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Mortal Kombat: Sindel Queen of Edenia.	By : Nickamano Category: +M through R > Mortal Kombat Views: 2230 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Kombat, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Sindel found herself very slowly emerging from the heavy, pink clouds of sexual ecstasy. It was like floating up out of the depths of a tropical-sun warmed ocean, rising from the depths of blissful oblivion. It was a beautiful moment, too often marred by a sudden need to give back what her husband had given her. Not that she would ever complain. He really was the best of men. The very best of the Realm, and he was all hers. But that meant she was also all his. And compromises were necessary. She had never been truly a narcissist, never particularly selfish. Her father had beaten the possibility of that out of her at a very young age. However, she couldn’t help but love to emerge slowly and naturally from orgasmic bliss. It was like lazily drip-drying, naked in the sun, following a lovely hour of bathing.
By the time she had enough awareness to recognise where she was, and take in the sights and sounds around her, Sindel finally realised she was alone.
She felt the familiar joy of the Royal bed-chamber where up until recently, she had spent the majority of her nights. The bed-chamber where she had spent most of the previous week, was a secondary identical sleeping suite, available to either royal to use if they were up late and didn’t wish to disturb their partner. In fact, throughout their multi-millennia reign, Jerrod would almost certainly have used it more than her.
But now she sat up and looked around, finding the chamber devoid of husband or guards. The area was deathly quiet, though Sindel bore almost superlative hearing and when she held her breath and focussed, she could hear disturbances in other parts of the Palace. Heavy armoured and rushed footfalls, distant shouting with strong emotions in every blurred voice she caught. And then the clash of weapons on armour and shields, the ring of blade on blade. And also, the duller thudding sounds of fist and foot, elbow and knee, brow and shoulder. The cry of pain and the dry crackle of splintered bone. There was fighting inside the walls of the Palace and that could only mean one thing. Invasion. Either traitors from within or enemies from without.
She leaped from the bed and hurried to the door. Though only as she grasped the handle, did she realise she was nude. Even though there was no time to waste, she could not wander around the Palace corridors without some kind of raiment. And as both sleeping chambers contained matching wardrobes all her clothing was readily available to her. Rather than Queenly gowns, as regal as they were seductive, she reached in and drew out attire that was appropriate for killing.
She slipped on a skimpy one-piece leather outfit that formed a ‘v’ from crotch to breasts, the leather carefully fitted to Sindel’s figure so that that it lay snug against her skin, equally protective and supportive. The shaped bowls of moulded leather that cupped and just about covered her huge breasts ended in a halter neck that doubled as a choker collar. Over it she dragged on a short, sleeveless, high collared jacket that snap-fastened onto the undergarment. She added bicep-length leather-gloves and thigh-length boots. The four-piece outfit was adorned with swathes of purple satin, woven through the panels of black leather along with a small decorative patterned edging of silver wire detail. It was an outfit that provided ease of movement, remained lightweight yet offered some protection against weapons and blocking.
On the wall close to the door were the weapons that Sindel had centuries of expertise with: long bladed daggers of course; the metal fan; the sword breaker; the single and twin swords; the two-handed broadsword, the two- and three-sectional staffs, the spear… and the sword-spear. Her favourite was closest to hand. The sword-spear, the Kwan Dao. With barely a thought and even though they were indoors making the longarm potentially unwieldy in smaller chambers and passageways, she wrapped her long fingers around it, smiling suddenly at noting the girth, erotically, was almost a match for Jerrod’s phallus.
Then she was out of the chamber and sprinting along the passageway, following the rising sounds of battle.
She stumbled across bodies first, a few bloody guards, some of them partially dismembered, some showing bite marks and torn-away flesh. There were a few courtiers too, mostly elderly males. One or two Sindel recognised as members of her husband’s advisory council. One had a stab wound through the ribs, another’s head had been removed, though it lay beside the neck’s bloody stump as though it had only come away as he had hit the stone floor of the passageway.
A shadow flashed at the right-angled end of the passageway, followed by a demonic growl. That was no Edenian’s growl. Sindel raced ahead, trying to cull the distance before whatever it was appeared and saw her. It was a Tarkatan male; big, bulky and hairless. All muscle and power. Dull blades, mottled with dried blood thrust forth from its forearms and its wide, twisted mouth overflowed with enough long, ugly barbed predatory teeth for three such warriors. Sindel smiled. “This was going to be fun.”
It was fun, except for the fact that she lost her favourite Kwan Dao. As she wheeled around the corner, sweeping her sword-spear up in an over-the-shoulder arc, she caught the huge musclebound monster on the left shoulder. He bellowed as the curved blade, under Sindel’s magic bolstered physicality, swept deep through the thick mass of the flesh, muscle and bone of his shoulder. It severed all connections to his upper arm and bit a full eighteen inches down into his chest. The ruined arm was only saved from being fully severed by a sliver of flesh and muscle in the armpit. However, his other limb with bloody forearm blade already extended, launched itself up to stab at her face. Sindel used her strength to redirect his thrusting arm by twisting the haft of her Kwan Dao in both hands and swinging him bodily away from her, planting him face first in the stones of the wall. On impact, she dragged the blade free of the adhesive suction of his wound.
He pushed away with his one good arm, the other, more or less severed and useless one, flapping in his wake. He maintained the horizontal reverse spin, bringing the forearm blade up and around for Sindel’s throat, but she simply lowered her centre of gravity and brought the Kwan Dao around again. This time the sword-spear bit into his ribs below his remaining arm, tearing another pained grunt from his fanged maw. His response seemed automatic, he folded in on himself, bending over and crouching. Sindel thought him done for and stared to try to jerk the blade from the right side of his torso preparing to offer the finishing blow. Yet somehow his remaining hand grasped the shaft where it met the blade and he gripped it tightly. Leaning lower still, he got his teeth onto the middle of the shaft and bit right through it, in a sudden grunt-heavy display of powerful jaws, the wood splintered and broke the weapon into uneven halves.
He spat out slivers of wood in all directions, gums bleeding, painting his mouth and his wood-speckled teeth crimson. And then that grunt became a deep guttural laugh. And he looked up at Sindel. His skimpy hide loincloth had been pressed aside by the large, fleshy phallic club that had risen up beneath it. His eyes wandered slowly and wantonly over her body, telling her rape was forthcoming. And then he gnashed his teeth, deliberately informing her what else would be on the cards once the raping had been fully enjoyed.
Sindel grinned seductively, tossed her bisected weapon away and beckoned him to come to her. Seemingly oblivious to his mortal wounds, the Tarkatan warrior pushed himself upright and tore away his loincloth, showing off the impressively rambunctious member that jutted lance-like from his hairless groin. His balls were as big as fists too, Sindel noticed.
Keeping his left side away protected, as it was practically belching blood all down his torso, he reached for her. This time the blade jutting from his forearm wasn’t the weapon he intended, instead it was his thick corded fingers that reached for her, for the straps of her ‘V’ garment. Apparently, like most males, he was more than a little enamoured with her sizeable breasts and wanted them exposed for his pleasure. Sindel wondered if he had actually forgotten she was his enemy and he was meant to kill or capture her, or whether this was merely an extravagant faint.
She didn’t bother giving him the opportunity to prove his intention one way or the other. She used her hair whip technique, magically bidding her long silver mane to lash out and encircle the enemy warrior. She snatched him by his working arm, his upper torso and throat, and then his thighs and his cock. Her preternatural hair lifted him clear of the ground and then squeezed.
She squeezed his cock first hinting at succulent pleasure he was about to receive, but then she snapped his remaining arm at the elbow and wrist. And then she crushed his cock, her hair tightening and twisting, ratchetting the blood-filled member until it literally unscrewed from his body. The gout of blood burst from his ruined crotch like a geyser, six-feet across the passageway, much to Sindel’s satisfaction. It seemed to her to almost resemble a metaphorical orgasm, and she couldn’t help but smile. And then she used her hair to fold him in half, backwards, head meeting the backs of his thighs, abdominals and flesh tearing, until his intestines had tumbled out of him like a nest of serpents. The Edenian Queen withdrew her hair, though first whipping the blood and gore from her silver mane as it slid magically back to its normal length and non-prehensile state.
She gingerly stepped over the gory mess she had made. She took a moment to consider, and then with a shrug, left the broken pieces of her Kwan Dao where they lay. She would use her empty hand techniques, Za Chuan and Fu Jow Pai, it was good to keep them honed. The Long Fist and Tiger Claw were both powerful forms and in their ways were opposites, the full extension and raw power of the Long Fist style, versus the fast, agile and brutal methods that reflected a tiger’s claws as well as the fluid forms of grappling, locks and takedowns.
Satisfied and excited to go into battle, Sindel strode confidently even arrogantly, down the passage toward the spiral staircase that awaited her. Her long, long legs carrying her the distance, her hobnailed flat heeled boot soles clicking loudly on the stone floor. However, she abruptly decided that stealth was a preferable approach. So, with a slight change to her foot placement and weight distribution, she silenced her powerful strides, other than the light hiss and squeak of her sweat-slick flesh playing against the satin lining of her outfit, and the sweeping-brush sound of her hair swishing rhythmically back and forth against the prominent outward arc of the tops of her taut buttocks.
It only occurred to the Queen, following her initial victory, that finding a Tarkatan in the Palace proved one thing beyond doubt; the invasion was by Outworld, no less. After Outworld’s tenth tournament victory against the Edenian champions, Shao Kahn had at last made his move. She ran all but silently to the end of the passageway, knowing the spiral staircase would provide her more Outworlders to kill. And as she ran the Prefectural war suddenly made complete sense to her. It had been Shao Kahn’s plot, accomplished through Tanya. And it had succeeded. Ignoring the reserves, two thirds of the Edenian army were a good four days march away from the Palace. That had been the strategy all along. Perhaps the Cavalry could be back in a day and a night. But even so, they would be exhausted by the time they arrived, and more than likely no match for the Outworlder forces they would find waiting for them. It had been a clever scheme to divide Edenia’s forces, and it had worked. Sindel gritted her teeth, pulling the sudden bubbling rage down into herself. It would make good fuel for the fight to come.
Partway down the spiral staircase Sindel came across two Palace guards fighting six Outworlders, three of the enemy were Human, one already wounded, but there were also two more Tarkatan’s. And at the back, keeping additional Palace guards from backing up the two who had somehow become separated on the stairs, was a tall quad-armed Shokan.
It would have been helpful to have had her Kwan Dao here, she could have reached over the heads of the guards and beheaded at least two of the human outworlders in a second. Instead, Sindel took to the air, levitating and then launching herself right over all their heads. A sword swung at her, but she batted it away with a forearm so hard that the blade broke against the stone wall. Passing over the humans and Tarkatans, she caught the Shokan around the neck, twisting her lithe body around his head and throat like a pole dancer’s performance. Of course, being careful not to impale herself on his spiked crown. She had acres of time, the Shokan had been facing away from her when she had swept over the heads of the others, and she was fast and lightweight and perfectly balanced, even while horizontal and in mid-air. By the time the giant understood what had grabbed him and wrapped herself around his broad, muscular head and neck, Sindel had already pressed her full succulent lips up against one of his gristly pointed ears. She inhaled and then let the magic amplify her deadly ultrasonic shriek.
The mystical ‘banshee’ assault began as a strange vibration that seemed to shake the very air around them. It grew into a strange bell-like ringing which reverberated off the walls, and then the audible level of the shriek came into play, Sindel’s scream seeming to rock the very fabric of space-time. The warrior’s skull was shaken down to little more than a million cracks and fractures. His eardrum burst. He was already more or less dead when his brains liquified, the fluid starting to trickle from every orifice in his head. A final visual clue as to the state of him, the flesh and hair began to shear away, shredding as though blasted by a thousand shards of broken glass. His outer ear disintegrated and then flowing outward from there his flesh, muscle, sinew and tendons also tore away in little scraps of wet crimson. The effect, though invisible was an increasing disc of destruction, a pebble dropped into the still lake of his head. Half his face had been shredded away to form a momentary halo of gory pink mist in the half-second long attack. Skull matter fragmented into powder which formed a second cloud around his head, the remaining mush that had once been his brains slopped out, spraying away from Sindel. She finally closed her mouth with a satisfied smile and floated away from the falling corpse, turning to face the others. From behind her the other Palace guards rallied, coming up the stairs from her right and left to wade into the fight with the last of the enemy.
She left most of the killing to the guards, who she noted were led by Sharni and Lissa. Two of her husband’s most loyal warrior women. In the midst of the minute long rabid spat, Sindel caught the two women’s eyes and they exchanged little respectful grins, three warrior women able to use their training to protect the Palace and the people they loved. A moment caught amidst a background haze of Outworlder’s arterial spray and flying body parts.
Having torn off a head with her bare hands; a complete pair of arms via a Tiger Claw grapple-lock; and then flayed a Tarkatan female’s flesh from her bones, using a couple of whips of her magical silver mane; Sindel ended up victorious though bathed in blood. Frowning, as she glanced down at her slick, glossy curves, she gave her arms a flick and kicked her legs out one at a time then shook her head, freeing herself from as much blood as she was able, in the couple of seconds she allowed herself. Her magical mane swished and writhed around behind her, spattering with walls with streamers of blood and entirely ridding itself of stains.
Bloated with martial pride and the joy of victory, she gave a quick nod to the guards and then left them in her wake, striding off along another passageway heading for the throne room.
There was an antechamber, like a waiting room, that led to the main double-door entrance to the throne room. And Sindel knew of the pitched battle there before she even reached the bottom of her third staircase or rounded the final corner to take in the scene. There were already plenty of bodies, a whole pile of Outworlder corpses near that double-door, but overall, there were more dead Edenians than invaders. Civilians, advisors, courtiers, servants and far too many guards and warriors.
Snarling with cold anger and a desire to make her enemies suffer, Sindel strutted into the middle of the room, her people shifted to form a crescent behind her, partially out of respect for their Queen, partially to give her room to manoeuvre. A few human Outworlders turned to face her and raced forward, attacking her immediately. She found herself fighting seven or eight of them at once. But they were nothing, flies to swat. She didn’t even use anything more than basic techniques to kill them. Fists – knife hand, ridge hand, hammer fist, fingertip jabs, then knees and kicks, elbows that shattered skulls and spines, as well as a few upright throws that drove men head first or spine first against the unforgiving stone of the floor, the walls and the four pillars the supported the vaulted ceiling.
At one point she indecorously slipped in a loose pile of scattered viscera and almost caught a spear to the stomach, but a lightning-fast forearm block deflected the spear tip and then she trapped the haft with the same arm, wrapping her wrist around it until it was locked. She used her prodigious and magically augmented strength to strip the weapon from its handler and turn it against him. She drove it into the Outworlder’s midsection and then lifted him and the spear so that he lay vertically atop it, his weight impaling him. Her hair whipped out and encircled the shaft of the spear, then whipped it into a whirling hurricane, like a child’s spinning toy. His blood sprayed outwards like tornado detritus. The man died screaming, spinning at gale force velocities while he was drawn down the shaft by his weight and then up again by the centrifugal forces.
And then she was surrounded by more invaders than she could count. And in the split second before they attacked her, Sindel decided it was time to pull out all the stops.
She immediately whipped her hair out in an almighty whirlwind of destruction, tossing her enemies off their feet, breaking a few ankles and even, fortuitously, slamming one Outworlder against a nearby pillar, breaking his neck and smearing his blood, one squashed eye, and all of his front teeth against the cylinder of stone. The others took cover until her hair finally reverted to its natural dormancy and length, then they attacked her en masse.
She intercepted the three who came at her face to face with what she liked to call ‘Queen’s Dominion’ conjuring multiple fist-sized orbs of powerful glowing plasma, each infused with a magical lilac coronal hue. She psychically launched the three spheres, burning with the energy and temperature of miniature stars, at the oncoming warriors. The spheres didn’t move too rapidly, in fact when each struck its intended target it actually decelerated, burning perfectly circular holes through a chest, a face, a stomach. Those that could scream did so. All three convulsed in the unescapable agony and collapsed to the stones. Once each target was confirmed deceased, the purple energy balls dissipated, becoming nothing more than a momentary wisp of purple smoke.
Even as she had unleashed the fireballs, allowing them to complete their tasks independently, Sindel had turned her attention to the next closest of her enemies.
“Whip it good!” She purred abruptly, grinning with malevolence.
Even as she announced her next attack, an image played inexplicably in her mind’s eye of Jerrod about to use a leather crop against her proffered buttocks. It brought a sultry smile across her slick lips. Her hair once again came alive and whipped forth like a nest of vipers. Her mane coiled around the nearest attacker, a Shokan male. The Queen’s prehensile mane spiralled around his broad powerful frame, its magical strength ensnaring all four of his arms and drawing them down to pin them against his naked muscular sides. He snarled and spat and struggled, cursing her in his guttural tongue. Sindel just laughed and then she let her hair do what it was going to do while she diverted her attention to the other two Outworlder’s coming at her. She conjured another spread of lilac hued plasma, that sent the men dodging desperately to avoid the spheres, even though she hadn’t launched them yet.
As her ethereal mane lifted the Shokan up off his feet then flipped him over and brought him crashing down onto the floor, skull first, the Edenian Queen used her magic to combine the three dancing spheres. And then she expanded them like multiplying cells, the sphere quickly enlarging into the size that a foetal balled-up human would be able to fit inside. It floated two feet above the ground and then started to toss forth arcs of plasma like dancing tendrils, flails of deadly purple lightning. They touched random points and whatever they touched they burned, burned like solar fire. They burned the cowering Outworlders, burned them alive.
The spears and lances of plasma pierced them and touched the ground behind them or the ceiling or a wall or pillar. One of them even charred black the face and thigh of the pummelled Shokan as Sindel’s hair continued to hammer him into the floor, lifting and dropping him. By now his neck was broken and he flopped about like a discarded doll. However, the body-maiming carried on until his flesh split and his skull fractured and then broke wide open, and his mushed brains were smeared over the stones.
Eventually Sindel’s hair gave up on its sport and at the same time her ‘Royal Trap’ fizzled out, the huge plasma ball shrinking and its hazy purple corona fading until, again, it also reverted to a wisp of smoke and a heady smell of ozone.
“Next?” Sindel called out with a grin.
There were perhaps half a dozen Outworlders remaining between the door to the throne room and herself. However, a champion stood with his back to the entryway facing her. He was dressed as one of the Outworld ninja - black sleeveless tabard, loose trousers tucked into boots. With greaves covering his shins and vambraces protecting his forearms. His head was covered with a coif made of strips of metal and his nose and mouth were covered by a bevor of similar strips of armour, leaving only his eyes exposed. He carried a pair of Khopesh swords and had apparently been doing a very good job of keeping the Palace guards from getting to the doors prior to Sindel’s appearance.
The Queen took a stride forward then straightened herself into an upright regal stance and cleared her throat loudly.
“I don’t know who you are, champion, but you are keeping me from my husband. Though, if you surrender and stand aside, I will kill you quickly and painlessly.”
“Queen Sindel. You will not get to know my name prior to your defeat. You will however, get to know the feel of my cock, intimately, as it plunders every hole you have, before I end your life and present your beautiful severed head to my master.”
“We shall see, plebian.”
Sindel rushed the apparently Human Outworlder, skipping forward and then allowing herself to be lifted clear of the blood sodden floor and swept aloft straight into his personal space, before he even had the chance to lift up his sickle-like swords.
Shocked by her speed and no doubt by her natural grace and insurmountable beauty, the champion found Sindel inside the length of his sword swing, rending the two curved blades, at least for a moment, redundant. The Edenian Queen went one step further, using Tiger Claw grapples to lock up one arm and its corresponding sword, while a knee and then a body block kept the other blade safely away from causing her harm. She twisted her lock, bending his arm down and forcing him to drop the sword and then with a quick Zha Chuan hammer fist, she shattered all the bones in his forearm and his elbow, so he couldn’t pick the sword up again.
Following a reactionary scream, a result of having his arm ruined, the champion went for a headbutt, Sindel dodged her head aside, taking a glancing blow onto her neck and upper shoulder. It hurt but didn’t do her any serious damage. Though, as she moved to avoid the headbutt, she simultaneously conjured another sphere of plasma in her free hand, growing it until it filled her palm.
The champion somehow managed to bring his other sword into play. Intending to sweep it horizontally across his own chest to try and inflict a wound upon her. There would be no power in the attack but a blade that sharp and wickedly curved wouldn’t need much power. Seeing the attack coming, Sindel whipped herself around until her back was against his chest and brought her right leg up into the beginning of a crescent kick, the thickness of her powerful muscular thigh essentially blocking his ability to hit her with the blade. Then she bent her knee and brought her leg down like a hook over his forearm, hard and fast, wrenching his shoulder and bicep, while her right elbow slammed back into the side of his neck. The armour plating jarred her leather clad elbow but an unpleasant tingling in her funny bone was nothing next to the shearing away of muscle and tendon that the champion suffered with her arm and leg forcing him simultaneously in opposite directions. Of course, he dropped the other sword.
His shoulders slumped uselessly; one arm full of shattered bone, the other ligaments and muscles torn free of the bones. Both arms hung down at his sides. He half crumpled as though his spine had gone limp and only his legs were keeping him upright. Sindel turned on her heel to face him again, smiling. She lifted her left hand with its glowing sphere of plasma while her hair came alive again, and grabbed his head. His mask was torn off by writhing snakes of silver mane. A middle aged, human, lined and scarred by age and experience, stared back at her, mouth open in obvious, mute anguish. Sindel casually pressed the sphere into his open mouth and clamped her hand over his lips. Her other hand wrapped around the back of his cowled head to hold him.
His eyes bulged and he started to let out muffled cries and shouts. His body convulsed and his legs gave out beneath him, only the Queen’s two-handed grasp of his head keeping him upright. She stared into his eyes as they rolled up in his skull and then began to reveal the palest flicker of lilac colour in the sclera. Wisps of purple smoke issued from his nostrils as well as between the vice-tight fingers that covered his mouth. His muffled yelling turned into a drawn-out desperate shriek and the dark tanned tint of his skin took on a definite purple hue. Then his bugged-out eyes burst right out of their sockets with sheets of purple-white light behind them, erupting forward like projected flames.
Satisfied with the Outworlder champion’s demise, Sindel released her grasp on the corpse and allowed him to drop to the floor. The sphere continued to burn through his skull from the inside out, atomising his muscles and tendons until it burned through his skin, emerging like a rat feasting its way out from inside a corpse. Soon all that was left of his head was a half consumed, fire blackened skull. Though the rest of the body remained intact and unburned.
The surviving Palace guards took up offensive positions immediately behind their Queen. Sindel stepped over the champion’s body, kicked him clear of the doors and then forced her way into the throne room.
The throne room was a mass of bodies and Sindel was both gratified and not surprised to see that the vast majority of them were those of Outworlders. However, that was the end of the good news.
There were few surviving Edenian warriors in the chamber, however the majority of those who still lived were the enemy. They had formed two lines along the walls, all facing the throne and the stone floor directly before it. A huge shadowy figure sat upon Jerrod’s throne, though it was almost impossible to get a good look at him. Because, filling the centre of the chamber and the centre of attention for the Outworlder’s present was an ongoing one-on-one duel.
Sindel recognised Prince Goro, the leader and greatest fighter of all the Outworld Shokan, and general of The Kahn’s armies. He was a giant, towering over his opponent. Hugely muscular and quad-armed with pinched features that reminded Sindel of a reptile. His hair was a single long black topknot. He carried no weapons and wore only a lightly armoured loincloth and a single spiked pauldron. Though he looked like a mindless barbarian, he was supposed to be deceptively wise and a sophisticated military commander. He was also the reigning Grandmaster of the Tournament that judged who could hold mastery over the Realms. After their last defeat, they knew Shao Kahn’s attack would come, but it could be at any moment, any month, any year, any century. This monster was directly responsible for Outworld’s ‘legal right’ to attempt this invasion and annexation. Of course, that didn’t mean Edenia did not have the right to defend themselves and protect their freedoms and culture.
Which was what her beloved Jerrod was currently attempting to do. He stood alone against Goro in the middle of his own throne room. Perhaps an agreement had been struck - a one-on-one fight to the death and whomsoever achieved victory took the throne? So, who was it that was already seated there? Of course, there was only one answer. However, Sindel had never seen him in person.
Jerrod already appeared exhausted. His techniques were sloppy, his moves telegraphed and slow, his balance misaligned, even his choices were poor, the wrong attacks, the wrong defences. Goro was obviously playing with him. And Sindel could plainly see that, as things stood, Goro could murder her husband, her King, easily at any time he desired.
And then he did just that.
He lashed out with one hand, catching Jerrod’s ill-advised jump-spinning back-kick, deflecting the kick and lifting him off the ground, while two more of his four arms grabbed other extremities and hauled the Edenian King over his head before bringing him down hard over one musclebound knee. The King’s shocked scream was cut short by his broken spine. But the Shokan Prince didn’t stop there. He folded Jerrod over his knee, as though he was bending an iron bar. He bent him until both his head and his feet brushed against the stone floor. And then he twisted, lifted the Edenian King’s corpse up, continuing to twist and dropped him over his knee again. This time Jerrod simply broke in two.
Goro, laughing gutturally, lifted the two halves high, blood raining down out of the ragged stumps bisecting Jerrod’s torso. Then intestines and organs stared to follow the blood, flopping out like caught fish from a net, to slaps wetly onto the blood-soaked stone floor.
Sindel couldn’t even scream. Her mouth gaped but no sound came forth. She fell to her knees in the throne’s doorway. Horrified and defeated. The Guards behind her, they screamed. Their horrified squeals and shrieks reverberated off the walls, drowning out the Shokan Prince’s deep rumbling laughter.
“Ah, at last. The delicious Queen Sindel, I presume.”
The voice that came from beyond Goro, from the occupied throne, sounded deep and throaty with a strange reverberation and a sense of arrogance and self-assuredness that was beyond anything Sindel had ever heard. It turned her blood cold.
The figure leaned forward, partially into the torchlight. Scones along the walls were lighted but the illumination was still feeble and cast long dancing shadows. The figure glanced over to his right and clicked his fingers. His flesh had a yellow-orange hue, and hinted at armoured scales in places. His muscular physique was comparable to Goro’s and even seated he appeared as tall as he was broad, not quite the height of the Shokan but he would tower over Sindel. The voice came again, a rumble of thunder shuddering the air of the throne room.
“Bring the child.”
Her blood already freezing in his presence, fear of what ‘the child’ meant shocked Sindel to her core. She felt herself slumping lower still against the blood-slick stones beneath her, even before her daughter Kitana was brought out. The always happy toddler carried by her nanny, who was sobbing the way Sindel felt like she should be.
“Queen Sindel, approach my throne and kneel there, beside the corpse of your husband… Unless you would prefer your charming child join him.”
Sindel’s only hesitation came from drawing the strength to lift herself back onto her feet. She staggered forward, tears brimming in her eyes. The Outworlders on her left and right were making lewd comments, whistling and whooping and catcalls. But she didn’t hear them. The only thing in her eyes, other than her tears, was the image before her of her infant daughter, wrapped in a woollen blanket. Supported by the woman who had been Sindel’s nanny when she was a child.
She caught sight of Jerrod’s broken corpse, feeling queasy that she was being made to kneel in his blood. But kneel she did, shaking her head to toss the tears free so she could look up at her enemy.
And there he was, unmasked, wearing very little. A fabric and leather loincloth, boots with armoured greaves and pauldrons that featured huge animal teeth or perhaps claws jutting vertically. The rest of him was solid muscle, big, powerful and intimidating. He leaned forward into the light and grinned at her. Surprisingly full lips, stretch thin, flashed an overfilled mouth of huge pointed fangs. His eyes, small, deep set and cast in shadow by his low, reptilian brow, were reddish in colour and seemed to dance like flames. He stared at her, looking her slowly up and down, taking her in, feasting on her lush, sultry beauty.
“I’m glad you made the right choice Lady. Your child will not be harmed as long as you cooperate.”
“How am I to know the truth of that?”
“Shao Kahn gives his word.”
The comment was made as though it was the most obvious statement, which shouldn’t need to be made in the first place. But he appeared more nonplussed than offended. It was also the first time that Sindel had the intimidating Outworlder’s identity confirmed.
“Sindel is relieved to hear it.” She dumped the sarcasm on him.
She tried to hold his gaze but he was better at it than she was. She suddenly started to feel that all of the pride and sense of power that her recent martial victories had afforded her, had been sapped to nothing. She felt horrified, utterly alone and weak and powerless, and hopeless.
Under the blatantly covetous and all-powerful glare of Shao Kahn, Sindel couldn’t keep her head up or her eyes on his. His unblinking observance seemed to bore into her, to break open her soul and consume whatever warmth and happiness might still exist within.
Head drooping under the weight of his dominant, hungry stare, she found herself looking across the pool of sticky cooling blood over to the body of her husband. The two halves almost arranged correctly midriff and waist close, just misaligned. Even as she looked, some kind of internal shifting of weight - perhaps the last of his blood seeping from the receptacle of his torso, or one of his internal organs sliding down to the floor - forced the upper half of the man to roll onto his back. His lower half was still on its side. Legs bent, one extended in front of him the other curled backward, it kept him angled and balanced on his left hip.
His right side, through splashed with a vast mottle of blood, the blues of his loose trousers and loin cloth covering were stained to near black. However, the cloth belt had been loosened and a couple of the loops had slipped, revealing a sliver of the creamy flesh beneath.
Sindel, somehow retained her gasp of shock behind her clenched teeth. There was a small birthmark visible on his hip. A small flat tan swirl. She knew her husband’s body, every square inch of it. Jerrod bore no birthmark on his right hip. She had to hide her relief and a smile that wanted to creep across her full lips.
“Stand before me, oh Queen.” Shao Kahn commanded.
The command helped with her urge to smile, it died instantly, replaced with a shiver of apprehension.
“I surrender to you, oh Lord of Outworld.” The Queen sighed. “To protect my kin and my subjects I will bow before you.”
“Not so fast Queen of Edenia. I wish nothing less than your subjugation, your submission. But first I must make you understand that all other choices are closed to you.”
“What do you mean?”
The huge muscle-bound chief of Outworld rose from Jerrod’s rightful throne, the torchlight finally catching him fully. Even with the steps of the dais elevating him well over Sindel’s statuesque six feet, Shao Kahn must stand over a head’s height above her. Sindel’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed up at him, her eyes wide in shock and fear.
“I have heard of your strength, your power. It is spoken of almost as much as your beauty. I have seen your beauty for myself and find the tales have not done you justice, oh Queen. Now, I would see your power for myself. And you shall see mine own.”
He descended the dais and moved around to the side of the Edenian Queen, his troops scattering to give him room. He put his back to the wall, one of the great age-old tapestries at his back. There he pulled off and cast aside his elbow length gauntlets and vambraces, before reaching up to the centre of his chest. There he worked at some concealed fastening around the circumference of the skull medallion in the middle of the crossed leather belts ‘X’-ing the giant musculature of his chest. The medallion sprung apart across the skull’s upper and lower jaws and the cross-straps slid away. His pauldrons loosened and he drew then down his bare, partially scaled arms and cast them aside. Other than heavy loincloth, greaves and boots, he was devoid of clothing.
“I will give you a free shot. Without consequence.” He said, spreading his bare arms out wide. “Use your most powerful attack. Take whatever time and preparations are required and smite me with your most deadly technique.”
Sindel could hardly believe her ears. There had to be some trick, some kind of ulterior machination she could not see.
“None of these others will interfere and should you defeat me, I’m certain your victory will rally your guards and warriors.”
“As you well know, my Lord Shao Kahn. The majority of our armies are far to the north.”
He smiled and nodded.
“The Edenian slut Tanya’s plan worked better than expected, I must say. And now your husband-king lays dead and I sit on his throne. However, if you defeat me, you have every chance of taking back the throne… Do you not?”
Sindel knew there was some subterfuge, some trap. But she could not ignore the opportunity. If she could defeat Shao Kahn, then she could defeat Goro, and they might yet have a chance. She eyed the giant brute and gave him a nod. He grinned.
Sindel snarled at the grin and then lifted herself up off the ground and launched a silver mane attack. Her hair whipped out, extending magically from her roots with a delightful almost erotic tingle. The living hair encircled Shao Kahn’s arms and legs, pulling brutally at their joints while he grimaced and gritted his teeth, letting out a low grunt of discomfort. Anyone else would have had their limbs separated from their torso by this time. But Sindel had not expected to defeat him this easily.
She drew in her breath, immediately filling her lungs and then unleashed her greatest and most powerful banshee scream. Allowing the magic that imbued her to amplify the shriek, the hurricane-force vibration slammed into Shao Kahn’s chest and face and he let out a yell of his own. To Sindel’s knowing glee the Kahn’s cry added its own power to her kinetic assault, turning his own agony against him. Even as the scream dissipated from her lungs, she conjured a collection of plasma spheres, forged them into one larger sphere and threw it straight into Shao Kahn’s already devastated torso. It struck him the instant the banshee scream died, hitting his already buffeted and no doubt broken body with an altogether different attack that, surely, he could neither defend nor overcome. Sindel tugged experimentally with her silver mane, yet still his limbs would not separate from his body. However, he could not have survived such an attack, there was no way. She uncoiled her serpentine locks and cancelled the magic, allowing her hair to slip back to its natural state and length.
The three-pronged attack had decimated the wall behind the Outworld leader, ancient stone and mortar had crumbled into dust and grit, the tapestry had been shredded into scraps of thread, while any corpses within range had also been torn asunder. All this detritus had been snatched up in the scream and the plasma orb that followed and had formed a strangely multicoloured cloud that surrounded Shao Kahn.
His laugh came through the cloud of dust even before it started to settle.
“I remain Queen Sindel. I admit, I hurt. I have not experienced such pain. And I am suitably impressed…”
The smoky cloud of dust and grit and scraps of dyed wool and linen slowly started to thin out and settle. And the dull monochrome shape of Shao Kahn’s shocking physique was visible, almost but not quite crouched. Sindel stared in utter disbelief. He yet lived. She had failed.
“…And yet I still stand. And am not defeated. Far from it.”
All Sindel could think as she stood there in dumb horror was that she had been given this one chance and she had failed. Failed her daughter, failed her subjects, failed herself.
Waiting for the aftermath, for the dust concealed Kahn’s counterattack, she found herself wondering, had there been more strength to tap into? Perhaps if she would have had more strength behind her, more emotion. Perhaps if the body on the floor was that of her husband and not one of his handful of ‘kagemusha’, his body doubles. Trained to move and act like Jerrod and surgically altered to resemble him precisely. Only, of course, none of the doubles had Jerrod’s exemplary martial skills, which was why he had appeared slow and sluggish against Prince Goro, and with such bad form. And why he now lay on the stone floor at the foot of his dais in two separate halves.
If she had the power of grief behind her, if she had not so quickly realised that her husband yet lived, would that have been enough? She would never know. She would never again have the opportunity. Because any moment, Shao Kahn and his minions would strike her down once and for all.
“Do your worst Kahn. I am right here.” Sindel said, trying to keep her voice strong and steady, in defiance rather than broken by the wracking sobs she felt like unleashing.
“I will offer you a fair chance, oh Queen. Now that you have seen for yourself that you cannot defeat me. And that your sorry excuse for a King lies at your back with nothing to offer but rot and stink.”
“Offer, Kahn? What offer?”
The dust cloud had settled by this time, revealing the Outworld Kahn, obviously pained, perhaps even weakened. He was also naked now, his clothing, even his boots and greaves burned or shattered to nothing. But he remained, unscarred, undamaged. Alive and victorious.
Slowly and perhaps a little gingerly, he returned to Jerrod’s throne and seated himself, thighs spread wide, arms gripping the stone rests, head back against the rear padding of the seat. There was a little twitch in the corner of his eye and his lips were drawn into the hint of a grimace. However, Sindel could take no pleasure in the pain she had caused him. He should be been dead. Atomised.
Shao Kahn forced his grimace into a smile and holding Sindel’s attention, he nodded toward the floor before the dais again.
“Not an offer you will like, for certain, but an offer fit for the Queen of a Realm, I think… Will you hear my offer? Or will you die here and now? I can make your end quick and painless, Queen?”
“I will hear your offer Kahn.” She said with a sigh, still standing facing the ruined wall, looking at him from over her shoulder.
“Then kneel before me, and take heed.”
The Queen turned slowly and obediently knelt at the usurper’s feet. She knew what was coming, or at least suspected. And she could see her own fate, sad and depressing as it was, laid out before her. She and Jerrod had discussed the threat of invasion and what would be done should the Palace fall. Which was why it was a double of the King lying on the floor of the throne, and that Jerrod would already be escaping from the lower levels. He would not rest until he had gathered enough forces and weapons to retake the Palace and remove the usurper from his throne.
Which left Sindel imprisoned here and solely responsible for doing all she could to protect the lives and futures of her Edenian subjects, though enslaved to Outworld. To keep the Edenian people and their culture alive. She must kowtow and bargain with the invaders as best she could, guarantee their lives and as many freedoms as she could in exchange for, if needs be, her own life. She was best placed to negotiate certain assurances and maintain the trust of her subjects.
Kneeling at Shao Kahn’s feet, she finally lifted her head and looked into his eyes. He smiled down at her. It was a predatory smile, at once heated by desire and chilled by evil.
“We will end all hostilities right now. No more lives will be taken. There will be an amnesty of your forces, anyone who has taken an Outworlder life will not be blamed or persecuted or punished. Edenians will be allowed to continue to live their lives as normal, given a few changes here and there, of course…”
Sindel said nothing, merely knelt there on her knees before the Kahn and listened to terms and conditions of occupation that she had no way of refusing. “Here it comes.” She said to herself.
“…In exchange I will have you, body and soul. You will swear fealty to me as your King and rightful ruler of Edenia, on behalf of your subjects and yourself. You will continue to reign Edenia as Queen, you will implement what plans I may have and keep order and peace among your people. As Queen you will also be mine. My bride. You will freely give yourself to me, freely and completely.”
“My daughter?” She asked.
It was barely a whisper, broken by a sob of defeat and grief for what was to become of her life.
“She will be returned to you unharmed, raised as an Edenian Princess as she would have been under her weakling father. But now she will have a new father. A strong father. And you will bare her a sibling, under me. An Outworlder sibling. And the two of them shall be a symbol of the new alliance between Outworld and Edenia.”
“What say you, oh Queen?”
She didn’t hesitate for very long. She knew her duty, to her subjects and now to her new husband and King.
“Whatever my Lord Kahn desires.”
“King Kahn. Your King.”
“My King…. My husband.”
Shao Kahn let out a long low groan, in response to her fealty. It sounded monstrous to Sindel’s ears, filled with lust and power hunger. He leaned down almost bending himself double to close the space between them, elbows on his knees.
“To those others, you are my Wife and Queen still of your realm,”
He spoke quietly so that only Sindel could hear, staring into her eyes. She could see the heat in those glowing crimson irises, and also the threat.
“But never forget, you are nothing more than a slave. You will fulfil my every desire, my every dream or whim, my every command without hesitation or attempt to bargain. If I am left unsatisfied, well… In a few short years your daughter will blossom into womanhood. And I will not think twice about replacing you with her. And believe that I would spend the first few centuries with my new Queen punishing her, severely, for all the insolences and betrayals you will have racked up over the years. Bear that in mind, bear it well, when you think of how you might take advantage of the privilege that I offer.”
“My lord Kahn, like any mother I will do anything and everything in my power to protect my child.” Sindel replied strongly, finding defiance and throwing it into her response. “I will give you such satisfaction, such pleasure, oh Kahn, that afterwards you will not be able to stand up, or even think straight.”
“I do not doubt that, my Queen.” He grinned, that shocking mouthful of needles flashing. “We are in agreement then. Excellent.”
He took a moment, eying her. Sindel for the first time, found her eyes roving down to the shadowy crux where his thighs and abdominals met. Though it was barely illuminated by the meagre illumination of dancing flame, she had the impression of thickness and density and heavy veins like thick wire, roving the flesh. She dragged her eyes away, back up to his face but he had obviously caught her glance and his grin was twisted with lust.
“Now… Rise, and remove your raiment, my Queen. I would see you… in the flesh.”
Sindel might have been intimately aware of the scores of Outworld warriors, half filling the throne room behind her, but she remained proud and defiant of her shame and desire for modesty. He wanted to humiliate her, but she saw it as an opportunity to not only defy expectations but also to prove to Shao Kahn that she was taking his offer seriously.
If it meant peace and safety for her family and her subjects, then she would be his Queen. She would conform to his every wish and demand. She would stand down the army upon their return to the Palace even put them under the command of General Goro, if her new master commanded it. A surviving army was an army who could quietly be held in readiness for the return of the true King of Edenia. And when the time was right a surviving army could help lead the revolt against their new masters. When the time was right. When Jerrod reappeared to make his claim on the throne and on his wife. Until that time Sindel and Jerrod, in their current roles, would maintain the peace. They keep as many Edenians alive and healthy as they could and bide their time. So she do what was necessary, no matter how unpleasant, torturous and heart-breaking it might be.
And so, it was with a strong will and a grim determination that Sindel proudly drew herself up to her full regal height and began to strip off her clothing. Each removed garment revealed more and more of her flesh to her new husband, whose interest and physical rampancy grew and hardened before her very eyes.
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Mortal Kombat: Sindel Queen of Edenia.