Vortex Quest

== VORTEX QUEST 3-10 ==

== THE BASTION 1 – DEMIGODS IN THE NURSERY ==

The Revolution was stretched thin, having to secure a twixtway gate while recruiting more allies than ever. They needed manpower to follow through. And Chay knew Sharpeye's academy didn't have a marketing department. No, they were going to steal the fighters they needed.

"Feels like pretending to be slaves is all we do now," Marcus said as the pantheon marched through the sandy tunnels of Hakkri, inside a substructure where frescos of demonic victories lined the walls.

"Oh shut up," Chay said. "You're not even going to be the slave this time." He rubbed his scalp, not fond of the perfect smoothness.

"True, true," Marcus said, grinning. "I'm just too naturally dominant, isn't that right?"

He spanked Xane's ass. In turn the Korean hunk held his hand before the Filipino's eyes and created a bright flash. The blinded demigod grunted and was – relatively gently – shoved into a pillar by the smirking Goro.

"Guys," Chay said. "Our contact is here."

The pantheon reached a chantry chamber where overlapping demon statues gazed down from the walls like a threatening orgy of menacing monsters. Chay licked his lips as a spell of horniness hit him from all the stone-muscle on display.

Their contact was an Ogre named Gloo-Bah-Oggo, meaning something like Skullpiercer. Ogres were troglodytes with a more pinkish skin, the face a mix between pig, bulldog and primitive human. Like his greenskinned cousins, Skullpiercer was broad and bulky to the point of necklessness, his muscles thick enough to let him look short despite reaching Chay's height. He had a nose ring of bone in his pig-nose, chains wrapped around his forearms and a few tattoos, such as a spiral covering his head. His clearly huge dick was hidden in a leather pouch.

"Oogaloo Boogaloo," Chay shouted and pounded his chest. Troglo continued to an embarrassingly stupid but extremely fun language. "We two go with you. Those two will be sneaking."

"I see," Skullpiercer answered. His massive tusks gave him something like a lisp. The tusks' piercings dangled as he spoke. He raised his club and rested it between the spikes of his Wyvern-scale-pauldron. "Follow me."

The demigods entered the lowest level of the Ogre Bastion.

It was here, under the wings of Champion Pselhorg, that new Hellions were bred. Spawning pools tended to be fiercely guarded even though abyss dwellers didn't care for their `babies' like humans did.

Xane's butterflies landed on Chay's and Goro's crotches and transformed into unobtrusive cock-and-ball packages. The umbralist suppressed a sigh at the free dangling replica of his uncut tool, which he missed every waking moment.

When the group reached a bridge of iron planks and chains over a yellow glowing ectoplasm river cutting through the tunnel, Skullpiercer gestured at an iron grate in the ceiling. "Sneak in there. Five crossings straight, one left, there is the Burning One."

"Ooba-Dooba Binga-Bonga," Chay said with a chest pound. A battle cry in Troglo, as close to `good luck' as that language got.

Xane drummed his pecs in kind.

Chay, Goro and their new friend left half the pantheon behind. The Ogre unwrapped a chain off his arm and tied the faux-slaves' necks together. "You follow."

"Yes, sir," Chay said and submitted to the chain. The bald, free-dicking muscle men crossed the bridge, pulled along by their pretend captor.

===***===

Gnome tunnels were generally wide enough for a human to fit, but it was often a tight fit indeed. Having his own crotch light now made things easier for Marcus. He was annoyed that Xane had insisted on going first, because now he had to stare at the wizard's fatless bodybuilder backside the whole time.

At least he liked looking at Xane's ass, much like he'd always enjoyed looking at pussy. Except with an abyssal edge of horny desperation calling his tongue to that sweat shining crack. Oh, and the legs were hot, too. Even the feet. Fuck, his mind was so fag wrecked. He'd need a lifetime of therapy, or church, or something.

"This one," Xane said, melting a grate underneath him away. "Get ready."

Marcus flexed his hand where the iron knuckle resided. He tried not to let the consequences of using Hole make him hesitant.

Xane dropped something down from his banister. It made a splash.

"Safe, I think."

The duo descended into a chamber where a red, gleaming gem waited on a pedestal, heat waves wiggling in the air above it. An imprisoned fire phantasm.

Xane picked the big marble up with his mage-hand and dropped it to the ground where inch-high water formed a perimeter around the pedestal.

"Why do they keep water here?" Marcus asked.

"Security, I guess," Xane said, freezing the bubbling puddle with an ice beam every other second. His thaum struggled against the heat of the phantasm, but he didn't have to win – only to deplete it. "Like if it goes rogue. Not the most sophisticated fail safe."

It occurred to Marcus that Xane would have made fun of him for asking a simple question, just a day earlier. He wasn't going to give him a cookie or anything.

"What?" Xane asked, vaguely hostile.

"Huh?"

"You're staring at me."

"I wasn't, you shit."

"You were. Man, can't you space cadet focus for three fucking seconds?"

Marcus folded his arms. "I was just wondering what that thing on your face was. Turns out it was ugliness."

Xane grinned while cringing. "That was... such a bad comeback. Anyway," he flexed and shot another frost beam, "I know I'm easy on the eyes. Enjoy the eye candy all you want."

"Ha. There's not much to enjoy, cunt face."

"You say that with your tummy full of my piss and cum."

"Could say that same."

"...Touché." Xane flinched. "Someone's coming."

The demigods pressed themselves to either side of the entrance. The room had no door, just a tunnel bending away from it, into the maze that was the bastion.

Two Ogres walked in, too busy grunting at each other to notice the missing gem or the chunk of ice in the water.

Marcus reached out with his knuckled hand, right between their faces and... a cloud of unicorn dust puffed from his ring into the troglodytes' mouths.

The pink, tattooed creatures tore their bulbous dicks free and started jerking off, one already leaking.

"Fuck," Xane said. "Wish we could stay and ride them."

"Five minutes?" Marcus suggested.

"You know we'd be here an hour," Xane said. "Ugh, I thought having Goro to the elbow inside me before we start the mission was going to calm me down but my hole is fucking itching all the way from the entrance to my navel."

"Good thing you're with me," Marcus said, "the most responsible party member. Let's go."

They rushed into the tunnel until the first cross section. An Ogre patrol marched away, broad backs to the demigods.

Xane slammed Marcus into an alcove and conjured an illusory rough stone wall to cover them until the air was clear. They started illusion hopping further into the bastion, Xane's false rocks their only cover.

===***===

Skullpiercer didn't give them the scenic route. Chay got a decent look at some defenses and sussed out what weaknesses he could, but there was little of note on the way to slave storage.

The pillar of soul stone – dozens of `tadpoles' drifting within the jagged, dark red – was protected by a grate of iron and a Necrarch - a demonblooded Lich.

He was buffer than a regular Lich, like all demonblooded creatures seemed to be, his purple skin bulging with a few prominent veins along muscled limbs where other Liches were elegantly slender.

The Necrarch wore a gold-ringed robe of heavy, black fabric. His mask-face was sandy pale, with deep blue furrows that shifted as his eyeless gaze fell on the newcomers.

Their Ogre ally pushed the demigods into a cluster of a dozen slaves, most with half an inch of hair on their head – cheaper shades and figments at the end of their lifecycle. Some had a neck-signature but not all.

"He's not paying attention," Chay whispered over the rattle of clockwork machines along the walls.

Goro responded as quietly as possible. "He's looking right at us."

"No he's... They don't have regular eyes, but I'm sure he's day dreaming. Anyway, no signal yet?"

"Nothing," Goro said and sniffed. "The poor fucks around here could use a shower."

"Well they're about to die – for the thousandth time. So the plan is to hit the battery first. We can leave the gem itself intact, just break the cables along the ceiling and half the defenses go down. Also, kill the Necrarch."

"Any special tricks?" Goro asked.

"Not that I can see, but I'm not omniscient. The usual Lich-shit, plus whatever the demon blood injections let him do. Hm, I can tell you're getting a bit hungry."

Goro snarled. "Not omniscient, huh? Yeah, I could use another load. Not sucking off any of those bastards here."

"Would attract too much attention anyway. If we're discreet, I think I can milk out a load. Haven't creamed all day."

"I'm good for a bit."

Chay could tell Goro was more nervous than usual. Did he fear the half-demon enemy? No, they'd beaten worse. Goro was worried about Xane and trying hard not to show it.

The umbralist made sure the Necrarch wasn't paying attention to the slave gang. He placed his hand on Goro's thigh, his enhanced senses recognizing the surge in horniness but also calm trust.

Among his companions, different communications strategies had different effect. Chay gave a light nod. Nothing more.

Goro's composure changed imperceptivity.

The stilled berserker glanced over to the demonblood, who was tapping on a scroll. "Think we can fuck him before we break his face in half?"

"Wouldn't bet on it," Chay said. "We'll grab an Ogre on the way out."

"Good. That's more my taste anyway."

===***===

Marcus wondered if this was how Chay felt, surrounded by fog. Probably not. Xane's fog simply emanated from canisters in his hands, almost like a sad, one-man rave without the glow sticks. He could easily imagine Xane going to raves. Possibly a good conversation topic. He didn't even know the short muscleman's taste in music.

Right now, though, Marcus was holding his breath because that fog was highly toxic. He signed, `Think that's enough insecticide?'.

"I'm almost out anyway," the wizard spoke into his air bubble. "Wait, are you suggesting Mimics are insects?"

Marcus shrugged with a pout. He wasn't going to start an abyssal taxonomy argument but he'd been thinking of Mimics as living chests and apparently that wasn't true either.

Some of the gold piles, crates and amphorae in this treasures room were certainly Mimics which would end deadly for any would-be thief. The demigods hadn't fought Mimics yet since they cared little for pulling heists in high profile vaults but the Revolution would have liked to help themselves to the wealth.

"Try it," Xane said.

Marcus let his chakram dance, bouncing off chest tops and making obol stacks clatter apart.

The Mimics made themselves known. A large sapphire, a silver shield with a Drake-head imprint and a vase full of coins all sprang to life and tried to gobble up the flying rings.

Totally dazed by the gas, the Mimics turned from solid objects into semi-transparent, gooey blobs, barely able to keep a vague shape. Their movements were fast but lacking coordination. Stepping out of the way of `bites' was trivial and Xane started annihilating the treasure guardians.

Marcus stayed back and took stock of the weapons in the foggy room. He raised a stubby sword of some strikingly orange material. Proper adventuring loot.

"Absolutely not," Xane said, a chaos sphere forming in his hand as it got casually juggled. He looked incredibly sexy playing with immense power like that.

You look stupid playing with power like that,' Marcus signed. You're supposed to be the responsible one.'

"You already have Hole. Put that back before you catch an even worse curse than Carnal Craving."

Marcus gripped the sword and signed with one hand. `We're already over-cursed. Forgot? We can't take on more.'

"Whatever, put it back."

`Don't think I will.'

Xane rolled his eyes, turned the final Mimic to smoldering, transparent sand and marched to the exit.

Back in the corridor, Marcus took his first breath in five minutes. "Ahhhh, feels good. Stale castle air, how I missed you."

"Quiet," Xane said, with no force behind it. He took a compass-like object from his bandolier. "This way for now."

They stepped over the wildly masturbating Ogre they'd left in their wake. Marcus gave him a new dose of unicorn dust in passing.

"Hey Xee, ever gone to raves?"

"Yeah lots, why?"

"Just figured. When we're back on earth we cou-"

The floor opened underneath them.

Marcus' stomach lurched as he engaged his animus – martial magic surging to keep him afloat. He flung himself at the edge of the pit, Xane beside him.

The orange sword clanked on the rocky sand ahead as Marcus swung himself up.

"Oh good," Xane said. "Just spikes. Thought we were having, like, another flayhorror or something."

Marcus looked down. Sharp iron poked in clusters from the dark. The trap door closed.

"We should take care of that, right?" he asked while he picked up his new sword.

Xane sighed. "I guess. Trigger it again." He loaded a searing hot bolt of destruction, fire dripping between his fingers.

"Say please," Marcus insisted, expecting a slap on the ass or a middle finger.

"Please please, do it, oh my dearest, sweet honey bun."

Marcus hopped onto the trap. "Ugh, never mind. I like you better when you're an asshole."

The mage flicked his fireball casually at the mechanism at the side of the door. "Bitch, you've never seen me be a real asshole. You'd be cowering in terror if you ever had."

Marcus grinned. "I can guess why you'd want me to cower."

"Yeah? Why?"

"For once, I'd be at your eye level."

Their ensuing slap fight was interrupted by a patrol, forcing them to hide behind an illusion. The Ogres would report the damaged trap, but it was almost time to make themselves known anyway.

===***===

An Orge patrol had come and gone. The demonblooded Lich was still hanging out in the generator room, going over checklists in a distracted manner. The demigods were hidden among the slaves.

Chay sat with his legs pulled in and wiggled his finger over his foot. He wore Pie's ring on a toe now, to make it even less apparent. A tiny cloud paw puffed from the ring and playfully slapped at his finger.

Goro lightly grunted.

"Signal?" Chay asked.

"No, nothing," Goro said. "Maybe it's broken."

"We're just impatient. They have to be thorough and we don't have a clock here. But I'm starting to put together an idea. Maybe we can get a head start. Oh, he's coming. Here's the plan..."

The Necrarch opened the iron grate that separated the soul stone from slave storage. The tall purple-skinned figure strode up to a dazed human, who rambled in Hungarian. "A monster? It's a monster. What... do you want?" In his dream-like stupor the confused figment stared without trying to flee, but shook a black guy who seemed to wake up from trance and started praying in Xhosa.

The Necrarch slapped the figments' heads and pushed both along to the generator.

Chay, leaking black tendrils, followed without a sound, Goro right behind.

The Necrarch shoved the two chosen slaves ahead and absentmindedly closed the grate behind him. Goro tapped just a bit into mania and bent an opening to comfortably slip through.

It made enough noise to get the Lich's attention.

Chay took a casual stance. "Hey there. We're demigods, here to take over this place for the Revolution. You may have heard of us."

The Necrarch's face barely qualified as such, but the intricate patterns on his carved head shifted to something more swirly and erratic. "The Revolution? Here?" he said in a slightly `demonized' voice with deep vibrations. "Lord Pselhorg won't tolerate-"

"Let me cut to the chase, buddy," Chay said and levitated to be on the Necrarch's eye level. "We've killed a ton of demons. You'd be no challenge." He gave a nod to Goro who rammed his fist into the Hungarian slave's back. The beefy man's spine practically jack-knifed as he got flung to the other side of the room, splaying on the cave wall before disintegrating.

"Help us out and live," Chay continued. "Stick with Pselhorg and..." he shrugged to where the slave had vanished.

The Necrarch wasn't nearly as afraid as he should have been, Chay's senses told him, but the monster did seriously consider his options.

"If I switch sides," the Necrarch started, "and your Revolution fails..."

Time to appeal to a desire for safety. "Pselhorg dies in any case. Even if you fuck off after, no one's going to know what choices you made here."

Chay detected surprisingly little reaction to the promise of killing the Necrarch's overlord. Not many reasons to stay loyal?

"If I may boldly inquire," Chay said, "what is your relationship to the Champion?"

"I'm a lieutenant."

A' lieutenant, not the' lieutenant. Pselholg had a large enough retinue that he needed multiple right hands. Time to appeal to vanity. "Once we've taken the place over, we'll need someone with experience to lead it. Cooperate now and you can be at the head."

Something was happening. Chay wished he'd have an easier time reading Lich emotions. The Necrarch was convinced... No, the offer was too good, he'd become skeptical. He was going to attack soon but trying not to give it away. Time to feign humility. "Of course it's possible that we lose, in which case you'd be in the perfect positon to stab us in the back and rise through Pselhorg's ranks and- You know what, this isn't working, because you're not taking us seriously. Goro, please demonstrate."

The Necrarch hadn't expected to have to defend himself in melee and was surprised by the demigod of muscle and brutality hammering him. Goro slapped away the purple arms and rammed an elbow into the lieutenant's hip.

As the hip bones crunched, Goro bent the muscled Lich-leg upward in a swift motion and punched the Necrarch in the face with his own foot.

The enemy dropped to the side, groaning as his breath shot from his lungs before he could even scream.

"Now, my new ally," Chay said and gave himself a long, floating cape of fog as he gestured at the ceiling, "I'd like to know where each of these cables leads."

"Uh," Goro made. His ass was vibrating hard, involuntary quivers traveling from his guts into his muscles. "I think... that's the signal..." his voice shook as his glutes did, barely letting him walk. "Holy shit, that's a strong as fuck signal... wow, yeah..."

Chay grinned. "Operation `distract a whole bastion' starts now. Get ripping, big boy."

===***===

One minute earlier:

Xane's compass pointed right at Psych-plating, but the bastion was a maze, so they had to find their way to the compass' target, illusion-hopping to avoid fights along the way.

Marcus was ready with the `counteraction rods'. They didn't look different from silver chop sticks to him but he jammed them into each Psych-plate along the wall he saw, turning off the bastion's ability to detect unauthorized demons and throw curses at intruders.

Xane jammed the plate built into a thick, wooden door, glancing at his compass. "I think that was the final one. Needle's turning in lazy circles. Which should mean..."

The mage pulled the door open by its iron rings. Marcus readied his left hand where the Hole-knuckle sat and touched the orange bladed sword – Carrot – with the other where it stuck in the belt fashioned from Xane's bandolier.

The door lead into a bendy corridor, tinged in orange light.

Two Ogres with spears waited on the other side, first saluting, then staring in confusion at the demigods, then staring at each other, then pointing their weapons.

Marcus shot a dose of unicorn dust at each, watching them strip and hump the wall. Seeing the ultra-broad troglodytes' leaking bulb-dicks made him hunger for sex and cum.

"Such a waste of dust."

"It's a resource," Xane said and slapped an Ogre's ass, walking past. "If you'd rather kill them, be my guest."

"It's also a waste of good dick, wouldn't you agree, my fellow cock lover?"

Xane absentmindedly flexed his stupidly lean arms. "Bullshit. I'm the most heterosexual pussyhound ever, hehe."

"Reflexively contrarian, huh? Actually, do you think you can just go back to dicking down chicks like before, after this is over? I've been thi- Oh, wow."

They reached a room the size of a cathedral, organically layered with ponds and pools along the walls and substantial pillars. Orange ectoplasm dripped like extra-thick honey from clusters of man-sized orbs that hung on the rock surfaces like grape bunches, a humanoid figure within each.

Smaller `grapes' formed in the pools, where Hellions were coalescing in the bubbling, yellow substrate. A child-sized skullhead occasionally drifted to the surface and dove down again.

"Yep, that's the spawning pools," Xane said and dragged Marcus behind an illusory rock. They crouched, pressed into each other as usual. The room was hot as a sauna and their already sweating, smooth, tan skins rubbed effortlessly past each other.

Carrot clanked on the ground as Marcus pulled the mini-beacon from the bandolier and twisted it until the linkspark gems within connected. Now their allies knew exactly where to grab the Hellions, should a total takeover fail.

Someone in the bastion would surely detect that some unauthorized signal had been placed within the facility, but it didn't matter at this point.

"Sending now," Xane said. He pulled out a white sphere and crushed it. As it burst into dissipating shards, it send vibrations into the air, strong enough to make the mage pull his hand back from the aerial tremors. He kneaded his fingers. "Man, if that's what it feels like to receive the signal, too, I hope Goro's taken the orb out of his ass."

"And now?"

"Now we wait."

"I'm bad at that," Marcus said twirled a lick of whitefire.

"Ugh, I know. Hm... need to piss?"

"Yeah."

"Me too. Sixty nine?"

"Sure. Lay down," Marcus said and gestured at the smooth stone.

"No, you lay down."

"For fuck's... Rock-paper-scissor?"

"Sure... one, two three. Fuck. I always lose at this bitch of a game."

Xane grumbled but complied. A small victory since Marcus still had to take his frenemy's package in his mouth. He wished he could throat fuck the bastard, just once.

===***===

Goro's claw swipes across the ceiling tore cables and tubes apart. The swirling, dark tadpoles in the generator garnet slowed down and broke formation, no longer drawn upon.

The lights in the room went out as they surely did everywhere in the bastion.

"Perfect," Chay said and flicked on his aegis, holy radiance making the Necrarch flinch, who was still on the ground, using his demon-magic to heal his shattered hip.

"Guards and higher ups," Chay continued, "are going to start trickling in to check what's causing the blackout. We'll stay at the entrance and snipe them off as they come in." He held out a hand. "What do you say?"

The Necrarch's face carvings shifted to drippy chevrons down the middle, spirals on his cheeks. "If I see that you can hold your own against the champion... but I won't-"

Green fire flashed. Lord Pselhorg was teleporting in.

Chay shouted a warning. Goro threw himself at the Daemon, his bald head sprouting a mane as he activated full-mania.

The nine foot tall, red-skinned champion was ripped from his teleport fire, wings flapping as Goro's enhanced jump slammed him into a wall.

The horn-crowned demon wore a thick belt leading to a loincloth, strapped to a spiky chest harness. His eyes were glowing like red flashlights.

He recovered from the hit and green flame dripped from his hand, a long weapon teleporting in.

Pselhorg wasn't reckless. Chay saw confidence under the pure rage. There were going to be some tricks to deal with.

He hastily fanned fog into the demon's face to block his sight while Goro circled around in the dark.

"Watch quietly," Chay whispered to the Necrarch, "but not too long. Gotta pick a side in time."

Goro dropped from the ceiling, his fists shattering the lord's skull on impact. The demon's head vibrated, but his weapon was materialized – a scythe, the golden blade covered in drifting runes. He swung with impossible speed and sliced Goro's abs.

The berserker dropped sideways with a groan, slipping into the shadows for a quick heal. Chay took control of the lord's arm as much as possible and made Pselhorg hit himself. The Daemon twisted his head to make the scythe bounce of a horn instead of splitting his face.

As a horn shard clanked to the unseen floor, the demon turned to Chay.

The umbralist felt Pie slip from his toe ring. He turned off his aegis and slipped into his mists as the enemy rushed ahead. It was a narrow scythe miss. Something about the weapon let Pselhorg move superhuman- uh, superdemonly fast.

Flame pillars in the slave storage. More enemies were spawning in.