Amdirlain’s PoV - Culerzic
Amdirlain caught Sírdhem’s hesitation when their training session ended. “I don’t want to give you these, but Erwarth and Sarah asked me to pass them along.”
A metal strong box appeared in her hand, and Amdirlain caught the pulse from the storage amulet at Sírdhem’s wrist. The box was nearly a half-metre cube, and Sírdhem held it with casual ease.
“She got it working?” asked Amdirlain eagerly, claiming the case before Sírdhem withdrew the offer.
“There are funds in there, along with the prototype,” grumbled Sírdhem. “Sarah says it will work, but she isn’t sure how long, so any weakening in the enchantments means it's likely to fail pretty fast. Have Torm test you with True Sight after activating it to ensure it gives off the right effect. She’d prefer you continue Ilya’s training rather than rely on its enchantment.”
“Training the last four months has been going well, with more than just the disguise. But I love the central heating this will provide,” quipped Amdirlain.
Sírdhem’s concerned expression hardened at Amdirlain’s joking. “The only reason we’re giving you this option is that you’ll need to meet with Lorrella soon. Otherwise, any variation on that plan is back at square one. Replacing the coins would be easy, and the time is next to nothing, so I would prefer to let her go on her way, but Erwarth said it was your choice.”
“I’ll be careful,” reassured Amdirlain, catching the location details from Sírdhem’s mind. “Can you have Erwarth tell her to swing by the agreed location in about twelve hours? If the prototype works, I’ll scout it after training with Isa.”
“Being timid makes you prey in the Abyss, but you know that. So be bold, but also mindful that sometimes you’ll find bravely running away is the best option,” cautioned Sírdhem.
“Sarah told you to say that, didn’t she?” laughed Amdirlain.
Growling in frustration, Sírdhem looked ready to burst into flames. “Did I get played by Sarah? She swore it would stress the seriousness to you.”
Raising her hands reassuringly, Amdirlain reined in her amusement at the reference. “It's part of a joke, but I’ll take the point that survival is more important than appearing brave at present.”
“I’ll leave you to your test,” grumbled Sírdhem.
Before she could move away, Amdirlain gently touched her arm. “How long has Sarah had this prototype ready?”
“A couple of months,” admitted Sírdhem. “She’s been hoping to come up with an improved version. Any sign of trouble, get out immediately.”
Sírdhem’s Gate opened to show Isa waiting with Ilya on the cavern’s ledge. Giving a tense wave, Sírdhem slipped past them through the Gate, and Isa gave her a wink.
“Hope you don’t mind if I crash your practice session,” said Isa. “Got asked to give you a phantasmal stress test; I’ve been working on a holo combat simulator.”
Following Isa through the Gate, Ilya released the Spell and dropped the chamber into near darkness. The glow from the silvery runes around its circumference was more than enough to allow them to see clearly.
“What have you two been up to?”
“Setup as we agreed, or do you want to bow out?” asked Ilya before Amdirlain could reply.
The sudden presence of a public mind from Amdirlain caused Isa to hiss. Barb-edged lusts bit her senses when cruel thoughts told of fresh toys. As the furnace of twisted desire flared hotter, Isa hurriedly pulled her telepathy clear.
A teasing smile twisted Amdirlain’s lips, and her clothing disappeared as she smoothly shifted form. Ilya and Amdirlain had designed the form carefully, its purpose to stand out and, by doing so, paradoxically blend in. Few succubi wanted to remain unnoticed, and Amdirlain wouldn’t go unnoticed. Across her ruby-skinned form, silver jewellery added contrast to her already striking presence.
The form held a mix of danger and desire as the ebony silver-capped ram’s horns that started high on her forehead weren’t the only threat that her alluring body held. Shoulder-length midnight hair framed an oval face with refined features and hints of sharp cruelty. Her high cheekbones were too sharp to be delicate, though they drew focus to Amdirlain’s dark eyes that invited the viewer to drown in their depths and a full sensual mouth that barely allowed tips of feline eyeteeth to show. Her slim humanoid frame supported voluptuous breasts and large, bat-like wings—their black membrane pulsing with crimson veins.
Silver jewellery chains extended from a torc at Amdirlain’s throat, connecting to bands and strategically placed piercings. They ran along her curves in a mockery of the vines and chimed brightly at the first movements to settle them. Once ready, Amdirlain motioned an agreed warning to Ilya, who mentally braced herself and began to clap. On the third beat, Amdirlain looked up with Willpower and Charisma unfurled. Caught by surprise, the wave seized Isa and dragged her under—a swimmer drowning in a whirlpool of desire. Ilya only had time to breathe out a surprised curse when the extent of Amdirlain’s prior restraint showed.
The first strutting step added the chime of chains and tiny bells to Ilya’s beat. The undulating sensual motions made Isa’s world spin faster. Though Amdirlain started a distance from where the pair stood, her flowing motion teased at them, and she slowly closed the distance. Proximity made it hard for even Ilya to resist being caught in the effect. The pace of the dance quickened as she reeled in the distance; a sensual dervish swirling about them. Amdirlain’s undulations created an ever-increasing pressure of lust gripping their minds. The first teasing feather-light caress across Isa’s cheek sent heat kissing across her skin and brought forth a moan. Temptation had them swaying towards Amdirlain, yet she slipped away from any contact she didn’t start.
Amdirlain didn’t withdraw but circled, adding targeted caresses on each pass. When Amdirlain at last swayed by them, close enough to kiss—the heat of her body licked across them and elicited groans.
Her alluring motions, backed by unleashed Charisma, burned them in a furnace of lust. When the dance was complete at last, Isa leaned against Ilya and shuddered in the afterglow of release.
[Erotic Dance [M] (8->9)]
Ilya panted and propped Isa upright. “That was my fault. I shouldn’t have told you not to hold back. If you do that in a city, you’re going to cause a riot that would rip it apart.”
“I don’t know if I should tuck wads of bills into your chains or run for the hills,” Isa hissed, fanning her face. Letting out a groan, she bent in two and pressed her hands against her crotch. “I need a mop for my pants.”
“But I did hold back,” purred Amdirlain.
The liquid sound caused Isa to mewl. “What?”
Amdirlain didn’t let up her role and let her heated gaze roam over them. “I didn’t use Dominion or Stimulation. Would you like more?”
“Hell’s ball!” gasped Ilya. “I misjudged this. My body’s on fire with need, and my clits so hard it feels like a river stone.”
“Me too,” whimpered Isa. “Can we go now? I need to cum frequently, and my pants are so wet I’ve already lost count.”
“Time to get some payback then,” declared Amdirlain before teleporting to the chamber’s midpoint. “Sing for me.”
Still caught up in Amdirlain’s presence, the words were a command that had Isa’s voice lifted and phantasmal figures attacked. The pair of kopis appeared in Amdirlain’s hands, but she spun with the same dancing grace. The months of practice had turned each kopis into an extension of her arm, and Amdirlain’s flowing sensuality add a surreal edge to her fighting.
Rolling music added an increasing number of phantasmal killers to the mix and, unrestrained by any flesh, they nearly matched Amdirlain’s speed. The enchantments in the blades dissipated opponents with every blow, yet behind came a dozen more. Swaying beneath a sword cutting through where her head had been, Amdirlain’s wings spread out and swept those closest away. Chiming, the chains shivered under the centrifuge of her motions and teased at the flesh around their anchor points.
Beyond the latest attacker, her body’s spin added speed to the decapitating slash. As the enemy’s head faded away, Amdirlain turned her motion into a slide. The altered trajectory dropped her beneath the next attacker, while another’s blade split the membrane in her wing. Black blood had barely begun to drip before the wound sealed again.
Sheer speed carried her across the polished stone, sliding on her knees. Her path planted the tips of her kopis into opponents' groins on either side. Slowed by the friction and impact, she teleported to the group’s rear, where a cleaving blow shattered a spine.
[Sword [Ad] (50) -> [M] (1)]
Before they turned towards her, she was already plunged into the mob, parrying blows and using the openings to cut apart her foes. When Isa’s song finally ended, Amdirlain’s blood splattered the floor, and its blackness added leprous stains to the chains’ silver links.
“One woman army. I’m surprised I hurt you at all.”
“Ki Armour and Angelic Aura are both off at present; I’m trying to focus on pushing my skills up, so that means sticking to parrying and avoiding attacks,” replied Amdirlain. “Did you enjoy my dance?”
“Yes, and no. Never dance like that where Torm can see you, girl. That would be a cruel and unusual punishment,” laughed Isa.
The return of her good humour brought up an internal sigh of relief, but outwardly, Amdirlain smiled coyly.
“At least not down here; wait until you are somewhere he can safely repay your teasing,” agreed Ilya; leaning into Isa’s side, she nipped at her ear. “We should go back to our room, or maybe even somewhere we can enjoy ourselves with no Lómë commenting later.”
“Down, girl,” Isa growled.
Ilya looked her up and down with a slow smile, the heat in her gaze swirling between them, and Isa lapped it up. “Yes, please.”
The purr in Isa’s voice had Ilya laughing happily, and Amdirlain noted the difference in her with satisfaction. Ilya’s fear wasn’t completely gone, but it was now only a subtle current that didn’t interfere.
Giving Ilya a playful push, Isa motioned to Amdirlain. “You still have a session in progress. But seriously, is this what you two have been doing with your time? Having Amdirlain learning supernatural stripper moves?”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
After absorbing all the blood with Inventory, Amdirlain smiled at Isa. “Weapons, plus acting, a bunch of infernal knowledge skills, along with improving my social responses.”
“Diplomacy, that’s your main stumbling block at present,” Ilya grumbled.
Isa gasped in mock surprise. “Surely not. Amdirlain is the soul of diplomacy, especially compared to Orhêthurin’s brick to the face.”
“Her pickup lines rate high on the lame scale,” joked Ilya.
“Baby, do you come here often, because I want to come with you?” questioned Isa with a laugh, but Amdirlain caught her intent focus. “Ok—no flinch, no coldness, no slap of emotions in your presence. After that display, can you do that Universal Life thing and let me hear your song? I want to make sure this isn’t hurting you, playing this part.”
Amdirlain fixed her with an incredulous look. “You asked that before. Do you want me to send up a signal flare?”
“Come on, we’re in a circle that can contain a Solar’s energy presence,” objected Isa.
“I don’t want to bet it will be the same. After all, Roher tested it knowing the strength and nature of Erwarth’s energy. What if the energy is too different?”
Isa winced and squinted at Amdirlain. “Let’s not risk that. Are you okay?”
“Long over those pains, Isa; I’d put a pin in this if I weren’t, I promise,” replied Amdirlain, putting a hand on her heart.
Isa’s lips tightened into a line, restraining her protest. After a moment, she nodded her acceptance. “You used your tail a few times to pull foes off balance. Maybe the only thing to watch was that some of those were behind you—Infernal succubi don’t have Protean to see behind them.”
The subject change was blunt, but Ilya just went with the flow. “It’s fine in battle. If they survive, most will put it down to good situational awareness. She was continually shifting position, so it's not like it couldn’t have been a planned move.”
“What do you plan to do with this form now?” asked Isa, suddenly gaining a nervous edge.
Amdirlain motioned her to relax. “We’ll keep improving on where I am now, like my reactions and knowledge—as Ilya said, my Diplomacy needs lots of work—then figure out some other cover identities I can use when going places in the Abyss. We're doing long-term preparations against worst-case scenarios. I don’t want to mingle with most demons, just kill them.”
“True Sight matches the form you’re showing,” noted Isa.
“Best guess is my Hidden state is helping my concealment spells in that regard,” admitted Amdirlain. “Erwarth can’t get through them either, and the low-powered wards we’ve tried seem to ignore me, even without concealments. High-powered ones, unfortunately, still twig to my presence.”
“Fuck,” Isa grumbled. “Master ninja.”
“Not looking for a threesome today, pet. Well, not unless you’re willing to make it worth my while,” purred Amdirlain. Sitting in mid-air, she crossed her legs and leaned forward; the chains following the slope of her breasts provided glimpses of skin within their gaps. “What are you offering?”
Isa spluttered when Amdirlain’s Charisma hit and turned towards Ilya. “What did you do to her?”
“You told me about method acting, right? Well, she gets into her role now, but don’t worry, her fees are outrageous,” retorted Ilya.
“Like what?”
“I asked for Orcus’ dick in a jar,” breathed Amdirlain, “but I’d be so worth it.” Despite the request, her silken voice seemed to rub along Isa’s skin and caused yet another full-body shiver.
When Isa looked between them wide-eyed, they both snickered. Amdirlain blurred into her Anar form even as the chains and blades disappeared into Inventory. The bracelet of shadow vines returned to Amdirlain’s wrist and enfolded flesh in her typical loose garb.
“I win that bet,” laughed Amdirlain.
“Bet?! You two were trolling me!?” exclaimed Isa in mock outrage. “Was it at least a decent bet?”
“She gets two days off since we stunned you into temporary silence,” Ilya replied.
“Wait, can we bet on trolling Torm?” asked Isa. “Or is that cruel?”
Ilya gave her a nudge. “Not asking her to go there. This place’s focus is the corruption of desires, remember? We can work off our frustrations away from here.”
“How did you disguise Ilya’s song?” Isa breathed.
Amdirlain released the song she’d kept sheltering Ilya’s amusement and felt the light strain on her regeneration immediately ease.
“Silent Song unlocked the other day. Only lets me support one song so far, but that will be useful enough.”
“You two will keep,” warned Isa, waving her finger. “Wait, most demons? Do you expect you’ll find more like Klipyl and Ebusuku?”
“No, but they were certainly an exception to the rule. Their independence and willingness to hurt others were more self-preservation than deliberate malice,” replied Amdirlain. “They were just an example of the type I wouldn’t kill on a hair trigger reaction.”
Waving goodbye, Amdirlain reappeared in the sparring room’s entryway and found Torm practising hard. As he worked through his techniques, sharply focused punches and strikes snapped in the air. Even Amdirlain’s entwining melodies didn’t distract him until she threw a newly created mithril longsword his way, the runes shining beneath the metal’s silvery surface illuminated the room.
[Crafting Summary (Category: martial weapon) - experience by item grade:
Journeyman: 1,405 = 40 (base) + 400 (rare material) + 965 (enchantment rating: +193 (basic success))
Total experience gained: 1,405
Ostimë +702
Ostimë Level Up!
Ontãlin +702
Ontãlin Level Up!
Multi-voice [J] (32->33)
Inscribe [M] (24-25)]
That’s the first time doing that has pushed inscribe up. Leatherworking being lower might have made the difference.
After testing the blade’s balance, Torm flowed through a sword kata while Amdirlain leaned against the door and listened to the precise music that arose. The regularity and order battled the unsettled edge that living within the Abyss tried to stir within him. When he stopped, Torm smiled at her before he settled the blade on a rack nearby.
“Enchantments now working consistently?”
“Eleventh in a row, though I’m sure I’d have any dwarven smith crying at the quality of the blade,” replied Amdirlain. “Still, that one squeaked me into gaining level 19 and improved Multi-voice. I’ll push harder with Multi-voice to see if that improves the quality. Sometimes I catch a hum of distortion while they’re entwining.”
“I think the dwarven smiths would be going: who let the journeyman near the mithril?”
“Precisely!” exclaimed Amdirlain. “I’m still only producing journeyman quality.”
“I believe they might be more upset that it only takes you half an hour to create a mithril blade with enchantments.”
“Basic enchantments,” countered Amdirlain.
“Basic enchantments?” questioned Torm. “To me, a basic enchantment is something up to plus 20.”
Amdirlain shrugged. “That’s what the experience notification rated it as, a basic success.”
Giving her a sceptical look, Torm released an Appraisal Spell, and when the divination results registered, he shook his head. “It’s certainly a matter of perspective. Some people would pay thousands of gold for that blade.”
“Find a baby hero and give it away,” joked Amdirlain before giving Torm a crooked smile. “I might try to disguise it as an old iron sword first so they don’t get their throat cut.”
“You’re back early. Is everything alright with Ilya?” asked Torm. “It's been a month or more since she last ended a session in a panic.”
“No, I just managed a training exercise and won a bet, so I’m taking two days off,” replied Amdirlain.
Her statement froze Torm open-mouthed, but he recovered before she could tease him. “Exactly what are you planning to do with two days off?”
“Some experimenting,” declared Amdirlain, but she held off on discussing the second reason. “With what I’ve tried so far, tools, weapons, and armour gain me experience awards, but accessories, furniture, and raw materials don’t. Given my related skills progress occasionally, I wonder if my skills and knowledge influence it.”
“If it was only that, why would you need two days off?” questioned Torm.
“Setting up for some experimenting requires me to meet with someone, but I’m not sure when exactly they’ll arrive. Care to come along?”
“Who are we meeting with?”
“Lorrella, the Artificer-Alchemist that Erwarth and the others hired. I need to make another payment to her, so I’m going to buy materials and sample potions,” replied Amdirlain. “If we don’t pay her for the next stage of work, she might sell the siege engines she’s already constructed. I’ve got a location to meet her, and Sírdhem passed along the funds I should need.”
Despite the various protests that churned within Torm, he simply nodded. “What do you plan to do with those siege engines Erwarth commissioned?”
“Their construction has the Sisterhood defences in mind, and she’s ready to work on a second set. I might not need them, but having the contingency can’t hurt. However, if I use them, I have a different force in mind than what the others were planning,” Amdirlain replied. “I don’t want to hand them over to provoked demon lords; instead, I thought I’d recruit the cloister. Provided, that is, I can get them to work with me. A fallback option is to hire a bunch of demon hunters from The Exchange.”
“What?”
“I’d prefer the first option, if they are genuine in trying to make amends,” stated Amdirlain.
“Where are you meeting with her?”
“It’s a nice little town—cosy even—friendly natives, but don’t drink the water.”
“I know you’ve been training with Ilya, but isn’t this risky?”
“It is risky, but the first sign of trouble and we’ll leave, plus Sarah sent something along,” reassured Amdirlain. Retrieving Sírdhem’s case, Amdirlain pulled out a precisely carved gemstone, its faceted edges forming the shape of an arrowhead.
“That differs from what she gave me,” noted Torm.
“This reflects the Abyss’ energy in a particular pattern. It should make it seem like I’m a Succubus with nearly a score of species levels. I don’t know if Lorrella can judge the Abyssal Heat, but it should be about what the Jade identity I used could have gained without shortcuts,” admitted Amdirlain. “Projecting the fake mental impressions and the rest is all up to me.”
An understandable wince tightened Torm’s expression. “I was hoping you’d keep lying low; it hasn’t even been a year.”
“You got four months of me behaving myself since Caltzan showed me the door. How many tasks have you been out on without me complaining?” ragged Amdirlain, but she stopped when she recognised how that might sound. “Sorry, I take that back. It's not a competition, and I’d prefer not to meet with her now, but I don’t want to let her work go.”
“Do you want me to come along to watch your back?” asked Torm.
“You can come with me, but it might be safer for both of us if I do this alone,” suggested Amdirlain. “The location for the meeting is a town where Moloch’s control is nominal, so the risk is low.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have agents keeping an eye out. Are you concerned I’ll give you away?”
“Torm, I love who you are, but I’m going into a Demon town to make a deal, not to lay waste. Stealth missions don’t suit you. It's not a complaint, it’s an observation, and I'd prefer that being undercover as a Cambion is something that never suits you. Have you even ventured into a town for the cell’s work yet?”
“No, just gathering and raids on remote locations,” admitted Torm.
“Then sit this one out. I’ll go channel serious resting bitch face,” joked Amdirlain. “Now, for the fun part, I will need you to check my form after I set this in place.”
Exposing her abdomen, Amdirlain drove in the arrowhead with a single motion, and the trickle of blood across it set the gemstone ablaze. With the enchantment linked to her by the spilled blood, she used Protean to draw it inside and tuck it under her sternum.
Torm nodded grimly. “I can see a haze of Abyssal Heat around you.”
“Now, this one?”
Amdirlain appeared in a demonic Succubus form, with ivory-white skin, sable hair, and wings that featured the typical claws and spikes common to Culerzic succubi. Carefully ensuring she had the same appearance she’d used visiting Lorrella’s shop in Ternòx.
“Same energy, no sign of your true form,” confirmed Torm.
“That’s what I needed to hear,” sighed Amdirlain patting his shoulder. “I’ll get changed and head out.”
Torm held onto her hand a moment. “Take care.”
“See, you get to say that this time,” Amdirlain said brightly.
“You’re not even a year through the Planar Lock,” cautioned Torm. “I, at least, would end up home.”
[Remaining Planar Lock duration: 36,164.45 days]
Amdirlain nodded. “I will be extra paranoid and keep Precognition in place. Roughly five more days until I’m through the first year.”
“That’s if your Time Sense is right.”
“I always cheat, remember?” laughed Amdirlain. “Analysis gives me a counter in days, and it’s still over 36k.”
Teleporting to her private study, she changed into the attire she had ready. The mercenary leathers she donned had the same crest of upright bars looped with chains representing musical chords. The weapon’s harness allowed for a half-dozen of her preferred daggers and had space for a single kopis.