The Abyssals - Part 5 (*/f)

Author's Note: First off, I'd like to apologize for the long wait between this chapter and the last one. I recently got an internship at a media production agency and had to move into a small, run-down house with 3 other housemates. So I was rather uncomfortable and not in a writing mood for quite awhile. Thankfully, it seems to have return for now, and I'm really hoping to try and get this story wrapped up before Christmas, as I may not have privacy and access to a computer during the holidays.

The story has skipped ahead a little. While I was hoping to have another chapter in Duskwood, I suddenly realized that the interactions and plot I had originally planned did not make sense anymore. So instead we get to move along a little bit faster, and enjoy some laughs sooner. Enjoy!



The Abyssals – Part 5


Dark clouds suffocated the skies, shielding the land from the mid-day sun. Then again, no amount of light could have warmed up the land known as Deadwind Pass. The valley, nestled between Duskwood and the Swamp of Sorrows, was as gray and lifeless as any place could get. Soil was barren and cracked. Plants were shriveled and dried up. Even the scavenging birds were as thin as any rotting carcass they were lucky enough to find.

The only thing which stood out from the bleakness of the landscape was an immense stone tower beside the dried-up river which had carved the valley. Standing almost higher than the valley itself, the structure was in good shape, but seemingly abandoned. Windows were covered up with dirt and spider webs. Bushes which had been meticulously laid out before the entrance had long since become nothing but bare branches.

It was known by only one name: Medivh's Tower.

“Are you sure this artifact is in that tower?”

“I'm sure of it.”

Mathias and Anath'eia were peeking over a boulder near the top of the valley. They had moved slowly and carefully through the forest of Duskwood behind them to not avoid any of the bandits chasing them, but to also keep from running into any dangers lurking in the darkness. The caution had added several days to their journey.

The pair showed clear signs of their exhaustion. Mathias had long since discarded his helmet, and his short black hair was streaked with dirt. Both were covered in dirt and unidentifiable gooey splotches from crushed bugs.

The human sighed and rubbed the side of his face, accidentally spreading even more dirt across his features. He looked over to his night elf companion and said, “We can still go back and get some more help. With a few more men, we could search the whole tower within a matter of days.”

Anath'eia shook her head quickly. Her blue hair, while still as vibrant as ever, was knotted and twisted from their harsh travel. “No,” she responded. “Someone else read the journal and knows about this. We can't risk letting the artifact fall into anyone else's hands. Fa'llien didn't-” She choked on her words, the memory of the druid's death rushing back to her.

She swallowed before continuing. “Fa'llien didn't sacrifice himself just for us to waste more time. We have to continue on before anyone else gets here.”

However, by the time she finished, Mathias was no longer looking at her. Instead, his attention was focused on the ground at the base of the tower. He frowned.

“It seems even with his help we were too slow.”


Khazdumarr and Aelneth came to a stop before the large, oak doors of the tower. The Warlock took a step forward, but then stopped, her eye catching an easily-overlooked detail. Intricate gold designs spiraled all over the door frame and joined together at the top in the form of an eye with rays of sunlight spreading out in all directions.

“That's not right,” she mused to herself, furrowing her brows in thought.

Aelneth looked at her mistress, then back to the door. “What? It's just a door. Were you expecting it to be guarded?”

Khazdumarr glanced over to her and shook her head. “No, it's just... never mind. Open the door. I need to think about something.”

The succubus rolled her eyes before strutting up to the door. “Now I open the doors for you? Couldn't anyone else have done that for you,” she complained as she reached out and grabbed the handle.

Suddenly, the eye above the door glowed purple. The gold tendrils decorating the door frame suddenly unraveled and shot out for Aelneth. Several strands grabbed onto each of her limbs, and in the blink of an eye the demoness was lifted up several feet into the air. Her limbs were pulled taut, trapping her in a spread eagle.

“What's going on?!” she shrieked, shaking her head about. The rest of the golden tendrils, dozens of them, wavered in the air like the tentacles of a demonic creature. Khazdumarr didn't lift a single finger. She merely watched, focused intently on the eye above the door. “Mistress! Get me down! Please!”

“Shut up,” growled the Warlock. “If I am to disable the trap, I need to know exactly how it works so I can turn it off. Otherwise, it'll attack me too if I'm unsuccessful. Just hold still.” Unfortunately, the request was rather hard to fulfill since the trap was not quite yet done with its captive.

Several tendrils began wrapping themselves around Aelneth's arms, starting at her wrists and circling closer towards her shoulders, until the tips were nestled in her stretched underarms. And then they began to stroke. Gently at first, and in simple back-and-forth motions, but it was enough to send the succubus into a wild fit of giggles.

“Heeheeheehehe! Heeheheey! Queheheeit eheheit! Heeheheeheheeeheeheee!” She began to twist about. Though the tendrils held her, she was still able to writhe a few inches in each direction. Several more tendrils joined in, these ones wrapping themselves around her legs before stroking their tips along her thighs. Aelneth's giggles grew more frantic, her whole body shuddering at the sensations. “Yooohooohohoou gohohot tooohooo heheehehelp meeehehehee!” she cried out while she was still able to.

“And you need to let me concentrate,” Khazdumarr snapped back, keeping her attention on the eye. “I can sense both planar and nether essences... a powerful mixture of energy. Quite rare.”

“AHAHAHAIEEHEHE DOOHOHOON'T CAAHAHAHARE,” shouted Aelneth, temporarily breaking Khazdumarr's focus. Even more of the readily-available tendrils moved in to attack. Three of them were randomly poking and stroking around her exposed stomach. One more was teasing the upper swells of her breasts.

Her black hair whipped about as she shook her head. She was at least glad she had some protection. Not having sensitive soles like other mortal races was one, and wearing such tight leather clothing helped protect some other spots. However, perhaps the trap was reading her mind, for no sooner than she thought that did she feel her corset begin to loosen. Out of her sight, a lone tendril was undoing the many laces on her back. Panic filled her, and she frantically tried to spur the Warlock along through her laughter.

“Mehehehestreheheess! Hurreeeheheee! Eheheet's gohoohoing toohooHOOHOHOOHEEAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAA!!” She couldn't get her warning out before yet another golden tendril joined in, this one drilling right into her small navel. A fresh wave of hysteria washed through her and she shrieked with laughter. No longer could she even struggle. Her head simply hung back while laughter poured out from her wide-open mouth.

If Khazdumarr heard, she didn't show it. She was too focused on analyzing the trap to destroy it. “...then the astral connections come through the five points of Khadgar's law. So that means...”

The last lace was undone, and suddenly Aelneth's corset fell to the ground with a thud. As a creature designed for seduction, it was only natural that her breasts were absolutely perfect. Large globes of soft flesh, and pert little purple nipples standing on end from the torture she was enduring. With the newly-exposed skin, almost all of the remaining tendrils finally added to her torture.

They wrapped around her ribs, though leaving enough space underneath for her torture to go unobstructed, and the tips began tracing random spirals and shapes over each breast. There was even a single tendril devoted to lightly teasing her nipples, first the right one, then the left, before dancing back and forth at random intervals.

Aelneth's world exploded with pure agonizing hysteria. She tried to scream, but she couldn't draw enough breath to even do that. All she could do was quiver with silent laughter as tears trickled down the sides of her face.

“...Xr'ghi alawaldskirde handerung advois!” chanted Khazdumarr, her voice rising in a crescendo, and ending with her thrusting a palm out towards the eye. A bolt of lightning colored purely in black zigzagged out and struck the stone tower just above the eye. It burrowed through, sending shards of rock everywhere, revealing a brightly-glowing purple gem just moments before the energy bolt struck it. It sizzled for a second, then exploded in a million sparkles.

Instantly, the tendrils went limp, sending Aelneth crashing down to the ground. Still wrapped in the lifeless appendages, she curled up into a fetal position, giggling and gasping for air. Khazdumarr grinned and stepped over to her fallen pet. She reached down and gently pat her on the shoulder.

“Get up. We're going in.”

The succubus slowly looked up at her, glaring through tear-filled eyes. “You knew this was going to happen! How?” she asked.

The undead woman motioned back up to the golden eye above the door. “That eye, while befitting for such a place, is the symbol of the Kirin Tor. Those mages have never stepped foot within this tower. Undoubtedly, after Medivh's demise, they must have put up that ward to stop looters from ending.” She allowed herself a smile for not being out-smarted, but her expression quickly turned neutral once more. “While this means that everything left after Medivh's death is still in there, it also means that any traps, wards, or... test subjects... will probably still be active.”

The succubus pondered on her words for a few seconds, but her eyes flew wide open when she realized something. “You summoned me so I could go first and trigger them all, didn't you,” she accused.

Khazdumarr could only grin evilly in response.


Anath'eia squinted, having seen the whole spectacle from afar. “They're heading inside. We should go down now.”

Mathias didn't respond. The night elf glared over at him before slapping him on the shoulder. He quickly perked up and looked back. “What?”

“You were ogling that demoness, weren't you!” she accused.

Mathias smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “Eh heh, s-sorry. You're right, though. We should start heading down now. Let me go first to find a sturdy path.” Without waiting for a response, he quickly moved around from behind the boulder and carefully began to descend the steep valley slope.

Anath'eia continued to glare at him, even after he went ahead. “Stupid human. Why is he infatuated with a creature like that? What does she have that I don't?”

She paused, suddenly very confused.

“...Why am I jealous?”


The door to Winterstrike's cell creaked open, and Coruon entered right on schedule. The Nightwatcher had been subjected to his torture for nearly four full days. Her throat and lungs burned from laughing so hard for so long. The previous night, Coruon had been so merciless that she had even lost control of her bladder before he was through.

The shame of that moment hadn't lessened at all.

“If you put all this effort of being so stubborn into something more beneficial, there would probably be a statue of you somewhere,” bemused the druid, looking over her bent form.

Winterstrike made no effort to respond. If anything, she was oddly quiet this night. Or day. She wasn't sure anymore which shift it was.

“Sil'neesa,” Coruon began as he stepped closer. Winterstrike's eyes snapped open, and with a cry of rage, she strained against the ropes which bound her wrists and ankles. The section she had slowly been fraying over the past hours snapped, and with frustration and female vengeance that had been growing over the past few days, she snapped her foot back directly into Coruon's groin.

His eyes rolled up into the back of his head as he collapsed to the ground, clutching himself tightly. It was possible something may have shattered, aside from his pride.

Still smoldering with anger, Winterstrike straightened up and looked down at him. “A Nightwatcher is always a threat until she is buried in a grave, Coruon, or don't you remember that,” she said.

She stepped over his fallen form and peeked her head out of her cell. Empty. Good, it must have been the night shift. With one more glance back at the druid, she took off running down the hall, her bare feet barely making any sound.

(To be continued...)


To read the previous chapters: http://www.ticklingforum.com/search.php?searchid=6647469