The Impoverished House Of Magorian, Quroke Haven, Northern, Ireland...
Brutal crashing waves battered the longstanding rocky cliffs of the coastal village of Quroke Haven, Ireland as the natives prepared for one of the worst storms in the little village's history. It had been a little fishing village that got bigger over time the more people began to take on sailing jobs and seal hunting in the wake of the population causing problems for fishermen in the harbors. To the rest of the world, Quroke had been an out-of-the-way place that no man or woman could name aside from those who had been born amid its shores and grew up on the fish that had been caught amid the waters of its port. The onset of the latest tempest had been one of a good deal of concern for the townsfolk who had inhabited the place and their collective members of the community that did trade with them.
Despite being a small town, Quroke Haven was starting to become much more in the wake of the increase in merchant ships opting to sail to its port and exchange goods with the locals. On the surface and in the light of day, it was a beautiful and well-managed community that lived there that welcomed foreigners as much as fellow Irishmen amid their property lines. Many a business was booming and the local fishery was one of the highlight tourist destinations that brought people to Quroke Haven's harbors.
The storm had been a good deal of concern indeed for the residents of Quroke Haven but not all of the residents had been of the mind to note the coming potential danger. The impoverished house of sailor and resident drunkard, Dollaran Lorcan Magorian had been enduring a storm of a different kind as the noise from the rumbling of thunder gathering outside the home of the drunken sailor had been drowned out by way of said drunkard's headboard beating rather violently against the master bedroom wall threatening to smash either itself or the wall to pieces in the wake of the brute's vicious movements.
The brute known as Dollaran had been a rather large man in his own right, largely due to his trade as a resident sailor. He had a deep barrel chest, massively muscled pale arms, short cropped dark red hair with orange highlights due to the traces of blonde in his roots, and a thick gruff beard that covered most of his not-so-handsome face. His bloodshot dark brown eyes were always narrowed and had been even more so as he found himself in bed naked as the day he was born with his pale freckle-covered body towering above a whimpering woman with a copper-tanned complexion and braided long dark locks who had been equally naked as she did her best to ride out the frequent thrusts brought on by the naked man who had forced his way between her thighs while ignoring the massive bulge of her belly in a bid to sate his alcohol-fueled lust.
Sheer hatred blazed behind Dollaran's dark eyes as he grunted and thrust into the whimpering woman beneath him, her plump cheeks and swollen belly seeming to only set off his rage all the more as he reached down and slapped her across the face making her cheeks swell and her eyes water in the wake of the surprisingly swift and badly stinging blow. He grunted as he thrust harder into the tight warmth that enveloped his less-than-average-sized pale cock and slapped the already whimpering woman across the face once more as he found himself unable to sustain his erection long enough to finish.
His inability to finish had been due more to the exuberant amount of alcohol he'd consumed at the local pub long before venturing back home and initiating intercourse, but he had been of the mind to blame the woman for all of his so-called woes.
"You fuckin' lazy bitch," growled Dollaran still very much drunk and enraged. "You can't even fuckin' get me off properly...what fuckin' good are you?"
The tearful pregnant woman attempted to get out of bed feeling the onset of heavy contractions following what the bastard had done to her in a bid to adhere to his drunken lust. She had been feeling pains for quite a while and the onset of the storm both inside and outside of the house she currently resided in had been something that seemed to terrify her when it came to the welfare of her unborn baby.
Still very much enraged the drunken redhead brute had taken to slapping about the pregnant woman due to her lack of wanting him to shove his rather small and half-flaccid cock back into her while she'd been enduring the onset of contractions. Before he had managed to force her into bed, they had it out, a violent clashing that lead to the condition of the house as it was with her desperately attempting to avoid him if only for the sake of her unborn baby.
Toppled furniture and broken glass littered the living room and bedroom respectively as the brute Dollaran followed his tear-stricken and agonized woman along the house yelling and violently striking her with his closed fists while constantly ingesting the booze curled into his left hand hissing and belittling the bruised and battered woman despite the onset of the raging tempest outside their home. The heavily pregnant woman had done her best to endure the ridicule and violence set upon her by the bastard she'd been sold to by way of a bastard merchant who had brought her to these strange lands in a bid to get rid of her and turn a profit for his failing business.
She'd been from the new world, her name was Cheyanne Springwater, a beautiful child of her native people, kidnapped while bathing in a river and bound and gagged while they transported her onto a ship and sold her to the merchant only for him to belittle and beat her from childhood until adulthood when he couldn't take any more of her rebellious attitude and deliberate sabotaging his business.
Out of rage and direct spite, The merchant had sold her to some impoverished sailor for ten shillings on the spot.
That impoverished sailor was none other than the man beating and belittling her as she fought to keep herself conscious during her painful contractions, as her swelling belly gave an indication that she'd been well on her way to giving birth due to having been impregnated by the angry drunken man's tiny cock despite months of wishing it wasn't so. Of all the things young Cheyanne had endured at the hands of brutal foreign men since being taken from her people in the new world, this had been by far the worst.
Forced to be at the mercy of a drunken brute like Dollaran had been the cruel fate brought upon her by unworthy tyrants and as a result, she'd been left passed out in a pool of her broken water as the nasty drunk stormed out of the house in search of the nearest brothel.
Cheyanne had been more than pleased to see him go despite the pain she'd been in as blood oozed down her face from the wound on her head due to the redhead bastard's brazen temper tantrum. She lay on the ground given to contractions as another young woman rushed inside from the back door, she'd noticed the brute had gone and left it wide open in his fit and knew all too well the terror the young woman had endured which is why none of the villagers ever wanted that bastard near their impressionable young daughters.
The good lady Cheyanne knew little English and even less Gaelic, but she was treated kindly by the woman and her older friend who had come over with another woman as she began to give birth to the child forced upon her by the unwanted union with the bastard that bought her.
Cheyanne passed out from exhaustion as the women managed to get her in a comfortable position and when she went into labor she was awake to push and they rallied together amid towels and boiling hot water to ensure the little tyke had come out safe and well. Due to the lack of nutrition and overall abuse during the rather stressful pregnancy, The ailing Cheyanne had still managed to push out her newborn son, covered in blood and decidedly pale in the wake of lacking nutrition. He'd been the smallest baby ever born in the village and his runt status had made for quite a bit of concern.
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Sometime Later....
Sweat had drenched the lovely good woman's body and made her dark hair slick as she did her best to see her only child into the world despite how cruel said world, had been to her in the wake of her own birth. The women from the village had been rallied around as Cheyanne offered them each a weak smile as she noted the youngest of them had been holding her hand and had never left her side during the delivery. It had occurred to her that she and the woman had been neighbors for quite some time and could have even been good friends at one point had she bothered to get to know her. Sadly, their one mutual act of appreciation for one another had been the birth of her newborn son, which due to blood loss and the sheer complexity of enduring what she had beforehand, Cheyanne Springwater had known all too well that she would not live to see another day as her weary body began to give out and her grey eyes met those of the young lady known as Milenda Collum.
The poor woman had died the moment she heard her son's first cry, it was a happy sound and she had loved him despite everything she had to endure to get him. Melinda Collum, a resident widow whose child had died of crib death as an infant only a month prior, had taken to the tiny helpless lad as she wiped him down while she had taken the time to hold him close to both her and his ailing mother. Poor Cheyanne had died soon after succumbing to the strain of childbirth and her prior injuries from the drunken bastard that had not even been her husband.
The newborn boy was announced in town and a drunken Dollaran had opted to name him hearing that he had been the father of a boy. From that moment amid the greatest tempest to hit their village, he'd been called the runt boy was called Tobias.
Tobias Rudyard Lorcan Magorian, but to a heartbroken and also nurturing Melinda Collum, he'd always be her "little Toby".
At first, Dollaran had been proud to have fathered a son, a feat he believed impossible due to his lack of social graces and unimpressive member. He'd rushed home to see the lad he named him at the door of his home while Melinda comforted the poor lad in the wake of his long-suffering and lovely mother's passing.
All excitement disappeared once he got a look at the pale red-skinned lump in her arms with the same fiery red hair as his and haunting grey eyes like that of his now-deceased mother.
Dollaran glared rather angrily at the newborn boy noting his small stature and weak breathing.
"He ain't nothin' but a sickly little runt," he growled before storming out never once asking about the poor child's mother who had been dead following the event and his violent acts against her. "That lazy bitch couldn't even give birth right."
The child had been upset at the apparent rejection by his lousy father, but the kind-hearted Milenda Collum had been well and truly attached to him.
In the coming days and months of his rather impressive survival, she'd become the mother and parent he'd been lacking while the bastard that both sired and named him spent most of his time out at sea and avoided him a great deal when he came home.
Baby Tobias had not known the difference as he had never gotten to know his biological mother, and how she suffered to bring him into the world.