== VORTEX QUEST 3-4 ==
== REVOLUTION 1 -- WELCOME TO THE ACADEMY ==
Chay and Goro took the Cinereant in its prison back to the entrance to finish the deal. Meanwhile, Xane and Marcus had explored the Holy Spire without procuring anything of immediate use.
Then the pantheon moved toward Sharpeye, beyond the depth of the abandoned mine.
The air grew moist as they descended, moss blooming on the walls. Soon, the entire tunnel was moss covered all around, soft green pillows squelching wet under their steps. Xane took over rudimentary cleaning but they kept finding new spots of ash stuck to their skin.
Goro didn't mind being a little dirty. The whole adventure was a ride of sex and violence, both more brutal than he had ever thought possible, and a hundred percent gayer than he would have wanted. But he had begun to revel in the sheer manliness of it, like he was reveling in his animal pleasure.
Sharpeye was a Dragoon -- a Drake infused with demonblood. The purple lizardman's body flexed with veiny muscle that would have gotten him called out for steroid abuse on earth. His broad neck and traps were merged into something like a cobra hood. He had large, black eyes and a snaggletooth. He wore dull gold mold-armor over his crotch and knees, a leather harness covering the chest. Three of his four arms held different scrolls, a bandolier across his chest held many more.
A body of inspirational strength.
His face was impossible to read -- except for Chay, probably - but the whipping of his tail made the surprise obvious.
"You're here," he said. "You made it, like Tfeccus thought you would. Welcome, I suppose. Is the entrance open again?"
Naturally, Chay stepped forward. "The Cinereant there is still alive but you may come and go as you like."
"Amazing," Sharpeye said and just seemed to catch up to reality. "Real demigods, in Rhibinelg, and they want to join the Revolution." He gestured into the hall behind him. "I'm Commander Sharpeye. Be my guests."
Goro couldn't take his eyes off the strong v-line below the chest harness, leading into the crotch armor. How unfortunate that demonblooded creatures didn't produce nectar.
===***===
The academy had claimed an abandoned Dark Chantry and the decommissioned mines below it as headquarter. The underground temple structure had been turned into classrooms, armories, impromptu workshops and dormitories.
The alliance consisted of many minor factions hoping to get rich and powerful by striking deals with down-on-their-luck inhabitants of the Lydeth ocean above and bringing about a faster cycle.
There were splinter tribes of Kobolds, exiled Trolls, the occasional errant Hexer or Wraith and even a bunch of runaway slaves.
The majority of people present at the academy, however, were lord-less Hellions. The tall men with skulls for heads barely bothered with clothing. Bright red muscle fibers and skeletal white filaments made the muscled specimen look like walking anatomy illustrations. A little freaky, actually.
Goro flinched as he felt himself drool, his eyes glued to the loincloth-covered crotches -- and those loincloths had to be *long* to cover up.
Chay and Sharpeye were rambling exposition at each other. Goro liked being underestimated as a meathead, but right now he really *was* an idiot with no mind for strategy.
Marcus was also not listening. He leaned into Goro's pecs. "All those Hellions," the Filipino whispered, "and not a drop of nectar."
Nectar addiction was common in the abyss, although few beings were as effected as the pantheon. Hellions were immune to most drugs, including demon jizz. They were often paid in nectar since it was a desired good nearly everywhere, but these Hellions were lordless.
Goro answered with a sigh.
After a march along pillared halls, the demigods were led to a bath.
Steam wafted at them. A long, hot pool got continuously refilled by a steaming waterfall and emptied itself on the other end. A few more tubs were placed around the walls. Sconces of motionless fire gave the place a warm tone, with some torches casting eerie purple light.
Some ten Hellions were bathing or showering, their super-dicks with crazy mushrooms at the tip swinging fully relaxed. A dozen naked human men at various levels of consciousness were bathing, too, looking quite average among the abyss warriors despite their great physiques.
The Dragoon left and the demigods hung their fundoshi on a wardrobe hook.
