Excerpt: Untitled

Prelude:
Char Rek ran toward the keep at full speed, his muscles rippling beneath the heavy armor he carried as he charged. The drawbridge was already lifting, threatening to close him out from his goal. He grabbed the rope from his belt, deftly tying a loop and throwing it at one of the gargoyles that glared down at intruders and welcomed guests alike. The loop landed around the gargoyle and he yanked it tight. Then, summoning all of his mighty strength, he launched himself upward across the mote. He swung forward, grabbing the top of the drawbridge and flung himself over it. Releasing the rope, he slid down the still closing drawbridge and into the front corridor of the old keep.

Goblins swarmed the warrior, dull and dented short swords coming at him from every direction. Char pulled back his great axe and swung it in an arch. The first wave of goblins fell at his feet, and the second batch rushed in. He readied the great axe and swung again, his weapon sweeping across the line of goblins. “Be gone!” he shouted to the remaining few enemies.

The two goblins looked at each other nervously. They started to run up to the powerful warrior and then hesitated. The potent fighter raised his axe threateningly and the two goblins made their decision. They turned and fled the room, running back into the keep, leaving twin puddles of urine in their wake.

“That’s what I thought,” Char said swarthily. He took a moment to put his hands on his hips and survey his work, feeling rather smug as he nudged one of the goblin corpses with his boot. He’d done all of this without his party, and there wasn’t even a dent in his armor. He leaned down, plucking a small bag of coins from the belt of one of the goblin bodies.

Yes, he was well-known throughout the land for his master fighting abilities, and his strong core of lawful goodness. When someone was in need, they turned to Char Rek (and his party of noble sidekicks). If a man’s daughter had been kidnapped and he needed someone to find her and bring her back alive (and mostly pure), Char Rek was his man. If a woman’s most precious jewels had been stolen by a group of rabid kobolds, she turned to Char Rek. If a town was in trouble with a gang of raiding marauders, the magistrate would without fail go to Char Rek, knowing that he was the man who would bring justice and peace back to the citizens. And all of this for only a small fee.

But he had to cut his revelry short. There was work to be done! Ripping a bag of coins from the last corpse, he sprinted down the dim corridor, further into the keep. There was, of course, some fear that the goblins who had earlier run away with their tails between their legs--Did goblins have tails?--would call for reinforcements, letting their leaders know that there was an intruder. Char Rek was confident, however, that these two cowards had been too frightened to raise the alarm. They were probably trembling in a corner somewhere, sucking on their thumbs and praying to some inferior goblin deity. Yes, Char Rek’s way into the inner workings of the Goblin Keep would be unhindered if the goblins knew what was good for them.

Finally at his destination, Char threw open the ornate door that led into the inner chamber. Inside, two women, bound and tied, writhed against each other. The Goblin King lounged back a few feet on his throne, twirling glass balls between his fingers.

“Ah,” spoke the Goblin King, his voice lilting, “So you’ve come.”

A less experienced warrior might have been surprised to see that the Goblin King appeared human, but not Char. A less experienced warrior might have been surprised to see the long blonde hair, the strangely out of place makeup, or the giant bulge in the Goblin King’s pants, but not Char. Char was not distracted by such inconsequential things.

“You’re too late,” said the Goblin King, standing up and looking overconfident as he sauntered down the steps of his throne. He stroked a finger over the princess’ cheek, his expression lewd.

Char’s lip curled up in disgust. “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said. He lunged toward the Goblin King, axe raised. Music swelled in the room and the Goblin King opened his mouth as if to sing, but the axe fell before he could let out the first note. The music vanished into the nowhere from whence it came as the Goblin King fell to the ground.

The danger now passed, Char took off his helmet, tossing it to the ground so that the women could see his handsome face. He threw his axe and his gloves down too, running a hand through his luscious black hair.

“Oh, Char!” cried the women, still writhing, though this time not in fear.

Char gave them a charming smile, the light from the torches on the walls twinkling off his white teeth. He walked toward them, hands untying the ropes that bound them with an expert’s grace. As soon as the girls were untied, they threw themselves into his arms.

“You’re our hero!” shouted the princess, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Her long flowing princess gown was very low-cut, and there were long cuts up the side of the flowing skirts that must have happened when they were kidnapped. Her smooth leg slipped out of the tear in the dress, exposed as she wrapped herself around him.

“Oh, Char, you saved us!” cried the blonde fighter who wore a chain metal bikini. Her large breasts were barely concealed by the armor as they pressed up against his chest plate. Her hands slid lower than the princess’, moving instead toward his waist as she leaned in to kiss him.

“Ladies, ladies!” Char said, grinning as he was showered with affection from the grateful damsels. One hand rested on the fighter’s bare low back and the other wrapped itself in the princess’ long blonde hair as he pulled her close. “There’s enough of me to go around. Let’s not forget that you should be grateful to each other, too.”

The girls looked at one another, unsure of the exact reason they owed each other a great deal of gratitude. Still, Char Rek was rather convincing. Still wrapped around Char and holding on to the massive source of masculinity that he was, the two women moved closer to each other, lips parted and moving in to touch…

***

“Well, Martin?” called the teacher, annoyance in her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Um..” Martin blinked, suddenly torn out of his day dream. “Could you repeat the question?”

Mrs. Driscoll rolled her eyes in annoyance. “See me after class, Martin,” she said before turning back to the chalkboard.

The other students were snickering, and Martin felt something wet hit him in the back of the head. He reached back and wiped it away, looking down at his hand to see a spitball. Martin sank into his seat. He could practically feel his self-esteem go down a notch. Nobody would’ve ever done something like that to Char Rek.