DemiGodChapter 16 Betrayal
- 2 years ago
- 25
- 0
Demigod Of WarChapter 34 free porn video
Day 121:
Welcome back Traveler, please note that your Visitor status remains defunct. You have a total of seven previously-encountered portals that you may choose to exit using. You have also made a Moral Choice, which places you at odds with your current political master. This meets the Traveler criteria for World number 6,626,070,041,034. Please indicate which destination you desire.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” John exclaimed. “What the fuck does that mean? Argh!”`
“Okay, focus. Don’t get sidetracked.” He told himself aloud, after a scream of frustration. The Network voice might’ve been explaining, but he wasn’t listening. He had too much going on in the two worlds he already had access to. Anything new would just have to wait.
“Send me to the portal on Earth.”
It was light outside the cave, though the sun’s rays weren’t penetrating the gloom yet. The tent, body and all traces of the previously staged ambush were gone. So, too was all the snow from the ground outside. There was no blood, or any sign of human habitation.
A flash on the mountainside opposite the cave entrance caught John’s attention. His heart started pounding. ‘Flash to bang’ wandered through his—he squinted for a split second, before jumping back into the portal. A searing pain lanced his inner thigh.
Welcome back Traveler, please note that your Visitor status remains defunct. You have a total of seven previously-encountered portals that you may choose to exit using. You have also made a Moral Choice, which places you at odds with your current political master. This meets the Traveler criteria for World number 6,626,070,041,034. This constitutes an eighth choice. Please indicate which destination you desire. Note: The Network cannot mend mortal wounds for Travelers.
“Mortal?” He gasped, looking down. Blood was streaming down his pants.
There was a hole in his trousers, like a ten-foot-tall giant had stabbed him all the way through with a fencing foil. It perforated the inner, meaty portion of his thigh at an angle, high in the front to lower in the back. He’d been shot, and the only thing that had saved him was the distance from their sniper’s hide to the portal cave. At between three-fourths to a full mile, a bullet (even a high-velocity one) takes a measurable couple of seconds to travel from the muzzle of the rifle firing it all the way to the target. In addition, from the moment the projectile departs the barrel, gravity begins dragging it to the earth. If you hold up a coin (a quarter or something similar) and let go, within 2 seconds or so it will hit the ground by your feet. Since gravity acts on all objects equally, the same thing occurs with the bullet itself. So, the sniper must point his rifle upwards at an angle to provide a vertical component to the trajectory. This is where the term ‘ballistic’ comes from. The terminal ballistics (action at the end of its trip) for that kind of distance means that the round is very nearly falling out of the sky to hit its target, but still retaining a large part of its horizontal velocity.
The shot that hit him was meant to kill him then, and the only thing that had saved him was when he took the step backward, into the portal. It was a both frightening and freeing thought. First, it’s always scary when elite government-employed (he assumed) assassins are targeting you specifically. He had no idea who they were, or how to get back at them. It was an unwelcome, exposed feeling that he needed to deal with. But it also meant they were no longer looking to capture him. He could now assume that anyone hunting him was a morally legitimate, if perhaps not legally legitimate target. The gloves were off, and once he figured out how, John intended to let whoever set these men on him know the full measure of his displeasure.
Untreated, your wound is likely to re
“Send me to Final Harbor!” John yelled.
He stumbled off the portal stone and unbuckled his belt. Wishing he had a modern one, with a nylon weave and hardened metal buckle, he quickly wrapped the leather strap as high around his upper leg as he could. He tied it as tightly as he dared, desperately hoping the leather wouldn’t fail under the strain. Given the primitive nature of Final Harbor, there weren’t any sticks on the ground to insert into the knot.
Don’t you dare cut me! He ordered.
The Tooth’s snarky response was lost as he inserted the haft into the knot, tightening it down then spinning the weapon as quickly as he dared. The leather around his thigh clamped down like it too was cutting his leg off. But the dark red waterfall exiting the hole in his pants slowed to a trickle before stopping entirely. Now he just needed to fix the wound itself.
Stumbling from the light-headedness he was already experiencing, he wove his way across the bridge to the town’s back gate. It was just past nightfall, so there should have been a guard. As he banged on the metal-bound wood, lethargy crept over him. When the peep-hole cover jerked aside, followed by the door swinging wide, he pitched forward onto his face.
“Need ... help...” He gasped. “Get ... Rorik ... quick!”
“Yes, lord Jyon!” The Northerner woman standing there said, before dashing off.
He passed out before she could return.
John cranked his eyes open, blearily struggling to make out the room he was lying in. He was pretty sure there were two stools, occupied by blurry shapes, sitting beside the bed. He lolled his head to the side, blinking to clear his vision. One shape resolved itself into Rorik’s daughter Rona, as she scampered out of the room.
“Watch him!” She ordered, as only an older sibling can.
A few more blinks, followed by rubbing his eyes got rid of enough eye gunk that he could confirm it was Ulmyr on the other stool.
“Ulmyr, good to see you, lad.” John rasped.
“Are you here to save us, lord Jyon?” The boy asked.
John shook his head. “Save you? What—a”
“Lord Jyon! We were so worried!” Runa bustled in, then addressed her son. “Out! Go find your father!”
“Yes mama!” Ulmyr dashed out.
She handed John a large bowl with some warm soup in it.
“Drink this.” She urged.
“What happened?” He asked, before slurping it down.
“I’ll let my husband tell you, when he gets here.” She dodged.
Either the man hadn’t been far away, or he’d come running when his son found him, because he walked in right as John finished.
“Lord Jyon, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you up!” The former innkeeper boomed.
“Rorik,” John saluted him with Runa’s dish, “I assume you healed me?”
“I did.” Rorik confirmed. “Found you face down in the street, with that odd leather thing wrapped around your leg and ax. Soon as we took it off, had blood shooting all over the place. What do you call that?”
“A tourniquet.” John said. “It’s just a way to shut off blood flow until you can heal the wound itself.”
“Well, given the amount pouring out of you without it, you would probably have been dead by the time I got there otherwise. But you were so pale, we were worried you would pass on anyway.” The man looked unhappy at the idea.
“That explains the headache.” John reasoned. “Thank you for taking care of me, both of you.”
“It was no burden,” Rorik assured him, “but we have a problem now.”
“What problem’s that?”
“The orc Necromancer, Shaman has come.” Rorik frowned.
“What? How... ?” John stood up, then leaned on the wall, dizzy. “Whoa.”
“Are you all right?” Rorik voiced concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a head rush. Go on.”
“I was at the front gate, arguing with Knyut about what to do when Vyivi found me. The one Far-eye in the guard spotted a group of orcs tracking our trail. They were coming down the same ridge we did, from the upper reaches. From the description, it’s Shaman and about twenty-five or so undead. The Raiders have fought draugyr before, so they decided to foray as a group and kill the Necromancer before he reaches the city.”
“What were you arguing about?” John wondered.
“I tried to advise Knyut of this Shaman’s powers, but he is convinced no Necromancer could control that many undead. He claimed that they can only create one or two, perhaps three if they are very, very good before additional undead turn on the Necromancer. He says all Raiders ‘know this’, for truth. I advised him to take the women I’ve been training, with your friend Eelis, just in case, if he was determined to go. But he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Where is Ellis?” John looked around.
“The women look to him for a leader. He is organizing a defense plan for the city, in case Knyut does not succeed.”
“Okay, what will you do if he fails?” John asked.
“I do not know. The women show promise, but they only number eighteen. I do not believe we can defend the city with so few, especially such inexperienced people. They try very hard, but you know ‘try’ does not make a victory in a fight, if you are over-matched. I think we shall have to evacuate the city. But the people would move more slowly than a small party of undead. Do you think the boats would be big enough? They look so small.”
John sketched out a quick plan. “You’d be amazed at how many you could get on one. I know I was, and the Raiders said they intentionally left space for more slaves,” John frowned, “and loot. If I were you, I’d get as much food on them as you can, and start evacuating the city. Tell anyone with a home or place to go outside the city to leave now. If you can get that fifth one seaworthy, I’d do it.” He thought for a second. “Or ... you could pull everyone into the Arena, and withdraw the bridge. But I don’t know how well the undead climb cliffs. Do you?”
Rorik clapped his hands together once. “No, so we shall flee. If he does not destroy the city, we may always return later. I fear he is chasing you, lord, not us. The ice dragon says she cannot hunt you, but this orc sounds like the pawn of a different one. I suggest you attempt that dragon’s Challenge next.”
John snorted. “Don’t I wish!”
“I hesitate to ask, but would you depart by a different way, to lead him away from us?” Rorik looked fearful.
“I’ve got to return via the funeral stone.” John shook his head. “Speaking of which,” he looked around, “what time is it?”
“It is the middle of the afternoon, my lord.” Rorik informed him. “You slept nearly an entire day. It is why we were so worried. We thought y—o”
“Afternoon?” John sputtered. “Quick, give me my stuff! I’ve got to go!”
A feeling of dread came over him. He just knew he’d be too late returning. Rorik and Runa didn’t argue, providing his armor and weapons with alacrity. He was still buckling on his weapons as he ran out the door.
“My lord! When will we see you again? You will not know where we flee to!” Rorik called at his back.
“Don’t worry!” John shouted. “Ships full of refugees? Someone will know!”
“Fare well!” The older couple wished as he ran towards the back gate.
Welcome back Traveler, please note that your Visitor status remains defunct. You have a total of seven previously-encountered portals that you may choose to exit using. You have also made a Moral Choice, which places you at odds with your current political master. This meets the Traveler criteria for World number 6,626,070,041,034. This constitutes an eighth choice. Please indicate which destination you desire.
“Plunderer’s Rest!” John nearly shouted.
Hal was standing on the portal stone when John appeared.
“Oh, thank the Prince!” Hal exclaimed when he saw John. “Please Shon, you must come convince the King not to begin looting!”
They jumped into the waist-deep water, and began fording towards the shore.
“Where is the King?” John asked.
“When you disappeared, and did not return all day,” the Cambion explained, “the warrior, Skyald decided that you were a coward who had fled. He convinced the king that you would not return, so there was no reason to delay. They decided to use the slaves, from the ships, the weakest ones to break the curse so they might take the treasure. Sygraid and myself did not think such an obvious idea would work, when you were so convinced there might be no way to take the loot.”
“Oh shit!” John shuddered. “That’s not the sense I got from the vault, at all! There’s a ... thing. Something really, really powerful and evil down there and it wants to get out. I think the ‘curse’ sets it free if anything is taken. Anything at all! The whole cave is one big trap.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s why the Mer-men surrendered. They wanted us to go down and—where is the King right now?”
“He is down in the hole. He and Skyald and Aric, with several slaves.” Hal stated.
“No! Damn it!” John cursed, trying to push harder through the water. “Where’s Sygraid and the others?”
“When the Shield-maiden could not convince the King to wait, she took her people, and any others we could convince to the boats, but waited until after he started down, so he could not stop her.”
“Good, let’s hope—wait, what were you doing on the portal stone then?”
Hal shrugged. “I am a good swimmer. One of the tortures when I was small was to throw me into the river. After almost drowning many times, I figured out how.” His voice lowered in sadness. “They tried fire after that...”
“What, so they were going to sail around and pick you up?”
Hal gestured around. “I would take one of the skiffs. We agreed I would wait for a day, then leave if you did not return. You said the curse was bad enough that we should flee right away. I feared you would come back, and not knowing what the king did, would go to check and fall prey as well.”
John clapped Hal on the shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Hal.”
“I begin to understand what you mean, when you say that. I too think you are a ‘good friend’. You would have waited for me. For much longer than a day, if you could. I did not intend to leave after only one day.” Hal patted a large water-skin slung around his shoulder.
If this had been a bad action holo, the instant their feet hit the beach, calamity would’ve befallen them. Instead it happened while they were still slogging their way to shore. An earth-shaking boom rocked the entire island, making the friends stumble. At the top of the rise, the castle walls began tilting inward.
“Stop!” John grabbed Hal.
They watched in shock as the fortification imploded. The towers, walls, and even the foundation crumbled and sank inward, like a sinkhole opening below. The crowd of Raiders who’d been gathered around the open elevator pit screamed in terror as the ground abruptly disappeared beneath their feet. The captured Islanders and their guards still at the pen all scattered. The natives made directly for the beach, while the guards ran in the direction of the docked ships.
“Grab a boat! Grab a boat!” John looked around and spotted one a little ways away. “This way, c’mon!”
Jump-running, they splashed their way towards an escape. They were moving almost parallel to the shore, so the the inhuman roar and the even worse shrieks of pain and horror echoed in their ears as they struggled to reach the skiff before anyone else.
By the barest of margins, they vaulted into the boat before a pair of Islanders who’d also begun racing them. When the other pair turned away at the sight, changing direction to head for another skiff, John called out to them.
“It’s all right! We’ll take you!” He motioned for them to come on.
The Islanders refused to even look at him.
“Fine!” John searched the boat for an oar, or anything that would get them moving.
But the bottom was empty, save for a thin layer of water and a length of rope, as thick as his finger.
“Hal, we need to move. Can you—Hal!”
The Cambion just pointed silently, back at the island. John spun just in time to watch a double column of figures march up the uneven rubble from inside the pit, then down towards what was left of the town. Save for the creatures coming from the vault, the entire place was deserted. The moving ... things were humanoid in shape, but had an extreme variety in size. Parts of each one shone in the afternoon sun, while others were coated with something dark, and liquid.
The column stopped when the lead pair reached the corner of the first structure, which coincidentally happened to be the pen where they’d held the Islanders. In unison, each two turned to face the other, then took a large (for the very small figures, several large) step backwards. This left a double-arm’s-width lane between them, leading all the way to the pile of stone and sand’s highest point.
“Those are the statues!” John realized, after Studying them for a few minutes.
Then another figure strode into view, pausing at the very apex of the ‘path’. This one was larger than all the others, topping those nearby by a full head’s height. It was shaped oddly too, with two legs and a giant, tadpole-like tail. The thing’s right arm was clad in a gleaming gold sheath, from fingertips to shoulder. On the other side, two bare arms together held the long trident John remembered from the vault throne. Atop its slightly oversized head sat a three-pointed crown. The tines were spread around its circumference, almost like an upside down mini-tripod.
Save for the shining armor on its arm, the thing was naked, but coated wetly with a thick layer of ... John Checked, ugh, blood. The life-bearing fluid was already drying, yet didn’t flake away. It truly was an ‘it’, sexless but with the swimmer’s build common to the Mer-men John had seen. What John could make out of its face, though looked more like a human than a Mer-man, including a beard.
Its right hand hung behind its back, dragging the gigantic throne like John would’ve done with a folding chair. When it found the crest, the thing stopped to set its seat upright, in place. It sat down, sliding the trident into the holster on the front of the chair’s left arm, but resting both left hands on the weapon’s shaft.
“Hal!” John hissed, shaking the Cambion. “We need to go! Now!”
Hal blinked and came back to himself with a shake. He looked around the boat.
“How do we row?” He asked.
“We need to use your saber.” John insisted. “Can you extend it to push on the ocean floor?”
The Cambion thought for a moment. “Will it not merely push into the sand?”
“Maybe, but I think there’s a lot of coral down there. And we don’t have many options.”
John glanced back at the throne-sitting Mer-monster. He could swear the thing was looking right at them.
Hal finally agreed, after some back and forth. He was hesitant at first, so they didn’t get off to a fast start. But whatever current existed in the local shallows was easily overcome. Within a few minutes, a quarter-hour at most, the Cambion was pushing them vigorously away from the half-wrecked island.
The next time John spared a good look at the Mer-monster, he found the thing had moved. It was now standing on the beach closest to them. The trident was now in its gold-sheathed right hand, pointing down, with the tines submerged up to the giant pearl.
“Uh, don’t look now, but I think he’s doing something. Push harder!” He urged.
“I am pushing with all my strength, Shon.” Hal panted.
“Can I try?” John asked. “Maybe we can take turns?”
The Cambion was clearly reluctant, but a single glance back to shore seemed to convince him. He held the hilt out for John to grasp.
“Her name is ... Far-Strike.” He said finally. “She has been helping. I believe she is aware of me, and what I am doing, though she does not speak as Sygraid’s shield or your ax do.”
“Fair enough.” John took the proffered weapon. “Hello Far-Strike.”
Hester
- 06.08.2021
- 15
- 0
