by Ian Rodgers
“Ah, such a sorry business, that. Why can’t the Whore Goddess’s minions just leave us alone?”
“Because Cynthia is a busybody,” Dora offered up. The ‘man’ laughed, slapping them on their shoulders.
“That she is! Forgive me for my suspicions, dear sisters, but as you’ve no doubt seen for yourself, Annod Bol is a bit ‘unsettled’ right now.”
Dora nodded. She’d seen the fires in the distance, and heard the screams. It wouldn’t be long before everything became even worse. It was important to prove her innocence so the slaves would stop rioting.
“We were interested in laying low for a while, since the Paladins could still be on our tail. Everyone knows they’d never enter Annod Bol, though,” Kari continued. “Perhaps you could accommodate?”
“More than happily!” their host declared. “Come this way, I’ll find you some proper rooms.”
The ‘man’ led them through the door they’d been trying to enter earlier, and they found themselves descending into the bowels of the tavern and the city.
“What are these?” Dora asked, trailing a hand over a protruding grey pipe. The whole of the basement was a massive place, the ceiling and walls covered in thick pipes that snaked everywhere.
“Part of the water purification system for the city,” the owner of the bar explained. “These carry water all over the city, both purified and dirty. No one is sure how it works, and no one is interested in trying to figure it out, lest their tampering ruin the system and leaves us without water.”
“The city is surprisingly clean. I’ve never seen such an advanced sewer system before,” Kari noted as she eyed it all with discreetly glowing eyes, analyzing the machinery to try and replicate it on her own later. “Say what you want about the Titans, but they knew how to build!”
They were led to a vast underground warehouse. Instead of being full of boxes and crates and assorted packed goods, it was covered in soft cushions, silk veils, and a thick, cloying cloud of heady perfume.
What was most noticeable though was the writhing, twisting carpet of flesh that occupied most of the room.
“It seems like some of our members just could not wait,” the ‘man’ who escorted them said with a chuckle. He smiled indulgently as he looked over the festivities.
“Wh-what’s the occasion?” Dora choked out as she gagged slightly on the musk in the air and tried not to look directly at anyone.
“Oh, we’re celebrating the fact we are about to finally achieve what we failed to do twenty years ago!”
It took all of Dora’s willpower not to react. She knew a bit about Reesh’s past, and how it tied into this wretched cult. They’d done terrible things to him, which scarred the handyman to this day.
And now they were planning on reenacting their thwarted plans. Seemed like Dora’s fact-finding mission was about to get a lot more dangerous.
“Oh, I think I heard about that! Didn’t you try to sacrifice a Healer or something?” Dora finally managed to utter.
“Yes, but she broke free and caused our ritual to go awry. The magical backlash disrupted all the enslavement collars in the city, causing a massive riot among the slaves which was exacerbated by the murder of their beloved Healer.”
“So, she was integral to the previous ritual? Then who did you have in mind for the sacrifice this time?” Kari inquired.
“We need a Healer of Cynthia for our glorious Queen’s summoning ritual. And the Abyss has provided the answer to our prayers! Imprisoned in one of the towers is a trained Healer!” their guide shouted gleefully.
“We shall attack tomorrow evening. While the city and its guards are distracted by a massive riot we have planned, agents of ours shall sneak into the West Tower and capture her! We shall have our sacrifice!”
Their escort laughed maniacally, throwing his head back at the thought of the chaos about to be caused. Dora and Kari grimaced and shared a look. They needed to find proof. And soon.
After their guide settled down, they were led to a series of rooms not unlike barracks. Cots, hammocks, and mattresses were set up everywhere, though in a disorganized mess rather than the strict, disciplined manner the Yellowmoon Menagerie had set up. Some of the beds were occupied, though thankfully the occupants were asleep instead of indulging in Rapture Dawn’s unique form of worship.
“Find yourselves a free spot to rest, if you wish. It’s nearly time for Midnight Mass though, so if you wish to join, feel free. We’re always glad to have fresh meat to choose from,” the ‘man’ said, winking salaciously at the pair. They managed to overcome their disgust and giggled demurely, deflecting his suggestion.
Once the transvestite was gone Dora let out a breath of relief and Kari sagged onto a bed.
“That was disturbing.”
“To say the least!” Kari agreed wholeheartedly. She looked around to make sure no one had overheard and motioned for Dora to join her. The disguised Healer did so, careful to avoid the odd stains on the sheets.
“How are we going to reveal their plot to Tiegan?” Dora whispered. “What can we bring back as evidence?”
“A copy of the ritual would be preferable,” Kari said after thinking for a moment. “Other than that, we could knock someone unconscious with your Salve of Slumber and drag them back for interrogation.”
“That might be hard to do,” Dora muttered, glancing at the slumbering semi-naked revelers nearby. She could not imagine carting off any of these scantily clad people without attracting some kind of attention.
“Then evidence of the ritual it is, then,” Kari declared firmly. She stood up. “Let’s go spy on their mass. They might reveal some idea of where they’ll be holding the summoning.”
The two crept along the underground bunker, trying to act as if they belonged. Only a few other cultists overtook them, and they were all heading in the same direction. It made trying to find their gathering spot easier.
They came to a new room, one that was set up not unlike a regular church, except that instead of benches there were plush cushions, and the altar was soaked with blood and other noisome bodily fluids. And instead of a quintet of caring deities a foul, tentacle-eyed monstrosity presided over the area, carved from ichor stained stone.
There was no door, merely a gauze curtain separating it from the hall. Outside the entrance Dora and Kari peered inside, holding the veil up slightly so they could see what was going on inside.
Dozens of supplicants were abasing themselves in front of the altar. Their form of prayer involved touching and fondling themselves, and they moaned in pleasure while sweet-smelling smoke poured out of pink and green flaming torches.
Dora coughed as the thick scents assailed her, Kari faring no better. She felt hot, her body burning up as everything becoming sensitive. Neither had planned on, or even imagined, aphrodisiac smoke being present. In hindsight, it should have been obvious. Rapture Dawn’s methods of worship was perverted to say the least.
“Hear our cries, oh, great defiler! Oh, mystical mother, oh, salacious subverter! Answer us, and give us your blessing!” The man leading the ceremony was none other than the owner of the bar upstairs who’d escorted them here. ‘He’ was now sporting black gloves and clutching a rusted and chipped cleaver.
The air was growing thicker, and Dora fell to her knees. Kari staggered back from the room in an attempt to escape the smog that was beginning to leak out.
“This was a bad idea,” she gasped, shaking the half-orc’s shoulder. “We need to leave, now!”
“Wh-what’s happening?” the Healer asked, head swimming from the drugs in the air.
“Their calls were answered!” Kari said fearfully. “The Queen Swathed in Vermillion is coming!”
As the words left the raven-haired woman’s lips a thrum of power burst forth from the altar, shaking them to their bones. Screams filled the air and the scent of perfume and rotting meat gushed forth stronger than before.
Dora glanced up as the stench grew, and immediately regretted it. The
statue that had towered above the altar had begun to twitch and writhe, moving in a way utterly alien to stone. Magic oozed from it, a haze clouding the air that was visible even without using Detect Magic or other forms of sensing mana.
The demonic statue contorted and shrunk, changing from a multi-limbed grotesquery with pits full of tentacles for eyes to an alluring, buxom black-haired maiden, though her eyes were still the same as before. If someone were to ignore the squirming pools of foulness in her face the demon lord’s avatar looked rather similar to Kari.
“Oh, dear children, how kindly you greet me,” the Queen Swathed in Vermillion cooed, her voice like honey. Her minions gasped in pleasure and convulsed in joy at her praise.
Dora gritted her teeth as the voice washed over her. She could tell it was laden with magical compulsions, and it took all of her training to resist the foreign magic.
In order to protect against dangerous magic, be it from ailments their patients suffered or to resist same, all Healers were made to be proficient in holding their own against external magical influences. Her mother had been especially strict on this matter.
Kari was not as lucky, and the power of the demon’s words causing her to stagger and breathe erratically. For all the power her Bloodline Traits offered her, she’d never been subjected to magical attacks before. Living a sheltered and wealthy life and then being kidnapped, the merchant’s daughter had never had a chance to learn to defend herself.
“It seems we have some guests,” the Vermillion Queen said, glancing over to where Dora and Kari hid. “One of them shall make a most pleasant sacrifice.
She beckoned in the green skinned Healer’s direction. “Bring her here, if you would, darling.”
Before Dora knew what was happening Kari pounced on her, tackling her to the floor and causing the silken screen to fall away, revealing them to the cultists and summoned demon.
“Kari, what are you doing?!” Dora cried. A look at her face confirmed her fears; clouded and glassy, her dark-haired companion was no longer in her right mind.
“They are sisters fleeing from Paladins, my luscious lady,” the transvestite cult leader explained as Dora was dragged towards the altar by a possessed Kari.
“Is that so?” the Queen’s avatar mused, clearly aware that it was not the case. Still, the demon took the chance to turn the situation to her advantage.
“In that case, to reward their suffering, I shall allow them to join my side!”
“Oh, such a kind and caring mistress!” the ‘man’ cried, weeping obscenely in devotion.
Dora struggled valiantly, but it was all for naught. More cultists rushed over and helped Kari manhandle her into position on the stained altar, tying the half-orc down with rope.
The drugs in the air were affecting her badly. The orcish trait of a superior sense of smell meant that the burning chemicals from the enchanted flames influenced Dora worse than a full human. Her mind was slipping and there was nothing she could do, in spite of her training as a Healer.
“I had not expected to find such a boon so soon, little pet of Cynthia,” the Queen Swathed in Vermillion whispered into Dora’s ear as she circled her, observing the half-orc like a piece of meat. “That you would stumble into my clutches means I can come into this world sooner than I had hoped. Thank you for that.”
The demon patted Dora’s cheek playfully, and her skin crawled at the contact.
Immediately after, the demonic entity crawled on top on Dora and began to caress her, running hands up and down the Healer’s body. Dora tried to scream but it came out as a moan, much to her disgrace. She shivered in revulsion as the god-like demon toyed with her.
“Just relax, and I shall drink deep of your soul. It will be pleasant,” The Vermillion Queen smirked. “And then I shall walk among the mortals and drench this world in my colors before those mewling Void lovers get the chance to do so.”
She grabbed Dora’s head and forced her to look into her tentacle-like ‘eyes.’ Dora finally managed to scream, but it was drowned out as she felt herself plunge down into misty darkness.
Chapter 15: At the beginning
It should have been just another day in Far Reach. Help out in the clinic, then spend some time at the blacksmiths practicing her aim. A boring day. A good day. A day to prepare for her birthday which was tomorrow.
That was not what fate had in mind.
Sometime around noon the pounding of hooves could be heard coming towards the town. On the road that headed deeper into Partaevian territory in the north a group of riders appeared, dressed far more finely than usual travelers.
It looked like the party of a young noble and his assorted hangers-on. The lead rider definitely had the aloof and pompous expression aristocrats were said to have.
Not that Dora had ever seen an actual noble. They never ventured this far out into the hinterlands. There was nothing out here but fields and the occasional monster. Any lords that did have fiefs in Partaevia’s breadbasket region preferred to hire others to oversee their territory and spent their time in Ria Royle, the capital of the empire.
From the window in the Healer’s hut Dora watched curiously as the men dismounted and noisily walked around. She felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder and the young woman looked over at her blonde-haired parent and mentor.
“You should stay inside tonight,” Irene said, staring at the newcomers with an expression of concern.
“Here?” Dora asked unenthusiastically as she glanced around the clinic. It was clean, but she’d prefer to stay in her own room rather than the town’s dedicated house of medical care.
“I don’t want you getting hurt,” Irene pleaded. Dora sighed but conceded. The townsfolk of Far Reach were tolerant of her nowadays. It had taken fifteen years, but now they rarely bothered her with taunts or insults. Not since she began training with the crossbow on her tenth birthday.
That was not to say outsiders would be tolerant. Merchants didn’t really care, and the regions tax collector was bribed by her mother not to report her daughter’s ‘condition.’
But these men? They were clearly drunk on their own supposed power and superiority, and combined with actual drunkenness from the bar they were now entering, they might try and attack a ‘filthy monster’ if they saw one.
Dora sighed and nodded her head in agreement with her mother’s wish. “Alright. I’ll stay here. Hopefully I can sneak back home later in the evening. I have no interest in spending my birthday in here.”
Irene bobbed her head gratefully before heading off to do some chores outside, likely to prepare for tomorrow. As Dora turned away from the window, she briefly caught a glimpse of Doctor Argus slinking into the bar after the noble and his companions. She snorted. Off to try and mooch a few drinks, no doubt.
She busied herself with sorting vials of medicine and checking that they were still potent and put the visitors out of her mind. A glance at the sun’s position brought out a sigh. Far too long till midnight.
.
“Ugh, so bored,” Dora groaned. She rested her head on the table, surrounded by alchemical and medicinal paraphernalia. She’d finished brewing and storing away the potions, salves, and tinctures that had needed replacing. Then she had swept the floor, dusted the furniture, and sorted the records and ingredients.
It was close to dinner time now, and her belly was rumbling. Her mother had dropped off lunch a while back and she silently hoped she’d be back with something for the evening meal.
Dora glanced out the window, watching as dusk fell across the town. It made everything look like it was dyed in blood and liquid fire. A bitter part of her smiled at the thought of Far Reach and its inhabitants subjected to devastation. The Healer side of her admonished her for thinking such a thing. Even if most of the people deserved something like that.
Her ears perked up as they caught a loud noise from outside in the town square near the bar’s stables. A commotion seemed to be going on, and the half-orc shifted slightly where she sat to
try and get a better view of what was going on, her curiosity piqued.
She’d found that while her sense of smell was superior to a human’s, her hearing was worse. Not by much, and she’d discovered from her readings and lessons that orcs were loud and boisterous partly because they had weaker ears. The rest was just cultural differences where orcs regarded being loud as being strong, both mentally and physically.
If something was happening out there that even she could hear from the clinic, it must have been something big.
Motion caught her eye, and she leaned towards the window to catch a glimpse of it. Her veins filled with fiery rage even as cold fear slithered down her back. One of the men, the noble who’d rode in earlier, was grabbing onto her mother’s arm, and laughing all the while as she tried to fight off his grasp.
She bolted upright, her chair crashing to the floor. She pressed her face against the panes of the window, trying to see and hear what exactly was happening.
Dora could faintly hear the noble speaking.
“Come on! It’ll be fun!”
“Unhand me!” her mother retorted, trying to pull her arm away. The drunken aristocrat refused to let go.
“Why so hesitant? I can make this worth your while!”
“I have better things to do than be accosted by drunks!” Irene snarled, finally managing to free herself. The noble frowned.
“That’s not very nice. We just wanted to have some fun.”
“Your idea of ‘fun’ is far from what I would consider enjoyable,” the blonde Healer spat, turning on her heels as she did so.
She barely made it two steps before he reached out and grabbed her hair.
That was the last straw for Dora and she bolted for the door, bursting out of the clinic in a fury.
“Let go of her!” Dora shouted, colliding with the noble, shoulder-slamming him into the wall of the tavern. He released her mother, though his fist still clenched a few blonde strands of hair.
“Are you alright, mom?” Dora asked worriedly, checking her for injuries. As she did, the half-orc noticed a wicker picnic basket that had fallen to the ground during the scuffle. A few jam buns spilled out of it onto the dusty road and Dora felt her throat constrict.
