Dark Conquest (Hamadryad & Greenrust)

[Hamadryad]

Gwydir forest, a mess of huge trees and heavy bushes. The foliage was so dense that sunlight only penetrated it in thick beams. The terrain was hard, but the forest teemed with life, vegetation and many creeks. Most importantly, it was home to several wood elven tribes, which made up the tribes of Gwydir. There was about eight of them in total, the most prominent of which was Velethuil, it had the power equivalent of three tribes, though it wasn't powerful enough to fight all of its neighbours combined. However, its newest Chieftess, a young beauty queen by the name of Metzi who was making strides in finally uniting the rival tribes, a task not done for thousands of years.

That was who the Lich of the Screaming Tower had set his eyes on. He had cast aside a glance to his right hand agent and battle commander and given him a task.

"Go forth, and bend this Chieftess to our will," he had commanded, and so the Incubus had obeyed. Riding out with several undead riders to the forest at nightfall. Shortly after arriving at the forest, one of the Lich's many whisperers which were spread across the realm spun a tale about how the Chieftess was out hunting with some of her bodyguards and gave up where to find them. With his task at mind, the Incubus rode onwards until it neared a clearing where he sensed lifeforms of higher sentience nearby, and sure enough he was correct in his assumptions.

In the plain belong the Chieftess Metzi and her hunting party rested, most of them women with a few men scattered between them. They were armed with their bows and tribal stone weapons, a few spears amongst them too. They weren't even armoured, wearing the skin showing tribal garb of their people. Some of the women didn't even cover their breasts.

A few of the zombified riders beside the Incubus licked their lips, and waited for orders on how to proceed.

 

[Greenrust]

Gwydir forest, a mess of huge trees and heavy bushes. The foliage was so dense that sunlight only penetrated it in thick beams. The terrain was hard, but the forest teemed with life, vegetation and many creeks. Most importantly, it was home to several wood elven tribes, which made up the tribes of Gwydir. There was about eight of them in total, the most prominent of which was Velethuil, it had the power equivalent of three tribes, though it wasn't powerful enough to fight all of its neighbours combined. However, its newest Chieftess, a young beauty queen by the name of Metzi who was making strides in finally uniting the rival tribes, a task not done for thousands of years.

That was who the Lich of the Screaming Tower had set his eyes on. He had cast aside a glance to his right hand agent and battle commander and given him a task.

"Go forth, and bend this Chieftess to our will," he had commanded, and so the Incubus had obeyed. Riding out with several undead riders to the forest at nightfall. Shortly after arriving at the forest, one of the Lich's many whisperers which were spread across the realm spun a tale about how the Chieftess was out hunting with some of her bodyguards and gave up where to find them. With his task at mind, the Incubus rode onwards until it neared a clearing where he sensed lifeforms of higher sentience nearby, and sure enough he was correct in his assumptions.

In the plain belong the Chieftess Metzi and her hunting party rested, most of them women with a few men scattered between them. They were armed with their bows and tribal stone weapons, a few spears amongst them too. They weren't even armoured, wearing the skin showing tribal garb of their people. Some of the women didn't even cover their breasts.

A few of the zombified riders beside the Incubus licked their lips, and waited for orders on how to proceed.

The incubus looked down at the small hunting party, his eyes glowing a faint red as he looked down to where the hunters lay. His red eyes glazed over bared breasts and their few primitive weapons with a smile. This would be simple even if they had known they were here.

Dagon looked to his riders, knights fallen into the service of his lord and armored head to toe in black like him They would tear through the small hunting party, whose stone weapons would shatter against their armor and fall under their rune blade weapons. There was no need to bother with any clever tricks, he could simply overwhelm them.

He would look over to his riders. "Kill the men and take the woman, leave as many as you can alive. They can have use as vassals for our master. However, if there alive i care not what you do to them." He would then turn back down to the group and draw his rune glaive, humming with deadly energy. "Charge." He would say almost in a whisper before he struck down the mountain, his steed tearing through the undergrowth with endless persistence as he had only one target and began immediately rushing Metzi while his riders came around him.

 

[Hamadryad]

The riders fell upon the grievously outmatched hunting party with speed and momentum, dark lances and polearms falling upon the barely armoured party of elves before them. The sounds of tearing flesh, the pounding of blunt weapons and the pained cries of dying elves filled the plain, birds scattered and deers ran for the hills. The fight was over just as it began, and no elves escaped the wrath of the supernatural riders. The men lay dead, and the women wounded or subdued. All that stood was Metzi, who skillfully dodged and evaded the blows of her attackers.

"Stand before me, agent of death! Fight me with honour!" she yelled as she ducked under another lance, issuing her challenge of single combat to the leader of the dark party. She was unarmoured, though especially fast, even for an elf, and in her hand she wielded a blade of tempered elven steel, likely some sort of tribal heirloom.

 

[Greenrust]

The riders fell upon the grievously outmatched hunting party with speed and momentum, dark lances and polearms falling upon the barely armoured party of elves before them. The sounds of tearing flesh, the pounding of blunt weapons and the pained cries of dying elves filled the plain, birds scattered and deers ran for the hills. The fight was over just as it began, and no elves escaped the wrath of the supernatural riders. The men lay dead, and the women wounded or subdued. All that stood was Metzi, who skillfully dodged and evaded the blows of her attackers.

"Stand before me, agent of death! Fight me with honour!" she yelled as she ducked under another lance, issuing her challenge of single combat to the leader of the dark party. She was unarmoured, though especially fast, even for an elf, and in her hand she wielded a blade of tempered elven steel, likely some sort of tribal heirloom.

Usually Dagon cared little for the honor of knights and barbarians and if he could help it most of the time he would rarely be pulled in a duel with equals when he could defeat them with tactics but this was his first time out in a while and he decided he would meet her. That did not mean he would dismount. "I will take your life!" He said as he charged her, his black steed barreling down on her with murder in its eyes.

However rather than trying to match blows with her he simply spurred his horse to run right over her, she might kill his horse but the suddenly move would likely send her falling to the ground and then he would end this with a few broken bones for her and end this battle. A cheap cost for the just the price of a horse and besides men of honor were always surprised when something didn't fit their code, he doubted woman of honor were much different.

 

[Hamadryad]

The chieftess readied her weapon as the Incubus spurred his horse onward, dark hooves kicking up dirt and thundering through the plain as the zombified riders began to dismount and secure the wounded. She met eyes with the dark figure as he charged forth, trying to anticipate his move. He would either run her down or divert at the last minute to take a swing with his weapon. It was a fifty-fifty chance, she knew it all too well, yet a decision she had to make. Either stand so she could get a swing in when he diverted or dodge to the side to avoid the horse yet risk being cleaned up by the glaive. The rider approached, and she made her decision.

She chose wrong, standing her ground as the horse came upon her, her eyes widening as it simply kept on riding forth. She swung her blade out, severing the horse's front right leg at the knee and bringing it crashing down to the ground, though not before it viciously charged her aside. The elf came crashing down on her side, a loud cracking sounding through the plain as she howled in pain, her blade cluttering to the dirt just out of her reach. Two of the Incubus' riders pounced upon her, grasping her arms and holding her tightly in their grasp. Another rider rushed over to the Incubus and helped him out from under his horse, his powerful physique and stronger armour had prevented his leg from splintering under the weight of the horse. What was left of the elven hunting party, five women and Metzi herself was completely at Dagon's mercy.

 

[Greenrust]

When the horse began to fall he leapt with supernatural speed from the steed, landing heavily on the ground but escaping most of the horse's weight as it fell and screamed out in pain, its pain mixing with her howl which was music to his ears. He let his guards restrain her even as he walked over to take her blade in hand, looking at the blade. He wondered if it was just normal elven make or there was something special about it. Walking over to his horse with her blade in hand he raised it and cut down, ending the horses screams with a fountain of blood from its throat from a deep cut, spilling thick red onto the floor to join that of fallen hunters and making him close his eyes and breath in the death around him, it made him feel empowered.

He then turned a casual glance over to Metzi, his blade dripping horse blood and it likely seemed as if he planned to end her life as well, red eyes staring coldly out of the helmet out at her as he approached blade in hand. He grabbed just under her chin and forced her to look at him and meet his red eyes as he grinned under his helmet. "It looks for such a renowned war leader you fell fairly quickly, Metiz of the Velethuil tribe." He taunted, his voice sinister.

 

[Hamadryad]

Metzi blew a few delicate blonde strands from her face, wettened by the sweat coating her pale and smooth skin. She was dirtied and bruised, especially where she'd landed on her ribs, a purple-blue mess of swollen skin emerging just under her left breast. The Chieftess occasionally writhed in her captor's hands, though often stopped herself with a pained hiss. She was truly a beautiful thing, with her doe-like eyes and sharp features and that beautiful wavy hair with cascaded down about her shoulders, adorned with all kinds of feathers and beads. Her tattoos too were beautiful, intricate and well detailed with old elven patterns. Even the one which covered her soft right breast, obscured by her tribal bra which tightly wrapped about her torso, covering just enough breast to conceal her nipples, three blue feathers dangled from it enticingly. The cloth about her waist was fastened by a loose blue ribbon, and the fighting had knocked it ajar so that it showed a portion of the chieftess' waist and the beginning of her rear's crack.

Metzi peered upward with those beautiful amber eyes, meeting them with her foe, "You are as dishonorable as old crones say, Dagon of Screaming Tower," she said in her soft, accented voice. It was obvious the common tongue was only her second language, as the Elven tribes typically only spoke a bastardised form of High Elven, aptly nicknamed Woodspeak by commoners and civilised elves alike.

"Yes, I know you," she continued, "The black armour and glaive. Crones tell stories of Dagon the Black who steal warriors souls and rise them again as dead men". The words she spoke were true for the most part, though the Elves had obviously thought Dagon to be the true dark power at the centre of the neighbouring screaming tower instead of the Lich that lived within it. Most of the Lich's undead warriors were tribal elves too, though their souls were warped far beyond remembering their old lives and their bodies morphed and malformed beyond recognition.

"Kill me now and be done, you only keep me from the Gods", she said in a strained tone, shifting slightly as though to stand up, but the powerful hands on her arms kept her down on her knees.

 

[Greenrust]

Dagon smirked, meeting her amber eyes with his own. He was almost flattered then she thought he was the true power behind the screaming tower though he didn't bother to correct her, instead going along with her nativity. The longer they saw him as the true threat the more unprepared they would be for his master. "I can raise them as dead woman too, perhaps i will do the same to you. I wonder how your tribe would feel to see you in dark armor riding down your own peoples women and children." He threatened, sinister threat evident in his voice. He seemed to take enjoyment of the idea to make her suffer in any way he could but even as he raised his hand as if about to kill her he reached down, grabbing her leather tribal bra and crushing the feathers as he yanked back and ripped it from her body with a loud tearing sound and forced her chest bear.

"But in truth you won't die, i don't plan for you to meet your gods for some time, i get other plans for you." He said, grinning under his helmet as he dark fate got revealed as he turned to his riders and spoke in harsh tones. "Take the hunters as well, rape them as much as you want, a leader shouldn't suffer alone" He said attacking her pride with her troops and bared breasts as he allowed them to get onto it.

 

[Hamadryad]

The riders gleefully went about their orders, stripping and tearing what little clothing the lady-elves wore and beginning to take their turns at forcing themselves unto them. Footsteps sounded to Dagon's side, and soon his second in command stood beside him. The creature's name was Stryg, and was a foul being. He was a ghoul, a corpse resurrected long ago, retaining the prior life's mind but only maintaining the state the body was in resurrected. Stryg was said to be some long dead Elven general, from back in the days when Elves ruled the world instead of hiding in their grand towers or forests. Though now he was something else, a capable tactical mind inside a decrepit body that barely carried the strength of a common man. He was no great fighter, but he made himself useful with his smarts.

"And the Chieftess, sir, what shall the riders have at her too, or do you reserve her for yourself?" Stryg asked in his croaky, rotted voice. Metzi maintained her look of contempt, an attempt to keep her pride even as her clothing was torn and thrown aside, her large breasts bare for all to see. The riders were thoroughly enjoying themselves already, thrusting deep and hard into their captives, often forcing their bodies into uncomfortable or painful positions to enable them to get at their ladyparts even more fiercely. After they had sewn their corrupted infertile seed, often on a bodypart of their choice, they would move aside for the next rider to have his turn. And on and on it went until Dagon gave any commands.

 

[Greenrust]

"This is my first conquest." He said with amusement looking at his seconds rotting body. "I believe i'll keep this one myself and breed her, to show the true meaning of our conquest." He said, hinting her in to her fate with a gleeful smile as he started to strip off his armor, his hands came up to his shoulder plate, snapping them off his shoulders as well as his heavy cloak as he reached for his helm and pulled it off his body to reveal his face. (http://data.whicdn.com/images/147991305/superthumb.jpg) "You can enjoy the others for now." He said as he charged her, pulling her to him, all but ripping out her hair as he pulled her to him.

He was stripping off more of his armor even as he pulled his armor off but kept most of it on. The cold armor seemed to cut at her skin as he pulled her to him and she could see after some struggle with his armor his cock popped out, already hard as he had regarded the destruction around him and a massive 11 inches long, pulsing with need and even power as he pulled her to it and tried to force himself into her mouth.

 

[Hamadryad]

Stryg nodded knowingly and went to stand at the edge of the clearing quietly, he never partook in the post fight pleasure. All around there was squealing, pained yelping and moaning as the riders endulged their throbbing cocks into their elven captives, roaring and laughing as they did so. The abuse was savage, one rider had an elf buried face first into the dirt as he slammed himself into her ass before tearing himself free from the gaping hole and splurting his thick corrupted seed down her back. Another had been to victim of two riders already, spunk seeping from her agape sex with some splattered over her large breasts, which bounced rhythmically to her third attackers thrusts.

But the finest prize was for Dagon, and she yelped as the Incubus pulled her over by the hair. Her heart began to thump as she looked upon the huge throbbing cock before her. Though she was still a maiden, as all chieftesses had to be of the virgin warrioress caste to be eligible, she had still seen the cocks of males, whether it be around camp or amongst her hunters. But none had ever been that big. She tried to struggle against the rod pressing against her cheek, but soon with a tightening of his fingers in her hair it was forced against her lips, slamming through as she gasped for air. His throbbing cock slid into her warm wet mouth.