Date: Wed, 26 Aug 2009 17:56:10 +0200 (CEST)
From: ARTFITZ <artfitz@orange.fr>
Subject: the druid chapter 10

The druid moved in a towards the hillside through the darking forest. The
closer he got the darker it became, the sunlight was totally blocked and he
felt his way in the near total darkness. The temperature plunged and he
felt an icy breeze on his face which made him shudder. There was evil afoot
and it soon became almost palpable. The trees looked blasted as if by a
great storm, the tree trunks gnarled and the leaves browning as he
watched. He moved steadily onwards the breeze now becoming a storm, blowing
dead leaves and branches into his face and body. He fixed his eyes on the
sombre entrance to the cave in front of him. It was a dark hole reeking of
evil and death. The summer day had turned into a glacial winter and
torrents of rain fell vertically into his face. He was wet all over and the
wind whipped at his hair and beard making a howling sound like a
banshee. The rustling of the dead leaves in the trees made a deafening
sound. The trees shook in the wind and some crashed noisily to the ground
within inches of the drowned druid. He reached the cavern and stopped. He
planted his staff in the hard ground, it crashed into the frozen dirt and
saw arks of light shooting upwards as it did. He knew he was close to his
quest.

Inside the cavern the boy was taken down from his chains almost lifeless,
covered in a slimy mixture of cum and deification which reeked to the
heavens. Strong hairy claw like hands hurled him into a tomb like orifice
in the bare rocks. He lay there on his blood covered back, naked and
shivering in the cold. The monsters continued to hurl abuse at him and
cover him in the mixture of shit, cum and piss until the cavity became
awash with the rotten mixture, almost reaching up to his face and
threatening to cover it and drown him completely. His angelic face shone
and his heart continued to beat slowly as his mind concentrated on his
beloved Druid. The noise had become deafening in the cavern and the
movement of the demonic figures circling about became frantic.

A leader had detached himself from the crowd and placed himself on top of
the boys face, his hairy testicles hanging heavily on the pure visage of
the boy. He tried to shove a big dirty cock into the boys mouth and chanted
a ghostly rhyme in a language that the boy did not know. He struggled a
little to avoid the monster shaft which was trying to force entry into his
mouth. The man/monster pushed harder and harder making the boy gag as he
felt the black purple head of the penis making its terrible movement
towards his gorge. The boy vomited and the vomit joined the mixture in the
hole in the rock. The smell was terrible and he thought he was going to
die. He was at his weakest now, almost willing to give up and take the
punishment which was being inflicted on him.

Outside the druid gathering his strength and saying a prayer loudly grabbed
his staff and pulled it from its resting place. He entered the cave and
moved in the darkness. The head of his staff began to omit a bright light
by which he could see. The man moved forward slowly, doggedly making
progress into the cavern. He reached a fork in the cave with a shaft moving
downwards and another twisting to the left. He stopped, listened and heard
a great noise coming from the descending shaft. He moved onwards, the noise
of the storm outside being replaced by booming unnatural voices which
haunted his mind. The words were strange but he knew the language. It was
the language of the Firbolgs who had inhabited the lands before the arrival
of the Celts many centuries before and who had been defeated at the great
battle of Moytura. They had retreated to the caverns of the mountains where
they swore to destroy the invaders and claim the land back for
themselves. They were the origin of the stories told to children to get
them to behave and were rarely seen by the people or if they were the
unfortunates were never seen or heard of again. Many stories were told
around camp fires and in the raths of the Celtic peoples about these
monster men. They were gross, hairy, fat bellied men, short in stature and
horrible to look at. The druid had heard of them from his own master many
years ago. He had been warned of the dangers and the powers of these
people.  He shuddered and moved forward, trusting in his power and that of
the Dodga, whom he served.  He eventually saw lights flickering in the
distance and moved onwards quickening his pace until he entered a huge
cavern over a hundred feet high and at least twice as long.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the devil like monster astride
the hole which contained the prone and broken body of his beloved, the
druid stood stock still roared in his deep voice for silence. The occupants
of the cave cowered backwards seeing this magnificent man with his great
staff shinning in the darkness of the cave. The monster on Stefan stood
down and moved towards the druid. The priest did not flinch but shoved his
staff into the bare stone floor of the cave, splintering the rocks and
sending a wave of energy around the cave which stopped the Firbold chief in
his tracks, it was like an earthquake and the others cowered even more
until the chief roared at them to make them move forward. This was what he
had waited for these long years. The chief priest of his enemies was nearly
in his grasp. The plan had worked and he had enticed him into his place,
alone and easy to take. A sardonic smile came to his ugly face as he
savoured the moment. They were hundreds against this one old man and would
soon destroy him, taking his magic staff and starting the process of
destroying the invaders.

Stefan moved with much pain trying to pull himself out of the muck that
pinned him down sucking him into oblivion. He could not smile but in his
heart a flutter of hope arose and gave him the strength to hold on. The
druid stood still as the chief of the monsters moved in on him surrounded
by his cohort of twisted men. When he came within a breath of the druid and
was reaching out to take the staff the druid spread his arms making a
triangle of his body with the staff at its centre. He shone even brighter
and the chief and his men fell back sightly holding their claw like hands
up to protect their bulging eyes. As he did so the druid rose in the air
and as he did tentacles of light rose from his head, his hair lifted on his
head surrounding his face like a halo of light, the light grew and grew as
the tentacles swirled around him and formed into a figure of an enormous
bright coloured face. The face of Dodga, the God of the Celts and the
spirit of all that was good in the universe. The Firbolgs all fell to their
knees except the chief who moved forward in a last attempt to grab the
staff and break the spell. His hatered of this man and their God was so
strong that it overcame his natural fear. He reached towards the staff and
just as he was about to touch it a bold of fire red light pulced frol the
head of the staff and was joined by another from the forehead of the druid
and a third from the forehead of the swirling face of the Dogda each
joining to produce a three pronged shaft which plunged into the eyes and
mouth of the chief and turned his bark hairy body into a furness of putrid
jelly which exploded covering his followers in burnt flesh and setting them
alight in turn. The stench was terrible as these monsters fried in their
own grease each falling to the floor of the cave in turn and turning to
dust. The cave became silent, the stench disappeared and the light touched
the hole which contained Stefan evaporating the mess and covering his prone
body in light. Stefan felt a huge bolt of power which surged through his
body cleaning it of all the things which sullied his beauty, as he watched
his scars disappeared one by one leaving his body in the state it had been
before he was captured by these men/monsters. He was a whole man again, his
body pure as if he had washed in the great river itself and been covered in
the perfumes of the flowers which grew on its banks. He stood up in his
grave stepped out and moved towards the Druid. He could still see the image
of the Dogda hovering above and around his lover. The wisps of smoke now
diminishing as the tentacles of light reintegrated the druids head and his
hair fell downwards to lay on his broad shoulders once again. He was
awestruck and rushed towards the druid as he slowly descended to touch the
stony cold floor of the cave. He fell on his face before the man he loved
kissing his long slender feet and covering his legs with caresses, he
looked upwards towards the shining face and knew that this was the man he
loved and that he would always love. The druid smiled and leaned down to
touch his head and taking him by his broad shoulder lifted him effortlessly
upwards and kissed him on his beautiful red lips.

They looked around the cavern, now empty and turning on their heels moved
out of the place.