City of IF

[Chinaren]

Chapter 5. The Demons' reward.

Cast (in no particular order):
Evil Homer as ‘The Paladin Hero’
DukeReg as Oaf Duke Reginald Percival Thunderking Harwobble the Fifth.
Phang as The Dark Mistress
Muaddib as a wheely thing.
Smee as ‘the victim’
Jnmrcs as the High Commander
Luvd and Mr Moochie as ‘The Ravens’
Hyperion as the Mage.
Dean as the Dean of the Hood
Key as the Magical dignified Chamber Pot.
Araex as Homer’s steed.
Sorrow as a mysterious robed figure.
Idea Master as his wretched minion.
Lord of the Night as an Evil Demon Warrior.
Chainfire as Homer’s sword.
Powers That Be as General Powers ‘the perverted.’


Warning: Contains scenes of defilement, depravity, murder and adult situations.

The Villain

Once Phang was sure that she was alone, except for the mindless slave-boy, she sank into the nearest couch. General Powers’ tent was furnished well, she had to admit. A large camp bed, more like a four poster bed really, complete with shackles and restraints took at least half of the available room. Another quarter of the tent was strewn with various implements of bondage, torture and even one or two instruments that Phang hadn’t seen before. The remaining space held low couches and a small coffee table, which looked quite out of place next to the rest of the décor.

She climbed to her feet. There was no time to rest; she must regain her strength before the Time! Reaching into her sack she withdrew a short wicked looking black knife. Runes were etched along the blades razor sharp edge, they twisted and contorted in disturbing fashions almost beckoning the eye to move closer… Phang ignored them as she was more than familiar with the properties of the knife, having created it in the first place. It was never far from her side as it played a key role in her grasp on power.

Moving over to the general’s torture area, she pulled the blank-eyed boy behind her. She studied the figure for a moment with a touch of regret. A shame she needed to use haste. This fine young thing would have provided her with some amusement another time…

A slight smile twisted her lips. Next time, there was always another victim! She reached down into her pack and produced a black bowl made in the same fashion and dark material as the blade. Standing the young boy straight she brought the wicked knife around with a sudden yet sure movement. A sharp ‘crack’ and a spurt of blood flew as she took off the top of the boy’s skull, as a lesser being may do with an egg. Her movement was swift and practiced. Before the hapless victim could fall she reached into the head and scooped his still living brain out of the skull, holding it in the air as the now empty vessel dropped away below it.

The last link between body and mind snapped as the corpse fell, and Phang took the brain in both hands and squeezed it between them, holding it over the bowl. Brain juices and blood dripped from the tortured organ as Phang wrung it dry, chanting low dark magic as she did so. She fancied she could hear the tortured soul of the boy screaming to be free, but prevented from achieving final release by her magic and she smiled a small smile of happiness at a job well done.

The she was finished. With a final twist she threw the husk to the floor and said a Word of Command. The remains of the brain burst into black flame as the offering was accepted by the Dark Lords.

Phang knelt. The sacrifice had drained the last of her power. Kneeling before the bowl she picked it up in both hands and, pausing only for a moment to say thanks to her evil benefactors, drank deep of the revitalizing fluids…

The Hero.

Evil Homer awoke to the smell of bacon. Shaking the sleep out of his eyes he sat up and looked around the camp. Sorrow was nowhere to be seen, though the Idea Master was busy cooking over the campfire. He saw Homer awake and scooped up a metal plate.

“Good Sir, Master has made you some delicious breakfast. I cooked it myself you know!” Pausing only to pick his nose and flick the resulting find away, he scratched his crotch and then began to transfer bacon out of the pan and onto the plate with his fingers.

He stumbled over to Homer, who was looking on in mild horror, and thrust the breakfast under his nose drooling slightly as he did so. “Luverly food for breaking yer fast sir!” he spat.

“Er, thank you. So kind don’t you know.” Homer accepted the plate gingerly and Master scampered off back to the fire again.
Homer put the plate to once side, on the ground and went into some nearby brush to perform his morning toilet and splash water over himself from a nearby stream.

Suitably awake, he returned to the camp to see Sorrow had returned. His hood was still up, masking his features and Homer wondered as to the true identity of this character.

“What is your plan good Sir Paladin?” Sorrow asked.

“I shall return to my band. Once there we will return to Cra-yon together. There is still need for haste, but as Phang has thwarted me this time I believe I must return with as much strength as I can muster. Will you travel with us? Your assistance has been invaluable already.”

“Now is not the time for me to join you. I have other affairs I must attend to. However, I do have knowledge that may assist you in defeating Phang, should the pass fall. Seek me out if events do not run in your favor.”

Homer bowed a slight bow and, after saddling and mounting Araex, gave a final salute before galloping away back to where he had left his merry men.


The Villain.

Night had fallen and Phang returned to the General’s tent. The meeting with Power and the other commanders had gone well. The whole army’s moral had lifted once it was known she walked amongst them and they were confident that the Dark Hordes would soon feast on the Silver Lands.

She closed the tent-flap and made a small gesture to light the lamp. Nothing happened. The interior remained in shadow. ‘?’ Phang thought and tried again. Still nothing.

A shape moved in the darkness. “Who goes there? Whomever it is know you are facing your last moments on this earth…” She started to prepare a death spell but then dismissed it as her eyes pierced the gloom. The figure was tall and black, too large to fit in the tent, yet somehow doing so anyway.

“YES. IT IS I, THE LORD OF THE NIGHT. I HAVE COME TO COLLECT MY PAYMENT, AND KNOW YOU THIS, I HAVE EARNED EVERY SECOND!” The Demon’s voice crackled with dark power.

Phang smiled. “You dealt with someone then? Who was it? That meddlesome Paladin I bet. How did you kill him?”

“WHAT TRANSPIRED IS OF NO CONCERN. NOW. IT IS TIME…” He moved forward and the giant black phallus grew rigid as he closed with Phang. She smiled and shed her robe. Reaching forth and bending down before her master’s creature she opened wide and, with some difficulty, accepted the offering with her mouth.

“AAAAHHHHH” said the dark giant. “IT HAS BEEEEN TOO LONG.”

Phang could make no comment; her mouth was full of leathery skinned member. It was no different from others she had enjoyed over her many years of life, certainly better than donkey for example.

Before long the Demon picked her up, Phang’s body light and frail next to his huge frame, and threw her onto the General’s four poster bed. She lay back and held her arms out to accept him as his form covered hers.

She gasped at first contact, his hugeness forcing his way into her and for one moment she wondered if she was going to tear apart. She did not of course, and as the demon thrust with powerful vigor she moaned with enjoyment. Ah! Here was dark pleasure! What chance did a mere human have against her master’s sending?

The demon carried on with his task, beastly grunts emanating from his fang filled jaws until the climax, when he filled the Queen with his underworld seed.

“AAHHHHHHHH!” The Lord of the Night withdrew himself from her with a sucking sound. “MY LITTLE QUEEN. I HAVE NOT TASTED SUCH MORTAL PLEASURE FOR MANY AN EON. MY MASTERS SHALL BE PLEASED AT MY REPORT. DO NOT FAIL THEM AND YOU SHALL KNOW REWARDS UNTOLD.”

“Well, I’m not doing it for the environment.” Said Phang, reaching over to a bedside desk and lighting a thin cigar. “My pleasure to the Masters. Send them my obedience, and tell them that the Silver Lands shall soon be at the mercy of their humble servant.” She took a deep drag on the mildly euphoric smoke.

“SO IT SHALL BE. UNTIL NEXT TIME…”

There was a flash of dark light and the creature was gone. Phang regarded the spot for a moment and then threw the cigar to one side. She stood up, grimacing as the demon’s ejaculation spilled down her thighs. If her plans were successful, she would not have to endure such amateur fumbling for long, nor kowtow to anyone or anything. Ever again. She smiled to herself as she dried her leg in the dark…

The Hero.

Homer waited next to Araex, offering his mount a carrot he had taken from the stores they had brought with them.

“How long will this take wizard?” he asked.

Hyperion’s fury fat form was bustling about a makeshift desk, mixing liquids and powders together. A large tome of magic was propped open on the desk and he referred to it as he spoke.

“It would go faster if I wasn’t constantly interrupted.”

Homer reflected that he had some right to be annoyed. As well as his rotund form, Hyperion had a layer of white fur, pointy ears, a half human, half black stoat nose and hands there were not quite hands and not quite paws.

“At least you won’t be cold in winter” said Dean of the Hood hobbling up. Someone had made him a temporary stump from a chair leg and he was plodding around moodily, having failed to find his original limb.

Hyperion scowled. “Here stumpy, make yourself useful and hold this.” He thrust a silver hoop into Dean’s left hand. “Hold it up like this, no higher, yes there. Don’t move it!”

“What you doing?” Duke Reg walked up chewing on a piece of raw meat.

Hyperion frowned as he poured a blue liquid into a red beaker. “What do you think you bumbling oaf? I am trying to revert this damn shape change! Not easy with half-wits interrupting me at every turn and paws for hands.”

Duke Reg looked at Homer and simply said: “Big Rabbit.”

Hyperion held a beaker of liquid for a moment, then drank it in one go. “Now, quiet! I must speak words of Power. Dean, hold that ring still, it must correlate the phase tranvergence of the Ley line.”

With one final glance at his preparations, Hyperion began to chant and move his hands through a series of complicated gestures. Homer could feel the power building. The ring Dean was holding began to glow and spark.

Hyperion completed the spell with a loud Word and then clapped his hands together.

There were two huge explosions. One from the ring Dean was holding, the other a smoky black one from the location of Hyperion. The makeshift desk was thrown back scattering the contents over a wide area.

The smoke cleared. The form of Hyperion emerged from the cloud. The spell had obviously not worked. He still had a covering, but now the fur had changed into bright pink feathers. They protruded at all angles from his body, and ranged from very small ones over his face to peacock sized ones protruding from his rump.

Homers attention was distracted by Dean though, he was moaning and rolling around on the floor. Homer saw why. The arm that had been holding the ring had gone, sheared clean away, though the remaining stump didn’t appear to be bleeding.

Homer sighed and walked up to Dean to try and assist, giving out orders as he did so. Hyperion fumed and now and then clucked with anger, Dean howled on the floor and the merry men who were not injured tried to capture the horses that had been spooked by the explosions.

Sorrow

Far away Sorrow looked up from the scrying orb. “That should delay them long enough” he said to the Idea Master. “Now then let’s move. I need to recover a certain chamber pot and then get in position ready for the next part of the plan.” He stowed his orb and climbed onto his horse. Whistling to himself he headed away from the camp. Idea Master followed humming a bawdy tune and picking at the scabs on his nose.

The Hero.

It was just after mid-day when Homer and his band finally neared the fort. For the last few hours they had been alert for enemy patrols, but they had come across none and that worried the Paladin.

At long last they crested the brow of a hill overlooking Cra-yon canyon and stopped dead at the sight that greeted them.

They were too late. The attack had begun and the forces of Light were being pushed hard by Phang’s hordes. The mighty walls had somehow been breached in two places and the battle was now being fought inside the Fort itself. The way to the Silver Lands was blocked by several tens of thousands of enemy troops.

Evil Homer surveyed the scene in horror. “We have failed” he said. “The Silver Lands are doomed and it is all my fault!”