Vortex Quest B. 05

== VORTEX QUEST 5-8 ==

== THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY ==

The gate was open.

Rugged patterns and scary imagery gave way as the fake Summer Key found its place.

The pantheon, two Goblins with bags and an armored ex-angel entered a winding tunnel.

Wet ice everywhere, lit by stripes of bioluminescent ferns stuck in the freeze. Good thing demigods didn't feel the cold. Everything was thawing fast.

Walking barefoot over slippery terrain was tricky even with the aid of animus-powered reflexes, but that wasn't why he walked with a half-squat.

Marcus wore his fundoshi halfway down his thighs and so did Xane next to him. They had each other's hands inside each other's asses, casually fisting like only godly endurance and flexibility made possible.

There'd been a little dispute about what to call this new technique of walking-fisting. 'Wisting' or 'falking'?

It was totally falking, duh, cause that sounded like saying fucking in a stupid voice, which was funnier, come on Xee.

Except he had relented and let Xane call it wisting. Because right now he just didn't feel like needling the short bodybuilder. He wanted to cuddle and be close and make him laugh and -- fuck, Marcus was infatuated to the gills, wasn't he?

He comforted himself on the fact he was crushing nearly as hard on Goro, Chay, Valor and even the huffing, greenskinned troglodytes. He felt like a teen again, when even a boob-like ceiling light was enough to get him going. Although, nobody who was into guys could have stayed sane with this buffet of masculinity. And the abyssal horniness denied relief by the aegis. And the joy of falking -- yeah, it should totally be 'falking'.

Once the group arrived in the main hall, the falkers pulled their fundoshi up and stood like they hadn't just hammered unspeakable pleasure into each other's guts.

Even Goro was dressed again, despite the occasional squirts of cum bursting from his aegis and dripping past the little black cloth down his legs in thick, white drops.

There was Aelf equipment of unknown purpose. Brown stone adorned with dark leather knot work. Bulky bronze with ivory claws gripping the corners.

Flowers were breaking out all over the ground, where the ice was turning into puddles, growing at a speed far beyond the natural.

At the center of the room were five massive coffins in a semi-circle, bearing Albic glyphs. Trans-temporal cryo-chambers.

The central tomb let out steam and its lid moved aside, metal grinding.

The Aelf within was about 6'5'', appropriately muscular, his skin ash gray. He was clad in a brown leather harness, a loincloth and high boots, all decorated with interlace patterns and ivory.

He was bald, his ears were pointy, a white gem sat embedded in his forehead. His strongly slanted eyes - pitch black -- frowned at them.

The other coffins opened, revealing four more Aelves in similar, flimsy armor. Marcus already felt himself crushing on each one like a fucking hormonal teen. And he hadn't even seen their Aelf-dicks yet.

The four newly awoken all looked toward the central one, who seemed suspicious. Marcus glanced at Chay. Battle incoming?

Sharp vampire teeth showed as the middle Aelf spoke in slow Albic.

"Who... who has awoken us, and for what purpose? Are you an ally of Rollnur?"

Valor bowed lightly. "My apologies but Rollnur failed. It has been over four thousand Sphere Arcs since you were frozen. In your terms, this should be roughly half an aeon."

Shock flashed across the Aelf's face but he forced composure.

"I'm Valor," the Nephil continued. "You must be Völundr. We won't stop you from attempting to return to your realm, if that is your decision. But if you stay as you had planned, we have a dead lord's castle ready for you to take over. We'll ask for very few concessions."

One of the other Alves addressed the middle one. "My Ascendant, we can't... Völundr, we can't go home anymore. We already made that choice."

The Ascendant Völundr nodded and stepped out of his coffin into the middle of his men. "Then we gratefully accept your offer, Valor. Did you come alone, with only a few thralls and slaves?"

Valor gestured at the pantheon. "These are not slaves."

Chay stepped forward and let smoke trail off his body. "We are demigods, from the human realm on divine command."

Xane saw fit to underline the statement with an illusory e-guitar riff, cladding himself into a cape of slow lightning. Marcus set his mohawk ablaze with holy fire. Goro creamed his thighs some more as he flexed.

"Ah," Völundr made and smiled. Marcus didn't like that smile -- too demon-y.

"Never thought I'd meet some," the Aelf continued. "Fascinating. You seem a bit..." he glanced across their hair styles and crotches, "ferocious? I would have assumed the heavens recruit from the civilized areas of earth."

Marcus chuckled and crossed his arms. "Yeah well, we all make assumptions."

"The abyss," Chay said, "turns you a little savage. I'm sure you know."

Chay had been spot on because Völundr's smug expression fell. Probably umbra-fuckery. The Ascendant nodded his friends to search the machines and containers.

Chay continued. "We're Chay, Marcus, Goro, Xane. We're on a holy mission and would appreciate your help but all we really ask is that you prevent the lord whose castle you're getting from respawning."

The Ascendant bowed. "I, Völundr of the Court of First Light, swear to do so."

"Light Aelves, huh?" Xane asked.

A different Aelf spoke, closing a bronze container. "Only the Ascendant is of the Light. I'm Fenmaedr, my court is that of Spring." He put a circlet on his bald head, the silver flower at its center framing the magenta gemstone embedded in his forehead.

Fenmaedr the Spring Aelf gave a bow and turned to Völundr. "Ascendant, the food is gone. Perhaps rotted away despite the ice over the long time."

Albic had many hard to translate curses and Marcus got to hear three of them.

"We prepared," Valor said. The fallen angel waved at the Goblins, who emptied their bags, dropping fresh carcasses and bloodskins on the frozen ground.

Four Aelves advanced, but Völundr shouted, "Aesildor, test for poison, then partition. Fenmaedr, start salvaging what items have survived. Nephil, do you have transportation?"

"With some luck, we should."

Völundr eyed the feast of raw flesh as his underling - Aesildor of the Ivory Court, wearing a many-horned circlet that framed his pale brown head-gem -- worked some magic on the food.

"Good. In the meantime, what can you tell me about the state of the realm?"

Thankfully, Marcus got to skip the conversation, since Chay casually pointed them back to the tunnels where they drank each other's piss, leading naturally to a fisting square, featuring exotic monster cocks curtesy of thaum-magic.

===***===

There was no ship.

It made no sense that Gallant would betray them and Toothcracker and his crew had more to gain by playing along. They were being held up.

"Then we find them," Völundr said, "and take the fight to your enemies."

"It's a long march," Chay said, "but we can be fast. What's the jogging speed of an Aelf?"

Völundr was briefly taken aback. "Ah, you humans cannot fly, even with godly aid. That's fine. I'm eager to stretch my Gestalt, even if it's only been a subjective few hours in winter stasis."

The tall, gray warriors touched their own head-gems and pulled fraying veils of blurry darkness from them. Ephemeral, ethereal ropes of *something*, flittering with color between the dark strands.

Spreading and growing, the gestalts roamed their masters. It wasn't an obvious shape, mere blurs of color and obscurity draping around their bodies in ever changing forms.

The Aelves rose.

"Show offs," Xane said, looking fascinated. "Anyway... Look here, bitches."

A butterfly landed on Marcus' upper spine and exploded into a gleaming, gauzy pair of wings wider than his arm span. He got to fly again, adding his animus-grace to the thaum-power.

Valor released the Goblins from service and fluttered his dragonfly-like wings.

The group took off, toward the new ship -- hopefully.

Marcus looked to his friends and chuckled. Chay was flying on his back, face between the legs of Goro who flew above him. It looked like the leader was sucking berserker dick, but obviously he was just drinking the constantly spilling cum.

"Hey Xee," Marcus said, "wanna join the self-powered mile high club?"

The wizard grinned. "We're barley half a mile above ground. But yes. How have we not done this before? Actually while we're trying something new..."

As Marcus fluttered into position, Xane gave himself an illusory dick -- a cut human model at reasonable size. Straight Marcus would have complained, or at least pretended to.

The taste and texture was about right but thaum-illusions didn't *feel* as real as they looked. In his current state of gayness with abyssal horniness, this was still way better than just licking an aegis.

He massaged Xane's guts with four fingers as he received bursts of cum by the mouthful.

Someone was laughing. The Aelves.

"Quite the maneuvers," Völundr said. "So I take it you have not been able to withstand the effects this plane has on inhabitants and intruders?"

"Have you?" Goro asked with a neutral tone.

Völundr took a moment. "The Hrünngaard Shroud protects us... somewhat. But we do feel more hunger than before... and more desire to fuck."

Marcus swallowed his current mouthful and detached his lips. "Well, why didn't you say so? We're craving cock every second of the day. Plus three of us are still gay for a bit. Incident with ancient high tech from a lost realm that we had to use to-"

Xane's next load sprayed across his face. The thaum-mage could definitely have held it in for a bit. Marcus slapped him in the illusory balls and therefore also the real ones underneath. Xane lightly kicked him away.

"I have a question," the Morning Aelf Ülldr said. He was the shortest among the warriors, 'merely' Goro's height, with a square face where the others tended to be pointed. His circlet's center had the appearance of sun rays rising up from his orange head-gem, a patterns reflected on his chest piece.

"Yes?" Xane prompted.

Ülldr squinted. "There's something demonic about you all, I've been trying to figure out."

"The blood," Goro said. "We transferred a curse with the blood of the demon whose castle you're getting."

"No no, I got that," Ülldr said. "Something else. I mean... this..."

The demigods flinched, spasmed and everyone except Goro let out a quick cry.

The feeling of having his balls between two colliding trains made Marcus' flight dip. He caught himself as the pain diffused into his body.

"That's an open signature," Chay said, slipping from between Goro's legs with cum painted from neck to nose. "A Daemon tried to enthrall us but we broke it. *Don't* activate it."

"My apologies," Ülldr said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd like to study this some more. Daemon magic is my specialty."

Goro drifted closer to the Morning Aelf. "You can study mine. It's okay if you activate it."

The biggest demigod flew with legs bent and pulled apart, one hand reached behind him to fist himself. Ülldr flew facing Goro, his gestalt fluttering like a semi-real veil around him. You could tell by the flinches when Goro's balls got triggered.

The sight gave Marcus a fit of lust so strong he got jittery.

"The ship," the golden giant up ahead said. "They're under attack."

The new ship -- looking a lot like the old one -- flew circles around a hovering oval rock the size of an apartment building. It was getting pelted by Liches on Griffnix, dark bolts zipping from the attackers' purple arms. Gallant's golden light was forming a shield at starboard, while portside was mostly shielded by the hovering rock.

Skeletal imps were swarming the vessel, shot at by lightning guns the Kobolds were operating. The Griffnix' huge lion-eagle bodies had porcupine-like spikes they could shower onto the ship to force the crew into cover.

A redskinned demon in a long purple loincloth, not beefy enough to be fully grown, was swinging a scimitar, his spark dripping wings keeping him at a distance.

"The leader," Chay said and pointed at the Fiend. "Some upstart lord-wannaby, acting without official support. This is a raid in neutral territory. Low commitment. Hit them hard and fast and they'll run."

"We would help," Völundr said. "But it would be better to keep our awakening a secret until we're better situated."

"New plan then," Chay said. "Leave no one alive."

"That's better," Völundr said and touched his white head-gem. He drew out a Warhammer. The hammer's head was made of glass or crystal, the shaft wrapped with interlacing leather and decorated with runes. "Onward, Aelves, for glory!"

They went in.

Xane's motes dashed ahead, carefully aimed. He had made a new one for a total of five. Each exploded into an orb of glorious radiance, deleting four Liches and carving smoldering chunks into their mounts.

The final mote was stopped by the Fiend who tossed his scimitar ahead and caused a premature detonation.

"He's mine," Chay shouted.

Marcus drifted past the puppeteered demonling and crashed into the skeletal imp swarm. Razor ring spinning across bone wasn't the most effective weapon but his chakram's speed was enough to run straight through the spines of the ugly bone blobs.

Marcus' skin was alight with holy fire where he had been bitten or scratched as he slipped through the ship's web-spanning arches and rolled along the wooden floor.

He'd counted six Liches but there was another, already landed, reanimating a Kobold he had torn in half. He had his back to Marcus.

The chakram buried itself in his asshole half a second before the demigod of martial arts reached him.

A knee to the shoulder blades cracked a few bones of the purple bitch. The back of the foot following up in the kidney area probably exploded some organs. The other knee driven into the pit added enough force during the extreme shoulder dislocation to make the Lich fly up in an arc.

Marcus spun faster than his victim was rising. His right hand was as bright as melting iron when it connected with the Lich's lower back. The necromancer was flung high enough to crack his mask-face on the rafters. He dropped with a trail of brain matter.

Less than two seconds had passed.

Marcus waited to see of the Kobold simply died or, better yet, returned to consciousness. No, it stayed a zombie.

The animus-fighter pirouetted on one toe, the other leg raised at a right angle, and slammed the zombie off the ship, into the imp swarm.

Xane was thinning the imps. Goro was chasing the final, fleeing Lich. It was hard to see what the Aelves were doing but their gestalts pierced enemy formations. The Fiend was dead.

With all sentient foes dispatched, the mission was over. The remaining imps dispersed on their own, now lacking the necromantic control of their summoners.

The Aelves landed, their weapons and gestalts fading as their head-gems glimmered.

With them was a Lich, slumped, its mask-face showing unusually simplistic patterns.

"Defector," Chay said. "Aelf magic helped."

"I can be suggestive," Fenmaedr said. "And we have to start recruiting underlings at some point."

Gallant joined them, his armor bloody. "Völundr, I've heard much about your deeds."

The leading Aelf gave a bow.

===***===

The Nephilim, Ascendant Völundr and even Captain Toothcracker had a lot to talk about at the bow.

This left the back of the now named 'Shattered Pearl' for an orgy.

Since their pointy eared allies looked relatively human, Marcus hadn't expected much monster-cock action but was delighted to be proven wrong.

Aelf dicks were a mind-blowing ten to twelve inches long -- competitive with other abyssal creatures. The dicks got thicker in three or four bulbous knots toward the base, with the smallest bulb at the top still nicely chicken-egg-sized. The head was thin but the whole dick was slightly prehensile, letting the topping Aelf roam the bottom's guts for the optimal stroke.

Feeling the widening bulbs pop in and out with every hump was enough to turn Marcus' brain off -- bathed in the warmth of abyss-level super-gasms pulsing through his body.

Since they also had a Lich now, one man got to enjoy the tongue-like, split head licking deep inside, with the ribbed shaft adding extra pleasure.

And it didn't take long for Kobolds to join, their various ribbings and studs above the knots of their lower shaft adding some variety to the anal experience.

While the demigods let out their usual panted breaths and low groans, Goro was whimpering. Ülldr kept crushing the berserker's balls through the signature. His curse-induced cum shots drizzled onto the deck nonstop.

Finally, Völundr joined as well and, after much too short a time, creamed into Xane's ass and dropped back, exhausted, the veins on his bulbous hose shrinking as his dick prepared to soften.

"Man," Xane said, "don't know how my girls were ever satisfied with my fucks. Human dick is pathetic compared to every other pipe."

"Who says," Marcus said, "your girls *were* ever satisfied?"

A mage-hand with middle finger raised appeared before him. "I was a sex god before I was a real god, okay?"

Chay chuckled. "Better hope chicks never find out about other realms or it's eternal virginity for human boys. Hey, Gogo-boy, you okay?"

Goro sat with legs bent, the mark of madness along his left shin, lightly trembling and breathing hard. He was slapping his balls every other second.

"Yeah," Goro said, "still cumming."

Xane huffed. "I really gotta practice that."

Ülldr spoke up. "You should be able to activate the signature yourselves. You can work some demonic magic, right?"

"Maybe," Xane said. "What's it like?"

The explanation was too dry to help but it boiled down to something the pantheon understood since they could turn on their aegis at will, save for Goro.

Finding the 'on-button' for something hovering ethereally around you in minuscule amounts was different from focusing in the cock cage but luckily the signature was tethered on one end -- to the 'tattoo' around their ball sacks.

Marcus was the first to figure it out.

"Oh fuck!" he yelled. "Awww, this is a shit superpower." He took deep breaths. "I didn't even tap it hard. Great, so now I can knee myself in the crotch whenever I wish. Remind me why the fuck we're doing this?"

"Idle curiosity," Chay said, "can you show me how you did it?"

Marcus followed the 'tether' from his sack into the air around him, sensing the flickering, faint but omnipresent open end. He found Chay's and followed it to the leader's balls.

"It's about here..." Marcus said and gave a light tap.

"Ow, fuck you," Chay said and swatted at the animus-fighter's chest. "Okay... I think I can- Fuck, yes I got it. Goro, you claim this is *fun*?"

The mania-beast shrugged his huge shoulders with a smirk. "Keeps me plateauing. Marcus, help me out?"

"Yeah, just a second."

"Oh no," Xane said. "*I* did not ask for you hel- Fuck! Aww, okay, haha-fucking-ha, you magic-kicked me in the balls, good job, faggot. Ouch, fuck, stop that."

"Kids," Chay said, "no superpowered fights. Help Goro out."

Marcus bent down to the white-goo-crusted crotch where more cum was squirting. "Around here... Sense the little tendrils, like the ones working inside the aegis."

"Yeah," Goro said, "I think I-"

The big guy flinched, crossed his eyes, and settled into a loopy grin. His cock cage burned up with holy radiance, way beyond the gleam from the Nephil at the bow.

"Hey," Chay said, "you figured out how to turn on the light at last. Look at you."

Goro flinched again. He whispered, "Fuuuuuck."