by Ryan Erin
"...And tear this elf's clothes off!"
Chyra squealed with delight as the firm clay hands gripped her shirt, tearing it to pieces, before ripping the efanwi away from her hips. "Oh, yes!" Chyra yelled.
"...And fuck her the way you're fucking me!" Gwyra screamed.
Hands grabbed Chyra's ankles and hauled her down the table, right next to the Goblyn girl.
Chyra laughed in excitement as a new cock forced its way inside of her. Then a companion tongue found her clitoris, and she cried out in ecstasy.
Both elf and goblyn girl writhed side by side as the golem thrust its way inside them, their screams of pleasure echoing through the ancient room.
Gwyra's hand found Chyra's, and their fingers interlocked, squeezing hard. They laughed at the ridiculousness of their situation, only to then lose themselves in the screaming all over again.
"Nas!" Chyra cried out. "I need your cock larger!" She felt the thing bulge, filling the walls of her insides, and she screamed out even louder. "Faster!"
The thrusting accelerated for both of them.
"Your cocks should twist around inside us...NghhaH!"
"Oh Gods, Chyra!!!"
"I know!!!"
"Chyra!"
"I KNOW!!!"
The golem pounded away - a perfect automaton, endlessly stimulating all the electric areas inside the two.
They squirmed in his locked grip.
Their breasts heaved uncontrollably.
Wetness coated the throbbing appendages as they pounded, the companion tongues voraciously lapping at the girls' firm bulbs.
"Oh Gods, Chyra! I can't...I can't hold it...I think I'm gonna..."
The sound of Gwyra's voice, and the close proximity to her firm female flesh made Chyra flash back to Dinadri beneath the falls, and along with the hard golem cock that was fucking her into delirium, Chyra's arousal suddenly increased.
"Nas! Flip me over on top of her, but don't stop!!!"
The golem rolled Chyra over onto her hands and knees, straddling Gwyra, as he readjusted the placement of all his extremities, and all without pulling out of either of them, or even breaking his rhythm.
Chyra came face to face with the girl, staring down into her wide goblyn eyes as the violent pounding increased. "You fucking beautiful girl!" she screamed. "You fucking brilliant, beautiful girl!!!"
"You're a fucking Goddess!" Gwyra screamed back, and grabbed Chyra's head, pulling her face down into a violent kiss. Chyra gladly collapsed on top of her. Breasts mashed together, tongues dug into one another, and hands groped each other's faces as elf and goblyn were fucked to screaming orgasm on top of one another.
The following morning was nothing if not awkward. Chyra and the goblyn girl barely made eye contact across the throne room. The Sage didn't seem to notice - busily paging through book after book, muttering notes that Gwyra would scribble down, as an embarrassed smile played on her face.
Chyra tried to hide her own smile as happy memories of clay hands and green skin refused to leave her brain.
But all the delicious muscle memory died away as soon as Chyra's ears caught the deep sound of the dragon's spirit outside. Twice since she arrived at the citadel, had she heard the baritone hum, but by the time she could find a window or make it to a roof, the dragon had already landed, and disguised himself as a man once more.
This time, however, was different.
A shadow passed across the opening to the throne room. Chyra turned just in time to see one of the true wonders of the arcane world landing with a heavy beat of its massive wings.
The dragon was awesome to behold, its blue scales shimmering in the light of the sun as it came in for a landing. A tail like a gigantic armored whip lashed through the high mountain air as taloned feet touched down on the floor of the throne room.
She remembered stories told by the Arbormancer of the Sacred Grove, that upon seeing the eyes of a dragon, one found it difficult to ever see anything else.
It was true. A hypnotic swirl of magical colors transfixed her where the creature's pupils should have been, and it wasn't until he blinked those great opal-like eyes that she was able to notice the thing he carried.
A great, clawed hand tossed a round figure across the floor, tumbling to a rest near the center of the room, perfectly within the circle of protection. The 'test subject,' whom the Sage had requested, turned out not to be a person at all.
Rather, it was a goblyn.
Beneath heavy leathers and a Hippogryph coat, the creature raised its head to look around the room. His skin was the deep green of the Highdark Tribes, and his ropy black hair was pulled into a short ponytail in back. Gold rings squeezed fat fingers as he propped himself up, seeing the Sage.
"Bilzish!" he spat. It was a uniquely goblyn word that meant, 'Unworthy human who should be sodomized by the unrelenting master cock of the Orc.'
The Sage did not seem the slightest bit moved by the insult. In fact, he said nothing as he set his book down on the steps of the copper throne.
"So mighty in your high tower!" the goblyn continued as he fought his way to his feet. "Sending your dragon to terrorize the folk of the Highdark! You and your…"
The goblyn's eyes found Gwyra.
"…Vishtioth!" He took a step Gwyra's way. "Giving her clothes and a quill is no different than wrapping shit in silver, as the only thing she'll ever be good for is smearing on the ground!"
The goblyn drew a jagged knife and lunged toward Gwyra. The girl screamed in shock, but before she could even react, the goblyn's feet were yanked out from under him, slamming the creature face first into the floor. The knife tumbled away from his hand, and a sickening moan came from his flattened nose.
The dragon's tail, which was wrapped around the goblyn's feet, rolled him over, back into the circle of protection.
The sound of Saph's roar was deafening and even Chyra, with almost five centuries of facing the horrors of the world, felt dwarfed and frightened by the primordial scream.
The effect on the goblyn must have been even worse, as he flailed about in terror. Only then did he see the sword that lay ominously on the floor beside him.
His fat fingers reached out...
The dragon's tail released immediately, and the jeweled hilt found its way into the goblyn's hand.
For a moment, there was silence.
Saph backed away, clear of the inner ring.
The goblyn's eyes glazed over...
...Then he pulled the sword from its scabbard.
Fire exploded from the weapon as the now calm goblyn climbed to his feet, his eyes and hair bursting into billowing fire.
Gwyra looked terrified, clutching the scroll and quill to her chest as flames spun around the inside of the circle of protection.
The Sage stood unmoving as he observed the pillar of fire; it's smoke quickly forming a silo of thick black, contained by the ring of symbols on the floor.
Then, a voice similar to the goblyn's, but soaked in otherworldly echoes, came from the swirling smoke.
Chyra couldn't understand the words, but she could tell that they were being spoken in dragon.
She turned to Saph to see his response, but whatever the pillar of fire said to him, the dragon wouldn't reply. He just loomed there, never taking those hypnotic eyes off of the roiling smoke and flame.
It became so thick that both goblyn and sword were completely obscured.
"Am I caught?" came the echoing voice, now in the language of the five kingdoms. "Am I to be bound to service by the Sage of Teewinot Spire? Kept here in this circle while I answer questions from the beyond and illuminate on problems that mortal men are incapable of solving on their own?" Glowing embers swirled up the black column. "Or am I not?"
A massive hoof emerged from the smoke, stepping over the circle of symbols, and setting foot on the floor with a crack of thunder.
The Sage's eyes widened, and the dragon screamed out in warning as the being who was once the goblyn emerged through the ward as if it
were nothing more than a child's scribblings on the street.
"Get back!" Chyra screamed, but the Sage and Gwyra were already running for the outer circle of protection.
She knew that there was no weapon on her person that would harm the demon, but she found an arrow instinctively drawn against her bow, aiming for the creature.
He had grown...was still growing.
The green skin had changed to a burned black, and the goblyn's face had shifted to a more handsome state...handsome and frightening.
Fire rolled off his head like a mane, and horns began sprouting from his forehead.
Saph coiled himself into a striking position, wings outstretched against the ceiling, and roaring some challenge in Draconym.
The demon turned toward Saph without fear.
A sinister smile crossed his face as he raised the sword, and Saph's head lowered into a striking position. Gwyra and the Sage had cleared the outer ring of protection.
Saph was still inside it.
"Uzael!!!"
The demon stopped.
Slowly, casually, it turned its burning eyes toward Chyra.
Chyra had barely even realized she'd called out the demon's name, but now she had its full attention.
The demon walked away from the dragon, cloven hooves sending sparks flying with every step as he closed the distance toward her.
The world seemed to darken at every step until finally, he reached her.
Only the thin line of symbols from the outer circle stood between them.
Burning eyes stared into hers. She couldn't feel the heat from the fire through the circle of protection, but she began to perspire, nonetheless.
"You've dressed," the demon said with a crackling voice, now sounding only vaguely like his goblyn host.
"Since last we saw each other," she replied, "yes."
"Forgive me," he said, his face beginning to crack and split. "But no garment will ever do your beauty justice."
A blackened hand reached across the protective barrier, causing another deafening crack of thunder as it penetrated the magical wall.
The demon gave a small, satisfied look as clawed fingers gently touched her cheek.
Chyra held her breath.
And then...the hellish being split wide open in a fountain of sparks before crumbling to the ground. The sword hit the floor with a loud clang, and the fires of hell winked out.
Chyra breathed heavily.
Gwyra, the Sage, and even Saph, who was back in human form, all stared at her...their faces somewhere between shock, relief, and fear.
Gwyra pointed at her. "Your...your shoulder..."
Chyra looked over to see that her shirt had caught fire from the demon's arm.
She quickly pulled it off.
Chyra stared into the library mirror.
She was once again in nothing but her efanwi, waiting for Gwyra to arrive with another shirt.
There were two soot marks on her cheek where the demon had touched her.
They wouldn't seem to rub away.
A slight burn also marked her naked shoulder, but she was otherwise unharmed.
Saph handed Chyra a cup of mulled wine.
She nodded in thanks as she took it and walked away from the mirror, taking a seat next to the library's map podium.
The Sage stared out one of three narrow windows between the bookshelves.
Saph handed him a cup as well. The old man downed it in one gulp.
"Well," he said, setting the cup on a table beside him, "you have a problem."
Chyra shifted her naked back against the worn leather of the chair. "I'm listening," she replied.
"It's obvious now that the reason 'Uzael' has not appeared in any of the Texta Demonica is because he is ancient enough to have eluded documentation. That means I have no previous information to go on. It's unfortunate because studying him will be nearly impossible given his level of power. Those circles of protection have been documented as keeping minor Princes of Hell trapped for weeks on end. Your demon managed to break his way through them in under a minute. And that isn't even the frightening part."
The old man turned around, addressing Chyra directly, which is how she knew that his next words would be the worst of all.
"Remember when I said that in order for a demon to possess someone, it uses the victim's soul as fuel?"
"Yes," she replied.
"There was a case some hundred years ago where Azgezethelian, a demon lord of significant rank, possessed the body of the King of Jasper Island."
"I remember that," Chyra said. "It became known as the Isle of Nightmares. He ruled that place until a group of five adventurers banished him."
"You know your history."
"I was one of the five," she replied, and took a sip of the wine.
The Sage nodded. If he was at all impressed, he certainly didn't show it. Saph, on the other hand, turned away, probably to hide a smile.
"Then you know how long that demon resided in the King's body," the Sage continued.
"Twenty years," Chyra replied.
"That's right. In twenty years, a being with the infernal mass of a high prince of demonkind did not burn out the body of middle aged mortal man."
Chyra's blood began to run cold.
"The demon locked in your sword," he continued, "burned through that healthy goblyn in just over a minute."
The Sage let that fact sink in before driving it home. "By that comparison, this Uzael must be hundreds of times, if not thousands more powerful than a High Prince of Hell."
Chyra set the wine down. "The last time he spoke to me...he said that the bodies I'd been providing him were too mortal...that he would do better in the body of an elf."
"Indeed. If that sword were to fall into the hands of an elf, or some other immortal...there's no telling how many kingdoms would burn before its victim's soul burned away."
Chyra nodded, his words confirming what she had already feared. "But if we exorcise Uzael from the blade, then he goes back to whatever corner of Hell he's from, and can't do any more harm, correct?"
The Sage turned back to the window. "We need to entertain the idea that Uzael has BEEN trapped in the sword specifically so that he CANNOT destroy the world. Whomever captured him in that blade may have meant to seal him away in some hidden vault so he could never be summoned by unwitting sorcerers or foolish cultists. Over time, however, this blade has resurfaced and made its way into the hands of the living. I suppose it is lucky for us that it was discovered by you, and that you had the good sense to keep from touching it."
Chyra remembered the screams of her dying comrades, and she drank deeply from the wine.
"So," Saph interjected, "if releasing Uzael from the sword is irresponsible, then what's the alternative? Hide it? Destroy it?"
Chyra looked up. "Is there a way to destroy it? Is there a way to destroy Uzael along with it?"
"None of my experiments have worked," the Sage replied. "The sword's metal remains a mystery, and as such, I have no theory as to how it can be unmade. As far as destroying Uzael himself...there is only one way any demon can be killed...and that way is unique to each demon. One could not even hazard a guess without mountains of research, and as far as I can tell, this particular fiend has never been written about."
"So what are our options?" Saph asked.
The Sage turned to him with narrowed eyes. "Taking up the elf's cause, are you?"
The dragon swirled his glass. "You make it sound irresponsible not to."
The old man looked back out the window. "This weapon has already existed for millennia without destroying the world."
"Or has yet to be given the chance," Saph added.
The Sage nodded his agreement as Gwyra came in with a new shirt.
Chyra set the wine down, standing to take the garment. "Thank you, Gwyra," she said, feigning a more cheery mood.
"My pleasure," the girl responded, handing it over with an awkward smile.
As Chyra pulled the
green satin over her head, the Sage turned for the door.
"There's one final detail I'll need before suggesting a suitable course of action. Good night."
And with that, the Sage of Teewinot Spire was gone.
Chyra climbed into the window of the western watchtower. Saph looked up at her from his table. "You're awfully high," he said.
"So much of this place is only accessible through windows," she replied. "May I come in?"
"Please."
Chyra dropped to the floor. "Is that Moondale Tea?" she asked.
"It is," Saph replied, already pouring for her.
"Thank you." She took the steaming cup and enjoyed a long drink. The room was tall, maybe even tall enough for Saph to assume his full size if he wanted, though the shelves and tables of ornate trophies would certainly be crushed. Relics from over a thousand years of collecting filled the room, yet not one piece would cause a thief a second glance. Clay pots, rusty old boxes, and portraits painted poorly on old canvas could hardly be considered the equivalent of a dragon's treasure.
"It seems I've found your horde," Chyra mused.
"Hardly," Saph replied, packing tobacco into a pipe. "This is where I keep my memories. The gold and jewels are quite inaccessible. At least by window, at any rate."
Chyra smiled. "I've seen your true horde already."
The dragon gave her a questioning glance as he lit the pipe with a wisp of fire from his breath. "I think I would have noticed."
Chyra leaned against a crowded shelf. "It's an old man with awkward manners and a young girl who's half goblyn."
Saph smiled, pulling the pipe from his mouth. "Very observant."
Chyra smiled behind her teacup. "I've never known dragons to love mortals."
Saph leaned back in his chair, blowing a long stream of smoke from his nostrils. "Well...all dragons are different, much the way all elves are different."
"Well said. And it seems the two of them love you just as much as you love them."
"Hmm. I suppose so. We're a strange little trio up here in the sky. It's really the thirst for knowledge that brought us together...and unlike most other loves, that's one we'll never run out of."
"What'll you do when they're gone?"