"Jim Theis - The Eye of Argon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Theis Jim)

to her unobstructed view.
"Thou hast need to occupy your time, barbarian",questioned the female?
"Only if something worth offering is within my reach." Stated
Grignr,as his hands crept to embrace the tempting female, who welcomed them
with open willingness.
"From where do you come barbarian, and by what are you called?" Gasped
the complying wench, as Grignr smothered her lips with the blazing touch of
his flaming mouth.
The engrossed titan ignored the queries of the inquisitive female,
pulling her towards him and crushing her sagging nipples to his yearning
chest. Without struggle she gave in, winding her soft arms around the
harshly bronzedhide of Grignr corded shoulder blades, as his calloused
hands caressed her firm protruding busts.
"You make love well wench," Admitted Grignr as he reached for the
vessel of potent wine his charge had been quaffing.
A flying foot caught the mug Grignr had taken hold of, sending its
blood red contents sloshing over a flickering crescent; leashing tongues of
bright orange flame to the foot trodden floor.
"Remove yourself Sirrah, the wench belongs to me;" Blabbered a drunken
soldier, too far consumed by the influences of his virile brew to take note
of the superior size of his adversary.
Grignr lithly bounded from the startled female, his face lit up to an
ashen red ferocity, and eyes locked in a searing feral blaze toward the
swaying soldier.
"To hell with you, braggard!" Bellowed the angered Ecordian, as he
hefted his finely honed broad sword.
The staggering soldier clumsily reached towards the pommel of his
dangling sword, but before his hands ever touched the oaken hilt a silvered
flash was slicing the heavy air. The thews of the savages lashing right
arm bulged from the glistening bronzed hide as his blade bit deeply into
the soldiers neck, loping off the confused head of his senseless tormentor.
With a nauseating thud the severed oval toppled to the floor, as the
segregated torso of Grignr's bovine antagonist swayed, then collapsed in a
pool of swirled crimson.
In the confusion the soldier's fellows confronted Grignr with
unsheathed cutlasses, directed toward the latters scowling make-up.
"The slut should have picked his quarry more carefully!" Roared the
victor in a mocking baritone growl, as he wiped his dripping blade on the
prostrate form, and returned it to its scabbard.
"The fool should have shown more prudence, however you shall rue your
actions while rotting in the pits." Stated one of the sprawled soldier's
comrades.
Grignr's hand began to remove his blade from its leather housing, but
retarded the motion in face of the blades waving before his face.
"Dismiss your hand from the hilt, barbarbian, or you shall find a foot
of steel sheathed in your gizzard."
Grignr weighed his position observing his plight, where-upon he took
the soldier's advice as the only logical choice. To attempt to hack his
way from his present predicament could only warrant certain death. He was
of no mind to bring upon his own demise if an alternate path presented