Date: Wed, 8 Jun 2005 16:24:58 -0700 From: The Satyr Subject: Chapter 4 of The Stag & the Bear (Stag God is Born continuation) Hey, all. I've gotten some fantastic feedback from this series, which I greatly appreciate. Some of you have asked some questions about the background of this setting, which I have shared with one or two folks. But, in order to do so, as well as to update you when a new chapter of this Cycle is available, I have created a group at the following address: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/stag-god-cycle/ Join for updates, as well as the occasional short essay on parts of the world, as well as a place to discuss the Cycle. I'd love to hear from all of you, and perhaps get some ideas where you might like to see these cycles go. Any good mythology is built to the needs of the people it serves, and you are the people this Cycle is written for. As usual, involves adult situations, with all that entails. No actual sex this time around, but there are only two constants in the world of the Stag God: sex and violence. You've been warned. +++++++++++++++++++ This story is (c) The Oaken Satyr, 2005 The Stag & the Bear - A Continuation of the Cycle of Ashlan ++++++++++++++++++++ Chapter Four: The Spring Ashlan awoke suddenly, instantly aware of the danger he was in. He leapt to his feet and crouched, looking around, seeking a sign of threat. He sniffed and listened intently, his eyes peering around. Nothing. He'd been startled more by the threat of his vulnerability, sleeping in the domain of a possible foe, than any actual danger. Ashlan straightened and stretched, his form caked with dried gore and incredibly sore. He looked about and surveyed the scene, where the corpses of the three orc shifters still lay. The scavengers had been at them some, and they were beginning to reek. It was time to move on. He looked up the mountain-face, toward the peak shrouded in grey clouds. The sun was setting in the east, and it cast a rose and gold hue on the white stone of the peak. He sniffed, and found the scent of water in the air. There was a stream or pond nearby, and he wanted a bath. It was somewhat away from the path to the peak, but the small spring had obviously been visited frequently by the orc shifters, who probably actually dwelt in the small cave a stone's throw from the spring. He doubted he'd find anything of interest in there, though -- all he wanted was to be clean again, and perhaps hunt something to eat. In perhaps an hour, he'd bathed in the slightly mineral-steeped water. It was warm, though, and deep right at its center, where the water bubbled up from the stone. He allowed himself the luxury of rest, his hands idly playing over his wet flesh. It was pleasurable and painful to do so -- pleasurable where his flesh was most sensitive, at cock and inner thighs, at chest and neck and ears. But there was also pain, from broken ribs, claw gouges in his back, and his flesh burnt by lightning. Certainly, his divine gifts were working quickly, knitting his flesh, repairing bone and soothing the agony of his burns, but the process was exhausting. Idly, he noted that he'd also broken off half of one of his antler tines; it was probably still wedged in the body of one of the shifters. Ashlan didn't bother to even climb fully out of the spring to eat. He simply crawled up into the shallows, nestled in the rock that formed the bottom of the spring-pool and reached over, grasping up his pouches. He opened one of them and retrieved some dried meat and a small ball of compressed bread. He tore a piece off of the bread and shoved the rest of it back into his pouch. He relaxed there in the shallows that way, his back against a rock warmed by the sun and spring-water, gnawing on meat in between bites of thick bread, washed down with the occasional cupped handful of spring water. He smiled as he relaxed, giving his body more time and energy to heal him, and simply enjoyed the surroundings. The Bear God had the right idea, perhaps -- why should a god dwell in the meager place that his tribe provides for him, always being accessible and at hand for them? No, better by far to make for oneself a paradise in the wilds, away from others save those one chose as servants and priests. Let the tribe come to him, like supplicants, rather than tucking him away where they can watch him from afar like some deranged old man. In time, his energy returned, his healing capacity restoring vigor to flesh and bone. He continued to lay back, his hands idly touching himself, checking wounds before returning to gently running his touch along his cock. As his energy returned, his cock surged to life, growing thick and hard, heating like the water around him and then becoming hotter than it. He reveled in the feel of the silky steel of his member submerged in the water, stroking it slowly, enjoying the sensation. His thick, calloused hands gripped his cock strongly, forcing more blood into the already-engorged flesh, nearly purpling his cock, before he released it and gently rubbed his thumb over the fat head. He groaned as his innards twitched with the sensations, his balls drawing up in their sack. Soon. Soon. His hands continued to work, his grip becoming stronger, more insistent, as the pliable flesh of his cock rubbed up and down its impressive length. His cock was now at its hardest, standing up strongly and impressively, its fat length just slightly more than he could wrap his massive hand around. Ashlan's breathing came harder now, sounding almost hoarsely, as the pleasure spiraled at the base of his cock, where his balls met his body and then exploded upward, like a crashing wave. He moaned aloud and then hissed as he came explosively, his cum jetting from the tip of his fat cock. He surged to his knees, then, twitching, as his semen arced into the spring in several gouts, the pleasure causing him to shudder. Then, the moment of pure sensation, the moment where the thinking mind has abandoned its chatter and merged with the pure animal instinct that lies beneath the soul of men, that moment of perfect union wherein all men are gods, and gods are made simply men. And, as it always did, it passed, leaving Ashlan smiling at its memory, and quite drained. He collapsed back into the water fully, and his gaze caught the small swirls of semen, now floating on the top of the water, now sinking down and rising again. He closed his eyes, and began to speak in the Foundling Tongue, blessing the spring with his power. Let all those animals -- aye, men and orc, too -- who drank from become fertile and strong. He inhaled then, and the night was strong and fully upon him. He stood then and looked down at the pool, happy to have had a way to bless it, in repayment for the afternoon of enjoyment he'd taken from it. Then, he was dressed again, and his mind focused on the task at hand: the den of the Bear-God, at the top of the Peak.