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The Elixir Of T'mor

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I think Repertor has been drinking too much of that elixir! :p
Loxuru had a headache. It was doubtful if the ‘Adams Special’ in front of him would have a long term beneficial effect on his headache, but it was the short term benefits that had caused him to order what used to be known as a ‘Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster’.

For a few moments after his sip he enjoyed those short term benefits, then, when his eyeballs had properly resumed their correct location in their sockets, he looked at his drinking companion.

From experience, I can testify that the short term benefits of 'Adams Special' are unpredictable!:cool::rolleyes:
 
13. Fact File: Erin The Brave

You need a bit of help to run a galaxy. A whirling mass of stars and planets, peopled by a wide variety of sentient (and not-so sentient) beings is never going to run itself.

Some races, such as the Terenni from Epsilon Aurigae, simply don’t get democracy. Why would you vote for an idiot when you can have a brilliant and courageous winner for a leader? Therefore they run a series of contests requiring strength, stamina, strategy, and various other things beginning with ‘s’, and the winner becomes the guv’nor, until or unless someone with more things beginning with ‘s’ comes along and knocks him off his perch.

And some, such as the Bellerophonicans, believe that democracy is for idiots, and the best way to succeed is to completely ignore any laws laid down by democrats, and to indulge in a life of crime. So their leader has to be crooked, cunning, conceited and, well, you get the idea.

At present, the Bellerophonican who had amassed the greatest number of dubious qualities beginning with ‘c’ was our good friend Shar Divatt. And, if she had the means to produce Elixir, then Count Loxuru was a very worried man indeed. Elixir was quite enough of a headache in the hands of Rhodes and his cronies. Shar Divatt was in possession not of ‘a couple of goons and a handful of tarts’, as Ducatti had succinctly but ineptly put it, but of three prize elixir producers, the man who had fathered more temple priestesses than any other high priest in history, and the most skilful man with a hammer and nails that the galaxy had seen. She could corner the market in Elixir, and literally hold the galaxy to ransom.

And to Loxuru fell the practicalities of dealing with this, sitting as he did between Rhodes (who wanted Bellerophon to be turned into an asteroid belt) and Ducatti (who wanted to ignore the problem and hope it would go away.)

As if Shar Divatt would sit back and allow Bellerophon to be destroyed. The big military disadvantage of the Polly Portals was that, no matter how big your battle fleet, you could only get one ship through a portal at a time. Which meant that one battlecruiser could effectively defend an entire star system on its own, just by sitting near a portal and offering target practice to its ratings. Shar herself travelled with a whole retinue of vessels armed with state of the art interstellar weaponry, so bouncing her before she got to blank space wasn’t going to be an option, either. Nor could Loxuru phone up Shar and tell her what a Bad Girl she was, and she must give back Eul Alia and the others or he would get Very Cross Indeed.

Hence Erin ‘the Brave’ Bond. The most successful secret agent in the galaxy. A master of disguise, she was fearless, feisty, flexible and f…. (Oh, Lord, the Forums have just brought in a new rule banning alliteration.)

Erin it was who had rescued the Princess of Aldebaran when she had been kidnapped and held to ransom by the Urgulites. (And got precious little thanks for it, I might add. Some princesses just have no manners!)

Erin who had single-handedly defeated the Garwin uprising on Vega 3.

Erin who had infiltrated a network of ruthless art thieves and restored the priceless portrait of the Empress of Titawin back to its rightful place in the Titawin Museum of Tumescence.

Erin who, following a clandestine meeting with Count Loxuru, had now to all intents and purposes, disappeared.
 
A whirling mass of stars and planets, peopled by a wide variety of sentient (and not-so sentient) beings is never going to run itself.
Some races, such as the Terenni from Epsilon Aurigae, simply don’t get democracy. Why would you vote for an idiot when you can have a brilliant and courageous winner for a leader?
And some, such as the Bellerophonicans, believe that democracy is for idiots,

When could we have a planet where it's the sweetness which is dominant ?
A planet inhabited by nice women (no men, please, they are always fighting ...:D) ...
A planet where the harmony could be the rule ...
A planet where Peace would be dominant and war excluded ...
A planet where .........

But I'm yet dreaming .... Was it a dream:rolleyes: or a blonde4.gif ......


241f7a64a1ef035b151174726a837aa1.jpg Beautiful_Girl_4ec1b519059c8.jpg xfam402-100-hand-painted-font-b-famous-b-font-artist-classic-portrait-reproduction-oil-font-b.jpg
 
When could we have a planet where it's the sweetness which is dominant ?
A planet inhabited by nice women (no men, please, they are always fighting ...:D) ...
A planet where the harmony could be the rule ...
A planet where Peace would be dominant and war excluded ...
A planet where .........

But I'm yet dreaming .... Was it a dream:rolleyes: or a View attachment 523755 ......


View attachment 523758 View attachment 523759 View attachment 523760
You would love Titawin! Hours spent with the Empress, or perusing the galleries of the Museum of Tumescence! ;)

There's no war on Titawin, but there are men.... with all those wonderful titties on display, how could we stay away? :rolleyes:
 
And don't forget. Erin is true blue. She has a galactic reputation for always having her best friends' backs. ;)
I will always be there for you Barb,and for all of my friends.:):):)
 
11. Fact File: The Kenquilim and the Moderators

The whole fabric of the T’morian economy and religion depended utterly upon its priestesses. Without them, there would be no elixir, (or at best, highly inferior elixir) and there would be no tourism to T’mor – mountains, lakes, hotels – these were ten-a-penny across the galaxy. Kenquilim Priestesses – these were peculiar to T’mor.

The Priestesses differed from ‘ordinary’ Kenquilim, and from normal humanoids, in two important respects.

Firstly, they were as close to physical perfection as it was possible to get. Not just well proportioned, in fact, humanoids with symmetrical proportions can look too perfect, like living dolls, but beautiful artistically as well as physically. They were healthy – a sick Priestess was unheard of, and, as part of their training, they undertook strenuous physical exercise – they had to be strong, they had to be resilient, and they had to be fit.

Secondly, they were also slightly different internally. They had better developed endocrine systems, with large adrenal glands, and they also had larger spleens than usual. The larger spleen replaced blood far quicker than a normal spleen, and the endocrine system could saturate that blood with twenty or thirty times the concentration of hormones than a normal human. Therefore they could run faster, jump higher, and sustain physical duress far longer than normal, and (as we have seen) they enjoyed far better sex!

This was primarily an accident of evolution. They came from an island known as the Golden Isle in the Ocean of Tranquility. This island was not at all tranquil due to the fact that the Kenquilim there shared that island with particularly fearsome predators called Moderators. These were fast moving, cold blooded reptiles that showed no mercy to any Kenquilim that they should spot and place on the menu for lunch. There was nothing moderate about them. And the Moderators grew stronger, fitter, and healthier the more they dined on Kenquilim! Only now, looking back, was it clear that the blood of the Kenquilim contained a primitive form of Elixir which was benefitting the Moderators.

So there was an evolutionary vicious circle, prey and predator getting stronger and fitter with the passing generations. The only Kenquilim left on the island were those who could run faster than a Moderator, or outfight a Moderator, and who could breed fast enough to make good any attrition by Moderators. And the only Moderators left were those who could catch an islander.

Eventually, the Moderators lost the battle. The Golden Islander Kenquilim went on the offensive, and decided to rid the island of their foe. They learned how to set traps for the Moderators, and if any moderator should try to attack a Kenquilim, they met an adversary so fit and so tanked up on adrenaline, that the poor Moderator didn’t stand a chance. They died in their thousands, starved to death or killed in traps or in open battle, and soon the Golden Islanders were left with the island to themselves, and with the highest levels of physical perfection and the strongest endocrine systems in the galaxy as their prize for winning this evolutionary battle. That, and a morbid terror of lizards.

It was natural, then, when the Golden Islanders began to spread throughout T’mor, that they should rapidly become the ruling caste. By that time they had worked out how to extract pretty good elixir from the female Golden Islanders. The Golden Islanders tended not to interbreed with ‘normal’ Kenquilim, so it became easy to entirely prohibit interbreeding between those that became Priests and Priestesses and the general riff-raff of T’mor.

Following the return of Bobb Ender, Joll Erai, Phlee Ebas, and Repp Ertor from the Crux Forums, with their triumphant discovery of crucifixion as the perfect method of achieving the ideal mixture of fear and erotic pleasure to make the highest quality Elixir, the cream of the Priestesses had been trained to such a peak of physical perfection that they could be crucified multiple times, experience multiple orgasms while doing so, thus producing sufficient quality Elixir to keep the coffers full, but not so much that it became easy to find and thus would attract a lower price. And the first to be crucified had indeed been Miss Alice, a huge honour for her, and a great pleasure for Bobb, who had produced a series of pictures of her on her cross which had immortalised him as one of the greatest artists T’mor had ever produced, and which had been subsequently used to help train future priestesses towards the perfect crucifixion.

Between crucifixions, they received expert medical attention, which, combined with their own natural resilience, ensured a rapid recovery. The limiting feature was the point at which crucifixion ceased to be terrifying or erotic, and became boring, at which point the quality of the Elixir became too low for anybody but Bellerophonicans, and at that point they would be retired from cross duty, and go ahead to their, ahem, union with the High Priest or with the Overlord, and so a future generation of Priests and Priestesses was assured. Then, all duty done, the Overlord and the High Priest were as good as their word, and the girls went on to live the Life of Riley! Not that the likes of Barb Aria or Messa Aline knew any of that.

That would have spoiled the effect!
Secondly, they were also slightly different internally. They had better developed endocrine systems, with large adrenal glands, and they also had larger spleens than usual. The larger spleen replaced blood far quicker than a normal spleen, and the endocrine system could saturate that blood with twenty or thirty times the concentration of hormones than a normal human. Therefore they could run faster, jump higher, and sustain physical duress far longer than normal, and (as we have seen) they enjoyed far better sex!
Are they East German woman athletes???
 
Following the return of Bobb Ender, Joll Erai, Phlee Ebas, and Repp Ertor from the Crux Forums, with their triumphant discovery of crucifixion as the perfect method of achieving the ideal mixture of fear and erotic pleasure...
I'm sure we're all very glad to have made a contribution, and it does seem to have worked out for Bob (and/or the High Priest. :devil:
“Hi, Sweet Cheeks!” She seemed to appreciate the term, she almost purred with delight, before he continued “Get me Special Agent Erin Bond!”
ALL RIIIIGHT!!!
James-Bond-Female.jpg

Double Uh-oh 7 (and 3/4), herself. Now we're getting somewhere. :cool::):clapping:
(No idea, actually. Just trying to be enthusiastic and encouraging. Really enjoying the story. Rhodes is having a bad time of it, eh?):beer:

Erin who, following a clandestine meeting with Count Loxuru, had now to all intents and purposes, disappeared.
I'm sure she's just stepped out for a moment. Perhaps a bit indisposed. You did imply she'd been extremely busy. A nap or something I expect.

I will always be there for you Barb,and for all of my friends.:):):)
There, you see? No problem. The galaxy is as good as saved! :)
 
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I'm sure she's just stepped out for a moment. Perhaps a bit indisposed. You did imply she'd been extremely busy. A nap or something I expect.
Ah, you see, that's the difference between Eul and Erin... Eul disappears accidentally, but Erin disappears on purpose! ;)
 
14. In Space, you bet they can hear you scream!


Some years ago, while she was still quite young, Barb had been taken to the Quadrat City Natural History Museum. Their prize exhibit was a stuffed moderator. The taxidermist had done a fine job, and had preserved all the ferocity of the species, right down to the look of malevolent hatred in the beast’s eyes. To be fair to it, most animals do tend to look a bit resentful when they are stuffed and put on display in a museum.

To this day Barb still had nightmares about that creature, and shared the Kenquilim’s terror of cold-blooded reptiles. And now, here she was, stuck on a spaceship with a whole crew of ferocious, scaly lizards. Messa pulled her close, and hugged her tight, and the two of them stared fearfully at the Bellerophonicans. Messa was no less frightened than Barb, and Barb could feel her trembling; it couldn’t have been the cold, as it was pretty warm and humid on that spaceship.

Wind Arr was equally dismayed by this rather surprising turn of events, though he refrained from hugging Jack Hangingtree, partly because High Priests don’t really hug anybody, and partly because Jack did not seem in the least bit bothered by being there. For his professional eye had by now left Shar Divatt’s three breasts, and was admiring two crosses that lay next to Eul’s.

“Nice timber!” he remarked, “Looks better than the timber we get to use on T’mor!” He compared Eul’s cross with the new ones, and found hers wanting.

“Ah, I’m so glad you think so!” Shar smiled. “We do grow such fine timber on Bellerophon.“

“W-what are you going to do with them?” Wind Arr, despite the necessity of it for producing Elixir, loathed crucifixion; he couldn’t wait to get the crucifixions out of the way so that he could get on with the bit he enjoyed most, to wit, the fathering of the next generation of priests and priestesses. He certainly had no wish to be crucified himself, at the very thought he was trembling nearly as much as Messa and Barb.

“Don’t worry, High Priest… we still need you. We’re in this for the long haul, we are going to need more priests and priestesses!” Shar winked at Wind Arr, which rattled him still more. “However, it will take us approximately twelve hours to travel to Bellerophon, and we thought we’d put it to good Elixir-producing use!”

“You mean, you’re going to crucify us?” Barb was aghast.

“Indeed I do, my dear, and, as you are already helpfully quite nude, we’ll take you first! Seize her!”

“No! You can’t!” Wind Arr was desperate, “She hasn’t had the training! You’ll kill her!”

“Please! No!” Messa had not, in her wildest dreams, considered the possibility that she would have to stand and watch Barb being crucified. The prospect horrified her!

Eul stirred on her cross. She, too, had no wish to hang and watch her dear girls being nailed to crosses beside her. “You’ve…got… me! Leave….them!” Exhausted, she slumped forwards on her outstretched arms.

None of these pleas had the slightest effect on Shar. Two of her soldiers had grabbed Barb, torn her away from Messa, and were dragging her to the cross next to Eul. “You!” She pointed at Jack. “Crucify her!”

Jack Hangingtree smiled. “I think I can manage that! Got any nails, and a decent hammer?”

“In that box, over there.”

While Tree was rummaging for tools, Barb found herself forced down onto the cross by the lizard soldiers, and then stretched out, ready for Tree. She looked up at Eul, who had twisted on her cross to watch. “Eul! Is….is it as bad as it looks?”

Eul didn’t reply, but her tears told their own story.

Messa was struggling to get to Barb, calling Shar every name she could think of plus a few more she made up as she went along, but two more guards gripped her arms, their claws digging into the flesh of her upper arms as she struggled.

There was a cry of triumph from deep inside the box as Jack found the mallet and nails that he needed and headed purposefully towards Barb, supine and stretched on her cross.

This was all happening far too quickly for Barb. Barely fifteen minutes ago she had been making love to Messa, now she was laying flat on her back on a wooden cross in an alien spacecraft crewed by lizards. It occurred to her that this might be some kind of nightmare. She couldn’t see her right wrist – there was a lizard in the way – but she felt Tree feeling for the hollow in her wrist, and then she felt the prick of the nail. Panic seized her.

“NOOO! Please! Messa’s right! I’m not ready! Let me GO! Let me AAAARGH!”

Crucifixion is loud enough in the open air, in the confines of a spacecraft it is deafening. The sound of the hammer, was added to Barb putting the full capacity of her lungs into a terrible, gut wrenching, full-throated yell of anguish which reverberated from the steel walls as that nail forced its way through her wrist, tearing through muscle and sinew but skilfully missing bone. Messa, too was yelling, and Eul was sobbing with despair.

Wind Arr turned his back on the bloody scene, and put his hands over his ears. He really loathed crucifixion.

Even the Bellerophon guards, half again as big and solid as a human, struggled to hold Barb down as she thrashed and kicked, possessed by an animal instinct to get away from that unbelievable agony, as Jack Hangingtree steadily drove the nail home.

“First time is always the worst, Barb,” he said, as he crossed to the other wrist. “So’s the first wrist.” If he’d hoped his words were encouraging, Barb showed no sign of being encouraged. And, indeed, the nailing of her left wrist was much, much worse. This time she knew what was coming, or she thought she did, but Tree must have been closer to a nerve, for every blow of the hammer sent a jolt of fiery agony along her arm.

The racket was even affecting the Bellerophonicans, and Shar Divatt herself was wincing with each hammer strike, though she was also grinning, and she had to admit that Jack Hangingtree’s skill was impressive, as he drove a single long spike through both Barb’s feet while she howled in despair.

As the cross was raised upright on the deck, and a bolt driven through the base to keep it upright, Barb looked around at her own bleeding body in utter dismay. The jewel, glittering in her navel, seemed terribly out of place against the black nail spiking her feet. She panted in agony as Wind Arr, at knifepoint, showed the Bellerophonicans how to collect her blood so that not a drop was wasted.

Shar congratulated Hangingtree. “That was nicely done, Jack!” She pointed at Messa Aline. “Now you can do the same for her!”

“This is ridiculous!” Wind Arr protested. “You can’t crucify all three of them! I thought you said you were in this for the long haul? Keep Messa Aline for later! We never crucify more than one at a time!”

“We can and we will! It is all in the name of science – we need to find out which of them produces the best elixir, then we can breed from her. The others will be kept on their crosses until they die. They won’t last long when we get them home to Bellerophon - the higher gravity will kill them within hours. Then we can take every last drop of their blood! That will give us a stock of Elixir that will last for many, many years to come!”
 
14. In Space, you bet they can hear you scream!


Some years ago, while she was still quite young, Barb had been taken to the Quadrat City Natural History Museum. Their prize exhibit was a stuffed moderator. The taxidermist had done a fine job, and had preserved all the ferocity of the species, right down to the look of malevolent hatred in the beast’s eyes. To be fair to it, most animals do tend to look a bit resentful when they are stuffed and put on display in a museum.

To this day Barb still had nightmares about that creature, and shared the Kenquilim’s terror of cold-blooded reptiles. And now, here she was, stuck on a spaceship with a whole crew of ferocious, scaly lizards. Messa pulled her close, and hugged her tight, and the two of them stared fearfully at the Bellerophonicans. Messa was no less frightened than Barb, and Barb could feel her trembling; it couldn’t have been the cold, as it was pretty warm and humid on that spaceship.

Wind Arr was equally dismayed by this rather surprising turn of events, though he refrained from hugging Jack Hangingtree, partly because High Priests don’t really hug anybody, and partly because Jack did not seem in the least bit bothered by being there. For his professional eye had by now left Shar Divatt’s three breasts, and was admiring two crosses that lay next to Eul’s.

“Nice timber!” he remarked, “Looks better than the timber we get to use on T’mor!” He compared Eul’s cross with the new ones, and found hers wanting.

“Ah, I’m so glad you think so!” Shar smiled. “We do grow such fine timber on Bellerophon.“

“W-what are you going to do with them?” Wind Arr, despite the necessity of it for producing Elixir, loathed crucifixion; he couldn’t wait to get the crucifixions out of the way so that he could get on with the bit he enjoyed most, to wit, the fathering of the next generation of priests and priestesses. He certainly had no wish to be crucified himself, at the very thought he was trembling nearly as much as Messa and Barb.

“Don’t worry, High Priest… we still need you. We’re in this for the long haul, we are going to need more priests and priestesses!” Shar winked at Wind Arr, which rattled him still more. “However, it will take us approximately twelve hours to travel to Bellerophon, and we thought we’d put it to good Elixir-producing use!”

“You mean, you’re going to crucify us?” Barb was aghast.

“Indeed I do, my dear, and, as you are already helpfully quite nude, we’ll take you first! Seize her!”

“No! You can’t!” Wind Arr was desperate, “She hasn’t had the training! You’ll kill her!”

“Please! No!” Messa had not, in her wildest dreams, considered the possibility that she would have to stand and watch Barb being crucified. The prospect horrified her!

Eul stirred on her cross. She, too, had no wish to hang and watch her dear girls being nailed to crosses beside her. “You’ve…got… me! Leave….them!” Exhausted, she slumped forwards on her outstretched arms.

None of these pleas had the slightest effect on Shar. Two of her soldiers had grabbed Barb, torn her away from Messa, and were dragging her to the cross next to Eul. “You!” She pointed at Jack. “Crucify her!”

Jack Hangingtree smiled. “I think I can manage that! Got any nails, and a decent hammer?”

“In that box, over there.”

While Tree was rummaging for tools, Barb found herself forced down onto the cross by the lizard soldiers, and then stretched out, ready for Tree. She looked up at Eul, who had twisted on her cross to watch. “Eul! Is….is it as bad as it looks?”

Eul didn’t reply, but her tears told their own story.

Messa was struggling to get to Barb, calling Shar every name she could think of plus a few more she made up as she went along, but two more guards gripped her arms, their claws digging into the flesh of her upper arms as she struggled.

There was a cry of triumph from deep inside the box as Jack found the mallet and nails that he needed and headed purposefully towards Barb, supine and stretched on her cross.

This was all happening far too quickly for Barb. Barely fifteen minutes ago she had been making love to Messa, now she was laying flat on her back on a wooden cross in an alien spacecraft crewed by lizards. It occurred to her that this might be some kind of nightmare. She couldn’t see her right wrist – there was a lizard in the way – but she felt Tree feeling for the hollow in her wrist, and then she felt the prick of the nail. Panic seized her.

“NOOO! Please! Messa’s right! I’m not ready! Let me GO! Let me AAAARGH!”

Crucifixion is loud enough in the open air, in the confines of a spacecraft it is deafening. The sound of the hammer, was added to Barb putting the full capacity of her lungs into a terrible, gut wrenching, full-throated yell of anguish which reverberated from the steel walls as that nail forced its way through her wrist, tearing through muscle and sinew but skilfully missing bone. Messa, too was yelling, and Eul was sobbing with despair.

Wind Arr turned his back on the bloody scene, and put his hands over his ears. He really loathed crucifixion.

Even the Bellerophon guards, half again as big and solid as a human, struggled to hold Barb down as she thrashed and kicked, possessed by an animal instinct to get away from that unbelievable agony, as Jack Hangingtree steadily drove the nail home.

“First time is always the worst, Barb,” he said, as he crossed to the other wrist. “So’s the first wrist.” If he’d hoped his words were encouraging, Barb showed no sign of being encouraged. And, indeed, the nailing of her left wrist was much, much worse. This time she knew what was coming, or she thought she did, but Tree must have been closer to a nerve, for every blow of the hammer sent a jolt of fiery agony along her arm.

The racket was even affecting the Bellerophonicans, and Shar Divatt herself was wincing with each hammer strike, though she was also grinning, and she had to admit that Jack Hangingtree’s skill was impressive, as he drove a single long spike through both Barb’s feet while she howled in despair.

As the cross was raised upright on the deck, and a bolt driven through the base to keep it upright, Barb looked around at her own bleeding body in utter dismay. The jewel, glittering in her navel, seemed terribly out of place against the black nail spiking her feet. She panted in agony as Wind Arr, at knifepoint, showed the Bellerophonicans how to collect her blood so that not a drop was wasted.

Shar congratulated Hangingtree. “That was nicely done, Jack!” She pointed at Messa Aline. “Now you can do the same for her!”

“This is ridiculous!” Wind Arr protested. “You can’t crucify all three of them! I thought you said you were in this for the long haul? Keep Messa Aline for later! We never crucify more than one at a time!”

“We can and we will! It is all in the name of science – we need to find out which of them produces the best elixir, then we can breed from her. The others will be kept on their crosses until they die. They won’t last long when we get them home to Bellerophon - the higher gravity will kill them within hours. Then we can take every last drop of their blood! That will give us a stock of Elixir that will last for many, many years to come!”
While Barb and Messa should be grateful for their professionally performed crucifixions Tree gets the feeling they are less than appreciative...:mad::cool::devil:
 
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