Tag Archives: Shackles of Hate

Shackles of Hate. Chapter 23: The Board is Set

The image to Thorlgruz went dark, and Aeltha stared at the swirling mists in her orb for a moment. She didn’t move, just stared with rage tearing through her mind. First the failure with the Gan’ra worm, right in front of Yuldasha no less. Now, this. Her fingers tapped along the top of thigh high boots as she stared, struggling to rein in her thoughts. To collect her emotions.

Likely she was the only one who knew of Thorlgruz’s fall at the moment. She would have to be the one to report it to Yuldasha. That their biggest grip on Del Helshan was gone. It meant Volgras was cut off from support, though Aeltha had to admit that Lillium seemed to be thriving with little official support. Niseht had been relaying plenty of information of bolstered troops in the castle. Where was the self titled Baroness getting all of her helots?

Forcing out a breath, Aeltha stood, looking over towards the pair of Elven slaves Velkra had delivered the day before. Strapped to tables standing on end, forced to face one another. Thick tubes ran from needles jammed into their shoulders, into large glass cylinders filled with Kazdruk blood. Or, had been, but it was mixed with their own now, cycling through their veins with the help of a device similar to a blacksmith’s bellows. The Elven whores pumped them now, their faces ones of fatigue having kept up the steady motions for hours now.

They wouldn’t dare speak out though. Especially not now. Aeltha could at least count on the twisted loyalties of the broken minded.

Turning to her workbench she grabbed a deep green crystal and held it up to her eyes. Inspecting it, ensure there were no flaws in its construction. It was so very similar to that which fuelled their dimension ripping engines that had allowed them to transport to this world years ago. But Yuldasha wanted to travel across this world. Difficult, different calculations, different levels of power. But, she believed she had it now.

A spark of nervousness twisted her gut. She hadn’t been ready to show it off yet. But between the Gan’ra and Thorlgruz, she needed something to succeed, less she see her own favour in the Spire falter. Even the High Sorceress could find herself expendable in the Kazdruk court. Likely because Yuldasha knew she herself was expendable in the Matriarch’s eyes.

“Disconect the needles, let their bodies recover for the next stage. I need you two to go fetch Lillium, wherever she’s been lurking. Bring her to the portal chamber, and once she’s there, go find Velkra and her Talon. Tell them all, they’ll be leaving for Del Helshan,” Aeltha commanded of the two.

They nodded at once, and quickly stopped pressing on the bellows. Carefully removing the needles from the two subjects. While one bandaged the shoulders of the only partially conscious women, the other wiped the thick needles clean and sheathed them in flexible leather cases. Then scurried away, like frightened rodents.

They sensed their mistress’s still seething anger.

Walking through the halls of the spire, making her way to Yuldasha, the High Sorceress was a twisted mix of nervousness and rage. How quickly things could crumble in Kazdruk society. If only she had been in Thorlgruz.

She waved the thoughts away with a physical flick of the hand. Thinking on what if’s would get her nowhere. A problem had been laid before her, and like any other she now had to handle it. Get the facts, find the solution. Her mind began to spin and weave. Dancing subject to subject as she calmed herself.

If she could create a conduit across the fabric of the world and not through it, then the invasion of Dal Markaan could start. Fresh troops and supplies could get to Del Helshan. Volgras could be reinforced.

Aeltha paused in the hallway. Her brows furrowing into a frown. Volgras was already getting reinforced. Lillium was managing it somehow. And now she had Yuldasha believing her a submissive pawn. Had the Talons believing her weak and her reputation undeserved thanks to her seemingly one sided fight with Luzella. Aeltha needed more facts, it seemed Niseht would be departing again soon.

What did Velkra think of the succubus though? That one seemed more brains than brawn at times. She too played well at being submissive, but her ambitions were just as grand. She played the game well. Did she want to become a knightess? Or perhaps a High Marshall? Velkra could be trusted to serve her own ends, and Aeltha had some idea to what those ends were.

Lillium though.

Lillium was a problem. Aeltha didn’t know what her ends were. Or where her loyalties lay.

“Bah,” she let out the sound and entered the small room that would teleport her along the spire. The basis of her current experiments, if only the sorcerer who designed it had left notes, books even. But it remained mostly a mystery anymore.

As she stepped forward, ready to be propelled before Yuldasha, her minds slipped back to Thorlgruz. To the lithe warrior in the strange armour she’d seen in the Orb. Let her mind pick at the details. Broader shoulders than any elf she’d seen, but those pointed ears. A half-breed then. Rare, but not unheard of.

Worse though, those pious and prudish bastards would likely be using her perverted cathedral to pray. To kneel and worship that foolish God of theirs, Oan. It was an insult to add to the injury.


A deep moan filled the tent as Layli’s fingers dug into the rug beneath her. One hand held her hip as the man behind her drove his cock into her slick cunt. He savoured the motions under his palm. Watching the tight muscles of her back moving as she drove her hips back, to meet those thrusts. The other hand dragged nails along her shoulder blade. Their flesh meeting in wet slaps.

“If you fight like you fuck, the Gods must have won the battle for us,” Layli teased despite the moans that spilled from her lips.

A deep laugh from behind her, as nails dragged along her flesh, leaving dark red trails. It fell away, only to return in a harsh slap to her ass. Earning another hungry moan from Layli, who dug her fingers harder into the rug, pushing it into the dirt beneath. The fine fibres brushing her palms.

Another firm spank to her ass, before that hand slid along her belly. Higher it rose, pulling the shawrapaht upwards as well. Soon her fellow warrior fondled her breast with her back to his chest. She could feel his nipples, even as his fingers closed in to pinch her own.

Pulling free from inside her, her dragged his cock in the cleft of her rear. Turning her head she grinned at him, raking nails down his sides until she grasped her cheeks. Spreading them open as he fondled her, he pushed himself inside her tight ass.

There was a slight flare of pain as her flesh adjusted to his own. Lubed by her own arousal the warrior sank his entire length into her rear. As his hips began to pick up speed again, his hand climbed her chest. Fingers settled around her throat, forearm pressing tightly to her breast.

Letting her eyes close, focusing on the sensations across her flesh. The warrior behind her, still smelling of horse and battle, let his hips slap against her ass. Balls striking her thighs as he thrust into her rear. She moaned hungrily, reaching up and grasping one of his hands. Her nails dug into his skin, and she dragged his hand across her sweat slick skin. Downwards, across the hard ridges of her belly to the wetness of her cunt.

Callused fingers pinched her clit, and her hips drove forward. An instinctive reaction, to get more of that intense sensation. Mouth hanging open, Layli let her moans of pleasure fill the tent as her lover grunted in her ear. Savouring that sharp sensation of cock spreading her open. Their bodies moved together, skin rubbing against skin. Her fingers dragging through his thick locks, nails sharp against his scalp.

The smell of sex, of sweat filled their noses but went ignored as they focused on the pleasure the other offered.

Layli came first. Her hungry moan cut short as the warrior’s fingers tightened around her throat. Breath pulled from her as her mind burned with the pleasure. Her juices streaming down her thighs, over his eager fingers. Guiding her into the heights of climax.

Not until she’d descended, panting and glistening with sweat, did he cum. His thrusts pausing, cock shooting ropes of his hot seed into her. He clutched her tight, finally stilling them as he emptied himself into her. She let out a soft moan as she felt it all. Another as he slowly pulled his softening length from inside. The sticky head dragging along the insides of her cheeks and striking the back of her thigh.

He slowly stood, going to the bucket of water near one of the four central poles of his tent. Layli groaned, rolling onto her back. She could feel the man’s cum slowly oozing from her ass, and knew he’d have to clean later. Propping herself on an elbow, she watched the warrior dipping a cup into the bucket and drink. Rivulets of spilled water running quickly over his sweat slick form. Unable to help herself, Layli bit her lip gently.

As he brought his cup down, the warrior noted the look, and his cock stirred. Rising slightly as he raked his gaze over her form.

“I need to save some stamina for my wife,” he said with a smirk, but dipped the cup again and brought it over to Layli. Keeping herself on one elbow she took the offered drink.

“She can always find another to please her. Is that not where she is now?” Layli teased, and the man laughed.

“No. She was unblooded. Besides, she’s been wanting to try for a child,” he said even as his cock continued to slowly rise. At his words though Layli nodded, rising to her feet. The man held up a wet cloth, and Layli nodded, turning her back to him.

“A child conceived in the blood of victory will be a blessed warrior,” Layli said, biting her lip again as she felt the cool wet cloth running over her skin. Cleaning out the spilled seed.

“So we hope. And the lust of a shawrapaht can only help,” he said, gesturing to his firm manhood. Layli had heard of such beliefs before as well. While not the most common, she certainly didn’t complain.

“Well, thank you for the fuck,” she said, laying a hand on his cheek, before finding her bright orange sarong. The man only nodded a farewell as she left the tent, still tying the sheer garment just above her hips as she stepped out into the Scytar camp. She made sure to hit the kefir bag hanging near the front flaps as she left.

They had moved the camp to the edges of Thorlgruz’s strange town. Fabric and tent poles making way to rickety logs and rusted sheets of metal. Whatever could be cobbled together into a shelter. All of it beneath the looming shadow of the namesake cathedral. Layli looked up at the stone monstrosity, wondering how anyone could let themselves be tied to one location so firmly to build such a thing.

Starting to walk through the camp, Layli weaved her way between quickly erected tents. The blooded warriors were celebrating their victory. There were pockets of dancers amidst the camp in various states of dress while others hammered beats of victory to the Gods on their war drums. The notes of the limbe flute flowed between the heavy thumps. Canteens of arkhi made their way around the warriors. Hoots and hollers to the sky told the Gods to be proud of what their people have accomplished today.

Layli could hear the sounds of sex emerging from some of the tents she wandered past. Low grunts and hungry moans as the victors celebrated that they still lived by partaking in the pleasures of the flesh. She passed others who had not been able to contain themselves long enough to get into a tent.

A smirk curled the shawrapaht’s lips, having to step over a man thrusting into his lover on her way. She could still feel the aftermath of having a cock in her own ass but minutes earlier. A canteen was pressed into her hands at one point. She took a deep mouthful, feeling the burn of the alchohol mixed with the sour taste of the fermented mare’s milk.

Holding her hand out, the canteen was taken from her by a passing reveller.

Throughout the celebration, the unblooded tended to the needs to the war host. Those who did not shed the blood of the enemy stood sentry at the edges of the camp. Went into the town to help the recently released slaves. Feeding them, tending wounds and shackle sores.

None of the enemy had been left alive. Those who still lived after the battle had their heads removed and planted on spears around the camp. Their blood would nourish the spirits of the land. The Kazdruk had left them tortured and in pain. Their deaths would help to start the healing of the land.

Finally though she found herself in the centre of the camp. Two large tents faced each other across a large fire pit that was tended to by the shaman’s teniks. A blazing beacon that told the Gods where they were. More important so far from the steppes and deserts of home.

The tents belong to the shaman and the Serok. Both of hides and dull brown fabric, though inside would be a rich display of colour. Layli’s own personal tent was nestled just beside the shaman’s own. A familiar woman was seated outside, carving a horse from a block of wood. She wore only hide trousers with high riding boots. There were raven and eagle feather’s tied into her dark hair. Her arms, chest and back swirling with tattoos of runes and animals.

“Enwa. Behdin has no need of you?” the shawrapaht said, and the sagird looked up with a bright smile. Slowly she stood, holding up her mostly finished carving to show it off.

“He has a young warrior in there. First blooding. So, Behdin is giving him the honour of fucking him,” Enwa said, and Layli paused; listening. It didn’t take long for her to pick up the sounds of the aging man fucking the warrior. Her attention was pulled sharply back to the woman before her though when she felt a thumb at her lips. Parting them slightly as the shaman to be leaned in. Her nose running along Layli’s neck.

“Seems he’s not the only one fucking,” the words were whispered into Layli’s ear, before teeth trapped the lobe. “Are you sure you’re satisfied?”

“I will always give in to you,” Layli replied with a slight smile, before finding her lips claimed by the other woman’s. Felt hands sliding under her sarong and clutching at her rear. Their breasts crushed together they stumbled to Layli’s shelter, the flaps to the shawrapaht’s tent sliding over the sagird’s back and shoulders.

Passing through together, the flaps swung shut. The tent was plunged into darkness, but neither woman much cared.

Together they fell onto the bedroll of furs and silks. Legs already entwined and lips locked their hands began to slide over the skin of the other. In the dark they immediately found familiar curves, quickly went to the spots that would set the other off.

Moaning as she felt nails raking up her sides, Layli pushed her knee between Enwa’s legs. Forced her thigh up until she felt the hot wet press of her womanhood. Felt the slick arousal on her skin as she began to grind the limb up into her lover. Moans flowed muffled into their mouths as Enwa rolled them onto Layli’s back.

Leg cropping up, Enwa began to grind her hips down against it. Feeling the taut muscles of the other woman against her own flesh. Their breasts rubbing together as their tongues danced and Layli’s hand clamped down on Enwa’s ass. Fingers tightening, as the other glided across her lower back. Feeling the motions of her body even as they revisited each other in the dark.

Moments bled together as the camp outside celebrated. The tent began to smell of sweat and sex, but neither woman noticed much as Enwa’s fingers reached around a leg. Teasing along the curve of Layli’s rear before working between their bodies. Finding her lover’s clit, Enwa gently rubbed, her knuckles pressed into the small dip of her hips.

They rolled again, onto their sides, feeling the fur beneath them. Their grinding and writhing rubbing against the bed roll. Further teasing their senses as they breathed each other in. Felt the slick heat of the other growing ever wetter. Dampening the fur beneath them as they rolled again.

Layli came first, their kiss breaking as the shawrapaht had her open mouth against Enwa’s neck. Her moan was long, hot breath cascading over the sagird’s flesh. Her toes curling as she felt Enwa continuing to grind against her thigh. Fingers hooking like claws into her lover, scratching at Enwa’s skin as she drove herself into a matching orgasm.

As they lay there together, sweaty in each other’s arms, they let the music from outside reach their ears again. Layli could feel Enwa’s lips curling into a smile against her shoulder. A soft kiss touched the tattoo of a viper that ran up Layli’s arm, it’s hissing mouth opening at her wrist.

Turning her head, Layli cupped Enwa’s chin to pull her into a kiss. Far more than lust surging between them now that it had been slaked.


Still pondering the event she had just seen played out, Lillium followed Aeltha’s elven whores into a broad circular chamber in the heart of the spire. While a pair of bright violet torches tried to light the room, it never quite reached the edges. She raised an eyebrow as the two elves split off, moving along the curving outer walls. She spotted Kazdruk warriors in the shadows. They in turn watched her, so she made sure to put an extra sway in her hips as she walked. She was sure she heard a few snickers, a few whispers, and knew tales of her loss to Luzella had already spread.

Smiling internally she looked ahead, spotting not just Aeltha, but Yuldasha and another Kazdruk as well. Male and gray skinned. He looked important, but Lillium wasn’t sure who he was. Of the three though, he was the only one that seemed pleased.

Aeltha’s expression was one of contained fury, and Yuldasha seemed entirely unimpressed. Lillium wasn’t sure what was happening, but knew that it wasn’t her. Otherwise she would have been dragged somewhere less extravagant and decapitated.

Still, it was prudent to keep her own expression neutral as she came up to the three and fell to one knee.

“Of course, the subject of the experiment will be Lillium. She was to return to Volgras shortly anyway,” Aeltha explained to Yuldasha, who just nodded waving her hand for the experiment to continue. Aeltha nodded and moved to a standing podium with an open book upon it, and a pair of spheres jutting out.

Lillium meanwhile felt a growing concern. She’d heard of the last failed experiment, and wondered if she’d played too much of her hand. Was she expendable enough that Aeltha was willing to sacrifice her? Or had the sorceress merely gambled too much and was reaching desperation?

It didn’t matter. The succubus felt something she felt rarely anymore: fear.

Eyes moving just beyond the trio of Kazdruk nobility, she spotted the engravings in the floor. A large circle slightly raised above the rest of the floor, with runes around its edge. A deep slit through its centre only tugged at Lillium’s curiosity. A glance upwards, and she saw a low hanging black of metal, more runes carved along its sides, and a gouge along its bottom lined up with the one below.

“So explain to me again Aeltha, how this has taken so long? Teleportation is something our Empire has long ago mastered,” the male Kazdruk spoke, unable to stop his lips from curling. Aeltha glared at him over her shoulder.

“Because, Vorgen, we have always breached the fabric of worlds before. This time we are intending to travel within a world itself. The magic and technology were melded together in a way that if we used it to travel within a world, it would still breach outwards. Those travelling would be flung into the void,” Aeltha said, and the male’s smug expression dropped a bit.

Lillium hid another smile. Vorgen was his name; she’d heard of him. The Kazdruk Knight in command of the invasion of Dal Markaan. Why was he here, if she was being sent back to Volgras?

“So I changed it. Less powerful, skirts the fabric of this world, and uses the natural currents of magic that transport whom so ever shall use it. This, naturally, has taken some time.”

Lillium pinched the bridge of her nose. It was a lot of jargon, about technology and magics she knew very little about. But knowing it was important she tried to internalize it. At least to soak in the important aspects. The utter arrogance on display though hurt her brain.

“Enough Aeltha. Finish the experiment. I do hope that this one at least, will be a success,” Yuldasha said, her tone impatient, her glare slowly turning to Vorgen. What little amusement and smugness remained on his features melted away under that glare. Looking away he took a step back.

Returning her full attention to the podium, Aeltha’s fingers curled around the spheres. Lillium rose to her feet finally, glancing upwards at the sound of metal against metal. Above the box she saw large toothed disks spinning. A frown creased her brows as she noted the first crackles of green energy curling around thick metal rods running down into the cube. There were a few grunts and angry shouts of surprise from Kazdruk warriors along the edges of the room as more streams of power ran down strips of metal bolted into the walls. Light flashing around the room, illuminating the soldiers.

There were more in here than Lillium has suspected. A full talon’s worth. At least two hundred. All of them armed and armoured for war. They were the second test today; that’s why they were here. The front was getting their reinforcements. If she survived. If the second test was also a success.

While her expression remained passive, inside Lillium was snarling. This could be disastrous for her plans. Unless… she got to Kira. If her little insurgency could push harder, strike deeper, the front might not reach Volgras for some time. If she did not ask for help, there would be little reason to cut her isolation.

Her sister would have to kneel. Sooner than she had planned, but it was no matter.

A loud clap of thunder echoed in the chamber dashing Lillium’s thoughts. Thick bolts of energy shot between the grooves in the floor and the suspended block. Between them, small motes of magic began to spark as the space filled in with an unnaturally bright green. Squinting, Lillium glanced to Aeltha, the sorceress now just a silhouette.

“Come my pet. Approach and enter the portal,” Aeltha said, her tone almost pleasant and friendly. But Lillium heard the command there. Now was not the time to show her hand, so she moved forward. Her hand raised to try and cover her eyes, but there was no blocking the near blinding light.

Arm dropping back to her side, she stepped into the portal without hesitation. Felt the energies pulling at her flesh. Yanking at her. The chamber vanished, and there was only that green light. Her body felt stretched, then almost liquid, and numb. It was like swimming, not flying, hurtling through some powerful current in the great seas.

Then, heartbeats after it had begun, she was spilling out with a thunderclap. Kneeling on the road leading to the front gates of her castle. Behind her the portal closed, and she slowly rose to her feet, green smoke rising from her clothes and skin. She felt no heat though, even as sensation returned to her. Spreading out from her torso to her limbs.

Rising slowly, deliberately to her feet, the succubus mentally checked herself over. No illness, no dizziness, and her insides were still contained by her skin. Curling her lips she raised her eyes to the gathered Helots that had run over in shock when the portal opened. They snapped to attention now, seeing who was amongst them.

“Gather Aela and Lorth, and my newest little whore to the throne room. Now,” she said, immediately starting to walk towards her gates. Of her castle. It felt good to be home again. No more false submission, no more bending of the knee. It was time to spread her wings once more.

“There is much to talk about,” she said, more quietly to herself.


Laying back on a love seat, in perhaps the most expensive room the Rose and Jasmine had to offer, Captain Sienna Blackwood smiled with her eyes closed. Clad in fine dark green and gold silks she sipped at a cheap silver goblet of surprisingly decent though cheap wine. A skirt whose front ended just below her knees and the back tapered down nearly to her ankle, and a tunic that showed a hint of midriff, and wrapped around to be pinned together below each breast covered her.

Talented fingers ran along her bare arms, as the two girls serviced her. For a good amount of coin of course. She felt their tongues along her slender neck, and down into the shadows of her cleavage. They were gentle and soft, and had been for the past fifteen minutes. They even seemed to genuinely enjoy pampering the Elven captain that was paying them. Either Sienna had falsely led them to believe she was a good person, or they were very good actors.

There was no true belief in her mind that she was a good person. She had slaughtered the people in this town when it was commanded and enjoyed shedding their blood. In her mind she knew it was a foolish command, but she still had relished the killing. She had a penchant for turning the savagery into her own sort of poetry. She had both loved and hated Princess Telva for that command, but dived ahead anyway. Unable to deny her sanguine delights.

Of course, should the war ever end, there would be no place for her in civilized society. They would keep her away, until the next catastrophe of course. Then, the monster would become the hero once again. She laughed at the thought.

Another sip of the wine, feeling its almost sour flavour across her tongue and down her throat, she considered the rumours of their goddess. This… Morkate. With the diety of blood and pleasure on her mind, Sienna pondered that perhaps these two were merely kindred spirits with the misfortune of being born human.

A tongue glided along her ear, and Sienna moaned softly. “Tell me of your Goddess,” she purred, wondering if they would. Or if they would pretend they were boring Oan worshippers.

The two glanced at each other. Still close enough to let their warm breath cascade over Sienna’s skin. Likely, they were wondering whether to trust the captain or not. The one on the captain’s left reached forward. Moira was her name, her bared breasts pressing firmly into the elf’s arm. Erect nipples grinding against smooth skin. Her fingertips slowly withdrew a single gold pin from the supple leather that held it in place. Slowly, letting nails drag, she pulled back the blouse from Sienna’s left breast. Exposing the flesh and leaning forward until her lips had found the elf’s own nipple.

“Which part intrigues you captain? The blood… or the pleasure?” the second whore, Camryn, purred, and Sienna had to admit she actually quite enjoyed the woman’s voice. Enjoyed the way both called her captain. Full of respect, even if it was acted respect.

It seemed they trusted her though. How much of her did they know? If they knew everything, then Sienna had to admit she was impressed.

“Both,” she said, and felt a sudden sharp press of teeth around her left nipple. A bolt of pain that lanced through her breast. Teeth scraping upwards, along her nipple, Sienna hissed. Then she moaned as Moira’s tongue slowly, sensually ran over the bitten nipple.

Camryn was smiling as she withdrew the second pin. Slowly peeled back the other half of Sienna’s blouse. Her lips and tongue trailed over flat abs, before letting her fingers take over that she might speak.

“She is a sanguine goddess. Violence and lust are not so far apart. They can twist and mingle. In some, violence breeds lust,” Camryn smiled as her nail trailed along the soft under curve of Sienna’s breast as Moira kissed down her sides.

Then Moira’s sweet voice replaced Camryn’s smokey tones. “And she rewards us for it. To partake in what our flesh demands of us. She rewards us to be… what we are. She sees no race, only blood and flesh.”

Smokey replaced sweet again. Moira’s teasing tongue playing along the hem of the skirt. Dipping beneath it, fingers trailing along Sienna’s calf. Rising beneath the silks.

“We all partake. Under Oan we had to hide it, but still partook. Under Eletha, love was to be sweet and not carnal, but still it was. Under Morkate… we are, what we are. We show her our truth, and are proud of it,” Camryn said, slowly starting to push down the skirts. Letting her fingers glide along Sienna’s hips as the elf sipped her wine and savoured the soft touches.

Never one for religion, even of her people, Sienna found herself… curious of the higher powers for once. It almost seemed tailor made for her. But, she would need to investigate more before she called out any Goddesses name.

“As for prayer and worship… this is our prayer,” Moira this time, pulling the skirts down along Sienna’s thighs past her knees. Camryn stood, smiling, walking to the cabinets out of Sienna’s vision.

Smiling, Sienna closed her eyes, feeling her clothes fully removed. Lips trailed upwards. Her thighs were parted.

Opening her eyes and taking another sip of wine, she glanced to the side as she watched Camryn approaching with a knife of silver. It’s hilt overly fine, and engraved. A ruby sat in its cross guard and pommel. Sienna watched, curious, smirking. Camryn was no threat.

The whore straddled her then, running the blade between her breasts. Sienna didn’t touch her, just enjoyed the sight of her body above her. Enjoyed the heat and wetness on her stomach from between the whore’s legs.

A hungry moan burst from her lips as Moira’s mouth found her own wet cunt. Lips caressing her, teasing at her folds as nails raked along thighs. Over hips. All before her tongue plunged home. Sienna had to set her cup aside on the nearby night table. Her own hands draping almost casually over the armrests that penned her torso in.

All the while, watching Camryn’s knife trailing. Moving. Teasing along her own breasts. She winced and moaned at once, feeling the sharp edge cut into skin on the under curve of each fleshy swell. Scarlet ran along the blade’s edge, small little droplets forming. Threatening to fall, and then the knife was away.

“Let us show you captain, how we pleasure heroes of our Goddess,” Camryn purred into that sensual smokey tone of hers. Blood dribbling over Sienna’s tits as the whore above presented her own to Sienna’s mouth.

The elf grinned, and led with her tongue before lips tasted the iron tang.

These whores were certainly convincing.


Lillium leaned on the table before her. The claws of her gauntlets digging into the wood as she studied the map before her. Small pieces of coloured wood showing the progress of the war. So far as they could all tell anyway. The Kazdruk red markers still hadn’t breached the defences indicated by blue blocks along the beaches, leaving Volgras an isolated red block on the map. More, they had lost Thorlgruz.

That’s what Aeltha had been mad about. The succubus couldn’t contain a smile as she looked up at her war council.

Lorth and his two lieutenants Bazk and Kaln stood on the right side of the table. On the left was Aela, Mia and, Yannifer. They all ignored the movement beneath Lillium’s loincloth as the newly tattooed Vivienne used her tongue and lips to pleasure her mistress. Moaning softly, not letting her words drown out the council itself. Even as juices flowed over her lips and down her chin.

“Thorlgruz wasn’t conquered by the Coalition,” Lorth said, and looked over to Bazk. The helot officer nodding, gesturing to the block of wood set on Thorlgruz. It’s marker coloured green. Lillium frowned, though her lips were parted with a silent moan as she felt Vivienne’s finger slipping into her rear. Her tongue pushing deeper between slick petals.

“We don’t know who they are. I had scouts ranging down that way… strangers. Darker skinned, like horses according to them. They didn’t risk getting too close,” Bazk explained.

Not daring to straighten herself, not sure if she could trust her knees as Vivenne’s skilled tongue brought her to quiet orgasm, Lillium kept an image of calm and sensuality as she pondered this new information.

“We need better scouts. We need to find what new threat we are facing. Bazk, continue to train them… see if we can capture any of my sister’s insurgents. I’m sure we can, convince them to aid us,” Lillium said, giving the helot a twisted smirk that earned a grin in return.

“We are not in immediate threat at the moment mistress. It seems the elves are too concerned with internal strife to advance just yet. And most of the human clans are busy holding the beaches,” Kaln said gesturing to Driftafay on the map, and the beaches.

“Innisgar though, is proving to be useful. Since you’ve left we’ve been staffing the walls with humans, and inside it is nothing more than a military camp for helots and human converts. They’ve yet to suffer any raids or attacks,” Lorth said, then glanced over to Aela. The priestess was smiling.

“There’s… a prisoner Lorth has been waiting patiently for you to talk to. He thinks she’d make a great addition to our army. And I am inclined to agree with him,” she said, licking her lips slowly. Glancing between the two, her hips moving slowly, grinding against her whore’s mouth, the succubus waited. Was starting to grow impatient when Aela finally answered.

“Sarya. The Goldulin who stabbed you.”

Now Lillium grinned, remembering the exquisite pain of the steel sliding into her flesh. But more, wanting revenge for so very nearly being slain. Yannifer smiled as she caught her mistress’s expression, knowing soon she’d get to ply her art.

“I have discovered how to make her a succubus… a vampiric succubus,” Aela then said, and Lillium raised an eyebrow.

“Another harbinger?” Lillium asked, and Aela laughed, her hand settling on her bared and tattooed breasts.

“No, oh fuck no. You are the only harbinger. But the powers you wield… if we could get another into the battlefield, we’d be more prepared for when the war finally comes to our doorstep,” the priestess said.

“And she knows methods of warfare forgotten since the Goldulin Empire fell. Methods our helots could use. She’d make a good commander,” Lorth added on, and Lillium nodded slowly.

“A Morkatean centurion. It has been years since the world has seen one,” Lillium purred, shoving Vivienne’s head harder against her cunt.

“I’m not so sure mistress. I’ve been speaking with her… she’s… a secret worshiper. Part of her cult before the empire fell. She even slept with the Empress Nera, who it seems, was a vampire,” Aela said.

“She is. Held by the Kazdruk, her blood used to give rise to me. I think we may then have a way to convince this Centurion to join us,” Lillium said, pushing aside her loincloth to let her claws dig into Vivienne’s scalp. The whore didn’t care that she was in full view; her only cares were to pleasure her mistress.

“There are two last things Harbinger. Before we adjourn,” Aela said, and at this Mia grinned before sensually biting her lower lip.

“First. Your sister arrived. On her own, attempted to free your newest whore,” Aela said, gesturing to the cunt hungry Vivienne on display and on her knees. Face smeared with her mistress’s lust, done up with cosmetics and wearing nothing but a collar, and swirling silver bracers and greaves. Marking her as Lillium’s own. To touch only if granted.

“Kira not only failed to persuade your whore. But, she seems to be suffering from an intense lust. For you. Or so it seemed. It’ll only be a matter of time before she as well kneels, and her insurgency crumbles with her subservience.”

Lillium nodded at the information, as she quietly came again on Vivienne’s tongue and fingers. Only the slightest of gasps sounding forth from the pleasure.

“Good news indeed Priestess. But what was the last piece?”

“A message from Driftafay. One of our cultists reports that an Elven noblewoman, named Lelthina wishes to meet. This Elf also claims that she will bring us Telva Winterstone.”


Rising from her feet, Velkra looked at the beach around her. Green mystical mist was drifting upwards from her body, and those of the purebred Cinkall warriors of her Talon. Helots dug in behind crude barricades with the sea at their back stared in wonder as the Kazdruk. The humans behind short walls and thick round towers balked at the sudden arrival.

So. Aeltha’s experiment had worked. Tilting her head to the side until she felt a crack, Velkra raised her war scythe. This was not a good situation to be in. Caught between two fighting forces, one which had refused steadfastly to give any damn ground.

“Charge. Regain our honour,” Velkra shouted and started to run. She didn’t like this at all. No preparation. No tactics. Just the pure carnage of blood letting. She would lose too many of her troops. Damn Aeltha, and damn the Kazdruk short sightedness. She was going to suffer for their arrogance, and their refusal to learn from this quagmire of a war.

The other warriors let out their war cries, and the defending humans scrambled for bows and crossbows. She could hear panicked orders from their lines, and desperate ones from behind as Kazdruk commanders rallied their helots to join the coming fight. They would not want these interlopers to take all their glory after they’ve spent so long trying to get up the beach.

Arrows and bolts were starting to fly as the humans recovered from their shock. Kazdruk warriors snarled as the steel points shafts drove into their flesh. They began to fall, collapsing into the sand as the others rushed ahead. They let anger over take them, a pure battle rage that had them spitting and snarling as they rushed the walls. More and more of them falling. The sands turning to mud from shed blood.

Velkra pushed herself, felt an arrow score a deep gouge on one arm, the blood flowing over her biceps as she finally reached the short wall. She jumped and grasped the ledge, and swept her scythe in a wide arc just above the crenulations.

A soldier’s head was torn from his shoulders, and the sharp points of bristling spears were snapped from their hafts. A sharp pull, with a slight strain in her injured arm, and Velkra vaulted onto the wall. The humans stared for a moment, fear and hesitation in their eyes. Clad in leather armour and small patches of metal. It was enough of an opening.

A quick swipe of her scythe and she disemboweled one woman, before she twisted her arc to punch the sharp point of her scythe into a man’s belly. Velkra lifted, shouting, making a display to spread fear. The blade of her weapon sliced under the man’s ribs, as the steel haft of her weapon caught on that cage of bone. Giving Velkra the leverage to lift him upwards, his life spilling down the shaft of her weapon.

“Holy fuck,” someone shouted, stumbling backwards as a thickly muscled Kazdruk landed behind him on the wall. Not even using his axe the warrior grasped the man’s head and twisted hard enough to snap the neck before tossing the limp body aside.

“Oan is with us! Kill the demons,” a well armoured human shouted, running forward from the woodline. Likely from their camp. He was accompanied by better armed and armoured soldiers.

Velkra grinned; her talon had the foothold.

Kicking over the screaming woman that was desperately trying and failing to hold her torn guts in place, she used her scythe to toss her dangling captive. Already dead, he didn’t scream as his corpse flew through the air. A trail of blood and gore following him as he crashed into the advancing human reinforcements.

Despite raised shields, the corpse brought three of them to the ground. They struggled with their comrade to get back into formation, but a Kazdruk with a two handed sword leapt upon them, pinning them down as she swung her sword in wide circles.

The captain’s shield was torn from his arm and he screamed in pain. The limb likely broken. Another soldier’s helmet collapsed in on her head from the sword’s impact. Blood and chunks of brain gushed out from the visor as her body crumpled.

The trapped soldiers though had daggers out. Stabbing and slashing desperately, they tore open the Kazdruk woman’s calves and ankles. Unable to stand she fell forward onto waiting spear points. They pierced into her neck and chest and burst out her back in a spray of scarlet.

Staying out of this newest melee, Velkra stood on the wall, grasping her soldiers as they vaulted over, pointing them towards points in the line she felt they would be most effective. She could not let the human recover. This… wall of shields tactic they were using was annoyingly effective.

Though, it seemed these Coalition soldiers were not as efficient with it as the old Goldulin legionnaires.

A warrior picked up a dead human at Velkra’s instruction, and rushed ahead. Thrown spears pierced the woman’s corpse and one managed to jam into the charging brute’s arm. But with a snarl he refused to relinquish his grip. Smashing into the human lines, he battered four aside, forcing the front few to turn and stab and slash at the rampaging warrior’s back.

Flesh sliced to ribbons he fell to his death, but others rammed into the distracted humans with flailing weapons. Maces and axes smashed into armoured foes, and the smell of blood and shit filled Velkra’s nostrils. Her heart pounded with the undeniable excitement of war as she began to make her way forward. Stepping over her own dead troops and fallen pieces of humans.

“What are our orders?” A human yelled above the carnage. A severed arm flying above the melee.

“I don’t fucking know! The Captain’s dead,” another of them on the verge of breaking as a Kazdruk fell back with her head rolling back along the dirt. The assailant was promptly cut in half, his legs standing a few seconds longer as the dying soldier whimpered with blood frothed lips and desperately tried to crawl away, dragging intestines behind him.

“Fuck this. I’ll meet Oan another day,” someone else shouted, and Velkra smirked as she saw the first of the soldiers in the rear turning to run. One, then two, then six. A trickle turning into a flood as the Helots managed to scramble over the wall behind Velkra’s talon.

“Halt. Let the helots mop up the mess,” Velkra called to her talon as she watched the routing humans flee into the woods. Where there was likely to be backup traps and defensive lines. There was no way a wall that had held for so long would be so easily taken.

Her talon paused, pulling themselves from the blood rage with some effort but managing it. The helots stormed past them, eager to tear into the scraps of the battle, their purebred commanders sneering at Velkra’s Talon as they passed by.

Velkra only smirked, especially when she heard the human war calls deeper in the woods.

“We turn their position against them. Start collecting the dead… we’ll build a wall of their armour and flesh,” Velkra commanded as she knelt and examined a spear. She thought of the beach, of the arrows, bolts, and spears quivering from dead Kazdruk forces laying in the sand.

“And collect as many of their spears as you can,” she added, rising to her feet as the last of the helots vanished into the woods. The humans had appeared organized, and the defences she was standing upon seemed well built. The helots wouldn’t succeed.

“They’ll be back for us to kill more of them,” she told what remained of her talon as they began to pile the dead before them. Of her two hundred originally, she only had one hundred and twelve still living. And some of them were wounded badly. Aeltha better be good on her word for reinforcements.

The screams of the dying reached her from within the woods. The humans would counter attack soon.

She would.


The only sound in the chamber for a few moments was the last crackles of magic running along the walls. The three Kazdruk stood staring at the emptiness around them, where once there had been a talon of warriors.

Slowly Aeltha pulled her hands away from the spheres, green smoke rising from her palms and the metal. Letting out a slow breath, the sorceress turned to face Yuldasha, who was staring at Aeltha with impatience. The tip of her hoof tapping against the floor.

“I cannot say for certain but I believe the process was successful,” Aeltha said.

“You can’t say for certain?” Vorgen said, eyesbrows high on his face, but he stilled when Yuldasha raised her hand. It cut off Aeltha’s retort as well.

“When will you know?”

“As soon as Velkra gets a message to me. Lillium was fast because I sent her to Volgras. Velkra might well be fighting at the moment,” Aeltha said, and Yuldasha nodded.

“Tell me as soon as you know. The invasion of the west is behind schedule enough as is,” she said, turning her glare towards Vorgen. “Your talons best be ready. I’m sure they are chomping at the bit after keeping them here for so long.”

The knight nodded, and he watched Yuldasha departing the chamber before slowly releasing a breath.

“How many can I send with this?” he asked then.

“As many as you can fit in this chamber. There is only a few moments delay between operations. It will not need to rest and cool,” Aeltha said, crossing her arms under her breasts. Vorgen nodded slowly before he too departed leaving Aeltha seemingly alone.

The shadows moved around her, until Niseth stood just two steps behind her. On one knee, her metal wings curled about her. Not bothering to look at the first succubus, Aeltha pondered her options.

“To Volgras mistress?” Niseth prompted, and Aeltha pursed her lips. It was a reasonable guess. Lillium was on her own again, and Aeltha was not convinced of the succubus’s loyalties. Lillium though was a threat for the future. There was someone else who had to pay.

“No. To Thorlgruz,” she said and Niseth nodded. No complaint, no words, just rose and began to vanish.

“There’s a woman I want you to capture for me.”

Shackles of Hate. Chapter 22: Waning Perches

The peaked ceiling of the hall loomed well above the sixty soldiers standing in tight formation. Their shields raised, swords resting upon the top rims and pointed towards the large double doors that was the entrance. Occasionally the walls of the Great Hall of Ridgeblade shook, dust and small chunks of stone and marble falling to clatter on the floor. More than once a soldier had to raise their shield to protect themselves.

The clash of steel, and the screams of the dying were muffled by the thick walls and doors of the hall. The final legion of the Goldulan Empire was being slaughtered outside by the invading Kazdruk horde. The Empress Nera stood before the two thrones in this great hall, her personal Praetorian bodyguards standing on either side of her. Both women resplendent in their deep purple cloaks and black armour.

Nera let her eyes sweep along the room, over these last soldiers ready to die in a last stand, over the tiered seats for the senators and politicians that helped advice and govern the empire. None were left now, dead or enslaved, much like her husband. The Emperor Hedrion had been captured and executed a few days ago just outside the city. Beheaded, tied upside down to a tall pole with his head impaled atop it, and carried before the army. The empress had watched the invaders advancing with cold eyes.

There had been very little love in their marriage for many years now, just respect.

Now she stood in her shin length dress of purple silk with slits up to the thighs to keep movement easy. She was clad in her own golden armour, her long hair tied back into a tight braid, laurel wreath nestled above her ears.

Outside, the sounds of battle were turning to loud cries of victory from Kazdruk throats, drowning out the screams Nera knew her people were still letting out. It did not take long before a great crash sounded at the broad doors, the two thick beams holding them closed starting to bend.

“Soldiers of Goldulan. We are the last. Our Empire is fallen. Let us give these invaders something to remember,” Nera called from her position, watching as the next crash against the gates snapped the bottom beam.

The formed soldiers let out a single grunted cheer. They braced themselves for what was to come as Nera glanced to her bodyguards.

“Wash the floors with blood. Morkate watches us three today,” she said.

The two smiled wickedly, showing off their fangs. It was a shame that the days of hiding would come to such an end, Nera thought to herself as she drew her own blade.

When the doors came crashing open, a rush of helot foot soldiers and Kazdruk warriors came pouring in. Warcries on their lips as the smoke of the fires from the city billowed in with them. The legionnaires threw their pilums with deadly efficiency, and dozens of kazdruk fell, but they kept coming, storming over their own dead. Any survivors laid out were soon trampled to death. There was no sympathy, or true comradery. Only a need to slaughter.

The impact of invader upon defender filled the hall with its brutal cacophony. Steel and flesh were rent, and screams of pain and death soon filled the hall. Nera watched it unfold, knowing how it would end. There was only one way it could end.

Helot dead began to pile up before the Goldulan legionnaires, the marble floors getting slick with their spilled blood. But the Kazdruk pushed hard. There were too many pouring in, clambering up onto the senators’ seats. The flanks of the legionnaires had to turn to face these new threats, weakening the formed body.

 Nera scowled, watching the front shatter as two Kazdruk stormed into the legionnaires. One, a female, used a vicious war scythe, pulling shields from hands and slashing into the exposed soldier waiting behind. Spilled guts splattered upon the floor, crushed beneath her hooves as the Goldulans struggled to keep up with her rampage. The Kazdruk used her scythe and dark metal bracers to deflect many of the blows and slashes aimed to her, though Nera noted a few gouges sliced through her flesh.

The other, a hulking brute male with a two handed axe, was pure rage and aggression. His tusked face twisted by hatred as the weapon crashed into the legionnaires. Splitting skulls and breaking shield arms with his wide swipes.

Though others were killing, and pushing towards the inevitable defeat, the legionnaires were able to slay most. Stabbing and slashed through the invaders as they were slowly pushed back. Their numbers dwindling as the endless horde outside continued to push inwards.

Some helots had gotten around, and were charging towards the three before the thrones. Nera watched as her bodyguards dispatched them with ruthless efficiency. One of them hit the ground at Nera’s feet, his head rolling towards the main battle. It was getting difficult to see the floor, hidden beneath corpses and blood.

The first Goldulan to run was from the rear, but even his armour was spattered with gore. Nera caught his eye as he fled towards the rear of the hall, and the doors that would lead through the Palace. It was possible he would find a way to escape, and Nera let him flee.

A few more turned, and ran dropping shields or swords to get themselves lighter, eager to get away from the invaders. Of the original sixty, Nera counted only seven that fled. The remainder stood, and fought.

And died brutally.

“Morkate watches us. Let’s give her an offering,” Nera said, watching the helots and kazdruk warriors charge towards her and the two praetorians.

They fought viciously, letting their true natures show now that there were no witnesses. Dripping blood, Nera stabbed, parried, and slashed through the enemy. One helot turned, fleeing the fanged maws of the three women, only to have the large axe wielding kazdruk grasp him by the neck, and snap it with a single vicious jerk. Nera was pulling her blade from a kazdruk chest, blood pumping over her hands, when the warscythe took the head of the praetorian beside her.

The body stood for a few heart beats. Long enough for Nera to duck a wide swipe from the large axe and disembowel a helot beside her. The praetorians body hit the ground as intestines spilled over Nera’s shoulder. She felt the blood clotting in her hair as she rose to her feet, bringing the sword with her. Slicing open a kazdruk thigh, pour gushed over her face, and she lunged to the right.

The female was waiting for her, grinning.

“Well. You might be worthy after all,” the kazdruk said, her orange eyes glaring at Nera with something close to amusement. There was a dull thud behind her, and Nera knew her other praetorian had fallen victim as well. There were just too many.

Knowing she would not survive, Nera lunged. She left herself exposed, but she would bring down the orange eyed bitch before her. Her sword clashed with a bracer, and a helot sword grated along the back of her shoulder, scraping over the armour.

Kicking back she felt her heel strike a knee, then pressed closer as the female kazdruk before her swung her scythe. Getting inside the reach of it, the blade whistling behind her, Nera thrust upwards with her sword, aiming for the bottom of the chin. The kazdruk jerked her head back though. She let out a roar of pain as blade sliced upwards, along her cheek and over her eye.

Nera grinned, before an elbow hit her in the side of the head. Her ears ringing, she stumbled, and felt a hoof hit her in the back. Falling to the blood slick floor, she looked up at the statue behind the thrones. A marble statue of the first Goldulan emperor standing proud with sword in his hand. She closed her eyes, waiting for the killing blow.

“No Gelhoz, I want her to live. To suffer,” the female said, voice thick with pain, and Nera felt her heart sink.

“Very well Velkra. Perhaps Aeltha will enjoy this one,” he said, and something hard hit Nera in the head, sending her into darkness.




Opening her eyes, Nera looked through the darkness. It had been pitch black when the kazdruk first placed her in here. But after so many years it was turning to shades of gray. She smiled, as she always did when she awoke from that dream of memory. Felt the metal strips of the muzzle that had been put on her. Felt the chains on her naked flesh, binding wrists, ankles, and just beneath her breasts to a pole inside a small cage.

Someone would come to feed her soon. It had been a few days. They might even rape her, though she had learned how to take pleasure instead of humiliation from those kazdruk cocks. They thought to break her, but Nera was Empress of Goldulan. She was a patient woman, and unless they killed her, they would rue the day they let her live.

Nera cocked her head then as she felt something she’d not in many long years, and it was only getting stronger. Her lips peeled back into a smile.

Even Yuldasha would learn, that everything could bleed.




Not knowing where Aeltha had stolen herself away, but knowing she had some time to herself, Lillium made her way through the halls of the spire leading downwards in the dark depths of the dungeons. Torches of flickering red flames lit the way for the succubus, ensuring to walk calmly. Purposefully. If she looked as if she belonged, she would be able to get away with almost anything.

Following a nagging sensation in her heart, flooding through her veins, she delved deeper and deeper into the bowels of the Spire. Far lower than any purebred would venture. This low was beneath them; for Aeltha’s failed experiments, and those that would be left to rot. Low enough that the cells were no longer cramped chambers cut off from the world by bars, but thick metal doors instead.

But the feeling, like a guide, beckoned her lower. Into another curving staircase, into another hallway. More stairs led further down. Deeper. But Lillium ignored it, instead looking ahead to a small chamber at the end of the hall. A pair of bored helot guards sat in that chamber, a pair of axes sitting on the table as they drank and rolled dice. The succubus could hear their quiet voices, and laughter. Lillium started towards them, but looking beyond. At yet another thick metal door, chains linked across it, nailed into the wall.

The helots looked up as they heard the clicking of Lillium’s heels coming towards them. Their hands started towards their weapons, but paused as Lillium entered the room alone. The two glanced to each other, the focused on the woman before them. Seemingly ignoring them as she moved towards the door.

“No one is to see the prisoner until it is her time to feed,” one of the helots said, a little unsure of himself. Neither bothered to get up from their seat.

“Then perhaps I should feed her then,” Lillium said, knowing whatever strange pull was guiding her, originated from within the next room. She looked back over her shoulder at the guards. One sighed, the other stood, moving towards the doorway and glancing towards the stairs.

“We will say you were sent by Aeltha should anyone ask, Harbinger,” the still seated helot said, and Lillium smiled. It was almost sweet. The helot looked away, leaving Lillium to start removing the chains crossed over the door. Letting them fall to the ground, kicking up dust as they clanged against the stone.

“You will need this,” the standing helot informed her, walking over and handing her a torch. Her hand grasping the handle, she pulled and stepped through into the darkness. Behind her, the door slammed shut, and there was silence. Lillium lifted her torch, until she saw the glinting of black metal. A cage, vaguely human shaped. Pale skin within, covered in chains.

“Now this is most interesting,” a voice that may have been cultured and suave once before spoke. Now it was hoarse, words unfamiliar on her lips. Lillium started towards her, brows furrowed as she began to make out the naked form that had been muzzled even inside the tight confines of her cage.

“Aeltha plays with things she does not fully understand. I wonder if she believes you a success or another failure,” the caged woman said, and Lillium stopped just before her cage. Looking into her eyes, seeing the points of vampiric fangs behind her lips as she spoke.

“I don’t think she’s decided yet. But it doesn’t much matter. I play her game, and make her believe. Until the day I do not,” Lillium said, and the woman laughed. A harsh sound.

“Do you know who I am then?”

“No. But I know what you are. Your blood flows in my veins. Used to create what I have become,” Lillium said, knowing full well now why she had been guided here.

“Used, but not pure. She’s tainted you, violated my lineage.”

“Improved. Using Kazdruk magic to unwittingly fulfill Morkate’s designs. Succubus and vampire in one flesh,” Lillium said, slowly walking around the cage, letting her fingers run across the flat bars. Black claws tapping on the metal, ringing through the chamber. The woman in the cage laughed again, not bothering to even try and track the succubus.

“And here I thought I had found another enemy to torment me. Instead, the key to vengeance, let me introduce myself.”

Lillium came around the front again, grasping the bars and pressing herself firmly against the cage. Feeling cold metal pressing into her cleavage. Her cheekbones against the hard edges. She listened.

“I am Nera, Empress of the Goldulan Empire.”

Lillium laughed gently, running her tongue across her lips, reaching into the cage, letting her claws tease across skin.

“There is more than vengeance to seek Empress. A new empire. A proper empire,” Lillium said, and slowly pulled away. Stepping from the cage, letting the vampiress watch her.

“A Morkatean Empire,” the Empress said, and Lillium nodded, spreading her hands wide as she bowed low.

“The chains will be broken soon enough Empress. But I must prepare, and it cannot be me; they watch me too closely. But I will find another. Then the bricks can be laid, and the blood can flow.”

Nera let her eyes look upwards as Lillium left. Let herself look up towards where Yuldasha sat believing herself a conqueror of this world.

Lillium nodded to the helots as she moved back towards the staircase to return to Aeltha lest she be missed. She did not listen to the sounds of chains being put back into place as she ascended again. Higher through the spire. Thinking about how the Kazdruk had paved the path for Morkate’s rise from the mists of the past.

About how Aeltha’s arrogance created something that would know no rest without blood. And Lillium would have it.




Though her cloak was finely tailored, and many could guess her to be an Elf woman of some wealth, Lelthina’s identity remained a secret. She knew she was not so skilled at subterfuge as Pharno, and she could never disguise her accent, or her mannerisms that would certainly reveal her status of nobility. Lelthina also had to admit to herself, that despite the need, she could never pretend to be of the lowborn. It went against all her instincts, and ambitions.

Pharno had given her the centre of all these whispers of Morkate. The brothel where it had started amongst the prostitutes, and now she found herself walking down a dark alley towards its hidden entrance. Ivy that had somehow survived two massacres and a siege still hung from second and third story windows, and red lanterns glowed within. But this was still not a place visited by many Elves or nobility.

Still, it was here that Lelthina needed to go. The past few days she had been getting supplies to apothecaries and healers to help with the injured and sick. To mason and carpenter guilds to repair and rebuild. She acted humble, not taking payments for her actions. In her ears though, Pharno whispered as they fucked in her chambers. Telling her that whispers amongst the frightened and angry humans were saying of her generosity and kindness while she rode him. That perhaps one of the Elves might actually care for them. There were of course those that refused to believe it. There was too much bitterness from recent events for Lelthina to appear a saint.

Now though, in a dreary alley, she knocked on the back door of the ‘Rose and Jasmine’. As the door opened, she could smell incense used to overpower the stench of cheap wine and sex. A large man looked down at her, fairly well dressed, but not overly intelligent looking. He didn’t say anything though, and Lelthina walked past him into the brothel.

As soon as the door closed behind her, a beautiful human woman wearing only stockings and a thong moved up to her. Purring, smelling of cheap perfume and cosmetics heavily applied to her face. Her breasts bounced slightly as she moved to the elven noble woman, running a hand along her belly, upwards to her ribs as the whore circled around.

“How might we serve your needs today?” she said in a well practiced sultry tone. Despite herself, Lelthina was impressed. The woman aroused her, and there was a temptation to hand her coin and see her room. But she smiled under her hood and gently took the whore’s hand.

“Not for me,” she said, lifting the hand to her lips and kissing it softly, making the woman before her raise an eyebrow.

She was about to ask to see the Madame of the brothel, another voice spoke out. Older, more cynical.

“I can take care of her Matilda. Please see to our other guests,” the woman who spoke was of middle years. For a human anyway. There was as much gray in her hair as dark brown, and she wore less cosmetics than the other whores. Certainly left her crow’s feet plain to see at the corners of her eyes.

“Madame Belinda. Would you care for some tea my lady?” she asked with a slight bow and a welcoming smile, though there was little respect in her tone. Lelthina smiled. The woman was no stranger to power games it would seem.

“I would love some,” the elven noble responded soon following Belinda up a set of stairs, towards a third level that held her personal chambers and her office. Away from the moans pouring out through closed doors that made Lelthina wonder how much of this was act for these men and women.

Putting a kettle over the crackling fire in her hearth, Belinda gestured to one of a few chairs in the room. Lelthina took the offered seat, smoothing out her skirts and lowering her hood.

“So, why does the lady Lelthina grace my brothel with her presence? We have no damage to our structure, we are not wanting for food any more than the rest of the city, we are in no need of alms, and I know for a fact a woman of your tastes would prefer a much classier establishment than my own for her personal pleasures,” Belinda said, walking with what seemed to be a stiff hip towards another of the chairs before she slowly eased herself in. The friendly smile was gone from her features as well.

“I am the governor of this city, and after the recent atrocities it is my duty to ensure all are well cared for to prevent further troubles,” Lelthina said. In her mind already preparing the next words to worm her way into Belinda’s trust.

“Atrocities you did little to stop,” Belinda retorted, and Lelthina let a small smile cross her face.

“If we’re being so blunt, I’m sure you did very much to stop the ones that occurred before,” Lelthina said, rather enjoying the woman sitting opposite her.

“Bluntness. Yes, I’d quite like to cut the bullshit out. Why are you really here? People like you don’t play nice out of the kindness of your heart.”

“People like us, I think you mean to say. Well then yes, I am securing my position in a city choked with tension and ready to engulf itself in more violence as we face an invasion that can only benefit from inner turmoil. Arrogance is my kind’s sin, and we wear it proudly. But I am not so arrogant as to think we can withstand the coming storms without aid,” Lelthina said, and almost smirked to herself as she remembered her comments to King Tepel before his foolish offensive to the heart of Kazdruk lands.

“Honesty. Unexpected, but you have my attention,” Belinda said, smiling now. She glanced over her shoulder as the kettle on the fire began to whistle. The sound shrill, beckoning the brothel’s Madame over.

“I have come to ask of Morkate, the Goddess that rumour says is worshipped by your girls. Some digging seems to tell that the infamous Lillium is rather important in this growing cult,” the elven governess said, sitting almost rigidly upright in her chair. Perfect posture as she watched Belinda pouring two cups of a soft scented tea and bringing them over.

The matron sat and smiled, pushing one of the cups over to Lelthina.

“You know us to be the enemy, but can’t strike without the others rising up again. In the end my mistress wins,” it was remarkable how easily Belinda revealed herself to the governess, but Lelthina knew the woman was right. Both knew the matron was safe for the moment. So she sipped at the tea prepared by her enemy.

“A smart plan on her part. She’s been underestimated too often. But in the end, she is no avatar of a God. Just Kazdruk corruption. Surely you know this,” Lelthina was surprised with how much she enjoyed the tea.

“I’ve never met her, and I have my doubts to the tales. But still, in my own way I serve her. She brings hope where there was none before.”

Lelthina drummed her carefully manicured nails along the clay cup, staring into the Madame’s eyes. Pondering.

“Hope, though she works for the Kazdruk? Spreads their corruption and conquers our lands,” Lelthina asked, raising a single eyebrow. Studying the woman’s expression.

“Does she though?” that comment made Lelthina’s thoughts swirl with possibilities. Three little words that could potentially change everything about the war. Perhaps not on the battlefield, but certainly in her own sphere of speciality. She slowly raised the cup to her lips and sipped at the tea again.

“Perhaps then, I should speak with her. If, it can be arranged,” Lelthina said. She was not one for risk, but perhaps simply letting Belinda believe it might be enough.

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I can offer her revenge. I can give her Telva Winterstone. I can get your people vengeance, and I… can get stability,” Lelthina said, knowing she was as safe with her words as the woman across from her. Belinda rose an eyebrow this time. Watching and waiting for more.

“Power you mean.”

“Power breeds stability. And stability, breeds yet more power,” Lelthina rose, the madame with her.

“Think on this Madame. We will have cause to talk over the coming days.”




Leading the way through the twisting and turning corridors of the Spire, Velkra didn’t bother to look at the two Kazdruk warriors flanking her, or the pair of Elven slaves they pushed before them. The toned beauties shaped for battle were gagged, their hands manacled behind their backs, prodded forward by the two Kazdruk that accompanied their Talon Commander.

It let Velkra think, to gather her wits. Going before Aeltha, she would need most of them. The sorceress had asked for a pair of slaves that had not yet been utterly broken, soldiers specifically. There were certainly still many left from the doomed assault on the spire. An assault that had nonetheless completed its goal of saving Queen Aria. How they had managed it, Velkra wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling that the Elves had been allowed to rescue her.

The Sorceress was cunning; too cunning for Velkra’s tastes. She was plotting something, and Velkra wasn’t sure what. Worse, she knew there would be consequences for her Talon because of it. The thought made her anxious.

“Why are we delivering slaves now? Should we not be preparing to go to the front, as you promised?” the young female warrior to Velkra’s right said suddenly, cutting into the Talon Commander’s thoughts. The older male to her left, a veteran from the previous world conquest just grunted. An acknowledgement of its own to the posed question.

“Because despite what Gelhoz has fed you, our Talon is not in high standing with anyone. Many believe us not fit for the front lines, and so they keep us here in the spire in case the Elves launch another suicidal assault. With allies and patronage from someone as powerful as Aeltha, we’ll get new gear, and pushed towards the front much easier,” she glanced at them both, watching them nod in some understanding, though she doubted either truly grasped how important politics could be. But that was why she had taken the mantle of Talon Commander.

“Plus, it’ll give us more freedom to operate as we wish. Meaning more glory, and more slaves,” Velkra continued, watching the young Kazdruk woman’s lips curl into a vicious grin. The veteran beside her just grunted.

Eyeing him a moment, Velkra tried to get a bearing on him, but eventually settled on the fact that he was likely contented.

They finally reached the door to Aeltha’s labs and chambers in the Spire. The sorceress had been whining more lately about missing her more elaborate set up in the captured cathedral of Thorlgruz, but Yuldasha was keeping her here to continue preparations for the invasion of the West. The date for that was creeping ever closer, and Velkra was hoping to be one of the first to step through the portal.

Velkra didn’t wait, pushing the door, and her luck, open and stepping inside. Aeltha was inside, smirking, waiting. Her two elven whore twins standing on either side of her, though the horns on their head showed them less then Elf now. The slight red tint to their skin, the alluring curl of dark lips.

Both had their hands on Aeltha’s cock, stroking her slowly, even as precum dribbled down her shaft.

“Velkra, I’ve been expecting you. Come in… have your subordinates strap those two down to the tables,” she said, her hand gesturing to two tables covered with leather straps and buckles.

The young one’s eyes went wide, a hint of rage. The veteran just grunted and dragged his charge to the table. It was enough to calm the other as they quickly bound them down, hands now at their sides, gags stopping them from screaming out. Even as they writhed, not knowing what was to come of them.

When the last buckle was in place, Aeltha waved towards the door.

“You two may go. I wish to speak to your Commander,” Aeltha said.

The two warriors glanced to Velkra with a frown, but at her nod they both left. The exchange left a smirk on Aeltha’s features as the door closed behind them.

“You do well for yourself, that they would look for your permission, before following my commands. Come closer,” Aeltha said, beckoning. She kept her finger curling until Velkra could feel the head of the sorceress’s cock against her navel. Felt pre cum dribbling over her abs and knuckles of the corrupted elves dragging along the ridges of muscle.

“But, so long as you know who is in power here,” Aeltha said then, grinning. The two elven whores stopped jerking her off, instead moving around Velkra to slowly peel off her top. To let their tongues and their hands wander her flesh.

“You are,” Velkra said without any hesitation. She could play the game, especially without her Talon to witness it. Aeltha surely knew this. To keep Velkra in line, make the Talon believe she had power… then take that power when they weren’t looking.

“You are… what?”

“You are mistress,” Velkra said, again without hesitation, feeling the elves lowering her to her knees until Aeltha’s cock was running between her now bared breasts. Upwards along her neck to her lips.

Knowing what was expected of her, Velkra dipped her head, taking the cock into her mouth. Moaning softly, Aeltha leaned back, stroking the warrior’s hair, then slowly began to push. Velkra couldn’t bring herself to resist, knowing what it would cost her in the long run. Tasted the bitter drags of pre cum along her tongue as that thick shaft pushed in deeper. Gliding along her tongue filling her mouth until the head was easing into her throat.

The warrior wanted to go faster, to get this over with, but Aeltha’s hands curled in her hair. Controlling the warrior’s speed easily. Making it a slow drag of lips along shaft. From base to tip as Velkra struggled to keep her humiliation buried.

“So long as you know your place Velkra. Not everyone does in this spire anymore. But your loyalty and servitude will go rewarded Velkra,” Aeltha purred, savouring the slow rise and fall while the corrupted Elves watched and giggled.

“And for it… you’ll be getting an attachment of new troops. Fresh from my labs to be shock troops for your Talon. On the eastern front,” Aeltha said, starting to force Velkra to go faster along her shaft, until she was almost throbbing. Then she slowed, never letting the warrior’s mouth to be less than full with cock.

At Aeltha’s last words, Velkra’s eyes snapped up. She didn’t let herself stop, even let her tongue gentle caress the flesh sliding beyond her lips.

“Not what you wanted is it? You wanted to be going West, with the invasion. Earn glory by rampaging and raping across virgin lands,” Aeltha almost chuckled by the sound came out more moan like than anything.

“I wonder what your Talon would think of it? How much did you promise them I wonder?” the sorceress flicked her gaze to the elves. They moved forward again, soft hands sliding through Velkra’s white locks, and began to force the Kazdruk warrior to go faster again. The head of Aeltha’s cock pushing firmly into her throat once more.

What kind of game was Aeltha playing? Velkra wasn’t entirely sure anymore, but she was thankful she had to foresight not to tell them anything of her plans, except that they were going to the front. She had never specified which front.

Another look from the sorceress to her whores, and the elves pulled Velkra’s head back sharply. The warrior gulped in breath, strings of saliva hanging between her lips and Aeltha’s cock as the sorceress came. Ropes of cum shot across Velkra’s face and neck, the hot sticky spunk slowly rolling down her skin, over the swells of her breasts.

“You can clean up when you leave, not before,” Aeltha said, only then rising, her elven whores wordlessly kneeling to run their tongues over her length, cleaning her off.

Taking some effort to control her expression, Velkra said nothing. She glanced back at the two slaves she had brought here. They both stared in horror at the scene that had just played out; their fate would likely be worse.

Fingers settling on her shoulders, Velkra looked back to the sorceress, trying to ignore the arrogant grin upon her features.

“These two will be important to me,” Aeltha started, speaking loud enough for the bound elves to hear her. The already corrupted ones giggled softly. “You see, they will be handlers. Bent to the will of the Kazdruk, and dominant over my new ferals,” Aeltha said, running her hands down Velkra’s arms.


“That, would be easier to show you,” Aeltha said, walking away towards her magical orb settled carefully on its pedestal. Velkra frowned a moment, before following after, already seeing images twist and turn inside the sorceress’s orb of sight.

“Behold. The first of my ferals. Savage, uncompromising, unfeeling,” Aeltha said, as Velkra looked down upon Neicul in chains, thrashing against his bonds, snarling and spitting in endless rage. His hard cock, sticking out from his pants, waving with his erratic movements, slapping against his thighs. The Talon Commander looked on with curiosity and furrowed brows.

“And these will be your shock troops Velkra. With them I think you can smash through the defences of the east.”

Velkra once more kept a neutral expression on her features. Watching Yuldasha’s brother in chains, his mind melted beyond cognitive patterns. This was Aeltha’s game? She played with dangerous pieces, and this uncontrolled savagery would not fit with her tactics.

“Of course,” she said anyway, pausing before adding: “Mistress”




Hidden from sight by branches and dark leaves, Kira sat high in a tree looking over the village of Volgras. She had come by herself, telling the others she was stealthier and would be able to move about more easily to gather whatever information they could. After the raid on the town that had cost too many lives, there hadn’t been any argument.

Of course, Kira doubted they would have been so obedient in letting her go if they knew the thoughts that had refused to stop in her head. Running across her mind’s eye whenever she had a moment to herself.

Fingers running along her cheek, she felt the scars from her sister’s claws, and shivered. Biting her lower lip she thought of Lillium again. Her sultry, seductive sister. Succubus, vampire, baron of the Kazdruk, and now the source of all Kira’s fantasies. Deep dark desires that bubbled to the fore of her imagination with intense arousal.

So she had come, guided by arousal and fantasy, to find out what her sister had been talking about the night they fought. Forging new clans, the perseverance of humanity. Lillium was not a foolish woman. Corrupted, evil even, but not foolish. She would not have lived so long if she was.

So how was it she thought serving the Kazdruk would save her people? Living in chains was not salvation… even if it made her shiver in need.

Watching the village she saw mostly Helots patrolling the village. They seemed relaxed, but those towards the edge, those in the towers, seemed vigilant. They were learning from the raid as well. Listening, she could hear the hammer on steel sound of the blacksmith. She knew not who ran the shop now, but had a twinge of sorrow for Lukas who had once run the place. Dead now, in Innisgar. Like so many others.

Kira shook her head, trying to bring back the hate she had felt before, and failed. How could she be their saviour, if she lusted after the enemy?

Focusing back on the village she took note of the humans. Most were obviously slaves, with collars around their necks, and manacles bound to wrists and ankles. There were no chains on them, at the moment, but not one of them wore anything except a plain brown loincloth. Even from here they looked tired, and bruised from whatever work they were forced to do.

Others though, were not so unfortunate. She saw people wandering in clothing, without collars. They laughed, and talked with each other as they went about their days as if they were not living in a Kazdruk occupied village. Kira frowned at the sight. There were not many, but how many more would flock here to join the enemy if there was a chance to get away from the terror of living on the other side.

A figure walking down the road from the castle drew Kira’s eyes. She squinted, staring as her fingers idly continued to brush across the scars on her cheek. It was a human woman, topless, wearing a long pleated skirt of black with violet runes in vertical strips. There were tattoos on her bared skin, running up her sides and down her arms. A free woman, but more, one that commanded respect judging by the way the helots and other free folk bowed to her as she walked past. Behind her, crawling with a leash around her neck was a more familiar figure.

“Vivienne,” Kira breathed, eyes going wide as she watched the once proud and noble knight crawling obediently behind the tattooed woman. There was far too much slack in that leash to be anything but obedient.

The pair of them moved towards the building that had once been a church. But, whatever sacrilege had been done to it, it was now a temple to something darker. Making a guess, Kira thought the woman now pulling Vivienne into the temple was a priestess. She had to find out more, see what secrets Lillium was hiding in the village itself.

Dropping silently from her tree, she looked around. The border of the village was luckily too large to have every entrance watched by sentries. She looked out from the shadows towards one of the guard towers and waited until the helot within turned to look in another direction. As soon as eyes were off her path, Kira darted forward. Moving more like beast than human, staying low and in the shadows.

At the back of the temple, she looked upwards. Taking note of the brick walls and the gaps between each block. It was an old building after all. Her eyes slid over, away from the stained glass windows that now showed scenes of blood and lust, and found a plain window. Propped open. The wolfkin smirked, and kicked off her boots.

Moving beneath it, Kira dug her strong nails into the gaps between the bricks, and started to hoist herself upwards. Feet and hands working in concert to help her scale the wall, until she was pushing her head carefully into the opened window.

Inside looked to be some kind of office, or study. It was empty, and had a single door which likely lead to the main chamber of the temple. Slipping in through the window frame, Kira glanced at the desk. The papers and ink pot. The stacks of books and a small row of quills. She was about to take a closer look when she heard moans from the next room.

Turning her back to the bookshelves and desk, Kira made her way to the door and quietly opened it. Just a crack, looking into the main chamber. An open space now that the pews had been removed. Stains of cum on the floor, and fluttering tapestries hanging from the ceiling. Once the scriptures of Oan had been there, now there were runes and images of lust and blood. Just like the window. Sacrifices, vampires, orgies. Kira stared in horror… and a hint of curiosity that throbbed in her loins.

“Damn you sister. What have you done to me?” Kira whispered quietly, letting her eyes fall to the altar. A block of black stone, large enough for someone to lay across. Except Vivienne was on her hands and knees, her face against the stone. Her ass pushed up into the air as the woman, the priestess, standing behind her fucked her with a strap-on.

Vivienne moaned, not caring about the tight hold of the leash. Pulling that collar tight against her throat. She seemed to only care about thrusting her hips back against the Priestess who fucked her from behind. Juices streaming down the defiled knight’s thighs to patter against the stone. Their moans helping to further defile this once holy place as they flowed like a perverse two woman choir.

Kira thought about rushing in, but the look on Vivienne’s face stopped that. She was lost in lust, her tongue rolling out the side of her mouth as her tits ground against the altar. Had Lillium done this to her? Corrupted her, broke her?

She wasn’t surprised to find her fingers had made their way between her legs. Pushing the leather of her breeches against the hot patch waiting beneath. Feeling the cotton of her panties grinding against the lips of her cunt as she watched this former paragon of virtue let herself be so utterly violated. Biting her lip, she stopped herself from moaning. Just barely, but she stopped it, and watched the scene play out. Watched Vivienne’s form shake when orgasm took hold of her. Listened to those pristine moans of pleasure as her juices of lust dribbled all over the altar.

The Priestess smiled, giving Vivienne’s ass a firm squeeze.

“You are quite the loyal whore to our Harbinger,” the priestess purred, laying the leash upon the altar across Vivienne’s knuckles. The violated knight didn’t move, as if even the touch of the leash was enough to keep her in place.

“Thank you High Priestess,” Viv said, a moan in her voice, rewarded with a harsh slap to her ass.

“Await me here. I shall return momentarily,” the woman said, and turned on her heel, moving towards a door at the far side of the church.

When the door was closed behind those swaying hips, Kira did a quick scan of the rest of the temple. No one else was there. She quietly left the office, and moved towards Vivienne, a finger to her lips.

“You have returned to embrace the Mistress?” Vivienne said, her eyes alight with wonder as she spotted Kira coming towards her.

“No Viv. I’m here to get you out. To get you to freedom,” Kira said, reaching towards the collar, but pausing when Vivienne grasped her wrist. The wolfkin snapped her gave from Vivienne’s neck to her eyes.

“Why do you spurn her? She is your own sister. You should kneel, as I have. There is nothing better in this life than to kneel before her. Worship her. Serve her so utterly,” the knight… no, the whore Kira was realizing… spouted. Complete dogma, utterly broken.

Yanking her arm away from the whore zealot, she watched as Vivienne reached out, brushing fingers across the scars on her cheek. Kira’s eyes fluttered.

“You feel her, in your heart and your loins. Come… join me Kira. Give it all away, it only burdens you,” Vivienne purred, leaning forward more until she was able to run her tongue over Kira’s lips.

A shudder coursed up the wolfkin’s spine, and she let her lips part. Her own tongue dance softly with Vivienne’s for a bit before she let her wits return. She shuffled back, stared at Viv. Realized how far she had fallen.

The whore smirked, sliding her hand back under the leash.

“I do not want to go back,” Vivienne said, and there was a hot throb in Kira’s loins as she started backing towards the door.

“But soon, Mistress will return. Your sister will have you at her feet soon Kira. Then you will understand,” Vivienne said, then lifted her head and screamed out.


Kira turned and ran back into the office, not bothering to check if anyone had actually emerged to find her. Scrambling out the window she paused for only a heartbeat to grab her boots before she plunged back into the forest. Away from here.

Away from the horrible truth of what Vivienne had said.

For Kira already understood.




Aela emerged from the side room holding a needle and a small jar of black ink. She smiled as she watched the door to her office slam shut. The wolfkin was an issue, but perhaps the Harbinger’s influence was already too strong in her soul to be a true concern. What little information she gathered here today would soon be outdated before she could use it.

“You did well. The Harbinger will surely reward you for your service,” Aela told the whore that had been a knight. Moving behind her again and dipping the tip of her needle into the jar of ink.

“Thank you High Priestess. I live to serve. I am the whore of the Harbinger. Suited to pleasure her needs,” Vivienne said. Her new doctrine, that she spoke of with lust thick in her tone.

Smiling, Aela pressed the needle to Vivienne’s lower back, just above her ass. Everything was going according to plan.

“Then bare her mark with Pride,” she said, and pushed the needle into skin.




Running her fingers through the mane of her mare Orchid, Layli whispered soft words into its ear. She could all but feel her excitement, the pounding heart within its mighty breast. Clad in leather trousers with a long tunic of scale mail, Layli and  Orchid were eager for the coming battle.

Turning her head she looked at the other Scytar warriors, all mounted as they waited behind the ridge for the call to charge. The winds buffeted them, but the nomads were used to much worse in their homeland of the Hyroja Desert. So they sat patiently, ready to shed the blood of the foe.

The Shaman of this War Host rode along the front as all waited for the scouts to return. The man was aging, his hair silver and white with a thick beard along his jaw, but still he rippled with muscle. Clad only in hide trousers, his chest and back tattooed with animals and runes, he looked over the eager warriors. A rod in one hand, he shook it, asking the Gods of the sky, and the spirits of the land, to step back and let the warriors of the Scytar claim this victory for them.

“Flesh to blood, bone to dust,” he said then, turning towards the ridge. The necklace of claws around his neck rattling with the motion. The chant began to carry amongst the warriors, rising in volume.

The Serok, the commander of this War Host, was quiet in the front, watching as a pair of scouts ran down the hill towards him. The time was almost upon them, the chant of the warriors getting louder and louder.

Layli broke away, guiding Orchid over towards the Shaman. As shawrapaht, her duty was to him first, and now that he had finished his rituals she was free to speak with him.

“Behdin, will you be joining the fray?” she asked of him, leaning in that he could hear her words. The aging man laughed gently, shaking his head.

“No. I will return to the camp when the charge lances ahead. But you must be with them my shawrapaht. Cleave and spill blood in memories of my younger days,” he said patting her shoulder firmly. Layli smirked, and nodded, reaching over her shoulder to feel the fletching of her arrows, counting them silently.

“Flesh to blood Layli,” Behdin told her, glancing over at the Serok and turning his own horse away.

“Bone to dust,” she replied, pulling her bow from within the large wide sheath along Orchid’s saddle.

Easing back into the lines, she watched as the Serok lifted his spear up into the air, ribbons of red and orange fluttering from just beneath the bladed head. The chanting of the War Host was at a fever pitch now, doubtlessly heard from Thorlgruz. Hundreds of battle ready Scytar, eager to shed blood and deal death.

The spear dropped down, point forward, and as one the mighty host urged their mounts forward, rising up the ridge and soon cresting over the top. Dust kicked up from the hooves filled the air as they descended on the other side, rushing towards the cathedral of Thorlgruz and the ramshackle slave village that surrounded it.

Riding just behind the lancers that made up the front of the charge, Layli could see the panicked Kazdruk forces. Helots scrambling to make a pike line just in front of the village, the tall and powerful purebred Kazdruk warriors attempting to get their forces into some kind of defence. More were slowly coming out from slave shacks and the cathedral itself, but they were not expecting this attack.

Layli had her bow held in front of her, an arrow notched. Pulling the string back, she aimed down the shaft, and curled her lips in a grin; battle was upon them.

One hundred horse lengths away, the archers unleashed their first salvo. The arrows whistled between the lancers. There was a wild cheer of bloody glee as dozens of helots and even a Kazdruk warrior fell. Their bodies pin cushioned with arrows. The fools didn’t have any shields up front yet.

Seventy five horse lengths came the second salvo, and a third at fifty. A rain of arrows that didn’t slow the thundering charge of hooves rushing towards the enemy. Over one hundred dead from the onslaught. Sheathing her bow, Layli pulled free her sword. The enemy was so close now, she could see the panic in their eyes. See the concern in the Kazdruk as they tried to get their forces to close ranks.

The lancers hit with the crunch of steel lances punching through armour. Of hooves hammering flesh and bone. Screams of helots and wild Scytar war cries fill the air as the lancers punch through the lines. Layli and other sword wielders just behind, slashing downwards at survivors. The curved tips of their blades cutting limbs and necks.

Layli let out a cry of blood fuelled ecstasy as she took a helot’s head from its shoulders, and continued on. Blood sprayed up her arm as she tilted to the other side in the saddle. Her blade took a helot’s arm at the elbow before it could thrust a spear at the third line.

The helots broke, running into the town and Cathedral. Those few that stayed were easily run down. Layli stopped her own charge, taking a quick account of the battlefield. Taking note of a Kazdruk on his back, a broken lance punched through his chest, blood pouring from his mouth.

“Into the town!” someone cried, turning their horses to rush down narrow streets, cleaving at retreating helots and sending them sprawling to the dust. Slaves watched on, some pulling themselves from their stupor to grasp weapons from the fallen. The streets and shacks soon turning into a charnel house as slave, Scytar, and Kazdruk all fought desperately. Doors kicked open to get at Helots trying to regroup. Kazdruk purebreds gouging their way through packs of slaves.

“Layli. Take the archers, and get into the cathedral,” the face of the Serok before her startled the shawrapaht, but she nodded. Turning her horse she gathered one hundred archers, each of them armed with a blade as well.

“The front door is likely guarded well, we need to find back entrances. We split into two groups, circle around, and breach where we can. Meet inside,” Layli said, trying to ignore the screams of battle and concentrate on her own task.

“Flesh to blood,” was the response she earned, and Layli nodded to them.

All one hundred rode towards the stone walls of the cathedral. Outside the main door, eight guards were pounding on the doors to be let in. The helots screaming out, before turning and snarling at the enemy. A hail of arrows killed each of them. The one hundred riders then dismounted, and broke into two groups, flowing around the cathedral.

With forty nine at her back, most with bows still in hand, they moved along the high ground Thorlgruz itself sat upon. They moved quickly, not concerned with quiet as battle raged.

Warm chunks splashed across the back of Layli’s head. Chips of skull and bits of brain getting caught in her hair. The man behind her had taken a crossbow bolt to the side of the head. A few archers quickly loosed arrows towards where the bolt had come from, and someone pushed the Scytar warrior’s body to the side.

Soon they found a door. A small one, not much larger than a person’s width or height.

“Axes,” Layli said, sword in hand as shards of glass rained down from above.

She turned her face away and raised an arm. Felt the shards clattering against her bracer as a large woman with an axe came forward. Archers along the walls were shooting upwards, as Helots stuck out to launch bolts and throw rocks down upon the enemy.

Shards of wood flew outwards from the door as the axe bit into it. The slight barrier shaking in its frame. The woman let out a mighty roar, and swung the axe again. And again. The door eventually smashing off the hinges and falling to pieces inwards. The follow through of the axe caught a helot by surprise. Burrowing between his ribs and killing him near instantly.

Eight more archers were lost on the ridge to the helots, their corpses left where they had fallen. Layli would sing at their pyres later, for now she pushed in behind the axe woman and into the halls of Thorlgruz.  The sounds of battle echoed off the stone, and Layli knew the others had gotten through to the other side.

Fighting through the side chambers and into the main area of prayer, Layli watched with a twitch as a barrage of crossbows took out twelve of her archers. But it took too long for the helots to reload and the Scytar were upon them. Jumping over broken pews and firing their bows up into the balconies that overlooked them, the Scytar warriors screamed and slaughtered any in their path. Kazdruk and helot alike.

Blood flowed over the carefully laid stones of the floor. Dripping down into the cracks and gaps caused by such mistreatment from the Kazdruk since this place had fallen years before.

Layli spotted one of the large red skinned invaders though, rushing through a back door. Quietly, she followed, letting the sounds of battle fade as she made her way through back corridors and past various rooms. She followed the sound of hooves clattering on stone floors, and ignored the looks of weary slaves looking outwards at her without any true emotion.

Up flights and stairs, Layli followed quiet as shadow, her blade in hand. From an open door ahead she heard voices. Wishing now she’d brought backup, she steeled herself for a fight and continued forward, keeping low as she went through the door.

There was no one in the room asides the tall Kazdruk warrior, a large mace held at her side. She was bent over a pedestal, but Layli could not see what was upon it.

“Thorlgruz is fallen Aeltha,” the Kazdruk was saying with some anger to her voice.

“It better not fall. That is the seat of my experiments. You will get back to the fight and push back th-” whatever else this, Aeltha was going to say, she caught her tongue when the Kazdruk warrior’s head was taken from her shoulders.

The severed head hit the floor with a loud thunk, before the body slowly fell to the side. Blood splashed across the floor from the stump of her neck and twitched once in death.

Standing before a strange orb, Layli looked at yet another demon. Her red eyes glared with hatred at the shawrapaht. Layli wiped her sword clean and sheathed it before bending to pick up the fallen mace with both hands.

“I will flay your skin from your bones, and make you live forever in anguish,” Aeltha said. Layli shrugged.

“Come find me first,” she said, and smashed the orb with the mace.

Shackles of Hate. Chapter 21: Seeds of Ambitions

Striding into the chamber, her heels clicking on the stone floor, and clad only in a pair of thigh high leather boots, Lillium peered between the columns that filled the room. Chains hung from many of them, a faint blue light with a unknown source lighting her way. Deeper within she could hear low growls, the snap of chains going tight as something tried to get loose.

The succubus knew Aeltha would be watching. This experiment of hers taking priority over Lillium seeing the master of all Kazdruk on this world. It seemed to Lillium like she was not the only one toying with fire for personal gain.

Continuing deeper into the chamber, the growls getting louder as the creature chained within caught Lillium’s scent, the succubus soon came face to face with a pure blooded Kazdruk. Stripped down his waist to reveal a body rippling with muscle, eyes filled with fury and madness, Neicul pulled hard against his binds; chains curling around the pillar behind him, holding his wrists and ankles back, occasionally glimmering with magical energy.  Strings of spittle flew from his mouth as he gnashed his teeth, fingers flexing at his sides as he struggled to get to the woman before him.

At some point since Aeltha had bound him down here, he had snapped the chain holding his neck to the column. The string of metal links swaying in front of his chest. Smirking, Lillium approached him, standing just out of the snapping reach of his jaws. As Neicul snapped to her face, Lillium didn’t flinch. Hot breath and spittle splashed her face, but she just smiled, running fingers across her cheek and sucking her fingers clean.

“I wonder, can you understand me?” she purred, watching as the response she earned was the Kazdruk warrior turned feral beast’s lips peeled back from his teeth. He snorted, nostrils flaring as he took in the succubus’s alluring scent. Red eyes flicking down, Lillium watched the bulge straining against his leather trousers.

“So cruel, to lock you up,” Lillium said with an almost mocking pout as her claws ran down his chest, Neicul’s face tilting down to watch with some confusion. With so much of his mind swirling with pure primal instinct he had no true idea what teasing and seduction was anymore. When Lillium’s hand found his cock and squeezed though, he understood that.

Snarling, he bucked his hips forward, and Lillium laughed gently, gliding her hand over the bulge, before curling her claw under the laces holding his trousers closed.

“You won’t really need these for some time anyway,” Lillium said, the sharp bone on her finger sawing through the strings, the top of Neicul’s pants folding open as his hard cock sprang free. A little sound of appreciation and an arched eyebrow from Lillium wasn’t understood by the feral Kazdruk.

Lillium grasped the loose chain and yanked hard, pulling Neicul to the limits of his bindings. She watched his muscles flexing as he strained against his binds to get at her. To fuck her. A bead of pre-cum was forming at the tip of Neicul’s cock as he snarled again, veins in his forehead starting to bulge.

Pivoting on her heels, draping the chain over her shoulder, feeling the cold metal against her left breast, Lillium turned her head to watch the Kazdruk. She slowly bent over, pushing her hips back towards the feral beast, making sure to twist her wings to the side to keep them from his jaws as his torso was pulled down with her.

She loosened her hold on the chain ever so slightly, lips parting and curling as Neicul snarled once more, hips bucking ahead as Lillium shuffled back until she felt him ram into her. Cock spearing into her slick cunt, her lip peeled back slightly, a hungry moan pulled from her throat.

“That’s it,” she groaned, as their hips started to thrust  together. A rhythm forming as cock slid deep into the wet heat of cunt, the slapping of flesh filling the room as Neicul snorted and growled. His girth stretched her slightly, drawing deep moans from the hungry succubus as her breasts swayed beneath her. Their bodies moving together in this simple feral dance.

Juices smearing over his cock from Lillium’s depths, dribbling down her thighs towards the tops of her boots, starting to drip off his hard shaft. Spittle splashed on her back, the cheeks of her ass. Tugging on the chain, Lillium snapped the top of his manacle against Neicul’s jaw, snapping them shut, a thick line of drool falling from his lips to the small of her back, starting to run in a slow line over her waist.

When his cock started to throb within her, Lillium grinned wider, baring her fangs upwards at the feral beast. The two of them moving faster, moans and grunts mingling together with the slapping of flesh, and the slick sound of Neicul’s cock ramming into the succubus.

Mouth held closed by the manacle pressing up against his jaw, Neicul could only let out a muffled groan of pleasure as his cum shot up inside Lillium’s pussy. Ropes of hot, sticky spunk splattering within her as his thrusts began to slow.


“Not yet big boy. I’m not done,” Lillium said, still keeping her grin as she tugged harder on the chain, her own hips slamming back towards the Kazdruk. A small whine seeped out from Neicul’s pressed lips as his over sensitive cock continued to drive into her cum filled depths. The thick white spunk started to gush out around his plunging cock, running over the smeared juices towards Lillium’s boots. Splashing across his balls as he was forced to continue fucking the hungry succubus, making a filthy puddle on the floor.

Trying to pull away, Neicul continued to whimper, the pleasure too much, as Lillium just grasped the chain harder. Her own moans were getting louder, hungrier. As the pleasure of her own release finally flowed through her flesh, a hungry moan spilling from her lips, Lillium finally began to slow. Behind her, cock dripping cum and juices, Neicul whimpered, cowed for the moment.

Letting out a soft moan as she moved forward, pulling off his cock, feeling the head of it gliding down her thigh before she was out of reach, Lillium looked back at him. The Kazdruk couldn’t meet her eyes, his hips pulled back until his ass was against the column. She bit her lip as she watched him, before starting out from the chamber.


Talons tapping on the scrying orb upon its pedestal, Aeltha took note of what she witnessed. Neicul seemed, cowed. Not exactly the result she’d been hoping for, but he was much calmer now. Watching Lillium, her creation, walk back through the chamber with cum running down her legs was a delicious sight as well.

The experiment was complete. There was a way to control the feral Kazdruk afterall. All she needed was succubi to placate them.

Which led to her problem. Lillium was the perfect succubus, but the vampirism and her warrior nature prevented her from becoming a useful tool. She was no better than the usual Kazdruk; ambitious and self-serving. She just happened to be smarter about it, making her plots across the oceans, on the front lines of a war that wasn’t going nearly as well as it should have.

Hand flicking across the orb before her, the vision faded from within the glass, and the sorceress stood. If only Neicul had delivered the Elven women she needed.

Opening her notebook, she noted down everything she’d witnessed. Lillium’s actions, Neicul’s reactions. Was it simply the sex that had calmed the feral creature, or had it been Lillium’s domineering demeanour. She needed a submissive subject to test this now that Lillium’s display had been such a success.

“Perhaps soldiers,” Aeltha muttered to herself. In Kazdruk society there was little differentiation between a warrior and a soldier. To the Elves and Humans though, there was plenty. Soldiers of the rank and file knew how to follow orders. Submissive to their betters, and dominating to their foes. And of those, there were plenty that had been taken prisoner after their foolish assault on the spire. Now to simply find some that the Kazdruk could pull their cocks from.

Or prostitutes. They could be whatever was needed. Aeltha had many options ahead of her, but she was running out of time to test them all. She sighed, and looked over to her research on the portal that could launch an entire invasion to the West without the need for ships. If it was succesful, then they could launch to the East as well.

The door to her holding chambers opened, and Lillium stepped in, licking cum from her fingers. One thigh was mostly cleaned of it, and the sorceress smirked.

“Come then baroness. We have a small errand to run, then it will be time to meet your master, and remember that you are just a whore,” Aeltha said, and Lillium smirked in return.


As the door opened Sarya lifted her head up, resting it against the back wall of her cell. She looked through the bars as Isolde stood watching her, wearing only a loin cloth and sandals.

“Well. You certainly look like a whore,” the centurion started, as her feet shifted, the chains attached to her naked limbs rattling on the floor.

“Mistress. I had to do this. For you.”

“Do not call me that. You betrayed me,” Sarya shouted angrily, making Isolde flinch, her eyes turning away.

“I had to mistress. Otherw-” Isolde started but was interrupted as Sarya leapt forward. Her chains snapping and the centurion shouting out in frustration. Isolde looked down at her feet.

“Otherwise you would not have listened. You would not have done what you needed to. I did this for you mistress,” Isolde said quietly, unable to look at the woman straining against the chains that held her to the wall. Sarya glared at the whore in front of her with loathing. Eventually Isolde shuffled backwards, towards the door, and opened it before fleeing.

Left alone once more, hungry and thirsty, Sarya slumped back against the wall. She had been stripped naked, and the damp chill that permeated these dungeons was not a pleasant feeling. Left to wallow once more she slid down the wall and looked down at the floor. Watched a rat scurry out from a hole in the stone wall and scamper across the floor.

The rodent paused, not far from the centurion, and looked at her. Its nose twitching as it sniffed at the air, before continuing on its way with Sarya’s eyes following it. When the rat vanished from view, Sarya leaned her head back and looked to the ceiling. A single candle providing the only light in here, and it was dwindling. A pool of melted and cooled wax on the floor beneath the high seated light source. No windows, only stone. She wasn’t sure if it was night or day. It was even hard to know how long she’d been in this dungeon.

Stomach growling, Sarya licked dry lips to little avail. Her mind swirling with the pain of betrayal, the weight of her sins pushing down on her. Her choices of late had been for the good of an empire that no longer existed. She had damned an entire city to butchery more than once. Was she the exact problem that she accused the elves of?

Closing her eyes she tried to twist her thoughts towards escape, but the chains were well made and tightly bound her, and so she fell back into investigating herself. Her soul, and her mind. Her motivations. She couldn’t escape the fact that this past little while was full of poor choices that had backfired terribly. She had played into the hands of the enemy with what she’d done.

But then, so had the Elves with their treatment of Kira. Driven a creature of legend and myth away instead of letting her help against the encroaching Kazdruk hordes. Where was she now?

Footsteps came from down the hall, easy to hear when the only sound was a distant drip from the stone ceiling to the stone floor. They paused outside the door, and Sarya heard the key opening the lock before the hard wood creaked open. The woman who entered wore long skirts slit up to her hips. Long lean legs carried her inside, showing as her hips swayed. Her bared breasts bouncing slightly, her skin covered in tattoos. She smiled, the look somewhere between haunting and sweet, and Sarya wasn’t sure what to think of her.

“Sarya, former captain of Driftafay’s Silver Guard, former Centurion of the Goldulin Empire. Two prestigious titles, and both former, and you even failed to slay Lillium,” the woman said with that strange smile that sent shudders up Sarya’s spine.

“And you are?”

“Aela. High Priestess of Morkate, advisor to her harbinger. Baroness Lillium,” she said, bowing slightly as she stood above Sarya, her breasts swaying just overhead, before she slowly sank down to a crouch in front of her prisoner. Sarya stared, mouth slightly agape, unsure of what to say.

“You show no fear. Most do tremble at least a little when they hear her name. Not you though,” Aela said, fingers starting to glide along the inside of Sarya’s leg, trailing up her thigh. It was soft, and sensual, and Sarya was surprised as the pleasure that rolled up her flesh. She blinked, a gasp slipping out as she felt Aela’s fingers drift over a round pair of scars on her inner thigh.

“Oh, what’s this?” Aela’s eyes moved downwards, and Sarya felt her legs being gently parted. Exposing everything to the priestess’s eyes.

“You’ve felt the bite of a vampire before. And willingly, if I’m to guess,” Aela said softly, leaning in closer. Close enough that Sarya could head butt her if she wanted, but her fingers were pleasing. And being down here, she was okay with something pleasurable.

“Yes,” Sarya admitted. She was not amongst worshippers of Oan anymore. She found no reason to hide her secret here. Especially to a priestess of a religion long thought eradicated by many. Sarya knew it wasn’t.

Aela smiled, shifting her fingers from the scars, and placed them against the hot entrance of Sarya’s womanhood. Starting to feel the slick juices as she began to gently caress the outer lips, drawing another lusting gasp from Sarya.

“Perhaps I was wrong about you Sarya. Perhaps you could be useful to our goals afterall. Lillium will wish to speak with you upon her return,” she said, easing her fingers into Sarya. The former centurion looked up at the woman, cocking her head to the side, as her hips shifted forwards slightly.

“Until then, I will look into making your stay more comfortable. It is only fitting, for one of the faithful, enemy though you may be. For the moment,” Aela said, pulling her fingers free and sucking on them gently. She stood, letting glistening fingers come free of her lips. Sarya bit back a whimper, gaining control of her features quickly.

“I came to kill her. I will not serve the Kazdruk,” Sarya said, already wanting the fingers back inside her, even as she closed her legs to try and deny that simple fact.

“Perhaps. But you don’t know the full story yet. Trust in your Goddess. She has many surprises for you, because I would never ask you to serve the Kazdruk,” Aela said, turned, slowly departing the chamber with Sarya watching the small of her back, confusion swirling in her thoughts.


The smell of it reached Kira’s senses first; the almost sweet stench of death, spilled blood, and the foulness that came with it all. A single fist lifted upwards, the fifteen guerrillas following her all paused, clutching at their crossbows and spears and looking through the forest. Her brows knitted into a tight frown as she turned to her right, looking past the brush and trees to find Thaden. As if sensing her gaze he turned to regard her. Head cocked slightly with an unspoken question, Kira tapped at her nose.

Thaden merely shrugged in response, and Kira looked ahead. They had been tracking a group of helots from Volgras for a few days now, but they had been far enough ahead that Kira was struggling to take the correct routes. She wasn’t even fully sure how many there were. At least a dozen.

Tapping her fingers against the side of the tree before her, Kira stood and started forward. The guerrillas moving quietly behind her, cautiously picking their way across the forest floor. Experience was teaching them well. It still pained Kira to know those that didn’t learn well, were buried soon enough.

Creeping towards the edge of the tree line, the scent of blood and death growing ever stronger, Kira could start to smell the underlining smell of sex. She knew roughly what she was going to see, but it didn’t lessen the impact when her eyes finally settled upon the gruesome scene.

A few ravens took off in flight as Kira emerged into the site of the massacre, though many remained. Black beaks tearing at the flesh at what had once been coalition soldiers. Near fifty of them, bodies torn and brutalized. A few helots lay scattered across the beaten down dirt path. There were very little weapons or armour to be found amongst the dead.

“Reinforcements for the front?” Thaden said as he emerged beside Kira and looked upon the scene. She heard someone retching behind her.

“Not anymore,” she said, lifting her wrist to cover her nose as best she could.

“Take whatever weapons and armour you can,” she said over her shoulder, seeing a few nods before she stepped forward. Investigating the dead, scattering more ravens who cried out at having their feast disturbed.

“The Kazdruk are well supplied. Why take so much?” Thaden asked noting the dead helots had been left naked, and most of the coalition soldiers wore only some gambesons or tunics. Many shredded to show flesh beneath.

“These were Lillium’s helots,” Kira said, looking down at a woman who had suffered an arrow to the shoulder and gut. Her pants were torn off, and cum was crusted on her thighs and rear. Her throat had been slit just after. “They’re getting ready for something,” she said, as she glanced up, seeing one of her insurgents examining a chipped short sword. He then took a moment to arrange the body in a more dignified manner.

“Preparing for what?” Thaden had to ask his eyes moving down the road. The path to the beaches that were acting as the front lines against this terrible invasion. One of the fronts. Someone wouldn’t be getting the aid they hoped for.

“I don’t know. But we need to find out,” Kira said. That could mean a journey back to Volgras. Not something she wanted, not with the thoughts Lillium had swirling through her mind, stirring desires that shouldn’t exist. Or, they could find a helot patrol and take some prisoners.

Thaden nodded, and rubbed at his eyes.

“We’ve lost the trail. We should head back, and try to find another group,” Kira said, looking over to the outlaw. He was busy looking down at a dead man, whose face had bloated and turned blue as he was suffocated. The cum crusted around his lips showing a hint at how he had been choked.

He nodded slowly, and turned with a frown towards the wood line. The other insurgents already moving, carrying whatever weapons and bits of armour that hadn’t been picked clean from the slaughter field already.

Kira lingered a few moments before letting out a heavy sigh, and turned to follow the others. Thoughts of her sister started to creep into her mind again, and she began to wonder just what it was that her sister was up to. Fingers rising up, she traced the scars along her cheek that her sister had left her.


Standing naked before the window of her room that overlooked the city, Lelthina gently sipped at her goblet of wine. Behind her, Pharno lounged in her bed, his cock glistening, with smudged rings of her lipstick around the base of his shaft. Arms folded behind his head he basked in the slowly fading sensations of his orgasm while the councillor looked upon the city.

It had calmed considerably since the Elves had taken it over once more, but it didn’t sit right with the envoy. A fog of fear had settled over it all. It wasn’t that she felt much sympathy for the humans, it was that she was concerned about the control the Elves would be able to retain. Tales of the butchery that happened here would escape as it always did, and the humans would find themselves torn between the evils of Elves and the evils of Kazdruk.

“Damn her short sightedness,” Lelthina said, and drained her wine.

Pharno glanced over to her, but otherwise didn’t move. He appreciated the silhouetted view of the Elven noble a few moments, before he allowed himself to speak.

“Lillium was smart. Whether she intended to or not, she has driven a spike into the Coalition, and only now is it starting to show the cracks.”

Lelthina turned, letting him see the view droplets of his cum still upon her breast. She was frowning, moving toward the bed with her usual grace and elegance.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend is being made to work in more than one direction. Without the humans, we cannot win this war. Lillium knows this, she was once one of their greatest warriors,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed. Pharno slid over towards her, his fingers running along her back.

“It is worse than you believe. The new baroness of Volgras is using an old human deity to get others to join her. I have heard the whispers amongst the prostitutes of Morkate,” Pharno said, and Lelthina’s head jerked around to regard him, her eyes wide.

“The siege was a feint. Her real ploy it seems was to get her little cultists inside the city walls, under guise of fleeing from their farms,” Pharno continued, and Lelthina stood, starting to pace. She could feel the spy’s eyes upon her form, watching the slight bounce of her breasts, but she was in no mood to enhance her movements for his pleasure.

“And Telva has made it so we can’t just kill them without pushing the humans over the edge. Did you ever find proof that Sarya was working for the bitch?”

“No. From everything I’ve pieced together, Sarya was pushed over the edge when asked to kill a Wolfkin. A decision made and pushed to the fat weak human ambassadors by the Elven ambassador that sat here earlier,” Pharno said, and smirked. “From what I tell, Sarya would have been one of our greatest instruments against Lillium. Her hatred was strong.”

“Elyiarna save me from the arrogance of my own kind,” Lelthina said, looking up towards the ceiling though she didn’t truly expect any kind of answer.

“She might. She’s given you me,” Pharno said grinning, and Lelthina snorted.

“You are as arrogant as any. But, you have proven yourself useful.”

“And able to make you cum,” he shot back simply.

“Hard,” Lelthina relented and moved towards him as he sat up on the edge of the bed, straddling him.

“We need a new ruler,” she said simply, as Pharno’s hands trailed along her back. He was grinning.

“We do. But how do you intend to make yourself queen? And even if you do, and manage to murder the king and get away with it, how do you get rid of Telva without it being suspicious?” Pharno asked. He likely knew many ways already despite the question.

“Becoming queen is easy. Seduce the king, sleep with him, take his seed, marry him. I’m of noble lineage, and his own wife is long beyond this world,” she said, starting to grind against him. She felt his saliva slick cock starting to harden beneath her, rising upwards to rub against the slick petals of her cunt.

“Easier said than done,” Pharno said, pulling her tight to him, smearing that spot of cum on her breast across his chest.

“With love yes. Impossible. With practicality and politics, much simpler. I just make it, that marrying me will soothe the bonds of the Coalition. The humans will settle with an Elven queen to look after their interests. All I need to do, is become a paragon for them.” she said, and smirked.

“And Telva?”

“Lillium is still out there. The two of them might find each other on the same battlefield again. I’m sure Lillium has old debts to settle for that disaster at the Atzgol plains,” Lelthina said, starting to grind harder against him, smearing his cock and thighs with her own juices.

“Care my dear. You just might make me love you,” Pharno said, grasping Lelthina’s upper arms, and swinging her around to lay upon her back, before he thrust into her, earning a hungry moan.

“And what of your little side project?” she asked as his hips began to move, driving hard into her. Making her tits bounce beneath him.

“The mercenaries are sailing on their way even now. Scytar nomads, as eager for blood as they are gold,” Pharno said, grasping one of her breasts. Squeezing hard, he could feel her nipple digging into his palm.

“Good. Hopefully they can provide the distraction to the Kazdruk we need in order to install proper leadership in the Coalition,” she said, her hips starting to return their bucks against him. The spy’s smile widened.

“Always wanted to fuck a queen.”


Awaking between the naked forms of two fellow tribes folk, Layli carefully and quietly crawled out from the thick fur lined blankets bound over the packed wool mattress. She stood in the small tent like cabin the married couple had for themselves and stretched, arms raised above her head until fingers brushed over the thin beams of wood and stretched cloth that made the ceiling. She felt the sticky remains of last night’s fun clinging to her skin, peeling as her muscles warmed with her movements.

Leaning down, she found her bright orange silk sarong, and leather vest, and started to dress. As she tied the laces of her vest, pushing her breasts snug and comfortable, she felt fingers tracing along her calf, making Layli ever more grateful she’d left her trousers in a heap in the corner of the tent.

Turning she looked back at the woman who smiled up at her. She was a pretty woman, though lacked the muscles of a warrior. Her fingers though held small scars and were callused from her work as a fletcher.

“Don’t be too long. I’d like to taste your skin one last time before you find another bed,” she whispered softly, trying not to disturb her husband. Layli turned her gaze to the naked man, the sheets drawn over his lower legs. He had the muscles of a hunter. The faint traces of gray in his hair speaking to many years of experience with the bow. When Layli’s eyes found his flaccid cock, she remembered taking it inside her the night before. It was much more impressive when he was hard.

“I’ll have him ready for you,” the wife said, a mischevious smile curling her lips.

“I’d rather watch that. I just need some fresh air,” Layli said, leaning down, and dragging her fingers along the front of the woman’s neck before tilting her chin upwards. When their lips met, it was soft, telling the other of the hunger awaiting them. As the kiss broke, each looked at the shimmer of saliva they had left on the other.

“Don’t be too long,” the woman just repeated as Layli stepped out barefoot onto the deck of the war raft. The warm winds of the sea caressed her skin, causing her sarong to billow around her as she picked her way between the tents of other tribe folk. Most were still sleeping soundly as the sun began to crest the horizon, sending it’s beautiful light to shimmer across the rolling waves of the sea.

Breathing in, Layli savoured the salty scent, the damp around her. Her people, the Scytar were from the deserts far to the south. They were not used to such waters, nor to any true settled home. They wandered the sands, following the water holes and herds of goat and sheep, striking into the steppes for gold, food, and glory. Theirs was not an easy life, nor would they have it any other way.

Smiling, her hands curling around the railing, Layli was the same, and different. She had travelled beyond the deserts and steppes and into the lands of civilization. While Scytar blood pumped from her heart, there was also Elvish within her. She had the black hair, and bronzed skin of those she called her people, but her father had gifted her with more grace and pointed ears. Luckily for her, the Sytar valued deeds more than blood. Her return to the tribe with experiences and tales had made her a welcome guest to yurts and firesides. Her exotic nature made her a desired woman to slake the lusts in bed and beneath starry sky. And then her skill in battle had earned her the title of shawrapaht. A chosen protector of the tribe, and of the tribe’s shaman.

Though, she knew her inability to bear children had drawn attention to her as well. Monogamy was not as common amongst the Scytar as it was many of the many so called civilized people she had encountered, but it was against the shaman’s word to bear children outside of marriage.

“It won’t be long now, before we slather our blades,” a deep voice said, though did not approach any closer. Layli smiled, and glanced over her shoulder at her friend Erfan. He was a large man, bulging with muscle. One of the tribe’s lancers, skilled with blade and spear. He hated the waters.

“And earn yet more gold and glory,” Layli said, watching his eyes dip, following the slight curve of waist to hip. And the firm cheeks of her ass, exposed by the wind billowing her sarong off to the side. She let him watch but shook her head.

“Promised another I’d bed them again,” she said, a teasing smirk on her lips.

“Shame. But the view is nicer than what’s beyond you,” he replied, and Layli laughed, letting him enjoy the sight, even pushing her hips back slightly.

“It’s funny,” he said suddenly, arms crossing over his chest.

She cocked an thin eyebrow, another Elvish trait, and waited for him to continue.

“We’re called savages. Barbarians, and worse by these Elves and people who build with stone and lumber. They think themselves safe within their walls. Yet not that they see the lies of that, they come with chests of gold begging for us to help them.”

Layli laughed. She knew more of the ways of civilized people than most in her tribe. Despite her stories by crackling fires with jugs of fermented milk, they never truly understood the crime, corruption, and greed that settled between the bricks of the cities of the world. Erfan’s observation was something that had made her laugh when the Elvish envoys had first arrived.

“A greater threat has emerged in the world. I think we should show these Kazdruk why we are called savages. Why we are feared,” she said, looking out to the sea once more, gazing upon the other war rafts that floated over the waves. The navigators said tomorrow they would reach shore, and soon be advancing upon a place called Thorlgruz. The anticipation was reaching a fever point. There was more drinking and fucking than usual.

“On that note though my friend. There is a beautiful woman and a gorgeous man awaiting me,” she said, turning from the railing and moving towards the tent she had left not long ago. Erfan laughed, clapping her shoulder, and then her ass as she passed by.

In the tent, the fletcher didn’t even glance upwards as Layli entered, the shawrapaht seeing the woman’s tongue drag a slow path up her husband’s cock. The archer groaned, his cock hardening and glistening with pre-cum. Layli grinned, opening her vest to bare her breasts and let it fall to the ground.

Others might call her half-elf, but Layli had the heart of a Scytar.


The twisting halls and corridors of the spire might be a maze to some, but Velkra had grown to know them well. To know where each turn led, what each room held. Her Talon had been there since the beginning. When they stepped forth to slaughter and rape the Goldulans. They had been glorious days then. Full of blood and pleasure. No more for Velkra’s Talon.

They had earned such glory in the initial invasion that they had earned the right and honour to defend the spire, where they had stayed hence. Sitting on their laurels, drinking the plentiful booze, and fucking the slaves and whores, and fighting one another. Her commander, Gelhoz, was a large beastly Kazdruk with very limited skills in magic. He was leading the talon to ruin and disgrace without even seeing it.

The war was still raging, and it infuriated Velkra that her war scythe had been dry for far too long. Only the foolish Elven assault on the spire had offered any respite from the lethargy that seemed to settle over her and her talon.

Moving down another corridor, moving towards the drinking hall she pondered over the sights she had seen since Aeltha had sent her away to collect Lillium. The succubus herself had been interesting in her own way. Seemingly not as tough as her kin, but she had guts, and she had the will to see her ambitions come to fruition. The battle on the beach had been unsettling. To see so many of her own slain, their ships sunk. The setbacks, the defeats, were all being ignored by the Kazdruk in the spire. After so many conquered worlds, they all believed themselves unstoppable. Velkra herself had believed it.

After the battle on the beach though. To see Kazdruk outsmarted and helots slaughtered, she had to wonder if their time was coming. She refused to accept that, and knew something would have to be done.

And then there was Wulfshn. Storming through the halls, and after some digging, Velkra discovered the tough Kazdruk warrior had been defeated in single combat by a mere corrupted elf. Kazdruk corruption made one better, but to defeat a purebred said only one thing to Velkra.

The Kazdruk were getting complacent.

Pushing the doors open into the drinking hall, Velkra walked in and looked at the scene before her. Kazdruk warriors with beer glistening on chins and chests. Roaring and shouting and laughing. An elven slave, likely taken from the battle, was bent over the table. She looked lost in a haze, likely having been shared by the entire Talon multiple times. Cum was pouring from her ass, her cunt, and was smeared across her face. She was panting, eyes half lidded, and Velkra had to wonder how long they’d been fucking her. She saw no other slaves about, and wondered how broken this one was.

“Velkra returns,” the large brown skinned form of Gelhoz stood, arms spread to welcome Velkra. One of her kin handed her a overflowing tankard with a toothy grin, her cock still hard despite the cum and saliva smeared along its length. She’d recently been inside the slave’s mouth. The rest were cheering.

Velkra frowned, taking the tankard and stepping inwards. This was the life of victory. But their victory was long ago now, and already their talon was being forgotten. All in this room believed themselves champions of the Kazdruk, while Luzella made herself the favoured one.

“Our victory has been spent. We should return to war,” Velkra called out. She noted a few frowns, heard a few laughs, but wasn’t sure who agreed with her.

“When we are called upon, we shall charge forth. We are favoured. We are the victors over the empire whose lands stretched from where we now sit,” Gelhoz said, and earned cheers, more poured drinks, and a loud smack of the elven slave’s ass.

“We are forgotten. Thought cowards by the other Talons. We sit and bask in glories that are scarcely remembered,” Velkra said, and earned hisses and boos, though a few were glancing at each other.

“Then let them come here and say that. We are known by Yuldasha herself. She remembers all. Come now Velkra, fuck this whore, drink your beer, and then sit down. This is my talon. Not yours,” Gelhoz let his jovial tone drop near the end. His eyes narrowing as fingers ran over the hilt of the knife on his belt.

Glancing about the room, Velkra took a quick gauge of the others in her Talon. They were all looking between them, hoping for a fight. She frowned, wondering how many would side with her. She had to show them what was happening out on the battlefields. And she could think of only one way.

“Of course Gelhoz. It is your talon. I mere make a recommendation,” Velkra said, with a submissive bow. She could hear the disappointment from the others around her that there would be no fight.

“So long as you remember your place Velkra. Now, take a turn at the whore,” Gelhoz said, letting his fingers slide away.

“Take my turn Gelhoz. To show that I remember my place. I’ll even hold her hair back, to see how far you can fuck her throat,” Velkra said, and earned more cheers though some watched her with suspicion. Their fight was gone, but there would be another sight. Gelhoz grinned, as he and Velkra stepped towards the cum and beer slathered table the elf was laying upon. Her tits crushed into the wood.

Grasping the back of her hair, Velkra yanked her head back. She grinned, running a thumb along her lips, as Gelhoz pulled out his thick cock. Already hard and eager he stepped forward, grinning at Velkra.

He was proud of himself, for having asserted his dominance Velkra knew. She watched him thrust his cock forward, with only the slightest complaint from the slave. She was long past complaining now. Gelhoz put his hands behind his head and grinned as his hips began to ram forward. Heavy balls slapping the slave’s chin, the Kazdruk were cheering on their talon commander as his cock thrust deep.

Until Velkra slammed her knee up. There was a stunned moment of shock for all present as Velkra’s knee struck the bottom of the slave’s jaw. The Elf herself was knocked immediately unconscious, but it was Gelhoz’s blood pouring from between her lips as he stumbled back staring down at the stump where his cock had been. Blood jetting from the wound, he didn’t even fully register what had happened as Velkra lunged forward and grasped his own knife and pulled it free.

The edge dragged along Gelhoz’s side. Opening his stomach and spilling his entrails across the bend. Then, Velkra found her target. Ramming the point of her knife hard into her Talon Commander’s throat. Crimson bubbles foamed around the blade and at his mouth. Velkra pulled the weapon violently to the side. More blood sprayed outwards, splattering a few of those watching.

Holding the knife now, Velkra braced herself for an attack as Gelhoz fell straight back. Blood pooling around his crumpled corpse, Velkra spun at the last moment. Her attacked seemed surprised, until the knife sliced his belly, then his thighs. More blood shed, making the floor slick and sticky with it. The attacker was killed with a quick stab just below the ear.

Then silence. All stared at her. Some had weapons, some still held their booze. Velkra let her eyes sweep over them all.

“We will not share slaves and whores. We will take our own. We will not sit idly by as other Talons reap all the conquests for themselves. We are Kazdruk, not Helots, and not Elves,” Velkra said. She met each gaze directed her way.

“I, am your new Talon Commander.”


The great throne room of Yuldasha was a grandiose as Lillium had expected it would be. With high vaulted ceilings and open windows to the corrupted lands of the Tortured Sea. Great expanses of twisted landscape below the dark sky filled with stars and swirling clouds. Illuminated by magic torches, the room was meant to inspire awe and dread. Lillium could not deny she felt hints of both, though she did not let it show on her face. For what dominated the room and the eyes, was the beautiful and terrible visage of Yuldasha sitting upon her throne. Master of the Kazdruk in this world. Naked save a long cape and tall boots. Lillium knew looking upon her, that she was Kazdruk perfection, sure to inspire desire and terror in equal measures.

The meeting that was to come was inievitable she knew. That sooner or later she would have to come face to face with what was currently her master. The succubus had hoped for more time, more planning. This early however, her transgressions against the Kazdruk were unnoticed. Or, so she hoped. She had to use her own fear to her advantage. It was the only way.

Rolling her wing, feeling the dull ache from where Luzella had dislocated it, it was now far from the sharp sting that she found sexual in its sensation. The muscular and near beastly Kazdruk was powerful, and could prove a very significant enemy in the battles to come. But, now Lillium knew her strengths, and hints of her weaknesses.

To the side and a few paces ahead, Aeltha walked with a smile and swaying hips. She had stripped down to just her boots, letting her thick cock sway with each step. The sorceress had made Lillium do much the same, leaving the succubus in only boots, stockings, and gloves. Baring her flesh to Yuldasha.

The master of Kazdruk sat in her throne, unmoving. Her eyes watching, seemingly ignoring Aeltha. Like a new morsel being brought before her. Lillium admitted to herself that she felt like such, and wondered if this is what others felt when they came before her. It would make her appreciate being on the other side more, and should she emerge from this chamber, she knew it would become only more savoury.

“Aeltha,” Yuldasha started as Lillium and the sorceress stopped before the throne. Both lowered themselves to a knee, but where Aeltha rose, Lillium remained bowed low.

“This is the creation you have told me so much about,” she said. Not a question, a statement. Her voice dripping with menace and lust. A cold shiver ran up Lillium’s spine, even as she felt herself slickening.

“For what was once human, she is certainly a delectable sight. Stand self proclaimed baroness of Volgras,” Yuldasha said, her commands like a whip. Lillium stood. Modesty had long since become a forgotten memory to her.

“It is Master. One of my greatest successes,” Aeltha said with pride, and Lillium knew that she had no proof for the suspicions she held, and without concrete proof the sorceress would not want it known what was seen as her greatest success could well be a failure. At least in the sorceress’s eyes. Lillium didn’t let the relief show. Pride was Aeltha’s weakness. Pride and ambition.

Lillium almost smirked, knowing many would say the same of her. She could not herself become complacent here. Not before Yuldasha.

“So far,” Aeltha continued, with just a pause between, drawing Lillium from her thoughts.

“So far indeed. You have created much for me Aeltha. But you still have not given me the portals we need. The Matriarch grows impatient, thereby I grow impatient,” Yuldasha said, her voice holding more menace that allure with those final words.

“Of course master. I am very nearly done. We will soon be ready to make our first small test. To send Lillium back to Volgras,” she said, though the succubus could hear the fear from the sorceress. Perhaps the only situation she would.

“Explain to me sorceress why this takes so long. We travel between worlds, why can we not travel within just one?” Yuldasha said, leaning forward slightly to look down on the Kazdruk. Her hands clamped on the ends of her throne’s armrests.

“Because it is different. A different direction so to speak. We discovered how to breach the edges of reality to travel, but not to carefully warp it to channel us within a single one.”

Lillium didn’t understand what that meant, and it was difficult for her to determine if Yuldasha did. It seemed to placate the Kazdruk master for the moment as she leaned back in her seat.

“Leave us then. I would examine your pet on my own,” Yuldasha stated, and turned her full gaze to Lillium. Out of the corner of her eye, Lillium saw a hint of disappointment on Aeltha’s features. Whether because the sorceress wanted to show off her pet, or because she wanted to witness whatever was to happen, Lillium couldn’t be sure. But she bowed, and departed, leaving the succubus alone with Yuldasha.

“Master,” Lillium said, bowing again, and when she rose, saw the horse headed cock of the Kazdruk master rising before her eyes. Her arousal spiked, and Lillium bit her lower lip, as she watched Yuldasha’s fingers beckon her forth.

“I have heard tell of the sexual prowess of Aeltha’s succubi. I wish to see it for myself,” Yuldasha said, and rose to her cloven feet. There was something of a sneer on her lips as Lillium came forward to submit herself.

Green magic crackled around Yuldasha’s fingers, and Lillium watched a long whip of green magic slowly unroll from her hands. Tongue slipping over her lips, Lillium continued forward. The first crack of the whip lashed at her right shoulder. Pain flared with sudden sharpness through her flesh, and Lillium moaned. The sensation unlike any other. It only made Yuldasha grin wider, before the whip came forward again.

It coiled around Lillium’s arm. Intense burning bordering on true pain flaring through her before she was yanked forward. With some grace, Lillium came forward, stepping quickly to keep up with forced momentum. She caught herself on the back of the throne, and looked over her shoulder. Yuldasha spanked the succubus once, grinning.

“Pleasure from pain. Then perhaps you will treasure this,” Yuldasha said in her menacing purr, coming up behind Lillium and thrusting herself forward. Without any warning, the flared head of the horse cock pushed itself into Lillium’s ass. Her tight ring spread open to take it deep within. It hurt, and she moaned from the sensual pain. Feeling the flesh of Yuldasha started to ram into her.

“You know what I’m starting to like about you Lillium?” Yuldasha said, her hips slapping hard against the succubus’s rear cheeks. Each powerful thrust earning a loud moan of longing for even more from the vampiric creature.

Juices dripped from Lillium’s cunt, as the master took her. Small little droplets pattering on the floor beneath her. Lillium didn’t answer, just moaned and lifted one leg up onto the throne. Yuldasha grinned, and struck with the whip. A lash of pain from her breast dancing along her flesh to her hip. Another deep and hungry moan as Yuldasha’s cock throbbed in the succubus’s ass. Plunging as deep as she could.

“Answer pet,” Yuldasha demanded the glow of the whip casting green light across her skin.

“I know my place master,” Lillium said between pants, her hips working with Yuldasha’s own. Knowing the mighty Kazdruk master was close to orgasm.

“Yes. And you know what you want. An ambitious little whore,” Yuldasha said, pulling her cock free from Lillium’s ass. Thick ropes of cum hit Lillium’s thigh, more hitting the arm rest of the throne. Slowly slipping downwards.

“A perfect fit for the Kazdruk,” Yuldasha said, thrusting her thick cock into the succubus’s cunt. Lillium moaned again, eyes fluttering, before the strike of a whip had her shuddering in pleasure. The green magical burn sending her into a blissful orgasm, juices gushing over the huge cock pumping into her. She felt it stretching her open. Felt the flared head dragging along her inner walls as she pushed her hips back against Yuldasha. Flesh clapping against flesh as the Kazdruk master began to throb within the vampiric succubus once more.

“There is just one thing to remember my pet,” Yuldasha started, going harder for a moment. Lillium twisted herself to look back at the spire’s ruler.

“That you are mine. Not Aeltha’s. Not your own. Mine. Like every creature on this planet,” Yuldasha said, grunting as a hot stream of cum burst into Lillium, flooding her cunt with the thick sticky spunk. She leaned over, and pressed her lips to Yuldasha’s own.

Yuldasha’s tongue forced it’s way into Lillium’s mouth, into her throat as she continued to fuck her upon the throne. Ravaging her flesh as cum poured from between her thighs, splattering on the seat of the throne. Dripping over the edge towards the floor. Another strike from the whip, the green burn flaring from breast to hip once more. Lillium felt a hand slip from the top of the throne, dragging along the back of the seat.

When the kiss broke, Lillium just looked back at Yuldasha as she continued to fuck her. Drool ran over the succubus’s lips, a thin line of saliva connecting the two for a moment. Each thrust of that mammoth cock shaking Lillium’s form, her breasts bouncing.

Yuldasha Ravages Lillium

“Yes Master,” she said, and Yuldasha grinned.

Before her third orgasm, Yuldasha pulled her heavy cock from inside the succubus. Thick ropes of cum splattering up her back, across her wings. The erotic sensation of cum slowly dribbling down over her skin, and the webbing of her wings making her shiver and moan softly.

“I expected something more pet. Perhaps your not as grandiose as Aeltha claims,” Yuldasha said, and pulled Lillium from the throne, the whip in her hand disintegrating with a small shower of green sparks. The succubus stumbled slightly, breathing heavily as she kneeled before the throne once again.

“Go, on with your duties. I have seen what I need to,” Yuldasha said, and Lillium nodded, standing, and turned to walk away.

“And don’t clean up until dawn,” Yuldasha commanded.

“Of course master,” Lillium said, feeling thick spunk trailling down her thighs, pattering on the floor, leaving a trail behind her as she left the throne room. Lillium wasn’t sure whether or not to be elated. Did Yuldasha mean what she had said, and truly believe Lillium not a threat? Or was she playing games with the succubus?

The doors opened, revealing Aeltha waiting for her, and Lillium didn’t feel any less concerned than when she entered the throne room to begin with.

Shackles of Hate. Chapter 19: Ink on Silk

The harsh rattle of metal links pierced into the silence. Whatever dreams might have plagued her mind were scattered, dried leaves on the wind, as consciousness began to return to her. Viviane felt pain in her wrists, cold metal pressing upwards into the joint of her thumb, but nothing beneath her feet. Just that ache in her wrists, cold air upon her skin.

Opening her eyes slowly, she glanced down. Her feet were but inches from the stone floor, but it might as well have been miles. The chill she felt, seeping into her bones, was explained by the lack of even a single stitch of clothing. The only spot of skin concealed was her wrists, trapped in manacles. The only light was from a pair of torches that flickered in their sconces on each wall. There were no windows, only a single thick wooden door. Blood and cum stained the stones of floor and wall around her, telling their own small tales that kept Viviane’s mind reeling.

Then came the soft sensual purr from behind her, the click of those sharp heels on the stone. A shiver crawled up Viviane’s spine, making the chains holding her off the floor rattle again. Lillium came closer, the points of her claws pressing into the soft skin of her rear, and dragging along her flesh to her hip.

“Knight of Oan. Forsaken and entrapped. You are not the first faithful to enter here,” Lillium’s purr was achingly sensual. A dark sound that slithered into Viviane’s ear. She tried to pull away from that soft touch, but there was  nowhere to go. She simply swayed in the chains, as the succubus let her claws her upwards, along her firm belly to the swell of her breasts.

Then Lillium squeezed harshly, fingers splayed out, claws digging into skin to draw small rubies of blood.

“Nor the first to fall. Have no doubts of what is coming knight. That title will be forgotten soon enough. All that will matter is that you, are my whore.”

“NO!” Viviane’s shout went ignored though, the succubus moving in front of her now, letting the trapped knight gaze upon her. Upon the snow white skin, perfectly smooth, stretching over the hardness of a warrior’s muscles.

Lillium smiled, released Viviane’s breast and gently patted her cheek. The glimmering points of her fangs showed, promising more pain.

“That defiance will soon be gone. I’m just curious if it will be fear, or lust, that breaks it first,” Lillium said, turning then, her skirts flowing around her legs, the long slits up the sides showing the toned legs beneath.

Tearing her eyes away from those swaying hips, Viviane felt shame crawling beneath her skin; that she had watched this monster’s walk with anything close to envy.

The door opened then, and Lillium beckoned in the elf concubine. Viviane glanced over, watching the elf sway in, pushing a cart before her, a large cloth draped over it. When the concubine stopped, the cart just a few paces in front of the dangling knight, she looked up at Vivian. A sadistic grin curled her black lips slowly, her fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. Lillium slowly ran her fingers up Yannifer’s front, teasing at skin and leather in intervals.

“My dear Yannifer does have a glorious set of skills that she’s been perfecting whore. But no worries, she’ll not be practicing them on you. As of yet anyway,” Lillium said, flicking her gaze to Viviane, daring her to contradict the new title.

For her part, Viviane clenched her fists, but it only sent more pain through her thumb and wrists. She grit her teeth and stole herself against the pain, refusing to make a sound, but her show was for naught. Lillium laughed regardless, and the sound sent tingles down the knight’s spine.

“Good slut. It’s a start. You can feel the cracks starting already. Can’t you?” Lillium purred, gesturing to Yannifer who yanked the blanket from the cart, revealing a display or sexual toys, and torture tools. A shiver of cold fear ran through Viviane’s veins as she looked down at the display.

“I’m not going to tell you anything. I am a knight of Oan,” Viviane cried out as Lillium’s clawed fingers danced across the display of toy and tools.

The succubus softly shook her head, tongue clicking behind her teeth.

“Two lies my dear whore. I don’t take well to my subjects lying to me. Don’t worry though. I’m not going to question you,” Lillium said, her eyes narrowed as she looked at Viviane. Fear gripped the knight’s stomach.

“But you must be punished whore. You are not a knight of Oan,” she said, her fingers curling around a thick butt plug, exquisitely carved from wood and lacquered. The tip dragged across the metal tray it rested upon as Lillium picked it up and moved towards her captive. Hips swaying, breasts moving with each clicking step in the confines of her corsetted top. It was an enchanting sight, and Viviane was trying so hard, so very hard, not to take comfort, or pleasure, from the sight. But it was a faltering battle in her mind.

“And you will tell me everything I ask of you should I merely request it.”

The succubus pressed the plug to Viviane’s inner thigh, the wood perfectly smooth on her skin, before it started to drag in a slow arc over her hip as Lillium moved around the hanging knight. There was no doubt to Viviane where the plug was going, and she closed her eyes as Lillium left her vision, trying to prepare herself for what was to come. She bit her lip as she felt the toy trailing over the top of one cheek, and clenched her eyes even tighter as she felt it pushing down her cleft to her rear entrance.

Lillium though did not allow her any further preparations. The succubus made a soft groan that sent an unwanted shiver up Viviane’s spine before the toy was slowly eased inside. Each inch that entered pushing the knight open wider and wider, pain flaring through her as Lillium’s tongue slithered over a shoulder blade. Deeper and deeper the toy went as Viviane stifled her cries of pain by biting her lip harder, not wanting to give Lillium the satisfaction. She only hurt herself more, pain flaring in her lower lip as the plug slid deeper and deeper.

Finally, it was done. Fitted inside, pushing her open, and holding her there. She knew better than to argue, but when Lillium began to twist the toy, Viviane almost cried out. Her fingers curling in on themselves until her nails were pressing into her palms.

Then Lillium was moving again, leaving the plug where it was. Buried deep inside her captive. She dragged her claws over the knight’s lower back, harsh enough that it very nearly drew blood. Standing once more before her, Lillium’s fingers dipped lower, between Viviane’s thighs, and began to gently tease at her cunt, gliding along the lips of her entrance.

“You’re very wet whore,” Lillium stated, withdrawing her fingers, and showing Viviane her glistening digits, strings of juices connected them as the succubus spread her fingers wide. Slowly, she brought one to her lips, sliding it into her mouth and let her eyes flutter as she sucked it clean, moaning softly as it emerged clean of her lust.

“Would you like a taste?” Lillium asked, and Viviane shook her head. The succubus just flashed a fang filled grin and pushed her fingers upwards towards Viviane’s lips. The knight twisted her head away, clamping her mouth shut.

Until the vampiric seductress grasped her hair, and forced Viviane’s gaze downwards. Straight down into the shadows of Lillium’s inviting cleavage. The succubus continued to grin, running one finger over Viviane’s lips, smearing her juices across them, making them glisten in the flickering torch light. Until Lillium pulled harder, pain flaring across Viviane’s scalp, and making her wince and gasp in pain.

The fingers slid inside, between her lips, across her tongue, making her taste her own tart flavour. Smearing across her tongue. She thought about biting down, but the sensation of claws in her mouth made her consider otherwise.

As Lillium withdrew her fingers, Viviane spat, trying to clear out the taste. Worse, she, kind of liked it. As her spittle spattered across Lillium’s cheek, the succubus wiped it away and licked it clean with a smirk.

“Such actions do not disgust me whore. It is, however, a sign of defiance against your mistress. And that I cannot allow,” and the succubus held out her hand towards Yannifer, who unravelled the whip she wore around her waist and draped over her hips, coiling it in her hand before holding it out for her mistress.

Lillium gently took it, running her fingers over the supple leather, feeling it upon her own skin, eyes closed as she savoured such feeling. Tongue flicking over her lips, she glanced to Yannifer.

“This might be a favourite of mine. Soon, it will be yours too,” Lillium purred, starting to move again, letting the whip uncoil until it tapped against the floor and the succubus vanished from sight once again, the last sight of her being the tips of her wings pulling out of view, and the whip sliding across the floor like a tail.

Clenching her eyes shut once more, Viviane braced herself for what was to come. Her muscles tightening along her back as she awaited the harsh kiss of leather.

It didn’t come, and it only made the knight more nervous. Slowly she opened her eyes, bringing Yannifer into view, the Elven concubine standing there, hands crossed beneath her breasts, watching. But not even a sound from Lillium.

The slick wet touch of a tongue came then, trailing along Viviane’s spine to the base of her neck. Lillium’s lips pressed softly to her flesh, kissing her like a lover. And despite the protests of her mind, she enjoyed it. She let the soft groan inside her spill out as Lillium began to kiss and tease at Viviane’s neck, fangs slipping from behind those lush lips to tease at flesh.

“Tell me what you are,” Lillium purred into Viviane’s ear, nipping softly at the lobe, pulling gently, demanding the attention of her senses.

“I am Lady Viviane, Knight o-” she started but was interrupted by the crack of the whip, the leather lashing across her back.

“Lies again my whore,” the succubus hissed, and the whip struck again, making Viviane scream out, shaking in her chains, swaying above the ground as the whip made another red mark along her lower back and the flesh of her rear. A third time it lashed out, guided by Lillium’s hand expertly. Viviane could feel something hot and wet trickling over her skin from where the whip had kissed her.

“Again. What are you.”

Viviane hesitated this time, the pain in her wrists only growing as her back throbbed in agony. She closed her eyes, trying to find a centre, but the plug in her rear was a constant reminder of her vulnerability. Of her failure. Of Oan’s abandonment of her

A quick succession of strikes from the whip had her screaming. She wanted the lips and tongue back. Wanted an end to this. But there was only one way to do so. And that would be to betray everything she’d stood for.

But could she fake it? Pretend? Just to stop the punishment.

Tears rolling down her cheeks she looked over her shoulder, twisting in the air to see the woman behind her. Grinning with those moist lips curled. Glistening fangs protruding from behind those tempting lips. An image of lust. Of corruption. And for all the strength she had thought she had, Viviane was tempted. She had never faced such strong temptations before.

The whip lashed out again, its leather kiss bringing another flash of pain followed by the warm, almost soothing, trickle of blood down her back. Viviane screamed out, unable to bring herself now to call for her God.

Moving forward again, Lillium raked her claws down over Viviane’s back, her ass, and she grasped the plug shoved up inside her.

“When your mistress asks a question whore, you would do well to respond. What, are, you?” the succubus said, somewhere between a purr and a growl. She began to twist the plug, and Viviane couldn’t help but gasp, caught between pain and pleasure. She was surprised that her body enjoyed this strange sensation. It was sinful, but it felt… so good.

Slowly, the plug started to draw outwards, and Viviane felt herself relaxing as it drew further back. Until of course it was shoved firmly back inside. She let out that screaming moan of pain and pleasure again, her back arching, trying to get away when there was no escape.

“I’m a whore. Oan forgive me, I’m a whore mistress,” Viviane cried out, hoping for an end to it all.

“Oan will never forgive you. But you have no need of his forgiveness whore. You have me, and you have Morkate,” the words came from Lillium’s mouth before her lips pressed softly to Viviane’s shoulder, tongue gently easing at the broken skin she had caused. Viviane found herself relaxing again, bidden into the temptress’s graces.

A hand began to wrap around Viviane’s belly, claws gentle, teasing, working downwards, shifting towards her cunt.

“Forsake Oan. Turn from him my whore,” Lillium purred, stopping just above the dangling, self-admitted whore’s clit.

“I can’t… I can’t do it mistress,” Viviane said, forcing the last word out, hating it less this time.

“A pity. And you were doing so very, very well.”

Lillium pulled away again, smacking her palm against her whore’s ass, and letting the whip slap against the floor once more, letting Viviane hear it, letting her know her education was about to continue.




The candle on the desk glowed gently, providing the light for Aela to read. Her lips moved silently as she pored over what was written in the grimoire, penned by the sorceress Aeltha. So much information, so much knowledge. And now it was to be Aela’s, to be used in service of Morkate, and her harbinger, who was now on her second day of playing with the woman who had once been a knight.

Carefully, hunched over her desk, took in the words, each note Aeltha had written down, each diagram she had drawn onto the pages. Translating it was tedious, but very rewarding with each secret unveiled. Bringing the Harbinger back from the brink of death had been but the first.

Succubi it seemed were wholly of Aeltha’s creation. Her first project to rival her mentor’s breeding of the helots. Shaped through corruption and lust and moulded into the perfect creature of beauty, lust, and temptation. Mostly humans were taken for such experiments, only the occasional elf.

There was a note on shaping only the willing. Twisting their own desires to suit Kazdruk needs. It made this new species much more loyal than fear and oppression had with others. Corrupted and then sent out to operate on their own.

There of course had been failures. Flesh had twisted into grotesque abominations, pained creatures either dead or kept in the dungeons of the spire howling in unending torment. If they had working tongues that was, or hadn’t taken their own lives. All of them stepping stones on the path to learning the marriage between human and elven anatomy, and Kazdruk corruption.

The first true success had been Ryeesh. Sultry, ambitious, and according to Aeltha’s notes, now working out to the continent in the west. But there was another, noted here. A bridge between this success and the twisted creatures that had come before.

Niseht. Shadowy, opened flesh, metal bolted to her in brutal mimicry of what was to come.

Aela frowned as she read the notes about this spy, who was as much shadow as flesh and blood. Unreported and unknown even to Yuldasha. A servant to Aeltha alone. The priestess pondered the implications of this. There was no notes of where this Niseht was, or if she was even alive. It was possible though, that the machination was working in Volgras, keeping tabs on the Harbinger. Reporting all to Aeltha.

Lillium and all those in Volgras had already acted openly against Kazdruk influence once. If Aeltha caught wind of much more, it could crumble what the Harbinger was trying to build before the foundations were even complete.

Leaning back in her seat, Aela reached for the carafe of wine, only to find it empty. She reached for the small bell on her desk and rang it. Within moments, a young woman, naked save her sandals and the black loincloth hanging from her waist, entered the room. Her skin still healing from the fresh tattoos swirling over her body, marking her forever as a servant of Morkate.

She bowed before the priestess, saying not a word, and for a moment Aela looked upon her young beauty. The fullness of her breasts, her slim waist.

“Wine acolyte,” she said, handing the carafe to the woman, who wordless took it, and turned away. She did not scamper, or scurry, as a young nervous acolyte of Oan might. No she walked with confidence, her hips swaying, while still knowing her place in this world.

For the moment anyway.

As the door closed, closing the wonderful view of the young woman, Aela turned back to her studies. She would have to ponder Niseht later. It was in a few pages she finally found something incredibly exciting; Aeltha’s discovery of vampires. The discovery of the last remaining of her kind.

The Empress Nera of Goldulin.

It was her blood that had helped give birth to the Harbinger. It seemed Aeltha believed vampirism to be the perfect method of bringing together Kazdruk corruption and human flesh. She had notes on Nera, the old religion of Morkate. Lillium was the most successful of her succubus experiments. But the sorceress feared she might have been too successful. Leaving Lillium the only one of her kind.

Aela grinned as she started reading into the procedure that gave birth to who was now the Baroness of Volgrass.

She would not be the only one forever.




Leaning against the sturdy trunk of a tree, Kira stared into the night. She was not looking at anything in particular. Not the campfires that dotted their little camp amongst the trees of this great forest. Not the guards who performed their patrols in search of any Kazdruk, becoming stealthier and sneakier with their movements each night. Not even at Thaden who sat beside her, spooning a thin stew into his mouth.

Eventually Thaden broke the silence, setting his empty bowl on the ground before speaking.

“You need to eat.”

Finally Kira turned her head to regard him, taking in his scent as much as the rugged features of his face. She let out a low sigh.

“I’ll hunt when I’m hungry.”

“You have to eat something now. You may not be hungry, but you’ve barely touched anything since Volgras.”

Kira didn’t have any answer for him. Nothing that would make sense to even her mind. So she simply shrugged, unable to push away that image of her sister. Comparing what she remembered of Lillium before Atzgol, and what she had seen in the keep of their former home. The words that had come free from her lips.

And worse, the temptation she had felt from her.

“There are others that need it more than I do,” she said, pushing herself back into the conversation she had started to let slide. Her sister was almost like a toxin; she could see the fanatic loyalty her concubines held for her. That even the slaves held. Volgras had become a surreal town of carnality, and it beckoned to her. Her animal side almost salivating at the idea.

In her moments alone since the flight from Volgras, her hand had slipped down between her legs to find herself slick and wanting. And it was always her sister that flittered through her mind.

“Bullshit.” Thaden’s voice pulled her back to the present, letting those other thoughts turn to dust and fog.

“These people look to you for hope, and guidance. And after what happened at Volgras they need you to stay strong. Otherwise it will have been for nothing. And I hate having done things for nothing,” Thaden continued, and Kira leaned over, resting her head upon his shoulder.

After just a moment of hesitation, he reached up, starting to stroke her hair. Too many had died in that attack. The knights were gone, and word from her scouts told her the elves were ready to march into Driftafay once more. Kira was having some difficulty finding pity for them.

But it was all leading to one inevitable end. A Kazdruk victory.

She pondered something Lillium had said back in Volgras. About humanity surviving in the darkness. Could her sister be plotting some kind of strike against the invaders from within? Or was Kira just letting foolish hope enter her mind once again?

Reaching up to rub at her eyes she let Thaden’s scent calm her, the sensation of his fingers drifting gently through her hair.

“We need more information. Those helots in Volgras were not acting normally. They were organized, efficient. Tomorrow we need to start scouting again, and raiding. Hopefully we can stall them long enough for everyone else to stop fighting amongst each other and stand united against the Kazdruk.”

“There you are. I missed you,” Thaden said with a slight laugh in his tone, scratching behind Kira’s ear. She smiled gently and turned her head, kissing his neck softly, letting her tongue slide over his skin.

When she rose to her feet, she gave Thaden a nod.

“I’m going for a hunt, see you in a few hours,” she said, leaning down to kiss his forehead, and he gave her a playful smirk, as he leaned back against the tree, watching her vanish into the darkness.

The wolfkin had full intentions of getting herself a meal, of chasing down some prey. She knew to win, she would have to embrace the animal that pumped in her blood. When she slipped into the darkness of night alone however, she paused. Hiding herself in a thicket, the smell of deer telling her of recent passage, Kira shifted her pants down.

Laying on her back, legs spreading, she reached down to her slick cunt, feeling the heat on her fingertips before they started to push inside her. She bit down on a stick to stiffle the moans she knew she was going to cause herself as her hand began to pump into her. Her hips bucking back against the thrusting digits, making them slick with her own arousal. Her thumb canting up to find her clit and rub it firmly.

The juices of her lust started to run, over her skin, along the curve of her rear. Her tail flicked back and forth as her hips thrust upwards, the fur dampening as she continued in her lust.

There in the woods, alone, Kira masturbated. And thought of Lillium.




Flaring pain pulled a scream from Viviane’s lungs. The clamps on her nipples being pulled by the chain grasped firmly in Lillium’s fist. The succubus grinning as she watched the former knight’s face twist in agony. Nipples swollen, flesh of her breasts red and puffy from the abuses she’d suffered so far, her cheeks slick with fallen tears, Viviane struggled to cling to her faith. To that shield that had protected her for so many years.

But it was getting harder.

“That’s it whore. Let it out. Scream, tell me your agony,” Lillium purred, sending unwanted shivers of want down Viviane’s spine, the words punctuated by the succubus pulling hard on that thin chain again. The teeth of the clamps digging harshly into the sensitive tips of her breasts. She screamed again, the sound echoing in the chamber.

Then Lillium released the chain, letting it gently land on Viviane’s belly. Cool, almost comforting in a perverse way. Certainly more than the painful heat from her wrists, where the manacles continued to rub her raw.

Panting, eyes half-lidded, exhausted, Viviane felt hope slipping through her grasp, spilling away into the void. Swaying slightly in her bindings, making the chains rattle slightly, she clung to consciousness, her nipples throbbing.

A single step forward, and the leather encasing Lillium’s breasts was rubbing gently over her stomach and the chain draped over it. One wing curled around the captor, and Lillium’s claws began  a slow gently ascension along Viviane’s thighs. Her eyes fluttered, unable to force herself not to enjoy this soft treatment.

Despite the sin of it.

It was the only relief she had from the agony. The clamps, the whips, the plugs, or even the claws when something that truly displeased the corrupted warrior spilled into the cell. Her home now. She was always left guessing whether pain or pleasure would come next, and sometimes they mingled into each other.

Worn down, tired, the once proud knight could have trouble distinguishing the two, her world narrowed down into a singular focus; the whims of Lillium. She did not speak, knowing the title mistress would have to slip past her lips lest she invite more ire upon her flesh. And the more she said it, the more she called Lillium mistress, the more true it sounded.

The last time she said it, Viviane had believed it.

Fingers started to ease their way into the captive’s cunt, slick and eager for what the succubus could offer. Viviane’s body was falling to temptation despite her mind’s desperate and seemingly futile struggle against it.

The fingers stopped with claws pressed tight against the barrier of flesh. The physical manifestation of Viviane’s maidenhood.

“No, mistress, please,” Viviane begged, the title seeming real. True. Lillium was her mistress. There was no other way to describe the succubus.

“I would have preferred you given this to me willingly whore. But, I shall delight in taking it nonetheless,” Lillium purred, her red eyes flicking up to stare into her whore’s own, as the fingers plunged all the way inside.

A flash of pain as her hymen was ripped open, claws making short and easy work of the fleshy wall. Viviane screamed as she was violated, that last piece of her chastity the succubus had not yet taken was gone. Blood trickled over Lillium’s fingers, to her hand as she gently pulled.

Chains rattled slightly as Viviane came closer, her naked breasts pushed to Lillium’s face. The succubus let her tongue slowly roll over that skin, tasting the blood, the sweat on them. Her teeth teasing at the nipples and clamps that held them as she started to rub her fingers.

The pain was dissipating, and once more Viviane found pleasure. Pleasure from her own violation. She moaned then, unable to stop the sound.

“You are mine whore. It matters not what you wish to give me. If I want it, I will take it,” Lillium growled as she started to work Viviane towards her first orgasm.

“Yes mistress. It is as you say,” Viviane moaned, desperate now to get off,

“Forsake Oan, and embrace Morkate as your true  Goddess,” Lillium snarled, her fingers working faster and faster, Viviane’s juices streaming over the succubus’s digits.

“I…” Hesitation. Could she forsake Oan? He had left her here to rot. To succumb to the ministrations of a creature that spat in his face with the very act of breathing. Could she not lie? But, Mistress would know. She saw through it before. And the marks on her back still bled if she twisted the wrong way.

“I can not forsake my God mistress,” the captive finally said, her voice a mewl. Lillium pulled her fingers free from the whore’s cunt, and made a show of licking the digits clean. It sent shivers up her spine, and she watched with pathetic need. Nearly enslaved by her own needs that she had not known she had. Lusts that the succubus had brought into light.

Reaching over to her side, Lillium took up a bigger plug than last time and smiled.

“I do so love your education,” she said as she came up behind the captive, and thrust the plug in without hesitation, twisting it inside her whore who screamed again, swaying on the chains, violated again. And some part of her, slowly coming unburied, loved every moment of it.

“Yannifer,” Lillium called, and the fallen elf smiled her sadistic smile as she moved to the cart and picked up a short slender knife.

“Remind the whore of where she is, and who continues to leave her here in my care,” the succubus purred, turning then to leave, Viviane watching her swaying ass the entire time.

But when the door closed behind Lillium, the whore was left with Yannifer. And she begged to whoever might be listening that Lillium return to save her from the elf’s cruelties, just before she screamed out as knife pressed to the skin of her thigh.




“Quiet,” Sarya whispered, clamping a hand over Isolde’s mouth.

The centurion looked around in the dark, not even the embers of a firepit to light the night. She was still mostly dressed, and Isolde, while chilled, had stripped away her top in hopes of tempting the woman she wished to claim her would show an interest in her body.

It had not yet worked, despite the looks, despite the gentle gropes when they lay together at night. Sarya seemed single minded in this quest she had taken on for herself, and not knowing who she could trust except her whore, would not give any way for anyone to find them.

Isolde chewed on her lip knowing the truth of that last part. The whore would betray her soon enough, but it had to be done. Otherwise Sarya would die, and would never see her true potential. Never feel the simmering embrace of Morkate.

“What is it?” Isolde asked after a moment of silence. Not even the insects were out, just the wind.

“Something is out there,” Sarya said, leaning down to whisper this into Isolde’s ear, just before something snapped out in the woods. They were pressed together, Sarya’s breasts unimpeded by her armour, crushing firmly against Isolde’s.

“Probably just an animal,” the whore said, savouring the sensation for however long it lasted.

“Perhaps. But not all animals are peaceful either.”

Slowly, Sarya pushed off Isolde and reached over to pull her sword free. Moving carefully towards the tree line, Isolde watched the centurion move with sure purpose, the naked blade glinting in the moonlight.

It was just before Sarya vanished from view that a horrible screech tore out from the woods. The centurion shot straight up, sword before her as Isolde’s eyes went wide; she had never heard anything like that scream before in her life, and it sent chills down into her bone.

For a moment Sarya stood her ground, waiting for an attack that didn’t come. Eventually though, she pushed forward, into the thickets that surrounded their tiny camp. Alone now Isolde felt fear creeping up into her mind. She scrambled forward, slipping twice before finding her feet to follow Sarya into the darkness.

In the forest itself she looked around desperately, having to hold herself from calling out for Sarya, not knowing what was out there. The sound of something tearing filled her ears, but she couldn’t see the source. It was the only sound save the snapping branches she caused. Was it Sarya? Had she been found and slain?

Heart pounding like an anvil in her chest she continued to creep forward, trying to see with the few slivers of light that the moon provided through the trees.

A hand grasped hers, and yanked her down, another clamping over her mouth and cutting off her scream before it escape into the night. Isolde found herself staring into Sarya’s eyes, the centurion’s expression stern, a finger to her lips before she gestured in the direction that Isolde had been stumbling.

Curious and terrified all at once, Isolde leaned forward to see what Sarya had.

A deer stood above another one. The one on the ground dead, its guts and blood glinting much like the steel of Sarya’s spatha had. The still living one was shifting its muzzle through the massive hole torn into the side of the carcass, occasional ripping its head away, bringing hunks of meat away from the body. Strings of flesh stretching until they snapped apart.

Isolde stared, not sure what to make of what she was seeing. The deer snorted and looked towards them, its eyes glowing like two embers.

“This is not Kazdruk corruption. This is something else. Lillium is behind it,” Sarya said, and Isolde felt a shiver of pleasure despite herself. So, this was the touch of Morkate, twisting the world to her image.

“Come, there is little else for us to see here,” Sarya said and started walking away.

Isolde stayed for a moment, watching in something between reverence and revulsion, before picking herself up and following after Sarya. The deer merely bent its head back down into its meal.




Time had lost its meaning. Her world had become a swirling mosaic of pain and pleasure, the sensations starting to bleed into one. Breathing heavily, breasts rising and falling, droplets of sweat and blood rolling along her skin to drip softly on the stone floor beneath her swaying feet, the voice of the succubus slipped its way into Viviane’s mind.

Demanding attention.

“I am a whore,” she said through lips aching to feel Lillium’s again, to feel the soft caress of her tongue. The answer pleased the succubus; the whip didn’t come.

Day and night didn’t matter anymore, only the dark when Lillium was gone, and the light when she was hear. She lifted her head, weak, thirsty, in agony, aroused beyond her once prudish imagination. But these last visits, Lillium had broadened that imagination. Showed her a full world full of pleasure, and despite herself, Viviane was aching for more. Before she was left to the whims of Yannifer for displeasing her mistress.

“That’s right, good girl,” Lillium purred, her claws slowly dragging over Viviane’s rear, drawing forth a moan from her lips despite the pain. Lillium laughed gently, the whore before her twisted in her chains to get closer, instead of away from her.

“Very good girl. You’ve been learning well. It might be time soon to take you down from there… but not quite yet. Soon though.”

“Yes, mistress,” came the reply, with just a heartbeat of hesitation before the final word slipped free into the room. Lillium curled her lips and shook her head, as she stood behind the whore, reaching upwards to encircle her arms around the woman. And grasp her breasts tightly, fingers digging in, claws sinking into flesh, earning another moan of delirious hunger.

“Good. Good,” Lillium purred, grasping the woman’s nipples, and twisting harshly, earning a scream straddling pain and pleasure. Viviane’s mind split between the two forever more. Lillium slowly licked her lips, standing close enough that Viviane could feel the bottom of the succubus’s tongue along her shoulder blades.

“Do you seek forgiveness whore?” Lillium purred, and lashed her tongue along the whore’s spine, feeling her shudder. Her body had utterly given up hiding the lusts bubbling up through her soul, though her mind had resisted. For a time.

“I am unforgiveable,” Viviane groaned, and was rewarded by the plug buried in her ass again being twisted.

“I am forsaken. And so… I…” she stammered, knowing what her new mistress wanted to hear. Wanted to hear her sinful confession that would damn her forever. Viviane’s mouth opened and closed a few times as the words she had been told to say readied themselves on her tongue to be spit out into the world.

“Go on. Say it whore. Say your new truth,” Lillium purred, grasping Viviane’s nipples again and pulling on them, hard enough to actually pull her full form dangling from the chains. Viviane screamed out in agony, throwing her head back as her juices gushed down her thighs. Her wrists, rubbed raw, pulling harder against her manacles.

“I forsake Oan! He is a weak God, though I am just a whore mistress.” The words tumbled free, and Viviane had meant every one of them.

Lillium grinned wickedly, releasing Viviane’s nipples, letting her sway back and forth on the chains. She moved before her whore, bloody and bruised, and ran a single claw from her lips, along her neck to her navel in a slow teasing journey.

“Good girl. I think you’re ready to come down finally.” Lillium purred, spreading her fingers wide and running them upwards, along Viviane’s hands. The whore groaned, grateful to be let down, that she might serve. She had given up everything else, and bore the scars from knife and whip from her foolish resistance.

A knock at the heavy door before it opened though had Lillium pausing before she reached the manacles. The succubus looked back as one of her concubines entered and bowed. Mia. Lillium dragged her claws back down Viviane’s body until they were settled at the whore’s hips.

“Mistress. It’s, Aeltha. In the mirror.” Mia said, not raising her eyes as she spoke.

Clicking her tongue a moment, the succubus looked up at her new whore, broken and desperate.

“Yannifer. It seems I’m needed. Do keep my new whore reminded of the words she spoke,” the succubus said, starting to walk towards the door and Mia. Viviane couldn’t pull her eyes away from her hips, the way they swayed, the swirl of her skirts.

The elven concubine pulled her whip free and grinned.

“With pleasure mistress,” she said, readying her favourite tool. Then the door closed, taking Lillium and Mia into the clutches of the castle once more, leaving Viviane alone with Yannifer.

Viviane bit her lip then, anticipating eagerly what was to come.




With the little thieves Jelthra and Kamri to soon be taken care of, Aeltha turned back to her personal studies. Neicul’s beastly temperament was certainly a success. Now, she only needed to find how to control him. It certainly wasn’t that his will was made of iron now. No, it was simply that it was guided by instinct and rage. To kill, to fuck. There was little left of the old Neicul remaining, though Aeltha might be able to change that back.

If she wished it of course.

It would be interesting to twist him around her finger. It would be an easy process to domesticate him, much like the humans did with their pets. Reward good behaviour, punish the bad. But having him domesticated simply would not do. She wanted him feral. Vicious.

And when it worked, she’d give Yuldasha a regiment of savage and feral Kazdruk to be unleashed in the lands of the Northern Coalition. To run amok and ruin them behind their front lines. All of the efficiency of a Kazdruk soldier to destroy the enemy, and none of the ambition that would hamper command.

Only fitting Neicul be the first, since he had failed to get the Elves she wanted, to experiment with elven succubi.

She took up her quill to begin penning down her notes of the day, looking into one of her scrying orbs to watch Neicul in his chains. Still struggling to free himself. They had been reinforced after yesterday’s escape, as much as it had been important to watch him pursue the elf. It was not conducive to let the subject run amok of his own will. Especially when what little will was left was not the most controllable. Yet.

Then came a particular scent. Cold metal and old blood, wafting gently through the room. Her brows furrowing, Aeltha turned, and saw Niseht emerging from the shadows. The spy glanced once towards the scrying orb that peered upon Neicul, but said nothing. Instead she moved to sit on Aeltha’s desk, gently crossing one leg over the other.

“Karthelza is dead. Sacrificed by the priestess Aela to bring Lillium back from death.” the spy whispered quietly as if afraid that even in here she would be overhead. Aeltha though frowned as she took in the news. First it meant that Lillium’s people were willing to cross proper Kazdruk to fulfill their duties to their mistress; a lack of fear in their proper overlords. Secondly, it meant one of them had gone to Thorlgruz. Into her personal chambers.

Gaze turning towards the scying orb that showed Neicul, straining against his chains, veins bulging from his forehead as spittle flew from his mouth opened in unheard roar, Aeltha began to wish she was away from the spire again.

Left alone to work, to study, to advance her experiments. Instead she was here. In the heart of the vicious and violent world of Kazdruk politics. A world she made a point to excel in, lest she end up like Kamri and Jelthra.

“Does anyone else know of this?” Aeltha asked.

“No mistress. Lillium and her ilk have been careful to cover their tracks.”

“Good. My pet is starting to pull too hard on her leash and that may be expected; but it will not do to let it be known my dog escaped a bit her soldiers,” Aeltha said, nearly a whisper as she moved through these chambers that had been given her. Towards the corner where a large oval object was hidden beneath a sheet.

With a swift pull she revealed the mirror beneath. Lillium had one nearly identical in Volgras.

“Niseht, check in on Luzella and her uppity litter mate, and what they’ve done with the new toys they should have obtained by now.”

The metal and flesh succubus bowed and started to vanish from sight before pausing once again, her head tilted. Aeltha looked at her, eyes narrowed, waiting for the question she knew was coming.

“Mistress. Why involve the two warriors in this? Would it not be easier for you to deal with it yourself, or involve Yuldasha?”

Aeltha smiled at that, bearing her pointed teeth as she turned to the mirror, drawing a simple symbol across the glass to make it faintly glow green.

“Because if they succeed, they get what they want. In a way, they will owe me for it. If they fail, then it is simply more fodder for the debate I will have with our master for the need of feral Kazdruk.”

Niseht nodded once, and was gone just before the greenish clouds that had filled the mirror dissipated, revealing the young concubine that Lillium had taken. The one she’d tested Aeltha’s vampiric serum upon. It seemed to have worked wonderfully, though Lillium’s report on the matter had been frustratingly vague, and so Aeltha could not study for many effects.

“Get me your mistress.”




Bowing before the mirror, showing her mistress respect, Lillium sat shortly after and kept a plain face at the look of annoyance that crossed Aeltha’s face. A dangerous game, but she had set her pieces on the board willingly.

“Mistress, how might I serve?” Lillium asked of the sorceress, seated in the spire so far from Volgras, her image slightly hazy in the swirl of green magic that made the mirror glow.

For a moment the two simply watched each other, telling each other far too much with the growing gulf of silence. And both knew it.

“You continue to do well for yourself, my champion,” Aeltha finally said, though there was no look of pride in the sorceress’s face as there might have been. Once.

“I simply fulfill my purpose.”

“And yet lands around your territory continue to be plagued with resistance, the Kazdruk invasion still slowed despite you being buried like a tick. Caravans and platoons overrun, able sorceresses left dead in the road.”

“I do what I can with but a handful of savage helots under me. I have no true Kazdruk warriors. Nor any of the more unique servants that you once provided me. Allure only works so far,” Lillium was sure to put a bit of purr into her tone as she spoke then, feeling Aeltha’s eyes upon her through the magic mirror. But there was no lust there, and that worried the succubus.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you have merely bitten off more than you can swallow. If your forces are as dismal as you say, why attempt to take Driftafay?”

“Not to take the city, but to help drive the Coalition apart. They have only resisted so long because of the alliance between the human clans and the Elven houses.”

At that Aeltha smiled. The succubus was clever, and her activities may well work greatly with the seeds she and Yuldasha planted in Queen Aria. Sailing home as she spoke.

“The time has come for you to meet your master my pet. To come to the spire and kneel before Yuldasha.”

Lillium looked at Aeltha, to try and seek the game she was starting to enter into. But she couldn’t; the rules were changing from what she thought she knew.

“Your escort will arrive tomorrow. Be ready to depart my pet.”

With those final words, the clouds floated across the mirror again, and dissipated, leaving Lillium to stare at her own reflection. Unsure of the mirror’s full power, she did not let her frown crease her brows until after she had stood and left the room. Two of her concubines were waiting outside, looks of concern and curiosity on their faces.

“Mia, Rania. You will tell Aela and Lorth that they will dine with me this evening. We have much to discuss,” the succubus said, not bothering to fully explain the situation. But the two concubines bowed without questioning. Loyal, perfectly so. As Lillium herself was supposed to be.

Quickly walking through her castle, back down into the dungeons, Lillium embraced the lust that had been rousing within her. With a new whore waiting to be taken down, and used. Viviane wanted it now. She was dripping for it. And now was the moment to break her.

When Lillium entered Viviane’s cell, the last notes of a beautiful scream were tearing from her lips as Yannifer pulled the whip across the ground, ready to lash out again. The once proud, chaste, and noble knight looked up as the succubus entered, and a look of lust, and relief, crossed her features. That very look made Lillium grin as she moved up to table, running her fingers over one last device; a thick metal collar and a chain.

Making a show of running her tongue over her lips, Lillium lifted the collar and moved up to Viviane, closing the cold metal around her neck. The succubus had her still clothed breasts pushed tightly against Viviane’s.

“I will serve mistress. Please, just let me down. Let me, prove myself,” the woman muttered, rather eagerly. So Lillium flicked her tongue over the woman’s dry lips, feeling her shudder through her garments.

“Yannifer,” the succubus purred, her eyes flicking over to the concubine who bowed, wrapping the whip once more around her waist as she moved behind her mistress.

Reaching upwards, running her claws up Viviane’s arms, dragging the new chain with her. Letting the new whore feel that cold metal gliding over her flesh along with the sharp points of the claws. All while Yannifer slowly began to peel off Lillium’s tight garments.

Gasping, Viviane’s eyes fluttered, feeling naked flesh against her own. A lustful sin that she felt herself craving. Needing. Even as Lillium’s hands found the mannacles.

“Wrap your legs around me whore. Or else you’ll fall,” Lillium purred.

“Yes mistress,” Viviane said, feeling a surge of pleasure as the word slipped through her lips. Her legs wrapping around Lillium, feeling the succubus’s powerful thighs, the tightness of her ass. The succubus grinned, before lowering her head. Her lips, her tongue, ran over the whore’s breast, leaving slick warm trails. Fangs teased along either side of her nipple, making Viviane moan hungrily.

When the first manacle came free, Viviane let her arm drop, curling around Lillium’s back, feeling the sensual sensation of her leathery wing, fingers gliding down to the base where demonic flesh met something once human. And it made Lillium groan softly, her fingers pausing in their work on the second manacle.

Blinking, the fallen knight felt a surge of joy at hearing that sound, even muffled as it was by her breast. Lillium and Yannifer had made her role in life very clear. Her entire purpose, was to serve the whims of her mistress, and her new goddess would deliver rewards. Mistress would not abandon her as her old god once had.

One the second manacle came free, Viviane lazily let her fingers trail across the woman’s back, her wings, trying to earn another such groan from her mistress. Lillium lowered the whore to the ground, and smiled down at her.

Clad in only the armour covering her shoulders and forearms, Lillium slid her foot between Viviane’s legs, the sharp bone heel scraping across the stone. With a slight twist of her foot and body that flaunted her form, letting Viviane gaze upon perfect beauty, Lillium pressed her heel to her whore’s thigh.

They parted for her mistress, revealing the glistening folds of her cunt. Eager for pleasure, though her mouth watered to pleasure her mistress more.

The succubus’s foot moved again, toes and heel gliding up Viviane’s chest until the sharp point was pushing against a breast and pushing her back to rest of her elbows. With Lillium grasping the chain of her collar she could not go back any further.

The succubus laughed, descending, letting her legs entwine with the whore’s.

“You’re all mine whore,” she purred as she pushed her own slick cunt tightly to Viviane’s, running her hands along the chain to take away any slack that might offer the whore relief. But Viviane no longer wanted relief.

Broken, twisted, she knew what her mistress wanted, and started to move her hips, watching Lillium’s perfect lips curl into a smile.

“Of course mistress. I’m all yours,” she said, letting herself say the words, making them all the more true, as Lillium groaned, her own hips moving. Mistress and whore ground against her other, feeling the wet heat of the other between their thighs. Feeling the pressure on their clits, on their folds. Viviane’s mouth dropped open, watching her mistress, her perfection.

A twisted form of love that would have once horrified her was growing in the whore’s heart. And she embraced it as her juices dripped down onto the cold stone floor her ass rubbed against. Her body was aflame with pleasure she could no longer with without. All while she stared at the demoness who gave it to her.

By breaking her.

Lillium breaks Viviane. Art by Lucien

Lillium laughed, suddenly pulling herself away, and pulling back on the chain, forcing Viviane forward and to the ground, her tits crushing against the floor and smearing across her own juices and Lillium’s.

“Finish me off whore,” Lillium purred, laying there with her legs open, inviting. And almost drooling, Viviane started to crawl forward until her mistress’s sweet musk filled her senses. Her nose gliding over her folds before her pressed her lips to the woman’s cunt, letting her tongue slip out. Tasting her, moaning at the flavour as her fingers slid down. Down between the floor and her body. Teasing at her own pussy, feeling the pleasure as she teased herself, easing the digits inside as her tongue slid inside.

“Not yet whore. Not until you’ve learned how to pleasure your mistress properly. You’re going to need many lessons,” Lillium growled, pulling again on the chain, forcing Viviane tighter into her twat.  Nearly suffocating her. But Viviane pulled her hands away, trying to concentrate on her tongue. To pleasure her mistress.

It was all that mattered.

Shackles of Hate. Chapter 17: Resurrection

The caravan, if it could be called a caravan, lumbered along slowly from an unnamed beach on the coast of DelHelshan, just west of the plains of Atzgol. A small squad of helots, armoured and carrying spears marched on either end of a wagon filled with grim faced slaves who had all but forgotten what freedom tasted like. Beneath the arching bows of forest trees they clambered along towards Innisgar.

At the head of the column, a pair of Kazdruk demonesses lead the march, cloven feet kicking up the dust of what would be an insult to roads to call it such. The tallest rippled with muscle, leather garments scarcely hiding her flesh, or the heavy cock swinging between her legs. She turned her head to glance towards her companion, heavy black braids of hair swinging with the movement.

“The corruption is slow spreading up here,” she muttered, and the other grunted, walking to a tree and plucking a leaf from a branch with delicate fingers curled with sorceress tattoos. Her soft hair swayed about her shoulders in the breeze, drifting down to the skirts she wore that fluttered around her lean legs.

“No, there is something wrong with the taint here Karthelza,” the sorceress muttered, tongue flicking across the plant before her.

“Vibrant, full of life, yet dark. Someone is slowly pulsing against the Kazdruk,” she continued, dropping the leaf and turning to the warrior, who was slowly running a thumb along the blade of a long hafted axe.

Karthelza’s nostrils suddenly flared, an unfamiliar scent catching on the breeze. She held her axe high, the troop of helots ceasing their march. Without the creaking wheels of the slave wagon or the stomping feet of marching soldiers, an uneasy silence settled over the forest. The rustling of leaves on the breeze was the only sound to break the eerie quiet. No birds sang, no insects chirped. Everything felt wrong.

The first volley of arrows burst out from the foliage. Black shafts tipped with wicked barbed heads, and fletched with raven feathers. They whistled out the shadows, striking through armour and sinking deep into flesh.

“Ambush!” Karthelza yelled out, snapping her soldiers from their surprise. She glanced to the sorceress, expecting her to be incanting a spell, but found a half dozen arrows buried in her. Two in her throat, three scattered across her torso, and one through her eye, deep enough that it had punched out the back of her skull dripping chunky blood. The sorceress wavered a moment, blood spilling from her lips, and slumped to the ground. The second volley tore into the caravan.

The black shafted arrows punched into Helots as they scrambled into some kind of defensive formation. They fell to the ground, abandoned by their comrades who finally got their shields up. Inside the cage, slaves screamed, or sobbed, and some pressed themselves against the bars to meet a quick end. The others used the bodies of dead friends, family, and new acquaintances of the shackle as barricades against the onslaught.

“Filthy humans. Kneel, and I may show a quick death,” Karthelza yelled to the forest, snapping the shaft of an arrow buried in her calf. She ignored the burning pain and the thin trail of blood running down to her hoof.

She moved towards the defensive line, staying behind the shields of her helots. She had heard the rumours of a gang of humans ambushing and raiding Kazdruk war parties, but Karthelza could not believe that Lillium was letting them range so close to her lands. The succubus was weak.

For a moment there was silence again save for the groans of some wounded slaves and helots. Karthelza looked to the trees, over her shoulders. Her hand shot out, grasping the head of a wounded female slave and snapped her neck. Her pitiful moans stilled instantly, and the others all scrambled to stifle the others.

The demoness heard it then; the soft scrape of steel sliding from leather scabbards. They were going to charge. A grin curled her lips, her cock growing thick and upright between her legs.

The sudden warcry startled the helots as the enemy burst out from the foliage, and made Karthelza blink. Helots were storming towards them, in a tight formation of overlapping shields. Karthelza saw her own line looking amongst each other, confused. It was enough for the traitors as the two shield walls crashed into each other.

Steel scraped against steel, and warcries turned to bellows of agony. Blades hammered at armour and slid into flesh. Shield cracked bone and rang out in a sudden cacophony of violence. Karthelza let out a roar of anger and leapt bodily over the line of her own troops. Her heavy two handed axe swung amongst them all; she could trust no one. Bodies were broken, armour snapped, limbs severed around her. Blood sprayed her exposed skin, and then she was swinging at nothing.

As suddenly as it began it was over. Karthelza’s own troops had backed away, forming another shield wall on the other side of the carriage cage, and the traitors were keeping a careful distance. Oddly enough, Karthelza did not see fear in the eyes of those staring at her from within their helmets.

One last one emerged from the forest, a black sash across his chest, a scar marring his forehead. Karthelza’s shield wall slowly dissolved into kneeling helots at the sight of this one warrior. Or was it the sash. The Kazdruk snarled with a grin, turning to face him, her cock throbbing.

“Perhaps you are a worthy opponent then. But I doubt it, helot scum.”

His blade came free, and he stepped into a circle formed of shields by the helots on both sides of the battle, penning both within.

“I am Lorth, and I will be the one to beat you… but fear not, for I will not kill you,” he said, gruesome mouth twisted in a mockery of a grin.

Karthelza cackled, and dove inwards, battleaxe swinging down toward’s Lorth’s chest. The helot jumped backwards, and suddenly two white hot points of pain flared in the back of Karthelza’s calves. Looking down she saw the point of a spear driving out through each of her shins and into the blood soaked dirt.

She twisted to face these two who would dare interrupt her glory, but they only twisted the poles of their weapons, forcing the demoness to her knees and causing more pain from the tearing metal of their spears.

All feeling fled the flesh beneath her calves, blood pouring out from torn muscle and shattered bone.

With a loud roar of anger, she tried to lunge for Lorth, only to have more spears come forth, ramming into her arms, severing tendons and cracking bone. She screamed in true agony, before a rope was pulled around her throat. She felt a boot against her back and pull. The rough rope scraped the flesh of her neck raw and cutting off the flow of air to her lungs.

She tried to struggle, but beneath those twisting spears she could not summon the strength. Her lungs began to burn, and darkness welled in from the edge of her vision. She glared at Lorth, who grinned.

“This is the Kazdruk way. You taught me this,” he said, before even he faded from view.



Banners fluttered on the horizon, as the distant columns of marching troops slowly came into view. As night began to descend upon the land, the glow of their camp fires could be seen from the walls of Driftafay.

Before the soldiers standing watch on the wall, a true army was being arrayed before them. Not the small raiding band of Lillium’s helots. A fully equipped and financed army, unafraid to stand in the open, their armour and spears would gleam in the morning light as they came ever closer.

Sarya swore as she looked out from her balcony in the Evermar palace; the Elves had come. Much sooner than she had been hoping. She wasn’t sure she could win this fight, or even survive it.  She turned, moving into her chambers, glancing once to the naked form of Isilda, sheets draped over her legs.

The whore let out a soft groan, as her eyes slowly opened, watching Sarya dress herself.

“What’s happening?” she asked, just as the Centurion pulled on her armour, propping herself on one hand, not bothering to conceal herself.

Sarya looked over at her again, and sighed.

“The Elves have come,” she said, tightening the straps of her lorica, that ancient symbol of Goldulin might, feeling the steel snug against her body. Standing, her leg began to throb with the dull ache from her wound. She grimaced, and Isilda tried to ignore it.

“You’ll beat them,” the whore said, crawling across the bed, sheets dragging off her legs as she lay near the end of the plush mattress, nipples just out of sight as her legs bent at the knee, crossing one over the other.

Slipping her belt over her hips, Sarya looked over at Isilda, one hand upon her scabbard.

“Not this time,” she said, as she pushed her spatha into its sheath, the hilt clacking against the metal rim.

Isilda rose from the bed smoothly, sheets trailing across the floor as she moved towards her lover, and in her own mind, owner. A sign of her grace, and the coin she cost. Pressing herself gently to the centurion, gasping as bare flesh pressed against cool steel, palm over Sarya’s unseen breast, Isilda kissed her lips softly. Rough hands slid over the whore’s hips, up her sides, as Sarya returned the kiss.

They broke it quietly, eyes closed.

“Then let’s run. Take me away from here. Make me your whore, and let’s live.”

Sarya shook her head sadly.

“And where would we run Isilda? North, to the Elves? South, to the Kazdruk? West? The nobles would turn us in to placate this collar of an alliance.”

She slowly pulled away from Isilda’s embrace, after kissing the top of her head. She started moving towards the doorway, the sight of a dead woman walking to her last stand. Before history painted her as nothing more than a crazed psychopath.

“To Volgras then.” Sarya stopped dead at the doorway, hand clutching at the frame, fingers digging into the wood as she slowly looked over her shoulder. Wrath burned in her eyes as she stared at Isilda.

“If you’re so determined to make a last stand and die with your sword in your hand. You might as well do it against Lillium. I may become a slave to her, but at least I’d be alive. I’m not so sure the Elves would be as kind to the whore of the woman who butchered a city full of them,” Isilda said firmly, staring at the Centurion as her fingers slowly released their grip on the door frame.

For a few moments there was only silence between them, as Sarya contemplated Isilda’s words. The thought of finally ending Lillium, of being reunited with her empress in the afterlife, of being free of the Elves. That’s what made up her mind.

“Pack light. Wear something good for travelling. We’ll leave tonight, at the latest,” Sarya said, finally turning and walking out the door. Hoping she would have today at least. If not, it would be a mad dash to escape.

When the door shut behind the centurion, Isilda felt her lips curl in a smile.

“Morkate hear me. I offer you this warrior to remold in your image. That she may strike down your enemies,” she said to the empty room.


“Tomorrow night then,” Kira said from beside the campfire, her eyes going to Viviane, and then to Thaden. Both nodded slowly as they looked down at the crude drawing of Volgras in the earth. Sticks and leaves marked locations for the refugee guerrillas that Kira had taken under her wing. Many of them had even shed Kazdruk blood at this point.

Yet Viviane remembered entering this hidden camp, shrouded by the thick trees of the forest. Hastily erected tents, dirty faces, hungry eyes. Some were already showing signs of malnourishment. The hunters could not keep up with the demands of the growing number that were brought to this place. And the Kazdruk war bands were ever at their heels. Having Lillium in Volgras, so deep into Coalition territory, made things ever more difficult for these downtrodden people.

“Tomorrow night. Lillium falls,” Viviane said, but Kira only frowned. The knight decided to ignore the expression.

“Just stick with the plan Viviane. It’s our best chance for success,” Kira said, getting to her feet, brushing dirt from her rump, and picking a stray twig from the fur of her tail.

“Get some sleep. We start moving at dawn. Trust me, it will be a long walk.” the Wolfkin said, before turning and moving to her tent.

Thaden tossed the knights still sitting around the fire a smirk, before following after the woman. Vivianne blushed when a few minutes later she heard the sounds of passionate love making, and forced her eyes to the camp fire.

“They need our help,” Duncan said, trying to make conversation to distract himself from the sounds of sex coming softly but steadily from the closed flaps of the tent.

“And we theirs,” Morris pitched in, the metal of his armour creaking as he shifted in place.

Viviane stood, and turned her back to the fire, looking out over the camp. The dotted campfires spilled little light beneath the canopy of the forest, illuminating few figures, and the fronts of some tents. Glowing red coals were nearly enveloped by nightfall, as people slid into their temporary homes to rest their heads for the evening. It left Viviane with only the memories of what she saw when she first arrived here.

The seemingly chaotic array of improvised tents, made from whatever these people had been able to scavenge or had carried with them when fleeing the Kazdruk. Linens, clothes, Sticks and leaves. Those who could fight stood guard as best they could, but the fear that the invaders would catch up with them kept the mood from rising much further than nervous contentment. Never mind all those that had to be left behind.

Viviane sighed, as she looked through the night. Kira’s love making had ended, and somewhere she could hear someone weeping. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade until the knuckles had turned white.

“It doesn’t matter who’s helping who. We’re all in this together. Damn Sarya and her short sightedness. It’s only helping Lillium,” Viviane said bitterly.

“You know killing Lillium will not bring these people home right?” Morris said softly, tossing a stick onto the fire.

Shoulders slumping, fingers relaxing, Viviane looked back towards her comrade.

“No. But it is a start.”


White hot pain flared through her, making her utterly aware of each limb as consciousness slowly returned to her. Karthelza let out a roar of agony and anger, and felt a fist strike her in the back, directly in the spine. Pain flowed up her back, torn feet dragging uselessly along stone floors as two helots pulled her along behind them.

As her vision continued to swim, blurry images of hallways and tapestries passing her by, Karthelza struggled to gain some traction. The torn flesh of her calves and forearms prevented her from doing anything except slumping in the grip of her captors. Of these, traitors.

Pain flared through her knees as she was dropped at the foot of a bed. Grunting, she blinked a few times, everything slowly becoming clear once again. Laying on her back, wings carefully folded along the edges of the bed, was Lillium. Karthelza snorted.

Until a palm struck her cheek hard. Turning her head, a snarl on her face, Karthelza turned to take in the topless figure of Aela, runes painted across her breasts and face with glimmering blood. Crimson skirts flowed around her thighs. She returned the hateful glare.

“You dare strike me? You pitiful worm,” the Kazdruk warrior said, spitting on the floor, before the crack of a whip sounded behind her, the leather soon coiled around her head, yanking her back. Aela held up a glimmering knife, as Helots rammed their spears back into Karthelza’s wrists, pinning her to the floor.

She did not yell out this time. She would not give them the satisfaction. Instead, only let hate pour upon them all. Yuldasha would punish them this transgression.

Mia and Rania stepped forward, thin crimson black loin clothes hanging from their hips, their own bodies marked just as Aela’s was. They whispered softly, too quiet for Karthelza to make out anything. They held bowls, filled with oils that they began to gently rub across Karthelza’s skin.

“You have been chosen as sacrifice Kazdruk. To let our Harbinger arise once more,” Aela said, and when Karthelza tried to speak, the whip around her throat tightened. Yannifer was behind her, pulling firmly upon the long leash.

“Your blood will give rise to Morkate’s champion. With your death we will rise,” Aela said. Rania and Mia pulled back. The helots twisted their spears, and began to pull the demoness up onto the bed. The coiled whip prevented her from doing anything to the seemingly dead body beneath her.

Now hovering above the succubus beneath her, Karthelza stared down at this champion of Aeltha’s. Did the sorceress know how powerful this bitch’s will had become?

A sudden sensation across her throat, and the Kazdruk’s eyes widened in sudden realization as her blood began to pour from her neck. It spattered over the vampiric creature, seeping into her wound, into her parted lips.

“Rise Harbinger, our mistress and saviour,” Aela cried out, as she cut again.

All watched as Lillium’s heart began to pound, muscles reknitting themselves as bone stretched out between the snapped ribs, and fresh flesh soon closed over the Harbinger’s chest.

What have you created Aeltha? Karthelza thought to herself.

Her final sight before death claimed her firmly within its dark clutches, was Lillium’s glowing red eyes snapping open.