A Highland Fling
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The Highland Feast free porn video
The Highland Feast
By: Lyrissa
The sound of drums boomed across the cliffs as a full moon rose lazily
over the desolate highlands. Bloodthirsty howls and braying cries of
ecstasy mixed with the rhythmic drumbeat as night fell over the
gathering of crude hovels and huts that constituted the camp. Sparks and
gouts of cloying, acrid smoke rose as the flames of the central fire
lashed out like claws towards the dark, cold sky. The bestial creatures
that built the camp danced and reveled in the flickering light, the
massive horns on their heads and cloven hooves casting deformed shadows
on the ground and buildings. The Khazra, the cruel and primitive goat-
men of the highlands, were preparing for a feast. While they had once
been human beings, the Khazra had long ago been led astray by the
demonic forces of the Burning Hells and been twisted into mortal
servants of those great evils and now they were as spiteful and
dangerous as any actual demon.
A simple, shrill flute joined in with the drumming to create a crude
melody for the dancing monsters. Their hooves struck the packed dirt
hard as they spun and leapt, shaking weapons at imaginary foes and
screaming their exultations to their infernal masters. The noise made by
the goat-men echoed across the cliffs and valleys of their homeland down
to the farmlands clinging at the feet of the Highlands, where terrified
farmers cowered inside their barred houses, praying that the Khazra
would not choose this night to descend upon them. The tastes of the
creatures were as voracious and foul as those of the demons they
venerated, and the fate of those taken alive by the Khazra were too
horrible to contemplate.
Fortunately for the farmers, the goat-men already had their feast
secured.
The tattered crimson curtains warding off the squat chieftain's hut were
pushed aside and the Khazra chief emerged to the braying adulation of
his tribe. He was more than half a head taller than his warriors and his
bare chest bore many old scars telling of his accomplishments in battle.
War paint was slathered over his almost nude form just like most of his
tribe, and only an unusually ornamented loin cloth covered his shaggy
lower half. After the chief came his two bodyguards, dragging a slender,
pale-skinned figure between them whose head was obscured by a burlap
sack. After them followed an ancient, hunchbacked, emaciated Khazra
whose face was half-covered by a tattered hood covered in infernal
runes. The almost skeletal creature supported itself on a tall, twisted
staff adorned by the skulls of animals and monsters, but its eyes shone
with a malicious intensity which showed that the old Khazra was far from
powerless. Next to the shaman strode a goat-man even taller and more
muscular than the chief, and whose long twisted horns were decorated
with crude rings. He was the son of the chief and current prime hunter
of the tribe.
In front of the roaring central fire pit was a low platform made from
rough planks presumably torn from some unfortunate farmer's house. On
top of the platform was a thick block of wood crudely carved from a tree
trunk with a low indentation in the center. The block and platform alike
there covered in dark stains from repeated use, and as the chief guided
his group towards it the Khazra reveling around the fire simmered down a
bit and gathered in hushed silence in front of the wooden structure. The
drums and pipes died down as the chief raised his muscular arms for
silence. Next to him his two trusted bodyguards dragged the hooded
prisoner up onto the platform and forced him down on his knees behind
the block so that his head was right above the darkly stained
depression.
"Please! Don't do this," the prisoner yelled, his cries muffled by the
sack over his head. "I have done nothing to you!"
There was a roar of hoarse, guttural laughter from the assembled Khazra,
and the prisoner was slammed down hard against the block of dark wood.
The chief rose his hands again and began speaking in the twisted
language of his kind. When they were human tribesmen from the Teganza
jungle the Khazra had spoken human tongues, but now that too was twisted
into unrecognizability. The fact that the creatures appeared and acted
almost human was all the more horrifying to their victims, who could
still make out what the goat-men had once been, and what all humans
could potentially become. The chieftain brayed loudly for several
minutes, raising his arms and gesturing with his long, barbed hunting
spear at his assembled tribe. Despite not understanding their tongue and
the sounds being muffled by the coarse sack-weave, the prisoner was
certain that the Khazra chief was telling the others what a good
sacrifice they had, and how the demonic masters of the creatures would
appreciate such a sacrifice.
The chieftain gestured and one of the goat-men holding the prisoner down
tore the hood from the human's head. He was a young man with a strong
face framed by short blonde hair, now matted with sweat and caked blood.
He stared up at his captors as his eyes tried to adjust to the intense
light of the huge campfire and torches illuminating the night. He had
already been stripped down to his dirt-caked brown pants, his muscular
chest covered in bruises and splotches of dried blood and his arms tied
together behind his back by a length of coarse rope which stunk of tar.
His feet were covered in mud and bruises and he had not been fed by his
captors for the three days of his captivity other than some disgusting
watery gruel.
"Y-you don't have to do this!" the prisoner shouted as his head was
pushed against the wooden surface by an unyielding gnarled hand.
The Khazra chieftain turned from his people and walked over to the
sacrificial platform with surprising agility and speed. He knelt down so
that his goat-like head was only inches from the terrified human's own
head. The young man's nostrils were filled by the rancid stench of the
goat-man's filthy, greasy fur and the foul breath of the monster. The
blood-red eyes of the chieftain stared into his, and a cruel grin spread
across the lips of the goat-man, revealing dirty, chipped teeth. The
Khazra barked a few phrases at his prisoner before pointing at the
assembled throng of goat-men waiting some distance from the platform.
Perhaps realizing that his captive did not understand anything he said,
the chieftain licked his filthy lips, and suddenly the young man knew
that not only was he to die this night.
He would be the main course as well.
There was a roar of approval from the assembled Khazra, and the
chieftain rose to his full height and walked up onto the platform next
to the two bodyguards holding the captive down. The chieftain brayed and
gestured, and the ancient decrepit shaman shuffled up onto the wooden
podium as well, followed by the chief's son. The shaman hobbled to the
front of the worn wooden edifice and began speaking in hoarse but
fervently energetic tones to the tribe. As the creatures were getting
more and more worked up by the moment, the young human was convinced
that the disgusting old goat-man was riling them up with stories of
their power and glory, and how much their demonic masters smiled upon
them. As the shaman spoke, the chief's son walked up to the chieftain
and the older Khazra brayed some clipped words at him, pointing at the
prisoner. The young hunter nodded and bowed before his sire, then
stepped over to the wooden block.
The young man stared up in fear at the towering creature. The hunter
towered above him, his horned head a silhouette against the backdrop of
the roaring fire. The creature gestured to the two lower-ranked Khazra
holding down the human, and then let their captive go and retreated down
from the platform. Before the young man could even get to his feet, the
massive hand of the young hunter pushed him down onto the block while
the goat-man lifted a huge, cruel-bladed axe. The prisoner got a good
look of his executioner, the muscular man-like body covered in white
tattoos against the dark red skin, the furry goat-like legs, the massive
horned head... Somewhere beyond the human's field of vision the Khazra
shaman droned on in his wheezing, rattling voice and the crowd roared
expectantly.
"So this is it then," the human said. "I hope you choke on my bones,
filthy beasts."
She spat a glob of blood-stained saliva at the hooves of the Khazra, but
the creatures merely brayed in laughter at his fruitless defiance. The
drumbeat started up again, low and thrumming, sending shivers through
the wood under the captive human's aching knees. The Khazra began
chanting in rhythm with the beat, lead by the shaman. The prisoner felt
the heavy hand lift from his bare back, still aching from where the
chieftain whipped him on the day of his capture. While he wasn't held
down, a quick glance confirmed that the two goat-man guards were
standing close behind and that any attempt at escape would be quickly
curtailed. His only hope now lay in rolling to the side when the axe
fell and hope he could get off the podium in the confusion, but he
didn't think highly of his chances. Out of the corner of his eye he saw
the muscular young hunter rear up, the savage axe held firmly in his
powerful hands. The fire illuminated the creature's broad muscular chest
as the chanting rose in pitch.
The chieftain looked on as the younger Khazra raised the axe. The air
was filled with an almost tangible air of expectation as the monsters
awaited the sacrifice and the feast that would follow. The human
shivered as he realized his life would end very soon, either by the
executioner's axe or during an attempt to escape it. He felt strangely
detached, watching the gleaming edge of the axe held up high above him.
The chieftain raised his hands again and the chanting subsided into a
murmur as the goat-man leader spoke a few final words to consecrate the
human to their dark masters. It was as if time stood still as the axe
hung high over the pale neck of the prisoner, the many eyes of the
Khazra tribe fixed on the platform. The chieftain gave a nod, and the
young hunter raised the weapon a bit further behind his head, ready to
strike. The young man felt his muscles tense. It was like the world was
momentarily frozen like a painted picture.
The axe fell.
Instead of impacting with the soft flesh of the prisoner, however, the
Khazra changed direction in mid-stroke, and used the weight of the blade
to arc it up and around. Before the laughing chieftain could react his
head had been severed from its shoulders and tumbled through the air.
Before the bloody head had even landed, then hunter holding the axe had
spun it around from its upward arc and slain the decrepit Khazra shaman,
his half-covered face frozen in fear and confusion. As the shaman
toppled over, his ancient body almost cloven in half, the rest of the
monsters finally reacted. The two bodyguards had seemed momentarily
uncertain at the death of their chief, perhaps wondering if the younger
Khazra was making a grab for power and whether they should pledge
allegiance to a new leader. At the death of the shaman, however, even
their bestial minds understood something was wrong and one of them
brayed a challenge. The tribesmen howled in rage and surged towards the
platform, picking up weapons wherever they could find them, be it crude
clubs or burning branches from the fire pit.
The human man was too stunned to do anything but crouch down behind the
wooden block as the goat-men were now quickly surrounding the platform
on all sides. The Khazra with the axe laughed a hoarse, guttural laugh
and spun his heavy weapon again, smashing the ceremonial polearms held
by the two bodyguards and cutting deeply into the side of one. As the
howling creature toppled backwards off the wooden edifice the other one
had his head split in two before he could react, the heavy axe
withdrawing with a sick wet noise. The young hunter now spun the heavy
axe in a deadly arc around himself, and any Khazra who were brave or
foolish enough to come close were soon dispatched, staining the packed
dirt with their dark blood. Soon however even the dim-witted goat-men
realized they would never get at the betrayer that way, and the throng
withdrew a bit.
Khazra armed with heavy, razor-sharp javelins rushed to the forefront of
the assembled creatures, and one or two goat-men even appeared wielding
heavy crossbows. The young hunter merely laughed, and the first few
thrown weapons clattered to the ground as they were swiped out of the
air by the killer's weapon. Then a javelin struck the rebel Khazra and
sank deep into the dark red flesh of his right shoulder. While
apparently not too painful, it jarred him enough that his grip on the
axe slackened. Another javelin struck him in the muscular abdomen, and
then another into his thick furred left leg. There was an awed hush as
the assembled tribe watched the young hunter slowly lower his heavy
weapon, letting the head of the axe sink into the ground as he dropped
it. The human captive didn't know why the goat-man had rebelled against
his kin, but he knew that the creature was his one hope of surviving the
next few minutes, regardless of motivation. He watched with baited
breath as the Khazra's shoulders sagged. The young male breathed heavily
as his kinsmen carefully approached, now thinking him mortally wounded.
Suddenly a loud, braying laughter erupted from the young hunter's
throat, and his form straightened out again, making the other Khazra
retreat quickly.
And then something amazing happened.
Before the other creatures could launch more javelins or crossbow bolts,
the young rebel reached up with one gnarled hand to grasp the shaft
impaling his shoulder. With a grunt he gripped it firmly and then
wrenched it outward. To the surprise of everyone watching, there was no
spurt of blood or other viscera coming from the wound, as deep as it had
evidently been. Instead the whole of the creatures shoulder just came
free, tearing off and revealing a glint of metal beneath. As the
incredulous Khazra tribe and their prospective sacrifice watched, the
young Khazra tore the severed dark red flesh of his shoulder downwards,
shredding the rest of his arm like a frayed glove. Beneath the goat-
man's flesh was a much more slender, albeit still leanly muscled arm,
clad in well-crafted dark leather and overlapping black metal plates. As
his hand tore free and he discarded the shredded arm and javelin onto
the packed dirt, a slender hand clad in a black glove popped out.
The Khazra screamed and retreated, and the young hunter cackled with
laughter. His face was clouded with strain as the slender black-clad
hand and his remaining massive Khazra one reached up to the weapon
impaling his torso and grabbed and tore at it in the same way. This time
the muscular bare chest of the goat-man was torn outwards as if it was
just fabric, pulling outwards and to the side. A much smaller chest with
a thin waist and a pair of armored, soft and well-shaped breasts was
revealed, with only a slight dent in the lower abdomen area of the armor
revealing where the Khazra javelin had struck. As the young hunter tore
at the skin the human man saw to his surprise a strip of tanned human
flesh in the form of a strip of cleavage at the front of the black armor
that was revealed. With a final tug the Khazra tore the discarded chest
over his remaining red-fleshed arm, which was torn off as well by the
force. The massive broad shoulders of the goat-man were revealed to
harbor a pair of jagged metal shoulder pads, and another slender black-
clad arm emerged.
Though it had only taken a few moments, the astonishing reveal had
stunned and mesmerized the Khazra and human alike. But now the remaining
tribesmen howled in anger, and more javelins were thrown. The bizarre
goat-man with the female, slender torso dashed from side to side,
however, and the projectiles missed, some striking Khazra that had tried
to surround their enemy. The slender black-clad hands of the figure
darted into the wide space between the slender black-clad waist and the
wide, masculine hips of the Khazra lower half, and in the blink of an
eye the hands emerged again holding vicious-looking hand crossbows.
Suddenly the goat-men were outmatched. Short but deadly crossbow bolts
launched from the twin weapons, and most hit their mark. Wounded and
dying goat-men toppled to the ground left and right as the bizarre
figure launched volley after volley, but it was obvious that the javelin
still embedded in the furry leg of the insurgent was causing them some
trouble still.
As the first wave of Khazra were slain by the deadly hail of crossbow
fire, the Khazra insurgent seemed to strain again, flexing its legs back
and forth. Suddenly the cloven hoof at the end of the injured leg burst
open like a cracked nut and a tall armored black boot with a short high
heel rammed into the ground from inside it. The leg ruptured like a
peeling fruit, revealing a slender and shapely black-armored leg, and
the javelin puncturing the now-empty flesh fell to the side. Soon the
process repeated with the other leg, and a second black, heeled boot
flashed out and braced itself in the dirt. While the figure was still
shooting at the retreating Khazra with its right hand, the other hand
darted down and deposited one of the crossbows in the sheath now
revealed hanging from the belt around the figure's hip. The black-clad
hand then grabbed hold of the Khazra's massive reddish manhood and gave
a mighty tug outward, which made the large member tear free along with
the rest of the furry groin. The shredded remains of the legs and crotch
of the Khazra were tossed aside, fully revealing the lower half of the
elegant armor covering the torso.
A second wave of Khazra rushed towards the revealed female figure (for
there was now no doubt it was a woman's body that was revealed), now
once again wielding melee weapons and attempting to close with her and
overwhelm her. The captive rolled to the side as goat-men jumped over
him to get to their quarry, trying to keep himself from getting
trampled. If they were hoping to catch their attacked unaware the tribal
monsters were gravely disappointed, however, as another burst of
crossbow fire further thinned their numbers. Dispatching two Khazra who
were trying to flank her, the slender black-clad figure somersaulted
away from her attackers, and when the remaining monsters rushed towards
her they found themselves impaled by a flurry of bladed objects that
snapped out of the ground. Howling in fear and pain the injured
creatures were soon slain as they were unable to dodge the crossbow
bolts, or trampled to death by their panicked kin. The last uninjured
Khazra screamed in fear and dashed towards the darkness.
As the human prisoner rose to his feet and surveyed the carnage, he
shuddered. There were corpses of goat-men strewn everywhere, leaking
dark blood into the ground. Suddenly he turned to see that his savior
had sheathed both crossbows and now reached up towards the completely
mismatched massive Khazra head still resting atop a furry patch of goat-
man skin on top of feminine shoulders. The hands grabbed the sides of
the bestial goat face and with a quick wink of the blood-red Khazra
eyes, tore downward and outward. The face came off with a wet slurping
sound and shredded into scraps of red skin and fur, revealing a pair of
faintly glowing yellow eyes underneath. Then the figure reached up to
tug at the massive horns, and fully pulled off the last remaining traces
of the Khazra disguise. As the young man gasped he saw a beautiful but
serious female human face, with her dark hair contained by a black hood.
A pair of trailing black scarves fluttered out of the empty goat-man
head to rest across her back and she adjusted the tall collar around her
slender neck as she casually tossed the empty Khazra mask aside.
"Looks like we're finished here," she said in a calm tone that carried a
faint trace of amusement.
She walked over towards the half-naked young man and with an elegant
kick flipped a discarded Khazra dagger into one of her hands. She knelt
down and severed the thick ropes holding his hands behind his back, and
he massaged his bruised and torn wrists gently while looking up at his
savior.
"How?" was all he managed.
"I heard you had been captured. It took some subterfuge to get you out
in one piece. Killing the chief's son and disguising myself as him
wasn't easy, but it seems to have paid off," she said, offering him a
hand to help him up.
He got to his feet and cast another glance around at the dead bodies of
his would-be murderers.
"Thank you. I... I don't know what to say," he mumbled.
"You don't need to thank me. I do this for a living. Now let's get you
back to safety before the rest of the Khazra return with reinforcement
from the other packs living up here."
He nodded and followed her as she jogged out of the camp, feeling
strength return to his weary limbs at the thought of being captured
again.
"Ugh," his savior muttered, briefly sniffing the back of her glove.
"What is it? More danger?" the former prisoner asked, worried that she
had picked up the scent of more monsters.
"Not right now. But I really need a bath to get rid of this disgusting
Khazra stench."
The two dashed towards the edge of the Highlands where the mountain path
would lead them down to safety as the moon began sinking down towards
the horizon.
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