A gay story: Vortex Quest Bk. 05 Ch. 12 == VORTEX QUEST 5-12 ==
== POWERLESS ==
The defiled sanctuary hadn’t become particularly hectic but it was getting difficult to keep the alliance of Nephilim, Aelves and demigods secret enough to avoid retaliation.
Luckily, they wouldn’t have to wait much longer. With the Hexers shattered, several Reaper factions had too good an opportunity for expansion to waste time scraping together human souls — Champion Slyell’Pvan would run out of reserves within a Ring Cycle — less than a week.
In the meantime, the pantheon was fucking in their quarters until they were too drained to make even basic conversation.
Of course, Xane could have kept going — he had a disembodied telekinetic all-purpose limb at his disposal — but even for him there was a point where sex became too much of a chore. Especially since they’d all gotten addicted to crushing their own balls now.
The thaum-mage rubbed his regrown mohawk and noticed Chay’s eyes on him, dashing from his face to his crotch.
“Still gay?” Xane asked with a grin.
“Barely,” Chay said, “as far as I can tell. Although crushing on my friends was nice.”
“Yeah,” Marcus added. “Not right now but… maybe we can get flipped again.”
Chay glanced at Xane’s crotch a second time. “Still cursed?”
“Barely,” Xane echoed. He had cum dripping from his aegis. Far more than the precum his insatiable horniness caused but nowhere near as much as the Wraith’s curse had made him shoot. He wiped a drop off his ballsack and magicked it away.
Goro grunted and let a fountain of cum erupt from his aegis, creamy ropes splashing onto his abs and thighs.
Chay rubbed his own regrown buzz cut. “Any ideas about my next style?”
“Ugh,” Xane made. “Sorry, dude, I can’t use brain power right now. If you want anything more elaborate than ‘Xane was here’ you’ll have to wait till I’m recharged.”
Chay stared ahead, then sat up and scooted closer. “Fuck it, I’m joining the mohawk crew. No offense but I always thought it looks kinda… Not stupid, just tryhard?”
“Seriously,” Marcus said and sat up on his elbows. “You ought to give the bitch a cock-and-ball haircut for that.”
“Agreed,” Xane said, “but I’ll play nice.”
“You know what,” Chay said and leaned away from Xane’s hands. “Actually… no, fuck it. I’m not here to impress chicks.” He leaned into Xane’s grasp. “Fuck me up, Xee.”
As the wizard began to evaporate select hairs down to the scalp, Shadowhand entered.
The Aerodrake was wearing a more ‘angelic’ outfit these days, serving as prime messenger and herald of the Nephil, silver-trimmed white robes hanging off his smooth, shiny scales, flowing over the bulges of his muscles.
“I have a message.”
“From?” Chay asked, not turning his head so Xane could keep working.
“Difficult to say. One of Slyell’Pvan’s many opponents, who has information about the palace’s defenses and layout.”
Goro huffed. “Where’s the catch?”
“They want a meeting,” Shadowhand said, “at their discretion. The abominable bar in Bi’in Vvegra-Waaa, at Top Notch.”
‘Top Notch’, also known as Ringspan Zenith, was the abyss version of noon, referring to the largest mark on the inner time ring. First time meetings were commonly scheduled this way. Xane left the decision up to Chay, of course.
“Okay then,” the leader said. “A meeting in public. We better put on our fancy suits.”
Xane gave Chay’s head a slap. He was done with the masterpiece. A buzzed mohawk in the shape of a large erection, seemingly ready to jizz onto Chay’s forehead, a pair of balls halfway down the back of the head. Lines of slightly longer hair even gave the impression of veins in the right light.
Xane summoned a mirroring surface and watched Chay fall totally silent, stonefaced.
At last the leader shrugged. “It’s what I ordered. Good job, Xee. What does the jury think?”
Goro gave a thumbs up, grinning wider than Xane had ever seen him do.
Marcus gave a slow clap. “Masterful Mohawk.”
“Mocock,” Xane said.
“Or cockhawk?” Marcus offered. “I like ‘cockhawk’.”
Shadowhand nodded and said, “Daring.”
Xane wasn’t sure how to take that, but hey, he wasn’t the one running around with a mocock now.
“Before I forget,” Shadowhand said and reached into his robes. “The slave shortage has caused a nectar overproduction in turn.” He retrieved a bota bag. “Here’s a sample.”
The scent of gay demonic fucking reached Xane’s nostrils and his eyes rolled back into his head. They should kill humans more often if this was what it got them.
===***===
This side of Hiwinymb had gotten quieter, with the lack of shades to feed barge turbines and industrial machinery. But every so often, a major war or magic cataclysm caused scarcity, so to most abyss dwellers this wasn’t unprecedented.
Like all towns big enough to have multiple districts, Bi’in Vvegra-Waaa was fairly segregated by species with a ‘multicultural’ focal point. At the edge between the Lich borough and the Kobold quarters was a nameless, unmarked abominable bar — a place of respite for the chimeras and misfits, creatures created by demonic experiments, magic gone awry, profound curses and unexplained phenomena.
Even in a place like this, plain old humans could have been an odd enough sight to provoke questions, though, especially with the slave shortages.
So the pantheon showed up in basic sandy-brown robes and elaborate illusions.
Xane’s skin was iridescent like an oil film, his eyes pure white, two tails poking from his loose clothing.
Marcus had been turned pale pink, his mohawk a deep magenta, a unicorn horn on his forehead. He’d protested at first but accepted the treatment.
Chay had a huge scar where his eyes had been, a large eyeball on a stem growing from his head instead, the ‘cockhawk’ underneath more illusory scar tissue. Making sure Chay could still see had been tricky but worth it, even if the leader had overruled Xane’s ‘mocock’ terminology.
Goro was simply on fire — faint flames lapping up his skin in slow-motion, leaving little to see of the person underneath.
Maintaining four relatively sophisticated illusions was tricky enough to cut significantly into Xane’s spell reserves. Even the eight butterflies hiding in his robe folds seemed lethargic, reflecting the drain. He could probably still fight at seventy-to-eighty percent efficiency though.
The nameless bar was fairly empty, although a lion-Kobold chimera took up a whole booth by itself. A group of fungus-infested, deformed Goblins was loudly munching a pile of maggots on the floor.
For a bar of monsters in hell, this was cozy. The stone walls were ‘decorated’ with crisscrossing claw scratches, their shadows dancing in the warm light of breeze-swaying lanterns. Furniture in many sizes was ready to accommodate all manner of shapes. The scent of mint and barbeque wafted against the odor of the stale wetness that suffused the streets of Bi’in Vvegra-Waaa.
The bartender, a purple-skinned, unusually short Hellion with an eye-patch, nodded the pantheon toward a table.
“Nice atmosphere,” Marcus said.
“Bit minimalist,” Xane added. “I’d add curtains. Maybe a plant if there’s one that won’t try to kill you.”
Chay looked around. “I think they’re normally using illusions here, to a minor degree. The slave shortage is like a bar having to turn off the TV in the corner because of electricity prices.”
Xane felt he really should have thought of that.
The umbralist put a stack of obols on the table. If you wanted someone to take your order, you had to prove you could pay for it.
“Man,” Xane said. “This is fucking eerie. Like we’re college bros having a night out on a random Saturday. Having a beer, bragging about how much we fuck, Marcus is dressed as a unicorn-”
“Fuck off, *you* did this.”
“-and we’re meeting a freak who’s gonna sell us the exam answers.”
Chay shrugged and his ‘eye on a stem’ bounced. “Not the worst comparison. I think doing something like this was long overdue. A bit of normalcy.”
Two chimeras started hissing at each other over a pile of dung. The bartender walked at them with a nail bat.
Marcus nodded. “Extremely normal.”
Goro leaned back. “You bitches know your drink orders yet?”
Xane gave him an elbow poke. “Thirsty, huh? Let me see. We should try something different each.”
===***===
They started the round with four shots of Champion’s Cock. Basically vodka, but the water was nectar.
Nectar was too rare and controlled to be available by the bottle but abominable bars tended to have anything your throat desired, no matter how outlandish, at the right price.
“Now this,” Marcus said after downing his shot, “this is my drink of choice from here on. I’ll need a barrel of that.”
Goro shrugged, making his flaming shoulders flare up. “I’ll stick to the pure stuff. Or an actual champion’s cock.”
“Yeah,” Chay added, “probably best not to mix brain-fuck-injections and alcohol.”
“Buzzkill,” Marcus said and crossed his pink-ish arms. “Oh, here comes our orders.”
Goro got a tall jug of Grrgrrng. It was a standard boldian drink. Marcus dubbed it APA — abyssal pale ale — which wasn’t far off as long as pale *green* counted.
Chay tried Sweet Wyrm. A smoky white drink, served in the skull of a wyrmling. It got its color from congealed scale ooze, within which swam blue streaks from Qra pustule oil for a sharp note and plenty of rum from ChukChuk blood molasses. Oh, and it came iced.
Either Xane’s taste buds hadn’t felt anything but cum, piss and mensweat in too long or Sweet Wyrm was simply too exotic to put into words. He wasn’t even sure he liked his trial sip or not, but Chay seemed satisfied.
Marcus got a tooth-rimmed cup of steaming hot Imp’s Kiss. The main ingredient was high percentage rum from HepHep droppings, aged in a Vark bladder. It got its name and taste from what drifted within. Bloodletter Leaf spice, dried and crushed Rage-flesh, some still wiggling Elder Trolleater petals. It was spicy as fuck and Marcus made the funniest faces and mini-screams as his pride forced him to endure. Even Goro cringed from a tiny sip.
Xane smartly had his free spell remove the residue off his tongue and pretend he was extremely good at handling spice, “unlike you bitch-pussies”.
Xane’s own order was Memory Twist. A four layer color riot with a bamboo straw and a lime wedge on the rim — yes really. He was half-prepared for someone to call him a faggot over it.
At the bottom was thick yellow ichor of the Jravabb Bug (a creature which suppressed awareness of itself when attaching to a host, leaving the host’s ability to form memories permanently harmed), in the middle was teal cream from whipped LoguLogu saliva (a large, slow creature that paralyzed its prey by making it relive its most emotionally intense memories), followed by purple, watery pulp from false-imp-weed (which straight up erased your short term memory if sucked fresh from the root) and topped off with the red oil of brain-sucker bloom (which had vines that dug right into your skull if it caught you off guard), held together by a shot of citrus.
Drinking it was a spectacle but no individual layer was all that interesting. The memory theme was more of a gimmick. It also cost half the budget the ex-angels had given them but Xane had little sense of obols’ worth.
They were barely done when a few gnomes dropped down from air vents on their fuzzy legs and brought a message and a bi-obol to the barkeeper, who plucked the parchment and coin from the sticky fungal bodies.
He read the message while Chay checked the time on their borrowed clock device. Just two grooves until Top Notch.
The barkeeper headed over to them. “You are being expected.” He gestured at the back door. “In the alley. Take a left.”
Chay frowned above his eye-less scars. The illusion made him harder to read but obviously this was suspicious. They elected to check it out anyway but Chay signaled Goro to prepare the emergency beacon.
Xane vanished the alcohol from his system in case his healing factor hadn’t gotten around to all of it.
He also vanished the trickle of cum caking the inside of his robe. He really wasn’t a friend of clothing anymore.
===***===
The bar’s back alley was blocked by a cart on one side and barrels on the other, giving privacy to the pantheon and their mysterious benefactor.
He was over 8 foot 5, incredibly broad, his immense muscles barely hidden under flowing, pale robes. His striated, veiny skin had the bronzed green tint of…
“Demonblooded,” Chay whispered. “A Troll originally. Smart as a demon, I think, but with a troglodyte nature.”
Gnomes hopped around the stranger, some climbing onto his shoulders or slipping into his pockets.
The creature pushed back his hood, revealing a dumb, bullish Troll head, small with irregular tusks and gold rings in the pointy ears and septum. His eyes, however, promised sharpness beyond the average greenskin’s.
Chay took the lead. “So you’re the insider,” he said in Troglo.
The demonblood gave a nod. He answered in flawless Pandemonic. “You’re the demigods, looking for a leg up?”
“Yeah, we had to put on some disguises. And who are you?”
“Some call me Alpha, some call me the Exiled One, most know me as the Long Shadow. But we’re not here for pleasantries. You have a powerful enemy. Follow me to my tower where I have knowledge of the lord’s domain. Away from prying Noggins.”
They walked along a shallow staircase between house rows, so narrow ‘Alpha’ had to twist sideways to fit, his immense chest still bumping into stone around corners.
Chay made a gesture and Xane blocked sound from reaching Alpha.
“Bad feeling,” Chay whispered. “His words check out but this seems like an assassination attempt. Be ready.”
“We can take him,” Goro said. “Maybe sit on the ‘Trollmon’ dick first.”
Xane tutted. “Goro always thinking about sex. Shameful.”
They reached one of the town’s obelisks — square towers of black, nearly featureless, upward-slimming. A green iron door moved aside at Alpha’s touch.
He walked in first. The demigods followed.
Lit by red and green flames, a circular elevator platform waited in the center.
“Please leave your robes behind,” Alpha said, “to make sure you’re not bringing foreign equipment into the vault. I will do just the same.”
Chay seemed skeptical but undressed as the Long Shadow did. Xane let his robe slip off him, his motes gathered between his shoulder blades.
Alpha was a jacked-as-fuck muscle king, big enough to give the part of Xane still into physique-building a bro-boner. A Troll cock of twelve inches in length *and* width hung on display.
The five conspirators stepped onto the elevator and it moved up, to the place where these towers generally had their most protected space.
“It’s true,” Alpha said, “that Slyell’Pvan is nearly out of juice-” Chay’s eyes narrowed. Xane got nervous. “-and it has a lot of people in his inner circle thinking about looking elsewhere-” Something tingled on Xane’s skin. “-if there wasn’t such a large bounty on your heads.”
Chay yelled, “Fuck!”
Gnomes dropped from the top of the elevator shaft, holding onto a green… belt?
The falling belt took on a life of its own and snapped onto Goro’s neck, runes lighting up all around it.
Xane sent his motes forward and… watched them dissipate. As if turning to dust, the butterflies got vacuumed upward. His illusory disguise was dissolving, too, as were his friends’.
Marcus tried to summon holy fire, barely getting a spark off his fingers. Xane’s free spell wouldn’t leave his skin. His magic was blocked.
Goro rushed Alpha and got casually swatted aside. The berserker crumbled and rolled on the ground, holding onto his face. He was bleeding profusely from his broken nose, not healing.
Xane hopped to his hurt friend, feeling slow and heavy as his thaum-power failed to let him levitate.
They reached the top.
The vault was a pyramid shape, the ceiling vaulting overhead. More red and green fire. On the ceiling, out of a normal human jump’s reach, was a cluster of seven Daemon heads, their red skin shriveled around their skulls.
Trophies? Was Alpha *that* powerful?
“Woah,” Chay said, looking up. “Amazing. A Hell-Crown. You could trap a *god* with that.”
Marcus sounded panicked. “This thing is sucking our magic?”
“Yeah,” Chay said. “Never thought we’d see one. But how can… Duh, Slyell’Pvan is cannibalizing his championdom, killing his own underlords.”
He looked at Alpha for confirmation. The Long Shadow folded his arms and said nothing.
Was Chay’s umbra-diplomacy still fully functional somehow? Or was the Thai kid with big thigs just that fucking good?
Xane held onto Goro’s face and pumped healing magic through their skin, getting the barest trickle. Together with what remained of Goro’s mania-power, it staunched the bleeding. The mark of madness was a few motionless strokes on Goro’s forearm.
“And around us,” Chay said and slowly turned, “those runes are forming some kind of web. Anti-gestalt?”
Alpha reacted with a raised eyebrow. “Yes. Don’t expect your Aelf buddies to show up. They’d get stuck on the web and — if they’re dumb enough to shed their gestalt while trapped…” He made a throat-slicing gesture on his barely existing neck.
“How does anyone in the abyss even have this technology?” Chay asked. “Slyell’Pvan is utterly bankrupting himself. Do you really think you’ll get paid? His empire is already on its last leg.”
“He’ll make it all back and more,” Alpha said. “Once the vortex is running. Especially,” he grinned, “with how many slaves Hiwinymb is missing now.”
“I can’t help but notice, though,” Chay said, “we’re not dead yet. Something you want from *us* or a standing offer by… Is it the Reapers? Seeing how close the vortex project is to failure, and that they’re only tolerating it because the king does, they’d love us succeeding, but they can’t just come out and say it.”
Alpha cursed. “Well, since you already know everything, little slave man, there’s no need for further conversation. I have to go now and attend some negotiations. Maybe I will return to kill you. Maybe to free you but honestly, who could pay better than the realm’s greatest champion?”
The demonblood waved them to step back. Xane helped the disoriented Goro along. As the demigods moved to a corner, black iron bars shot from the floor, forming a cell wall that cut off their triangle of the room.
The elevator moved back down with only Alpha on it.
“And don’t think,” the traitor said, “I’ve forgotten about your angelic allies either. This should keep them far away.”
Alpha tossed an orange marble into the corner opposite theirs. Fire poured from the tiny orb, growing into a bright wall. Runes in that corner lit up, feeding energy to it.
The elevator hole in the floor closed and the Long Shadow was gone.
“The fuck is that?” Marcus said, gesturing at the fire, which billowed but didn’t grow anymore.
Chay put his arm around the taller man to calm him. “Fire Phantasm. I think the runes are making it super unholy. The Nephilim can probably not even set foot into this town. Also means we can’t let Pie out.”
“But the Reapers are gonna pay for us,” Marcus said, barely less jumpy. “Right? They want the vortex dead, too.”
Xane did not envy the leader’s task to be honest, while staying calm. “The Reapers are disunited and the shortage has left them strapped for cash. I wouldn’t bet on it. We have a lot of friends, though, so we’re not dead yet.”
“Cool,” Marcus said, staring at the ground, twisting his chakram, which was a mere ring on his middle finger now. “Cool cool. Fucking great. Wish I could punch a wall but, nope, down to regular fucking Marcus strength.”
“I…” Goro said, in Xane’s arms. “I couldn’t even fling my cumshot at him.”
“Yeah,” Chay said. “Seems like even our curses are suspended while the magic gets sucked from the room.”
Goro sat up, gently touching his nose. “Can we get the signal out?”
Chay looked at the Hell-Crown, the many pairs of shriveled Daemon eyes gleaming in the permanent Phantasm fire. “It’s sympathetically coupled with its twin on the outside so the directional aether-wave transfer might… Worth a try.”
Goro laid on his stomach, gripped onto the floor, crossed his legs and flexed his whole body. With gritted teeth and a squeal, a flash of light shot from his asshole. He was hammered by spasms emanating from there.
“Did you just crack a crystal?” Xane asked. “In your hole? *Without* superpowers?”
Goro rolled to his side, gave a weak bicep flex, rolled onto his back and didn’t move anymore, eyes closed, breath heavy.
Marcus paced for a moment at the iron bars but Chay made him sit down.
“Fuck,” the animus-fighter said. “We’re gonna have the last orgy of our lives and it’s not even gonna be a good one without godly powers.”
“I think,” Chay said, “a nice cuddle will suffice.”
Xane’s fingers had already found his prostate and his nipples but he had the decency of dropping his hands.
“No no,” Chay told him, “keep going. Fuck all you want. I was just making suggestions. Shit, not even the voidblade is opening. Hell-Crowns were not on my bingo card.”
Xane leaned back on his elbows. “Anyone feel like making confessions or some shit? No? Anyone feel like licking my ass? Sweet.”