Stomping Grounds

Four days. Four long, hot, boring days.

Anatta rolled over and adjusted the lenses of her farseeing goggles. She lay propped up on her elbows in a small grassy divot, surrounded by age-worn slabs of stone and hidden from sight behind a bank of leafy bushes. The great city of Ravnica stretched from one end of her world to the other, but there were places where the relentless urban crawl gave way to ruins unfit for even the most desperate squatters before finally fading into broad, green plains littered with rocky debris.

But they were not, she mused, entirely uninhabited. She slipped a dried insect pupae into her mouth and crunched down as the polished lenses slid into place, bringing the object of her scrutiny into focus. Three blurry figures became three powerful men, their tanned skin marked with complex geometric tattoos and pierced with chips of carved bone. They lounged atop a low hill some distance away, too far for her to overhear their conversation, sharing strips of meat and handfuls of nuts drawn from the pouches that hung about their persons. Anatta had been tracking the men for four days now. She was a thief by trade, but the necessities of life in Ravnica's subterranean undercity had made her a competent scout as well. And when her guild - the Golgari swarm, one of the nine great ruling bodies which governed the great city - called, she had been more than happy to lend them her skills.

Which was what had led her out here into the Rubblebelt. But after her week-long hike under the baking summer sun and the unplanned detour to ensure the Gruul didn't stumble upon her camps, the girl's enthusiasm had waned. A hand-drawn map lay next to her, pinned down with rocks and covered in sweeping arrows and scribbled notes describing the trio's movements.

They too were members of a guild, though the girl doubted they thought of themselves as such. The Gruul had once been custodians of Ravnica's parks and nature reserves, but from what Anatta had heard, something in them had snapped long ago as these places shrank to make room for Ravnica's ever-growing population. Now they were little more than violent anarchists and barbarians who worked to level vulnerable areas of the city, even as their old stomping grounds were steadily reclaimed by their more civic neighbors. And while Anatta counted one of them as a friend, that would matter little if she was caught trespassing on their territory.

Anatta smiled to herself and fiddled with her goggles again. The image blurred as a new lens slid into place, and when they came back into focus, it was as if the distance separating her from them had halved again. Two were tall and lean, and while the third was shorter and stockier than his companions all three sported hard, warrior physiques under their scrappy armour and hide britches. Anatta's smile broadened into a wide grin as the three men stood, stretching and collecting their weapons. As boring as her task was, watching the trio had given her a little entertainment over the past few days.

She focused in on the one she assumed to be their leader, watching dreamily as he pulled his spear from the ground and spun it in his hands, playfully jabbing it at one of his fellows for being too tardy finishing his meal. The other man caught the weapon just behind the head and tugged, their tanned muscles rippling as they fought to pull it out the other's hands.

"Gotta be some perks to this job, after all," Anatta sighed as the Gruul patrol moved off down the hill and out of sight. She pulled her goggles off and packed them away, quickly gathering her things. Compared to the three men, she couldn't have been more different. Short, slender and pale in only the way a life lived underground could make you, her delicate features and bright green eyes were framed by a curtain of lank black hair that never looked entirely clean.

The Golgari possessed a small army of thieves like her, and three weeks ago one had ventured out to the Rubblebelt, snuck into the Thunderhoof clan chief's tent, and stolen a box of treasure looted from the clan's enemies. He had eventually returned to the undercity, wounded by arrows and wilting from a particularly nasty hex, claiming to have buried his stolen fortune beneath a set of standing stones. And so Anatta, in her infinite wisdom, had volunteered to go and find it.

"Because you couldn't just rob some nice, fat merchant, could you Gelbis?" Anatta shook her head as she got to her feet, collecting her things and glancing over her map. "No, Gelbis, you had to be special. And now you're two steps from getting thrown in the rot gardens and I'm the one busting my ass out here getting fried by the sun."

Anatta paused to glare petulantly at the sky. A burning torch in an endless sea of blue glared back. Anatta had a difficult relationship with the sun. It hurt her eyes, left her tired and soaked in sweat, and burned away the dark spaces she liked to hide in. She didn't like being seen, least of all when she was far away from anyone who might help her, and the sun-drenched plains offered few places to hide.

"Oh well. Nearly there," she said. The stone circle Gelbis had described squatted on the horizon like a fat grey spider. Leaning on her staff for support. Anatta guessed it would take her a few hours to reach. "And then I've gotta drag this box all the way home again. Maybe I should go ask muscle patrol there for some help?"

She snorted out a giggle at her own joke as she walked. The Rubblebelt's name was apt. Pieces of smashed masonry jutted from the grass, worn down into strange, soft shapes by the wind and the rain. Occasionally Anatta would notice something familiar, like one of the high arches common to Orzhova banks or a piece of rusting Izzet metalwork, but the Gruul had been thorough in their carnage. Anything that even resembled a guild insignia had been smashed or smothered beneath thickly painted tribal markings.

Not even the Golgari, who themselves preferred to live in abandoned places, had been spared. Anatta paused next to one piece of worn stone and crouched down, brushing her fingers over the remains of the Swarm's beetle-like insignia. She didn't think the Gruul were bad - she didn't think anyone was bad, not really - but their mindset was completely alien to her. Both the Golgari and the Selesnyan Conclave included nature-worship in their rituals. She had seen how wild plants and beasts could adapt to life in the city, from the vast fields of fungus and slithering, skittering things that filled Ravnica's tunnels to the Conclave's beautifully maintained gardens and animal companions. Why the Gruul felt the need to smash people's homes and let things grow over the wreckage was beyond her. Her friend, Ember, had tried to explain it once, but most of her talk about the 'old ways' had gone straight over Anatta's head.

Anatta pushed the thought aside and resumed her hike towards the standing stones. As she drew closer, she saw some of the rubble hadn't just been smashed, but carved. Runic symbols and animal totems competed for space with symbols of the Gruul's many tribes, each chiseled into the fallen stones with surprising skill. Here was the Burning Eye and the Thunderhoof, there was the Split-Tongue, Scab-clan and the Rockbreakers. Anatta hesitated again, something of Ember's stories coming back to her. "Look, if this is some holy place, then, like, I'm sorry, okay?" She said, glancing around at the stones. They seemed to draw closer in as she approached the circle, looming overhead like angry justicars. "I wasn't the one who buried the stuff here, so, you know, don't blame me for having to dig it up."

Slipping between two of the graven monoliths, her eyes still darting furtively back and forth, Anatta crept towards the center of the stone ring. A smooth slab of granite lay flat against the earth, half covered in creeping moss and ivy. She circled it, eyeing the stone suspiciously and pulling back some of the plants, half-expecting to find old bloodstains or a pair of rusting manacles bolted to the top. When nothing happened, and no signs of ancient, bloody sacrafice appeared, the girl relaxed and dropped her pack, leaning against one of the stones and taking a long draw of water from her flask.

"Right. Okay. Guess if this is some kind of temple, no-one uses it any more," she said, wiping the sweat from her brow. The sun was crawling relentlessly towards its apex. Anatta could feel her clothes clinging stickily to her body and shot another mean look towards the heavens. "If I get, like, sunburn or something after all this, I promise I'm gonna find a way to shut you up for good."

If her map of the Gruul patrol's movements was accurate, she only had a few hours to dig up the box and haul it back to her hiding spot. She could make camp there in safety, then begin the journey back to civilisation. Anatta groaned. She couldn't wait.

But...she was tired, damnit. Anatta thought she was reasonably fit, but she wasn't very strong. She could run fast, jump and climb, but the long hike through the wilderness had tested her stamina to breaking point. A short rest wouldn't hurt. Besides, she thought, if those Gruul slugs do catch me in this state, I'll be too tired to run away. Better to just take a moment and catch my breath. Anatta lingered for a moment longer, caution warring with sloth, before letting out a grateful sigh and collapsing down next to one of the stones. She dumped her pack and unlaced her armour, squirming until she found a comfortable position to wait out the brutal noon heat. Fatigue caught up with her quickly, and she soon slipped into a light doze.

---

Anatta awoke with a start, crying out in sudden panic at the looming shapes that surrounded her. She jerked to her feet and scrambled backwards, grabbing her staff and waving it vaguely in the direction of the standing stones. "Back! Get back, I - I'm threatening rocks, uh, okay. Wow. Not my finest moment."

The sun had slid past its apex, and though the circle was still bathed in golden light, the suffocating heat had abated somewhat. Anatta grinned nervously glanced around to make sure no-one had caught sight of her embarrassing little pantomime, then put her weapon away. "C'mon, girl, you better get a move on," she muttered, stretching and unstrapping a small shovel from the side of her backpack. "Let's get this stuff dug up and get out of here."

Kicking aside a few clumps of ivy revealed a freshly-turned patch of earth beneath one of the rocky pillars. Anatta sunk the shovel into the dirt, grunting under her breath as she levered out the first clod of soil. "Oh, rot, I am not made for this sort of work..." she groaned. "Where's Zermat and Pecker when you need them? Or Ember? She'd have this thing up in, like, seconds, and I wouldn't have to worry about some other band of Gruul shovel-heads getting involved..."

A solid clunk came from the bottom of the hole. Anatta dropped to her haunches and brushed aside a thin layer of soil, whooping as she felt a wooden chest emerge from the dirt. Grabbing her spade, the heat and tiredness forgotten in her excitement, Anatta quickly dug around the box and jammed the blade into the hole, levering it up until she could grab a carry-handle and drag the box from its earthy prison. She didn't even take a moment to catch her breath before fiddling with the catches. Gelbis hadn't been lying. The box was stuffed full of treasure - fat golden coins from Orzhov banks, jeweled Selesnyian bracelets, strange amulets and icons wrought in Simic silver. Anatta sat back on her haunches, grinning widely.

"Totally worth it," she laughed. "I'm rich, I'm rich, I'm -"

"We'll see if you live long enough to enjoy it, guilder." A commanding voice echoed between the stones. Anatta froze, her heart skipping a beat. "On your feet now, turn around."

Anatta did as she was told, slowly rising and turning towards he voice, her hands held up to show she was unarmed. Before her stood the three Gruul warriors she had been tracking. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, fear quickly replaced by confusion. How? She had been sure the men hadn't seen her. Her mind raced, desperately fishing for an excuse.

"Okay. Um. Whatever you think I'm doing, I'm actually not doing that."

The three men exchanged amused looks. They were even bigger up close. They loomed over her like the stone pillars to her back, watching her like tomcats eyeing up a startled mouse. Their leader took a step forwards, jabbing his spear towards the box of gleaming treasure at her feet.

"So you aren't stealing from us? You aren't trespassing on our lands?"

"Well. Not technically. I, uh, I mean I guess I am trespassing," Anatta mumbled. "But I'm not actually stealing..." Her eyes roamed over the warriors' angular tattoos, searching for some sign of his clan. "Unless you're from the Thunderhoof. You don't look like centaurs to me, so -"

"Enough!" The man shouted. Anatta cringed backwards and obediently fell silent, staring miserably at the ground. Her accuser sighed. The sides of his head had been shaven down to the scalp, his remaining hair pulled back into a long braid, and he ran his hand down its length in exasperation. "Enough. Don't prattle so fearfully. If we really wanted you dead, you would be so already."

"Yeah, I believe that," Anatta said, casting an anxious glance at the stone spears hemming her in. "I'm...look, one of my friends stole this from the Thunderhoof." She kicked the box, the coins rattling cheerfully inside. "All I'm here to do is pick it up. Don't mean any harm or insult or anything. I'll just - you know, take it and be out of your way, if you dont..."

She took a step forwards, only to jump back with a yelp of pain as the map quickly slapped the butt of his spear against her thigh. "Not so fast, girl," he said with a grin. "We are of the Rockbreakers. We do not count the Thunderhoof as our friends, as they drove the game away from these parts, but the Rubblebelt belongs to all Gruul. I don't care about the theft. I do care about your trespass."

"Be careful, Marek," the shortest of the three spoke up. "This one carries a mortis staff. Only the Swarm's priestesses and shamen carry those."

"What, that?" Anatta's gaze wandered to her staff. The long black rod was tipped with a trio of rubbery tentacles which, when the weapon was in her hands, could spring to life and batter or choke anyone who tried to lay their hands on her. "No, no, it's - it must be stolen, I found some guildless merchant selling the thing months back. Didn't seem right for it to be outside the Golgari's..."

She trailed off, her eyes narrowing at the realisation she had been tricked. "Didn't think it would be that easy, Olug," their leader, Marek, said. "You're very quick to give up an advantage, girl. Are you sure you didn't come out here looking to get captured?"

Anatta grinned nervously. "I, uh, try not to make a habit of it,  but these things happen." She said, shuffling her feet in the dry earth. "So you've, well, kinda got me good, right? What happens now?"

The Gruul warriors lowered their spears a fraction, and Anatta could see some of the tension passing from them. They didn't seem angry, not really; if anything they looked curious, eager to examine the strange, skinny city-girl found wandering on their lands now they knew she wasn't a threat. "How did you even find me, anyway?" She asked suddenly. "I spent four days on your trail, and you didn't come here once."

"Nor did we see you," the third Gruul spoke up. He and Marek shared the same lean, wolfish features and hungry eyes, though he wore his hair different, hacked short and spiked with animal fat. A brother, Anatta assumed, or a cousin. "We came here a tenday ago on hunt, searching for-"

"Should we be saying this, Valkiz?" Olug cut in, tugging the tangled beard that hung from his broad chin. "She isn't of our clan, and shouldn't know of our ways." The other Gruul shrugged.

"She poses no danger to us, and has obliged our questions thus far. I see no reason not to humour her a while." He turned back. "As I said, we were searching for a beast worthy of the old gods, to sacrifice and reconsecrate this old shrine. But our hunt was fruitless, and we returned here to plead forgiveness for our failure. Finding you was purely coincidence."

Anatta's mind raced. They don't think you're a threat, she thought, and they seem happy to talk. Keep them talking. Play innocent, maybe they'll let you off with a warning. She shuffled her feet, batting her eyelids at Marek before quickly glancing away. "Look, I'm really sorry," she said, trying to inject as much remorse into her voice as she could. "I didn't know this was, like, important to you. You don't have to -"

"Ah, but we do." Marek spun his spear around and drove it point-first into the earth, leaning casually on the haft. Anatta peeked up at him, her breath held fearfully as she waited for the warrior's judgement. Still there was no anger there, no promise of violence, but the intensity of Marek's gaze held her paralysed. He leaned forwards, the afternoon sun casting his shadow over her, trinkets of bone and tooth bouncing against his broad, muscled chest. Anatta's breath caught in her throat, a sudden, confused mix of emotions running through her as he reached out and gently put his hand around her slender neck. "You came to our land without any of the Gruul to vouch for you. We would have happily taken you here in return for payment, but you chose to come alone. Our laws are broken, and they demand recompense."

He leaned in, close enough that Anatta could feel the heat radiating from the warrior's body, smell the fresh sweat that clung to his skin. His hold on her was soft but irresistible, the slightest demonstration of his strength enough to quell whatever fight she possessed, and she trembled like a leaf as he slowly pushed her backwards against the mossy, overgrown altar. "Do you have anything to pay us with, girl?"

"I, I, um, uh..." Anatta mumbled. Her brain felt like it had stopped working. Marek's presence blotted out everything else, intruding upon her thoughts, crushing her beneath his dark, hungry gaze. Anatta gulped, forcing her mind to work, desperately running through the sad little list of things to trade for her freedom. She felt hot, hotter than she had felt under the noonday sun, but this time the heat brought no fatigue with it.

Money? No, Gruul don't care about that. It's my treasure anyway, I found it.
My staff? No, it doesn't belong outside the Golgari, it wouldn't be right.
Alliances? A favour? No, I don't have the sway to promise something like that.

Feminine wiles?

She pawed at Marek, alternating between trying to keep the man at arms length and embrace him, her fingers brushing old scars and running along hard bands of muscle.

Yeah, she thought. Let's go with feminine wiles.

Anatta shifted under Marek's grip, leaning into him instead of pulling away. Her eyelids drooped, her pale lips parting to let out a breathy sigh. "What about a kiss?" she breathed.

"And what is a kiss from some skinny little Golgari sewerjack worth?"

Anatta pushed herself up on her tip-toes by way of reply, mashing her lips against the warrior's smirking mouth. He tensed in surprise, his fingers tightening around her neck in a way that sent a sudden, illicit thrill coursing through her body. Then he relented, pulling her hair back and shoving her against the altar, forcing his tongue into her mouth, devouring the coy, teasing little kiss she had given him. Anatta moaned, her mind spinning. She felt a flash of pain as he bit her lip, tasted blood. Didn't care. She felt tiny and fragile next to him, as vulnerable as a rabbit in a snare.

It was only supposed to be a kiss, she thought in a panic.

Finally, Marek broke the embrace and pulled away, leaving Anatta panting and shaking against the altar. She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a finger against her lips.

"A persuasive offer. We'll see if my clanmates are as tempted as I am."

He turned away. Anatta took a deep breath, pressing her hands over her face and trying to calm her flitting nerves. Olug and Valkiz remained where they were, looking on in amusement as their leader returned to them.

"Go feminine wiles," she muttered under her breath. Valkiz snorted with laughter and called out.

"Girl, if you cropped your hair short, you'd pass for a boy. You don't have feminine wiles."

"I do so have feminine wiles! Just ask him!" Anatta shot back, jabbing a finger at Marek. She wiped blood from her lip with the back of her sleeve and made a disgusted face. "And my name is Anatta, not 'girl'!"

The three men chuckled and turned inwards, speaking to one another in low tones. Anatta craned forwards to try and overhear. Their language was similar to Ravnica's common dialects, but much older and more gutteral, and it was all she could do to catch the occasional word. 'Tribe', 'map', 'offering'...she shook her head and flopped back, anxiously running her hands over the stone slab. The memory of Marek's kiss haunted her thoughts. He was handsome, Anatta admitted to herself. And the way he had touched her had felt so...right.

"Or, I dunno. Good, at least," she whispered, rubbing her throat. Anatta looked around, plucking at her black jerkin and trying to hide how her face reddened at the memory. Every time she replayed those moments in her head, something deep inside her shuddered with pleasure and cried out for more. Anatta licked her lips. It was like how she had felt at the Rakdos party, almost a year ago now. The same dark part of her, with its strange hungers, desperate for something she couldn't name.

Marek and his companions turned back, startling her from her thoughts. She looked up, wide-eyed, as the warrior approached. "We've reached a decision, An-?"

"-atta," she finished.

"We came here on a hunt, looking for something to sacrifice to the old gods. To honour them with the thrill of the chase and the joy of the catch. We found you. You will give yourself to us, as the doe gives herself to the stag, as a carnal sacrifice to the old gods of Ravnica."

Anatta felt her stomach wrench in panic. "Sacrifice? Wait, wait, no, I - " then she paused, her lips working silently as she repeated Marek's words to herself. She blinked. "Carnal? Oh, yeah. Okay then."

Now it was Marek's turn to be wrong-footed. He looked back at his companions, who were similarly nonplussed. "'Okay then'? I expected more...reluctance. You know we demand more than a kiss, yes?"

"Well duh, I'm twenty, not twelve. I know what 'carnal' means. So if any of you were hoping for, I dunno, some pure, innocent maiden to despoil?" Anatta waggled a finger under their noses. "You're, like, three years too late on that front. Besides, what did you expect me to say?"

She rolled her eyes, forcing her voice a few octaves higher and waving her hands in mock helplessness. "Oh, no! I'm going to be ravaged by three tall, handsome men! Please, tear my heart out and eat it, roast me over a bonfire,  anything but that!"

Valkiz snorted in laughter and clapped Marek on the shoulder. "See, brother? The city-dwellers occasionally do speak sense. Besides, this is probably the first time she's seen a man who isn't some sickly elf or reanimated corpse," he added, eagerly looking her up and down. "Can you blame her for wanting her horizons broadened?"

"I question how much of this was truly our idea," Olug grumbled. "Are we sure the little sewerjack has been playing us from the start?"

"Nope. You've said it now, no backsies," Anatta cut in. "Deal's done, hands shaken, the dotted line has been signed. So how are we...?"

Marek, Olug, and Valkiz frowned, mouthed a few silent questions to each other, then turned away and resumed whispering in their guttural pidgin language. Anatta watched them quietly, quickly becoming lost in her own thoughts once more. Part of her was as surprised as Marek that she had been so willing to accept his proposition. I mean, she asked herself, aren't I being forced into this? Sort of? They wanted something in return for letting me go, and I didn't have anything else to give...

Only I did, didn't I? I just didn't want to. And I did put the idea in their heads with that kiss. Anatta leaned back against the altar, winding a stray lock of hair around her finger. She had spent four days watching the Gruul from a distance, drinking in their sculpted bodies. Marek and Valkiz were definitely attractive. A small smile played on her lips as she imagined herself pressed against their hard chests, tracing the odd patterns of their tattoos, feeling their rough hands around her slender body. Even Olug had a sort of comforting solidity to him. Yeah, she thought. Yeah, okay. I don't know if this was totally my idea, but we're doing this.

Anatta glanced around, peering between the standing stones for any hint another party might be watching from a distance. The idea of fooling around with the three men didn't really bother her any more, but being watched while she did it? No, no way. She didn't want to get a reputation.

Content that they were alone, she began to undress, pulling her jerkin over her head and tossing it over to where her armour lay. Anatta paused as she discarded her chest wrap, running her hands over her arms. A small breeze had picked up, finally stilling the hot, stagnant air and tickling her bare skin and small, pert bust. Even the sun felt less stifling. Anatta pulled her boots off and unbuckled her belt, and was halfway finished rolling her trousers and underwear down when she saw the three men staring at her.

"Um." Anatta gulped. She felt herself blushing and instinctively pulled back, wrapping an arm around her chest and half-crossing her legs. "So, yeah. I know there's not, you know, a whole lot to look at, but..."

"Hah!" Valkiz barked. "Look, brother! She's as pretty and pale as a flower!"

"A lily, I'd say, but one that's doing its best to be a rose." Olug added. Anatta grinned nervously, lowering her arm and kicking her remaining clothes over to the growing pile. Her heart thudded against her ribs. She'd never been with more than one man before. A man and a woman, sure, and the ooze, but Anatta didn't reckon that one counted. But she'd always been curious. Always eager to try new things. Even if she could back out now, she didn't know if she would.

The Gruul were already undressing, stripping away their patchwork furs and leathers. Marek's tattoos stretched out from his shoulders to cover his ribs and rigid torso in a grid work of blue and black, while his brother had pierced a line of sharpened bone chips down beneath his bellybutton. Olug on the other hand carried some fat; where the two brothers were lithe with tight bands of muscle, the stocky third man was built like a bear and had a pelt to match. Anatta hopped down from the altar and took a couple of steps forwards. Olug and Valkiz noticed and stepped back, letting her slowly drift into the space between them. Her eyes drifted downwards for the first time. Three hard, eager cocks stared back, each long, thick, rising from a dense tangle of hair.

She gulped. There was something infinitely more intimidating about those three lengths than all of the ooze's organs put together. Those had just been appendages of a single creature, as much hands or fingers as genitals. This was three people, with their own desires, their own wants and needs, each aching and ready for her. Anatta felt something twist inside her, her own hungers stirring at the idea. She remembered how Marek's hand had felt around her neck, and a thought came to her, like a dirty whisper in her ear.

Sometimes it's okay to be overwhelmed. Sometimes it's okay not to have a choice.

Anatta reached out and took Olug and Valkiz in her hands, feeling the tension in them, the need. She looked up to Marek. He nodded, as if in approval, gently put his hands on the girl's shoulders and pushed her to her knees. Marek's cock danced in front of her like a tower. She didn't need to be told what to do. She craned forwards and took it into her mouth, his hardness slipping between her lips as if it belonged there. Hands - she couldn't see who's - ran through her hair and stroked her ears as she sucked, teasing her as she teased them in turn with her fingers. Marek's contented groan rumbled through her like the sound of thunder, his cock twitching in her mouth as she lavished it with her tongue.

And deep down, for all her supposed powerlessness, Anatta thought; he won't hurt me. He can't. Because he knows, with one quick snap...

"Come, city-girl, you've kissed him enough already," Valkiz said, patting her on the shoulder. "Show the rest of us what those pampered guild lips feel like."

Anatta looked up at him, her view half-obscured by a lank mess of hair that had fallen over her face. She let Marek slip from her mouth and shook it aside. "Well, he is better looking than you," she shot back, smiling coyly. "Besides, didn't you, like, say I looked like a boy?"

Valkiz groaned. Anatta tapped the head of his cock with a finger, then shuffled around to face Olug. "You can wait a little longer for that."

The grass tickled her thighs as she settled back down, warm sunlight dappling on her shoulders. Olug might not have been the tallest man, but from her knees he looked huge; a towering, barrel-chested wall of meat and muscle and hair, his organ jutting out before him like an ogre's club. Anatta leaned forwards, hesitated, pulled back, circling the thing like a fencer looking for an angle of attack.

"Problem, girl?" Olug chuckled. Anatta tutted.

"It's big! Just let me - "

His scent was almost overwhelming, a thick, musky smell of male exertion that sent an eager shudder running down her spine. Anatta worshiped him with her tongue, lapping and kissing the thick shaft until it glistened with saliva. She cradled it in her hands, ran her fingers through the dark tangle of hair it rose from, and as he pulled her closer, wrapped her lips around his crown and tasted the bitter drops of precome that formed there. She was rewarded with a deep sigh of pleasure.

"Good girl. Enjoying yourself down there?" Olug asked.

"Huh? Oh, no. Hating it. Absolutely. Worst day of my life. Could you two come a little closer?" Anatta encouraged the brothers to crowd in around her with gentle tugs, penning her in behind a wall of hard, male flesh. She could feel their heat on her skin, the scratchy tickle of rough hair against her shoulders as she moved back and forth, hear their grunts of impatience and rumbling sighs of pleasure. Squeezed in so close the three men couldn't help but touch her, and Anatta shuddered in pleasure as rough hands guided her back and forth, teasing, stroking, pushing her down until her nose was buried in their curls and their cock lay hot and twitching in her throat.

And so it went, her slender fingers dancing wherever her lips were not, the vital heat and hardness surrounding her never far from her mind. Anatta turned again to give Valkiz his turn, driven by a sympathetic pang of need to soothe the desire that must have been boiling inside him. Every time she took one of the men between her lips she imagined him pushing inside her, his powerful, athletic body crushing her, overwhelming her, filling her with his strength and virility. Wetness clung to her thighs, tiny shocks coursing through her as she rocked back and forth, the stiff grass beneath her dragging over her entrance. She moaned around Marek's cock, the sound long and needy.

"Remind me again how this happened, brother?" Marek asked, patting her affectionately on the head. "We were supposed to be teaching some mouthy guilder not to trespass on our lands, but she seems to be taking her punishment rather in stride."

"Time to claim your prize, then?" Valkiz replied. Olug nodded.

"Not to be a killjoy, but we shouldn't linger here too long. Be best if we were away before sundown."

"Guys, uh, if I get a say in this - "

"No, you don't," Marek laughed. "But yes, I think it's time we put the altar to good use. Come on, girl, up you get."

Anatta squeaked in surprise as a rough pair of hands fastened around her arms and pulled her upright. Valkiz and Olug broke away and began pulling the thick tangle of ivy away from the stone slab and brushing it down. Her heart thudded in anticipation. "Just promise me one thing?" She said.

"I don't think you're in much position to bargain, but go ahead."

Anatta turned as she sauntered up to the altar, grinning her head off. "Promise me it won't be too gruuling, okay?"

Olug groaned. Valkiz let out a rough bark of laughter, and even Marek smirked. "Funny. You know, I was going to be gentle with you," he said. "But after that, I think you've earned every bit of what's coming. Perhaps then you'll learn not to be so cheeky."

"You mean you were, like, gonna try being all romantic?" She blinked. "I mean, oh, no!"

She threw herself into a wild swoon and dropped into Mareks arms, closing her eyes and pressing a hand to her forehead in pretend calamity. "Please, sir, I am a fragile, unspoiled dove, fit only for the most gentle of romances! Why, if you were to bend me over that altar and ravage me like I so surely deserve, I would be split clean in half! Oh, the horror and despair of it all!"

Anatta peeked up at Marek's confused expression and grinned. She sprang from his grasp and hopped up onto the edge of the altar, eagerly drumming her fingers against the edge. The warriors exchanged looks, Marek's frown deepening.

"Is she for real?"

"I think she may be touched in the head. Maybe she's a shaman after all?"

Anatta sighed, her expression dropping. "Okay, fine, you want me to be, like, serious? Look at me! I'm not some Miss Ravnica beauty. I'm too short, too skinny, my hair always looks gross and I've got no boobs, my behind probably isn't much better - "

"Actually it's rather fine," Valkiz cut in. Anatta shot him a brief smile before continuing. "The point is, I'm not some...guys don't exactly flock to me, okay? And believe it or not, trying to, like...chat someone up is really, really scary when you're gawky and awkward and worried about what people might think of you. And now I've got three guys, big, good looking guys, and they're just, like, raring to go?"

She looked around at them all. "Yeah, I'm gonna make the best of the situation. Now come on, chop chop." Anatta clapped her hands together. "Are we, like, doing this or what?"

Marek gave her a penetrating stare, his dark, hungry holding her in place more surely than any restraint. Then he grunted, his face twisting into a lopsided smile. "You might come to regret that enthusiasm," he said, stepping up to the altar. Anatta returned the expression with a coy look, raising her delicate chin to him, exposing her neck.

"I'm tougher than I look," she whispered.

Anatta' stomach clenched as Marek's calloused palms gripped her knees and parted her legs, tearing away the final, fragile vestige of privacy and leaving her utterly bare before his companions. Her courage wavered and her eyes dropped, an unwholesome tide of inadequacy and anticipation curdling in her gut. Marek caught her chin in one hand and raised her head once more.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he rumbled. Anatta swallowed and nodded, silently repeating the words until her anxiety ebbed once more. Sensing her readiness, Marek stepped into the space between Anatta's pale thighs and positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his cock barely parting the girls lips. She whined softly at the first touch of heat against heat, trembling with need, whispering encouragement.

Marek's hand slid down, fingers stroking her neck. He held here there for a moment, as if to remind her she was to serve at their pleasure and not her own, then drove himself into her with one deep thrust.

Anatta's cry rang through the air. Startled birds exploded from their treetop nests into the sky. She wailed again, small hands clenched into fists around Marek's bulging forearms, the shocking force of his penetration ringing through her like a bell. Memories of her time with the ooze flickered through her - the same flash of pain, the same feeling of being stretched inside. But while that creature's appendages had been softer and spongy, Marek was uncompromisingly hard. His cock throbbed inside her like a piece of heated metal. He gripped her throat, gentle but insistent, her third exhalation dying away to a fragile gasp.

"Oh, merciful rot. Oh, Svogthos, that's..." she trailed off, gasping for breath. But as always, the pain was fleeting, as much the product of surprise and inexperience as true discomfort. She was stretched but not broken, drawn taught, vibrating with energy and need. And as the pain fled, and the warm, tight, beautifully swollen sensation of having a man (and, Anatta thought vaguely, what a man!) buried deep inside her began to spread in its place, she heard the dark part of her whispering in her ear.

More. Harder.

Fuck me.

"Dirty mouth on this one," Olug grunted. "I thought the guilders were all too good for that sort of language?"

"Oh, sorry, I, uh - did I say that out loud?"

"You did."

It almost came as a relief when Marek drew back and plunged into her once more. There was no delicacy to his technique, no gentle seduction, not even any overt concern for her wants. Bad language it might have been, but the word was apt; Marek fucked her, with long, deep strokes, driving the full force of his body into each one. Each time his body met hers the hand around her neck would squeeze, cutting off her breath, filling her with the same surge of excitement she had felt when they kissed. You are small, it said. You are small and frail, and you are his to do with as he wants. You will take what he gives you and thank him for it, because for these short moments, he owns you. Utterly.

Sweat bloomed across Anatta's body, her pallid skin flushed pink and glistening under the dimming sun. She rocked back and forth, eyes screwed shut, Marek's hand gripping her buttock and pulling her onto him with each thrust, ensuring that she wasn't spared so much as an inch each time. Her body welcomed him, resistance melting away before a surging flow of pleasure that rose and ebbed with his movements. Her hands gripped his arms, his shoulders, running over his chest, nails scratching his tanned skin as she fought for purchase.

Everything came from the Gruul. He seemed to delight in confounding Anatta's hoarse cries. When she asked him to go faster, Marek slowed, tormenting her with the awful hollowness that crept in whenever he withdrew. When she begged him to ease up and give her time to collect herself, he went harder, pushing her back over the altar and fucking her until her head spun. But not once did she genuinely consider asking him to stop. Her breasts went ignored, skin tingling and crying out to be touched, a lone point of frustration in a storm of ecstasy. Anatta knew she had climaxed at least once, but could not have picked out precisely when if her life depended on it. There was a faint, sickly feeling in her stomach, the twinge of not-quite-pain that came when she was overstimulated but not given time to rest. Strangely, it didn't seem to bother her.

Anatta opened her eyes at Marek's growled command. Despite his rough treatment of her, she still beamed with energy, and she met the warrior's possessive countenance with...not quite a challenge, but an unspoken dare. His thrusts were becoming shallower, and to her disappointment, the elemental fury that had possessed him was abating. She grinned despite herself, mustering enough breath to blow a tendril of hair away from where it had stuck to her face.

"I think you're slowing," she teased, panting hard. "C'mon, don't tell me the big, scary man is done already?" Marek's chest heaved with exertion. His skin glistened as if it had been oiled, beads of sweat working their way down the maze of tattoos that stretched across his body. A nerve twitched in his jaw as he ground his teeth together.

"Are you trying to turn this into an - ugh - a competition?" He emphasised the word with a particularly savage thrust that made Anatta's head spin. "You long for this, don't you?"

"Maaaaybe. But what are you gonna do about it?" She leaned forwards, wrapping her arms around Marek's shoulders and pulling herself close, until her still, sensitive nipples brushed his chest and her lips came close enough to whisper in his ear. "Are you gonna put me in my place?"

She was answered with a throaty growl that reverberated all the way down to her core. Anatta let out a wild shriek of laughter as Marek slammed her down flat on the altar, hiked her hips up into the air and drove himself into her with a fresh surge of energy. It was like being crushed under a pillar, like trying to make love to an avalanche. He was everywhere; inside her, above her, around her, a smothering, primal force that battered the air from Anatta's lungs with every thrust. Her legs shook and kicked at the air, hands stroking along the warrior's biceps as he pinned her down, feeling the immense, corded strength vibrating through his muscles.

This was sex without pretension, without the trappings of civility or romance, as savage a coupling as ever occurred between wild animals. Anatta felt herself clench, her slick, aching walls clinging tightly to the warrior as he ravaged her, aching to feel the hot, searing rush of his climax deep in her core. Olug and Valkiz joined her on the slab, one either side of her head, their pricks hanging inches from her supplicant face. Anatta propped herself up on her elbows and blinked, a nervous flicker cutting through the haze of pleasure as she realised how exposed she was. Laying on the altar, her thighs spread around Marek's surging form and arms pushing her upright, every intimate part of her slender body was exposed before the three men. It was like a beam of torchlight had been shone on her, highlighting all her inadequacies and anxieties for all to see, and her guts clenched in embarrassment.

But as soon as the thought struck her, it passed her by, the stark awareness of her own nudity slipping away into the shadowed recesses of her mind. After all, the Gruul didn't seem to care. Maybe, surrounded by women as tall and powerful as they were, they found someone small and pale and skinny to be an appealing change? Anatta felt herself bolstered by the idea. She raised herself higher, letting the other two men draw closer, wrapping her lips around each proffered crown in turn and swirling her tongue over its tip. Her eyes rolled in pleasure, drinking in the sight of them; every scar and brand, every tattoo and piercing, every rigid, sculpted muscle. They were so wonderfully, overwhelmingly male, and Anatta felt the dark part of her crying out in pleasure at the buffet of sights, tastes, and scents that hung thick around her.

There was only one thing missing. Anatta licked her lips.

"Hey, can one of you boys do the, uh, throat thing," she gasped. "You know. Choke me a bit."

Valkiz glanced at Marek, who rolled his eyes and nodded. The spiky-haired man wrapped his fingers around her neck, digging into her windpipe. She let out a squeak and banged the heel of her palm against his thigh.

"Too much, too much, can you just...oh, oh yeah, that's it..."

She trailed off into a thin trill of pleasure, a delicious shudder running down her arched spine as the grip slackened a little. Tight enough to feel his wiry strength, to make it just a little difficult to breathe, to remind her just two was in charge. As Valkiz's fingers massaged her throat, she felt herself clenching, body tightening around his brother's member as it drove into her, writhing on the edge of climax.

"You like that, huh?" he grunted. Anatta nodded and raised a hand, two fingers held a few centimeters apart. Olug slipped a hand under her back, one huge paw holding her upright while the other finally stroked over her breasts. His calloused thumbs rolled her nipples back and forth, each tiny crackle of lightning soothed the frustrated tingle that had built there and flowed into the burning pit of ecstacy building in her core.

"Just a lil' bit. You know, if someone wanted to pull my hair a little..."

"Don't give her everything she wants," Marek cut in. His brow was drenched in sweat, his hair almost as tangled and ratty with it as Anatta's was. She could feel him throbbing hard inside her and grinned in pleasure, knowing the warrior must be almost as close as he was. His two companions turned her head this way and that, filling her mouth with the rich taste of their pre, eager for their own release. The three of them held her tight as she began to shake, Anatta's long, rasping moan cutting though the air. Hands gripped her from every angle, touching, stroking, pinning, strangling, everything seeping together into her coming orgasm.

Anatta had just taken Olug's thick length between her lips when the man came. She squeaked in surprise and drew back, a thick pulse of bitter come spilling into her mouth and over her chin, the second and third spattering her chest with searing, pearly drops of seed. Valkiz followed shortly after, erupting over her forehead, spilling into her hair and trickling down her face in thick, glutinous trails. His grip on her throat tightened sharply as he peaked, and though it only lasted for a second, the confused mixture of arousal, fear, pain and pleasure it provoked finally pushed Anatta over the edge.

As if sensing what was about to happen, Marek pushed her down harder, thrust into her harder, gripped her wrists harder, driving her mercilessly on. She tensed and wailed, every inch of her body singing with need, drinking in the maelstrom of sensations buffeting it; the tautness in her gut, the warm sun on her skin, the straining bodies around her, the rush as air flowed back into her lungs...

Anatta came hard, clenching down on the warrior's cock, her fingers digging into her palms as she thrashed helplessly under his body. Even as she cried out, lost in the crushing wave of pleasure that sang through her weary body, Marek worked her relentlessly, dragging each spasm out until she could barely breath. Her back arched and, as Marek succumbed to his own climax, she came again, a sudden whip-crack of sensation so sharp it was almost painful. It was only when that last convulsion faded did she feel Marek fall still inside her, the swell of liquid heat in her core testament to their shared passion.

Olug and Valkiz slowly lowered the girl down onto the slab, the latter taking his hand away from her neck. Air rushed back into Anatta's lungs, her wheezing inhalation helping to cut through the post-coital fatigue settling upon her. Marek withdrew last, one final twinge coursing through Anatta's entrance as he slipped free of her body. She expected the three men to similarly collapse, but as her heart slowed and her senses returned, she heard the trio circling the slab and chanting something in their guttural tongue. Distantly she remembered them having said something about reconsecrating the shine. It felt like a long time ago. She watched out the corner of her eye for any sign they were about to make her a literal, rather than a metaphorical sacrifice, but otherwise was content to lie still and let them get one with it. After that, she thought, she deserved a moment to catch her breath.

Finally, the chanting stopped and Marek helped her up, offering her a sloshing waterskin. Wiping away the cooling seed still clinging to her lips, Anatta took a deep swallow, then tipped her head back and upended the canteen over her head. The water was warm but refreshing enough, the feeling of it sluicing away the sweat and come plastering her skin almost as pleasurable as the coupling which placed it there. Her clothes and equipment still sat where she had left them. Anatta ripped a clump of moss out of the ground and dried herself off as best she could, joining the men as they dressed themselves.

"So, uh," Anatta broke the silence first. "Your ritual, you've like...got this place all set up and ready for...whatever you use it for? I don't see any change, but, city-dweller. So what do I know?"

"The air is different. Do you not feel it?" Olug said. "The change is small, but in time it will grow." He frowned and ran one of his hands along the stones. "This will be a good place, I think. Many sites dedicated to the old ways are dark and bloody, full of vengeful spirits. And that is proper, for your people have done much to wrong us. But..." he trailed off, looking up at the sun hanging low in the sky, a satisfied expression on his face. "Some shrines should resound with joy instead of anger. This will be one such place."

"Huh. Well, that's...that's nice." Anatta glanced around. She still couldn't feel anything different, but the idea brought a smile to her face. Marek caught her expression and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, it's nothing. Look we're good, right?" Anatta said. "I mean as fun as that was - and, you know, it really was - we're...you're gonna walk one way, and I'm gonna walk the other with the treasure, and no-one's gonna get an arrow in the back, right?"

"That was our agreement, little one," Marek said.

"Aaand...if, like, by some colossal coincidence we ever bump into each other again..."

"We found a pretty doe and sacrificed it to the old gods," he chuckled. "What else is there to tell?"

"Alright. Well. That's...okay then." Anatta hopped down from the altar and collected the box of stolen treasure, grunting in exertion as she struggled to tuck the heavy wooden casket under her arm. Valkiz raised an eyebrow skeptically. "So, um, I have a camp just - just back over that ridge, so...this was fun, but I'll, you know..."

The three men nodded their understanding. She waved then goodbye and struggled off, awkwardly passing the box from arm to arm. After three steps, it slipped from her grasp and thumped down into the earth. Anatta swore under her breath, doing her best to ignore the chorus of laughs from behind her. Sighing heavily, she stooped down, only to feel a strong hand on her shoulder.

"You seem to be having trouble," Marek's voice rumbled with amusement. "And you'll be a tempting target, along in the Rubblebelt with such a valuable prize. We...could take a few days to see you back to the city..."

Anatta grinned. "Uh, yeah! That would be - "

"...If you have something to make it worth our while."

"Oh. Um." Anatta swallowed, glancing from the heavy box, to Marek, to his companions, and finally back to Marek again. "Feminine wiles?"