The Beast of Brattenburg

The Beast of Brattenburg - a story of the Old World

***

"A penny for a drink of milk, miss."

The speaker was a dwarf woman. The top of her head was no higher than a man's sternum, but she was nearly as wide as she was tall. Her hairstyle was unusual. The sides of her head were shaved, and her remaining hair was dyed orange and spiked up into a fearsome crest. She wore a leather vest and trousers, and boots tipped with iron toecaps. Her muscular, bare arms, thicker than a strong man's thighs, were covered in angular dwarfish tattoos. Her vest was laced tightly over an ample bosom. A thick leather belt circled her waist, from which hung a dagger and a pouch, while a pack hung on her back. She leaned on a long-handled, double bladed axe. An eyepatch covered her right eye socket. A vicious pink scar ran across her scalp, under the eyepatch, and then down her face almost to her chin. She rubbed the scar and regarded the woman to whom she was speaking through her remaining eye, which was a clear blue.

This other woman was a milkmaid. She wore a plain woolen dress and bodice of dull maroon that was faded almost to gray. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, showing a sun-freckled face and hazel eyes. She was sitting on a milking stool, milking a black and white cow into a wooden pail. Jets of white milk foamed and splashed in the pail as she tugged the cow's teats with slim, strong hands. Her dress was open at the neck showing the tops of her firm breasts.

The cow stood and allowed herself to be milked, twitching her tail contentedly. A bell hung around her neck, and her tail was decorated with a faded red ribbon.

The sun of early afternoon shone down upon the two women, the cow, and the pasture in which they stood. Bees buzzed in the pasture, traveling between clumps of clover. Behind the milkmaid was a small stone cottage, surrounded by a garden of herbs and flowers. Several other black and white cows were grazing in the pasture. A hawk circled high overhead. It was a beautiful day in the Ostermark of the Old World.

Sitting on her stool the milkmaid was at eye level with the dwarf woman. She smiled, showing crooked white teeth.

"Certainly, ma'am." The milkmaid poured a generous helping of milk into an empty pail and handed it to the dwarf, who promptly upended the pail and gulped down half of the warm, creamy contents. The milkmaid watched the dwarf woman's throat working as she swallowed. Trickles of milk ran from the corners of the dwarf's mouth. Finally the dwarf woman lowered the pail and wiped her mouth.

"That's good." Reaching into her pouch she took out a penny and handed it to the milkmaid. "Thank you, miss."

The milkmaid took the penny and tucked it into the placket of her dress. "You're welcome, ma'am. It's seldom that we see a dwarf in these parts. If I may ask, ma'am, what are you called by, and where are you bound?"

The dwarf woman nodded, as if to indicate that she considered the questions legitimate. "My name is Reka. I am bound to seek my doom. I am a Trollslayer, and I seek monsters to fight, in the hope that I will die an honorable death in battle with a mighty foe. In Brattenburg". She pointed west. "I heard of strange goings on in the hills. Of bonfires at night, of black-cloaked riders on the road, of witches and monsters. One farmer swore to me that on the last Geheimisnacht a monster had broken into his cattle barn and ravished his entire herd of cows. Do you know aught of such things?"

The milkmaid fought back laughter. "Was this man sober, ma'am?"

Reka frowned and rubbed her scar. "It is true that he was drinking at the time."

"I have never seen anything strange here. And no monster has ravished my cattle, or me."

"Do you live here alone?"

"It is just myself and my brother, ma'am, since our mother passed."

Reka nodded. She upended the bucket and took another swallow of milk, then looked around. She stood on a dirt road, really a track, that ran towards dark, forested hills that loomed in the east. Beyond the hills she could see the peaks of the World's Edge mountains, faint and blue in the distance. To the west, the road ran into a forest and beyond that past more farms, and to the town of Brattenburg, which was what passed for civilization in these parts.

"Your farm is very isolated here. You are sure you have seen nothing? No orcs? No goblins? No snotlings? No beastmen in the woods? Mutants?"

"Nothing, ma'am."

"How often do you go into town? Do you go by yourself? It took me half a day to walk out here." The dwarf took another pull on the bucket.

"Oh, I never go into town. Sometimes pedlars come here, and I buy what I need from them. My mother left us a little money. I make cheese from the milk of the cows, and my brother hunts for furs. We are quiet folk, and mother always told us to avoid the wicked ways of the city." She glanced down the dirt track that led to the west and shuddered theatrically.

Reka took another drink. The woman seemed strange, but humans were a strange sort. "What is your name?"

"Magritte. Like the old empress." the milkmaid smiled again.

"Well, Magritte, thank you again for this fine milk. May your farm prosper, and you and your brother as well."

"Thank you, ma'aam." Magritte smiled.

Reka reached over to hand the milk pail back and froze. The skirt of Magritte's dress had pulled up, showing not a shoe or bare foot, but a dainty cloven hoof. Magritte's eyes followed the dwarf's gaze and she paled. She started to rise but the Trollslayer grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground, then swung up her heavy axe.

"Mutant!" Reka spat out the word. Magritte looked up at her, her face slack in terror. The razor sharp axe of dwarven steel hung shining in the air. Reka's scarred face was distorted into a snarl of rage.

"Please don't hurt me!" cried the milkmaid.

"So there are monsters here! Speak! Where are they?"

Shaking, Magritte pointed down the track towards the dark loom of the hills. "That.. that way. It's true. There's a monster. Please... don't hurt me."

"Why did you lie?"

"I.. I just wanted you to go away. Please.. you see why I have to live here alone. I can't go into town. Please don't hurt me." Tears were flowing down Magritte's face. She buried her face in her apron.

Reka scowled. "You said you had a brother. Where is he? Is he a mutant too?"

"He... He's not here."

"He is a mutant too, then! And your mother, was she a witch? Did you seek to put a spell on me?" Reka's eye was glaring and her muscles bulged. She ground her teeth. The cow backed away, lowing in dismay. The bell around the cow's neck clanked once. Bees buzzed among the clover, paying the confrontation no mind. The hawk continued to circle overhead. The sun beat down. The other cows continued to graze, tails twitching. Nothing else moved in the pasture or under the shade of the trees.

Reka's rage ebbed as she saw no immediate threat. Magritte seemed simple-minded, like many mutants. Perhaps she spoke the truth. Reka licked her lips, tasting the last of the fresh milk. She looked down at the mutant cowering before her. Slaying this miserable woman would not bring her closer to the mighty doom she sought. Reka lowered her axe.

"You are fortunate this day." Turning she strode down the track towards the hills, in the direction Magritte had pointed.

The mutant woman lay gasping in the grass, watching the Trollslayer leave. When it seemed that she was safe she sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She kept watching the dwarf until the squat figure disappeared into the woods. Then a smile spread slowly across her face, and her eyes lit up with a wicked light. She stood, and began to pick up her pails.

***

Reka followed the trail into the hills. The woods were cool after the heat of the pasture. The track led uphill over the first rise, then down into a hollow. She paused at a muddy section to examine the ground. There were numerous prints of cloven hoofs. Cattle, perhaps? Reka did not know. She followed the track on.

The forest was still and dimly light by the bright sunlight filtering through leaves. Squirrels chittered from branches, and sparrows darted through the light. A rabbit bounded across the track, gazed at Reka in terror, and bolted, its white tail flashing. The trail grew steeper and Reka used her axe handle as a staff to aid her travel. As she walked she brooded on the mutant woman. Why did she remain alive? Why did she not seek death, disgraced as she was by her hideous appearance? Reka thought of her own disgrace, and of how she had come to be banished from the halls of Karak Grakaz...

****

"I say, I'm going to cum on your face. Say you want it. Say you want me to cum on your face."

She was kneeling on the stone floor in front of Liriel Silverlocks, the ambassador from the elven Court of Ulthuan to the dwarf hold of Karak Grakaz. His tights were down around his ankles and his erect cock was hovering inches from her lips. She looked up, meeting his clear green eyes, set in his slender, cruelly handsome face. She thought again how beautiful he was and how lucky she had been that this charming elf had chosen her for a lover. She wanted to please him so much that her heart hurt thinking about it. She had never had a lover before she had met the elf.

"Cum on my face, Liriel." she whispered, giggling at the naughtiness of it.

"Here comes the elven blade!" said Liriel. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, and he slid his cock in to her mouth. She used her tongue, licking the underside. She knew that he liked that. He had taught her how to pleasure him, in ways that she had never imagined in her sheltered upbringing as the daughter of the lord of a remote dwarf hold.

His hands were locked in her blonde hair and he pushed his cock into her mouth so far that she gagged. He let her struggle for a heartbeat, then slid it back out enough so that she could breathe. She sucked on his cock and licked it more. She kept her eyes closed.

His hips thrust and she felt that he was about to come. He pulled his cock back and held her hair with one hand while he stroked himself with the other, shooting ropes of cum over her face and the upper slopes of her large, firm breasts.

"Take it, take it you little slut... oohhh..." he moaned.

Reka smiled at his happiness, delighted to please the beautiful elf. She looked up at him, eyes shining with love. Liriel had an expression of triumphant satisfaction on his face.

She heard a strangled gasp. She turned to the doorway of the room, and saw her father, mother, brothers and sister, and behind them a mass of other dwarfs, all her family, all staring at her in horror. For a few moments there was absolute silence in the room.

"I say, did you ever hear of knocking on the door?" said Liriel. He wiped his cum-covered hand in Reka's hair and pulled up his green and white striped tights. Reka's mother fainted silently into the burly arms of her second cousin Gromka.

"Is something the matter?" asked Liriel. "Seems like a bit of a frozen tableau, what what?"

Reka's father was pulling at his beard. "That my daughter... would debase herself... to slake the depraved lusts of an elf... Enough! I have no daughter! Reka, I banish you from this hold, and from the clan! From this day I shall never see you nor speak of you!"

Reka's eyes filled with tears. They flowed down her cheeks, mingling with the elf's cum.

"I say, that's a bit thick, what?" said Liriel, lacing up his doublet.

"And you, elf!" Reka's father was slowly turning bright red. "Were you not an ambassador, I would have you flayed alive and fired from my largest cannon!"

"I say, I suppose the treaty's off then, what? Well, toodle-oo, must be going." Liriel began edging towards the door. The dwarfs shrank back from him, their eyes big in their faces.

Reka looked at him. "Liriel... I love you. Take me with you." She started to sob.

Liriel made a small noise of embarrassment. "Ahh, really.. bringing a dwarf to Ulthuan... infra dig, you know. Mater would be furious. Dreadfully sorry! Been nice knowing you, what, eh?" The elf slipped past the dwarfs and raced away.

***

That very day, Reka had shaved the sides of her head and spiked her hair into the Trollslayer crest. She had left Karak Grakaz, seeking the only honorable doom left to her. Yet even this fate, it seemed, was denied her. She had joined a group of Trollslayers and honed her fighting skills, as well as her drinking and headbutting skills, in taverns across the Ostermark. There was always trouble in this wild area on the border of the human Empire, and when an army of orcs and goblins had burst out of the World's Edge mountains and started rampaging through the human lands, the Trollslayers had joined the army that marched to face them.

The armies had met under the walls of Wurstenburg. The green-skinned orcs outnumbered the men who had been summoned to fight them. It seemed that defeat was certain for the forces of the Empire. Glorious death in battle seemed unavoidable.

The orcs started to advance, clashing their swords on their shields, their goblin slaves beating drums of human skin. Their banners, daubed with crude insults and rude drawings, flapped in the wind. The soldiers of the Empire quaked in fear.

The Trollslayers wasted no time, but immediately charged towards the largest and most impressive orc banner. It was in the center of the orc army and surrounded by the largest and most fearsome orcs, massive brutes that stood nearly twice as tall as the dwarfs. It depicted a orc with an enormous cock sodomizing Sigmar, the god of the humans. Sigmar was depicted with an expression of dismay on his bearded face, while the painted orc wore an expression of idiotic triumph that seemed vaguely familiar to Reka.

Reka charged with the other Trollslayers, her stumpy legs pounding as she drove into the lead. She selected the largest orc for her target, a huge orc chieftain. She swung her axe as the orc slashed at her with his sword. She felt a burning pain in her face, and then her axe crashed home, cleaving the orc nearly in half and killing him instantly.

Without stopping, Reka yanked her axe free and charged the orc holding the banner. That one tried to block with the banner pole, but with one stroke Reka hewed through it and took off the orc's arm, then beheaded him on the backswing.

Reka stood, swaying slightly. She realized that she couldn't see out of her right eye. As the other Trollslayers rushed past her, cutting down the terrified orcs and howling with disappointment as their enemies fled, she fainted.

Reka woke up in a comfortable bed in Wurstenburg. The humans thought that she was a hero, but in her mind she was a failure. They feasted her and gave her as much ale as she could drink. Some of them, men and women both, even tried to climb into bed with her. Yet her mood only grew blacker. As soon as her wound healed she left, traveling alone into the wilderness, seeking the doom that had somehow avoided her.

***

Reka had been lost in thought as she followed the track, and suddenly realized that she had reached a clearing in the forest. She did not know how far she had come, but the sun was sinking towards evening. In the middle of the clearing stood a great standing stone, carved deeply with strange runes. Skulls were piled near it, some marked with similar looking runes. Also in the clearing was a large fire pit. The ground was littered with the cracked and charred bones of men and beasts.

Reka gripped her axe handle and glared around. The forest seemed peaceful. Yet this was surely a place of evil significance, some altar of the dark powers that infested the world. Here there must be a foe worthy of slaying her.

Reka stepped slowly into the clearing, tense and alert. She stalked around the clearing until she had made a circle. Several other paths led off into the woods, and the ground was dinted here and there with deep cloven hoof-prints, but she saw no sign of anything else. There was, however, an odor in the air, a strange, rank smell that Reka could not place.

Reka relaxed slightly, and as she did so she became aware of an acute discomfort in her chest. On reaching womanhood Reka's breasts had ballooned to impressive size, even for a dwarf woman. To keep them from bouncing around while she walked or fought, she kept them firmly strapped down with a tight linen band under her leather vest. It was normally uncomfortable, and she always looked forwards to undoing her bindings in the evening, but for some reason suddenly she felt pain and soreness in her breasts. She wondered briefly if her period was coming on, but it wasn't the right time for that.

Setting her axe down, she unlaced her vest and shrugged it off, then untied the linen band that crossed her chest and back. She gasped in relief as her breasts popped out, bobbing absurdly in the evening sun. They somehow seemed even larger than they normally were. They felt swollen and tender, and her nipples were poking out, stiff and thick. She cautiously reached up and touched her left breast, and gasped in shock at the sensation that swept through her. She wondered what was happening. Her hand began to stroke her breast.

Reka felt a presence behind her. She spun around and found herself staring at a giant hairy cock and balls. This huge manhood was at her eye level. She was so astounded that she froze. Then she looked up and saw a muscular male torso, powerful arms ending in clawed hands, and the head of a bull staring down at her. Looking down she saw the thick thighs and hooves of the minotaur. The rank smell was strong in her nostrils.

Reka yelped and reached for her axe, but before she could reach it the minotaur grabbed her by the biceps, lifted her in the air, and slammed her against the standing stone. He held her kicking in midair, her face level with his. He turned his head from side to side, looking at her with one huge violet eye, and then the other, exactly like a bull looking at a man standing in front of it. Reka couldn't move her arms to reach the dagger on her belt. She tried kicking the minotaur, but even her hardest kick didn't seem to bother the huge monster. Looking down she saw the glint of golden rings in the minotaur's nipples. She noticed that the monster's black and white patterned hair was well groomed and his horns were polished. A long tail grew from his backside, terminated in a hairy tuft around which a red ribbon was tied. She briefly wondered how a monster living in the woods was able to take such care with his appearance.

The minotaur leaned forwards and stuck his thick snout between her breasts, snorting. She gasped as she felt his hot breath and the touch of his hairy muzzle. Then the monster opened his mouth and licked her right nipple. Reka moaned in pleasure at the touch of his hot, rough tongue. She had liked it when Liriel played with her breasts, but it had never felt like this!

Reka hung limp. She felt a wetness in her crotch. The minotaur snuffled again and lifted her higher. He grabbed her thick belt with his teeth and yanked her leather trousers and wool leggings down to her ankles, exposing her blonde bush and muscular, hairy thighs. The minotaur sniffed at her crotch. Reka squirmed at the touch, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

Reka yelped in joy as the minotaur licked her pussy, then slid his tongue inside. The tongue was so thick! it was thicker than Liriel's cock, which Reka had found a disappointment. She had liked it when the elf touched her there but the dwarf had never felt anything like this. She kicked her legs, spreading her thighs as far as she could, inviting the monster to pleasure her. To her disappointment he withdrew his tongue. Reka whimpered in frustration. She lifted her gaze from the minotaur to the clearing.

She was facing the path that led back to the farm, and standing in the clearing was the milkmaid, Magritte. She was carrying two pails and her yoke. Reka met her eyes and felt herself blushing furiously. She wondered how long Magritte had been standing there. Magritte only smiled and stepped daintily on her hooves to a smooth, grassy patch, where she knelt down. The mutant woman smoothed her skirt and apron over her knees and set her pails down.

The minotaur turned his head, and saw Magritte. He tucked Reka under one arm and yanked her trousers, leggings, belt, and boots off and tossed them aside. The dwarf was now completely naked except for her eyepatch. Reka submitted to being stripped, conscious only of the pounding of her heart and how her skin thrilled to the slightest touch. All thoughts of doom and an honorable death had disappeared from her head, in response to the frantic urges that flooded her body.

The minotaur carried her towards Magritte and set her down, then pushed her down onto her knees in front of the mutant woman. Reka felt a sudden stab of fear. What was going to happen to her? She tried to struggle but the minotaur easily held her down.

Reka tried to speak, to ask "What are you doing to me?" but all that came out was a strangled "What.. what.."

Magritte leaned forwards and stroked Reka's face. "Be calm, Reka. We aren't going to hurt you."

Reka's heart was pounding. She whimpered as Magritte ran her slim hands over Reka's breasts, gently stroking them from the base towards the nipple. Waves of pleasure flowed through Reka as the milkmaid's slim fingertips slowly brushed across the dwarf's areolae and reached her nipples. Finally Magritte gently held each nipple pinched between a thumb and forefinger. Reka was gasping. She could feel a pressure building in her swollen breasts that felt agonizing and intensely pleasurable at the same time.

Magritte began to expertly squeeze and tug at the left nipple. Reka felt the pressure building in her left breast with each squeeze, until it felt intolerable. She panted and whimpered, desperate for release.

Reka gave a wordless cry of joy as a stream of milk suddenly spurted from her nipple and splashed into the pail. Feelings such as she had never felt before flowed through her. Magritte held the nipple, then squeezed it again. Another stream of thick, creamy milk spurted out and Reka suddenly arched her back and bucked her hips as an orgasm, the first she had ever felt in her life, ripped through her body. Cries of pleasure came from the dwarf's mouth as her body shuddered and spasmed. Finally she hung, limp and gasping for breath, in the minotaur's strong hands.

Magritte released the dwarf's nipples and stroked her face, neck, and breasts as Reka breathed deeply, her breasts rising and falling, her pale skin golden in the evening light. Reka could feel wetness running down her thighs. Suddenly she felt something warm and thick pushing into her. The minotaur was thrusting his massive cock into her wet pussy!

Reka had liked having the minotaur's thick tongue inside her, but this was a completely different feeling. She felt her insides being stretched as the warm, smooth, barbed cock of the minotaur slowly slid into her. The sensation frightened her and she started to struggle.

"Shh..." said Magritte, stroking her face and brushing her hair. "Shhh... don't fight. We won't hurt you." Reka's one blue eye stared into the calm hazel eyes of the milkmaid. Reka tried to speak, to ask for it to stop, but could not form words. The minotaur thrust his cock in until Reka felt that it filled her completely, pressing gently against her cervix. Slowly she calmed down as Magritte continued to stroke her face, and the minotaur stopped pushing and did not try to ram his cock in further. She felt that she could feel the hot, hard cock throbbing in time with the strong heartbeat of the monster.

Reka could feel the pressure in her breasts again. They felt even more swollen and sensitive than they had before. Magritte began to stroke her breasts again and gently pinched the thick, stiff nipples. She looked into Reka's eye and smiled. Reka wanted so badly to be milked, but the milkmaid held back. Magritte began to gently rub Reka's nipples. Reka closed her eye and whimpered in frustration. Finally, when Reka couldn't take it anymore, Magritte began to squeeze her nipples again, first the left, then the right, then the left again. Each squeeze sent a shock through Reka's body. Finally at the third squeeze a thick jet of milk squirted into the pail, foaming. Reka cried out. Then Magritte squeezed her other nipple and a jet of milk came from that one. Reka moaned as Magritte began to milk her, slowly and steadily, alternating between each incredibly sensitive nipple.

Her delight was heightened as the minotaur began to thrust in her in time with the milking, causing surges of pleasure to sweep through her as his cock rubbed against sensitive places inside her that Reka had not known existed. Between the hands of the milkmaid and the cock of the minotaur, Reka came again and again. Her eye rolled up in its socket and every muscle in her body shuddered and clenched in ecstasy. Wordless sounds and drool came from her mouth as the creamy, warm milk splashed into the pail. Reka lost all sense of time.

Only when the thick jets of milk from her nipples dwindled to dribbles and then drops did she regain awareness. The minotaur gave a series of quick thrusts and she felt his hot cum spurt inside her, driving her to a final climax. She hung limp in his hands. Looking down she saw that the milk pail was full. Magritte slid the pail aside as the minotaur released Reka. She fell, sweating and drooling, into Magritte's lap and lay there, feeling the rough cloth of the milkmaid's apron against her face. She felt the minotaur's cock slide out of her. A flood of warm juices ran down her thighs.

It was dark in the forest. She could hear the sound of night insects. An owl hooted. Magritte stroked her head, running her finger along the scar on Reka's face.

"Well done. You filled the pail. Most girls don't even get it a quarter full."

Reka grinned up idiotically at Magritte, feeling an exhausted contentment she had never felt before.

"Do you want some of your milk?" asked Magritte.

Reka couldn't speak but nodded her head slightly. The minotaur lifted up her head and the mutant woman put the pail to Reka's lips. Reka took a drink of the thick, creamy milk, still warm from her own body heat. When she swallowed it felt as if she could feel the liquid flowing through her body, reaching every part and warming it deliciously. She drank as much as she could, finally having to fall back into Magritte's lap with a gasp, drooling milk onto the mutant's apron. Reka closed her eye and drifted off to sleep.

***

Reka opened her eye. It was daylight, and a black and white cow was looking at her. The animal turned and began to crop grass. The bell that hung around the cow's neck clanked as she moved. The dwarf lay still, trying to remember where she was. Above her the sky was blue. A bee buzzed through the grass.

Memories came back to Reka. She remembered the minotaur, the mutant woman, being milked, being fucked... She sat up with a gasp. She was naked, except for her eyepatch, and lying in a pasture. She realized that this was the pasture where she had met Magritte. To one side was the dark loom of the forested hills, to the other the forest behind which was Brattenburg. Several black and white cows were grazing in the pasture.

Reka looked around. Her clothes were nearby, neatly folded, and also her boots, her belt, her dagger and pouch, and her axe. She was behind the cottage, and could see now that it was a ruin. The rear wall had caved in and the roof on this side was fallen down. The inside was grown over with tall weeds. It was clear that nobody had lived there in years.

Reka stood. Every part of her body was sore, especially her breasts which throbbed with agony. Her arms were bruised where the minotaur had gripped them. Even her insides felt bruised. She groaned. Her muscular thighs were covered with dried cum and dried milk was on her breasts and face.

There was a well behind the cottage and she slowly walked to it. Her hair, no longer spiked up, flopped limply on her scalp. She drew up the bucket and found it filled with clear, cold water. She drank the first bucket empty, then drew up another and splashed it over herself. She washed herself until she was clean. The cold water brought her back to herself and she found she could clearly remember the events of the previous day. She knew that she should be angry, ashamed, and disgusted with herself, but she found that she had no reaction.

Reka was hungry. She found herself staring at the udder of the nearest cow. The animal grazed, flicking its tail which was decorated with a faded red ribbon. Reka had been raised in a dwarf hold deep underground and knew nothing of livestock. She imagined herself chasing the cow around the pasture, trying to drink from the udder, and giggled. The giggle slowly turned into a full blown laugh at the absurdity of the idea. Reka laughed and laughed until she doubled over in pain from her bruises and sore body, muttering to herself in glee.

She realized that she had not laughed since that day when she was banished from Karak Grakaz. As she thought of that she remembered again the scene, herself crying and covered with cum, the elf slinking towards the door, the pop eyed expression of rage on her father's face. She laughed again. It was all so ridiculous.

Reka limped towards her clothes and dressed slowly, letting the warm morning sun dry her. It was going to be a long walk back to Brattenburg. Her breasts were a problem. They were too sore to be strapped down tightly in the normal manner, so she settled for wrapping her linen band around them to hold them in place, and lacing the vest loosely on top. They bounced as she walked but it seemed that it would work, as long she didn't have to run.

Lastly, she stared at her axe, then slowly picked it up. It would make a good walking stick, and the roads were dangerous for a single dwarf woman. Leaning on the long handle of the double-bladed weapon, she walked slowly towards the track leading to Brattenburg. As she walked she rubbed her scar, then rubbed her hand over her scalp, feeling the stubble of her hair. She wondered if she should cut off her slayer's crest now, and go bald, or let her hair grow out first.

The grazing cow watched as Reka reached the trail and began walking towards the town. She swung her ribboned tail, licked her nose with a long, forked, purple tongue, and returned to her grazing. Bees buzzed in the pasture. A hawk circled high overhead. It was a beautiful morning in the Ostermark of the Old World.

[[ Thank you for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed this story. If you have any comments or feedback, please let me know. ]]