The Hallowed Halls of Hell II

[erusian]

http://www.esenem.net/img/hhh.jpg
Read this first!
The 'Rules': How things work in Hell
Read this first!
​

I've run this thread before and enjoyed some fantastic adventures with some brilliant writers. I'm presenting it again to see what new blood can bring. If you're interested in seeing how the first venture into Hell went, you can peruse the thread here

Hell. We're all headed that way, we might as well warm up to the idea.

In this incarnation, Hell is set in an endlessly twisting and swirling miasma of chaotic landscapes, dreamscapes, nightmares, and debaucheries. Your surroundings may shift from stark, wind-blown plains of ash to writhing, bacchanalian orgies in be-silked marble halls.

Just over twenty years ago, Hell witnessed its greatest civil war. In the aftermath of that war, 'The Sundering', much of Hell's hierarchy is in disorder. Princes and Kings have been dethroned, their principalities reduced to ash and memory.

The old orders of Hell are no more. In the Sundering, Beelzebub, lord of Limbo and Lucifer's oldest ally from the Fall, had been crushed by Belial, the king of Tartarus. In the aftermath of that battle, Belial was in turn defeated by Molech Baal, master of Gahenna; but not before Belial dealt him a mortal wound.

As Hell is slowly rebuilt and restructured, much opportunity exists for those strong and quick enough to seize it.

You are demons, vampires, witches, blasphemers, warlocks, sinners, succubi - you are the damned. You are in a society ruled by those strong enough (or crafty enough) to strike fear in the hearts of their peers. Those positions are ever tenuous, though. A master or mistress may well become a slave, should they lose their footing in this treacherous land.


Beware of trust. There is no more ready host to betrayal.

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The Hierarchy of Hell:

Lucifer - Rules over all fiefdoms of Hell. This position is reserved to the Lord Lucifer and cannot be attained by another. He is Papa Satan, after all. He rules from the seventh level of Hell.

Below Lucifer are the monarchs, the underkings (or queens) of Hell. There are three of these positions, initially ruling over two principalities each. The underkings are constantly at war, each vying for the holdings of the others.

Each principality is overseen by a prince, or princess. There are six principalities representing the upper six levels of Hell. Lucifer rules the seventh and final province. The environment of each level is up to the whim of the prince. He or she may set the tone as they wish.

Beholden to the princes are, in order of prestige and power, the dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses, knights and ladies, and finally, the common rabble.

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Prestige and 'Soulstones':

You may begin at any point in the hierarchy that you like, from prince down. However, you begin with only 1 point of prestige. Each point of prestige is represented in the form of a 'Soulstone'. These jewels may be worn in any fashion you like. The more you have, the better you will fare.

Prestige is what determines the strength of your position. If you start low and work your way up, you are better able to gain the prestige needed to hold on to your position at the top.

Prestige is awarded according to how Lucifer judges your style. Are you sly? Devious? Ruthless? Seductive? Menacing? The better you describe and define your character and surroundings, the better off you'll do in this milieu. Of course, sometimes he awards based on entirely on political expediency. It's all up to the Devil's whim. His word is final.

Prestige can also be gained or lost by moving up (or down) the ranks of Hell. If you feel that you are strong enough to usurp your liege, you may attempt a coup by declaring a bloodfeud. When that happens, please PM me before joining the battle. I will determine the outcome of the battle as described below in Combat.

The winner of a bloodfeud, be they attacker or defender, strips a Soulstone from the loser. This means that you can even lose the single point of prestige that you begin with. But then, of course, you may be victorious and make a slave of your master. Gaining power and position in Hell is a risky proposition. Do you have the mettle for it?

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Attributes

As characters, you will start with 6 points (5 natural + 1 from your initial Soulstone) to apply to four categories:

Strength: Raw physical power. This will factor into confrontations of the flesh, weighed against your opponent's Evasion.

Cunning: Mental agility. This will factor into battles of mind, weighed against your opponent's Will.

Evasion: Physical dexterity/toughness. This will factor into confrontations of the flesh, weighed against your opponents Strength.

Will: Mental fortitude. This will factor into the battles of mind, weighed against your opponent's Cunning.

Attributes are directly affected by Prestige points. The power of Soulstones, gained by either by reward or battle, may be harnessed to increase any of the four attributes. Inversely, should you lose a Soulstone in combat, you must choose which of the four attributes will be diminished!

These attributes will not be known to your peers. When you have decided on what you want your scores to be, simply send them to me via PM. Any time you receive a Soulstone, let me know which attribute you would like to bump.

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Combat

The nature of combat has a certain random element to it. Things do not always work as intended. And then, sometimes, things work exceptionally well. One can only affect the outcome by honing their skills in attack and defense. This is accomplished by applying awarded prestige to your attributes.

Any time that you're affecting someone against their will - mesmerizing them, throwing them around, breaking their arm, focusing the agonies of a thousand martyrs into them... it's unfair to assume that they will fall prey to your intentions.

Thus, I've had to devise something that will make it a bit more judicious:

To initiate combat, the attacker must PM me and the defender of their intent. The attacker will declare the nature of the attack as physical or mental.

Combat will be settled in five 'rounds'. I will begin with a random value 1-10 and add the value of your attacking attribute (Strength or Cunning) against a random value 1-10, plus your opponent's defending attribute (Evasion or Will). Whichever result is higher wins that 'round'. I'll do this five times to determine who wins the majority of the rounds.

Once I have resolved combat, I will notify them both attacker and defender of the outcome.

It will then be the task of the attacker to detail the battle, whether they win or lose. Being the aggressor, they have a better sense of where they wanted it to go. It will be up to them to consider the results of combat when writing the outcome.

When writing the outcome, it is very important to remember that the attempt has already been made. Whether you have succeeded or failed, you tried to grab/throw/dominate/burn/overthrow your target. The writing of the outcome should include the attempt and the results!

Of course, if another arrangement is made between the combatants, either or both can write the details of the fray.

Death can happen, but it will be rare. Most often, losing combat will result in the vanquished retreating to lick their wounds. Death can happen only if a character loses combat in a bloodfeud and has no Soulstones left. In that case, the victor may claim the very soul of the vanquished!

It should be noted that not all combat qualifies as a bloodfeud. It could be something as simple as an attempt to shove someone out of your way. You're not going for one of their Soulstones, becuase you don't want to put yours on the line either. You just don't want them blocking the goddamned door! This can be resolved by simple combat without the risk of a bloodfeud. Bloodfeuds are only in effect when declared as such in the beginning of combat.
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Miscellaneous

As for seduction, well, that will be entirely up to you. What are you willing to trade for the demon's caress? Sex is power, and letting yourself fall sway to the charms of an underling yields some of your power to them. Is it worth it? Well, maybe...

You may employ magic and powers as you like, but I warn against trying to make yourself too 'uber'. We all have weaknesses and faults. These aspects follow into the netherworld as well. If you cross the line too drastically, the devil may have his way with you. And besides, everyone will hate you. Oh, and bad spelling and grammar is a sure ticket to the devil's wrath. Take care to proofread!

In the interest of keeping the storyline flowing, if you are absent from the thread for over 7 days with no prior warning, your character will be destroyed by Lucifer (or some representative thereof. Lucifer gets kinda busy sometimes.) If you wish to return thereafter, you will need to create a new character and begin again. As long as you let us know if you're going somewhere or cannot contribute for a given amount of time, just let us know in the OOC thread and your character will be preserved during your absence.

In order to attain a crown of one of the three kingdoms, one must show themselves to be strong, cunning, and voracious. Crowns are awarded by attaining the allegiance of both principalities in your kingdom and by the blessing of Lucifer himself. Kings and princes are granted signet rings that are the badge of their office.

If anyone has any suggestions on ways to improve this scenario, please make your suggestions on The Hallowed Halls of Hell OOC thread.

Let's give it a shot and see how it goes

Please direct your applications for entry and other OOC posts to the Hallowed Halls of Hell II - OOC thread!

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Who's Who: The Hierarchy of Hell
Follow the links for descriptions of characters, Circles, and links to author profiles

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The first kingdom - Limbo
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Sovereign: Unclaimed!

• First Circle - Avernus

Sovereign: Princess Annalyra - Pywakit​

Count Krond - Mike22280
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• Second Circle - Sheol

Sovereign: Prince Arrios - Poohlive​

Count Henrich - Lotharian
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The second kingdom - Gahenna
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Sovereign: Unclaimed!

• Third Circle - Acheron

Sovereign: Unclaimed!​

Killada Yutalay - RedHairedAndFriendly
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Murmus - GentLi
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• Fourth Circle - Desolace

Sovereign: Princess Sin'dra​

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The third kingdom - Tartarus
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Sovereign: Unclaimed!

• Fifth Circle - Abaddon

Sovereign: Unclaimed!​

Tenko chronicle_tenko​

• Sixth Circle - The Supernal Hells

Sovereign: Princess Morgran - BriefcaseRonin​

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The Abyss
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• Seventh Circle - Cocytus

Sovereign: Lucifer - Erusian
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​

 

[erusian]

Lucas was a hunter. He had been a hunter since the early days, long before vampires had become chic. He knew them for what they were, diseased and mad. It was charity work, he figured, relieving them of their cursed existence. But then, they weren't the only ones. Lucas knew all about living under the shadow of an immortal curse.

Fifteen centuries. Fifteen hundred years of chasing leeches from battlefield to battlefield. So many wars -- wars were feasts for the undead -- Bosnia, Rwanda, Vietnam, Korea, Normandy, Tripoli, Gallipoli, Antietam, Transvaal, Yorktown, Quebec, Kanisza, Styria, Graubünden, Tyrol, Agincourt, Portiers, Damascus, Jerusalem, Pamplona, Verden, Brunanburh, Clontarf, Manau-Gododdin, Llongborth... Lucas had imbedded himself in the rank and file of every one of them.

But whatever war it was, it didn't matter. He didn't give a toss about English or French or Union or Confederate or Norman or Saxon. Lucas was fighting his own war. His was a war between the living and the should-be-dead. He was a one man army in that fight, and he did his job well.

Until he hit Slaughtaverty.

He had been in Ireland, in the County Derry investigating the cult Cur-fola-Grian. These sadly misguided imbeciles had been attempting to exhume the body of one of the most vile and voracious nosferatu to ever disgrace the annals of time.

History tells that Leacht Abhartach was once a renowned Irish chieftain, but in his lust for power, he betrayed his soul to Darkness. In his bloodlust and cruelty, he massacred and devoured men, women, children -- friend and foe. Finally, through the strength and cunning of Cathán, a rival chieftain, Abhartach's reign of terror was ended.

Lucas didn't mind when others took credit for his kills. Cathán was a good friend and Lucas knew that fame was just a liability in his line of work. The only thing that mattered to Lucas was that the dead were dead. And centuries later, he had come back to Ireland, intent on seeing that Abhartach stayed that way.

He was too late, though. When he arrived at Slaughtaverty, the town was locked down, it's folk petrified in terror. The remains of the young men that had violated that unholy tomb had been piled in a field outside of the town and burnt. Lucas had squeezed as much of the story as he could from the locals. It wasn't much to go on, but it was enough to know that it was time to leave.

But again, he was too late. There's nothing like the hunger of an Elder newly awakened. Leacht Abhartach remembered the man that had ruined his feast, and he knew well the curse that the man carried. It was Abhartach, himself, who had laid that hex on his soul, and only he could end it. Lucas had survived a lot of wars over the years. But the sun can't shine every day. Sometimes the good guys just can't win.

Lucas watched his heart twitching in the nightwalker's bony fingers before he finally managed his last, blood-choked breath.

And then real fighting began...

Lucas landed in Hell amidst the greatest war in the Underworld's history. He fought like he always had, remorseless and efficient. But in the end, his carcass rotted and his bones grew brittle alongside the millions of others under the sunless skies of Tartarus. Lucas' hollow sockets were still transfixed on those skies when Lucifer's heavy boot crushed his skull.

The Prince of Darkness stopped then to look out over the battlefield. Great piles of bone and debris rose up like dunes in a desert of death that stretched far beyond all horizons. Millions upon millions had sacrificed themselves for causes that very few of them understood.

Lucifer was pleased. It was a cleansing. The old orders had grown complacent and weak. The High Kings had been deposed. Beelzebub, lord of Limbo and Lucifer's oldest ally from the Fall, had been crushed by Belial, the king of Tartarus. In the aftermath of that battle, Belial was in turn defeated by Astaroth, master of Gahenna; but not before Belial dealt him a mortal wound.

And now they were gone. A new and stronger empire would rise from the ashes of that conflagration. His power would grow ten-fold. And once his empire was rebuilt and his strength renewed, the Lord of the Fallen would turn his eyes toward Heaven and claim his rightful throne.

 

[Pywakit]

Annalyra

The princess' throneroom was empty, save for a lone imp that scurried franticly on delicate red bat wings to make sure that everything was in shape for visitors. Titterfuck hadn't been allowed to take part in the immense orgy that had filled this hall the previous night; she had been forced to watch as a legion of the princess' favored soldiers and witches took their pleasures from a fresh crop of damned souls harvested from the razorfields that surrounded the palace, known as Razor's Kiss ever since the beautiful succubus had claimed it after its previous rulers had slain each other in a fit of betrayal. Annalyra had been one of the great tempters of Avernus at that point, and her claim over the fortress had been contested by none of those who remained alive after the reckoning. Ever since she'd claimed the fortress, the succubus princess had held nightly orgies here for her minions. On the surface, she did so to reward their loyalty and ensure their continued support, but Titterfuck knew better. She knew that Annalyra fed from their ecstasy and lusts from her throne, and with each orgy, she grew in power. The imp had her guesses why Annalyra was building up her energies, vampiricly parasitizing her own minions night after night so that they woke a little more enthralled with her rule and a little less alive after each debauch. But she knew better than to gossip.

The almost musical sound of silk against leather and razor against razor brought the little imp out of her daydreams. She flittered up into the air as Princess Annalyra entered the room; she glowed with lust and energy, having just taken her fill of a particularly depraved general who had died peacefully in his bed in the Realm of Flesh the night before, and whose soul had manifested as a particularly handsome and muscular young man. The blood that coated the succubus' arms, face, and scantily clad chest glimmered with energy as well... the general had been made flesh again at her whim, and apparently he hadn't been able to withstand her ministrations.

"I have cleaned the hall, my mistress," Titterfuck said as she held wide her arms to display her work. "Is there to be another orgy tonight?"

Annalyra looked around the room, toying with a strap of leather that hung from her chest, feeling the blood soaking into it. She looked to the left and right, her razor headdress ringing softly as she did like a windchime in a gentle breeze. As always, Titterfuck had done an excellent job cleaning.

"Spotless.. as usual. I knew there was a reason to keep you around, Titterfuck," Annalyra said as she approached her bladed throne and sat skillfully upon it, draping her shapely legs and arms over the padded parts of its frame without drawing a single nick from the hundreds of razors that sprouted from it like flowers.

"There shall be no more orgies for now, though. Things have built to a head... if you weren't a lowly imp you'd feel it, my dear. The time for preparation has come to an end." She looked down at her self and shook her head softly at the gore; the general had fought for his soul at the last, and his suffering was messy as a result.

Annalyra leaned back on her throne, presenting her body to the imp. "Clean me as well, Titterfuck. And quickly. Razor's Kiss may have visitors soon, and even if it doesn't I feel I shall need to be about the Hells before long..." As the imp began to work, Annalyra relaxed as much as she was able. Something was indeed in the air of Hell... she wasn't sure what it was, but it was potent and powerful. It wouldn't do to be tired and filthy when infernal fortune came knocking on her door.

 

[mike22280]

Krond

The massive demon Krond moved through the halls of the castle of the Princess of the First Circle. Only recently appointed to his position of count, Krond had spent more or less all of his existence after the fall among the fields of the damned meting out punishment. He'd been given a message he was to be knighted. Krond himself didn't know whether his ascension to Count instead had been Annalyra's plan all along, or a result of the manner in which he'd dispatched a pair of maddened behemoths as part of her test.

So, here he was. Under the authority of Annalyra alone in this circle. Her personal bodyguard, general of her army. Still fairly out of his depth. Krond would be the first to tell you that he was not the brightest demon in the pits. He had no experience with politics, and very little magic. He compensated in raw, physical might. He was also quite loyal. The Princess knew absolutely that Krond would not betray her. Not because of any inherent goodness in the ancient demon, but because Krond knew absolutely that he wasn't cut out for rulership or scheming. Krond believed himself not quiete cut out for his current position, but kept that to himself. He was brighter than he looked. Not by much mind you...

Which was why he didn't take part in the nightly debaucheries that the Princess held. Part of it was a certain amount of shyness. The demon wasn't part of castle life until recently and hadn't become accustumed to the extravagence just yet, and had been considered too low in rank to be worth seduction. It's difficult to teach old dogs new tricks, and Krond was an old, old, old dog.

Plus he knew what was going on. Krond could read sins. It was difficult with demons. It was like trying to spot an individual drop of water in an ocean. Too much of a hemogenous whole. But he could generally read them as they happened. Generally on her side during the parties, Krond could smell the stink of betrayal on the Princess as she fed off her servants.

Krond continued to home in on the Great Hall. He still wasn't used to the castle layout, but could usually find the Princess by following the link between the two of them. It usually wasn't the quickest way, but he got there.

Finally arriving at the hall, the demon shouldered aside the massive doors and ambled through them. He spotted the blood on her, and shook his head. The general had been happy to still exist after death. He was pleased with his young body. He was thrilled that he merited the attention of anything as beautiful as Annalyra. The fool.

Most creatures had three basic needs. Eat. Sleep. Fuck. Succubi, such as the Princess, combined the first and last of the three. 50 % of the time, they did the other afterwards.

Finally reaching his mistress's throne, Krond dropped to one knee.

"My Lady."

 

[Pywakit]

Annalyra

Annalyra smiled as Krond entered the throne room. He was as loyal a subject as one could hope for in Hell, and on top of that he threw a pretty mean fuck. She let him remain kneeling for a few moments while Titterfuck finished cleaning the blood from her skin and clothing before waving the imp away.

"You may rise, Krond. And it's a pleasure to see you. I haven't seen you lately... you haven't attended any of my parties. Are you trying to avoid me?" Her tone was flirty and not at all serious; she knew that Krond knew exactly what those orgies were for, and thus why he'd not been invited. He was much more valuable to her with all his senses intact.

"No matter, though. I'm sure you were kept busy with other tasks. What brings you to my throne, Krond? Have you noticed anything strange of late on your patrols of Razor's Kiss? Anything strike you as odd or out of place? There's strange portents in the air, and it would do us both well to keep our senses about us." She smiled at him as she let her eyes take in his shape and form. "Of course... we need not remain vigilant at all times... there's certainly plenty of opportunity for breaks in the watch. Perhaps you've come to me for another reason, other than a report of strange omens?" She licked at her lips, knowing Krond might not take the hint but enjoing the act of flirting with her bodygurard nevertheless.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Gahenna as one of the Third Circle

Killada had been almost non-existent during The Sundering. She had kept to herself, no other of her kind had yet been made known to her. The solitude of the Baohbith-sith was one that was not uncommon, normally though she would have had two or three others of her kind gathered with her. But if there were any around they too had remained hidden.

During the war she had admitted her weaknesses and kept on the edges of most battles. Her name was not known to many, having managed to skirt the more notable peers of the realm. Now though as the kingdom of Gahenna was beng rebuilt she had come out and slowly made a small place for her to exist with the others. Still she was just a fleck of ash compared to the rest, her skills grew as did her strength and agility.

When she did finally emerge from the crumbled ruins of houses and bridges, her own small dwelling camouflaged by the waste and litter around her, she took flight. Her wings lifted her high and she soared through the air, until she came to another place that would serve her. She became the Mistress to a nobleman and Lady Killaya lived a content life. She dined on the blood of new souls. They danced with her and as the song she spun reached a crescendo she lapped happily on the crimson fluids that ran hot from their veins. They never would have felt the draining if they had been topside, but here in Hell, they did.

Their sounds filled the air as she tore them. Her long, blue-black locks flowed down her shoulders, the tips caressing the pools of blood and matter that spilled from her dinner. Her tongue would make lazy circles and eventually, they would be drained and fall limply to the floor. In time someone or something would come and remove them for her and another would be brought in their place. The Nobleman met that same fate one morning. Killaya quietly slipping into his house of power and reigning over the smaller beings. She answered to those of higher rake, pleasured them when needed, and was trusted by many.

This particular morning she found herself looking for a new and more powerful place to dwell. She was bored. Her life of solitude becoming more and more nauseating to live. Her body craved not only blood, but adventure and she knew of only one being that would give her everything she desired. The task was getting his attention. In order to do that she would have to find a way into the fold and finding ones way was the most pleasurable of all.

Her red raven eyes scanned the horizon as she rested on the rumble of a bone pillar. “Where to begin?” she thought to herself. She caught sight of another creature, a human, that looked lost and confused. Her eyes flashed and she rose up, then dropped a few feet away. Her gown of green velvet hugged her supple shape and she opened her mouth to begin her song of comfort and care. The human stopped and looked upon her. His jaw slackened as he turned to face her. They took steps to close the distance between each other.

“My beauty,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she greeted him. Her fingers played over his skin and he returned the gesture until her body stood naked before him. They began to merge as one. When the first mark on his flesh was created, he screamed in pain. Killaya continued her loving and soon he was begging for mercy as she enveloped his sex within the warm recesses of her mouth. She suckled deep, savoring the flow of fresh fluids that erupted with every spurt of blood that escaped the talon marks she’d placed up and down on his cock.

As she drank from him, the piercing of his testicles released small drops of blood that cascaded down her chest and slipped down her cleavage. It trailed slowly until it slid over her flat stomach and nestled against the soft curls of her sex. Later when her meal was finished she slowly cleaned away her flesh, licking her fingers after gathering up any red nectar that may have slipped into her sex while she played.

 

[BriefcaseRonin]

Morgran, Witch Queen of the Supernal Hells

Armored hands, whose fingers were tipped by metal claws, ran over dusty old tomes, wiping away the cobwebs to look upon their titles. Each volume was huge and filled with arcane writting, the work of ancient Masters of the Art. Morgran half chuckled behind her mask, her mind fogging as her thoughts returned to a time in her past, when Morgran was a mere initiate in the arcane methods. She remembered the lessons of her old Master, who told her that consorting with devils brought about no good fortune.

Her Master, Tannon, told her, "Never trust what a demon tells you, for they speak only lies," he could say no such thing now, for he was long dead. His bones must be less then dust now, and what did he accomplish? Nothing. His mastery of the Art was not enough to garner the recognition he would most likely have wished for, for in his day, the Masters were in greater numbers. In those days, an initiate could easily find instruction in properly wielding the arcane forces. Now, the foolish children had to learn on their own, working harder than ever for mere scraps magical knowledge.

Of course, this only made it easier for Morgran to get her hands on them. Young witches and warlocks were ravenously hungry for what hidden arcana they could find. Her servants were more than eager to let their silver tongues slip, and reveal the secrets of a hidden realm which held magnificent amounts of lore and secrets. They came to her like moths to a flame, and she would break them and turn them into her willing slaves. Much like the one behind her, who's moaning was like sweet honey in her ears.

The Witch Queen turned her attentions from her books to the naked, young, sorceress half in and half out of the shadows. They were palpable here, and hungry to taste the young witches Morgran brought to them. The tangible, tenebrous, tentacles ran up and down the girl's young form and two rather.. phallic-shaped shadows plunged continuously in and out of the entrances into her lower torso. That little wizardess was practically drooling, and her eyes had long glazed over, her mind numb from the continuous orgasms.

One last surge through the girl's body, a sign of her latest climax, and the oily shadows slithered away. They had sated their hunger, but Morgran was still hungry. With a wave of her hand, the witch was raised into the air to stand before the Witch Queen of the Sixth Circle, the voice that emanated from behind that mask was rich yet dark, feminine yet hinting at her great powers, "Starting to feel regrets, dear?"

The young thing could barely nod, half there and somewhere else. She was not nearly as powerful as the small cabal of slave-witches Morgran kept close by, and so she was expendable. Another wave of her armored hand, and the broken sorceress floated higher into the air, her used sex inches from the Witch Queen's face. Morgran needed only to move her finger slightly and the shaking little slut spread her legs. Sighing, Morgran dropped her mask, leaned in, and drank from the girl. But she did not drink of her blood or her juices as many demons did, she drank deeply of the witch's soul, sucking and sucking until it was devoured, and the dried up husk fell to the floor, "Never trust what a demon tells you, for they speak only lies."

Placing her mask back upon her face, and taking the tome she required, Morgran chuckled as she left the library of her Watchtower of Souls. Though, her teaching methods were a bit.. unorthodox. She was no longer the student, but the Master.

 

[mike22280]

Krond

"You may rise, Krond. And it's a pleasure to see you. I haven't seen you lately... you haven't attended any of my parties. Are you trying to avoid me?"

"Naw. Just getting settled."

"No matter, though. I'm sure you were kept busy with other tasks. What brings you to my throne, Krond? Have you noticed anything strange of late on your patrols of Razor's Kiss? Anything strike you as odd or out of place? There's strange portents in the air, and it would do us both well to keep our senses about us." She smiled at him as she let her eyes take in his shape and form. "Of course... we need not remain vigilant at all times... there's certainly plenty of opportunity for breaks in the watch. Perhaps you've come to me for another reason, other than a report of strange omens?"

"Ummm...not that I can think of." The demon shrugged. "No particular reason. I just wanted to check in, see if My Lady needed anything."

As expected the proposition flew over the brute's head. The princess generally had to resort to methods just shy of jumping on Krond to break past his obiviousness to innuendo.

"As for portents or signs, not as such." Krond frowned. He let out a hissing exhalation in a sigh. "And yet...." for a moment his general thickness was not in evidence as he looked his liege in the eye. The weight of ages chained in the yellow orbs seemed to press in as he stared at her. "Something's coming. I can smell it. Trouble's brewing I think. HE's getting ready to stir the pot."

Krond shrugged, back to his normal self. "Same old, same old. Happens every once in a while. Old Scratch decides to shake things up. Buncha nobles croak. Then, it's meet the new boss, same as the old boss." He waves a hand dismissively. "Luckily, the corpses are generally above my pay grade." he grins confidently.

The demon blinks, and his face works as his mental gears suddenly give a churn, then his face falls. "Er, above my former pay grade. Fuck!"

"There's always a catch. Dammit." he mutters under his breath. Then he seems to remember the presence of the succubus.

 

[poohlive]

Things had changed since Arrios took the crown. His palace, dark and moody at the barrier of the second circle now seemed even more so. If there were ever a shade darker than dark, it covered his palace now, blackened obsidian that ran over the walls, making them daunting and daring against the endless hell sky.

He was in his throne room, receving several more courtiers to congradulate him. It seemed to be non stop, these pretend servants to his new crown. They had fought good and hard to keep him from this spot, but now here he was, despite everyone's greatest attempts, he stood atop the cornerstone of the second circle.

It was his own to control, or destroy as he see fit. And, everyone knew that, so they came to ply their trade, and try their best to ease him.

He would destroy them all if he did not love cowering loyalists so much. There wasa certain feeling of triumph and power, like watching ants cower as you put your foot over them, still unsure if you were going to kill them or not. That is where he stood, in flux, between killing them or watching them shake in their own boots.

"Send the next one in," He smiled, awaiting more.

 

[Lotharian]

Henrich scowled at the demons as they thrust him into the the throne room. The Wizard had been one of the many nobles whom weren't openly loyal to be humiliated with this display of 'loyalty' before PRINCE Arrios. It was really just a way to try and keep the lower level demons in line. If not for the history between he and Arrios, Henrich wouldn't be here right now. That damned demon now was more powerful than ever....

Henrich kept the look of contempt from his face, but the sparks between the two would be obvious to all of the demons viewing it. Henrich kept his mind ready for any form of assault from Arrios. After all, he didn't know how Arrios would handle the situation of a mortal who refuses to bow to a Demon Lord. At least one whom isn't destined for the pearly gates.

"Hello my lord, your throne of death suits you." Henrich said cooly, coming to a knee and keeping his gaze at the floor. "May your rule be long and... triumphant."

Henrich's mind burned with images of his death as orchestrated from this fiend. His mind reeled from all the years he had been into servitude and how close he had come to his victory, only to loose it to Satan's whims. Henrich kept a hard grasp on his gnarled oaken staff, awaiting for either the Demon Lord to assault him or release him.

Either way, Henrich had his work ahead of him.

 

[GentLi]

The great Pillars of Acheron were but haunting reminders of past glories. The pedestals upon which the Third Circle's greatest inhabitants were once raised stood empty, their bridges and palaces mere rubble. Some great brute had even managed to topple entire pillars, their existance now marked by the occasional mountain of splintered and cracked black bone.

Murmus was impressed with the monument to the war's chaos. It had been a decade since he'd last given the battle any thought, not that he'd been around to witness the anarchy. No, he was no such fool.

He'd fought hard at his lord's demand, standing strong with those remaining loyal to the crown though he did not consider himself a fighter. No, for eons he'd been a philosopher, a seeker of knowledge. He was a reader, a writer. When so inclined he held council with mortals, ultimately leading the ignorant astray with tainted logic. It was in the sea of the dead he sought knowledge, wading through the damned to question, listen, and perhaps come upon a concept of note.

In the center of Acheron lay his goal. A single tower rose higher than any other. It was there that the last Prince had sat. Ruled. Died. It was there that Murmus would begin his Ascension. With little ceremony, the demon resumed his slow march.

 

[Pywakit]

Annalyra

Annalyra rolled her eyes as her blatant play for sex went right over Krond's head. Were it any other demon to refuse her offer, she'd slaughter them on the spot, but to tell the truth she'd grown somewhat fond of Krond and his ways. Instead, she sighed at his report.

"Yes... I've felt the stirrings as well. Somethign huge is about to happen, and I... we shall need allies if we are to weather what's to come, don't you think? Of course you do... I can see it in your eyes. In particular, I fear that one in particular may have the rulership of Limbo in his sights. I assume I don't need to name names.

"Fortunately... I've a message right now winging its way to a possible ally, one whom may not be casting her eyes at Limbo, for she doubtless has machinations on the Third Kingdom. I speak of Princess Morgran, of course. I've invited her here, Krond, to enjoy the ammenities of Razor's Kiss, to share a dinner, and to simply talk. If my sorces do not decieve me, I think we might be able to come to an accord, she and I, and if we work together, imagine what we might accomplish!"

A terrible light seemed to be shining in Annalyra's eyes as she spoke. She was certain that the imp she'd sent down to the third kingdom, to the Supernal Hells, had not yet been intercepted; she would have sensed his death. Bitterdick should have already raeched Princess Morgran with the invitation to Razor's Kiss, in fact.

She slid lower in her throne, spreading her legs and using her skilled telekinesis to loosen her clothing; not enough to reveal her hidden reaches, but close. She looked back at Krond.

"Princess Morgran should be arriving soon, or at the very least, should be replying to my invitation in some way. I would like you to be here, at my side, when this occurs. For safety. I have no illusions that the Witch Queen might try something tricky... but until then, I suppose we have some time to kill." She spread her legs a bit more, all but presenting herself from her throne to Krond.

"So tell me, Krond. Have you ever sat in a succubus' throne before?"

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Killada

She smelled him before she saw him. Killada lifted into the sky and began her search for the being that pulled at her senses. Her wings carried her high and she darted between the rubble of pillars and broken homes, until she caught sight of the demon. She landed quietly on top of one of the highest towers and observed him, remaining true to her raven form.

The slick black head tilted to one side, as the eyes of the bird looked over the creature. Killada had not seen his kind before, then again, the vampiress hadn’t seen much of anything or anyone since arriving in Hell, simply easier to live that way. She noted his build, and his style of dress. Her eyes moved over his legs, the war having been kind to the creature’s body. His muscles were well defined and as he took one step then another they rippled gently.

He was not as large as the nobleman she’d toppled and for that she was glad, she had no desire to topple another, she wanted a companion, someone to guide her into the foray that would surely occur once others began to take notice of the empty throne.

At first when she saw him she’d thought of tasting him, removing what little life he had in him and moving on. Something told her that perhaps he could keep her company, she seemed to hunger for that now more then anything.

When it became apparent he was headed toward the center of Acheron, she took flight and settled her form near the path he traveled. She was ahead of him and her shape was now that of a beautiful maiden. Her long, onyx locks tumbled down her back, the tips caressing the curve of her ass. Her fingers brushed through them, her talons pulling the curls apart, only to have them cascade together again.

She took in the sight of her gown of green velvet. Her eyes now matching the fabric noted how the material hugged her form, outlining her breasts, arms, torso, hips. It fell to the ground, gently sweeping the ash, but never becoming soiled.

Her tongue skated out and she moistened her lips and as she walked she sang. She sang words of a lonely soul, one reaching out for something, someone to guide it. The words were spun like silk, they captivated the listener and held them within their embrace. She whispered to the wind the spell of charm, hoping that the demon was not able to block off the soft words that fell from her lips, like embers flickering from the burning pits.

If he heard her words, he would come to her side and then she would see if he was one she sought to help her, or if he were one that was a waste of her time. She’d lived alone for so long, she was willing to go longer, but she would dine before she deserted him, if he proved to be useless to her. She hoped he wasn’t, for she wanted someone to talk to besides the air around her.

 

[mike22280]

Krond

Yes... I've felt the stirrings as well. Somethign huge is about to happen, and I... we shall need allies if we are to weather what's to come, don't you think?

Krond found himself nodding along. Truth be told, he wasn't much impressed with any of the Princess's other underlings (save her corrupted dragon steed). They'd been cowed by his destrucition of the behemoths in the arena, and had fought over the scraps of the two beasts. And they were oh so willing to piss their life force away on Annalyra's orgies. Krond had often gone millenia between fucks, but his blue balls never to that bad.

In particular, I fear that one in particular may have the rulership of Limbo in his sights. I assume I don't need to name names.

Ummm....wrong? he thought. A name might actually have been handy.

Krond missed much of the ensuing spiel as he mulled it over. He nearly blurted out 'Arrios' when he figured it out.

Princess Morgran should be arriving soon, or at the very least, should be replying to my invitation in some way.

Krond tuned back in. He figured Morgran would be a safe-ish bet as an ally for the Princess. Occupying circles in separate kingdoms of Hell, the two wouldn't be in as much competition for position.

I would like you to be here, at my side, when this occurs. For safety. I have no illusions that the Witch Queen might try something tricky

Krond nodded again. No demon was terribly trustworthy. If they weren't given to unpleasant behavior or tendencies, they wouldn't be here. And as many were in here for unthinking actions as were for carefully machinated evil. And as many rulers had climbed onto their thrones atop a pile of broken bodies as had carefully schemed their way there.

but until then, I suppose we have some time to kill.

Krond paused again, trying to figure out what he could do. He'd set up his quarters. The Princess didn't have any immediate tasks. And he didn't feel like dealing with Al.

Al was Krond's "tutor". Realizing he'd need to figure out politics, strategy, tactics and the like, Krond had grabbed a soul he knew had the needed skills from the pits to continue his education. He couldn't trust another demon. And though a human could be just as untrustworthy, the ape wouldn't be in as good a position to benefit. And could be squashed like a bug if he got out of line.

Al was usually okay. Provide him with food, wine, women, (and the occasional boy) and he was happy. Of course he chafed at his subserviant role as school marm. He occasionally ranted about his rulership of the world, and how his father would take him to Olympus, and won't you be sorry then. The plain fact of the matter was that few souls survived for several thousand years without either being destroyed, or failing that sinking into the depravity of hell enough to become demons themselves. But Al had held onto his humanity through sheer bugfuck insanery.

Krond tried not to stare as he noticed Annalyra's display.

So tell me, Krond. Have you ever sat in a succubus' throne before?

Krond seemed to mull it over. Finally, he squinted at said seat.

"Umm...it looks a little small."

 

[BriefcaseRonin]

Morgran, Witch Queen of the Supernal Hells

Morgran had been quietly sitting upon her throne, studying an ancient text on Divination and Fortune Crafting, when the little imp came before her. Eyes hidden behind that mask focused on it, and she closed the cover of the book, obviously annoyed by the presence of this intruder to her Circle, "Yes?"

The imp, Bitterdick, trembled, taking several steps closer before hitting into an unseen obstacle. A pattern had been drawn into the floor surrounding the Witch Queen's throne, and it crackled and buzzed. It was a ward, paticularly a ward against demonic spirits. The Sixth Circle's Sovereign stifled a laugh, tapping her fingers across the arm of her seat at a slowly increasing pace; a measure of how much her annoyance with the creature was rising, "Why do you come before me, Imp?"

With a faint groan, the little creature pulled itself up and looked at her, full of fear, "Princess Annalyra invites you to visit her abode on Avernus and join her in dinner and talk," the creature winced and cowered, "That is, if you wish to, Princess Morgran."

Slowly sinking deeper into her chair, the Witch Queen felt rather confused, but intrigued. Why would Princess Annalyra, a succubi of the First Kingdom ask for her? The reasons alluded her, but she had heard many a tale of the Princess when she served under the first Prince of the Sixth Circle as an emissary. How could Morgran pass up the opportunity to be the Princess' guest?

Rising from the throne and moving by the imp, she held out her hands, allowing the sacred words of power to be uttered. Flicking her wrist, a small bone and obsidian wand was conjured into her hand, and she manuevered it in the correct positions. Then, kneeling upon the cold surface of her Watchtower, she drew the Enochian glyphs which would allow the incantation to succeed.

Standing again, she whispered the true name of her servant, who materialized before her as a hulking beast of obsidian in the shape of a man. It was tall, strong, and well hung to boot with a massive stone phallus. It's red eyes, which looked more like strategically placed rubies, took in the Witch Queen, before it's gravelly voice asked, "What is thy bidding, Mistress?"

"Caligine, my servant, the Princess of the First Circle, Annalyra, has sent me an invitation to meet with her in her kingdom. I want you to go before her, and tell her that I have accepted," The creature merely nodded, and then vanished in a puff of black smoke, travelling to deliver it's message. Morgran purred softly, deeply interested in hearing what this succubus had to say.

 

[poohlive]

Prince of the Second circle

"Well... I am surprised to see you here," and bowing as well. Hadn't so many things changed in just a few days time? It must have been so. He remembered long ago times when Henrich was once his ally, his friend.

Then he became a traitor, mutiny against the crown, but more importantly against Arrios. Now, he wanted to be loyal again. Isnt' that interesting.

"So, what is it you want from me? Are you here just to grovel? Surely you must have something more than to just praise my accomplishments."

 

[Lotharian]

"You were the one whom... requested that all the lords within the Second Circle come here. And am I not one created by your own hand Prince Arrios?" Henrich said, the memories once more stewing within his mind and trying to break to the surface. Henrich took a breath before continuing, willing his emotions back down bellow. "I merely do what is it expected of us all your lordship. After all, if I were not to attend, what would the demons think?"

"But if you've no need of me, then I shall take my leave to return to my work and duties." Henrich said calmly, not showing any hint of his want to get out of this room. Out to his study where he would resume his efforts to see Arrios' soul within his palm.

 

[GentLi]

The city's peace was eerie. Many had perished in the Sundering. Others fled much as he had, saving themselves once it became clear the battle was lost. The strongest, the most clever, however, still existed in Acheron's capital. Murmus could sense that much, as he was sure even the most pathetic demon could. Why else would they deny themselves an opportunity at the throne? This all suited him well enough. If he were to rule, he would surround himself exclusively with those that he might benefit from.

For the longest time the only sounds to be heard were his own; the rustle of his leather kilt, the soft falls of his sandaled feet as he made his trek. The long tail that snaked from beneath his dress waved side to side rhythmically. Then the most unusual noise interrupted his private musings. Singing. In the eons of his damnation, he could remember only a handful of times when he bore audience to song. Never before had he heard a voice or lyric worth contemplation. It contained a certain sad beauty that called him closer.

It was not long before he caught sight of her. She was a beauty unmatched in his memory of the past 200 years, if not longer. To find such a flower amongst the rubble was a pleasant and unexpected treat, to be sure. As he approached, stride unbroken, he descretely enjoyed her casual pacing. His eyes took in her graceful steps and wandered up her long legs, up across the plain of her belly and through the valley between her breasts. Her soft curves called to him and wakened a lust he'd not dealt with in two decades.

As he drew near, however, and heard her song more clearly, he sobered. The enchantment, carefully woven into the mournful tune, became clear to him. For he was no fool, but a being who'd spent most of his existance pursuing a finer awareness. To think he'd nearly been wooed into possible death at the point in his quest made him smile.

He stopped at what he deemed a comfortable distance between two strangers meeting for the first time.

"You're a finer temptress than many succubi, who'd simply fling their legs apart and beg. I'll admit your melody is what lured me this far and for that I applaud you, little vampire. You're no doubt on your way to mastering a craft far finer than is necessary in these parts.

"I am Murmus, former Count of the Third Circle," whether she'd heard of him or his history, he didn't ask. He bowed low, though never taking his eyes off of her, "...and I would very much like a companion on my walk."

Behind her, the pillar of Acheron's throne was calling to him even more insistantly than this bloodsucker's voice and body did. So while he was intrigued by this scavenging vampiress, one so capable as to mesmerize a demon of his history, he would not delay in his mission. With or without her, he would be resuming his journey.

 

[poohlive]

"Oh, I did?"

Arrios paused as he checked one of his many minions. They had since been cowering non stop as the endless entourage of people began filing in. One of them came up to him, shivering so much the talons on his feet made an endless clicking sound.

"Did I actually order that everyone come to attend me in the second circle?"

"No, my lord."

"So, everyone is here of their own free will, and wishes to worship me as their new prince?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Thank you, you may go." Arrios could not help but smile at his new plaything in front of him. Perhaps Henrich was just trying to pass off his presnce here as a requirement. What sort of game was Henrich playing this time?

It did not matter. It would do no good in the end. Arrios held the throne, and Henrich held nothing.

"Actually, I do believe I have an assignment for you. Your skills are better served doing my bidding, not groveling at my feet. I need a liason. Someone to go to the other circles to announce my new rise to the thrown, as well as thank anyone that helped me receive this position, my allies. I want you to be this person, a representative of me, and of the second circle, to go to the other facets of hell and tell them all what a wonderful and proud new Prince they have."

Arrios clicked his fingernails on the dark obsidian arms of his chair, absent mindedly hearing the noise far greater than what it was.

"Would you be willing to be my liason?"

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Killada had paused in both singing and walking when the demon approached her. The soft orbs of emerald silk stared at him and she smiled. Her tiny frame was dwarfed by his much larger one. She estimated him to be just shy of a foot taller than her and his frame, though lean, still doubled her petite stature. She pushed her sharp talons through the thick locks that hung freely over her shoulders. The hood of her cape stayed hidden behind the black curtain of satin.

“The pleasure is mine,” she told him.

Now that he was closer to her, she allowed her eyes to gather in the full extent of his presence. She tilted her head and studied him, noting his eye color, a grey color that reminded her of warm ash that skated across the ground. His skin was also grey, though it was lighter in shade and she found herself wondering if he were warm to the touch or cool. Inwardly she grinned as she imagined his flesh beneath her fingertips. Something told her he would feel slightly cool, like her, but she did not know for certain. . . In time she hoped she would.

She smirked at his comment concerning the succubi and laughed. “Oh tempt you, I was but singing Murmus. If I were to tempt you, then you would know the difference. It was just a song to lure someone to me. Someone, perhaps to keep me company.” She moved closer to him. Her tiny self became blanketed by his presence.

“If I had wanted to tempt you,” she whispered and ran a finger down his chest plate. Her talon scraped down the front until she rested it at his waist. “You would have felt a stirring right here,” she said as her talon slowly slid over the top of his kilt.

She pulled her hand back and stepped away. “I’m Killada Yutalay, and I have left the rubbles I had called home because it seems all are gone now. My mate long dead and sadly I find myself alone. A companion is what I seek, my hunger sedated.”

She winked. “Do not fear. I do not feed often and never would I dream of devouring you to the point of death.” Her eyes ran over him again and she lifted her lips in a welcoming smile. “Though, if I ever did. . . it would be a most euphoric feeling you had before I finished with you.”

Killada ran her hands down her sides and finished her reasons behind searching him out and luring him to her. “I noticed you and saw what direction you were headed and since you are only the second being I have passed since my leaving I did not want to waste time stalking you. So I decided to just see if perhaps you would keep me company while I make my way to Acheron. It is nice to know we both seek the same thing.”

She had not really meant to go there, honestly the young vampire as Murmus had called her was just out traveling. She had no one and no place, so perhaps this demon would allow her his company, until she or he was ready to move on. Killada right now just wanted to exist. The fact that in time she would want more was not at the forefront of her mind, she just needed to ease the loneliness that weighed down on her. The Baohbith-siths didn’t like to be alone for long, she was no different.

 

[erusian]

The Lord of the Pit looked down on The Game. Before him, seven phantasmic platforms stacked in seven levels floated slowly around an unseen axis. Each surface was checkered in black and red. Some of the boards were empty, the Circles they represented were still in chaos and ruin. Others, however, were beginning to show signs of life.

Lucifer fingered a small figurine that reclined on a razor-edged throne. At her feet, a hulking mass of muscle and malevolence knelt in obiescence. Annalyra had risen quickly to power in Avernus, reshaping the ashen remains into a razor strewn haven. The succubus was resourceful and ambitious. But she was a succubus, and succubi were nearly always distracted by the slightest lascivious temptation.

Below the first, the second platform glided into view. Here, another figure was receiving allegiances. Arrios had only recently claimed the throne of the Second Circle. The Signet Ring that marked his sovereignty had been wrested from the lifeless corpse of Jorja, the demon princess who had served Lucifer as a breeder, providing him with another of his many children.

These offspring, the Twiceborn, were sired by Lucifer and birthed by demon mothers. After years of indoctrination and study, these Hellspawn were passed into the souls of infants born to the mortal world. These children were exceptional, and as they matured under His divine guidance, they were able to ascend into positions of power and influence.

While the slack-wit servants of Heaven sought for the birth of the Anti-Christ, the hundreds of Twiceborn would slowly become just that. No one would know until it was too late.

Princess Jorja died in childbirth. Rather, she was slain by her child. It wasn't a delivery as much as a bloody escape. Arrios had been there to pick up the pieces. Lucifer smiled as a fur mantled figurine bowed to the Prince of the Second Circle. Henrich was conniving and hungry for power. The pageant of that realm would lend no end of amusements.

Below the Second Circle lay the once mighty domain of Acheron. The battles of the Sundering that raged amidst the towering spires of that realm had toppled them into splintered debris. Discordant to the desolation of that place, an enchanting melody wove itself into the grey haze. Two figures passed like ghosts through the ruins. These were unfamiliar faces in The Game. Perhaps a visit was in order...

And far below Acheron, near to the borders of the Abyss itself, lie the Supernal Hells, the demesne of Morgran, the self-proclaimed Witch Queen. But her arrogance was not entirely unfounded. It was equally matched by her cunning.

Untold hundreds of thousands of souls had been lured into damnation by her malevolent promises of arcane mastery. She was the only one of the Old Order that remained in power. All of her peers in the former infernal aristocracy were no more. Lucifer pondered over Morgran for a moment, considering what manner of mother she might make...

 

[Lotharian]

"I would be honoured your lordship." Henrich said calmly. This was working in his favour too well. There had to be some sort of plot afoot by Arrios. To be so bold as to allow Henrich out of his sights? Truly either Arrios had been completely consumed by his ego in this new position or he was feeling exceptionally brave.

"Where would my first visit be? To the First Circle to see if Princess Annalyra will maintain the healthy alliance she had with Jorga with you? Or perhaps there is elsewhere you would wish for me to go?" Henrich asked with genuine intrigue. Where he was sent could well determine his fate and the fate of the second circle. Mayhaps the fate of the entire first layer.

Henrich maintained his kneeled state, his mind consumed in thought. Not so that he lost thought but he couldn't help all that was processing in his mind. Hell has been continually shaken for the past century. First the Sundering and now this melodrama. Henrich knew Lucifer's hand was at play. Why else would he have had such a cold fate for Jorga than to toy with the hard come by Order that HE had forged?

Henrich's brow twitched slightly. He felt for a brief moment like he was being watched by something else. As one of the most potent mages in all of the Hells he was sensitive to such. One of the only beings that ever truly could match him would have to be the liege of the Supternal Hells.

Who knows where he would go and what would await him....

 

[Pywakit]

Annalyra

Annalyra giggled at Krond's reply. "Oh, I'm not so sure about my seat being that small, Krond. From up here it seems to me that there's lots of room..." she purred as she shifted her weight again, her pale lavender eyes drinking in Krond's massive form. She wasn't sure of the wisdom of actually triggering Krond's sex drive now, when things were obviously geting ready to do something. It was best to be on top of your game, and despite her own stamina and skill at the act, a fuck with her immense demonic bodyguard tended to leave her a bit breathless. He was slow to start, but once he got going it was like fucking a volcano.

She'd just decided to throw caution to the wind when Titterfuck chirped in shock. "Mistress!" she cried out. "Something comes!"

An instant later, a towering figure appeared in the throneroom before her, a massvie obsidian man-demon with an equally massvie manhood. She jumped, a bit startled at the sudden appearance of the creature. For a moment she thought Razor's Kiss was under attack. But then she noticed Krond wasn't reacting, and realized the phantom for what it was, an illusory projection of the real thing. A messanger. When it spoke, it did so in a voice only she could hear.

"Princess Annalyra. I am pleased to announce that Witch Queen Morgran has recieved your invitation and gracefully accepts. When should she arrive?"

Annalyra smiled at the phantom, then responded in an even voice that she hoped didn't betray any of her shock at the sudden manifestation. The Witch Queen was much more powerful than she'd anticipated if her minions were able to so effortlessly project their spirits into her castle... it would be good to form an alliance with her as soon as possible.

"Excellent. You may inform your mistress that Razor's Kiss is open to her, and that I am prepared to entertain her company immediately. We have much to speak of..." She let the words trail off, then nodded and the image vanished. Her infernal heart pumping with excitement, she straightened out the straps and silks of her scandalous outfit, making herself ready.

"Well, Krond... it seems that we may just have a visitor sooner than I thought. Come with me," she said, beckoning him to follow her to the banquet hall.

 

[GentLi]

“If I had wanted to tempt you, you would have felt a stirring right here,” her touch was electric to him, heightening his arousal to a point not reached in what seemed like ages. He remained stoic, however, save for a slow inhalation quite audiable between his sharp teeth. There was a competing blend of disappointment and relief as she stepped away and introduced herself.

Murmus's studies had always come first. An interesting dialogue or a burning question would keep him distracted for days at times. He would neither sleep nor eat until his curiousity was slaked. On the list of priorities, sex was a distant fourth while knowledge was without a doubt his prime concern. In his self-imposed exhile of the past decades, he'd allowed himself to be consumed by his search for wisdom. He had begun to waste away, at times gravely weak and feeble. But he had questions that needed answers. It was only in recent months, with his thirst quenched, that he had nurtured himself back to health. He'd taken great care in preparing for his return.

His smile had faded as his thoughts strayed, while his eyes unconsciously followed her taunting fingers down her body. “I noticed you and saw what direction you were headed and since you are only the second being I have passed since my leaving I did not want to waste time stalking you. So I decided to just see if perhaps you would keep me company while I make my way to Acheron. It is nice to know we both seek the same thing.”

Pulling his gaze from her thighs and his thoughts from the question of what lie between, he searched her eyes for her intentions. That they were on similar paths was in reality alarming to him. Did that mean she sought the same thing he did? She'd proven herself a capable distraction, altogether making travel with her a dangerous proposition. Perhaps she was just looking for company. Whatever her desires, they remained hidden to him. And so he would give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Indeed. Such cohesiveness is a rare and pleasant thing, especially on a journey like this." He reclaimed his smile as he relaxed. Now that they were resuming the trek, perhaps he'd be able to keep his focus. "I hope you will not the price of companionship; walking is a much slower way of moving about, I know. It's been some time since I've been able to take wing." What remained of his flying appendages reared upwards. One could imagine what the gesture was meant to look like, a great extension of his wings to their full glory.

Assuming she was ready, he started to walk. The great tower of Acheron lay far ahead of them. The Circle seemed to become progressively sinister as it neared it focal point. It had been the war's center, so it was unsurprising that fewer pillars remained, that the city became more ruinous the closer one got. A dark cloud seemed to surround the palace, high atop its pedestal. It was ominious and exciting to Murmus.

"How long have you known Acheron, my dear? I know I call you young, but that does not mean much to one who's existed longer than Time. It's a bit of a given."

 

[mike22280]

Krond

Krond frowned, puzzled as the Princess seemingly talked to the empty air.

His liege then hopped out of her throne, suddenly all business. Krond nodded at her directions, sweeping out of the throneroom after her. Spotting a servant just outside, he barked out an order for her to retrieve his trident from his room. Just in case. He hissed in annoyance as he fingered the loops of his whip. Time was he'd carried the massive iron fork that marked his status as a tormentor with him everywhere. He'd have to remember to be less careless, even in the castle. He'd need all the help he could get if the shit hit the fan.

The trident arrived as they did at the banquet hall. Krond shook his head irritably. Sorceresses. Krond didn't much like mages of any sort. Like most bullies, Krond disliked those stronger than himself. And when it came to magic, he was the proverbial 98 pound weakling.