<div class="floatright">(http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e220/besrikarie/characters/alyson-hannigan-freckles-cropped04.jpg)<br/>Celes d'Vynar<br/><br/><br/>(http://getasword.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/Celtic-warrior.jpg)<br/>Laird McClain</div><br/>"Mmmph," The redheaded beauty known as Celes d'Vynar raised her sleeping face from the well muscled stomach of her second in command.  A voice was calling her from the deep and satisfied slumber of a woman who had been well and thoroughly satisfied the night before.  She blinked green eyes and looked through the copper locks at the elven scout that was a part of her company.  Of course, beneath her, her second in command, sergeant Laird McClain, a celtish berserker, was beginning to stir as well.  Celes caught sight of his flaccid, but thick cock, inches from her face as she pushed away from his abdomen and sat up in the pile of furs in her tent.  Furs that fell away from her body exposing the perfect high breasts that came with youth and exercise.<br/><br/>"Yes scout?"  she said blinking awake quickly, "Report?"<br/><br/>The elven woman, dressed in leathers of green and brown had a wide grin on her face.  In any other platoon of soldiers, one might assume the elven scout was grinning at catching the commander and second in command in bed together, or grinning at the nudity so casually displayed.  But this was Celes's unit, 'Vynar's fist' by name, and was used to the peculiarities of it's commander.  Celes strode into battle exposing more flesh then covering it, but was a whirling dervish of death in combat, avoiding and parrying blows that would cut through plate armor.  Likewise her second in Command, Laird, was a berserker of the Celtic tradition.  He would wade into combat wearing naught but sandals that strapped up his legs with thick leather bands, a heavy wool kilt, and a broad leather belt.  His greatsword, as long as he was tall over six feet, let no enemies close.  Any enemy within five feet of the blonde man was cut down.<br/><br/>Even if the dress of the two leaders of the platoon weren't enough, there was the fact that many of them had switched to the worship of Shoni would have set them apart.  Shoni, the goddess of love and sex, a good deity encouraged responsible and healthy sex between her worshipers.  Because of that a good percentage of the platoon had gotten to know Celes on a much more personal, and erotic, level.  There were a few that didn't take the red headed leader up on any offers to roll in the furs.  Usually the faithfully married, or those who had other convictions against casual relations.  Celes never forced or punished any one in her platoon for choosing not to bed her, there were plenty who were willing that she didn't ever go without.<br/><br/>So it was not the nudity or the fact that Celes was with her sgt that the elven woman was smiling.  Iona, that was her name, Celes thought as the cobwebs cleared from her mind.  It must be something else.  Iona, the elven scout snapped a quick salute, and then a quick peek at Laird's thick flaccid cock as he stirred from the furs.  "Your plan worked perfectly commander," the elven scout said.  Shadow squad's success stealing their fertility idol has roused them into a war band.  They approach now, the chieftain of the band at the head.  They know that we have it and they are coming in force.  We've got about half an hour till they get here at the least, possibly as much as two hours if they slow down to avoid all the traps between the valley and here. "<br/><br/>"Thank you scout, rouse the camp, prepare for battle.  We defend this pass as planned, funnel them into the gap and take them out."  Celes said to Iona, smiling as the blonde elf pulled her head out of her tent and dashed off silently."<br/><br/>"Half hour huh?"  Laird said with a grin, scratching his side, shamelessly nude.  "That's enough time for me if you..."<br/><br/>Just then a crash from outside of a cooking pot crashing over into something else metal interrupted his thought.  "Never mind," he said, "I need some food in me before I draw my blade anyways."  He stood, stretching and retrieving his wool kilt.  He pushed out the tent flap promising, "But if you want to celebrate after the battle, you know where to find me."<br/><br/>Celes scratched the top of her head and yawned again.  Garak Onetusk was the cheiftan of this particular tribe.  If he was leading the warband that was headed this way, Celes knew she had a singular chance for victory.  She could challenge Garak to solo combat, and if she won, it would demoralize the rest of the tribe greatly.  They'd still be honor-bound to try to retake their stolen idol, but they'd have lost the heart of the fight, her platoon could decimate the orcs then.<br/><br/>Of course, she had to admit, the reverse was also true... if she were to fall, the results would be disastrous for morale.  Plus of course... she'd be dead.  There was always that.