Heleion Archives

12^th of August, 409^th of NDE. Saellisor Sea, Northwest of North-Heleion.

            “I know it may be late to bring it up once more but, can’t I swap with Rhi’enna or Charlotte?” Zofia, the youngest of the Scarlet Shadows said as her long, curving horns’ tips scraped the ceiling of the passenger area of the cloaked thopter. On the other side of the open door, the wind raged against the force field around the magicraft vehicle while the sea itself with its deep azure water spread far into the distance – to the horror of Zofia the brass skinned stygian.

“I am afraid to say it madam – but yes, it is too late. But do not worry, this piece of potion shall help you?” A young orcish man said in his thick northern albionian accent paired strangely with his deep, grumpy voice.

“Will it teleport me away? Because if not I wholeheartedly doubt so.” Zofia said as she took the vial with her right hand while the other glued to the wall of the thopter’s interior while her feet practically melded into the floor as she grasped for her life like a terrified cat.

“It will calm your heart and mind.” As she listened onto the orc’s explanation, she took deep breaths while her left hand let go of the wall which just seemed to intensify the extreme terror evoked by the calm waters below which seemed unfathomable in her eyes.

She quickly gulped it down after opening and closed her eyes waiting for the effects to kick in. From her wet-suits pockets she pulled out a small device which when activated, in a series of cacophonous clicks turned into a metallic mask she placed over her face surrounded by the tightened hood of the grayish black wet-suit. 

“Was it Claraste who recommended me? I fuckin hate that cunt.” With that, Zofia dove out from the muffled thopter, feet aimed at the dancing foamy waves while her heart and mind calmed yet her anger towards the dark elven agent remained as the waters swallowed her short, delicate form and she began her dive towards the enormous mechanical beast swimming in the depths, the first of its kind. The deep-sea vessel The Stromberg.

**

The Stromberg, a leviathan of a magicraft artifice designed solely for deep sea travel appeared as a slit abyss above the endless deep azure depths of the Saellisor Sea as Zofia slowly approached the vessel, her extreme fear towards the sea and its residents absent.

The vessel itself was named after the famed grauburgian inventor, Sigmund Stromberg head of the Company also named after his family. It was the first deep-sea vessel built for commercial use after years of lobbying as most militaries wished to keep such technologies in their own hands. Yet Sigmund famous for his rhetoric managed to convince all the heads of the Draunneth Alliance to allow him to build such a monstrosity of a magicraft vessel.

Which was ironically – or not – was one of the reasons why Zofia was sent to infiltrate The Stromber to assassinate Stromberg. The more obvious reason for the Kingdom of Albion’s desire for his head was the magicraft bomb itself which almost destroyed the parliament of theirs, and more importantly almost resulted in the mass deaths of most of their prominent nobles and politicians.

While the general populace thought Stromberg held great skills in the craft of speech, the truth itself was that he excelled in bullshitting when it came to interviews, and simply had the wealth of his family to pay to realize his desires which lead to further growth in his wealth itself thanks to his shady dealings.

While his company deals in renting out merchant and cruise vessels to other guilds and companies, he did not shy away from dealing with less savory folks like terrorists, revolutionaries and the like. Which led to one of his vessels transporting the failed bomb to the Isles’ capital.

Zofia stopped for a moment when she reached the ward surrounding the vessel designed to resemble the cyclopean whales of the northern sea. Streaks of her mana flowed from the center of her chest’s arcane point into the mask which then enveloped her body in the highest grade inscriptions erasing her presence and allowed her to easily pass through the vessel’s first line of protection against the equally cyclopean terrors of the sea – like the Krakens or the terrifying Charybdises who could easily swallow fleets.

Reaching the indigo, smooth and gleaming outer hull of the Stromberg, Zofia placed both her palms and closed her eyes as she started meditating. In the darkness before her closed eyes, the labyrinthian vent system filled with tubes channeling harvested mana revealed itself and she slid downwards across the hull until she stopped at the middle.

Once more her delicate, well-honed body kissed by her wet-suit turned ethereally transparent while enveloped by magical energies of the mask of hers before her body burst into a pitch black mist and slipped through the hull’s wall without alerting those inside.

**

Ele’oddel gleefully whistled while walking through the busy hangar of the western wing of the Stromberg while she fixed her waitress uniform’s black bowtie beneath her high-grade shirt’s winged collar.

Like most of the company’s uniforms, these were arcane in nature and were a mix of high-grade satin and cotton resulting in a matte surface that still possessed a refined, almost even regal luster while it still showed wrinkles as she somewhat hurried across. And like the rest, the blouse had no singular color, but instead glowed in many which shifted in inscrutable intervals like a lava lamp.

Over it she wore a simple sleeveless vest of high grade cotton, also of arcane nature which elegantly tightened onto her shirt while having a less noticeable luster though it still gave her an air of elegance. Under it a fishnet hugged her slender, muscular azure legs covered in piss golden scales while a short and tight skirt looped around her thighs while a belt kept it in place just at her triangular hip.

Her hair moderately long, slicked to the back with a hairpin keeping it in place, possessing the deep shade of the seas while her eyes sinister yet also alluring. Her lips wide and rich in soft, gleaming flesh covered in silvery lipstick amplifying their luster. Her nose straight, adorned but the remains of a scar gained in battle decades ago.

“Finally.” She murmured while opening the door to a storage room filled with two rows of shelves filled with necessary supplies in case of a leak or a possible infiltrations. She reached into her breast pocket bulging as the package of cigarettes tested the limits of its not enchanted space. The bright magenta filter wedged between the right off-center of her soft lips and for a moment the dark lit up as she drawn her thumb on the lighter’s trigger and a spark born anew only to immediately fade into oblivion.

“Wha...” Just as she inhaled down the caressing sweetened smoke, Zofia leapt down at her and with a swift neck chop sent Ele’oddel into the lands of the dreams. She quickly stamped down the cigarette and dragged the merfolk waitress further into the dark room before she started undressing – first herself, then the merfolk.

Within seconds both women stood nakedly between the shelves before a series of clicks signaled Zofia securing the merfolk’s wrists and ankles with black plastic mana ties, then two short shrieks of tape informed the non-existent watchers of its departure from the roll, and a moan from the merfolk its arrival onto her lips.

“There. Just enjoy your break.” Zofia said as she wrapped the bound and gagged merfolk into a Shrouding Tarp she procured from her personal void and hid her a bit further in the corner before she dressed up into the elegant uniform.

“Fuck me.” The last movements of buttoning up the blouse went down while she headed towards the exit of the storage, then she slammed it back softly and swiftly at the same time. For the short moment, she noticed the dozens of corpses of some Black Roses and staff members, a few more either already bound and gagged with sealing tape or just in the process. And of course the pirates who had the head start in the infiltration.

**

Zofia slowly – and completely invisible – passed by the large group of pirates in mismatched gear ranging from high-grade, lavish coats, jackets, shirts, tops, pants and boots to torn, dirty, patched all over and hewn from shitty materials. Quite the smorgasbord of a group she noted while stopping for a moment with her arms pressed against her sides as two carried away a trussed up farmairh – the common troop of the Black Roses’ naval branch.

Her eyes swiftly darted left and right, north and south as she carefully evaded pirates calling out to their comrades while rushing towards them while almost crashing into her. Each time she let out a soft sigh as she continued her traversal through the gleaming floor riddled with corpses and their bodily fluids forming into lakelets and rivers.

Her knees creaked softly as she crouched down after reaching a mound of crates close towards the corridor leading straight towards Stromberg’s office. From there Zofia heaved a sigh while she watched a group of pirates finishing the joyous process of binding and gagging three farmairhs.

The sleek and lavishly military uniform – a slightly modified Vigrieth Type-VI coat – uniform hugged their body. Design wise it was produced with the same elvish contours and strokes of asymmetrically angular proportions, while the difference came itself on the top and bottom.

On the bottom, the asymmetrical hemline extended ever so slightly from which their tight dragonid leather skirt protruded forth like certain flowers with layered petals.

In a similar vein, the open neck and collar rose high in layered waves hitting against walls softly hugging around each other, while whirling around the neck in asymmetrical measurements, each with their own snow silvery top framing and lining conjoined into a border.  From the third layer itself, a cloak draped over the strapped, ruffled shoulders with the smoothness of silken, the appearance of thin leather.

To various degrees the deep sea colored collars rested within the coat’s with both the necktie and corset vest’s own slipping beneath the glowed shadows of the folds.

On the far right a refined beauty of a spring-folk sat, back against the wall while glistening silver sealing tape looped around her waist and chest, her arms bent behind and stacked beneath the layers of tape pressing into the smoothly bending arcane textiles. A wide, creased strip wounded across her pretty face staring down at her secured lap.

To her left, a soratanese of a rich tan on and short, slicked dark hair the other hand just received her glistening gag from which her lips bulged forth. The merfolk pirate glared at her face of half-elvish proportions before letting it go.

And the one who leaned involuntarily forwards as the dragonkin looped the roll around her waist, a mesmerizing dark elf with a lob of deep, flamboyant orange strangely complimenting her blue skin. Zofia’s eyes remained on the last then darted back to the spring-folk lifted by the merfolk and an orc and carried towards the gate. Her legs swiftly sprung into action as she sprinted the small distance between and followed them in before breaking off while realizing her mission may have just turned easier.

**

“You can do it Mary! This is what you had been waiting for all this time.” The young blonde Farmairh called Mary whispered to herself as she hid between rows of shelves in a small storage room, clutching the hilt of her saber with blooming rose sculpted pommel of glinting snow silvery metal.

Thick collection of her curling strands and the comfortingly cold collars of her blouse tickled her chiseled, moderately elvish cheeks while her intense blue eyes hidden behind the lids of her eyes. Ever since she left behind the Isles to join the Black Roses, she dreamed of glories earned by cutting down the crooks of Eight Seas of the world.

Yet when they suddenly swarmed the front of the Stromberg, killing staff both serving and securing, capturing guests, guards, servers and even the owner of this cyclopean vessel, she got frozen in fear while hiding with her own shame alone in the cramped, dimly lit space of the storage room.

Then when the door opened, light flowed for a moment filling her with hope as she found her lost bravery and lunged without thinking at the petite stygian girl in elegant, sleek uniform of vibrating, shifting colors, curling horns and brass complexion.

Yet in the end, for all her momentary bravado, the small world faded into darkness as Zofia swiftly evaded the softly gleaming silver blade. She moved behind Mary resembling a blurred phantom of many shades before a jolt of mauve lightning coursed through the latter’s sleek uniform clad slender form.

“Idiot.” Zofia whispered as she caught the collapsing girl and dragged her back where she covered in fear, then while recuperating her mana, bound her wrists and ankles with silver sealing tape. Her teeth dig into the soft and cold glinting strip still clutching to the roll and pressed the short strip against her gleaming soft peachy lips. With three taps mana poured from her fingers and it tightened onto her soft skin, the lips bulging from beneath.

**

The sweet taste of cherry and soft flesh remained in her even as the alchemical adhesive strengthened piece of light silvery sealing tape clutched onto her own of mixed azure and golden. Though at least the obsessive madness which ailed her mind faded far, far away as hours passed since she met a half-blood kin of hers.

Dag’arori made her hundredth or more rounds in the western wing of the Stromberg’s fifth level, her dragonid leather boots deepened into the carpeted floor while her fish eyes already grew bored of the burgundy walls segmented by painted white oaken half-columns. Great paintings between each of picturesque mountain or landscapes blanketed in snow and with majestic dragons soaring the sky above. Each and every one boring the hundredth time.

Yet her heart raced as the merfolk farmairh found herself alone in the long corridor with an eerie silence. Then what increased the rhythm of her heart was the soft fair hands clamping over her lips, another wrapping her in a gently tight embrace while the half-blood kin of hers yanked her inside a small space.

Even as release came, Dag’arori could not let out just a sudden yelp as her soft, wide lips of glinting cherry pressed against hers, their tongue intertwined in a lover’s battle while her fingers slipped through the belt of her faux leathery skirt and her rosy silken thong. Yet even this moment faded minutes before climax and now she felt her body in seemingly ceaseless heat while the bindings restraining her bodily freedom pressing into said crazed body.

Her slim sharpened ears twinged, the slit gills numbering three on either side of her neck behind her deep sea colored collars expanded while the wide strip of tape muffling her words creased as the door opened. “Mmrnhm!” Warmth borne of excitement tickled her body as the image of her captor, the one whose lips’ taste still lingered in her mind flashed before her blindfolded eyes.

A softly triangular face adorned with refined eyes of sharply contoured almonds, pearls of brimming golden with a tinge of azure, hair tousled and a deep auburn shade with a large bun kept in the back, a pin staked through. A fine silken garment kissed her slender, athletic body of fair tone while only two slits ornated the sides of her frail looking neck. Her scent mesmerizing if not maddening.

Yet it was not the captor who returned to claim, to continue where they stopped but it was the brass toned stygian agent here the exact revenge on the owner and namesake of the Stromberg. Who simply shushed to the moaning farmairh to stay silent, yet it only angered the aroused and bound guard sitting in the corner.

With a swift neck chop and a muffled yelp, Dag’arori went back to a sleep while a miniscule headache beget Zofia as she waited sitting across the trussed up guard while thoughts of massacring the pirates may hasten her gig.

**

“Mnrmmnphphrmphph!” The muffled cries of the two farmairh filled the spacious office of the Head of the Staff – formerly as he lost his head literally – as the two came to their climax. Ari’ellah watched as their snow silvery cum with iridescent tinge flowed slowly down the chair the two were bound to. Large spheres wedged between their gleaming lips, one red the other mauve like their lips while silken purplish black muffle scarves blinded the two with not so gentle knots at the back of their luxuriant hair.

The two were stripped down only to their glistening blouses buttoned down, their miscolored collars popped high while cherry lipstick marks adorned their neck’s glistening with honeyed sweat. Ari’ellah the half-blooded merfolk showing the blood of his father on her perfectly smooth skin watched with primal delight in her golden eyes.

The dress kissing her body gone, now her delicate, well-honed hourglass form clad in her white button down shirt stretching to the whims of her breasts, over it the sleek dragonid leather Vigrieth coat of the Farmairh draped over like a cloak. Her vhalexy pants stretched as she adjusted her stance while massaging her own vulva while watching the two Farmairh squirm in their bindings while the two large black vibrators wedged deep into their private space.

“Maybe I should bring that merfolk here.” For a moment, the dress entered the corner of her sight and she remembered Dag’arori whom she left trussed up in a storage room before the takeover. She envisioned the merfolk facing her in the chair, her charm crazed eyes staring at her while her third bluish sphere gag adorned her mouth.

Her mind completely focused on the two and the various ideas flowing through her mind as she envisioned a hundred ways to satiate her ceaseless bodily hunger. So much so, that in the end she failed to sense Zofia sneak into the office and summon her silenced wand pistol. With a clean shot through the back of her head, straight through the bun, Ari’ellah’s short life came to a sudden end.

“MMhnnphphhmrm?” The fair naurdian farmairh let out a muffled yelp filled with forced passion at the soft thud of the half-bloods’ corpse hitting the floor. “Just stay here. Help will be on the way.” Zofia said forcing a gentle tone while the two vainly tried to ask for their freedom. Their sigh filled the air then moans followed as the door closed on them while Zofia continued on, reducing the number of pirates along her way.

**

Szairon awoke to the massive headache assaulting her whole being and the last thing she remembered before the all-swallowing darkness flooded her mind. She remembered the handsome fellow daemhaerith waiter running into her while patrolling on the top floor not far from the office of Stromberg.

He offered her a drink as he just returned from the Dance Hall on the level below with his tray masterfully held in place even as he strode with haste. As great dryness ailed her mouth, she took the offer and in the next moment she felt her body weaken, the closed burgundy world blur before darkness followed.

“Hrcchmm.” As she cursed her own name, the intelligible words echoed softly and she felt her bottom planted into a hardened, round seating. When the pain began to slowly fade, it got replaced with the childish clutching of the silvery sealing tape which soft surface wrinkled as she tried to call for help.

She quickly became aware that she was not just simply bound in some small space, but the tape cutting into her uniform clad form bound her into place. A place that was the cramped small space of the toilet’s staff as she tried to trace the shape of her seating with her secured ankles while the oval nature of the seating became evident from parts of her taped thighs slipping off.

“N rm hmrm!” The door of the toilet closed with an echoed thud, then Szairon let out loud muffled cries of help not caring if it was her captor or fellow Sister. Yet in the end it was neither as blood drenched Zofia calmly walked up to the stall, let out a sigh before opening then shot the bound farmairh of pale white skin, and long ebony black hair. Szairon ‘s bound form twitched as the mana bullet coursed through her body and sent her back to the lands of the dreams.

“And they say pirates are cruel.” With that she left the once again unconscious farmairh behind while gulping down a vial of mana.

**

“What a great idea it truly was.” Edwaias murmured to himself as he slowly sunk into the soft leather sofa, his legs up on footrest of the same softness while in front the vast deepness spread into the distance. His snow black hair spread out behind his back, melding into the leathery cushions hugging his muscle-bound body, his hands stroking his tousled beard while his tired eyes focused on the crystalline glass brimming with whiskey.

Edwaias was an old fox who born of noble blood in the newly discovered continent of Eoran centuries ago. In his youth he fought for a just a cause, to aid the downtrodden natives against their cruel oppressors who came in many shape and form. Few demonic, the most and worst mortal in nature.

By the time came for their freedom his family disowned him, and he found himself nameless and serving under Edward whose beard was dark as the starless night sky and his bravery against the Arghyrians as fathomless as the void beyond the world. For this reason at the time he became infatuated with the man who sacrificed his own life to turn the tides in the Battle of Nacaman Bay in central Eoran.

Though he later realized he has hatred not only for the continentals, but his hatred born against those with the power to tide his life in directions not of his own. Which was why after the Great War he abandoned the great naval host of Eoran and lived a life of debauchery, villainy where he had total control – or at least had the illusion of.

Though for the moment he was glad he listened to Aur’iellah the newly risen First Mate of her crew who learned of the Stromberg, a commercial vessel they could easily take over and claim for their own. A vessel deep below the sea was the perfect instrument for pirates to strike he thought and let the half-merfolk infiltrate the company years ago and quickly rose to be the secretary of the man himself with an ego so vast and beyond a greedy dragons’.

For a moment he remembered the pleading eyes, the muffled cries of the previous secretary of Stromberg who to this day many think was lost at sea. They were not fully wrong Edwaias thought as the poor beauty probably now descended to the depths of the sea in the form of excrement.

But as all good things, this moment came to a sudden end as he felt the sudden pain of his chest pierced through by a spell. A buzzing mass of shadowy mist in the shape of a long blade not so kindly traversed through the sofa and his chest, his golden blood dripping into his lap. “It was a good run.” He murmured to himself as the blade dispersed away and Zofia straightened her posture while shrugging her shoulder as she walked towards the towering double door of oaken and golden.

**

Sigmund Stromberg sat silently as he was not foolish to cry in vain as the silken muffle scarf wedged itself between his cracked lips. He sat silently, calmly staring into the blackness of the second scarf while the rope restraining him to the chair cut deep into his body draped in a refined set of elven suit of ever-shifting vibrant hues. He was a man with an ego but also an understanding that sometimes, things are out of control for you. A strange mixture he often thought.

Or maybe it was the regret not realizing that the beautiful maiden who captured his heart was a shark in a nice set of clothes leading him into a trap. Regret of not settling down, thinking he deserves to flip between woman like novels he just finished reading, letting poor Anika be probably taken care of in a grizzly way instead of just firing him.

Though the latter regret faded as he began to pray to the Goddess Myelia to grant a divine miracle to the Black Roses captured as he himself was quite used to trading in death. It was a natural part in the world of guilds, companies filled with rivals aiming for the same treasure. Which led to him to them, the cabal hiding in shadows, plotting conflicts from which they all could profit.

Although he was unaware that his actions would lead to his death even when he let out a hope fueled, calm moan when the door opened. First, he thought it may have been the Black Roses finally free after their Goddess listened to his silent prayers, then dread coursed through his veins as the source of the steps remained quiet.

Sigmund gulped as he felt the cold metallic oval embrace of Edwaias’s pistol pressed against his face. For a moment, his mother’s kind visage flashed in his face as Zofia channeled her mana into the antique wand pistol which blew half his face away.

**

After the deed was done, Zofia found the operating table in Stromberg’s office which conveniently – she thought – had the button to release the gates of the back where most of the Black Roses were confined with some of the guests and staff. With that, she climbed to the ceiling like a spider then phased through the walls while conjuring a ward around her whole form.

With an explosive spell, she propelled herself to the surface than reached into her personal void and pulled out the signal device. Just as her mana poured into the device, her whole body tensed with utter terror as the clear azure waters darkened.

“Come on you cunt!” She cursed loudly as she frenetically looked around the sky waiting for the slightest blur began to unveil the thopter, then after what felt like an eternity – actually a few seconds – it finally arrived and hovered her high in the air just as the vial’s calming effect came to an end.

“Leave no.” She yelled while an invisible force lifted her ever closer, yet even as she stared at the metallic form of the thopter, she still saw the cyclopean shadow spread beneath her in the calmly raging waters. The kindly pilot who chuckled under his helmet followed her words and the group quickly took off while the pirates deep below regretted their choice.