This is the first part of an original serialized fantasy story featuring a considerable amount of sex and violence. Think of it like ThunderCats or He-Man, but with sex, bondage and rape.

As always, Shundarr was late. The rest of the Defenders waited in silence and darkness. The only light came from the glyphs over which they stood that marked their appropriated places around the edge of the vast pillar that rose from the abyss. The light was enough that they could see other such pillars, though these others rose beyond them, out of and back into the darkness. What they stood upon now was a broken column that had once, with its brothers, supported the stronghold that hung over them, now. In times of extreme peril, the columns would retract, lowering the entirety of Blackfang Abbey into the protective belly of the mountain from which it was hewn.

“Where is he!?” demanded Thyriol. He, like the others, had yet to remove his armor. The battle-worn windsuit flickered, causing portions of Thyriol to disappear and reappear sporadically.

No one answered.

Gyrdak leaned on the butt of his golden mace and ran a golden, gauntleted hand over his face and down the length of a white beard flecked with blue AntRoid blood.

Beside him, Kuri stared blankly at the center of the pillar. Of all of them, she was the only one who had discarded her armor prior to teleporting to the Council. She wore a stretch of black spyger-silk across her breasts that pressed them nearly flat against against her chest. Her stomach was bare, save for a hastily-applied healing stone bound to her side by a length of Blessed Linens. Her legs were concealed by a black spyger-silk skirt that reached the floor. The silk swallowed the glyph-light. That her raven hair reflected it was the only indication that it, too, was not made of spyger-silk.

On the other side of her, the metallic mass called Rak stood perfectly still. The dull orange light in his eyes pulsed regularly, like a heartbeat.

Beside Rak, Grumdag growled and shivered. A thin tendril of water reached out from Slryx’s aquapod and stroked the coarse mane that ran from the base of his skull to the base of his spine. Grumdag looked over at her, floating in the center of the bubble of water contained by the magic runes enscribed on the spyger-legged machine below her. Her calm, black eyes smiled at the worlog, soothing him. Her lithe, powerful body was human above her shapely waist. Her her back and shoulders were a sky-blue, and her face, breasts and stomach were a pale white. Webs of translucent flesh reached from her wrists to her hips. Below that, her legs appeared human still, save for the same translucent flesh that stretched between them, forming a wide, paddle-shaped fin. She spoke, and her voice escaped the Aquapod through a voxcaster set into the front of the walking-mechanism.