VIII.
In the dark belly of the Villa Potentia, Julia Cornelia Scipio, the light-blue coated, black-maned Vampire Fruit Bat, was preparing her vile magic to summon forth more of the hellish demonspawn for Countess Claret’s needs, as Claret and Poppaea observed from the foot of the dais in the large main body of the Villa’s cellar.
Julia approached the Dark Altar, surveying it with her colorless eyes like chips of grey Winter ice, a perverse smile tugging at the corners of her full lips. A flat stone table, the altar had a vast stone beast, horned and hooved and covered in the shaggy, matted fur typical to the demonic creatures, crushing a pony beneath its paws; the beast’s jaws were open and showed long teeth, the pony’s face twisted in a silent, endless scream of utter panic; the expression of one who is in the grips of mortal agony.
Before this awful tableaux, Julia Cornelia Scipio looks like some sort of dark, evil goddess, with her batlike wings spread wide behind her, her pointed Fruit bat ears aloft like two horns. Her ethereal, deathly beautiful face and muzzle were pale, pointed, angular in shape, with a small, slender nose, plump, enticing lips covered in midnight-black, wet-look gloss lipstick, fearsome black eyeliner surrounding her icy grey eyes, smoothly curving, high, noble-looking cheekbones, and a slim, elegant jawline.
Upon her magnificent head rests a silver crown with long, pitiless spikes like the nails of a coffin, spread out in threatening rays; her long, sleek black hair pouring down her shoulders, flowing about her slender neck and down the supple curves of her icy blue back, stopping just short of her hips.
Her body is a study in lithe, juicy flesh, her arms thin, elegant, and completely bare, with small humps of muscle under her smooth blue coat, her hands slim with long fingers and sharp, lacquered nails like purple talons.
Her breasts are absolutely gigantic blue spheres, perfectly round, buoyant, heavy globes of soft, pliable blue flesh, thrusting out proudly from her slender chest; her tight black latex bikini top barely seems capable of containing her enormous blue melons, the mountainous blue orbs squeezed firmly together and lifted by the woefully stretched latex top.
Her stomach is bare and smooth and flat, baring the faintest hints of taut abdominal muscle beneath her blue coat; lower, her slender waist expands into wide, luscious hips, with thick, pillowy thighs. She has an arrestingly large, juicy rump with round, juicy half-moons of soft, yielding, quivering light-blue flesh, her long, smooth black tail hoisted enticingly above, her snug, tight-fitting black thong clinging to her flesh.
Merciless sleek, black shoes with steely, six-inch-high heels adorn her hooves.
Julia lifts her elegant arms, pressing the backs of her wrists together, her fingers extended like rays of power, her elbows slightly bent, and she spreads her thighs, her hooves well apart.
The air around her begins to hum and sizzle with power; Claret felt the hair on the back of her neck rising, her skin prickling slightly. She could practically taste the power in the room, a tangy, sharp, metallic flavor and scent like that of the smell of an approaching thunderstorm, the bitterness of ozone that heralds the lightning. Poppaea gripped her arm with one hand, her fingers digging into Claret’s upper arm slightly.
She swallowed, her throat feeling tight, her long ears pinning back against her skull, and held Poppaea’s soft, nubile, warm body against her own.
Sparks of red light, like flying embers, whirled and spun around Julia’s slender belly, her heavy breasts, her broad thighs, congealing with each other, forming bright red bands; tens of them appeared, then hundreds of them, till it seemed as if Julia was surrounded by flames licking at her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, and then opened them; her eyes were bathed with red light. She tossed her head, a fierce snarl upon her face, her juicy lips drawn back from her long, sharp white teeth.
“I call spirits from the vasty deep!” Julia shouted.
A point of red light blinked into existence atop the Dark Altar; bolts of red lightning crackled, spitted, and sizzled around it as it grew, revealing a black, bottomless, yawning void within its center, approximately a hand’s span in size.
Julia trembled and sweated, beads of perspiration rolling down her icy blue skin, tracing clear fingers down the swells of her hips and thighs, her taut, slender belly, her shoulders, her neck; the muscles stood out under her skin as though she were physically exerting an effort to lift something up. Her thighs shook, and she furrowed her brows intensely, straining visibly.
Claret and Poppaea watched as two heavily furred paws thrust their way through the dark portal, gripping at its edges, fumbling for purchase; two more pushed through, and then another pair - then, abruptly, the portal was yanked wide open.
Demonic beasts, snorting, panting, stare-eyed monsters like the Hellhound and its pack, half-pony, half horned canines with snapping, drooling, wet jaws, powerful, heavily muscled limbs, and lashing, bladed tails began pouring into the room through the portal. Claret and Poppaea were surrounded by them in a trice, walled in by huge, powerful bodies with matted dark fur. The hot breath of the creatures, their wet saliva, and the scent of male musk oppressed their senses.
Julia paid all this no heed. She allowed her hands to fall to her sides, breathing hard, her plump blue breasts rising and falling as she sucked in air, her brow streaming with sweat, her black hair plastered to her body. Her makeup had run slightly, giving her a maniacal, crazed look, with fingers of black marking her cheeks.
The portal blinked out of existence as rapidly as it had appeared, and the red beams of light faded from Julia’s eyes.
“Lie down,” Julia shouted at the largest and most powerful of the hellish beasts; it did so almost immediately, cringing at her sleek black shoes.
And, just like that, the other beasts halted their frenzied bounding about the cellar, instead sitting down obediently and gazing steadily at Julia for further instruction.
Julia lifted her arms, describing a vague “S-shape” with them, and shouted, in ringing tones, “Zanny! Zanny! Zanny! I demand your presence! You are to come forthwith!”
Claret heard a low, soundless hum; it hit her more in her belly than her ears, and was ‘felt’ more than heard, like very distant thunder.
A door between worlds faded into view at the top of the Dark Altar, approximately the same height and width of a normal door, but unlike a normal door, it had no frame and was impossibly thin if viewed from the side. It was like an empty slash cut into the very reality of the cellar room; it made Claret slightly dizzy to look through it, the same sort of vertigo one experiences on gazing off an exceptionally high precipice.
Then, like a television channel suddenly blinking on, Claret, Julia, and Poppaea found themselves looking at a cityscape in a tormented, scorched, volcanic land, with rivers of glowing red lava, jet-black rocky ground littered with grey pumice stones, craggy outcroppings of rock jutting upwards from the ground at odd angles, and no vegetation in sight.
The city’s buildings were shining black metal towers thrusting into the sky with pointed spires and glass walls. Its streets teemed with the furry, hulking beasts currently occupying the cellar, and blue-coated, black-horned beings with the bodies of young mares. Their eyes, however, were an odd black color with yellow irises, flecked with silver.
Julia stepped back from the door, as though afraid she might be pulled in, and crossed her arms under her heavy breasts. “Well, there it is; feast your eyes, my friends. Therein lies the city of GEHIRN in the Sixth Circle.”
“There’s always something new to appreciate every time we see it,” Poppaea remarked. The red-maned Vampire Fruit Bat mare climbed up onto the dais to get a closer look at the door, rolling her wide hips as she did so. “Looks like they finally finished that building in the western district. Busy little devils, aren’t they?”
“Very funny, Poppy,” Julia allowed, with a sartorial grin.
“Still, I’d hate to live there. It’s got kind of a hellish atmosphere,” Poppae continued, tossing her head.
“Oh, what a shame. Does that mean you won’t be stopping by for tea anytime soon? You wound me, Poppaea. And after all the things we’ve done for you! How could you possibly be so ungrateful? Besides, you don’t know what it’ll be like. We may just well have a splendid time!”
Julia, Claret, and Poppaea all glanced up sharply at this new voice; a thin, musical, piping sound.
One of the blue-skinned, black-horned, faintly equine demonesses was sitting on the edge of the doorway, swinging her legs and watching the three Vampire Fruit Bats with a detached grin on her face, her long, whiplike black tail undulating like a serpent. She was slender, with wide hips, plump thighs, round, heavy breasts, and large, plush buttocks. She was wearing a tight black-and-white jacket with a tall, unbuttoned collar, plus a most curiously-shaped pair of skin-tight trousers that left little to the imagination, clinging to the curves of her thighs, her buttocks, and her calves on one leg; the other leg was bare, as her pants were asymmetrical and only covered one leg. On her hooves were black leather boots with tall heels.
The demoness was calmly smoking a long, thin pipe with a small silver bowl.
“I didn’t see you come in, Zanny,” Julia said, accusingly.
Zanny ignored this entirely, spreading her hands disarmingly. “I was here the entire time, listening to you lot wittering away like idiots. I’ve always been here. I will continue to be here long after you two are dead. Are you having lots of fun with your nice new puppies?” She inclined her head at the hulking, furry demonic beasts still huddling at the sides of the Vampire Fruit Bats.
Claret nodded. “Of course we are. There’s a dangerous foe on the horizon, however, and we may need your help in the matter. Can you spare a moment to lend us your aid? That is, if you aren’t enjoying yourself with all the jokes, Jamborees, and other jollity going on over there too much to spend some time topside.”
“Oh, yes, we have a lot of fun over here,” Zanny said, leaping off the ‘frame’ of the door and landing lightly on her hooves upon the dais. She began to approach the three Vampire Fruit Bats, balancing her thin, wooden-handled, long metal pipe between her fingers. “Everyone’s got jobs, immigration is still up, business is booming, the economy is strong, and quality of life hasn’t been higher. The Demon Princess has been merrier than ever recently; I was just on my way over to one of her Jamborees at the palace when you lot came long, actually. I don’t suppose I could tempt you with an invitation, perhaps?” Zanny said, cocking her head to one side teasingly.
“Another time. We’re very busy right now, actually, Zanny,” Julia said, importantly, although one could sense that she was deeply uncomfortable in the presence of this lush, blue-skinned, black-horned demoness; she was steadily avoiding Zanny’s strange black-and-gold eyes.
Zanny dismissed this with a wave of one of her slender hands, a mocking smile upon her lips. She stared at Julia steadily, narrowing her eyes.
“You know, that’s the problem with you topsiders, Julia. You don’t know how to relax and take things at as they come; you’re always panicking about one thing or another and worrying about totally unimportant things. Whereas, we Southerners understand the virtue of waiting. We have all the time in the world, and I could not be more serious about that if I tried.”
Zanny insinuated herself in between the three vampires in a very annoyingly familiar way, glancing this way and that at their faces, coiling and flexing her long, smooth black spade-tipped tail this way and that, sliding it between Poppaea’s thighs; Poppaea gasped and colored visibly, squeezing her plush peach-colored thighs together, but this only trapped Zanny’s thick, muscular tail more tightly between her legs.
“So what are you three little mischief-makers up to now, hmm? Someone sent the Hellhound back to us rather abruptly. Some mare thrust some steel through his gut. He was indisposed for a while,” Zanny said.
Claret pursed her lips, irritably. “Yes, exactly! And my girls are busy, so I can’t send them after the person responsible for it. I had considered it, but we must ensure that we fulfill our duties, and I’m a little short-handed right now. So I was wondering, dear Zanny, if we could enlist your help with ensnaring a particularly troublesome mortal for us. That’s what you Demonesses do so well, isn’t it? Snatching mortals away?”
Zanny stretched, raising her arms over her head. “Actually, we need only to suggest; mortals are good enough at making mistakes and finding themselves at our gates all on their own. It’s really very funny how your little topside morality plays show us trying to get mortals to do things. Why spend time topside when we’re having so much fun down here?”
“You won’t do it, then?” Claret said.
“I didn’t say that,” Zanny said, quirking her plump blue lips at Claret, her golden-black eyes glittering, and she withdrew her long, whip-like tail from between Poppaea’s thighs, thrusting it around Claret’s wrist; Claret gasped as Zanny’s tail wrapped firmly around her wrist-bones and squeezed. “Ah! You’re…you’re hurting me,” Claret groaned, her cheeks coloring.
“Oh. Beg your pardon, Little Miss Countess,” Zanny said, grinning widely, not seeming remotely sorry for what she’d done.
Despite her lush, curvy frame, Zanny seemed quite strong and sturdily built. Her hair was long, straight, a violent Ultramarine blue color, falling in one long curtain down her back, long, straight tresses framing her narrow, elfin face and muzzle, long, black, twisted horns thrusting up from the top of her head, with cruelly sharp tips. Her ears were similarly long and elf-like, but shaped like thick-bladed daggers, with small points at the ends. She has an unusually youthful, soft face, with wide, innocent-looking eyes, plump blue cheeks, a thin, pointed chin, soft blue lips, a small, delicate nose, and severe black eyebrows above fluffy black eyelashes like feathers; she could not possibly be more than seventeen or eighteen years old, yet her self-assured, confident attitude suggested that she was much older than she appeared; the word ‘eternity’ made itself felt with this odd juxtaposition of youthfulness and great, deliberate, infuriatingly self-absorbed age.
Tiny pearl earrings adorned her earlobes.
She wore a short jacket colored in four large check patterns of black and white, open-chested, exposing the shallow curves of her collarbones, her slender, ladylike neck (which bore a black leather choker collar, and the vast blue swells of her enormous breasts, barely contained by a tight white bustier that lifted and squeezed the massive blue orbs together. She was wearing a string of pearls around her neck; the pearl necklace filled the valley of her cleavage between her huge blue breasts.
Her toned, flat blue belly was bare, showing her slender waist and the ridges of her abdominal muscles. Zanny’s hips are wide and lush, curving outwards into her thick, muscular blue thighs, and the swells of her juicy rump-cheeks; to accentuate the plump curves of her buttocks, she’s wearing skin-tight Spandex pants; cut off almost at the crotch at her left leg, leaving her sumptuous, enticing blue thigh and calf bare. Her boots are tough, solid-looking black leather affairs with thick soles and tall heels, clearly meant to withstand a great deal of wear.
Zanny thrust an arm around Claret’s shoulders, snuggling the Vampire Fruit Bat to her side in a intimidatingly friendly manner; Claret could not wiggle away or extricate Zanny’s arm from her side. Zanny brought her face nearly to Claret’s cheek, her warm breath misting on Claret’s skin. Claret could smell lily-of-the-valley perfume, burnt ash, the sooty scent of a furnace, a hot, bright tang like metal in a forge, and female flesh. She shuddered, her skin growing warm in spite of herself, feeling Zanny’s lush body against her own, the demoness’s flesh warm and pliable to the touch.
Zanny cupped a handful of Claret’s ripe body, her fingers sinking into Claret’s flesh as she squeezed maliciously, making Claret groan and roll her hips. “I accept your proposal. Describe the nature of your contract, Vampiress,” she said, in her light, fluting tones, her golden irises shimmering as she examined Claret’s blushing face.
“The…the one to be taken is a swordsmare of Canterlot City,” Claret gasped.
Zanny made a slightly disgusted face, tilting her head back and furrowing her sleek black eyebrows. “You want me to slum it, eh? Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun. Sounds boring and dull, actually. I suppose I could arrange such a thing quite easily, though I wonder why you should want me to do it! Can’t you handle your catfights by yourself? What did you do to get her in a snit with you, anyway?”
“Zanny, please be serious,” Claret cautioned her, frowning. “You may wish to be careful. Canterlot is a city full of legendary heroes and heroines, and this Professor is quite dangerous. Unless you want to show up at your next Jamboree with the Demon Princess carrying your head under your arm.”
“Actually, she’d like that,” Zanny said, easily, not seeming perturbed by this visual. “It could prove an annoyance in the near future, however. Besides, how would I smoke?” She emphasized this by taking a draw on her long silver pipe. “Fine, fine. So you want me to enter this canyon of heroes, if you will, and snatch up this fly in your ointment that’s causing you all these headaches.”
“I’ll give you a reward, too,” Claret said.
Zanny cocked an eyebrow at her, looking doubtful. “What could you possibly offer me that I don’t already have, Countess?”
“When I take the City, I’ll have a Gate built between your world and this one, and you and your Demon Princess can enter Equestria. You’ll have tons of mortals to shackle up and have fun with. Just think, all that soft pony flesh for you and your sisters and brothers to slap and squeeze and bite and tear and lash and prick.”
Zanny’s tail clenched sharply, and the demoness hissed, thrusting her long, blade-like purple tongue forth; her eyes widened, and she began to breathe hard. “Now that, my friend, is something like! I’m gonna getcha your Professor for sure if that’s what you’re planning.”
“I want you to utterly humiliate her before you do so,” Claret commanded her. “You’re handy with a sword, aren’t you?”
“Most of us are, yeah,” Zanny said, carelessly.
“Fight her with one. Then when you’ve destroyed her in single combat, take her.”
“What do you have to offer me of the mortal in question, Claret?” Zanny demanded.
For answer, Claret produced a shred of the The Professor’s jacket that had gotten caught upon one of the claws of the demonic beasts. “I offer you a cloth that has been laced with her sweat.”
“Sweat is precious,” the demoness said, with her eyes glinting sharply. “Give it to me.”
Claret did so; Zanny consumed it as easily as you or I might eat a small bean bun, swallowing the scrap of cloth. The demoness’s eyes glowed. “The contract is made, Countess. I shall be off now to assemble a few of mine own sisters to help with this. We’ll never enter a task alone.”
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7642153
Yes, it's basically building up one of those fancy Invasion Episodes in the show, like the Lord Tirek or Queen Chrysalis or Nightmare Moon episodes, except instead of a male demon like Tirek, you have Zanny and her girls. As George Lucas would say, it's like poetry, it rhymes; The Professor increased the size of her personal army with Leo and her consort Sir Michael's respective forces, so Countess Claret did likewise.
Zanny is named after the zanni of Italian Commedia Dell'Arte, and also after a certain demon in the Abrahamic religions. The City of GEHIRN, which is German for 'brain', is also a reference to the Abrahamic religions, and the City of Dis in Dante's Inferno, where he goes to hell and does a sightseeing trip.
Zanny looks like Asmodeus from the Shinrabanshou card game.
theanimegallery.com/data/thumbs/790px/0154/tAG_154265.jpg
7642749
Also, I'm gonna be honest: I felt like there weren't enough swordfights and goddamn it, you guys came here for the killer fight scenes, as you said.
Well, you're about to get them in spades. I'm also excited to show Leo and Sir Michael leading their respective forces into the battle for Canterlot, Spike being a hero and dying (I'm just kidding, I won't do that. People don't like it when you kill off Feature Characters too much. But the roster of characters on the Professor's side is about to drop very sharply.)
It's about to get super Medieval in here.
7642749
Basically, except she's got horns and a tail, yes, you weren't wrong. I noticed how Tirek had human arms and wondered to myself, "Maybe all the hellish-like creatures in Equestria have human attributes," so I inferred that she looks vaguely humanlike.
7642777
The same Scr-y-ed like gauntlet that is his signature weapon [in all the forms you described to me], plus the Element of Rage which is the jewel in his chest if I'm not mistaken, along with its powers as you described them to me..
Feel free to mention any changes you might have made to it.
7642800
No problem.
I was dying to have him lead an army while ostensibly fighting with his 'bare hands', so to speak, illustrating the reason why Sir Michael, who is an elite knight-commander, speaks so highly of him.
You may have noticed that even though Sir Michael is older, richer, and carries more weight politically speaking, he defers to Leo and treats him as a figure of great reknown. Their dynamic is very nice.
7642851
In this particular story, yes.
. Five points to Gryffindor.