August Moone Sagas
Book 6
Journeying
Chapter Five
Traipsing the Rift

Day of the Minotaur
	With the sun high, the air sweetly perfumed, birds twittering, the day could not be any better.  No one of the small convent had any pre-notion that anything could go wrong--not with such a glorious day!
	But they would be wrong.  Really-really wrong.
	The convent was something of an old-old outpost of some long forgotten crumbled castle that only the foundation remained a few miles away.  The forest filled the area in between the remains of the castle and the outpost, heavy overgrowth all but obliterated the long road between.  A small lake was to one side but it was a hunt to locate.  The Sisters of the Calming Hand got their water from a creek that always flowed freely nearby as well as a well on the premises.
	The outpost had a large courtyard and once housed three dozen troops.  There were outbuildings, a small underground storeroom, an above ground storeroom, and housing billets for the sisters.  Three towers there were for ‘lookouts.”  Two forward and one centralized along the rear wall.  The walls of the outpost were river stone and wood.  The grout was crumbling and in some places it wasn’t there at all.  
	Two grate gates there were, front wall and rear wall.  Both were of wood and not in too good of condition.  Most times the good sisters just kept the gates open as they feared no one and there was really nothing to fear to begin with.
	The good sisters lived a solitary life with no one visiting them.  The sisters were a strange mix of human “other”.  They numbered approx. 30 members with no males anywheres about.
	Sister Daphne drew up some water and paused a moment to wipe her brow, wafting in on the air was something--something unpleasant.  She could detect the scented flowers, the weeds, too.  But there was something most foul trailing on the slight breeze.  Some rotting animal dead in the forest she thought.  
	She was half way across the 20 foot open court to the kitchen when the front gate suddenly exploded and a small gang of brusk creatures busted in.  Sister Daphne dropped the bucket of water and made a run but a large beefy creature chased her down, grabbing her by the nape of the neck and yanking her to the ground where he pinned her.
	Chaos reigned supreme in the courtyard; it was a band of minotaurs, minotaurs everywhere!  Huge bulky creatures between six and seven feet tall, very broad shouldered and a curious blue-green skin tone.  The head of a bull, two even had horns!  Four had gold nose rings.  All wore chanmail shirts and britches.  Their arms were bare but there were bands of armor all over anyways.  Only the two with horns wore armored boots and heavier armor.
	They also had various implements of weaponry.
	Sister Daphne struggled under the tremendous weight of the behemoth creature, but his foot firmly planted on her chest kept her only mildly squirming.  
	Several of the minotaur creatures swarmed into the courtyard and filtered into the buildings.  There were screams hellacious, some were “suddenly” silenced.  The birds that had been twittering earlier had fled to someplace less foreboding.
	On closer inspection, Sister Daphne was not actually human herself, but a mix of Elf AND human.  Curious.  But then again, as the minotaur creatures filed back into the courtyard bringing the nuns of the Calming Hand out; they, too, were not full bloodied human.
	It was a realm where fantasy creatures dwelled.  The kingdom, the Kingdom of Furany, was long gone and dead.  How, when, or why was not rightly known.  Only foundations of a civilization remained.  All the roads leading to the centralized castle and its city were overgrown.  
	There were a few homes scattered about, farms and such where gentle peoples still dwelled.  They were unawares of any other “universes” existing beyond their own.  It would seem, so it would seem to reason, that “humans” had come into the universe not their own and “made it their own.”  It would also seem that by the level of technology--or lack thereof, they had been of a time period of the Middle Ages--or thereabouts.
	They had prospered to a point, there was no knowing if there were “other” kingdoms, or castles.  What had happened to the Furany Castle was unknown.  And where the other mix of creatures had come from was also unknown.  Elves, dwarves, trolls, goblins, and other assorted creatures of fantasy type lived in the defunct kingdom.  
	It seemed to sprawl for quite some distance, the Kingdom of Furany.  Some areas were large tracts of forest, groves of deep old growth trees.  There was a few lakes of various sizes, but none too large so as not to be able to see the other side.  Small villages and farms where human and elf lived in tranquility.  There was no sign of wars or conflicts with others.
	The minotaurs were not unknown to the kind peoples of Furany, but they had kept to themselves--the minotaurs had.  They mostly were found in great numbers in the far north where strange lights like an aurora were located.  Only a very few had even been so far south.
	The sisters of the Calming Hand were hurried not so nicely out into the courtyard; they gathered to themselves looking to Mother Superior Abigail Lotuck, a half elf-half human in her late 50s (human years as elves themselves live considerably longer.)  Orders were barked gruffly from one of the minotaurs, one who was more dressed out in armor and had longer bull horns.  He seemed to be the leader, he snarled as he looked down to the pitiful creature he held down by his well armored foot.  Snarling drool dripped from his short maw, he snarled and barked more orders.  The scurrying minotaur band rustled the terrified nuns into groups, mostly by age.
	The nuns of the secluded convent ranged from as young as fifteen (a novice nun) to Mother Superior’s age, 50ish.  Ten of the sisters were between 30 and 38 yrs.  Five ranged 25 yrs to 29.  Seven were 20 to 24 yrs while the remaining five bottomed out at the mid level teen years, 15-19.
	All were horribly terrified.
	Assist. Mother Superior was a brutish woman who seemed actually have some minotaur blood in her, mixed with elf and human.  Mostly her human features prevailed, sharp ears and eyes gave way to her elf side while her brusque form was more minotaur-like than being “pudgy.”
	Quickly she grabbed up a wood pole used for construction purposes of making a stern corral to hold animals or roof support.  She did amazing twists and flips and seemed quite handy with the impromtued weapon.
	But she was no match for the brutish creatures who numbered ten.  One of the less armored creatures received the would-be weapon to his arm--and it broke in half.  Sister Beatrice was slightly stunned and taken aback that such a stout pole would break--it was astounding.  She firstly was amazed at her own strength and then as to the surprising strength to withstand such a blow to the minotaur’s arm.
	It was that critical moment of Assist. Mother Superior Beatrice being “stunned” that the minotaur she struck reacted.  He gave a quirky smile and then quick as a wink griped the broken pole from his arm and slammed it into the face of the stunned woman.
	“Ha!” said in human tongue the lead minotaur, a brutish creature by the name of Odacius the Grim.  Beatrice stumbled backwards and fell against the well.  The minotaur grabbed her and wrenched her around and began ripping her clothing off.  Another brutish minotaur came to help, to hold the stunned woman.  She was bent over the crumbling rock wall of the well, her clothing ripped to the skin, her arms broken out of their sockets as they were pinned behind her.  Her legs flailed some but the minotaurs held them fast while the first one grabbed up one of the halves of the wooden pole used to assault him.  The end that was jagged was quickly trimmed to a point by the creature’s dagger.  
	Then it was unceremoniously crammed-rammed-jammed into the poor woman’s anus.  The sight caused the sisters great distress, as well as those who were cowering in the darkness spying.
	The minotaur’s arm muscles rippled and bulged as inch by inch he inserted the pole into the woman’s body.  The pole was some three inches in diameter--Sister Beatrice was in severe to extreme pain and discomfort.
	Several of the nuns fell faint, many soiled themselves.  All wept and were distraught to the highest degree.  Mother Superior Abigail sent aloft many a prayer.  Lightning and thunder answered her in the east.  Whether or not it was the answer she was seeking was not clear.  She wringed her hands together and continued to watch the degradation of her order.

	Blood spewed from Sister Beatrice’s anus, coating the minotaur’s hand.  The pole was nearly fully insert.  There was no movement from the sister, she struggled no more, made no noises, no movement.  Blood began to gurgle out of her mouth as the 6 foot pole finally breeched her throat.  With a dramatic thrust, a final grunt from the minotaur beast, the pole broke out through Sister Beatrice’s head.  Her body was then dumped over the edge of the well.  The minotaur turned to face his leader and made a strange guttural howl of exuberance.
	The leader nodded approval, then nodded to the others of his rogue clan.  Two immediately ceased Mother Superior, dragging her out into the courtyard to where there was an icon of their religion.  
	The minotaurs made quick work of stripping the clothes off of the old woman, they then laid her out on a piece of timber, spreading her legs as wide as possible and then her arms.  Two other minotaurs joined in, holding the woman’s body still as her hands and feet were impaled by sharp wooden stakes.
	Sister Abigail’s eyes bulged and she made a few horrendous cries of distress.  She called out for her God to save her, she begged forgiveness for her transgressions.  The Second-in-Command of the rogue clan scurried to the hapless nun and poured the contents of a wine sack onto her face.  The two who had fastened her to the timber whipped out their minotaur cocks and began to douse her with a spray of urine.  The one with the wine undone his chain mail skirt and squatted over the woman’s face--he farted and then relieved his bowels.
	With some rope the spread-eagled woman on the timber box was raised up, the main timber jammed into the ground and supported by some boulders and other debris.
	Rogue Odacious rolled his shoulders, spat on the horrified form of a nun still pinned beneath his boot, then nodded to the others of his clan.  Four quickly left the sickened sisters and fled into the building looking for any worthy loot or whatnot.
	Odacious looked upon the old woman twitching on the timber, her arms and legs spread wide out impaled on cross members of timber.  He head lolled about wildly; her aging human form was somewhat frail with skin that seldom saw daylight a pasty white.  Her bodacious breasts sagged on her chest and her gray pubic hair between her withering legs was sparse and barely concealed the virgin womanhood therein.
	Her head bobbed a moment and then hung with life ebbing from her quickly.  Her body sagged and she soon stopped breathing completely.  Odacious nodded to a member of his group and material that would burn was quickly sat about the lifeless creature on the timber pole.  A fire erupted seconds later and flames licked at the pasty skin, igniting the gray pubes and then blackening the skin until it was nothing more than a smoldering hulk.
	“Make some holes.” Odacious scowled at his companions.  
	The others who had gone looting returned with giant tapestries, chandeliers and religious icons, artifacts, gold and silver goblets.
	“I knew these bitches had stuff!” the Grim sneered, he pressed his boot down more onto Sister Daphne struggled to keep breath.  She slapped at the beefy calf of the brutish leader but was no match for him and she collapsed in exhaustion.  Odacious scarcely noticed.
	Five of the older nuns were brought out, they ranged from 30 to 38 yrs.  They were lain down on the dirt, kicked and stomped on by the rogue minotaurs, spit on before their clothing was ripped from their skin and tossed onto the fire blazing on their former leader.
	More poles were acquired and sharpened at one end.  The five sisters had their arms tied securely behind their backs to the point of where their arms were dislocated from their sockets.  Then, incredibly, the poles were forced into their rectums.  Two rogue minotaurs pulled on the screaming helpless women each, pulling her down onto the pole until several inches were impaled into her ass.
	Then, the pole was raised up and placed into the fresh made holes just to enough to hold the pole.  The body weight of the sister then slid down onto the sharpened pole more.  Her eyes bulged and she flailed her impaled body about until all life left her.  
	Each of the five chosen women were tortured as such, one had relieved her own bowels at witnessing the torture of the others.  Her excrement was wiped from her ass by one of the minotaurs and wiped onto her face.
	“When we git to ‘uck’um, boss?” asked one of the impaling minotaurs.
	“When I say.” replied Odacious.
	When all five of the chosen Sisters of the Calming Hand were successfully impaled upon the fence poles, and blood from their anus coated the poles they were on, half a dozen other petrified nuns were brought out from the main body.
	Odacious the Grim looked them over, snarled and spat on the ground.  The sisters all trembled, most had soiled themselves and knew that death awaited them in mere minutes.  Many were praying, most were still soiling themselves.
	Along the wall of the open courtyard were thick timbers protruding outward from the top of the wall.  They had been used for constructing the outpost in the first place and was possibly to be used to support a second floor that was never completed.  The minotaurs made quick work of gathering rope and assembling half a dozen of the stunned beyond belief nuns.
	The nuns trembled in fear, as rightly they should for the rogue minotaurs fashioned nooses out of the ropes with a dangling piece of rope that secured the hands of the good sisters behind their backs.  Smaller sticks were gathered and lashed to their ankles forcing them to be apart about four feet. 
	The slack was taken up and the six nuns were stretched up.  They were forced to stand to where just their toes touched the ground.  The minotaurs then begin ripping the nuns’ clothing off.  They leered and sneered, jested and ogled the naked bodies of the pure females.  One of the minotaurs stepped up close and jammed a wicked finger into Sister Genine’s twat.  He jammed his finger about, withdrawing it and showing all the bloody finger.  He gave a mighty “HAR! HAR!” and chortled himself silly.  He then took the bloodied finger from busting the virgin sister’s vagina and smeared the blood against her face.
	Sister Holly, Fratima, and Jolene had their breasts roughly fondled, squeezed, and mawed by the evil creatures.  The minotaur before Sister Kali groped her breasts hard, squeezing until she cried out in her anguish, the minotaur then leaned and nipped the nipple off!
	He did the same to the other.
	Sister Holly’s legs were flung upward onto the minotaur bastard before her, the stick keeping her legs open locked behind his thick blue-green neck.  He then proceeded to “eat her pussy.”  he jammed a finger into her asshole and his tongue into her cunt.  He made many noises as he did his business, his companions jeering him on.  The rope about the nun’s neck tightened, she struggled as her neck was stretched more and more, most of her body weight causing her great discomfort as well as difficulty breathing.
	The minotaur got deep into his despicable deed, nipping and sucking as if trying to suck the womanhood straight into his mouth.  He sucked harder and harder then nipped the woman’s clitoris.
	Sister Holly struggled with trying to stay alive despite her impossible predicament.  She sputtered and coughed, retched and felt her eyes bulging to their limits.  Suddenly she was shuddering and clenched her body as she did so.  She was climaxing.
	A minotaur to one side looked over his nude victim, then undone his metal skirt and lowered a protective undergarment.  His minotaur schlong stood out gangly-like, rock hard, dripping minotaur cum.  Huge fantastic bull-like balls there were swaying between his legs.  He gave his bull-cock a stroke then flopped it against the hapless nun before him.  Then, he stuffed her virgin poon and rammed himself all the way in!
	The woman flailed about madly as she was well ripped inside by the gigantic bull dick.  She couldn’t scream out due to the rope about her throat.  Her flailing body slowly ceased and she lay hung limp as the minotaur brute continued to rape her until he was spent.  
	But the brute was not quite done.  He ejaculated some of his bull juice into the nun, Sister Edowina, then pulled out and turned to cast a sneering gaze upon the other nuns.  He made a subtle nod and a minotaur mate dragged the screaming chosen nun over.
	The first minotaur faced the screaming shrieking nun and slapped her face as hard as he could--very nearly breaking the thirty-four year old’s neck!  So stunned was she she was unable to react or do anything.  Garf, third in command of the Horde, rammed his cock into the stunned woman’s mouth and finished ejaculating into her gullet.
	When done, he locked her head between his legs while a companion minotaur ripped the woman’s clothing off, and proceeded to ram his own rod of might into her body.  Garf held her ass cheeks and jeered as his companion’s cock slammed into the woman’s asshole.
	Suddenly bursting from one of the outbuildings came a slenderly built lass, mostly elfish but with a touch human in her, too--that would be the tenacity and illogical side of her.  She ran bearing a large pole, screaming like a banshee, “Get away from her you fucking heathen monster!”
	Now it was the minotaurs’ turn to be stunned.  They looked at the creature running full gammit bearing the pole, screaming obscenities that would surely get her a month on her knees in the sanctuary.  She charged so fast that she was almost a blur.  Dark graying clouds had come to darken the day, too.
	Sister Warria smacked the pole as hard as she might against the minotaur who had just finished raping Sister Ed.  Sister Norra gagged and spit up wads of bull juice from her mouth, she could do no more as the minotaur dick in her asshole brought her to the brink of immeasurable pain.
	Sister Warria slammed the pole to Garf’s backside.  It did little damage but the little warrior nun was far from finished.  She jumped onto the creature’s backside and began clawing at his eyes.  Garf stumbled backwards trying to get his massive beefy arms up to grab the nuisance--all along their were whoops and hollers from his friends.
	Odacious the Grim slapped his knees and pressed his heavy foot down more onto the chest of the young nun beneath him.  There were bones heard to crack, her body jerked and blood filled her mouth.  She twitched once, twice, thrice, and then lay still thereafter.
	Turk, the second-in-command of the Horde pushed the nun he was sodomizing away and off his dick.  She slumped to the ground and lay curled up in a fetal position.  Blood and poo leaked from her asshole and she trembled some.
	Garf flailed about near helplessly still being jeered at by his fellow cohorts.  The poor bedraggled sisters hoped that Sister Warria could do something.  So far she had managed to bring rivers of blood from the creature’s face, she pounded his ears and finally leaned over enough to grab his nose ring.
	Not good.
	It would have been more prevailing if she had been weighty.  But as it was the 24 yr. old scarcely weighed a hundred pounds.  Garf roared as his nose ring was tugged on.  Sister Warria was very nearly almost capable of ripping the ring out.  Should she have actually done so Garf would have lost his position of rank and be scorned by his fellow minotaurs.  And if she would have also survived the round, her life would have been spared.
	But that didn’t happen.
	What happened was Garf flung his head backwards, launching the poor nun-warrior up into the air to come crashing onto a pile of rocks and debris.  She lay in a crumbled heap, bleeding internally, broken bones sticking up thru arms and legs, broken fingers, and broken spirit.
	Garf came to her slinging bull snot and grabbed her roughly throwing her over some boulders.  Her clothing was ripped away  and his giant bull dick slammed up into her pussy.  Sister Warria screamed and screamed; she thrashed about madly and then shuddered as Garf did his deed in quick time.  
	The nun’s cunt was a useless mass of skin.  Garf locked the woman’s head into the crook of his arm and twisted the nun’s body--with a little umph the neck broke with a resounding “SNAP!”  the body slumped and Garf the Vile continued wrenching the head until it separated from the body.  Picking up the pole she had used against him he jammed the bloodied head onto it then walked out to the destroyed gates and planted the pole in the ground in the middle of the gate arch.
	There was no more “trouble” from the remaining nuns.

	The sisters secured by the neck by ropes had their nipples and clitoris’ nipped off, then each was raped beyond belief.  When a minotaur rapist had cum at least once, a nun from the group not yet tortured was brought forth to swallow the remaining bull’s juice.  She was then stripped of her clothes and reamed from behind.
	The sisters who had their necks stretched were finally wrenched upward to the high rafters.  Their bodies twisted madly as they struggled to tighten their neck muscles to keep the rope from cutting in and cutting off their air supply.
	One by one their bodies ceased to move at all.  They were lowered and dumped into the well to be with Sister Beatrice.  More nuns were taken to the ropes, but this go round they were not about their necks but instead their young breasts!
	The same sticks used to separate the feet of the others were used, their hands tied securely behind their backs and by the sheer grip of rope to breast six women were hauled upwards to be at the right angle for their turn to be tortured.
	Stout sticks and iron bars and ye even the “ye olde switch” from dropping trees surrounding the outpost were used--whipping the virtual skin off of the nuns.  One of the minotaurs lauded Sister Ophelia’s cunt, smacking the mound as hard as he could before jamming his cock into her and fucking her literal brains out.
	When that group’s withering bodies lay crumbled in heaps on the ground, semi lifeless and not so, they were dumped into the well.  There were more nuns to deal with and Odacious was getting involved.
	There were mostly the very young nuns remaining, totally terrified out of their young minds, fifteen to 19 year young.  They screamed and had t be dragged out into the courtyard to watch up close and too personal a few other remaining nuns tortured to the extreme.
	Sisters Constance, Margret, Polly, Quawlla, Ula, and Zena were hog tied, hands and feet together before them.  The ropes that had been used to hang/strangle their fellow sisters was used to haul them up to whereas the horny minotaurs could get their continuing jollies.  Their bodies were whipped mercilessly and then they were raped sodomized.  Thereafter, Turk took ultimate pleasure in lighting a torch and stepping up to each hogtied nun, and lighting their bodies afire.  He touched the flickering torch to their pubes and watched as the fire swept up their otherwise hairless bodies.
	When they were well charred, they were left to swing on the ropes.

	The clouds of graying increased darkened the otherwise tranquil forest.  A noxious odor of putridness filled the air, and the usual clamor of forest critters about the outpost/convent were silent.
	Not silent were the nuns within the convent.  Much ado about sobbing and whimpering as the remaining Sisters of the Calming Hand lay staked to the ground of their beloved convent.  Some of the girls lay on their stomach’s lain over a rock or a thick piece of timber so as to raise their hips and allow their ass(hole) to be vulnerable.
	The young women had their legs spread out, lashed to stout sticks to keep their legs apart four feet, then their hands impaled by stakes into the ground in whichever position they were laying.
	The minotaurs all stripped off their clothing, but it was to be the Commanders of the Horde who would take first dibs on the lusciously young virgin nuns.  Sister Erin was the oldest at sixteen years, Sister Ida the youngest at fifteen years.  The teen girls were a lot firmer than the other nuns; they, too, were more shapely, firmer and luscious.
	Odacious the Grim, Garf the Vile, and Turk the Terrible looked over their victims with an almost sinister glee.  Each minotaur had a tremendous boner dripping with goo.  The mid level teens trembled in ultra fear, soiling themselves again and again.
	Odacious cracked his fingers and got down between the outstretched legs of sixteen year old Sister Erin.  His beefy blue-green hands roamed about her young body, squeezing her breasts and tweaking her nipples before laying his massive bull dick against her warm quivering cunny.  Drool dripped in long strands from his gaping maw.  His eyes narrowed and the young teen tried closing her eyes.  But try as she might she could not.
	Odacious humped the young teen’s entrance and then moved himself up her body.  His chest muscles flexed, his biceps ripples, he was an enormous creature of some defined hulk of awe.  His massive fuck pole came to rest between her aching breasts, her head was gripped by a powerful hand of the creature and for several minutes was forced to suck the member--engulfing as much into her mouth as she could without choking and gagging to the point of suffocating.
	Then the great beast moved down and began kind of gently gliding his bullhood into her virgin love tunnel.  Sister Erin made strange sounds from her throat, gagging and choking as several massive inches of bull schlong eased into her most holy of holies.  Her eyes bulged as the threshold of her pain tolerance was met and exceeded.
	Odacious the Grim began to pump, he was merely half way into the young virgin but her blood and vaginal juices would lube her up and he would make full penetration, 20 inches of bull cock!
	The teens screeched and howled as the commanders of the Horde had their way with them.  Surprisingly the girls survived the ordeal--only to be had by the remaining members of the Horde.  The commanders stepped back to rest up and look thru the “booty” of the reclusive convent.  By the time the second group had had their fun the young members of the outpost, the three commanders were ready again.  
	For the next go round Odacious chose to plug assholes as he had been reaming pussies before.  Garf and Turk nodded and chose to stuff opposite holes, too.  The girls screamed out in their agony, their vaginas and rectums seriously exceeding the limit of pain they could sustain.  The fully engorged cocks of the behemoth beasts satiated the assaulters, and at times the girls found SOME pleasure while being raped--some.
	Turk the Terrible squatted onto the face of sixteen year old Hanna.  He farted and relieved his bowels before dropping his huge humongous bull balls into her mouth.  He kneaded her lovely young breasts, tweaking her nipples as hard as he could in a pinch.  The girl withering in so much pain finally wrenched her hand up through the stake that had impaled the palm of her hand.  In her scream she clamped onto the massive testicles in her mouth.
	Turk howled and tried to wrench free and finally did.
	But his poor balls didn’t come with him.
	Turk the Terrible flailed about wildly clutching his groin, blood spewing through his fingers and about his hand, cum squirting out of his limping dick--all the while his companions jeered and jeered.  
	Sister Erin coughed and sputtered and then was kicked in the head as she struggled to sit up, spitting out the funky sweaty hairless bull nuts from her mouth.  She fell back onto the ground, lifeless, her neck snapped breaking her neck.  Turk the Terrible still enraged grabbed her lifeless form and wrenched it from the other stake holding her hand.  He drug her to the charred form of the mother superior and threw her onto a pile of debris.  A torch was lit and the girl’s bloodied poon was set afire.  Her bloodied pubes stove off the fire for a few seconds but then ignited and soon her body was in flames.
	Turk spat on the crinkling form, he then slumped on some nearby boulders holding his severed nut sac and the place where his nut sac used to hang.
	The remaining nuns were pulled up to their knees, wrenched from the stakes that had impaled their hands.  Their legs were still held apart by the sticks.  The minotaurs lined up, the commanders first, and force fed their cocks into their mouths.  Only Turk the Terrible not participating.  Odacious and Garf humped their young victims, filling their gullets with hot bull cum.
	The girls choked and gagged, sputtering and endured.  After the commanders had emptied themselves to the point of completely drained, the other minotaurs of the Horde took their turns, too.

A steady reign of pain		
	A steady rain came taking out the fire in the open courtyard.  the air was chilled and steam rose off of the bare skin of the victims and the ones victimizing them.  Odacious and Garf pillaged the inside of the convent, seeking and finding more treasures the others had missed; small leather sacks containing a few pieces of gold and silver.  Trinkets and baubles tucked away in secret niches behind paintings and under the main chapel’s furniture.
	“I knews these bitches had shit!” bellowed Odacious.  Seeing the holy artifact goblet used for sacramental wine he urinated in it.  Garf secured the 5 gallon barrel of sacramental wine.  Odacious released his bowels into the vat of soup in the kitchen then turned his head just so to see something scurrying.  In the kitchen the furnishings were not so much, some crates and bags of flour and sugar.  Odacious flung the sacks out of the way at one side of the wall to reveal a small entryway.
	A secret tunnel!
	“Fucking bitches!” he scowled.
	It was a narrow-narrow passage, his shoulders gouged into the sides and he had to stoop down to crawl on his hands and knees.  There was no light but his well trained ears could hear scurrying in the deep dark.  Odacious scowled and closed his eyes tight, then opened them.  This allowed him to be able to see more clearly in the dismal dark.
	The passage way angled down to empty into a small room.  Small scurrying creatures huddled in the corners.  There were cots, lanterns, and many crates in the small room.  As well as younger nuns huddling in a corner.  
	“Well, well, well.” sneered Odacious, “What the fuck do we have here, hmmmm?” his nose detected many a young virgin.  The nuns were aged from thirteen to fifteen years young, they were “novices” and it was their duty to live under the sanctuary--as well as look over the treasure.

*
	
	The six novice nuns didn’t speak, it was a part of their “training” never to speak to anyone (under any circumstances) until they had completed their novice training and were allowed to roam freely above.  They were terrified, mainly and mostly due the incredible size of the bull-human creatures, and their amazing schlongs.
	Garf fondled his while looking over the young delights.  Odacious sniffed the air, seeking out others.  His eyes narrowed but could not see any others.  The depth of the hidden room kept the novice nuns from being aware of the horror above.
	Odacious tore open a heavy crate, inside were gold goblets, trinkets of all kinds, small statues in gold and bronze and marble.  Garf opened another crate, it contained heavy tapestries, ornate rugs, and fancy bedding.
	The minotaur leader glared at the shaken women, “What is this?” he demanded.
	But under order of their order, the frightened women did not speak.
	Not good.
	Odacious grabbed one of the young novices and pinned her to the crumbling wall of the small room, his nails digging into the soft stone.  His nostrils flared and snot dripped out while steam snorted.  His breath very nearly was capable of melting her skin.  The vile creature then shoved his hand between the teenager’s legs, jamming a crooked finger into her virgin entrance.  The girl frantically thrashed about, her air being cut off as well as reeling from being so violated.
	“Hows come you bitches has all this treasure?” he asked, his stickery muzzle pressed right up against the young woman’s nose.  His hot foul breath very nearly making her retch with vomit.  But the sixteen year old novice of the Calming Hand order kept her vow and did not speak.
	Odacious admired her tenacity.  It also pissed him off and he withdrew his fingernails from the crumbly wall, got a strong grip about the girl’s throat and flung her ten feet across the dimly lit room.  She collided with the wall and fell in a clump gasping and retching all the while.
	Odacious pinned another to the wall, Garf pinned one himself, but then ripped her three layers of clothing off revealing a very white body.  
	“Tell me what I want to know,” seethed Odacious, “or I’ll let him have her!”
	The young woman pinned trembled but looked right into the minotaur’s puke yellow eyes.  She said nothing.  Odacious jammed his finger into the girl’s vagina, shoving it in as far as it would go and then twisting it about.  The girl screamed outloud and thrashed her body.
	The other novices who had been cowering made feeble attempts at throwing chairs and pieces of broken crates to the two menacing monsters.  One of the novices came up with a weapon, a knight’s sword.  She looked at it a moment and then took a daring swing in high rage.  
	Garf fell full force against the young girl he was tormenting, the sword slashing across his bare backside and then with a tremendous thrust it had been rammed into his body, piercing his tough hide.  He bellowed and a wash of puke yellow slime expelled from his mouth in a froth and coated the young girl before him.  Whipping around he lunged at his attacker, his full force taking her and him to the earthen swept floor.  
	All the air was knocked out of the young novice, and with the sword still in his side, Garf the Vile ripped the novice’s clothing to shreds then her body.  He firstly wrenched her legs open while Odacious stood on her flailing hands.  Garf pinned her legs with his own and then not so kindly began entering her virginity.
	The other novices didn’t know what to do but piss themselves and huddle together.  This was no test.  No new vow.  This was hell.
	Garf mawed the teen’s breasts, squeezing hard the young fifteen year old mounds and then squeezing the nipples so hard that he finally managed to rip them off.  When he did so he slammed his 20 inch cock into the girl’s pussy and fucked her into oblivion.

	Garf’s noice lay still, lifeless.  Her legs were dislocated at the hips, her eyes pasty dark as she stared up to the ceiling, lifeless.  Garf pulled out squirting his love juice all over the body, then whipped around (the sword still in his side) and grabbed another novice by the neck.  
	Odacious had never let go of the one he had had when Garf did his thing and Odacious came to stand on the hapless victim’s hands.  He had held the flailing young nun up off her feet, glaring at her.  
	The novice nuns not crumbled in heaps, gripped by the neck or sprawled out on the floor lifeless huddled together reeking of urine and shit.  As the two minotaurs began raping Sister George and Sister Verk, Sister Jorge was hidden by the others as she made great pains not to be seen.  She then moved along on all fours to a secret niche, moved aside a heavy curtain, and fled down a tunnel.
	Unfortunately her actions had not gone completely unnoticed.  Something had alerted Odacious the Grim and he ranted, tossing novice nuns one way and that without care coming to the area of interest.  The niche was set in such a way as that direct line o’sight would not prevail, only by being up against the wall could one see the small entrance.
	But the great behemoth’s nostrils were flaring and he drank in a new odor, new air, and the smell of a forest!  
	“ARGH!” he bellowed and tore at the wall opening the entrance despite its concealment.  But his brawny body was too much for the tunnel, he bellowed and tore madly and near blindly and anything near him.  He settled his rant and looked to Garf, “Find me where that hole goes!” he bellowed, then backhanded one of the young nuns, snapping her neck.  She slumped to the floor and Garf scurried into the tunnel.

	Garf the Vile had an amazing way to narrow his body, to bring his shoulders inward and follow any pray into virtually any tunnel or hole.  His wide hips, though, usually suffered during those pursuits and thusly had developed a hard coarse layer of tough-extra tough hide.  
	The scurrying novice nun had a head start on him and had preknowledge of the tunnel, too.  But in a hurry, frightened out of her wits and still in her novice nun’s layered clothing, the young nun had some problems keeping ahead of the pursing beast.
	At one point the tunnel narrowed moreso whereas Garf became--stuck.  He became really stuck and for a time there was a mild panic  beginning to creep into him--suffocation was not on his list aspirations.  He finally managed to re-wriggle himself and came to be on his back.  Moving  back towards the secret treasure room he clawed at the sides and ceiling of the secret tunnel then once more was in pursuit of his prey.
	Crawling along, pulling himself with his outstretched hands and propelling himself with his feet, Garf came to see daylight.  His prey had made good her escape into the forest.  The tunnel turned upward sharply, there were roots to serve as a ladder and it was some ten feet to the surface.
	Garf, with face full of dirt, shook his head and began climbing up.
	When his great bull head breeched the surface--it was instantly clobbered by the young fleeing nun.  Upside the head firstly by a very stout stick of tree limb--then, smack down on his noggin with all her might.  It very nearly gave the beast a concussion--a well deserved one.  He went tumbling back down into the dark of the tunnel and lay heaving there.
	The young novice nun fled into the forest making for Orion’s Keep.
	
**

	Gaflaw and Hook picked at the burned flesh of a stout they had roasting on their fire.  Some birds had returned to the area but none were appetizing enough to wet the interest of the two beasts having their evening meal.
	A fresh rain had come (and gone) laying down the usual mustiness that had pent up for days since the last rain.  Gaflaw stretched, farted, then stood rolling his shoulders.
	“This bloody stinks!” he scoffed in disgust kicking the ground with his bare foot.
	“Ah, simmer ye down, Gaf,” spoke his companion, “ole Dacious will let us have some fun.” he said slapping his knee.  Bits of stout meat fell from his lip.  He cocked his head turning it into the forest.
	“Hmmm, somethings a-coming.” he snarled.  He stood and his stinky companion faded into the brush.  Hook rolled his own shoulders then scuffed dirt onto the fire putting it out.  Still gnawing on the stout meat he sidestepped behind some large trees and stared into the way too green forest.

	Orion’s Keep was not what it used to be.  Not in the least.  In its best days knights of yore filled the streets and pubs.  There were daily staged contests and exhibition of the knights’ abilities.  Knights from all over the kingdom and beyond came to try their luck with the established knights.  The finest mead available was made at the keep, self-proclaimed Orion was friends of all.  He was a half human, half elf.  His father the elf while the mother was a human who like most of the inhabitants of the kingdom had come in from “another world.”
	But the minotaurs who descended upon the keep in a steady flow of non-ending onslaughts took their toil.  If not the keep itself being besieged by the brusque half bull half human creatures, the lands surrounding were set ablaze or assaulted in other ways.
	After a time, the peoples faded away and the knights who fell in battle were not replaced.  The keep soon fell in disrepair and other vile creatures took over.
	All this was unawares to the secluded order of nuns, the Sisters of the Calming Hand had been out of touch for far too long.  But it was by decree and request of King Furandy that it be so.  He saw what was happening to the Keep of Orion and knew that his own beloved castle would soon fall prey to the minions from the north.  At his request the Sisters of the Calming Hand took the prized and sacred possessions of the King and his court and hid them in their sanctuary.
	Had Sister Jorge been aware, she might have taken a different direct route to the famed keep--and been better off to make the creek, follow it out of the forest and keep going!
	But she couldn’t abandon her fellow sisters.  The sixteen year old stumbled her way along the small overgrown path, her mind swarming with the images of her fellow novices being brutally raped and killed.  She gathered herself and continued on her way.
	Something horrible filled the air, it was repulsive and then she detected the odor of something somewhat familiar as well as a linger “smokey” campfire odor lingering in the sullen air.
	Suddenly she was grabbed from behind by the nape of her neck.
	“Well, well, well,” scoffed Hook, “lookee heres what did I find!”
	Another beastly minotaur stepped out of the woods and approached the young novice.  The minotaur behind her gripped her young neck tightly and lifted her upwards..  Gaflaw looked her over with a leer before ripping her layered clothing off.  Stuffing a fingering into her virgin entrance he smiled gleefully, “And she’s ripe, too!” smirked the vile creature.
	“I reckons ole Dacious will be proud of us for this one, eh!”
	“He fooking better!” scoffed Hook.  “I’ve had enooph of us’uns getting his sloppy seconds.”
	“Or thirds!”
	Still holding the young novice by her neck, Hook fondled strongly her bared ass, squeezing the pillowy cheeks and delving his wicked fingers into her crack.  When her anus was plugged by the minotaur’s fingers she shrieked loudly.
	The shriek was cut short as the grip about her throat increased and the other menacing minotaur explored her most holy of holies with his finger, then his equally wicked tongue.  
	“This is one Odacious wont get first dibs on!” scarfed Gaflaw.  He held the girl’s legs open as wide as possible and plunged into her love entrance his 18 inches of bull dick.  The girl’s eyes widened, her neck muscles tightened.
	The young novice’s eyes bulged ten times their size as up into her anus plunged the minotaur behind her, his bull dick was a few inches longer but not as thick.  It was still an invasion and the novice had never been so violated.
	
***

	The outpost was a shambles.  Furniture and other assorted furnishings were piled up in piles.  Some of the piles were afire, with the bodies of the good sisters piled on.  Night was coming, the air about the forgotten outpost filling with the sickening fumes of burning bodies.
	The young novices from under the sanctuary had been brought up.  Odacious the Grim said nothing, he walked with a slight limp and seethed with extreme pissed-offedness.  To the burning piles of the former nuns he would stand and seemingly gloat, or merely stare.
	“Bring the wagon.” he told one of his minotaurs.  Garf the Vile had other minotaurs fashion ropes, securing them about the naked breasts of the speechless surviving nuns.  Their arms were broken out of their sockets and hands tied securely behind their backs.  Then, some holes were made to hold the various lodge poles Garf had gathered.  The poles, used in construction, were broken with the blunt end inserted firmly into the freshly made holes in the ground, the other end sharpened to a piercing point.
	With the wagon brought in, the treasure of the kingdom was loaded up.  There were barrels and barrels of mead, too; it was well aged and the minotaurs drank their fill--all the while the surviving nuns and novices awaited their fate, arms broken, standing before the piercing poles they knew would soon be entering their bodies.
	When darkness had fully filled the air Gaflaw and Hook came in bringing Sister Jorge.  She had been brutally-brutally assaulted and been dragged by her hair the two miles from the minotaurs’ “outpost.”
	“Lookee here-ee whats we found for ya, Boss.” smiled-snickered Hook.
	Odacious’ eyes narrowed as he lifted the head of the creature.  He knelt down to be at her level, her dark eyes fluttered and then she shrieked as she saw who it was.  Odacious smiled and then began to chortle.
	“Har-har!” he laughed, “No one gets away from ole Dacious!” he snorted.  He then took possession of her, gripping her about the neck and lifting her up for inspection.
	His face took on a sudden disapproval.
	“Whoa-ho,” he said in a deepening somewhat angered voice, “she’s been damaged!”
	Gaflaw and Hook looked to one another, “she was thatta way when we’s found her, Boss, honest.”
	Odacious smacked his hand up side Hook’s face, sending the beastly creature sprawling to the ground.  He rustled up looking as if he would be bold and daring enough to tackle his commander.  A glare put him in his place, along with a deep seeded growl.
	“We only broke her in for you, Boss.” explained Gaflaw.
	“Is that right?” scoffed Odacious.  He then whipped out his other hand (the other still clutching at Sister Jorge’s throat) and lifted the 400 pound minotaur off the ground several inches.
	“I didn’t ask you to!” and flung the lowest ranking member of the Horde some feet away.  He crashed onto a pile of burning furniture and nuns’ bodies.  His body instantly became aflame and he thrashed about madly on the ground putting out the flame.  None of the other minotaurs of the Horde attempted to help him in his distress.
	“Garf!” shouted Odacious, “Me thinks this creature is of more interest to you than me.” he tossed the hapless novice nun to his second.  The sword removed from his side the second-in-command still had minor discomfort, the clunk to his head received from Sister Jorge still smarted, too.
	After receiving the “gift” from his commander he promptly flung the girl to the ground.  He was still nude and his massive bull cock grew hard.  The second-in-command, though, actually had a small penis than most of the other bulls.  But it wasn’t the size that mattered, right?
	Sister Jorge had not yet recovered from being so viciously raped by the other two but she felt Garf’s mighty bull cock slamming not so nicely into her womanhood.  Her throat had been crushed and she could not expel any words, her eyes remained bulged.  She could feel the incredible schlong steaming into her belly, tearing through her innards.

	A light misty rain began to fall, it was near midnight and great bonfires illuminated the dismal courtyard.  Ropes had been wrapped about the last remaining nuns, the youngest ones.  The ropes secured about their tender young teenage breasts.  They had been severely raped and sodomized with some of the girls being banged front and back at the same time.
	The girls were hoisted up just by their breats, their arms broken at the sockets pulled over their heads, their legs tied at the ankles pulled tightly before them with a trailing rope attaching to the other rope.
	Their bodies then were lowered to whereas there were just inches, their bleeding well fucked assholes, were just inches from being horrifically pierced by the freshly sharpened poles jammed into the ground.  Another rope was secured to a stake angled at the ground.
	Odacious sloughed about the area, poking a long sword into the piles of burning debris and nuns.  He spat on one pile and peed on another.  Garf came up to his side, he cocked his neck and drew a long breath.  He had dressed, he didn’t like the rain.  Most minotaurs didn’t.  Odacious had put his armor back on, too.  The sacking of the secluded convent was over.
	“The wagon loaded?”
	“Aye.”
	Odacious turned on his heels and returned to the center of the courtyard, five of the novice nuns and two of the other nuns were still alive.  The other members of the Horde milled about the wagon, dressing and putting up a canvas top where most would seek shelter from the rain.
	The ropes made odd stress noises as they got wet in the rain, the nuns all swayed in their agony--waiting.  Odacious picked up a stick and stuffed it into one of the bonfires.  The minotaurs at the wagon began fighting amongst themselves to see who would get to ride and who would be walking (or limping.)  (why they didn’t simply stay at the outpost was unknown.)
	When the stick was burning, Garf doused the ropes to the surviving nuns with tar oil.  Odacious slugged down a swig of well aged mead, then lit the doused ropes.  

	The rain had stopped and lightning flashed in the distance.  The chilling air was pierced as the screams of the unfortunate nuns filled the air as their anus’ or pussies were perforated.  As the sharpened poles pushed into their bodies as the ropes securing them burned and their sheer weight brought them to their ultimate doom, the nuns cursed the Horde with their final breath.  Odacious and Garf stood watching as the poles punctured further and further into the nuns’ bodies.
	The ordeal was finally over.  Blood coated the piercing poles and pooled on the soggy ground.  The air was putrefied with the stench of the dead and still burning bodies. 
	“That’ll fooking teach ‘em!” Odacious decreed.  “Hiding treasure from me, turning me out when I was sick jus’ ‘cause I was a min.” he scoffed, kicked some dirt onto one of the piles and spat.   He then slapped his second-in-command and they made for the wagon.
	The night was long, it seemed as though day would never arrive.  Another misty rain came in the wee hours but didn’t last long.  Nothing stirred in the courtyard, it was lifeless.  A breeze howled out of the high trees of the forest and roamed about the horror of the outpost.  In a corner of the outpost John and Jake finally emerged.  Jake turned to one side and vomited.  He would be sick for days, if not the rest of his life.
	Checking the Phase Shift indicator, 2 hrs. to go.  It couldn’t come too soon.  John still wasn’t sure if the minotaurs beasts had were actually out of the area, he was sorely glad he and his family, Jake and his group had not been detected.  But the pile they had all taken refuge under was refuse.
	Seeing Sister Daphne drawing water somewhat assured John that the outpost was a haven for nun type creatures and were probably quite pleasant.  He had been about ready to make his move and greet the good sister when the front gate had been broken down and in came the Horde.
	Two hours to go.
	They were afraid to move, John’s granddaughters and Jake’s brood were only partially aware of what had transpired in the open courtyard, they had been sheltered and kept hidden from view lest they meet the same fate as the nuns.
	“I hope we don’t come to any other worlds like this.” Jake said into between vomiting.
	“There’s no telling.” John said.  ‘No telling.’  It did make since, though, sort of.  Peoples who had found their way into the New Worlds brought their technology, or whatever it was at the time of their time period.  In the passage of time castles and keeps and societies grew.  
	Where the elves, dwarves, and minotaurs came from was unknown.
	“I really want to go home, now.” Jake said.  This world-tripping shit was no longer fun.  Jake remained squatting, one eye on the gate, one on the Phase Shift Indicator.