Chapter 3
"Tyr, what you have done goes against the Treaty." Thor spoke to the ship master.
Tyr bowed his head slightly to his supreme commander, "What I have done, or tried to do, was an attempt to halt the escape of a dangerous criminal."
"And you still prowl the milky way for him? The Goa'uld will not tolerate your presence for long if you fringe upon their worlds. It may lead to war."
Tyr thought of this for some time. Would he be willing to risk this? With the Goa'uld? Absolutely. If it meant the return of those touched by the Heart of Darkness, namely, the worse among their number. This was unfair however. He still had crew loyal and would follow him into the depths of Helheim on his word, but he must provide them the choice.
"I will send ship of those who desire to return home. I will not stop my pursuit."
Thor stared at him, eyes wide but not from surprise. Thor knew better than most Tyr's infatuation with Fenrir was deeper than even his own, but he would risk the Treaty, the lives of uncountable humans for his own passions. "I will send for you. Would you fight your own? For revenge?"
Tyr cut the transmission and summoned the crew for a gathering. 'Would I?' He was not sure. He would have to be greater than even the supreme commander in order to avoid the question in reality, but he may not have time for it.
[][[[[]
"He's a hard one." Figa commented, turning the forcefully asleep quarry on his side, showing those gathered the blast of a staff weapon against his back. Despite the blackened burns, flesh has been recovering from its cauterization since they brought him to the outpost two nights ago, with blackened, ashy flesh turning pink then pale as time progressed, shrinking the spot from its outer edges.
"And none came through the Chappa'ai since?" One of the elders of the group, a woman by name of Hassir, asked. She had many winters over the others in the cabal, mentoring the youngest alongside leading them, with the stresses of war and strife aging her despite a Symbiotes' regenerative qualities, with narrowed eyes, a permanent scowl and harsh wrinkles across her red skin, hair cut short and purely white from seniority.
Figa shook her head, "The runners have not come back. I presume not."
Hassir rubbed her face, callused hands churning away frustrations. "We were told that the moon of Tzchel would send more women."
Baxtza, one of the onlookers and one who retrieved the man before them, shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, plates of tempered steel clicking against one another. "It seems that Ix-Chel has killed them already." Dropping a hand, "You knew she was onto them, Hassir, why do you act so surprised?"
Hassir glared at the heavily armored warrior, boring holes into her warmask. "You mistake anger as surprise. Do not make such an error again in that tone with me."
Baxtza's visible lips quirked in want to respond to her assertion, but bit her tongue and bowed her head towards her in apology.
"Maybe..." Another voice stated, almost whispered. "Maybe fate has given us a replacement?" She continued.
Hassir looked towards her apprentice, Kanyto. "You are not exactly a good judge of a fighter's arm. You defeated him. Why this vouch?"
Kanyto bit her bottom lip nervously, disliking her mentor inquiring into something she cannot prove. Yet. "A feeling. He may be more then what I have experienced. He was wounded, after all. Mayhaps he has potentials unseen?"
Brishin, quartermaster and self-titled master of humor gave a quick bark of laughter at her. "Indeed. He may prove effective at eating weapon's fire." Bald head adorned with tattoos of birds and beasts moved with her jovial expressions. "May also be good meat, if he doesn't recover." She tapped Hassir with an elbow, "Leave nothing to waste after all?"
Hassir herself ignored the banter physically but replied without looking towards her, "You twist my words now, but hopes that it doesn't not come to that." She knelt down, inspecting the wound on his back. "I hate burnt rabbit."
Brishin started a belly laugh with a chuckle from the other three.
Hassir rose, concluding. "Find someone to wash him, keep the wounds clean and give him water. No one on patrol."
Brishin rose an eyebrow, "Perhaps among the more chaste? The women here haven't seen their husbands in over three winters."
[][[[]
The Ix'Zary star system was as heavily populated as it was contested in the expansionary war of the System Lord Ix-Chel, Goddess of Prosperity. Or so she and her followers called her.
Cutting bloody swathes through nearby territories for half a decade; gods and mortals alike have fallen to her armies, vessels and magiks. Hijin, the front line world, has been the most barbarous of battlefields yet; when the master of the world was slain, the Jaffa and humans left were presented three options: join her majesty's army, resist and avenge their god, or die. The brutality that wracked the system from the choice would only be matched by the prolonged war that followed.
Many Jaffa had fled to hidden bases on the other worlds in the system, including the one which covered the system's stargate. The half hidden raids and assaults were bearing fruit at first until Ix-Chel landed several motherships on Hijin, combing the dense jungles in their near limitless numbers for resistance.
The outpost, if it could be called that, had but the most meager of forces to man it, no more than two dozen in a single day. An armory with a crew of human smithers, a sensor block to rally and inform forces nearby, and the most unkempt farm this side of the Stargate network, barely managing to feed the weakening defenders.
They have recently come to a threshold that their once limited supplies began to fit to them more as they had more limited numbers due to attrition. Now they were beginning to run low on warriors.
Hassir rummaged through dense foliage, unwilling to take a blade to the vines and trunks in the fear of leaving a trackable path. Two other's flanked, stepping low and softly with her on steps, Va'Toks in hand, ready to stand up and form a firing line. It would only in the chance that they were discovered and to inflict maximum casualties before they themselves perish.
As they climbed up a hill to meet a clearing, they stopped and looked on in awe of one of the ruined cities that dotted Hijin, made active from the occupation forces using them as camps. An Alkesh was lying near it, retrofitted with several dorsal cannons, used as a anti air gun while immobile.
Hassir sighed to herself, 'Just keeps growing more interesting by the moment.' "Move back, we cannot perform a supply raid with them being able to shoot our Tel'Tak down." She ordered quietly, pressing a finger to the communication unit on her cheek. "Btahm, do not move out as planned. Return to the outpost." Hearing the pilot scoff in disillusionment. Hassir felt a nervous sweat crawl down her spine, something she was able to notice despite the jungle's heat and her own exertion.
What would they do if they come? Would they fight to the last? They would only lessen vast numbers a fraction of a fraction. They can do no harm to the armada stationed in system with the tools available and the Stargate would only take them so far, if into the clutches of another System Lord, they'd likely be branded Shol'Va for abandoning their lands and their god, being killed only after extremely long and painful torture.
Either way; the game is rigged. There is always a path to victory, to kick these Vash'eewm from the planet, avenge their patron; Tzorgamin, and be left alone long enough to prepare for the next assault. It would take months or even years for Ix-Chel to regather a force to threaten Ix'Zary again.
Her squad trekked back to the outpost with little incident, spotting the odd five-man enemy patrol, but they were loud, clumsy and out in the open. Whoever trained these children, they did not prepare them for an environment like Hijin, the jungle of ghosts.
[][[[[]
It had been several days since he had made way to one of his planets. To say he was disappointed by the accommodations as a guest was an exercise in understatement. He'd been aware moments after he was knocked out, playing the part of the captured. Something he intended to never again commit when he reclaimed his Harbor World.
Listening in on their language had been a more difficult endeavor then he anticipated. Especially now, with a woman brandishing a knife towards his supposedly unconscious form as he lay in a crude hut of bark and tree limbs. He did not see her, his eyes closed, breathing shallow and ragged. The former he performed in part to keep the illusion of slumber, the later was authentic, his lungs still repairing from the energy weapon that had struck him as he escaped.
Of the noticeable words she mentioned as she knelt, knife pointing towards him, one was 'Jaffa'. Kaennin was quick to assume that she and her cohorts were of the slave race the earth humans mentioned. As she drawled on and on, her thoughts were as open to him as a book, reading the meaning of her words and quickly adapting them to his own mind. He enjoyed this tongue more than the human's 'English'. Something about this dialect, Summa-Goa, was intricate, efficient but carried a lace of aged pride.
As he felt the woman's drawl come to an end, better punctuated when he felt the blade tip come into contact with his chest, another presence entered his telepathic peripheral, in the hut.
This newcomer quickly barked orders towards his supposedly silent killer, to where she quickly stood up and began yelling back in defense.
Kaennin took this moment to open his eyes slightly. While the attacker was face away and heavily armored he could not but chuckle to himself as his eyes wandered to her posterior. The one beyond her, quite old if her appearance said anything, pulled a knife of her own as the verbal joist escalated.
'Opportunities are abound this day.'
[][[[]
"You dare kill someone on my watch without my word?!" Hassir pulled out a knife from a scabbard in her armor, "I'll carve out your heart and feed it to your children!"
Baxtza growled, "Would it be comforting id knew they would live if you led us further!" They slowly strafed, circling one another in search of an opening. "He is a waste of resources! We should kill him! We do not take prisoners, let alone vegabounds like some harlot orphanage!"
Hassir began a lunge towards her challenger, only for the fateful guest of theirs to quickly grab Baxtza by her throat, pulled the knife from her grasp and place the point in between a section of plates on her back. "Humorous. We are of similar mind." Kaennin commented.
[][[[
Lord General Raisa smirked as she picked up the small tracking beacon from the earth, a golden pearl, blinking red on one side. "Seems we have our path to one camp of insolent rabble." The Goa'uld commented to one of her Jaffa staff, head encased in a Humanoid with large eyes and no mouth, both glowing red slightly, having a crone, evil elder disposition.
"These beacons extend to the east, close to the river of Tomin." The Ix-Chel guard commented, pointing further into the forest, voice modified by the helm.
"Excellent! Seems our spies are doing what they are being rewarded for." Raisa smiled from ear to ear, "These baneful nests of rodents will soon be exterminated." She then continued in her own mind, 'Then we will kill the next. Then again. And again. Till all bow before our lord. This is the duty of Her Headhunters.'
[][[{
"Tell me." Kaennin asked, "Would killing the one in my hands place me in your favor?" Placing enough force on the blade for the very tip to break skin in her back, feeling her tense more against him.
Hassir narrowed her eyes at him, "It would not. I would owe you a death. She is not yours to kill at leisure." Thinking of scenarios of how to get Baxtza free from his threat. He possibly would kill her if she Hassir called for help, if she moved to retrieve a Zat'Nik'Tel, he would kill her, if she tried to engage him now, she doubted she could reach him in time, even if she could, a simple push to Baxtza into her attack would cause an imbalance long enough for him to kill one of them or even escape.
"Quickly." He almost purred, "The blood on this blade is making my grip... slippery."
"Kill me then." Baxtza hissed, "Kill me, then she kills you and we will settle this skirmish in the afterlife."
"There is no such thing, woman." Kaennin scoffed. "Be sile-"
"JAFFA! KREE! UR'MAN KE-!" A woman screamed before a loud explosion deafened her, shaking the area. The hut flew out of its moorings, its denizens being thrown to the floor.
Hassir's battle Discipline immediately kicked in, looking around the outpost, gaining as much information of the attack as possible.
'Artillery. Long range. Must be from a camp.' Hassir looked to the outpost perimeter, 'Massed warriors. Tight formations of four to twelve. Firing lines. Coordinated. Not a wild attack. Knew we were here.' Hassir then shook her head, focusing on the closest crisis.
[][[[]
Despite the factors which the wounds were healing, landing on one hurt like hell.
Kaennin didn't have a moment to recover, as he was quickly pounced on by one of the Jaffa, the elder, pinning him to the floor with her weight. She yelled as she tried to dig the knife into what was supposed to be an easy kill, but he put a hand up at it, having it sink into his left hand. He didn't have time to respond to the pain, throwing his fist into her face.
He thinks he at least knocked a tooth out, dazing her, but he was then attacked by the other woman, his soon to be dead hostage, with a massive stone that slammed into his shoulder and collar bone. His bones held firm against the crude attack, but it split open new wounds to deal with and limited his reach with his right arm.
Kaennin instead used his own hand, knife impaled, to shank her ankle, forcing her to a knee in a shriek of pain.
Hassir managed to regain her bearings enough to quickly slam her conjoined fists into Kaennin's face, feeling an eye take injury, his right vision beginning to blur.
Before they could continue the bloody brawl further, several volleys of orange plasma slammed near where they had battled, forcing a new dire sense of urgency and tolerance toward one another.
Kaennin pushed Hassir off his body, pushed the boulder off his arm, pulled out the knife from his hand and, enhanced with telekinesis, threw it towards one of the attacking Jaffa.
It slid home into a soft neck, the woman grabbing it as she fell with a gurgle.
Hassir and Baxtza used their time to fly down where the hut tumbled, find the weapons wrack they had laid their staves.
Kaennin quickly stood and ran towards the forest, seeing several vessels to his rear approaching the camp like a flock of raptor-falcons.
As he made way, he saw a vessel of some sort, looking like a carapace, three overlapping shelled similar to an insect, in the center of this encampment, filling with evacuees.
While initially he was going to instantly head there, kill anyone who derailed him, he heard then felt the impact of another high energy explosion, tossing him to the ground once more. Having more exposure to this, he recovered near instantly, on his feet and sprinting.
As he did so, looking back to register the aggressor's movements, the saw the pair of Jaffa that held him. The explosion had almost entirely neutralized them. The youngest, was either dead or unconscious, the elder was trying to drag her towards the vessel, bloody leg visible, wooden shrapnel buried in her right thigh.
Kaennin made a quick calculation, and acted on its possible results. These ones had kept him for something. If he saved one or two of them, risking attack, he would solidify passage, maybe even more.
Kaennin dashed towards the pair, opposing Jaffa switching to him as a new target. He through his wounded hand forward, telekinetically dragging the women towards him, shocking Hassir as he slammed his shoulder into her gut and lifted her off the ground.
Hassir's first instinct was to fight, but he grabbed Baxtza by her armored front, and started running towards the Tel'Tak with them in hand. It was perhaps the tensest minute she had experienced in her long life, terror of whether or not she would be shot from the inadequate abilities of their prisoner chilled her soul. But the fear was all for nothing.
Seeing the man approach with their comrades, the wing of Death Gliders dangerously close, those who were aboard quickly ran up the ramp to the cargo hold as Kaennin ran up, the Tel'Tak lifted and dashed in the opposite direction, engaging its cloaking device.
[][[[]
Kaennin practically dropped Hassir onto the floor after he released Baxtza, her armor ridden up her cheeks, chest bare.
He was too wired to even be distracted by the woman's naked flesh as he sat up against the wall, panting. He had no nourishment since he left Leirui, his body weakened in its performance, coupled with the lack of matter from healing his injuries, weak was inevitable.
He wiped a bloody hand across his sweat covered scalp, panting, leaning his head against the ship's hull.
Then he roared in laughter, bringing the attention of the routed rebels. "Ah! The wonderful feeling of escaping alive!" Laughing again.
Hassir was being attended by Brishin, having the sliver of wood removed from her leg. Out of all them, his statement cut her the deepest. She was slow. She did not prepare her warriors enough to survive an attack. How were they targeted? She must have given away their position when she readied the raid.
Hassir pushed Brishin off her, standing up, snatching a Staff from one of the warriors, activated it and pointed it towards Kaennin. "I lost good men in that attack. Do not mock their loss in my presence."
"I mock nothing." Kaennin flung a hand at her, "I am merely glad to not number among those 'good men', as they undoubtedly would if they had survived and another had died."
Hassir kept her gaze sharp at him, "Who are you?"
Kaennin was close to answering with his given name. It was almost too easy to, somehow disturbing him. He was not Kaennin, 'We are what we do.' He thought to himself.
"Yoo-hoo!" Hassir yelled, "Tell me your name!"
He signed, standing up, nearly at equal height with the ancient Jaffa. "I am Fenrir."
"Why are you here? This is a Jaffa world. Why did you come through the Stargate? What do you want?" She questioned further, the gathering of warriors crowing the corner of an already small cargo area.
"Why am I here?" He laughed cruelly, "Don't be simple. This world was never yours." He stared at her, then to the barrel, then back at her, "This world is MINE. I have come to reclaim all that I have possessed!" He declared.
Hassir narrowed her eyes, "The Goa'uld we have been fighting declares the same goals."
"I am not your enemy. I am better." Kaennin smiled, "At everything. Even generosity." He gestured to the fore of the ship, "Show me to the sensor, and I will grant you the ability to defeat your enemy."
Hassir, feeling evil spirits at work through the man, bore her teeth, "What do you want exchange for this 'generosity'?"
He smiled venomously, a devious display so proud and depraved that she doubted even a Goa'uld would wear it. "You and your women's unquestioning obedience in my own endeavor."
"Bastard!" She swore in a mocking tone, "You think you can declare such an insult to me? I should kill you here for your insolence."
He doubted she would, being this close to the hull with that weapon would be detrimental, but before he could goad further, a woman from the crowd stepped in front of the staff.
"Kanyto what is the meaning of this? Remove yourself from view!" She ordered her apprentice.
She shook her head, "We should listen to him. He saves you and Baxtza, an honor debt is owed, the least that can be done is investigating what he offers."
Hassir shook with fury, "You dare question my honor or debt to this man? I should kill you along with him!"
"You taught me and others not to idly threaten those who have earned both respect and honor through their actions! If you are not the same woman who taught me this, I should be the one to strike you down for betraying all that you wrought and had so lightly held dear!" Kanyto was glaring daggers at her master, trying her best to succumb her fear, as it knotted in her heart and stomach.
Hassir breathed through her clenched teeth for several log seconds before she threw the deactivated Va'Tok across the deck and strode to the cockpit.
Fenrir smirked as the drama ended, "Do I take that as a 'Yes'?"
[][]]]]]
The cabal had landed the Tel'Tak in a wide cave, surrounded by dense jungle, using the natural shelter to tend to foraging for food and water, prepare the dead and reclaim Symbiotes. Those that stayed in the Tel'Tak were a group of four, Fenrir, Hassir, Kanyto and Btahm, the last of whom was as close to a technical expert they had.
"There have been many settlements on this planet, none lasted longer than a millennium, but no one has ever found evidence of an underground complex." Kanyto commented as Fenrir and Btahm meddled with the controls of the Tel'Tak, the red Control-Orb having been removed from its encasing but still connected to the console, crystals and lines of light running and between it and its former house. The question was to placate Hassir, still sore and hostile from the day's events.
"Of course not." Fenrir stated plainly, "If our facilities were made so that they could not be detected so easily. One must know how to look first."
Hassir shook her head, but commented no further.
"What kind of..." Btahm, removing a set of crystals and rearranging them, "Boom awaits us? What kind of structure?"
"All in good time. I shan't spoil the surprise." Fenrir smiled, pulling out a multicolored cord of light. "Seems the battle earlier was more convenient than expected." Placing the end of it into his hand's open wound, starting to partially close.
They were astounded and horrified, but when the Tel'Tak's lights began to flicker and dim them returned to normal, they were comforted when he said. "I am attempting to rewrite the Directive-Codes of the sensor suite. It should not take long." He regretted not having the technical ability of the Soul-Singer clan. Of the clans, they didn't just create metal-minds and artificial life, they gave them sapience so close to their own that they may as well had souls themselves. He could use one of their lamest of disciples, it would improve his situation by dozens of factors.
"Done." Fenrir smiled, "It is..." The Sensor Screen appeared on the bridge window, showing first their position on the planet then highlighting two places on the globe. "... here. This one must be first."
Hassir squinted at the image. "This one, the one you want second I assume, is at the Vn'Nan continent."
Fenrir quirked an eyebrow, "And that means what exactly?"
"It is the heart of the invasion, thousands of Jaffa are encamped and motherships orbit over it." Btahm grimaced.
Fenrir smiled, "Your enemy? In the thousands?" Chuckling, "I wish there were more. War is something I have lost my practice in."
[][[[]
Fenrir walked out of the Tel'Tak, smiling at the moon light as it filtered through the hanging foliage and wet air. Was definitely smaller then Leirui's, but this Harbor world was small compared to it.
He passed several women who have set up campfires, roasting native beasts that range from small hopping rodents to child sized shelled mammals, feeding, tending to the wounded. As he approached the mouth of the cave, a guard came forward, "Hold!" She ordered, "None more will leave at night."
While her face was hidden by a half mask, he tried to flatter her, "My lovely flower, I have been given leave by Hisser. I do not know if you have noticed, but I require to groom myself and demanded I do it out of view of the women." Gesturing to his eye brows, now matted with sweat and grime against his forehead.
The guard snorted, "Yes. It is taboo to do it in our sight."
Kaennin then asked, "That brings to question, why have all the Jaffa I have met here been only women? I did not gain the impression you are single gendered." He smirked, "Though I will not complain if you are."
The guard breathed out impatiently, "Men here are forbidden from military actions, there are too few to risk." She crossed her arms after placing her staff against the cave wall. "The Vagakeem Goa'uld fear sons after the first. I do not know why, but for thousands of years we have limited male births to single pairings. If the woman is found to have two sons or more, they and the children are killed. We take a liquid called Vlimtza's Breath to sway a birth to be female when conceived."
Fenrir nodded, "I see, thank you. May I pass?"
He progressed down the narrow steps, following a narrow stream that gradually wide enough to bathe in.
He discarded the green fatigues that he was given at the Huma base, taking a knife he was given and walked into the green waters. Washing was the primary concern, blood and sweat had accumulated over three days of strife. Bathing seemed to finalize what has been occurring, a final moment where he will be on the disadvantage, where he will begin to reclaim his greatness.
When he was done with the primary spots, he left the cold confines of the lake, walking up to its sands and began cutting away at overgrown hair, dropping it out of reach of the water. What was the most difficult was his hair, it has withered dead, but he abhorred being completely bald. He cut it short, the ragged hair only being a centimeter long on his scalp.
As soon as he was done with that, he walked back into the lake, despite its inhospitable temperature, it was beyond relaxing. A bath to wash away the fifth of recent days.
Fenrir opened his eyes, "Approach clearly. Night is never dim to me, whoever you are." Looking towards where he came from, a figure amongst the trees.
"You are quite direct for a man." Baxtza walked out from behind a tree. "It's odd."
Fenrir rolled his eyes, "From what I am told of your customs; that makes sense."
Baxtza came to the foot of the lake. "I have come here to give my thanks."
Fenrir chuckled, "Ah, I figured you were going to try and stab me while I was awake for being a, what did you call me, 'a waste of good water'?"
"You were." She scoffed, "that changed when you saved me and Hassir."
He shrugged, "You were going to kill her if your enemy did not rouse your survival instincts. If you wish to thank me; do it honestly."
Baxtza threw the bundle of clothing under her arm on the floor. "I have brought you clothing. It may not be clean of blood but it's as clean as we could give."
Fenrir smirked, "My thanks. I wouldn't wish to keep you when you desire to leave. Have a pleasant night, we're going to have a very busy day."
After moments of silence, he grew frustrated with her idle presence. He closed his eyes and tried to touch her mind, only to straighten, surprised, when he felt her brush against him in the river.
She was an impressive woman to be sure, muscles refined to an amazing degree, breasts lean and face, though scarred here and there, was quite pretty along with her umbra black hair, deep brown eyes and dark skin.
Fenrir... Kaennin, was stunned for a moment, hesitant but eager to take this woman in throws of passion, but he doubted exposing her in such a way was wise, he did not trust her and she undoubtedly did not trust him. "Why are you doing this, my sweet?" Trying to make her think he was buying into her feminine wiles.
She hunched a shoulder, wiping her face of water. "Does it matter? I am propositioning you, do you want to do this or have I bigger balls then you?"
The attempted jibe made him laugh, "Clearly you did, but you lost them when I had to drag your sorry carcass to the ship."
Without another word, she pressed her lips against his. He didn't push back, squinting slightly in thought towards this act. What benefit would this bring to her? He was an outsider to these people, it would bring her to suspicious if they saw them do this. To Fenrir, everything, in a way, was all about sex. Except rarely sex itself. In majority of cases, it was about a simple thing that he himself desired: power. Others, pleasure, boredom, and then finally, after all possibility of reason is exhausted, affection.
He could not see why in any reason. Maybe she thinks he'd think better of her? Ignore her past actions? Perhaps.
Fenrir began kissing her back, feeling her tongue run across his lips as she reached down towards his crotch. 'Heh, if anything, this exercise will let me know if the plumbing down there still works after all this time.'
They guided each other back to shallower waters, Fenrir grasping at Baxtza's clothing, feeling for ties and knots keeping it on her, but using it to feel the firm flesh beneath. He was glad that she had momentarily joined him in the water, as it likely cleared up some the filth acquired recently, sliding fingers on the edge of the garment that lay under her loin cloth.
She gave a confused gasp, parting her mouth from his, "What are you…?"
Fenrir smiled, "I suggest you lay down, you may not be able to stand shortly." Though she remained standing as he began to lower himself towards her womanhood he chuckled, "As you wish." Relieving the buckle of her belt, unveiling her midsection and her bush to him. What disturbed him when he did so, however, was the curious 'X' across her lower abdomen. "What… is this?" He reached a hand out as if to touch it, but hesitated just before he did.
Baxtza rose and eyebrow, "You were not aware of a Jaffa's Symbiote pouch?" She then gave a curious look, "Where are you from?"
"Symbiote?" He looked up at her, still in her knelt position.
She quickly felt her arousal, as well as his own, diminish at his confusion, "Yes, I have an immature Goa'uld within me, a Prim'Ta, as it nurtures my strength, assures my ability to live, so do I nurture it. In time, it will be strong enough to take a human host."
Fenrir held back his laughter as he spoke, "I hope the creature does not act as an audience." Fingers slowly feeling up past her knees, pulling her underwear, a fabric thong of some kind that was slid tightly in place in her nethers and ass, perhaps to deny local insect life access and cause problems.
He placed all thought of further explanation aside, pushing her legs apart by her calves, she slowly relented to his suggestion and hissed a pleasant breath as he lapped his tongue across her quim, tasting the mix of water and sweat that has built up. She tensed against him, gripping the top of his head.
He smiled as he continued his ministrations, feeling his own genitals grow as his arousal peaked, glad that a Jaffa's physiology was not different where he was standing. While his left hand and mouth were busy seeing to her lower lips and the small bulb above it, he reaches up and grasped one of Baxtza's breast through her small shirt, covering her chest up past her shoulder bones.
He had a stroke of pride when he managed to make her give a soft moan. Fenrir initially thought he was completely lost in the matters of flesh, needing to regain the former glory he had before which took many woman and many more years to perfect his technique. Seems this reclamation was going to be easier then he anticipated.
He shoved his entire face between her legs, wrapping his mouth around her clit and sucking on the tender organ with relish, making her buckle against him, simultaneously sliding his middle finger into her. He was certain the moistness that flowed from her was not just water.
He removed his hand from her breast, hiking her chest clothing up, using his new hand to balance her as he pushed her to the mud, her impact sending some of the muck on his face, clouded with her juices.
He pounced on her like a seasoned predator, pinning one of her wrists against the wet ground, whilst slamming his mouth onto hers, using his freed hand to guide his manhood as he guided then slammed his hips to hers, conjoining them in a shared groan of pleasure. He could not say for certain whether she felt as he did, but Fenrir was in utter bliss; the velvety flesh that wrapped around among his most sensitive of organs made him shiver in delight. He lost his objectivity of making his current companion feel all the pleasures that he could offer, focusing on his needs, which had been unknowingly been building up for over one-hundred thousand years.
He cursed quietly to himself in a long dead dialect, feeling the buildup of pleasure in his loins, quaking as he picked up the pace, racing to a debauching nirvana
What he did not expect next, amidst his narrow minded buildup, was Baxtza to quickly shove him to the side, making him quickly deflate from finishing as his side dug in muck.
Baxtza laughed playfully as she then pushes him over, fully on his back with a foot, leaving a messy print on his chest. She quickly spoke something in Summa'Goa, but he did not listen as she climbed back onto him, grabbing his manhood and guiding it back inside her, the quiet cold that was made by their respective absences, forcing a moan out of both of them as they were again conjoined. This cold-hot element only brought their climaxes to a peek that was not reached before.
The Jaffa brought a pained though pleasurable groan to Fenrir when she nuzzled his neck and bit into him so strongly he was quite certain she broke skin, not that he did not enjoy the sensation, in combination with her hopping or grinding against his cock.
He grasped her hips, forcing him deeper within her as he felt his climax rising once more. Sensing this, she placed her hands on his chest and quickening her pace.
He quickly yelled out, "Baxtza!" As he erupted within her in an explosion of unadulterated pleasure.
He was momentarily dazed, coming down from his high, noticing Baxtza laying upon him, panting.
He placed a hand on the back of her head, stroking wet, rough hair as he sighed. "Amongst the nicest of apologies I have yet received." As she looked upon to respond, he silenced her by flipping her onto her own side much like how she did to him, placing himself on her as he purred "Thus, should savor it to its fullest. Completely." He was uncertain if she desired only a single bout of pleasure, but frankly, he did not care for her intentions or plans at this moment, focused on using her as she undoubtedly wishes to use him in the future.
Little do they know of the pair of eyes currently observing the… act, one using the other, both parties unclear of their purpose in their action. Plotting, scheming, smiling.
[][[[[]
SGC
Harriet rocked his foot uneasily as he sat in his chair. "Why? What is happening to me?"
Fenrir, sitting on the desk in front of him, crossed a leg over the other. "You need guidance, my young friend. Wisdom that you cannot accumulate on your own, not yet."
Harriet cringed as another item in his quarters topside slammed to the ground, seemingly by its own will, a clothes drawer in the bedroom.
Harriet held his family picture in hand as he started to rock back and forth in the fettle position, making certain that it was never damage. He was anticipating the next shock, the wave of crazy that had followed the crazy topilings, crackings and slammings of his personal effects.
He closed his eyes, nails digging into palms in harrowing horror of what is to come, "Why is this happening!?" He asked the ghost of the man that has been haunting him since he was aware days ago.
Kaennin felt the onslaught approaching him and placed an immaterial hand on his shoulder, as Harriet held himself in cowardly capitulation to what is to come. "Because, you must know their pain." Looking up and gesturing to the ceiling, "You must learn to enjoy the pain."
Harriet's next moment, he connected to the minds of every man, woman and child in the next spherical kilometer, every lie, every pint of anger over the disappointment over every dinner, every tang of alcohol, every moment of pain, hatred, love and sorrow. All in a moment, all at once.