Dark Heart: The Demonic Dungeon

In a world of shadows and darkness, where skeletal trees thrived and a pale moon was the only light, there stood a castle, crafted of the finest obsidian, with twisted towers and viciously spiked battlements. The dark fortress was surrounded by a bottomless fissure, and loomed over the landscape like a predator, waiting to consume its prey. Beyond the castle sprawled a massive city, a collection of dark alleys surrounded by a high steel wall tarnished by rust and stained with dried blood. Thick columns of black smoke swirled up into the sky from countless smoke stacks, and buildings crafted of steel and stone glared down at the cobblestone streets with dark windows.

A slender, female creature, no more than two feet tall, sat perched high atop the outer wall of the city, her charcoal gray skin covered by an outfit of sheer silk and black leather that served more to display her delicate form than hide it. A long, spade-tipped tail lashed absently behind her, and a pair of black, bat-like wings folded neatly across her back flipped casually as she shifted her stance. Long silver-white hair fluttered around a pair of small twisted horns and curled about her slender throat in the breeze like a living thing. With sharp, striking amber eyes Agya watched the city below and seethed with hatred for the dark streets and the creatures that inhabited them.

Clutched in her hand was a rolled up sheet of vellum made from human flesh, the current cause of her foul mood. It was a summons from Z'rada, the great dark lord of the city, demanding that she report to his palace at once. She already knew what he wanted, every fiend in the city was aware of the approaching war. The dark kingdom of Voraith, land of fiends, had long been the enemy of the folk who made their home in the lands of Briterra, beyond the veil. The only thing that had stopped the two kingdoms from going to war was a mystical barrier known as the Glass Wall, which was maintained by the magic of the fey folk.

However, for the past several months Z'rada had been gathering his forces in the city. Legions of demon troops were running drills daily, and huge siege weapons of iron and wood were being constructed. Agya could only assume the lord of treachery had somehow found a way to penetrate the Glass Wall. She didn’t know what part he had planned for her in his schemes, but she knew his attention would bring her nothing but misfortune and misery. The thought of working for him disgusted her to the core. Demon though she was, she loathed Z'rada. He was an arrogant, oily worm of a creature, and he only held power through treachery, deceit and manipulation rather than the force of his own power. However, she didn't have a choice other than to capitulate to his demands. She was just an imp, not powerful enough to challenge the lord of treachery...not yet.

Dropping the message, Agya watched it flutter in the breeze until it was swallowed by the shadows far below. Heaving a great sigh she stood and stretched her lean body, flipping out her wings, "No point in delaying this any longer," she mumbled to herself, casting a glance across the city and letting the soft breeze toss her hair about. Stepping off the wall she spread her wings, stretching them wide and feeling them catch the air, bringing her rapid decent to a halt and turning it into a gentle glide. She flew off over the rooftops toward the obsidian castle, wishing she could somehow avoid the task that would be set before her.

As she soared over the city, the stench of brimstone and other, less savory odors assaulted her nose, and if she hadn't been used to it, the fumes would have burned her eyes and throat. The entire city seemed to be shrouded in an unhealthy, grayish haze, lit here and there by the blood red glow of distant pyres burning on the watch towers. The streets stretched out in a rigid, military fashion. This city was built for war, not commerce, with inner walls that bristled with spikes and battlements being patrolled by hulking armored figures carrying ferocious, wicked weapons.

Flying on she passed over the slave market where the smell of brimstone was all but overwhelmed by the odor of thousands of filthy, wretched people, and the palpable miasma of misery. A slave auction was taking place on a small raised platform, and Agya could see various types of fiends bidding on humans, elves, dwarves, and other more exotic slaves. Whip-wielding guards controlled the slaves with brutal efficiency, here and there a cry of anguish was quickly cut off by the cold snap of corded leather.

Farther on down the razor-straight streets, Agya passed over the city square. In the center rose a stage made of black basalt supporting the unmistakable shape of a headsman's chopping block. The walls around the city square supported the heads of countless creatures. Men, women, even children’s heads were on macabre display. Even from her vantage high above the square, Agya could see the bronze plaques beneath each head detailing the crime for which each person was condemned. A cry rang out, and the flying imp could see the body of a young woman, no older than sixteen, lying behind the chopping block as the fiendish executioner walked toward an unoccupied spike with his grisly trophy.

Closer to the obsidian palace rose the great Cathedral of Shadows, a monument to the evil powers that reigned over this dark land of fiends. Even now its great walls were being expanded, raised by the labor of slaves. Whip-cracks and groans sounded through the air, as pathetic mortals wrestled multi-ton slabs of stone into position. Whenever one of the slaves paused or collapsed, the fiendish overseers would whip and beat the unfortunate until they continued, or until they could never rise again. Several of the slaves, children, the aged, and those otherwise unable to deal with the massive stone blocks, moved about the work site carting away the corpses of their fellows to dump them without ceremony into mass graves at the foundation of the cathedral.

As Agya neared the great fissure that surrounded the obsidian palace of Z'rada, she slowly descended to the cobblestone streets, trying to avoid the refuse and debris that clogged the gutters. She was not so foolish as to fly right up to the black palace, even if she had been invited. The lord of treachery was not one to suffer intruders in his palace, and kept the walls of his castle heavily warded and trapped. The only relatively safe entrance was across the long black bridge that spanned the great fissure, its ornate foundations seeming to melt into the natural stone of the fissure like a giant iron and steel leech feeding on the flesh of the world.

Approaching the bridge on foot, Agya looked around warily, and so was not surprised when a hulking, armored form suddenly loomed up to block her path. Standing nearly eight feet tall the creature loomed over the petite imp girl like a dark titan, its body obscured by great plates of black steel with razor sharp edges, and its face concealed by a horned helmet. The brute’s armor squealed horribly as it moved, brandishing a wicked ax in its clawed hands as it stepped in front of Agya and growled, its voice booming across the great chasm, “Who approaches?”

Agya couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she waved a tiny hand at the hulk, “It’s me Doreg. It’s Agya you great oaf.”

The brute paused, as if he needed a moment to process her words, then he raised the visor of his helmet to reveal a broad smile, “Oh! Hello little friend,” his voice was deep and rumbling, “What you doing here?”

Doreg was one of Agya’s oldest friends. The big ogre-fiend was not the brightest creature in Voraith, but he was extremely powerful and deadly to his foes. To Agya, he was just a titanic teddy bear, and she felt the same love for him one might feel for a family dog.

Flying up to perch on his shoulder, Agya gave Doreg a pat on the head, “I’m on my way to see the boss. He sent me a summons,” she explained, “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back okay?”

With a flap of her wings Agya shot off across the bridge and into the obsidian palace, steeling herself to face whatever it was Z'rada had in store for her.

The interior of the palace was a testament to wealth and indulgence unlike anything Agya had ever experienced. Ridiculously long curtains of sheer silks, tapestries woven from spun crystals, plush carpets and sculptures of countless acts of debauchery set in gold, silver and jade. The whole place stunk of exotic incense and musk, and she felt something magical trying to pry away at her inhibitions.

Steeling her will against the mental intrusion, the small imp made her way through corridors lined with candles rendered from the fat of mortals that burned with oily flames. More than once she had to avert her eyes and find a different path when she came across rooms filled with succubi and incubus engaged in rampant orgies. Each time she was forced to resist the magical assault on her senses, trying to push her into abandoning her purpose and join in.

By the time she made her way to the entrance to the throne room, Agya felt mentally exhausted. That was probably the point of the whole display, to wear down a visitors mental defenses with a constant magical and sensory assault so they would be more pliable when they finally reached Z'rada.

Agya refused to let the Lord of Treachery win this little mind game, and she paused outside the great ebony doors to collect her wits and set her will for the meeting. When she felt ready, she pushed through the doors and stepped into the throne room.

A huge room with a vaulted ceiling and pillars of obsidian greeted her. Jade banners displaying the bleeding eye of Z'rada hung from every conceivable surface, and two chandeliers of silver plated bone hung low on chains of black iron above her head. Beneath her feet an ornate green carpet etched in gold led through the hall to the foot of the basalt throne, carved to resemble a grasping, clawed hand with Z'rada himself seated in the palm.

“Ah! Agya my pet,” the Lord of Treachery spread his arms in welcome as he smiled, “I am glad you have come. Though I confess I had not expected you for a few hours yet.”

Agya felt a wave of revulsion at being called his pet and fought to keep a scowl from her face. His words only confirmed that he had indeed expected her to be distracted by the temptations of the palace.

“I felt it best to respond promptly to your summon my lord,” she replied tactfully.

Z’rada nodded, his oily smile never faltering as he stood from his throne. He was impossible to read. Neither his face or his body language betrayed any sign of his thoughts or intentions as he approached Agya.

“Wonderful,” he gestured toward a door leading off the side of the throne room, “Come. Walk with me a bit. I have something important to discuss with you.”

Agya followed him through the door and out into a lush garden courtyard. A pathway of crushed quartz crunched beneath her feet as the two of them wound their way through a vibrant landscape of violet, blue and lavender ferns. Brilliant vines of dark green and inky black snaked overhead, and dozens of flowers spread their delicate fragrance through the air.

“Tell me Agya dear,” the dark lord began, “Do you know what powers the Glass Wall?”

Agya frowned up at him, “Fey magic?”

Z’rada chuckled, “Well yes, that is technically true. However, more specifically the barrier is powered by a series of batteries that gather mana and channel it into the Glass Wall. Care to guess where these batteries are stored?”

Agya resisted the urge to sigh, “I hate guessing games,” she replied in a deadpan tone.

The smile that split Z’rada’s face told her he had expected that sort of response, “Dungeons my dear. A series of dungeons built by the fairies to gather and feed mana into the barrier that imprisons us here,” he explained, “The mortals of Briterra venture through these dungeons and are rewarded with treasures and experience to grow stronger, all the while generating precious mana for the Wall. The mana is collected in the dungeon’s heart, and then siphoned off to fuel the barrier.”

Agya listened intently. This was new information she had never heard before, “So, if these dungeons were destroyed, the Wall would collapse?”

“Oh indeed!” Z’rada grinned, “Unfortunately that isn’t possible. There are far too many of them, and more are created every few years as the strength of the dungeons increases. Some of the oldest have gathered so much mana that their defenses are nearly impenetrable, and new dungeons are required for the mortals to keep venturing through.”

“So what does this have to do with me?”

“I am so glad you asked,” Z’rada gestured toward a narrow side path in the garden, “Let me show you something.”

He led the way along the new path, and slowly Agya began to hear strange noises from up ahead. She couldn’t make out wht they were at first, but as she drew closer she recognized the sound of flesh smacking against flesh accompanied by a wet slurping sound. A growing sense of unease began to fill the little imps chest when she caught the muffled screams and whimpers mixed in among the lewd noises.

Turning a corner around a large boulder in the path, Agya froze at the sight laid out before her. In a small meadow of lavender moss was an abomination of flesh. A writhing mass of sinuous black tentacles dripping with a clear, slimy mucus. It didn’t seem to have a solid form, shifting and morph in unnatural ways as it’s countless appendages slithered around it.

However, it wasn’t the abomination that made Agya gasp, it was the figure clutched tightly in it’s grasp. It was a girl, roughly the same size as Agya herself, with what must have once been brilliant dragonfly wings sprouting from her back. A fairy!

Agya was shocked to see the fairy here in Voraith, and even more shocked by what the abomination was doing to her. The fairy’s wings had been mangled by the creatures tentacles, and it held her firmly by the wrists and ankles. Her back was bent over the creatures central mass, forcing her to arch at an obviously painful angle. Her flawless pale skin was coated in the slick mucus, and tentacles writhed and slithered across her body, entwining around her waist and squeezing her round breasts tightly.

The muffled screams and squeals of the fairy were muffled by the tentacle sliding down her throat, holding her head back along with smaller ones filling her nostrils. Two more thick appendages were working between the fairy’s legs, driving back and forth into her, filling every orifice and making her stomach bulge obscenely. Agya was sure there was even a slim tentacle in the girl’s urethra!

Turning away from the sight of the fairy being ravaged, Agya stared at Z’rada, “Where the hell did you capture her?!”

The lord of treachery did not take his eyes from the sight as he smiled, “The little fool came too close to the Wall and some of my agents were able to grab her,” still gazing at the fairy being abused and violated, Z’rada slipped a hand into his pocket and brought out a necklace set with a single massive emerald, “She was carrying this. Do you know what it is?”

Agya looked at the trinket, putting it together with the conversation they had been having, “A dungeon heart?”

Now Z’rada did look at her, an almost manic smile on his face, “Exactly! Do you understand now my little Agya? We have an opportunity here that we have never before had,” he gripped the dungeon heart in his fist and lidted his gaze to the sky, “With this we can establish our own dungeon, and tap into the mana reserved of the Glass Wall. With the proper application of demonic energy, we can corrupt it! Taint the wall itself and reverse it!” he is all but screaming by the end, “We will walk through the barrier to claim all Briterra, and no force, mortal or fey will be able to stop us!”

Agya had to cover her ears to block out his inane, high pitched cackling. She dropped her gaze back to the scene of the fairy just as the abomination seemed to swell. The fairy’s eyesT rolled back in her head and she let out a muted shriek as tons of the slick, clear mucus erupted from the tentacles ravaging her body.

Agya watched the fluid leaking from around the tentacles as the fairy went limp, and she couldn’t help but press her thighs together and bite her bottom lip. If this insane plan worked the way Z’rada wanted, maybe she could get a fairy of her on to play with. That thought brought a smile to the imp girl’s face.

She felt Z’rada drop a hand on her shoulder and she snapped out of her fantasy to look back up at him.

“You, little Agya, are my chosen agent for this task,” the lord of treachery said, “You will take this fairy’s place and establish a dungeon on the boarder of the Wall. Gather as much mana as you can and corrupt it with you own energy before sending it to the barrier.”

He held out the dungeon heart to her and Agya tentatively took it. She looked from the brilliant green stone to the broken body of the fairy, and she grinned as she whispered, “Yes my lord. As you wish.”