching and cleansing waters waited. The angle of the sun struck across that muddy shore and highlighted one deep set of footprints that were so clearly visible from her vantage point that they only could of belonged to some sort of mythical giant, just like the street bards in Lorelin had sung of in some of their harmonious tales. The longer her eyes gazed upon that set of prints, the more Newt was able to see them upon the other side of the narrow creek where they had mashed down into the grass. Without daring to get closer it would be hard to discern what sort of monstrosity those markings might belong to, but from the looks of it they seemed to head off towards the deeper woods and hills that she was also striding her way towards.

Off in the distance, perhaps some miles away from where Newt stood hidden amongst the tall grasses that lined the ridge of the hill she could see a wisp of dark smoke starting to rise. It was hard to say how many hills and valleys lay between her and that slender snake of smoke that was rising up into the waking sky, but it certainly was far closer than those distant mountain peaks were. The wind blew across her pale face, causing the brilliant red and oranges strands of her hair to whip about as she watched the trails of smoke disperse as they rose upwards towards the slow moving clouds above.

- A Most Dishonorable Discharge -

"You failed, on so many levels, Sir Ander Brandthaven." The knight felt like he was being whipped by those harsh words and the resentment that was laced into the pronunciation of his title. Layne of course had sold him out to spare his own hide from the full might of the High Inquisitors unmitigated wrath. "You were grossly negligent in your duties to your most holy charges protection when you left his side." Anders grimaced, wanting to speak out that he was simply following orders, but that would of only made matters worse. No one interrupted the High Inquisitor, or ever dared to question his supreme judgement. "Furthermore you failed to apprehend this frail little woman and your failure in that matter allowed her to disturb our most holy Inquisition." The High Inquisitor paused as Anders remained on his knees within the now cleared out, yet still well guarded courtyard.

"She made a mockery of not only us, but of our God, the one true Lord of the Heavens, Merasheel." The tips of the High Inquisitors fingers stabbed into the sloped edges of his lectern as he stared daggers down upon the humbled and quiet knight that had served under the banner of the Empire for so long. None of that mattered now, not to the High Inquisitor, he did not take lightly to being made to look like a fool, and that was precisely what that pesky little thief had accomplished when she made her mad dash into the Portal. "Normally I would let Fyndrake sever your head from your shoulders here and now and put your head on a pike to make an example out of you to the rest of the knights so that they might not falter in their duties."

The downcast knight couldn't help but turn his head just enough so that he could see the thick metal greaves that covered the aforementioned boots of the legendary Fyndrake. Anders gulped back a surge of fear as he turned his gaze back down to the ground and let his head sink in regret. "But our Lord Merasheel has shown me the light, through a vision he has granted me the path that you must travel for the salvation of you and your family." The veteran knight grit his teeth as the vague threat upon his loved ones was introduced by the High Inquisitors authoritarian tone. "You will be banished into the Portal and you will find this heretic and pass upon her my final judgement of death for the despicable sins she has committed."

With a sweeping dismissive gesture of his hand, the High Inquisitor passed down his judgement upon the former knight. "Then and only then will you be welcomed into his lofty kingdom and cleansed of your own sins." The most holy of holies turned his shoulders and directed his hand towards the waiting red swirls of energy that loomed behind him. "Consider it a blessing that you have been granted this opportunity and that we have allowed you some measure of provisions and necessities to see your quest for repentance completed." There was a pause taken for the old priest to fill his lungs before he concluded. "Now be gone from these lands, never to be seen again." The High Inquisitor leaned forward to glare down upon the disgraced knight who was now rising to his feet and collecting the backpack that had been set down by his side. "Although I truly hope we meet again in the Kingdom of our Lord, Merasheel, for then I will know you have been redeemed and we shall celebrate!"

Anders didn't know it yet, but that twenty foot fall was going to suck.

 

[Whispered Secret]

- The Miracle of Water -
The River​

Newt stood for a while, relishing the sun. Letting her hood fall to her shoulders she lifted her face to the skies to draw in the suns heat and vitality. For the first time in days, a smile touched her full, sensuous lips despite the evidence of possible danger ahead. She had a choice to make. “More life changing choices in the last few days than should be necessary”, she muttered to herself. Newt had hoped to make her way to the mountains, unfortunately…the mountain range was no closer today than it had been the day before. After living on the outskirts of a city her whole life, her sense of distances didn’t seem to be very promising. Taking a deep breath, a hint of the decay left over from her trek through decomposing remains disturbed her moment of rest and she looked back down into the pool of tempting water.

Following the crease that the water made across the landscape, she looked for a safer place…one preferably without footprints…that she might risk quenching her thirst and maybe even getting cleaned up. She desperately wanted to wash, remove any hint of the haunting hill of death from her body. But the pool seemed to be the best place to approach. At least the best place she could see from her current location. The water was clear, so Newt could spot any predators that might be hiding under the surface, and the area around the pool was scarcely peppered with shrubs and grasses. Only something smaller would be able to get near her without her spotting it first. And whatever had produced those prints, was certainly not small.

Slowly and very quietly, Newt worked her way to the water, her fingertips trailing over the tops of grass when it grew tall enough to reach. It felt soft, as though each strand was covered in a layer of silk and it enticed one to touch and caress it. It smelled sweet as if it might taste of honey if she tried to chew on a strand, but Newt knew better than to put anything in her mouth that she didn’t know for sure wasn’t poisonous. Especially when it was this tempting.

When she made it to the waters edge, she could clearly see the set of footprints and better judge their size. Newt’s arm, from elbow to fingertips, would have easily rested within the muddy tracks. Whatever had produced such a footprint, was NOT something Newt wanted to meet up with any time soon. She took her time to examen the area, looking for the smallest hint that she might not be alone. Years of thieving had taught her patience, there was a reason she had never been caught before…well, almost never. This last time didn’t really count since she still got away.

Once she was ensured of her relative safety, Newt flattened an area of grass big enough to hide within and made herself a small nest. Slipping out of her cloak and laying it into the hollow she had designed, she shrugged off the leather bag draped across her shoulder and opened it to see if anything inside would be of use to her. She fished out a few coins…they might be of use to her later, if anything like a village or city existed in this realm, but nothing she could use for anything at the moment. A small tin cup and plate, a cloth bag filled with several plants well known for their healing abilities and finally, soaproot. A tear was close to falling from her thick lashes when she discovered the wedge of root. She was starving to the point that her stomach was starting to cramp, but that wasn’t a new sensation for the slight girl. She had gone hungry more than once. Her need to get clean was much more urgent than her need to eat, if not logical.

Discovering the root made the clear pool of water even more tempting, but Newt took a moment to wonder whether it would be safer to wait for night. Thinking through the pros and cons she decided that having a clear view and time to respond to danger was safer than waiting for the cover of darkness and risking being taken unaware. She left her hideout cautiously after hiding her blades and stilettos, with the root and cup in hand. When at the edge, she dipped her cup into the cool clean liquid. Sniffing, then taking a tiny sip…waiting for any pain that might come. After a torturous long minute, she decided she was thirsty and desperate enough to risk death if only to ease her achingly dry throat.

Three full cups later and Newt could finally take a moment to enjoy the relief without gulping down another full cup. Strands of her long hair floated on the twinkling surface, sunlight reflecting with a beautiful pattern of living art on the glasslike expanse. She dipped her free hand into the water and sighed with pleasure. The clean water felt so good on her grubby skin.

Standing and removing every stitch of her worn clothing; thin leather pants, a tightly woven shirt that was missing a button at the wrist, the paper thin cotton of her undergarments joined the top of the pile that her leather boots had begun. She could wash them after cleaning up, she just couldn’t stand the thought of any type of human remains on her person any longer. She had spent hours blocking the thought of where she had landed when arriving on this world, but with the ability to finally get clean, her imagination had bits and pieces of bodies hanging in her hair and worse.

The water wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either and immersing herself, took her breath away. The pools bottom was a mixture of stone and sand. Thankfully, nothing sharp or jagged that would rip at her small feet. Picking up a stone the size of her hand, Newt grinded the soaproot against the stone to lather up the substance the root produced and proceeded to wash herself from top to toe until her skin felt raw, always keeping an eye on her surroundings. Her hair was next. Wet it was the dark, deep red color of the coals that produced the most heat in a campfire. So hot and clean they burned without smoke.

Over and over, she washed, than drank from the water that flowed towards her, than washed and drank again until she was finally satisfied. She debated for a few minutes whether or not to clean all her clothes at once or leave her inner garments unwashed…but choose to get everything clean right away. She couldn’t face putting on anything that might be contaminated with gore. She took the time to clean everything, using up half the wedge of root. By the time she was finished, Newt’s skin was wrinkled, and her teeth had started to chatter. Spreading her clean clothes over the top of the sweet-smelling grass, she hurried to find her cloak and wrapped it around her like a blanket until her shivers receded.

Wringing most of the water from her long hair, Newt did her best to finger comb the knots out and braid it back tightly. When she laid back to rest for just a few minutes, her eyes heavy while thinking over if she should travel towards the smoke she spotted earlier, or if she should head further into the woods, AWAY from any sign of life. Though she fought hard, her eyes fell closed and Newt succumbed to sleep, no longer able to continue without some sort of rest. With a sigh of defeat, the girl feel into a deep slumber, curled in a tight ball, and wrapped in warmth within a nest of sweet, silken grass.

 

[Black_Out]

- The Guardian of the East -
Smashing Pumpkins - Soma

The giant kneeled by the edges of that cool stream where it emptied into a swirling pool before it continued on its rambling way. The animal hides that normally covered his imposing tattoo inked and muscular body had been all but removed, leaving the fifteen foot plus barbaric looking giants rugged body bared to the elements. It was far past noon, the sun was a few simple hours away from vanishing over the horizon, and the weather was still pleasant with a faint chilled breeze that matched the refreshing waters. As the puffs of white clouds drifted far overhead while the stoic giant leaned over the crisp waters of the stream and doused his blood soaked leather hides in the waters to cleanse them, he began to hum a deep melody to pass the time.

The blades of his axes, weapons that were nearly as tall as slumbering little Newt, were dug into the soft clay by his side that had compressed under the giants considerable bulk. That hum rumbled out of the behemoths lips, clearly rising over the ambient sounds of the flowing water, swaying grasses, and whistling reeds that held dominion over the vast majority of the rolling terrain of hills and valleys. It wasn't often that a solitary visitor would come along his modest domain, and while the giant was quite aware of that silken fresh smell of soap that lingered in the air he hadn't bothered to seek out the exact nature of its origins. He didn't have to when Newts subtle snores and twitches were clear enough to peak the solemn giants interest.

That little depression where those soft sounds rose from amidst the grasses on the other side of the stream was hard to miss from his vantage point. All he had to do was stand up to his full towering height and lean forward to get a good enough look to see the cloak smothered tiny little girl with that bright red hair curled up in a cozy little ball. She certainly wasn't from the Portal, that much was fairly easy to deduce. Those folks that lumbered out of that hidden and mystical place never wore anything beyond simple rags, and they never travelled alone. No, they always came in packs of varying sizes.

Perhaps she was from one of those settlements to the north. One of the precious slaves who had managed to make a daring escape? The giant pursed his thick and heavy lips as he quietly mused over the mystery girls story. If she was, and she had made it this far, then she was in luck. Their barbaric hunters knew better to venture into his swath of lands, but that didn't mean she was out of the woods just yet. While his lands were undoubtedly his there wasn't anything he really could do to keep their hunting parties from patrolling the outskirts of his realm. In the end, it wasn't going to really matter where she was from if her path brought her to cross with those predatory men. The way to salvation was paved with traps and pitfalls out here in what was essentially a land with no real ruler to lord over it and Torgir was here to make sure it stayed that way. At least in his neck of the woods.

He was pretty sure by now that his boisterous humming had probably wakened that sleeping beauty across the creek from him. His grey eyes strolled over to that flattened patch of grasses while he wrung out his waterlogged furs. The giant slapped the wet hides over his vast and sweeping shoulder as he shifted his posture, drawing his legs to cross before him. His gaze darted down to his side, snatched up what to him was a little bundle of cleaned leather hide secured with twine and took aim. With a gentle underhanded toss, the sticks of dried out jerky that were seasoned with peppers that grew in abundance in parts of the valley, landed with a soft thud near the spot where Newt was huddled up.

"Go on, girl." His voice rose like the coming of a storm over the far more subtle sounds of nature that mingled around them. "Eat, if your hungry." He made no move to gather his deadly looking axes up, as his elbows fell to rest across the sides of his knees. Those rough hands rose up to curl and scratch around the thick mass of his silver and grey beard. With a smack of his lips that echoed across the short expanse between him and Newt, the giant introduced himself. "The names Torgir, you got a name little one?"

- Out of the Fire, Into the Water -

Sometime after Newts introduction to Torgir, after the sun had vanished beyond the horizon, casting gloom and darkness over the land, Ander arrived through the yawning red plane of the Portal. He fell with a thud that drove away the curse that had been screaming out of his lips during his descent. The weight of his metal armor caused the forsaken knight to sink into the pillow of dead bodies that cushioned his fall. Those bloated corpses didn't do much to alleviate the sting of pain that erupted through him when the edges of his plate mail bit into his flesh from the impact.

He laid there for several moments, the wind knocked right out of his sails as he groaned and sputtered for breath to return to his lungs. It was all he could do to not gag when that smell, that taste of rot, disease, and death hit him with an impact that made the pain of his fall dwindle into obscurity. With a tremor in his arms Ander began to pry himself out of the heap of death that he had sunk into. His eyes had seen a lot of their thirty years of life, but never anything that even came close to what he was mired in now. It was like crawling through a pit of engorged, pulpous, decay that had Ander biting his bottom lip something fierce just to keep his mouth from opening to hurl.

It took what felt like a lifetime to pull himself out of that swamp of wretched decomposing remains. Fortunately he had the stomach of a warrior, and managed to hold at bay the urge to let his breakfast spill out of his throat. Eventually the exhausted knight flopped on the ground, basking his tired muscles on the dirt and grass that emerged from the soil around the fringes of that sweeping and vast field of unburied and untended corpses. His head lifted off the turf as his face contorted as the putrid smell still assaulted every fiber of his being. "Uhhh.." With a wrestled out groan of disgust, the knight who was covered with the filth of the dead began to crawl himself further away from the source of his misery. Up ahead in the distance he could see the moonlight lancing through the clouds, illuminating a lonely tree that rose from the apex of a gentle hill.

There we're people there, gathered upon that hill. He could see their shadowy shapes huddled about in groups. Anders paused on his hands and knees and gritted his teeth as he considered his options. Obviously he wasn't going backward, but when he saw that faint trickle of moonlight dancing over the water that was rolling down the hill in the shape of small stream, his mind was made up. Quietly he prayed to Merasheel that no one on that hill was going to recognize him for what he was. Not because he was scared, so much as he wasn't exactly in the mood to cleave some bastard in half. He'd rather conserve his strength. He was probably going to need.

The closer Ander got to that hill, the less he wanted to temp fate. He stopped, finally standing up and grimacing at the grease and gore of death that clung to his armor before his eyes moved to follow the trail of that descending stream that bore down form that hill. He watched it as it snaked away from that gathering he place that he thought best to avoid. No need to put himself at risk as the all to real worry about protecting his wares and supplies dawned upon him. So with a heavy trudge of his metal plated boots, Ander turned and followed the inviting stream, keeping it in view but not bothering to draw close to it until he was sure that he wouldn't be disturbed.

There was one little plus to being covered in the filth of the dead. His normally brightly polished armor wasn't catching the moon light like it typically would, leaving his dark figure to walk in relative obscurity. He caught sight of shapes huddled around the stream even as the more populated hill was left behind. Finally though his heavy steps took him far enough away to a patch of grassy plains where it seemed no one had been bold enough to venture in the dark of night. The weary knight turned and made his way towards that water that was waiting to welcome him. There he would do his best to clean himself of this filth and wash away that stench that haunted his nostrils while he contemplated what to do next.

 

[Whispered Secret]

One Giant Step
Thousand Foot Krutch - Running With Giants​

Newt felt like a cornered bunny under the gaze of the mythical giant crouched on the other side of the water from her. Her heart was certainly beating with the speed of a frightened rabbit. Awakening to the deep, chest resounding hums vibrating from the humongous male had at first been soothing. The mellow, deep notes easing her from a heavy sleep with care. As her senses sharpened and her memories regained clarity, the calmness she awoke with quickly disappeared.

Newt had done her best to feign sleep, hoping the beast at the waterside would ignore her and continue on his way, but that had been too much to hope for apparently. Her hidden peeks from between her thick eyelashes hadn’t helped her avoid detection, and when the thud of something landing beside her made Newt jump, she knew there was no other choice but face whatever was to come.

Building up her courage, Newt drew the cloak tightly around her shoulders and made sure she was completely covered from neck to ankles as she shifted and moved awkwardly, finally sitting up, her legs crossed in front of her, mimicking the much larger being across from her. She had to tilt her head back…and back even more before she could meet his eyes. Her hair fell behind her, loose strands tickling her face when they danced in the wind, bright red under the high sitting sun.

His voice was strangely rough and smooth at the same time. Growly in substance, but the simple base notes were so low and deep they felt like being caressed by velvet. It was simply weird, nothing Newt had ever experienced before. But she didn’t dislike it, quite the opposite.

With a calming breath, Newt straightened her shoulders and replied to the Torgir’s question, ignoring for now the bundle of furs he tossed her way. “I’m Newt,” she said softly, realizing her voice was barely a whisper, she cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m called Newt…it’s…um..very nice to meet you…Torgir?” watching him nod at her questioning pronunciation of his name. “I, hope I’m not intruding, I can pack up and be right on my way, if I’m trespassing? It’s just, this was the first safe place I have found…and the water…” her nerves sent Newt into babbling like a loon, even knowing she was making a fool of herself, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “It was a long walk..and there were … well it doesn’t matter…I just wouldn’t dare want to bother you.” She continued seriously, one arm escaping her makeshift blanket..motioning toward him from head to toe. “I mean…just look at you!!” Newt blushed bright red. She wasn’t used to communicating with people very often, and when she did have to, she was usually the one in control. She had something the other person wanted…they agreed on a trade…and that was the entire exchange.

THIS, was very different and not at all something she was accustomed to. Newt bite her lip, fighting to shut up instead of nervously filling the silence. She pulled her knees up, resting her chin on them as well as she could while sustaining eye contact. She had already noted where all her belongings were, and whether or not grabbing them all and running was possible. With Torgir’s long legs, she wouldn’t get more than a few strides before he grabbed her, and if she thought logically, the male giant could have grabbed her while she had foolishly been fast asleep.

Newt stirred when she heard the deep, vibrating chuckle escape from Torgir. “Be calm little one,” he stated, “you are safe, here, for the moment at least. Where have you travelled from?” his huge hands rested on his knees. She was sure he could pick her up but her head with one of those hands! A slight tremble coursed through her muscles and she fought to win back enough calmness to answer him.

But what to answer? Newt had no idea if the giants had enemies, while fighting with populations in other areas of the world. If she said the wrong thing, it might end her in serious trouble. If the Gods were real, she must have done something to invite their fury! After all the trouble she had faced these past few days, it didn’t look like she was out of it as of yet.

Instead of a straight answer, Newt just sort of vaguely waved her hand in the direction she had travelled from, then started asking her own questions, trying to distract him. “Over that way, I think I might have gotten a little turned around though in the dark. Do you live here? I mean, I think I saw your footprints, but it might have been someone else, well, someone as big…as..you.” her voice drifted off, hoping she hadn’t insulted him, resettling in her cover, a little self-conscious, wishing she were wearing her clothes instead of viewing them from the corner of her eye.

The giant’s head tilted slightly to the side, as if weighing her words, his fingers reaching up to stroke his long black and grey whiskers. It seemed to be a habit, and the exercise made him resemble what Newt would call a grandfatherly figure…well, if not for the two deadly axes stuck in the mud to either side of him.

“This is my land, yes,” he nodded, “as well the footprints were mine, It’s not often I get visitors.”

His voice was mesmerizing her again, that mix of hard and soft, gruff and gentle. It was intoxicating to listen to. Her belly took that moment as a sign to growl like a bear, producing a booming laugh from Torgir. “EAT!” he pointed to the food and ordered.

Blushing, Newt slipped her arm from the wrap once more, reaching for the bag…the heat of her fiery red cheeks letting her know she was blushing again. Her slight arm caught the fur and she fished out a long strip of hard meat. She stuck the strip in her mouth, noting the hot spiciness and attempted to gnaw off a bite. Rocking the meat back and forth while she bit down as hard as she could. Finally, after about a minute, the bit she had been worrying broke off and her arm flew down, her head flying back. For a moment she thought she might have broken a tooth!

“You must have stones for teeth Torgir…”she muttered and decided to suck on the meat for a few minutes to soften it up. “But thank you..I am not complaining at all!! I swear, just admiring the strength of your jaw.” A slight smile lit her eyes noticing he didn’t seem mad. “Thank you…for the food, I haven’t eaten in a few days.” She didn’t think it wise to ask about what meat the strips were made from, so she changed the subject, before the giant decided to ask her more questions.

“Is the grass here on your land always so soft and gorgeous? It feels so amazing…” the meat in the side of her cheek, she once more stroked the grass blades with reverence. “Your land is absolutely beautiful.”

He was looking at her a little strangely again, and Newt hoped she hadn’t said anything wrong. With a quick shrug, Newt tried to save whatever misstep she had taken “I mean, I’ve never really liked cities…dirty, dusty…too many people…” she stood up, placing the meat stick onto the top of the fur pouch and made her way to her clothes. Now was probably a good time to get dressed, while he looked a little confused.

“Have you ever lived in a city, Torgir? Nasty place, “ she started by grabbing her underthings, turning away from the male, pulling up her hood so the cloak would hang from her head while she dressed, not showing off too much of her bare pale skin. Continuing her babbling while she continued to find her things one at a time, and wiggle into them.

“Lots of stupid people too, and they throw garbage all over the place. Sure…I mean it’s easier to find food, but half the time, it’s not really something you would enjoy putting in your mouth am I right?” Newt almost lost her footing when she tried to step into her leather pants but caught herself before she landed on her backside.

“Out here you are free…” she kept up the river of babbling words, not even thinking about what was leaving her mouth most of the time. Dancing around in the trampled grasses around her, chatting like a restless squirrel and grabbing up bits and pieces, dawning them one at a time. Finally, she grinned, pulling on her last boot, a silly feeling of pride filled her when she stomped her foot into the leather and stood tall. Well, as tall as she could stand. Her shirt was misbuttoned, and her leather pants were not very well bound, but she had accomplished what she set out too. Giving it another try, Newt rolled the piece of meat around in her mouth and finally managed to chew it enough to swallow.

Torgir saw her grin and rolled his eyes at the foolish female. If nothing else, the girl was entertaining.

 

[Black_Out]

- As the Axe Flew -
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - All Along the Watchtower

Newt was entertaining and a welcome breath of fresh air to the imposing giant. Typically people fled like the wind when they first laid eyes upon the towering monster of a man. But not this one, although Torgir was pretty sure she had heavily considered that option before coming to the conclusion that there wasn't anywhere to run too. Not that he would of chased her down if she had of taken off. Eating the little girl hadn't entered his mind, nor had the multitude of other unspeakable horrors that peoples minds conjured up out of panic when they came to be confronted by the gentle hearted brute. Live and let live was Torgir's motto, although that unspoken creed did have its limits.

She talked an awful lot though, which really was quite alright, but in the same breath it seemed like she was dancing around from topic to topic without really telling her much of anything about herself. Torgir shrugged it off with a subtle lift of his mountainous shoulders. If she wanted to keep secrets that was her right, so long as she wasn't trying to pull a fast one over on him, he was content to just have some pleasant company for a change. This little lady that called herself Newt did seem quite curious about him though, which he sort of expected she would be. So the great giant considered her inquires while she gnawed on that slow smoked jerky made from the flanks of a dire boar that he had taken down a few weeks ago.

He wanted to ask about where she had come from again. It was rather obvious that she had come from the Portal, but now Torgir let his curiosities lie unspoken. He didn't want to put the small cloak wrapped woman in under anymore pressure to be on the defensive then she probably already was. At least not yet. So he opted to entertain her own curiosities and give her the honest truth, at least as best as he understood it. Trust was a two way affair.

"Well, yes I've been in cities before." Torgir rolled his gaze towards the north as he took a deep breath. "Never really lived in one though. I was always passing through." His neck popped as he stretched the muscles and sinew that wove around his trunk of a neck. "Probably nothing like the places your from I bet." His gaze swung back towards Newt again as the bulk of his chest fell forward, only to come to an abrupt stop when his bearded chin fell in around his heavy hands. He kept his head propped up there while his elbows rested on the sides of his crossed thighs, assuming a rather casual, inquisitive posture. "I'm sure they've changed, grown or shrunk, ain't that what cities do?"

He chewed on the fringes of his bottom lip. "Still, most of the bigger ones are to the north. They're bad places, full of bad people, and worse." He stroked his fingers through his beard as he habitually did from time to time. "Piom is what they call the capitol. It would probably take your little feet a week to get there." A single index finger slid out of his thick and tangled beard to waggle at her. "But like I said, dangerous place. You'd probably end up in shackles and put into slavery, unless you can handle yourself." That index finger fell back towards his face, the tip pressed down upon the fat center of his bottom lip. "They come down here pretty often, scouring the lands with their search parties, looking for your types. Those who have arrived fresh out of the Portal."

"But there's other, more hospitable, places out there." His left hand parted from his beard and gave a general wave towards the south. "Far out there though." His hand returned to rest beneath his chin as his elbow fell against his leg once more. "Might take you a month on foot to get to the elves, not that they'd welcome you with open arms." His head cracked and turned to gesture back towards those distant mountain ranges that she was initially heading towards. "But if your going that way, there's dwarves that live deeper into the mountain ranges. Of course there's goblins swarming about in the caves, and other dangers too numerous to go over." Torgir looked back towards Newt, intrigued to see how she might be digesting the somewhat disheartening information he had shared with her thus far.

"But if you can make it to the Fort on the Hill, you might find some shelter from the multitude of dangers that plague these lands." Torgir reached down with one hand and yanked one of his enormous axes out of the clay it had been punched into. With a graceful flick of his wrist, Torgir tossed the axe up into the air and caught it with ease around the handle as it descended. "South and to the west." Torgir spoke with a punctual certainty to his deep rumbling tone as his unattended palm left his leg and pressed down into the ground. With an audible groan of his joints the giants mass rose up from the side of the meager stream that separated beauty from beast.

If Newt hadn't noticed it by now, Torgir was currently unadorned, his freshly washed hides still drying in a heap that hung over his tattoo adorned shoulders. Speaking of those dark and tribal markings, most all of them seemed to reference some totem of nature. An eagle graced over the side of his thick arm. The dark shape of a massive bear was frozen in mid lumber upon one of his puffed up and firm pectoral. There was a wide eyed black inked owl engraved into the flesh of his unconcealed shoulder. Roots from a majestic tree spun down across his belly while the tree itself rose up into hiding beneath the flaps of tanned skin that fell like curtains across half of his chest. Those and more very similar markings swirled in harmony across his chiseled granite like body as he rose to his full intimidating height.

His shoulders twisted with a snap as his arm whipped out like a lash towards that aforementioned direction and the axe flew. And flew, and flew, and flew, until it was a speck that vanished from Newts sight. Torgir's hand remained outstretched and open, frozen in the state of when the axe was flung off into the great beyond. "Two weeks walk I'd guess." His free hand reached down behind his back as he scratched his bared ass while his flaccid cock that looked as long to be as long as common mans arm, swayed between his legs. "You'd know it, when you saw it. Massive wooden walls on a hill not much unlike these, except they've been carved into terraces. They welcome people from the Portal, try to help them find their way here."

His curious eyes rose to look beyond Newt in the direction she had vaguely pointed when he asked where she had come from. "Speaking of the Portal, most that pass through my lands come from there." His words took a slight pause as he tilted his head and drew his eyes back down upon Newt. "But none of them ever came through looking like you do. They come in rags, or worse, nothing at all, and I've never seen them travel alone." There was a hum in the air and with a thunderous crack that axe finally returned to Torgir's hand with a resounding clap of handle against palm. He caught it without so much as flinching. "Which makes you an anomaly. That means, special, unique, and abnormal, little one, in case you didn't know."

"Either way, your here now. Where you go from here, that's up to you. But your welcome to spend a day or two in my domain before its time for you to move on."

 

[Whispered Secret]

Coming Clean
Powerwolf - The Sacrament of Sin​

For a moment Newt was caught up in following the beautiful designs etched into the enormous male. Her eyes took in as much of the detailed and realistic looking artwork that twisted and twined about his body, with a natural flow that was pleasing to look at. Every piece worked its way into the next in a way that just worked, as if he were born with the tattoos, like they were meant to be exactly where they were upon his muscular frame. Enhancing the organic, potent strength of Torgir’s entire essence.

When he tossed one of the Next sized axes as if it were a twig, she stared open-mouthed, trying to follow its path through the air. It was quickly out of range though and she wondered at his apparent indifference to throwing a magnificent weapon away. Even in her perusals, Newt never stopped listening to what Torgir’s was saying. It seemed he realized that she came from the portal. She had obviously not known enough of this realm to fake it, at least not yet anyway. She might as well tell him her story…or most of it perhaps.

She turned back to him to start her tale, deep red hair dancing in the slight breeze, single tendrils tickling her full lips and cheeks. She swiped at them unconsciously and focused on what she had been denying was there for all to see, while she had been admiring the giant's body art. It was harder to ignore now, when she turned and got an eyeful.

One giant cock to match the giant male.

Newt had of course seen naked males before, from a distance most of the time, but seeing a quick glimpse was nothing like the view she had now. For one, it was so big, she could see every tiny little detail. Thick veins crawled up his length and twisted around his girth. The heavy looking truck hung long and straight, two full looking balls, each bigger than a normal man’s fist, dangling behind. She followed a drop of water that had trailed down from his furs, dripping down his stomach, and into the thick patch of bristly looking hair above the impressive flesh below. Biting her lip, Newt was extremely glad that the flesh seemed relaxed. Aroused, Torgir would have been able to boast having three weapons to wield. If he grew hard and she was standing anywhere close, she and his cock would be staring eye to eye, so to speak, and THAT wasn’t something she would be able to handle.

The SLAP of the giant’s axe landing back in his hand startled Newt enough to break her almost trancelike stare at the male’s sex, she blushed and gnawed off another bite of the jerky, repeating the suck and chew method that enabled her to eat the previous mouthful. She was amazed that the axe had returned. Did it hold magic? Or maybe Torgir was the magical one? She had no idea what any creature was capable here. Nor any idea of what creatures were here at all.

He had mentioned elves, dwarves, and goblins so far, in just a short time! Not to mention the fact he himself was a giant. That was at least four species of beings her own world thought of as fantasy creatures. Beings from stories that were told to entertain, not real and living people. But if they did exist, maybe sometime… too long ago for anyone alive to remember, their worlds or people had been one?

It couldn’t be coincidence that she heard and read tales of their existence. Maybe, people had travelled from this world to her world an exceptionally long time ago…and maybe a pathway was still available, somewhere or another. It was something to think about, something to investigate.

In the meantime, she was going to need to learn as much as possible about this world.

Newt’s stomach turned, worried about what would happen if Torgir suddenly changed his behaviour and decided not to be as accommodating and gentle as he had been so far. But, she had only his actions up until now to judge him by, and he seemed to be the most decent being she had come across in a long time.

Taking a deep breath to prepare, Newt started to explain where she was from and how she had arrived.

“It started a long time ago, there is an empire in my world called The Merasheel. They are a religious culture that believes in One God, and they don’t accept anyone believing in any other. If a person openly believes in another god or gods, they are captured, tortured and beaten. After that, they are dragged before an Inquisitor who passes judgement upon the person. Standing in rags or stripped completely of their clothes, as well as everything else in their possession. Finally, each one is tossed into the portal. No one has any idea of what awaits them on this side. They know only that no one returns.” She took a few breaths, her nose wrinkling just remembering the stench of what was at the end of that portal. She would be having nightmares of walking through that decaying and rotting flesh for the rest of her life.

“Anyway,” she let her gaze travel to the path she had walked the following night, it made it easier to avoid staring at the thick, club hanging between Torgir’s legs. “The Merasheel travel from region to region, their army conquering each, one by one. Once they obtain control, the inquisitions begin.”

“ If you have a speck of magic in your blood, they mutilate you and throw you through the portal. If you don’t conform to their god, you are beaten and thrown through the portal. If you look at them the wrong way…well you can see where I’m going.”

Despite the grim story, Newt couldn’t help to smile when thinking about the pompous ass of an Inquisitor’s face when she robbed him for the second time. Tilting her head back, and dragging her fingers through her hair she stated, “I have to admit to you Torgir, I’m not really good at obeying rules, especially ones that are created to keep commoners firmly below the rich people’s control. And these Merasheel are real bastards. Women and children, hard working people that have never done wrong their entire life, all are punished in the same harsh manor, just so those evil men can feel superior.”

​

Newt shrugged and walked around the grass, letting her fingers trail in the luscious grass. “So, I might have pulled a few of the wrong tails and I found myself being chased down. I knew I wasn’t going to escape this time, so I did the only thing I could,” she smiled up at the giant, a tinge of pride on her face. “I hopped through the portal before they could catch and punish me. It was… unexpected to say the least. And I think I probably shocked more than a few of them. But it was a case of the unknown being safer than the known.”

“Had they caught me, I would have been beaten, tortured…they probably would have cut off my one hand at the very least. Not to mention whatever else they would have done,” she knew what would have happened but didn’t want to voice it out loud. Newt would have been stuck in the cages for a few extra days as a plaything for the jailors and torturers. A quick death would have been easy compared to what had awaited her.

“I’m not sure if you’ve seen where the portal exits” she looked up, wincing “but that was a torture of its own. By the time I crawled free, most of the others from my world were being drawn in one direction….so I took the opposite. And after a long walk…I made it here. That’s about the sum of my adventure until now.” Taking her small cup, she went to the pool to fill it and take a much-needed drink. The water softened the meat she was still chewing enough for her to swallow again. Getting this jerky down was going to be a long process, but it was worth it. The meat was spicy and tasty with a wild bite to it. It was good, even if it was hard as shoe leather.

“The world I come from doesn’t have beings like you though, nor elves, dwarves or goblins. Nothing other than humans as far as I know. And though some of those have magic, they use spells and the like. Magical beings are only in our children’s stories.” After a brief silence, she looked up and glanced at the giant, strenuously avoiding all eye contact with his manly bits, she asked “I would like to stay with you for a few days, if it doesn’t put you out or anything. Maybe learn about your world before I move on?”

Giving the giant a hopeful look, Newt gnawed off another bite of meat and waited.

 

[Black_Out]

-The Magic of Berries-
Chemical Brothers - Close Your Eyes

Torgir listened, and listened, and listened, while Newt elaborated on some of the particulars of her personal journey that had led her to be here before him. Fortunately he was both a patient titan of a man as well as a generous host when his visitors didn't rub him the wrong way. Sensing the slight awkwardness in her eyes as they glanced over the thick slab of meat dangling between his legs, the giant began to dress. Layer after layer of thick furs and hides were unfolded from his shoulder and settled around his strapping massive figure while Newt continued to divulge her tale. Much of what she was saying, Torgir had heard before in some way shape or form from those who had taken the time to meet over the years when they passed through his domain. But she was definitely the first he had ever met that had claimed to jump into the Portal by their own choosing.

That little revelation led the mountain of a giant to let out a low rumbling chuckle as she finished her tale. "Your full of surprises, little Newt." He grinned in a most pleasant manner that showed in the gleam of his inquisitive eyes. "But I've heard of the horrors of that place, this Portal that you and so many others have arrived here through over the past countless decades." He paused, reflecting silently on the myriad of faces that had passed through his domain since his appointment here so long ago. "This Empire of Merasheel that you speak of, they have been relentless, so many have suffered from their unjust judgement." He sighed, a forlorn sound as he dipped his head in regret.

"I wish I could do more for you, for all of you that have come to find yourselves here in this strange and sometimes inhospitable place." His hand motioned about the rolling fields of grasses surrounding them as he continued on. "In some small way I suppose I do, for if I was not here, these fields would of been claimed by those with ill intentions long ago." He gave a little nod to her, as if he knew that what he was doing mattered to some degree in the scheme of things. "You see no one, either native, or those who have come from the Portal itself have ever been able to find it. You could be the greatest tracker the world has ever known, you could turn around and follow your very own path back towards that place, but you would never find it again." His thick index finger pointed back towards the direction she had come from. "So no, I've never seen it, and you'll never see it again. Once you leave it behind, it is lost to you."

He smiled slightly as his hands returned to the task of layering his garments back over his chiseled frame. "Which is a good thing, for it wasn't hidden away by whatever magics are at play, that Portal would be a war zone. The barbaric tribes to the north would of claimed it long ago so they might shackle every wayward soul that came through it. But since that option is not available to them, they wait on the borders of its land. They scour the more traversed trails and lie in wait, ready to ambush any of those who set out from that place to venture into the unknown. Most of the people who arrive through the Portal end up captured, but some slip through the cracks. I hope you are able to." He gave her a small frown as that sobering thought left his heavy lips.

Torgir rose then, gathering up his hefty axes and settling them upon the straps that housed them at the sides of his hips. His hands brushed over his furs and skins, tightening the leather belts that pressed those garments into place upon his indomitable mass. "As I said, you're welcome to stay here for a few days. You haven't given me any reason to send you on your way just yet." He rolled his shoulders, twisted his neck as his joints audibly cracked and popped. "I'd invite you to my own camp, but my pet is a fickle and dangerous thing so it's best you stay away from the plume of smoke that marks my home."

After his brief and moderate stretch, Torgir shifted his massive paw to a small pouch and untethered it from his worn leather belt. With a gentle underhand toss he sent it across the stream towards Newt, for her to catch the appropriately sized tiny bundle. "Cherish those." He stated simply. "They'll see you nourished in times of need. Twenty berries, blessed with magic of my own hand. Eating just one of them will sustain you for a day. Mash one over a wound, spread it across a cut, and it will see it healed, to a degree. Just remember, the magic they contain will fade away within a months time. Use them wisely and take my advice, when you leave, whichever way you decide to go, take the paths that are less traveled."

With that, Torgir turned away, prepared to let his long strides carry him through the fields of grasses and wildflowers back towards that distant thin snake of smoke that wafted upwards from behind the hills. "Two days." He muttered, though his bellowing voice carried clearly across to Newt. "In two days, I will return here to see you off. Stay to the stream and you'll find berries, fish, and other small game. Keep your fires tended and small and do your best to leave these lands as they were when you came upon them." Torgir glanced back over his broad shoulders and back and gave Newt a thin yet friendly smile before the lumbering giant departed.

-Duty Calls-
Pearl Jam - In My Tree

Ander was having a far less hospitable experience back in the domain of the Portal. The weary knight had spent hours removing his armor, cleansing every last strand of gunk from it and his garments in the chilling waters of the stream. Pressing his back against the worn bark of a tree that leaned over the water, the former soldier, now turned huntsman dared to let his eyes drift shut while he kept his sword nearby, laid across his lap with his fingers upon its leather wrapped handle. His armor was bundled up around him and come daylight he intended to find a sturdy rock and bang out some of the dents and dings suffered from his fall out of it with the pommel of his sword.

After that restless evening of sleep, Ander awoke and dutifully put himself to work. Focusing his efforts on straightening out his armor and preparing himself for the journey that waited before him helped to keep him at ease and ward off those unwelcomed thoughts that plagued the back of his mind. It was far to soon to let those demons creep into his mind and leave him questioning everything that had led him into this unfortunate turn of events. One step at time Ander, one step at a time. He reminded himself of his duty, of why he was here as he pounded out a dent in his shoulder piece.

By the time the grim faced knight had finished hammering out that ding, a small group of wayward souls was passing by his location. They were dressed in ragged white cloth, the only attire or luxury that the Empire had afforded them for their journey into the Portal. His stern eyes followed them as their small band of five scurried past his location. It was all to obvious that they were as lost as he was, but there was strength in numbers and with his sword and training he could certainly force his will upon that group if he so choose to.

With a grunt, Ander allowed them to pass. Others would come along, he was sure, that hill with the lonesome tree was packed with people. So he began the lengthy process of adorning his body in the heavy plate of his armor. Once he was ready to move on, he would find the next band that came along and stop them in their tracks. He had questions to ask. Someone, surely had seen that girl with the red hair and green eyes come through. He prayed she was still upon that hill and that he would have her in his possession by the end of this day.