Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

"The Mole-men, I presume?"

Before Israfel even said this it was pretty obvious that looking upon these long-limbed, small-boned creatures they were the infamous offspring of the ancient dissenters who had been publicly executed for going against the decree of King Baeleon the Bold—this being not to hobble in underground spots like damn fricking hermits.

The forefathers of these mutated earthmen Rafel now looked upon were literal hobos. And King Baeleon must've seen nothing good could come from hillbilly hippies fraternizing with the only neighbors they had: long-snout moles.

And so fast forward some hundred years later, and what you had was this... this extreme and morbid caricature of spindly men with exoskeleton plates for backs; the fucking moles must have being pregnant at the time Baeleon's armies had stormed in. And whilst the naturist hobos hung from nooses at the Capital, their errant seeds was already conceived in the bellies of these earth animals. And none was the wiser.

In theory, Mole-men weren't supposed to be possible. To exist. Human spunk didn't fertilize fucking mole egg. But this was Eldoria. Centaurs owned restaurants and singing booths at Titans Landing—and not all of them were descendants of Neptune. Somewhere in the family tree, someone had just fucked a magical horse.

And boom! Centaurs! EVERY FUCKING WHERE!

Rafel didn't hate halflings. Given that when he had ruled as Earl of Emberfall, he'd had quite favored an Amazonian she-croc. And yes, she'd had a tail. Bloody fecking Mary; as chillingly hot as she was dangerously. At the time, when she wasn't ripping into the jugulars of 'chickens' in the undercity GFC, she was always at his Manor, rocking his world with humongous sweaty green.

So he did love halflings. But the Mole-men. . .

Gods, the Mole-men. They had faces only their mothers could've loved. Absurd depictions of an almost cruel entangling of genes.

Their skins were tough, like fibre, more collagen pigment in there than fucking rattlesnakes. These hides had turned red, a possible adaptation to the intense heat of the Badlands. And even with the bark skins, they still had to retreat into the woodlands to survive the harsher temperatures of the open.

To crown it all, they were naked.

"High praise for these cunts!" Rafel's fangs dropped sarcasm like venom. "Seeing this shit, I feel like I could write a book on 'How not to Interbreed just any FUCKING SPECIES'." He said again without turning back. "Any idea what these poor bastards want, Khalifa?"

"Nope."

She hopped down her ox to join him below. At the moment Cora wanted to do the same with the girls, he immediately instructed Naamah telepathically to, "stay right fucking there!" When Aya held back Cora, the tomboy took one look at the man and saw his simmering aura by her [Ghost Touch], and knew very well to obey.

Rafel wasn't having any in the sect of his harem on the ground. He had to access the threat of this Mole-men first. Plus he heard they were earth benders now. He felt better with Ravenna, Cora, and Aya on the rune-protected top of the camel. The girls were ignorant of this last part.

At the moment, Khalifa surged forward and stood next to him, faced in front by four Mole-men. Their kept heaving on their feet, making the horror of their gangly selves more absurd. She told Rafel.

"Believe me, I'd rather be anywhere else than confronted by the vision of red, uncircumcised cocks."

Rafel turned a glance down at this.

Khalifa wasn't wrong: they were uncircumcised. At least they had human cocks.

"Uh, howdy! We seek passage through the woods." Khalifa made hand signs along with her voice before remembering they couldn't see. Her signing wasn't even that good, so there went nothing.

Rafel wasn't impressed. He frowned. "Are they retarded in addition to being blind?"

"You can't say that." Khalifa hid her laugh. Continue your journey on empire

In the robust, Bohemian-esque litter atop the travel camel, Corazón unfurled a coin bag and grabbed from it a smooth copper. She tossed it at the Mole-men. It plunked on the head of the one standing slightly foward.

"Oi! Let us pass!"

Gobble! Gobble!

This was the actual sound the creature made.

"What the shit? Is it a turkey?" Ravenna rendered.

Everyone could take it no more. And a second later, they all burst out laughing.

It was full hysterics. And the Guide began to snort uncontrollably.

Rafel felt his insides warm up at the symphony of vocals in the face of very imminent danger. Cora laughed until her ribs hurt. Her eyes watered and she felt if she so much as chortled one more sound, she'd fall from the litter and hurl all of her supper last night.

GOBBLE!

They all went quiet. This gobbling sounded higher, and angry.

One of the gangly Mole-men reached down. In a peevish manner, he fingered the copper coin and lifted it up proudly.

Gobble! Gobble!

"Ohh." Khalifa reasoned. She tried to solve the puzzle of the gargling. And when it dawned on her, "ohh!" she chimed again. "I think they want money. Er... Gold? Gold? I-Is that what you're trying to say. Gold?" She moved her fingers as if counting the chinking currency.

All four creatures nodded. The promise of gold made literal spools of saliva sidle down their chins and caused a Leprechaun gleam in their eyes.

Khalifa was convinced. "Yep. Gold it is."

She turned her head sideways to Rafel.

"I heard you're rich. How rich exactly are we—"

She didn't get a chance to finish, as he pushed out his hand. It vanished for a split-second into the nothing of air. Really his pocket dimension. When his hand reappeared, he had four purses in his grip, so fat with chunk they made the veins in his forearm bulge.

"Oh my." Rafel heard one of the escorts sigh.

He tossed a bag to the waiting hands of each red creature.

They all opened at once. Eldorian regency gold sparkled in the chill forest dawn. It was the early hours of morning. Khalifa swallowed on her own tongue. "Stupid rich, I guess."

The Mole-men parted like a river after a [Jordan Summoning]. Money talked. And Rafel never really gave a fuck about spending it. He had worked battalion hours in Hel's arena, earning every silver and ingot in his blood spilled for the appeasement of the Underworlds caste. But still, when he spent it, it seemed like he hadn't worked for it. Since each [survivor coin] equaled ten soul coins, he had just spent close to five hundred thousand paying fucking primage.

He would have easily taken their heads with [Bloodthorn] or [WorldGobbler]. But the Mole-men were no enemy.

In the Badlands, even those who lived under the earth needed gold. No one could outrun want. Their ancestors had tried, and look where it got 'em.

"I am glad you held back on spilling blood, Dominus." Aya Naamah pulled Rafel's head into her cleavage, stroking his rufescent hair. He was back on the saddle, in the comfy bedding of the litter.

They were moving now. Khalifa was in the lead, with her ox and the Guide's camel. Several other escorts kept the flank. "I was tempted." Rafel let his face sink deeper into his dark slave's boobies. Under their lumbering beasts, the earth shifted. Trees rearranged in straight lines. A hollow opened in the forest: a way out of the Weeping Woodlands.

Rafel literally saw the shifting movements of the Mole-men under them as they walked, bending the soft earth to their will. Commanding stones with fists and diverting tectonic plates without their fingers every touching real ground.

Khalifa smiled. "They are earth-benders after all."

Before them, the sunrise was just breaking out of the distant mountains. Scarlet and gold colored the desert bands. And the entire caravan was quick to forget the weeping woods—they wanted to. Beyond how laughable the forms of the Mole-men were, they were still frightening. The morning rolled on and Khalifa didn't stop to wipe her brow or sip on water until they came by a savannah.

It was vast: a very picturesque grassland with short trees having broad leaves. Khalifa suddenly felt right at home. Rafel saw this. When they came upon a Baobab tall enough to form a tent shadow on the ground, she finally pulled her strange ox to ground.

As the group spread for their breakfast, the hybrid animal munched on tendrils high up the tree. The ox had the giraffe genes which it possessed to thank for its five-foot neck.

Breakfast was dried lamb meat and portions of ale brewed by the days of journey. They all made short work of it. Khalifa sat with Rafel and his harem on one large mat. The Guide and the other escorts took another a small distance away. They traded conversation from time to time.

Herd of buffalo combed by the banks of a small brook a mile away. Rafel was sure he spotted tigers lurking somewhere in the tall grasses too.

When Cora passed him a water pouch, he took a long drink before handing it to Khalifa. The lady guard accepted it. She was glad when Rafel didn't stare at her scar as she parted her veils to gulp it down. The virile Rebel in question leaned against a mammoth root of the Baobab and shut his eyes a second.

He entered [nominal space] where only his system could hear him speak.

"Peitho, how close are we to Zaftig?"