Fate Deals the Cards Temperance

  Chapter 19 The Mayor Of Simpleton

  I whistled a few bars of ‘Merrily Kissed The Quaker’ as I strolled through my small hamlet of goblin girls, tipping my shady hat to the ones who smiled at me.

  I was mostly blind by day, so I might have flirted with at least one berry bush and I definitely put the moves on a very sexy hide drying rack. It’s good to be the king!

  I was chilling in a kilt of fine woolen plaid, stitched up from cloth looted from the humans I’d murdered. I even made a cheeky little fur pouch to carry stuff in! Sandals and those shitty goggles completed my fit, which I thought was sexy as hell.

  Being the only male with brains might sound awesome, but nope. Generations of conditioning and hard lessons don’t go away with a little witchery and some razzle dazzle.

  The girls not actively on tummytime ran from me like they owed me money, most of the sufferers avoided me too, just not quite as vigorously. With their symptoms alleviated, they remained primal, sexual beings and I was something… unusual, which got me a little more attention every time I passed by without doing any typical goblin male stuff.

  Goblin girls are naturally curious, gregarious, social, adventurous and enthusiastic… which opened up some possibilities, now that I didn’t get light headed, black out, or hallucinate when aroused. I was a figure of menace, a thing to be feared and avoided, which was a pretty strong lure for a certain type.

  Everyone has kinks and some girls found that I scratched an itch they didn’t know they had, so I was confident that before long, I’d have volunteers sniffing around, which felt amazing!

  The sheer amount of my mental energy I’d been dedicating to wrangling my urges and instincts the stupid witch had freed up for me was almost troublesome in its own way. I felt cocky, energized and light as a feather, inside and out, but still had a healthy libido all my own to tussle with and I was feeling exuberantly confident.

  I was the only male around, feeling fine, packing a serious hog, had a harem of well fed, happy and healthy ladies that seemed just fine with hanging around long term, so cut me some slack.

  Even with my… goblin-hood managed with the spells lingering from Hessen’s failed curse, I was still a menace when my blood heated up; I just remained fully aware and in my right mind now. My poor Emmie missed savage, barely held in check Ghnash, but she was in the minority and currently babyful, so I resigned myself to a slightly sulky wife for at least a few days, while I worked on expanding and refining my newly gained knowledge with some of the mental clarity I was enjoying.

  Hessen had taught me a lot, in her attempts to hex me to pieces. Her curses had been simple, direct, and probably pretty unpleasant; but my trained and alert aura deflected them aside with ease.

  The spell she’d spat at me in the beginning of our ‘duel’ had been intended to blind me, by disrupting the flow of blood to my eyes, nasty and primitive, but effective if it struck home. It failed against my aura simply because of the difference in our focus and intent.

  Any living being’s aura was capable of the same trick, just as anyone can whistle, if they learn the trick of it. She’d expected a primitive, distracted and chaotic animal mind and was unprepared to face a… whatever I had been before, and was slowly becoming.

  I’d been reborn as a violent, wretched and despicable monster of legend, only to find that the real monster was the same familiar fiend. Cults, religion, cruel men of wealth, amoral goons… The cast of characters were wearing different masks and the set was decorated differently, but the stench of the greasepaint and the groans of the suffering crowd were unmistakable.

  In my old life, the one I remembered, I’d been less than powerless and completely wrecked, staggering and stumbling like a marionette, dancing to someone else’s tune.

  Here, I was fit, strong, free and had resources I could use to really make things happen. If that meant playing with my turds or mixing my blood and jizz into a pornographic clay figurine to make my dreams come true, so be it. If I needed to become a witch doctor, deal in curses, hexes, poisons and drugs, so be it.

  I made a conscious and deliberate choice in that moment, at my workbench, beneath my sleeping harem of women. I was going to become the goblin king in truth and change this world.

  Sarafina clan largely withdrew from the conclave, with a vague promise or threat that we’d keep in touch, on the way out. A few new girls had joined and a couple had left; but since tummytime was off the table, I wasn’t sure.

  There were girls I was never going to meet or talk to in my tribe and that was just going to be a fact. If this was my harem, I was going to rule it as I saw fit. The thought of going back to the jackhammer lifestyle I’d been falling into was appealing, I would certainly enjoy fantasies and sensual luxuries whenever they presented themselves, but no way was I living my life like that.

  There is a season to every purpose and I felt strongest and most balanced when I practiced moderation, restraint and temperance.

  Wild goblin men had a well-earned reputation for being awful and unpleasant, while the cult’s goblin warriors were a notorious menace to all living things. As something of a terrifying, rapacious monster myself, I couldn’t blame them for avoiding me on general principles.

  It was the garden that drew them in, of course; the abundant miracle that kept my clan well fed, warm, housed and protected was a strong draw, one almost potent enough to balance out the presence of a male!

  We set up camp a day’s travel to the south from the conclave, overlooking the sea from a mile away, behind a ridge. Once our home shimmered into being under my flute, I reflected on how far we’d come… And I still hadn’t gotten to the damn shoreline!

  My girls lived in terror of large murky bodies of water, where crustaceans might live. This was one of those for sure, and they were not having it.

  My bath was acceptable, because it was hot, and hot water made crayfish soup, which was tasty! The logic was undeniable and indisputable.

  So we camped away from the shore, far from rivers and not near any lakes. Fishing and fish met with robust approval, so long as it was me, bringing fish home. Which also made perfect sense… Boats and canoes remained objects of ridicule and abject horror, no matter how carefully presented. I was never going to be a pirate king, that hurt a little, and I’m not sure why.

  Once we left the gathered tribes, I started getting more visitors during my ‘office hours’ usually for a chat or a little sexy play, often both. I could manage short sentences, usually, if they were simple, but honestly, I was better at not speaking.

  “Yub. Ghnash remembers being… other life.” I shrugged, when Sarafina pressed me. “Mebee more?”

  “Were you a human, or something like one?” Sarafina insisted, while Emmie cut my hair with Hessen’s very nice obsidian knife. I opened my mouth to answer and I couldn’t. I couldn’t lie to her, but I wasn’t human or anything like one, in at least one of my lives…

  I had an absolute certainty that what they pulled out of the wreckage of my family’s little car was not any manner of human, or anything properly alive. I could see it as clear as the stars above, looking back.

  Gary Ward died shortly after he turned fourteen and remained that way for the next four years, as he stumbled through his home-world; an alien, eldritch, undead mockery of himself.

  What walked in his corpse was an abomination against all life; while his soul haunted the wreck of his old life, hiding in his undead body’s shadow. He only thought he was alive and in control, while it let him steer the awful thing around, believing he was alive.

  That poor guy got fucked hard; and Sarafina wasn’t getting an answer. With my teeth, I had zero chance of saying ‘Ziggurat of Tormented Souls’ without causing an absolute bloodbath. It just wasn’t worth it!

  “Still no answer, eh? Very well. Rub my feet, boy, we walked very far.” Sarafina commanded, as she flopped back on the lawn and put her feet in my lap. I slowly started rubbing her pads and toes, getting in between, as she moaned and melted into goo. For creatures with talons, letting someone rub your feet is an act of trust like few others; just ask any housecat. That trust was like a drug to me, warming my heart and making me feel wanted and I needed that desperately.

  /

  “The coward will be found and hanged. Wanted men cannot hide from the Light.” Peltier declared solemnly, from within his deep hood and cowl. “Note the deserter’s name in the log and mark it for the next dispatch. Dismissed."

  The lord vanished back into his tent once more, as the troops breathed a sigh of relief. No one thought Hammond would desert in the night… without his gear, horse, even his cloak… and there was blood on the flap of the commander’s tent, again.

  /

  We weren’t just wandering south, I wanted to follow that road down the coast and see where it led. My experiences, skulking around human towns in the hills suggested that they seldom traveled and then only on roads and in heavily armed groups. Only a specific cause could lure them into the wilds and then, seldom for long.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Sarafina confirmed that, when I managed to express the question. It took a few tries.

  “They fear the wild lands, the men of the light cult. The reason is one they themselves created!” She giggled a little and sighed. “I sense it in you, soon your third eye will open and you will be able to see through the veil. Spirits of the unquiet dead haunt these hills and valleys.” She said with a sad smile. “Haunts in uncounted numbers and variety, wherever men do not go. They spook and startle the unwary, but deeply disturb the foolhardy and wicked.”

  “Ghosts?” I asked carefully, with a questioning smile that was probably pretty awful to look at.

  “Spirits, unquiet souls trapped here by defects in this world and the nature of our people. Souls enter, but cannot leave this place.” She spoke calmly and with reverence, looking to the unseen stars, hidden in the faintly luminous fog.

  “With our gods silenced and our akashic record cursed, all who die here will linger, unable to move to another world or domain. This is a prison with many exits, which we cannot use.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at her, like she always did to me, when she didn’t understand. I saw a lot of that expression and had perfected it for myself.

  “This is a dungeon world, chief. Living souls may enter a dungeon world with ease and this one has many entry points. Ordinarily, those who enter a dungeon world and survive, depart, leaving traces of their passage behind, expanding our world’s scope and scribing a new line in the local akashic record.” I made a note to clarify her ‘akashic record’ thing later, but the old dame was on a roll.

  “Those who die there leave more of themselves, not much, just a bit of exotic essence and new emotions, thoughts and ideas behind, as their souls migrate back into the ether to be reborn, in a world where they belong…” She stared at me, as I struggled to digest all of that.

  “This is new knowledge to you? What kind of world did you come from, boy?”

  I shrugged helplessly and shook my head, waiting for her to continue her lecture… Alba was rubbing my ears and stroking my freshly shorn scalp, so I was content to listen til they needed to sleep.

  “Goblins and all goblin kind, even the poor wretches the light cult has dragged across the void, are a broken race. Our akashic record is cursed and sealed, stifling our development; our gods have been silenced, before they even fully manifested… As a final indignity, the cult of the Light has twisted our race into a parody of their own vile desires and lusts, with wicked magics and uncounted ritual sacrifices of our men, women and children for untold centuries.”

  “Oh…” I answered weakly, as the bits and pieces of what I’d heard before, fell into place more fully. Not having a constant, raging boner made the thinkin’ stuff work… more good!

  “Exits? Other worlds?” I asked, chasing a genius idea. Visions of leading my people out of bondage, into a land of milk and honey felt like a great idea.

  “No, chief. Never can we leave the way men and monsters enter this place. We are incomplete, an infant race, unable to cross the void on our own will. The veil rejects our passage.” She sighed sadly and shook her head. “No goblin or goblin kin can leave this domain… intact.”

  She paused and met my eyes, letting that sink in.

  “Know this, Ghnash; to cross the veil under the whip of human slavers or the dominance of an ogre or troll, is to become other... They return wickedly corrupted and soon, a monster in form and fact.” She peered at me and nodded.

  “Yes, some might think you are one of those poor wretches, at first glance. Goblin men who cross the veil under duress, flogged across the space between worlds become ogres, trolls, or orcs. Those who the cult bind to their false gods, become wicked slave warriors, or their twisted warlocks and witch-doctors. It is from those ranks that the cult chooses their slave-town chieftains, to breed more grist for their evil goblin mill.”

  “Cross worlds, ogre?” I sputtered, wondering what she could mean.

  “A goblin man who is forced across the boundary between worlds will always change, never for the better. Most return mad and vile, corrupted with wicked intent and true evil by the touch of the cult’s pet demons.” Alba sighed and sank down beside me while Sarafina talked, nuzzling my ear in a way that made us both feel better.

  “Some return and change on the outside, growing larger, changing and becoming monsters. Most times they become an orc, ogre or troll; sometimes they become nameless things that even the cult fears and will bend any effort to destroy.”

  “Girls can cross?” I asked, being a glutton for punishment.

  “Goblin women fear the void and cannot cross it. If forced across, we leave tummytime behind, becoming sterile, mad and broken animals. If we master certain arts and travel with strong minds and clear intent, we come back stronger and without tummytime. This is among our sisterhood’s most dangerous secrets, my chief. I share it with you at great peril.”

  “Nub much talk…” I muttered with amusement obvious in my awful grin. I petted Alba’s long soft hair and nuzzled her back with a sigh of pure satisfaction. “Time comes for action.”

  “What are you intending, chief?” Sara asked, as I curled up for a nap and Emmie crawled into the nest with Lapis following after.

  “Intend bad things. Many bad-bad things.” I got comfy as three young goblin girls curled up together and began easing each other’s tension while I watched them play before bed.

  Alba and Lapis had a tender, caring and sweet relationship that did not include me… Emmie however, she seemed to fit right in. The girls had zero inhibitions or hangups with my presence, but I wasn’t part of the game.

  Sara curled up in my lap and sighed happily as we watched the girls sweetly fondle, caress, kiss and snuggle themselves tenderly to sleep.

  “Girl pleasure comes in many colors and shades, goblin man.” She whispered. “We find joy where we may and chase pleasure in all its hues, because that is all we have. There is pleasure in being taken, when that is the right season, but also in giving, receiving, sharing and simply submitting.” Her gentle, tender caress became a slow, sharp clawed stroke that threatened as much as she’d teased a moment before.

  “We too, can take pleasure in taking, dominating, controlling and otherwise mastering our partners, when that season comes. It’s not all cocks and thrusting, boy.”

  “Ghnash remembers, you sit on face…” I let my tongue loll out and dangle on her shoulder, the tip twitching slightly to lure her eyes.

  “I’m being pedantic, boy! Let me get all high and mighty! I am a witch, after all.” She sulked a little until I nibbled on her ear and let little Ghnash nudge her in the rump.

  “Let Ghnash learn. Head clear, feels good.” I whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over Alba’s moans of passion as Emmie and Lapis shared a bowl of her, like Lady and the Tramp behind a very sexy Italian restaurant. “They is good at that!”

  The difference between making love and desperately smashing my junk at stuff is huge… Sara and I explored non penetrative play and a whole rainbow of sensual delights, until the girls and I all drifted to sleep in the nest together.

  /

  Bella huddled in her furs and fantasized about that hot-spring bath, while mother Hessen writhed and moaned at her feet.

  “So, this male cursed you? Cursed you with tummytime?” She asked the stricken woman, while struggling to conceal her smile at this turn of events.

  “Yes, it must have! This is impossible and intolerable!” She had to pause for a wracking, shuddering cramp that forced a loud, sharp, fart from her. “I demand its head for this affront! This is forbidden!”

  “This is troubling indeed.” Bella answered with a chuckle. “Have you tried getting stuffed babyful?” She watched the colors change on Hessen’s face, as fury, desperation, fear and naked lust wrestled with the actual wrestling her guts were getting up to, for dominance. It was quite a show!

  “How did this male curse you, Hessen? With a fetish crafted from clay, babygoop and malign intent?” A tiny, cheery, red ceramic dick landed by the outraged witch’s face, followed by a mint green porcelain pecker.

  “You created these trinkets, my dear… and so many of them! I saw a magpie fly away with one!” The eldest shook her head and cackled with pleasure.

  “What of it!” She sputtered, her claws digging into the earth as all the feet that ever were, stomped right on her belly. “I work as I please, as we all do!”

  “You tried to break his spear… now he’s turned your hex about in some devious way.” That has a certain symmetry. “If you wish to break his charm, simply break your curse. You need only gather up and break all those tiny cocks…” She smiled more widely, baring her teeth at the witch on the floor of the lodge. “How many, and where have they gone? I wonder if he kept one?”

  /

  My new clarity of mind and more stable emotions were freaking amazing! I could enjoy the fragrant darlings all around me, walking with the ones who didn’t fear me anymore… and there were a few more of them every day. Sure, I was still dayblind and pushing myself a little too hard; but not tripping over my own junk constantly really freed up a lot of time. Now I was a kid in a candy store, rather than a starving wolf chained up in a henhouse. Everyone was more comfortable with the new arrangement, except Emmie; she had complaints, but she also had a baby in her, so even if I cut the curse, she wouldn’t be able to…

  “Politics of smush?” Alba asked quietly; she often picked up on what I was thinking, really often. I nodded, rather than risk flapping my face-hole. That just wasn’t my strong suit… I had other cards to play.

  /

  Axelrod almost vomited with relief, when they clattered onto the coast road at last; after so long following that thing through endless marsh, hills and wastelands.

  “One more pay grade and I can transfer out of this quagmire…” He sighed, once real, solid clay and gravel rang under his exhausted mount’s hooves.

  “Troop, we encamp here and proceed at dawn!” Peltier barked from his voluminous hood and cowl.

  “Goblin-sign in the hills, sir Axelrod.” Lambert called as he rode up and dismounted. The lad began immediately caring for his beast, plying his hoof pick and brush with care, while giving his report. “Tribals, I think. We could get a little slave raiding done on the way…”

  “No chance. Just remember the spot, we’ll gather a team and sweep the woods come summer. There might be new pups and nursing greenies then, those fetch a premium.” Sir Axelrod clapped his junior on the shoulder and chuckled. “I’m fuck-sore too, lad. We’ll find something to plow along the road, I’m sure. The caravans should have started running fresh slaves.”

  /

  “Mistress Saphie sends me to tell you, chief… Humans on the road.” Her tail still bottle-brushed out and she remained always ready to leap in any direction when she had to talk to me directly, but Thera was really making strides. Clothes were a game changer, once she put them on, her confidence took off. She could almost look at me now!

  The constant aura of barely restrained lust and aggression I’d been hanging out there when we met was supressed now, managed. That made me easier for the sensitive and flighty woman to tolerate, from a distance.

  It was still daylight, but not for much longer and the thought of humans passing by made me itch for a goblin raid… I had some pent up aggression and few viable targets for it. Not that I was going to go all ‘bloody claws, fangs in the night’ on them. I could pilfer some goods, make some mischief and sneak away, though.

  I desperately wanted salt, sugar, tea, coffee, bread… or spices. I wanted to know more about how humans lived here and why.

  The slave towns had been entirely soldiers, knights and clerics, ruling over the goblin hamlets in their area through the chieftains the cult supported. They maintained walled hamlets of beastfolk agricultural slaves, who fed the soldiers, clerics and lords.

  The cult’s goal seemed to be extorting goblin slaves from the native population for their own purposes, dark purposes I was certain. The guy who’d wanted to plow my ass and snuff me considered it just fun and games. That said a lot about his whole crew; even before Sara dropped the dime on them.

  I still had my runties waiting for me, so I put on my goggles and kilt, before stepping out into the late evening sun.

  \

  Out in the late evening sun, Hagerty took a long stretch and grinned. Sitting on that awful bench all day was a misery and this was a long run, all the way to Light-home, the local capital. Twelve days north, if the weather held and he’d be under a snug roof and out of the cold.

  “Perdue, Haberman, get the camp set up. Have the cat cook up something special for me.”

  The sound of whips and clattering chains rang out over the camp, as they got settled for the night. Hammers drove stakes into the earth and shackles rang softly, singing of a profitable journey ahead.

  The cat served beans and biscuits to the men, who jeered, pinched and mocked her, before she then brought him a thick ham steak with sweet potatoes roasted in a clay crock.

  Watching the men play with his pet was the best part of the day… to actually touch her would invoke his fury, they knew that, but her fear was delicious.

  “Feed me, kitten.” He lolled his mouth open relishing her abject humiliation as he splayed out nude on his rug, awaiting her.

  With trembling hands, she spooned it into his passively waiting mouth until there was nothing left. She knew what would come next and her terror made it so much sweeter.

  Sir Leonard Hagerty had given up the lance for more profitable endeavors, but he still enjoyed jousting, after a fashion.

  /