Trial of the Chosen One (fiction)

Figured a few of you might like to read the whole story that I excerpted from earlier. This is my entry for Soto's contest, and based off of RedSpkScott's awesome stories which you should definitely read before this one, here and here.

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It was a cold and dusty room at the top of the Rihlyeh mountain temple--a place where gods and demons had been worshiped who even the elders had forgotten the names for--where the Chosen One was brought for his trial. He’d been brought to justice shortly after his crime had been committed. The elders had ways of knowing when a Chosen One had strayed from his duties.

The Chosen One stood before a pulpit, dressed only in the traditional garb of his calling. Leather gauntlets, sturdy boots, a scant thong that did little to hide his body--in fact, it more accentuated it--and a heavy medallion which lay over his strong chest. Other than that he was naked, muscles flexing subconsciously as he stood under scrutiny. He was flanked on either side by spear-wielding guards who, while not as strong and muscular as he, were at least permitted to wear proper armor.

He was a handsome man, with a powerful and brawny body from a lifetime of physical activity and adventuring. He had the indication of a beard along his jaw line, but other than that he was hairless. His head was bald, and the rest of him was kept carefully shaven smooth. His eyes were a soft blue and trusting. His small thong could do nothing to disguise the size or shape of his manhood which bulged self-consciously at his front, nor the roundness or firmness of his buttocks in the back.

A council of three robed elders gazed down at him from a pulpit. They were wizened and wise, necessary traits for any organization in charge of caring for and deploying muscle-bound heroes such as the one now fidgeting nervously before them.

“Do you realize the severity of the crimes brought before you, Chosen One?” one of them asked, leaning forward and adjusting his spectacles.

“Uh . . . “ the brawny man gulped loudly. “Y--yes, your honors . . . I did a bad thing . . . “ His hard abs tightened as he worked his jaw. “But . . . !”

One of the elders leaned forward. “But?” he asked with interest.

“There were, er, exterior, uh, extending . .. extensive . . . ?”

“Extenuating circumstances?” the elder supplied.

“Yeah! That’s it!” The Chosen One looked up at him gratefully. “I had a good reason for uh, you know . . . what I did . . . “

“Well, why don’t you tell us about it, then,” the elder said. As one, all three leaned back to listen, their fingers steepled. “This is your trial, after all. It’s important that we hear all side of the story, so that every detail can be recorded and justice dispensed properly.“

The Chosen One nodded. “Well, okay. It all started when I was ambushed in the woods by . . . “

* * * * *

“So you’re telling us you ain’t got anything?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” the Chosen said miserably. He was surrounded on all sides by grizzled, rough looking men, all of whom had weapons pointed at him, a mixture of swords, knives, axes, and clubs. His own sword lay some distance away from him where it’d been knocked out of his hands by surprise.

There were five of them. Bandits, obviously. They probably lived in the forest he was passing through. He’d been warned about them at the last village he’d stayed at, but had ignored the advice since his current objective lay inside these woods somewhere.

“Hmmm, now that’s mighty bad luck for you . . . “ one of the bandits said, stepping forward. He must’ve been their leader, because the others all deferred to him. He was the biggest of them all, though still not quite as muscular as the Chosen One. Regardless, he could easily put a regular-sized man to shame with his brawny arms and thick calves. He had red hair and a thick beard, and wore an open green vest which exposed a strong and hairy barrel-chest.

“See, this road belongs to me and my boys,” he continued, gesturing to his fellows, many of whom chuckled and let out a rough cheer. “And anybody who uses our road has gotta pay a little toll.“

“But I really don’t have any money!” the Chosen One wailed. As a hero of the people, he was provided for wherever he went by the men and women he helped. Though often it seemed given to him more out of pity than as gratitude . . . Still, he couldn’t understand why these men were acting so harshly towards him.

“Yeah, we hear that a lot, usually from fat noblemen who think they can get one over on us more common folk,” the leader told him with a scowl.

“Wha . . . ?” the Chosen One looked at him incredulously. "For one, I'm no nobleman. For two . . . " He gestured down at himself, and all eyes traveled down to his large bulge. “Even if I were lying and did have money, where would I keep it?! This thing doesn’t exactly have pockets!”

“Yeah . . . “ the bandit said wonderingly. “That actually leads to my next question. . . . What kinda fella walks around on public roads like that?”

The Chosen One blushed. Could these men really never had heard of the Chosen Ones? He realized how under dressed he must look if that were the case. The thong he wore was sized as tightly as possible, and wouldn’t even pass as small clothes in most places.

“Well, y’see, I . . . “ The big guy was interrupted by one snickering bandit tugging at his thong in the back, before letting it loose to snap against his rear. Another reached over to slap mischievously at one of his mostly exposed buttocks. A third groped him in plain sight of the others, before turning to announce he wasn't hiding anything in his thong besides a huge schlong. “H--hey!” he protested.

“Boss! This is one of those, y’know, them Chosen Ones,” a younger bandit piped up as the men continued toying with their captive. “They fight them tentacled terrors and stuff.“

“Oh, yeah!” another of the bandits put in, an older man with a scar going across one eye. “I saw one of them in action a few years back, off the coast of Palidor. Though I wouldn’t say he had much luck defeating the critter . . . “ he gave a knowing smirk. “Sure did moan loud when he lost though.”

“Hmm . . . “ the leader considered this new information. He looked at the Chosen One, who was currently squirming in discomfort as three of his men worked together to give him a wedgie. “Is what they’re sayin’ true?”

“Yes!” the Chosen One wailed loudly. “I am a Chosen One! My mission’s to protect people from the tentacled terrors! Now let me go already you guys!”

“All right, all right,” the bearded leader signaled for his men to release their grip on the guy’s tight underwear. They did so with a degree of regret, and the Chosen One slumped down. “So, you’re really not carrying anything then. Well, at least yer sword’ll fetch a coin or two . . . Oh, but what’s this?” he asked as his eyes suddenly alighted on the medallion which hung on a chain cord around the Chosen One’s thick neck and glittered in the streaming sunlight. It looked to be made of solid gold, and a large green gem was inlaid into it’s center. The greedy bandit lifted it off the man’s chest to examine it more closely. “Now THIS looks mighty valuable.”

“That . . . ?” the Chosen One asked in confusion, before his eyes snapped wide open. “No! You can’t take that! That’s my mark of a Chosen One! It’s the symbol of my, uhh, office!”

“Is that so,” the leader said with great disinterest. His arms bulged for a mere instant, then the chain snapped and he was fastening the pretty thing around his own neck. “How’d I look, boys?” He spun about so all could see, and they gave a hearty roar of approval.

“No, you don’t understand! Without that, I can’t be a Chosen One anymore! The elders told me!” their captive wailed, struggling to overpower the three smaller men holding him back, and almost succeeding.

“Ain’t my problem, stud,” he replied. The medallion now shone brightly against the red hairs of his strong pecs. “All that matters to me is coin, and I wager this little beaut will fetch a pretty penny on the black market.” He gestured to the men all standing around. “If he ain’t got anything else, wrap him up and let’s head back to camp.”

“‘Ey. Boss. How about we snatch his thong, too?” one of the bandits asked, leering at the dejected hero hungrily.

The leader grinned back at him. “Nah, we can’t take everything from ‘im. Let’s not have him go back to civilization saying the Firemoss Bandits aren’t completely without mercy.”

So the Chosen One was left there, blushing from humiliation and anger. His arms were bound behind his back with strong, thick ropes, as well as his ankles and calves. His bottom was pink and still stinging from the spanking they’d dispensed before leaving him, chortling. They had left him his thong, at least. It was stuffed into his mouth as a makeshift gag, leaving him otherwise naked save for his boots, and utterly exposed to any other traveler who came along and found him . . .

* * * * *

“So you admit that you relinquished your medallion?” an elder interrupted his sorry tale.

“R--relinquished . . . ?“ The Chosen One blinked. Then he swiftly started shaking his head. “Oh no, nooo! I told you, THEY took it from me!”

The elder sighed and tapped a long, gnarled finger on the podium. “Whether taken by force or not, you still failed to keep it safe. One of your most important duties as a Chosen One is to protect the medallion at all costs and to never remove it from your person, is it not?”

“Well, yes . . . “

“I see that you’re wearing it now, however,” another elder put in.

The Chosen One nodded. “Yeah . . . While I was like that in the woods, y’know, all tied up . . . and naked . . . and stuff . . . all I could think about was getting this back!” He looked down at the glimmering pendant bashfully. “I really love being a Chosen One, y’see . . . So I knew I had to get it back as soon as I could . . . “

* * * * *

It took him a good hour of squirming in his bonds, flexing all of his muscles, straining against the ropes, grunting and groaning into his gag, before he managed to wriggle his way over to a rock outcropping with an edge sharp enough to saw through them. Luckily for him no one came along in the meantime to see him in his embarrassing predicament. With a glad cry he freed his arms, then rubbed the feeling back into his wrists before untying his legs.

That done, he blushed as he took his own underwear out of his mouth and slipped it back on himself. It was the only clothing he had, unfortunately.

He still couldn’t understand why those bandits had done what they had. Didn’t they know he was a hero? This kind of thing had never happened to him before.

As a Chosen One, every town he went to he was greeted with warm smiles and hospitality, often treated to a big meal in the homes of local families, or a night of drinking and carousing by the community’s men at the local tavern before he was sent on his way, often with more food than he could carry. But these bandits had been nothing like that. They had been downright unfriendly, and had gone so far as stealing the only item of value he carried!

He remembered well the day he’d been awarded the medallion as part of his initiation into the order of heroes. It’d been the proudest day of his life. A mere couple of hours later he’d had his first honest encounter with with a tentacle terror . . . which had unfortunately bested him. But he still looked back on that moment with pride.

He supposed that, operating outside the law like they did, that was just how these bandits lived. They had no respect even for common decency. Still, it didn’t make sense. Didn’t they know a tentacled terror lived in the very forest they made their home in? That was the reason the Chosen One was here in the first place, to do battle with it. Surely it would have made more sense to cooperate with him, for both their benefits?

But the Chosen One had to put the strange motivations of outlaws out of his mind for now. The thing to focus on was tracking the men down and reclaiming his property. Luckily, he’d grown up in woods much like this one as a boy, and was well proficient in tracking. Following the paths of stags and fawns turned out to be much more challenging than those of five sweaty and unkempt men. Their trail was wide and clear. They obviously believed themselves invincible on their own turf and safe from reprisal.

Another hour or so later, and he could hear the sounds of their camp up ahead. It lay in a filthy gully which the villagers plainly kept far away from, but which these bandits had made their home. The Chosen One could smell the scent of a cooking fire in the air, as well a the sounds of raucous laughter. Drawing a bit nearer, he understood they were reliving the adventure of his own recent capture. Ears burning at the descriptions of his brawny, half-naked body, as well as the accounts of his yelps during the humiliating spanking ordeal, the Chosen One hunkered down behind a row of brush to try and form a plan.

At least it didn’t sound like they’d had any buddies waiting for them back at camp. He could still only pick out the five voices. Even with the element of surprise though, he doubted his ability to defeat five men at once, especially unarmed. This action would require a measure of stealth, he decided. Perhaps if he waited for nightfall, or after they had imbibed a couple casks of alcohol . . .

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sound, like wooden beams cracking due to a great force. It came from the direction of the camp, and just as it happened the bandits’ booming laughter changed to alarmed shouts.

“Boss!” he heard one of the men shout.

“BOSS!” he heard another.

“Argh! What’s the meaning of this? Put me down ya blasted tree root!” he heard the leader himself call out.

Curious, the Chosen One drew forward. What he saw surprised him immensely. It was the tentacled terror! The very one he’d been sent to dispatch. It resembled thick, oaken tree roots, issuing up from the ground and swaying like antennae. Their smooth surface was free of any blemishes, looking to be just one continuous length of supple bark. There were a good dozen or more, surrounding the camp.

Their burly leader was held aloft by two of the tentacles, fighting and struggling against the creature. But even his formidable strength was useless against the terror’s might. His punches and kicks had no effect, and his sword (actually, the Chosen One’s sword) lay down below where he couldn’t reach it. Coils wrapped around his brawny biceps to keep him from moving as another tentacle came from behind and, with a loud RRRRRRIIIIP, tore his vest right off his body. The hairy man gave an angry yell at that, and began swearing up a storm. The medallion gleamed gold and green on his fuzzy chest. As the Chosen One watched, two more tentacles shot up from the ground and began to feel around the top of his pants.

“Boss! What’s happening?!” the youngest bandit cried out.

“I don’t get it! The ‘terrors have never bothered us before!” said an older, more experienced, bandit.

The men milled in confusion as, above them, their boss’s pants were grasped on either side and, with another loud tearing of cloth, was ripped straight down the middle and torn from his lower body. Now naked with his cock flopped out, the man twisted and flexed against the grasping, darting, impossibly strong tree roots. But the things arranged him to their pleasure. At once he was spread-eagled in mid-air with a different tentacle wrapped around each of his limbs and stretching him out.

“Release me, damn you!” the bearded man roared, sweating. More roots emerged from the ground around them. These were different from the others though. Not quite as thick, and with something glistening on their tips, almost like sap. He gave an involuntary shudder as one of them rose up to brush against his left nipple, coating it with the stuff. He wriggled and moaned as his other nipple was coated as well, both nubs hardening instantly as they were toyed with and gently caressed. By this point his men were simply watching, dumbfounded, as another sap-drenched tentacle ascended, this one giving his heavy balls a ponderous lick, then travelling up the underside of his shaft as his back arched, his cock hardening. Two tentacles parted his brawny buttocks, giving a third freedom to poke at his hairy hole. “Aaah!!!”

That was all the depredation of their leader the bandits could stand. One ran to a tent and emerged with an axe. Running at the base of one of the tentacles holding his boss’s arms, the first bandit gave a battle cry and chopped down as hard as he could. With a solid THUNK the axe sunk into the hard wood. “Hah! Take that, ya monster!”

The effect was instantaneous. The tentacle gave a hard shiver, and a loud roar almost of pain shook the ground beneath them. Smirking at his success, the man retracted the axe and swung it down again. As he chopped, the tentacle writhed and shook, though not yet enough to free his hairy and groaning leader above.

The advantage was short-lived, however. Acting out of self-defense, other tentacles immediately swept down and knocked the axe out of the man’s hands. Then, before he could find another weapon, he was snatched around the waist and hefted up himself. Gaping and kicking in panic, he felt wooden limbs slide under his clothes, then bulge out. His pants and vest were reduced to tatters, leaving the grizzled man as naked as his boss. “Oi, no!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll git you two outta there!” the others promised. But two more axes thunking into the tentacles simply meant two more men getting easily snatched up. They shouted and struggled as the sound of clothes ripping again echoed out through the forest. Moments later two new naked bandits joined the first pair, held in unbreakable tentacle bondage and struggling. They let out a collective gasp as the sap tentacles began to prepare them with a generous coating of aphrodisiac sap. Their leader, for his part, had already been penetrated by one particularly forward tentacle. He moaned out in a mixture of humiliation and unwilling pleasure as he rode the thick, slippery thing, while another had fasted it’s way around his arousal, pumping it rhythmically. The medallion bounced up and down on his pecs.

The last bandit, seeing the fate of his boss and buddies, decided his own participation was unnecessary at this point. Dropping his axe, he turned tail and ran. The tentacle terror however, incensed and angered by the attack upon it, seemed to decide it wanted a full set of outlaws. One tentacle, disguised as a root, tripped the bandit onto the ground, then he was lifted up into the air by his feet. He cursed and wriggled upside down as he was bared just like all the others, the shreds of his clothing falling from his trim body to the ground of their camp. Then his eyes bulged out as one impatient and vengeful tentacle plunged directly into his tight backside. “AAUGH!”

The others fared no better. Each gruff and naked bandit had a slippery tentacle thrust up his clenched and unwilling ass, stretching their virgin holes and making them groan and writhe on the foreign object. None of them had ever been violated in such a way before, and certainly not by a tentacled terror, which had always left them well alone before today. But now each of the unsavory brigands was getting a truly eye-opening experience.

“Aaaugh! Make it stop!”

“It’s too--grahh!--BIG!”

“Feels like it’s splittin’ me--yaoww!--open!”

No man’s rump was spared a hard and vigorous fucking, as the tentacles jammed themselves up their holes over and over. The sap, at least, kept their dominated anuses well lubricated for the process. The sheer girth of the rough things still made it rather painful however, and the men were not shy about voicing their discomfort. If that weren’t bad enough, more tentacles started crowding around in an effort to get in on the fun. The hairy bandit leader, already lost in an aphrodisiac-induced haze, soon had to deal with not just one, but two tentacles stuffing his muscular ass while he watched all his men get raped around him.

And the whole time, the Chosen One merely sat behind cover and watched.

When he’d first seen the leader held by the vile tentacles, he’d been ready to charge right in to do battle with the monster. That was his duty, after all, and the reason he’d come to this forest in the first place. As the rest of the bandits got snatched up though, he’d stopped to think.

These were the men who’d laughed at and mistreated him, who’d taken pleasure at his humiliation, who’d stolen his most precious possession over his protests. Did they really deserve his help? In fact . . . didn’t they actually deserve to be punished for their actions?

Lost in something of a moral dilemma, he’d stayed put as tatters of clothing fell into the camp in front of him, and the men’s shouts and curses were replaced by groans and whimpers as the terror had it’s way with them. He noted absently that the terror didn’t go any easier on the tighter, never-been-fucked asses of these men than it would have on a more “broken in” rump like that of his own as a Chosen One. It must’ve hurt a lot.

At length, he decided not to intervene. Not only did these rough bandits not warrant rescuing, but also . . . He had to admit, it was actually nice not being the one with a tentacle lodged up his butt for once. Maybe it was petty of him, but he’d always felt it mean spirited of the fates that, even though he was always the biggest and strongest guy around, the tentacled terrors always picked him as their hapless fucktoy. Even when in a group, they seemed to home right in on him. He’d never understood it. Just like he didn’t understand why that hadn’t been the case this time. But, since this was the first time he got to act as a witness to one of their attacks rather than a victim, it was only fair that he take some time to enjoy it, right?

As he justified his conclusion, he saw that the terror was starting to get close to climax. As they continued thrusting in and out of the moaning men, the tentacles seemed to thicken, like they were pumping something through their lengths. A moment later, it became clear what it was. A gunky, viscous fluid spurted out of the brawny men’s rumps as the terrors unloaded themselves, filling each hole to the brim. They withdrew from the exhausted men, letting them recover from the ordeal for a moment as they hung suspended and panting, seed leaking from their abused asses.

“Is . . . Is it over?” one asked, his voice quavering.

The Chosen One could’ve easily told him the answer to that one.

As the spent tentacles sunk back to the forest floor, they were soon replaced by a second wave. These were just as eager to begin as the first, and hovered over each spread rump for only a moment before pressing themselves inside. Each man kicked and moaned as their asses were once again stretched wide by the vile things.

“AAGH! Not againn!”

“I can’t--nngh!--take anymore! OHH!”

“Ffffuuuckkkk!”

The men all cursed and squirmed weakly as they were made to go through the experience all over again. About halfway through this time, the terror seemed to grow weary of their continuous cries and begging. Another line of tentacles came around to their other side and forced their way inside their mouths, stifling their cries and fucking that end of them, too. Now all the Chosen One could hear were muffled groans and “Mmmph!”s as the men had no choice but to take what they were getting.

He watched intently, in wonder. The men’s bodies, they’d looked so strong and manly down on the ground. Held helpless in the air though, they were as weak as babies in the terror’s coils, unable to prevent it using them for it’s enjoyment. And the men’s moans, though angry and defiant at first, seemed to become almost . . . pleasured and lustful as the relentless fucking went on. Was that how he looked when he lost to a terror? The pouch of his thong had become extremely tight, the Chosen One realized, and he wondered when he had become almost unbearably hard.

Eventually, the second wave ended much like the first had, with the release of seed into the trapped backsides. The men groaned into their tentacle gags as their rears were moistly unplugged, only for a third set to rise up. With little fanfare, it commenced it’s business too.

This time, their cocks were grabbed as well, a slender coil wrapping around each one. Their boss had been receiving service the whole time, his rod kept hard as steel and on the cusp of release. Now, his men were brought to the same state. They all moaned as they were pumped, but there was little, actually nothing, they could do to prevent it. As their asses were fucked, more tentacles came forward, these ones small and flexible. They started to whip their buttocks like switches as the men cried into their gags.

It was a slow, torturous process. But the tentacles showed no mercy in their gruesome task, not even when the bandits began to sob from the pain and humiliation. Their boners were worked up to full length, and then . . .

. . . One by one, the tentacles came into their throats, as well as their sufficiently loosened backsides, just as . . .

. . . The men themselves came from the treatment they were getting, their cum raining down onto the remains of their camp and clothing, just as . . .

. . . the Chosen One came too, gasping as he jacked off his own thick tool. He’d never felt this way about an attack by a tentacled terror, certainly not when he himself was the victim. But something about seeing all those men up there getting used and abused at the insatiable creature’s whims was incredibly erotic.

That finally seemed to satisfy the terror. With a slow lurch, the tentacles lowered the limp men down and deposited them back on the ground. The terror then sunk back under the forest floor where it’d come from. The Chosen One knew from experience that it’s appetites should be sated for some time.

He slowly got to his feet, tucked himself back into his pouch, and entered the camp site. The bandits were utterly unable to move after what they’d gone through. They could only lay there, asses facing up with tentacle seed leaking out, groaning and moaning in a pile of their own ripped and cum-spattered clothes. So, he didn’t bother masking his approach as he walked up to their leader. The men looked up at him groggily, but could only moan in embarrassment at their predicament and hope he didn’t bother them.

With an gentle motion, he eased the medallion off the boss’s neck and fastened it back around his own. The naked man offered him no resistance, but only wriggled weakly. They’d all be unable to walk for some time. They lacked the toughness and stamina necessary for truly receiving a tentacle’s lust. That was what separated a typical man from a Chosen One.

And with that, he turned and left that forest, his shapely and muscled ass for once entirely unmolested after an encounter with a tentacled terror. He couldn’t say that he minded. Perhaps this was a harbinger of how things would be from now on . . .

* * * * *

If only that were true. Since that incident, he’d run into tentacled terrors twice more, each time they’d had their slimy way with him. The second had been while he’d been escorted back to this very temple, surrounded by the guards and retainers of the elders. His rump still ached from that one, but he managed to keep standing straight as the elders quietly discussed his story.

He’d told them everything, even the part about him jacking off to other men getting raped, though he’d blushed bright red when regaling that. He’d decided honesty was the best course, however, and had included every detail.

The elders concluded their conference and two of them stepped down from the podium and exited the makeshift courtroom. One remained and gazed down at him. “We thank you for your frankness and forthrightness, Chosen One. However, nothing you have told us has exonerated from your crimes . . . “ He paused for a moment to let that sink in, his bushy brows furrowed. “We are prepared to pass sentence.”

“Huh?” The Chosen One’s jaw hung open in shock. He took a step forward, and was only halted from going further by a guard’s spear barring his path. “But . . . weren’t ya listening? I told you why I . . . “

“Why you allowed five defenseless men to be abused by a tentacled terror while you simply watched? In direct violation of your duties as a Chosen One?”

The hunk deflated somewhat at that. “Well . . . yeah . . . It sounds real bad when you say it that way . . . But they were bad guys! Bandits, robbers! They uh, they took my stuff!”

The elder above him sighed. “And is it your duty now to decide who is to be spared and who is to be left to the mercies of beasts? Who are you to decide, who is worthy and who is not? Is that your place?”

“Uh . . . “ The Chosen One grimaced miserably and scuffed his foot. “No . . . guess not . . . ”

“Whose place is it?” the elder asked him.

“ . . . Yours?”

The old man nodded slowly. “That’s right. As a hero of the realm, your duty is to use your skills in battling the cruel tentacle terrors which dot our land. And it is our duty as elders to direct you in this matter, so you can concentrate fully on your task without the weight of decision-making. You, however, chose to take on both roles yourself, and in so doing allowed an evil to be done. Do you still deny these charges?”

The muscular man hung his head. “No . . . You’re right . . . I did bad . . . “

With a huff, the elder slowly made his way down the podium. He strode purposefully to the Chosen One and put a hand on his bare shoulder. “There there. This happens to the best of us. Out there on your own, it’s no wonder you started to have certain . . . doubts. Feelings of resentment towards your place. But that is the very reason you must come to us with these concerns, instead of acting rashly. You understand, don’t you?”

The Chosen One nodded. “Yes . . . I do . . . “

“And you also understand that your place is exactly where it should be. That you have been groomed to be a very special young man, and only you can perform this task properly. No one else could battle these terrors as regularly as you can. Only you.”

He nodded again. “Yeah . . . of course. ‘Cause I’m the biggest.”

“And the strongest,” the elder told him with a smile. “If any of us were snatched, we’d be unable to walk for days. But you are able to go about your business after only an hour or two of rest. Even that tentacled terror you witnessed, which had it’s way with five grown men, could have been satisfied with your body alone and needed no others. Simply remarkable.”

“Yeah . . . “ The Chosen One looked up, some of the brightness coming back into his eyes. “Yeah, that is pretty good, isn’t it!”

“It certainly is,” The elder assured him. “As for your body’s . . . reaction to watching what happened to those men . . . It’s perfectly natural. Especially in a young man such as yourself. Don’t let it trouble you, just as long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties.”

“Right . . . got it,” the Chosen One mumbled, face burning.

“But in order to continue with said duties, as a Chosen One, you must atone for your misdeeds. You understand that too, don’t you?”

“Uh . . . I do? Atone?”

“Yes, atone,” the older man replied gravely. “Make up for what you’ve done. Only by doing so can you reclaim your position in the sacred brotherhood.”

“Oh . . . !“ the Chosen One chewed his lip for a moment, before nodding in agreement. “In that case, I’ll do whatever it takes!”

The elder smiles and patted his arm. “I was hoping you’d say that. The guards will escort you down into the bowels of this very temple. There, you will know what you have to do.”

So the Chosen One departed that room, beaming with pride and knowing his place would soon be restored to it’s previous glory. He practically whistled on his way out.

No one present saw fit to mention that one of the largest tentacle terrors of all slumbered deep in the mountain below. Nor that it’s hibernation cycle was about to expire from it’s last series of attacks, and it would awaken ravenous with hunger and quite eager to deposit it’s seed into the first male it saw. They were fairly certain the Chosen One would figure it out in due time.