A Human Hired Sword Searching for Gold

You are Maron Norrey, an elite Mercenary who has fought for the many Kings and Queens of this world for nearly twenty-years. You wear your hair in a small mohawk, but your hair is tied in a braid going to between your shoulder-blades. You have several wicked scars going across your body, one stretching from your left temple, going across your eye, going across your lip, to your Adam's Apple. You are about forty-something years old, to be honest, you sort of stopped counting after thirty. You have black hair and amber eyes, and a very fit and strong body, standing about 6-feet 5-inches in height.

Your personality... to be frank... is crude. You don't really care about being courtly, you don't have the patience for politics. The only true King you obey is made of gold. You have a crass attitude, and frankly, none of the nobles like you... But... You are one of the best Mercenaries this world has ever seen.

Thus, why you were chosen.

The King was planning an expedition to the Southern Continent, a place you have been rumored to visit. As no one knows whether this is true or not, and every time someone asks if it is true, you just grin smugly and cross hands behind your head, the King has decided to take the gamble.

You are being paid 500,000 Gold Coins to bring the team to the center of the dark continent, and bring back some powerful artifact or something. You agreed, and are currently travelling with a... strange group.

The "Leader" of the group was a Paladin named, Acacia, who had... one of the most glorious curves you had laid your lecherous gaze upon. She had blonde hair and gray eyes, and was cold, yet regal. She reminded you of quite of few noble ladies... of course, once you got your cock inside of them, they weren't to regal then...

The two elves were sisters, and... quite strangely, they were curvaceous as well... you couldn't remember their names for the life of you, though you thought they could've been 'Lorelai and Aenwyn', though you really just called them "Tweetie and Twizzy" because one was a Ranger, and she liked to talk to birds, and the other was a Mage of some sort.

The two Dwarves, one was an old friend of yours, and ex-mercenary turned warrior, Rolf, and his squire, the mousy and weirdly curvy, Asta. She may have been small, but ye GODS! Her tits, they were perfection, and her arse wasn't too far behind! You haven't tried anything yet, out of pure respect for Rolf's Battle-Ax, but you have seen him give her some glances as well, and the two of you joke about it while in the camp.

Finally, the two gnomes, Tavlo and Rephina, a rogue and mage respectively. Tavlo always had this cocky grin, one that set you on edge for some reason, you didn't like it. Something about it seemed off, maybe because it never seemed to reach his eyes, which were dark and cold. Or maybe because he seemed to enjoy bloodshed a little too much, never granting his opponents a quick like Merc-Code demanded. Rephina though, she was pleasantly plump, with very nice curves to her body, and she always smiled pretty; you didn't quite trust her purely because you didn't trust Tavlo.

What no one in this party knew was that you were planning to betray them.

You had been contracted by the ancient and evil Shadow Majesty, a group of Necromaic-Mages who were planning the destruction of the Alliance. They offered you 5,000,000 Gold Coins for this artifact, and you accepted, leading to them branding your ribcage with their symbol, a black sunburst.

Your journey to the Southern Continent was uneventful, despite gaining a new scar from peeping on 'Tweetie' and getting caught.

The journey throughout the Southern Continent was spent just drinking, slaying, and being slapped thoroughly, before you finally almost reached there.

Until the fifth week into your journey.

And the attack came.