Free Web NovelChapter 24: Reassurance [+18]
Grash stood atop the wooden palisade overlooking the bustling village below.
Smoke curled lazily into the evening sky as goblin blacksmiths hammered glowing metal into spearheads. Hunters returned dragging fresh carcasses through the gates while children chased one another between rows of crude huts. On the training grounds beyond, warriors clashed with wooden weapons beneath the watchful eyes of veteran instructors.
A satisfied smile spread across his face. Only a decade ago, none of this existed. Back then, the Ashmork Clan did not exist. There was only the Mok Tribe.
Compared to the surrounding goblin tribes, the Mok were painfully ordinary. They lacked the Ashin Tribe’s unmatched talent for taming beasts and were constantly outmaneuvered by mounted hunters riding tiger striped boars through the forest. Nor could they rival the Dar Tribe, whose sheer numbers of Hobgoblins made them the strongest military force in the western region.
Even the goblin race itself was pitiful.
While kobolds occasionally produced Magic Beasts through sheer luck, the chances of a goblin awakening an Aether Core were nearly ten times lower. Throughout the entire western region, only one goblin had ever reached that stage.
Chief Shaman Varg. His existence alone had kept the Mok Tribe alive. Every goblin tribe, no matter how hostile, visited their humble settlement seeking blessings, prophecies, or guidance from the old shaman they believed spoke with the gods themselves. The tribe survived not because it was powerful, but because its destruction would have invited the wrath of every superstitious goblin in Evergreen Forest.
Everything changed shortly before his father’s death. Goresh had still been Chieftain then. Grash had merely been a young warrior leading hunting expeditions around the Grave of Roses.
It was there that fate found him.
A wounded human adventurer had staggered into the forest after some unknown battle. By the time Grash’s hunting party discovered him, the man was already dying.
The goblins killed him without hesitation. His weapons were worthless to them and most of the strange belongings he carried were thrown away. Only one thing caught Grash’s attention.
A thick crimson book.
At first, they had intended to burn it with the corpse. Fortunately, Chief Shaman Varg recognized the strange markings covering its pages. Through decades of observing humans from afar, the old goblin had slowly taught himself fragments of their language. He could not read everything but he could read enough.
The book spoke of forging, runes, military formations, logistics, fortifications and warfare.
Most of its contents remained beyond Varg’s understanding, but even the fragments he managed to decipher transformed the Mok Tribe beyond recognition.
Stone weapons became forged iron. Random skirmishes became disciplined formations. Shamans who once relied solely upon their natural affinities learned to carve runes into flesh, allowing goblins to wield powers they had never possessed before.
The weak became strong.
With forged weapons in one hand and newfound knowledge in the other, Goresh led the Mok Tribe into war. The Ashin Tribe fell first. Their famed tiger striped boars became trophies of the victors.
The Dar Tribe resisted the longest. Their mighty Hobgoblin warriors stained the forests red before finally kneeling. The three tribes became one. The Ash, Dar and Mok tribes united. Together they became the Ashmork Clan.
Now the village numbered well over three hundred goblins from which nearly two hundred of them were warriors, twenty Shamans, one hundred and thirty infantry, twenty mounted riders and thirty ranged attackers.
It was an army no faction in Evergreen Forest could hope to challenge.
Grash’s eyes drifted toward the distant southern horizon. With Elder Varg’s approval, he had sent out 30 soldiers under the leadership of the Ashin tribe head Rok, who is the one who is the most versed with warfare strategy.
The plan is to secure and build a camp in the southern region which will serve as a base of operation when 100 out of their 150 troops in the Eastern region are recalled. The remaining fifty are expected to remain there and keep the red fangs on their toes. The gnolls of that tribe are too dangerous to be allowed to regroup and recover from the drawn out war.
Regardless, Grash believed this war against the kobolds will be brief and swift.
"You messed with the wrong enemies." Grash snarled.
_____
Meanwhile in the southern region a dim candlelight flickered across the stone chamber as Tud’or pressed Lady Zira against the rough wall. His clawed hands slid down her scaled sides, gripping her hips firmly while his snout nuzzled into the curve of her neck. Zira’s tail curled around his thigh, pulling him closer until their bodies aligned.
Tud’or dropped to his knees first. His tongue dragged along the inside of Zira’s thigh before pushing between her folds. He licked in long, slow strokes, tasting her arousal as it coated his tongue. Zira’s claws scraped against the stone as she spread her legs wider. Tud’or pushed two fingers inside her, curling them while his tongue circled her clit. Zira’s hips rocked forward, grinding against his mouth.
Zira pulled him up after several minutes. She turned around, presenting her ass. Tud’or gripped her tail and lifted it, lining his cock up with her entrance. He pushed inside in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Zira moaned, pushing back against him. Tud’or started thrusting, his hips slapping against her scaled ass with each movement. His claws dug into her hips as he drove deeper.
They moved to the hay bed. Zira climbed on top, straddling Tud’or. She sank down onto his cock again, taking him fully before rolling her hips. Tud’or reached up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. Zira leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest as she rode him harder.
Tud’or flipped them over, pinning Zira beneath him. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and thrust deep, the new angle letting him hit spots that made Zira’s claws rake down his back. She pushed him onto his back again and turned around, facing his feet. She lowered herself onto his cock in reverse, riding him while Tud’or held up her tail. The position let him watch his shaft disappear inside her with every bounce.
They shifted once more. Tud’or pulled out and moved behind Zira as she got on all fours. He pressed back inside, gripping her tail for leverage as he pounded into her. Zira reached between her legs to stroke her own clit while Tud’or fucked her.
Tud’or leaned over her back, one hand sliding under to pinch her nipples. His thrusts grew faster and harder until Zira’s walls clenched around him. She came first, her pussy pulsing and leaking around his cock. Tud’or followed moments later, burying himself deep as he filled her.
They stayed connected, breathing hard. Tud’or pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from her.
____
The two lay silently upon their haystack bed, wrapped in each other’s embrace as they stared into the darkness above. Outside, the colony was unusually quiet. The cheerful laughter that normally echoed through the tunnels had vanished, replaced by an uneasy silence that seemed to weigh upon every stone wall.
"I’m scared this war will cost us everything we have built," Lady Zira finally whispered.
Tud’or wasn’t particularly surprised. Zira had never been known for her courage. Even as hatchlings, she had always been the one to worry while he charged ahead without thinking.
"Do you remember when we were little and had just arrived in Evergreen Forest?" Tud’or asked softly.
Zira slowly nodded.
How could she ever forget?
They had barely been two years old when the remnants of their clan wandered into the forest searching for a place to survive. For months they marched from one dangerous place to another, never staying anywhere long enough to call it home. Hunger, monsters, and exhaustion claimed lives almost every week.
Even when they finally believed they had found somewhere safe, It didn’t last.
"The gnolls in the east were vicious," she murmured, her voice growing quieter. "They killed most of our brothers and sisters."
Tud’or nodded.
"They did."
His gaze remained fixed upon the cave ceiling.
"And yet... our colony survived. That war gave birth to our first Silver Core Magic Beasts. We became stronger because we had no other choice."
He paused before continuing.
"Then we migrated south and spent years avoiding human adventurers. We survived them too."
His rough hand gently brushed through Zira’s hair. Zira buried her face deeper into his chest.
"What are you trying to say?"
Tud’or leaned closer until his lips rested beside her ear.
"The Greater Kobold watches over those who fight a just war. Just like before will not merely survive. We will thrive."
Zira frowned but said nothing.
How could she doubt the grace of the Greater Kobold?
