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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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The silence of the nighted woods was disturbed by the flurry of activity that unfolded around the mouth of the cave and the forest immediately surrounding it. Pale figures wrapped and hooded in red silk paced to and fro, some of them walking on hands and feet in animal-like manner with their faces close to the ground. All of them were equally feminine and slender, and bore an uncanny resemblance to each other with straight black hair like polished jet and hard, unblinking eyes. The long length of silk, loosely clinging to their bodies, did little to hide the nudity of lean, hairless bodies beneath, or the faint suggestion of scaliness that glinted in green patches when the pale light of the moon caught them at the right angle.
Perched on a branch of one of the trees, like an inhuman overseer, the demon imp that had fled the cave earlier looked over the scene with growing impatience. Presently, one of the serpentine women came and knelt before him, her head lowered.
"There is no trace master," she hissed softly. "There is no scent to pick up, no tracks to follow."
"Impossible!" screamed the imp, breathing fire and stamping a small foot furiously, causing the contents of his new satchel to clink precariously. Swooping down from the tree, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the mouth of the cave. "Search again!"
"Give it up, Masrak," spoke another woman from the shadow of a tree. "If my magic couldn't find any sign or trace, your pets won't find anything either."
Unlike the serpentine women, the woman was an albino of epicurean form, with pale yellow hair that brushed her back and pouting lips that were tugged into a smirk at Masrak's misfortune. A simple leather breastband constrained her firm apple-sized breasts and a long, silken breechcloth provided for semblance of modesty whilst emphasising the curve of her hips and the long, pale sleekness of her lissom legs. The great, ivory bat-wings that extended from her back, she folded about her like a cape.
"You are not here to voice opinions, Thalis!" the imp snapped as he relinquished his hold on the snake woman, who sprang away, and rounded on the albino. "If I require you to use your mouth, it will be to wrap it around my co–"
"Just how did your charge escape anyway?" smoothly interposed Thalis, who's taunting lavender eyes glinted with the assurance that she already had some idea.
Masrak sensed it as well and instantly rounded on her, roaring with fire, but Thalis stood amidst the rushing flames unperturbed other than to push back a yellow lock that fell out of place with a smirk that lasted until Masrak backhanded her across the face. Stumbling, she snarled, revealing the rows of her small sharp teeth.
"You forget your place, half-breed," sneered Masrak congenially, having vented some of his ire. "You may have attained some minor distinction due to a lapse in Naggrish's judgement, but you will never be the equal of a true demon."
"And just how was a true demon, such as yourself, bested by a village idiot," returned Thalis sarcastically as she straightened herself, checking her lip for blood.
Masrak looked at her with returning irritation, but turned his gaze back to the cave. "I was overpowered! I don't know what happened this time, but there were three of the whelps instead of the usual one."
"Three?" Thalis glared at Masrak incredulously, but it was not amazement born of disbelief. Her eyes searched his face, for some sign that he knew, but could see only hurt pride and arrogance written there. Pride, arrogance, and swinish ignorance. Her lips once again curved into a faint smile, one more mysterious than before.
"Search the cave again!" Masrak pointed a taloned finger into the dark interior. "Start from the beginning!"
Thalis went, if only to no longer be in the imp's onerous presence. The cave was ordinary to all appearances, but the thrum of magic was so intense as to be all but tangible. The villagers would usually appear here or in one of the other caves, where they were ambushed by such fools as Masrak. Under normal circumstances, it should have been easy to pick up the trail, yet now there was seemingly nothing to find. She did not bother to use her power again in a fruitless endeavour to satisfy Masrak's spleen.
The answer, at least to Thalis, was obvious. Someone had concealed the trail from them. At moments it almost seemed as though there was something there to find, if only she had the power to pierce the veil she suspected was there. Despite a desire to vex Masrak, her personal curiosity demanded that she catch a glimpse of these three.
Struck by a sudden thought, she spread her arms and wings wide, closing her eyes and opening the mystic eye of heart and mind. "Cunning," she smiled silently to herself as she found what she had been looking for.
"Well?" demanded Masrak as he came down into the cave, prompting Thalis to cluck with irritation and the disturbance to her train of thought.
"I have already told you, there is nothing to be found," she exasperated at his bull-headed insistence and the irritation his presence was causing her. Masrak considered her for a few long moments, but was only met by her disdain.
"Then what use are you to me?" he spat at last. Thalis tossed her head back with a sniff and made to exit the cave, but her motion was arrested before she could leave. "But before you leave, I will see for myself why you are counted among Naggrish's favourites."
The face Thalis presented as she turned to face him was blank, but her stare was witheringly cold. Yet, if this curbed any of Masrak's newfound enthusiasm, he did not show it; his disproportionate erection was already tenting his loincloth in his over eagerness. "On your hands and knees bitch."
Thalis did as she had been bid without pleasure; it would have been so easy to reduce the arrogant little turd to dust with a word or gesture, but having been placed in the imp's charge, disobedience would only earn her punishment from Naggrish if the Masrak's pet snakes didn't tear her apart first for killing him.
Her master of the hour wasted no time, ripping off the cloth that kept him from ploughing her the moment she was down, even as he freed his own studded shaft and stroked generously. Even with Thalis on all fours, Masrak had to stand on his toes to align himself, but with a snicker, he thrust forward and sheathed himself to the balls in a single thrust. About him, her hot ivory cunt clenched convulsively and Thalis hissed.
"Naggrish's whore still as tight as a virgin?" chortled Masrak. Thalis flinched as she felt sharp claws digging into the pale mounds of her buttocks as the smaller demon adjusted himself and started to thrust and groan with vigour. If there was any saving grace to the situation, it was that, like all imps, Masrak was unimaginative and focused on the matter of satisfying his urges without patience or variation. Even so, the roughness of his play had her grunting as every other thrust struck her deeply.
"No need to be so recalcitrant," grinned Masrak with studied cruelty, without missing a stroke. "If you need to blame someone, blame your royal mother, who was tempted to sample the delights of a gangbang of a thousand and one imps! Needless to say, she turned out to be quite the whore as she worked through the assemblage for three days and three nights! Pity you'll never know who was the father, or perhaps they all had hand - or a cock - in the matter!"
Thalis set her teeth and refused to give him the satisfaction of any further sound from her.
"Of course, she did have a little help," grinned Masrak maliciously as he dug into his bag and uncorked a vial filled with bubbling pink contents. "And you can show me just how much she loved it."
The half-demon albino gave a hiss and a gasp as the contents of the vial splashed across her back. What started as tingling in her loins quickly raged into an inferno of burning lust that swept out from her crotch, searing the rest of her body with uninhibited, unrepentant desire. And soon, the interior of the cave rang out with wanton moans and the frantic, lustful slapping of two bodies meeting in an excess of sexual congress.

Karren knew something was wrong, but not what, and at present, neither did she care; Sorryn was hammering away between her spread legs and that was all that mattered. Since she had awoken in that godforsaken cavern, her body had felt on fire and when that obscene phallus had been thrust before her, it was only the lack of strength in her limbs that had prevented her from throwing her face forward to take it up between her lips. Sorryn intervening and the ensuing fight had jarred her out of whatever trance she had found herself in, but when the creature had fled, and in the lull that followed, the unnatural desires started to creep back.
She had tried to choke it down as best as she could, but being in the proximity of two men was driving her crazy. By the time they had built the campfire, she couldn't take it any longer and excused herself so that she could try and take care of the problem herself. A quiet place, hidden from view, and her clothes came off and her hands began to caress her secret lips bringing only the smallest pangs of relief.
If Karren was honest with herself, at that point it really wouldn't have mattered who came looking for her. Maybe even both of them together? But it was Sorryn, and part of her was glad for that.
The first thrust he made surprised her. Surprised her by how good it felt. Karren wasn't a virgin and had experienced sexual pleasure before, but this… the way his manhood filled her so perfectly as though they had once been two halves now made whole again; the way static seemed to dance between their skin wherever they touched as though conspiring to keep them away followed by the exhilarating rush from defying that denial. Her body couldn't see to get enough: groping, kissing, thrusting, entwining, demanding, gasping - whatever she could do to let him know she needed this.
Sinking her nails in his flanks, she urged him harder with gritted teeth and clenched eyes at the unyielding feel of his length buried inside her, and the riot of pleasure each bucking thrust he made brought her. Her back arched as a fierce, ripping orgasm tore through her, prompting a guttural growl. Locking her smoldering mismatched gaze fiercely with his, those feral yellow eyes made her feel like an animal herself and couldn't bring herself to care about the discomfort of the rocky ground pressing into her back through the laid out robes. Sorryn had fucked her through the throes of her climax without pause and a gasping minute later, she was once again sailing on the riptide of pleasure as her eager sex contracted in spasms on the throbbing shaft of her lover.
And, with it, came a return of sanity. Karren was not confused, for she knew exactly what had happened and what was happening. Why she had allowed it to happen was a different matter altogether.
"Sorryn?" she tried, but he clearly didn't seem to understand as he kept up with his heated exertions. Had she not suddenly felt like a child in the midst of an adult act, she might have even let him, for her body and stretched passage was singing him praises.
She tried again, more urgently, yet the urgency of her voice only spurred him on.
"Damn it Sorryn!" The punch to the side of his face instantly jarred him out of his fervency and the two of them instantly became two once again.
"What the hell Karren?" he groaned, cradling the side of his bruised face for she had not held back in her panic. She knew he deserved an answer, but could not find the words; she could only pull up her legs and hold herself close. The night air felt chill against the heat of her slippery folds, above which was nestled the dark triangle of womanhood now slick with their exertions, which merely served to remind her of what they had been in the midst of doing only moments ago.
"I'm sorry," was all she could offer, insufficient answer thought it was. He looked up at her, perhaps to retort, but thought better of it when he saw the fright and sadness in her desperate eyes. With a sigh, he lowered his head, clenching his fists but relenting.
"I'm sorry."

Marcus sighed as he shot a glance in the direction Karren had gone, followed by Sorryn. If they hadn't come back yet, they were either arguing or else going at it like rabbits and since he couldn't hear the former, it was quite likely the latter. Or else something in the woods had got them. Suppressing a shiver at that thought, he turned his attention back to emptied contents of the bag; he was still quite surprised to see how conventional it all looked considering it once belonged to some demonic creature.
Even thinking of where they were made him wish Sorryn hadn't gone off, even if it probably wasn't for the best for Karren to be alone for too long. Still, it would have been nice for someone to be concerned about him for a change - Karren barely gave him a thought, and Sorryn... well, he wasn't sure what Sorryn thought half the time, but his worries were clearly for Karren. I should never have gotten myself into this, he muttered ruefully as he thought back to when Karren had roped him and Clara into coming along when the Elders were bringing Sorryn up to Mount Ilgast. It had all seemed to go downhill from there - a seemingly peaceful Ingnam night had become weird and terrible.
They had crept after the procession into the forbidden cavern. The deeper they went into the cavern, the hotter it had seemed to became, yet it was not the heat born of fire or from being stifled, but seemingly from within their own bodies. The very stone around them slowly changed the deeper they went, from angular and jagged to smooth and whorled, as they some unknown sensual hand had turned it to clay, worked it with a lascivious flourish, and set it back into rigidity again. All the while, superstitious dread flitted around him on unseen wings.
Sorryn was standing with the Elders in a large chamber where the blackness of the rock was interlaced with veins of gold and a red, pulsing crystalline substance he had never seen. In front of them, a great circle of twisted black iron standing in the ground, the center of which glimmered the colourful, rippling sheen of the Ilgast portal that would take Ingnam's champion to their destiny. Or doom. Even from where he was standing, Marcus could see that Sorryn was undisturbed by the aspect of that dreaded thing, which, frankly, terrified the hell out of him.
"As you step through the gateway, know that you become part of a venerable tradition Champion Sorryn," Elder Nomur was saying as he came to stand by Sorryn's side, placing a gentle hand on the youth's shoulder. "Though it pains us to ask every champion to take this path, without the efforts of Ingnam's champions, we would face disaster. Not just for us, but for the rest of the world as well."
"I understand," nodded Sorryn. "I do not regret the task."
Nomur smiled warmly and hugged him in avuncular fashion. Releasing Sorryn, Nomur stepped back to glance at the gate, but giving a nod to Sorryn. "Go well, my boy."
Sorryn bowed, turned and began to walk toward the gate as Nomur made his way back to the gathered congregation. He had covered less than half a dozen steps when Elder Eomun called for him to stop. The other elders look surprised, but Sorryn looked back without puzzlement or surprise.
"Shit," swore Karren softly. "Eomun noticed. I told him not to bring those damn things with him."
"Champion Sorryn." Eomun's voice was like stone making a pronouncement. "You know well that it is forbidden to bring weapons to this sacred place. Relinquish your swords. Immediately."
The older man held out a gnarled hand to accept his demand, but Sorryn made no move. He looked between the outstretched hand and Eomun's face with narrowed eyes, making little attempt to hide his irritation with the Elder.
"Why?" Eomun blinked at the question, seemingly surprised and displeased that someone would question his authority. The harsh line of his mouth flattened as though in preparation of some rebuke, but before anything could be said, Elder Verana stepped forward.
"Because there are rules Sorryn," she explained gently. "Rules not made by us, but dictated by the nature of the portal. Attempting to pass through it with implements of metal would place us, and the village, in grave danger. It has been tried in the past; Ingnam was almost lost in the backlash."
Coming to stand at Sorryn's side, she gently took one of his hands in both of hers. "Please try to understand. Would you not like to leave a keepsake? Perhaps for someone?"
Verana looked back at the gathered elders and Marcus followed her gaze before realising there was another among the elders who was not an elder. Sarah was also there, hands clasped in front of her and looking pained that Sorryn was leaving and that this last encounter between him and her father should have had to be like this. Under her gaze, Sorryn retracted. Throwing back his hood, he reached behind his back and began to draw the pair of blades he had strapped on beneath the robes. Even though prepared to give them up, he was reluctant and held them tight as he looked at them.
"The swords!" snapped Eomun angrily as Sorryn stalled. Veraran shot him a look of irritation, but the damage was done. Sorryn's hand tightened on the scabbards.
"With due respect, Elders," strained Sorryn, "how does sending unarmed men and women into a realm of demons save our village from anything?"
Verana looked like she was trying her best to marshal the tact needed to resolve the situation whilst Eomun looked as though he was about to suffer an apoplexy from anger. Perhaps because he had wanted to defy the man for so long, Sorryn continued, looking directly at Eomun as he did so. "Is this really a rite to chose champions, or is this a sacrifice to keep what you fear at bay? Or were you just looking to get rid of me, old man? Well? Out with it!"
"Sorryn, you must-"
Eomun pushed past Verana, his manner clearly of one who believed his personal authority and position would protect him. As he seized the swords, Sorryn thoroughly divested him of that belief as he stepped in and brought his elbow crashing into the side of the man's head and Eomun reeled away.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," whispered Clara like a mantra. Karren snarled in vexation, though it was not clear whether her ire was directed at Sorryn or at Eomun. Marcus stood as indecisively as the other elders who wrung their hands and shot worried glances at one another, yet something in their manner suggested that their hesitation was not altogether bewilderment as much as it was a reluctance to approach that shimmering portal. Sarah clapped her hands over her mouth.
Marcus was shaken out of his torpor as Karren shoved past all of them and went charging down, and though Sorryn saw her coming, he had eyes only for the floored Eomun who had murder in his eyes. No one else seemed to have noticed Karren's approach until she was close to Sorryn and struck him in the face, and then confusion reigned. Understandably, the other elders were amazed and shocked to find more people than they expected; Eomun was picking himself up, watching Sorryn warily, and Verana was carefully backing away. Even with Karren's blow to his face and her shouting at him, Sorryn endured it stoically and whilst keeping his attention fixed on the man he hated, as though contemplating further violence.
Karren was still busy hurling abuse whilst Clara tried to calm her down, and Marcus was doing his best to play the role of peacemaker between all that Elder Verana seemed to have abandoned.
And then, everything began to move fast.
The sound of shrieking metal was loud, and to everyone's astonishment, the rigid circle around the gave was beginning to snap and warp fantastically. With bemused horror, Marcus watched as large black skeletal arms formed out of the twisting metal as though the portal were trying to create a body for itself. Then, Eomun darted forward, grabbing at Sorryn's swords whilst the youth was distracted and shoved him backward towards the demonic gateway, but as dumbstruck as Sorryn was, his wariness of Eomun proved stronger and he jerked back, securing his grip and Eomun, stepping back from the push, drew one of the blades with him.
The rest of Ingnam's elders were backing away, dragging Sarah with them, who was screaming for them to get away. Karren was pulling at Sorryn when Marcus saw one of the massive hands draw back and swept down, and it was all he could do to leap desperately at the pair. They tumbled in a heap together and the grabbing appendage snatched at empty air over them. Clara, behind them, was taken by surprise and was sent sprawling across the room.
The trio rose and tried to make a dash for safety, but Eomun came at them - or, rather, at Sorryn - stabbing with the captured sword and trying to drive him back towards the gate. But Eomun was no warrior; Sorryn sidestepped the intial clumsy thrust, seized the man's arm in the same motion and twisted the weapon back from his grasp. Even in the chaos, Marcus heard the sickly rasping sound that followed. Both men were holding on to each other, both of them looking at one another confused. From Eomun's back, the length of Sorryn's blade protruded like a ghastly, blood-soaked stalk sprouting from his body. They pulled away from each other and Eomun crumpled on the ground with a gasp. Sorryn stood frozen were he was, seemingly unable to hear either Karren or Marcus' shouted warnings. Even when the clawed hand seized him, his eyes remained fixed on the bloody scene before him, allowing himself to be lifted without reaction or resistance.
Marcus watched in horror as Karren made a bid to try and pull him free. Rushing forward he tried to pull her away before something heavy struck them and a crushing pressure restrained them, and then, with dawning horror at what had happened, he watched as they were lifted bodily from the ground and were drawn closer and closer towards the gaping maw of the portal that was suddenly like a fanged mouth into which they were being thrust.
A cracking branch drew Marcus out of his reverie, noticing that Karren and Sorryn were returning. Both of them were quiet and sheepish, refusing to meet each other's gaze or his own, prompting Marcus to smile inwardly.
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Champion of Corruption