A fun commission for  iracrowe, featuring a young apothecary who soon finds that she has to make love lead a whole harem tribe of obscenely muscular golems. And that's why the genre's called fantasy, folks.

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Characters ©  iracrowe
Story © c'est moi

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The village of Fordring, nestled in a narrow mountain valley and fed by the crystal clear streams of glacial water, had seen better days. The crops were close to failing, and there were rumors of bandits and monsters, hiding in the forests and caves; the dark places of their mountain home. The only person keeping the village together was Yune, the apothecary. When their children cried out, seeing hulking monsters of stone in the night, it was her mixtures that soothed them back to sleep. When the Village Elders needed to cure a hangover in time for their meetings, she cleared their heads. And naturally, when there were whispers of plague, she was the village’s first and only defense. Young and unattached, she was also the most eligible lady in town.

“I’m going to need a good poultice, Yune,” Bardon said, puffing up his chest. The mayor’s son, he was the most persistent of her suitors. If nothing else, Yune had to admit he was easy on the eyes. Tall, broad-shouldered and muscular, he had that chiseled look that the apothecary loved, and thick locks of wavy blonde hair so light, it was almost white. “I killed a really big boar. It got me on the arm.” He smirked, flexing his bandaged arm, nearly tearing the cloth wrapped tightly around his taut bicep.

Yune scoffed, trying to hide her own grin as she undid the bandages. The young man tried not to let the pain show, gritting his teeth. “You look really nice today. Are you doing something new with your hair?”

The apothecary arched a brow, brushing back a strand of her fiery red hair. “I’m starting to get worried, Bardon. If you’re talking nonsense, you may have suffered some rather significant blood loss.” She pressed the poultice into his skin, making him wince.

“Well, I always feel light-headed around you,” Bardon quipped. “I had to stop the boar from trampling all over these.” Out of his vest, he produced a bouquet of vivid blue flowers.

Yune gasped, losing her composure as she snatched the flowers out of Bardon’s hands. “Twilight Roses! These are so rare! Where did you find them?”

“Uh… Just north of the canyon, by the dried up spring. There’s a whole garden of them.”

“You’re joking.” Yune turned to Bardon, grabbing the lapels of his shirt. “You have to take me there. Please!”

Bardon smiled coyly, draping his thick arm over Yune’s shoulders. “How about tonight? If you bring the wine, we can cook my latest kill. Maybe we can consider it our first date, then?”

“Bardon!” Yune batted him away. “I’m serious. The things I can do with those flowers… no one would ever get sick again around here.”

“And I’m serious, too.” Bardon let his arm drop, but cut the space between them. “I really like you. I know I’m not smart like you, but… I’d take care of you. I’m going to have to run the village one day, and I don’t think I can do it alone. I’d need a good woman to stand by me. Someone I can trust, someone I’d listen to. I’m not the brightest… but I know you are. And I’ll always honor that, if you’d consider my… betrothal.”

Yune looked at him, her smile slipping away. Marriage was the last thing on her mind. “Bardon… this is all so sudden.”

The musclebound man grabbed Yune’s hand, gentle enough to not scare her. “Please, don’t say no. I think we’d be good for each other.”

Yune looked at his handsome face, slightly trembling as she saw just how much he dwarfed her lithe body. “I… won’t say no. But I’m not saying yes, either. Let’s get through our… first date, then we can talk.”

Mimicking knights he had only ever glimpsed as they passed through their village, Bardon went down on his knee, kissing her hand. “My lady.”

“Oh, stop being silly!” Yune chuckled, smacking him lightly. “Get out of here! And don’t pick at that poultice, Bardon Farrihan, or I’ll make the next batch itchy enough to drive you mad.”

Yune spent the rest of her day slightly out of breath, her mind racing at the idea of Bardon’s proposal. She didn’t want to rush into marriage, but Bardon was sweet, besides being a genuine hunk of a man. Perhaps he wasn’t as thick as she thought, either, because he had put some thought into their moonlit picnic by the Twilight Roses. When he led her into the clearing, Yune couldn’t remember seeing anything quite so romantic. The flowers had been arranged around their blanket, and a flank of boar was roasting merrily over a campfire. He had artfully cut at the branches of the trees, giving a wondrous view of the night sky.

“How long did this take, Bardon?” Yune asked as she settled on the ground, gently picking one of the roses to smell its light, sweet scent.

“Oh, not too long…” He grunted as he settled next to the young woman. “You’re worth it.”

Yune clicked her tongue to hide her smile, nudging his arm. “Oh, stop it! You’re laying it on thick enough to cut with a knife.”

The two were getting comfortable, sharing a cup of wine, when the bushes rustled. Bardon’s smile disappeared in a flash as he grabbed his spear, holding his arm in front of Yune.

“Bardon-”

“Shh.” He raised a finger to his lips. “Stay still,” he whispered, slowly rising to his feet. He gripped his weapon hard as the rustling got louder, ready to strike. “If you’re human, step into the light before I gut you!”

A hand shot out of the bushes, but it was huge, like it was able to grasp Bardon’s head with the palm alone. It was also entirely made of stone.

“By the Gods!”

A huge, hulking construct came into the clearing, looming over the couple. Its eyes glowed a hellish red, and it spoke in a strange, guttural language. “Kurulak! Vetang. Kurulak, ol cem vetang!” It reached out for Yune, but Baron put himself between her and the monster.

“Back!” Bardon snarled, jabbing his spear against the creature’s stone body. “Back, I say!” As it advanced, Bardon jammed his spear into its side, making the beast howl as it lurched forward.

Yune screamed, scrambling to her feet. She attempted to dodge the creature, only for its craggly stone hand to rake across her face.

“Yune!” Bardon wrenched his spear free, slamming his shoulder into the stone beast.

It was just enough to shake the hulking creature. Its glowing red eyes looked at Yune, and at the scratches along her face. It let out a pitiable roar, backing away. “Kurulak! Norkir udenz.” With one last look at Yune, the massive creature turned and ran, its heavy footfalls shaking the ground.

“Yune?” Bardon turned to the apothecary, gently pulling her to her feet. “Are you alright?”

“I… I’m fine,” Yune looked after the trampled branches and twisted roots left in the monster’s path. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” Bardon held her close, frowning. “I’m sorry… maybe we should get you home.”

Yune slowly nodded, and clung close to the muscular youth as they moved through the woods. Smiling softly, the apothecary stopped Bardon, resting a hand on his chest. “You really were brave, back there. Perhaps a bit foolish, but… still. Brave.” Leaning against a tree, the two held each other close, and with a last burst of adrenaline from the encounter, Bardon leaned in for a kiss.

“Bardon!” Yune gasped, but only pulled him closer, her hands wrapping around his thick, well-muscled arms.

The two lingered for a moment, but then Bardon pulled back, frowning as he sniffed the air. “Do you smell that? Smoke.” Grabbing her hand, Bardon led her further down the path, and the two gasped in horror. Fordring was ablaze.

“By the Gods!” Yune clapped her mouth shut. Hellish flames consumed every building, with dark shadows running across the fire.

Bardon held her close, his face fixed as he glared at the flames. “Yune, stay here.”

“Bardon! My shop, my friends-”

“Stay here!” the hunter said roughly, shoving her into a bush. “Stay hidden, we don’t even know who’s attacking!” He rushed off into the village before Yune could argue.

“Bardon! Bardon, get back here, you damn fool!” Yune shouted, struggling back to her feet from the tangled brambles. Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath, ready to run into the village after him before a hand clamped down on her shoulder, pulling her back.

“Who’s Bardon, eh?” a rough voice hissed in her ear as a dagger was pressed against her throat.

Yune’s heart froze. She could only see her attacker in her peripheral vision, but he was a rough, unshaven bandit, with a hungry look in his silver eyes, as his other rough hand drifted down to her hips. “Don’t worry, love. No one’s going to bother us out here…”

“Get your hands off me!” the apothecary hissed, struggling to break free, but the bandit was stronger, slowly pushing her down.

“Kurulak!”

“Release the Wakener, soft skin!”

Two unnaturally deep, rolling voices called Yune and the bandit’s attention, both their jaws falling open. One was the vast stone creature she had encountered before, eyes glowing red as it approached the bandit with heavy footfalls, and the other was like a living oak, branches snapping and huge tufts of leaves festooning its massive body. The bandit stood no chance; the two titans charged him, and in the scuffle, Yune was struck on the head by her attacker, and her world went black.

She faded in and out of consciousness, only getting glimpses; one last look at Fordring burning, her prone body lifted up by the stone creature, and more huge creatures looming over her, before she nodded off to sleep.

Yune would awake with a start hours after, well into the next day. Gasping as she shot out of bed, she looked around at her new surroundings; a cave, hewn out of the mountainside, the walls piled high with earthen jugs with a fire roaring in a carved out hearth. She had been laid out on a cold slab of stone, a pile of furs thrown over her to keep her warm; her back ached from her hard makeshift bed, but as she stretched, her mind raced back to her burning village. Throwing off the covers, she raced for the cave entrance, but was stopped as two of the monstrous figures entered.

Standing before her were a pair of towering men, or what seemed to be men at first glance. The first was the same stone beast she had seen before. His body was made of pale stone, mass rippling beneath the rocky hide that covered his body. A pair of marble, column-like legs held him upright, a thick waist leading up to deeply cut abdominals that tensed slightly. Across the musculature of the golah there were carving in the stone. Twisting and turning, winding over rock, he was covered by the etchings. Powerful arms were crossed against his chest, biceps pushing heavily on his mighty pectorals. Beyond his chest rested a bald head, smooth as the stone he was made from. A pair of red eyes stared down at the girl, the only thing registering in them was confusion.

The walking tree next to him seemed slightly less perturbed, more curious than anything. In the light of day, Yune could see he was far more graceful, had far more comely features. And he was even bigger than the stone beast. Leaves covered his head in a shaggy mane as he bent forward to look down at her past his swollen pectorals, a bit of moss spreading out from the deep cleft and over his chest. His skin was a dark, rich brown, the bark shifting as he placed his hands on his knees the more he bent to look at her. A rolling hill of trapezius muscle brushed against his cheeks, his thick, stump-like neck being swallowed by his swollen shoulders. Arms like oak trunks rested on his knees, biceps mashing against his massive torso.

“You’re, uh, up earlier than we thought you’d be, Wakener.” The wooden man cleared his throat. “I am Khorag, Chief of this tribe. It’s an honor to be at your service. This one is Gorack,” he nodded to the stone beast beside him.

“I- what?” Yune shook her head. “I need to get back to Fordring. Take me home!”

Gorack and Khorag exchanged looks. “Wakener… it’s not safe. The whole village, it…”

“Thangin.” Gorack said solemnly.

“It burned down, yes,” Khorag clarified.

The apothecary stared up at the both of them, trying to squeeze past, but the two hulking men left little room between them. “Take me. Show me.”

“Wakener-”

“Stop calling me that!” Yune snapped. “Am I your prisoner? Will you keep me here against my will?”

“No! No, of course not!” Khorag held up his hands. “We follow your command.”

“Then take me home!” Yune demanded. Trying desperately, she managed to squeeze past the two giants standing in her way. Thrust into the sunlight, she stumbled, instinctively taking a step back, her back up against Gorack’s beefy flank. The cave emptied out into a semi-circle carved out into the mountain, with more caves surrounding it. At least ten more of the hulking giants, some made of wood, others of stone, and one even made of ice, all milled about, but when they saw her, they all stood straight, bowing their hands and clasping their hands together in a sign of respect. Wide-eyed, Yune couldn’t think to say anything.

“So…” Khorag’s huge hand rested on her shoulder to steady her. “Do you still want to go back to the village, Wakener?”

The remains of Fordring were a sobering sight. No building had been spared; her own house was reduced to the skeletal timbers, with all but one of her alchemical books burnt to ash. She spotted a single petal from the Twilight Rose, which she gently picked up, holding it close to her.

“Yune?”

A familiar voice. The young woman jumped to her feet, spinning around. Relieved, she saw Lara, the blacksmith’s wife. She had a few scraps of iron in her hands, bundles of cloth and other scrap under her arms. “Yune, thank the Gods! We thought you had died!”

“We? There are others?” Yune’s heart soared, thinking of Bardon.

“A… a few of us, yes,” Lara bit her lip. “We’re… in the minority. Watchman Theodor raised the alarm, but he was cutdown before he could reach the whole village. They attacked the inn, and the mayor, he… they cut him down first, snatching off his gold chain as they slit his throat. My family’s safe, and the Torrens, the Wrens lost their oldest… the bandits came from the main road, so we’re camping down by the summer path. We’ve sent word to Glenford, and we’re hopeful they’ll take us in. Will you come with us?”

Yune had to think. Glenford was a village like any other, but to see the only home she had ever known, just gone… “Did… is Bardon with you all?”
Lara’s mouth twisted, then she began to speak, but then her face went pale as the two women were engulfed in shadow. Yune turned around to see Khorag looming over her, and Lara let out a terrible scream, running through the village.

“Lara! Wait!” Yune shouted, but it was pointless. Shaking her head, Yune tightened her fist and hit Khorag’s side, leaving her with bruised knuckles for her trouble; the wooden hulk didn’t budge an inch. “Damn you! Why did you scare her like that?”

Khorag furrowed his brow. “I’m… sorry, Wakener. Gorack found something, thought you should see it.”

Yune hugged her book close to her. Her heart was beating rapidly as she followed the wooden hulk, then her heart sank when she saw him; Bardon. He still looked handsome, his pale blonde locks framing his face, serene in death. The apothecary’s eyes were wide as she sank to her knees, her fingers gingerly brushing against his hair.

Gorack whispered in Khorag’s ear, then the chief nodded. “He was here, cornered, and he took four bandits with him.” He knelt next to Yune, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. “He died a warrior’s death. Would… you like us to bury him, Wakener?”

Tears were streaming down the young woman’s face, and she only just had the wherewithal to nod before her grief overtook her and she was wracked with sobs, burying her face in Khorag’s side; she couldn’t stand to look at Bardon anymore. The giants carried Bardon’s body back to their mountain camp, and buried him, at Yune’s instruction, at the glade where the Twilight Roses bloomed. She did not know what gods he favored, so she offered his soul up to all of them. Bardon had always been vain; he would have been pleased with the thought of all the gods fighting over his soul.

Yune responded to little over the next few days. The giants catered to her every need, providing her with furs and blankets to keep her warm, and offering up food to fight her hunger. She barely spoke a word, usually staring into space, past whatever member of the tribe was serving her. Gorack, though she couldn’t understand a word he said, soon proved the best company. After almost a week, he seemed to instinctively know what Yune needed. As Yune’s fire was dying down in the dead of night, Gorack approached, wrapping his massive arms around her, engulfing the young woman entirely as he held her up against his chest. The apothecary would’ve protested just a few days ago, but now, she felt an odd sense of security, resting her head against his bulging chest. As Gorack leaned back, draping a fur blanket over her shoulders, Yune slept peacefully for the first time since Bardon’s burial.

The following morning, all the tribe gathered around Yune, placing her on a dais in a place of honor and ready to answer her questions. “So…” she cleared her throat. “What do I call you all? What… are you?”

“We are called the Adalamar by the races of men; but we call ourselves the golah,” Khorag explained.

Yune furrowed her brow, remembering something she had read ages ago in one of the more exotic alchemical texts she had studied. “You’re the golem men? But you’re supposed to be a myth.”

“We have not travelled to these lands for many years,” Khorag explained. “We came in desperation, trying to find a Wakener. And we found her- you.”

“You’re going to need to go over that again,” Yune rubbed her temples. “A Wakener is someone who can make more golah, yes?”

Khorag nodded. “The only one who can.” He gestured to all the burly, musclebound members of the tribe. “There are only male golah. We can’t reproduce on our own.”

Yune’s eyes bulged, her mind going to the usual method of reproduction. Most of the tribe were noticeably handsome, with their well-carved faces, thick, muscular limbs and powerful torsos; they were definitely her type. The thought of coupling with all of them, however… “A-and how does a Wakener, ah, reproduce?”

If Khorag knew where her mind had gone, he had enough grace not to dwell on it. “In our travels, you will find certain special materials… they’ll speak to you, Wakener, sparks of life. Only you can wake up the golah inside, just by touching them.”

Yune let out a sigh of relief, though a small part of her was a little curious how things might go if reproduction was more conventional. “And what do I do the rest of the time?”

“Well… anything you like,” Khorag said. “But we will be there with you. For your protection- Wakeners are to be revered and served. So… does that mean you will accept? You will be our Wakener?”

The apothecary brushed back a strand of her red hair, silent for a moment. Things were never going to be the same; the survivors had decided to settle in Glenford. Fordring was gone, for good. Would she just go back to running an apothecary shop? She then looked over all the golah, each one larger and more muscular than the last. They also looked painfully innocent and naive. What would become of them if she just left? Nodding slowly, she took a breath. “Yes. I will be your Wakener.”

The golah erupted in cheers, stomping their feet enough to make the ground shake. Relieved, Khorag sighed happily. “Ah, thank the Makers. With that, Wakener, my first order of business is to step down… I served as chief only until we found a new Wakener. You will have to choose the next one.” He nodded to two golah that were making their way forward, nudging each other’s swollen shoulders as they approached.

“Oh, my.” Given proper time to mourn and recover from Fordring’s sacking, Yune was far more willing to appreciate the size, strength, and sheer musculature of the Golah approaching her. One was taller and, although they had no graying hair or wrinkles, he seemed the older Golah. He was made of crystal, his whole body catching the light and shimmering with a dozen different colors. Like all the Golah, his limbs were large, his shoulders broad, with two massive chunks of agate shimmering in the sun as his beefy chest. He bowed formally to Yune, with Khorag introducing him.

“This is Vortok, Wakener, the first of our tribe; our oldest member.”

“I am honored, Wakener,” Vortok intoned formally. “It was three centuries ago when our tribe’s first Wakener crafted me from the depths of a mine, and I accompanied her as she woke my brothers.”

Khortag nodded. “Vortok has already served as our chief three times, Wakener. And this is our greatest warrior-”

“Cuhldar, your champion, Wakener!” the second Golah pushed himself to the front, a huge smirk across his broad face. Cuhldar was shorter than Vortok, but pound for pound, it looked like none of the other golah could boast as much muscle and bulk as Culdar. He was artfully made, almost like he had been forged. His body was made out of freshly polished steel, with brass lining accentuating the bulges of muscle on his titanic form, his eyes burning like the forge he had been born from.

“Our last Wakener made me special,” Cuhldar boasted, planting his foot on the dais, smacking his hand against rippling metallic thighs as thick as battering rams, the metal creating a clear, clarion ring. “To serve as a warrior.” He took in a deep breath, his two massive pecs surging forward, the metal creaking as it filled with a deep, inner fire, then beating his fist against that mammoth chest. “Or…” Still wearing a smirk, he swaggered up to Yune, smoothly picking up the Apothecary, holding her tenderly for a moment before he perched her on his thick arm. “As a companion.” He flexed his arms, a mountain of steel rising and pushing Yune up higher into the air.

“My, but you are impressive…” Yune murmured, running a hand over the smooth dome of his head.

“Then I’m chief?” Cuhldar said hopefully.

“I didn’t say that.” Yune grinned as she hopped off his arm, patting his billowing pecs affectionately as the steel golah’s smile sank. “You’re still in the running, though.”

Cuhldar smiled again, smirking at Vortok. “Hah!”

Yune shook her head. “I’m not going to make my decision on… display alone,” she said, her eye lingering on Cuhldar’s bulbous arm. “I’ll want to speak to the both of you, alone, then I’ll make my decision. For now… I think I need to take a walk, clear my head.”

Khorag nodded, signalling for the others to bow their heads. “Of course, Wakener. We wait for your instruction.”

Yune grinned, patting or caressing each golah she passed, so none felt left out. Wandering outside the camp, she felt a bit of relief in being alone; Cuhldar showboating had reminded her of Bardon, and the melancholy feelings had returned. She hugged herself against the mountain wind, wishing she had at least asked Gorack to come along. The hulking stone beast was affectionate and sweet, and she missed having a strong arm around to warm and comfort her.

Trudging along the snow, she paused, frowning slightly as she looked up at a sheet of ice. Something felt… off. She could sense something, sort of like a smell, or simply something she couldn’t see, but she could feel. She approached a huge pillar of ice, holding up a snowbank from the cliff above her. She could almost hear it, now, like a bell ringing in her mind. Instinctively, she held up her hand, touching the ice pillar. It didn’t feel cold to the touch; in fact, it almost felt warm, but it wasn’t melting. She leaned in closer to examine it, then gasped.

“There’s someone inside here!” she exclaimed, turning back to the direction of the camp and cupping her mouth. “Cuhldar! Gorack! Anyone, help! There’s someone trapped in the ice!”

No answer. Yune looked back to the thin, skeletal form she could see in the ice, pressing her hands against the ice. “I… can sense you’re alive, in there. Don’t worry, my friends will get you out,” she said reassuringly, though she had no idea if she was being heard. As she leaned against the ice, however, she could feel it begin to crack. Minute fractures spread across the ice, and Yune rushed to the cliffside, hugging herself against the rock face as the pillar splintered, shattering as the snowbank above cascaded down with a soft whump.

Her heart racing, Yune trudged through the fallen snow, panicking as she began to dig into the snow bank with her hands, desperate to find the man stuck inside. “Don’t worry- I’ll find you. Khorag! Vortok!” Still no answer, as the wind howled and drowned out her voice.

After a few tense moments of frenzied digging, Yune’s hand brushed against something far more solid than the snow. When she brushed it away, however, she saw the face of man, but carved out of ice. Crystal-like eyes opened, and a near-skeletal hand shot out, grabbing Yune’s arm. She started to scream, but the grip felt so weak.

“Wakener…” the ice creature wheezed.

Yune’s brow arched. “A golah?”

“Wakener…” he gasped, his voice shaky. “Do you… give me your gift of life?”

The apothecary knelt down, cradling the emaciated male in her lap. “Of course I do! What do you need me to do?”

Too weak for words, the golah patted two bony hands against his hollow chest. Yune took a moment to understand, then nodded, placing her hands on his chest. “I give you the gift of life,” she murmured.

Her eyes went wide at how the ice golah transformed. He took in deep gulps of air, and with each breath, his chest expanded out, further and further. With the crystalline crackling of ice forming, his arms and legs slowly grew, newly minted muscle bunching up as his body swelled. His chest pushed her hands apart as two clefted pecs formed, abs chiselled out of the ice blossoming down to his hips. A vast back coated in snow pushed out his arms and shoulders, and shakily, he pulled himself up on thick, beefy legs. In a sudden burst of inspiration, Yune reached up to his face, cupping his newly broadened chin atop his thick neck in her hands. She smiled softly, reaching up to his face. Icicles formed into the shape of thick and wavy locks crowning his head, snow clustering to look more like natural hair. It had a strange color to it; almost a silvery blonde. Yune stepped back, admiring her creation as he held up his arm, his bicep swelling as he flexed, thick flanks flaring out like wings, surging off his massive, glacial back as he now dwarfed his creator. He looked himself over, not with the same bravado and self-satisfaction that Cuhldar had, but an innocent wonder, seeing it all for the first time.

“Thank you, Wakener,” the ice golah said softly. “Does… this form please you?”

Yune nodded, her eyes transfixed on his face, now so familiar to her. “...Yes. Do you like it?”

He smiled bashfully. “I do, yes. Do I have a name?”

Yune took his hand in hers, gently leading him back to the camp. “I think so, yes. Do you like the name Bardon?”