Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Fable : Fall of the Guild	By : Samson Category: +A through F > Fable Views: 8222 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Fable intellectual property, nor am I making any money off of this fanfic. Unauthorized duplication of this work is prohibited.

Chapter List
- 63
- 64
- 65
To Topple Giants.
Fable : Fall of the Guild

Part X - "...It Was To Save A Country"

By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson

Original Date Written: March 12, 2013

Leroy, Vincent, and the others had walked into the arena only a minute or two before the prisoners arrived, and during that time, Marilyn had been quietly listening, never opening her mouth to utter a word. She tried to hide in plain sight, becoming invisible amongst them, never doing anything to draw attention to herself, letting them all focus on each other. Leroy and Vincent seemed to have almost completely forgotten about her, by the time they took their seats in the arena stands. Likewise, the duo’s personal guards had generally seemed to stop paying attention to her, sitting around and beside her, as the bodyguards took their seats behind Leroy and Vincent. Marilyn was able to keep herself from exhibiting signs of stress, but the danger was constantly running through her mind. Limited to less than a minute, she tried to run over what her course of action would be, trying not to let herself panic.
“Okay, two firearms, both to the backs of their heads. One slug each, right through the heads, they’ll be dead before they even hear the bang. But...Then I’m surrounded by people with rifles. Shit. Okay, I rush forwards, jump over the edge, and get down in the arena?...I can get to the others and make a break for it. But, these guys will just open fire from the stands...Fuck, fuck. Would I be able to...? No, too many of them. Even if I had enough firearms to hit them all, their shock would only last so long. They’d put slugs in me before I could kill them all. Aw fuck, why did this hobbe-porker have to bring so many bloody guards?”
Leroy and Vincent chatted with one another as they waited for the execution to get underway, Marilyn too preoccupied with trying to decide on her part in the assassination to pay much attention to what they said. She could tell, however, that Vincent was more talkative than Leroy was. Vincent was frequently leaning towards Leroy as he spoke, sounding a little enthusiastic about something. Leroy almost seemed to be ignoring Vincent, or was, at the very least, dreadfully disinterested in whatever it was that Vincent was going on about. Marilyn, based on their body language and the way Leroy was barely saying anything, began to get the keen impression that Leroy could scarcely tolerate Vincent. She believed that he put up with Vincent because he had no choice but to accept him, and had no interest whatsoever in being friends with him, or even pleasant acquaintances. Eventually, however, Leroy said something that broke into Marilyn’s feverish thoughts, completely derailing her planning.
“Ah, there they are. Finally. Let’s see them dead and be done with it. Having one of Alexander’s heirs put to death will be the highlight of this entire trip.” Everyone looked off to the side, Marilyn peeking between Leroy and Vincent, watching the prisoners get marched out from a small corridor, built into the arena wall. She knew that the very same passage would be the group’s escape route, the secret passage that the group would use to escape was deeper back in the Arena, not far from the torture chambers. Vincent was smiling rather intensely as he said “Hah, yes. I see her, the little witch. Of course, after the execution, I’ll have to take possession of her corpse...She must be put to the flames, to ensure her spirit perishes along with her body.” Leroy sounded bored and cynical as he said “Yes, of course, Hopkins...For the fire.” Vincent’s brow furrowed a little, the man briefly giving Leroy a subtle glare through the corners of his eyes.
Vincent looked back into the arena, Marilyn noticing that Bianca was looking over, from the arena floor. She and Vincent glared at one another for a few moments, before the guard escorting her hit her over her head, forcing her to look forwards once again. Vincent chuckled darkly. “I should have put her over the Iron Horse, instead of Alexander’s daughter. If any one of them truly deserved genital torture, it’d be the witch. I can just see it now, she surely would’ve been in tears by the time I saw her. Would’ve spared me from her little attitude.” Vincent commented, regretfully. Leroy was prompt with his response, raising an eyebrow as he wearily said “Give it a rest, old man. Your perverse sense of pride in the genital torture devices is disturbing. I truly have to wonder if you would be talking this much about her, had she been an old hag with a wart-covered body that lacked even the slightest bit of curvature.” Vincent ground his teeth together, looking over at Leroy.
Keeping his tone surprisingly calm, he said “Of course I would, she’s been the Witchspotters’ largest target ever since our inception. Her death will stun all other witches and their thralls. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve lost, by sending them into Darkwood?” “I don’t care to recall the figures.” Leroy simply said, clearly not bothered or threatened by Vincent’s suppressed anger. Vincent looked back to the prisoners, watching them all get forced down to their knees. Marilyn’s heart began to quicken, sweat beginning to break out over her body. The time was coming. Vincent began to lean forwards in his seat, sounding confused as he said “A-Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or is she holding hands with that man, the one beside her?” “What?” Leroy almost sighed out, raising an eyebrow, his eyes half-closed with boredom. Vincent reached up to his face, adjusting his spectacles as he said “Yes, I’m certain of it. She’s holding hands with the man beside her. Whatever for?” “Imminent death has a way of making people sympathetic.” Leroy flatly stated, giving a shrug. Marilyn’s eyes went to Gibbons, watching him carefully, looking for the first sign of movement from him. As soon as he attacked his fellow executioners, her part would come into play.
Gibbons’ brow began to sink, his jaw going tight. The executioner furthest from him, the one who had mentioned starting the executions, brought his firearm down against the back of Timoteo’s head. The executioners behind Bianca and Brute raised up their loaded firearms, waiting for the first to do his duty before they went on with their’s. The man’s thumb was still cocking the flintlock mechanism when Gibbons swiftly held his arm out towards him, deftly pulling back the hammer of his firearm. The first firearm round found not a prisoner, but an executioner, the shot ringing out throughout the entire arena. Blood and chunks of gore blew from the side of the executioner’s head, his head leaning over to the side from the force of the slug. As he began to lean over and collapse, his finger twitched on the trigger of his firearm. The second slug flew out, ripping through Timoteo’s right shoulder, shattering through his collar bone when it went out through the upper reaches of his chest.
Timoteo shouted in pain, the slug knocking him forwards, ramming him face-first into the dirt of the arena floor. Events transpired in a flurry, after that. Gibbons moved so fast that he was nearly a blur, dropping his spent firearm, both hands diving into his League coat. Gripping two other firearms, he pulled them from their secret holsters, cocking back the hammers as he thrust them out. Before either of the other two executioners could react, Gibbons had lined up their heads with his firearm barrels, simultaneously taking their lives as he squeezed his triggers. Darrah began to growl, fighting against her shackles. Breathing heavy with adrenaline, she shouted out as the metal began to give way, the rings cracking and parting. Pulling her arms apart, she rose to her feet, baring her teeth. Firearms went off, up in the stands. Some came in the direction of Leroy and Vincent, while others still came from the other people in the stands.
Darrah stumbled to her feet, Gibbons loudly saying “Come on, we have to go!” “Tim!” Bianca breathed out, reaching out to him. A searing pain tore through her right leg, in her thigh. A League member in the stands had managed to hit her, making her suppress a scream when the slug went through her. Brute, breathing heavily, broke through his shackles, a slug tearing through his back just as he got up to his feet, knocking him back down to a knee. Gibbons rushed over and grabbed Bianca around her waist, hefting her up to her feet. Darrah, meanwhile, ran with a limp, getting over to Timoteo. “Get up, mage!” She furiously said, grabbing him by his shoulders.
Up in the stands, when Gibbons’ first shot rang out, Marilyn’s hands went into her coat. Vincent was stunned as Gibbons opened fire on his fellow executioners, sitting rigid like a statue. Leroy, however, reacted almost immediately. Jumping to his feet, he quickly said “I should’ve known this trip couldn’t end without something ridiculous happening.” Marilyn pulled out a pair of firearms, standing up before any of the duo’s bodyguards could rise to their feet. She didn’t bother saying anything, or trying to make them face her before she readied her firearms. As satisfying as it could have been to deliver a witty insult or warning, and as enjoyable as it would’ve been to fire directly into their faces, Marilyn was much more concerned with ensuring that the two leaders perished. Almost at the exact same time, she squeezed her triggers. Vincent Hopkins was bowled over when the slug bit into the back of his skull, blood erupting from his face as he fell down over the stone bench in front of his own.
Leroy had turned his head to the side at the last possible fraction of a second, leading the slug to hit him in his right cheekbone, rather than the back of his head. The slug shattered through his mask, breaking it into numerous pieces, the fragments collapsing along with the leather straps that had held the mask in place. Leroy’s glass eye cracked apart as the slug went through his face, ripping open his face, destroying the bridge of his nose as the slug went on, tearing through his other cheekbone. He let out a grunt of pain, collapsing to the side, ramming down over the same bench that Vincent’s corpse had fallen over. The duo’s bodyguards reacted with blinding speed, bolting to their feet, raising up their flintlock rifles. At such a close range, however, the long barrels of their rifles were more of a hindrance than anything else, affording Marilyn a few more precious seconds. She dropped her spent firearms, reaching into her coat, pulling out a second one as she began to run forwards.
Jumping down over the bench that Leroy and Vincent had been sitting over, she aimed her third firearm down for Leroy’s head, moving as she went. Leroy’s body twitched when Marilyn fired another slug, successfully hitting him over the side of his forehead, letting the slug ram through his skull’s vital cargo. “Kill the bitch!!” One of Leroy’s bodyguards furiously shouted. Marilyn jumped over a few benches, making her way towards the nearby edge of the stands. The first two shots from Leroy’s bodyguards, amazingly, missed Marilyn entirely, hitting the last stone bench, just before the edge of the stands. Marilyn’s foot met the edge of the stands, the woman just about to jump off when three slugs hit her in rapid succession. The power of the rifle slugs was unlike anything Marilyn had ever felt, before; it was easily three times stronger than that of an ordinary firearm. The first slug hit her in her right arm, between her shoulder and elbow.
The slug shattered through part of her bone, making her scream. The second slug went through her upper back, tearing out around the upper reaches of her chest, close to the middle of her torso. The third and final slug went through her lower back, blasting out through her belly, blood running from her wounds in copious amounts. Marilyn’s jump over the edge of the stands turned into a collapse and plummet, Marilyn falling over the edge of the stands without grace, painfully crashing into the ground at least a dozen feet below. The bodyguards of the late Leroy and Vincent turned their attention to the escaping prisoners, raising their firearms, the ones who had already fired their shots beginning to ready their weapons with additional slugs.
Gibbons helped Brute to his feet, while Darrah grabbed Bianca by the hand, keeping a hand on Timoteo’s arm. The three ran as fast as they could, which, considering how all three of them could barely feel anything beyond pain, was rather slow. Slugs flew around them, blasting into the ground, sending up small clouds of sandy dirt, each lasting no more than a split-second. They headed for the corridor they had come from, limping along, Bianca looking back at Gibbons and Brute. Brute had a hand over his chest, a blank look of shock on his face, the Hero going after them as fast as he could. Gibbons spotted Marilyn then, noticing her form crumpled down on the ground, near the arena wall. Beginning to bare his teeth in panic, he glanced over to the others, then back to Marilyn. He took off in a sprint towards Marilyn, moving as fast as he could. Leroy’s bodyguards noticed him moving closer, hastily aiming at him.
Gibbons threw away his spent firearms, reaching into his coat, pulling out another two. Still running as he took aim, he fired off two shots, hitting two bodyguards in the throat. Both of them collapsed in death, one of them plummeting over the edge of the wall, slamming down into the ground a few feet away from Marilyn. When his rifle hit the ground, it went off, harmlessly discharging the slug it had been loaded with. Gibbons’ eyes went stunned when two slugs found their mark, the League bodyguards opening fire. One hit him in the chest, thankfully closer to his shoulder than any vital organ. The second round, however, hit him in his abdomen, just beneath the left side of his rib cage. The slugs barely slowed him down, Gibbons keeping up on his feet, dropping his spent firearms. The rest of the bodyguards missed with their slugs, hurriedly beginning to reload. Gibbons dropped down to a knee by Marilyn, grabbing at her shoulders, beginning to pull her up. “Marilyn, come on, we have to get out of here!” He panted out.
Marilyn was gritting her teeth, her breathing shallow, her hands over two of her three wounds. Whenever she breathed, gurgling sounds came from her, something that made Gibbons panic. “I...You should’ve...” She barely managed to say. “Come on!” He shouted, getting back up to his feet, pulling her up with him. She started out moving slowly, her eyes flickering drowsily, before she focused. Her pace quickening, it wasn’t long until the two were jogging for the exit. They could hear the bodyguards, shouting out for the other League members in the stands to alert the others, in the rest of the Arena. When Gibbons and Marilyn made it to the corridor, they could see their friends, the four of them already descending deeper into the Arena. “I can’t breathe...I can’t breathe!...” Marilyn gasped out, bringing one hand to the wound in her chest. “Come on, Marilyn...One foot in front of the other!” Gibbons said, trying not to sound worried.
He was left with only a single firearm, his hand going into his coat, pulling it out and cocking back the hammer. He held the firearm up as he moved with her, keeping it ready for any League member that came running. Darrah, her hands like vises on her two friends, rushed down to the end of the corridor, emerging in a wide hallway, only a few corridors away from the torture chambers. “Where are they?” Timoteo breathed out, through teeth clenched in agony. Brute stumbled after them, his blank expression persisting. He raised his arms and blindly reached around in front of himself, beginning to sway. Finally, he collapsed to his knees, falling forwards to his hands. All of them were covered in blood from their injuries, droplets trickling from Brute’s torso wound at an alarming rate. He tried to get to his feet, stumbling to the side, ramming into one wall of the corridor. Darrah released Timoteo and Bianca, rushing over to Brute, grabbing him and helping him steady himself on his feet. “Brute, you alright?” She quickly asked.
He screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I feel lightheaded...It hurts to breathe...” He faintly said, bringing a hand to the side of his head. “We just have to get far enough away, th...Then we’ll be out of the glyphs’ range. We’ll be able to use spells, again.” Bianca painfully said, coming closer to Timoteo. She began to support him, helping him stay upright, Timoteo holding her around her waist to help her do the same. Bianca brought a hand to her chest, grabbing at the pitiful little tube that she had been left with, for a shirt. She tore it from herself, freeing her chest, removing the irritating fabric from over her skin, freeing herself to breathe without worrying about ripping it. She kept her free arm over her chest, draping her forearm across her mounds, covering and hiding her nipples. Darrah pulled Brute’s arm around her shoulders, grunting out “Damn it, Brute, I’m not gonna carry your ass outta here. Suck it up and get a move on!”
Brute merely groaned wordlessly. “This way!” Gibbons hissed out once he had reached them, rushing down the hallway with Marilyn by his side. The others followed after them, panting, their feet pounding into the floor. Timoteo’s multiple broken and fractured bones made everything imaginable an experience in suffering, his entire existence becoming one of torture. They could already hear League members giving chase, running throughout the Arena, trying to locate the escaped prisoners and traitorous League members. Timoteo’s willpower was fading with every step, his body screaming at him for rest, to stop fighting, to stop making himself suffer. With Bianca by his side, however, giving in never entered his mind as an option. He had to survive, more for her than anything else. How would she react if he gave in? The answer to that question frightened him, pushing him on to prevent her from staying by his side, if he collapsed.
The group went through a couple of hallways before entering a corridor lined with dark metal doors, making their way deeper, crossing the torture chambers. “There! A voice shouted, from behind. Several firearms went off. The air was sucked from Bianca’s lungs as a slug went through her abdomen from behind, blood squirting out from her exposed belly as the slug passed through her. She collapsed, Timoteo going down with her, trying to catch her and steady her. Gibbons shouted and fell to a knee, a slug hitting him near his knee, striking him in the calf. Darrah’s eyes went wide as a burning pain tore over the right side of her head. A slug had grazed her, tearing along her from beneath her earlobe to her jaw, leaving a long split in her skin. Gibbons and Marilyn both turned around, each holding out firearms, sending slugs back at the attackers. “End of the hall, move it!” Gibbons shouted. “Bianca, on my back, come on...” Timoteo desperately said, helping her move.
Bianca, barely breathing, moved behind him, reaching her arms around his neck. His face was torn up with wincing as her arm went over his injured shoulder, her arm making his damaged collar bone put fresh flares of suffering through him. He took in a breath, then forced himself up to his feet, reaching behind himself. Grabbing her behind her knees, a surge of panic ran through him, giving his feet wings. He realized that, with Bianca behind him, she was essentially shielding him with her own body, a position he never would’ve put her in, had he been aware of it a few seconds earlier. The agony in his legs seemed to disappear, Timoteo taking off in a full run, Darrah and Brute chasing after them. Marilyn discharged her remaining firearms, Marilyn leaving behind all but one, she and Gibbons ensuring that they still had a firearm in their possession, for when they had time to prepare them with more slugs.
Timoteo could feel Bianca bleed, her precious blood running out against his back, her arms tight around his neck. Reaching the end of the hall, he looked around, finding only a dead end. “What now?” He called out, looking back to Gibbons and Marilyn. Having killed the small group of attackers, they started running towards the end of the hallway. “Turn the torch sconce!” Gibbons loudly said, swinging an arm in the sconce’s direction. Timoteo looked over. Two bronze sconces were set in the wall, each holding torches. Darrah bolted over, grabbing one of the burning hot sconces, the metal heated up by the flame of the torch. She ignored the burning metal and tried twisting the sconce to the right, then to the left, the sconce abruptly giving way and twisting all the way until the torch was in a horizontal position. Quietly, a metallic sound began to rumble from inside the wall behind the sconce, cogs and gears grinding against one another.
Slowly, an imperceptible crack in the wall, between sandstone bricks, began to part, a small doorway of sorts shifting open. Two narrow doors were pulled inwards, opening a slim passageway, leading off into a dark hall. “Go, go! It shuts on it’s own!” Gibbons urged, rushing into the passageway, Marilyn not far behind him. The group piled through the doorway, and moments later, the narrow doors began to shift back into place, closing off the escape route behind them. Gibbons led the way, quickly saying “Kreel and Hopkins, are they dead?” Marilyn nodded weakly, barely keeping herself moving, saying “D-Dead as dead can be.” “Are you sure?” Gibbons urgently responded. Marilyn sounded offended as she said “Gibbons, I put slugs in their heads...They’re dead.” “Good riddance!” Darrah chimed in. “We need to get away...” Bianca weakly said, breathing slowly, her eyes shut tight in pain. “It’ll take us a minute to get to the other end.” Gibbons said, abruptly letting out a cough afterwards, a small amount of blood hitting the back of his throat.
He thought it was merely saliva, Gibbons swallowing it back down. “I don’t know...If I’ll be awake, that long...” Brute slowly said. Darrah looked at him with concern, reaching over, patting him over his stomach. “C’mon, big guy. We’re almost there.” She said, trying not to sound worried. Timoteo tried to cast Heal Life, but found his Will unable to respond, the spell never taking shape in the physical world. Hurrying his movements, he stayed by Gibbons and Marilyn, anxious to ease Bianca’s suffering. The passageway went straight ahead for a few dozen paces, then swerved off to the left. They rounded the bend, their eyes on the end of the passage. Far ahead, they could see a light, like a narrow vertical beam. The group quickly became weaker as they went along, leaving behind trails of blood as they stumbled and limped in the darkness. Bianca started to cough, trying to suppress it, bringing her hand over her mouth and shutting her eyes.
Her coughing grew harder as blood went up her throat, hitting her hand, running down her bottom lip and chin. “Tim, I’m...” She quietly said, her eyes beginning to glaze over. He felt her blood drip down over his shoulder, wild panic suddenly gripping him. He ignored his broken ankle and injured thigh and took off in a flash, running for the end of the secret passage, trying to cast Heal Life all the way. “There’s a lever set in the wall, on the left!” Gibbons called out, he and the others hurrying after the two lovers. When Timoteo reached the end of the passageway, he let go of Bianca’s left leg, blindly groping around at the wall. When his hand met the metal lever, he gripped it and yanked it downwards, keeping his eyes open despite the strain from the light. When the secret passage opened up, it was much like the other end, with two narrow doors shifting inwards, opening up a hole. Timoteo rushed outside, panting, looking around.
They were somewhere in the thick of a forest, behind the Arena. The dense trees were almost like a shield, putting up a barrier between them and the Arena, hiding them, protecting them. The exit to the secret passageway, itself, was a small sandstone section set into the wall of a short cliff, the cave wall dark brown rock, aside from the sandstone area. Bianca’s hold on him was starting to weaken. Timoteo shut his eyes tight, focused on his spell, and made his attempt. A blast of white light burst out from around him, flashing out like a beacon. White-blue sparkles surrounded both himself and Bianca, Bianca taking in a gasp as full consciousness returned to her, her wounds knitting themselves together, her injuries disappearing. At the shock of having his many injuries and broken bones suddenly mended, as well as the relief of having rejuvenated Bianca, Timoteo fell to his knees, letting out a short, breathless laugh. Bianca was smiling, breathing a little quickly, quietly saying “Thank you...I don’t know if...” She trailed off.
He grinned, feeling her ease off of him, getting down on her knees behind him. He turned, reached over, and grabbed her by her hips. Her expression went surprised when he pulled her over, turning her around, lying her back over his right thigh. He closed his eyes, leaned over, and passionately kissed her. Bianca closed her eyes, kissing him back, reaching up and holding him by his shoulders. They had kissed four times, by the time the others had reached them. While he was still kissing Bianca, Timoteo cast Heal Life two more times, healing them of their injuries before they had a chance to say anything and interrupt them. Darrah loudly cleared her throat as the two kissed a fifth time, her expression disapproving. Timoteo pulled away from Bianca, smiling happily. Bianca smiled and blushed sheepishly, quickly bringing her hands over her chest, hiding herself from view, once again. The two began to rise to their feet, again, as Marilyn said “Phew, okay. Now that I’m not in any danger of dying, what say we high-tail it the hell outta here?”
“She’s right. No time to celebrate. We need to get back to our ship, now.” Gibbons muttered, with mild urgency. The group, beginning to run along, raced off into the trees, putting as much distance between themselves and the Arena as possible. They were each still a bit weak from having lost a fair bit of blood, but without true injuries, they could press on without anything holding them back. Heading towards the south, they stayed in the thick of the wild forests, crossing untamed land to ensure they weren’t discovered by League patrols. They ran for hours, never once stopping to rest, their renewed pools of energy making the trek strenuous, but far from impossible. They were attacked by balverines several times, but the group, even though they were unarmed, were more than a match for the animals. Finally, as the evening came to pass and the sun began to set, the group stopped to rest, planning on only taking a short break.
Each of them panting hard, they came to a stop, Darrah saying “Alright, this should...Should work.” Darrah was smiling joyously, laughing breathlessly as she said “I can’t believe we pulled it off, and without any of us dying, either!” “We almost did.” Brute calmly said, his expression surprisingly blank, a grim look in his eyes. Gibbons and Marilyn started to smile, too. Gibbons pulled off his League coat, pulling out his firearm from the holster, attached to the side of the fabric. Marilyn began to do the same thing, the two of them pulling out their satchels of slugs and black powder, dropping them to the ground. Gibbons discarded his coat, chucking it off to the side, abandoning it on the forest floor. Marilyn was about to do the same thing, when her eyes fell on Bianca. Smiling a little, she walked over, saying “Here, you can wear this, until we get back.” Bianca smiled, gratefully saying “Thank you...” To prevent Bianca from releasing one of her breasts and exposing herself, Timoteo took the coat, pulling it open for Bianca.
Bianca turned her back to him, letting him bring the coat over her shoulders, wrapping it around her. Bianca slipped her arms into the sleeves, then buttoned the coat shut, turning back to him and thanking him with a little kiss. Tiredly, everyone sat down on the forest floor, catching their breath and giving their legs a rest. Gibbons and Marilyn both began to load their firearm with another couple of slugs, each readying a round, should they need it. Darrah chuckled, quietly saying “Man, I wish I could’ve seen them die. Bastards made me pee on myself, least I could’ve gotten is the chance to see their faces blow up.” Brute, faintly, responded with a simple “We all almost died. I’ve never come that close to death, before.” Bianca looked at him, compassionately asking “Did it frighten you?” Brute’s solemn gaze went down to the dirt, before he said “...Avo was looking out for us, today. That’s what I think, and that’s all I’m gonna say.”
“You’re superstitious.” Gibbons commented, slipping a lead slug into the barrel of his firearm, having already poured in a bit of black powder. Brute looked at Gibbons with sudden offence in his eyes, his brow furrowing a little as he said “It’s a damn miracle that none of us dropped dead before we got out of there. You wanna reject that?” “I don’t think Gibbons is refuting that our plan was risky.” Bianca quietly said. Darrah raised an eyebrow, looking over at Gibbons, casually commenting “And, he’s looking mighty pale. Maybe he’s more shaken than he wants to admit.” Gibbons and Marilyn glanced at each other. “...What?” Timoteo said, watching them. Gibbons sighed, looking over at Timoteo. “...I killed a woman, while we were at the Arena. Apparently, she was a mother. Now, I...Look like this. It’s not a temporary thing.” Darrah looked at him with surprise. “A manifested morality?” She asked. Gibbons nodded, then gestured at Bianca, saying “Like her.”
“...I see.” Darrah quietly said. Marilyn looked at Timoteo and gave a nod, saying “Well, Tim...You got your revenge. How does it feel to have avenged your father? Not with your own hands, but...It got done.” Timoteo’s expression was neutral, his eyes going to the forest floor, by his legs. Bianca gazed at him, reaching over, rubbing a hand over his back. Timoteo let out a little breath, lightly raising an eyebrow. He started to smile. “...I feel like Darrah does. I’m disappointed that I didn’t get to see them die, myself. But knowing that they’re dead, and that it was because of us...” He nodded a little. Slowly, he said “It...It’s enough.” Bianca smiled a little, leaning towards him, resting her side against his. She brought her arm around his shoulders, closing his eyes. He smiled more, reaching over, reaching his arm around her waist. Darrah’s expression suddenly lost all warmth, patting her hands over her knees, a few times, as she said “Oh, crap. Uh, guys? We should get moving, again. We left our Seals back on the ship, and I really think I should check in with my father. Leroy said some stuff, and...I don’t know if he’s sent people after my family, or not.”
Brute raised a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m exhausted.” “We all are.” Timoteo quietly said, he and Bianca releasing each other, beginning to get to their feet. Gibbons and Marilyn rose up, Darrah and Brute not far behind them. “We’ll be able to sleep on the Lutra Pearls, when we get the hell off this island.” He said. Brute sighed, nodded, and started to plod on, jogging towards the south. The others went after him, resuming their escape.
The group found their ship where they had left it, untouched, awaiting their use. Unable to believe their good fortune, the group quickly boarded their vessel, then set sail for the mainland. The first thing Marilyn did, once aboard, was take her League coat back from Bianca. Setting it alight in celebration, she laughed and sang, twirling the flaming coat around before tossing it into the ocean. The group had a celebratory feast, most of them lamenting that they had no alcohol to sweeten the night, with. In the morning, Darrah was quick to use her Guild Seal to teleport back to her family’s estate, bidding the others farewell as well as congratulating each of them on the success of their plan. She extended an invitation for them to visit her family’s estate whenever they liked, that they’d always be welcome. After a second day on the open ocean, Brute, too, teleported away, heading for Darrah’s estate.
He had become quiet ever since the assassinations, the large Hero of Strength becoming withdrawn and aloof with the others. Bianca had tried her best to speak with him while he remained with them, knowing that the whole ordeal had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. She understood that his first honest brush with death may have frightened him a great deal, that the Hero of Strength may not have ever dealt with any danger he couldn’t handle, before. Brute hadn’t been very receptive to her help, and eventually, he had merely brushed her off, to her disappointment. Timoteo, meanwhile, spent his time reflecting on how he truly felt about the assassinations. He hadn’t been completely honest with his friends. In truth, he didn’t know how he felt about Leroy’s death; he didn’t feel relieved, pleased, or satisfied. On the other hand, he didn’t feel disappointed, he didn’t regret pursuing the deaths of the two leaders.
As far as he could ascertain, he felt nothing at all, feeling flat and dead, inside. The assassinations had just been another event, another deed, that had no emotional significance, no value. He was glad it had been done, but it stirred no response in him, no feeling. When Bianca noticed how quiet he had become, she tried to comfort him, as well. Unable to deny her, he confided in her, admitting his blank response to the events at the Witchwood Arena. Bianca asked him if he still hurt over his father’s execution. Timoteo answered that, while he still felt disappointed that it had happened, that he still felt he was to blame, he at least wasn’t angry about it, anymore. Bringing about the deaths of Leroy and Vincent had helped appease his bitterness, his inner demons and their need for revenge. Bianca soothingly said that that was more than most people earned, when they got vengeance for such a devastating wrongdoing.
He took her by the hand, and said that he simply wanted to go home, with her. She hugged him, saying that she was glad to have helped him avenge his father. He held her back, letting it be known how much he appreciated her willingness to stay by his side...
Timoteo and Bianca stepped back into their bedroom, on the Lutra Pearls. They both had damp hair, but they had dried off enough in the sun that their bodies were no longer dripping wet. Gibbons and Marilyn had given them some privacy on the deck of the vessel, allowing them a chance to bathe while the ship remained immobile. The sails had been withdrawn and the anchor had been dropped, helping to keep the vessel immobile while the two bathed. Nude, they each carried their clothes in a bundle, resting them down on the second, unused cot in the room. Timoteo shut the bedroom door before resting down his clothes, stepping over to their shared cot. They could already hear Gibbons and Marilyn leaving their room, heading out to take a dip in the lukewarm ocean, as well. Timoteo sat on the edge of the cot, smiling a little, looking over at Bianca. His eyes ran over her nude body, her sensuous curves and soft, pale skin.
She smiled a little, approaching him, her bare feet quietly patting against the wooden floor. “It’s been a few days...Are you feeling any different?” She softly asked, coming up to the cot. Slowly, she started to get over the cot, getting over him, as well. Getting her knees on either side of him, she delicately sat down over his thighs, getting a comfortable position in his lap. He placed his hands over her thighs, softly rubbing up to her hips, then stroked back down to her juicy thighs. She brought her hands to his shoulders, rubbing left and right, stroking her thumbs at his neck in the process. He looked up into her eyes as he quietly said “Well...To be honest, not really. I’m satisfied that it happened, and I’m relieved that everything went so smoothly, but...As for being happy about it...” He shook his head a little, his eyes falling to the middle of her chest. She rubbed her hands down to his chest, comfortingly stroking along him. Compassionately, she said “I understand, completely...When Octavia died, it...It was more than I could handle, at first. I was feeling too many things, at once.”
“Mm.” Timoteo mumbled thoughtfully, blinking. He sighed, quietly. Looking up and meeting her gaze, again, he said “Several more days at sea...I wonder how much longer we’ll be floating around, before Gibbons is satisfied. I can understand him wanting to find a port that the League is sure not to be watching, but we can’t ride the waves forever. The League could send out ships, and...I really just want to go home, and get some sleep.” Bianca gazed at him, for a few moments, before she leaned over, closing her eyes. Tenderly pressing her lips to his, he kissed her back, feeling her bring her hands to the sides of his head, affectionately sinking her fingers into his hair. A second kiss followed, then a third. A certain stiffness began to develop down below, Timoteo very rapidly being pushed into arousal. It had been days since they had last had any passion, together; their first few days on the ocean had been spent recuperating from their torture, resting and coming to terms with everything that had happened.
He slipped the tip of his tongue out, flicking at her lips. Almost immediately, she parted her lips, eagerly reaching out with her own, looking to play with his. He felt her let out a warm breath against his cheek when they met tongues, lovingly coiling and massaging with one another’s moist mouth muscle. He felt his hands up along her soft tummy, smoothing them up under her hefty bosom. One hand coming under either globe, he began to gently massage her around, marvelling at, and delighting in, her warm, amazingly soft flesh. Bianca playfully withdrew her tongue, teasing him into chasing after her, Timoteo hungrily digging his tongue into her mouth. Timoteo brought his hands over towards Bianca’s nipples, teasing her in return, delicately running the tips of two fingers in circles along her areolae. Bianca’s breathing turned quivery at the stimulation, Timoteo quickly feeling her sensitive nipples begin to stand stiff, the little nubbins sticking out like pink pebbles.
He ran his fingerprints over her nipples, stimulating them even more, giving them gentle pinches, afterwards. Timoteo, whose member had been confined between his thighs, opened his legs a little, freeing his painfully restricted manhood. His tool sprung up, and ended up pressing against Bianca’s mons, close to the top of her clitoral hood. He felt a shudder of delight run through Bianca’s body, and a moment later, she had pulled her head back, a little. Wrapping her lips around his tongue, she gave it a gentle suck, then leaned back a little more. The two of them blushing and smiling, he released her impressive endowments, Bianca looking downwards with growing lust in her eyes. She smiled more, reaching down with both hands, circling her soft fingers around him. Quietly, she breathed out “There’s so many things that I’d like to do...” Timoteo’s smile became stronger. “What would you like to start, with?...” He answered.
Bianca’s cheeks went darker, her eyes becoming a little embarrassed as she looked back up to his. Releasing his member, she held him by the hips, leaning over. She brought her head by his, and barely managed to whisper out the first thing on her mind. Timoteo grinned, a little...
It was an unforgettable experience, for the both of them. With days worth of sexual energy pent up inside them both, they found themselves eager for more and more of each other. Even when they became exhausted, they continually agreed on yet another bout of lovemaking, amidst breathless laughs. First, Bianca’s request, which included bending Bianca over on the cot, spanking her numerous times. Then, surprising her, Timoteo unabashedly pushed his face against her rear, making her toes curl as he tasted her rosebud. Once she was wet and relaxed enough, he sunk himself into her, nestling his loins against her rump. After a little over twenty minutes, he finally spewed inside her tush, rubbing her to orgasm, in the process. Then, Bianca asked him to help her fulfill a new fantasy: she would stroke his member as she licked his blood. Timoteo obliged, playing with her bosom as she nibbled and licked at the side of his neck, her hand quickly pumping along his length.
Gibbons and Marilyn had returned by Timoteo’s second orgasm, so for the third bout, Timoteo decided that it’d be safest to ensure Bianca’s silence. Partially teasing her, he took her tiny black pair of panties, having her hold them in her mouth. Bianca’s entire face went red at the concept, but she didn’t reject the idea, using her own underwear like a gag to muffle any vocalizations of pleasure. Then, Timoteo ducked between her thighs, feasting on her puffy womanhood, savouring her taste, her juices. Bianca kept her hands over his head, muffled moans sounding out behind her mouthful of panties, rapidly growing more urgent as she closed in on a mind-numbing orgasm. Then, they went with a personal favourite, Bianca getting over Timoteo on her hands and knees, facing the opposite direction so that they might both feast on each other’s naughty bits. Bianca was quick to switch the petite underwear in her mouth with his throbbing manhood, Bianca engulfing him in her mouth like a hungry succubus.
In a twist, Timoteo decided not to taste her in return. Instead, he used both his hands to explore her passages, sinking his digits into both her womanhood and her backside. Bianca tried to stifle her moans, and eventually, Timoteo had to do the same, but it was becoming impossible to hide every sound of pleasure that welled up inside their chests. Finally, after close to two hours of lovemaking, they concluded with one final act. Bianca, hoping to surprise and excite Timoteo, got him to lie back, then crawled over him. The two of them panting, she lined herself up with him, bringing her groin over his. Lowering her hips, she sat down on him, embracing his bare manhood as deep into the moist, gripping confines of her womanhood as she could manage. Her hands over his stomach, she took charge, shaking her hips and grinding him around inside herself, the two of them in blind ecstasy over their union.
Bianca started to moan and cry out, so Timoteo took her by her hands, lowering her down over him until their chests were touching. Kissing her, they silenced each other by wrapping their tongues together, muffling each other’s voices. Burning each other as they joined bodies, they entwined fingers, making love for a little over half an hour. Bianca was the first to orgasm, bringing her head down by Timoteo’s, her chin over his shoulder. Pushing her face into the pillow beneath his head, she screamed, muffling the cry more effectively against the pillow. She squirted against him, but her movements never faltered or hesitated, skyrocketing Timoteo to his own finish. She could tell that he was getting close, even in the haze of so many orgasms. Just before he finished, she gave him another surprise. She suddenly crawled backwards on the bed, slipping herself off of him, coming down until she could slip him into the welcoming confines of her mouth.
Timoteo had to struggle to keep his voice down, his hands going over the back of her head, Timoteo feeding her his whole length as she swallowed down more of his seed. Tasting herself over him, in the process, Bianca bobbed her head a few times once he was finished, breathing heavy, coaxing out every last drop. Exhausted and sweating, they laid down on their sides, facing each other. Holding each other close, grasping each other’s hands, they had both fallen asleep in minutes, so spent after their lovemaking that they both required a nap to recover...
After bathing, Gibbons and Marilyn returned to their room, unaware of the carnal bliss taking place in Timoteo and Bianca’s quarters. Marilyn stepped in first, Gibbons shutting the door behind himself when he followed her in. Under the bright noon sun, the room was fairly illuminated, the sun seemingly creeping through the wood of the vessel like a phantom. Marilyn quickly walked over to the second, unused cot, dropping her clothes over it in a bundle, giving her body a chance to dry off before she got dressed. Gibbons did the same, watching her curiously as she hastily marched over to their shared cot, dropping down on the edge. Her facial expression was one of consternation, a sudden shift from the pleasant demeanor she had maintained while the two had swam around, beside the Lutra Pearls. “What’s got you so glum?” He asked, his tone friendly. Marilyn’s brow furrowed, her hands gripping the edge of the cot, close to the outsides of her thighs.
Her eyes went to the floor. The tone in her voice was conflicted, the fiery-haired woman saying “I...I wanted to talk about what happened. At the Arena.” Gibbons momentarily raised his eyebrows, giving the facial equivalent of a shrug. Slowly beginning to walk over, he nonchalantly said “Well, what’s on your mind?” Marilyn’s eyes snapped up to him, making his pace slow to a stop. Quietly, and with just a hint of confusion, Marilyn said “You came back, for me...You had everyone moving, and you could’ve just left me. Probably would’ve saved you a minute, or two...Could’ve kept the others from getting any more injured. But...” Gibbons’ face went split with a smile. “Has this been bothering you, ever since then?” He asked, with a bit of amusement. Marilyn jumped up to her feet, the two nude individuals still slowly dripping water to the floor. She took a few steps off to the side, not looking at him. “Gibbons, don’t, I’m serious. You came back for me, when you really shouldn’t have. Anybody smarter than a piece of tree bark would’ve seen the danger.”
Gibbons shrugged, raising an eyebrow, still smiling as he said “So? Why’re you complaining? Would you have preferred that I left you, there?” Marilyn turned and faced him, looking into his eyes. Quickly, she said “No, but...If you had abandoned me, I would’ve understood. I wouldn’t have had an issue with it. You almost got yourself killed, going back for me...And...” She trailed off. Gibbons simply stared at her, watching her with half-closed eyes. “And?” He prompted, after a moment or two. Marilyn sighed with frustration, briefly throwing her arms up in annoyance as she said “And, I guess I want to know why.” “Would you have abandoned me, if we had traded places?” Gibbons calmly asked. Marilyn sighed, again. She brought a hand up to her face, touching her forehead, the other hand planting against her hip. She closed her eyes. “...I don’t know. It would be safer, and smarter, but...I wouldn’t want to.” “Well, there you go. Call me reckless and stupid, if you want to. I couldn’t just leave you behind, and in the end, who gives a damn? We all walked away.”
Marilyn lowered her hand from her face, giving him a weary look of annoyance. “I suppose you want a medal for your bravery, huh?” She asked. Gibbons grinned, a little. “Nah, I’ll steal twenty when we hit the mainland, and make myself feel really special.” Marilyn tried not to react, but ended up letting out a little chuckle. She walked back over to the cot, sitting down on the edge again, her posture more relaxed, now. “So...What are your plans, now? What happens to us?” She asked, looking over to him. Gibbons’ smile relaxed, and he stepped over to the cot, sitting down close beside her. “Well...It’s too early to say, I think. We don’t know if what we did has made any dent in the League, yet. There might still be work, to do...And, either way, you and I, we’ll be in the biggest danger, out of everyone. The League knows we were responsible, and with descriptions from everyone we’ve worked with, they’ll know exactly what we look like. They’ll be hunting us until either we die, or they do.”
Looking over and meeting her eyes, he said “I don’t plan on stopping, because of this. Can’t. It’s going to change things, sure...Make it more stressful and dangerous, sure. But, I can’t stop, I’m not gonna just run and hide for the rest of my life.” Marilyn nodded, a little. “Sure. You don’t have to explain to me, I feel the same way.” “Then why’d you ask?” He playfully inquired, smiling a little. Marilyn gave him another weary look. “Because I meant us, us.” She simply stated. Gibbons raised his eyebrows, his eyes going mildly surprised. “Oh, right...What happens to us.” Marilyn nodded in confirmation. Gibbons started to smile, more. Reaching over, he slipped his arm around her waist, saying “I’m surprised you feel the need to ask. Doesn’t it say enough, that I went back for you?” Marilyn quietly said “That was then...This is now. What happened then is in the past, it’s over...I’m talking about from now on, about what happens after this point.”
Gibbons gave her a bit of a look, still smiling playfully. “Why’re you being stubborn? You know what I think, how I feel. Is it really so important to you, to hear the words?” Marilyn looked over at him, her eyes a little offended. Confrontationally, she nodded. Gibbons sighed weakly, through his nose. Bringing his free hand over, he gently stroked down the side of her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “Marilyn, I want us to stay together...For work, and for...Personal reasons. I don’t want us to go our separate ways, you mean a lot, to me. I’ve never known anyone like you, and if I can’t work with you, then...Fighting the League will be a lot more difficult. And...I care about you, in case you haven’t figured it out, yet.” His tone went a little joking, near the end. Marilyn’s expression calmed, a little. “...How much do you care, about me?” She quietly asked. Gibbons, raising his eyebrows, knowingly said “Enough to face death, for you. Enough that a group of rifle-toting League fanatics didn’t scare me.”
Marilyn simply gazed at him, for a few seconds, before she said “...You’re scared of saying the words, aren’t you? You’re scared of becoming attached.” Gibbons leaned his head back, giving her a peculiar look. Marilyn gave him a tired, knowing look, saying “It’s okay, I’m not blaming you. I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I’m...A little bothered by commitment, too. It gets people hurt, gets them killed...Especially with what we do. But...” She sighed, leaning closer to him, resting the side of her head down on his shoulder. “...We’ve got work to do, when we find port.” He merely said, holding her a little tighter, around her waist. Marilyn nodded a little, closing her eyes.
- 63
- 64
- 65
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Fable : Fall of the Guild