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“FORM UP FOR INSPECTION!” A massive orog bellowed the order without any need for amplification, but used a magiphone anyway. “ANY COMPETITOR WHO MISSES OR FAILS INSPECTION WILL BE A NO-GO!”
Half of my peers dawdled and half rushed to form up, with me amongst the latter as we filled the first few ranks. “YOU WILL FOLLOW ALL COMMANDS OR YOU WILL RECEIVE A NO-GO. YOU WILL NOT HAVE ANY FORBIDDEN ITEMS OR YOU WILL BE A NO-GO. YOU WILL-“
I found myself behind a wall of soldiers wearing hellenic bronze loricas. Unlike many, they had immediately fallen into a militant stance, hands folded at the small of their backs, shoulders back and eyes locked onto the orog addressing the gagglefuck and listening intently to his instructions.
They carried themselves with a familiar bearing, the kind instilled by a lifetime of training and the focused attention of a warrior who’d chosen their path with willful intention. I mentally put them into the ‘probably not shitbags’ category as I assumed a vaguely similar stance, trying to pry loose from my memory why they felt so familiar…
I quickly realized the orog was repeating the same words posted on every wall and explained thrice during orientation, and decided to listen with only half of an ear as he went on. Anyone who hadn’t seen or heard the regulations by now had to be both illiterate and deaf, but something told me the dawdling half had a few amongst them who were willfully so.
They reeked of entitlement and privilege.
Which was particularly hard to do in a room full of demigods and similarly empowered beings.
A smoldering distemper peeled my lips into a snarl as I spotted a cancer amongst us, so called Paladins of Law and Order. Oppressors who would use the law they worshiped to control others and bend them to their will. Enriching themselves and their fellows as that law invariably benefitted the few and choked the many, strangling them with the hand of falsely benevolent tyranny.
“They’re not all assholes, ya know.” I closed my eyes and took a slow breath, and turned to face the speaker as I exhaled and opened them. “But I get it. You a bard or uhh… something?”
I smiled at his mistake, and his freely given discretion. He wasn’t the first to see the holy symbol I wore and let their imagination roam. Without the armor little distinguished the Paladins of Dolleya’s Palaces of Pleasure from her divine attendants. To be fair, many were one and the same. Especially after war had taken its toll, changing the clerics, bards, and former rogues into warpriests, shadow dancers and assassins…
“I’m Dilin, Paladin of Dolleya.” The man looked scarcely old enough to have graduated from the Union Academy, but wore plate with the comfort of a seasoned veteran on a frame only slightly smaller than my own.
He took it with a bright blue-eyed smile, “I’m Luhkas, uhh Fighter of… The Pits? More of a brawler, really. I uhh… didn’t go to the academy? It’s my first time here!” His words sped in excitement, “Do we all have titles? Do we have to earn them? Or just like… say it?”
I blinked as his questions rushed past me.
Instead of attempting to respond to each one I ignored them all and asked my own. “You just got your power?” He nodded, “Let me guess, based on the moniker you gave yourself, some dumbass wagered his power in the Pit and you won?”
He nodded again, giddy to tell a story I’d heard a dozen times before. “Beat THE FUCK out of this foppy dope that challenged me to ‘fisticuffs’! Guess he thought he’d just hammer me into the ground since I wasn’t a monk or nothin’… But I’ve been watchin’ them all my life! Ain’t that hard if you practice!”
I smiled and gestured around, “That ‘fop’ you effectively killed probably has friends here. And if he is as you say, they will not be the type to let bygones be bygones.” He sobered in an instant and realized he wasn’t necessarily amongst friends. The excited young man vanished, face hardening and broad shoulders squaring as the pit fighter surfaced.
“That being said, just keep your voice down and you’ll blend in. There’s new guys every time.” I looked around and realized the space that had been packed shoulder to shoulder on previous occasions now allowed for double armed intervals between soldiers. “I think.”
He glanced around warily, “You think?”
I shrugged, “It’s been awhile?” It really had. Some of the people around me looked like they’d been born after the real fighting had ended. “And it’s been ever longer in here….”
The time dilation that occurred between planes could be a confusing nightmare, but the math was usually simple and if you kept a tracker you could keep up. Most immortals don’t bother, though. It doesn’t particularly matter and generally works in your favor.
Unless you consider the fact that a one year deployment from the Prime is actually ten years in the Hells. Then it fucking sucks.
Additionally, I’d like to repeat my earlier warning about faeries. Wander into their realm and you could come out kadıköy escort bayan a hundred years later, or a hundred years earlier. Or never at all. Or as something that isn’t you anymore…
I shuddered away thoughts of the face and scanned the room closer, searching for faces I knew and finding a few I thought I recognized. But not one that I could name. I could very well be looking at the same demigods I’d deployed with before, or their grandchildren, and have absolutely no idea at all…
But then again, I’d never spent much time with my ’empowered’ peers. I’d always found my kinfolk amongst the common souls that made up the rank and file, folks whose respect I usually had to earn because of the shitheadery of the assholes that populated the ranks around me. And I’d always volunteered to embed with troops others spurned, far away from the main hosts and the politics that came with them.
“Hey gramps! You lost!?” The soldier immediately in front of me twisted at the waist, keeping her hands at the small of her back and feet cemented firmly to the ground. “This isn’t the line for Go-Bing…. Does your nurse know where you are?”
An easy smile told me her teasing was in good spirits, so I fired back with equal measure. “Oh? Are you here to play games young lady? Or is this what big girls do now? Break formation to mock their elders?”
She raised an eyebrow and appraised me from head to toe with a sly smirk, before a sharp voice snapped her neck back to the front. “VENETIA, EYES FRONT.” The bark came from beneath a helmet of celestial bronze at the head of her row, one that bore the short red crest of a hellenic lokhagos.
Recognition dawned and I offered Luhkas the knowledge that came with it, gesturing across the row of female warriors. “Luhkas, meet the Amazons of Themyscira. They’re good people, if you’re a good person. But… tread lightly. And that crest means she’s a captain…”
His eyes wandered across their backs, and backsides, prompting me to click my tongue and catch his attention. I shook my head pointedly and he quickly got the message when I drew a thumb across my neck. Ogling them was bad for one’s health. And bad form regardless, without consent.
I covered the silent exchange quickly, “I know. It’s a common mistake. You were expecting muscle bound hunks built like us right?” I chuckled and indicated with my eyes and a few nods that he should play along.
Thankfully, he wasn’t too dense to be saved, “I uhh… Yeah, I guess.” He laughed and glanced around, “I guess size matters even less here though, huh?” He shrugged and chuckled, “I always figured them assholes was lyin’, I just figured the lie was that they’d met one at all…”
I snorted a laugh at their expense, “Most probably were. But most braggarts aren’t keen to admit they got their ass handed to them by a woman whose beauty rivals Aphrodite’s, or that she was likely a foot shorter than the idiot.”
He laughed and I decided he fell firmly into the ‘good people’ category, “You ain’t telling me nothin’ I don’t know! Them little islander monks could WHIP SOME ASS! And they was about the size of my leg.”
A vicious, bawdy laugh behind us cut through, “What’s that bullshit I hear? Size ABSOLUTELY matters! Hell, even a twinky little elf boy can have the size to make momma feel good! But if you got something the size of that leg, greenhorn, then me and you is gonna have a DAMN good time!”
I recognized the laugh and the creeping nerves I’d been ignoring vanished in an instant. I turned to find a half-orc woman I recognized wearing overtly sexualized demonskin leather cutting through the formation, grinning around short tusks my tongue recalled fondly.
“And don’t worry about that shithead you wrecked, Momma took care of it.” She raised a hammerfist to me and I struck it in salute with a smile. “Speaking of big dicks, how’s it hanging Brother Babe?”
The creeping nerves I’d been ignoring washed away in a wave of relief. “Blanka! I figured you’d be dead by now!”
The barbarian I knew to be recklessly irresponsible with her own life threw her head back with a belly laugh. “TWICE ACTUALLY!” She snorted and finished with a chuckle, “Didn’t take.”
Her mixed heritage showed from her birth mother, the orc goddess Luthic, in her pale grey skin and short tusks, her second, a mostly human futa, in her massively robust, yet incredibly feminine, goliath frame. According to her, her mother’s tribe had seduced the orc goddess away from her pantheon during the war.
Meanwhile, the actual truth was.. far less consensual. By the end of the war, the tools and means of our enemies were turned against them, without mercy and with the fervor of vengeance. As the Elohim say, an eye for an eye….
I ogled her body openly, knowing her well enough to know she enjoyed it and would soak up the compliment. Especially with a side of witty banter, “You look absolutely fantastic Blanka!” I played the fop, gesticulating to match, “Who are ümraniye escort bayan you wearing?”
She struck an overly dramatic pose, one finger to her lips as she turned sideways to present a curvy silhouette. “Oh. This old thing?” She bounced and shook, giggling and jiggling the curves that her armor left intentionally exposed. “This is Gozgar. He was a goristro demon and he’s now been one hundred percent recycled!”
I clapped and she turned slowly, as if she were a model showing off the latest fashion on a runway. “Very nice, very nice…”
Whoever had designed the garment had made a masterpiece of form and function, wrapping her tightly in a second skin and leaving nothing to the imagination but the color of her labia and nipples. The curves of her thighs and calves were exposed by well placed slits, ostensibly for freedom of movement but clearly designed to showcase the sculpted muscle of her long legs. Made more chiseled by the platform stilettos she walked on, their base carved from the hoof of the beast and the spike made from its vicious incisors.
My eyes took their time on their return to hers, taking in breasts covered by the hollowed out horns made into half cups. My cock begged to be engulfed in the cleavage between the pushed swells that seemed to bounce with her every movement, lurching in his prison and aching for her touch. Her muscled neck and broad shoulders were both left entirely exposed, except for a necklace of jagged teeth centered by a black crystal heart that reeked of profanity and evil.
“I’ve missed your horny ass….” She sighed, drawing my eyes back to hers. “What happened to that mortal cu- chit? The one who was gonna pin you down in the Prime?”
“Didn’t work out.” I changed the subject as quickly as possible, “That necklace…?” I left the question hanging as I inspected it further, willing myself to perceive magic and quickly identifying it as an arcane prison. One made specifically for demonic souls.
She purred, and lifted the necklace away from her skin, “Brother Dilin, meet Gozgar. Gozgar, meet Brother Dilin.”
The necklace screamed in silent rage and indignation. I smiled in absolute wonder, “You have got to give me your tailor’s name…”
She laughed and dropped the enchanted necklace back onto her breasts, “You’ll have to ‘interrogate’ me again if you want it….” She sighed, deflating quickly and blinking away the lust in her eyes. “But I’m not here to get my throat fucked and give Gozgar a cum bath, we can save that for later. Greenhorns get mentors now, and this one is mine.”
Luhkas stood silent, struck dumb by the statuesque beauty of the barbarian woman.
I joked playfully at his expense, “What, you’ve never seen a half-orc barbarian demigoddess wearing the skin, horns, teeth and hooves of a demon she keeps around her neck to torture?” Laughter spread around us as those nearby who overheard joined, the amazons in particular seeming to find the most mirth in my quip.
Luhkas picked up his jaw and pulled his eyes back into his skull with a cough and a simple, “No.” The laughter returned immediately, threefold.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS SO GODSDAMNED FUNNY OVER THERE?” The orog at the head of the formation was either genuinely curious, or highly displeased. Likely the latter.
I chose to believe the former, “My mistake! I nearly swallowed a boot at the sight of Domina Blanka’s magnificent armor!”
Surprisingly, I was wrong.
His spittle reached the front rank as he roared without using the magiphone, enraged and louder than when he had. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU MAGGOT! FRONT AND CENTER!”
I smiled wryfully and assumed a sharp stance, eyes forward and hands crisp at my sides. Taking one step backwards, I spun ninety degrees to my right and marched behind the rank at a steady clip, making another to the left when I passed the empty space that was likely Blanka’s. When I passed the first rank’s leader I cut towards the orog, maintaining my bearing as I followed his order with professional perfection.
I snapped a salute up to him when I reached the massive, nine foot tall man. “Brother Dilin, reporting as ordered, sir.” He returned my salute with all of the respect mine offered, looking me over with an appraising eye.
His demeanor relaxed and when he spoke, keeping his voice low enough to be private, “Stand at ease, soldier. I’m Force Captain Rekzar.” He offered me a hand that I took before assuming a more comfortable stance. “Sorry for calling you out like that, but I wanted to have a word.”
I shook my head, “Nothing to apologize for. I did disrupt the formation, after all. The rooks need a reminder that no one is above good discipline.”
He snorted a laugh, “You’ve been away for a long time, paladin.” The grumble in his voice became a growl as he continued, “Discipline… isn’t what it was.” The massive half-ogre and orc man’s free fist clenched and unclenched as he mentally strangled someone.
“But I didn’t call you up here to talk maltepe escort bayan about the old days.” His attention focused and tone grew serious enough to wipe away my smile. “Blanka says that your pink skin doesn’t sway your loyalty, or blind you.”
I nodded with a snarl, “Too many were pardoned that should have been gutted and left for the crows.”
He kept his face stoic, a mask for those behind me. “I’m glad we agree.” The tension in his shoulders eased as a small measure of relief filled his voice. “I’ve been praying for an answer to a problem, and when I saw you on the lists I hoped you were it.”
My snarl vanished, replaced by cold fury as I felt the tendrils of manipulation on my skin, “Praying to whom, exactly?”
His smile told me before his words, “My broodmother, your godsister. Analuria.”
I shook with fury, but kept it from my voice. “And what prayer am I answering for her today, dear nephew?”
His smile became smarmy and begged for my fist, but his eyes and tone carried a bucket of sympathy. “Your Brothers in the rear-“
I cut him off unintentionally, spitting my words with poison. “They are not my Brothers.”
“But they may believe you are… They will see you as one of them. And if we give them a show…” His smile became cruel and his eyes malicious, and mine grew to match as I followed his logic.
“They’ll welcome me into The Fold.” My fury chilled, sending a shiver through me as it crystallized and sharpened. “Do you want to start, or should I?”
He laughed, “Blanka told me you’d be eager. Don’t summon your pack, your partner will bring it to you.” With that his eyes gleamed suddenly and he roared, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME YOU PUNY PIG SKINNED WHORESON?”
I nearly laughed as I blinked away the spittle, before roaring my own retort. “I CALLED YOU WHAT YOU ARE YOU FUCKING MONSTER! YOUR KIND SHOULD BE COLLARED AND USED AS THE FUCKING SLAVE FODDER YOU WERE BRED TO BE!”
Rekzar roared back immediately, “WHERE IS YOUR GODSDAMNED ARMOR? NO-GO! YOUR WEAPON? NO-GO! YOUR GEAR? NO-GO! YOU ARE A FAILURE! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!”
I slapped my twinned amulets and imbued a thought with a sliver of power.
Mithral plate shined into existence around me with a burst of colors, like a light crystal overloading suddenly. A moment later a bilabial heater shield and a bastard sword filled my hands, shining just as bright and resplendent for a moment before they all dimmed together.
I hadn’t worn or carried them in what felt like ages, but they still felt as comfortable and natural as they ever had. The weight and padding of the armor felt like my skin, not a second laid atop it, and the arms held in my hands as much a part of me as the arms that carried them both.
I felt more myself than I had in years as I drew the hilt of my blade lateral to my face and my shield before my body in a salute.
Rekzar growled, “RICH BOY, HUH? NO GEAR! NO-GO!”
A yelped squeak from the formation at my back. “I carry my Lord’s gear!”
A short human rushed to my left side and knelt, dropping my haversack unceremoniously on the ground. “Lord Father! Forgive me, Lord Father! I should have known this savage would attempt some foul trick to remove one as pure as you!” The words made my skin crawl, but I held my tongue.
Rekzar roared again, but this time the enchantments of my armor spared me his spittle. “YOU BROUGHT A FUCKING DEMI-SERVANT?! YOU HUMANS MAKE ME FUCKING SICK! GIVE ME A FUCKING VERIFIED INVENTORY OR YOU ARE FUCKING DONE HERE!”
The human squeaked again and stood, producing a document listing the contents of my enchanted pack. And then whispered with a smile in her voice, “Nice to meet you, partner. I’m Bridget.”
Rekzar growled and huffed as he pretended to scan the long scroll, feigning indignant defeat, “GET OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT!” He threw the scroll at me where it bounced off of my shield, and was quickly collected by Bridget.
I dropped the salute with a subtle nod and smile. I reached for my pack only to find it strapped to a remarkably short, breathtakingly beautiful, green eyed woman’s back.
She took the hand and curtsied, kissing my knuckles with an elated smile. “Thank you, Lord Father!”
For a moment I was stunned as her sun kissed cheeks blushed, unprepared for the depth of the adoration in her eyes. Or the sly smirk that split one side of her lips, hidden from all but Rekzar and myself and the only hint of her charade.
Thankfully, she never missed a beat, “The stench of filth is the least in the rear, Lord Father.” With that, she sneered and pointedly spit in Rekzar’s direction.
I blinked and organized my thoughts, internalizing the hatred I felt for the ones we would soon meet. I knew the hatred and malice they carried, and I knew it well. Too well.
I became them and struck her with the back of the hand she’d just kissed. “You forget yourself, girl. We are above the beasts who spit their cud in the streets and shit where they please.” I held out the hand I’d struck her with to kiss again, “Never forget that we are their betters. Carry yourself as such or I will cut you down like a dog.”
Her eyes flared for a moment in anger, and then glowed in wonder. And still I couldn’t have told you which was the truth as she took the hand and kissed it again.
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