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Champion of Corruption	By : sapphireblind Category: +A through F > Corruption of Champions Views: 7984 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Champion of Corruption is a non-profit work based off Corruption of Champions. I do not, in any way, claim ownership: all rights to the relevant characters/concepts belong to Fenoxo and their creators, who worked hard to contribute.

Chapter List
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(Blowjob; Non-con; vanilla M/F)
The ground seemed to rise up to strike him like a club, and Sorryn could feel the sharp rock all but cutting into his cheek, even as his skin was bruised by the jarring impact. Hurt as it might have, it all felt incomparable to the dizzying wave of nausea that almost caused him to wretch but for the seething fury boiled through his veins. Pushing himself into kneeling position, he stabbed the sword in his right hand into the ground for support.
Even so, his vision was dancing and his ears were ringing, and he was slow to take in the world in his dazed state. Somewhere, Karren was shouting; he heard the words, but without comprehension. The only thing that seemed real to him in all the world was his rage. The sword in his left hand was still bloodied. Eomun's blood. Sarah had always told him that these swords would bring him unhappiness, but was he unhappy? Glancing around again, it all seemed so obvious; he hadn't been sent here to protect Ingnam. He had been sent here to die. Most likely like every Champion before him...
"Get up you stupid bastard!" shouted Karren desperately. Finally, the words were registering and Sorryn shot up, but it was not to him that Karren was shouting to, but at the inert figure of Mason who was still slumped on the ground.
Around them was a broad plateau of obsidian rock that Sorryn quickly came to realise, jutted out of the earth below like an ebon column hundreds of feet into the air, towering over the land around it. A pale, windswept desert lay beneath a midnight sky, across which dark, menacing clouds raced at breakneck speed. The low boom of thunder seemed to amplify the forlornness and desolation that was captured in the emptiness and black, jagged rocks that lay half-buried in the dunes.
A short distance behind them, a twisted circle of rock stood upon the ground as though it had grown from the barren black basalt, and, in the hollow of the circle, shimmered a portal of swirling deep blues, fervent crimsons, and bruised purples, all swirling like the disturbed surface of a pond. Through it, on the other side, the forbidden cavern inside Mount Ilgast probably awaited, and, beyond it, the village of Ingnam. Their home. But was it his anymore?
"Stop spacing out like a fucking wool-herder, get your head together!" That one had been aimed at him. Karren didn't swear often, but when she did, it was because she was nervous – he liked to think he knew her at least that well. Sheathing his swords, Sorryn came to try and get Mason to his feet, who was starting to groan.
Between them, they lifted him to his feet, at which point Mason had regained enough consciousness to try and shake them off. "Let's not do that again," he muttered beneath his breath.
"So you have come."
At the sound of another voice, their heads shot up in alarm. There, before the portal, stood a dark figure of black mists and flaming eyes – there had been nowhere on that open plateau to hide, nor had they seen it approach. It was miraculous, incredible, impossible, and yet it was true. Sorryn disengaged Mason's arm from around his neck and slowly interposed himself between his companions and the dark wraith, who watched them unperturbed with the vast patience of an ageless being.
"Welcome, Champions. Shorn has awaited this moment for some time now." The voice that spoke was like no earthly voice any of them had ever heard; composed of a chorus of male and female voices that spoke in unison, all ringing with the uncanny hollow dirge of a bell tolling at midnight in an abandoned temple.
"Who are you?" demanded Sorryn in no friendly tone, measuring the distance between them and trying to decide if he could snatch out his swords in time.
"I am Harbinger." Sorryn waited expectantly for more, but the shadow remained silent.
"Why do you address us as Ingnam's Champions?" asked Karren cautiously. "There is only supposed to be one champion of Ingnam, which So–"
"Always one Champion, yes," the shadow answered enigmatically. "Men and women come to guide Shorn along the paths of fate. One by one to champion the light and the darkness, the man and the beast. Now the time for guidance is at an end and the time of prophecy is at hand; when three champions alight upon the lands of Shorn, the Champion of Corruption shall arise to usher in a new era."
Mason jerked forward. "Are you saying that one of us is supposed to become part of what we've all sworn to defend our home against? Frankly, if anyone here is eligible for that position, it would be you."
"I am but a shadow of all possibilities, champion. What you become, is for you to decide."
Although Karren and Mason were present, Sorryn decided to press with the question most on his mind. "Tell me, shade, are we even here to save Ingnam? Or is this 'champion' business a load of crap."
Karren began to berate him, and although he couldn't see it, he was certain Mason was scandalised – since they could all remember, to be chosen as champion was the greatest honour in the village – but Sorryn had eyes only for Harbinger, who seemed silent in consideration. It was that silence that convinced him that whatever this entity was, it was not one to lie, but it would surely have a way of bending the truth. Yet, without any trace of human expression, it was difficult to tell what thoughts lay behind that dark veil.
"The action of every champion can save Ingnam if they wish it, and to date, their efforts have indeed staved off the erasure of your little world. Now, you may choose to honour those efforts, or cast them aside."
Sorryn grimaced, as though confirming some private thought of his own. "What do we have to do?" demanded Karren from behind. After a few moments of silence, Harbinger glided away to stand before the portal as though looking into its hypnotic depths.
"The Midnight Host stands upon three pillars. Three are the Demon Lords whose power and will animate the demon hordes: Akivasha, Bashnurmon, Valastra. Topple one and the Host will falter. Topple all three and the blow shall be grievous indeed. Yet, should the Champion of Corruption arise, such efforts will ultimately be in vain."
"Then who is this blasted champion?" demanded Sorryn, who was quickly wearying of Harbinger's indirect manner.
"That is not known to me," came the reply after a few long moments during which each present was sure that all three of them had been weighed in Harbinger's mind for some quality or ability that only it knew to seek. "But you will, now, enact your parts in the prophecy and set into motion Shorn's final fate."
As they watched in alarm, Harbinger began to grow and become nebulous, engulfing the portal in its dark, whirlwind form and part of the plateau behind. Its eyes were no longer pinpricks, but immense balls of balefire looking down from the heights, whilst the clouds above swirled down to meet it.
"Now, leave."
The wall of swirling darkness expanded and overtook them, and Sorryn's outstretched caught with those of this friends even as they were caught up and thrown headlong into the ultimate vortex of darkness where the wind shrieked, lightning flashed, and a thousand voices screamed and laughed and roared in hideous cacophony.
Whatever maelstrom they had found themselves in, Sorryn's ultimate awakening was strangely peaceful. Lying on his side, he found himself looking at the naturally weathered rock of a cavern, illuminated by flickering torchlight. For a moment, he thought he was inside the forbidden cavern of Ilgast before subtle details told him it was not. Remembrance of what had happened flooded back to him.
In front of him, he saw Mason draped over a rock, as though someone had dropped him on it and left him there. Or he had fallen there. Of Karren, he could see no sign. Perhaps she's somewhere else?
Despite an oppresive cloudiness that pervaded his head, the sight of his swords, carefully placed standing next to the exit that winded up to the light galvanised him. As he tried to get up, he was shocked out of his torpor to realise that his hands had been bound behind his back and feet as well. Jerking at the cords, he grunted as he tried to work himself free, thankful that the ties were loose.
Another sound came to him and he jerked around, thinking to see his captor, though nothing met his sight. Somewhere deeper down the cave, he realised that someone must be further back if he was to judge by the play of shadow on the walls. It seemed there was at least one other person there, though the shadow was curiously misshapen and in the throes of repetitive motion.
Whatever was occupying his captor's attention, Sorryn didn't care, so long as it kept him or her or it occupied a moment longer. Working furiously, his wrists finally slipped through with minor burns, and a short moment later, his feet were free as well. Rubbing his wrists, he quickly went for the weapons, noting that Mason had been similarly bound. Cutting the bonds on the keen edge, he freed himself from the cumbersome ceremonial robes and crept forward as quietly as he could, giving a grunt of disgust as he came to peer around the corner.
At first, he thought it was a large child or small man. A reddish, rangy creature, from whom gangly bat-like wings sprouted from its shoulders stood hunched on bent knees in the uncertain illumination of several flickering torches. Naked to all appearances, its hips were working furiously as its pointed tail, curiously long for its size, lashed for side to side with vicious rhythm.
On the ground beneath, Karren lay limply, the front of her robes torn open to reveal her breast, her head seized between clawed hands. Her eyes were half-opened and seemed uncomprehending, her lips stretched open into a wide 'O' as an obscene red phallus – comedically large on such a small creature, but for the obscenity of the situation – which was thrust between them and pulled out glistening only to be pushed back in again. Her chest was slick with the fluids that leaked from where the two met. The sounds Sorryn had heard were the grunts and snarling, lustful invectives as it pursued the use of Karren's mouth with relentless ardour. Karren seemed incapable of any resistance, save a weak, muffled moan.
Had it been another situation, Sorryn would have capitalised on its state of distraction, but in conjunction with Karren's violation by this inhuman creature, Sorryn came out with a roar as he charged. Inhuman though it was, it still proved capable of being surprised and shocked as it whipped a wide-eyed horned face at him. It's beady eyes were only surprised for a moment, before it leapt back, its shaft freeing itself with an lewd 'schurlk' and the vicious swipe cut only thin air.
"How can you be awake? You were drugged!" it screeched with a harsh, high-pitched grating voice as it took to the air, where it flapped hovering out of his reach.
"Willpower you little shit," snarled Sorryn, his mind still burning with the thought of what the smaller creature had done to Karren. Lowering his swords as though he was willing to abort violence and talk, his hand snapped forward, hurling one of the blades as straight and true as a javelin. Caught off-guard, it impaled one of its wings, pinning it to the packed earth of the wall, where the creature screamed and jerked ineffectually. Sorryn came in for the killing blow.
With a snarl, its mouth gaped suddenly and stream of fire rushed forth, which Sorryn only avoided by ungracefully throwing himself to the side. Crashing next to Karren, he gathered her in his arms and rolled clear as fire rained down again.
Having bought itself a moment, it jerked and kicked and cursed at the pinning steel and at last tore it free. He turned to look for the boy and the girl, only to realise that Sorryn was already on him, sword raised high in a two-handed grip and cold rage on his face. With unbelievably quick motion, it slipped aside from under the descending sword and the blade struck sparks as it rang against stone. Without pause, Sorryn rolled, retrieved his other blade in the same motion, and came on again.
The winged imp hovered high for a moment and then screeched an unearthly wail that distorted the very air and had Sorryn on his knees, his swords falling from nerveless fingers that he tried to cover his ears as it seemed the very rock under him reverberated from the deadly sonics, amplified by the close confines until the world began to rock and tilt like a ship in a nauseating storm. By the time he realised the sound had stopped for several moments, it was rushing down on him, claws outstretched.
As it was about to reach him, something hard and heavy crashed into it, sending it tumbling. Karren was awake, leaning against the wall, but another rock was read in her hand. Swearing under his breath for the ringing in his ears, he caught his weapons and tossed one to Karren, who expertly snatched it out of the air. Like a pair of predators they advanced on the creature in a pincer movement.
An infuriated snarl of fire escaped its mouth as it realised it was outmatched, and, with a fluid swoop towards the mouth of the cave that startled a dazed Mason, it disappeared and was gone. It was all over so quickly, with no evidence of battle or the creature remaining, that Sorryn and Karren cast a glance at each other as though to make sure it had really happened.
Karren abruptly sank to her knees, retching and spitting with disgust. Sorryn politely affected not to notice her unlovely exertions, realising she must have be mortified enough as it were and burning with humiliation that he had seen. Mason's wordless expression and the frantic flabbergasted motions of his hands was more than enough to explain his confusion over the entire situation.
"A demon," shrugged Sorryn wearily as he went to slump against the wall. In all honesty, this first encounter was not what he had been expecting – teeth and talons and terror, yes – Karren's ordeal, no.
"Here." Karren was coming up, holding closed the front of her ruined clothes. She tossed his sword back to him, knowing how much he valued it. She was probably one of three people who knew the real reason he had wanted to become Ingnam's next champion, despite it not being for the villages benefit.
"What's this?" asked Mason as he toed something in the corner of the cave with his foot. There seemed to be leather satchel lying on the floor, the contents of which clinked to the inspection of Mason's foot.
"Belonged to the damned creature," spat Karren irritably at having to think about it again. "It had a bunch of potions in there – used them to sedate us and… you know, never mind. Let's get out of here. I want to get out; who knows if it will come back. With more." A shudder ran through her at the thought.
"Alright, we'll–" Sorryn was about to lend her a hand, when Karren knocked away the offered arm.
"Don't come near me, Sorryn. Not now."
Sorryn sighed, but shrugged. The old Karren seemed to be back, and bitchier from her humiliation, if a little unsteady and flushed. Ever curious, Mason scooped up the satchel and they made their way out.
Unlike the forbidden cavern of Ilgast, they didn't have far to go to get out. They emerged cautiously to be greeted by the greenery of vibrant woodland. Yet it was not the forest that surrounded Ingnam, but an altogether different one, similar, yet subtly… strange; where the trees of Ingnam grew straight and tall, here they twisted and curved as they reached for the sky. High above, the light strove valiantly to get through the leafy vault to reach the forest floor. There was very little chance they'd be able to track a flying creature through this maze.
A stream was running nearby and Karren immediately rushed to it as soon as she espied it. Splashing her face with water, she rinsed and spat and started drinking, whilst Sorryn waited with some impatience.
"You have a plan?" asked Mason, sensing his impatience.
"We should head downstream and find where it leads – hopefully to a river, along which is a better chance of finding a settlement of some kind. We could shelter here, but if that demon imp was here, there's no guaranteeing that others of its kind aren't nearby, and in what numbers. At any rate, we can't shelter in the cave, even if it is a good spot."
Mason merely shrugged, for he was not much of a woodsman. The comforts and walls of Ingnam were always more to his liking. A chemist by trade, he was curious about the contents of the crystalline vials that lay within the satchel, having never seen their like in his life. Karren had said that the creature had used them to drug them, which was probably the drained ones, though four were empty of their contents. His eyes were next drawn to the pink-coloured vials that bubbled and felt slight warm to the touch.
"Pack it up; seems like Karren's done," ordered Sorryn. Karren was indeed straightening from the stream, though she shook her head angrily and squeezed the bridge of her nose as though her head was hurting. Sorryn thought to comfort her, but thought better of it, knowing her temperament. Without further word, the three of them headed off downstream.
The sky was turning night and they still hadn't left the forest. Even though the darkness closed like a wall around them, Sorryn was at least glad to hear the normal buzz of non-predatory nocturnal creatures. Settling in the shadow of a cliff face a small distance from the stream, the men set up camp whilst Karren crouched in a corner, leaving Sorryn to wonder if the ordeal had affected her more than he realised as she was usually strong-willed and fiery rather than the withdrawn figure he now saw.
Presently, a small fire was burning to keep away the night chill, they took stock of their supplies. The imp's bag satchel held little in the way of food and the few berries they had managed to find were but a meagre handful, and were of a variety that Sorryn couldn't identify despite his knowledge of woodcraft. There was silence for a long time as each contemplated their own thoughts, until it was finally decided they would tough it out for the night. Mason laid out the contents of the satchel to mull over the vials and other knick-knacks, whilst Karren excused herself to go and wash at the stream, but not before venomously warning the pair not to come near her.
Sorryn sighed, casting his eyes in her direction before she vanished from view, before turning back to Mason.
"What are you hoping to figure out there?" Mason shrugged for an answer, before rolling out the four empty vials, and putting the yellow ones nearby.
"Karren says we were drugged, so it stands to reason the empty ones were used. See here, at the bottom. There's a bit of yellow residue here, which probably means the ones used to keep us sedate are these amber ones."
"But there's four empty ones and only three of us," noted Sorryn.
"Yeah; seems one of these pink ones were also used, though obviously I don't know what for or the effect. Maybe he drank one himself and these are some sort of restorative or some form of invigoration potion?" Mason uncorked the vial and dipped the tip of his small finger in and was about to touch it to his tongue with it when Sorryn caught him by the wrist, to which Mason gave a sudden gasp.
"Seriously?" grimaced Sorryn with a raised brow. "Isn't that a little risky, especially something from the bag of some demon?"
Mason chuckled and shrugged jovially before sobering as he expounded his thoughts. "He used it someone, be it himself or one of us. I don't think someone would willingly drink poison, and if it was used one of us, we're still walking, none the worse for wear."
Sorryn relinquished his hold, though Mason didn't immediately try to taste the drop on his finger. Were they okay? He took a glance in Karren's direction. Maybe it had been used on her, which was what was prompting her withdrawal – perhaps she was suffering in silence? It would be like her to do so; Karren never believed in showing weakness in front of anyone. Most of all him.
"A sweet tang to this," noted Mason as he took his finger away from his tongue. He tasted the fluid, rolling it in his mouth, then spat it out. "Not caustic at least. A restorative maybe? If the pleasant taste is all there is to it, I can certainly see myself using these as a pick-me-up."
"Let's not risk it," grunt Sorryn, leaning back against the rock. Mason shrugged, corked the vial and went to examining the other items.
Long minutes went by and some wood was added to the fire to keep it going. Mason was still playing around with his findings, though with more focus and intent than he had previously shown. Sorryn was beginning to get nervous with Karren's absence. When he couldn't stand the waiting any longer, he got up to go and find her.
"You'll get a black eye for your troubles," chuckled Mason without looking up. "Karren's plenty capable, you know."
"I know," grunted Sorryn. "I know that better than anyone. I also know she's overconfident. And stubborn. I'll risk it – I'm not letting anyone get hurt on my watch."
Tracing his way in the semi-darkness, he reached the stream and saw no sign. Looking over the place, he finally traced his way down to a reedy section of the brook that offered the cover of privacy and gingerly peered in. Seeing no one within, he swore under his breath as he wondered where she had gotten to before spotting her robes that lay discarded on fallen log near the bank.
Startled, he went to pick up. Surely Karren must have been nearby, but the waters were empty. Just as he was beginning to think she had been snatched away, a rustle in the reeds behind him brought him wheeling.
Karren grabbed him in a harsh grip by the collar and Sorryn closed his eyes, awaiting some blow or slap, but a moment later he felt the weight of her body fall against him. Opening his eyes, he was looking straight into a face that seemed both angry and yet distressed. Her hands were shaking, he realised, though she made no attempt to let go. Occasional shudders wracked the rest of her naked body.
"I can't take it anymore," she all but whimpered, averting her mismatched eyes from his. Sorryn had never seen her in such a pitiable state.
"What's wrong?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Beneath his touch, she was trembling, though whether from weakness or anger, he couldn't tell. She opened her mouth to say something, only to draw ragged breath. She seemed almost furious with herself, yet her eyes were on the verge of tears.
"Get it together Karren!" he shook her lightly to try and focus her and to try and stoke pride. Instead, her eyes went wide and she gasped. It was the first in years he had seen her do something so appealingly girlish. She had been through a lot, he realised – thoughts that had occurred to him previously, but were only now sinking in. As had he. Sarah was probably lost to him; the image of her in tears and grief as she cradled the dying Eomun in her arms was still burned in his mind. And she was far. Karren was right here before him and needed him.
Their eyes met and he leaned in. Karren bent away, shaking her head slightly at his approach, but he caught up to her and their lips met. What he intended to be gentle and reassuring, she suddenly returned with more force than he expected. Her mouth opened to receive him and the nature of the kiss changed suddenly. Softness was quickly replaced by hunger, heated and primal.
Hands clutched at his hair and his clothes, trying to pull them from his body and he obliged. His own hands groped, holding her to him; exploring the curves of her waist and firmness of her buttocks that were larger than his clutching hand could hold. The hot throb of desire that ripped through him had him flushed with instant aroused.
The instant his clothes were off, she jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his waist, even as he caught her up, supporting her weight. The feel of her sex was hot against him and he gave a feral growl, his fingers digging deeply into the pale cheeks of her ass.
They stumbled, still kissing wildly. Sorryn kicked at the discarded clothes and brought her down on them, kissing her all over; lips, face, neck. Beneath him, Karren writhed and moaned her pleasure. He caught at one of her breasts, squeezing firmly, and she gasped. He set his lips to the stiff nipple and sucked and Karren threw her head back with a whimper. Her hips rolled, squeezing his trapped erection between the two of them, the hot feel of which drove her to more urgent efforts.
For long minutes, they struggled and strained achingly with one another. Then Karren's hand shot between them and he felt her take hold of his manhood, which throbbed heatedly in her grip. The muscles in his body tensed, and he heaved upon so that he could look down between the two of them. Karren's attention was likewise diverted. Twisting and manoeuvring, she finally fixed the swollen head to secret entrance between her legs, long since soaked and flushed in the throes of her unbearable arousal.
Their eye met: his impassioned and hers desperate. Her arms wrapped around his head and her legs lightly about his waist. Sorryn knew what came next, yet same part of him was telling him that there was a line that should be crossed; that, perhaps, something might be wrong. Soft, cool fingers touched his face. His own fingers clutched the fabric beneath them and his hips shot forward, a brief resistance hindering him before the hot velvet clutch of her body enveloped him. Karren's eyes clenched shut and she held back a strained cry, holding him tightly, even as he gathered her up in his arms to crush her against him in turn.
A long and hot eternity later, that couldn't have lasted longer than a gasping minute, and his hips began to move again to thrust rhythmically. Her body began to rock back and forth in steady motion, and the soft sounds of her gasps began to rise and fall over the babbling of the water, feminine and alluring, filling the little enclosure.
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Champion of Corruption