[b][u][center]A Study of Connections Part 19 For a-lycotonum By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] Break the bindings. Hazel stared at the binding chains that ran from the walls of light and darkness to the silhouette of gold and blue. He said that he was bound, that he had less freedom than Melchiresa. That…that had to be… The half-elf reached forward, desperate for that which she had been seeking since the end of the Arcanamirium incident. She wanted to be fully normal again, to have that part of her that maintained the hellhound curse taken from her. Only a god could do that, and if Erastil could not do that while bound, then…then the only choice… [i]He is bound…he is held…and Melchiresa…[/i] She could see that there were dark tendrils that surrounded the anchor points, tendrils that had to come from the Demon Lord. The power of the Primal Point swelled and faded again and again in those moments, filling her and then leaving her, suffusing her with the twin powers of evil and good, of law and chaos, and Hazel trembled as she tried to hold it, control it so that she could think while it was still there. No mortal could have held that power, not normally. No cleric could have held the full power of their god, and no follower of the demons could have channeled that full strength of a Demon Lord. Both powers would have been capable of obliterating someone on their own, let alone with the combination of the two. But something here, something about the Primal Point, allowed the powers to be channeled into one person, held there, waiting to be used for whatever they desired. It could have changed endless numbers of things, but Hazel could not justify using it just on herself. Her pussy, her body, was not something that was worth using that much power on. More, it would mean that there was a choice made, something that was selfish, and she knew, somehow, that the Demon Lord would feed on that, and Erastil would be weaker for it. [i]I have to…break…his…chains…[/i] If she freed her god from the endless dark, if she broke him from the altar and allowed him the freedom to ascend, then the power of the church would be restored. The endless problems would fade. They would have a god that could even grow to be a major deity rather than a minor one. She could free him, and that goodness, the real goodness of his power, could spread through the world. He would heal her. He would fix her, and chastise Aster, and things would be better again. With that power flowing through her, she started to reach for the chains. Vakrozad, in his efforts to keep her from getting lost, held her close, his arms around her middle, his hands wrapped up against her chest and almost squeezing her breasts. She would have been embarrassed were it not for the concern that he obviously had for her. [i]Must…free…him…[/i] Melchiresa’s darkness spread further, and it almost seemed like the Demon Lord was trying to hold tighter to the chains at the end of the room, trying to keep them bound. If there was something that the Demon Lord wanted, then that was reason enough for Hazel to want to get rid of it. She reached for the chains, and with power that was both divine and demonic, holy and unholy, and bolstered by the power of the ancient times, she pulled. The anchors of the chains resisted for a moment, dragged at the wall, pulled at the spell-forms that danced around them. The forms of wolves and stags stopped, turning to stare, and the spells started to break down, the runes going back to their constituent forms. They lost their magical state, becoming writing on the wall once more. She pulled, and pulled, with her mind and with her hands. She didn’t touch anything, but she nonetheless bunched up her muscles, feeling as if she was dragging something free. Then, one chain cracked. Then another, and another, until the whole lot of them came free, snapping and disintegrating as soon as they lost their binding. The darkness in the room faded as if banished, and the holy light spread through the chamber. She gasped as she was lifted up, her eyes going wide as the feeling of that holy fire burning through her grew stronger than ever. The half-elf begged for it to cleanse her, to fix her, to do what it was supposed to do to a follower of Erastil. She waited for the pain to fade, for the fire to burn less, but it never came. “[b]You…have freed me…[/b]” And there it was. Erastil’s voice. He was really there, truly present for the first time in any of her prayer sessions. She panted as she felt the light around her form into something else, more like a hand, a burning hand that felt like it seared and healed her at the same time. She grimaced, trying to nod. “I…I have…” “[b]You shouldn’t have done that.[/b]” The echo of his voice brought with it the first crack in her certainty. Her eyes fluttered as his light faded for a moment, coalescing down to a more normal shape. She was lowered to the ground, and the silhouette of a man with antlers started to change. Not out of pain, but more as if he was growing. He felt the same height as her and yet as immense as the universe at the same time, and she struggled to comprehend the double image that made her feel equal and yet as unimportant as an ant at the same time. “[b]I bound myself. And now…you have freed me.[/b]” “I…we need you…” “[b]You need me?[/b]” Erastil’s silhouette shook his head. “[b]No. You do not know what you’ve done.[/b]” “Why…We need your…goodness…” “[b]Do you believe that there is such a thing as good and evil among the divine?[/b]” “There…there must be…” “[b]There is power, and there are beliefs. The line of good and evil, the two sides, are drawn by mortals. Only you can believe in such things. And only one still tied, still bound, still chained to this world can act with that in mind.[/b]” “But we worship you,” she whispered, shaking her head in shock, disappointment…and fear. “We know you. You stand for the home…for kindness…for family…” “[b]You believe that I do. You believe that I stand for the things that you read in my old writings…you believe that I stand for them the way that you have read them.[/b]” “But…how else…” The antlered silhouette looked back. The darkness of Melchiresa was gone, and the body that had laid upon the altar was fading. Hazel realized that it must have been the body that Erastil had had when he was a mortal, when he had come here the first time and had become a god. It must have been… It must have been that which allowed him to maintain. She desperately reached out, but without the power of the Primal Point filling her any longer, she had nothing that she could do. She could not touch the body as it burned in the holy power of the great and mighty god. Erastil had been unbound, and he… [i]He doesn’t grant me his power anymore,[/i] she realized, looking down at her hands, empty, powerless. “Why? I have…I served you!” Hazel shouted, her throat hurting. “I did everything for you.” “[b]You have corrupted my lodges, and you brought the power of Melchiresa into my church. I feel her taint upon you. You are no longer welcome within my herd.[/b]” There was no spell, no sudden gesture, but the words along felt like hooks sinking through her flesh. Something inside of her was seized and held, and without warning, it was pulled. She screamed at the top of her lungs as it was yanked out of her, pulled through her skin. It felt like she had lost part of her soul, part of herself as it was dragged from her, and the feeling of being turned inside-out remained as she sagged backwards. Someone held her. Vakrozad? Yes, the hobgoblin was still there. She looked up, saw the pain on his face, and knew that he had been enduring the fires of her god for as long as she had. Was he in as much pain as her? If he was, he was doing a good job of hiding it. “[b]I cannot allow you to leave here. The chaos of the Demon Lord will not be allowed to spread further upon the lands. There will be punishments made, and discipline returned. The safety of the herd is all.[/b]” The great hand of the god reached for her, but just as it was about to touch them, Vakrozad reached up his own. Black and white, red and blue formed around his fingers, and Erastil’s hand did not reach them. It stayed on the other side, held at bay by something that Hazel didn’t understand or expect. “You think that she’s the only one that got a wish?” Vakrozad grunted. “Two people came here…I get something, too.” “Vakrozad…Nnngh…” She couldn’t bring herself to speak. She didn’t know what she would have said if she could. Ask him to bind the god? Was that possible any longer? Reverse time? Take something else from the Point, and hope that it was enough to stall what had begun? She didn’t know, and the moment passed. Vakrozad clenched his fist, and they disappeared. # The half-elf hellhound was unconscious in his arms when they reappeared, and no surprise. She had gone through shock after shock, pain after pain. Pain, however, was something that he was used to, and the lycanthropy that ran through his veins was sufficient to keep him from collapsing when he suffered from it. He did, however, almost collapse as he was surrounded by his tribe. “Get Mol…and Tristan…” His words were carried through the other hobgoblins and the villagers that had fled with them. He groaned as the burned feeling in his skin and shoulders started to ease now that they were finally away from the scouring power, but he knew that they couldn’t stay still for long. Even if Mol was able to summon old Melchi for their aid, he knew that this wasn’t going to go well for any of them. A Demon Lord was powerful, but this god was no longer bound, and they had been relatively even before. Now… Mol approached, the aged seer looking down at him as Tristan followed at her side. The human went wide-eyed. “What happened?” the former high priest asked. “Your damn god happened.” “Oh, no…she freed him?” He nodded, and Tristan spun around, hands on his head as he started muttering to himself. Mol, however, had already knelt down, weaving her hands together in the familiar incantations for healing. Vakrozad lowered his voice. “What are we going to do, Mol?” “Asking the seer for once instead of making the decision on your own?” “I need some advice here.” “Well, I think we keep running.” “There’s not a lot of running we can do.” “Hey, we get to the edge of the forest, find a coastline. Pretty sure we can build some boats and keep moving.” “You think that he’s going to keep chasing us?” “After he gets his house in order? I think that he’s going to have to.” That was the same thing that he had decided. A god of ‘good’ that had finally been released from shackles that had kept him limited would be doing a lot of house-cleaning, first, getting rid of those that believed in any way different to him. There might be some kindness in that, might not, but he imagined that the church of Erastil was about to get a lot stricter, and that wasn’t going to bode well for the rest of them. When that was done, the dangers to the ‘herd’ were going to be ended. There were probably going to be a lot more paladins wearing the god’s antlers before long, armed and trained to get rid of the monsters. Aster’s way of life, even if it wasn’t led by her, would become the main way of handling those that didn’t worship the god of the forest and the hearth. As the burn marks on Hazel’s face and fur started fading, Vakrozad got to his feet. Using the wish to get them out of there had been an instinctive thing, but he already wondered if he’d wasted it. There were things that he could have done with that power, things that might have made his tribe that much stronger, more able to face what was coming. Or maybe that would have been a waste, and getting out alive with a warning was the best thing that he could have done. It didn’t matter. With everything that had happened, there was no going back, and no point in blaming himself for not doing something perfect. He was alive, Hazel was alive, and they needed to stay that way. “Mol?” “Yes, Vakky?” “We’re going to keep running. To the coast, I think. Your boat idea’s a good one.” “Just need to figure out where we’re going next.” “I think that we can trust that decision to old Melchi.” “Heh. I think that you’re right about that.” Before either of them could indulge in a smile for long, the ground shook. The earth rattled and rolled beneath them, and in the distance, a great pillar of light appeared. It soared from the earth to the heavens, flaring with brilliance such that any that looked at it directly were immediately blinded. Those that looked off to the side later would swear that it looked brighter than any daylight, and hotter than the sun itself, like the greatest of bonfires pulled into one tight line. Without thinking about it, he knew what it meant. Erastil was free from the Primal Point, and now, the god walked the earth. “He’s going to meet with your replacement, Tristan,” Vakrozad said. “Think that he’s going to like her?” “I…don’t know,” the human admitted. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” “I mean, I don’t know. Aster’s…conservative, but that depends on whether the conservative reading of the text is right. If it’s not, then he’s going to hate her as much as he might have hated me for being more progressive and interpretive with it.” “There any chance that he’ll punish her?” “It depends.” “On what?” “On how she greets him.” Vakrozad shook his head. He didn’t like the what-if. He didn’t like the possibility of someone getting more power rather than paying for their actions, but at the same time, he knew that there was little chance of getting a straight answer out of the old high priest. He was being unfair. He knew that, and he knew that he needed to calm down before he completely lost his temper. But considering that they had just unleashed a god, gotten nothing for it, and now, they were dealing with something that much worse than they already were? He felt that he was allowed a panic. # Aster Oakhoof, High Priestess of the Temple of Erastil, had been knocked off her hooves by the explosive burst of light to come from the cave. Carcasses of dead hounds were blasted to her left and right, the light slaughtering the hellish beasts before they could do more. Paladins that had been bitten and infected disappeared in the same light, consumed by the holy fires, and she did the only thing that she could think to do. She bowed, and she pressed her face against the earth. The light faded, diminishing to a dull glow. She did not raise her head, not until a hoof pressed against her forehead. “[b]You brought the forces of my church to this place. Why?[/b]” “I brought them to safeguard that which was being broken. I brought them to seal that which was being corrupted.” “[b]You mistake me. Why, woman, did they follow you?[/b]” “I am your high priestess.” “[b]Impossible.[/b]” Aster slowly lifted her head with the pressure of the hoof on her forehead, feeling it dragged up and back. The sight of her god, the great power that she had sought to serve for her entire life, gleamed in her eyes, and she felt blessed. Blessed, and afraid, for he did not have the face of one that was given to gentleness, and his voice had been displeased as he spoke to her. “I am your high priest, oh great Erastil.” “[b]I would not allow a high priestess.[/b]” “I have been formally given the role.” “[b]By mortals. Not by me.[/b]” “But…but it is written –” “[b]At what place in my writings does it say that I have allowed a female to take charge of my herd? Where have I said, even once, that a female may take charge?[/b]” She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Even as she ran through the entirety of the holy texts in the back of her mind, desperate for something to back up what she had done, she couldn’t find anything. The most that she could have said was that there was no specific gender mentioned when the leader of the church was referred to, and that was not necessarily proof that there was permission for a female to take charge. “[b]I smell corruption’s scent upon you, female.[/b]” “It was not my doing.” “[b]It was the hellhound, yes?[/b]” “You’ve met her?” “[b]She has fled with the aid of her lover.[/b]” “Lover? The hobgoblin?” Aster shook her head. “He has been a bane to the church since he appeared.” “[b]And so he continues to be. This corruption…has not been sought out by you?[/b]” “Not at all.” “[b]Not once?[/b]” “What corruption has passed to me has happened as a result of my attempts to purge a member of the church. All that I have done, I have done to try and maintain the purity of the church itself.” “[b]…[/b]” “I swear this, oh Erastil.” “[b]I hear no lie in your words, nor scent it upon you. But you are not fit as you are to be the leader of my church.[/b]” Aster nodded slowly. She had seized power as a means of holding the church on the right course, but if that was something that their own god could not accept, then she would step down. Power or not, she knew that there was someone that could run things properly, even if she was not the one that was doing it. She started to lower her head, but the hoof on her forehead kept her from doing that. “[b]At least, not as you are now.[/b]” “My lord?” “[b]Your appearance…stirs something. I remember a priestess, an elf woman that had sought the goodness in her own people, that worked to cultivate it, maintain it, and defend her people from outsiders. I blessed her with legs like mine.[/b]” “…I am her, oh Erastil.” “[b]Aster. Aster of the Oaken Hooves.[/b]” There was a blast of happiness through her at the acknowledgment. It was one thing to be known by one’s god, but it was another to be known and bring happiness to one’s deity in the same way. She smiled. “[b]I blessed you for good service. I will see you continue to serve…but not as you are. Aster of the Oaken Hooves, leave doe-hood behind, and become a stag.[/b]” Aster lowered her head once more, groaning under her breath as she was allowed. Her hips tingled, and so did the places that had been touched by the hellhound corruption down south. She could feel the tingling around her pucker taking away the corruption that had been done to her, but further south, closer to her sex, things of a far different nature had begun. She gasped for breath as she felt something throbbing down there, something pushing forward, grinding against her and then sliding out. “Ah…ah…” “[b]The role of a leader is to protect, to stand, to guide, and to breed when the time comes. You will not be one that is bred any longer, but one that will do the breeding. You were close to perfect, but that part…was not useful.[/b]” She could feel her sex slowly closing, and she knew that it would not come back. Her god had chosen her to be better, to be the leader that the church needed, and for that, she would need to be male. She did not know how it would be for her to take on that role, but she was ready to do all that was needed, anything that was required of her, for the sake of the god and his purity in the mortal world. As she hunched her hips, she could feel the word ‘she’ slowly fading from her mind. She allowed it to go, surrendering to the new identity that the great herd master offered. She was He. He was Him. And between his legs, his new manhood emerged. Sheathed for the moment, he knew that it would soon rise in glory, a testament to the greatness of his god, and to mark him for what he was. Aster was helped to his feet, groaning under his breath as it happened, and he groaned more as he felt his clothes changing. The touch of his god changed everything, and through his veins, he could feel the power of the great deity slowly bringing about what they needed. “[b]How many others still stand in the church that understand my words?[/b]” Erastil asked. “I…” Aster coughed, surprised by his deeper voice. “I believe most do. However, a fraction may believe that you are too much.” “[b]Then they will have a chance to learn, if they are untouched. And if they will not, then the herd must be protected.[/b]” That was an assurance that he hadn’t known that he needed. The very fact that the god would see to it that the herd was protected, that the church would remain pure and safe, was something that he had long argued. Now he was there, and Erastil could confirm that his interpretation of the texts was the correct one. [i]The church will be better, and so will we.[/i] # Mol grumbled as the tribe settled for the night. They’d managed another couple of miles from the church, and despite Vakrozad’s panic, she felt that they would be safe for a little while, at least. Melchiresa would look after her own, despite the difficulties that they had with the Demon Lord from time to time. There was something to be said for being on the right side of someone that was that powerful, even if it pissed off the gods a little bit. The hobgoblin seer groaned as she leaned her aged bones against the tree behind her, shaking her head as she looked up at the night sky. There was still some of that glow from earlier in the stars, and it hurt her eyes. She covered them, shaking her head a few times. “Melchi, you really got us in the shit this time.” “Oh, I don’t know about that…” Mol rolled her eyes, cocking her head to the side as a wolf marked in red and black padded out of the forest. The canine flopped down, folding its forepaws over each other as it looked up at her. The Demon Lord’s voice came from that muzzle again. “After all, now we have something to play with.” “Uh-huh. We have a god that’s obsessed with the purity of his own herd, and he’s chasing us with all kinds of nasty people. So, Melchi, how’s that give us something to play with?” “It means that we have someone that’s almost evil himself.” “He’s gonna claim that he’s hunting monsters.” “And that will work…among his church. But look at what we’ve done. Almost nothing. And we’re much, much further from him and closer to other settlements than he is. All we have to do is stay ahead…” “And we can shape the story,” Mol said. “That’s right. You always were a smart one.” “What about the girl?” the old seer asked, tossing her head towards the center of camp. “Not like she’s going to be happy about this.” “That’s the best part of all. I’ve been looking for a way to drag her into my service, just like that boy that she was so obsessed over. He’s had his disaster, and now, she’s had hers.” The wolf smiled, showing all of its teeth. “Once someone gets desperate enough, they will make any kind of deal to get what they want. And right now, she’s powerless, bereft of her comforts, and she’s lost all that she relied on to keep herself feeling right with the world. She will lean on Vakrozad for a while, but the bitch is a cleric. She needs something greater than herself to lean on, someone that will tell her what to do, how to live.” “Someone like you?” “Yes, indeed.” The wolf looked positively self-satisfied, to the point where it almost looked cat-like. Mol snorted, shaking her head. “Well, long as you get what you want. But what about what we want? Hell, what about what I want?” “Hmm, what you want? You mean that priest, I assume.” “Well, he had a nice ass before.” “And you want it again.” The hobgoblin chuckled, her flattened nose flexing slightly as she rubbed her crotch through her clothes. Just remembering Tristan when he was still a rent boy, a camp follower, was enough to get her blood pumping. The idea of having him under her again was more than sufficient to get her old dick rising once more. “Can you blame me? I haven’t gotten a lot of action in my age.” “Well, Mol, so long as you serve me, you will get your rewards.” “Yes, but when?” “Would ‘now’ be soon enough for one?” “What –” Wolf howls went up on the other side of camp, and Mol whipped her head around. Right there, across the fire, she saw Tristan running naked through the camp, pursued by red-eyed wolves. He was not quite so lean as he had been in his youth, but he still had a fine ass on him, one that was more than firm and fine enough to get her cock rising between her legs. The seer licked her lips. “Heh…still as good as I remember.” “Well, if you want it, I would save him.” “Huh?” “Rescue him, sweep him off his feet? Is any of this ringing a bell, Mol, or should I start looking at replacing you?” “…Try it, Melchi.” “I just might.” Mol severely doubted that. For all that they had their banter, she knew that she was the best damn seer that the tribe was ever going to have. The fact that she and Melchiresa were on speaking terms like this was something that no other seer could ever claim, and she doubted that they would ever get to that point. She shrugged, walking away from the tree, gathering her power. Behind her, she heard the whimper of the wolf falling. If it was strong, then it would merely be unconscious. If not, then the departure of the Demon Lord’s spirit would have killed the beast. Few could maintain an unsummoned power like that for long. # Hazel woke with the sun shining on her cheek. She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but it must have been some time if the sun was up and bright enough to wake her. That meant that she’d slept through the night, and that meant – She sat up quickly, the blanket falling off her furred breasts. She hadn’t lost the corruption, and that meant that what she’d hoped had been just a dream was all too real. The half-elf hellhound reached her hands to her face, covering her eyes as she cried. [i]It’s all my fault…all my fault…[/i] Ever since getting caught and transformed at the Arcanamirium, things had gotten worse and worse. She had never been completely healed, never been given her proper body back. Her attempts to help Tristan make a better life for the people of the church and the hobgoblins had gone horribly off the rails, with the hobgoblins being pursued as monsters, Tristan de-throned as high priest, and half the village uprooted to keep their own freedom. And now, she had freed a god that believed almost nothing of the things that she had preached in her time under him, and would see her and others dead for what they were. [i]It wasn’t supposed to go this way. It wasn’t. I just wanted to be good…to help…[/i] She clenched her hands into fists. She’d even lost her healing touch, her magic, her god-given power. It was gone, stolen from her, taken as punishment. What sort of use was she now? What kind of help could she be, now that they were on the run and she was little more than a monster? What else was she wrong about? Rubbing her eyes, she slowly looked up. The hobgoblins were breaking camp, and she was settled into a tent at the far edge of it, wrapped in blankets by a fire. Vakrozad was commanding the slow packing, and she knew that he was going to be busy. She’d be useless helping with that, so she just pulled her blankets back up, shaking her head. [i]I failed. I failed.[/i] “Yes, you did…but it doesn’t have to be the end.” She looked up at the familiar voice, seeing the crimson eyes of the Demon Lord peering at her out of the fire. Hazel groaned, but after her many mistakes, she didn’t have the courage to tell Melchiresa to get lost. If she’d been wrong about her god, what right did she have to say that there was anything good, evil, right, or wrong in the world? What else had she been wrong about? What else had she misjudged? The power of the Demon Lord filled the fire, and a mouth slowly appeared in the flames. It spoke softly, almost as a whisper. “He always was rigid, and now he’s worse. But…that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others that are more flexible.” “You had me raped.” “But I didn’t try to kill you.” “…” “You are powerless now, you know. But that, too, doesn’t need to be the case.” The fire almost seemed to smirk. “You need something. Perhaps I can be that something…at least for a while.” Hazel did not want to admit how tempting that offer was, but she listened. Against all better judgment, she listened as the fire went on… [b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b] Summary: The epilogue of this chunk of the series, finally. Looks like they reached the primal point, and now…well, it’s time to make a choice. Tags: No sex, nudity, fondling, hobgoblin, human, wolf, hellhound, lycanthropy, god, stag, transformation, cock growth, gender shifting, fanatic, magic, series,