Heleion Archives

As the group neared the gate, they saw the golden grass on the sides of the road collapsed onto each other east and westwards while also sensing the mana residue left by the low-grade levitation usually inscribed into the False Lives of these magicraft vehicles, conveniently making them much, much slower than the Black Roses or Snow Scaled Host’s vehicles.

“What is this funny smell?” Veronirth stopped for a moment and Nabeela staring down at her feet bumped into her while the dragonkin Sister of hers sniffed the air permeated by a sweet but lightly caustic scent. “Ah sorry Nab.” Before she could have apologized, Veronirth preceded her.

At Venerated-Sister Sumevarina’s command the two caught up the little distance and entered back to Thornglade Fort from the northern gate, right beside the large tavern of that side with asymmetrically angular proportions and at least four floors left for those needing to practice one of Myelia’s Tenets of sharing beauty with others.

The caravan itself was rather small as Milla noted to them, three vehicles with each transporting only three people. Three people of moderately lavish garments ranging from arcane faux-leathery pieces, velvet or silken shirts of relatively high grade with only one or two wearing arcane woven pieces.

 Nabeela lightly noted in a half-question the lack of bodyguards, mercenaries attending the merchants but Milla explained that the vehicles themselves were all the protection they needed as she saw through the mild illusions veiling the cannons on rounded roofs of the large mechanical beasts.

Least to their surprise, those in the “most” lavish garments set up shop on the side of the road in the large courtyard and began to offer their wares to the condensing staff of the fort. The rest of theirs either helped showing off the exotic wares Nabeela recognized were from the south – to unsure if it were from her homeland – or headed into the tavern to set up rooms for the night.

Yet the scent she felt outside the fort remained, it even become a little more intense as she passed by the three vehicles and headed in to the central building which served as the main headquarters in the fort where most business went down. Well mostly practice, which she awaited little as the two less venerated Sisters shall be her teachers for next.

**

When she finally reached the door to the cell, for the first time in the past few weeks, her hands hesitated in turning the knob. Her flat chest expanded as she took a deep breath in the cold corridor of gloomy, wet walls then opened the door and stepped in to a warm, thick air filled cell.

Whilst she practiced the Tenets of Myelia, shared the beauty she received in passionate ways with men and woman of many different races, slightly younger or matching her age, there were boundaries she set to herself. And while she knew it was necessary to interrogate scum who wanted to upend the order of the kingdom, the alliance the scenery in front of her still made her feel conflicted, both aroused and creeped in a sense.

On the left side of the closed cell was one of the less venerated Sister of hers, Tihanath who possessed a smooth epidermis of an infernal shade of icy blue, eyes matching in shade with an alluringly sinister curvature, tapered horns with darker tips breaking through the thick foliage of her pitch black bangs of her long hair with a bun resting atop her contrasting crimson collars.

Her large, gleaming soft lips curved into a wicked smile as she kept the head of the almost fully naked orcish revolutionary staring straight ahead, pressing her cheeks covered in a wide strip of silver sealing tape that creased up while still clinging strongly onto her sweat garnished green skin.

On the right an even more bizarre scenery unfolded where Vanynda, the second not so venerated Sister of dark elven blood and deep, glistening ebony blue flesh while her eyes glowed with a sinister crimson shade brimming with the madness born of arousal.

“Oh hey Veronirth, you just arrived at the right time.” Vanynda turned at her hearing the door, the previous chilling expression on her angular face, possessing both terrifying and graceful qualities while framed by the straight burgundy locks of her moderately long, burgundy red hair in bob style cut, shifted into a more friendly one. Unlike Tihanath who at least kept her issued trousers, Vanynda stood only in her gleaming, smooth-surfaced blouse while a sizeable phallus adorned the center point of her body. Something which Veronirth seen the first time in her ninety five years, so no one could fault her for staring at it with lightless eyes.

At the elevation of the ebony blue tip, the second prisoner of pure aelfrith stock stared at it with anger and longing in his golden eyes. His raven black hair slicked back had a few tresses already going their own way from the rest, while his well kept beard was dripping with some thick liquid while his lips and cheeks were hidden behind a wide strip of silver sealing tape too.

“Did I?” Veronirth asked after regaining some of her composure while she utilized one of her special abilities, halting her smelling without pinching her own nose.

“Oh don’t worry. We left them in these state since yesternight.” Tihanath said after she yelled at the orc prisoner to shut up after pouring inscriptions into her mind increasing the orc’s state of arousal to even more maddening levels, which made her growl like a beast through the gag.

“Now, last time we talked about the more painful tactics of interrogation.” Vanynda said as she began to circle around her prisoner while drawing the soft tip of her index finger along his broad elven shoulders. A pinkish mauve energies flowed from it into him, and within a few seconds his own spear began to rise to majestic heights.

Vanynda looked at with starving delight at the small event unfolding in the nether areas of the man tightly secured to the not so comfortable chair with thick enchanted ropes which cut unyieldingly into his scar riddled body. “This time, we shall talk and show off to you the more – benevolent tactics.”

With that she tore off the sealing tape from his mouth which as expected by the three Black Roses was followed by curses flowing out like a river from the mouth of the man in a highly inconsistent tone. If Veronirth hadn’t witness the interrogation of the man the days before, she would have thought he was just roleplaying as a rebellious and submissive prisoner at the same time.

As the interrogation began, she swiftly reached into the inner pockets of her coat and picked out her small notebook and pen enchanted to follow and write down her thoughts. A deep and soft sigh escaped her followed by disgust at the smell of the room, then she opened the notebook and waited for Vanynda to turn at her giving notes.

Like before, the interrogation started by questioning the aelfrith man on the identity and location of their new and enigmatic leader. Though this time, there were no slaps, no mind spells projecting horrific images into his mind, instead Vanynda assaulted him with her own scent, whispered enchanted words into his ears which slowly decreased his mental resistance.

But just like with the first prisoner she witnessed being interrogated by Vanynda and Tihanath in a much crueler way, the aelfrith man resisted and hurled only curses at them, and promises that soon their roles shall be reversed, empty threats to them.  In the end, Veronirth expected that this scum shall talk too, but in a much more pathetic manner.

She also expected that like the previous, he too shall die as it seemed like there was some curse laced into their magical oaths that ended their life the moment their minds gave in. For a short moment, she recalled the sweet but lightly caustic odor oozing from the corpse of the merfolk revolutionary.

As Vanynda continued benevolently tormenting her prisoner, Tihanath yelled at her own while keeping the orc’s head in place, pumping her with an icy spell which kept her awake at all times as the orc’s yellowish eyes began to close down, her resistance grew weaker and weaker with each moment.

Tihanath offered her the chance to speak, to finally offer up the head of their enigmatic leader speaking out against the royal family, likening them to the lords of the stygian realms. The orc faked compliance and half-way through the tape peeling off, she spat in Tihanath’s eyes who then forced his blackened lips with a tinge of blue onto the orcs, ignoring the tusks.

A deep moan left the orc’s mouth locked forcefully onto Tihanath’s, the hotness spreading from her abdomen down to her nether regions made her squirm in her unyielding bonds keeping her to the equally blood and sweat covered chair. Or at least Veronirth ignored the white and silvery mucus dried to the edges of the seating where the orc’s legs spread west and eastwards.

Then as they lips parted, the orc tried to hurl curses at Tihanath, saying the same as her partner, though she was cut off halfway as the tape pressed once more against her sweat laden skin, stiffening the not so kind words.

Her muffled scream followed as Tihanath’s almost needle sharp teeth bit onto her exposed nipples, blood and sweat combined while her scream was a mixture of pain and pleasure which once more sent shivers down Veronirth’s spine. Though she felt a bit curious what that maddening sensation must have felt like.

Writing became harder when the orc emitted a muffled yelp when Tihanaths clawed fingers inserted into her exposed vulva. “An early arriver huh?” Tihanath noted mockingly as the orc’s cheek gained reddish tint while her yellowish cum burst forth her vulva like water from behind a collapsing dam.

What little cum of hers tainted the immaculately smooth, gleaming surface of Tihanath’s blouse, flowed and dripped down to the floor once the snow silvery and crimson red piece of lavish blouse glowed ethereally for a short moment.

“Still don’t feel like you should talk? You know I’m content even with the location of your cells in the heimrad.” Tihanath offered as she held no pretenses that either of them shall spill the beans on their enigmatic leader unlike Vanynda who born into this world with plenty of ambition and a ceaseless sex drive that needed to be satisfied in the most bizarre way, at least from what Veronirth gathered during her time in the fort.

Which was why it was easier for her to take notes from Tihanath instead of Vanynda who just transmuted the seating of the chair and lifted it up into the air with a vicious smile on her wickedly alluring face. Veronirth cursed herself as she turned back to Vanynda and forced the pen not to write down her additional thoughts, a feat that took a lot from her.

“Let’s see even after all this, will you have your spirit to resist.” With those last words the chair turned, the aelfrith man faced the ground while the seating’s lower side exposed a hole, which exposed his own hole riddled with mild scars and a bit sore after days of sitting on the rough surface. And it awfully slowly approached the tip of end of the dark spear’s tips grown from Vanynda’s own vulva.

Yet when Veronirth taught the man would relent, he remained silent – even took a very, very deep breath – and closed his eyes, as if that would make things better. The pen fell onto the floor, just as the aelfrith’s yell penetrated through the door, and even reached the main hall of the main building.

The scene of a elven man penetrated from the back by a dark elven wicked beauty while hovering in the air, forever burnt into Veronirth’s mind.

**

Veronirth’s body still quivered after what she witnessed even as she was on her daily patrol duty on the walls northern section. Even as she stopped and took a deep breath, trying to hush the memory of the events unfolding in the cell by taking in the picturesque scenery of golden meadows with a few patches of flowers blooming mauve and scarlet petals, her mind still repeated the same question over and over.

How could such a thing split into multiple parts? Why the ear holes too? Was it to shatter whatever pride he may have left in himself? Those hollow eyes as the technically eerie phalluses finished penetrating any hole that was naturally came with a body through its nurturing appeared in flashes.

After witnessing the so called benevolent technique, Veronirth came to the conclusion that it was more of a torture technique rather than one beneficial for prickling out secrets from any subject. She vowed never to delve deeply or at all into the arts of flesh sculpting. And whatever happened down there shall be pushed the depths of her mind.

“Hey! Duck down!” Then as if the Goddess felt the horror Veronirth was put through, she was suddenly dragged back into reality when a caith-folk drengriar with steel grayish long hair pushed her down just as a raging fireball passed down her head.

Her lips trembled as now the dread of narrowly meeting the Goddess registered in her mind. “Thank you!” She managed to utter out while slinking down, clutching her stave rifle with both hands while taking deep breaths.

“Fucking revolutionaries.” The caith-folk nodded then stood back up and with a quick and precise aim took down the revolutionary mage who almost claimed the life of the dragonkin neonate. The pure mana bullet passed through the orc’s head, his greenish black blood sprayed all over the golden foliage.

Veronirth looked left and right while trying to calm herself down and watched as more and more Drengriars equipped with rapid mana guns and stave rifles appeared out of nowhere, showering the few revolutionaries charging at the gate in a vain effort to break through.

One last deep breath was all she needed, and she slowly and carefully got back up while the mild sensation of her whole being tickled followed as she sharpened her sight, and focused onto a lone fellow dragonkin possessing glinting brass scales realizing they have no chance of entering.

The towering kin of hers waited for his moment to rush towards the forest unaware that Veronirth already channeled her mana into her stave rifle. With a soft roar the bullet left the barrel and tore through the air and into the throat of the brass dragonkin who swiftly stood up. In the next moment, where he stood dark smoke rose towards the sky while two more revolutionaries laid dead in the golden grass while flames slowly consumed their carcasses.

“Nice shot.” The caith-folk drengriar patted the shoulder of prideful Veronirth who watched as a few revolutionaries hastily made their escape towards the forest, ending the battle just as suddenly as it began.