Emperor Night

Captain Garth crushed a slither vine with the blunt end of his pole-axe. The forest had a fit of madness shortly after the group had set up camp. The usually docile vines were whipped into a frenzy against the dozen-large expedition. Borris, Sten and the other Cliffside guards did a reasonble enough job fending off the mass of attackers but if it were not for the expert combat skills of Zigarete and the Tracker the camp would have been quickly engulfed by the attack. The Inquistor moved graciously between the tenticles, crushing them with the flat side of her spear as she dodged their strikes. The Tracker likewise flowed expertly around the vines, a mace in each hand struck true against the invaders.

Garth had heard stories of the Tracker, a former bandit and the deadliest Faen in the Empire. Famous for the extermination of a whole Imperial garrison in the north. This lead to quite an attractive job offer in the Empire. Since then he had been spending his time hunting and exterminating Sorcerers at the Emperors behest. It was even said that the Grand Inquistor and him had a fling during a hunt few years back. Garth didn't think the Faen was much to look at. He was tall for a Faen but not particularly tall in human terms. He was a lot more well built than other Faen he had seen. Perhaps because he got enough to eat. The Tracker kept his long black hair in a pony tail to avoid it getting in the way of his dance of death.

The assault had stopped as quickly as it had begun. No casualties, just a few scr.a.p.es and bruises. This grunt work felt beneath Garth.

"What in the gods' names just happened?" Garth said through heaving breaths. It had been a long time since Garth had been required to fight for his life.

"I have never seen sliver vines act so aggressively and I been down this path many times during my training." Zigarete continued to scan the canopy as the vines retreated.

"They stink of Sorcery." The Tracker added with a deep dull tone. Garth doubted that Sorcery had a distinct smell but he wasn't about to question a man known for killing soldiers.

"Well, it looks like whatever was happening is over for now." Garth pointed to a group of his men. "You four are on first watch tonight. We are each pulling double watch duties in case something like that happens again." A collective groan came from the guards. "Oh shut your damned mouths." Garth shouted. Despite him feeling the exact same way as his men, he needed to maintain discipline. This trouble had not been worth getting his d.i.c.k wet.

Garth charged Borris with starting the fire and cooking some of the rashions that the men had brought along. Besides several pack Crens, each member of the expedition had been riding Forrins, two-legged flightless war-birds. It beat the hell out of walking. With any luck they would catch up to the escaped Sorcerer in no time. Garth thought about what he and his men would do with the Ashborn s.l.u.t to release their frustrations. She would have to work off all the trouble that she and her master caused them and it would take many days and nights.

Zigarete and the Tracker retired to thier tent for the night. It was unusual that the two were sharing a tent given their previous history but it was common practice for those in the Inquisition to have seperate lodgings to the rest of the military. The tent they set up was much more spacious than the cramped regulation sized budget tents the rest of them had.

Garth knew the drill by now, the nobility and elites get the good stuff and they were left with whatever was left. He would have thought with all the Empire's riches they could at least afford a bit better equipment. Travelling gear was probably low on the priority list since there wasn't any threats left on the continent to travel to and conquer. Most rebellions these days were local uprisings and were easily dealt with by the local guard. Nothing like that happened in Cliffside though, it was well controlled and heavily guarded, even more so now that the Emperor was visiting.

He really did hate being out of the city. He even prided himself on avoiding the last conquest that came through these parts. Apparently the last Sorcerer that had taken refuge in this forest was a right pain to cut down. Garth didn't cherish the idea of dieing on the forest floor surrounded by bugs and dead leaves. A sweet scent came from the fire, food was ready.

After dinner, Garth struggled to keep his eyes open during the calmness of the night. The crackling and warmth of the fire was the only thing keeping his mind stimulated. Taking watch would be hard tonight. He considered getting one of his men to cover for him but that would severely annoy them and it wasn't worth having his men bitch about it for the rest of the journey. A cold breeze brushed agaisnt Garth's face, rousing him from his dulled state. It carried with it a soft voice.

Garth sliently followed the source of the noise. It grew louder as he approached the Inquisitior's tent. The closer he got the more distinct the sound. It was a familiar sound. Soft grunts and m.o.a.ns. The rumours of the Tracker's and Zigarete's history seem to have been true.

"Oh f.u.c.k... Not so rough, someone might hear." The almost inaudible voice of Zigarete whispered. Someone was indeed hearing. A dim light flickered from within the tent, a candle perhaps. Upon Garths close inspection, a shadow of Zigarete was visible on all fours, her curves jiggling as another shadowy form pressed against her from behind.

'Lucky bastard.' Garth thought to himself jealously. Many of Garth's dreams had been filled with him ravishing the uptight Inquisitor. Those mostly came after particularly grating interactions with her.

"Shut it, this was the deal." A male voice spoke from within the tent as the shadowy figure pulled back at Zigarete's hair. Stifled m.o.a.ns continued pouring out from the tent. 'Well at least someone is putting her in her place.' Garth sighed inwardly as he backed away from the tent. If he was found peeping it would fatal.