Warlock Undone (Hamadryad & Amon)

[Hamadryad]

Celayth carefully moved through the old, decrepit Imperial city. This place had long since been destroyed, the thick snow that encased the entire service of this world excluding its frozen oceans had begun to pile up and even consume some smaller buildings. It was a precarious march for Celayth and her squad of Dire Avengers, two females and three males. They'd been sent to scout out the area in lieu of a squad of Rangers due to troop shortages. The idea of the mission alone send a chill tingling down Celayth's spine, her soldiers weren't trained for such a task.

Yet, despite her worries the squad trudged on, struggling with the deep snows and old rubble strewn apart from this world's pillaging decades ago. There was supposedly some sort of Chaos aligned insertion here, a budding staging ground for a raid on the nearby Eldar craftworld. If such a rumour was true, Celayth and her Dire Avengers had to find out. She gripped her Warlock's witchblade tightly as she marched on, unaware of the many eyes looking upon her and her soldiers.

 

[Amon]

Chaos took many forms among the stars, bending and corrupting the very fabric of reality in terrific and horrible ways befitting the demented whims of the Dark Gods. For some their calling was to spread pestilence and war, others to study and harness the immeasurable powers of the Warp. Yet there were those for whom suffering and pain were not simply things, but ways of life. For those who would devote their lives in service of Slaanesh, depravity and obsession became art; and to perfect them the very essence of existence.

Dozens of hungry eyes watched from the shadows, stalking Celayth and her squad with malicious intent. They had thought their sanctuary of crumbling stone and ice safe, a haven from which they would spread the seeds of Chaos to consume the Eldar and their Craftworld. But the meddling footsteps of a Warlock threatened to undo all which they had so meticulously set out to accomplish. It was thus that when this news had reached their leader, there was no question what had to be done - the Eldar would soon come to regret their choice. Some more than others.

It was then, in a horrendous chorus of daemonic howls, the cultists burst from their hiding places. A twisted menagerie descending with frightening speed upon the unsuspecting Eldar. With the glint of a blade, one Dire Avenger was cut down, his blood painting a gruesome smear of crimson across the snow. Streaks of blue tore into the rampaging cultists in return, felling several, yet it seemed for every one killed two more rose in their place. Snow churned red and black underfoot as the two sides locked in a desperate struggle, another Dire Avenger succumbing to the melee, his body cleaved apart at the waist.

The only option Celayth and her fellow Eldar had: fight... or die trying.​

 

[Hamadryad]

The Eldar fought true and well, Celayth's witchblade biting the flesh of many foes. Though one by one each Eldar was either slain or subdued by the cultists, leaving Celayth to stand alone. Valiantly she fought, though it was not enough as a cultist's blade finally drew her blood, dragging her into a dark unconsciousness as she cluttered to the floor limply.

While unconscious she had a fevered dream, more so a nightmare; a sick, hellish landscape with reeked of pestilence, blood and sex. The smell was gut wrenching, much like the sight of the environment around her. She stood bare to the world, her decently sized bust and curvaceous rear exposed to this dark world. In her hand was an intricate Eldar blade, it felt cold to the touch of her hand's flesh. While one would expect her to exist in fear of this terrifying realm, she felt oddly complacent. The warlock eyed the blade in her hand, simply watching over it as it transformed to take a more wicked shape, coloured black and covered in wicked spines and spikes. Suddenly, from the corrupted soil beneath her a pink, rough tendril begun to emerge from the ground, though she merely took an accepting glance upon it as it begun to snake up her leg, drifting along her inner thigh. A warmness began to spread outward from her loins, how could she be getting aroused at such a thing? The tendril's tip reached her mound, beginning to part her slick lips until suddenly, she was once again plunged into darkness.

The dream had ended, allowing her to awake in perhaps a much worse situation.

 

[Amon]

As darkness waned from the periphery of Celayth's vision, her faculties slowly returning, the sound of heavy foot falls trudging through snow and permafrost welcomed her back to consciousness. A glance with bleary eyes would reveal little at first, save the stark gray edifices of stone walls rising up around her; walls that would seem to resonate with a dozen far off voices. As her senses gradually began to recover, the miserable cries of her defeated Dire Avengers would fill her ears. Their voices echoing off the walls from the far end of the room where their half naked forms were obscured by a gathering of cultists eagerly helping themselves to the defenseless women.

"Ah, and so our Warlock finally returns." A horrible synthetic voice rolled into Celayths's ears as a shadow darkened her limp form against the snow. Were the Eldar to gaze upwards, she would be met with the grotesque sight of a corrupted Space Marine, his armor twisted and adorned with numerous symbols of idolatry proclaiming his allegiance to Slaanesh. "Would that all your ilk joined you in the void, Eldar." He spat, face twisted in a grizzly sneer as he reached down to hoist Celayth up by her throat. "But even those devoted to Chaos have needs. None more so than devotees of the Dark Prince." Manipulating her as if she were little more than a ragdoll in his grasp, the Marine pivoted her that her eyes might land upon the unholy orgy taking place in the chamber. "Look upon your so-called avengers, Warlock, and despair. Your fate will not be so merciful."

With no measure for care or grace, the Marine pried the chest plate from Celayth's armor, discarding it as if it was little more than crumpled paper. Her breasts exposed to the chill of the air, her captor took a moment to soak in the sight, his snake-like tongue making a lewd pass across his pointed teeth as he hissed in delight. "Children of Slaanesh!" He bellowed into the chamber, hoisting the Warlock high as if she were a trophy, "have your fill of these wretched whores now. For tomorrow, we march to war!" A great cheer rose up among the cultists, momentarily drowning out the pitiable voices of Celayth's defeated warriors. But the sounds soon resumed in haste, the crowd of cultists reaching a fevered pitch around the helpless Eldar as they clamored over one another to have their turn.

"Your craftworld will burn, Eldar." The Marine snarled before tossing Celayth across the room to land in a pile of snow near the frantic orgy. And it didn't take long before a group of cultists took notice of their new bounty. Quickly surrounding the Warklock, several members of the group worked to secure her arms and pin her body against the frozen stone while more still pried the armor from her legs.

"Scream all you like. No one is coming to save you." A cultists hissed into her ear as the first among their number loomed above her, his armor removed from the waist down to reveal is fully erect cock ready to plunge deep into Celayth's exposed mound.

 

[Hamadryad]

Her breasts flopped free of her plates. She silently cursed the Eldar's habit to wear body fitting armour, with no hint of clothing underneath. She was particularly busty, her breasts large and jiggly as they sagged free atop her torso. Her body was hot with embarrassment, fear, horror as she watched her soldiers being violated. Painfully violated by these Slaneeshi cultists and their 'boones' gained from their master, impressively large cocks. Most of them screamed, though one of them seemed to have given into the onslaught, cooing and moaning in pleasure as she climaxed over and over again. She was still dizzy and withdrawn from her previous battering, the Chaos Space Marine's words no more than a dull drone in her ears. Suddenly, she was tossed limply like a bone to a pack of ravenous hounds.

She rolled along the cold stone ground, dirt and muck destroying the purity of her porcelain flesh as cultists pounced upon her, ripping and tearing at her plates and pulling them free, revealing her cute little innocent sex, tucked neatly at the base of her groin with her thick, soft lips protecting the sensitive pinkness within. Though, she knew she was soon to be defiled as the cultists stroked at their huge cocks, pre ebbing on the very tips of their lengths. She wriggled against the grip of the many cultists, though she was still too weak from her period of unconsciousness. She felt the cultist press his tip against her nether lips, the sight of many more cocks in her view as cultists savagely pulled at their members, aiming at various parts of her body as though they wanted to coat her in their corrupted seed.