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Baron Storm Nattas
Put it on your list
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“ARRGHH, NAH, STOP PLEASEE!” The young man cried out miserably while the surgeon worked on sawing at the bone on his gutted right foot, blood spraying everywhere and the gore painting the surgeon’s arm to the elbow. The medic helping him had his face turned into a red mask of silent horror.
“For Oras sake will ya close his fucking mouth? Hit him again with the club!” The heavy-breathing surgeon growled pausing his work briefly and Storm glanced sideways at the horrified Grin, the hired thug (whatever rank Grin had given himself didn’t change this core fact of his character) watching with ogling eyes the ‘medical procedure’.
Well, this part of it was pretty simple really. Those with limbs that couldn’t heal, slightly rotted or burned beyond salvaging were brought in the ‘second’ tent to get them swiftly removed. Given the congregation flocking at the venue, work is a-booming, Nattas mused and pursed his mouth when the leg dropped from the bloody table with a bang, the medic casually kicking it aside with the side of his boot. A small pile of bloody severed limbs already there as tall as the table almost stacked like ‘dry’ wood.
“This turns my stomach chief,” Grin croaked and Storm shoved him outside the medic’s large tent to recover. Nattas paused to examine the crowd when they got out. Scores of soldiers and locals that moved about bringing more wounded or carrying supplies towards the city.
Storm set his cane down to take his weight off of his tired knee. You don’t want revealing a leg injury in this place, he reminded himself with a shiver. He glanced sideways at the pale Grin again and seeing the lackey had somewhat recovered Storm queried about the new 'recruits'.
The Baron had given him the time to recover for practical reasons since the man could just barely function when he was fully composed.
“Where are those chumps you hired?”
It was a safe bet Storm was right on their smarts without meeting them.
“By the horses,” Grin replied with a grimace. “Got funny back there chief, eh?”
“Uhm,” Storm murmured and checked on their animals. A tall wiry Nord with a shorter Lorian were standing next to them. The Northman had his arm inside the horse’s saddlebags and got a handful of oats out after a brief search, he then proceeded to munch on as pleased as the horse doing the same next to him. “Are they any good?” A numb Storm asked slowly.
Although it was blatantly obvious they weren’t.
“Yeah,” Grin replied with the self-assurance of a dumb plinth’s stupider brother, “Had them clean the horses arses ‘n all. Paid… a couple of months in advance?”
You better be sure about that else you’ll feel the pain Grin.
“Did they wash their hands afterwards?” Storm commented afore furrowing his brows. “There’s more to it.”
“They want another four months upfront?”
Storm wanted Miranda to suck his cock at that moment. Or a clean-mouthed whore that hadn’t worked at the camp.
Every person wants many things, he thought sourly. That don’t mean he gets them.
“You’re asking me? Is it a gimmick or are you not sure? Here’s a hint for ye. None of the queries are safe,” Nattas explained then added after another brief pause. “Eh, fuck it. How about they get nothing?”
Grin blinked slowly.
This dumb fuck’s brain shut down completely!
“How much?” Storm asked with a deep sigh.
“Two coppers per day, unless a job comes about to retain their services. Then it’s a silver,” Grin clarified. “Not easy to find good help given the death rent.”
“Death rate. Good gods,” Storm corrected him. “You barely made sense there. By the way, the tall one is helping himself to the animal food, we should deduct it from his pay.”
“That’s Bryce aye. The other one is Moore,” Grin explained and smiled like an idiot. Storm raised his cane and clipped him at the left ear, the sturdy stick smacking the groaning Grin’s shoulder when it dropped.
“What?” He protested, his ear turning a fierce red color.
“Go get them,” Storm grunted and planted the cane down again. “I’ve seen enough hospitals today to pass a Dottore’s exam with flying colors!” He chuckled at that and seeing Grin nodding seemingly impressed, Storm’s mirthful expression changed immediately and barked irate in his face. “It was a plaguing witticism you uneducated buffoon! Otherwise called a hyperbole. Now get moving!”
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“Hand me the god’s darn list!” Storm growled half an hour later at the edge of the city and snatched the parchment out of Bryce’s hands. He snapped it once up and then down to get rid of any leftover material, mostly half-eaten pieces of wet oats, then read quickly the names scribbled on it.
“Where is Sirio?” He asked, an eye on the local tavern keeper that carried a heavy round catapult shot out to toss it on the street. The wayward shot had caved in half the roof of the building, shattering tables and chairs but enough of it was still standing (structurally sound per the tavern keeper) for him to reopen the venue once the hostilities stopped. Storm wouldn’t have used it but the winter sun had given him a headache and Islandport’s tourist facilities had taken a hit.
“Working with the King.”
“Where’s is our King?”
“His banner is at the farmhouse we run over?” Grin smiled, three teeth at least needing extraction and a silver cap he’d fixed at Cartagen seemed to have gathered real rust. This can’t be healthy, Storm thought. Or silver.
“Passed by,” Storm corrected him calmly. “How long afore he’s here?”
“Soon,” Grin replied and looked hopefully at the tavern keeper’s carafe of ‘fine wine’ the Islandport local placed on the bar.
It was a marketing trick.
“Soon?”
“He said.”
Nattas pushed back on the chair but stopped abruptly hearing a crack, one of the legs weakened and wobbly, probably slotted in place without further repairs.
“Hey,” Bryce said in his baritone voice. “Chief.”
“We won’t order,” Nattas replied guessing his question. “Paid a silver to use the facilities. That’s it.”
“Was thinking,” Bryce started in his Nordic heavy accent. A man that took his time to form a full sentence, ever working on the words in his head. An endless loop of sorts.
He knew how to start the loop going but wasn’t qualified to finish it.
“Drinks are not included in the price,” Nattas explained patiently.
His tolerant demeanor was a ruse. He was actually just about ready to start swinging with the cane and break heads.
“Fucking scum,” Moore commented, adding nothing more.
“With that fantastic exchange of ideas,” Nattas grunted crumbling the list in his fist. “Which offered fuck all towards the common goal of this fucking intrinsic get-together, can one of you stupid baboons go outside so he can spot that slow-walking cocksucker, then bring him here?”
He breathed out and after a moment of awkward silence, interjected with grimaces and looks exchanged between his lackeys, Nattas added with a hiss, grinding his teeth so hard several molars started hurting.
“I was talking about Sirio.”
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“Lord Nattas,” a sweaty Sirio said. The lad worked himself to death trying to ride a horse, his nervousness making the calmest of animals skittish around him. “It is a great morning.”
Storm got up and hugged him tight over the shoulders.
“Come here son,” he said loudly, putting up a performance for some soldiers and locals watching them. “I’m moved you’re still in one piece.”
“Gratitude,” Sirio said, voice coming out muffled as he’d his mouth on Storm’s chest and returned the hug. Nattas kept increasing the pressure, maintaining the lock on the historian’s neck. “Ahm, I wanted to ask you—”
“Forget about her,” Storm interrupted him, crashing Sirio’s face on his chest until he started squirming. “Let me hold you some more son.”
Sirio squeaked trying to breathe.
“I read your list,” Storm whispered in his flushed ear. “But I stand befuddled on the lack of details. Perhaps because there are no fucking details there?”
“It’s a terrible chaos in the headquarters,” Sirio croaked and shuddered trying to free himself from Nattas’ suffocating hold.
“Don’t fight it,” Storm advised, keeping his voice calm. “Tell me you learned more and it’ll be over.”
“I can’t… breathe,” Sirio gasped shaking.
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Nattas let go of him with a glance at the tavern keeper.
“Go order a bottle of wine,” he told Bryce. “Take your time with it. Ask him to show you everything he has available.”
Sirio stumbled back, the start of a cough ravaging him but he run on Grin’s chest and the man nudged the shaken historian forward again.
“Where is…” Storm glanced at Bryce talking with the tavern keeper afore continuing. “Our friend Lucius?”
“Lots of meetings,” Sirio said quickly. “Haven’t seen him this morning.”
“Since when?”
“Last night?”
“You were not needed to keep notes?”
Sirio shook his head negatively. “He met with Curd and Lord Scylla.”
“Who’s that?”
“Lord—”
“The other one,” Storm snapped and then his voice mellowed up. “Calm down. Take a breath. Now try again.”
“A half-breed. He’s with Krakenhall’s force.”
“Right. Where’s Ramirus?”
“Haven’t seen him since last night,” Sirio admitted. “Word is he left with the Croton men-at-arms.”
“Which direction?”
Sirio grimaced. “He didn’t say.”
“Who would know Sirio?” Nattas asked patiently.
“Rio? But he’s with him. Severus probably. They are LID officers,” Sirio explained.
“Fuck are you? A bitch of pleasure?” Nattas grunted and snatched the frowning historian’s chin with his right hand. “You’re offended? How about trying to be a more important piece in your god’s darn work? You have to work that mouth son or arse. We all make sacrifices.”
“Ramirus has his own people! Field agents don’t mingle with headquarter staff!” An insulted Sirio protested and pushed Storm’s hand away to free his chin.
“They don’t mingle with you,” Storm retorted angrily. “Sir Turner?” He asked changing the subject.
Sirio rubbed his jaw and then took the time to comb his oily hair back.
“O’ Leary’s men attacked his force. There’s rumor he was killed trying to retreat,” he finally said.
Scratch that fucker out, Nattas thought pleased.
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Nattas dispatched Sirio to the headquarters to find out more and rode outside the city towards the 4th Legion’s units. He continued north for half an hour to reach another field hospital but decided to turn around since the crowded tents and general misery offered more confusion than news.
People were elated of course for the King’s victory but ‘the troops are too-battered in this part of the woods for small talk’, Storm ascertained and walked back to his horse. He paused, then slowly lifted his hurt leg to place it on the stirrup, an attempt that failed the first time. Cursing under his breath he turned to the half-asleep on the saddle Grin and used the cane to stab his shin to snap him out of it.
“Flies,” Grin mumbled blinking a couple of times, chin covered in drool.
“Get down of that—” Storm hissed but someone bumped on him afore he could finish. Nattas stumbled forward dropping his cane and two strong arms grabbed him to keep him upright.
“Praise be the Goddess,” a heavy-set northern woman said chuckling thoatily, round freckled fleshy face rather pretty with sparkling eyes. “I almost tussled ye lordship in the mud. Apologies.”
A grimacing Storm stood upright, hand pushing his hair off of his face and the back of it rubbing against the large woman’s bosom as it came up. She wore washed out red robes, with a white tunic underneath and open toe sandals.
The dirty toes painted blue originally.
His cock jumped in his pants.
The Gods and man’s innermost desires move in mysterious ways.
“You also gave me a nice tit-rub so allow me to divulge that only half of an apology is needed madam,” Storm replied and the priestess beamed. A warm character buried in excess lard, Nattas thought willing to entertain the notion and eyed her companion, a much fetchier younger blonde girl with a plain long dress on. The body underneath deserving of a more methodical investigation. “What is a pair of lovely priestesses be doing in this dreadful camp?” He queried wearing a gentleman’s grin.
A lecherous gentleman’s grin.
“Hah,” the much thicker redhead chuckled, the sound coming from her flabby belly, placing a fleshy hand on her impressive round bosom. Abrakas veiny phallus! “It’s a hospital, we came to help those in need my lord.”
“Name’s Lord Storm Nattas,” Storm promptly introduced himself, with another glance at the enticing blond girl. “Baron of Moon’s Haven, currently unattached but in grave need of spiritual guidance and assistance in these troubled times.”
“He-he, my goodness milord. I’m priestess Saena,” the Northern wench gushed. “Young Vita isn’t with the order but in our heart of hearts she never left.”
“Let us all join in prayer to help Vita feel at home,” Storm flirted openly but there was something in Vita’s eyes he didn’t like. This cunt cuts both ways, he decided, the larger woman smelling of rose scented water and honeyed bread.
“I don’t partake in ceremonies as often as I’d like,” Saena explained sadly. “Priestess Hermione runs the Temple’s charity sisters very strictly.”
Storm stared in her eyes meaningfully and placed the palm of his right hand under her left breast. “Let’s remedy that bountiful sister Saena. For what good is charity if it’s one-sided?”
“Lord Nattas!” Saena slapped his hand away but Storm’s trained eyes spotted an excited fat nipple poking out of the thick material. “I have supplies to deliver.”
“I’m a friend of Flavia,” Storm insisted as there’s a difference between a random big ole woman you find in the street and a fat ole priestess of Naossis. Saena could suck the skin off of his prick with those plump lips of hers and she fucking knows it!
“The High Priestess is a firm supporter of the King,” Saena chuckled but she was clearly interested. Vita’s mouth crooked slightly and Storm caught it but Saena’s warm hand had found its way on his hardening cock. So Nattas returned his attention to her. “So she might come to Asturia soon.”
“We all are hardened supporters of King Lucius,” Storm agreed whilst Saena worked on his cock over the fabric. “Ever firm in our willingness,” he continued hoarsely, the crowd oblivious to their lewd public shenanigans. “To help him penetrate deep and fully towards Alden. Finish the campaign and release… in a mighty deluge all the pent up frustration of many years of anguish.”
“Amen,” Saena purred in his face as Storm felt the spasm of a fierce ejaculation soaking the front of his pants.
“Chief,” Grin was heard.
“Shut the fuck up!” A flushed Nattas grunted as Saena retrieved her hand satisfied.
“Later Lord Nattas?” Saena asked in a naughty manner and he nodded with his sweaty head, his mouth dry. “Perhaps the goddess shall make sure you won’t remain unattached for much longer, yes?”
“I can feel her fucking favor already,” Storm grunted hoarsely and watched them walking away. He had to stand with his legs slightly apart given all the moisture down there.
“You need help to climb on the saddle Chief?” The unmounted now Grin tried again and Nattas closed his eyes in exasperation.
“We sort of lost the blasted moment. So you get to wait now for spilt seed to dry. I ain’t getting it under my balls,” he hissed and paused hearing an unseen bard singing with enthusiasm not five meters away, behind the hospital’s tents.
>
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> Ol’ Scrawny crept out o’ hi-ding
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> Athwart moldy Pla-ta-nus* n’ Red Maple lake’s trees
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> -near misty Isle-port’s… soggy meadow’s lanes
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>
What is this bullshit? A plaguing concert? Good grief! Storm thought and signed for Grin to follow him, while Bryce and Moore stayed with their horses. He made to round up the tents but a young half-breed appeared and Storm stopped to let him through. The thin hoodlum-looking teenager was followed by a young, white-haired wench with bright green eyes.
“Now,” the young –but tall and athletic- female told the leading male. “Whilst they are distracted.”
She glanced at the waiting for them to pass Nattas, her playful eyes lowering at his chest and then snapping back to his face alarmed.
“I won’t say a word,” Nattas assured her fully expecting them to bolt away as fast as they could. Whatever scheme these crooks were running he didn’t much care. Plus the girl is a fucking looker for a half-breed and really tall. Taller than Nattas. That is a lot of fucking length to explore, he thought still in the afterglow of the orgasm.
The strange girl nodded a little surprised coming to a stop and then as if to return the favor or balance the scales, which was something Old Gods believers used to do, she whispered in a pleasant voice.
“You have to silence the girl. Mind to put it on your list.”
Storm blinked unsure.
“Chief?” Grin asked sometime later. The girl was gone and Nattas was still standing there like an idiot. The bard still singing his piece to the gathered before the hospital tents audience, civilians and soldiers approaching to listen to his performance curious.
> ‘Brazen’ missed the lure -in Triumph’s shade residing
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> For doomed Nonus misread the witch’s heeds
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> -Whence a Lady’s fair arm reached…
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> to pluck ‘em out the bloody drains
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>
“I heard ye god’s darn it,” Storm snapped and shook his head. “Let’s go back. Return to the city.”
“Who was the girl?” Grin asked and Nattas paused furrowing his brows unsure on what his lackey was talking about. But then he remembered.
Ah.
>
>
> In the plains…
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> Tap –tapa – dum.
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> In the plains…
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>
The bard went into his frenetic refrain, feet thudding at the ground, wild head bobbing up and down, whilst thumbing at his cheap lute like a madman. A thoughtful Nattas stood back and replayed the whole sequence of events that led to the brief encounter in his head trying to figure out what had caused the unknown but brazen girl to change her demeanor. You don’t reply to a lord. City crooks run from trouble. Nattas had made a career out of noticing little things. The Baron lowered his eyes on his chest.
Nattas immediately spotted the large silver and ebony brooch strapped on the lapel of his redingote. The sigil of his house which was very similar to Krakenhall’s coat of arms -to the untrained eye. If one knew where to look or just count eyes on the finely sculpted creature he would easily recognize something entirely different. As a matter of fact the nicely carved small one-eyed ‘squid’ depicted a much larger creature, a monster…
…and a god.
Well, that’s fucking strange, a perplexed Nattas thought.
How would she know?
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read it at Royalroad : https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46739/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms
& https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/47919/lure-o-war-the-old-realms
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