The World of Erasthay

The Rogue's Harem Book Three: The Rogue's Passionate Harem

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Biomancer's Creations

by mypenname3000

© Copyright 2018

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Story Codes:fantasy magic viol

Click here for Chapter 23

Note: Thanks to WRC 264 for beta reading this!

Prince Meinard

The Hunter thrashed as duelist surged around him. Acrobats flowed in too, men and women trained by the College of Az to gain complete mastery over the movements of their bodies, bending and swaying them in ways impossible for others. It gave them such dexterous precision with the knives they threw. Blades glanced off the thrashing Hunger's chitinous hide.

The bards music grew louder, the monsters quivering. Duelist and fencers, holding their rapiers and epees, their narrow swords gleaming in the dying sun, swarmed at the thrashing Hunter. It snarled, clawed paws covering ears as it collapsed on its back. The Bards of Az knew how to use music to bewilder, enchant, daze, stupefy, or lull into peace. They were taught the perfection of music, how to turn it into a true magic.

They would kill the Paragon's followers. He would lose his chance for allies. His armies would retreat back. He would be lucky to hold onto his original princedom, let alone the half-dozen he conquered over the last five years.

“No!” I snarled and charged at the bards. I had to kill them. “You won't—”

A complex melody arouse out of the cacophony. The sound resonated with my metallic body. A quartet of bards stared at me, a windy-haired sylph leading them, her fingers dancing on the flute she held to her lips, her eyes hard on me.

My metallic body shook with the music. It vibrated my soul controlling my proxy. I growled, stumbling to my knees. My body grew stiffer, harder to move. It resisted me as the music reached my soul, quivering me and—

My conscious was thrown out of my proxy.

I screamed out in the wordless void between bodies. I hung there, reaching for my proxy, fighting the music hurtling me back to my body and... The music vanished. I was in the void. I was beyond the mortal world. Their song didn't wrap around my soul, didn't chain it with precise musical notes, pitched to perfection.

I struggled, still reaching out to my metal body and...

I could touch it. It still vibrated from the song, the buzzing keeping my soul from inhabiting it right now. But that didn't stop me from grabbing the limbs. From making it rise again. If I had flesh, I'd furrow my brow in shock.

I was... puppeteering it. I was controlling it without inhabiting it. I could see it standing in a shadowy world, witness the fencers attacking the monsters. Helpless, they would finish off my allies. I couldn't let that happen.

I marched my proxy forward. I controlled its every step. I couldn't see through its eyes. I couldn't move it with skill, but it still responded. It still gripped its iron sword, ready to swing it, to cut down my enemies.

To kill the bards.

No sound reached me as my sword scythed through the air. The bards died, hacked down by my brutal strikes. From all directions, the fencers came. They stabbed and swung their blades, They struck my solid, iron puppet. Their attacks rebounded leaving only small nicks and mars. A sword snapped against my proxy.

I swept the proxy's blade before it, killing more as I controlled the puppet towards the bards. If I could smile, I would. I was untouchable. Their musical magic couldn't harm me. I was beyond them. I charged at another group. They scattered, their music faltering, their symphony ended. The iron puppet crushed any defenders in my proxy's path.

The resonating stopped attacking my body. I flowed into it once more.

Sounds burst into my ears. Men groaned and screamed around me. The bards fled, leaving behind their dead or dying companions. Broken instruments lay in spreading pools of blood. Now my smile came. They thought to stop me.

I was their prince. I ruled this city. They sought to defy me!

I cut down an acrobat, his body collapsing into two pieces of meat. I opened my mouth to shout and gather the monsters around me when the light burst up into the sky.

I gaped at the brilliance as it shone, a beam blazing into the darkening sky. It drove back impending night for a moment as the ground shook. I shifted my body as buildings quivered around me. Then the beam of light snuffed out like it never existed.

An owl hooted.

“They're at the temple,” buzzed the Colony as it loped past, once again in the strange shape of the spindly hound. “We must hurry. They can unmake it!”


Sven Falk

I ripped off my leather jerkin. I had to don the armor. With Ava holding the hammer, I could feel it beckoning me. It was mine, made for me by a god a thousand or more years ago. I shook my head at that thought.

I grabbed the cuirass, touching the light-drinking leather. I felt it quiver beneath my touch and whisper a name. I repeated it, “Frozenshadows.”

Carsina gasped. “Are these the lost armors?” Her head cast around as I pulled the boiled cuirass over my head, the stiff leather sliding over my torso like a shirt open at the sides. “Yes, yes, that must be Silence and Sunburst. Rubyforged and Tidewalker. Why are they here? Why did my god make them?”

“I don't know,” I said as I found the buckles of the cuirass. They were on both sides near my hip. I pulled them tight, the armor fitting around my chest, back, and shoulders with such perfection. It fit the shape of my torso and the contours of my muscles.

Nathalie, naked, pulled on the half-breastplate of her armor. It cupped her small breasts, lifting them into a nice bit of cleavage. The red metal hugged about her torso with the fit only found in tailored cloth. It left her lower stomach bare. Her fingers buckled the straps with a skill that she shouldn't possess. The girl had never worn armor in her life, but she looked so comfortable in it.

“Wow, Greta,” Ava said. “You look delicious in Tidewalker.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” the busty blonde said as she adjusted the banded skirt of wave-like metal that hugged her upper thighs, descending from her waist. The half-breastplate cupped her breasts into a generous cleavage and also left her belly bare.

“You should see Zanyia,” Kora said. “Hers hardly covers anything.”

“I know,” my lamia said as she wore the leather harness. It was just bands of narrow leather that wrapped about her body, one strip across her breasts, just hiding her nipples. “It even fits around my tail and—” She thrust her arms forward. From the bands of leather wrapped around her wrists came a pair of triangular punching blades that filled her hands.

“What are those?” Kora asked.

“Katars,” I said, buckling on the leather greaves over my boots and black trousers. “They like them to the east in the naga lands.”

“Yes,” Zanyia said, rising up on her two legs to stand like the rest of us. She thrust her hands forward. I didn't hear a sound. Not a rush of air, not her bare feet shifting on the ground, not even the grunt of exertion.

Zanyia's ears twitched. Her mouth moved, but I didn't hear a word. Then she cocked her head to the side and blinked her golden, cat-slitted eyes. “Oh, wow, Master, it can make me silent. Ooh, no one will hear me coming now.”

I nodded, buckling the last strap and... I felt the armor around me. It became an awareness in the back of my mind, something I could... control. Suddenly, my hands and arms became shadows. My entire body blurred and fuzzed and faded away.

“Sven!” Aingeal gasped. “Oh, wow, that's an impressive illusion.”

“That's not an illusion,” Zanyia said. “It's like shadowmancing. I saw them rush at Master.”

I grinned as I held out my hand. Shadows rippled down my blurry, almost hidden arm and formed into a long, narrow blade.

I held a rapier of shadows in my hand.

“This armor...” Ealaín glowed, her yellow armor pulsing with light. Like Greta and Nathalie's, it was a half-breastplate, cut low to show off her midnight-black tits, her dark flesh at odds with her radiance. A skirt of mail fell down past her rump and glowing greaves adorned her lower legs.

“It's beautiful,” I said, my eyes flicking to all four of my women in their armor.

“I guess none for us,” Kora said, glancing at Ava and Aingeal.

“Well, we have our magics, don't we?” Aingeal said, her wings fluttering. “Besides, I'm already so fantastic, I don't need armor to make myself special.”

I smiled at Aingeal while Zanyia scampered around behind her, leaping and bounding about without making a sound.

Ava, however, trembled. She held up the hammer then turned in a slow circle until she pointed the diamond hammer at the wall. “There.”

“What?” I asked.

“It's to the east by the Despeir Mountains,” Ava answered. “Where we can destroy the phylactery.”

“The Altar of Souls?” I asked, my heart clenching.

She nodded her head.

From above, a loud crash resounded. A rumble shuddered through the building.


Prince Meinard

Blood and gore dripped off my iron body. The streets of Az bled. The Paragon's monsters attacked more than the soldiers and bards, they killed any who stood in our way or blundered into our progress. Men, women, even children lay broken in our wake, their lives dripping from all our forms.

The price was worth it. Had to be worth it. My people had sacrificed so much to see me ruling all of Zeutch. All of the world. I had enslaved so many, killed more in my conquests. What were a few more pittance in compared to that. If I didn't press on, if I didn't pay the price, it would mean all those died for nothing.

My ambition needed fulfilling.

We reached the temple. It was so unassuming. Nothing about it proclaimed it was the heart of Krab's power in Az. That this was a place dedicated to any god, let alone one as important and powerful as Krab. My own divine ancestor.

The Hunter snarled and charged forward. Shadows dripped off of its emaciated body. It set its shoulders, the bear-like thing passing by the square pillars holding up the roof of the temple's porch. Its claws scratched on marble. It crashed into the door.

With a loud boom, it burst through it. I charged after, the Hunger scuttling beside me. Behind us, the Colony chittered and buzzed with excitement. In moments, I leaped over the rubble of the door and entered Krab's temple.

An old man stood waiting for us. He wore leather pants, scarred and burned, stained by hours upon hours of labor. Despite his age, the man's body was all hard muscle, sinew cording across his powerful build. He wore gauntlets made of clear crystal, of diamonds, that sparkled with a fiery brilliance. They flexed into fists as he faced us.

The Hunter dove forward, half-concealed by shadows, rushing at the old man.

He punched hard, not caught off-guard by the blurring attack. His gauntlet struck the Hunter in the snarling muzzle. Ice burst from the diamonds. They spilled over the Hunter's bestial face. The force of the blow threw the monster down. It crashed to the ground, rolling, spasming, jaw frozen shut.

“This is Krab's temple,” the old man said, his words simple. “Vebrin's creations do not belong here. Leave, your Highness.”

I marched forward as the Hunger slithered forward, dripping its foul tar.


Sven Falk

“Is the temple under attack?” I asked, whirling around.

Kora grasped her pendant as she turned. The light caught it, the ruby flaring with scarlet brilliance for a moment as she looked up above us. Something walked across the ceiling, something heavy. A metallic thud echoed.

“Let's go!” I snarled and charged out of the vault, shadows flowing around me.


Prince Meinard

The old man's diamond-clad fists battered the Hunter to the ground. The writhing things undulated its body, breaking the sheets of ice forming across its chitin and spindly legs. Its tar grew hard, freezing on its body as the old man attacked with the steady rhythm of a blacksmith hammering at the forge.

I rushed in, raising my sword high.

The old man thrust a hand at me, fingers splayed wide. A blast of arctic fury surged out of him and struck me in the chest. The cold assaulted my iron body. It grew stiff, brittle as the chill spread through me. My attack faltered as I fought to keep my balance. Frost spread over my iron flesh, reaching to encase me.

The old man shook his head then drew back his fist. The Hunger quivered on the ground. The Colony edged to the right, looking almost... fearful. Cold air swirled around the old man, a winter fury ready to be unleashed.

“Gods dammit!” I snarled, struggling to move my body. The frost immobilized me now, gripping all my joints, making me into a statute. “Las's putrid cum.”

The old man's fist crashed into the Hunter's head. Chitin cracked. The thing's body spasmed. The old man raised his fist again.

The Formless dropped from the ceiling.

The oozing thing engulfed the old man in moments. Through the viscous monster flesh, I could see the old man thrashing, his body moving slow as... As the Formless devoured him.

Footsteps echoed from my right. I wrenched my half-frozen head around. The frost slowed its spread, melting away. Brittle cracks echoed as I wrenched my joints into motion, turning to face the charging footsteps.

Sven appeared in the doorway, wielding a rapier made of darkness.

The coldness melted inside of me. A great, bubbling anger surged through me as I stared at the man who stole my daughter. She was mine. I had her love, her passion. She would have borne my heir if it wasn't for this Las-damned bastard before me.

“You!” I snarled and charged.

To be continued...

Click here for Chapter 25

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