How the Tide Turns
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Coercion, Magic, BiSexual, Shemale, non-anthro, DomSub, Violent,
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - In their quest to end the threat the Prince of Demons posed to their world, the heroes had called upon many allies, including an ancient power released from the Well of Darkness. Even triumphant victory does not end the tale - for there is always another ruler called to serve, crowned as the new and resurgent Prince of Demons, fourth in title since the birth of creation.
It happened with frightful speed. One moment we were almost triumphant, having battled our way through every foe and trap Wat Dagon had put in our way, from Death Knight to demon. We had just put down the risen legless corpse which had been the very last opponent, rising from the water near the gigantic oyster within which hid our true target, the trigger for the madness wave, flying up dripping and attempting to blast us with magic. Its attempt at ambush had failed miserably, four of us having used scrolls of foresight this fateful day. The twins, Delia and I all moved faster than the foolish zombie, Delia winning the race to react, casting a spell of disintegration that proved enough to end its threat, the pale ray striking unerringly and leaving drifting ashes to float down upon the waters, the sole reminder that a foul undead being had risen against us.
The enormous black oyster had snapped shut at our entrance, as if sensing intruders. Tharmas, the doughty lizardman warrior, immediately advanced on it, heavily enchanted adamantine greataxe slicing its way through the protective shell, Annalise stepping in to join him - her cold iron greatsword proving somewhat less effective at chipping the protective covering away. Soon we would have the nightmare pearl in our hands, and the Prince of Demon's plans would be in ruins. Or so the plan went - straight to hell.
Fifteen foot in width, it cut through the air and planar boundaries, portal spinning open in less than a breath into a gate. Through it came the sounds of terrible battle, the city of Lemoriax in flames as Eladrin armies and the legions of Orcus pressed the demons, driving them back. It was the sight of Demogorgon himself, shouldering his way through the portal, that held our attention - and struck horror into our hearts.
The Prince of Demons towered above us, a full twenty four feet tall, his body at once sinuous like that of a snake and powerfully built like that of a great ape, two baleful baboon heads leering from atop lumbering shoulders, attached to which were two long, writhing tentacles. His torso was saurian, like some great reptile with an immense forked tail.
The Queen of Succubi reacted immediately, the kiss she had bestowed upon me allowing her full magical and telepathic access through me. I could sense her lashing out mentally through our telepathic bond, whispering at the Prince of Demons. Thankfully, I could not hear the communication, but it caused him to slump for a moment in dejected defeat, before roaring in energized fury - and focusing on me!
His twins heads shrieked in rage, and his overwhelming dual voice rang in our heads, "Fools! At last you reveal yourselves to my wrath. The audacity of your ridiculous plan is almost enough to convince me to simply destroy you. But here I find you at this, the heart of my tide of savagery. Know that even as my minions crush the last of your pathetic invasion, your own deaths will be neither quick nor painless. They will be works of wonder, tortures to inspire the ages. You will, at my touch, become legends!"
The Prince of Demons was fast - but not as fast as a diviner, a wizard who is usually a step or three ahead of everyone else. That Delia had cast faster moments earlier had been a rare fluke indeed. Gaylin used a spell of telekinesis as the oyster relaxed open, as though soothed by the mere presence of its master, sliding the gigantic black pearl it had exposed into her bag of holding, hiding away the nauseating aura of evil it radiated. Next was a whirlwind making its way through the gate with almost reckless speed, a living current of wind that spun down into a short elven woman, uncharacteristically stocky, with a wild silver-white mane of hair and jade-green eyes. Though badly wounded, she had lost none of the sparkle in her eyes, paired gleaming scimitars shining with holy power - the Whirling Fury herself, commander of the eladrin hosts, Gwynharwif, was at our sides, her presence greatly heartening all of us, but most especially her devoted champion, Annalise Greenheart.
The gate spiralled closed as Demogorgon roared again, one great reptilian head focusing on me, but I could not even feel whatever mental assault he hurled my way, the other attempting to summon a great demon for aid, and I contained a smirk as the attempt failed miserably. I knew keeping the treacherous little gatecrasher around would pay off, with his ability to block summoning magics in a large area. The demon prince was not done, advancing upon the eladrin paragon, who it clearly saw as the true threat, tentacles, lashing tail and dreadful bites savaging her, Gwynharwif's exposed flesh rotting away at the touch of tentacles, blackening at the loud slap of barbed double-tail.
He quickly learned the error of ignoring us, as Faylin dispelled his magical defenses and augmentations with a sharp incantation, the abjurer easily shattering the weakened demon lord's magic, wracking him with a terrible backlash of eldritch energies gone wild. Annalise and Tharmas charged in, taking a beating from flailing tentacles, but driving their weapons home, little Delia tumbling in, flanking and driving her shortsword deep, twisting it cruelly on the way out, almost crippling one ankle. Shadowfire cowered in a corner as our healer, Lornac, moved in behind the eladrin, the vast majority of her injuries vanishing at his golden-glowing touch, and Velnaris unleashed a storm of glowing missiles from her elven greatbow.
Me? Shrugging off the sight of those four terrible eyes, a mental attack from which we were all screened by spell or inherent immunity in my case, I fired two rays, one white and freezing, one black and enervating. In a single moment of furious battle, Demogorgon had taken a terrible beating, and it was far from over.
Gaylin conjured a great hand made of force that moved on its own, rushing forward to grapple the demon as a dull gray ray shot from her pointed finger, draining the demon of strength. Weakened or not, the demon prince shrugged the semi-translucent fist off, and screamed in rage as Gwynharwif's blades tore into him, the glittering scimitars' enchantment buoyed by the bane talismans we'd provided her with. The eladrin was very impressive, moving with inhuman skill and speed, only one flickering slash failing to find its mark in a gushing spray of noxious black blood. The demon responded with terrifying fury, striking at her single minded, but she was wiser to his ways, or perhaps our spells had some effect, for the Whirling Fury took comparatively little damage - damage soon mostly repaired once Lornac cast a spell of restoration on her, rotting and blackened flesh again pink and healthy. We battered at the demon prince with spells and blades and it tottered. A collective pained groan sounded when Demogorgon healed itself of much of his wounds with a single flick of a tentacle, before teleporting behind Lornac and unleashing his full fury against our healer, who stumble away, reeling from another tentacle slap before snatching a scroll from an ivory case, spending its dwoemer to cast a healing spell on himself. With the demon prince focusing on our healer, which I had to grant was a wise tactical decision, it failed to dodge the crushing hand Gaylin had conjured and was caught for a brief moment, muscles visibly straining against its hold and flesh compressing in its crushing grip, before breaking free. That moment was enough for us to pound him, tossing the most powerful spells we'd been saving for just this occasion, recklessly throwing all the weight behind enchanted edges. Or at least, all but me - I kept a spell readied, and when Demogorgon again attempted to strike at Pelor's servant, clearly hoping to finish him off, I raised a bubble of force about him, which weathered the terrible violence and dark demonic power behind the Prince of Demons' blows with no discernible effect.
A virtual pincushion of arrows, with terrible bleeding rents in his scaly skin going deep, desperation was clear on the demon prince's face as it attempted to teleport away, to live and fight another day - just as the Witch Queen, Iggwilv the Demon Whore, stepped into the room and put up a dimensional locking ward about us all. Merciless, we struck and blasted away, and I finished him off with a final battle spell, a conjured glob of viscid acid, which ate away at the flesh of both thick necks, paired heads lolling off, eyes blanking into death. Absently, I noted that Malcanthet, the Queen of Succubi, had not used me as a conduit for her magic during the battle, not supporting us at all beyond her admittedly effective initial telepathic attack.
Struck a mortal blow, the huge demon tottered and fell, a nimbus forming around his heads, resembling two dark crowns of energy. The crowns rose and quickly merged into a single crown, and a terrible death roar echoed forth, announcing the end of the Prince of Demons and a vacant throne. The succubus queen in my head demanded that I claim the crown, a magically backed admonition. It was obvious that she did not know my nature. Her magic was useless, her demand pointless.
With a single step forward, I claimed the crown. For however long I lived, I was now the Princess of Demons.
In an instant, I felt the weight of the Abyss landing on my soul, and reluctantly accepted the seeding of chaos in the depth of my inner essence, rejecting the pure corruption of evil with a massive effort of will. For all my power, I knew that even the greatest of gods tread lightly where the Abyss is concerned, its unknowable and unpredictable power thought bottomless. It is said that creation took place once the formless chaotic masters of the Maelstrom met the original masters of the Abyss, their battles allowing order to endure for long enough that creation came into being. Attempting to flout the Abyss completely would destroy me, at best. At worst, I would turn into a demon mind and soul, utterly vile and irredeemable. You can redirect a raging torrent, never halt it completely. I shuddered briefly as I changed, power and chaos rippling through me, altering my very nature.
Everyone was staring at me, mouths open, and I smiled widely at the dear companions who'd released me from the Well of Darkness little more than a month ago. Well, not Shadowfire - the unpleasant little gnome was still curled into a ball in the corner. Nor Gwynharwif - she was nursing her wounds, staring at me suspiciously.
Neither was Iggwilv frozen or astonished. The lovely, poisonous, dark haired and seemingly young woman smiled at me, "Do stop by some time, dearie, anytime, for a long chat." She withrew the flask, the artifact she'd taken from us as her price for her aid, unstoppered it and used it to draw in the lingering motes of blackness and writhing smoke around Demogorgon's corpse. As she drew in his essence into the iron flask of Tuerny the Merciless, capturing what was left of his 'soul', the dead demon lord's body melted away into the Abyss, leaving what I knew instinctively was a permanent black stain on the ground. This would certainly prevent me from providing his corpse to Ahazu the Taker, demon lord and master of the Black Well, as a replacement for the prisoner we'd released, as I had personally pledged. It left me unaffected - with his tooth in my possession, I'd figured out that supposedly imprisoned demon lord's plan, and had never had any intention of complying. Really, if you can't lie to demons... ?
It was arrogance, always arrogance that brought them down. Iggwilv was completely unfazed, obviously intent upon leaving peacefully, never dreaming that any would dare threaten her, let alone be capable of dealing her harm.
I appeared next to her, taking the flask against almost no resistance, and touched her to release a spell. Instantly, she froze - in position, in time, in stasis.
"You... ?" Gwynharwif stumbled back in shock. The mortals were likewise astonished, staring at me wide-eyed.
"What?" I asked them, ignoring the mental chortling of the succubus queen. Malcanthet's time would come. "The witch is treacherous by nature, living poison, a wretched blight. Surely you would not have her depart with such power in hand? No doubt she would have used it to gather an army and again attempt to conquer your world. This way," I cast and conjured a shimmering prismatic sphere about her frozen form, adding a dwoemer for permanence and a mental alarm should any approach, "she is out of the game, if only for a while."
"What are your intentions?" the eladrin paragon demanded, having conspicuously failed to sheathe her blades.
"Towards you? I would say that I owe the Court of Stars a great debt," I nodded at her congenially. "I expect you want to lead your troops back home immediately, and I will of course not stand in your way. You are quite rightly suspicious - and this crown," I patted my head, "might go to my head," I heard the lizardman hiss in what I'd learned to recognize as amusement, relieved that at least someone appreciated my humor. "I mean of course, corrupt me," I rolled my eyes at their dour demeanor. "Perhaps," I suggested, "you might care to send an ambassador once I have my court in place. Of course first, I must set this plane I rule in order. Evict uninvited guests, school the errant children, bring about some ... order."
Gwynharwif sniffed at that last word, and the twins sighed in unison.
"As for you, my friends, I would genuinely advise you to depart with the eladrin host. You should not spend more time in the Abyss than you must," I added gently.
"We're not leaving you," the twins said as one. In truth, I'd not expected any other response.
"Nor I," the elfmaid admitted reluctantly, fingering her bowstring. She was clearly not entirely happy about her decision.
"I, too, will stand by your side," the lizardman offered, and Delia nodded sharply once.
"Ahem," Lornac blinked in astonishment. "Ah, I do not mean to be a spoilsport, but ... there is just no way in heaven or hell that I would serve the ... well, I suppose you're now the Princess of Demons," he shrugged. The tension in the room rose, the temperature lowering. Annalise looked torn, but after a moment of inner contemplation, shook her head and moved next to her patron.
"Of course," I laughed lightly, "I did not expect you to make any other choice," I nodded at him, then looked at Gaylin. "Gayle, let Lornac have the pearl, let him take it to the Court of Stars, that it may be properly disposed of. Do not touch it!" I warned him. "Use your ring of telekinesis," I advised him, "it is a truly cursed thing, be wary of it. Do not let it slip from your grasp. I would have your word," I turned to the pale-haired eladrin, speaking formally for once, "That you will destroy that," I pointed.
"Of course," she bowed shallowly, lips pursed.
"Let us leave this place, and the twins will teleport you where you will. The seaside gate and the gate you used as entry are still up, and will remain until you and yours depart," I offered her and the priest and raised a hand to stifle the twins' protests. "I appreciate your support, all of you," I looked them in the eyes, one after another, "and I will need it, I will call you back to my side. But I cannot take you with me as I teleport and order demons about, it just isn't safe. Once I have some measure of control, a stronghold with at least a modicum of safety and order, I will have you back in my new home, but not yet. I could not bear to lose you, especially to something senseless after such a triumph," I appealed to their emotions. In truth, I also did not want them to see me order demons about, as that might well sour their enthusiasm and devotion. I weathered their protests, the eladrin, Annalise and Lornac weighing in on my side.
"No," I insisted. "You have spent most of your spells, we would be without a healer, with no safe place to rest and recast our protections. Recall that I am not mortal, with no such limitations," I offered, "and this is my plane."
<Such concern for you ... friends> Malcanthet's silky voice whispered in my mind.
I was slowly opening up my awareness, allowing it to stretch and perceive the doings on my plane of existence, a full layer of the Abyss that called me Mistress, as we strode out of Wat Dagon. For a mortal jumped up to demon lord, learning to manipulate and control it would be the work of decades, and even then, only limited control could be established by all but the most exceptional. I'd fought and scrabbled my way to divinity centuries ago, before an angry god locked me away. Perhaps not quite a demigoddess yet, but still, much more than mortal. In fact, I noted as I led the way outside, instructing the twins to raise up a wall of stone to black the door and make it more difficult yet to release the witch, I had no mortal blood at all. A vampiric nymph for a mother, an unknown angel for a father, I was a miscegenation of the most peculiar sort.
I ignored the Queen of Succubi. The tool I'd used to gain divinity still existed, a focusing lens that purified power and fed it to me, hidden away in a private demiplane, a home I'd not visited for many centuries. Soon, the opening I'd permitted her would be no more, and her belief that she could exert influence over the Princess of Demons be disappointed.
Once we were outside, I spoke, "Lornac, Annalise, I would have your aid again, soon, against the Lord of the Undead. He lurks about, eager to relieve me of life and title. I would very much appreciate it if you could also convince Soldrinor," the great Solar who had mustered Pelor's angelic host in our aid, "to join us for that battle. It would not do to have Orcus as a divine being and Emperor of Demons," I added, to the emphatic nods of almost everyone.
"I will speak with him," Lornac offered with some reluctance.
"There will be rewards," I offered. "I am sure there are treasures in Abysm to restore to the heavens, and it is within my power to transform you and Annalise into celestial beings."
"Impossible!" Gwynharwif barked.
"Is it truly?" I smiled ever so sweetly at her. "Let me offer you a demonstration. Lornac, I believe you have a wand or scroll of holy smite - please use it on me."
He blinked, but didn't hesitate. The holy energy and burst of light failed to harm me.
"That you resist his spell is no great surprise," Annalise offered dryly.
"Of course," I realized. "Perhaps let me drink some holy water?"
I took the proffered flask and drank it down. Tasteless, really.
"As you can see," I shrugged at their astonished looks, "I do not abide by ordinary restrictions. It is an old quality of mine. But time presses, and each moment we wait another of your people dies," I looked at the eladrin sternly.
"Join hands," Faylin instructed once she knew where to go, and they were soon gone.
I watched as the heroes I'd fought side-by-side with for what seemed like eternity, ever in a desperate haste to save their world from a fatal stroke, vanish, gone with plaintive looks and blown kisses.
An instant later, I plane-shifted away.