Well, the chapter is ALMOST finished - only two small scenes to go and one larger, but they need some proper wording, thinking and formatting, so I'm putting up this version because I may not be able to finish the chapter today.

I'd also like to say I had a big change of heart regarding my other fanfics... It appears I can continue to write for now despite this being my last week of vacation, but more importantly, certain readings and playing prompted me to actually invest time into my Dragon Age fanfic. Therefore, I will start posting it starting today. "A heart shrouded by darkness" is still a priority unless the response will be far greater to the other fanfic and not to this one. I will try to invest time and creativity into both, but imagination is a bitch, so I don't exactly know when the urge to write on which one will strike me.

This is the finished version of chapter 16. The added part is marked by a series of ||| signs.


Enjoy.

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Chapter XVI
Death and Debauchery

Maenaz breathed heavily and sat down on the nearby stone.
It wasn't such a hard battle, it's just he couldn't believe all the steps he had taken to ensure he would get to kill a member of the Neverwinter Nine...

Whom he didn't even know. He was young, a half-elf and surely recruited only recently. And now, he was dead due to the simple facts that he had joined the stupid group and was too weak to fight the man that vowed to kill all the members of the Nine.

And who just so happened to join a drow matron to complete this quest, then kill her and condemn her followers to possible death in a land they did not know nor understand. In fact, she had to die because he dumped her in favor of an ancient archdevil who claimed not to be a Baatezu and his quite original group of followers, of which some were pretty scary and incredibly powerful.

All this, and he had only killed a single member of the Neverwinter Nine.
Scratch that and make it two, except Morax said he confirmed that Neverwinter Nine was currently in its full squad of nine.
However, the fact he learned so much and the fact that Samael was so quickly able to give him a clear shot at a Neverwinter Nine with barely a couple of other people involved (and dead) was promising. He hoped he could eventually launch a full-scale attack at the city, but for that, he'd probably need to do something really incredible to help Samael. Something which probably was directly related to that plan he was referring to.

Maenaz, of course, knew the plan was most probably a thoroughly evil scheme which involved people dying or becoming evil/insane/food for whatever evil beast Samael meant to use/sacrifices for a major vile ritual. Choose the appropriate, but not neccesarily scratch the other ones out.

["At the moment, it feels like I've commited the most vile atrocities for sake of murdering a few people. That's not really even revenge, is it? Well, it is, but only on a personal scale. It'd only really matter if it was Nasher lying here in a pool of blood."]

He quickly reassured himself that soon, he'd have a more thorough revenge against those he wanted dead, and got up from his stone.

Time to move back to the Gate.


Out of all the fiends in the Outer Planes, Yugoloths are possibly the most inhuman and the most purely evil. Their forms, minds, and powers as well as views on “Hierarchy” are vastly different than those of Baatezu or Tanar’ri. They also think differently, not truly and actually caring about racial or physical differences, not slaves to their emotions and desires like the Demons or to the politics of their home plane like their devilish kin.
No, Yugoloths are apathetic, empty vessels of evil, fanatics who would do everything to further the case of darkness if they didn’t also embody another aspect of human misery : Selfishness. Yugoloths are egoistic to the extreme and that is the aspect that does not allow them to stop the Blood War, unite all evil under their banner and finally make the Existence as they thought it should be. At least, that’s what it seems to some. Few minds are as alien to a mortal like a mind of a yugoloth. It appears even an archfiend like Samael initially had problems with establishing himself amongst Yugoloths, due to their mastery of manipulation and their mysterious goals, and yet, he finally managed to do so. Apparently, a fallen celestial also managed to do so, if to a lesser extent.
And then, it was easy to conclude that a mortal, no matter how smart or powerful, was relatively unable when compared to beings such as Samael or this “Malkizid”, and as such, to yugoloths, might be seen as little more than marionette.
Also, Yugoloths have a vastly different attitude towards souls than most other fiends do. Apparently, they are content to let the Night Hags, Baatezu and Tanar’ri take what little souls can be taken into the Lower Planes from Toril as larvaes, since they themselves rarely make their own kind from petitioners, if ever. Still, their numbers are great enough to rival or overwhelm the Baatezu, if not quite exactly the numerous Tanar’ri.
Maenaz did not manage to discern how they spawned if not with the use of petitioners, but he was beginning to understand more and more about their hierarchy.
Apparently, while the yugoloth themselves had certain slave creations who might be considered below their position, the lowest-ranked yugoloths are insect-like, six-limbed mezzoloths. Apparently, they have little to do with the overall intelligence of the higher eschelons of the yugoloth race, and more possibilities for demotion, than for promotion.

Yes, that was the sickest thing. While Baatezu employed the brainless Lemures as their cannon fodder and the Tanar’ri had manes, dretches and rutterkins to abuse in their armies, the Yugoloths created perfectly capable, if not truly smart, and often quite skilled warriors with the intent to punish and demote them rather than give them the opportunities to grow. There were apparently quite a few forms a mezzoloth could be demoted into, some, he heard, developed quite recently. He knew that the dreadful, doglike canoloths were one such option of a demotion. Apparently, the demoted yugoloths usually lost any hope of ever climbing on the ladder of the yugoloth society again, and while their intelligence often diminished, Maenaz was quite sure most of them knew quite well their status and could probably despair over it, just for the sadistic pleasure of the higher-ranked Yugoloths.

He speculated that if yugoloths had any of their ranks risen from petitioners of Hades or mortal souls they somehow taken from the gods of his world, they would probably find themselves often in these forms. He was sure the fiends would appreciate the irony – the mighty warriors, wizards, politicians and the like selling their souls in attempts to gather more power and ensure themselves an afterlife in the form of powerful evil creatures, only to be demoted into nearly-mindless slaves.
Above the mezzoloth, at least theoretically, are the dergholoths. Their form is sometimes also a form of punishment for failure in case of certain higher-ranked fiends, but most often, it is only a form of advancement for the lowest yugoloths. The irony of the form is that while the dergholoth’s mind is free to improve at last, its body, while at least as powerful as a mezzoloths and quite suited for battle with five arms and three legs that make it nearly impossible to push it over, is not really capable of much development. It looks like a freaking mutant, in fact – a round, ball-like body, insectile head, five hands and three legs. Maenaz recalled once summoning Dergholoths when they attacked the base of svirfneblin race, but then, he did not know what they were.
Apparently, one of the few ways a Mezzoloth can advance to a Dergholoth himself is to grow more powerful through constant fighting and then realize with its limited intellect that it has grown more powerful than his dergholoth superior, killing him afterwards in a straight battle. That’s why the forms are extremely close in power to each other, though each one has its own advantages and disadvantages.
Piscoloths are the form dergholoths are advanced into, and they’re apparently a position whose ranks are most often changed – many of them die due to the plots of those below themselves and lack of any particular care from their superiors. Piscoloths have pincers, a tail of a fish and hunched bodies that end with an inhuman head that resembles some sort of aberration. Those who survive the constant dangers of supervising yugoloth forces, both from outside and from inside, may find themselves in a yet higher form, which is a break from constant direct combat – a hydroloth, which is first and foremost a scout or a similar role. They’re invulnerable to the mind-wiping powers of River Styx and as such, are quite useful, yet their original power is apparently below that of an average Piscoloth, if not much so and with abilities more useful under other circumstances than their previous form. They have an acidic spit, an ability to summon both their lesser yugoloth kin and evil water elementals formed from the tributaries of River Styx, and have a form that is rsembles a frog with some reptilian and fiendish traits, like a more dreadful incarnation of the Slaadi.

The hydroloths can evolve into one of other two forms, depending on their talents, associations, desires and abilities. Some go back onto the land, evolving into the dreadful, monstrous Yagnoloths. A Yagnoloth is a large, often red-tinted, almost humanoid creature with a horrid, ugly head that bears winglike ears and two arms that are different in size – one is small and slightly malformed, while the other is seemingly too large for its form and incredibly muscular. Word is, a yagnoloths greater arm is stronger than any other normal fiends’ arm in the Lower Planes, up to the ranks of balors and pit fiends.
Yagnoloths have the function of minor feudal lords and are even more hated than piscoloths, since they abuse both their position and physical power as possible, often attempting to eliminate lower-ranking fiends who grow close to them or even above them in physical or, more often, magical prowess. In terms of combat, Yagnoloths are apparently slightly less dangerous than cornugons, with greater physical strength, at least in one arm, about equal endurance, and lesser mobility and magical power.
Another option of evolvement is one that, while weaker in physical strength and about equal in magical prowess to the Yagnoloth is much safer and more peaceful way of Marraenoloth. They are the ferrymen of the River Styx, much like the hydroloths are the yugoloth’s eyes and ears in it. However, unlike the famed Charon, whom they quite strongly represent in appearance, marraenoloths are selfish, greedy bastards with a mercenary nature that often leads them into a situation in which they accept payment from two sources – one from the adventurers or planar creatures that want to buy the fiends’ services and another from those that try to hunt them down. As such, these ferrymen often lead people into traps and effectively, demise.
While some Marraenoloths serve Charon and other try to impersonate him, some of them struggle to get the rather uneasy advancement to a higher form, which is probably the only case of a true “jump” in yugoloth society.

Yagnoloths can eventually drop their feudal position in favor of becoming a greater creature, one that is counted among the three great yugoloth forms. Nycaloths are the yugoloth’s means of controlling the courses of Blood War battles and amongst their greatest warriors and scouts. Their form is that of a four-handed, carnivore-faced fiend with gargoyle-like wings and often green skin. Nycaloths are effectively more dangerous in combat than almost all Baatezu and Tanar’ri save for a few forms, like the Pit Fiend and maybe more powerful Gelugons for the devils and at least the rank of Marilith for demons.

Above Nycaloths are the diabolically cunning magicians of the race, the Arcanaloths, who retain the carnivore-like faces of nycaloths and often resemble dogs, but their intellect is more akin to that of a pit fiend than the old, animal friend of men. Their build resembles that of a human, and they’re less physically imposing than many of the previous forms. They plan and coordinate the yugoloth efforts in the Blood War, with only the enigmatic Ultroloths above them. Arcanaloths can be promoted from both Nycaloths and Marraenoloths, the latter of which represents the only true large jump in power and station as far as yugoloth hierarchy goes that isn’t almost impossible to accomplish. Normally, a yugoloth only ascends into a form that is one tier higher.
Ultroloths are said to be amongst the greatest of fiends, whose mind and arcane power is superior to that of Balors and Pit Fiends even if their physical strength is not. Ultroloths universally resemble each other, and can only be distinguished by their clothing or, for more acquainted, manners of movement or speech. The most powerful ones can also develop unique marks on their body or unique glow in their eyes, but overall, they resemble each other greatly – over 6 feet tall, faceless humanoid with gray skin and glowing eyes. Ultroloths prefer telepathy to any language.
Some believe that above the Ultraloths rank the enigmatic progenitors of the Yugoloth race, but Maenaz highly doubted it – if it was so, they would probably have the might of a Solar, and such a group would be difficult to hide. Also, ultroloths seemed to have developed an unique, unnatural way of advancement through a pact with the Night Hags, but those who took advantage of it were often seen as traitors and exiles.


Maenaz learned all this during his studies with Hebiriel, and he felt he gained a lot from the new mentor-apprentice relation with the winged snakelike fiend (if he was one). He confirmed his hidden talent as a Duskblade, even though he could not yet cast Duskblade spells, and he also brushed up on both his Abyssal and Infernal languages, which may be useful if he was to have any more missions in the Lower Planes. Also, he finally realized why Morax was so precious – his different eye color proved that he was exceptional even for an Ultroloth, and to be exceptional in a caste whose members were at least as powerful as Balors and Pit Fiends meant a lot.
He also intended to squeeze more knowledge about other members of the Seven from the snake – like what kind of creature was he, or why Samael claimed not to be born a devil, or what rank of devil Euryale was before she became… what she was now. If he could learn the powers of her original form, he might discern why she managed to influence his thoughts so easily.

Maenaz then completely lost himself into the book of spells he was reading, fully intent on casting his first Duskblade spell as fast as possible, before Hebiriel said Lord Samael wanted to see him.

Another task. Good.


Xardas walked out of the tower.
He was quite regularly attacked during the few days he spend studying, but by now was pretty sure the Death Giant might have been the most powerful being in the city. Even if not, the lord of Northern Shadow Undrentide was far more powerful than any usual denizens of the city, and as such, he was rather safe during his studies.
And these proved fruitful. Both his draconic heritage and his arcane abilities were getting further awakened.
And now, he felt ready to take down the remaining two Lords of Undrentide and fulfill his plan of bringing a small part of the Shadow Plane under the control of his Goddess.
Xardas turned south, eager to prove he was the most powerful being in the Shadow Undrentide.

But was he?


Maenaz learned he was expected to be prepared to set out on a mission anytime, as he was going to be tasked with pursuing someone whose specific location was to be determined soon. All he learned was that the purpose will be to recover a certain artifact and that he will most likely be send into the Concordant Domain of the Outlands, which meant he would finally be visiting the most neutral plane of all.
Currently, he was engaged in deeper studying with Hebiriel. The snake-like creature was further tutoring him on the Infernal language and his Duskblade magic, but Maenaz found he still lacked that final bit of… something… to sucessfully and completely cast a spell. He could unleash magical energy and he had a general idea of how this magic worked, but he was still at least a few hair breadth’s away from actually using the magic of the ancient elven order.
Duskblade magic was way different from his warlock abilities. It required far more thought and concentration, and Maenaz believed that it was in ways very similar to typical, wizard abilities. It’d make sense, since elves were far more often wizards than sorcerers or, gods forbid, warlocks.
The member of the Nefarious Seven then told him to take a break since he was soon to be send on a mission and straining himself wouldn’t help at all. Maenaz, however, was eager to progress, and decided that within the next two days, he would fully awaken his arcane power as a Duskblade. For the moment, he decided to indulge the creature’s “worry”, but he would quickly return to his training the moment he left.
And he still had certain questions.
- If you insist, I’ll take a break from the training... However, I’d like to ask you something.
- What is it, warlock?
- I know most truly high-ranking servants of Samael are either devils of yugoloths, but that is not always the case…
- And your point is?
- Let’s take the current members of the “Nefarious Seven”… Though, currently it might as well be called “Nefarious Five”. It’s members are… mostly enigmas for me. Morax is an Ultroloth, that much is obvious, but the rest? Veniseria might be just an extremely powerful Night Hag, but that leaves you, a creature I cannot quite identify, Euryale, whom I know is a devil, but I have no idea of what kind, and Samael, who claims never being a true Baatezu in the first place. Also, Morax claimed one of the main army commanders is neither a fiend nor a mortal… Would you sate my curiosity and tell me what are the origins of these beings are?
- I don’t think we should talk about the last commander of the armies. That one is… hidden, and for the better. As for the rest… I don’t know if Lord Samael would approve, though, if he shows he continues to trust in you, I might grant you all the information you wish to know about the beings in the Keep, with a few exceptions. As for myself… I do not need to hide my origin. It might even be obvious to you, had you ever considered such a possibility. I am a couatl, however, my line are also descendants of a very powerful fiendish lord, and as such, I was more powerful than birth than many of my race and now developed further than most of them could ever hope for. As for Euryale… She retained some of the characteristics of her original form and got rid of others when she ascended to the position of a Duke of Hell and permanently morphed her original body and essence. It is doubtful you’ve ever heard of the kind of devil she was, as they are very secretive, but I will tell you about them in due time. As for Veniseria, she is a Night Hag, if an ancient one and born of a poweful bloodline – that’s how she got her position. Phenexia was a fallen Planetar, and Acanthophis was a Yuan-Ti halfblood that also happened to have carried some planar heritage. As for Lord Samael… I cannot reveal anything to you, except that, indeed, when he came into existence, it was not as a Baatezu.
- So, you’d only be willing to reveal more information to me once you were sure Lord Samael trusts me, or accepts it if you do?
- Yes, that is correct.
Maenaz nodded. That concluded his time with the snakelike creature… Couatl, today.
- That would be all, then. I’d go and prepare to depart. I’d rather do it quickly.
- Fine. Good luck, warlock.

He lied, of course. He wanted to try and cast a spell first, and then quickly eat and gather whatever he wanted to take. But, if the couatl knew that he lied, Maenaz wouldn’t be able to notice.
Just as he didn’t notice he called his archdevil ally “Lord Samael”.


The warlock paced through the corridors, searching for a quiet, sideways place where he wouldn’t be disturbed. He found himself increasingly interested with many of beings in the Gate.
What sort of monstrosity were Hebiriel and Samael discussing when he once caught them during their talk?What was Samael? What was the source of Sinnesia’s twin talents? What was the source of conflict between Euryale and Malacoda, and why the latter kept saying loyalty to Samael was “in her blood”? What was the fourth commander of Samael’s “armies”?
Those were just some questions that were lingering in his head. Part of him was glad that his curiosity allowed him to take some emotional weight off his insatiable desire for vengeance and instead put some focus into thought, training and the political relation’s within Samael’s citadel.
But, still, his objective’s were simple. Do his job, and then kill whomever Samael would make it possible for him to kill, or otherwise damage Neverwinter as appropriate.

Back in his chamber, Maenaz quickly ate whatever sort of strange meat-and-spice dish the Yuan-Ti here served to him and went to meditate and practice in a relatively private, shady area somewhere outside.
He was going to do whatever it takes to unlock these “new” powers as soon as possible, and as such, preferred not to waste time because he might “get tired”.

The warlock sat on the ground and begun to meditate, trying to gather his thoughts and finally get the magical energy that fueled Duskblade magic fully into his grip and under control. He knew it was a huge leap and many probably took years to awaken their power, especially seeing as so many Duskblades were Elves, but Maenaz wanted to get as powerful as possible as quickly as possible, and given his impatient attitude and huge experience, he was making tremendous progress on the path of awakening his power.

He knew that against the full might of all defenders of Neverwinter, “just” being a powerful warlock may not be enough.

The young human went into a trance as he started to focus the magical energy inside himself. He analyzed many times how to manipulate the energy and he knew he couldn’t be so far from casting a successful spell, so he repeated all the steps he knew he was doing right before he gathered all his concentration and tried to shape it fully into a spell he learned from Hebiriel’s books. Enserric’s blade started to shake with the strain of surging power and the part of the blade just above the blade gave of a blood red glow… Before he suddenly lost control and the spell backfired by producing mass of tiny, star-like, blood-colored sparks.
The spell failed.
He groaned and prepared to try again.


Xardas sliced through another Shadovar and stood in front of the entrance to the crypt that was apparently the second Lord’s base of operations. Well, it made sense for a poweful being from a Shadow Plane to live in a crypt, especially if it was undead or associated with them.
He blasted the doors open with a Flame Strike, as they seemed hard to get around, and slowly entered the crypt. It was dark and the air was stinking of rotting flesh. The walls were dark grey, except there was dried blood at too many spots on the walls and the floor.
He could feel there were spirits here, but nothing as powerful as Fateroth Wynn was. However, his senses were all ignited and he could feel tension in the air, so he decided to remain focused. This Lord probably wasn’t exactly what he considered a spirit, but his special sense somewhat reacted to his presence anyway.

Then, a lot of smaller presences appeared and started to close in on him. Xardas had a long fight ahead of himself.



Maenaz managed to contain his frustration so far, the composure allowing him to actually make progress with the whole spellcasting thing. Despite his lack of success so far, he wasn’t going to simply give up and stop trying.
He grabbed Enserric once again, despite feeling a twinge of exhaustion… No, it wasn’t exhaustion, it was something else – danger, maybe? – and he continued to stubbornly try to cast the spell he learned.
Only this time, Enserric finally got fully covered with magical energy before it started to pulse with quite dreadful, dark red glow.
That settled it. He was a Duskblade, and he could cast at least one spell apparently unique to them – the Blade of Blood. He’d probably have to train a bit more to use Duskblade spells in actual battle, but the fact that he COULD use them settled all doubts and made things easier.

Suddenly, he hear the sound of clapping hands, as if someone was giving him an applause and turned around to find the source of the sound.
Indeed, it appeared somebody has seen his training and the fact that he managed to cast a spell only available to an ancient order of elven warrior-mages was not really his secret.
He heard a voice.
- Congratulations, warlock. Being as powerful as you is already impressive, but holding two separate incredibly rare talents as one individual is simply amazing. I am shocked.
- Don’t get ahead of yourself… Euryale. My Duskblade abilities are still very weak, so there’s no point in…
- Getting excited over it? Indeed there is. Have you ever wondered whom did you get all this talent after? It would appear you come from some excellent, exquisite family, and yet, it seems you claimed it is otherwise.
- Indeed. No one in my family ever demonstrated warlock abilities, not to mention any elven blood I have is so diluted it’s a miracle I could ever become a Duskblade based on some inherited talent instead of years if not decades of training.
- And yet you have it. Whether it’s a complete joke of fate that these powers manifested in you, or whether it’s a fate that was brought upon you by the power of the gods or the flow of the Planes is irrelevant. What’s important is that you possess two rare talents many would do much to have. Your powers as a warlock are already very impressive, and you just fully activated another facet of your abilities. Summing it up, you’re extraordinary - a superior type of human.
- What are you getting at, devil?
- I thought I got that point through pretty well last time, human.


Maenaz felt a shiver run down his spine. Yes, of course. He remembered quite vividly.
- Why… are you putting such an effort? Why bother?
- You still don’t understand? You’re… fascinating to me. You intrigue me… In more ways than one.
- I still don’t understand why you would.
- I have quite the quirky tastes, but, if you were a fiend, what do you think you’d find most… appealing?

He paused for a moment, even though the answer was pretty much obvious to someone of his wit.
- Power.
- Yes. And if you add power to certain desires and quirks of mine, you get quite the explosive combination. And you fit all those perfectly…
She started to walk closer to him. He was being watchful for any sort of mental or magical compulsion this time, but could detect nothing.
- Last time, I could feel you wanted me too. You’re a male, I know how it works for you. There may be something stopping you know, like a stupid racial or cultural bias, or fear of my power, or lack of understanding, or something as foolish as chastity or fidelity, but you can and should let go of those inhibitions. Once you do, I promise you will be in for probably the best experience of your life. You don’t need to resist me, Maenaz.
- Euryale, this isn’t the time to…

Her pace increased and she was almost upon him, which made the situation eerily familiar. His mind was again getting slightly clouded and he kept wondering whether this was a natural effect of having a sex-crazed fiend in his private space or was it some extraordinary quality of hers. Instinctively, he moved away a bit, but of course, there wasn’t much space to retreat to.
She was sneaky like that, apparently.
- I don’t think our relations are good enough to engage in…
- Meaningless sex? Or, perhaps you are afraid that it won’t be so meaningless? I can really give you such extasy it will literally be mind-blowing. Though, I’ll confess to being far better at blowing other things.

[“How obvious can a double-entedre be?”]

- I really don’t think we should…
She got really close and he expected her to tackle him and go with all the aggressive approaches she used before, but instead, she put her hand on his shoulder and only pulled him slightly closer to herself, giving him a calm but silencing look.
- Look at yourself. Part of you wants one thing and some weird sense of “decency” will stop you from fulfilling your desires. You stumble at every word because you cannot decide on what you really want.
- I…
- I am right, ain’t I?

She moved her hand delicately to his chin, lifting it up as she leaned towards him, looking deeply in his eyes and sprouting her batlike wings that encircled him and covered him from the sides. He vaguely remembered that she wasn’t always sporting wings in her natural form – she could probably dispose of them without problem. Looking at her quite impressive height, being about four inches taller than her own Lord, and her rather… generous, if just to avoid saying thick, body type, he had a right to feel slightly…overwhelmed by her closeness – she was almost holding him in a relatively tender embrace, yet he was almost sure she had enough strength to try crushing the life out of him if she wanted to. In a way, the most intimidating thing about this state was the fact that these almost aberrant breasts of hers were sticking right in front of his face and shoulders as if to challenge him. With the closeness, he noticed another thing – maybe it was just the fact that the fiend was, in a way, all over him or just another trick played on his mind, but they seemed to literally radiate a quite pleasant warmth, even more so than the rest of the fiend’s overbearing body. With the wings added, she probably weighted at least four hundred pounds.
The bad thing was that eye contact was nearly impossible with them practically leaking out of whatever was at the moment covering them – mostly tight black clothing, at times something more armor-like – and being practically on the height of his head. He even suspected that might be the way Euryale liked and wanted it. She DID expose those mounds for a purpose, didn’t she?
He then heard her whisper in a sensuous, slightly husky voice.
- Am I not right, warlock?
- I… suppose you are.
- You know I am. I could really… satisfy you, you know? Fulfill all your needs, no, more than satisfy… I could overload your lusts with fulfillment and your senses with pleasure. That’s something no stupid little female of your race could truly do.

As she grabbed his hand and slowly pulled him even closer as she guided his palm, he could feel the increasing pressure and discomfort on his lower regions. There was no denying it, Euryale’s freakishly oversized feminine body structure and her lustful approach were making him aroused, and fast. But the biggest shock was only about to dawn on him as Euryale put his hand on her breast and pushed it into the soft flesh to make sure he get a good feel of it.
His eyes widened, his heartbeat went wild and the hardness in his pants begun to rapidly get close to the general consistency of a stone as she did so. The fiend just smiled at him.
- I knew it. You’re that type, huh? You can really appreciate big, soft chest mounds on a woman, isn’t that right? Go ahead, play with it. Use the other hand, even. I know you love those.
- But… I…

That was outside his ability to comprehend. He wasn’t so fixated on breasts, but maybe she was right… However, with both Euryale’s general body shape and her even otherwise big chest, her breasts were probably outside what everyone except for the greater breast fetishists considered their “comfort zone”. And yet, When Maenaz tried to withdraw his hand, he couldn’t. Not physically, only the hand did not actually want to respond to the “withdraw” order.
It was no illusion – her breasts were warmer than the rest of her body, and while the skin wasn’t as soft as it was on Valsharess’ breasts, the mere sensation of touching it making him want to do far more. The flesh under the fiendish hide, however, was definitely warm, soft, and inviting. He wanted to squeeze… Actually, he wanted to do many more things with it.
[“ There’s no way I can fucking withdraw my hand. And to think if I touched a human woman in such a way after such a short time of knowing each other, I’d probably get slapped or punched in the face. But… what the hell I’m supposed to do? Isn’t standing here with my hand on her tits about equal to agreeing to her advances? She’s not even my type of woman! Why can’t I… Maenaz, what the hell do you really want?!”]

His erect cock twitched in his pants and it took all of his will not to push his hips forward. All right, so he knew what his *lesser* head wanted. But to go into a bed with a fiend who was physically stronger and more imposing than him and probably generally mightier, that was beyond being unreasonable. It was insane, no matter how strongly he’d want to have sex with the fiend in question.
And while he now was pretty sure he *almost* wanted to have sex with Euryale, he was way too smart to simply do this at the spot.

So, he just stood there like an idiot, with his hand on the female fiend’s outrageously large breast, unable to move it, or to move himself, stuck between choices that all seemed innapropriate or downright wrong.
He barely registered that the fiend’s head was quite close to his own before being pulled forward and upward, almost losing contact with the ground and instead gaining immediate contact with the fiend’s body. He snapped out of his half-trance, but only to find out that the fiend locked his lips with hers, a long, rather inhuman tongue quickly wriggling its way past his lips and inside his mouth. His own tongue barely moved to respond, but he did manage to feel that the woman had a rather worrying set of sharp teeth in her mouth, though she apparently had no wish to bite for now and neither was he in danger of being accidentaly hurt. The fiend let a small gasp of satisfaction and he could feel her smile into the kiss as his erection rubbed against her supple abdomen, and she pushed into him to squeeze his member into an even tighter and more confining space… Or maybe she just wanted to feel his erection better.
Suddenly he became aware that he did nothing to resist her molesting, and if things kept going as they were he might even become so aroused that it would become impossible to control himself. He gently but firmly pulled away from the kiss, both him and the fiend now becoming aware of the shocked look on his face.
Euryale sighed and put the male on the ground, making sure to grind against his erection one last time as she did so. Maenaz was panting heavily and trying to gather his thoughts.
- You’re really a tough nut to crack, warlock. It appears your body is really starved for it, but your mind has its own designs and inhibitions. I’ll confess to being confused whether you want a liaison with me or not. Most males would just go with the physical reaction by now.
- I just wonder what causes such strong physical reaction… And I am unsure. You’re definitely… different from earthly woman. I’m not sure what to do either…
- But you’re aroused! I could feel your hardness…
- Yes, you made a man horny. Not such a hard thing once you think about it.
- Actually, male arousal tends to be a hard thing…
- Don’t stray from the topic. It’s true I’m somewhat missing the sex and for whatever reason you get me very horny, but I’m not just going to… going to…

Euryale smiled.
- Fuck me like an animal? That’s a bit of a letdown. I tend to enjoy a bit of agressiveness… But your composure is commendable. I think I want you even more now.
- I already told you I don’t.... I’m not sure… What to do.
- I could sense so much when we kissed… But you should go with the natural. With all my powers and years of experience, Maenaz… I’m a better fuck than a succubus is. I can assure you. And there’s no risk of true vitality or soul energy drain either… Doesn’t that pique your interest?

The warlock’s hard erection was twitching desperately when he noticed that aside from whatever completely mental or magical influence the fiend may have established on him, there was a certain smell in the air.
Euryale was probably leaking her unholy feromones like crazy without even trying, and for whatever reason, it just served to make him even more horny. And as such, thinking would probably soon become impossible.
- I… think I… But, this is…
- You’re still unsure. What a horrifying tease you are, warlock. I don’t think I can keep myself under control much longer… But, fine. We’ll have it your way.
- What do you mean?
- If you’re unsure whether you want to have sex with me while horny as hell and in my direct and willing presence, I will allow you to process and think about it at your own pace. But don’t think the offer will stand forever.
- You mean…
- Yes. You will be send on a mission today, and knowing your efficiency it won’t take you too long. Tomorrow night, I will be awaiting your final decision in my chambers. If you won’t return to the Gate by then, I have no idea what I’ll do, but if you will be in the Keep and you won’t come… Forget about getting some. You’ll stay with your own accumulating sexual desires on your own.
- I… Understand. I think.

The fiend then leaned over a bit and gave his bulge a light squeeze with her seemingly manicured but still clearly fiendish and clawlike-nailed hand. He almost bucked his hips straight into her grip as she did so, before she begun to pull her hand away. He vaguely registered what she said during the action.
- It’d be a waste if this were to fall off due to not being used.

She smiled, revealing this rather monstrous set of teeth. He was sure she could operate quite well in all ways without hurting any potential partners with them, and perhaps she’d even change form if she wanted to simply to have sex, but these jaws definitely reminded him that his potential partner in bed was far from being human.
It also made him realize that the thing on her mouth was *actual* lipstick and now he probably had quite a bit of it on his lips and face.
He sighed. Maenaz always considered masturbation to be somewhat below his dignity, even when he was just a horny little teenager, and that meant he had to bear with his erection for who knows how long. Also, the encounter meant he’d better at least was his face if not bathe altogether. After all, who knows if he wasn’t currently soaked in the woman’s diabolical hormones. He did not want to gain attention from any males.
Maenaz almost growled in frustration both usual and sexual before turning away and pacing to his chambers, keeping as much in the shadows as possible.
He had to ponder on whether he was able to control his lusts or whether he should take the opportunity to sate them.
Right now, however, his mind was pretty much half-turned into gel from all the teasing the fiend just gave him, so he decided to put the thinking thing off.

Xardas grinned to himself. He expected the other Lord of Undrentide to be a more difficult opponent after his fight with Fateroth, but while it seemed the creature was quite accomplished in terms of magic, with the right protection and with Xardas’ now increased level of power, the fight was deceivingly easy.
The creature in front of him was both born of shadow and a fiend, he was sure of it. Maybe it was some unique form of a demon or simply a result of joining between a fiend and a shadow creature, but it definitely held the essence of the Lower Planes within itself – this was no undead. It could hurt him quite severely with its claws, but mostly relied on spells to get the job done. And while the creature’s spellcasting ability was quite impressive and its tactics and thinking were quite appropriate, this was still no match for the spirit’s shaman current power.
Not to mention that Carolinger was no longer just a Spirit Shaman. He begun thoroughly enjoying his draconic heritage. Xardas was a stronger than the average human, true, but he was never the one who could truly solve problems using the strength of his muscles. Now, it begun to change, new strength rippling in his body as his muscles became tougher and infused with the power of his heritage.
The few remaining shadows and the demon closed in on him, and he decided to also demonstrate his now far better arcane powers. Suddenly, a burst of flames erupted under his feet and quickly spread in a small explosion, damaging all those who got near him. He then let out his Silver Sword to punish the surviving shades as he prepared to deal out his probably strongest attack in this battle.
He used his other arcane spell, True Strike, to maximally increase his chance at connecting, and then decided to exploit the fact that this creature wasn’t an undead.
He charged up the Harm spell and charged at the shadow demon, taking advantage of the havoc his sword was wreaking among the enemies. He was quick and merciless, ramming the negative energy charged fist into the fiend’s incorporeal form. The fiend let out a keening sound before raking him with it’s claws, and pulling away.
It then unleashed a barrage of magic missiles that had to be the greater variety of Isaac’s Missile Storm before Xardas responded by Calling Lighting and finishing the whole group of enemies save for his main nemesis, the Lord of Shadow Undrentide whose only verbal actions so far were introducing himself as such and constant cursing whenever Xardas demonstrated his advantage in the battle. The spirit shaman healed his damage before deciding it was time to go for the surely finishing strike. He begun to build up his unique power as the nearly pitiful shadow demon tried to raze him with a cone of cold. Of course, Xardas wasn’t immune to the damage, but he could take it and respond with a cone of his own – Moonfire sprung forward from his hands, engulfing the shadow demon and apparently vaporizing it from existence, much to Xardas’ satisfaction. He thoroughly hated all creatures of shadow he met so far and really despised the destructive demons from the Abyss, and this thing seemed to be a combination of both, so it probably deserved what was coming to it anyway.
The Spirit Shaman was quite assured this was not all that could be found in the crypt, as the shadow demon probably had some sort of arcane laboratory or library, finding which might have allowed Xardas to learn even more and further tap into his draconic heritage.
And so, he decided to search around the place, finishing all remaining servants of the shadow demon and checking if this place yet held anything of interest to him.
Walking around, he managed to find two more shadows, which he quickly destroyed, before he finally stumbled at some rune-inscribed doors.
He actually heard a sound behind them, so he brought his ear closer to the door and listened.
There were footsteps behind the door, meaning something physical and probably relatively humanoid was behind them. There was also another sound… Like if something was being shuffled on a wooden surface.
Xardas tried to open the door conventionally, but to no avail – they were locked. Therefore, he decided simply to break through, starting to hack at the reinforced wood with his Silver Sword.
He entered and it indeed seemed like an arcane centre of sorts, with an alchemic’s table and boards with books and all such.
And Xardas quickly identified the source of the sounds.
It was a grey-skinned humanoid about 6 feet and one or two inches tall, with straight black hair and sharp, rather unattractve facial features, somewhat like those of certain goblinoids or half-orcs, but still pretty much human.
Xardas was prepared for battle, but the creature just looked at him, apparently rather scared. The creature’s first words were unintelligible to him, spoken in some language he did not understand, but then, the creature spoke in Common :
- Who… are you? Only Master ever comes here, unless he… brings someone…
- My name is Xardas Carolinger. If your Master happens to be the Lord of Central Shadow Undrentide, I just killed him.
- You killed… the shadow demon? My… master and ancestor? Why? How?
- I intend to make something new of this city. I am the enemy of the Shadow Creatures, I am different from the current lords of the city… And I intend to take them all down. If you do not feel connected to your… ancestor, you can go free. If you intend to avenge him, I’m afraid I will have to kill you.
- I… did not have any feelings for my Master. He only… started my line to have slaves to care for the library and other chores, anyway. But… If Master is dead, what am I supposed to do now? I’ve never… done anything else…

Xardas looked at the creature… No, the man, in front of him, and quietly considered.
Another creature, perhaps a whole another race bred only for slavery.
This was a sad thing, not something that deserved punishment or judgement. And he wasn’t going to give one.
No, he released this man from his “master’s” yolk, but at the same, he would be leaving him in darkness with no purpose at all. And he disliked doing it, being the uncaring, distant hero who just killed the big bad beast and left the villagers to care for themselves.
He did it with Neverwinter because the city could cope, but he hated the conflict between his caring part and his adventurous, free-spirited part.
If he were to maintain any balance, he should take care of people like this now. One for his free spirit and adventure, one for his kindness.
- Who are you? What is your name?
- Kadrian… Now, just Kadrian. I do no longer need to bear the Abyssal name that my ancestor forced upon my family.
- Yes, Kadrian. You’re a free man now. You can join me, or you can try to leave this place altogether. It’s up to you. I can use your knowledge of the city, and I can help you get a place in this world. I could even teach you, if I can and you want me to.
- I’d be glad to join you, Xardas Carolinger. I have yet to find another purpose in life, and it may be fighting at your side.
- I know a relatively safe outpost in this city, where we can stay and talk. First, however, I’d like to take a look at those books you’re keeping here. Will you wait for a moment?
- Of course, Xardas Carolinger. I’ve got nothing but time.





Maenaz was informed by Morax that he will be required to go after a certain group of refugees from another plane, that carry with them an artifact of great power and great importance to Samael’s cause. The artifact in question consisted of a pair of gloves, but Morax did not give him any information as to why such gloves would be useful to his Master.
Still, the warlock intended to do the job and receive the payment, as simple as that. He did not particularly care about what the gloves were, but he did learn that among the refugees there would be a winged, slightly angelic-looking man who will probably command them and take care of the gloves.
Maenaz learned that the group was almost certainly going to try and run away with the artifact, either to the Spire in the center of Outlands, where they would either attempt to enter Sigil or bury the artifact to keep its strength from being used forever, or to the Upper Planes, where the Celestials could keep the artifact from falling into the wrong hands. He also learned the reason for the whole action was that more than one group of beings was interested in the artifact, and as such, he could expect that the group will try to move quickly and he will have some contestants in tracking them down and killing them.
He would be transported to a certain cave near a gateway city the group used to enter the Outlands and then attempt to either block their path or catch up with them, depending on the situation. The preferred situation would be to kill all of the refugees and all the agents of groups that wanted to capture these gloves, but his first and foremost mission was to get the gloves and make sure they weren’t damaged in the process.

He would return to Hades by going to a gateway city called “Hopeless” and then would be picked off by Samael’s servants behind the portal and led to the Gate of Vipers, with the use of the one (perhaps the only, as he had heard) Marraenoloth in Lord Samael’s service who will charge only half price for the service.
All in all, it seemed at least a partially planned out. Good.

Of course, he wasted no time for trivialities, wanting to finish the mission and then go killing off Neverwinter scum as soon as possible, and as such did not bother with unnecessary introductions when a pair of mages created a portal for him, which send him straight to a cave somewhere in the Outlands. He acknowledged the help of the wizard on this side with a nod, and then left the cave, taking the map of Outlands out.
Yes, through all this commotion and despite his impatience, he did have two maps that would allow some movement. One was only a general plan of the sphere, and you couldn’t operate on it – it only allowed him to guess where he should go in order to move into the direction of the Spire or the gateway towns to Upper Planes.
The second map gave a much better picture of the overall area he was in, including two gateway towns he should pay attention to – “Hopeless”, his way back, and “Rigus”, the town from which the group he was supposed to track down and relieve of the artifact came.
There were other interesting names of towns on the map.Such as “Curst” and “Torch” and “Ribcage”. This was definitely a land of gateways into the Lower Planes.

So, regardless of his target’s ultimate desitination, he had to move closer to Rigus and then go north, if this was even the proper term for the direction here, and eventually hope he finds out whether they want to get to the center of the plane or just plan on running away to pretty fields of Elysium or Asmodeus knows where.
He was warned to avoid any other gateway towns to the Lower Planes since those generally not pleasant places and he wouldn’t find anything interesting except a lot of cruel manipulants and crazy battle-thirsty madmen there.
Not that this was somehow an unusual environment by his standards, especially after living first with the Drow and now with Yugoloths and Devils for such a long time, but it may be better if he simply sticked to the locations he was told about.
Therefore, he started to move towards the space between the famed Spire and the gateway city of Rigus, hoping to catch up with the group before they escape wherever they were headed.
Maenaz continued to move in that direction while studying his map. He did not know much about the Outlands, so he had to guess which gateway city led to where.

He never expected to actually adventure in the Planes – his whole adventuring carrier was initially just an attempt to save Neverwinter and earn some money and fame, as well as to improve his skills to a level on which people would respect him, instead of a level on which people would kill him for “being a freak and a Devil’s spawn”.
That’s why Maenaz didn’t know as much about the Planes as some other adventurers on his level. Sure, he knew more than the basics and recognized many creatures from Lower Planes and Elemental Planes alike, but he knew little about some of them, especially concerning the Upper Planes and the Outlands, as well about creatures living in places he might be quite likely to visit, as it turned out – Pandemonium and Carceri.

He made a mental note to read and learn more about some of the Planes when he had the time, just as he heard a strange sound. Looking around, he saw something which he’d consider relatively odd considering he was in the Outer Planes, but he guessed wildstock was similar everywhere.
A group of three big, animal-like creatures strongly resembling boars, only with larger heads and jaws and intimidating tusks and general set of teeth, and obviously larger and tougher.
And apparently, hungry and predatory or territorial and aggressive, since as soon as he saw the creatures, they were quickly charging towards him.
He dropped the maps and pulled out Enserric, preparing for the group of beasts. As the first one finished it’s charge with a small jump, Maenaz fired a blast inside its opened jaw.
As the other two creatures closed in, Maenaz grabbed his sword with both hands and prepared to strike. Moving to the side to avoid one of the creature’s attack, he cut through its back and prepared to dodge the rush of the other beast.
He now remembered.
In the Outlands and, more rarely, other planes, there were certain creatures and “animals” roaming free.
One of these were Fhorges, creatures resembling the Dire Boars of the Material Plane, albeit more powerful due to their existence in the Outer Planes. They had no particular elemental resistances or immunities, but apparently reacted violently to any damage dealt to them, were very strong and tough, and their bite was vicious.
Well, these jaws and teeth already suggested that.
Maenaz fired an acidic blast in the back of the creature that attacked first and then pirouetted to cut through the upper jaw of the second Fhorge.
The beasts attacked him ferociously, fury and hunger now practically tangible in the air. Maenaz continued to dodge until he nearly lay one of the beasts down, but as he moved to deal the finishing strike, the other creature attacked him from the flan and finally broke through his so-far effective defense. The creature’s large tusts broke through his armor and started to bury themselves in his flesh.
Maenaz knew that if he allowed the creature to get him stuck on those tusks, it would not end with biting, and he had little doubt whatsoever that the aftermath would hurt.
He quickly summoned his power as the beast started to shake him violently, causing it’s teeth to tear and pierce his muscles. Indeed, he was right as to how dangerous and painful this would be. A symbol flashed on his forehead as he put his palm to the creature’s head and fired the Utterdark Blast, draining the creature’s life force and causing it to fall. Then, he stabbed Enserric into the now-dying Fhorge before he blocked the other one’s charge with a wall of flames. The beast, of course, was too infuriated to be stopped in its tracks and charged straight through it. As Maenaz tried to remove himself from the tusks of the other beast, the boar-like creature got very close and would soon repeat its kin’s actions. Maenaz fired a Vitriolic Cone at the offender before he finally managed to tear himself away from the fangs of the dead Fhorge, and in the last moment, too, as the other one now tried to leap at him. Maenaz half-turned and kicked it midair, sending it to the side and behind him, straight into another wall of flames. The beast yelped as the combined strength of the acid from his blast before and the wall of flames started to extinguish its life, and even as it tried to continue fighting and got up on its hooves, it could no longer withstand the massive damage and fell back into the fire.
Maenaz, for his part, fell onto the ground as well, and started to search for a healing potion. He found one and drunk it, feeling his wounds slowly close up and his overall state somewhat improve. He closed his eyes and sighted, lying there for a moment.
Until he smelled something. A rather pleasant smell he knew quite well, especially from his childhood.
Frying meat.
Of course, he thought. These things were probably edible. He smiled. Yes, he definitely was taking some of that meat with him. And he’d probably eat some now, even.
He got up, as he had to be quick about it if he wanted to preserve the meat from being burned and quickly return to his task at hand.

Xardas was verting the last pages of the arcane book he was reading before Kadrian reentered the library and sat opposite him.
They talked for quite a while before, but Xardas still had one last thing to ask About the southern part of the city, and its Lord.
Fateroth was clear about it when he said that Shadow Undrentide was divided into three parts with one being ruling over each, or at least being called its “lord”.
Yet when he explored Undrentide and got closer to the southern part, he could see how ravaged and hollow it was. Most of the buildings were in ruins and it appeared to be nearly devoid of life.

If it was so, who was the “Lord” of Southern Undrentide? And why was it… the way it was? The state of it would suggest that this lord wasn’t much of a deal and when Undrentide was being divided by its current Lords, he (or she… maybe even It, Selune only knew) got the worst part of it. However, he had to be sure, and since he still did not have many allies in the city, Kadrian might be the best person to confirm it.
And the simplest way to get him to was, obviously, asking him now.
- Can you tell me something?
- I will gladly share my knowledge with you, if you wish. What would you like to know?
- I already killed the lords of the northern and central part of the city, but it appears the souther part is quite an empty one… So, who rules over it? Why did he get the least valuable and populated part of the city?

He noticed Kadrian shivered when he asked that, but slowly and silently, he responded.
- The lord of the Southern Undrentide… Is a monster incomparable to the other two. He does not resemble the Krinth or our Shadovar lords, or you in the slightest – he’s a giant unliving beast.It’s not that he was the least powerful and got the destroyed part of the city – he’s probably the most powerful of all the Lords, and destroyed the city in his own anger, thirst of destruction or need to devour. I know little about him or his powers otherwise, except this : Xardas Carolinger, if you intend to battle the last lord of Undrentide, you’d better be prepared. He might be the mightiest, most destructive and inhuman being you’ll ever meet. Word is, he is wider than an average Krinth is tall, and impervious to most weapons. You’d really better prepare before going and fighting him… it.
- You’re telling me this last Lord is probably the most powerful of them all?
- Overall, probably. Physically, definitely. Most of the Southern Undrentide’s destruction, my former Master claimed, was wrought by him. Also, whenever that shadow demon spoke about it creature… It was with a mix of respect and fear. You should watch out.
- You need not worry – Xardas smiled smugly – Once I go out to fight him, I’ll be more powerful than ever. And that means, he’s as good as dead.
- If you say so. That doesn’t change the fact that you will be fighting a real monster, an abomination.
- It will not be anything new as far as I’m concerned.


The dwarf kneeled down, checking the trail left by the group. Three beings, all relatively humanoid. They’re headed towards other gateway cities more likely then towards the Spire. He wasn’t so good at tracking, so he had to catch up to them as fast as possible to avoid losing the track. Thankfully, getting into and then getting out of Rigus, which was the hard part, was already completed, so he could put his mind into tracking down his target.
Acheron was a strange plane. Despite it being occupied by bloodthirsty warriors, allies of devils, and outsiders that just wouldn’t fit into Lower Planes and were unworthy to live anywhere else, the one whom they send to protect the artifact looked more like an angel than anything else. A menacing, stern, and grim angel, yet an angel nevertheless.
But it wasn’t one. It was not interested in spreading goodness, only death to those who opposed the order it protected and encouragement to those who embraced it. And that’s why the dwarf was capable of respecting the leader of the three.
Still, its underlings were wretched and unworthy creatures who proved to be a great annoyance, and the dwarf would gladly send them to meet death.
He always did.

Maenaz, already having sated his hunger and putting a bit of fried meat into his treasured Bag of Holding, He begun to quickly follow into the space his targets were supposed to be in. After an hour or two, he actually managed to find footprints in the sands of the Outlands, suggesting a group of three was moving through this place. He was now sure they were not, in fact, moving towards the Spire, which made him more comfortable as reportedly magical and supernatural powers were more limited the closer you moved to the center of Outlands. Since he strongly depended on his Warlock powers, he’d risk a lot if he moved too close to the Spire and tried to fight there.
He wasted no time and rapidly went on to follow the footsteps, increasing his pace as he realized they were relatively fresh. He realized sometimes the three pairs of footsteps changed into two only to become three a while later yet again. He also passed a place that suggested they made camp, with remains of a bonfire.

That’s when he realized he had to go faster. The distances between the gateway cities of Outlands were not so big as one may think, and he was getting closer to them, but he had to catch them far away from the city or otherwise he may have to face repercussions of his eventual attack on them.
That’s why he turned his Dark Foresight on and started running, just in case.
The track was clear and obviously fresh, which only prompted the warlock to increase the pace.
And finally, he saw. A group of three, one of whom was flying.

He continued to run, and the flying creature took notice of him, landing and telling his companions to stop.

Maenaz also stopped right before the trio, his sword already drawn as he quickly inspected the three humanoid-looking creatures.

Two of them were of a kind he recalled seeing somewhere, and after a moment realized that just after he learned of Sedos Sebile’s location and took his revenge on her, a young adventurer that was apparently being hunted down by these creatures entered the inn he was searching for information in. They were from another plane, but apparently were otherwise a pretty usual race of quasi-humanoids. It was the last creature that worried him.

It, or rather, him, looked like a very tall, almost 9 feet, man with black and white feathered wings, shoulder-length silvery hair, copper-colored eyes and dressed, or rather armored, in a mithral plate armor. All this gave the man a slightly angelic look, but it was too menacing and inhuman to be considered truly a sight you see when you look at a celestial.
It carried itself in a manner of an experienced warrior, and Maenaz knew that while the man appeared strong, his size may not betray his true physical might, as was often the case with outsiders.
The armored angel-like men spoke first.
- Who are you, human, and why are you following us? Tell me.
- I am Maenaz Carn’renor. I came for the gloves.
- Another fool who thinks he will receive them, then. These gloves are not going to be given to anyone mortal, “Maenaz”. And I am their protector. I do not sense the repulsive, disgusting energies of Chaos inside you, so I will allow you to leave if you turn away now and do not follow us anymore.

Maenaz was slightly at loss. So, not only was he considered evil now, he was NOT considered to be chaotic? He thought he would.
Maybe it had something to do with him ceasing to care about his true moral and ethical alignment.
- I am afraid that you’re not only underestimating me, you also think I’m someone you can bargain with like you were the one in control. Do you actually realize who I work for? Do you realize how many powerful outsiders I’ve killed to get where I am now?
- Do you consider yourself one I should make an offer to, then? That’s too bad, because currently there is no way nor no reason for me to negotiate. If I had any reason to trust you, I could take you with us so you could offer your services to something truly great, to one of the great authorities among those who worship the superior order of things in this Multiverse. However, I have no reason at all to trust you, therefore I can only send you on your way. I need to conserve my planar-travelling powers, so I cannot send you back to where you came from, unfortunately. Especially since we’re in the Outlands.
- Then I’m afraid I have to give you an offer that is about as profitable to you as what you’re offering me. Give me the gloves, and you will be allowed to go safe, alive, and with all your other equipment and valuables.
He saw a dangerous gleam in the angel-like man’s eyes, and the being pointed its greatsword towards him as it spoke :
- Am I to take this as your answer?
- Indeed, winged man. I suppose this is my answer.

The being immediately dashed forward, spreading its wings wide, attempting to cleave him in two with the magical greatsword. Of course, this was nothing Maenaz couldn’t attempt to dodge or block on his own, and with his Dark Foresight, he knew how the angelic warrior would attack. He dodged, and as his sense told him the two companions of the outsider would not attack yet, he turned around and fired an Eldritch Blast after the flying warrior. The being noticed, turning around and attempting to repel the blast with its magical sword. The ray of eldritch energy severed in two, one part of it flying far to the side while the other headed straight for the creature’s wings. The silver-haired man’s eyes widened as he quickly shifted mid-air, blocking the blast with the bracer of his armor. It took damage, but it appeared the winged fighter was all right. His companions prepared to attack as he exclaimed :
- I am Sarierus the Guardian, a Justicator from Acheron, and I do not suffer threats from mortals!

Maenaz wholly ignored the Justicator’s whining, turning to face the pair of humanoids instead, and witnessed how one enchanted the other’s weapons with flame. That meant one of them was a spellcaster and it also meant he didn’t have to care much about the enchantment whatsoever because of his resistance to fire.
Taking advantage of the fact that the two creature’s were squeezed together for the duration of casting the spell, he fired an acidic cone at them, before raising his blade and preparing to engage the more warrior-like of the pair.
To his surprise, the man jumped out of the cone of acid practically unscathed – his armor made from the skin of some unfortunate creature suffered minor damage, the metallic spines of his body however stood invincibly against the acid and while the substance seemed to seep into its skin and slightly burn it, it obviously caused the creature nothing more than slight discomfort as its muscles were still at full capability. The warlock dodged the strike absent-mindedly, noting that the creature was obviously less similar to humans than he initially thought, and slashed with Enserric. The creature managed to block his strike and attempted another powerful swing of its metallic axe, but Maenaz ducked as his sense warned him of the justicator’s next move. He tumbled to the side, swinging his blade as the angelic creature flew past him, its swing barely making contact but his own clashing against Sarierus’ armor. Obviously, the swing was not powerful enough, however, so he fired his blast towards the winged creature, connecting and making the Justicator lose his balance in flight and forcing him to land. He was about to take advantage of that, but the humanoid – bladelings, they were called bladelings, he now remembered – yelled at him to fight him like a man and actually connected with a swing of his axe. Maenaz almost fell over but moved back, retaining his balance, and after dodging another strike blasted the attacker into the nearest rock before turning to the angelic warrior.
A bad decision was ignoring the spellcaster.
His foresight warned him he was in danger just as a thick, yellow-brownish cloud surrounded him, The justicator took to low flight as he realized exactly what the mist was.
Suddenly, small pieces of earthly material started to settle on his body and armor, thickening and hardening as they did. Suddenly, he found himself partially entrapped in stone and the justicator charged him, swinging his greatsword and easily breaking through his meek block before cutting through his body as he flew past him.
He groaned more in frustration than in pain, as he awaited another strike. The axe-swinging bladeling suddenly shifted to throwing knives and the spellcaster was using another spell. Maenaz quickly realized that the cloud and the method by which the bladeling was gathering power made it clear he was a divine spellcaster and not an arcane one. He suddenly felt hotness engulf him as he found himself standing in a wall of fire, irony immediately catching his attention as it was usually him who employed this strategy, but in the hands of the strange bladeling it was more efficient as the victim could not move under the effects of the cloud.

At least, he suspected most victims could not.

The warlock let his power course through him as his eyes started to glow. He released a loud groan of strain as his muscles flexed and strained, slowly breaking the thin layer of rock that covered his body. The focused power was released in the form of Eldritch Doom that immediately struck the divine spellcaster, as Maenaz dashed out of the cloud with speed that surprised the entire group of enemies as the Justicator was already flying towards him to slash him again. The warlock struck the armed bladeling in his charge, cutting him with Enserric and then kicking him into a wall of flames of his own. He turned away and blocked the Justicator’s swing, but as they struggled against each other, he suddenly felt the strain on his muscles become too great, threatening to tear him. Sarierus, however, did not seemed distressed in any way, suggesting he still kept a measurement of reserve strength, as he pushed the warlock over, making him fall.
Maenaz gritted his teeth in frustration as the powerful figure of the Justicator hovered above him, shifting the greatsword and trying to stab and run him through with it. The warlock’s reflex probably saved his health if not his life, as he rolled onto his side and the blade only met the dust of the Outlands. The warlock’s palm, however, was already turned towards the looming angelic figure, and a powerful blast found its way to Sarierus’ body. The blast broke off into a chain, flying towards the recovering Bladeling as well. Sarierus was pushed back by the force of the blast as Maenaz lifted his legs and then used his agility to flip back into a stance, preparing to defend against another attack from the tall winged man.
However, his sense warned him against an attack of quite different kind, and only in the last moment he dodged the Harm-charged hand of the divine spellcasting Bladeling. The speed of the creature was amazing, far greater than he had anticipated, and he actually expected the bladeling would not get up after being attacked with his Eldritch Doom. He tried to slash the attacker but he seemed to foresee this and ducked even lower to avoid the slash. Maenaz instead hit him with his knee and then fired a blast straight into his body, propelling him away as the warlock dodged a strike from the front made by the Justicator. He noticed the other bladeling could flank him but didn’t. Apparently, some crazy code of honor. The wildly quick bladeling stood back onto his feet and cast a healing spell, visibly drained from the battle. Maenaz attacked the justicator but it blocked all the swings, just as the bladeling told him to “take that” before pushing him away from the angelic being with a kick and repeatedly swinging his axe, with only one of the blows connecting, however. The justicator apparently had no qualms about taking advantage of the fact his flank was open, however, and attacked from the side, repeatedly swinging his sword as he hacked and battered through his armor and body. The situation looked ever-so-grim as the second bladeling revealed just what he was, suddenly roaring as his body expanded and covered with a magical mist, and then with fur, the apparent druid shapeshifting into a body of a dire bear. The warlock snarled, kicking the bladeling away and slashing the justicator on the wing, limiting if not cutting off his ability to fly for the moment. As the trio closed down on the warlock, however, chuckled darkly, slowly increasing the volume of the sound to a full-blown, creepy laughter.
The group was about to strike, but that stopped them in their tracks.
- You know guys, being from Acheron and all, I’m sure you’ve all done your share of morally questionable deeds and you’re no saints yourselves. That’s why I feel comfortable confessing to you that… I’m pretty vain.
He looked up at the justicator, grinning as his sclera turned black and his green irises seemed like nothing more but strange seals on his eyes, as an enigmatic glyph flashed on his forehead and the three creatures took a small, instinctive step back.
- I enjoy being in the…center…of…
Maenaz’s voice broke into a raspy, dark screech as a dark cloud was forming and swirling above them, and he exclaimed:
-… ATTENTION!


The dwarf was running forward, seeing a strange column of darkness that engulfed and surrounded part of the land far before him, albeit the darkness also gave off a blood-red gleam.
He felt that amazing, deadly power, and wondered what was the source of it. Such manifestations were rare, to his knowledge, but this phenomenon seemed to contain a power only comparable with a touch of Death itself.
The dwarf felt an odd satisfaction fill him. Perhaps it was a sign.

The warlock felt his body numbed and drained from the extraordinary discharge of negative energy he unleashed, but he somehow retained a safe part of his life force and his balance. He hoped his enemies did not have that luck, and indeed, when the mist cleared fully, only the Justicator was somehow standing, if hunched and apparently just having gotten up.
The druid was somewhere to the side, already in his bladeling form, breathing heavily, and apparently only half-conscious. The warrior was struggling to get up, but so far, it was a failure. Only when he thrust his axe into the ground and pulled back up on it. The justicator appeared to ignore Maenaz and instead walked towards his druid companion, kneeling by him and using some healing power. Afterwards, he repeated the same action on his wing, and spoke something to the druid. The bladeling got up, slowly, and the warrior was already on his feet. Maenaz shivered uncomfortably. This was getting out of hand.
The Sarierus then yelled to the warrior bladeling :
- The dwarf is coming this way, and he will be here soon! We need to get on our way, but also keep these two from following us.
- Should I stay behind and buy you time?
- That’s unnecessary. The two of us have not used our conjoined summoning for quite some time and as such the called creatures should be able to kill this human and stop the dwarf for some time.
- I see. We’re retreating, then?
- Yes. Stop the human for a moment.

Maenaz realized they were about to run, but had no choice other than turning to the warrior and blocking his attacks. Which seemed oddly dangerous and accurate when one took into consideration the state this bladeling was in.

In the meantime, the Justicator put his hands on the other bladeling’s shoulders, standing behind him, and covered him with his wings as the druid started gathering energy for a spell, apparently. Maenaz countered the Bladelings attacks, but realized the real danger was the pair of outsiders preparing some “conjoined summoning” that was apparently supposed to kill him.
He kicked the bladeling away and it fell onto the ground, but just as he was to go for the kill, what the pair was doing completely caught his attention.
The justicator unfurled his wings, which were glowing with a steel-like gray on the inside, as the bladeling cast the spell, forming four circles of glowing green light on the ground.
The light slowly morphed and then, it uncovered four creatures. One of them was a Fhorge, but the other three he saw for the first time of his life – extremely large, they resembled a cross between a rhinoceros and a shark, with the head of the latter more than the former. The glow surrounding the creatures lost its color but did not fully dissipate, as Sarierus swung his wings and released a wave of metallic light from his wings that swept away the glow from the creatures and then concentrated at the end, slowly shifting into a form of a reptile, but when the light started to dim, he realized that this looked more like a construct than a living creature – it was smaller than the three summoned “landsharks”, but appeared way more dangerous, resembling a large, mutated tiger with a transformed head and mutated jaws, and with addition of bony plates on the back.
Except that it all appeared to be made of metal.

The justicator flew forward as the steel creature emitted a terrifying roar that made Maenaz feel like his blood was vibrating, his bones were brittling and his very head was imploding. He clutched his ears and almost let go of Enserric just as the justicator flew past him and grabbed his companion. Maenaz managed not to go deaf from the roar, and so, heard the justicator exclaiming :
- Goodbye, human! I believe these things will be your end!
- We’ll meet again, Sarierus the Justicator. I’ve won against worse odds.
- Not after making a suicidal attack, I think.
The Justicator flew away, and the Druid shapeshifted into a hawk to do the same.
Maenaz turned to the group of creatures that were closing in on him.
This was going to be a tiresome day. A very tiresome day, he thought, as he activated his regeneration, and his eyes got covered with a pale green mist, quickly bathing the whole group with Vitriolic Doom.


The steel-incrusted “creature”, because for whatever reason it seemed more alive than mechanical, was the only move to actually manage to react and move out of the area, barely getting hit by the blast.
And that supernatural reflex with a body made from hard material rather than living tissue, at least on the outside, clearly suggested that this beast was more than a construct. Maenaz bended forward and pointed his blade at the charging beast, but in the last moment, realized that Enserric was the intended victim of the attack, not him.
Which meant this creature feed on metals, and perhaps supernatural or magic-enhanced metals in particular. Maenaz ejected a wall of flames between himself and the creature, charging another blast as he prepared for the attack. He quickly tossed a glance towards the group that did not manage to evade the blast and saw he finished off one of the landsharks AND made the Fhorge enter a state of feral rage.
To his shock, the metallic creature apparently only waited for such a move, because it leaped straight on him the moment his eyes moved to the side. The fact that it waited for an opening suggested intelligence, and this worried him. He managed to move out of its way and blast the creature’s side, however, before slashing it with Enserric. It turned out the beast really had a hard body, as even a magical weapon barely damaged the powerful armor.
Maenaz wasn’t worried, he just wanted to make sure.

He couldn’t however, continue his assault as the other creatures were now charging upon him, and he suddenly turned to defense when the Fhorge tried to stab him again. Jumping back, he still managed to avoid the first landshark, but completely failed against the second one, the beast raking him with its claws and pushing him down as he started to roll down a small hill. He looked upwards to see the other landshark and the Fhorge charging towards him, and he rapidly fired a blinding chain of beshadowed eldritch energy that made the fhorge lose the track of its charge and actually killed the landshark.
However, the last large creature was already charging towards him, and the steel creature was dashing towards him from the side, clearly intending to limit his movement. Maenaz ducked and fell onto one knee as the steel predator jumped on him, managing to avoid the attack with its jaws and block the creature’s claws… But its powers and mass were quickly overcoming him, despite the warlock managing to pull off his plan of setting a fire wall under the creature the moment it clashed with Enserric. Also, the landshark wasn’t helping when it suddenly lept over him, raking him with the claws on its hind legs and landing on the other side of him. Maenaz tried to blast the steel predator away but it was too strong, breaking through his defense and tearing at his body with metallic hands. The warlock withdrew and defended from the landshark’s attack, slashing it repeatedly, only to get stabbed in the back with the tusks of the recovered Fhorge. He fired a Vitriolic Chain at the group, which was slowly and steadily taking the landshar down, and with a sharp move, managed to sever the tusk off the fhorge that attacked him, but then, the steel predator closed its jaws around Enserric, whose voice screamed out in pain as the creature clearly tried to chew on it.

Just as he was afraid the magical weapon would give its way, something kicked the creature’s head, causing it to free Enserric and allowing Maenaz to turn and face the fhorge. And just in the nick of time, because the beast was preparing to make a meal out of him. The warlock jumped to the side, concentrating a blast, and just as the boar-like beast repeated its attack, he fired the powerful ray of eldritch energy, the creature releasing an inhuman sound of pain.
The warlock did not waste any more time in rapidly continuing his assault on the boar-like monstrosity and using the just-endangered Enserric to slice it into little meaty pieces.
The Fhorge managed to survive the initial flurry of blows, but was finished off when he blasted it into a rock.

He then turned to the metallic sword-eating horror and his apparent savior, seeing just whom he thought he would see based on the method of attack and the immediate ability to cooperate by splitting the enemies and each one of them taking down a single opponent.
A darkly clad dwarven monk.

With this, the whole thing became a lot easier. Of course, the monk’s punches were stronger than mere man’s fists, but there was a way to make it a lot easier for the dwarf. Maenaz rushed forward, preparing to fire a Vitriolic blast the moment the beast made any mistake as Grimgnaw was pummeling it with his fists. Of course, the creature had to be in a bad position to dodge before long, and as it jumped away from the dwarf, trying to regain its control over the battle, the warlock fired his acidic blast straight into the creature’s skull. The beast let out a desperate roar as the potent acid started to tear its way into its skull, and Grimgnaw was quick to see how big of an advantage it was. All muscles in his body tensing, he rushed forward, jumped, and made a powerful, ki-enhanced kick straight into the vulnerable head of the creature, crashing it in and making the beast fall down immediately. Maenaz fired another Eldritch Blast just to be sure, but the monster was dead and its body stopped responding.
The dwarven monk turned to the warlock and now he was sure this was indeed Grimgnaw, his old good companion if not quite friend. The dwarf nodded to him, slightly bowing as he did so, and came closer.
- Grimgnaw of the Long Death. It’s been quite some time.
- Indeed, Maenaz Carn’renor, it has. I take it you’re not in the employ of Neverwinter this time?
- Quite the opposite, monk. I am here in on a mission for someone who supports my new quest, which is, in fact, bringing harm and taking my revenge on Neverwinter.

The dwaf nodded again.
- I have long since left Nasher’s employment and am attempting to increase my station within our Order, as well as the general power of Long Death itself. So, I am not opposed to your quest. However, it appears to me that you have came into contact with a group from Acheron that I myself am pursuing, and it ended violently. I would like to know how it came to this.
- It appears, Grimgnaw, that we are pursuing the same group. This could be a bit of a good luck… or it could be very unfortunate.
- You wouldn’t happen to be following them in order to obtain the Ashen Gloves of Carnage, would you?
- I am. They are required by my ally, and I have to obtain them.
- Then I was wrong, Maenaz Carn’renor. This time, we’re not potential allies, we’re rivals… maybe even enemies.
- Indeed, it may be so.

His Dark Foresight wasn’t active anymore, but he knew Grimgnaw well enough and realized the situation well enough to predict the dwarf’s move. Of course, it was a rapid attack, one that Maenaz managed to avoid, and answer with his own. The dwarf was quick and aware enough to push the blade away by smacking its flat side and attempted to sweep Maenaz off his feet with a kick. The warlock jumped over the dwarf’s leg and by kicked him away as he did so. Grimgnaw kept his stance and made an acrobatic jump, leaping forward and twisting his body midair, switching the position of his head and his legs to deliver a back-heel kick from above to the landing warlock. Maenaz felt both the monk’s Ki and the power of the kick itself further punish his already hurting body, but wasn’t one to simply give up to a former comrade who should obviously be less powerful than him. Forming a wall of flames behind his back, he caught the dwarf’s leg and flipped him into the fire, earning a groan of pain from the smaller humanoid. Maenaz was not done and stabbed the dwarf before being kicked away, the monk rapidly shifting back to attack, unleashing a barrage of fist blows on his ex-leader. Finally, the blows have reached their destination, with the human’s endurance now being tested, taking blow after blow without any possibility of defense.
Of course, Maenaz noticed the improvement of his “friend”, but he wasn’t exactly slacking off during the last year himself. After waiting for the appropriate moment, he pinned the dwarf to one place by catching one of the fists thrown at him, kneeing the dwarf, stabbing his foot with Enserric and immobilizing him so, the sword run through his leg and into the ground, an placing a now-free left hand in front of the dwarf’s head, accumulating a blast that may as well finish the dwarf off.
As usual, Grimgnaw’s eyes held no fear when they took in the picture of a much taller Warlock preparing to blast his head off.

Maenaz, however, lowered his hand and the blast started to dissipate. He pulled Enserric out of the dwarf’s foot, and took a step back as he spoke :
- This is ridiculous, Grimgnaw. We’re not really making any progress here. Instead of trying to kill each other now, we should team up, take these stupid Acheronians down, get the gloves and then decide who gets to take them with him. What do you say, old comrade?
- It does indeed sound reasonable, but how can we be sure there won’t be any backstabbing in the last moment on either side?
- We’ve worked together for a couple of months and were more than able to do so. Let’s revive this partnership. I trusted you back then, and you trusted me. Simply continue with that trust.
- All right, Maenaz. I have the utmost respect for you and you carry the mark of the Silent Lord. I shall cooperate with you until we regain the gloves.
- I’m glad to hear it. Let’s heal up our wounds and quickly renew the pursuit. We must catch them as far from the Gateway Cities as possible.
- Then let’s waste no more time.


Sarierus wasn’t the type to panic. During his long existence as a Justicator, a fighting champion of Law and Order first watching over the battles in Acheron and then venturing into the Planes to bend or break others into following the rules set by the lords of orderly planes, he fought many kinds of beings, including warlocks.
The one they just battled was different from most of them. Physically capable and eager to fight in close quarters, this made him more universal and more self-dependant than most if not all human warlocks. Also, the last display of power proved that he was indeed good at warlock’s quasi-magical abilities as well.
Altogether, this man was more dangerous than any of his companions, and probably as powerful as the Justicator himself was.
And that meant he could NOT get the gloves. They were dangerous, Sarierus could feel that. Justicators weren’t true Angels, they existed mostly on Acheron and other almost purely-lawful planes and weren’t too concerned about a beings morality as much as whether they were true to either the spirit or the letter of law, depending on the individual Justicator. But, Sarierus knew that while the gloves were simply an object, a magical piece of equipment when they were created, eons of being used in bloody battles by all manners of beings, cold-hearted ones, battle-hungry ones, downright vile ones, sometimes fiends and sometimes mortals, changed the gloves. They were empowered, but no longer in a normal way – they’ve become an artifact of evil energies, one that should only be used by beings of Law in the most dire circumstances and that should definitely be protected from ever falling into the hands of a foolish mortal or a creature that did not hold the universal Order in high regard, especially slaadi or demons.
Sarierus himself has took vows that he will never use the Gloves before departing, but also has been informed that there is a way around that promise. One, however, that he only would use in dire circumstances.
Unknowingly to him, these were dire circumstances.
The finished recovering from the battle, which unfortunately meant they healing abilities were completely or near-completely spent, and begun to move forward. They had to take the gloves either to Automata, the gateway city to Mechanus, or Fortitude, the gateway city to Arcadia, as quickly as possible. There, they would find higher authorities and deliver these dangerous gloves to them, so they could deal with them as they found necessary.
It was their mission. Sarierus only once failed a mission in his long existence, and it was a mission in Pandemonium itself, one of the planes most difficult and hard for his kind to survive in. He did not intend to repeat that experience.

They were again travelling with their normal routine, the two carrying the chest with the gloves and him flying upward, scouting and checking if they were being followed.
It took just a moment of his lack of notice for them to be attacked.

Suddenly, the Justicator felt a massive energy approaching. He yelled as he shifted his position mid-air, his companions below him barely managing to react to avoid the center of the powerful blast that suddenly came down from the sky, the force throwing them to the sides. Sarierus looked behind himself, shocked to see two mortals rapidly approaching them from the rear, a darkly clad human warlock he thought was going to be killed by their conjoined summon AND the dwarven monk.
Were they working together all along? Or did they join forces after they realized one of them wouldn’t be able to take the entire group down alone?
Either way, this suggested trouble. The warlock will be even more dangerous if someone even better in close quarters was supporting him, and the dwarf himself was no pushover as Sarierus has already engaged him before and thought he had killed him after a difficult battle, but the dwarf recovered somehow.
And now, they had to fight them both.


The bladeling druid wasted no time and immediately charged against the pair, but Sarierus knew it simply had a surprise for them. This time, the fight was completely serious and they knew what their enemies were capable of.

The bladeling stopped in front of the approaching pair of humanoids and put its hands forward, the bladelike protrusions and razors from its skin suddenly expelled out of it with significant strength, firing series of sharp needles and metal-like pieces at the two. Maenaz ducked to the side, barely getting hit, but Grimgnaw rushed straight through the barrage before starting to hammer the bladeling with punches. The creature’s skin seemed weaker after this attack and so, it appeared the Acheron-born humanoid really felt the attack. Maenaz rushed in-between the approaching bladeling fighter and the battling pair, and the warrior stopped, rising his axe to prepare for an attack.
Indeed it came, but not from the warlock. Maenaz moved to the side and Grimgnaw tossed the bladeling’s companion straight into him, with the warlock completely abusing the situation and bringing Eldritch Doom down on the temporarily immobilized pair.

Maenaz grinned and turned to the fast-approaching Justicator, waiting for him to come closer.
- BRING IT ON!
- Die, mortal !

Sarierus was about to slash the human with his sword, but suddenly, the warlock fell flat onto the ground slightly jumping forward, and the attack missed. The Justicator felt the human grabbing his heel and only the angel-like warriors exceptional strength allowed him to lift them both into the air. However, the warlock was agile enough to balance himself once away from the ground, slashing the outsider’s wing and causing it to fall towards the ground where the dwarf was already waiting, kicking the Justicator straight into the nearby hill and into a wall of flames just as Maenaz let him go.
It appeared their teamwork was still well and intact.
- I’m taking the flying bastard, he can probably still take into the air, and you lack long-distance attacks. You finish off that stupid pair of bladelings, and then we’ll get to the matter of the gloves.
- Are you sure you can take him on? He’s mighty when he fights at his full power
- I’ve fought better. Go ahead, I can take him.

The warlock rapidly approached what was now his opponent, the Justicator quickly jumping out of the wall of flames and attacking him. Grimgnaw was speaking the truth – the outsider’s melee ability was top-class, far beyond what the Warlock was capable of in terms of fighting in close quarters. Maenaz quickly activated his Dark Foresight and blasted the winged man with acid before going for his other wing, but the warrior managed to jump back and then propel himself forward, the strength of impact pushing the warrior away. Maenaz managed to stop himself by jumping a couple of times on one leg as he focused another Eldritch Blast. This time, the Justicator realized the danger and rapidly flew away, dodging the blast. Maenaz was amazed he was still able to move with such mobility after having his wing slashed, but this was no time to worship the angelic man. He knew what he planned, and as such instead fired another Eldritch Chain at the fighting bladelings. It turned out his predictions were correct, as the Justicator went to grab the druid and all three were hurt with Maenaz’s main invocation. The Justicator flew upwards as the druid cast a spell on himself, his skin suddenly turning brown and tree-like… Yes, this was Barkskin, and it was used to reinforge the humanoid’s natural defense, Maenaz realized. But the lifting itself had quite a different purpose in truth, and the pair of Material Plane-born humanoids was about to feel its effects. As the Justicator and the Bladeling flew higher, strange clouds and electrical discharges increased in magnitude above and behind them, finally discharging two powerful thunders straight into the human warlock and the dwarven monk. Maenaz got quickly annoyed, and as the druid was casting some spell on the justicator while they were on the move, prepared to bring another Eldritch Doom into the game. The bladeling fighter, in the meantime, begun an assault on Grimgnaw that except for the first unexpected blow, was failing miserably. Maenaz fired his blast, but the winged man dodged in the last moment, and the warlock cursed his luck.

The justicator put his companion on the ground and flied towards the warlock, the latter preparing to block the blow that eventually came. Maenaz send another blast in pursuit of the justicator, but Sarierus managed to block it with his armored wrist just like once before.

This time, however, the armor cracked under the force of the mighty blast, and pieces of metal started to slowly fall off the Justicator’s palm.
Unfazed by this, Sarierus approached, but this time had nothing of the melee sort of attack on his mind, as his Dark Foresight has warned him. Maenaz suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head and instinctively turned off the ability, a part of him expecting that was what caused it.
The Justicator then immediately used some other power twice in a row, and Maenaz realized he heard nothing. But this was no deafening ability - he was in a silenced area, and that meant no Magic Devouring nor Dark Foresight, not to mention simple hearing. The Justicator appeared to cast a Blessing and then flew straight into the circles of silence, engaging the warlock. Maenaz realized without his additional sense, he was no match in close combat for the Justicator, and being in the area of silence, he couldn’t use his Magic Devour to get rid of it.
Basically, that situation led straight to the warlock getting pummeled around and slashed in wild attacks by the “Angel” of “Order” he was battling. After blasting Sarierus he got struck by a powerful blow and flew backwards, coughing up blood… Silently, because nothing could be heard. He breathed. This would require… Drastic measures.

The Justicator approached only to find itself engulfed in a mist summoned by the Utterdark Blast, and Maenaz was on his feet as the winged warrior leaped out of it to engage him. He blocked the first few attacks and then fired another blast straight into the Justicator’s body, pushing him away further and giving Maenaz a clear attack, which he used, giving the outsider a nasty slash on the other wing. The outsider fell onto his feet only to discover they were already on fire, and the Warlock’s rapid movement prevented him from moving forward. After a short while of fighting submersed in flames, Sarierus jumped backwards only to get blasted with acid. Maenaz took advantage of the gap in the Justicator’s armor his powerful Vitriolic Blast created and stabbed him harshly and deeply straight into it. The angelic warrior yelled out, but couldn’t be heard in the sphere of silence. He slashed the Warlock back, but Maenaz suddenly went into heavy defense, apparently waiting for some kind of mistake.
After getting slightly slashed on the shoulder, the warlock had his opening, and as the enigmatic symbol flashed on his forehead, he stabbed his hand into the pierced wound he inflicted with Enserric before.
Sarierus felt powerful, deadly and unholy negative energy being pumped straight into his body, which suddenly grew weaker. He realized he absorbed too much of the warlock’s power, and then realized another thing.
He could hear his own heavy breathing.
The warlock did not waste time for trivial voicing of his own sudden advantage in the fact and instead rapidly re-activated his Dark Foresight, before punching the Justicator and then slashing him across the chest. Sarierus suddenly turned away, starting to run, and Maenaz immediately went on the pursuit.
The Justicator clumsily took to the sky, barely able to lift himself off the ground and slower than at his full capability. Maenaz did not know where he was trying to go, but he sure as hell did not plan to let him. Firing a blast straight into his back, the tall men was pushed forward with greater speed but begun to fall, barely amortizing hitting the ground with his hand and knee before starting to run forward. Maenaz suddenly realized that he was going to the spot where the whole fight begun, so…

Was he going for the gloves?
The Warlock put a wall of flames in his way, but the weakened Justicator still did not seem to care. He rapidly ran to the place where the first blast was fired, running over to some chest and then opening it simply by putting his metal-free hand on it for a moment. A shine was released and the chest opened, revealing a pair of hand protectors what in fact were something of a cross between leather gloves and light plate gauntlets. They were black and dark grey, with exception of glowing, pulsing red lines. Sarierus pulled out only one before rapidly closing the chest and sealing it back. He put the glove on his hand, and breathed heavily as the power from the glove joined his own. He turned back to the warlock.
- I made a promise that I would never use the gloves myself, however, before leaving my superior informed me that if I wear one of the gloves in a battle under dire circumstances, this will not be a breach of that vow. Therefore… I will use the power of this artifact to destroy you.
- If you cannot even use both the gloves, how would you ever hope to defeat me?
- Oh, how much do you underestimate me, Warlock. You have no idea. You have no idea…

The Justicator paced his way to him, swinging his greatsword with ease. Maenaz dodged, but then, the warrior freed his freshly-gloved hand and simply put it on the warlock. He felt a strange, unnatural coldness make its way into his body, and felt slightly weaker. The Justicator immediately pushed him away, grabbed his sword both-handed and swung it. A small wave of energy imploded between them, with Maenaz again feeling the same strange energies and realized that the swing was slightly quicker than before, and that the gloves gave his weapon a knew magical quality – one that apparently was intended to make it strike harder, but the energy of it was either uncontrollable, or partially turned against the wearer as well. Vicious, indeed.
Maenaz fired another Utterdark blast, but Sarierus blocked it with his Ashen Glove of Carnage, taking no damage at all.
Negative energy immunity? Perhaps a portable Death Ward?
Nevermind that. He dodged the next blow and picked his pace up to the extreme.
Countering, he stabbed the taller man through his wing again, pirouetted to avoid contact with the glove, and fired another eldritch blast straight to his side, kicked the Justicator away and blocked another strike, that weird energy again striking both of them, just as Maenaz was about to punch his way into the wound he made before and pump Sarierus’ body full of acid, the justicator withdrew and unfurled his wings, blood flowing from them, as the two looked each other in the eye and pools of green met circles of copper.
The Ashen Glove of Carnage shone brighter and Maenaz had to quickly gather up his energy as suddenly, the Justicator fired a ray he quite well recognized. Maenaz countered it with an attack of his own just in the last moment, his Eldritch Blast barely stopping the Avasculate ray just before his hand, and the Warlock concentrated to the extreme. His ray withstood the pressure of the dreadful necromantic spell, and as the connection broke when their energies run out for a moment, the Justicator was already upon him – only that Maenaz knew quite well how the outsider will move. The warlock moved first, stabbing the angelic warrior in the abdomen and swirling his sword inside the Justicator’s body. Maenaz pulled away and fired another Eldritch Blast, but Sarierus ignored the damage, punching the warlock and then repeatedly slashing with his sword.
Maenaz could tell the combined power of the glove and the already skilled Justicator fighter made for one deadly encounter, and was already fighting at his maximum ability. And it was just short of enough, apparently. Meaning the fight could go either way.

And he couldn’t let it go any way other than what he wanted. So, why was HE the one getting pummeled, again?

[“ Now or never. There’s no point in having all these powers if I never get to use it all up in my lifetime.”]

As amazing as the justicator’s vitality and physical strength were, he would not survive the next move.

Maenaz leaped away, using his invocation to enhance the move, as a green mist enveloped his eyes. He could feel his body and mind all strained as he summoned every bit of power he had to prepare for this deadly combination. The justicator’s eyes widened as he realized what was going to happen, at least the first blast, but it was too late.
The acidic bath came down on him and Maenaz knew he moved left.
So, as he focused for the third part of the attack, he casually fired one of his overpowered blasts straight were the Justicator was when he tried to avoid the Vitriolic Doom, and it was just the first part of the move.
Because the Warlock was already in the air, nearly flying at the surprised outsider, Enserric suddenly gaining an additional, dark red, pulsing glow.
Just as he landed in front of the Justicator, he pumped his vitality into the spell, something he knew he could do with this particular one thanks to what he learned from Hebiriel, and the blade instead flared up into a beautiful red and orange flame, and then, he slashed Sarierus across the chest and through the two holes in the armor he inflicted then stabbing him earlier, crashing his breast piece and earning a scream of pain from the winged warrior. The strength of the blow ripped the blade from Maenaz’s left hand, and as it repelled off he caught the blade’s guard with his right hand, actually slightly cutting his palm and finger. His left palm darted forward, straight into one of the stabbed wounds he inflicted earlier, and he fired another accumulated blast right into the Justicator’s body. The “angel” flew backwards, pushed away by the force of the blast, air forced out of his metaphorical “lungs” as in truth, he could survive without breathing.
He smashed deep into the nearby hill as Maenaz’s head dropped down, and he could swear his arms were emitting steam and slight impulses of magical energy for a second or two. He hurt all over. He felt his almost inexhaustible supply of eldritch energy actually drained, in a way starting to run out. This was a feeling he almost never get – once when he fought Morag, once when he fought Valsharess and, to the greatest extent yet, when he couldn’t defeat that dracolich Vix’thra in the Underdark.

Basically, it all meant he shouldn’t be fighting much more. He never got quite to the bottom of the well, but if he ever did, nothing good could come out of it. He could be completely cut off his powers for days, weeks, hell, perhaps it would never recover in the blackest conceivable scenario.

His dwarven companion approached him, standing on his side.
- You’re really becoming more and more of a wonder to me every time we fight together. Your power only keeps growing, and you’ve shown some abilities I’ve never seen you use before.
- And yet it seems… He can take it all and stand. He is getting up, isn’t he?
- Yes. Your eyesight is the only thing that has worsened, hasn’t it?
- Indeed it has. I… This glove is indeed an artifact. I could barely block one special attack from it, and it has only dimmed the glow of one of the lines… “veins” on it. Be car…

Too late. An Avasculate ray hit Grimgnaw immediately, the monk’s body teared by the spell’s dreadful power despite the fact that the justicator’s comrades did not deal that much damage to the dwarf at all.
Maenaz quickly answered with a blast of his own as he grabbed a powerful healing potion from his belt and gulped it down after his blast dissipated.
This was no joke. This artifact was something else.
The Justicator was standing back again, two “veins” on the gauntlet now dark and barely glowing. There were still a few more, though.
Maenaz suddenly felt all the adventurousness in his mood gone. He did NOT want to see what else the glove could do, and put a wall of flames under the Justicator. Sarierus ran out of it only to be blasted away. Grimgnaw recovered, and they quickly engaged the winged man together, pushing him into heavy defense even as he was able to use his large sword in the fight against two opponents rather effectively.
But there was a limit to those abilities, and his body was already tired and heavily wounded, his armor broken, his strength just a fraction of what it was that day’s morning. Therefore, Sarierus decided to risk and abuse the powers of the Glove as much as possible.
A wise decision, in fact.
Maenaz had no idea what kind of effect to expect when suddenly, all of the red veins on the glove went off and, suddenly, a cloud of ash shaped into a cone was expelled at him and Grimgnaw.
Then, he felt it. Suddenly, all of the warmth in his vicinity covered by the cone of ash was drained, a numbing, freezing coldness all that remained, moisture in the air first watering and then crystallizing, forming shards of something that looked like dark grey ice and attempted to entrap the pair.
The effect was ravaging and mind-boggling. This was comparable to an incredibly powerful cold spell, not to expelling the contains of a bag of ash on someone. Grimgnaw fell to one knee and Maenaz instinctively called an Eldritch Doom to try and get rid of the Justicator, but he still managed to move around quite well, if not well enough to fully dodge the attack.
[“Fuck. If this continues, we may die.”]

Grimgnaw recuperated and rapidly unleashed another assault at the Justicator, who now had troubly defending. Maenaz quickly joined the attack, using the Blade of Blood again, but without draining his own vitality this time. He then attacked the Justicator with a flurry of blows, and fresh wounds started to cover the body of the tall winged man.
Sarierus tried to swing his blade but to no avail, the attack being easily dodged just to renew the assault the human and the dwarf were now leading. He managed to punch Grimgnaw and dodge one blast from Maenaz, but there was little time and the glove’s energy was regenerating too slowly.
Another slash from Maenaz went through his wing to his abdomen, feather flying as the outsider yelped helplessly in pain the moment Grimgnaw started to unleash a barrage of punch at his abdomen. Maenaz stabbed him through his shoulder before unleashing another acidic blast, and Sarierus managed to strike the Warlock with his blade in retaliation, only to get himself kicked around by the dwarven monk. Maenaz grabbed his sword in two hands and practically sliced the Justicator up, his body now a bloody mess of scratches, cuts, burns, and smashes.
The glove was regaining its glow, but too slowly…
Grimgnaw joined the massacre, beating the Justicator up and then kicking him upwards as Maenaz fired him into the sky with another powerful blast. Sarierus amortized with his wings and decided it was all or nothing.
He grabbed his glowed hand by the wrist, and a shadowy aura surrounded him.
Maenaz looked up and suddenly, the sky of the Outlands changed in color from a subtle mix of light blue and a twinge of green to a deathly ashen pallor. The Ashen Glove of Carnage again started to lose its glow, but this time, completely – no amount of light was visible in the veins on the glove’s surface as suddenly, a tear seemed to open up in the ashen sky, revealing a strange, purple light with twinges of orange and a shadow mist about it.
Maenaz’s eyes widened when he realized this somewhat resembled a certain spell, but was far more sinister.
Suddenly, a giant pillar of the grim light came down on them, with both of the pair trying to dodge in the last moment. The Warlock felt his vital energy rapidly dissipate – it was a wonder he was still alive. Maenaz never saw such an effect or expected it existed, but this attack seemed somewhat like the polar opposite of a Sunbeam spell. Grimgnaw almost went down from the attack, but Maenaz realized this was the best moment to finish the battle and suddenly, a pillar of pale, green light appeared right behind the Justicator, so that Sarierus could not see it. Then, Maenaz brought down the Vitriolic Doom at the angelic figure, a last scream escaping the outsider’s mouth as the acid consumed his ravaged body and forced him to finally let go of the pitiful shreds of vital energy that kept him fighting.
Justicator’s heavy, still partially armored body fell from the above, hitting the ground and breaking the remaining “bones” of the creature with a loud snap. Maenaz smiled with glee. The mission was “almost” accomplished. Now, he just had to make sure it was him who gets the gloves and not Grimgnaw.

He walked to the corpse and wasted no time, taking off the glove and cutting off the Justicator’s hand. Apparently, the thing was something of a key to the chest, and warlocks were pretty good with such shit usually.
Grimgnaw tried to get up and watched him closely as Maenaz walked to the place where the chest was. The monk raised and started to follow in his steps, the warlock casually walking over to the chest, and placing the severed hand on the chest. He tried several applications of varying degrees of energy until he found the right one, and the chest “believed” it was Sarierus opening it.
Gods, Maenaz was glad to be able to fool these stupid magical devices.
That was until, suddenly, he had been kicked to the side as the dwarf decided he did not trust his human companion THAT much. Maenaz slowly gathered himself to raise up from the ground. Grimgnaw spoke :
- I am not letting you take these gloves. They’re important.
- No, idiot, they’re invaluable. That’s why I’m taking them and you should be happy you’re no longer a generic member of the Long Death… Thanks, in no small part, to ME. Yet, do you honestly think you could defeat me in a fight?
- The way you are now? Definitely.
- You’re just as hurt. If not more so.
- I wouldn’t be so sure. I’m a dwarf. We can take a lot of punishment.
- You don’t even know what punishment is. Believe me, were I to bring MY punishment on you, you’d beg me to send you into the Wall of the Faithless already.
- You’re marked by death, that’s true. Yet, I am a monk of the Silent Lord. I’m willing to risk to see which one of us is favored more.
- You will regret this in the end.
Maenaz was the first to attack, but the monk dodged to the side. The dwarf run towards him, only to have the warlock jump above him to attack his back. Grimgnaw blocked the strike with his magical glove, the hit barely breaking skin as he kicked Maenaz away. He then jumped and made a spinning kick, before landing and punching the warlock in the gut. Then, a punch from below into the jaw, after which Grimgnaw caught his hand and started to spin in place before tossing him away. Before Maenaz landed, the monk was already upon him, unleashing a barrage of strikes before forcing him into the ground with an overhead kick.
As Grimgnaw was still in the air, Maenaz extended his leg, striking the dwarf’s head, before spinning on top of him and releasing a blast that the dwarf just barely managed to relocate from his head to the edge of his shoulder. Grimgnaw headbutted him and punched him away, getting back on his feet and running towards the warlock. This time, Maenaz evaded and slashed the dwarf across his back, before firing an acidic cone.
As Grimgnaw recovered from the strike, Maenaz activated his Dark Foresight once again. His former comrade went on a rapid assault, but Maenaz’s dodging was flawless – Grimgnaw wasn’t as fast nor as agile as some monks could be, being a dwarf, and in the current state his mobility was even further compromised. The warlock, on the other hand, was already more and more used to fighting without relying on his sight and also, his natural, no-Ki-enhancement mobility was far greater than the dwarf’s in the first place.
Dodging the first few blows, he fired another blast straight into his companion’s gut. Grimgnaw spinned and kicked him from the side only to have his leg caught and his stomach stabbed with Enserric.
It was only when Maenaz dodged his perfectly aimed jumping punch that the dwarf realized he may have overestimated his power, and indeed it seemed so when the Warlock send him flying high with a blast to the stomach. Oh, how dreadful was the sound the Monk’s bones made when he hit the ground!

The dwarf cursed in his race’s language and attempted to attack again, getting in a punch before Maenaz kicked him away and then immobilized him, standing on his foot, swinging his sword down on his arm and aiming an Utterdark Blast right into his body.
Grimgnaw managed to save his arm, but the negative energy was discharged straight into him.
Maenaz then lifted his hand to Grimgnaw’s head and pushed him onto the ground, opening his mouth and speaking :
- I believe that settles the matter of superiority. Sure, if we continue to fight seriously, we may both die, but where would be the advantage in that? I have an offer for you, instead, if you are willing to listen instead of throwing your life away for a pair of gloves.
- What… are you talking about! It’s a powerful artifact, one that I’ve aimed to obtain for weeks! I’ve travelled to the Acheron and back to get it! I will not give it up!
- You see, Grimgnaw, I do not need these stupid gloves for myself. I’d give them up if it was up to me. However, I serve…am allied to… a powerful being. More powerful than you’ve ever battled or seen. One that would make the Justicator I’ve just slain seem like a child with a stick even with both gloves on. And, unfortunately for you, this creature wants these gloves, and doesn’t give a shit about the order of Long Death or a single dwarven monk who aimed to obtain them. However, this powerful being does reward those who help them achieve its purpose. You cannot have the gloves, Grimgnaw, and if you’ll try to take them, I’ll kill you like I’d kill anyone who gets in the way of my revenge. But, if you return with me, you may negotiate your own reward with the one that lords over the Gate of Vipers. What do you say? Wouldn’t it be preferable to dying from the hands of your former trusted companion due to a fight over a minor artifact?
- It… Would. Except I don’t know if I can…
- Trust me? Don’t be an idiot, Grimgnaw. If I wished you harm, I’d be continuing my assault now. Whatever happens with you in the Gate of Vipers is only up to you.
- Fine, then. I guess it’d be acceptable to travel back with you.
- Very well. Let’s get some potions and get on the move. If I have to fight anything else, I may as well start digging my own grave. Right here in the Outlands.


If one were to sum the Outlands up, it’s a giant, relatively empty mass of land resembling some Prime Material quasi-desert, with a giant mountain called the Spire in the center of it. At the bottom of the mountain, no magic can be used – and yet, at the top of it, rests the greatest city of the Outer Planes. There are some settlements and smaller planar cities and people whisper of hidden bases of some outsiders dedicated to pure neutrality all around the Outlands, but overall, it’s the same, boring plane with strange wildlife and little of what many planar travelers would be looking for.

There are, however, a few points of interests. Other than domains of the deities itself, the cities that hold portals to more aligned Outer Planes, called “gatetowns” or “gateway cities” are such points of interest. These towns resemble the plane they connect to, straying from the universal neutrality of the Concordant Domain, to greater or lesser degrees. Yet, there must always be a balance – if a Gateway City becomes too strongly aligned, it starts to decompose and gets sucked through the portal it was originally built around, and into the plane it lead to.
Such a moment is an instance of great happiness for those who live in the gatetowns that lead to the Upper Planes, a symbol of their blessings and their acceptance to the planes of eternal goodness and often eternal happiness.

The gateway town he visited had nothing to do with happiness, and indeed was the very anathema of the Upper Planes. Not to mention the fact that he had to cover himself with a dark grey cloak in order to not break the law when entering.
The fact that colors other than black and grey were forbidden in the town called “Hopeless” already told much about what was it like.
And for all Gods’ sakes, the name could not be *less* subtle about how its Citizen felt.

The only colorful part of the city was literally saying “get the fuck out of here”. There was only one entrance to the city, which mostly lay in a great cave, and that entrance was also the mentioned colorful part.
Brilliant, blood-red crystalline stone, crafted into a giant, humanoid if gaunt face with blank, dead eyes, the face screaming as its jaws formed the entrance.
The last place you’d like to spend your holiday in was Hopeless. Unless the choice was between this and Hades itself.
Maenaz nodded to the dwarf, who did not seem particularly moved by this, and put on his hood so that he would seem uniformly darkly grey. The dwarf was wearing black anyway, so there was no point in changing his clothing. The Ashen Gloves were hidden safe in a sash on Maenaz’s belt that was in fact a Bag of Holding, the warlock not wanting to use the power of the gloves for himself, and especially not without a good reason.
He walked to the Screaming Gate, as it was apparently called, and, well, let’s just say the guards weren’t the most pleasant types you’ll ever see. Not even human. One of them was clearly a half-fiend of sorts, dark and broad, with nearly black wings, horns, and crystalline growths on its shoulders and head. The other one was clearly an undead of sorts, with emaciated body structure, skeletal face and enlarged hands that ended with elongated fingers and mean talons. Both had eyes that held quite some intelligence, but the half-fiend was silent. The undead spoke :
- What is your business within the Hopeless, human?
- I need to use the gateway into the Hades. I had a job to do in the Outlands, and now have to go to my employer.
- Ah, a human working for a creature of the Gray Waste. How refreshing. Mind you do not stay too much in the pretty plane, though. You may find that it is not worth returning from.
- Will you let me enter, or not?
- The impatient type. Fine, fleshy thing. You may enter the Hopeless. However, mind you that using the Gateway actually requires the allowance of all seven beholder guards of the city, our lady Thingol “the Mocking”, or her chief guard Jerican Blackblood. Otherwise, you will not be permitted to use it. Luckily for you, Lady Thingol’s palace is very near to the portal, so maybe if you’re really convincing and there’s not too big of a queue, you will be allowed to talk with one of them.
- Fine. My thanks.
- Go. The city is fairly boring as it is, you do not need to annoy me in addition.

Maenaz passed the guards, giving a passing nod to the silent half-fiend and moving forward. The city on the inside was gloom incarnate – silence, no colors, only movement deeper and deeper, eventually into a cave.
He quickly realized the entire city was organized into one big spiral, with most buildings having entrances on the road side. It looked like the city could have thousands living in it.
And it was boring and dull as all Hell, or perhaps all Hades – it was just a giant freaking spiral moving more and more into the center, with rarely a living being in sight, and those “living beings” probably mostly being petitioners or people who got caught up in whatever kept them here and eventually felt too apathetic to leave. Maenaz knew the deeper into the Hopeless, the stronger would be any potential resistance he had met. After all, his Foresight might get flipped over into its “Don’t fight the darkness, let it eat you!” version at any point in the spiral, and he suspected the deeper into the city, the stronger the guardians or thugs would be.
He doubted anyone would bother him without direct orders, however. The city was called “Hopeless” for a reason. The people in it were so stoic and uncaring that there was no point in attacking him unless he broke the law or was officially an “enemy of state”.

However, as he passed another a few other monotonic buildings he saw a strange, pale gray and black Rakshasa on the other end of the street. The creature was apparently aware of his presence before, and Maenaz actually felt a faint aura around the being, very unusual for a Rakshasa – stronger and darker, more…
Like if the being was a necromancer.
But Rakshasa’s were uniformly of sorcerer powers, so actual necromancy specialization was unlikely or impossible. He passed the tiger-like magician trying not to pay attention to the fact that it was staring straight at him.

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Maenaz did not have to wait long for what he expected. He only just passed the tigerlike humanoid before he heard it speak, or more like snarl, two words in Common.
- You, human! Wait for a moment.

The warlock turned his green eyes towards the rakshasa, trying to suppress an angry sound and avoid giving the creature a murderous look. Calling him “human” and quite openly talking to him may bring unwanted attention, not to mention the fact that the rakshasa himself might be rather unpleasant company. Or a company that wants to murder him on the spot and take his magical items, that is.
The tigerlike humanoid walked closer to him, his hands to the sides as if suggesting he had no bad intentions, and he (Maenaz strongly suspected this one was male, but who knew for sure) eyed the warlock before grinning and then speaking…
Only this time it was in Undercommon language. Why would Rakshasa change the speech he used right after starting a conversation in Common was beyond Maenaz, and he wasn’t sure if Grimgnaw would understand their talk, but Maenaz knew Undercommon even before allying with the Drow, so he had no problem understanding what the rakshasa was trying to tell him.
So, what brings you to this cozy town, and makes you bring a dwarf and a bunch of magical equipment with you, may I ask?

The warlock sighed before answering.
- Why do you even care? I’m just to get back to my… employer… to tell him I’ve finished the job he gave me. I don’t suppose this is your business.
The rakshasa’s grin only widened.
- Oh, my… It appears you’re exactly what I suspected you may be. Humans do not often speak Undercommon, you know. And they rarely carry around items that have been enhanced by necromantic spells, you know. Unless they’re a… very specific type of humans. One that I and a certain accomplice of mine have been looking for.
- Sorry, but I am already…
- Come on, human. Let me buy you a drink, and you’ll listen to my offer. You may gain a rather… unconventional reward if you accept the terms, but you seem just the type to be interested in this method of compensation.
More than the rakshasa’s straightforwardness, something else surprised the human warlock.
- They have taverns in Hopeless? You can actually get *drinks* here?
- Indeed you can – said the Rakshasa chuckling silently, as if to not draw attention. – Follow me, human. I assure you there isn’t much possibility I could hurt you if I wanted to, and I also assure you I have no such desire.
- It is not my policy to trust strangers too much.
- Wise of you, although you need not necessarily trust me. You just need to hear me out, and it will be safer and more comfortable for both of us in the place I’ll lead you to.
- If you say so. I should warn you, however. If I get uncomfortable, I may happen to have more pointy ends that you can handle.
- I wouldn’t be talking to you if that wasn’t what I expected. Come, human. Let’s not waste any more time than necessary.
Not quite convinced, Maenaz nevertheless followed the rakshasa. If this was a trap, killing a bunch of tigerlike semi-fiendish diabolical humanoid would be a service to all of humanity. If it wasn’t, he may get something of value out of this.


They indeed entered a tavern some time later, although it was sort-of dull and not too interesting when looking from the outside – not what you’d expect a tavern to be. Maenaz thought it to just be appropriate for a town like this, however. Why would the place’s tavern be any different from everything else?
In the tavern, two different, dark-clad and black-furred rakshasas were already waiting for them. Apparently, his “host’s” acquaintances.
They sat in the table the pair of shadowy rakshasas stood next to, and the tigerlike mage spoke.
- Now, before we start, this tavern is run by the Dustmen faction. They won’t particularly care whether we’re discussing the weather or the death of someone in here, because they actually LIKE death and want to achieve a state of “true” death themselves. That’s why we’re talking here – while the Bleak Cabal, that has a strong standing in the city, doesn’t usually give shit about anything, if we discuss assassinations or plots within the walls of this city and someone hears it, we may have problems. I’ve also told you I’d buy you a drink, and the offer still stands, but since this is a Dustmen tavern… Well, let’s just say most things they serve here smell like they were used to conserve dead bodies or whatever else you may find in a mortuary. They actually add embalming fluids to the drinks, in small amounts, of course. It won’t make any healthy man sick or anything, but that would definitely be the most unique drink you’ve ever had. So, do you want one, or not?

Maenaz lifted his eyebrow skeptically before sniffing a bit and looking around.
Indeed, this place smelled like a cemetery, or a morgue.
Still, to hell with that. He has not had anything with alcohol for… a long time. Unless his memory failed him, right after he allied himself with Valsharess, they drank some wine and that was it.
So, he was willing to give the Dustmen spirits a try.
- Get me a beer, I can handle it. More importantly, however, what was your true reason for bringing me here?
- It is a bit complicated. Tell me, you come from the Prime Material Plane, right? From the world called… What was the proper name… Abeir-Toril ?
- That is correct.
- Good to hear. Also, it is possible you’re simply some sort of determined vigilante not afraid to use all means possible and such, so to clear this up… Your… morality… It would be more in tune with the place we’re in right now, or even with mentalities common in the Lower Planes rather than the Upper ones, correct?
- This is indeed a complicated question, and I wouldn’t want to make it too simple or obvious, but just to make it all clear as possible – I’m currently working for a certain group consisting mostly of Yugoloths, so I believe you could say it is indeed that way. Why ask?
- I needed to make sure you’re the type of person me and my accomplice are looking for.
- This is the second time you’ve mentioned that accomplice. Who is he, exactly?
- My accomplice is a member of a certain group that hail from the Outer Planes, and one of the group’s most important occupations is – (he lowered his voice to a whisper) – killing for… remuneration.

The warlock got both more interested and more suspicious.
- Sounds like your accomplice is pretty much a fiend. And one that dabbles in assassination as well.
- That is not precisely correct. The group my accomplice is part of all share the same origin, and shall I say, in matters of spirituality and morality, I am more of a fiend than he is. They have a relatively balanced mindset, quite resembling the nature of the Outlands themselves… And as far as I’ve learned after many years of working with my accomplice, only two of the group ever broke out of this mindset, and met with different ends – one is a big figure in the Lower Planes, although I never learned which name he bears, and the other ran away to Limbo, thinking he deserves ultimate freedom, before being tracked down and killed by his former group.
- Then explain why were you two looking for a person of… shall I say… flexible morals?
- The companions of my accomplice track their kills as a group, trying to seek balance between killing people of different moral and ethical values. Recently, there’s been a certain increase in the jobs that concerned killing people more concerned about their own self-interest, that’s why my accomplice temporarily re-located to the Hopeless in order to find a job that concerns killing people with the kind of morality that is appreciated in the Upper Planes. However, there are certain obligations he must fulfill, and he will also require payments for any jobs. In order to make it easier to find such an employment, he sought my help. You see, there is still a certain being that needs to be assassinated in order for him to fulfill a previous contract, and clearly not many people here in Hopeless could hope to afford his services. That’s why I sought a person like you, someone who seems like a capable adventurer and comes from the Prime Material but isn’t a complete stranger to planar travelling. The deal is as follows – you’d kill my accomplices’ previous mark, and then I’d arrange for your meeting with him. In return for your service, he’d kill a single, shall we say, celestially-aligned being of your choice as you negotiated with him, for a very significantly lowered price. Are you interested?
- Perhaps. That would depend on your accomplice’s abilities as well as the nature of the task required to meet him.
- I can vouch for his skills, and as for the nature of the task…
The rakshasa searched for something in his bag, and pulled out a large scroll.
- Here are some answers about the location and such of the target. In general, your mission is to kill a certain, winter-associated fey that happens to have dabbled in both necromancy and elemental magic just enough to accomplish the unthinkable. You see, when an especially malicious person dies in certain planes of the Multiverse, especially the elemental planes of Water, Air, or quasielemental plane of Ice, there is a possibility that his spirit will be revived in the form of a very unusual elemental creature, called a Chraal. Chraals are about 8 feet tall and appear to consist mostly of ice, but this isn’t the point. You see, this malicious fey found a way to incarnate humanoid souls into Chraals regardless of the alignment of the mortal in question, and she doesn’t even have to do it in the usual locations of such a reincarnation, it seems. Moreover, good souls reincarnated into Chraals are only slightly less ruthless and bloodthirsty than the usual specimen of the race. While not truly a plane-shaking ability, this fey and its power are seen by my accomplice’s group as threatening the balance of the Universe in general. That’s why despite the late dominance of “evil” creatures in their recent kills, they’ve decided to eliminate this creature. If you bring the head of the fey to Hopeless in a time span of no more than two fortnights, then I will give you an audience with my accomplice where you can negotiate whatever you wish in return. Be sure however to bring some minor payment, in gems or magical items, especially if you plan to give a difficult assignment.
- Fine, then. It’s definitely worth thinking about it. Give me the scroll. If I do it, and I probably will if I have the time, I hope it’ll be worth it. I dislike having my time wasted, you know.
- Yes, yes. But since my accomplice has never failed ever since I begun to work with him, I think it’ll be fine.
Maenaz finished his beer and rose from the table. Indeed, the strangest bit of alcohol he ever drank.
- Remember, bring the head here, to the Tavern of Ashen Fields, and either me or one of my friends here will be waiting for you.
- Then we have a deal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish my original assignment, so fare thee well.
- Same to you, human. Same to you. Ah, before you go, what name are you known under?
- Maenaz Carn’renor.
- Bhalasar, a rakshasa of the Ak’chazar. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
- Likewise. Goodbye, Bhalasar.
- Goodbye, Maenaz.

As they walked out, Maenaz barely suppressed a chuckle. Ahhh, everything lately seems to have something to do with “Ash”, doesn’t it? And, also…
- So, Grimgnaw, do you actually understand Undercommon, or were you simply waiting for me to finish talking to that rakshasa?
- I do, though it is a bit rusty.
- I was basically hired to assassinate someone.
- I understood. Noble occupation, if you ask me.
This time, the warlock couldn’t stop himself from a small laugh.
- Indeed it may appear that way to some. Indeed it may.


A couple of hours later

After quite some time of moving around the spirally-built city (a certain annoyance, since you could only move deeper or try to get out) Grimgnaw and the warlock were finally about to have an audience with the lady of the city. Maenaz wondered how exactly the most important person in a town like this could look like, but he was more worried about what drastic effect on his eyesight would standing in a line inside a city with little to no light whatsoever have.
Anyway, they were lead into the deeper part of the palace and into Thingol’s “guest” chamber. The chamber was, at last, lightly lit with four arcane candles that emitted a dull, silvery light.
Of course. Color was forbidden, he reminded himself. He actually wondered whether he’d get fined, thrown into the dungeons or even hanged for his eye color.
The woman, as it turned out, was remarkably humanoid, two or three inches short of his own height, but her clothing was anything if ordinary. Her face was covered with an iron mask that looked like a wolf’s face, and her shoulders were covered with a cloak that consisted more of chains than of actual material. Moreover, the chains were animated, moving around, sometimes curling around and over her shoulders, sometimes darting to the sides. Thingol paid heed to her own laws, dressed in black and grey suit of armor that was apparently made from some powerful creature of the Lower Planes.
The woman spoke, her voice spreading over the chamber with a commanding resonance, only a hint of femininity and no sign of any emotion evident.
- What do you wish to pester me, the High Cardinal of Hopeless, about, human of the Prime Material?
- My name is Maenaz Carn’renor, and I came to Hopeless due to my need to use the city’s gateway into the Gray Waste, milady.
- And, pray tell, what would a human like you look for in the Gray Waste? Do you seek death? Or maybe you’re one of these fools who wish to become mercenaries in the Blood War, which usually equates to death?
- No, milady. I have an agreement with a certain denizen of the plane, and I am returning from a quest that made up my part of it.
- What denizen? Who are you in fact referring to? And better don’t try to lie to me, my unfortunate mortal guest.
- I am allied with the lords of the Gate of Vipers, High Cardinal.

Thingol stood in place for a moment before sitting down on her throne, crossing her legs and taking a more relaxed pose. Her voice took a new quality, and Maenaz couldn’t quite catch what it was, so miniscule the change compared to how she sounded when they started the conversation.
- Oh.
- Milady?
- So, are you some sort of a messenger for one of the Seven? Or maybe it’s you who’s the new apprentice of Morax the Ultroloth? Or perhaps… You’ve been recruited by the *true* lord of the Gate?
The warlock’s eyes widened. Did she know? But how could she know? Both Morax and Zerenas always spoke of the hierarchy as if Samael was one of the universe’s biggest secrets!
He needed to be very cautious with his response.
- You may be in fact aware that I am not exactly allowed to give such information about my employers, lady Thingol…
- So, it’s the last one, yes? You’ve been recruited by the big shot, the most venomous of all snakes, weren’t you?
- Indeed. That happens to be the case.
Thingol’s voice took yet another quality. This time, it seemed to be a hint of… something far lesser and less obvious than excitement, if a bit similar. And it was only a small *hint* of this small, incomplete excitement, mind you.
- Samael’s new boyscout! And a human one at that, no matter how I look at it! Take off this hood and show me your face, mortal. You don’t actually have scales, do you?
Maenaz obediently took off the hood, revealing his face and his eyes.
- A true human. My, my. You should do something about your eyes, though. They’re out of place. Here, they’re illegal, even.
- You seem… oddly interested, High Cardinal.
- Oh, not really. I barely give a damn, truth be told. However, it is indeed surprising that Samael would exploit a human to reach whatever dark purpose he has.
- If I may ask… how did you even learn of his existence?
- It’s of no consequence to you. And you cannot ask, actually.
- I am sorry.
- Bullshit. You’re not. You ooze all sorts of these disgusting, dreadful *emotion*, but you’re not sorry. Not really. You got rid of “sorry” long ago.
Maenaz was silent. The woman apparently had something to say, yet preferred to toy with him for now.
- So, you do realize that you’re already, how to put this, the “Malefactor” type? That your character and morality actually *suit* Hades, Gehenna or Carceri? You do understand that even if you’re actually send to the Lower Planes instead of suffering whatever punishment applicable for your world the best you can hope for is to be turned into a mindless beast below a Mezzoloth or wander around in Hades until something puts you out of your misery permanently, or, if you’re really, really lucky, you’ll get to be the larvae used in the process of Night Hags procreation? You know what a Night Hag is, right?
- Why… are you even asking me these questions?
- Because if Samael decided to recruit you himself, you’re a powerful mortal. When you die and your soul is forfeit, all of the gods of your world or its Upper Plane denizens or whoever gets the morally sound souls of your Material Plane, that knew of your existence of course, will moan and wail and gnash their teeth. Because of my philosophy, I’m actually slightly curious whether you give a damn about this.
- I do not. My life up to this point has led me to a conclusion that I do not actually give a shit about the Gods nor about what truly will happen to that soul of mine, as long as I get *some* type of afterlife, or at least relatively peaceful oblivion. Was that the answer you were expecting?
- Oh, by all means yes. You’re acceptable, Maenaz Carn’renor. You may use my city portal to get into Hades or whatever. Also, once you retire from adventuring, if you’re not dead or inexplicably insane from all that you’ve seen, get some jink and buy a house in the Hopeless. We could use some powerful people who don’t give a damn about the Multiverse or the Truth or their own souls or actually pretty anything in here.
- I suppose it is worth considering.
- Now, leave. You’ve made an acceptable impression, do not ruin it now.

Maenaz bowed slightly and left. What an odd woman, this Thingol the Mocking. Indeed, he felt she managed to mock him without even trying or being emotional about it.
So, he was a planar traveler now. He got from the Gate of Vipers into Gehenna, later from the Gate to Outlands, and now he’d get from Outlands into Hades and back to the Gate.
The bad part was that he never seemed to go to enjoyable places. Unless one considered slaughter enjoyable, of course. Maenaz at times enjoyed violence, himself.

He went out of the palace and into the direction of the portal. The darkness and gloom were practically tangible here, and also the floor was all covered in some mud-like, tarry substance. At the center of the city was something that looked like a well, although it had a disturbing feature – in the direction of the way to Thingol’s palace, a shape built from the same red stone as the gate was imitating a tongue, which you could use to enter or slide right into the well.
Maenaz figured out this was a portal, and it made him somewhat nervous and uncomfortable. What made him more uncomfortable was, however, the fact that on both sides of the well, somewhat deep into the shade, there were two masses of bones and corpses, put closely together so at times you could not make out one corpse from the other. The real thrill came because he could *swear* one of the masses moved in an animal-like fashion.
Before he could proceed, a giant beholder of uniform gray body color and dreadful, black-and-red eyes floated into his sight, eyeing him up and down.
He remained calm, although he never had good relations with a beholder. Usually ended with him killing the creature in question.
The beholder explained, speaking in a surprisingly fluid Common.
- The name is Xarcoriax. Xarcoriax needs to confirm you’ve been allowed to pass. Otherwise, Xarcoriax may have to eliminate you. Name?
- Maenaz Carn’renor.
The beholder closed about half of its eyes and seemed to focus. After a moment, the eyes darted open again, and it spoke.
- It is confirmed. Maenaz Carn’renor is allowed to use the portal. Watch to not drown. If with a companion, make sure you are somehow connected, otherwise you may land quite some distance from each other. Goodbye. And please do not tease the dogs.
- The dogs?
- Irrelevant information. If you haven’t noticed the dogs, you cannot tease them. Please, ignore.

Maenaz just wanted to be out of this place. Sure, Hades won’t be any better, but perhaps it will be less *weird*.
He pulled out the amulet that Grimgnaw once gave him and that he only stopped wearing when he found something significantly more powerful, and they both hanged on to it before they started to descend into the well. Maenaz suddenly felt thick, black liquid engulf him, comparable to nothing else he ever felt, and he fell down straight through it.


When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see anything. It took Grimgnaw speaking to him to realize that they were already on the other side of the portal. He managed to shake the effect off and he saw a lot, a LOT of gray landscape through the dark mist that clouded his eyesight.
After some wandering around the portal, they’ve finally found their welcoming committee, which consisted of two Yuan-Ti Maenaz already knew and a somewhat fey-like Tiefling with small horns and pale skin of slightly grey pallor that he never met before. The Yuan-Ti were Sinnesia and Nassirah, and the tiefling’s name was Vinton. He apparently was some sort of expert at moving across the Hades-ian landscape. And indeed, it did not take long for them to appear close to a river of sorts, which apparently was a tributary of the mythical River Styx.
Nassirah did not waste time casting some spell and after a couple of minutes, a boat appeared at the river’s border. Appearing as a pallid, cloaked, gaunt if not outright skeletal humanoid, the ferryman reached out to the party.
Nassirah handed the ferryman a gem first, and each one of his companions did alike. Maenaz searched through his pockets and paid for both himself and Grimgnaw, as the dwarf was not accounted for and he did not in fact have any treasure on himself other than his magical equipment – which would be a pity to give up.

The group was initially completely silent as the ferry carried them through the waters of Hades, but Maenaz noticed both of the Yuan-Ti women… or a women and a girl, depending how you look at it, had some questions. Sinnesia was even quite open about it, staring at him with a frown.
- What is it?
- You… are annoying. And a liar.
- What the hell are you talking about?
- You must have made some pacts, some deals. You can’t just have… been born with a potential to achieve your current power and without any sign or mark of an ancestor who could have provided your line with such power. It is simply not possible.
- Some people would tell being both an accomplished sorcerer and a warlock at your age is impossible, even for a regular Yuan-Ti, yet we both know this is not true.
- I do not believe you. You’re either stupid and don’t know something about yourself, or you’re lying and you’ve made some pact to increase your powers.
- Fine, I lied. I sold my anal virginity to a group of wizened, sex-depraved gnome clerics and druids. They also took a small shred of my soul to make a fertilizer for their carrot and turnip fields. In return, my power was increased by a factor of five. They’re still alive, and I’m sure they’d be glad to make such a deal with you since you have more holes to exploit.
- You’re… leading me on, aren’t you?
- By no means, I’m only speaking the honest truth. These sodomizing gnome divine spellcasters are among the most powerful beings in Toril.
- I find that highly doubtful.
- Oh, do you really?
- You’re just joking, aren’t you? You’re making fun of my serious question.
- No shit… And I almost hoped you’d sell yourself to a bunch of wizened old gnomes. Would’ve been fun. I’d personally pay an artist to paint the scene.
- Are you still claiming you…
- Enough, Sinnesia.
Nassirah has been smirking the whole conversation, and finally intervened.
- So, Maenaz, what sort of unexpected monstrosity tried to stop you from achieving your purpose this time?
- A bladeling druid, a warrior of the same race and some sort of winged outsider from Acheron. A Justicator, if I did not get the name wrong. Also, they’ve summoned some pretty mean beasts, which the dwarf here helped me to eliminate. Not to mention he also lend me aid against the group itself.
- If we’re talking about this, who is the dwarf?
- This is Grimgnaw of the Long Death monks, my former companion. He happened to also be pursuing the group that had the gloves, however, we came to an… understanding. I’m taking him to meet Lord Samael.
- So, I guess this is the place we get out. Let’s be quick about our return, we don’t want to get into some Blood War skirmish or anything.

The group of five left the ferry and started to quickly move through the dark fields of Hades’ first layer, or the First of Three Glooms, called Oinos. It did take them two full hours to move far enough along the plane to actually see the Gate of Vipers, but finally, they’ve reached their destination.
Maenaz spend all this time wondering why would Samael need gloves that contained so much negative energy, thinking about why exactly Sinnesia was so angry with him, what was she…
And he also considered a certain proposition he received a day and a half ago.
And that was quite the complicated way of thinking he was leading himself into.

Half an hour later


After getting to the Gate he still needed to wait to be allowed into Samael’s chamber, as the lord of the Gate was apparently listening to some important reports that should not be allowed to be heard by anyone of insufficient status.
Meaning him, for example?
Finally, he was allowed inside, the Lord of the Gate in one of his relaxed, casual position on his throne. Apparently, Grimgnaw could easily feel how powerful was the being of whose presence he was in.
Good. That would make the recruitment of his former companion that much easier.
However, his curiosity got the better of him, and quickly.
- What’s all the fuss about? Why wasn’t I simply allowed to walk in?
- Oh, Maenaz, it’s just regular bullshit. Some reports of items and people I’ve been tracking… Hey, you know, this Malkizid you’ve been told about? It appears quite many of his more recent recruits come from your world, Abeir-Toril. I guess I’m not the only one with a newborn interest in it, am I?
- That is of no consequence to me. Anyway, Samael, I’ve obtained the artifact, as you requested. However, during the mission, certain… problems have appeared.
- What kind of problems?
- First, the opponent pulled out a move I did not expect. The Justicator that was leading the group in possession of the Gloves wore one of them himself and fired quite a barrage of powers at as, and it seemed to… drain the glove in a way. It appears however that it possesses the ability to recover the energy required to fire those spells or whatever those were, so I wouldn’t worry. I just wanted you to know that whatever the purpose you need the gloves for, they may not be ready for it straight away.
- Anything else?
- Yes. This dwarf is an old companion of mine, and he’s name is Grimgnaw. He happened to be looking for the Ashen Gloves of Carnage as well. We managed to work out that I’ll be ultimately taking the gloves. However, he did lend me help in attaining them, so I brought him here. I think he deserves some kind of compensation.
- Oh, and the only reason you did not kill him was because he was your former companion, ain’t that right?
- We… almost fought. I considered… eliminating him, but he is capable and trustworthy.
- And what does Grimgnaw himself has to say about that?
- I required the gloves in order to improve the standing of my Order, as well as my own power within it. It was pointless to go against a powerful vassal of Death like Maenaz, so I decided to take his offer of negotiating a compensation with you. It appears, however, that what he said about you is true.
- And what he said about me?
- It’s of little consequence. You may as well be an avatar of the Silent Lord himself. I cannot force anything from you.
- Oh. It appears what he said was something positive after all. However, he also assured you that there would be some sort of reward involved. If Maenaz is willing to trust you and feels you’d be too useful to kill, then so am I. However, I cannot give up the gloves, especially not now.
Maenaz felt it was the right moment to butt in about another of his questions.
- What do you need these gloves for, anyway? They’re just supremely negative-energy charged, with a couple other abilities. You’re no necromancer type, as far as I know.
- It is very simple, Maenaz. I didn’t tell you this before, but now I guess I may as well do it.
- What are you talking about.
- You see, in your world, in Abeir-Toril, there are some quite specific ways of becoming a deity. As long as the Overgod of your world doesn’t block the ascension, you can kill a god and take its essence, or you can be ascended through extreme and sincere worship if you have divine blood, or you can simply ascend yourself through a few certain rituals that each have… requirements… to meet. I’ve learned all there is to learn about one, and I’ve adapted it to my needs. Now, I need to fulfill the requirements and complete the ritual, and then…
- You want to ascend. You want… to become an actual God.
- That is correct. I can never have a true position of power amongst the Yugoloths, and I’ve been banished from the Nine Hells. Abyss is not a true possibility, there’s too much chaos for true power, too much strife and strain even for a creature like me. Carceri has only one lord – Apomps. And I’ve always been… what I am. The only way I can attain true power is through godhood. And I intend to pull it off.
- Are you sure this is going to work? Are you even sure this is what you want?
- Yes, I am. And it will work. I know just what I need for the process, but some of it requires work in your own world. And it is lengthy and difficult. That’s why I’m getting all the help I can. And that’s why I need the gloves.
- Explain.
- Certain artifacts will be required for me to complete the ritual. One of them is, at least in my case, an artifact that was crafted and that developed its power in one of the Lower Planes. Gloves were the easiest to reach and obtain. I’m going to reward your friend with a different piece of equipment, and if he does enough for the two of us… I will give him the gloves after I’m done with them. They will still be quite a powerful piece of equipment, if not the artifact they are now. Is that acceptable, Grimgnaw?
- I believe that would be satisfactory.
- Then you may leave, for now. I still have something to tell to your companion.
The dwarven monk bowed and left the chamber. Samael turned to the warlock, and spoke.
- Now you know what there is to know. You’re basically helping an ancient archdevil ascend to godhood. There is a certain downside to this, you know.
- There’s no redemption. And I doubt many gods will be interested in having me as a servant.
- Correct. However, that doesn’t need to be a bad thing. If you decide to become a worshipper of mine, and if I ascend to godhood, you won’t require other deities. Your afterlife away from the Wall of the Faithless or whatever other fate Kelemvor would have in store for you… will be guaranteed. Also, do I even need to mention the power to crush Neverwinter would be yours?
- If you thought the fact that you wanting to become a deity would change my perspective of things, shatter me to my core, awaken some… long-dead gods-damned sense of conscience inside me… You are wrong. I don’t particularly care. We had a deal, let’s fulfill it. All else is the details. As for… worshipping you… that might have some sense if I decide I actually want to live and have an afterlife after I destroy Neverwinter. Otherwise, it is not really required. Still, if you were a god, that does open up new… Opportunities.
- You have a most delightful evil mind, warlock. You will go far. Especially if you stick on my side.
- Our deal is still in the process of being fulfilled, then. What about the reward for this… particular mission?
- Oh, yes. Your kill. We’re tracking down Neverwinter Nines, still, and it is possible you will soon have an opportunity to do away with some of them. For now, there is another person that appeared important. Oleff Uskar, a judge from Neverwinter, will be returning to the city soon. He’s an easy target to kill during the travel. Do you happen to be interested?
- He did not pass any judgment upon Aribeth, as far as I know… but he is no better than the others. He deserves to die, and he should die. So, that counts, but I have no particular desire to do this myself. Just send Grimgnaw, and we’ll consider it a rightful payment.
- As you wish, Warlock. You seem distressed, however. Did something happen?
- Indeed it has. But, we have no need to discuss it now, as you’ve told me yourself. We’ll leave it for a later date.
- As you wish, Maenaz. As you wish.

Truth was, something did happen. He was nearly blind for half of their travel from the portal into Hades, and only now regained most of his eyesight.

In short, he was soon going to get blind. And that could get him killed.
Maenaz, therefore, had a few things to decide on doing or not doing before he lost his eyesight.
First of them was already done. He decided he’ll do everything possible to harm Neverwinter. So, he’ll send Grimgnaw to kill Oleff, he’ll take the rakshasa from Hopeless up on his offer, and he’ll negotiate with Samael a way hurt the city even more. He even knew what kind of wish will he use to make them all suffer.
The second decision was one that had far more to do with his own needs.
Maenaz was already feeling sexually frustrated, and all the teasing in the meantime and half-flirting with Malacoda before did not help his situation at all. Moreover, this might’ve been his last chance of ever actually *seeing* a woman naked while “making love” to her.
But his options were limited. Nassirah was disgusted with him not so long ago and it wasn’t sure she’d agree, moreover, he wasn’t really attracted to her. The hags were out of the equation for obvious reasons. Malacoda wanted nothing to do with him… And he did not really have any sort of relationship with anyone else.
And yet, he’d been proposed with an offer from someone who for unknown reasons, and with unknown methods, awakened his lust and magnified it. And right now…
He intended to take her up on that offer. At least once.
He considered asking her to change her form, the possibilities ranging from something exotic and new, through a certain drow matron all the way to the two certain red-headed women that were close to him. He might have not wanted to have sex with someone who just had a body and face resembling Aribeth’s, but meaningless sex with a copy of Sharwyn? That he could enjoy.

And yet, this time, he decided against it. He wanted to check out himself whether, if he consciously and being fully aware of it, had sex with Euryale in her natural form…
Would he still want to come back for more after that. Would he actually be able to enjoy it and enjoy her as they were.

Part of him was slightly disturbed by the idea, and yet another part found it even more arousing.
Maenaz called Grimgnaw and told him to visit Samael, while he himself would go, let out the bound animal inside him, and just like Thingol of Hopeless said, don’t give a damn about anything else.

As he expected, Euryale’s son was protecting her private chambers as usual. Gizarakor appeared more like a huge, mostly humanoid predator than anything else – powerfully built but relatively lean, and he already knew he was fast and agile as well. Scary, indeed, but he lacked a bit of experience and wasn’t focused enough in a fight, as well as he had not yet reached his true physical limits, probably. That’s why he was so close to losing before. Still, this creature was quite the scary fighter.
The githyanki half-fiend looked at him and said :
- You’re… allowed to go in. It beats me what she sees in your small body, but she told me to let you in.
- Do I need to remind you of our last clash? How it went?
- I am quite aware of your *power*, mortal. I just don’t know if and why this is what she’s been looking for.
- It’s not like I understand your mother either, Gizarakor.
- And that’s precisely why you’re here.
- Creepy, but it’s up to me to decide what will follow.
- So wrong. So very wrong.
He passed the hulking figure of the diabolic githyanki and opened the first set of doors to Euryale’s chapel-styled chambers.
The first room was a luxurious chamber with a table in the middle and some soft seats a bit chaotically all over the room made of a material he did not see before. Across the room, he could see three exits, and he approached them fast.

One of the exits was blocked by crystal-encrusted doors, but the other two were open. One led to a passage that suggested a significantly lower level of luxury and comfort – almost as if those were the quarters of servants or slaves. The other, to his left, led to a room that appeared less flashy and more sterile, but still looked like it was made for some higher-class citizen. And inside that room on the left was the mistress of this “household”.

Him entering the room immediately drew her attention, turning her golden eyes towards the warlock and smiling.
- Ah, so, you finally found your way here. I’ve been waiting. Unless this is just business?
- Not… really. Say, this doesn’t seem like the kind of room I’d expect to see here. Is this where you prepare your…merchandise?
- It is one of the rooms, yes. After all, it’s one of my jobs here at the Gate. As much as I wanted to, I cannot engage only in my favorite activities all the time. So, in these rooms, some of the more special… mood-repairers… are brewed. The more common ones are made on the other side of my apartments where my servants and workers reside. Would you like to try some before we…
- No! …Just… no. I’d rather avoid getting in this if I can.
- Ah, yes. You mortals tend to enjoy the effects too much and get addicted, or simply get addicted regardless of how much you enjoy the effects. It’s something to pity, but I guess my business wouldn’t be so successful if these did not provoke addiction.
- But fiends do not get addicted to drugs?
- Oh, they do. Especially to the ones of the more supernatural origin. But the more powerful the fiend, the more life force and constitution it possesses. The most powerful fiends would not get addicted to any natural drug and would be extremely unlikely to get addicted to any supernatural one. And I’m one of such fiends, as you probably recall.
- I fail to see any reason fiends would resort to drugs anyway…
- Oh, they would. Some of these produce quite exquisite sensations, and some fiends realize just too much how hopeless their engagement in the Blood War or into corrupting the Material Plane ultimately is. Whenever the realization threatens to overcome them, they have certain… things they can turn to.
- But you are not engaged in the Blood War. Not any longer.
- Oh, I occasionally take my drugs to fill up the lack of pleasant sensations in times where I cannot engage activities that I truly enjoy and crave. Which doesn’t happen too often, true. However, I believe we didn’t meet here to talk about stimulants. I take it that your presence here…
- Yes. I’m… willing to take advantage of your offer.
- Oh, my, how courtly said… And what intriguing implications what you say has! Are you sure about it?
- I… think so. It’s difficult to explain.
- Maybe, but it is not so difficult to understand. Come then, my little dark knight. I believe we shall need the utmost privacy, and I cannot guarantee it in here.

The she-devil rose up from her seat, stretching out teasingly before she moved past him and towards the first room. Her height and build once again left him wondering how was he going to pull it off, and also made him realize he was not as fond of petite women as he thought based on his attraction to short if properly curvy Valsharess and about medium-heighted and just as well-developed…
Aribeth. She wouldn’t approve of this, the thought crossed his mind, but at the same time, he found himself compelled to simply follow Euryale towards the so-far closed doors to what was apparently her sleeping chambers…
Or more like private chambers. High-ranked fiends did not need to sleep. Actually, he doubted any save for a few kinds of fiends needed to sleep.
Meaning the chamber was used only for these kinds of activities.

Euryale faced the crystal-encrusted door and put her finger to a small crack between the red gem-like stone and the weird kind of ore that composed the door. He saw her polished (or perhaps they were naturally that way?), red fingernail elongate and move into the crack, until it stopped at something inside. The door opened and she invited him in, before entering the chamber as well and closing the doors behind her.

Maenaz managed to make out a great, king-sized bed and something that looked like another chamber with a pool in the back before he heard her speak.
- These doors were made specifically to respond to a certain power of mine, the effect of which is countered by a magical effect released when the door are closed. Meaning even someone great with magical devices would have problem opening them. Though, it would be interesting to see you try.
- Oh? Could I not, for example, simply blast them away if I were determined enough?
- Indeed, I’ve heard mentions of how powerful your eldritch energies were, so I suppose that’s an option. I’m not sure I’d appreciate you doing that, though. I guess that would depend on the intent you entered with.
- I’m just saying.
- No need to discuss that. Let’s make ourselves comfortable… - she said, gently pushing him towards the bed. He got a bit nervous. Was he really sure this was what he wanted?

A certain part of his body slowly started to rise to attention and remind him of the neglect he’s lately been treating its needs with. He guessed there was little reason to turn back now.

He stood next to the bed, leaning against one of the baldachin’s supporting pillars as the she-devil sat on her bed. It seemed to be big enough to be used in… all sorts of activities. Definitely. Even with her size.

- So, before we get to the main event, you may want to know two things about having sex with me. First of all… The vitality and perseverance I told you about earlier, common in high-ranking fiends… This extends to sex as well. Coupled with my skill and experience with these kinds of activities… It takes quite a man to satisfy me. Especially in this form. If you won’t be able to do this in one go, then once we start, I’m going to keep having my way with you until I feel temporarily sated, as the desire to do the deed again always presents itself quickly in me. Of course, certain things arouse me more than others and may help us achieve mutual satisfaction, but you’ll have way more fun figuring them out yourself. Second of all, in my natural form I am slightly… different from females of your kind. Of course, I could take human form, but it would be less of an exquisite experience for both of us. I hope you’re still comfortable with all this?
Maenaz went speechless for a moment.
[“ Different from other women? What does she mean? She doesn’t mean…”]
A few possibilities went through Maenaz’s mind, most of them unpleasant and one being that Euryale wasn’t in fact as feminine as she had him believe at all.
He decided to voice the concern as mildly as he could.
- Different… how?
- Slight changes in my womanhood, some merely cosmetic, some less so. I ensure you that if we are…compatible… enough you’d be more than pleased that this difference exists.
The warlock was more or less calmed down by the explanation, and if he wanted to turn away, this was the last moment to.
But, honestly, he did not.
- I guess variety is the spice of life, then, and it is up to me to discover the extent of these differences.
- That’s a pleasing attitude to have. Say, I think these clothes are too tight for me. Actually, I bet a certain part of your clothing is about to get too tight for you, as well. Shall we do away with them?

Maenaz nodded and swallowed silently, still a bit nervous. Well, who wouldn’t be nervous? Normal male humans do not usually have sex with women physically superior to them. Let’s not even throw the fact that the women is a fiend, and probably quite an ancient one, too.
Oh, but how long ago was the time when he could really consider himself a “normal human male”? Past what point in terms of power had he become abnormal? Was he even mentally human anymore?
No time for such considerations when the blood from your body starts going down to prepare you for a certain… biological activity.

The warlock undid the clasp of his Valsharess-Made super-enchanted cloak and slowly started undoing the bindings of his armor.
Euryale watched the small show for a moment before she tugged at her leather topping, until the strings tying the front gave way and the article of clothing became more loose. She then pulled it up, revealing more of the naked body underneath.
It didn’t take long for Maenaz to notice that she appeared to wear no conventional underwear, at least on the upper part of her body – instead, her breasts and her abdomen were each covered only by a black belt of sorts, covered with red markings. Maenaz would bet half of the gold of the green dragon he once killed the belts were magically enhanced to make up for the rather thin body covering. That also would explain part of the fact that Euryale’s breasts were a bit strangely shaped when under her clothing and too highly placed for her body shape. The belt on her abdomen was probably there mostly to provide additional enhancements, though it did accentuate her body curves.
His eyes quickly went for her lower clothes, which consisted of long boots with short platforms (made of some kind of leather, of course. Was this one of her kinks, or what?) and one of the few things on her that resembled armor… and something else, as well. The tasset-imitating lower part of her body cover was made in a way to strongly resemble a garter belt, except it was connected to the boots (on this level of power, one could be sure most of the clothing was magical or made from some extraordinary creature). She undid the straps connecting the article to her boots and slowly removed it, fully revealing her undergarments (which were never fully covered anyway, mind you). Those weren’t as slutty as one might suspect – apparently there was an end to the image. Now, she was nearly naked while he still had his thin vest on his upper body and the lower armor on. He quickly removed his boots and thigh protectors, now in just the modest, upper vest-like undergarment and a loincloth.
The female fiend reached out to him and gently pulled him closer, the warlock breathing sharply at the contact. Euryale licked her glossy lips as her finger found the line of his loincloth, playfully tugging at it slightly as she drew her head closer to his crotch, breathing on it and causing him to shiver with excitement. His erection was rapidly growing from mostly flaccid to more than semi-hard, his subconsciousness clearly feeling that the satiation of his sexual hunger was looming somewhere on the horizon. Euryale’s hands were working on her upper “belt” as she leaned in even closer towards him, opening her mouth and letting her tongue first dance on her lips and then ever-so-delicately tease his navel. The warlock gasped at the sensation as the belt was undone, Euryale slowly pulling it away with one hand as she again pulled his loincloth with the other. The engorged globes of flesh that were her breasts jiggled and came into full view, the skin about as close to white as the rest of her body except her nipples, which were a slightly inhuman, but still quite natural looking mix of pink and light violet.
The warlock’s hand quickly travelled to his object of fascination, gently cupping the orb and once again feeling the contrast between slightly coarse skin (Maenaz reminded himself that fiends were naturally resistant to blows and this might be part of the reason why) and the incredibly soft and jiggly flesh underneath. Euryale’s hands were in other places, one of them travelling up the Warlock’s abdomen and to his chest, practically ripping away the vest on its way, and the other pulling the string of his loincloth away, her head hovering into the space above his crotch as her tongue once again rolled out of her mouth. The wet, long appendage found the head of his hardening cock and started to play with it, wriggling around his member, coaxing it into full hardness as Euryale pulled down his loincloth and shredded his vest, completely exposing her lover.
The devil gave the tip of the warlock’s member a small suck, masterfully avoiding any sort of contact between it and her teeth before she withdrew and stared at Maenaz’s full erection.
- It isn’t often to be of this size or greater. I believe I shall find your…package.. more than suitable to fulfill my needs, especially if you can actually do something with this alluring monster.
- It will be difficult with your undergarments still on.
- Ah, yes. Let’s do away with it.

Euryale laid herself down on the bed, her breasts slightly shaking as she did so, and the warlock slowly lowered between her thighs, gazing over her body. While Euryale apparently either could not evolve further during her transformations or had a wrong idea that mortal men generally preferred full-figured woman, she apparently knew quite well how to strategically place her additional curves. She had some tummy, true, and most of the “femininity” went straight into her breasts but she had all the curves of a proper woman. Also, he noticed just now that her nipples seemed strangely small compared to her overall breast size.
However, it was that difference “in her womanhood” that mostly captured his attention now, so he quickly moved to taking off her panties. Sliding them down her leg and over her shoes, he looked up to see what she referred to before.
To his massive relief, this was an orifice and only an orifice, meaning he hadn’t gotten himself into what he thought might be a trap. She was speaking the truth, however, when she said she was different.

When bards composed dirty or erotic stories, they’d often describe how the ladies’ secretion “tasted like honey” and “smelled and looked like a flower”. Of course, Maenaz learned quite well that this was bullshit, as was the exaggerated size of the male hero’s manhood in such stories. Every of his partners, would-be partners and so on would have a rather positive view on his size so far, and he was a bit below two-thirds of a foot. Foot-long members were apparently mostly the object of myth.
However, Euryale’s nether lips and orifice actually resembled an urn-shaped flower, already wet and enclosed over her hole. Two things struck Maenaz as the most exotic – first of all, he could make out exactly *three* lips around her mostly covered opening, and she *lacked* a clitoris altogether. That could meant one of a couple of things. Perhaps she was transformed that way because she disliked long foreplay, or perhaps that was a mistake. Maybe she had something that doubled over as a clitoris inside of her, and maybe she didn’t and as such would be much harder to pleasure.

Maenaz leaned in closer and pushed a finger inside the small, covered opening. He then started to move his tongue around it. Euryale was already very wet and as his tongue slowly worked its way in, her triple lips spread further open, still sort of resembling a flower but now clearly presenting her opening. Also, a small gush of fluid quickly came down into his mouth, and he swallowed it instinctively.

Valsharess tasted quite a bit better, but the warlock quickly realized that the she-devil’s juices were stuffed to the brim with either pheromones or some quasi-magical effect as its attack on his senses got him even more aroused. Euryale gasped and voiced her anxiousness :
- I’ve been withholding my sexual desires for a while now, and I was constantly aroused lately. There’s no need for… foreplay. I need you to get to the main event. I need you inside me.
- I guess I sort of want to get there faster too...
- Then go ahead. Slide that snake inside me.

Maenaz slowly pulled his body upward, leveling his hips with Euryale’s inner thighs as he was once again reminded of the difference in height. He supposed this position would involve some nipple-sucking and absolutely no kissing.

He placed his cock at her now invitingly rolled open lips, sliding past them and into the opening behind them. The first moment was as if he had put his cock into warm butter – Euryale was very, very wet and simply incredibly warm inside, far more so than Valsharess, and he had no comparison with anyone else either. However, the difference in size and small difference in build made themselves known – while not loose, his initial penetration of the fiend’s innards made him realize that his drow mate was much, much tighter than this.
Still, he supposed he could get off on this as he thrust his member inside her to the base, her petal-shaped lips teasing his balls and brushing against his patch of pubic hair. He shifted, putting one hand to the side and one, obviously, on the she-devil’s breast as he slowly established a tempo of pumping inside the laying fiend.
Euryale gave a small sound of approval as her hand moved to the other breast that the warlock wasn’t playing with, and the second one travelled past her lover’s shoulders and through his back towards his buttocks. Euryale encouragingly pushed him stronger inside of her a couple of times, as if to suggest he was being way too gentle. He picked up on the pace as she felt her insides grow a little wetter, to his surprise.
Euryale let out a low throaty moan as he begun to suck on her nipple, and for a moment he thought she was over exaggerating earlier, before he suddenly felt the fiend slightly tense up under him. Moments later, he felt Euryale’s abdominal and vaginal muscles flexing and her pussy suddenly clamped down, finally giving him a feeling of tightness to go with her wetness and warmth. This spurned him to continue, the sensation growing more and more exquisite as he pumped in and out of the busty devil. He managed to hold in a moan and realized he might start to enjoy it way more than his partner was, a bit to his worry.
He pulled away from her nipple and instead supported himself by placing his hands on her breasts, kneading the nipples as he started to rapidly pump in and out of her at a slightly different angle. Euryale hummed in approval, but that was it – no moans or other sounds of ecstasy.
The fiend’s hands explored his athletic, sweating and muscle-ripped body as he penetrated her, the long-withheld liquid in his loins slowly and lazily starting to rise as his sensations increased. It did not help at all when Euryale’s hands squeezed his firm buttocks and pulled him up closer against her thighs, stomach and breasts as her vagina rippled once more and suddenly embraced him with an even greater tightness.
[“ She has greater control over her body than any human female… If she can make this any tighter, this is really going to be… Like fucking some sex demoness!”]
He grunted as he started to nibble on her nipple, increasing his pace and temporarily stopping the build-up of his orgasm by sheer willpower. Euryale seemed to approve, letting out a soft moan as she spread her thighs further to allow even better penetration. At one moment, he felt like he brushed against something inside her and she gave another moan at the feeling, her hands squeezing his buttocks and her polished but sharp fingernails barely stopping short of breaking skin, leaving red marks on his ass as he pumped in faster and faster.
Still, he seemed far on his way to orgasm while Euryale appeared to just be getting started. This was heavy to deal with, indeed, so perhaps they ought to change positions a bit.
He gave her breasts a couple of appreciative sucks and squeezes before slightly pulling out of her, halting, and asking.
- Can we… change our position? I’d like to try something different.
- You’re thinking what I’m thinking?

He nodded and she moved away a bit before flipping over and turning away from him, presenting her full, round backside to him.
This ass size was more than he was used to and preferred, and would be even if they were the same height, but the access to her dripping pussy was good enough so he decided to simply go with it. He placed his cock at her entrance and quickly slid it home, back into all that warmth and wetness. Seconds later, her muscles went into work again, increasing her tightness to yet another level. Her claims of being a great lover were indeed starting to get some credit, as she appeared to barely be even trying and still giving him a great time. He spread her asscheeks apart and established a pace, his cock exploring her and churning her insides at new depths and angles. As he rammed himself inside her, he took a light grip of the single protruding fleshy… thing that she had on her head instead of hair.
She grunted as he pulled on it, allowing him to penetrate her harder and place a kiss on the appendage. The large she-devils ass and breasts jiggled and bounced as he shoved his way into her, Maenaz only vaguely aware of all the softness of her mass as his mind was being pulled straight into his groin, trying to enjoy the best of the feelings her incredibly wet and unnaturally yes incredibly pleasantly warm orifice provided. He became aware he was brushing against something inside her more and more often now, and he shifted his hands and lowered his body starting to thrust slightly upwards as well as forward to gain maximum penetration in an attempt to finally find out what it is.
Both of their bodies shook and he earned a squeak from the she-devil as he felt the head of his cock brush against and then past some soft, fleshy nub inside her. And, in the next thrust, he realized there wasn’t one, but three of them, and that they provided great stimulation to his partner as he suddenly felt her grow even warmer and wetter, something he did not think possible. Her entire body bounced from his more and more powerful thrusts, her vagina leaking wetness onto the sheets below despite being filled and inhuman, as Euryale let out a series of long, erotic moans into the air.

- Oh, yess… That’s it, boy, that’s my special place… fuck it nice and hard, uhhh… ARGHHH YESSS!!!!

Maenaz himself felt increased pleasure from brushing against these strange things inside her, and he realized that this may or may not be her “version” of a clitoris that was simply separated into smaller pieces and placed inside her due to her preference of outright fucking to long foreplay and small caresses of the outside parts of her womanhood. He did not complain as he felt the fire build up in his crotch, the sensation of impending orgasm slowly but steadily filling him. He tried to suppress it, of course, to make the act longer, to bring the fiend to the height of pleasure before he himself reached it.
- Maenaz, yes! Oh, this was definitely worth the wait! Fuck my naughty hellish cunt with this wonderful meatpole of yours, keep going!
- You like that don’t you? You’re enjoying that human cock like a nasty little slut you are!
- Yes, your dick awakens the devilish nasty whore inside me! Let this whore’s pussy devour your cock and all it has! Here it comes, warlock, get ready for it!!

Euryale suddenly all tensed up as she started to push against him on her own, her womanhood suddenly clamping on him and taking the sensation to a whole new level.
On the whole, she felt tighter than Valsharess now, probably more than twice as wet and only Kossuth himself probably knew how many times hotter her insides were as his cock was practically sucked into her vacuum, where her insides massaged it, squeezed it, coaxed it, let it slide out a bit and then drew it back inside to repeat the process, all the while teasing his head with these very small, sensitive tendrils of her “inner clits” and drowning him in a sea of warmth and messy, pheromone-stuffed fluids as they tried to extract his semen and claim it for her body. It was about as hard as any fight Maenaz was ever in to withstand the new sensation and stop the nearly-inevitable orgasm, the warlock extending every bit of his physical endurance and mental strength to stop himself from ejaculating as he reveled in the heavenly feeling this, ironically devilish, orifice provided.
They both let out a moan, and yet Maenaz was sure he was completely lost in the sea of irrational pleasure while Euryale was plainly enjoying something that, to her, was simple and vanilla sex. He leaned down to try and tease her nether lips and play with her breast as he pounded into her, desperately trying everything to both increase her sensations and withhold his own orgasm, and yet failure was absolutely inevitable. It was as if he was to come before her by some deity’s decree and he could do nothing about it.
[“A succubus-level fuck, indeed! She’s a monster! How am I ever supposed to sate her lust?”]
His cock was leaking precum nonstop, the hungry slit of his lover absorbing it all greedily as he pounded into her, his balls starting to ache from the desperate need to unload, preferably inside the busty monster of a woman that provided these exquisite sensations. Euryale moaned and whimpered as his pace got more frantic.
- Oh, my poor little warlock has something for me… So much built-up hot liquid it threatens to melt you…You can’t hold it in, can you? Faster, faster, faster, you know you want to burst! On the Lords of Baator, spill it all inside me!

Her hand travelled to his buttock again, missing it a bit as she squeezed at his flesh, her fingernails raking him as they drew blood from the side of his lower thigh. The pain both aroused the Warlock a bit, oddly, and distracted him form a moment from his desperate need to come, which allowed him to pound at the devil’s pussy a little longer. The combined sensations also forced a harsh howl of pain and pleasure out of him, which was moments later drown in the she-devil’s scream of delight.
She really got off on this. On his plight, and on the pain she just caused him. Her entire body bounced and jiggled, far too much soft mass being treated harshly by the smaller male pounding all the strength he had in his muscles into her, trying and trying desperately to bring her to an orgasm before his own was triggered. Euryale’s breasts were swinging back and forth as her malleable, sweaty bubble butt smashed against the Warlock’s lower body, adding to the barrage of his sensations. The incredibly strong inner muscles of her pussy were strangling and squeezing the Warlock’s cock, almost as if wanting to either crush it or tear it off, and gushes of wet, warm fluid and hot radiation of her insides were aided even more by the inner tendrils of what should be her clitoris teasing and swooning all over the over-stimulated and by now super-sensitive head of his member.
Maenaz was superior to the average human and to many an adventurer in multiple ways concerning both activities in and out of bed, but he was still just a man. There was only that much he could take. And there was no way in all of the Lower Planes he’d be capable of pulling out of this maelstrom of sensations that enveloped his cock.

A large stream of warlock’s jizz spurted forward, the hot liquid covering the strands of flesh that massaged the head of his cock and the innards of the she-devil as he begun to pump his seed inside her. He was lost in a sea of pleasure but was somehow vaguely aware of the unusual quantity the load now filling his partner had – his time of celibate took its toll, it seemed. As the first of his semen spilled inside her, Euryale inhaled sharply, and as more was pumped into her, covering her innards, she first purred contentedly before her pussy suddenly gripped the Warlock’s cock inside her with completely inhuman power and she moaned deliriously, achieving her own orgasm through some weird satisfaction of being filled with the cum of a mortal so powerful like she wanted for so long. Her womanhood increasing its pressure on the warlock’s cock did not help his plight, suddenly even more seed forced and coaxed out of him as her innards milked his cock mercilessly, taking just about everything he was saving up until now, prolonging his orgasm to an abnormal time, feeling, and intensity. Maenaz felt his mind drift off as he was beyond words, the heat and sheer heavenly ecstasy emanating from his groin turning off all rational thought as he emptied his big load deep into Euryale. He was out of breath from his long scream of and could only emit small whimpers of what was both agony and perhaps the best feeling of his life.

Euryale’s tissues and inner warmth still teased his cock even after he had nothing left to give, but finally, the fiend’s powerful vaginal muscles unflexed, relaxed, and released the warlock’s captive member. He hasn’t felt so sated since the day he lost his virginity and he had to say Euryale’s claims were true. He fell on the bed, panting, the fiend snuggling him close to her breast, lightly patting his head.
- Good… good. That was a quite satisfying fuck, Maenaz. It’ll do, for now. I may be expecting more, and soon, though. And don’t think I’m not going easy on you today.
- I’ll just shut up. That was… indescribable. It feels like my dick ascended to the highest level of Elysium.
She chuckled.
- I cannot remember anybody ever describing this that way. I suppose I should feel flattered, though I am not fond of the Upper Planes. Also, I’m sure your little bout of abstinence has a bit of an influence on your overall satisfaction with our… adventure. Now, rest. I need you strong and your balls filled with that hot delightful cream in case I suddenly decide it wasn’t enough.

Maenaz quickly drift off to half-sleep. Indeed, he was corrupted, rotten through and through. He killed people he didn’t even meet, obtained evil artifacts, took more and more of a revenge against the city he once helped to protect, engaged depraved sexual acts with a fiend and helped another attain divinity, knowingly and willingly.
And he was starting to love every minute of this.