Splendificent 3

By Dacy Alex

Three times the babes, three times the action, three times the climaxes!

Giselle Nyfall has lost a lot: her innocence, her Prince Charming Krisdane and her naughty vampire-demon BFF. Even her saved games! She’s not going to desert her Hot Squad, though, as the gorgeous gang vows to destroy Saint Lazarus of Bethany, the original vampire.

With his ancient reservoir of dark powers, Lazarus would be a formidable opponent on his own. Allied with the Squad’s arch-nemesis, the rebellious (though ravishing) elven prince Gorick, he may well be unstoppable. Even the resurrection of Giselle’s take-no-prisoners bestie (and Satan’s granddaughter) Fleur Flanagan may not be enough to turn the tide of
this epic battle.

The concupiscent co-eds bounce their way from bedrooms to boardrooms to afternoon tea with Satan himself, fighting the forces of evil with equal parts wit, luck and lust. If shedding their already skimpy clothing is what it takes to save the world, these babes are ready to make that sacrifice.

Warning: Splendificent 3 is a politically incorrect novel that contains adult themes, adult scenarios, adult language, and well...adult everything!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dacy Alex
• Release date: Aug 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798218034177

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Roxy Kitty Publishing

Splendificent 3 © 2022 by Dacy Alex

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Cover design © 2022 Art Jibbie

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Prologue

Terrorist.

War Criminal.

Betrayer.

The Gods’ chosen.

Savior.

That was the truth of his existence. A monster mixed with a hero.

Now this monster was waiting on a Coke Zero.

He had received an invitation to sit with the original vampire at this restaurant that overlooked New York City’s Central Park. Four stars, five stars, the humans next to him were gushing about some sort of star rating the restaurant got from sort of critic.

Swine herds in his home country ate better than these eleven billion star-mongering Americans. They would beg to eat the scraps the mini wyvrens feasted on.

Prince Gorick Elvrina of Golden Land, better known as The Golden surveyed his surroundings. It was a joke. A tacky rug the interior decorator charged no small price for, idiot humans positioning themselves for something called a selfie. Self-absorption consumed them, with no regard for the destruction they caused the earth and its lifestream.

Invasive. That is what the humans were.

Had he turned his back on his family and rebelled against his father for them? Was The Chosen Spear pointed at his sisters’ hearts for people gushing over something known as a puppy filter?

The more time he spent around them, the crazier he felt.

He had dedicated his soul to preserving stupidity. And now that soul might never know rest, fated to linger in the icy wastes of Hell.

Let the darkness sweep over these morons.

Who cares what fate they suffer?

But what of the supernatural lives that would be affected if he did not claim the elven throne of Golden Land. His pure elf brethren, werewolves, witches, sorcerers. Only vampires stood to gain from the night.

His brother, Rodgir, enjoyed an American musical composition called All Eyezs on Me by the bard Tupac.

Gorick felt all eyes on him because almost all eyes in this establishment had locked on him upon his entry.

Why wouldn’t they be? This was a man of uncommon beauty. No man could rival him. He had a chiseled jaw, prominent browbone, broad chin, a medium shag of blond hair, and of course, those clear, bright purple eyes that resembled his hated sister, Tristabelle, so perfectly.

Princess Tristabelle. She was the reason the eyes of the humans were feasting on a failure. She had chased him out of his rightful home when she broke his attack on Hildegarde palace during his rebellion. Then mere days ago, a few months after his rebellion, she chased him from his compound and laid waste to the Great President of Hell.

Now he was sitting, watching a 350-pound man engorge himself on a cinnamon covered donut and waiting for his latest hope to arrive—that of a less than a fashionably late vampire.

The older the vampire got, the more they lost their sense of time. As Gorick was dealing with the millennia-old original vampire, he had been waiting for half a human hour.

Then like a gust of wind sweeping through a relaxed day at the park the vampire arrived. Somehow vampires just disturbed things. They turned heads. They seized notice.

This one stood a mere 5’6" off the ground but possessed a generous flow of brown hair that gave him a unique appearance. Stubble outfitted a diamond-shaped face that featured captivating pale blue eyes. He was a handsome man, put together nicely in a $4600 suit.

Gorick ‘The Golden,’ the one true king of Golden Land, protector of the earthern realm, Lazarus of Bethany said, kneeling, how may I help you?

This Lazarus of Bethany had been killed a millennia ago over a sheep or some coins or a piece of corn. Lazarus’ PR team buried the true story. What had saved his mind and body was a supernatural STD he caught from a demonic prostitute that rose him from the dead. It ruined his ability to walk in the daytime and heightened his strength, speed, and senses and granted him near-immortality. There was a way for him to spread the disease, giving rise to the similarly powered species of vampires. He and his ilk even had the power to mind control humans, which he used to spread the propaganda that he was risen from the dead by Christ.

You asked me for this meeting, Gorick noted, not bothering to acknowledge people were staring at the kneeling scene.

Lazarus stated, still kneeling, A serf pledges his allegiance to the crown simply by existing. But a man of my stature, I have to pledge allegiance in person.

That is rather arrogant of you. To assume I wish to wait 30 human minutes of my life to wait for your fealty. Be mindful of the fact you are not unlike the serf. Your existence speaks to your fealty.

Lazarus had a seat on the oak chair with his lean legs crossed, I am not so sure about that. With two losses to your little sister, I might have other options for my loyalty. Maybe Prince Rodgir? He is a supreme fighting machine.

You are wise to insult me where I cannot kill you, vampire.

After the disgrace that saw Gorick’s grandfather and uncles fall to the Corrupt Elves the Elvrina’s had solidly rebuilt their reputation through equal measures of violence, charity, debauchery, heroism, and opulence.

It was not meant to be an insult, your highness. I am only stating a fact. You have lost twice to your little sister because you forget who you are. You lead cast-offs from the Golden Land military into your own home and naturally got beat back by your younger sister. Then you recruited a mercenary gang to do your bidding and found mercenaries are known for two things; their cowardice and the price you pay for their cowardice. I offer you a reminder of what you are, your highness. You are a commander of elite forces. Let me be your sworn sword. Let me strike with hot iron where your old allies struck with blunted blades.

Yes, Lazarus was right. Gorick had commanded the King’s Shield atop the Tree of Woe in all three battles with the Taskmaster. He had led King’s Shield in numerous battles against the Corrupt Elves, chasing them back to the Corrupt Forest every time.

You are Prince Gorick ‘The Golden,’ and if someone knows anything about the supernatural world, they need to worship you!

Yes…

"Look at these idiot humans worrying about elections and delegates, congressmen and voter suppression.

Idiots…

You are the king, and the kingdom is your earth! I believe in you, your highness. You will stop the darkness from coming.

Prince Gorick couldn’t help but lean forward in shock.

I believe in the prophecy. No one else may. But I do. You have told your family of the truth, and what do they do? They try and ruin you. They prop Rodgir up as the supreme fighting machine, Astrid as future ruler, Tristabelle as the heroine who saved the kingdom. Lazarus stated casually.

More heroism, violence and legends. Far greater than their grandfather and uncles.

They think me sick. Deranged. They say I need help. They say I am no longer in my right mind.

Lazarus adjusted his legs and smiled a twisted sort of smile, Let fools think what fools think. How can the elite be expected to know to the fool? We are here because we are the elite.

Where are we then, Lazarus of Bethany? Where are we the elite?

We are on the cusp of a revolution. I feel it. I smell it, Lazarus sniffed the air. "Our time is now, your highness. I can deliver to your service, Kabuso, the master of illusion, vampires older than all your sister’s allies put together with strength stupid teenage girls could never comprehend. I have a literal monster factory in Zykov Industries.

I believed that be a real estate endeavor.

No, no, my king. Not at all. It has become so much more. Although Zykov is dead, the mission remains. We have been waiting for you. The king, the king, who will save the earth realm.

And you think your façade of selling dwellings and domiciles has any benefit to me?

Of course. But we are only as good as our leader. You. And a legend is only as good as the foes he defeats. Tristabelle, Rodgir, Astrid, Krisdane, Trygyrr, your father Fenrisson. Maybe even your lost brother Bernhardt. What if you took them all down?

What if, indeed? Who would remember their grandfather? Their uncles? Who would ever doubt the Elvrina name again?

Laz continued, "If anyone chooses to fight you, they will bleed, sweat, and they will hurt. You are the elite, and your foes pay the price. The price of facing a man enhanced by the Rage potion!

The Rage potion? I heard its users succumb to madness, cursing to heavens, wishing they could crumble to dust.

Lazarus placed an order for $800 dollar bottle of wine for the table before noting, Do not believe lies and half-truths. You and I are smarter than that. We know the Rage potion enhances our supernatural power. Your sister, Princess Tristabelle, should have gotten on her knees and kissed your ass because now she has an elite force to destroy her. How then might Princess Tristabelle defeat Prince Gorick when he’s ingested a gallon of Rage produced at Zykov Industries? How can she beat the invincible Prince Gorick? How can she beat invulnerable Prince Gorick? The indestructible Prince Gorick? How can anyone defeat that man?

Terrorist.

War Criminal.

Betrayer.

The Gods’ chosen.

Savior.

How indeed? Prince Gorick asked in a soft voice.

Chapter One: Samurai Showdown

I know Kung-Fu, Giselle Nyfall stated in the blankest, simplest way she could manage. It was so underacted it was overacted.

The target of her claim, Prince Trygyrr Elvrina of Golden Land, pure elf, was busy conversing with a warlock who sported a long grey bread, white hat, and hated to be called Gandalf.

Giselle stood, bored out of her Nikes, in the Golden Land consulate in Manhattan. It, like anything belonging to Golden Land, was a sight worth beholding. The floors were blue marble that alternated shades, while the walls featured paintings thought to be lost to civilization. They were hung around overgrown glowing golden and purple flowers that Trygyrr said fed off the energy of the earth’s lifestream. When Giselle asked if she could put some of the lifestream on her kale, Trygyrr just rolled his eyes.

The lifestream or Ley Line was a green substance that flowed beneath the surface of Midgard aka planet Earth. Prince Trygyrr said the Lifestream aka Ley Lines was the essence of the planet, basically the heart that pumped life into every living thing.

I know Kung-Fu, Giselle repeated. Matrix? Keanu Reeves? Meme? Do you watch movies, Prince Trygyrr? Do you have fun? Are you able to understand the fundamental concepts behind the kinetic measurements of the process of having fun?

Prince Trygyrr responded, I enjoy sharpening my knives, throwing my knives, commissioning–

Eeep! Do you have any fun besides killing innocent people?

Trygyrr took a moment to think about the question, then answered, No.

‘Ugh! Why are we here? Giselle asked, throwing herself down on a plush blue chair. You pulled me out of American History class. That was the one class where I wouldn’t have to have sex my professor for a good grade. I know all about American history. Like Women’s Suffrage was about how American women suffered spousal abuse in like the Middle Ages or whatever. See I know a ton. But you pulled me out. Because why? We’re gonna have sex?"

That would not be so bad, Giselle thought, to hop on Prince Trygyrr and try the Trygyrr Effect. He was a handsome specimen of elf with a strong jaw but soft features of big eyes, a hairless face and the pouty lips of his brother, Prince Krisdane. One could do much worse. Giselle was going to do much worse in her biology teacher.

You truly have a taste for the foolish, Prince Trygyrr stated. As I have said before, I have called you to the consulate so that we may begin our combat lessons. Your survival during the assault of Kabuso’s compound was in contrast to my foolish siblings taking your fragility lightly. You do not know your own power well enough. Today we learn.

I am all about learning, baby. I go to the fifth rated college in NYC. Sixth? Pedro.

Remarkable was what Trygyrr had called Giselle’s wielding of Krisdane’s mythical sword, Phoebus. No being besides Krisdane should have been able to clinch their fingers around that gorgeous weapon. Yet Giselle did and defeated a whole zombie with it. Moreover, she was able to foist Princess Tristabelle’s Mistlewoe into the air as though she were Link with his Master Sword. After conferencing with King Fenrisson of Golden Land, and Princess Constantina, Prince Trygyrr determined Giselle was some manner of supernatural. Her exact species, he noted, was a dangerous mystery.

The danger, Prince Trygyrr stated, was embedded strictly in Giselle’s existence. A mysterious supernatural was a tasty morsel. A mighty morsel. Where there was might there was hunger. If word got out about Giselle, people would be out to eat. She needed to learn to protect herself.

I thought we were gonna have a Neo and Morpheus training scene kinda, Giselle whined. But you’re giving me Luke from The Last Jedi vibes and that is vomit worthy, my good prince. Besides, we both know we’re gonna wind up hooking up. No need to skirt around it with fancy Trygyrr talk.

There is no such thing as fancy Trygyrr talk, Prince Trygyrr decided.

Giselle began a poor imitation of Prince Trygyrr, Giselle, let us discover the hidden meaning in the underlying ethereal forces beyond your heart-shaped lips as I distort the temporal realm with my fierce and erect member. A member beyond human comprehension! You must learn to keep your gigantic blue eyes from rolling with devastating and corrupting force to the back of your head while I explore the deeper mystery hidden within your massive tits.

The blonde babe rubbed her indeed massive tits. Because, why not?

Prince Trygyrr made history. The lone heterosexual man not to be impressed by Giselle’s dairy farm.

You asked if I knew fun beyond killing innocents. I can think of one innocent who might be fun to harm.

Giselle squealed, Eeep! Let’s just get to training, sir!

Also, I can say for certain your ‘tits’ impress me not.

You take that back!

I never withdraw anything that I say. Now, if I may begin our lesson. No one may say which manner of training breeds the most dangerous supernatural. But father says, ‘If you are to fight then you are to fight.’ Thus, together we fight influences and malefactors both unjust and most wicked.

There’s that Trygyrr talk. Can’t you be like Fleur and just say we’re gonna fuck some dudes up? Malefactors. Sounds like fractions. Who likes fractions? Only weirdos!

Solving fractions is a noble pursuit of an elevated mind.

Point made. Anyway, where are these bad dudes?

Prince Trygyrr adjusted the collar on his black tunic that was embroidered with glowing grey lightning bolts. Then he turned to the witch who stood patiently and asked, Have you prepared my portal?

Yes, your highness, the witch announced, bowing low.

Woah, we’re going through a portal? Giselle questioned, leaping in joy and shaking her huge rack. That’s so cool!

Yes, so cool, Prince Trygyrr stated with a small knowing smile.

Giselle watched in wonder as the witch began waving his hands to draw up a flurry of green energy from a patch of dirt on the floor.

This shows how important portals are in a supernatural’s’ life, Prince Trygyrr stated. So long as a witch has the talent, he can manipulate the energies of the portal to allow safe passage. We built this consulate directly over this portal to allow fast travel to this supernatural mecca that is New York City.

So there could be like a portal at Five Guys, and no one would know, Giselle mused, rubbing the chin of her heart-shaped face in shock.

As Giselle expected, because she played many games with portals, the energy formed a big green circle. The circle pulsated with wonderful life whirling in front of the witch’s outstretched hand. She heard the prince saying something; perhaps it was a warning. But she couldn’t give less than a fuck about that! This was a portal, damn it! She tore past Prince Trygyrr and ran like hell through it.

So it was no surprise she emerged nearly vomiting on a train platform.

Hey, you okay? a sullen voice asked.

Giselle’s big eyes looked up from her kneeling position to take in one delicious slice of the male gender. There was black hair tousled to the right side of his head. It was a common style but one that gave him a runway model look. His face was sharp and angular with high arching eyebrows. Bellow those eyebrows were expressive eyes that looked awfully familiar to this main character with the self-professed main character aura. His best feature happened to be his bow shaped lips. They could give Princess Tristabelle’s lips intense competition in sexiness.

Or perhaps his best feature might be his six packed stomach, revealed by an open leather vest that featured a pair of spiked pauldrons on the shoulder. His lean legs stood behind form-hugging black pants that were highlighted by diamond-encrusted crosses.

Why, he would have been marriage material on looks alone if not for the fact that on his vest was the patch of the mercenary gang SKM.

The Japan-originated group proved viperous, emerging from the grass to strike at Giselle and her crew of supernatural babes the last few weeks.

Giselle’s trembling body managed to assume a crane stance, You better not mess with me! I know Kung-Fu you…you…suck a duck bitch ass uh…fuck boy! I’ll fuck you up!

I bet, the guy said, turning his back on Giselle. Where’s the prince? I get paid by the hour.

This notion that Prince Trygyrr associated with SKM hit Giselle with instant alarm. How could Prince Trygyrr domesticate the snake when the snake exists only to bite?

How I enjoy witnessing the beauty of SKM’s hunger for money! Prince Trygyrr announced from behind Giselle. Arsen, the world of evil continues to suffer at our hands!

You shouldn’t be so withholding of information! Giselle complained. If you had told me the portal was gonna make me wanna puke my guts out.

Prince Trygyrr interrupted Giselle, When foolishness comes to mind, I once only thought of my brother, Rodgir. Now that I have seen you rush headfirst into a thing you know little and less about you will forever define stupidity in my mind.

Giselle needed time to load up a proper comeback. She was going to empty the clip on Prince Trygyrr. She merely needed a moment to gather the bullets. Thus she pretended to be soaking in the surroundings of the train station. It was desolate except for the train littered with graffiti sitting in front of her. They stood outdoors under an evening sky in a place Giselle could never identify.

That didn’t matter. The comeback was ready.

Yeah, well, I think you’re stupid for working with SKM! Drop the mic! They attacked me in an alley. Who attacks people in alleys? Meth-heads that’s who! And if you told me we were working with SKM! then I definitely would have hung back and showed off my elite American history knowledge. Like Sofi and were just talking about how great it was that the emancipation proclamation emancipated all abused minors from their parents.

Truly the definition of stupidity, Prince Trygyrr declared before a long sigh. A very long sigh.

Let’s go, the handsome stud stated.

Go where? Giselle whined. I don’t even know who you are.

I’m Arsen Torrin Holtz.

Ashley's brother! Giselle exclaimed

Arsen grimaced and nodded.

Giselle remembered the SKM witch who lured her into a magical trap merely to seize hold of her funbags. Thanks to her overly enthusiastic rambling personality Ashley had been about as arousing as when Giselle found Liara from Mass Effect porn but then saw she had a penis.

I said let’s go, Arsen repeated, then hopped on the train.

I shall explain as we travel, Prince Trygyrr stated, nudging Giselle along. Hopefully, you have the mind to listen.

Giselle’s heart-shaped lips formed a sharp frown, yet her legs stepped onto the train.

Though the train should have held passengers as it had worn seats and advertisements written in French and Italian, only Giselle and here companions found themselves taking a ride.

Okay, so where are we? Giselle asked.

We are in Switzerland, Prince Trygyrr responded, taking in the scene of a forested haven. Our mission is simple. We are to end a slavery ring. A known deviant demon sorcerer has begun abducting witches brazenly for reasons I doubt are very complicated. Greed drives all demon sorcerers. Yet justice drives all Elvrinas.

So we’re really not gonna have sex? Giselle pondered to herself. Shocking material,

Prince Trygyrr stifled a laugh.

Giselle asked, Witch trafficking is a pretty big deal. How do you know someone is abducting witches?

My reach is long; my sources are infinite. If it happens in the supernatural world I will know. Yes, I have hired SKM. Yet Arsen is not the SKM you have fought against.

Nope, just the brother of the girl who sexually assaulted me.

Such limited knowledge, Prince Trygyrr bemoaned. I will educate you. SKM is a mercenary group with many arms and many hands on those arms. I have hired merely one hand. A lethal one. An SKM Samurai. There is a finite number of SKM Samurai. Our friend, Arsen, killed one to become one. He ran the gauntlet of the existing 100 SKM Samurai, wrestled an SKM Ogre and finally found himself injected with the Lifestream of the earth. Truly a glorious warrior!

I’m not interested in your praise, Arsen commented. I’m just here to do my job.

And your job, noble Samurai, Trygyrr began with a flourish of his long fingers. Is the protection of my sometimes-boorish ward.

Fine. I’ll keep her safe.

Recently Giselle started to believe Elvrinas made things more challenging than they needed to be. They seemed to relish creating difficult situations that might test their lofty bearing as the gold standard of supernatural. Except the problem became, they tested everyone else's mortality with their schemes.

And you think I’m the big donkey head! Giselle exclaimed with a punching of the air. Let me tell you a story. One day my mom sent me to get the oil changed in her Mercedes. When I got out the car I noticed a pile of dog turds, and I said I better watch out for that pile! When I went into the oil change place, I noticed it smelled funny. No problem. I went over to get a smoothie. And the smoothie place smelled funny too. Then I went to buy a videogame and I noticed that place smelled funny too. Then I figured it out. I stepped in the shit. I was the one who smelled. SKM is that turd that’s stuck to our shoe and you’re the one who stinks, Prince Trygyrr!

Prince Trygyrr spread his arms as though he were a god and answered, As feces attracts flies, you’ll find an SKM Samurai attracts the reaper. Prepare yourself. We have arrived to strike brutal justice! Let no one escape with their lives!

The rest of the ride was Prince Trygyrr showing Giselle the proper way to stomp someone for maximum damage. Apparently, there were certain angles and rules one must abide by to beat the shit out of another while being technically sound. If one stomped hard enough and long enough they might even produce brain matter from their victim!

The train pulled to a stop with the door immediately sliding open. With a crazed laugh befitting a comic book villain Prince Trygyrr threw himself through the open door. He was followed by Arsen, who had removed a katana encased in a golden and black handle as he jumped.

Arsen came down with a chop that severed a guard’s arm from its socket with his energy blade. The scream from the guard must have excited Prince Trygyrr because he cackled with glee.

Arsen severed a guard’s ankle in one smooth motion as he reached for a gun with the glowing sword.

The next moment Arsen was flipping forward to come down with an arm separating slice on the next guard.

Marvelous! Prince Trygyrr declared with a wild clapping of his hands.

The next guard was armored in a bulletproof vest that somehow did nothing to stop Arsen from driving his sword through his heart.

Suddenly one of the guards came tumbling into the train courtesy of a toss by Prince Trygyrr.

Prince Trygyrr followed that with instructions of, The nose, please, young student.

That means me! Giselle exclaimed. Totally sorry about this, guy. Giselle professed then stomped the man directly on the nose. She wore a pair of combat boots Fleur lent her. Boots which made brittle pieces of the man’s nose.

Unfortunately, that seemed to anger the man more than hurt him with what was left of his nostrils flaring. Giselle heard Trygyrr order a knee to the stomach so that was what she delivered to the fast-approaching guard. Alas, that brought her closer to him, which saw his hands circle across her throat.

The odd thing about the situation happened to be that Giselle felt nothing. No loss of breath, no pain, no slipping of consciousness. She merely watched casually as Arsen pried the guard away from Giselle for a swift beating.

You okay? Arsen asked Giselle without looking at her.

Yeah. I’m oddly fine.

Everything’s odd in our world, Arsen stated with a touch of sadness in his voice.

A guard with a thick beard was begging for his life as Prince Trygyrr shoved him into the train.

This helpless, pathetic man prostrated himself in front of a confused Giselle. She was still stunned that being choked didn’t equal getting the life wrung out of her. She expected it to be like when Homer choked Bart except it was like when she put on that fabulous scarf she stole out her mom’s closet.

Mom!

Dawn Nyfall!

Her mom was calling her right now as Prince Trygyrr tried to explain to her some sort of fancy fighting technique that might cause heart failure in the victim.

What do you mean you’re in Switzerland? Dawn yelled when Giselle told her where she was.