A literotic sexstories: Kerillian's Mission by sinfulwritings ,
Kerillian and her team are tracking down some monsters to their lair.She has decided to scout ahead…
“Very well Elf. But watch your tongue or by Sigmar’s blessed name I will cut it from your head.”
She shook her head, whispering a short prayer to Kurnous to bless her hunt before drawing her bow from where she had strapped it across her back, swiftly leveraging the bowstring into place and drawing an arrow to hold at the ready.
As she moved further from the humans that made up the rest of her group, Kerillian slowed her breathing and the beat of her heart, letting the natural ebb and flow of the forest around her become the beat by which she regulated herself. As the wind blew through the trees, she followed it, letting the sound of leaves rustling cover her soft footsteps, the creaking of a branch drowned the sound of her leaping forward. Far behind her now, she could still hear the humans talk amongst themselves, Kruber’s low rumble of a voice, followed by a comment from the fiery Sienna and a swift rebuke in the Inquisitor’s nasal tone.
Kerillian let herself dwell for a moment, musing to herself about how they had managed to deal such damage to the Skaven invasion with these humans who wouldn’t be able to outstalk a newborn elf of her kind. A shame she didn’t have a squad of her own kind, she was sure that with a group of competent Wayfarers, their targets would fall a lot faster, and with less time coddling the foolish humans.
A stench on the wind alerted her to their presence. Skaven. The ratmen were close, their grunts and squeals carrying through the forest to reach her. She wrinkled her nose, knowing from experience that the smell was a hard one to shake, sweat mixed with the sickly sweet hint of their corruption by the raw warpstone and their Horned God. Moving swiftly, she sprung into action, barely letting her feet touch the ground before leaping forwards, using the tree trunks to push herself towards the enemy.
As Kerillian drew close, she chose a tree, using her momentum to spring up the trunk, catching one hand on a branch and dragging herself up to stand, hidden from the group of ratmen by the bulk of the tree trunk. Carefully she eased herself around, nocking her arrow as the Skaven came into view. A group of three clothed in ill fitting rags and wielding crudely sharpened sticks, while a fourth followed behind. The final Skaven slightly taller and with more bulk, wearing armour of crude metals that were kept in place with thick lashings of leather. The creature wielded a crude hunk of metal, more akin to a pile of scrap than an actual sword.
With a voice soft enough that Kerillian doubted the rats would have heard her were they standing beside her, she whispered an apology to her weapon. Kerillian had made the bow herself, slaving over the process for a full year, dedicating hours each day to the working of the wood, infusing it with power drawn from the forest around her home. It was a work of art, and the slaying of such creatures was below it, but as much as she had made sacrifices to work with the humans, her bow would have to do the same.
The first arrow punched through the crude armour at the largest Skaven’s throat, burying itself deep enough that Kerillian was near certain that the tip would be sticking out the other side, the second arrow followed before the creature could gasp out its dying breath. Two of the other Skaven died before they realised what was happening, with the final one only managing a few steps of fleeing before her final arrow pinned it to the ground. Several more squads fell to her as she moved closer to their camp, each group as pitiful as the first.
Moving through a dessicated field, Kerrilian paused, hearing the steady marching of a blackrat patrol, the Skaven’s elite troops could pose an issue even for her when they gathered in numbers like this. She spun, preparing to loop back and wait for the patrol to pass, immediately spotting a Skaven hauling a large, warpstone-fed gun that had walked into the edge of the field. Swearing beneath her breath, she threw herself to the ground as the Skaven’s warpstone powered weapon began to spit metal across the field, the bullets carving out furrows into the ground around her.
The terrible screech of the gunner’s weapon would draw the patrol, she knew this as surely as she knew that she could not outrun the gun’s deadly ammunition. Sizing up her options she nocked an arrow, drawing it back as she stood. The arrow flew from her bow as she felt the deep bite of the metal in her arm and leg.
Kerillian collapsed onto the ground, feeling the warp cursed metal leach the strength from her muscles. Her bow fell from her senseless fingers, leaving her with the slight consolation of hearing the gunner’s weapon tear itself to pieces, her arrow having damaged a critical piece of the exposed machinery, followed by the screech of the Skaven itself as it was shredded by the small explosion from the machine it was strapped to.
Kerillian lay in the dirt of the field as the imposing Stormvermin surrounded her. Their weapons and armour gleaming in sharp contrast to the weaker rats she had already slaughtered. Even in stature they showed their superiority, standing taller than the elves she knew from her homeland, while having rippling muscles thicker than even those of the most hardened soldier she’d seen in the lands of the humans. Vowing to herself to not go out without a fight, Kerillian brought herself to sitting, drawing a shortsword from her belt and holding it in her left hand as her right dangled uselessly at her side.
The Skaven seemed content to let her sit in the dirt. Speaking amongst themselves in their harsh tongue, until the smallest of them let out a huff, turned and jogged further towards the area she had been making her way towards. The Blackrats held their ground around her, well out of reach of her shortsword. Kerillian settled in, waiting for one to make a move and ready to capitalise on it.
“Come on you vermin. Make your move, let me show you why you should never underestimate an elven wayfarer.”
The largest of the Blackrats took half a step forwards.
“Elf-thing maybe rethink her position yes-yes?”
At the beast’s question she felt a prick in her skin from behind, dragging across her skin as she turned, parrying one of the rat’s glaives away. The blade had been turned backwards and had run across her armour, leaving her with only a slight scratch from the point, but leaving a long tear through the side of her garments. Grimacing at the loss, Kerillian froze as she felt another two glaive points touch her. Instead of moving, this time she glowered at the leader, as it wore what could only be described as a look of hunger.
“This-”
Her statement was interrupted by a wince, as one of the glaives dragged across her skin, tearing more of her clothing.
“Is-”
Another tear and the back of her shirt was torn open completely, leaving her back bare to the cool wind.
“Your-”
From in front this time. She batted away one glaive, but another caught the chest of her garment, and with no backing to stop it, it was ripped free, leaving Kerillian in only a loose binding around her chest and her cloth trousers.
“Plan? I can endure far more than embarrassment, vermin.”
“We look at elf-thing. She strong. Fast. Better use than death yes-yes? Elf-thing ours now-now.”
Kerillian was confined to sitting in the middle of their circle, staring such hate at the Blackrat leader that she half-hoped it would drop dead right there from the intensity. As she sat, stoically trying to ignore the hungry looks that were being constantly levelled her way, she started to hear the unmistakable hiss of gas from one of the Skaven’s cursed globadiers. The smell of mingling gases reached her as she saw the creature, slowly ambling towards them and being led by the smaller Stormvermin from earlier. At the advance of the globadier, the Blackrats surrounding her backed away, leaving her alone in a wide circle as a glass container hit the ground next to her, shattering instantly.
As the gas filled her senses choking out her ability to see or smell, her last thoughts before unconsciousness were cursing her human comrades, willing them to rush quickly to her aid.
—
Kerillian roused, her mind slowly returning from the haze of the drugs, she opened her eyes, seeing the crude stonework of the humankind sewers above her. Raising and turning her head she could see that the Ratmen had removed the remainder of her clothing, leaving only a silken garment covering her groin. As part of bringing her to their lair, they had manacled her to a metal table, both the manacles and the table some clear leftover of another groups occupation of the area.
“Elf-thing awake now yes-yes?”
Kerillian strained, desperate to find the source of the voice emanating from behind her.
“I see-see you are! Good-good. This work better when man-things are awake.”
One of the Skaven’s gas specialists stalked around the side of the table, it held a large syringe in one hand, the fluid within bubbling and giving off a sickly green glow.
“This will make elf-thing useful to Skaven, yes-yes.”
Kerillian jerked back, desperately trying to dodge the tip of the syringe as the Skaven brought it closer to her arm. In response the ratman moved the syringe, aiming it instead at her thigh. Kerillian breathed out a curse as she felt the metal sink into the meat of her leg.
Fire burned through her body as the liquid ran its course. She felt her body writhe, skin straining at the metal of the locking cuffs on her. When she escaped she was going to kill all of –
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