by Reed James
I burst into laughter.
“What?” Maria gasped, her weapon still glowing.
“They're rubber-banded to their vents,” I chortled.
“Rubber... banded?” Maria asked.
“I've never heard that phrase before,” Twist said. “Something from that other world of yours?”
“Something like that,” I said. “It means they're bound to their spawn points. Can't leave the room.”
“He is correct,” Kulri said. “I believe those are not natural.”
Twist hissed the way I would snort to say, “No d'oh.”
“I suspect the Cultists of Thūgiz have used their rights to harm those vents of natural out-gassing and twisted them into vassals to inflict damage and hurt on those who explore this cave.”
“Drain resources,” I muttered, down half my MP and a chunk of TP. Dëshoma was low on her MP, too. “Overwhelm us if we were too stupid to continue on. But that's a good sign.”
“They're down here,” Maria said.
“Then let us deliver the punishment of the gods upon the foul knaves for their abuse of the lands above and the innocent denizens who dwelt in it,” declared Dëshoma.
“Like the Gods spare a single fart for us,” muttered Éjyona.
“Ëshuxeri supplied thy weapon with the divine energy to attack those vapors,” the Cleric said and turned to me. “Lead on, Lord Marcus.”
I nodded, passing Éjyona, the halfling's bronzed brow furrowed tight.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Trash Pulls
The kobolds rushed us from all sides.
“Fuck!” I snarled as they burst out of the walls and surged into us, bypassing my guard at the front to fall upon the casters in the back. Dëshoma gasped in pain as a kobold thrust a rusty sword into her guts. Her face twisted in agony.
Far more pain than she should have taken.
Kulri hissed, her face contorted from the pain of an ax slamming into her leg. Spreading up the veins in her thighs was a black ichor that contrasted with her pale skin. Their Hit Points dwindled faster. I hated Damage over Time effects.
“Shit!” I snarled as the kobolds' weapons slammed into my shield and armor, bouncing off thick cuisses on my thighs and my Invigorating Breastplate. I swung my ax in a sweeping arc, slamming into one, denting the helm it wore and knocking it off-balance.
Dëshoma's Hit Points surged upward as she healed herself. Then she thrust her bible out at Kulrigiizhai even as the kobolds surged in to attack them more. I had to draw them to me. I Yelled to buff myself and then unleashed Zeal.
“That's right, you mincing little shits!” I snarled. “I'm the Gods of Light and Order's righteous wrath come to rend your filthy heads from your bodies!”
They turned their gaze towards me as I pulled threat. The kobolds swarmed me. As they did, I activated my Flamedust boots. The fires roared up my body. They engulfed me. Swathed me in flames for a moment before the fire reached my ax.
It blazed with extra fire damage.
Maria stabbed. Twist and Éjyona broke their Vanishes to unleash devastating attacks. Twist's dagger struck and arterial spray burst from her target's throat. It staggered and dropped to the ground, dead. Éjyona unleashed a Scattershot, hitting multiple enemies, but she was burning through her TP fast.
Dëshoma pulled out a piece of purple elf bread from her pouch and quickly swallowed it. Then she began chanting as the attacks fell on me. My armor rang with the impacts of a dozen strikes. The smaller kobolds rushed at me.
Their attacks got through.
Pain burned through my veins. I grit my teeth and swung my fiery ax, crashing into the kobolds swarming me from every direction. Sparks burst on each impact. Swords, daggers, and spears stabbed into vulnerable gaps in my armor. DoTs blazed through me.
They stacked.
One would deal a few Hit Points damage a second. But ten were dealing me twenty. I would be dead in moments at this rate. I growled and unleashed my Level 17 skill. Fortitude burst through me, expending a good chunk of my remaining MP to remove any status afflictions from my body.
The bleeds ended. My Hit Points stabilized at a quarter, but I had all those bastards around me. Dëshoma's quickened spell-casting speed dropped her HoT on me, the healing energy restoring me with every second. My flaming ax slammed into the enemies, adding more sparks of damage.
Maria and Twist unleashed their DPS. Éjyona supported them. Kulri's magic burst around me while Dëshoma slammed more healing energy into me. My party supported me as I held the enemy aggro, taking blows right and left. My armor rang and clanged. My shield shuddered against my arm.
Attacks were getting through. More DoTs assaulted me, the pain blazing through my body. Every beat of my heart spread agony. Dëshoma's prayers spilled from her lips, unleashing Arcane Healing faster than ever.
Her MP ran out.
The kobolds were thinning, but there were still stragglers bursting out of the walls. Dozens lay dead. Cuts and wounds bled from my body. Dëshoma drew her last MP restoring potion and downed it as I hacked with my burning ax, setting a kobold's scraggly hair on fire as they fought to kill me.
Pain flared in my back. My side. I staggered as my Hit Points plummeted again. The DoTs added up. I used the last of my Magic Points on another Fortitude. I slammed my ax into a kobold's head, my body momentarily free of agony.
A dagger buried into my stomach.
“Fuck!” I growled, staggered. I was about to use my ax's once per day to cure myself to full when Dëshoma's blessed miracle surged around me.
“Got you, little rat!” Twist hissed and thrust her dagger into a kobold's throat.
Éjyona's rifle took another in the head. More healing swept in from Dëshoma. She'd almost burned through the MP she'd gained from taking her potion, but the kobolds were thinning. Maria smoothly ran one through, her red hair flying. Arcane energy burst around me, Kulri's resources dwindling down to nothing, too.
I buried my burning ax into a kobold's head. A burst of Hit Points surged through me from the impact. I whirled around and...
They were all dead.
We had dispatched them all. I panted and staggered. I felt like a pincushion. We were at the limits of our resources, but we were Shardhunters. The more pain we suffered, the stronger we became. Our experience points rose.
“Come on,” I muttered, feeling it reaching for eighteen.
“Please,” Maria groaned. Like me, she'd expended everything. We were on fumes. I didn't want to have to quit. Not when we were so close. An entire day wasted would give the cultists time to track us down. To hit us while we camped.
The experience just crossed into the next level.
That glorious moment of triumph. The rush of advancing to the next level. I shuddered as the wounds to my body healed entirely. My TP and MP refilled. My damaged armor and shield repaired themselves, tied to the magic that controlled my power. I straightened, the thrill of conquering my enemies and growing more powerful rushing through me.
“Fuck, yeah!” I growled. “You hear that, you Thūgiz ass-wipes, we're coming for you!”
“Yeah, to wipe your asses!” shouted Maria.
I glanced at her and gave her the strangest look. She might have totally misunderstood me, but the sentiment in her words was something that resonated with me. I grinned at her and nodded. I led the way down the hallway, ready to fight our way to the Thūgiz Cultists and put a stop to their corruption of these lands.
* * / *
Kulrigiizhai
Marcus stood so tall before the party. He cut such a striking figure as he led the way. The elf swallowed and followed after him. He was so stirring. So arousing. The way he pulled all those kobolds to him had shown his desire to protect his women. He constantly thrust himself into danger to protect his women.
To protect me.
Her thoughts worried on the problem. She felt that growing frustration the last three nights of denial had created. Her need to orgasm built as she walked. She needed her
focus, but she also needed to succumb to her desires.
And Marcus was one of them.
Strong. Proud. He threw himself into danger over and over again, heedless of the cost. Of what would happen to him. He was fearless. Something to be admired. To be followed and obeyed. She clutched tight at her staff with her hands as they moved through the dark tunnel.
Thoughts devoured her. They ate at her, tearing at her resolve in ways that were shocking to the Wizard. She should be stronger than this, but in some ways, she had only grown weaker the more she traveled with Marcus.
He chipped away at her protections. She hadn't lost her emotions; she was starting to realize she'd only sealed them away in a prison of diamond. She'd encased her heart in such stalwart defenses to protect herself from his attention.
Marcus battered away at them. He weakened them by his very presence. She shivered as she realized that he would take so much from her if she let him. He would become the diamond surrounding her. He would replace the protection that she thought so impervious. Was fearing for his safety just the excuse? Was she afraid of being vulnerable? To relay on someone else?
The diseased bear filled her mind. Wracked in pain. Suffering and driven mad. It needed to be rescued, but its agony-fueled insanity had driven it to its death. Sadness welled inside of the elf as she thought of that.
Fear, too.
She didn't understand it. She glanced at Marcus ahead. Was he stalwart enough to let her be vulnerable? To share her mad drive for vengeance on her former master. Would Marcus protect her heart? Or would she end up throwing herself to her death in a futile act of defiance? Roaring and slashing and just wanting to hurt others for the pain that she suffered.
Kulrigiizhai blinked her eyes. Understanding flared through her. “Marcus Aurelius, can we—”
“Shh,” he said. “There's light ahead.”
“Is that chanting?” Maria whispered.
Kulrigiizhai's ears picked it up. She could hear it. A woman, her voice throaty in pain and ecstasy, led others in a chant. A shiver ran down the elf. Her ears twitched. There was power in the chanting. A prayer.
“I think we have found them, Marcus Aurelius,” Kulrigiizhai said.
“Iris,” Marcus whispered.
“I'm on it!” she said and buzzed ahead to the source of the light.
“There was something you wanted, Kulri?” Marcus asked, his voice soft.
“It can wait,” the elf said, fear rising in her. What if she were wrong with Marcus? Maybe it would be better to lash out in her mad fury? She could still get lucky. If she had the Black Heart Diamond, she could trap her old master in it if she could overcome his protections.
Iris buzzed back. She hovered before him. “There's a woman whipping herself leading a dozen cultists in prayers around a gem. It glows with divine light. It's an artifact to Ethileri, I think, shaped like a diamond tear.”
Maria gasped.
“Worse, there are bodies around them. A lot of them. This is going to be bad, Marcus.” The pixie buzzed closer and planted a kiss on his nose. “Real bad.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: Priestess of Pain
Maria du Marne
Excitement brimmed through Maria. A jewel shaped like a tear. Her hopes flared that the salvation for her village lay just around the corner. They just had to get past the deranged cultists and their ritual. The leader, a woman, moaned with pain and ecstasy in her voice.
“They're whipping themselves,” Iris said. “And there are loads and loads of bodies in the room. Villagers.”
“Kulri,” Marcus commanded, glancing at the elf.
She closed her eyes and then her exposed nipples beaded with milk. A hunger surged through Maria. She ducked her head down and latched her mouth onto the elf's nipple. She nursed hard. The creamy milk splashed at the back of her mouth, loaded with that stat that increased every bit of Maria.
It was the ultimate buff. She felt stronger, more graceful, smarter, and even her faith swelled. She knew would prevail today. She swallowed the last mouthful and pulled away, Twist already nursing on the other nipple.
Dëshoma bent over and daintily replaced Maria. The human drew her rapier, her excitement swelling and swelling in her. She pulled out her Strengthened Potion of Aphounga's Wrath, a buff to her fighting skills. It would feed her with the battle anger to deliver death to the enemies. She clutched it, ready to down it.
Marcus took Twist's place. He suckled with hunger. Kulri's ears twitched and a soft moan escaped her lips. Her entire body swayed. Cheeks blossomed scarlet and eye squeezed shut. She licked her lips as Marcus nursed with hunger.
Poor thing still won't give Marcus what he wants, Maria thought. She didn't get that. Submitting to Marcus gave her so much certainty. She fought better under his commands, and the pleasure he gave her...
A sinking weight plunged into her guts. If it was the Tear, this was her last fight with Marcus. She'd be going home again. She had the Shard to her village in her pouch. She would go back to tending her loom while being a hero for saving the village. How will I ever explain any of this to Derrick?
She tried not to think of him. Of her betrayal. She was doing this for him. For her village. She had to remember that. Her time being in Marcus's party would soon come to an end. She'd return to being a normal village girl. She wouldn't need her weapons. Her skills.
Wouldn't need Marcus's commands any longer. His cock. The pleasure...
Dëshoma's chanting snapped Maria out of her reverie. She glanced over at the Cleric praying. She held her bible. Maria frowned as she listened to the words. They were a prayer to strengthen the party. Suddenly a golden light enveloped Maria.
Enveloped all of them.
She felt... like she could attack with more precision.
“I like this Litany of the Sky,” Marcus said, nodding his endorsement at Dëshoma's buff. “Okay, let's go fast. Maria, I'm going to need you to handle some of the adds... The lesser cultists. I'll be going for the chief bitch herself.”
“Right,” Maria said, the orders spilling over her, swelling her with confidence. She could do that.
“Éjyona, stay by Kulri. You're her backup if things get hairy.”
“Sure thing,” the halfling said, cradling her blunderbuss in her arms.
“Twist, you fuck things up.”
Twist hissed in delight.
“Okay,” Marcus said, tensing. Maria fell in at his side, her weapons out. He Yelled and charged forward.
She did the same, adding yet another buff as they raced the last few feet down the hallway and made the turn. She drank her potion as they burst into the large cavern lit by powerful balls of glowing magic. Dead bodies littered the floor, growing thicker and thicker before a strange altar. The tear-like gem was held in the tines of three twisted poles thrusting up from the ground. The gem burst with a bright light, reacting to the chanting of the cultists. A barrier of rippling, blue energy surrounded the altar.
Before it, stood the cultists. A dozen bare-backed men surrounded the altar, each of them wielding leather flails with bits of sharp metal thrust through the leather straps. They whipped their backs or chests, leaving bleeding wounds behind. Their blood flicked out and passed through the barrier to land on the gem.
“That is Priestess Pain,” Dëshoma gasped. “She is a high-ranking priestess of Thūgiz.”
While drawing her parrying dagger, Maria's eyes fell on the leader of the cultists. A woman wearing a wispy skirt of black material, her back and breasts bare. She whipped herself the same as the others, smacking her flail into her tits and leaving bleeding wounds behind. Her body was a mass of scars, boobs and all. Her voice rose in ecstasy that choked off as she heard their charge.
“Penitents come to suffer Thūgiz's sweet harm,” Priestess Pain crooned as she spoke, pointing her flail at them.
The dead were standing up as she did. They were groaning, rising up, their rotten bodies shuddering. A clammy dread filled Maria as she ran to face the cultists spreadin
g out to fight them. There were dozens and dozens of the dead.
One rose before Maria. She thrust her blade forward, shadowy rapier plunging clean through its chest. A normal blow, but it was enough damage to drop the undead. It fell with a solid thud on the ground, limbs bent in unnatural ways.
“They go down easy!” she shouted.
Éjyona burst out of her Vanish and unleashed a Scattershot. The bullets ripped through a swath of zombies before Marcus, ten of them collapsing. It cleared the path for him to rush Priestess Pain. She waited for him, blood dripping from her fail.
A flagellant rushed at Maria. He swung his flail before her. She slid to a stop, dodged to the right, and unleashed a Debilitating Strike. Her sword pierced into his weapon arm at the elbow. He snarled in pain, a perverse bliss crossing his scarred face.
“Yessss!” he moaned as his arm bleed. His next attack missed badly, his ability to hit debuffed by her skill.
A group of zombies shambled towards her and two more of the flagellants with cruel and hungry smiles. They stared at her body, breasts heaving in her fringed, leather bra, her blue thong buried between her toned butt-cheeks. She looked deadly and sexy all at the same time.
“Come on and get me!” Maria shouted, her blood pounding. The strength from the Aphounga's Wrath potion rushed through her body, brimming in her veins and pulsing in her muscles. A reckless thrill shot through her. “I'm right here.”
She dodged the next clumsy strike from the flagellant she'd wounded. Then the zombies were around her, reaching at her, mouths opening wide to bite into her flesh. She waited there, not fearing, letting them all get close to her.
She activated her panties.
They flared cold against her pussy lips. A burst of white frost exploded from her. Ice crystallized on her enemies. The flagellant moaned as frost rimed his face and hands. The zombies collapsed, overwhelmed by the magical damage.
She laughed and unleashed Fleet-Foot, stabbing the flagellant in the chest and darting to close on the others. He staggered and collapsed on the ground, dead. She grinned her triumph as she reached the other two, falling into her fighting stance.
