The Yokeland Chronicles
Chapter 1 - Mosskin
by TempleSiren_NULL
This story was written for the September Arena challenge on mcforum, where the theme is world-building. What started as a one-shot quickly grew out of control. So I've decided to take a break from my "my one-shot per week" rule, and have decided to post one chapter of The Yokeland Chronicles for the next five weeks. I had a lot of fun creating this world, and hope you enjoy it!
With dirt-stained hands, the farmgirl wiped the sweat from her brow. The drops trailing off her calloused fingers caught the faint green glow of her eyes as they fell.
She turned from the sight in shame and looked up at the sky. The sun was low, and the tools were put away. After another long day, she could finally rest. In the distance, a familiar voice was yelling her name.
“Sabine! Are you almost done?” Anya was running over from the estate house, arms clenched tightly around a book held against her chest. “I have new stories to read to you!”
Sabine smiled wearily. “Actually, Miss Anya, I just finished.” She closed the door to the toolshed, officially ending the workday. Her arms and legs ached. She wanted to go home. She just wanted to lie in her bed and wait for the next day to start.
“While I’d love to hear more stories, won’t you be having supper soon?” Sabine looked to the sky. The sun was orange, but was still floating above the horizon. Sabine only had an hour or so to make it back to her own cottage before dark.
“Then eat with us! Mother will let you if I ask.” Sabine watched Anya’s fingers clench around the edge of the book. The girl’s eyes were desperately wide; begging her only friend to spend just a little time with her.
Sabine looked under the floating sun and saw her cottage; a tiny speck at the edge of the Lochhaven estate. She supposed she knew the path well enough to walk there by starlight.
“Of course, Miss Anya, whatever you wish.” Sabine’s smile wavered, but she didn’t let it fall. After all, Anya was the only person who was kind to her.
***
“Anya, you know that Sebastian only made enough food for the family. Why would you invite Sabine to eat with us?” Madam Lochhaven spoke to her daughter, but her eyes never left Sabine.
Just like the others… Afraid of my eyes…
Anya’s book was on the floor; her hands now balled up into slender red fists.
“Last week, you invited my Magister to dinner. The week before, it was the Duke.” Anya’s figure was trembling with rage. Sabine turned her gaze down at the floor. She didn’t want to see Anya cry.
“We knew the Duke was coming weeks in advance–”
“And you invited Magister Colin on a whim!” Anya yelled out before her mother could finish.
“And you invited Magister Colin on a whim!” Anya yelled out before her mother could finish.
“Sebastian had already served up and set the table! Why is this any different?” Without looking, Sabine could feel the Madam’s freezing stare. Despite what Anya said, the difference was clear to everyone in the room. Even the other servants had averted their eyes when Sabine and Anya walked inside.
“Anya, the answer is no. You are dismissed, Sabine.”
Sabine bowed. “Of course, Madam Lochhaven.” She turned to Anya, and saw the tears begin to swell in the girl’s eyes. Sabine felt the girl’s pain as much as her own.
“Miss Anya, there’s a holiday in a couple weeks, maybe then we can–” This time, it was Madam Lochhaven’s turn to interrupt.
“We will be traveling for the holiday, Sabine. As I said, you are dismissed.”
Sabine bowed, formally to Madam Lochhaven, and then softly, sincerely to Miss Anya.
Sabine could hear Anya stomping towards her room as she began the long walk home.
***
A man was fishing by Loch Morden, the great lake that marked the final approach to Sabine’s home. The red light of the setting sun rippled across the lake’s surface. As she did every day, Sabine stopped and sat at the edge of the lake to watch the sunset. The fisherman paid her no mind, and simply watched his horsehair line slowly drift back and forth through the water.
***
A man was fishing by Loch Morden, the great lake that marked the final approach to Sabine’s home. The red light of the setting sun rippled across the lake’s surface. As she did every day, Sabine stopped and sat at the edge of the lake to watch the sunset. The fisherman paid her no mind, and simply watched his horsehair line slowly drift back and forth through the water.
Sabine knew the man, though she’d never talked to him before. He was a hermit who lived on the other side of the lake. She wasn’t sure if the Lochhaven family allowed him to live on their land, or if his cottage on the distant side of the lake was even still part of their land.
Despite the heat, the man was covered from head to toe. Layers of jackets, some too small, and others too big, were stitched together into the facsimile of a garment that left no skin exposed. His boots matched, but his gloves didn’t. A hood was drawn over the man’s head, and his face was covered in bandages. Sabine remembered the story Anya had told her of an invisible man who covered himself in bandages so others could see him. Sabine wondered if the hermit was invisible under all his clothes.
She couldn’t have dinner with Anya, but maybe a hermit of all people wouldn’t consider her an outsider.
Or, he’ll shun me like all the rest. Hermits aren’t known for making friends.
“I can cook whatever you catch, my cottage isn’t far from here.” Sabine was surprised to hear her own voice speaking. Shouldn’t she be afraid of him?
Or am I even more scared of not hearing another human voice until I wake up tomorrow?
The fisherman’s head jerked suddenly. Sabine briefly wondered if she had surprised him by accident; if he had even heard her approach.
The man’s entire face was in silhouette as the sun set behind him. Without seeing his face, Sabine knew he was looking at her eyes. Her terrible green eyes. Her curse from–
“Bull-god’s blood flows in you? Ah… Yes… Makes sense one of your kind would talk to me.”
Sabine lowered her eyes from his gaze. “It’s… not my fault…”
The hermit stared at her for what felt like a very long time. Neither of them moved, and Sabine noticed the sun’s reflection in the water shrinking as darkness slowly overtook the sky. She silently considered walking away, before the statuesque hermit suddenly came to life.
“O‘course not!” the hermit called out as he pulled his line from the water. He plucked the dead worm from the hook, and raised it to the shadow of his hood. For a heartbeat, Sabine thought he was going to eat the worm instead of fish. Thankfully, the man slowly lowered it. “But it’s what ye are, ain’t it?”
The hermit tossed the worm into the water, Sabine heard the splashes of several fish all fighting over the worm. The hermit waded knee-deep into the lake, and the splashing stopped. The fish were as afraid of him as they were his line.
“Yes… I suppose it is…” It was painful to admit it out loud; to admit one of the bull-god’s raiders had claimed her mother.
That the bull-god would always have a claim on her soul…
The hermit didn’t react as she spoke. The fish had all fled, but he simply bent down and pulled a lifeless fish from the water; as if he knew it’d be waiting for him.
“I’m in the right mind for some cooked food today I think,” he said while turning the fish over in his gloved hand; possibly weighing it. Despite his words, Sabine was sure he was about to eat the fish. His head tilted towards her.
“Where’s your cottage, bull-blood?”
Sabine was ready to answer; ready to tell the fish-eating man in patchwork clothes exactly where she lived. She could be friends with the strange man.
She could have a friend. For the first time since Anya took pity on her, she might have someone else to talk to. Just as the words reached her lips, something else reached her ears. A noise echoing across the lake.
It was a low, thrumming sound. The beat of drums certainly, but something else too…
The call of the horn.
The world turned green and Sabine desperately wanted to hear the horn more clearly. Warmth began to spread throughout her body.
Go to the call. You deserve this.
Sabine felt the truth in every part of her body. The world was green and she served the bull-god. Just as her head turned towards the sound, to the fire now visible where the setting sun used to be, the hermit was upon her.
She felt his hands on her head as he jammed something warm and soft into her ears. The shock of the act shook her back to reality, and she realized she could no longer hear the sound. She touched her ears and felt soft wax. She looked to the hermit who was staring across the lake. Her eyes followed the path of his gaze, and truly saw the fire.
The Honeydew Estate… Goddess, the raiders have returned…
Fish still in hand, the hermit grabbed her arm and started dragging her to his cottage.
***
The hermit’s cottage was cleaner than she expected, though it was also much smaller. It was honestly more of a hut than a proper cottage. Outside, moss had covered planks of rotting wood. Inside, dozens of candles illuminated a single room. He had a single bed, a stove, a desk, and a table covered in glassware Sabine had never seen before.
***
The hermit’s cottage was cleaner than she expected, though it was also much smaller. It was honestly more of a hut than a proper cottage. Outside, moss had covered planks of rotting wood. Inside, dozens of candles illuminated a single room. He had a single bed, a stove, a desk, and a table covered in glassware Sabine had never seen before.
The tubes twisted across the table like vines, some fat-bellied over candles, some narrowing to points that dripped into other tubes. A few held what could only be swampwater. Behind them, rows of jars were neatly organized on a shelf. They contained insects, flowers, and stranger things she didn’t recognize. Stacked beside them was a leaning tower of books; spines cracked and titles faded.
Sabine wondered what the books were. Anya had always promised she would teach Sabine to read. Sabine wondered if Madam Lochhaven would let her.
Wait… Anya’s stories… There was a place like this in one of her stories. Though I never imagined it would smell this bad.
“Are you an alchemist?” Sabine asked. Her voice felt strange in her throat. No sound reached her ears. She remembered the wax. She touched it, but felt it had hardened. She was deaf to the world now
The hermit seemed to ignore the question as he took off one of his gloves. She could see what appeared to be the fingers of a man, but with smooth, featureless skin underneath. The hermit’s skin was the same color as the swamp water on his table.
He made a fist over one of the glass tubes, and Sabine saw a drop of something fall from his hand into the tube. The hermit replaced his glove and shook the tube. He held it up to her, and Sabine couldn’t tell if he was talking or not. She couldn’t see his face, and she couldn’t hear anything.
The hermit grabbed her by the hair and pulled it to the side. He poured half the liquid into her now upward-facing ear and she heard the bubbling sound as the wax dissolved. She felt an unnatural cold seeping into her ear, creeping deeper than she thought possible, before he suddenly yanked her head the other way. Sabine felt the melting wax drip from her ear as warmth returned to her head and sound returned to the world.
Though the sound she heard earlier was gone.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Forgot for a spot that ye were deaf as stone.” He handed her the now half-empty tube. “Ye can do the other side, bull-blood.”
Sabine leaned her head to the side and started pouring the liquid into her ear. The freezing cold sensation returned. This time, she felt it creep even deeper than before.
The hermit forced her head to the other side, and once again the wax spilled out onto the floor. Her ears were clear again.
She looked up at the hermit, the light of the candles now illuminating him from every direction. His hood no longer veiled his face, but it was still covered in bandages. Sabine remembered his strange skin.
“You can show me your face…” She spoke just barely above a whisper, “I won’t be mean to you, or anything.” Sabine looked at the floor. She wished she was better at talking. This alchemist probably didn’t want to share his secrets with a peasant girl like her.
The hermit pulled down his hood to reveal a bandaged face. He unrolled each bandage one at a time, carefully, as if afraid of tearing the bandages. Sabine saw the shiny smooth greenish brown skin revealed. He was certainly a man, not a monster, but his face terrified her.
Golden-yellow eyes with wide pupils like a cat focused on her. The man had no hair, just more of that slick greasy skin. Sabine could swear she could see him growing damper. As if to prove her correct, the hermit grabbed a rag from his table and wiped his head clean, before wringing the towel out into one of the tubes.
Beneath his eyes, his nose was buried in a flaky brown substance that at a distance could almost be mistaken for a beard. Sabine’s eyes widened as she realized what he was.
The man smiled, “That’s no look a’fear. That’s recognition! You’ve heard o’ the old mosskin in the Yokelands?”
Sabine could only nod. She remembered the stories Anya had told her, and she never believed they were real.
“O–o-only s-stories…” she stuttered, “c-c-certainly none of which were true.” She swallowed, and explained the reasoning to herself before saying it out loud.
“I-in the s-stories, the mosskin stole women to bear their children, but you’re not like that.” Sabine calmed herself and smiled. “You saved me.”
The hermit’s face curled into a smile. Brown flakes fell from his beard as he did. Sabine remembered part of the story Anya told her:
Mosskin can grow all types of plants from within their skin, most use it for mushrooms and other herbs that can trick the minds of the women they capture
The brown flakes… they were mushrooms? Sabine looked again to the shelf and saw several jars of the exact same flakes. The hermit’s words broke her train of thought.
“Heh, savior and alchemist? I d’know I’ve heard such kind words spoken about me nor any o’me’kind ‘round these parts.” The hermit walked over to his stove, and got out a kettle. Green flames boiled the water.
“Let me make ye some tea. Calm your nerves, bull-blood” The hermit began peeking in and sniffing various jars from his shelf, until he finally found one that looked of tea leaves and apparently had the right smell.
“My name is Sabine!” she called as he began spooning the leaves into the boiling water. He poured the boiling leaf-water into a clay cup and gently handed it to Sabine.
“Yes, yes bull-blooded Sabine. Do you want any tea or is it all for me?” Sabine looked down at the cup and felt the aroma wash over her with the steam. It smelled just like the black tea Anya would drink, but something else was present. A burning, almost tangy scent, hiding under the familiar dryness of tea.
The hermit poured another cup and sat down in the chair at his table. Looking around and finding nowhere else to sit, Sabine sat down on the bed and began to sip her tea; only after watching the hermit drink first.
That tangy taste was much more pronounced when she tasted the tea. Several leaves got caught in her mouth. She couldn’t tell if the hermit was swallowing the leaves or somehow avoiding drinking them. Not wanting to offend him, she let the leaves slip down her throat.
As soon as she took the first gulp, she felt a warmth begin to spread throughout her body. It was the same warmth she felt after drinking wine, but somehow the sensation hadn’t reached her head. Waves of the relaxing sensation were radiating out from her stomach and Sabine instinctively took another sip of tea.
And then another.
She didn’t even like the taste, but she couldn’t help herself. Soon the cup was empty. She was relieved to only feel disappointment. She almost expected to feel desperate.
The hermit was pouring himself another cup. Had they just been sitting quietly while drinking tea? Sabine broke the silence.
“W-what kind of tea is this?” Her voice wasn’t trembling with nervousness like it was before. Now it almost felt like she had too much energy to hold in.
The hermit smiled, and more flakes of his beard fell into his own cup.
Sabine was surprised at her own lack of reaction to the sight.
“Oh it’s just normal tea. Grew the shrubs m’self down in the basement.” He tapped his foot on an uneven board that Sabine now realized had a handle. “Though, it’s probably what’s in the tea that’s got ye rustled.”
Sabine looked back at the hermit. “What’s in it?” His slimy face smiled wider than she thought possible, more flakes fell off and he casually caught them in his smooth hand.
“Just a little gift of the goddess I’ve been specially cultivating,” he said while rubbing the mushroom flakes between his fingers. They crumbled to a fine dust which the hermit inhaled. Sabine saw his cat-eyes grow even wider.
Sabine remembered her mother, with her own glowing green eyes, making mushroom soup. It was a rare day off from working, and they were having a special meal to celebrate. The taste would be a blessed relief from the oats that had made Sabine’s last dozen meals. Unlike the bland oats that tasted like nothing. Mushrooms had at least some flavor. The soup had tasted dry and earthy and…
Just a little bit tangy, like the hermit’s tea.
Somehow none of this bothered her.
But it bothers me that it doesn’t bother me.
The energy rising in her was becoming overwhelming. Her whole body began to shake.
“W-w-what are y-y-ou–” She could barely get the words out. She blinked and the hermit was suddenly above her.
“Are you asking what I am, or are you asking what I’m doing? I’m not sure I have time to ‘wait for you to finish.” He was speaking quickly now, his dialect gone. It was as if his tongue had morphed to adapt to how fast he was speaking now.
“I am a mosskin, as you’ve identified.” He unceremoniously shed his shirt, revealing a horde of moss and mushrooms of different kinds all growing in patches across his body. “Like the rest of my kind, I may only sow my spawn in softlings like you.”
As he spoke, his eyes were darting up and down across her body. They occasionally paused at her chest. They often paused between her legs. Then they focused for a long time on her face.
“Pretty, pretty, pretty softlings like you, Sabine bull-blood!” He snarled at her and then suddenly jumped back and took a few deep breaths. He was trying to calm himself down.
Sabine looked away, she was too scared to say anything. Too scared to even look at him. At the same time, her heart was pounding so hard. She wanted to run. She wanted to fight the hermit. She wanted to swim in the lake. She wanted the man to claim her. She wanted to read to him. She wanted to return to the sea with him. She wanted to hold him close and make tender love to him in the Honeydew Estate. She wanted to run naked across the surface of the lake, each step rippling out as the echo from the leaves she ate.
“Eyes on me, Sabine” His voice was stern, and Sabine couldn’t help but be drawn from her dreamings back into the real world. He held a potion to her face.
“Drink this. It’ll help.” His eyes were spinning in their sockets as he spoke. She couldn’t look away. His pupils constricted and dilated over and over as his eyes spun. Waves of circles pulled her in and out of his gaze.
Someone’s hand, maybe hers or the hermit’s or the ghost of her mother’s… held the glass tube to her lips. Cool smooth liquid turned to fire in her stomach.
The world turned orange as she radiated with the burning fire of that potion. She felt the fire engulf her veins. It was in her blood and spreading to her entire body. Her fingers and toes hurt. Her chest tightened. Her breathing was quick and shallow. The fire was making its way up.
It moved up and up and up until her entire mind was aflame. A roaring, burning pain that made her forget about the pain in the rest of her body. That demanded all its focus as it found one very specific part of her mind.
Her thoughts began rolling on top of each other, like she was thinking everything she could all at once. Every time she thought of something, the fire burned it.
Again and again, that thing got burned until her thoughts finally stopped spinning and that one specific part was vaporized.
Again and again, that thing got burned until her thoughts finally stopped spinning and that one specific part was vaporized.
“Slow breaths now, Sabine…”
Sabine was surprised to find she could move her own chest. It wasn’t clenched tight anymore. She took three deep breaths, and was relieved at how easy it was.
“Stand up, now.”
Sabine stood, curious what was going to happen next.
The hermit grabbed another tube from the table. It was filled with a purple, bubbling liquid, with specs of something floating around inside.
“Drink.” the hermit commanded.
Sabine took the vial and drank it. The thought of refusing him never crossed her mind.
The liquid was surprisingly coarse, as if full of thorny pulp that dragged against her throat as she drank it. It tasted like a midway point between sweet and rot.
And all at once the world stopped spinning. Sabine looked at her hands. Plain and normal like they were supposed to be. All of her was normal. Whatever the tea and potions had done, the last one stopped all of it.
Sabine blinked several times, as if she didn’t believe the world would still be there when she opened her eyes.
“Will you stay with me, Sabine bull-blood?” The hermit extended a hand.
Sabine had to get home. It was dark, and she had to rest. Tomorrow was going to be a hard day. The mosskin man scared her. Yet before her eyes could even look to the door, her mouth was moving.
“Yes,” she said calmly. She walked to him and took his extended hand in hers. His hands were slippery with something, the muscles flexed unnaturally to support her hand in a way that friction couldn’t.
“The part of you that can resist has been burned away,” he explained calmly as he began lifting her tunic over her head. Sabine adjusted her arms to make it easier for him to do so, and calmly listened to him explain.
He began groping her breasts, his hands felt smooth and warm. It was surprisingly pleasant as his fingers dragged across her nipples. There was no dragging friction to distract from the pleasure.
“You know, I think it’s fair to tell ye. I’ve been wanting to do this to ye’ fer a while.” His accent began slipping back into place. His eyes were no longer trying to see every part of her at once. They trailed slowly over her body; taking time to linger and admire each delicate feature.
She helped him pull her panties back and leaned back on the bed, spreading her legs for him. This was clearly what he wanted, and she saw no reason to stop him. However, instead of moving between her legs, he lay down beside her. His warm fingers began tracing her inner thigh.
“I always known that if I gave ye my spawn, you’d be more ostracized than you already are. You’d lose yer job, and who’d take care of my baby then?”
His words bothered her, but she couldn’t figure out what to say in response. It was so hard to disagree with anything he said. Sabine decided she could just let it bother her without interrupting him. Besides, his fingers felt really nice.
Despite the warmth, his touch sent shivers through her body. No one had ever touched her like this before. Sabine had always believed no one would ever want to touch her like this. She could see the faint glow of her own green eyes in the edge of her vision.
It’s so much easier this way… Sabine admitted, painfully, to herself. I don’t have to be ashamed to enjoy it, if I can’t say…
Whatever it was he burned away from her.
His fingers made their way to her clit, and deftly traced back and forth across it with all the warmth and lubrication they both offered. She arched her back to lean harder into his touch. He pressed softly against her clit with his thumb, and effortlessly slid two fingers inside her.
Sabine kissed him. This was the first man to want her this way. He had taken away all her doubt. Any ability to resist. He’d made it so she got to enjoy him without fear.
If the price of that feeling was carrying his child, she’d happily pay it.
He gripped her by the hair and moved to kiss her neck. She didn’t know it could feel this good just to be kissed. Like waves exploding out from every impact. His lips making contact with her skin was like a boulder falling into a lake. An explosion which could be felt and heard as it rippled outward…
Sabine suddenly noticed the haze of brown dust, shimmering in the candlelight.
The mushrooms from his beard… As we were kissing, they must have crumbled…
“Breathe it in.”
Sabine couldn’t say no.
The entire world began to glow as she enjoyed the hermit’s gift. He leaned up against her, and began rubbing circles around her clit again. Sabine just sat next to him, moaning. She didn’t have to say anything, she just had to listen.
“In two days, the Bull-God’s Raiders will be upon this land. You will hear their call and you will go to them.” Sabine’s green eyes flared with understanding.
“You would not be able to resist that no matter what I’ve done.” The hermit reached down and began stroking himself. “But we can ensure you already have my seed taking root by the time they get you.”
He climbed over her and positioned himself at her entrance.
“The Bull-God’s Raiders don’t dare insult the fertility goddess. They’ll take care of our child, thinking it’s another softling.” Sabine felt a numbness at her opening, as the hermit’s pre-cum dripped onto her.
Sabine knew her first time was supposed to hurt, but the mosskin hermit slid into her just as easily as his fingers did. There wasn’t the slightest twinge of pain as he opened her for the first time. Sabine enjoyed opening herself to a man for the first time, as her mind eagerly soaked up the words. A vision, fueled by the spores in the air, played out in front of her as he spoke.
“You will raise our child to know what he is. You will keep him safe. He will be your favorite child. The raiders will breed you often, but mine will be your favorite.”
She could see herself in the raider’s camp. Fenced off with other green-eyed girls. She was holding a baby to her breast. The baby lacked the green eyes, but she knew all the rest of her offspring would be marked.
Sabine nodded helplessly as he pushed himself further and further inside her. Each thrust surprising her at how deep she could actually take him. She moaned into his lips, and held her face to his beard as she gasped for breath. She would do anything he wanted.
She didn’t know how to do anything else.
He pulled himself deep into her and wrapped tightly around her body. Sabine felt muscles she hadn’t noticed before flexing and holding her still. Every thrust was harder and deeper. His whole body continued to tense.
Until a single thrust broke through the numbness. Sabine felt pain return for a single heartbeat, before his warmth wiped everything away. He had sown his spawn in her. Now they just had to wait and see if it would take root.
The cum inside her had the same effect as the tea, but so much more. She could nearly feel her clit pushing outward. A single touch felt even better than the hermit’s cock. Sabine lightly tapped her clit and felt the shockwaves of pleasure ricochet across her body.
As she relaxed and her clit softened, she was able to tolerate greater touch. She was still dazed from the mushrooms, so every sensation was so joyfully heightened.
She could rub circles around her clit now, just as she had done so many nights dreaming of the bull-god’s raiders coming to take her. Her one fantasy. People who wouldn’t judge her for her eyes, people who seek her out.
Sabine imagined the raider chief with his own green eyes boring into hers. He would claim her, over and over in an attempt to breed her, just like the hermit.
But the raiders would call her beautiful.
Sabine whined as her hand became soaked from the orgasm she didn’t realize had started. In her mind, the chief’s seed was spilling out of her and the world had turned green.
The Bull-God would breed the world.
Sabine only now realized she was outside. Walking to the burning distance. The warmth of the distant fire seemed to cool her naked skin as she took step after step away from the mosskin alchemist. He grabbed her arm and tried to drag her back. The world flashed green again as she shoved him to the ground.
The Bull-God was calling her.
And she couldn’t say no.
Thank you to everyone who's followed and enjoyed my stories so far. I now have a tip jar in the form of Patreon. Any support, either through there or just in the form of feedback, would mean the world to me.
See you next week!
-Temple Siren