The Siege of Berignon

The walls shook as another barrage crashed against the stone. Valen felt dust rain on him from the ceiling of the keep. Otherwise, the storeroom was quiet. The heavy slabs of rock around him all but silenced the din outside. He dabbed the rag in oil again and started from the top of the hilt, cleaning away the blood. Long, smooth stokes that he’d made a thousand times. He drew a little bit of peace from the action. Above and around him, Barignon Keep slogged through the tenth day of siege. The garrison were few, but hardy.

The wooden door groaned as it swung open. A stocky, bald man strode into the room flanked by two ghoulish men with sallow faces. Lord Belmont and his advisers, Thrane and Gelwix. The three of them stalked about the grounds, barking orders and stealing rations for themselves. The lord that defended these lands had been dispatched to the north with the majority of his host to fight in a much more grave war, leaving Belmont, a distant cousin, to keep the peace. None would have left had they known what was coming and, most certainly, Belmont would not have been left in charge. “What are you doing down here sellsword?” the rotund man barked.

“I am cleaning my blade,” Valen replied. The steel flashed in the candlelight, quelling what little bravery or arrogance the three men had mustered to come find him.

“You are needed up above,” Thrane said. His voice was like a whisper of winter’s wind, cold and malicious. “The last volley has weakened the east end of the wall. The fool, Merrick, attempts to plug it.”

Belmont’s grumble started deep in his chest and rolled out like gas bubbling to the top of a lake. “The blacksmith is more likely to crash the whole keep around us than bloody fix anything. The men will listen to you. Get up there and give orders, damn you.”

Valen did not look up at them, but continued his work. “Merrick is a fine smithy, who no doubt seeks to defend his home. I am no master here, nor am I a dog to serve at your heel.”

Gelwix rummaged in his robe and withdrew a large leather pouch. He tossed it towards Valen. It landed with the rattle of coin. “Five hundred. You carry a blade for us.”

Valen stopped his work. His eyes glared at the pouch. With an indefinable ease, he used his sword to lift bag and bounce it into his hand. By the weight, Gelwix did not lie. “And where did you come across a king’s ransom?” Valen asked.

Belmont stamped his foot. “What the bloody hell do you care where it came from?”

“The coffers of Barignon were emptied before the war began. Between the three of you, I doubt you could muster a fiftieth of this sum. Nor would you be so quick to offer it to me if you had it. I am trapped here as much as you, but must fight one way or the other. Unless, you have reason to fear what’s inside the walls more than what waits beyond.”

Thrane’s lips opened in a wide grimace, “The money is not to be clever, sellsword. Ply your trade and earn your fee or —”

The blade clanged onto the stone in a flash as Valen rose to his feet. The three men cowered back. Valen threw the money at their feet, breaking the pouch open and scattering coins along the floor. More than a few had the red tinge of blood upon them. “On the seventh day, I heard the scream of a man in the night. When he was found, it looked as if he had been crushed by a falling stone. Ill luck that such a wealthy man should meet such a grisly end. But I had seen him before, I knew, once I could piece together what was left of his face. I saw him arguing with you, Gelwix.” Valen’s raised a single finger from the sword’s hilt, but Gelwix sunk back as if the blade had been wildly swung. “And this morning, I watched from the west tower as a cloaked man scurried over to the enemy camp. He carried with him a pouch, much like that one. He was tall and thin.” Valen’s eyes flicked to Thrane. “A wraith sent to barter with monsters. What made him run so quickly back? Did they reject your offer or did you fail in cowardice before ever reaching them?”

Thrane, in foolhardy defiance, spat at the feet of Valen. The latter did not respond. Belmont’s cheeks puffed out, “Should we not parlay for the safety of the keep? If these creatures could be bought off and sent away, we would be fools not to try.”

“Oryn cannot be bought or bartered with. Only desperate fools would try.”

“You insolent mongrel!” Thrane spat again. “You parade around here to the cheers of those peasants, but what if they knew what you really were. A coward, a deserter, a murderer who cuts the throats of good men for silver.”

Valen smirked. “I cut the throats of men. Good and bad. I would have lived my life doing such and dying to one who did it better, but here stand, a mongrel trapped with rats. Gold has no more use here. The walls are surrounded and Oryn waits not to assure victory, but to spare his force any depletion. The wolves have gone to war and the fox comes to have its pick o the flock. I gather from your efforts to buy your way out, you’ve learned that no help is coming?”

Gelwix looked more grim than ever. Valen knew the other two were cowards, the type of gutter slime that would sell their sister for a silver, but Gelwix’s cruelty was leveraged for different purposes. He was malicious for the joy of it. Not blinded by greed or want, at the least his evil was pragmatic. “Word came at dawn yesterday. Croy is dead. The whole of Barignon’s men were lost. No one is coming. Nelson the Regent has ordered all men to flee the south. The Empire fortifies the three rivers to hold against any invasion, but we are abandoned. Many believe Nelson will attempt to strike a treaty with the druids. Returning their land for safe passage of men to the north.”

Valen laughed. His mirth echoed in the room while the others scowled. “As I said, Oryn cannot be bought or bartered with.” His hand rubbed the top of the hilt. Valen’s mind raced with a thousand thoughts though his face remained implacable. The druids and their sorcerers worshiped the old gods. He had seen the result of such madness first hand in his days traveling the borderlands. Though monsters assailed the keep daily, Valen knew that Oryn’s true host still waited. He wondered how many were born monsters and how many were men twisted by their service to the sorcery. One of two fates awaited him, death or the whim of Oryn. “I have decided.”

Belmont screwed up his face, “Decided what? To take the gold?” Hope trickled in to his voice.

“No. I will go out to meet them head on. I will take any who come with me. Consider it yourselves. The sorcerer values grit and courage. Show your worth and your fate may be merciful.”

Thrane glowered at him. “You feckless idiot! You’d surrender us to the heathens. Earlic damn you!”

Valen raised the sword to his shoulder, “Not once in your life have you sought a blessing from Earlic. Though I suppose now would be the time to start, I don’t think the God of Light will hear you. I go to make my case. Good men still hold these walls and they deserve to make their own choice. Will you try to stop me?” He tightened his grip on the sword.

Belmont puffed out his chest for a moment. A truncheon hung at his belt, but he made no move to use it. A coward at the very least knew when to avoid a fight. Thrane spat again and uttered a low curse before slithering away. Belmont followed. Gelwix remained for a few moments, studying Valen. “I once had a man brought to my home. He had spent years in the prison of a druid. The things he spoke of…such lewd things…could such depravity exist?”

Valen’s countenance eased slightly. “Men did not always feel shame and hide their nakedness. The druids revel in what they believe is the pure form of existence. Their magics twist their forms to achieve that perfection. What you call depraved, they call holy. And truly it exists. It knocks at our door even now.” He walked past the spindly man and headed up to the mustering grounds, leaving Gelwix with his dark thoughts.

The gates opened, and Valen led a troop of two dozen men into the field. His appeal had taken hours. The noon sun had risen and fallen into the red horizon by the time the gate opened. Valen had gathered any who would listen and explained as best he could. It was hard news for the people to hear. Many despaired and many more hardened their resolution to defend the keep. Valen argued that they could prove themselves worthy of mercy if a contingent marched out to meet Oryn’s forces. If they could prove their bravery, they might earn some sympathy for those in the keep. In the end, of the three hundred still defending, only twenty six volunteered. Merrick, the blacksmith, helped sway the majority of them announcing he would rather fall on his feet than hiding behind walls. The mood did change dramatically with Valen’s reveal that no aide was coming. Many in the keep still had family with the army, most of whom were surely dead. They chose to mourn rather than fight. Valen understood, but still thought them fools. “We have the misfortune of continuing to draw breath in face of a druidic army.”

Some of those who stayed looked to Belmont for direction, but their interim lord was no where to be found. He and Thrane had locked themselves in the lord’s council room. In their place, Gelwix took command. Though his mood did not vary from his normal severity, he did give reasonable instructions to make everyone comfortable. He ended the rationing and decommissioned the defense.

Valen's small retinue armed themselves with the best equipment remaining. Merrick suggested a charge on horseback might take the druids by surprise, but Valen objected. The druids abhorred the subservience of livestock by men and it would engender nothing but hate from Oryn. Instead, they marched out on foot. As the gates opened, Valen could sense the men’s anxiety, but not one faltered. He muttered something under his breath. “What’s that?” Merrick asked. The blacksmith had chosen to forgo any armor, taking only his leather apron for defense and a hammer almost half Valen’s size.

Valen raised his voice, “I’ve been a mercenary since I could hold a blade. Croy paid me ten gold coins for the head of his mad father. And now I’ve turned down coin for some misguided honor. Fate has always been cruel to me.”

“Aye,” Merrick boomed back at him. “And I spent my life hammering steel. What a waste of fucking time that was.” He laughed. “At least the weather is nice.”

A blue fog had lingered around the keep since the siege began. One of Oryn’s tricks to hide his number. The cloud smelled of lavender and spring flowers, unsettling in light of what was hidden behind it. The troop, for lack of any better course, walked dead ahead into the thickening mist. Valen’s eyes watched carefully for any sign of life, but nothing presented itself. Through some trick, the fog served to dampen sound as well, creating an eerie silence, disturbed only by the clink of metal as they marched. The fog stuck to Valen and drenched him. He lost track of the time as they walked. Surely, they’d gone more than the two hundred yards to where the siege should be camped. He swirled around and the others all stopped. Nothing but slightly blue mist could be seen for any direction. They could be walking in circles. He gestured for everyone to gather close as he mulled over what to tell them. Before he had the chance, a sound tore through the fog.

He had heard it before. A shrill chirruping call followed by the low of a bull. “Form up! Prepare yourselv—”

His cry was cut short as a behemoth figure hurtled out of the mist. A mighty axe crashed down and Valen barely managed to deflect it. The wielder stumbled forward, unable to stop the momentum of his own blow. It raised up on its cloven hoof with a snort. Standing a foot taller than any man, it bared a mouth full of flat teeth in a snarl. Solid black eyes glared out from an otherwise bovine face. The minotaur raised the axe to charge again. Before it could act, Merrick’s hammer crashed into the beast's shoulder. Though it knocked the creature to its knees, it served little purpose other than increasing the beast’s anger.

Around them, more and more cries rose up. They were surrounded. Other monstrosities charged into the small group. A centaur’s spear jabbed down at one of the men, but Valen was able to change the fatal stab to a shoulder wound. With a quick turn, he was able to slash into the centaur’s flank, sending the half man back into the mist with a yelp of pain. The group devolved into a full melee. Metal clanged and the men grunted as they knocked back the more powerful blows of their adversaries. Valen ordered them to fight back to back and none fell despite taking several severe wounds. The field was growing darker as the sun set. Valen knew they would fare much worse in the night. A half wolf, half man slashed at his chest with a curved saber. Valen knocked it aside, but the wolf’s fangs followed the blow. Valen’s arm raised to stop the creature from seizing his neck and he wailed as fangs ripped through his flesh. One of the other men charged the wolf, putting a shoulder into the monster’s ribs and knocking the breath from its lungs. The first bull creature returned, prepared to cleave Valen in half, but a new sound made the beast stop.

All of the creatures pulled back. The air started to clear. Valen pulled his wounded arm to his chest while clutching his sword with the other. Around him the other men were in worse shape, battered and bruised. Merrick’s arm dangled limp beside him. Another man had discarded his chest plate to reveal a huge gash across his ribs, yet all of them still drew breath. Valen smiled as all of them did their best to keep their weapons at hand. The gesture bolstered his courage, but weapons would serve no purpose now. The cloud around them rolled back to reveal rank after rank of the creatures. They hefted their weapons as their black eyes glared at the humans. Valen struggled to his feet as the sound came again. It sounded like wind rushing through reeds and he knew its source.

From the mists, four enormous minotaurs walked, carrying on their shoulders a palanquin which looked as though they had torn it from the forest floor. Oryn the Sorcerer sat upon it. Though human in shape, his skin was made of moss covered bark. He moved with the erratic jerks of a twig caught in high wind, his face contorting into a grim smile as he looked down on the humans. His voice came out like wind through a hollow log, “What is this? Men come to prove their valor? Name yourself and speak.”

“I am Valen. We come to offer terms.”

The grim host laughed. “I have no need for your terms, outlander. I have come to take back what belongs to us. Your precious keep will be torn down, stone by stone, and given back to the earth.”

“I do not offer surrender.”

The sorcerer leaned forward slightly. “You come to make threats? The earth hungers for the flesh of men and you tempt it with brash temper?”

Valen steeled his resolve. “You can take the keep, but if will cost you. They have provisions for months and nothing to lose. No one comes to their rescue. The north has abandoned us. They are happy to die defending their homes.”

Oryn’s face twisted into one of concern. As clever a magician as he was, Oryn suffered the same flaw as all the mad druids. He valued life more than anything, often to a fault. “We can wait. They will begin to starve and the gates will open. If no one comes, we can be patient. I will take your keep without so much as a scratch among my host.”

“I have already scratched your host more than once. This can end tonight. All we ask is mercy.”

Oryn hissed. “The men have taken from us for generations! No mercy!” The monsters around him echoed his rage.

“Other men, dead men, took from you. We will give it back. We will join you willingly. There’s no need for more violence.”

Oryn started to yell once more, but stopped. His hollow eyes scanned the group of men. The sellsword knew his bluff had worked. “You would join us? I have caught men like you in my lands before. They call out for salvation to their empty god. They swear empty fealty and rebel. The pox of madness is the only cure! We will take the keep and break the will of you men one way or the other.”

Valen sighed. Druids could be so thick headed. “No death. No resistance. That’s what I offer. You need not drive anyone mad. Those people have no stake in your holy war. They simply wish to live and be at peace.”

“Hrmph. Nobel intent. But do all your men share your belief? War looms. I am blessed with many warriors, yes, but warriors need nourishment as well. All of those in the keep share your desire for peace? All of them are willing to join my herd?” Oryn sneered. Valen did not respond. “Compromise, I think. You men are hardy and brave. You will do well among my warriors. Those in the keep, those you say seek peace, will have it. They will be spared madness…for the most part. Bring that one to me!”

A pair of the wolf creatures stalked forward. The other men went to defend themselves but Valen stopped them. “This is how it must be.” He put down his own sword. The wolfmen grabbed his arms and hoisted him up with ease. They carried him forward until he was held in the air in front of Oryn.

“A curse or a blessing, depends on how you see it. You will each return to the keep and claim my new herd. I will even leave you to sire more warriors as a special treat for your bravery.” Oryn’s stick like finger jabbed into Valen’s chest. He drew a symbol in the man’s flesh as if making marks in sand. It burned for a moment and then stopped. Valen’s arm healed almost instantly and the fatigue left his muscles. He held up his hand to examine the healing. Behind him the others winced and clawed at their chest as a copy of the symbol appeared on them. Oryn cackled, “Rejoice, you are reborn!”

Belmont rushed down to the grounds with Thrane at his heels. The messenger had come only moments before. Valen was returning. Not alone, but with every man with him. The whole of the keep gathered in the yard as the gates opened. Some people cheered, but more than a few, including Gelwix, watched the men lumber forward with dread. Belmont puffed up his chest and strode forward. Thrane followed. The cheers died out as the men did not respond. Many did not even raise their head. More and more, people noticed how strange they seemed. Though unharmed, they wore no armor and carried no weapons. Even Valen’s sword was absent. Many no longer wore shirts and they seemed to have some mark upon their chest. It resembled a brand, but no one could get a good look at it.

Belmont stopped a few feet away from Valen. The mercenary seemed taller. All of them did. Belmont’s voice caught in his throat, but Thrane had no trouble. “Well?!”

Valen’s head raised. A pair of black eyes stared back at the two men. “We have been granted mercy.” At his words a ripple of energy washed over the whole of the gathered crowd. Several things happened at once. Belmont and Thrane doubled over in apparent pain. Many of the crowd, including Gelwix, felt suddenly euphoric. Many men and women started to disrobe. Valen’s men growled as their bodies started to change. Muscle surged throughout their body. They tore away the remainder of their clothes as long, bristly hairs pushed out from their skin. Valen too pulled away his pants as he stood before the fallen Lord Belmont. “Good people! Do not be afraid. Our new lord has given us a great gift! Rejoice and embrace your new forms! We are to be remade in the image of Ansu!”

Belmont looked up in horror. Living so close to the druid lands, he’d studied enough about their gods to know what Ansu was. A rotund woman with huge breasts and a cowlike tail. Ansu, the first mother, goddess of fertility and life. Even some men would perform superstitious nonsense to grow their prick longer or get their wife bigger tits. If Valen had been cursed with druid magic, then the whole keep was doomed to become rutting cows. Belmont knew he should do something to stop them, but a glowing feeling crept across his body. He could think of nothing better to do than strip his robes from his back as quickly as possible.

Valen’s black eyes looked out over the crowd. The men were collapsing to the ground as their bodies began to change, but the women were happily stripping and admiring their bodies. Age and injury vanished to be replaced by smooth skin. Breasts swelled and asses rounded. They caressed themselves and anyone nearby as they enjoyed their new bodies. It wasn’t until the first tail erupted from the spine of a pretty blonde that a few cries of dismay went up. Valen walked over to the girl and pulled away the last of his clothes. Her eyes went wide in astonishment. All the women around her gasped and a few licked their lips. The blonde fell to the ground and grabbed hold of the huge cock between Valen’s legs. The other men all stepped into the crowd, taking a newly supple woman for their own. Each of them sported an almost inhuman cock and any woman who saw it couldn’t wait to be skewered on its length.

The blonde stretched her mouth as wide as she could trying to shove Valen’s cock inside. Her tongue licked up and down his length with determination. A new purpose had filled her whole being. Make him cum. She wanted to drink it down or have it coat her face. Anything to please the perfect specimen in front of her. Valen leered down at her. Gently, he guided her away from his thick pole. He positioned her on all fours and playfully pulled her lengthening tail aside. His fingers had grown wider, like big sausages with rough skin. He slid a finger down the young girls snatch, pleased to find it well lubricated. With his other hand, he went to her breast. They were already doubled in size, but still growing. He squeezed and a few drops of milk leaked out while she gasped. “A good fuck will make you spray milk,” he growled. Positioning himself behind her, he took two greedy handfuls of her enlarged rump. His fingers sunk into the soft flesh much to his satisfaction. His cock pushed against her pussy and she leaned against him in an effort to sheath him inside of her. He obliged with a quick nudge forward. The girl moaned and shook as the massive pole sunk into her body.

Meanwhile, the men of the keep could barely think straight. Their arms, once strong from labor, had softened. Their stomachs roiled as if they’d swallowed eels. Already a few had realized what was becoming of the sensitive tissue growing on their chests. Belmont himself looked down at his body and saw the lithe form of his youth, but without any of the rigid masculinity. Looking over at Thrane, he saw not the spidery adviser, but a wispy young woman astonished at her own being. They started to explore their bodies as they realized what was becoming of them. As his new tail issued into being, Belmont’s hand slid between his thighs to find his cock vanished and a hot wet slit in its place. His rage faded into nothing as he noticed the wet cock of one of Valen’s men pushing in and out of a dark haired woman. Jealousy supplanted his anger.

Valen pulled his cock out of the wet pussy and let it slap between the blonde’s ass cheeks. With a quiet grunt, cum gushed forth and splattered on her ass and back. She moaned and squeezed her tits as she jiggled her ass at him. Leaving her, Valen moved over to a black haired woman. Curious, he grabbed her engorged nipple and tugged. A stream of white, creamy milk sprayed into his hand. His mouth watered. He dove on top of her as she pulled him to her teat. His mouth closed around the spurting nipple and he sucked. His cock naturally nestled itself in the woman’s pussy lips and with a quick flex of his hips, he pushed inside. The feeling of her hot pussy sucking him in while her milk sprayed into his mouth drove him wild. Animal instinct took over and he started fucking her roughly, his hips slapping against the backs of her thighs as her legs wrapped around him.

Thrane couldn’t help herself any more. All of the other women were so far along and getting the attention of the bulls. She went over to one of the men and forcefully pulled him out of the mouth of another girl. The bull grunted and she looked up at him with worship in her eyes. This male was father along than the others, his chest was covered in dark hair and two small horns had emerged from his head. His face had started to contort and his feet were fusing into hooves. Thrane pushed her tits together for him, hoping their fullness would please him. She wished he was fully changed, but simply having a cock to suck was nice. The other girl was kind enough to share. As Thrane took the massive phallus into her throat, the other girl started to lick and suck the man’s heavy balls. It didn’t take long for the two hot mouths to win him over. Thrane felt the first pump of cum slide up the man’s cock and splash against the back of her throat. Happy to share the gift with her sister cow, she let the man’s cock slip free of her lips, aiming it at their faces as they turned to kiss one another.

Belmont rose up to all fours. Massive, milk laden tits swung beneath her more like udders than breasts. Long, engorged nipples ached to be touched. Her pussy burned with desire. She wanted desperately for one of the males to mount her and fuck her senseless. She had a new need, one entirely foreign to her former existence as that awful, cowardly man. To her delight, she felt hands grip her rump. She leaned forward, letting her tits squish against the ground as she looked back to see the half changed Merrick positioning himself behind her. His cock was bigger than almost all of the others, but his balls certainly took the grand prize. He had to walk almost bowlegged just to accommodate the melon sized sack. Belmont’s mouth watered at the thought of all the cum it could hold. Her thoughts were interrupted as the massive dick shoved inside of her, taking her virginity in one fell swoop. Her body stretched to accept the invading tool as her new tail whipped around in the air. Merrick’s fingers slid down the fleshy appendage until his thumb pressed against her asshole. Pleasure vibrated through her body as he started to push in and out of her.

Suddenly, her purpose came clear. Her tits started leaking a gush of milk each time the fat ball sack slapped forward against her pussy. Merrick was about to cum and fill her up with his precious seed. She would grow fat with child, not a human child, but a new bull for the herd. Her tits would swell to twice their size and maybe she would even grow a second pair. The bulls would come to drink their fill and fuck her again and again. This was to be her life now. Merrick erupted inside of her and her mind exploded with orgasm as cum pumped deep inside of her.

Valen emptied his balls again into a black haired girl. He thought he face looked familiar as she pulled his cock up to suck it clean. Yes, the eyes. Gelwix. He always did have dangerous tongue. All around him the denizens of the keep writhed and rutted in carnal activities. The bulls would announce their orgasm with a bestial roar. The cows would drain them dry of cum before letting them loose to fuck something else. The majority of the men looked more like minotaurs than humans, but Valen was surprised at how much he enjoyed the new, fat titted forms of the women. He couldn’t get enough of their billowy flesh. He pulled away from Gelwix and went to fuck the mouth of a red head who had started growing a soft coat of red hair down her back.

—

Outside, Oryn finished casting his enchantment. Huge vines crawled up the stone walls and started to break apart the fortifications. The sorcerer smiled at the scent of sex on the air. “Such a simple spell and it brings them such joy. A fitting end to the age of man.”