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In the Hyborian Age | Conan 2d20 [lovemeister0 x Cherubian]

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lovemeister0

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Joined
Oct 31, 2010
Stygia. A land of ancient power and dark magic, where the sands of the desert shift like a living thing, and the air is thick with the scent of exotic spices and incense. The land is vast and unforgiving, with scorching deserts, treacherous mountains, and ancient ruins shrouded in mystery and danger.

In the heart of Stygia lies the grand city of Luxur, a place of wonder and terror where the Black Ring holds sway. The city is a labyrinth of dark alleys and grand temples, with towering pyramids and palaces of black stone that reach towards the sky. Strange creatures prowl the streets at night, their eyes glinting in the shadows, while the people of Stygia move with a grace and poise that speaks to their long and storied history.

The temples of Luxur are the most imposing structures in the city, towering monuments to the worship of Set, the serpent god of darkness and chaos. The temples are adorned with intricate carvings and precious stones, their walls covered in hieroglyphs that speak of the mysteries of the dark arts.

Beyond the city walls, the land of Stygia stretches out endlessly, a place of death and danger where the sandstorms can bury entire caravans in an instant, and fierce beasts stalk the unwary. But even in this harsh and unforgiving land, there is a wild beauty, with towering cliffs and deep canyons that hide ancient tombs and forgotten secrets.

As the scorching sun sets over the barren landscape of Stygia, a nomadic tribe rests at their makeshift campsite, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Their names or whatever they call themselves is irrelevant. They will all soon be dead, but for a little while longer they will know peace and whatever comforts they can afford. That peace is short-lived as they are suddenly ambushed by the Black Ring, the sorcerer-priest class that worships the serpent god Set.

The nomads fight back with all their might, but the powerful magic and superior strength of the Black Ring proves too much for them. One by one, men and women fall to the ground, their screams echoing through the desert.

The night sky is illuminated by the orange and red fires of the campsite. Blood stains the desert sand. Somewhere, in the distance, a young virgin woman cries for help, a desperate plea, as she is taken. She is one of very few who will walk away, but her fate is sealed, her life short-lived.

A serpent crawls over torn bodies. There is nothing here for it, no scraps to devour, at least none that interest it. It prefers to play with live prey, to wrap its body around and feel its struggles until the very bitter end. Then, it sees something. A body, but not nearly as torn as the others. It slithers slowly towards the dead woman. Yes. This will have to do. But something calls it back before it can reach her. In frustration, it crawls away. The Black Ring takes its leave.

The sorcerers leave behind a small group to ensure that there are no survivors. They move from body to body impaling the ones that are still mostly intact, just to be sure. Asenath is among the bodies, but it will be some time before she is discovered as the Dead Checkers have only just begun to scout the perimeter. The moon is covered by thin clouds, but will help in her escape. She will need supplies for a journey across Stygia, but if she lingers any longer, she runs the risk of being discovered. If she waits any longer, precious supplies will be consumed in the fires.
 
Asenath stirs.

She had taken a gamble, and it seemed to pay off. When it became clear to her that this fight was lost, and that running was not an option, she had dropped amongst the foes felled by her hand, playing dead. Some might say a true warrior would have tried to take as many of those serpent slaves with her on her way out, but that was not good enough for her. Those who had butchered her clan, her freinds, her family, had to pay. All of them, most importantly their leader. She would never forget the face of that set worshipper, as he surmised the slaughter with disdain on his features. One day he will pay, but for that she has to survive and not die a pointless hero's death.

For that vendetta she needs to play the long game. But at least she could get started today. That quartet of Dead Checkers is standing between her and a thorough search of the camp's ruins for anything that would allow her to survive the trip across the desert. They are four, but they feel a false sense of security, bored and lulled by their seemingly pointless task.

Like a cat of prey she rises slowly, carefully, silently. Her hand reaches for her trusted poleaxe. It was an unusual weapon in these lands. She had taken it from a Northerner mercenary in one of their raids, the trained warrier instinctively sensing the vicious deadliness of that implement, and time had proven her right. If fate willed it, the weapon would feast four more times tonight.

Soundlessly she begins to circle her enemies, taking cover behind the burning tents, hoping for the flames to dazzle their sight so they not notice the impending doom creeping into their back. Once she is behind them, she will approch the nearest one unseen, and try to fell him with a single blow. Even if that alerts the other three, the advantage of surprise would still be hers. And if not, the silent reaping would move to the next act.
 
The camp is set in a circular fashion around a bonfire. The warmth is enough to keep the camp relatively warm in the cold darkness of night and it still rages along with other fires, most notably from various tents where Asenath's family or friends called home. The smoke thickens the air around her as she looks around.

The night might make it easier to sneak past the Dead Checkers, but they are also looking for anything out of the ordinary. If they see someone walking around, they will instantly know it is not one of them. The four of them are spread out, poking at any corpses that are still intact to ensure that everyone is, in fact, dead.

Asenath sneaks over to the first of the Dead Checkers. He has just stabbed the corpse of a woman and seems to take pleasure as he does it again. He happens to turn and see a flicker of Asenath's shadow before him. He immediately turns around spoiling Asenath's chance at stealth. His blade is drawn and already stained with blood. There is just a little bit more room on it for Asenath's.
 
Asenath, however, does not intend to provide that blood. The moment she realized she was discovered she lunged forward, and with a vicious overhead blow brought the weapons perpendicular spike down on the vile mercenary. So quick was her strike her adversary almost did not see it coming, and by the time he moved to parry it was too late. With a satisfying crunch that spike buried itself deep into the man's skull. All life went from his form as he slumped to the ground.

Quickly the Stygian pulled out her weapon, lowered herself into a crouch and checked whether the other three had discovered her yet.
 
So quick was Asenath's strike that he had no time to cry out and signal to the others of impending death. His body drops to the ground, blending in with the countless others scattered all around.

The blaze all around makes quick work on a few tents, whatever supplies inside now a pile of ash. The other three Dead Checkers continue their rounds oblivious as to what has transpired. They move closer to the raging bonfire at the camp's center. Asenath will soon have to make a choice: continue to deal with the Dead Checkers one by one before they regroup or check the burning tents for valuable supplies.
 
She mutters a curse under her breath "May Set's rotten scales stick to him like shit in his next skinning ..." but then decides that she does not have the time to execute a carefully planned assault on the other three, yet. By the time she'd be done all valuable supplies will be burned to cinders. Sure, she could instead take the provisions of her prospective victims, but they are probably not prepared for a longer trip through the desert.

So she detours from her immediate revenge plan and starts examining the nearby tents, starting with those that would soon be a victim to the flames, hoping to be silent enough not to attract undue attention.
 
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Asenath enters a tent whose skin has just began to catch on fire. She works quickly looking around for anything that might be of value. The invaders never even passed by. Everything was in tact, but there was very little of use to Asenath.

What she does find is a collection of currency, almost the amount of a life's saving, compared to how much her people may have seen. She also finds a bag of food, enough for a day's worth of travel. The smoke penetrates the interior making it hard to breathe. If she lingers, Asenath will have to deal with suffocation.

More of the tents are but smoldering ashes. The Death Checkers are closer together, but their job is not yet finished. Picking them off will be harder, if Asenath should take that route, but it will also be a little more dangerous if she should scavenge about any more tents. The risks, however, could greatly outweigh the need.
 
Asenath briefly looked at the bag sch was carrying. What she had found so far was not enough to get her through the desert, far from it. Hence a triumph over the Death Checkers would be without value, and had to wait.

Trying to remain unseen for now she continued toward the nearest tents that have just caught the flames.
 
Asenath makes her way to the nearest tent. The Death Checkers, even though they are closer, are preoccupied with their work. That will not be for much longer.

The tent is on fire and fills with smoke. It is not yet enough to force Asenath out and she looks around for anything that might be of use. Once more, the invaders did not bother to check the tent. Then again, there was no need, as everyone either tried to flee or fight. They are all dead now, so it makes no difference. Asenath finds the emergency provisions set aside by the family that occupied the tent. There are coins and more provisions complete with a waterskin full of precious water, dried bread from a meal quickly forgotten, and some jerky. This should last her another day.

Smoke fills the tent making it harder to breath. Outside, the Death Checkers talk and linger at the center of the encampment. She could try to wait them out, but there is no guarantee that the hut will still be standing when they do decide to leave or she could sneak past all three, also a dangerous option. Most of the tents all around are but smoldering ashes, swept away by the desert wind.
 
They may not be equipped for a long journey, but their camels would be a valuable aid on her impeding trip across the desert. And since the Death Checkers are unlikely to part with them willingly ... Asenath once again starts to sneak up on them. With nothing left to scavenge She now can devote all her attention to revenge.
 
The air is thick with smoke and ash. It doesn't make for a very pleasant scent, especially when it's mixed with desert sand. The blaze continues to burn down what remains of the encampment that Asenath's people temporarily called home.

Somewhere, off in the distance, a camel huffs and puffs. Asenath knows she has a way out if she can get to them or dispose of the Death Checkers. Their task is nearly complete as they are almost to the center. When they meet, once more, they will figure out very quickly that they are missing one. The wind picks up obscuring any noise Asenath makes as she sneaks up to one of the Death Checkers. His back is turned to her as he leans over to drive a knife into the neck of a corpse. It doesn't move. With the Death Checker's attention still on the corpse, Asenath has a clear shot. With the others in close proximity, she'll need to take him out quickly and silently or risk alerting the other two.
 
Asenath may not have specific assassination training, and neither does her current weapon lend itself to pinpoint precision, but she can very much compensate for that with brutal efficiency.

Soundlessly she brings up the poleaxe, and it's axe head comes down on the still bent over form of the mercenary, burying itself deeply into the back of his skull with a wet crunching sound, almost cleaving the man's head apart. As the corpse slumps to the ground, spilling blood and brain matter into the sand and over the other corpes he checked just a moment ago, the Stygian quickly yanks her weapon free again, her attention on the remaining duo.

With only two adversaries left she feels her biggest risk is that one of them might outrun her towards the camels and excape on their back. So she tries to remain silent until the last skirmish is joined.
 
The last two Death Checkers meet in the center and realize that two of their number are missing. Checking bodies should not be a difficult nor time consuming task. In confusion, they look around just in time to see Asenath pull her poleaxe free from their companion. They both shout alerting her to their presence as they draw their weapons free and cautiously approach.

The two work together and separate. Asenath is bound to go for one of them allowing the other to come from behind. Already, they slowly circle around forcing her to choose her actions wisely.
 
The desert warrior does not wait until she is completely flanked by them. The way they approach her they seem to expect her to be wary and cautious, so she subverts their expectations with a sudden charge at the left opponent. He tires to raise his shield, but Asenath merely thrusts her weapon foreward, ramming the long top spike into his guts.

Immediately she uplls free and whirls around. The last of them she'd like to have a brief conversation with, so as her preferred tool of dismemberment comes around in a wide arc she twists it such that his temple is hit with the flat side only. His expression goes blank and he slumps to the ground, but he should not be dead yet.

Quickly the Stygian Disarms her captive and ties him up securely, before she checks if there is anything left worth salvaging. The chat can wait until she has secured as many provisions as possible.
 
The battle is done. One of the Death Checkers lies in a pool of his own blood, the sand soaking it up like so much of the surrounding area. The other lies unconscious, his hands quickly tied together with a bit of spare rope that Asenath finds.

Asenath's encampment is but smoldering piles of ash. There is very few to scavenge, if anything, at this point. A wind blows across the dessert sand scattering ash and sand alike. What is left of Asenath's home is but embers in a pile of debris.

After a while when the heat from the fire has died down to a steady warmth instead of a blazing heat, but before the desert night can claim its heat with its cold, the last Death Checker stirs awake. He instantly tests the strength of his bonds, to no avail.
 
Asenath crouches down before the man, her steely stare locked onto his eyes as she slowly pulls the dagger from the sheath at his belt.

With a few quick and precise cuts she strips away his legwear to expose his groin and his manhood, bringing the sharpened edge of the weapons to rest against his testicles, not drawing blood just yet.

"This can go several ways." she coldly informs her captive. "You can influence, which way, understood"
 
The Death Checker, bruised and battered, still manages to grin with rotted teeth as Asenath attempts to intimidate him. Even with the knife brandished against his testicles, his penis manages to erect itself to its full average height. It throbs with a lustful desire, it's gaze directed at Asenath.

"We like the big strong women. They put up such a good struggle. Make it fun. It wasn't too long ago that we all took turns with one just as big as you. She tried to grit her teeth through it, but by morning, we made her scream." He laughs, clearly unfazed by the threat Asenath poses. He knows that punishment awaits anyone who betrays information, in this life or the next.

Suddenly, a strong wind blows and there is the sound of camels braying somewhere in the distance. Asenath has spent some time with the Death Checker that the camels have managed to free themselves. She may be able to catch one if she is quick enough.
 
The desert warrior smirks at the blatant erection poking rigidly back at her. Intimidation did not work, but maybe there is another way to ...

Animal noises catch her attention, and she groans in frustration. "You incapable idiots, can't even properly tether a camel!" she metaphorically spits at her captive. "But don't worry, I'll be back soon." Then she gets up and does her best to catch op to at least one of those mounts.
 
The camels are already off in the distance heading back to follow the murderers that killed Asenath's community. There is a soft snort to her side. There, a camel stands. She is approaches cautiously. One false move, one sudden motion, and she could spook the animal. It eyes her warily. It doesn't trust her, but it has been given no reason to run just yet.

Asenath's hand comes out and takes the rein before the camel can turn and bolt away. It neighs furiously and tries to escape captivity, but to no avail. For now, it is hers. It only has a simple saddle made for a camel. Even then, the thing looks dirty and unkempt, but it will do, for now. It will at least get her somewhere. She leads it back to the encampment and to the last Death Checker, who is suddenly missing.

It doesn't take long to spot him. There's only so much distance he can cover, since he is tied up, but it does show Asenath that he is willing to take a chance at escape if given the opportunity.
 
"And here I thought you had the hots for me, the way your little man rose to the occasion ..." She calls after her captive even as she tethers her newly acquired steed properly. Then she approaches the death checker again. Intimidation might have failed, but there are other options.

She kneels down next to him and turns his prone form onto its back. Then her hand darts forward and ... her fingers very gently wrap around his shaft, starting to stroke it slowly.

"You like that, don't you?"
 
The Death Checker tries to get away, but Asenath is upon him. He thinks the worst, but is pleasantly surprised when Asenath uncovers his manhood and begins to stroke him. In seconds, he is hard again. A gentle squeeze brings out the precum that has been storing in his balls since the attack. The sick bastard gets off on the torment of others, probably the reason why he volunteered for the job.

Just because Asenath pleasures him, does not mean he goes along with it. He resists, or tries to, but Asenath has him in the palm of her hand, whether because of experience or through opportunistic fortune. He tries to stay quiet, but his grunts betray his pleasure. He tries to free himself from his bonds in some vain attempt to overthrow Asenath and claim her.

Minutes pass and he is near. Any longer and he will spill his seed upon the sand. All he needs is a little squeeze, a quickening of the stroke, or a pussy to invade.
 
Asenath can sense how her captor approaches his climax by the throbbing ofthe meat in her grip. The tool has heated up and is on the brink of ejaculation now. So she stops.

Her hand lets go of him and she demonstratively even takes a step back. "You like that, don't you?" she teases him "You want me to continue, don't you? Right now all you can think of is fucking me and showing me you are in chare, am I right?"

A thought occurred to her, about upping the ante, about stoking his unfulfilled arousal even further. On a whim she began to remove parts of her armor, and soon her upper body was bare, her heavy pendukous breasts on full display, thick puffy nipples poking right back at him to further taunt his lacking ability to claim what he craves.

After about a minute has passed the now half naked warrior reaches for the neglected manhood again. She isn't surpised to find it still entirely rigid, a wry smile plays on her lips. With slow, careful strokes she begins to stimulate him again, and with each up and down of her hands her breasts sway slightly. This time his arousal climbes faster, and in less than a minute he once again is precariously close. So once again she withdraws, leaving him teetering on the brink of release. This time when she steps back she gets rid of the rest of her armor, and she does her best to make a show of it as she bares her athletic body completely.

For a third time now she kneels down next to the man and begins to stimulate him. "Why don't you tell me what you want? What you want me to do?" she commands "I want to hear it from you"
 
The man cannot stand it. His urge to defile this warrior woman is too great and yet, he is far from reaching the climax he so needs. He pants and groans as Asenath brings him to the brink only to pull away at the last possible moment. He is frustrated and rightfully so. Asenath is in control of his pleasure and to him, it seems as though she has no intention of giving him his release.

Once more, Asenath pleasures him, but this time with her chest bare for his eyes. His dark eyes remain glued to her breasts, enchanted by the way they sway. He is brought to the brink of an orgasm yet again, in part, due to the lewd thoughts that run through his mind. He grunts in frustration as Asenath pulls away from him, yet again.

This time, when Asenath comes back, she is rid of the rest of her armor. His eyes are once again enchanted by the warrior's body. Oh how he would defile it. She asks him what he would do to her and his frustrations are brought to bare.

"I will defile you! First, I will ride you from behind, but it is not your pussy that I will claim. No, it will be your ass. My cock will leave you sore for days and after I have had my fill, after you beg me to fuck you good and proper, I will force you to look upon the face of the man who plants his seed in you."
 
Despite the calamity that has taken place only a few paces away behind the nearest dune Asenath finds the situation strangely arousing. It probably is a mix of the control she has over this man, the way he looks at her exposed nudity, and the open display of his sinister cravings - raging erection included - despite the very disadvantageous position he finds himself in. She even starts to feel a fain tingling sensation in her loins, and would not be surprised to find that a first thin sheet of moisture has formed.

"And why should I let you do that?" she teases him with a challenging smile.

The short break has allowed his immediate arousal to die down a little, even though his fantasy is still clearly very vivid. She shifts her position to sit at his left side. With her right arm behind his back she lifts up his upper body into a vertical position and leans in until both her breasts touch his arm, while the finger tips of her left hand ever so faintly trace up and down his throbbing shaft.

"Why should I free you and let you ravish me?"
 
"Because women such as yourself need to be put in their place! You yearn to have a real man claim you and use you as you were meant to be used. You yearn to take a strong man's seed and bear him many children. You can't help but be impressed by the girth of my cock and of my seed. Untie me, so that I, Metu, may fulfill your destiny."

The night air grows cool. The warmth from the blazes is now gone. Only the uncaring wind remains. The Death Checker Metu continues with his rant completely unaware that Asenath cannot bear children. He only thinks in the way he was taught to think. Women are but made with the sole purpose of bearing children. Even in his unfortunate position, he remains steadfast in his stoic ways.

His views are as unlikely to change as his cock is hard in the hands of Asenath. Slowly, a bead of precum slides down along his shaft towards Asenath's fingers. It's pale clear trail signifies the rampant desires of a man to spread a woman's legs or take her uncouthly from behind. His eyes continue to ravage her body with his gaze. He is the hungry coyote in the dessert ready to pounce upon his prey. If given the chance, he absolutely will.
 
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