Annihilator Six (mostly finished draft)

Anonymous  12/14/15(Mon)01:39:50 No.44165965
How are they going to have a huge twist in innistrad if everything is the same as zendikar
atheists 0
christians 1

Writefuck (posting as anon)  12/14/15(Mon)01:48:28 No.44166065
O ye of little faith. You expect things to be different. It's not called Return to Innistrad or Battle for Innistrad - for good reason. Innistrad is already a dark goddamn nightmare, and whatever's about to happen there is terrible enough to cast a shadow over even THAT wretched place.
Avacynians 1
Disciples of Griselbrand 0
Her Glorious Brood Lineage ∞

Anonymous  12/14/15(Mon)01:52:42 No.44166110
M night shamalamadingdong twist
Avacyn is black

Writefuck (posting as anon)  12/14/15(Mon)02:03:20 No.44166225
I remember the hype before Avcyn Restored, with everyone expecting Avacyn to be WWB, or some other variation on a Black Angel. Then it turns out she's mono-White, but at least we have the powerpuff girls in R/G/U. They kind of made up for it, I guess. Looking forward to Eldrazi-corrupted tentacled angels and Avacyn herself getting her indestructible orifices defiled by colorless eldrazi seed.

Anonymous  12/14/15(Mon)02:08:47 No.44166284
Fanfiction now

Anonymous  12/14/15(Mon)02:20:21 No.44166385
I would rather see Sorin get dominator droned and then give his cute little daughter the daddy vamp dick.

Writefuck (posting as anon)  12/14/15(Mon)02:29:05 No.44166462
I'm pretty sure post-mending Sorin is far weaker than his creation, based on the fact that no Sorin planeswalker card can get rid of Avacyn (except by forcing the opponent to sac a creature and getting lucky) while Avacyn can one-shot any Sorin planeswalker card even after a couple turns. I also don't recall Avacyn actually taking any sort of orders from Sorin at any point. So, uh... how.

Anonymous  12/14/15(Mon)02:31:08 No.44166484
Pron magic

Writefuck  12/14/15(Mon)02:43:05 No.44166596
Going to take a stab at writing this. I have a lore question, if anyone can answer it. What is Sigarda, Gisela, and Bruna's relation to Avacyn? Were they created alongside her? Did she create them? Were they created the same way "normal" angels are created and Avacyn is just their boss? Are they actually connected at all? Or was it never explained? If I'm going to have one angel I may as well involve the full set.

Anonymous  12/14/15(Mon)02:46:44 No.44166623
Angels are all constructs either directly made or they pop into existence based on faith. If a church got enough followers and all believed that jews should be killed an angel would fart into existence based on that ideal. The lesser angels were created from Avacyns church gaining power and followers and each represent a different aspect of their faith. They are sentient beings and have their own wills though.

Anonymous  12/14/15(Mon)02:47:44 No.44166633
They we're created by Avacyn. Each of the Powerpuff Girls embodies a human province on Innistrad.

---

One of the Oldwalkers' most impressive feats of magic streaks across the night sky of Innistrad. Her white wings illuminated in the moonlight, Avacyn flies silently towards what her angelic choir had only been able to describe as, "a disturbance." It's not yet visible, still miles away, but she can sense its presence even now. As the beacon of hope in a world full of monsters, Avacyn can feel  every emotion her faithful experience. Fear, when they believe they may be overrun by the dark forces. Hope, when they pray for salvation. Vindication, when a golden-white bolt from the heavens eradicates a wicked creature. Tonight, Avacyn feels a common and familiar emotion. Unease. But beyond that, something else, something less familiar. Intrigue? And not just from the mortals below, but from the host of angels across the plane as well. Monsters and demons are a horrifying sight, but one the inhabitants of Innistrad are have some experience with. This is something that has never been seen on this plane before.

Avacyn feels hunger. Not her own hunger; she doesn't eat. She feels the hunger of some other being on the plane. It isn't the vampires; they feel only thirst and bloodlust, and their connection to Avacyn is tangential at best. It isn't the Wolfir; they don't hunger for hunger's sake, they hunger to release their inner savagery. It isn't the humans; their numbers still haven't recovered enough for famine to be a possibility, and anyway the undead generally didn't do much to ruin crops. The feeling comes from many sources at once, and yet they are all a part of the same source.

It's not a hunger for sustenance. It's nothing that is, strictly speaking, required for day-to-day survival. It's hunger of a different kind, something Avacyn is unfamiliar with personally, having only felt it from pairs of humans now and again. It's the desire to create more of oneself, to spread, to populate, to reproduce. Avacyn's creator never intended her to feel such things, and other angels were oblivious to the concept being it being a vague sort of taboo.

Her choir approaches the anomaly from the east, Avacyn herself from the south. Gisela will arrive first. The thing, whatever it is, hovers dormant over the trees of Kessig, but also extends to cover the ground below. Avacyn senses its presence, and the moon should illuminate it, but it's pitch dark, somehow surrounded in shadow. As she approaches, the skies begin to darken, the stars vanishing behind a layer of dim fog. The moon itself seems to fade. It's as if some force greater than herself is denying her access in her own realm. "Do not come here. This place is forbidden. You will not be tolerated."

Avacyn feels fear. Not her own. Her host has crossed some sort of threshold, and the anomaly's very presence is testing their resolve.

Hesitation. This, Avacyn has almost never felt from her host. Angels do not hesitate.  Even against the mightiest demon, the weakest seraph of dawn would stand firm, right until she was utterly destroyed. Whatever the anomaly is, it's more powerful than Griselbrand, more destructive than Withengar.

Bruna speaks, and Avacyn hears her words through a dozen angels. "What cannot be destroyed, must be contained." Avacyn's own decree, meant to inspire hope in mortal hearts. Hardly a battle strategy. The anomaly is too powerful to contain with any enchantment short of the Helvault itself, and that was destroyed a long time ago. But the words shake them from their trepidation, and they adopt a battle formation, steeling themselves. Avacyn is nearly here. More Angels will be arriving soon, as backup. They have Sigarda and Gisela to protect them. If this becomes a battle, they are stronger than any army on Innistrad.

But this thing is not of Innistrad. No Angel here has done battle with anything like it. Avacyn worries that its power may exceed that of even the mightiest demon. And, perhaps, Avacyn herself.

Avacyn has felt fear exactly twice before. The first, on the night of her creation, speaking to a vampire who was practically a god, as he explained to her that she was a construct made of White mana, powered by a massive plane-wide spell that channeled the faith of every sentient being on Innistrad into a single focal point - her. The second, as Griselbrand dragged her into the Helvault with him - not fear of him, of course, but fear of what would happen to the faithful in her absence.

Now, for the third time since her birth, Avacyn feels fear. She fears for her host, an army of faithful angels who may be no match for the anomaly. She fears for her sisters, Bruna, Gisela and Sigarda, who may have misplaced faith in their powers and their numbers. But Avacyn also fears for herself. She is indestructible; the godlike sangromancer who made her was extremely thorough. But there are worse fates than death. The plane of Innistrad is proof of this.

As if sensing weakness, the anomaly stirs to life. It's as if something has disturbed an anthill. Masses of creatures begin to skitter around on the ground below, scurrying to and fro with no apparent purpose. But it's as if the entire forest has come to life. Everything below is a part of the anomaly, save for the trees themselves, and that's only because they're more useful as cover right now. One being is actually thousands, but all of the thousands are connected to the one.

And the one is awaking as well. While the thousands below outnumber the angels by a factor of a hundred, they are weak individually, and no match for any kind of army unless that army was very, very stupid. But the one is singlehandedly more powerful than Avacyn's three sisters combined. They know this, and Avacyn senses their fear. At once, a single thought crosses their minds, as the anomaly becomes aware of them:

We should fall back.

But it's too late. The anomaly - no, the creature - awakens fully, and it lurches to life. A shockwave ripples through reality as a surge of colorless mana bends time backwards on itself, and suddenly the creature is directly above the surprised angels. Even with most of its physical mass contained in the drones on the forest floor, the creature is absolutely massive, hundreds of feet across. It flies with no wings, and is clearly no demon, angel, dragon, or any other creature Avacyn can name. Its body seems to be made out of limbs, some with joins and some like a sea creature's, some with hands and some with far too many fingers. No single part of it is good or natural. This isn't even its true form, just the closest approximation that reality can come up with.

Avacyn knows its name. Her creator passed on much of his knowledge and his millennia of experience. This creature is Emrakul, greatest and most destructive of the Eldrazi Titans. Its presence on this plane means that someone in the universe has gone very, very wrong.

The creature is no mindless brute. When it leapt into the skies, it positioned itself directly above and the center of the Angels' formation. Its many limbs began to reach down, grasping lazily, like a blind man searching in the dark. The Angels, momentarily caught off guard by the distortion in time, scatter for a second or two, each one individually trying to determine what had happened. The the instinct for battle takes over, and each Angel comes to the same conclusion.

We are inside the enemy's reach. We can strike at its center.

Gisela's blades flash, effortlessly removing four fingers from a six-fingered hand. The limb barely reacts, its stumps oozing a dark purple that stains Gisela's wing. A flurry of blades from other angels follow, most cutting deep into arms and tentacles, all drawing blood. Bruna and Sigarda fly upwards, towards the center of the beast, brandishing staves and magic. Lights flash, as White, Blue, and Green mana are channeled at the creature, with absolutely no affect whatsoever. Something in the creature's nature protects it from their spells.

Limbs reach further down, and the creature allows itself to sink slightly. The host now finds itself in a sparse forest of limbs dangling from above, with more arms and fingers grasping at them. An angel shrieks a cry of battle, severing an arm that had tried to grasp her. Two more hover back to back, slashing at any limb that dared to get within reach of their holy blades. Sigarda and Bruna fall back, but Gisela flies upward, past them, charging into the center of the creature's mass. She expects to find a body or at least some place for the creature to store its vital organs. The thick limbs become closer together as she approaches the center, and suddenly she realizes she has put herself in the middle of a literal forest of enemies. Emrakul chooses this time to strike back.

Lazily grasping hands suddenly whip to life. In an instant three different angels are cuffed with the force of a small comet. By chance, one happened to be holding her sword in a position to "block" the attack, and the weapon is flung from her grasp with enough force to remove it from the battlefield entirely. The other two are even less fortunate, as the first one is throw into them hard enough to break bones, both theirs and hers.

Tentacles curl into each other, weaving together in patterns too intricate to follow, practically tying themselves into knots. A few angels are caught between the muscled appendages and are instantly pinned, held helpless and immobilized by solid walls of dark purple meat. Some of the faster angels try to evade their pursuers, but they were surrounded before the fight had even begun. Emrakul's smaller hands grip wings, arms and legs with enough strength to pierce the skin despite being blunt. One unfortunate angel has been blindly grabbed by no less than seven arms. A pair of limbs hold her arms outward, one of her arms excruciatingly twisted, the other still managing to hold her sword in a limp, impotent grip. Two more hold her by her right knee and left calf, her dark leggings torn and her dress already stained with her own blood. Each wing is grasped by an enormous hand with a crushing grip, both delicate wings absolutely mangled; even with healing magic, she would never fly again. A final large hand grips her upper torso, having crushed her silvered steel breastplate and several of her ribs, and blood runs freely from where the twisted metal has pierced her delicate skin. Despite her condition, the wounded angel still struggles, but only manages to rock her pelvis and upper leg back and forth in a display that would almost be suggestive and obscene. Either annoyed or intrigued by her struggles, more small arms descend. Two of them grasp her hips, holding her waist steady in their iron grip, while a third places itself almost delicately over the white cloth and chain mail that covers her stomach. She opens her mouth to scream, only for a hand to slam her jaw shut and forcefully tilt her head upward, bending her neck painfully and preventing her from doing much more than groan through her teeth.

The rest of the host fared hardly better, but Avacyn's attention was drawn to her sisters. Bruna and Sigarda had quickly changed tactics to a defensive formation, staying too close together for any limbs to get between them. Bruna had erected a protective spell that seemed to prevent the creature from grasping either of them directly, so it was forced to close off their possible route of escape. The two flew down, and a mass of limbs constricted together, forcing them  to change directions to avoid flying directly into the seething group. They flew towards the edge, but again the limbs bunched together, forming an impassable tangle. They turned 90 degrees, and found themselves flying towards a pair of angels who'd both been constricted so tightly by tentacles that their bodies were crushed, limbs protruding through the gaps but now hanging limp, every bone having been broken with the wings protruding in a mockery of angelic elegance, totally lifeless.

Momentarily shocked by this sight, the sisters hear a cry from above them. A Goldnight blade falls from above, and they recognize it as Gisela's. She had been deep inside the creature's mass when it became its onslaught, and both had lost track of her in the chaos. Without so much as a word of discussion, both angels fly upwards towards the source of the yell, determined to rescue their sister. The seething mass below them lazily gives chase, while quietly sealing off the route of escape.

They find Gisela in a desperate struggle for freedom. A long, dexterous tentacle has descended from above and wrapped itself loosely around her neck. She has managed to stab her other sword into it a few feet above her, and the creature's dark blood flows freely. Her hair is matted with it, and sticks to the tentacle, her face, and her chest. A pair of arms grasp her wings almost delicately, despite their immovable grip. They hold her by the wingtips, and have pulled her wings painfully back, stretched too far for her to get any kind of leverage with them. They may even be dislocated.

Each leg is gripped by a thick tentacle that winds its way slowly upward, like a python climbing a tree, approaching where her thighs meet. A pair of arms hold her up by her armpits, and a series of tiny hands and tentacles have just finished unbuckling her breastplate, exposing the flimsy white robe underneath. As the breastplate falls away, the arms holding her squeeze her breasts together vulgarly, the holy symbol of Avacyn dangling from a chain necklace and resting right between her cleavage, as if to mock everything her faith stood for. Though Gisela is still struggling with all her considerable strength, when she sees her sisters she freezes for a split second, terrified for their safety for the first time in her life. She tries to yell, "Get out of here!" but the tentacle squeezes down on her windpipe and she only manages to mouth the words.

For just as split second, Bruna and Sigarda are too shocked to react. A spectacle such as this is as impossible as it is indecent, and their sister's panicked insistence that they flee instead of stay and fight proves their undoing. They hesitate for one moment too many, and then Emrakul slams together all of its dangling tentacles at once, crushing every single angel into a forest of impenetrable muscle. Bruna and Sigarda's protective spell shatters, and they slam into one another, crushed on all sides by the immovable mass. From what they had already seen, the creature was easily strong enough to crush them to death without even trying, but instead it simply held them immobile. They hear a strangled scream from their sister somewhere above them and the disturbing sound of large bones breaking. Gisela's wings are certainly ruined.

There is no light inside the constricted mass of tentacle. There is a sound like leather sliding against leather, and Bruna feels something wrap around one thigh, then the other. Sigarda feels a pair of tentacle sliding down into her thigh-high armored boots, attempting to slide them off her legs. She tries to bend her knees and ankles to keep them from sliding, but the crushing force of Emrakul's muscles fight her every effort. She feels something slithering up from the bottom of her chest plate, but can do little more to stop it than flex her abdominal muscles. Bruna feels her staff wrenched out of her grip, her attempts to hold on restricted by the tendrils wrapped around the top of each of her shoulders, pushing them downward with enough force to threaten to push them right out of their sockets. Her staff scrapes past her, cutting a gouge in her temple. Sigarda's weapon is long gone as well, and she feels strong tentacles wrapped around her armored forearms, holding them motionless.

The constricting force of tentacles relaxes, and the three angels find themselves looking at each other in a sphere-shaped opening, with walls made of tightly constricting tentacles, the "room" illuminated by the glowing end of Bruna's staff which is just barely visible jutting out of the wall. They can just barely hear the sounds of more angels below them, outside the sphere, either crying out, yelling, or moaning.

Bruna's armored arms have been bound forcefully behind her back by a single tentacle, and thick tentacle is wrapped tightly around her wings, squeezing them painfully together and jutting them out behind her back. Her breastplate has been loosened enough to pull it downward, exposing her ample bosom. A pair of tentacles wrap around her thighs and around her waist, leaving her legs free to kick uselessly.

Sigarda has been stripped of her armored leg wear, her legs wrapped in tentacle up past her knees, holding her spread in an upside down "V". An enormous pair of tentacles wrap around an arm and a wing each, pinning the wing and arm together in a spread eagle, as she beats her wings in a vain effort to break loose.  The tentacles have given up trying to work her chest plate off, and had instead torn apart what remained of her skirt and undergarments, leaving her nether regions exposed.

Gisela has been freed of all of her armor, leaving her in what is little more than a loose fitting open white robe. The holy symbol of Avacyn still hangs around her neck, but the red tabard that formed the front of her dress has been torn to shreds. Her wings hang limply and at awkward angles. There are tears in her eyes, but a tentacle wraps tightly over her mouth and around her neck, the end of it resting on top of her left breast, and she can do little more than groan. Despite her helpless condition, there is fire in her eyes.

After  handful of seconds to take in their predicament, Bruna and Sigarda both open their mouths, having each thought of a spell to try. In a strange unison, a pair of six-fingered fists collide with each angel's jaw with enough force to daze each of them. A pair of constricting tentacles slither up Bruna's back and shoulders, circle around her neck, and wrap themselves around her mouth, the ends of each pushing just past her lips and filling her cheeks. She instinctively tries to bite down on them as hard as she can, hoping to at least draw blood, but finds they have a texture like stiff cartilage.

Sigarda, her vision spinning, feels a pair of hands grip the side of her face and gently hold her head in an immovable grip, while a third hand forces her jaw open. She is shocked back to awareness as a thick appendage shoves itself into her mouth, ramming into the back of her throat. She gags hard and tries to pull away, but her head is held motionless and her body has little room to move at all. The tentacle doesn't recede, instead pushing itself harder against the back of her throat. She gags so hard it hurts her stomach, and the tentacle pulls back. Sigarda coughs violently as the tentacle slides all the way out, a line of spittle still connecting it to her lip. She tries to look away, but her head is still held in a vise grip. She averts her eyes instead, but the saliva-covered tentacle moves to stay in her field of view. She opens her mouth to say a curse to the intruder, only for it to shoot back in before she can utter the first syllable. The arms holding her head tilt her head upward and the tentacle begins thrusting freely in and out of her throat.

Bruna, her own mouth filled with the immobile ends of Emrakul's tentacles, feels a pair of tentacles move their way up between her beasts, wrapping gently around them. They squeeze as if toying with a fascinating plaything and the tentacles around her neck and shoulders relax enough that the tentacles rhythmic massaging gently moves her. A slightly larger tentacle slides up her chest and slides in between her breasts, and the other tentacles squeeze her breasts together around the new guest, as it pushes in and out between her cleavage. Bruna inadvertently looks downward, and sees a swarming mass of thin tentacles rising up from beneath her. The tentacles around her thighs spread her legs, and she attempts in vain to scream, kicking the air again to no affect. The tentacles rise up between her legs and begin squeezing and caressing the insides of her thigh, and a number of them slide up underneath her thin skirt, feeling the shape of her backside and the small of her back. A thin, moist tentacle slips inside her underwear and slides gently against her nethers, and she jerks in surprise at the sensation. The tentacle begins rubbing her slit with slow, deliberate motions, and the mass of tentacles turn her so that her back is facing Gisela.

Gisela, half naked, crippled and restrained, watches in horror as her sisters are defiled and molested in front of her. From below the sphere, she can still hear the sounds of the other angels suffering. For whatever reason, the creature has chosen to spare her for the moment, instead forcing her to watch, and pray. Although the creature that defeated and humiliated her is a terrible force, Avacyn is invincible and absolutely relentless when angered - and this creature, wherever it came from, had undoubtedly drawn Avacyn's wrath.

Outside, Avacyn is faced with a dilemma. Though she is not omniscient, she knows her sisters and her host are suffering. Most of the angels that attacked Emrakul are dead, a few more are dying, and the rest are horribly injured or being tortured. Her sisters are being defiled, caught somewhere in the tangle of limbs and tentacles, and probably about to be killed as well. Emrakul is aware of her, but has yet to make a hostile move in her direction. She's ready to pull back if it the Titan advances on her. There are reinforcements on the way, more Angels, but they're flying all the way from  Nephalia, and they may not arrive in time to help with much of anything. Avacyn isn't sure if she wants them anywhere near this thing anyway, considering how easily it dealt with the first host of Angels.

Avacyn hears a prayer. The plane-wide spell that Avacyn is connected to allows her to sense such things from anywhere on Innistrad and the humans professing their faith serves as a omnipresent background noise, but this prayer is different. It's coming from an angel, and angels don't normally pray. Avacyn listens more closely, and to her shame she realizes that it's coming from one of the angels that he Eldrazi Titan has trapped. It's her sister, Gisela. Bound and broken, she still has faith that Avacyn will deliver her from this evil force.

Faith is a stronger force than most realize, and the faith of a human in desperation is powerful enough to work miracles. The faith of an entire plane full of humans is enough to power an angelic demigod like Avacyn. But the pure, unshakable faith of an angel is more powerful still, and Avacyn feels herself filled with the very thing she grants to her faithful: Hope. Avacyn closes the distance to Emrakul.

Inside, the tentacle violating Sigarda's throat finally pulls out and allows her to breathe freely, leaving her coughing, gagging and lightheaded. With Sigarda dizzy and barely aware of her surroundings, the tentacles reposition her, letting her arms fall loose, but tightening their grip on her wings. Tentacles descend from the ceiling and wrap themselves tightly around her armored chest, as they hang her flat as if she were lying on a table, her legs and arms dangling. A pair of hands grip her ankles and pull her legs apart, while a number of tentacles raise up and wrap themselves tightly around her arms.

As Sigarda regains coherence, she realizes her limbs and wings are restrained. Her rear is practically raised in the air and she's been turned around so that her ass is facing her sister, Gisela. She is able to move her head and looks behind her, to see Gisela's eyes bugging in a silent scream. An instant later she sees that the thick tentacle that had been violating her throat is positioned just inches away from her womanhood, still dripping with her own saliva. The instant she sees the tentacle, it thrusts violently forward. Sigarda screams.

The tentacle squirms its way inside her angelic pussy, lubricated with saliva and its own natural absorbency. It wriggles back and forth, prying open the angel's most sacred place. It thrusts forward repeatedly, barely pulling out at all between thrusts, intent to just get as deep as it can. Sigarda feels herself stretching to accommodate the intruder but the pain in her groin sends spasms rippling through her entire body. With every thrust further inward, her entire body tenses, and her wings jerk violently enough that the creature's iron grip tears out feathers. She reflexively tries to pull her arms or legs free but the tentacles won't budge an inch. Finally the tentacle reaches a point where it can go no further, the entire lubricated portion buried deep inside its angelic cocksleeve. It slowly slides out, and for a moment Sigarda fools herself into believing the creature is done, before it slowly but roughly slides itself back inside of her.

Avacyn flies towards Emrakul, radiant white wings spread triumphantly, glowing moonsilver spear in hand. Emrakul holds its position, having no need to turn and face its adversary in order to attack. The enormous Eldrazi floats almost lazily as the humanoid creature closes the distance between the two. The angel's spear lashes out, and suddenly a dozen limbs fall free, ichor spraying everywhere, yet Avacyn stays preternaturally pristine. The monster flings dozens of grasping hands and tentacles towards the angel, but Avacyn's spear moves in a blur, obliterating anything that gets close. One hand manages to hold onto the hem of Avacyn's skirt for almost half a second before being obliterated by Avacyn's holy radiance. The cosmic monster and the angelic demigod are, for the moment, evenly matched.

The mass of small tentacles massaging Bruna pull away, leaving only the tentacles gagging her and the tentacles restraining her arms and thighs. They rotate her in place, turning her to face Gisela as they tear her moist panties free. Bruna's entire body is flushed, and her white skirt is visibly stained with her own juices, which still drip vulgarly from her slit. She hangs her head in shame, looking away from Gisela, only to see Sigarda's predicament. Her eyes widen, and she looks back and forth between her two sisters in disbelief. Gisela simply stares down at the tentacles massed below Bruna, who follows her gaze and sees a thick tentacle snaking its way up her leg, this one with smooth bumps and ridges all along its surface. She immediately tries to squeeze her thighs together to prevent the implement from reaching its destination, but the tentacles wrapped around her upper thighs are as strong as ever. Instead, the mass of tentacles adjust her so that she's lying flat on her back and move her closer to Gisela, her crotch perfectly at Gisela's eye level. Unable to look away, Gisela closes her eyes, but can still hear the sound of the modified tentacle sliding smoothly into her sister's hungry slit. Bruna lets out a faint moan, and Gisela's eyes snapped open to stare at her sister in disbelief.

Bruna feels the tendril probing her insides gently, her moist walls squeezing involuntarily around it. Having been teased by the writing mass earlier, her body welcomes the sensation of more, and she hears herself let out a sigh. The tentacle slips deeper inside, as if it were searching for something, and suddenly Bruna feels it press up against something, sending an electric shock of raw pleasure up her spine. Her entire body jerks once, and she lets out a yelp. The tentacle stops its movement, as if waiting to see what would happen next. She feels more tentacles sliding their way up her leg, and she remembers that she was supposed to be fighting their grip. She tries to kick again, and the tendril slides its smooth ridges over the same spot as before, and Bruna hears someone scream. She realizes a moment later that the scream came from her own mouth, and idles idly why an angel would even have a G-spot.

The tentacle deep inside her pulls itself most of the way out, and Bruna realizes that her hips are trembling. A slender tentacle slides itself along the sides of her lower lips, with the tip pressing itself up against her clit, rubbing it gently. The modified tentacle pushes itself back in, in slow, gentle thrusts, and Bruna lets out a series of high moans. The tentacle begins thrusting in and out, but never quite hits that special spot. Barely aware of what she's doing, Bruna begs thrusting back in rhythm with the tentacle buried inside her, trying to push the intrude into that special spot. Just finish this, she thinks to herself, but every time the tentacle thrusts inside it just barely misses and keeps her from going completely over.

Gisela, trying her best to ignore the humiliating noises coming out of her sister, tries desperately to focus on anything else, and finds her gaze wandering over to Sigarda. The wet mass of smaller tentacles that had been pleasuring Bruna earlier makes made its way over to the poor angel and reposition themselves behind her. Gisela's eyes go wide and an odd instinct inside her tells her to shout, "Look out!" as a single wet tentacle thrusts itself at Sigarda's only remaining virgin entrance. The tentacle prods her opening, but fails to penetrate.

Sigarda tries to think of a spell that could help her break free, but finds it impossible to think, much less concentrate, while the intruding tentacle is pounding way at her defiled orifice. Suddenly she feels something prod against the wrong hole, and her mind goes blank. Surely what it's suggesting  is impossible. The creature intends to  disembowel her, or something. Perverse humans have tried this type of thing, perhaps, but not successfully. Right?

The first tentacle finally slides itself out with a wet sound that Sigarda tries not to think about, and a slightly smaller, moist tentacle positions itself between her cheeks. It pushes forward, and to Sigarda's dismay, begins to insert itself. Once again Sigarda feels herself being stretched against her will as the tentacle pushes itself in as deep as it can bury itself. With her last vestige of purity slipping away, Sigarda feels the previous tentacle prod itself up into her womanhood again. Isn't this enough, to be violated by this creature in every sense of the word? What more can it take from her?

The two tentacles begin thrusting in unison, and Sigarda feels a horrifying sensation in her rear. She can feel the tentacles hitting each other inside of her, and the pain of the new intruder brings back the pain from the original. She opens her mouth to scream, and immediately gags on a fresh bundle of smaller tentacles. They're wet, and taste like... she doesn't want to think about what they taste like. The mass matches the rhythm of the two lower violators, and she feels herself starting to go completely numb.

Bruna is now writhing,  squirming, and twitching within the tentacle's grip, feeling herself teetering on the edge of something and having it constantly denied to her. The tentacles had released her arms and she now fondled her own breasts almost manically, trying anything to get more sensation. Unable to watch Sigarda be violated any longer, Gisela glances at the closer of her two sisters, and at that exact moment, Bruna tips over the edge.

The tentacle presses down hard on that magic spot inside Bruna, and she feels her mouth fly open. There's an incredibly louse noise coming from somewhere, it might be her, and it's like a choir of angels cheering with something isn't quite joy. Her vision explodes with spots and her entire body shoots with electric energy. Everything that's touching her elicits pure ecstasy , and she forgets where she is or how she had gotten here. She forgets Sigarda being violated just  few feet away from her. She forgets about Gisela hanging restrained and crippled just a few inches away from her. She forgets about Avacyn, probably fighting this monster from the outside. She forgets about her other Angelic sisters who had died fighting this creature, or been maimed, crippled, or worse.

Avacyn is beneath the monster, slowly flying upward. Her spear is still a blur, cutting through tentacles that can't bind her, and limbs that can't hold her. While the damage she does to the creature is mostly superficial, she is whittling it down. It still throws everything it has at her, trying pointlessly to kill or capture her. Every once in a while, a tendril will wrap itself around a limb, or a hand will grab a wing, her hair, her dress, only to be vaporized before it has a chance to pull or use its leverage. While she doubts she can kill the beast with her power alone, Avacyn is determined at least drive the Eldrazi off of Innistrad. Send it back to the Blind Eternities where it can't hurt anyone, or leave it for the mighty planeswalkers to deal with. All that matters is that Emrakul can't harm her, unlike her sisters, and that means she has a duty to rescue them now. Everything else is secondary.

Gisela watches in speechless horror as her sisters give in, one to pleasure and the other to pain. She thinks of herself, and how she's likely to be next. She expects she and her sisters to die here, after the creature is done with them. It had killed the rest of the host, after all, and it's just keeping them around for some kind of perverse game. The creature's actions make no sense on a primal level; it can't be trying to mate with them, because angels don't normally reproduce in the first place, and its tentacles aren't genitalia. The creature must be doing this out of some kind of cruel malevolence, simply getting a kick out of torturing other innocent beings with sex. The creature is more powerful than any demon on Innistrad and might be in the running for one of the most cruel too. Avacyn can't save her sisters. It's hopeless.

A purple hand grabs Avacyn's calf. There is the briefest moment of confusion as Avacyn wonders why this one is taking longer to disintegrate, and suddenly the hand whips Avacyn violently to the side with enough force to snap a human's neck. A strong human's neck. Maybe an angel's neck, too. She has to hold her spear with both hands, but keeps her grip, and severs the hand from its limb. She kicks the lifeless appendage off her leg, and looks up only to see the entire mass of Emrakul, the Aeons Torn, flying down at her. No, not flying - falling down at her. Its entire body of arms and tentacles splayed out around her like a bear trap slamming closed, while the forest below rushed upwards. The forest still teamed with Eldrazi, and Avacyn realized her mistake - the spawn were a part of the Titan. As soon as she flew underneath the Titan, it had her surrounded. Invincible or not, Avacyn had been playing by the Eldrazi's rules, and that could be a fatal mistake.

With a world-shaking crash, the Titan slams into the forest of Kessig, trapping Avacyn inside of itself. The monster has, effectively, swallowed her. The creature had created an enormous  dome-shaped opening with walls made of its limbs and tentacles, with the only light coming from Avacyn's glowing spear. The edges of the walls seem to be moving, and Avacyn realizes that a large number of spawn are trapped inside the dome with her. They don't concern her. Individually, none of them can put up a fight against her, and even if they tried to swarm her, Avacyn remained invincible. The Titan just landed on her. The spawn couldn't do worse than that

Addressing the Titan directly, Avacyn raises her gaze to the ceiling and speaks to the dome. "You will tell me what you have done with my sisters."

Avacyn's voice echoes in the darkness. She can hear the skittering of the spawn, but the Titan itself doesn't answer. Avacyn instead looks for her sisters' faith in the conduit-spell, but she finds nothing.

"Normally I would say that if you have harmed them , I would destroy you. But we are well past that. You have done more than harm them, you have violated them." Again, Avacyn is met with only echoes. "I also know that you don't fear me. I doubt you've felt fear in a very long, not since Sorin Markov trapped you in physical form."

There is a cacophonous rumbling. The skittering swarm fell silent. The walls began to pulsate like the inside of an enormous heart chamber.

"You know the name of the planeswalker who bound you. Good. You should know that I am also a creation of Sorin Markov."

 A new voice resonates through the chamber. It's coming from all of the spawn, speaking at once - or at least, making noises all at once, and the noise combines to make something that resembles words.

"We know what you are, angel. You are the third most powerful concentration of White mana in existence."

The ground explodes. Purple tendrils spring forth from everywhere and begin wrapping themselves around Avacyn's  legs. Her spear flashes and severs the appendages, but there are already more to take their place. Avacyn beats her wings to take to the air, but on their downward stroke, a barrage of a dozen small tendrils erupts from the ground and grabs a hold of each wing. A dramatic sweep of her spear severs these tendrils as well, but now the group is swarming with spawn as well. Though they are small, they are numerous, and not so easily dealt with only one swing. Several claw their way up the flaps of Avacyn's skirt, and a particularly bold one leaps onto her back. Avacyn shakes free the ones on her skirt, throws the one on her back off with a beat of her wings, slices through another barrage of tendrils trying to anchor her legs to the ground, and then realizes she's made the same mistake twice. Emrakul is above her as well, and she turns to face the oncoming barrage of tentacles from above, just in time to see a ten-foot diameter fist-shaped tangle of tentacles come screaming down at her, before it slams into her with enough force to push her two feet down into the ground, into the waiting mass of tendrils and spawn.

Avacyn is invincible, but her spear is just an artifact. It's splintered into a a dozen useless pieces. Avacyn is strong, but Emrakul's limbs are stronger. The massive pseudo-fist retracts and disperses back into its individual tentacles, which dangle from the ceiling and writhe almost playfully. Avacyn's arms, legs, wings, chest, neck and even forehead are restrained with bands of tentacles, making a body-shaped cocoon on the ground, with only Avacyn's face exposed. The fragments of the moonsilver spear still glow, illuminating her restrained form. The tentacles that form the dome directly above Avacyn part, revealing a smaller, spherical chamber, and three bundles of tentacles and six-fingered arms lower into the dome.

Avacyn's eyes grow wide as she recognizes her sisters - or what they've been reduced to. They're in various states of nudity, limbs bound, wings either ruined or restrained. Each has tentacles wrapped tightly around their mouths, gagging them, and with a pang in her heart Avacyn can't help but think that they look like the three most defeated, humiliated, and hopeless people in the universe right now. They don't seem to have recognized her yet, with Avacyn's body mostly hidden by tentacles, but then Gisela's eyes go wide as she puts the pieces together, and somehow her heart sinks even further.

Avacyn's bindings feel as if they squeeze tighter as the tendrils lift her up out of the small crater and into the air. Several smaller tendrils pick up the shards of her ruined weapon, holding them up as makeshift light sources, so that Avacyn's sisters can see her clearly. She opens her mouth to say something, anything to reassure them, but a tendril shoves a large wad of her own lustrous hair into her mouth and wraps itself tightly around her mouth, acting as a makeshift ball gag. All Avacyn manages to say is, "Wuh guh uh eeh  eh oh..." before she is silenced completely. The tendrils tighten further.

The tendrils binding her chest change their position and wrap themselves tightly around her waist, hips and crotch, exposing her dark, filigreed breastplate. Her arms are pulled uncomfortable out to her sides as small arms descend and begin undoing the buckles that holds it in place. The tendrils around her arms pull back to wrap tightly around her biceps and forearms, allowing rough hands to wrench her gauntlets off. Her breastplate and armored shoulder pads fall away, landing on the ground only to be carried away by several spawn, and the gauntlets soon join them, leaving Avacyn wearing only her boots and flowing black dress.

Avacyn realizes what Emrakul is doing. The creature is drawing this out in order to maximize her sister's faithlessness in Avacyn, in order to weaken her. If she grows weak enough, the Eldrazi might do... who knows what to her. Her fate is certainly going to match that of her sisters, if she can't somehow break free. But as tendrils wrap around her hips and thighs, making way for the tendrils on her legs to slide her boots off, she begins to wonder if escape is even possible at this point. She's unarmed, unarmored, barefoot, and now the tendrils are going for her underwear. She tries to squeeze her thighs together, but it's pointless; the thing just tears them off. The tendrils around her hips and thighs tighten painfully.

With a sudden sinking feeling, Avacyn realizes that her sister's hopelessness and faithlessness are feeding back into her, and she's losing faith in herself. Just moments ago, Avacyn was going to destroy this creature. Shortly after that, her thoughts turned to, "How am I going to destroy this creature?" Now she couldn't help but think, "Is it possible to destroy this creature?"

Suddenly, Avacyn's shoulders hurt. It feels like the creature is nearly wrenching her arms off, but its position hasn't changed. Her wings are bound tightly, unable to move, and incredibly sore, like she'd been punched by a 10-foot wide fist. Her ribs and her hips feel like she's being crushed to death. She's having trouble breathing around her makeshift ball gag, and is choking a little on her own spit.

And then, sensing Avacyn's vulnerability, Emrakul lowers a single, bright, red-blue appendage from the ceiling, and Avacyn and her sisters immediately know what it's used for. This one is no mere tentacle - it's obviously phallic. The tentacles around Avacyn's pale thighs relax their grip somewhat and the ones wrapped around her slender waist are replaced with hands. The Eldrazi  cock slides down Avacyn's midriff, staining her silky black dress with a strange, colorless fluid. It brushes her dress aside and stops at the head of her virgin slit, and brushes its tip gently but firmly against her lips. Avacyn shudders.

The tentacles binding her arms retreat, leaving only the muscular tendrils wrapped around her wrists, which are pulled gently behind her back. Emrakul's member slides against Avacyn's opening, leaving behind its natural lubricant. Finally the thing pushes itself in, gently, and Avacyn instinctively spreads her legs wider. Growing more bold, the appendage pushes in further, and Avacyn's muscles tense, her walls clamping down. The rubbery appendage wriggles insider her, squirming in further by a fraction of an inch. The virgin angel knows nothing of this experience, usually leaving such mortal stuff to lesser angels.

A pair of Emrakul's hands extend down and gently cup her breasts, fondling them through her gown. Another pair caress her hips and her ass, almost experimentally. The main attraction, meanwhile, reaches as far in as it seem to be able to go, and begins pistoning in and out of Avacyn's sacred hole. The colorless fluid relaxes her  from the inside out, like a strange narcotic, and she begins to focus entirely on the sensation of Emrakul inside of her. Avacyn remembers being very mad at this creature not too long ago, but now she wants nothing but to be here, in this weird cave, with those three pathetic, defeated angels, and Emrakul inside of her.

Emrakul's love stick pushes further in than it has before, and Avacyn feels a strange sensation, as if it's hit a sort of barrier. There is no pain, just...  mild pressure. The pleasure rod in between her sacred thighs seems to stop here, as if asking permission. Avacyn tries to nod, then realizes she can't move very well with her mouth bound with tendrils and hair. The tendrils unwrap themselves, she spits out a wad of hair, and says the last words she will say as the Angel of Hope of Innistrad.

"Fuck me, Emrakul."

With renewed force, Emrakul violates Avacyn's innermost sanctum, piercing the womb of the White mana construct, and the sensation overwhelms her. Her pelvis is on fire, but it isn't pain. Pleasure courses through her brain, as Emrakul begins to cum inside of her. The pure, colorless mana overwhelms the White mana that powers her, and the spell that binds her to Innistrad is becomes unstable. The five colors spin before her, and she realizes that the basics of magic and mana she had learned from Sorin are actually false. There is only one color, that that color is colorless. Avacyn's tenants of duty, protection, sacrifice, are but a small fraction of her total being, as Emrakul's energies course through her. She feels her abdomen throb, and she realizes that she's laughing like a madwoman. Her sisters would be cowering if they weren't restrained. Emrakul's seed is still spilling inside of her, contaminating her further, and she realizes that, right now, she's at the halfway point between color and colorless, and if she goes much further she'll become just another mindless colorless extension of Emrakul's will. Her hips start shaking uncontrollably, as her angelic pussy tries to milk Emrakul's implement for all it's worth. Whatever it wants to do with her is fine, she will submit to its will, she will become a part of Emrakul. There is already no going back.

And then it's over. Avacyn falls roughly to the ground, landing on her back, and her sisters land in a heap beside her. Emrakul is gone, as are its spawn and all its body parts, having planeswalked away. All that remains is a hundred-food wide clearing where Emrakul crashed into the ground and leveled the trees.

Avacyn sits up. Her nethers are sore, and leaking Emrakul's seed. It's no longer charged with colorless mana, but it's still Emrakul's essence. Avacyn reaches out to the conduit, searching for signs of faith. It feels... different. Attuning to the White spell was automatic before, because Avacyn was herself just a glorified White spell. She's... something else now. Devoid. She still used White mana, but it didn't mean what it used to.

Gisela stands on shaky feet, broken, humiliated, and frightened. "Avacyn? What happened to you? Is that thing gone?"

Avacyn thinks for a moment. She is a part of Emrakul's lineage now. Not just a drone, but perhaps one step above. The Titan left her with no particular command, and yet she knows that if it should summon her, she would do its bidding. Even if Avacyn would have to cross planes to do it, she'd find a way.

"Yes... and no," she says, "It may be back. For now, it is contained."