Each step down the stairs, the meager sounds of upstairs grew distant, muffled as Nikoias descended into the Bck Cells of Vissborg. Living up to their name, unlike the corridors, rooms above which each possessed a dual color scheme of white and bck, the cells were erected beneath the earth from a bck oily, greasy looking stone. Whilst they appeared quite slippery, his steps, his soles appeared firm enough to keep his heart calm from the woes of falling over in an awkward fashion. “Now which way it is.” He whispered, his gaze wandering between the three routes leading to east, west and north.
Pulled forth his personal pocket void, Nikoias held out a peculiar looking medallion the half dark elven contractor given to him back in Noyachny. The edges fluted and filled with an opal brightened by the warmth of day, slithering towards in straight nine lines into the round center where a blot of etheric mist blurringly danced. His own etheric tendrils, slim as threads stole onto the gleaming medallion and penetrated the translucent opal at the center, and bit into the dancing mist. A pleasant, warm twinge swept across him and at once became aware of the route he shall has to take towards his target held in the second lowest level, where only a little, faux light reached and graced the prisoners.
Upon venturing down the southern corridor, with grated cell doors left and right, Nikoias head the sudden and forceful urge to pinch his nose. In the little light that flickered in the gloom, he noticed the faint, withered silhouettes of the prisoners. “Poor things.” For a moment, he contempted putting them out of their miseries, but the notion faded just as hastily as it came. From a logical standpoint, it would have alerted the whole fort, and on an emotional, he felt congenial towards them as most of the prisoners probably belonged to his ilk. Those whose fortunes were and are built constantly on the demise of others in one way or shape or form.
And as he neared the stairs, he became aware of faint footsteps upon the greasy floors drinking in the light of the torches. Leading down, a long set of winding stairs twisted like a sleeping serpent, with strange, oblique doors carven out from the bricked walls, beyond them wider and darker corridors stretching seemingly into the infinity of the nd below. It was so dark that torches barely lit a small globe of area, beyond them utter darkness ruled where even his trained senses found no respite. Though his more carnal side twinged and soothed Nikoias upon watching the seductive form of the pink stygian break forth the bckness, into the warm light that graced her mesmerizing form and face.
Overtaken by his instincts, Nikoias opted to approach the stygian who turned around quite fluidly and her lustrous lips curved into a faint smile that sent a warm tide all across his body. “Hey handsome.” Her voice was sensuously deep, her words ced with awakening passion. “Got unlucky?”
“Yes, but I am not so sure of that.” He said calmly as he fixed his necktie. Her soft chuckle echoed through the dark, and in the lit gloom, his eyes wandered onto the pin spelling out Birgit. Nikoias walked towards her, stopped just on her right before he spoke up again. “It’s my first time down here.”
“Oh, do you need a guide handsome?” She asked quite pyfully, parting away a few silken tresses falling over her right eye. “I wouldn’t mind one. Especially as I seem to only found the cells and the bright, warm Rose down here in these damp and dark halls.”
“Quite the sweet-talker aren’t you.” She walked up to her, her aromatic scent hitting him without respite, her fingers ending in equally lustrous cws pressed against the small, metallic dragonhead and released its tight jaw vomiting the textile bde into the confines of the stolen uniform. “Follow me.” Birgit pulled him by the bde, and after a few turns led him into what appeared to be a smallish, resting area that appeared less morose than the utterly dim corridors and cells.
His first thought was to strike at her nape to quickly knock her out, but his carnal desires took precedent and as soon as Birgit unbuckled his pants and released his neck tie, Nikoias repaid in kind and the two fell on the couch heated by passion. Their lips entwined, their tongues twisted into each other whilst their senses were bombarded by their sensuous breaths brushing against their faces, their necks. Then it all came to an end as she pushed him away and he looked at her inquisitively for the sudden cessation.
Nikoias smiled as he felt the God of Luck has done the same to him when Birgit reached into her coat and held out a pair of cuffs, a roll of glossy bck tape and a spherical gag which rubbery ball matched the color of her lustrous lips that uttered words easing his anxious mind in the moment his eyes id upon them. “Would you mind… putting these on me?” She asked quite meekly.
“Not in particur.” He leaned close to her face, and uttered these words as his lips once more locked onto hers. “Though I must wonder – what would you say, feel if I told you I am spy?” As she turned, her coat, vest and dress shirt halfway open and loose, he brought up the question veiled thinly in a pyful manner, his head pushing onto her shoulders, pressing down the colrs, his warm breath spreading onto her.
“I’d say – you better gag me, as I shall say nothing.” The st few words mingled with her groan as the cuffs tightened around the end of the sleeves, pressing each yer onto her soft skin. “Are you a lecherous enemy?” Then she asked in a high-pitched whimper as his fingers penetrated the folds of her vulva, and gently fidgeted inside. She bit her lips, and neared towards Nikoias whose dagger sharp smile enamored Birgit.
Instead of answering, he pulled his fingers out covered in her warm, bodily fluids pulled her to her lips and she swallowed them emanating a carnal symphony of moans. Then he grabbed the spherical gag and lifted it over her head, to which she opened her lips and accepted the gag which straps quickly connected, pressing her hair onto her nape and sides. And for st, he wrapped the oily bck tape around her lips, to which she chuckled pyfully as it tightened onto her skin and hair, at it center a spherical bulge in the frame of her lips appeared on the soft yer.
“I am nothing, but a thief of your time and heart.” Nikoias whispered into her ears before he stood up and threw off his pants. He sat on the couch with her, and mounted the moaning stygian onto her spear, and their joint and loud moan permeated the room.
**
“N cnn'ph phnhm nph nnmmnrm!” Birgit’s raspy, muffled groan echoed across the room. A sensuous symphony accompanied it, comprised of the tape around her chest crumpling, squeaking along with the faux leather, the soft lulby of her partially buttoned-down dress shirt brushing against her skin and the lining of her coat, the buzzing of the vibrating eggs sealed into her vulva with a long strip – and stly, for a moment Nikoias’s belt joined in as he buckled and fastened it.
“Do you mind if I borrow this?” He asked, holding up the roll of bck sealing tape, expecting no answer to the question as he smiled at the bound form in the couch. Another groan followed as he carefully sat down beside her. “I really enjoyed our time, but I do have a task needing to be done. Hopefully, if we ever meet, it shall be when time is less smothering to me – and to you.” Nikoias gently turned her face towards his, and gave her one st kiss where the spherical gag and her lips bulged forth the glossy bckness, then with a swift strike at her nape where the bck colr parted ways from brushing against her oily neck, he knocked Birgit out.
He heaved her up, in his arms like a princess and gently tucked her inside a small compartment space built into wall, sealed by a metallic door sliding into the wall. As a domed hill arose vertically in the center of her pants, a carnal desire for a second round, a foolish thought that time was on his side borne in his mind the moment the dam broke and white fluids with a hint of rouge began to flow out thinly, from beneath the bck tape that clung to her vulva without relenting in its tight vigil. “Another time.” Nikoias whispered as he pressed the button and sealed the moaning, whimpering drengriar into the small, compartmentalized room.
Thankfully, the room she left the bound and gagged stygian was not far from the stairs. Nikoias hastily walked down, but stopped just before the door leading into near-utter darkness. Beneath and beyond it, he sensed at least four lively presences amongst the hundred fading, and he inhaled the cold, suffocating air that lingered at the turn, and the vast corridor system just within an arm’s reach. A nguid dragon’s arm, but a dragon’s nonetheless.
Two were at least in the dark corridor betwixt the cells, motionless like sleeping statues, their gazes as he perceived it, never wavering, never moving away from what id and stretched before them. Though at first, he grasped his dagger’s handle, he slid it back into its sheath and walked down the st few steps, his faux form gradually shifting into a state of imperceptibility and invisibility Leaning out, the darkness diffused a little, just enough to spot the two guards standing still, their arms folded behind their back, their stern, bored gazes pierced the shadows. “Just two. As expected, they are still sure about the fidelity of their Aegis Doctrine!”
One guard was a short, bulky dwarf with long, braided beard and short trimmed hair, both a vivid auburn with hints of gray, the other a much taller, leaner naurdian man clearly in his early thirties with short, bck hair trimmed to reveal his sharply contoured ears – more draconic than elven – with a thick bush of tresses dangling above his stretched, small sky-blue eyes, veiling the thin and sharp brows. His face was quite… common, average looking and it was clearly shaven out of embarrassment from the spotty nature of his beard’s growth, as a few remained valiantly at the corners of his face.
Nikoias reached into his pocket void and pulled forth a small, steel device. Its surface engraved with geometrical runes including triangles, pentagons and even spheres. Each carving colpsed deeply into the heart of the device, in the thick lined cavities, a sinister purple glow lit the gloom and washed onto the metallic walls in its shapeless grace revealing further, more runic sylbles keeping the spell from pouring out and affecting the user until they pour their intent into the trigger – a small trimmed crater on what he assumed to be the top. “Let’s hope neither of them are the sensory types.”
His right thumb pressed into the crater, he closed his eyes and channeling a bit of his mana into the arcane point wedged in his arm by the Gods, Nikoias threw the device on the corridor’s floor and let it sweep silently across the floor. The light throbbed harder with each meter passed, it gave out no sound as it marched towards the two drengriars who stood still, unaware of the device rolling straight towards the door betwixt them. “Huh?” The dwarf uttered as he spotted it st in the lower corner of his sight as it stopped at st. “Shit.” He uttered at once, and his body shifted into a running stance with his long beard flowing, dangling. But it was too te.
For a moment, the whole area lit up, including the thick, bck grated gates on each side, revealing husks resting in their meager beds – a dirty sheet on the cold ground. Even the bright, amber glow of the torches and glowstones were smothered by the spell’s shapeless, stretching luminosity. And the two colpsed with whimpers escaping their lips, the thuds of their bodies violently coming onto the floor echoed across the corridor and even reached Nikoias’s position on the stairs. “Rest well, soldiers!” He murmured as he stepped into the utter gloom, and walked towards them, his right golden hand ready, curled into a fist in case the spell was detected, or the two’s hitting the floor were heard.
The one miscalcution of his was the snoring symphony the two guards generated, muffled mildly by their beards and the cold floor. “Was it…right here? Oh yeah, right there.” Stepping between them, he pinched the widening nose of the dwarf, one golden finger pointed and poking his cheek. A miniscule needle came forth and entered the rough skin, just where the skin shuddered from the snore. A short murmur escaped the dwarf, and total silence was one step closer between the bck walls. Nikoias quickly grabbed the sleeved arms of the dwarf and after a bit of struggling, crossed them on his back. Two, soft clicks echoed one after the other through the barely lit darkness, followed by the momentary scream of sealing tape, and a sound closely simir to blowing out a dry nose without a paper handkerchief.
“Sorry.” He once more uttered in a low whisper as he watched the glossy bck tape tighten onto the lips and the surrounding beard. Nikoias was quite experienced at the feeling of tape pulled off a bearded face – he himself lived through the painful experience at least a dozen times during the Great War.
With the dwarf secured and pulled up to the wall, his taped face colpsed onto his dress shirt colr loosely buttoned out, Nikoias turned his attention to the other snoring guard. He quickly repeated the same process and before he walked to the door, a bit frugally but wrapped four yers around their ankles. He stood back up and walked back a bit, taking a look at the two bound and gagged guards. “Should be hard enough to notice them.” He took a mental note, looking around, listening in the dim junction.
Palms pressed against the metallic door, Nikoias’s eyes bulged and yers upon yers of silent inscriptions flown into the gilded pearls with hints of emerald dancing in them. Each yer moved and manifested concurrently, the first turned the opaque grayness translucent, the second veiled the tides of mana one could easily sense like gentle wind brushing their nape or hair. Beyond the rough metallic door, a moderate room stared back at him, walls tainted by dry blood and even bones. It was furnished frugally, as expected from such rooms, as there was only a table with various appliances that made even Nikoias sweat a little, and the chair to which Myshkaghar was bound to with straps, and thick, dry ropes coiling around like vicious serpents, cutting into his dark bluish, blemished skin.
Behind him, like a fox circled the sorceress, the seasoned interrogator Ingiawen – a star elven volvaeth. Her skin, pale as the moon, dappled with light violet glistened under the faint white light of the glowstone, her hair a silken bush of curly waves, dark and mesmerizing as opals shadowed by the night sky. The Ormieth Type-III overcoat cascaded down her lean form with a discipline of its own, the silken soft cloak brushed against the surface with its dark trimmed edges evoking a sense of unity with the rest, and the asymmetrical, and the asymmetrical funnel shaped colr folded down elegantly like a napkin on the table of nobles, the jet bck colrs buttoned out and bereft of the necktie arose between them about her neck, loosely spreading over the lining that crept halfway towards the trims.
Then she stopped suddenly and her eyes, a silver pearl embedded into a pond of luminous night sky moved on to the dark elf whose eyes lost their dark shine, their austerity he remembered the day they met first – hired to eliminate a rat within the Bratva. Strangely, it was also the day he first met his current contractor, the half dark elf whose name evaded him, even then.
Her palms touched his temples, and if not for the tight bindings, Myshkaghar would have leapt from the chair, onto the floor as shadows crawled from beneath the even, round cuffs of her sleek dress shirt, and penetrated the dark skin effortlessly. His mouth stretched agape, yet no scream passed it or the wall, his crimson pupils retreated to the confines of his head, searching vainly for some respite.
The haunting expression remained even when Nikoias kicked the door open and rushed inside, engulfed in an aura that pced him in a faster stream of time. To Ingiawen, he resembled a blurred mass faintly matching the outlines of a silhouette, whites, bcks and golden mingled and danced as she conjured a translucent, etheric bubble around her form in a vain effort sensing the golden fist heading for her. And it connected to her nape, disturbing the smooth peace of her cloak, pushing the napkin folded colr, and at once she felt a jolt travel and tense all her muscles. A sudden drowsiness took her over, and she crumbled like a castle bombarded by a torrent of a dragon’s fiery breath.
“Sleep well.” Nikoias blurted out standing over her. He quickly grabbed her by the arms and dragged her around Myshkaghar who reeled from a nauseous headache. Wasting no more time, he walked back to the dark elf on the cusp of vomiting. Dagger in hand, he stood before him and with a single swipe, cerated the flesh, cut the brittle bone in his throat and let the rhodolite blood pour forth onto the robes and scar decorated chest. He watched as the former head of the Bratva thirsted for air, his lips parted as much as his physically possible, yet no voice came from them except the intermittent gargling before silence fell onto the room.
When it did, he turned back to Ingiawen and kneeled down, gently patting her down, taking the few vials and roll of silver sealing tape from her pockets, then turned her onto her sides. With her wrists locked, his golden tips tore wide open the tape and attached it without missing to her cuffs, covering both straps. A few wraps ter, he used his fang like teeth to sever the tape and let the dangling piece attach itself to the rest whilst he quickly moved and wrapped her ankles. A st, long strip came off the role and he wounded it across her soft cheeks and watched a bit excitedly as her wide, lustrous dark lips bulged forth the glossy silver surface before he turned and left the interrogation room.
Almost immediately, he returned with the dwarf, then with the naurdian. He stood still, listened and sensed and after being sure no one except the prisoners remained near them, he positioned the trio against their backs and attached the peeled-out tape against Ingiawen’s shapely, bulging bosom. Not wanting to feel awkward, he inscribed the tape with telekinesis and took a step back as he watched the roll circle around, and push the three against each other with each glossy yer until he walked back and with swift strike, severed the tape.
Pushed against the doorframe, he listened to the crinkling of the tape as it tightened around the three moaning on the floor. Once more he extended his detection and made sure he won’t run into a patrol heading out nor will the three’s eventual moans be heard before he makes it out. Nikoias took one more look at the corpse, burned the image of it including the spider mark on his chin, then stole from shadow to shadow until he reached the stairs, and began formuting his route out from the dread fort of Vissborg…
Author's Note:
And so here is the the third and st part of this short story. A bit te, but well here it is.
And with a bit of smut, though once again I cut it a bit as I wasn't happy with the results if I am being honest. Plus I'd rather dedicate a full chapter instead of being a segment in a story.
Also, I didn't want to mention this, but this one is part of what I call now, the Underworld stories. As per the name implies, these stories will involve various not so legally operating organizations like the Noyachny Bratva, the Triads of the Midnight Isles and a few others. May even include the rebels, revolutionaries of the world, but honestly those will also feature in the Cabal stories.
Anyhow, speaking of the future. Next months' first two stories are nearly done, both set in the Void Between Worlds to expand beyond the skies of Heleion, featuring a new faction, new races. Well sort of new races with a nguage of their own - nothing on Tolkien's level - that slows the writing a bit down.
The third story on the other hand is yet to be even outlined, drafted up. Probably will do on the weekend. The only thing I know is that it shall focus on the Raven Eyes, but not sure which group as I want to expand on some old faces [on the Eoran side].
Anyhow I am hungry, so thank you all for reading this and hope you all enjoyed this short story. Till the next one, take care and have a fine rest of november.
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