Manassassin 2: LitRPG Harem Adventure, page 2
part #2 of Manassassin Series
“If you be needing a way home,” Captain Zimeon yelled out from the deck. “I suggest you be growing gills! You’ll never step foot on my ship again. Not so long as she’s mine to sail!”
“DeVante,” Osmorra warned, placing a dark hand over his. “Control himself.”
“Boss?” Jorja asked, noting his face sneer. “Let it go.”
“I’ll just be a minute,” he sighed, turned his head toward the captain, and found a proper landing spot.
Blink +1!
2/100!
DeVante appeared at the captain’s side, reached out with his hand, and ripped the short blade from the half-Tiefling’s clutches as soon as it cleared the sheath. The blade was tossed into the water, just before he gripped the big man by the shirt and lifted him to the tip of his hoof. The captain proved far heavier than he’d expected, but he was still able to prove his point.
“When I require a ride to the mainland,” he hissed, ignoring the crew members that were drawing arms behind him. “You’ll come crawling my way with bells upon your hooves, and a smile upon your face. If you don’t, know that there’s no corner of the world where I can’t find you.”
“Bold words, Sha’Kurian,” Captain Zimeon grumbled. “How are ya planning to back them, eh?”
Blink +2!
4/100!
The captain screamed when the pair appeared a dozen feet above the water, with the ship far to their left. DeVante let loose of the man, then Blinked back to the shore boat before gravity took hold of him.
When he appeared back in his seat, the captain met the water with a satisfying splash, leaving a smile on the Sha’Kurian’s unshaven face.
Blink +1!
5/100!
“Man overboard!” he shouted with a smile, not caring if any of the crew heard him.
2
The island was a jungle, with thick trees slowing their progress as the group fought to find a path.
Without a guide, given that Aquist had never returned to ship after parting, they’d no way of knowing if they headed in the right direction. For now, they were reliant upon DeVante’s tracking ability, and the glowing prints upon the jungle floor said he followed a bi-ped, which offered a sliver of hope.
“I’m hot,” Jorja grumbled, wiping the pool of sweat from the sides of her neck.
DeVante noted the glistening shimmer spread to her tight, perky breasts, but forced the thought aside so he could remain focused on tracking. Though the pair had teased one another over the last week, they’d yet to pair with one another since that time in the pond so long ago. Every night he swore to take her, wanting to avoid the Hob concluding that he’d only taken interest in her because of his racial ability. In truth, he yearned for her, but the mood never found its way to him in the appropriate moment.
“Jorja must still her whining,” Osmorra groaned, lifting her braids with one hand to wipe the sweat off her neck with the other. “All are suffering, not just her.”
“Quiet,” DeVante grumbled, tiring of their bickering that’d started the moment the shore boat left them on the sand. Of the group, only Eezai and Rosette withheld their complaints, the latter only because she lacked the ability to speak unless ordered. The thought still weighed heavily in his stomach, the guilt the only thing that resided within as they’d yet to break out their food rations. Given what little they knew of the island, DeVante felt it best to conserve their resources.
The trees spread into an opening upon a short hill, and DeVante lifted his leg to take the rise in a single stride. The action nearly saw him drenched as the ground dropped off into a pool of water, a
nearly clear pond before them that reached out toward a narrow river. His eyes checked the ground beneath his feet, swearing the glowing footprints stopped dead on the shore.
“Is there a problem, Boss?” Jorja asked with her hand out, waiting for him to help her up.
“Come see for yourself,” he grumbled, extended his hand, and pulled her up the small rise with ease. Her hand remained for a moment, the nimble fingers squeezing his palm before she offered him a wink.
“Oh, damn,” she sighed, tearing her gaze away from the tall Sha’Kurian long enough to notice the body of water before them.
“Is fresh water,” Osmorra noted, kneeling over the edge to cup out the liquid with her hand. The water leaked between her fingers as she drank, a smile widening on her dark lips as a trickle of cool water ran down her chin. “Delightful.”
“Not complaining about finding a water source,” he sighed, kneeling down to take a drink himself.
“But the same water just cost us our lead.”
“We’ll find another way, Boss,” Jorja replied, throwing herself onto her stomach so she could reach the water.
DeVante took the opportunity to watch his flock as they watered themselves. Osmorra, easily the fullest of figure in the group, was dipping a rag in the water to wash some of the sweat from her dark skin. The act drew a stir within, urging the Sha’Kurian side of him into action. That part wanted him to rip the clothing from those ample curves, bend her over, and thrust at her until she screamed for release. She had a similar effect on him when they’d mated, and the Shaman had to take charge of the situation before he caved to the animalistic cravings of his heritage.
Eezai was the least desirable of the group, or at least she didn’t set his Sha’Kurian blood into a frenzy like the others. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to her, more like her timid nature did nothing to make her stick out compared to the others. In fact, he barely recalled the moment he’d driven his cock within her, mostly because the memory of Nhuon brought pain with the thought, forcing him to quickly avert his attention.
Rosette was another story entirely. Her tan outfit wasn’t all too flattering, but the fabric clung to her exotic curves. The knees of all Tieflings bent in the opposite direction from other bi-peds, which lifted their butts and arced their lower backs. The thought of seeing just how high her ass raised furthered the stir within, the thought of grabbing the thick base of the tail and thrusting her from behind nearly stealing his control. The fact that she’d be an unwilling participant complicated the matter, and he’d no desire to force her into taking him.
Jorja just had a way about her. While her body wasn’t particularly interesting compared to Rosette’s, or Osmorra, it was the way she carried herself that made him crazy. Her flirtatious antics started long before he’d considered offering himself to her, and their quiet moment in the pond stuck with him every time he looked at her. Even now, with her back to him, and that tight little butt sticking in the air, he could barely withhold the thought of stripping her pants down and taking her in front of the others.
The stirring thoughts came to an abrupt end when DeVante noted the water bubbling just feet away from Jorja’s head. Without a word, he lunged at her, stuffed his fingers beneath her belt, and lifted her away from the water.
“Hey, I’m all flustered too, but is now really the proper time?” Jorja coughed as the water she drank expelled from her tiny mouth.
“Weapons out!” he ordered, dropping the poor Hob as he yanked the bow off his shoulders. A mana bolt was channeled into the weapon, the glowing shaft cracking and popping as it formed against the drawstring.
Osmorra had her monkey-skull staff at the ready as Eezai pulled beside her, lifting out her short Staff of the Summoner. With no weapons at her disposal, Rosette merely stood frozen, waiting for a command she could actually carry out.
No sooner had Jorja scrambled to her feet than the water erupted in three different spots. Bluish figures leaped onto the hill, each armed with long spears with twisting, silver tips. DeVante took aim for the nearest who was unfortunate enough to land just before him, and nearly loosed the mana bolt had he not instantly recognized the similarity in their appearance.
“Explain your trespassing, Land Walker!” the man demanded, the tip of his blade lowering to aim at DeVante’s face.
“Could be a little more civil about it,” DeVante grumbled, tightening his grip on the drawstring so he didn’t accidentally destroy one of Aquist’s people. “Do you know Aquist?”
“Wait, Komorda!” a female’s voice sounded.
DeVante looked the male over for a moment before finding the owner of the voice. He was tall, at least compared to the women, with long tendrils where others would have hair. His dark blue skin swirled over his otherwise white face, complete with dark orange, beady eyes. His face, along with his naked torso, was lean, muscular, and water dripped from the tight brown shorts that clung to his hips. A tail flickered behind him, and the webbing between his fingers confirmed he may be of the same species as Aquist.
DeVante broke his stare to find the woman who told Komorda to stop. She was shorter than the male, with the same tendril-hair mix as him. Instead of dark blue swirls on her skin, hers was closer to green, with bits of a yellow lining before giving away to a white front. Her narrow eyes were closer to red than orange, her lips were thick, wide, and currently twitching as though she fought back a sneer. A white, sleeveless shirt folded over itself before her nearly flat chest, ending in a skirt of sorts around her muscular thighs. The webbed fingers were the same, and the weapon was the exact duplicate of Komorda’s.
“We know of Aquist,” the woman continued, her stern expression shifting into one of distrust. “Who might you be, Land Walker?”
“DeVante,” he replied, still keeping the mana bolt trained on the male. “We’re here to. . .”
“Yes, DeVante, we are fully aware of why you’ve come,” a soft, female voice called from his right.
DeVante turned to find a slightly different figure than the pair glaring at him. This woman was shorter, slighter in frame, with light blue hair instead of tendrils. Skin flaps hung from the sides of her cheeks, her small eyes were nearly black, and each ear had two points instead of one. Her cheeks were wide, yet taut, and framed her crimson lips perfectly. A cream vest hugged her curves, with bronze trim that reflected the blazing sun from above. Like the other female, the top was tied with a bronze belt, finishing in a skirt mid-thigh. Her skin was more solid, minus the swirling pattern of the others, light aqua in color. She held no weapon, but a gold and silver gauntlet was worn on her left hand, giving the false appearance that it was bigger than the right.
“Greetings, DeVante, my name is Kisha,” the female continued, a smile forming on the corners of her crimson lips. “You’ve met Komorda, and the other is the warrior Lahwanta.”
“Lahwanta?” he offered toward the female warrior with the strong jaw. “Komorda, and Kisha. . .”
He paused when he fell upon the last, whose appearance so vastly differed from the others. There was something to the smaller woman he couldn’t place, like a song played in his mind whenever she spoke. Realizing he paused for too long, thanks in part to a scowl upon Jorja’s face, he nodded quickly and sought to redeem himself.
“Apologies,” he spoke after clearing his throat. “This is Osmorra, Jorja, Eezai, and Rosette is the Tiefling over there.”
“That one is broken,” Lahwanta growled, tipping her spear toward the Tiefling. “She failed to move when we ambushed you.”
“Ambush, please,” Jorja laughed. “Boss was all over it. You’re lucky he didn’t burn a hole in your face for not approaching all. . how did you put it? Civil?”
Only then did DeVante realize he still had the mana bolt aimed at the male’s face, and eased on the draw string before willing the mana to return. With the cracking and popping silenced, he suddenly felt exposed, and his hand desperately sought his ebon blade.
“Look, I don’t know what word spread before we arrived,” he started, forcing himself to look away from Kisha’s dark eyes. “but. . .”
“But you’ve come in search of the Nagarian Temple, yes?” Kisha interrupted. “We are aware, DeVante, and we’ve made preparations for your arrival.”
“Such as?” he asked, his head dipping as the song grew louder in his head. It was a soft melody, tranquil, and every muscle in his body relaxed the longer it played.
“You’ll have to see for yourself, Sha’Kurian,” Komorda growled, snapping the end of his spear into the ground in some sort of salute. “The High Priestess awaits us, a crime punishable by lashing.”
“Please, Komorda, where are your manners?” Kisha cried out, shooting him a pained expression.
“They are unaware of our customs, our laws. They couldn’t possibly know that making the High Priestess wait is offendable.”
“The Sha’Kurian knows now,” he grumbled and turned toward the water. “We must go, now!”
The group awaited, staring at one another for a moment until Kisha reached to her belt and withdrew a small conch shell. Her black eyes were upon DeVante for a moment, and he swore she winked before drawing the tip to her crimson lips. A loud, bellowing note played out, and the top of the water vibrated while she blew. The Hobs placed their hands to their ears, though the sound did little to DeVante besides interrupting the melody playing within his mind.
“Get back,” Osmorra cried out, grabbing at Eezai’s arm before pulling the Hob Warlock back.
DeVante was about to ask why when the rippling of the water increased, forming a long, thick line that reached toward the river. His feet pulled him back on instinct as he reached for Jorja’s arm, his eyes fixed upon the stirred water. The pool erupted, a shadow fell upon them, and DeVante found himself staring up at a massive, narrow figure that seemingly reached the sky.
“What is that?” Jorja cried out, clinging to DeVante’s arm as the pair withdrew a few steps.
“It looks like. . .” DeVante started, the form of the creature striking up his memory. In short, it was a wyrm, a dragon with a serpent-like body with no legs, or wings. The reflective scales were a mix of blue and green, a line of sunlight reflecting upon the creature’s massive body as the narrow head lowered itself toward the group. Four short horns protruded above the deep eye sockets, with small, dark red eyes buried within. The wide mouth of the creature parted, revealing rows of sharp teeth that were stained red along the gumline.
“That would be our transportation,” Kisha announced, a hint of pride upon her fair voice.
The wyrm circled the pond, its head passing them by before it came to a halt along the shore.
Before it came to a stop, Kisha jumped upon its neck, motioning for DeVante and his flock to join her.
“I am not riding that thing,” Jorja hissed beneath her breath. “Being dinner for a troll was bad enough. This is just tempting fate.”
“I assure you she will not eat you,” Kisha teased, waving them over. “She much prefers the taste of fish anyway. Please, I promise your safety.”
“Pathetic,” Lahwanta growled, stepping out onto the back of the serpent and offering Komorda a knowing stare. “Perhaps we should fetch a chunk of wood for them to float upon? It seems to be their preference.”
“Land walkers,” he grumbled and joined the other woman.
“Come, DeVante, you are making me look bad before the warriors,” Kisha urged him, her paper-thin brows raised in concern. “The High Priestess awaits.”
The song grew louder in his head, washing away any concern he had over the monstrous beast waiting for them in the water. With a smiling sigh, he tugged at Jorja’s arm, ignoring her cries of protest.
Rosette followed behind as soon as he gave the order, while Osmorra required a bit of coaxing from Eezai. In his haste, he’d forgotten the Shaman’s issues with water, how it’d taken Aquist taking her against her will in the undercity waterways of Salem when they escaped Ethryn’s group. Finally, despite the protests, his group was aboard, and the wyrm slithered its way out onto the river.
The trip offered a view of the jungle as the creature slinked through the water, surging ahead at seemingly impossible speeds. DeVante only had enough arms for two of his flock to clutch onto, forcing Eezai to press against his back and wrap her slight arms around his middle. Kisha took note of them, her black eyes examining each woman in turn before shifting her gaze into his. A faint, almost bashful smile formed on her crimson lips, which he returned in kind.
Whether or not an hour passed was beyond his knowledge, but a gasp of ‘ahs’ sounded as the serpent rounded the bend in the river. Ahead, in a massive clearing in the middle of the jungle, stood what he assumed to be the Nagarian temple.
Standing hundreds of feet above the river was a stone building in the form of a Naga, her beautiful curves almost glistening in the sun. Her arms were raised toward the sky, with her head tilted back so her eyes could look upward. The ‘womanly’ parts of her body were an open archway, with two black, perhaps dark blue doors. The serpent stopped aside a long stone platform where it waited for the group to step off its back.
