Double Trio: Chapter 4

By snakeslitherer

Floating through the air, crossbowman Anselmo, held from behind by Ahmose, felt a new sense of wonder. The trees and river waters below him seemed to shine brighter than ever. To know what the birds felt soaring through the clouds, narrowly escaping death as arrows whizzed past your face...


Even with all this glory, however, Anselmo grimaced, forced to return to more material matters at the spike of pain emanating from his shoulder. It was painful to hold onto the parachute, but the alternative, to fall to his doom, only convinced him to hold on tighter.


Behind him, Ahmose laughed wildly, letting out a few howls and yips here and there. Anselmo could feel her tail excitedly waving back and forth, each wag brushing against his butt and legs. That, combined with her naked breasts and her crotch, only covered by a loincloth, pressing against his body, meant that he couldn't help but bear a chub. Taking the effort to crane his neck to look back, Anselmo asked, "It's great, ain't it?"


"Y-you don't know the half of it!" She replied, punctuating with a yap. "T-this isn't like flying on a c-carpet!"


Looking down, Anselmo could see his legs a few yards over the trees. The Amal river divided the trees here, flowing from the bridge onwards to the sea. At the trajectory and distance the two were descending, they would crash into a strip of grass on the left bank of the river. It was as good enough a spot as any to land, and so the two braced for impact.


The landing came, a sudden jolt against their bodies. Anselmo's legs buckled under the force, and so he slid against the ground, grass, dirt and mud smearing his knees and shins. Ahmose let go of her partner's back and hopped off him. She tried for a running landing, but that quickly failed. She tripped and landed face-first onto the ground.


Anselmo's slide finally ended, about 3 yards away from where Ahmose jumped off. His lower legs were screaming in pain. His shoulder was still aching in pain, though thankfully less pained now that Ahmose was off of him. He grimaced for a brief second, before sucking it all up and struggling to his feet. Brushing himself off, he turned behind him to see where Ahmose was. He found her, still lying on the ground.


"Ahmose, you okay?"


She pulled her head up, her beautiful features covered in mud and grass. She quizzically narrowed her eyes at Anselmo, mumbling something he couldn't hear. Anselmo pulled her up, and when she finally got back up, he asked again, "Are you okay?"


Ahmose glared at him, not saying a word. After a second, she sighed. "I-I'm sorry, I'm okay. I just h-hate dirt on my face."


Anselmo smiled. "It's alright, sweets." He followed up with a soft pat on her head, Ahmose brightening up with the touch.


Remembering the threats of the Inquisition men, Anselmo lifted his hand back and briefly scanned the area. The river, several yards wide, was flowing quickly through the land. The forest on both sides were populated with all sorts of trees, from pines and birch-trees to oaks and beeches. He could hear the soft gurgling of the river, birdsong in the distance, and the rustling of leaves and branches.


"Get cleaned up and let's go," he told Ahmose. "Dunno if we've got any of the bastards left, but I'd rather not wait to find out. Besides, we need to go and look for the others."


With a nod, Ahmose went over by the river and began washing her face.


In the meanwhile, Anselmo went over to the parachute. The rags weren't going to be good for much after using them as a parachute, but they still had enough life to be useful in some way. With this in mind, Anselmo took to unwrapping the rags. He found that most were practically useless, having been stretched and ripped too much. There were a couple that were still good, which he kept.


Motioning to Ahmose, he asked, "Can you wrap my shoulder up, hon?" She wrapped up the wound, and prayed for its recovery. Though he wasn't a religious man, Anselmo followed suit, if only for her sake.


He gave her a brief kiss. "Let's move on."


For the rest of the day, the two trudged through the woods, keeping within earshot of the river. The woods were overgrown, full of oaks, spruces, pines, sycamores, and birches waving their leaves and branches with the soft wind. The floor was covered with leaves, pine straw, cones, acorns, fallen branches and sticks, ferns, grass, bushes, and all sorts of critters that made themselves scarce when the two approached. Anselmo had to stop once or twice when his wound became too painful, and Ahmose would help treat it with poultices and herbs.


"S-sorry, I know it hurts," she said, when applying a poultice on Anselmo's undressed shoulder the first time it became painful.


"Nothing to apologize for," he replied, grimacing through the pain. Inwardly, he condemned himself. "Dammit, Anselmo, you're a veteran of the Gods know how many campaigns and adventures. You can get through this, you clown's bastard!"


Ahmose tilted her head in concern. "A-are you alright?"


Anselmo sighed, but didn't say anything. He'd hoped not to embarass himself too bad in front of her. The pain was awful, but with Ahmose's aid, it dulled to a slight pulsing ache. Truly, it was a


She smiled knowingly and kindly, her eyes seemingly smiling along with her lips. And with those lips, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Y-you're doing well, Anselmo."


He cheekily grinned, suddenly feeling much better.


When Anselmo's arm was well enough, Ahmose redressed his wound and the two continued moving forwards. They pushed through the overgrown flora, Ahmose's hand on Anselmo's back, and Anselmo's on hers. No matter how long they walked, or how badly his wound hurt, at least he knew he had her.


After a long time lost in the reverie through the woods, Anselmo looked up. "The sun's setting," he murmured. Ahmose nodded, and the two looked to find a good place to camp.


They found a small clearing deeper in the woods, just far enough that the sound of the rippling river water was a mere whisper. In between an oak and a sycamore, the two built a simple shelter with sticks and branches, thatching it with leaves and debris from the forest floor. It took an hour, by which time the sun descended further down into the horizon, leaving a purplish-orange gradient sky in its wake.


Now finished, the two built a small fire, both hoping it would stay small enough to be hidden from hostile eyes. The two sat in front of it, Anselmo's legs casually splayed out and Ahmose sitting cross-legged. He stared into the fire, his mind rushing with anxious thoughts about his brothers-in-arms. Had they escaped from the Order bastards? They'd never fought Ordermen before, but with how well they had fought, he knew they would have killed them. But what about now? Were they running through the forest looking for him? They wouldn't ride to Amalziga without him.

He had to distract himself from these thoughts. Using a meditation practice Cwichelm had once taught him, Anselmo took a deep breath through his nose, driving his thoughts from his mind with something pleasant, something nice, something... like Ahmose. He remembered the tavern they'd met in, remembering the tale of the artifact, this piece of the Great Scepter, and the Emperors of the Damned...

Huh, Anselmo though to himself, all this time, and he never really knew what exactly all that was. He was too busy between the travelling and the fighting to worry about the details. Hell, he'd always been the kind of guy to leave the high-falutin' questions to Cwichelm.


"Hey, Ahmose, what exactly is this Great Scepter thing?" Anselmo asked.


"Y-you didn't know?" Ahmose asked.


Anselmo shook his head. "I was just interested in the money, remember?"


Ahmose laughed. "T-that's true. W-well, I'll t-tell you, for our s-sake. D-don't want any i-ignorant mistakes." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "F-from what research Brigid, Cassandra, and I have done, the G-Great Scepter was a mighty scepter c-containing the mana of each Emperor of the Damned. With all that p-power, they could level mountains - or make them - with a single thought. The key was the scepter's managem, a really unique gem that we still don't know how it was made. It's incredibly fine, a true rarity! Even Eustacius of Rimuna said that they couldn't have replicated it in his day!"


"So, who're these Emperors of the Damned?"


"W-well, back in the old days, b-before the Great Fall, the Empire of the Elvana was dying and decaying. I-in the slums and shanties of the cities, there was the Cult of the D-Damned, who preached the message that the gods had abandoned them, and they should worship the Chaos and D-d-d-dark Gods." - She shivered saying this - "They turned to all sorts of a-a-atrocities, rape, murder, cannibalism, a-and even child s-sacrifice! The rulers during this time were the Emperors of the Damned, the six Elvana kings who took part in this. They made evil oaths and drank the blood of the young, as the most evil of the Elvana." She was welling up with indignant tears at the description of the events.


Gathering herself up, she continued. "Thankfully, the Emperors of the Damned never used anything too evil to power the managems, but it was still evil energy that went in there. But those managems couldn't save the Elvana when the Gods, in their fury, sent Heavensfire against them. It destroyed the Elvana Empire, and every single Elvana who was with the Cult of the D-damned. Out of a hundred million, only f-five million good Elvana lived afterwards, and those that did not die soon after left for the woods and mountains, leaving the world empty for Men, and us Monsters, to come forth."


Anselmo thought the information through: this artifact must be that managem, then. If things were truly as Ahmose had described them, then no wonder everyone would want it. All that magical power would be intoxicating, even if the consequences were grim...


"So where do you monsters come from, anyways?" Anselmo asked.


Ahmose was startled that he would ask that after her exposition, but her thoughts quickly turned dark and lewd. More explaining would be pointless when actions could do far better than words. With a deeply smug expression, she answered, "W-Why don't I show you?"


With a sudden rush, she took to Anselmo, her large paws grabbing him by the waist, and began showering him with kisses. First all over his face, then the chin and lips, and then, returning upwards, to Anselmo's lips. A question was quickly stifled in his mouth and turned into a pleased moan. Tongue worked with tongue in a few passionate moments, and in that time, Anselmo felt an entirely unique experience. He was certainly no stranger to women and partaking in his carnal desires, but there was something new in the mix with Ahmose. It must be a monster thing, he thought, before brushing the question off altogether.


The two exited from the kiss, at which point Anselmo reached for her chest. She grinned lustily as he kneaded her soft breasts like dough, then moving towards the center to pinch her bare, brown nipples. He played with them, softly tweaking and twirling them before embracing them with his lips. After quickly kissing each of them, he set his tongue to the task of licking them. Then, when he was assured they were appropriately stiffened, he continued by setting his tongue outwards, tracing each areola with his lips. He then returned to kiss Ahmose.


Feeling the burning desire for lovemaking, Anselmo rushed to take off his armor and his clothes. However, Ahmose held his arms, and said, "Just your pants, love."


"Now that's the spirit, Ahmose, my girl!" He chuckled, and with a firm hand - or rather, paw - Ahmose pulled them all the way down to his ankles.


Ahmose knelt down and stared at Anselmo's penis, taking a second to appreciate it in its full glory. It was everything she had expected from a man, in girth, length, and... well, she fell in love with it as much as she did with Anselmo himself. Even in the times she visited him in his dreams, it wasn't quite as magnificent as it was in real life. In a sudden rush of desire, she quickly took ahold of it with her paws, brushing them open-palmed up and down his hardened shaft. She then moved her left paw down to her crotch, pleasuring herself in sync with her movements.


Anselmo gave out a sudden moan, his body rippling in pleasure, as Ahmose switched from using her hands to licking his hard shaft. Cupping her love's manhood in her free hand, gently and curiously feeling it all the while, Ahmose's tongue flowed from the root to the very head. Gazing lustily first at it, then at Anselmo, she quickly enveloped it in her mouth and began rhythmically sucking it, her head bobbing back and forth. Anselmo moaned again, and, looking down at the lusty Anubis finally pleasuring him, couldn't help but grin. It had only been a little while since they first met at that dingy old tavern in Intanis, and far from being concerned about the threat of eternal excommunication and a painful death for not only aiding monsters, but engaging in relations with them, Anselmo was simply content to enjoy the lovemaking.


His thoughts were swiftly interrupted by the growing feeling in his cock. His seed was building up from Ahmose slobbering all of his cock, and soon he wouldn't be able to contain it. His heart beating faster and faster with the excitement, he couldn't hold it in against the furious blowjob. His seed exploded forth like champagne pouring out of its bottle.


Ahmose stopped, taking a quick second to enjoy the taste of him on her tongue, before pulling it out of her mouth. Wearing a smug grin, she opened her mouth wide to show Anselmo his seed, pooled in her tongue, before she swallowed it down with a quick gulp.


"Now's the real fun part, Anse. Mind if I call you that?"


Anselmo smirked. "Sure, you've earned the right."


Ahmose grinned, and pulled her loincloth aside, laying bare her fully wet pussy. "I-I'm ready for you," she declared, and punctuated that sentence by carefully climbing onto Anselmo. His manhood lay directly below her.


"C-Cwichelm may have a spear, but you've got a pike!" She quipped.


Gripping it in her paw, Ahmose plunged herself on Anselmo's manhood, gasping with pleasure as it penetrated her. As soon as it was fully situated within her, Anselmo began pumping, his hips and thighs lifting upwards. Ahmose kept pace with him, swirling her hips around his pole. She began quaking almost immediately with the pleasure, and she took ahold of Anselmo, wrapping herself around his chest. He felt her walls tightening around him, threatening to squeeze him dry. It was almost unbearable for him to hold on, so he began going as fast and as furious as he could go. Ahmose's breathing quickened, her moans turning into squeals, and her own orgasm inevitable. Finally, neither could hold any longer, and in an instant both exploded with cum. Anselmo emptied himself inside her, the semen pouring out from her womb and onto his crotch, and Ahmose, for her own part, had sprayed his crotch and belly with her cum.


Breathing rapidly, the two were finished. Ahmose, content with her man's performance, laid her head on Anselmo's uninjured shoulder. Her tail wagged calmly in the quiet.


"Thanks for the lesson," Anselmo sighed contentedly.


"Y-You're welcome, Anse," Ahmose murmured. "You're a g-good lover, you know that?"


"Yeah, experience, I guess."


"Not even experience prepares you for a monster girl, though."


Anselmo chuckled. "Yeah, you're a lot different. It's, well, it's hard to describe how though."


"Je ne sais quoi?"


"Je-what? I don't speak Freymish."


"An unknown quality."


"Ah."


"You ready to rest?"


"Yeah, I need it."


With that, Ahmose dismounted her love, righting her loincloth. Anselmo forced himself up, with Ahmose's help, and the two went to the shelter. Ahmose helped Anselmo down, before checking his shoulder one more time before bed. It was okay, thankfully. There weren't any infections, the bone wasn't broken, and because of her alchemical poultices his shoulder was healing far more quickly.


Morning. Ahmose awoke to find her paws empty, the warmth of her man gone. In a panic, she quickly rushed out from the tent. She found him standing by the fireplace, his back turned toward her. When she started walking up to him, he turned his head.


"It's alright, I'm just out here thinking."


"What about?"


"Well," Anselmo began, "just the usual shit I do after fucking. Always gotta think about what happens when you have to leave the girl you just laid to move to a new city, and then how to get girls there. How much you gotta spend, how you gotta talk your way into her heart, that sort of shit. Force of habit, I guess."


Ahmose, slightly concerned, cocked her head to the side in curiosity. "S-so, wait, does that mean-"


"No, of course not," he replied, a defensive edge in his tone. "I couldn't. Y-you girls have got something to you that makes it impossible, that it's like magical monogamy or something."


Ahmose snickered at the phrasing, but he was ultimately correct. "Yes, t-that's how our mana works. W-when we join with men, the two of us b-become as one, spiritually speaking. I-It'd be like cutting a soul in half to cheat with one of us, n-not that anyone would do that."


Anselmo sighed. "Alright, then."


"D-don't tell me you still want other girls!" Ahmose said incredulously.


"Hey, I'm a horny motherfucker, alright?"


Ahmose grunted in disgust. "You are strange for a man, you know that? That would be a good p-provocation to rape you, for m-most of my sisters."


"Yeah, you horny bitches would fuck a man for looking at you from the other side of a street."


Ahmose just shook her hand in defeat. But she knew how to repay him for that in due time. For now, only finding the others and reaching Amalziga mattered. Otherwise, they would never get the treasure.


With little time afforded for the hunt, the two left the shelter up. They began their trek once more, going downriver. As Anselmo's shoulder was doing quite well, they only made one stop at noon for rest and a quick lunch. They ate some berries and some fish scooped up from the river, the latter of which was cooked on a spit atop a fire.


"Those berries, the woodsmen, are sweet and quite filling for their size," Ahmose explained when picking them with Anselmo. "In alchemy, they're used for making purgatives, when combined with anthrim petals and morinroot."


While they ate, Ahmose suddenly perked up, her nose scrunching up under a strange but familiar smell, and her ears listening for some noise out in the distance. She finally recognized the scent, and began furiously wagging her tail, letting out an excited howl.


"AWOOOOOOO!" She howled, Anselmo looking at her in confusion.


"What's wrong?" Anselmo asked, turning to the forest to see what was going on. There, he could see two people walking in the woods, one with a limp and the other helping guide the limping one with its arm.


Taking a brief look at the figure, he realized.


"Cwichelm, is that you?" He yelled.


The figures stopped and turned to look at Anselmo and Ahmose.


The limping figure replied joyfully, "Yes, Anselmo!"


Ahmose looked to the other figure. "B-Brigid?"


Brigid nodded, "Yes, me too, dear Ahmose!"


They all came together to greet each other, as quickly as they could. Greetings concluded, Anselmo and Ahmose invited Cwichelm and Brigid to come over. Ahmose went back to the river and quickly snapped up a big fish. She thrust a stick through it and began cooking it.


Everyone sat around the fire. Glancing at Cwichelm's legs, Anselmo could see bandages and a splint on his shin.


Anselmo asked, "Where's Baldwin and Cassandra?"


Cwichelm sighed. "I do not know. After you and Ahmose escaped, I told the two to find another way across the river." Sighing, he added, "I fought the lowborn Inquisition men at the river, killing them all to the last man."


Anselmo nodded uncertainly. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about his friend, something that must've sifted up old and painful.


Ahmose asked, "W-well, what h-happened to you two after all that?"


Brigid responded, "It's a long story."


Cwichelm glanced down at Brigid. "We've got time." Turning to Ahmose and Anselmo, he said, "I'll tell you how it went, but first, ans feidam fara wandalas weiras."


Anselmo grinned at the Yarish phrase, "food for the weary traveller", and gave him some of his leftover berries.


Cwichelm studied the berries before carefully eating them one by one. "Ah, woodsmen. Good for filling and emptying your stomach."


"Well, now that I've got some food, I'll have my say."


TO BE CONTINUED


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