Bells of Almraven

Bells of Almraven

I

            The Bells of Almraven. Two large cast iron bells held aloft in the Cathedral in the center of the town rang, the bells clattered back and forth, back and forth, resonating their sound for kilometers around. Constable Cole Bailey, a stout, proud man, was lying in a pool of his own blood at the peak of the spire.

            Cole stood around 190 centimeters high, he was strong, well built, but also agile, lean. He had long, brown, messy, hair that he kept in a pony-tail and deep blue eyes. His complexion was rough and he had constant stubble on his face.

            Cole looked down at his leather glove, it was coated in his own blood. His blade, a fine blade, was half a meter from him, stained red with the blood of all of those that he had slain to get to where he was... The knife wound in his stomach was overbearing as he tried to wobble up, only to fall back down once more. He grinned ever so slightly as he leaned his head back, looking up at the wooden ceiling.

            The day's first light caressed his face.

            He was ready...

 

II

Two Days Earlier

            Cole was in a large field, lifeless corpses wearing Alaron uniforms, their uniforms, attacked him and his unit. The corpses charged with unnatural speed and swiftness, their reflexes, strength, morale, everything was better than Cole's unit. The one thing the corpse's didn't have, was heart.

            His shield shattered under the force of a morning star, breaking his arm. He quickly shot his blade up, stabbing the corpse through the chin, impaling it's skull. He quickly removed the blade, but when he looked around, his entire unit was slaughtered and the corpses were standing still.

            In a blast of ephemeral red light, a woman appeared, a sorceress. She was gorgeous, she had long black hair, piercing azure eyes, beautiful breasts and a perfect ass(both complemented with a low-cut top and tight trousers). She laughed maniacally before saying in the most beautiful voice, "You have spirit, I like that."

            She stepped towards him, grabbed the collar of his leather jerkin, and pulled him towards her, planting a kiss on his lips. He dropped his blade as he felt a hand enter his chest, pulling out his beating heart before his eyes.

            Cole awoke suddenly, his heart pounding, his breathing heavy and the large scar on his chest ached as well. He had been having that dream a few times a week since the war with the Conclave, and would have been much less worried if his erection were not so fierce after it. His arm was asleep, for Annabelle's head was resting on it. Annabelle was a good looking woman, she had very large breasts, a well-shaped ass, but her most beautiful characteristic was her face. Her face was perfect, it was soft, luscious, beautiful, her eyes were a dark amber that pierced into one's soul, her black curly hair complementing her beauty astoundingly.

            She was awoken by Cole's sudden movements. She placed a hand on his chest and said, "You okay?"

            "Yeah... just... that dream again," he said, lying back.

            She slowly slid her hand down his stomach and onto his penis, beginning to stroke it slightly. She smiled, her eyes still closed, and said, "You always get so hard after that dream."

            "At least I have you to appease it," he said, sliding his own hand down her back, resting it on her ass.

             After a few moments of stroking him, Annabelle opened her eyes and finally mounted him, straddling his hips.