Loud throttling permeated the elevator room, mingling with the fresh, bitter aroma oozing from the small jug filled to the brim. Synnotial hissed as she grabbed it by the sides, the jolt of searing torn her from the thoughts swiveling within her mind. Thoughts that kept her from getting lost in the sea of finely pressed letters contained by the hard covered book sleeping open on the counter’s marble bed. She should have been shot down. There will be plenty prisoners in this war.
On one hand, she could understand the curiosity of the higher ups in regards of the Federation’s races. Strange, humanoids who worshipped gods in the past with simir portfolios as the Gods of Heleion, yet if Myelia watched over them, why they couldn’t bend the world to their will like the people of Heleion. Why was magic limited to their strange forms. Humanoids called gnomes shorter than dwarves, humans with queer complexions and eyes containing conjoined twin-pupils. Some even had a singur nostril. Large bipedal animals with high intellect and a race of octopi with hair of tendrils, beaked mouths and arced folds slit into their cheeks by nature – or by fickle, divine hand.
As the pain slowly subsided her mind remained on the alien prisoner – better known amongst the station’s personnel as Prisoner-771. It is too strange. Why didn’t she tried to escape into the meteoroid ring? Just four days before the small Federation fleet showed up to cim Viurvitake from the Dominion, a lone smaller vessel of their suddenly appeared on the sensor of the Voidstation. Nothing out of the ordinary at first as scouts were expected, and this time around Thegrith Iseult ordered the capture of the pilot.
At least twelve small vessels – thopters and a few wraiths – flew out from the gargantuan incomplete torus of the Beholder Css-XIII Voidvessel and in less than an hour captured the vessel and its guider. Peering out at the very same vessel that hovered in the inhospitable nothingness, Synnotial recalled the calm countenance reflected in the U-cut frame of her dense hair – and for a fraction of a moment, she remembered the faint, hidden smile of a hunter appearing on the queer lips. At least if there is anything amiss, Ogul will notice and take care of her.
A sigh escaped her as she looked at her own reflection faintly appearing on the pristine window. For a moment Synnotial searched for blemishes in her short, machite green hair cut in an A-line bob style, elegantly framing her snow-white visage with eyes matching the deep blue shade of her dress shirt’s colrs. When she found none, a sigh escaped her as she stared at the steam arising, dancing before the bck wall.
Then she let it be, and walked back towards the counter. “Maybe I’ll check on them in a few minutes. They ain’t that far away.” She murmured to herself just when she gently fitted her bottom onto the chair’s padded, soft seating that moaned as the two rejoined, even her anxious heart soothed by the warm that still occupied the creaseless, surface reminiscent of a meager crater formed by twin curves.
To further loosen up, distance herself from these near paranoid thoughts, she untied her cravat and buttoned down her dress shirt to the neck, letting its long and angur leaves stretch in the narrow space of the coat’s double colr, brushing against the snow silvery silken lined walls. She threw the limp cravat rested atop the counter, right near her Sngfel Type-VI wand pistol – that vaguely resembled a basilisk thanks to the rear and front sights resembling the horns of one snting inwards. Just looking at its heptagonal barrel, the blood within her body boiled surreptitiously, beckoning her to check on them.
Just in case. With that thought, she threw the book back once more and practically leapt onto her feet. A loud thud echoed in the hearty elevator room as the thick soles impacted the vibrant oaken panels neatly welted, melded together. One hand on the rectangur handle, index around the trigger with thin lines of mana flowing like rivulets in the finger – Synnotial stepped into the corridor, and waited until the door hissed shut behind. In that moment, she could even hear her own breathing mingling with the quiet moans of leather, cold murmurs of the metallic silken.
***
Silence. Complete silence stole across the wide corridor, doors stood in silence, cells neatly sequestered. In any other day, it would be the perfect example of how a corridor for a prison section should look like, but not on this very day, and at that moment when Synnotial’s mind was screaming at her senses that something was greatly amiss with this situation.
She heard no breathing, no soft moans, leathery crinkling of Izelle’s coat and pants as she usually was incapable of standing still. Synnotial enjoyed that sound – a very minor reason, but one nonetheless of why she joined the Bck Roses so many centuries ago. The day she watched a marching column of Bck Roses trampling across the wide streets of the city she grew up in, the first seeds of her enlistment burrowed into her mind, sprouting not long after when she witnessed a dark dracorith skjaldmaerith cut down the wild dragon who decided to attack the city on the command of a rogue mage.
But as she made careful steps towards the turn, heading to Cell-771, a nostalgic tide hit her. Synnotial recalled her first assignment, back then as a vordriar of the Bck Host branch. Her battalion was reassigned from Naireanth to the small nation of Breurian, in the city of Torheuvel. A small spy vessel crashed with most of its crew dead as she learned ter, except for the two spies who infiltrated the city, and left her bound and gagged in one of the small cupboards. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. But now the corridor reminded her of the headquarter, and the same anxiousness twinged her spine with its cold hands.
Without even noticing it, Synnotial did not make a proper turn, but amidst a soft whimper and cnking, she pressed her right shoulder against the cold, bck wall and peeked out, hoping to see the temperamental sraudornian. I knew it. She thought bitterly as instead of seeing the eye-catching dusky beauty, only the shut door met her gaze. Instinctively, she bit her meaty lower lip – glistening in a deep azure shade like her nails. Quickly she retrieved her Sngfel Wand Pistol from its holster and at once, mauve and azure runes appeared along its peculiar, full metallic surface.
Synnotial’s eyes darted left and right, up and down whilst making sure she made as little noise as possible. Where are the others? The thought entered her mind as she took a short gnce towards the next turn. They should have passed by now? Besides Izelle and her, there were two more Ginnungriaths posted on this level – a tall feyfolken with a storm of hair red as the afternoon sun during the summer and a petite arghyrian with glossy olive skin, a refined aquiline nose and dense birch brown updo.
As a translucent wave exited her bust and passed through the thick doors and walls, the sudden awareness etched into her mind the two standing face to face, talking about the battle unfolding not a Dimensional Fold away from them. Should I call for them? No, I’d have to pass, allowing her to slip away… not like she could travel far. She lied to herself as her anxiousness slowly transformed into thrill and realization that solving this situation could lead to her elevation into the rank of Skjaldmaerith.
It is not quite on the same level as foiling the attempt of sabotage during the Bombardment of Aion-II – a small celestial vessel where the Federation mined Azuroid’s deep beneath the strange earth. Or when she reacted in haste at the enemy’s attempt to poison their miners on the mining colony of Iriudon-III. At worst, I’ll be half a foot inside. Warm breath brushed against her lips, she slowly licked them whilst lined up to the wall, wand pistol ready whilst sensing the two motionless Sisters still alive behind the closed door.
That trick won’t work on me. And Nakariun in the upper left corner like a spider waiting for its pray to fly into the web. Hoary mist and dew on the metal followed the tip of her fingers as she drawn them across the reflective metal door. On the other side, ice followed and thickened as it slowly crept towards aothdheiko agent.
“Avruk ebtelé! (Fucking hell!)” As the ice coldly seared her palms and soles, Nakariun yelled loud enough that it penetrated the thick metallic walls. She leapt down on to the floor, and as soon as she heard the hissing of the door, her right leg turned etheric. Palm supporting her hourgss form, she blindly kicked backwards, and she bit her tongue to smother the scream when her foot broke through thick yers of ice taking the shape of a round shield. Ignoring the pain, she rolled under the bed as the ice crept into her jumpsuit, and its myriads upon myriads of jaws gnawed at her flesh. ?Just keep fucking still for both of our sakes!” Synnotial yelled, smothered by the explosion of the mana bullet sending thorny winds in all directions. Dew grew on the glossy silver tape circling around Ogul’s ankles, pushing them against the half-frozen chair.
Nakariun rolled out, her form fully etheric and blurring with each motion she made. Within two seconds, her left foot passed through the second conjured Shield of Ice, and kicked the wand pistol out from Synnotial’s right hand, sending it into her jaw. For a moment her visioned blurred, but managed to regain her composure and grabbed onto the etheric, nightly bck ankle and smmed Nakariun into the wall. Once more the scream had no chance to part her lips, though this time it was more out of her ribcage gently pressing into her triumvirate of lungs.
Whilst she curled besides the bed, Synnotial stepped onto her throat, whilst her eyes searched for the pistol that slid under the bed after it bounced off her tapering chin. It took not much for Nakariun to properly breath again, even if a bit of blood mixed with the exiting air, and with an empowered push, freed herself from the yoke of the thick sole. In the heat of the moment, she leapt onto her feet and grabbed the mildly filing snow elf, and smmed her in the head, breaking her slender, aquiline nose – which got repaired right before her eyes. Though her consciousness leapt out from her the moment forehead connected to her pretty face.
“Pézs takomlá! (Sweet dreams!)” Nakariun held her close, whispering with her face contorting from the pain of uttering each word, each sylble. Then threw her onto the bundled Izelle who let out a muffled groan when the weight of the snow elven Giggungriath arrived unexpectedly.
Before the much-enjoyed process of securing the unconscious Synnotial, Nakariun peered out from the door, her star shaped ears twinging as she listened, surveyed for the faint thumbing of approaching boots. Feeling sure that the other two guards won’t be disturbing her, she turned back pulling out the roll of silver sealing tape and ripping it open wide, stretching her left arm even towards the ceiling. Its loud and soft screech echoed, followed by the murmur of leather as the sticky side csped strongly onto the seamlessly smooth dragonidh leather surface. And it squealed at least fifteen or so times as she wrapped it from the ankles up to the knees.
As she drawn her hands across the yers of glistening textile, its soft whisper stirred her round nether region, and the miniscule feelers that lined the dark, moisty walls were jolted by a tinge of excitement. Simirly, Synnotial let out a sensuous groan as her legs pressed against each other, her tender skin brushed by the aetherna silken lining of the trousers. Nakariun bit her lips as she hovered over the snting guard whose face was buried between the deep, blue-opal colrs embroidered with arcane runic patterns and the double-funnel colr sprouting from the roundish neck of the coat. Still, she allowed a momentary kiss on the lips as she tore off a long strip.
Slowly, she attached the left end onto the soft, unblemished left cheek, white as the snow and folded it across. A moan escaped Synnotial when Nakariun pressed the tape onto her lips with her right palm and watched as the wide lips were drawn on the crinkled, gleaming surface inviting for another short kiss. But she resisted, took a deep breath and rolled the skielfrith onto her back and folded her arms onto each other. This time, aware that her time was dwindling, she wrapped it around, and around until the two pressed tightly onto each, signaled by the cacophony of tape and leather squealing, a short, husky and muffled whimper as the numbness in her arms sprouted at the wrists resting atop each other.
Still, there was a momentary break on her part as she could no longer hold back. A loud sp echoed through the cell as her palm connected with great force onto the shapely cakes swelling in a lustrous leathery coating. A curse escaped Nakariun when a loud and muffled groan mingled with the sp, but as she remained still and listening, no sound of approaching steps entered her ears hidden behind the thick, milk white waterfalls. And as she listened, her hands seemed to follow her desires as they fondled the shapely, firm thighs honed through centuries of practice and service. They were like a stress relief rubbery ball – just shaped like near perfect thighs.
Slowly, Nakariun lifted Synnotial into the air, and onto her shoulder before walked over the wall, stopping beside the still unconscious Ogul who started softly snorting, muffled by the spherical gag wedged between her lips. As she looked at her, a realization hit her that the Heileth was an orc much altered by the famed Bck Rose Concoction that practically turned her into a fanged elf. The thought of losing a bit of herself, sobered her from the lewd state she fallen into gradually as she spent almost two hours with nothing but binding.
She quickly pced down the lightly trussed up Synnotial onto the floor, her back against the wall. Her deep set eyes turned into a deep bck with a disk like formation of etheric tendrils swirling, rotating inwards as she searched for the neck joint. A muffled yelp came from Synnotial as Nakariun’s hand stroke at the point, her body twitched and went limp as her heads slumped down, back to the silken embrace of her colrs. From her breast pocket, she retrieved the keystone necessary for the activation of the elevator doors and left the trio inside, not even looking back as the door hissed shut.
As she snuck past the turns carefully and vigint towards the elevator room, a small contingent of Ginnungriaths headed towards the elevator – wand pistols and shock wands ready – on the level above…
Author's Note:
And another one ends. Though honestly, this part was a bit more challenging.
At first, I pnned for Nakariun to head directly to the elevator room where she would have been forced into a one-on-one fight. But it seemed too action piece like for an assassin/spy so instead I sent Synothial to look for her two Sisters who haven't yet reported/returned.
That way I could do a bit of worldbuilding. So one of the major differences is the magic system these factions, these people operate on. Heleion is more of... well more of the traditional spellcasters whilst the Federation can practically just buff themselves in the simplest way to say it out loud. So their technologies - at least in my head - and fashion is more scifi inspired rather than fantasy.
Simirly, and this will be highlighted further in the next story, the Heleion Vessel's are designed after various monsters. Like the Dragon-Css vessels which are the primary battlecruisers of the northern nations, the Beholder Css which is a bit mixed with SW's Lucrehulk cause I like that ship. And there is the Roper-Css which will be featured in the next story - Back and Forth.
But that is all, I'll end the rambling here. Thank you for reading and hope you all enjoyed this story. The next one will be up on patreon after I do a st minute proofread, and then next weekend in two parts. Till then take care and have a nice week before the holidays!
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