Vortex Quest B. 05

== VORTEX QUEST 5-13 ==

== FRIEND OF A FRIEND ==

The room was getting toasty. Sweat on his skin. The shuffling and rattling of his friends. An insatiable need to fuck and cum. The tight green collar around his neck that stole all divine strength.

He tuned it out. Mind clear. Breath steady.

Goro would have preferred to go out with a bang but he knew many great warriors died with a whimper and he tried to make peace with that.

When his godly power had still been a mere self-indulgent fantasy, he'd figured a dumb and pathetic death was par for the berserker's course. Falling into a ditch during a chase, getting a wound infected, or, in his case, rotting in prison.

He was trying to keep his mind empty, sitting in meditation stance. Usually what interrupted him was the inhuman level of horniness, but he could let that wash over him. What *did* disturb him was the sight of the Hell-Crown.

That thorny ring of seven Daemon heads, looking disgusting and terrifying in the flickering light of the fire-wall opposite their cell. A simple leg-up and he could have torn it to shreds. If only they could break the bars.

Chay wasn't giving up.

He'd used the minor flickers of void that Hole was still able to produce to cut tiny slices into the bars. Marcus had used his chakram as a mundane file.

That's when they had found out the iron bars regenerated.

They'd also tried damaging Goro's collar to no avail. While the other demigods' magic was stuck within them and got sucked into the Hell-Crown if they managed to get any out, Goro's magic got fed to the crown directly.

Chay speculated that the powerlifter was simply dangerous enough to warrant special attention. A lovely compliment from their jailor.

So there was nothing left to do for the four naked hunks but to sweat and finger each other.

"Any idea what's gonna happen to earth?" Marcus asked.

Xane hummed. "They'll be fine. One vortex is manageable. Once they've figured out what makes people disappear, they'll just, I dunno, nuke the teleport site."

"Still gonna suck for everyone kidnapped."

Chay shrugged. "Maybe the sky fuckers will send more demigods. I had the impression we're all they can get down here but if the demons break through to earth, maybe heaven can empower people there."

"Are we the first group that failed?" Marcus asked.

Chay hummed. "I'm guessing no but abyssal records of these events are shoddy. And I think the sky fuckers would directly intervene at a high cost. I have a theory that angels- Did you feel that?"

"Uh, no?" Marcus made. "What?"

Goro held his breath and laid a palm on the ground.

"Tremors," he said. "Increasing."

Chay nodded. "I'd say 'get ready' but I have no clue what for." He closed his fist around the black knuckles.

Their aegises briefly flared up.

A demon moving by the obelisk? Or a demon *present* but the holy radiance was getting eaten by the crown?

Tremors. Undeniable. Now griping the building.

The pantheon rose to their feet.

The berserker stretched his aching shoulders. He had sat wrong. He had forgotten that was even a thing.

Goro hated being so weak. If he got his powers back, he'd do everything to never lose them again.

The sound of rough rocks rubbing on each other. Heavier tremors.

"If this is the end," Xane said, "I love you all."

"Same bro," Marcus said, starting to cry through a forced smile. "I wish I could have sucked all your dicks at least once."

The obelisk's vaulting walls broke. A huge hole got torn into the room by something black and brown, rubbing the stone away like it was merely clumps of sand.

The Fire Phantasm flickered out of the way, retreating into its corner.

"Avert your gaze," shouted a voice outside. "Looking at the Grindhorror can turn your eyes to dust."

Goro looked down, his heart going fast. He wanted to be strong again, an unstoppable killing machine, able to protect the three men he loved.

The Grindhorror's titanic body moved aside, slipping off the tower.

A huge, winged skeleton flew past the entrance.

"Zlennrop!" Chay shouted. "It's a Hell-Crown, a gestalt-counter-web and a defiled Fire Phantasm."

The Bonemaster retreated with a shout of, "stand back!"

The demigods pressed themselves into their corner, Goro trying to shielding the others.

Sparks raced along the vaulted walls as the damaged gestalt-web fractured. The Phantasm grew back into place. The crown swayed on its chain.

Bright blue bolts peppered the room, fired from far enough away that most didn't even make it into the opening. Physical bolts followed.

"Come on," Marcus whispered, "come the fuck on."

Chains tore. The Hell-Crown dropped. Daemon heads crashed to the ground, losing teeth, and rolled off their hooks.

Three demigods cheered. Goro was silent, eyes pitch black, a tattoo spreading over his chest, neck and face. He felt mindless. He felt deadly. He felt beautiful.

The green collar snapped like paper from the pull of his middle finger.

The iron bars gave way like they were trying to evade his body.

The tendrils of unholy fire were barely a tickle.

"Xee? Phantasm," Chay said. "Exact center. Ice and wind."

The wizard had no motes so he took a second to ready a bolt. By that time, Goro and the joyfully crying Marcus had hopped from the opening in the obelisk's top floor.

Zlennrop, the demonblooded Hellion in a red robe, was flying in a few yards' distance.

On one side he was flanked by two Ultrallions -- Hellions with many blue gems inset to lend them power, each having an arm-mounted gem-powered shotgun, held aloft by blue, demonic wings.

On his other side were Spring Aelf Fenmaedr and Ivory Aelf Aesilor, wrapped in their gestalts, holding one massive, multi-shot crossbow between them.

The Grindhorror was bigger than it had seemed, a blob of a dozen tendrils sandpapering a block of houses as it rubbed the obelisk's side to dust. The guards of Bi'in Vvegra-Waaa engaged it with blindly fired ice missiles that exploded into a shower of shards above it.

"Good to see you," Marcus shouted to their friends and saluted as he floated down.

"Thank Zlennrop," Fenmaedr shouted. "His coalition of the exiled got us this horror as the distraction we needed."

"Cool beans," Marcus shouted.

Goro let the mark of madness slip off his face and gave the Bonemaster and his crystal-empowered warriors an approving nod.

Behind them, the Fire Phantasm poured from the opening to escape Xane's ice shots, setting fire to the Grindhorror and several wooden roofs.

The umbralist and the thaum-mage floated from the obelisk to talk to their rescuers while Goro and Marcus landed in the streets, ready to engage whoever was waiting to fight them.

Or so Goro had assumed.

Marcus skipped and whistled as he made his way down the alley.

"W-where," Goro started. "Where are you going?"

"Getting myself a bottle of Champion's Cock."

"Uh..."

Beside them, a huge explosion ripped apart gravel and walls. The obelisk broke with a snap at the base and crushed the Grindhorror, severing about a third of the creature.

Goro looked away as he felt his eyes turn to sand.

"Oh shit," Marcus said, "that's where our money was. You think Zlennrop is gonna lend me a buck for a bottle?"

Goro stayed muscled up but dismissed the mark -- there was enough 'madness' here. "You can't... We're still in the middle of... Fuck this. Just don't turn into an alcoholic."

"Scout's honor," Marcus said.

They hopped back up to their friends, with the animus-fighter pestering the Aelves for money and Goro listening in on Chay's tactical chatter.

The Aelves and Nephilim had responded to the emergency signal with scrying and seen the many obstacles, making them look for other allies of the demigods.

Zlennrop's crystal-supported boys had done enough to deserve a reward, claiming the severed Daemon heads for various rituals to set up their own headquarter.

There was no trace of Alpha. One day, Goro was going to find the bastard and either ride his glorious dick or cut off his head. It would depend. But only one of those. He was trying not to mix business and pleasure. And as much as being a killing machine was a pleasure in itself, it was practically occupational duty compared to out of this world god-gasms.

Marcus set off toward the bar, head ablaze with holy light. Xane was surrounded by sparks and rainbows. Even Chay had a self-indulgent cape of smoke, Pie like a feather boa around him, nibbling his ear.

The mania-beast meanwhile couldn't stop flexing. He was even happily welcoming the cumming curse back, letting his loads splatter with gay abandon.

The pantheon and their allies retreated from Bi'in Vvegra-Waaa. A lovely town, all things considered, aside from that tattered Fire Phantasm ravaging a temple and the on-fire Grindhorror turning a street into pebbles as townguards blindly fired upon it from every elevated spot in range.

"A suitably epic backdrop," Xane said as they hopped along rooflines. "Considering we nearly died. Fuck, I'm never taking my butterflies for granted again."

"Where's Marcus?" Chay asked.

"He'll catch up," Goro said. "He just needed a drink."

The dumb stare of his friends gave Goro a hint as to why the tall Filipino liked to pull shenanigans like this. He let himself smirk.

Soon enough, the martial arts hero joined them with a bottle of golden vodka in each hand.

Goro enjoyed a sip, flexed, kissed the surprised Chay, creamed a load, flexed again and boarded the Wyvern the Aelves had rented them, his ass getting licked by Xane's mage-tongue.

Time to fuck up a vortex.

===***===

At last they were flying on a Wyvern toward the palace of Hiwinymb's greatest Champion, Slyell'Pvan, and his earth-threatening vortex -- the last of its kind.

Still incurably suffering from an addiction to Nectar and the demonic man-fucking fantasies it injected, the demigods were at least rid of the paradox curse, which had prevented them from deriving pleasure from their own hands.

They were still subject to the Drowning Destiny, regularly craving piss, and the Feeding Fate, requiring cum for sustenance. Chay, Marcus and Goro had just 'recovered' from getting their sexuality flipped to gay.

As advantages they had learned to seal their minds via a friendly Esper Wyrm, carried a Voidblade named Hole, a lifetime supply of glitter from slugs, and the aegises on their dicklets that warned of nearby demons.

Tied to the leader's forearm was the golden band of 'supercharges' their ally Diego had left them.

So for the final time let's take stock of our protagonists:

== CHARACTER RECAP ==

On earth, Chay would not have called himself a born leader, but thrust into the role of humanity's protector, he quickly found his talent for decisively filtering options, boosting morale, spotting synergies, striking alliances and a million other things.

Not much of a fighter, he nonetheless packed a punch. During his stay in the abyss, he struck closer friendships than he knew possible, with three amazing guys, a 'cake' made of holy fluff, and the occasional demonic, green-skinned or lizardian creature.

Having been able to gaze deeper into the psyche of his pantheon members had made him fond of them beyond description.

He now had his hair in an adventurous 'cockhawk', having changed his style from sophisticated practicality to fuck-you rebellion. Still the most disciplined among the demigods, he enjoyed the sexual temptations of the abyss to the fullest when possible but aimed to keep his sights on higher purposes.

Xane was once a distracted artist and dedicated bodybuilder, flipping between cockiness and insecurity.

For a while now he hadn't wasted a second feeling too short, not sexy enough or creatively blocked. He was a firework of illusions and jokes, relaxed and cheerful.

He'd probably had more sex than any other demigods, if mostly with himself. Ever since the paradox-curse had been removed, Xane's mage-cock had hammered orgasms into his greedy ass when nobody was looking. The girl-obsessed pussy hound had stopped thinking about women at all, having found deep satisfaction in his weird relationship with Marcus, deepened friendship with Goro and his devoted admiration for Chay.

His hair had been in a mohawk for some time and even if he wasn't going to admit it, he was mirroring Marcus, so a style change was not on the horizon.

Marcus was as carefree as carefree got, following his friends' leads into adventure and sex. His fears about appearances, performance and rejection had given way to trust and adoration.

He had his own thoughts and ideas but as far as he was concerned, he was going where his friends went. Earth and all its problems had become a distant, almost surreal memory.

His pure white mohawk was dyed by the holy fire that set it ablaze whenever he felt like it.

Goro had lived the life he had wanted, within the confines of society - creating his body, his career, his relationships to the best of his abilities. A chance to become a truly powerful, divinely endowed savage had been an indulgent dream.

Now he had found three men he'd have given his life to protect -- even though this new life was more than he could ever have hoped for. And he was going to be his full bestial self.

His mullet-mohawk running to his shoulder blades could have used a hair band, but even in the warm abyss air his superpowered body was no longer sweating, so he let his mane fly freely. The mark of madness was a tramp stamp in the small of his back.

They had left all clothing behind. It would only have torn in battle.

They were ready, eager and horny as fuck.

And with that, onto the Grand Finale...