Ch. 09: The War, Won, yet Lost...
The Crystal Tower would never be the same again. The once-majestic tower was now standing in the middle of a wasteland that stretched far across the Northern Continent. The very same tower was now the gateway of the realm of Lore to the cursed Underworld, realm of the demons.
Supreme Commander Daemon sat uncomfortably on his throne. He was extremely displeased. He was displeased with the result of battle at the Dark Elven Stronghold in Elom. He was displeased that a sure victory had suddenly turned to a crushing defeat. And no soul in the world or even the underworld could comprehend what would happen if the Lord of Darkness' second-in-command was displeased of his subordinates.
"FOOLS!!!" He roared at the cowered Army of Darkness before him. "I want to hear no more failure from you! Begone!! Do some damage!!"
With the wave of his hand, the entire army vanished from sight and he was alone. He couldn't believe it. A small band of immature heroes had defeated his mighty horde. He knew he had to do something, or else the Lord of Darkness would definitely be displeased. He had to do something. He didn't know what, but he knew someone right for the job.
"Gareth!!" Daemon roared again. "I summon you!!"
An image of a tall human appeared before him. His form was somewhat vague due to the incomplete spell to make the perfect contact, but it was nonetheless enough. The man stood proud before the demon and gave a slight yet elegant bow.
"Greetings, Master Daemon. How may I serve you?"
"For a man of your caliber," Daemon started, "I believe you know what I want."
"Ah..." The man rubbed his chin. "You want me to neutralize those people who have been foiling your plans lately."
"Once again you've impressed me, Gareth." The dark man smiled. "Proceed."
"Just guide them to my lair." Gareth bowed. "I will deal with them personally."
The image disappeared. Daemon rose from his throne and walked toward the main room. He felt much better right now. He had his trusted man for the job. Now to make his feeling complete, he only had to release the grudge he'd been keeping caused by his incompetent subordinates.
At the center of the room another form hovered in the air. It was a beautiful woman with long golden hair. She hung limply on the air, bound spread-eagled by invisible shackles. Her eyes stared blankly into space before focusing on her dreaded enemy. Her renewed vigor entered race with her fear.
A race she knew she could not win.
"Ah... Goddess Gaea... Just as stunning as ever..."
Lord Daemon approached his captive. Gaea stared at him, hatred mixed with terror burning in her eyes. She twitched as his cold finger touched her naked body, yet the invisible shackles held her still. The demon lord chuckled, satisfied with her immediate reaction.
"And still as stubborn as ever... Well, I'm in a bad mood today, so I want you to do something for me..."
"Kill you? My pleasure." The goddess replied gruffly.
"Oh, nothing much..." He smirked. "I just want to see you dance."
Fear finally gained control of her. "No..."
"Yes... Fear me... I love to see it in your eyes..."
With a wave of his hand, her shackles relaxed slightly, giving her more room to struggle. Then a large black hole appeared beneath her, directly facing her nether region. The dark lord sat on his chair, watching in amusement as the once-proud goddess struggled against her bonds.
"Daemon... please... don't do this..." She begged.
"It's been three years since you learned how to beg." Daemon sneered. "Request denied."
A pair of long, slick tentacles shot out from the hole and circled both her hips, holding her body in place. Another pair reached out and lashed around her round breasts and began massaging and molesting her breasts. Then without warning a slightly larger tentacle shot out and forced his way through her pussy and into her dry vagina. It was not the first time it did such hideous thing, but her scream came out fresh and raw.
"Lord Daemon... p... please..."
The tentacle began fucking her vigorously. The two tentacles held her firmly in place, but her upper body struggled and fought against the pain. And she began to perform the unwilling erotic dance for the dark lord. Her vigor had been defeated, and it would stay that way for quite some time.
"Ah..." Daemon smiled. "After 20 years, she's just as young as ever..."
Holgreb was a dwarf. He stood on top of a hill, staring at the barren land before him and let out a sigh. Casually he swung his battle-axe on his side. The thought of never carrying the weapon again sent shiver through his spine. Slowly he cursed himself for things he could do nothing about.
He was very bored. He used to think that life was an excitement. He used to think that life would be more interesting. It used to be, but things didn't go as he had planned. His dream, if he indeed had had one, had vanished.
He used to be proud as what he was, a barbarian. Not the kind of barbarian that people would enjoy having in their living rooms. He was a raider, yet he was proud of it. Or at least used to be.
Holgreb took a moment looking at himself. As a dwarf, he was quite athletic and well built. Appearance was a prime factor for a barbarian. His small, short and puffy body hid his fighting potential. The rough expression he always wore in his face was well enhanced with his small dark eyes and long, unkept beard. He still remembered how he used to strike fear to the hearts of the enemies (read: peasants) by just staring at them. He remembered how he used to storm inside houses and defeated the enemies (read: peasants) and plunder their wealth (read: peasants'). Yet those exciting moments were now memories.
He's 60 years old. My enemies might still fear me, but nobody will if they knew how old I am. Common people, even barbarians, would declare 60 years old as the 'retirement' age, when they would waste their lives sitting in pub corners and drank ale all day and tell stories to the visitors. But he was uncommon. Even in his old age, his fighting skills never ceased or deteriorated. He could swing a battle-axe as if he was swinging a flogger. He could lift a boulder and threw it as if it was nothing more than a puffy pillow. He could bore a hole on the stone with his hand as if it was a toy wax. However, barbarians were not barbarians it they were not feared.
Suddenly, at the corner of his eyes, he spotted something unusual. It looked like... a group of birds. It was late autumn, and the sight of birds flying south was normal. But the sight of two light-green birds and a dark-blue bird flying close together in tight formation and going east toward the city was anything but normal. Moreover, the birds had tusks.
Suddenly he recalled his many experiences in his 3 years of elementary school and 45 years of barbaric profession. He suddenly realized that he was seeing... dragons! He still remembered the number of dragons he had killed... none. He still remembered what he used to do when he encountered a dragon... run or hide, depending on the circumstances.
But now I will not run. He would prove the world that he was indeed the greatest barbarian of all time. As the dragons flew closer, he prepared his battle-axe and tracked his target. Then, with all her might he threw his axe toward the unwary dragons. Then he waited.
