Valen’s Journey Pt. 01 – Erotic Horror

“Come to me, my love,” the voice echoes in his ears as Valen jerks awake, simultaneously grabbing for a sword that isn’t there while also fumbling his way out of tangled sweaty sheets. As he realizes where he is, he stills and leans back in bed. The room is quiet and dark, a normal rented room at an inn frequented by travelers, whores, and grifters.

Valen listens, but the only sounds are the gentle breathing and occasional snores from the two women currently sharing his bed. Outside he can hear the muffled sounds of early morning in the city, the calls of fishmongers, merchants setting up stalls, and mothers waking children. No trace of the voice that woke him, once again just apparently existing nowhere but in his mind.

He looks beside him at the two sleeping women sharing his bed, as memories of the night before slowly break through the haze of a hangover.

Definitely had too much to drink last night, he says to himself as the truth of his words is hammered home by the growing throbbing in his head. The ale and fortified strong wine poured freely, courtesy of the local merchant’s guild, in celebration of another year of record profits. Everyone knew it was more bribe than thank you, but that did nothing to stop the flow.

One of the girls, the blonde, rolled over pulling the sheet lower, exposing her ample breasts. The brunette steadily snoring next to her nuzzled her cheek against the quivering mounds of fleshy pleasure. The view spurred a memory from last night.

Valen laying on his back, the curvaceous blonde girl steadily riding his cock, her ass slapping against his thighs with each thrust, her head thrown back in a fit of passion. The slender brunette sat on his face, grinding her very wet pussy against his face, her head buried between the blonde’s breasts, sucking and licking as she is sucked and licked.

“Yeah, a good night indeed,” he thinks as he winced from a newly developed pain lancing through his head. Still though, another memory nags at the edges of his mind. There was someone else there last night, he is almost sure of it, however, his ever-increasing headache distracts him too much to chase this particular train of wondered. He slides out from under the sheets and wobbles slightly as he stands naked next to the bed. He catches a look of himself in the mirror, tall and rangy, his dark features speaking of exotic bloodlines. He has no idea where those bloodlines come from as he was an orphan at a very young age, his parents died in the plague released by the Elder God Yishigloth.

His long black hair falls to just past his muscular shoulders. As he looks at his reflection, his fingers unconsciously trace the networks of puckered lines of scars running across his arms and chest, evidence of many encounters with danger, close calls, and at times foolish decisions. In the mirror Valen sees the blonde stir awake and then lock eyes with him. Her seductively husky voice drifts over his shoulder, “The sun hasn’t come up, Balen, we have time for one more round if you want.”

“It’s Valen, and I think if I try anything more than a slow walk, I’ll vomit a night’s worth of ale,” he replies with a groan.

“Oh come on now! You don’t even have to move. Just like last night, we can suck your cock and you don’t have to lift a finger. Right, Kali?” She nudges the snoring brunette, who responds with a most unappealing slurping sound, and a grunt of acknowledgment. Valen sighs, thinking about how the night started…

Valen sits on the edge of the bed, a mug of ale in his hand, steadily drinking as the two girls finish stripping each other’s clothes off. He has long since lost his clothes, where he has no idea. The girls slowly caress each other, the brunette, Kali, spending a great deal of time suckling the blonde’s hard nipples. Ana squeezes and slaps playfully at the brunette’s well-shaped round ass. As Valen watches, his cock slowly gets hard, and by the time the girls are done playing with each other and turn to face him, he is steadily leaking, a dribble of pre-cum slowly sliding down over his balls leaving a cold wet trail. The girls approach him, sliding to their knees before him. The blonde, Ana, starts stroking his cock and licking the pre-cum off his head, while the brunette ventures lower, licking his heavy balls, slowly sucking them into her skilled mouth.

As the girls use all their formidable skill, Valen continues steadily drinking, lost in the feeling of two mouths on his cock. From behind him, two pale arms wrap around his neck, and he feels the soft exhale of breath on his ear. Fiery red hair drifts over his shoulder, tickling his nose.

“My, they are good at that,” a silky voice murmurs into his ear. The words flow over his body like a chill fog, causing gooseflesh to rise. The arms around his shoulders squeeze in an almost friendly hug.

“You can have fun with your whores for now,” the voice continues, still silky but now with a slight edge. A tremor runs through Valen’s body, his whole existence feels the danger of that slight, silky edge. A single perfectly trimmed nail the color of fresh arterial blood traces a line across his left shoulder. The pain is excruciating. The pain is addictive. The lips that speak these dangerous silky words close to his right ear lobe, sucking gently. Valen’s entire existence narrows to just this one earlobe and the soft warm lips on it. He screams the contents of his soul into the night as his cock explodes, cum squirting into the surprised face of the blonde, covering her face in dripping rivulets.

The voice in his ear giggles, and the pressure of the arms around him fades.

“Come to me, my love.”

Valen jerks back to the present, startled as the details of last night slowly push through the fog of a soon-to-be horrendous hangover. He looks closer into the mirror, examining his shoulder in more detail. An angry-looking red line stretched from his deltoid to the top of his collarbone. The deep scrape stung under his probing finger.

“There wasn’t a redhead in here last night was there?” Valen asks turning to face the girls, now fully awake and looking forward to the possibility of an early morning bonus.

“A redhead?” the brunette asks vacantly.

The blonde raises an eyebrow at the question. “Just the two of us, hun. Though we could have used a hand last night! After that first quick blow, you just couldn’t get enough.”

“What redhead?” the brunette asks again. “We can find you a redhead. But I’m sure we can do better.” She slides to the edge of the bed, her small perky breasts on display and her legs spread enough to reveal her cute pink pussy. Valen’s cock twitched as he recalled how many times he came into this girl the last night, but the moment passed, carried away in a torrent of foul-smelling vomit.

Later that day, he walks through the door of a local apothecary, the tinkling of the bell-like nails driven into his head.

After a week straight of rain and clouds, and my first day after a bender, the sky breaks clear and fine, he thinks, foully.

Once the door scrapes closed, shutting off the sun’s evil glare, Valen’s nose is assaulted by the smells of a hundred different herbs and concoctions all battling for supremacy. Behind the counter, the old proprietor looks up from a newspaper, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“Can I help you?” he asks tiredly.

“I may have indulged a bit too much last night. I’m sure you have something to wipe away a night of too much ale?”

The shopkeeper chuckles, squinting and looking at the stranger a bit closer.

“Traveler, and not a poor one based on the clothes. Not that well-to-do though if you are in this part of town. So I’m guessing you wiled away the night at the Dancing Crows?”

Valen nods, pointing at the man, “The one and the same. Very perceptive of you.”

“Well, stay in one place long enough, and over time the patterns that emerge are impossible to not notice. So something for the head and stomach I would think.”

After a brief uncomfortable pause, Valen says, “Uh, and I may have woken next to a few women of the establishment…”

“A few?” the shopkeeper asks with a raised eyebrow. “Ah to be young again and able to pass the night away with one, let alone two ‘women of the establishment.'” he says with a cackle.

“Luckily for you, Mistress Alaina runs a respectable place. Her girls are clean and healthy. Still, best to be sure.” he turns and begins rummaging through many small drawers and cubby holes that line the wall behind him from floor to ceiling. He turns back with three small drawstring bags. From under the counter, he pulls a flask of water, a small pot, and a spoon. As he prepares the concoction, Valen looks down at the newspaper he had pushed to the side. On the front page is the main story of the day. Another body found the morning before, much like the others, desiccated and empty.

“That’s a troubling development there.” the apothecary says as he works. “Four men so far. Good young strong men just drained. The one they found yesterday, Kerns, was a lumberjack. Weighed two hundred pounds if he weighed a dozen. Left his home to come to the pub for a nightly, and they found him the next day. Dead and dry, able to be picked up by a child. Scary days!”

The Apothecary finishes his tinkering and slides a small glass across the counter toward Valen. He picks it up, examining the contents, which bubble slightly and smell worse than his early morning vomit.

“Best to just knock it back. Perfectly safe, and the most effective hangover cure you will ever see, but it still tastes like shit.” the apothecary says with a laugh.

Valen tips his head back and the foul slimy concoction slides down his throat. He suppressed the urge to vomit with the sheer strength of will. His stomach violently rolls once and the vice his head is caught in cranks closed one last time before releasing completely. A slight burning sensation he wasn’t even fully aware of in his groin faded away.

With a look of satisfied surprise, Valen nods his appreciation. “Well, that worked fast!”

“Satisfaction is always guaranteed at Angstrom’s Apothecaries and Absolutions! That will be five crowns.”

“What did you give me for whatever I picked up from the girls?” Valen asks as he opens his surprisingly lighter coin purse.

“Rendered kobold fat. Best cure for whore’s pox I’ve ever come across.”

Valen’s stomach does a slow roll having nothing to do with last night.

“And can it be made into a topical form?”

The apothecary nods his assent, and Valen orders some. After

They complete their company, and Valen turns to leave.

“Good hunting, Ranger,” the old man says with a knowing look. “Old Angstrom’s seen a thing or two!”

Valen chuckles. “Stay inside at night, and ware any strange women.”

“Ha! Words to live by whether or not dead bodies keep showing up!”


Outside, the bright day is infinitely more tolerable now that his head is no longer a pin cushion to the gods. He walks down the long City Lane, with no real destination in mind. Suddenly, a large stone-like hand claps on his shoulder.

“Well, Valen! Finally decided to come out and join the living I see!” calls the giant of a man who owns the offending hand. Valen turns to face a man well over six and a half feet tall. Though not the tallest of people, his sheer mass is overwhelming, with layer after layer of steel-like muscle making him seem almost short. Most Rangers are thin and lanky from days spent traveling, but he is an exception.

“Sampson, my friend. Up early as usual I see. Have a good night?” Valen asks, wondering if he will be on the receiving end of a sermon. The haggard face of the giant carries a permanent sneer due to a cruelly placed scar on his mouth. Though Sampson looks like the sort of evil man you would expect to be out all night despoiling virgins and murdering travelers, he is one of the most puritanical men he knows. He rarely looked down on the actions of others, rather held himself alone to the rigors of his beliefs. Of course, he seldom passed up the opportunity to rub Valen’s nose in the ramifications of his own squandered nights.

“Most pleasing my friend,” the giant happily grumbled. “I read a most interesting story of the first recorded Void dreams, and the prophecies of the cult of the Elder God Shigoloth.” He was also far more intelligent than he outwardly seemed, far better read than most nobles that bothered to take the time to sneer at him.

“Don’t those that see the prophecies of Shigoloth end up tearing out their own eyes in order to see more?” While not as well-read as Sampson, Valen is no slouch. Especially where his chosen trade of hunting Elder spawn and monsters is concerned. “I’d rather spend my time dominated by the handmaidens of Azazog.”

“But don’t they suck out your very soul?” Sampson asks.

“Yes, but they suck it out of your cock. I’ll take a soul-sucking blowjob over tearing out my own eyes any day.”

The giant of a man roars his laughter, slapping Valen on the back, sending him stumbling a step or two.

“Oh, Valen my friend! One of these days your escapades will land you in trouble you can’t fight or fuck your way out of. On that day I hope you die a happy and glorious death.”

“That day may come sooner than he thinks if he keeps frequenting places like the Dancing Crows,” says a musical voice next to him. Valen looks over and sees a stunning woman, tall, slender, pale skin, and silver-haired. Her eyes are large pools of crystal blue water, and her elfin face has delicate features. Her athletic body was wrapped in flowing silk robes of many colors.

“You know they had an outbreak of cock-pox there recently. If you dipped your wick there last night I would suggest a tonic or two,” she said laughing lightly, a twinkle in her eye.

Valen locked arms with her as they walked along, looking like the most unusual group of companions to wander these streets in a long time.

“Well, Danica, if you have a better place for me to dip my wick, I’m all ears,” Valen says suggestively with an exaggerated leer at the beauty next to him.

“I don’t know, Sampson, you up to the task?” Danica asks looking up at the giant with an innocent look.

Her question is answered with a grumbling laugh. “No, I try to keep my body pure through good eating, exercise, and avoiding indulgences. Valen’s ‘wick’ is far too impure for me. I think he is talking about you!”

“Hmm…trade out the wick for a nice honeypot, and grow some tits I can work with and you may have a shot!” She laughs giving Valen a suggestive look of her own.

“Such a shame to limit yourself to only fucking half the available population! You should branch out, experiment, and get out of your comfort zone.”

“Well, we can’t all be universal lovers like you, Valen. Don’t take it personally. It’s not just your pox-ridden cock I have no desire to touch. It’s all of them!” Danica says with a flourish of one perfect hand around her.

“Now who did you spend your night with?”

“The blonde one, Ana. And the brunette, Kali.” He carefully made no mention of the redhead that may or may not have been there. While they were all close friends, there was no reason to let them in on his recurring hallucinations.

“Mmm, never met Ana before. But Kali now…not very bright, but her honeypot is very sweet. You’ll have to tell me about it later.” Though Danica was only interested in other women and had no desire to have sex with Valen, they were still two very sexual people. One of their favorite methods to pass the time was for Valen to describe his numerous sexual escapades to Danica in great detail. While she had no sexual interest in Valen, she had no issues with showing her body and would masturbate for him.

“On to business though,” Valen says. The other two friends drop their playful miens and slip easily into their professional roles.

“They found another body yesterday morning. No marks on it, no signs of violence or struggle, no reports of anything amiss from the Night Watch. Nothing but a dried-up husk,” he continues.

“I asked around the guard’s barracks. The dead man was very large, a laborer,” Danica adds.

“A lumberjack from what I heard. Over two hundred pounds when he was alive,” Valen interjects.

“Hmm,” muses Sampson. “I had a very interesting conversation with the local doctor, who is also the resident undertaker. He says that the only pattern he can see after examining all the remains is that each victim is larger than the last.”

“The first was a young man, barely out of his teens, and only weighing one hundred pounds or so.” Danica bites her lip in concentration. “Each victim is larger than the last. Almost like whatever is feeding on them is growing.”

“Or rather, the creature’s appetite is growing. When a long period of fasting comes to an end, it is wise to eat small meals to allow your stomach to stretch back out again. Perhaps this thing is coming out from a long sleep?” Sampson ponders, his scarred brow wrinkled in wondered.

“Regardless, our task is to see if there is any Elder involvement. Today we spread out, ask some questions, and look for the usual signs. We will meet back here just before dusk. Agreed?” Valen asks the group. While there is no official leader of the trio, in matters of organization, they tend to defer to him. The others nod their assent, and the group splits up to wander the city.

As dusk approaches, Valen sits at an outdoor cafe, sipping hot coffee, having made the wise decision to avoid alcohol for the night. He notices the people on the streets slowly changing from families and laborers to a younger crowd. Those not yet married and shackled with responsibility out on the town, looking for fun or trouble. A particularly attractive woman has Valen’s attention at the moment. She has long blond hair braided into two long ropes. The dress she wears is tight against her breasts, and he can clearly see the outline of her ass. As he watches her move about the crowd, he notices the small, quick movements of her hands when nobody is looking. Each man she flirts with gives a little kiss, gives a big hug, and walks away lighter a few coins or a piece of jewelry.

“She won’t last long.” Danica sits down next to him, her practiced eyes seeing exactly what he has seen. “She is good, but she’ll overextend. With that many marks in one small area, eventually, someone will see something. Besides, she overplays her looks. She is hot, and I’d take her to bed in a heartbeat, but I’d never turn my back on her.”

They distribute a laugh and while away some time watching the pickpocket go about her trade until Sampson arrives. As his enormous bulk moves through the crowd, the blonde thief slides up to his side, stroking his tree trunk arm, cooing about his awesome strength, and making not-so-veiled innuendos about the girth of his other limb. The giant man brays laughter and scoops her up in his arms spinning her about and setting her back on her feet, sending her in her way with a gentle slap on her ass. Valen is quick to notice that Sampson’s once-empty hand now holds a golden necklace and a few pieces of silver.

How in the nine hells is a man so gigantic and also so deft with his hands? Valen asks himself, disbelieving. For all his many talents, pickpocketing is not one of them. The few times he tried ended in an awkward moment of embarrassed staring followed quickly by a fight.

“You know that necklace will never fit around your bull neck right? You should give it to me so it can be worn by a fair maiden like it is intended.” Danica says as Sampson sits next to her. The bull-necked man laughs, slapping his tree trunk thighs, and Valen cannot keep the snicker from escaping.

Fast as a striking cobra, Danica’s hands blur into motion. Laughter turns to groans of pain as she drives a fist into the man on each side of her. Even Sampson draws a quick breath and rubs the spot on his thigh.

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