Just outside of the little village of Smalton, there was a little red tent.|
It was a nice tent, to be sure-- a cozy little tent that looked like it could fit two people comfortably for a night's rest. Smoke curled from the top, as if there were a fire going inside, but the entrance to the tent was dark, permitting no light to pass through it, and the tent's fabric did not betray any such glow either.
That said, if you lingered near the flap that opened into it and listened, you could faintly hear a loud PLAP, PLAP, PLAP sound from within, accompanied by a voice.
"YES, YES, YES, BABY, YES! KEEP GOING! JUST LIKE THAT!"
The inside of the tent was full of the smells of woodsmoke and incense, but they were not enough to stop it from smelling like sex as well. The rough and intimate lovemaking of its occupants had filled it with sweat and musk and hot breath, and the sound of strong hips against a fat ass.
Sure enough, if you looked into the very middle, where the ground of the tent somehow sank inward to make a sort of bed-pit, you would find two figures, surrounded by scattered blankets and pillows, going at it like animals.
The first one you'd see, undoubtedly, was the source of all the noise-- the one doing the moaning and the owner of the fat ass in question. They called her Witch, and she was a very pretty thing, spread out on the bed as she was. Her big beautiful ass rippling with each clap of her lover's hips, small hands grasping at the sheets, long dark hair pulled back by his hand... and a giant smile on her face as she encouraged her lover to continue-- harder, faster, deeper.
On top of her, dripping with sweat and grinding his teeth, was her darling lover, known as Warlock. A bit taller than her, broad-shouldered and messy-haired, with the kind of boyish grin that drove his dear Witch wild. One muscular arm holding him up and the other pulling her hair back so he could see her pretty face. Driving every inch of his thick cock deep into her with every stroke, pausing only to bend down and worship her body with his mouth and hands... whispering low, dark praises into her skin.
She turned as he let go of her hair. "Come on, darling!" She groaned, her hips pushing back against his. "Don't stop now~ I'm so close."
"Just admiring my handiwork, love..." He smiled and slapped her ass, drawing a squeak of delight out of her. "You're so pretty like this..."
"Well if you think I'm pretty now," She giggled, rolling onto her back, "I'm gonna be gorgeous when you eventually make me cum."
"Patience, love..." He murmured, pulling her upright for a kiss. "You know we'll both get there eventually..."
They were an excellent match, precisely because what Warlock lacked in sensitivity he made up for in persistence, and while Witch was incredibly difficult to please, she was just as giving in bed. Together, they were prone to lengthy tantric sessions of lovemaking that would eventually build to a climax...
...provided they weren't interrupted.
"Alright, on my back." Witch grinned, laying back, throwing her arms up over her head. "Now come down here and--"
"♪~♫♫♪~♪~!"
"Wait." Warlock's head snapped around, turning to look at the entrance. "Did you hear that?"
"Darling, noooo~" She squirmed, reaching up with grabby hands to beckon him back. "It's nothing, just the wind. The villagers aren't going to follow us this close to the woods, you know that."
"No, not that." He pulled out of her and stood, staring at the door in confusion. "I heard... music? Like someone playing pipes."
Witch sat up, frowning. "I don't hear it." Her eyes wandered down his rugged chest towards his cock, still slick from her pussy. She got up on her haunches and pulled his hips forward by the ass, sliding the head of that cock into her mouth and playing her tongue around it, savoring the taste of their mingled sex as well as the smell of him.
Warlock paused. "I... it's gone now, I guess..." He looked bothered, distracted. "Must have been my imagination." He shivered, looking down at her. "Do you have to do that?"
"Mm-hmm!" Witch nodded, mouth full, and patted his leg, trying to get him to relax again. She took him out of her mouth and stroked it, gently. "Come back to bed, love, and we can make music our way~"
He sighed and sat down again, dropping hard into the soft bed. "I'm sorry love... I guess I'm still as jumpy as ever."
"I don't blame you," she admitted, continuing to stroke his cock. "We did just get chased out of town by a mob... again."
"They're so quick to judge," He sighed, as she went down again and started licking and sucking his cock. His smile crept back on. "If they knew how good you were at giving head, maybe they'd be more welcoming..."
Witch giggled, pulling his cock out of her mouth again with a POP! "What, you want me to blow a whole town just to get accepted?"
"No!" Warlock waved a hand, "Of course not... just some of the guys."
"In that case," She kissed his head, waving his cock back and forth like a thick, meaty wand. "YOU have to show them how good you are at eating pussy."
"Deal. You blow the husbands and sons, I'll eat out their wives and daughters." His hand slid into her hair, coiling it around his fingers. "It would probably only take like, ten or twenty people to vouch for us, I figure."
"♪~♫♫♪~♪~!"
Warlock's eye twitched. "There it is, did you hear that?"
Witch sat up, wiping the strands of spit from her chin. "OK, that time I definitely heard someone playing the pipes..."
He tilted his head. "I feel like I know that tune."
"Yeah, me too... like a song you heard when you were younger and more innocent."
Warlock wagged a hand back and forth, ambiguously. "I don't know that you were ever particularly innocent."
She shot him a look of amused annoyance and playfully slapped his arm. "OK, smart-ass, come on."
Warlock stepped out of their tent in just his pants, resting low on his hips and at least partly held up by his cock, while he pointed his wand into the darkness.
Behind him, Witch half-leaned out of the tent entrance with a blanket tied around her chest and her broomstick in hand-- which more or less left a whole leg and ass-cheek hanging out, but it was better than nothing.
Outside, the hills were quiet, except for a plainly disturbing line of torches leading out of the village below and leading up the hill into the woods not far from them.
"What the actual...?" Witch trailed off.
"Are they back to finish us, or...?"
"No, look." Witch pointed to the people in the line-- a dozen or so young folks, most of them women, all of them dancing and smiling like there was a party going on. They were wearing all manner of clothing-- some in bedclothes, a few naked or in their underwear, and they counted exactly three who were still fully dressed. Almost every single one seemed to be carrying or wearing a strange amount of valuables, like they'd decided to wear every piece of jewelry they could find at once.
"Those are the younger folks from town, right?"
"Yeah, but look who's leading them."
At the head of the line, and interspersed throughout, were people in entertainers' garb, playing various instruments.
"No freaking way!" Witch leaned forward to watch, hands on her knees. "That's the musician troupe we met on the road!"
"Yeah," Warlock scanned the line. "And they've got all these folks in a trance." He was actually a bit amused. "They must have a proper bard or two among them. Swindled the townsfolk and gave 'em the Pied Piper treatment. Serves them right."
"I dunno, love..." Witch fidgeted with her broom, bouncing it on her shoulder and spinning it in her hands. "Shouldn't we help them? Who knows what else these guys have planned?"
"Who cares," Warlock scoffed. "They chased us out with torches and pitchforks." He walked back into the tent, gently tugging her along by the wrist.
"But... but!" Witch protested briefly, but as the line vanished into the woods, she just sighed. "No, you're right...
"It's not our problem."
If you waited until the next morning, lingering by that tent? You would hear the distant song of those bards leading the townsfolk into the woods, along with the thick, heavy clapping of Witch's fat ass as their lovemaking resumed in earnest, before eventually tapering off.
And as the sun rose and the village folks talked among themselves in the town below, they would eventually begin to make sense of what had happened and try to come to some sort of idea of what to do.
And so, as the morning wound on and noon approached, you would see a single figure hike her way up the hill from the town's only road, searching until she found that little red tent.
She was a decent, ordinary-looking woman, dressed as if for a night as a tavern wench, in a nice green dress. A hefty bust, a sweet face bent with worry and framed with red hair, and the strong hands of a working woman wringing themselves dry. She was a local housewife, nothing more-- come to ask on behalf of the town (whether they agreed with her decision or not) for the help of the strangers who had been ousted from their town just the day before. Someone had to get those young folks home safely, and against the force of magic... only another sort of magic would do, she figured.
She was sweating in the noonday heat by the time she arrived at the tent.
"Erm... hello?" She asked, trying to be heard inside the tent. "Is... are you the erm... the witch-folk what came to town yesterday? May I speak with you?"
There was no reply from the tent. In the absence of a door to knock, she seemed unsure how to get their attention, and felt it might be rude to simply walk in uninvited-- and who knows what a witch and her intimidating companion might do to a polite visitor, let alone a rude one.
Still, the silence was quite loud, and her heart was beginning to sink in her chest. "Hel-Hello!?" She called, raising her voice. "Ms. Witch? Sir? Are-- are you in there? We need your help, please!" She stood before the entrance, hoping beyond hope they might answer.
Nothing.
Hiking her skirt and kneeling in the grass, she clasped her hands and raised them like a prayer. "Miss, sir... I'm begging you! They've taken our sons and daughters-- the sweetest joys of our town, vanished in the night with all our most personal treasures. My own little girl, kidnapped... I know our lads did you an unkindness, to turn you away from our home so violently, but please... if you can... please do help us!"
Silence once more, only this time... this time, before she could despair, there was a sound... a distant sound, as if the inside of the tent was a vast cave. The sound was a pair of voices, low and husky as one is in the early morning, as if they'd only just awoken. Their words were unclear, but an exchange was certainly had. One became clear, raising until it was audible at the doorway.
"UUUUUUUUGH."
A moment later, the tent flap opened and an utterly naked man stood in front of her. The sides of his head shaved, a head of messy bone-white hair hanging in his eyes. He looked annoyed, but not yet hostile per se.
The woman scrambled to her feet, trying not to look at what was very plainly at eye-level, which he had taken no steps to conceal. Still, she was blushing just to see a strapping young fellow like this so bare, so suddenly.
"You're awfully lucky," he growled, eyes trailing down her body as she brushed the grass off her skirt. "I would have let you go back empty-handed." He turned and held the flap open for her, into the dim light of the tent. "Come on in, then. She wants to hear you out."
The village woman tried her absolute best to keep her eyes on the tea sloshing into her cup as the Witch-- currently, also naked-- poured.
The three of them were seated around a tiny, circular table in the middle of their tent. It smelled faintly of woodsmoke and incense, but more strongly of sex, as if they'd been making love ferociously in the night. The mental image was overwhelming.
She glanced up to thank her host, lips moving silently for fear that even too loud a word would offend them, and did her best not to stare at the woman's body as she did. She was certain they had arrived in town clothed-- but then, she hadn't gotten the best look at them, either.
It was much harder not to stare at her companion. He was a fine specimen of a young man, but he looked restless. Angry. Clearly she had already offended him, but he barely acknowledged her presence, instead sitting behind the Witch, legs spread, hands resting on her body, fingertips making gentle circles on her thighs... her stomach... her chest...
To her credit, the Witch did not acknowledge his presence either, focused on her conversation with their guest... but his touches were certainly affecting her.
Well, she knew young lovers when she saw them.
She picked up the tea, enjoying its warmth in her hands. "Thank you," She said softly, before clearing her throat and opting to be brave. "Thank you. For the tea... and for hearing me through."
"Aww, it's no trouble," the witch smiled, ignoring her lover's scoff behind her. "So, tell me what you know-- do you want milk, or sugar?"
She shook her head, taking a tentative sip. It was rather sweet, even with nothing in it. "No, thank you."
"It's just so sweet!"
"It's bullshit," The man growled, chin on his lover's shoulder, glaring daggers through the woman.
"They're so desperate," she swooned, leaning back against him. "And they've turned to us for help!"
"It's presumptuous."
"Oh, it's almost romantic!" She cried, throwing an arm up and around his neck, nuzzling him.
"It's DELUSIONAL," he insisted, his scowl flickering.
The woman could feel herself growing warm. Watching them touch one another, seeing them naked... and every sip of hot tea only seemed to make it spread through her gut and reach... lower places.
She giggled. "Pardon my darling." Her hand reached up and scratched his chin like a cat, and his sour expression melted at her touch, pure contentment in his face as her fingers crawled up one side and scratched at his scalp, too. "He's never been the most optimistic Warlock, but he's nice enough when you get to know him."
He frowned again, opening one of those cold eyes. "I just take poorly to those who disrespect us."
"Yeah," she crooned, kissing him on the cheek. "My knight in spikey armor."
"A Witch and a Warlock..." the woman remarked, breathless. "I've never heard of such things outside of a storybook, before."
Warlock's eye twitched, and all at once he sighed, that apparent anger leaking out like a broken set of bellows. "Fuck. Yeah, the very idea is probably terrifying to you..." He kissed his lover on the neck and stood, forcing her to shift her eyes violently from his swinging dick to Witch, who scooted closer around the table.
"So tell me, who did they take from you? Your daughter, you said?"
The woman sighed, trying her best to keep eye contact rather than watch the man as he walked around the room, picking through discarded clothing for something. It was so hot in this tent...
"Yes. My little girl's just gotten engaged to her sweetheart, and they've both vanished in the night, taken by their horrid magic song."
"Yeah... bard magic," Warlock remarked, picking up a tiny black book off a table and flipping through it. The emblem of a skull on the front gleamed in the dim light. "Cheap, dirty, ugly stuff. Attractive to the sort of person who would do this."
"Please, if there's any way you can stop them-- any at all--"
Witch leaned forward, clasping the woman's hands in her own. They were so small, so soft... and yet she could feel little callouses, as if even those petite hands had known proper, hard work.
"I'm gonna stop you there," the Warlock interrupted, before the Witch could speak. "We can easily beat the crap out of a bunch of dirty mercenaries and traveling musicians for the sake of a few... entranced teens. That's not the issue, we'll do it."
Witch's eyes gleamed. "Darling! You came around!"
Warlock shot her a look, and a dark glint passed between them. "Yes... but we deserve to be compensated, don't we?"
The woman shot to her feet, stumbling. "We-- we haven't much, but... our valuables were taken, too, in the night. We'd gladly part with a portion of what we have, to get back our scant few heirlooms, sir."
Witch grabbed her hand. "No no no, love. Not the kind of payment we want."
She reeled. "What... what else could we give you?"
Witch rose to her feet, hands sliding up the woman's arms and around her waist. One grasped her breast, pulling a gasp from her. Warlock stepped in close, one hand grabbing her ass and pulling her closer, the other tilting her head up to meet his eyes. She could feel the Witch's breast against her arm, and slowly she was feeling the Warlock's cock harden between her thigh and his.
Witch stood on tiptoe and whispered, hot breath in her ear making her spine shiver. "We can negotiate later. First... I think my dear Warlock still deserves an... 'apology,' don't you?"
Warlock's mouth slowly twisted up into a crooked grin. "Definitely."
She swallowed, hard. Her face was hot, and her body felt like it was burning with all the clothes she had on...
"W-well... I suppose I could... on behalf of my home..." Her eyes flicked away from his, then back up. She could feel her eyelids flutter. She wet her lips nervously, aware she was starting to drool. "How would you like me to apologize?"
She could almost feel them both smiling as the Warlock pulled her closer, her eyes closing as if anticipating a kiss.
She felt a hand grasp her shoulder.
"On your knees."
As the sun began to go down that day, the little red tent disappeared from the hilltop, and Witch and Warlock stepped into the dark woods, looking for the musicians who had swindled the town.
"You don't think they've already booked it, have they?"
"No..." Warlock sighed. "Goons like this, they're gonna stick around, enjoy the girls they've caught. Not gonna leave until they do."
Witch nodded, each of them scanning opposite sides in case of an ambush. "Right, you used to work for the Little King..." He made a noise of disgust. "Come on, you and the Shadow Squad must have done this sort of thing to a village?" He didn't say anything.
"You tease me, love. Won't you tell me what wicked deeds you and your old friends got up to, before we met?" She cupped his cheek and made him turn, putting on an exaggerated pout. "When you were in your edgy, sexy bad boy phase?"
He smiled a little, but then seemed to process her words too late. "Wh-- wait, am I not an edgy, sexy bad boy now?"
"Well, yes, but you were a tryhard when we met, love."
"And you were a sheltered, uptight--"
"Sh!" Witch waved him down. "There they are!"
Ducking behind an old log, they saw two makeshift guard posts-- small barricades, manned by a pair of musicians. But there was a third person with them, another one of the entertainers that they didn't recognize-- a skinny ginger woman in a long skirt, a corset, and a ruffled shirt that threatened to slip off her little shoulders. She had a handsome look about her, as if she could pass for a man in the right clothes, and twirled a flute in her hands, seemingly nervous as she flirted with one of the other musicians. At a glance, a man might not notice, but Witch knew when a gal was playing shy to keep a man interested... this girl definitely was, but... something else wasn't right about her. The way she sat, the way she shifted, it felt forced.
Warlock made a sound of annoyance, standing close behind her and peering over her shoulder. "You don't suppose they'd just let us walk in? They saw us get kicked out of the village, maybe we don't need to fight them right away."
Witch cocked her head to the side, thinking. "Maybe... but these are mostly men, and you'll probably set them on edge no matter what you do. Me, on the other hand..." She hefted her cauldron, Cast Iron, and shrank it down like she was crumpling paper, until it was an apple-sized ball in her hand. "I'm a lady, and a witch besides. If they're letting bard girls like her run around, then they might be willing to let me in if I play my cards right."
"OK... how do I get in then? Because I'm not hiding in your purse again-- not after last time."
"I was thinking..." She pointed off to one side of the camp, dropping her now-tiny cauldron in her bag. "You could sneak around the side and meet me in the back," she drove her hips back onto his lap, teasingly punctuating her point.
He grabbed her hip to stop her from grinding on him and gave it a squeeze. "Ah, our "bonfire" tactic?"
"You lurk in the shadows, I'll dance in the light."
"Deal. Just stay focused, we've got a job to do here."
"Afterwards?"
Warlock sighed. "Afterwards, we can play. Agreed?"
Her eyes gleamed in the afternoon light, and she gave him a quick kiss, smiling wide. "Agreed."
As Warlock slipped into the long shadows of the growing evening, Witch stood up, smoothed out her richly purple dress. It was her favourite one, with the backless top, the cinched waist and the slit allll the way up one thigh. She adjusted her awesome boobs, her winged boots, and her rope belt.
"Hi boys~" She cheered, stepping out of the treeline. "Remember me?"
The musicians' heads snapped around, all finding her in a moment. It was no surprise that the one actively being flirted with did not hesitate to look, nor was the unoccupied one perking up at her arrival... but why was this girl sitting on the barricade looking at her like even she wanted a piece?
"Ohh, it's the witch lady we met on the road... how's it going, sweet thing?" The unoccupied musican leaned over his post, a lute propped up on his shoulder. "Where's your boyfriend? You get separated?"
"Something like that..." she grinned at him. "I'm just out having a little fun. He won't mind."
The ginger lady swung her legs over the barricade, meeting Witch in-between them. Her hand slid around the Witch's waist and pulled them hip-to-hip with remarkable strength for such a skinny girl. "Well, if it's a little fun you're looking for, I know just who to take you to." She glanced back at the other two and scrunched her nose playfully. "You boys catch up later, eh? When it's nice and DARK~" She finished them off with a snarling inhale sound that gave Witch's little heart a skip, and turned their attentions comfortably to the pair of swaying hips walking away from them... instead of what they were saying.
As the girl sauntered their new guest inside, her voice dropped, low and conspiratorial.
"You're not just here for a good time, are you, luv?" Her eyes twinkled darkly in the sunset. "You're here to take them down, same as me?"
Witch blinked. Read like a book, and by someone other than her beloved Warlock. She was getting sloppy.
"How...?"
"Never mind that. I'm Bard, nice to meet you. Can I count on you to help me, cutie?" She tucked the end of her flute under Witch's chin.
Witch could feel herself blushing, but smiled madly back and nodded frantically. What a find! Warlock was going to like this one.
"Good. I think this is the start of a beautiful... friendship." She said it like 'friendship' was the very LEAST she had in mind, and the hungry look in her eyes told her the rest was right up her alley.
"Now then... let me show you where the "fun" is, eh?" Bard's hand curled into the nook of Witch's waist again and they continued into the campsite, her new companion unaware of the shadow watching them from nearby...
Warlock circled through the trees quietly, vanishing whenever he crossed into one of their growing shadows. From the darkening perimeter of the campsite, he could see everything-- the musicians had rounded up a dozen girls and a few boys, and all of them were in some kind of feverish trance, singing and swaying to the music of the troupe. Bard magic if he'd ever seen it.
A few were not actively dancing, but were instead engaged in raunchy sex with members of the troupe who were not playing the music, and after a few minutes they switched off: some members of the troupe taking up instruments (with or without their pants) and keeping the song going while others started undoing buckles.
He also saw Witch making a friend-- talking conspiratorially with a skinny ginger fellow in women's clothing. He couldn't hear them from here but he assumed she had found a possible ally... still, he didn't like how grabby he was getting with her. Something to keep an eye on.
Slipping behind another tree, he waited as one of the musicians on guard duty circled past, then simply stepped up behind him and planted the tip of Spellsword into his back, firing a blast of energy that instantly dropped him. Catching his falling body, he tucked him into the shadow of a tree where he wouldn't be found until it was over.
Hopefully there weren't too many of them patrolling the campsite, or this would take a while...
"So, that's my plan," Bard explained. "I was waiting for a proper mob to spin up in one of these towns, but with you here, I don't have to!" She beamed. "Sounds like you can hold your own in a fight."
"Yep," Witch confirmed, following her around the edge of the firelight towards the troupe's leader. "Alright, who's the boss around here?"
Bard nodded towards a larger man by the fire, devoid of an instrument but bellowing the words to their magic song with his whole chest, conducting the band with his hands. Witch could feel it-- the epicenter of the spell was in that man's lyrics. He didn't need to keep it up the whole time, but he had to reinforce the music with that magic or it wouldn't hold, and they'd lose their grip on the young folks they'd hypnotized.
"All we need is a distraction, right?"
Bard nodded, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Yeah, something that will make the song falter just long enough for me to get in there and counter it. Any ideas?"
Witch nodded. "Yeah, one... but my boyfriend won't like it."
Bard's eyes glittered. "Ooh... alright, count me in. Come on, I'll introduce you-- HEY BOSS!"
The singer glanced over, taking a drink from a bottle of whiskey and cringing. "Ach, that sucks. Yo, Bard! Who's that you've got there?"
Witch and Bard sauntered into the firelight together. "We met her on the road in-- you were busy. This is Witch."
Before Witch could say anything, the man took her hand and kissed the back of it, grinning almost too wide to get his lips together. "What a lovely sight... what brings you to our lovely site?"
"Ah, a poet and a gentleman." Witch smiled dazzlingly. "Just my type. I'm just here to correct you naughty boys and girls-- you've done something BAD here, haven't you?" Her tone made it sound flirty, but her words were not a lie... still, stretching the truth was like bending a finger backwards for a witch. It could only go so far before it became painful. Further than that, and she'd break something.
"What, this?" The Singer smiled. "Hardly. The charm song isn't some kind of crass mind control, love. It just lowers their inhibitions a little, makes them more... suggestible." He reached out to a girl and pulled her towards him, her nightgown swishing. He cupped her chin and pulled her down into a kiss, which she seemed to eagerly reciprocate, albeit in the clumsy way a virgin would. They pulled apart and spit trailed between their tongues for a moment. He wet his lips and turned back to Witch and Bard, letting the girl wander back into the dancing circle. "See? They're having as good a time as we are!"
Witch sat down next to him on his log and scooted close. "But, surely you're still in control? You can make them do whatever you want?"
The Singer held a finger to his lips, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Trade secrets, gorgeous." His eyes wandered her body like groping hands, hungrily feeling out the shape of her through the dress. "But... maybe your tongue could find a way to loosen mine, eh?"
"I bet it could," she crooned, walking her fingers up his chest. "Maybe if I... got warmed up, first? It's getting awfully cold, with the sun going down."
Bard leaned over the two of them, flute in hand. "Oh, I could warm you up, honey." She looked at her boss with pout and wide eyes. "If you don't mind, that is..."
The boss leaned back, drink in hand. "By all means, Bard... by all means."
The Bard stooped down and started kissing her, precisely where the boss and all the musicians could see them. Pulling back and squeezing forward again, so they could see every detail-- every lip bite and bit of tongue, every little gasp and giggle and moan. Slowly, members of the band were getting distracted, music faltering, people turning to look and elbowing one another. The girls in their trances started to stir. Witch was on her feet now, head tilted up to the taller girl's and pushing back against her. Her hands were creeping up towards that curtain of red hair, Bard's hands wandering down her waist and onto her--
CRASH!
Snapping everybody out of their new trance, a pack of brightly-colored Imps came crashing out from the row of wagons. A half-dozen petite, eyeless critters with little horns running amok with stolen liquor, discarded underwear, and various musical instruments-- all of which did not belong in their mouths.
"Ugh..." Witch groaned under her breath. "Warlock, no..."
Immediately, people scrambled to their feet, approaching to try and salvage the situation. Their boss was the only one who recognized that the music had stopped, and immediately began singing, conjuring up the core of the spell to keep the captives in their trance.
Witch reached into her purse. "Sorry, Bard. I think someone went and made our distraction for us."
Bard looked at her with utter confusion. "Who???"
Witch pulled out a tiny metal pot and gave it a kiss. Immediately it expanded to the size of a full cauldron and, with his back turned, she SLAMMED it into the Boss's head, knocking him down and cutting the music off completely. "Don't worry about it," she sighed, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. "Just start playing the counter-song while I go rein things in a bit."
Bard, confused but grateful for the help, shook her head and pulled out her flute, playing notes that would counter the trance and return the girls to a clear-headed state.
Amidst the chaos, Warlock strode through the mess with Spellsword in one hand, still a wand, waving it like a conductor and firing bursts of black lightning that struck down musician after musician whenever they stopped dealing with the Imps long enough to realize he was the source of the problem.
CLANG!
One of them, about to swing a lute at his head, dropped like a bag of rocks, Witch appearing behind them with Cast Iron in hand.
"This isn't the kind of distraction we had in mind."
Warlock cocked an eyebrow. She wasn't annoyed, not really. He could see a tiny smile on her face. "Maybe, but it's still working."
Witch rolled her eyes. "You drive me crazy."
"I know. Come on, help me beat up these music nerds." He flicked his wand again and a shot of darkness lanced over an Imp and into the face of a drum player who had been trying to wrestle his bongos back from a pair of Imps that had undone his belt buckle.
Witch sighed, but he heard the love in it as she hefted Cast Iron, shrank it down, and threw it like an apple at someone's head, knocking them out cold and sending the little pot back to her hand with a loud reverberating of metal.
Warlock scanned for targets, skipping over a dancer who was getting her pussy absolutely DEVOURED by one of his little monsters, and a horn-player who was experiencing what its like to have nearly a foot of Imp tongue down his throat. Pretty soon, the sounds of various shouting, wailing, and off-kilter music as people tried everything they could to combat these pests was in full swing, and he took a deep breath and sighed a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"Now THAT is music to my ears..."
Soon enough, the musicians were scattered, knocked out, or being detained by Imps with devious designs on whatever was in their poofy costume pants. A great success on their end. Now, to see what the Bard was up to.
Witch propped her cauldron on her hip and sighed, a little frustrated. "Honey," she turned to look at him. "You know, you did kinda interrupt me, back there. I was in the middle of something."
"Is that his name?" Warlock asked, sounding mildly amused for once.
"What, the big guy?" She pouted. "No, love, I mean this Bard and I had a distraction going, we were going to--"
"I saw what you were doing, love." Warlock cupped her cheek and caressed it with her thumb. "I just thought something bigger would keep their minds off the captives while your friend got them out. Didn't mean to step on your toes..." He paused. "I'm sorry."
Witch huffed, her cheeks puffing out. "I... I forgive you." She stood on tiptoe and gave her lover a kiss. "Shall we go see what Bard's up to?"
"Yes, please do introduce me to this... grabby friend of yours."
As they returned to the campfire, the captives were congregating in a frightened huddle, receiving a sort of explanation from the lone remaining musician. As Witch returned, Bard waved her over.
"Hey babe~" She crooned. "I've got it all under control. Just gave them directions back to town." She glanced back at the group. "River's south of here, go straight and then follow it down the hill. You can see your houses from there, I'm sure."
The girls thanked them both profusely, very embarrassed by their various states of undress and, in a few cases, how sticky and tingly they were. Before they could go, Witch held up a hand.
"Sorry, are any of you engaged at the moment?"
A girl shakily raised her hand. "M-me? My boyfriend proposed to me earlier this week." Beside her, one of the guys-- who had rope burn on his wrists and an uncomfortable look on his face, nodded. "That's me."
"Your mother asked me and my partner to intervene for your sakes. Thank her, when you get home."
Confusion rippled through the group.
"My... my mother isn't... with us. Have you spoken with her ghost, or something?
Witch shook her head, befuddled. "No... the old widow, the one who works at the tavern?"
More confused exchanges in the group. A little nervous laughter. Another young man spoke up. "Ma'am, that old maid doesn't have any kids."
Witch snapped her fingers, annoyed. "That bitch lied to us. I forget people can do that..." The laughter turned more genuine and she waved them off. "Alright, alright. Go before I turn someone into a frog you little shits."
As they started to trickle away, emboldened by the absence of their captors, Witch felt a pair of arms loop around her waist, and a chin rest on her shoulder.
"So. How'd we do?"
Witch patted the Bard's head. "Very nicely. I heard your counter-song, it was very good."
Bard's hands wandered down Witch's thigh and up to a breast, gently caressing her. "I'm good with my mouth and my hands, what can I say?"
"You can ask permission before you try to fuck another man's woman," Warlock growled, appearing as if from the darkness.
Bard leapt back in surprise, separating the two parts of her flute to reveal a concealed dagger inside it. Warlock looked at it like he wasn't impressed.
"How poetic," he said, eyeing the instrument. "There was secretly a blade inside. I take it that's..."
"Is..." Bard looked Warlock up and down, startled. "Is this The Boyfriend???" She asked, putting on a theatrical stage whisper.
Witch put a hand on Bard's shoulder. "Yes, this is my Warlock. Warlock, this is Bard, she's been a great help."
"He."
Witch blinked. "Bwuh?"
"This one's playing dress-up." Warlock poked Bard in the chest, right where a tit ought to be on a woman. The gesture did not produce the kind of sensitive response a woman normally would have to her breast being jabbed, only a sheepish grin and a blush. "And as cute as you've done yourself up, I know a boy when I see one.
"Guilty as charged..." Bard admitted, sheathing his flute-dagger. "But uh, for what it's worth..." She-- He stepped up to be closer to Warlock and grinned up at him, putting their chests together. "You're an awfully tall drink of potion yourself, handsome..." He tossed his hair a little and folded his arms behind his back. "If you're so worried about what I do to her, why don't you do the same to-- HRK!"
A hefty fist clamped around Bard's throat and hoisted him off the ground, briefly drawing a cry of alarm from Witch until she saw that Warlock was not the culprit. Turning, they saw the dizzy, stumbling shape of the entertainers' leader had snuck up on them.
"Traitorous little fruit," he snarled, tossing Bard aside. "I'll deal with you later." He drew a sword off his back-- a large one, perhaps meant for sword-swallowing tricks but no less sharp for it, and well suited to his large frame. "You two... you're getting it first.
"Oh shit." Witch hefted her cauldron again, but Warlock stopped her.
"Hang on... I wanna try something." He stepped off to one side, where the setting sunlight could hit his back, and held a hand out. The wind blew through in a gust, rustling the leaves off the trees. Their long shadows swirled across the ground, gathering in his shadow's hand until there was a bristling ball of darkness there. It leapt from the ground to his palm, and he twisted it in his hands, stretching it out until he had a massive, crooked zweihander of shadow.
"Yo!" Witch planted her cauldron on the ground. "Did you--?"
She did not get to finish her question because at that moment, the Singer had lunged at her, hoping to take advantage of their distraction-- but a flash of gold and sparks repelled his heavy overhand swing before it could reach her, and Walock kicked him back. His bracer smoldered from the heavy hit, but he twirled his massive blade and held it out.
"Do that again," he growled. "I fuckin' dare you."
The Singer held his blade up to his mouth and sang something soft and menacing, the words reverberating with his sword and making the steel tremble. "Challenge accepted."
The two clashed, and it became readily apparent that there was a standstill here. Warlock was more skilled, but had never tried this shadow-sword before. It was larger and more unwieldy than he was used to. The Singer was less experienced, but more familiar with his weapon, albeit used to swinging it on a stage and not in a fight. Warlock could parry his blows because they were obvious and predictable, but the Singer was light enough on his feet to avoid his counter-attacks, as Warlock had yet to learn the trick of making such a large blade move quickly.
Worse, as the fight drew on, it became apparent that the shadow blade was breaking-- every strike knocked a sizeable shard out of its body, and though they were layered like scales it was turning rather thin and ragged. Warlock was being pushed back-- Witch started to step in, but caught a stern look from her partner. “No,” the look seemed to say, “I’ve got this.”
Skirting around them, Witch ran to Bard’s side. “Are you OK?”
There were tears in his eyes, and he was massaging his neck, but he just nodded. “Yeah, the joke’s on him.” He gave her a lewd grin. “I’m into that shit.”
Witch sighed through her nose. Boys.
A loud sound, like shattering glass, caught her ear. Turning to look, the two of them saw Warlock on one knee, with the hilt of his broken blade in one hand, a trail of black shards in the dirt behind his opponent.
“I got you!” The Singer laughed.
Warlock glanced at his lover, who was starting to stand, and shot her a wink.
One of his hands came up and clenched into a fist, and there was a sound like wind chimes rustling as the black shards began to quiver and reverberate. One by one, they started to shoot off the ground towards him, slashing past his opponent and snapping back into place on the blade with a SNAP like knapping flint. By the time he figured out what was happening, the Singer’s clothes were being cut to ribbons, and he could only hold up his sword and try to fend off a few of them for a moment before--
CLANG!
An apple-sized iron pot slammed into his forehead and knocked him out cold.
“I had that,” Warlock grumbled, standing up and dispelling his weapon into wisps of darkness.
“Of course,” Witch took his arm in hers. “But, I thought something more direct would finish him off quickly. Didn’t mean to step on your toes.”
Warlock huffed, but couldn’t resist the twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, alright. Turnabout is fair play.” He kissed her on the forehead, and she giggled. “Come on you little brat, let’s get out of here.” He snapped his fingers and the little book flew off his belt, Imps rushing over from across the campsite and diving into the pages, where they became illustrations on the page as it snapped shut. “Still, it was a good test for that new spell.”
“You picked that trick up at the nunnery, didn’t you~! Tore a page out of that Mother Superior’s book, eh?”
“I did, I did. Figured if it could be done with light, it can be done with shadow. Still working out a name, one that isn’t as longwinded as I used to be, but still has that dark edge to it, you know?”
“Dope as fuck, though,” Bard commented, his voice still a little rough.
“You OK?” Warlock asked, touching the Bard’s bruised neck with a few fingertips. He shivered, then leaned into the gesture, his free hand putting Warlock’s palm against his throat.
“Yeah...” He sighed. “Though I wouldn’t complain if you... wanted to change that.”
Warlock blinked, hard. “Damn, you picked up a whole freak, my love.”
Witch squeezed his arm. “Right? Can we play with him tonight, please~?”
Bard bit his lip, stuck his chest out a little. “Please~?” He echoed, leaning in further. Warlock’s grip on his neck tightened a little, making him flinch.
“I did say ‘anyone’ you wanted,” he said. “But first...”
The townsfolk were overjoyed to see their young folks back. Evidently, everyone who had been taken by the song was a virgin, and none of them opted to correct the assumption that they had prevented any untoward actions to them. That engaged couple seemed a bit shaken by it, but stuck close to one another and seemed perhaps a little grabby... after this, Witch and Warlock were betting they’d have an interesting honeymoon, when that wedding finally came around.
The mayor, a very short man with more hair in his mustache than on his head, was carving grooves in the ground from all the bowing and kneeling and thanking he was doing, “If there’s anything we can do to repay you three, we gladly will. Any blessed thing, I swear.”
Warlock waved a hand. “We asked three small prices, when a member of your town came to us. One was an apology, for my part. That price is paid.” He nudged his lover with his foot.
“For my part,” Witch smiled her prettiest smile, “I need only a trinket, a token of your thanks. Something nobody would miss, in exchange for the rescue of those you’d miss most.” Her eyes alighted on the widow they had ravished in their tent before.
The widow ran up at once, not even called upon. “Here, then.” And she dropped a pair of old, scuffed gold rings into Witch’s palm. “My old wedding bands. I won’t miss them any more than I miss him.”
Witch closed her hand around it and reached out to the widow, giving her a deep and bone-shivering kiss full of tongue.
“It will do.” She winked. The widow stumbled back, still bow-legged from their encounter that morning.
“Erm, if I may.” The mayor stepped forward. “You said you asked for three things... what would the third be?”
The town held their breath. Witch and Warlock exchanged a look.
THUNK!
The sound of the bottle of wine being opened was loud enough to fill the little tent’s expanded inside, and a shirtless, cloakless Warlock immediately took a pull from it, relishing the aftertaste and the buzz that was running through him like static. “Man... small towns always make crazy strong wine... lucky for us...” Halfway through the last bottle, Bard’s shirt had been sliding off his shoulder, and he was whining for Warlock to kiss him already, practically crawling into his lap.
By the time they reached the bottom of it, they’d been passing him and the wine back and forth, taking turns kissing him and peeling bits of his sweat-soaked, colorful entertainer’s garb off-- the corset and skirt were long gone, his shirt barely hanging on to him. Witch had him straddling her lap, absorbed in a haze that had nothing to do with the wine.
“You guys want more, or should I drink this bottle myself?”
They broke their lips apart and Bard murmured something to Witch. She giggled and nodded, and both of them snuck up behind Warlock. If you were standing in front of him, you might see the glint of their eyes in the shadows, and their hands encroaching around him just before he was yanked into a pile of pillows, blankets, and half-naked debauchery.
Suffice to say, he spilled some of the wine... actually, a lot of the wine. All over himself. But that was OK...
...they didn’t let it go to waste.
And that’s where this adventure ends for now, darlings. Thanks for reading.
Mwah!