Fantasy Stories: The Blonde Wolf (Patreon)

Author's Note: Hey all! This story was actually something I put together for a DND game I've joined into with a few friends. I'm not really sure what to call it, honestly! It's not exactly prime fetish stuff, but I enjoyed writing it and think it's a fun read ^^ 

The characters are Keelah (my pudgy Goblin OC that you might see more of ;D) and Muzet! Keelah's a cute but tough gobbo, who has bonded with a special wolf who she seems to have named Scar, while Muzet is a fairy princess who spent the last 20 years in a self-induced coma after her father went to war... but he never came back. 

Keelah and krew have just rescued Muzet and helped the fairy princess take back her father's throne from some human pretenders and a small horde of goblins who tried to move in to take the empty castle! 

The pair has gone up to Muzet's old room, which is all the way up in the highest turret of the castle, and Keelah was shocked to find that room was mostly filled with dead plants and a single large tree. Muzet is quick to use her magic and voice, trying to set the room right, and offers to Keelah a few quickly-grown apples, wanting to learn more about the tiny green creature who helped reclaim her home!

Please, enjoy!

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“Goodness… you really can eat, can’t you?”

The blonde goblin nearly dropped what little remained of her apple. Her bushy mane of long blonde hair wavered as she looked left, then right, then up to where Muzet was laying upon a large branch of the long-exhausted tree.

“Oh, my,” the fairy giggled, her wings fluttering playfully while she stroked a leg on the branch. “I didn’t intend to startle you. Did you forget I was here? This is my room, after all.”

Keelah made a small noise, though it fit, given her tiny stature. A chubby fist was lifted to tap on a chubbier chest, with a much chubbier tummy wobbling as she coughed. “No, no,” she sputtered, “it’z my doin. Lost sight a’ ya ‘n’… well, ain’t used to folk who can fly.”

Muzet giggled, laying a soft cheek upon her own soft touch. “I was watching you. That’s your fifth apple, so far.”

Keelah looked down, her bright eyes turning the core over in her palm before muttering, “Oh… well, datz unlucky, innit?”

“Hmm?” the fairy hummed. “Shall I conjure you another? Truth be told, watching you eat seems to be having an effect on myself. I’d thought only one or two apples would satiate my pallet, however…”

With her free hand, Muzet stroked her bright green dress, coming to rest upon her middle as she released a low, wanting, ‘Roooughhh…’

“Might be best den,” Keelah nodded. “If ya kan, a’course. Don’ know if dat takez a lot outta you…”

“My dear Commander!” Muzet tittered, placing a hand against the tired bark. “Summoning apples is no more a strain on my person than… well, flying.”

Keelah frowned, shrugging. “Don’ mind me sayin, Miss, but flyin’ lookz pretty ‘ard ta me.”

Muzet’s laughter was the warmth of sunlight in the long dead bedroom. The exhausted remains of bushels and bushes, hedges and weeds, and her much beloved flowers, were slowly pulled towards the magic that filled each note in her voice. She could almost hear them, her sweet little babies, each of them longing for the touch of their mother.

But, for now, she had to focus, with her fingers stroking the branch of her slowly awakening tree.

A bud began to form near the edge of the branch. Then, another, and another still. Even time, as slow as it was, acknowledged her majesty. The elements of this world knew who would rule them, and this feeling of power thrummed throughout all of Muzet.

It met her hunger, there. Twenty years was a long nap, and though her ladyship had never been shy of an appetite, she’d thought to restrain that. For now, it might be best to keep others unaware to the wants of her tummy, but this goblin… this… girl… the fairy felt pulled to her.

Keelah let out a content sigh, placing the core on the branch next to where she sat near the base of the tree before patting her tummy. “Dey’z good eattin’ tho,” she said. “Magies got lotz a’ talent. Didn’ ever fink dey could use ‘em ta grow.”

“Most can’t,” Muzet said, watching the buds ever so slowly become just a bit plumper. “At least, I don’t believe so. I’ve my own… special techniques.” She lifted herself, moving onto her knees and stretching her wings, though keeping her fingers pressed to the tree. “It’s something your born with. Not something you can learn out of a book.”

“I like books…” Keelah said. Her tone surprised Muzet, who looked down to see the goblin stretching out her own tiny limbs.

What an immensely odd creature. She knew of goblins, everyone knewabout goblins, but the girl beneath her… One of her father’s Lieutenants once told her of the creatures. Vile, conniving, bloodthirsty, he claimed a goblin’d rather stab you in the shin then speak to you. He spoke of their long, hooked noses, how they all pierced their ears with more gold than they’re worth, and how none of them knew the meaning of the word ‘bathtime.’

Keelah smelled like flowers. Irises, in particular. That sweet scent of spring. Muzet had thought she’d been mistaken, maybe even smelled herself when she’d woken up, but then she’d seen Keelah fight. And the scent of irises had been covered in sweat and in blood.

But now, she was clean, and she smelled like flowers.

What had her nan said that irises meant? Was it wisdom? Surely not, the poor thing seemed hardly able to speak… but… out of those who had saved her, Keelah had certainly spoken the most…

No… the way she’d spoken to the kobolds… they had decried this land, spoken ill of Muzet’s father while daring to inhabit the remains of his halls. A part of Muzet had thought she’d need to order their deaths, but Keelah had… focused. And she spoke about… life…

Muzet blinked, realizing she was getting lost in amethyst jewels when Keelah’s paw passed over her lips. “Eh? You okay, Miss? I go’ sumfin on me face?”

“Oh, dear,” the fairy shook her head, her hair tickling the exposed skin of her back. “No, I apologize. It’s just…”

She looked up, checking upon the buds before spreading her wings. They fluttered softly, lifting her up. Always keeping her fingers touching the tree, she circled it until landing on the branch next to Keelah.

“You fascinate me, I suspect.”

“Oh!” Keelah looked down at herself, before looking back up wearing a bright grin. “Thanks! I… fink…”

Muzet had to force herself to keep one hand focused, while allowing her other to cover her giggle. “It’s my pleasure, Commander. You’ve already proved far beyond what I’d ever expected from a girl so… little.”

“You mean dat business with da boiz downstairs? Ahh, dat was nuffin,” Keelah waved. “Buncha goblins don’ even know who dey own boss is. Got ‘emselves mixed up with a codger who don’ got no meats. I’ll set ‘em right, don’t you worry.”

“I suspect you shall~” Muzet hummed. She found herself looking to the floor, imagining the sight.

Far, far, far below, in the prison where her father had once housed slaves, a sect of goblins had formed. They’d followed one man, a mighty goblin that was as strong as he was forgettable, as Keelah and the others had already seen him offed.

Muzet hardly had time to learn the goblin’s name before he was dead, slain in his own fighting pit. And the goblin by her side had roared all that remained down into submission, taken his axe, and declared herself Boss.

And the wolf! She’d almost forgotten about Keelah’s wolf, the beast who she seemed to converse with through some unseen method. She hadn’t whistled, nor used too many clicks. Perhaps it was the way that she touched him? Or the way that she laughed while in the middle of a fight?

“You go’ sumfin on your mind, Miss?”

“Hmm?” Muzet perked.

She looked down to Keelah, who had her head tilted while still wearing that sweet little smile, and felt herself blush.

“My… I’ve been so off-kilter. My mind keeps racing away.” A bright tone came out with her breath. “I suppose it’s all the excitement. Trying to make up for these past… twenty years.”

“‘Ard to fink datz ‘ow long you been undah,” Keelah nodded, crossing her arms. “Twen’y yearz back… gosh, fink I was…” She paused, her mouth screwing up in the effort of thought.

After a few moments, Muzet wondered if she’d start to see smoke coming from the girl’s green ears, but Keelah snapped.

“You fink every gobbos full grown!” she said, shaking her head but chuckling. “Can’ been more den I got fingers, barely a pup by your eyes. Dang mut.”

Muzet watched. She looked from Keelah down to where the girl might have been looking, at the floor near the door that led to the stairs of her tower. She was about to ask a question when Keelah cut ahead.

“Eight! I fink. I’m twen’y-eight now, so if ya just take way da twen’y…” Keelah held up four tiny fingers on each of her hands.

“My… You’re older than I thought!” Muzet said, then looked down. “I suppose I’m older than I thought as well… Goodness, this is all going to take time getting used to.”

Keelah bounced. “Well, we go’ time enuff tonight, at least, eh?”

“Very true!” Muzet found herself bouncing in a similar way before shaking her head and chuckling. “I wonder… there’s not much chance you met Father, is there?”

The small goblin reached up, stroking her chin. “Well… maybe! I don’ ‘member everyone I’z met. Feel like your Pop woulda made an impression, buh even den, don’t fink I ‘member meetin’ nobody outside da klan ‘afore den.”

“He most certainly would have,” Muzet tittered before it turned into a sigh. “I never learned enough about his practices. I regret not asking him more when I had the chance…”

After a moment, Muzet nearly hopped out of her seat, worried by the sudden silence that had come over the room. She had been afraid she’d said something that had soured the mood, but when she looked down at the goblin, she saw her once again in some deep range of thought.

“Keelah?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t ‘ave even been the Rydah Klan back den…” she said, as if she were speaking to herself. “Datz when we wuz a horde… Da Bitah Horde.”

Muzet frowned. A horde? That sounded more familiar… she hadn’t realized it, but Keelah introducing herself as part of a ‘klan’ had certainly sounded odd at the time. Muzet did remember how there were several ‘hordes’ who’d followed Father… but Bitahs…?

Then, she remembered Scar.

“Goblins on wolfs…” Muzet breathed, connecting the dots. “I’d… heard of you, before.”

“Eh? Of Keelah?”

“Erm…” Muzet felt uncomfortable. She remembered the Lieutenant, a tall man with a large bald spot atop dark, oily hair. She remembered seeing him in her Father’s court, fascinated by his report of the horde who’d tamed beasts.

That in of itself wasn’t the interesting part. In fact Muzet would have forgotten it entirely except, the next time she’d seen the Lieutenant, he’d been screaming in agony after the horde he leased land to had been decimated when their beasts turned upon them.

The horde had been cut nearly in half, fifty of Father’s servants gone in a night, and the Lieutenant claimed the attack had come from within. There’d be no retribution, no one held responsible for the wasted resources spent upon a now-useless outpost, so the Lieutenant became responsible, and Father had taken his head.

“Not of… you, I suspect…” Muzet said. “Umm… I believe I’d heard of such a… horde…”

“Oh!” Keelah said, then seemed to notice the tone. “Oh… You’z heard about Furtop.”

“I… believe so… Was that the name of your outpost?” Muzet asked.

Keelah opened her mouth, then closed it. “Erm… Hrm… I fink…”

She paused, looking down towards the tower. Her eyes moved, lifting from where they once were.

“Ya don’ need ta… Ugh…”

The little goblin’s hands folded into her lap. She stroked her leg before shaking her head.

“Furtop weren’t an outpost, Miss. It were like… a village. For da weeks dat dey’d been dere…”

“They?” Muzet asked. “The Bitahs? Were you not with them, back then?”

Keelah opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked like she was struggling to find how to speak.

Muzet felt something stir inside of her. Some empathy, an uncomfortable air had come around the pair’s shoulders, but her curiosity was stronger. If the horde had been where Keelah came from, then maybe there were others that were…

“You old mongrel… gonna kill yourself goin back down…”

Muzet looked up from Keelah and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

The wolf was less than five feet away from them, slowly and silently approaching. His scarred muzzle looked even more weathered, immense body looking tired and old, but there was intelligence inside his icy-blue eyes. Too much to be following some hidden commands.

“Can you… speak with him?” Muzet asked. “Does he understand you?”

Keelah lifted herself from her seat, coming to the wolf. Gingerly, he pressed his nose up to hers, before they tilted their foreheads to meet and stared into one another.

“Scar’z got a lot a smartz, iffin you know ‘ow ta listen. Used ta only fink in pictures. ‘E’z getting better, but e’z still a bit slow. Ain’t ya, pup?”

A low breath. That’s the only noise that he made before he turned to his side and offered his saddle. Muzet thought for a moment that Keelah would climb atop him, but instead, she opened one of the few saddlebags.

“I like books…” she said as she did, pulling out the first, a leather-bound notebook that Muzet had seen her writing in before. “My teacher, Sesal, he says books are worth more than gold. You never know what stories they contain.”

She withdrew another book, then another, putting them on the ground with her journal. Muzet noticed the cover of one had what looked to be a hand drawn goblin riding atop of an immense fluffy tiger. A colorful title marked the book as ‘The Tale of Fang and Fluffy’.

Keelah came down from her tiptoes, holding in her hands a much smaller book. It was little more than a notepad, something which Muzet might use for a calendar, but the tiny script made the cover look huge with its with one simple word.

‘Mom’.

“The Bitahs weren’t good folk,” Keelah said, her voice quiet.

That ever-present smile she wore was gone, and though Muzet’s stomach felt hollow, she couldn’t find words to say. She watched as the wolf turned, coming up to her side and placing his muzzle near her shoulder.

She leaned into him, but her eyes were very far away. “They were bad. They… hurt folk. Thought they were bigger then they was, and that made them…” her hand lifted, stroking Scar’s muzzle. “They was slaves, but they wanted slaves of their own.”

It sounded… bewildering, to Muzet. She wanted to say, ‘Well, of course they were slaves. They were goblins.’ But something about this girl, this goblin, had changed something in her. She kept quiet, watching as Keelah opened the notebook.

“I… It was…” Keelah let out a low breath, looking at the page.

After a few moments, Muzet felt compelled to speak. “If you’d rather, I could read it myself,” she offered.

Keelah looked up, her eyes wide, before they fell back to the page. She turned it around for Muzet to see.

There were no words on the first page. It was a picture, a drawing, but with enough quality that it looked better than paintings Muzet had seen. A portrait made from bright and dark dyes, with most of the page colored a bright gray. Above that, a beautiful goblin woman was caught in mid laugh, with voluptuous black hair covering one eye. She was flexing, and looked almost like Keelah did after that fight with the boss, but where Keelah was chubby, this woman looked strong.

Beneath her, the portrait was named ‘Terrah.’

“The Bitahs hurt wolves,” Keelah said. “They hurt ‘em bad. Treated ‘em like slaves, but worse, cause they thought that they could domesticate wolves.”

Muzet looked up to see Keelah looking down at the beautiful woman with a look that was somewhere between heartbreak and abject disgust.

“They starved them, beat them, tore out their claws…” The little goblin’s hands were shaking, fingers pinching into the top of the book.

From her side, Scar made a soft noise that sounded almost like a coo, and Keelah looked as if she could almost start crying.

“They thought they could take off their jaw, replace it with steel for more of a bite. They tortured ‘em, and it was this sluggah’s fault.”

Muzet looked back down at the giggling Terrah, so pleasant and cheerful, tiny but somehow casting a huge shadow.

Only then did she realize how Keelah was speaking. Her usual inflections were quiet, muted, almost as if she was speaking completely normal. But it seemed to be taking a lot out of her.

“They got what was coming,” Keelah said darkly, turning the book back towards herself. “At Furtop. They dug a pit for the wolves, used it to separate them and store them away. That’s where they beat them, claiming they had to so they would learn right.”

“And that… didn’t work?” Muzet asked.

Keelah looked up, almost surprised, but then back down. She began flipping forward in the notebook. “You can’t tame a wolf. It ain’t a dog, or a horse, nor nuffin’ else. They’re a wolf. And there’s no codging bollocks about no Alpha or what’zit,” she spat. “No leader, no whelps. There’s stronger and there’s weaker, but their ain’ no identity beyond the pack.”

Muzet frowned, not sure she understood. She was certain she’d heard of something about an Alpha before… and a pack without a leader? That didn’t make much sense. How could they function without…?

Keelah held up her booklet again, and the question evaporated. In the same beautiful detail, the drawing on the page made Muzet’s heart flutter. Bright, golden colors, stained with saliva and with blood.

“In whimpers, they whispered. In pain, they prayed.”

Scar moved, sitting back on his haunches, but so close to the… creatureupon Keelah’s page, the movement almost brought Muzet to panic. The beast, the… Wolf, glared outward with burning purple eyes, its golden fur glowing all the brighter as it stood over Terrah, roaring down into the small goblin’s face.

Keelah’s tone was flat now, her eyes far away, as if she could see the event for herself. “The blonde wolf was upon ‘em ‘fore they even knew it was there. In the center of Furtop, right by the pit, its howl screamed through the air. A hundred wolves rose up against the Bitahs as the blonde wolf went for Terrah, and ripped out her throat.”

Scar made another noise, enough that Keelah looked up to Muzet before looking back down.

The fairy didn’t know what to say. It… The drawing, it frightened her. It was a wolf, but there was something far more vicious that emanated from the art. It was a few breaths before she even noticed that Terrah was screaming right back at the wolf, unafraid and defiant, even in the face of her death.

“Did you… draw these?” Muzet asked, nodding towards the book. “Were you there?”

She could feel her heart ache as the silence stretched, and Keelah flipped to the next page.

There were words here. A lot of them, filling the entire page. She made out ‘I knew she was dead,’ before Keelah turned it around.

“My teacher wrote this. He drew them for me too. I… insisted. Wanted to know everything. Have it all written down. A story.”

Silence returned. Muzet hated the silence. She hated her curiosity even more.

“What happened then?”

Keelah’s eyes were scanning the page. “Sesal ran to her side. Everyone else is all running amok, wolves tearin’ the whole bloody place apart. The blonde wolf went for the Boss and his Hands, next. Sesal just grabbed a spear, tucked himself near her, and he…”

Her voice cracked, but Keelah swallowed and kept going.

“He put ‘imself between the wolves ‘n’ her belly. When the blonde wolf returned…”

She stopped. Her violet eyes were wet. She wiped at them, breathing out a long breath and turning the page. Then the next, then the next. Finally, she paused.

“After they’d gone, Sesall took one of Terrah’s own daggers. He cut open her belly as she lay, still dying, and he…”

A long sniffle, and Keelah turned the booklet around.

A tiny baby filled most of the page. It was naked, green, lightly covered in viscera and gore. It looked as if it were barely breathing, freezing to death upon the open snow. Behind it, a robed goblin woman stood with a staff held up in the air. The twilight sky had faded to night, but shining above them, the full moon cast the scene in its bright, pale light.

Muzet saw the circle that the shaman had drawn around the babe, the blood on her staff coming from her own wrists. At the bottom of the page, written in the same fine handwriting, ‘The ritual saved her. Keelah took her first breath.’

The fairy lifted from her seat, unable to help herself as the girl’s tears broke over her eyes. She fluttered forward, bringing herself down to Keelah’s height and catching the girl as she wilted, like a flower, at the end of its life.

She felt so small. Beyond tiny, but feminine in the strangest of way. The softness, the curves of her body, they all felt pronounced as Keelah’s chest throbbed and the little goblin sobbed into Muzet’s shoulder, the fairy’s hands warm against the cold’s bitter touch.