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3: A Break, Broken

If there was ever a time to hold his nerve, this was it. Sixteen years of service and experience might be needed at a moments notice so he scanned the horizon as well as rapid glances to the walls either side of him.

There was danger out there. The leaves shook loose from the branches despite the calm winds, the birds were spooked and flew in great numbers overhead from the north and a few deer had bolted by closer to the town than they would usually dare. The beauty of The Rift hid something wholly unnatural as the man squeezed the grip of his sword hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

He nearly jumped out of his boots when the gate behind him creaked open and he watched a female guard exit and pass through the archway, shield emblazoned with the crossed swords of Riften's banner in hand but with her battle axe tucked in her belt. They both wore the same uniform; standard issue chainmail covered with faded purple cloth and full face helmets.

The man relaxed and asked, "Ingen. What's the word?"

Ingen shrugged and lifted her visor, which revealed a pretty nord woman with shocking blue eyes but was no standard beauty; a deep scar on her cheek and up across the bridge of her nose spoke of much, as did the claw marks on her exposed arms. "To watch and listen, same as before, Hjerd. Probably some fool wizard from the college exploding. It would make a change of pace; half their students can barely even cast magic."

Hjerd shook his head. "Watch and listen!? Is the jarl mad? Wait-" He sucked in a breath and held it as he checked the gate was shut before he continued, "don't answer that I was being rhetorical. That was no wizard. Mark my words, that was a dragon! I bet a week of my hard earned septims it's the end times. We should be lining up shoulder to shoulder to fend off scaled death aloft on wing and filled with fury and fire against icy heart and colder steel! We'll die as heroes worthy of Sovngarde or live on as legends, but with just us two we stand less chance of winning than a khajiit does walking out of a town without purloining something."

"Whatever you say, Hjerd. Whatever you-" Ingen cut herself off as she giggled and dropped her visor. "Purr-loining? Was that a pun? You're in the wrong profession, friend; you should head to the bards college and take up poems or japery."

"Bah, nonsense. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I could handle it but I heard the bards college is all talk and little else. They send prospective recruits to go find missing books, then announce people who bother to come back that they're a bard, and people either leave because there's nothing to do or they stick around the college and huff on their collective farts over how quick-witted and worldly-wise they all believe themselves to be."

"It was just a suggestion Hjerd, that's all." Ingen took her place opposite the awning for the great double doors of Riften.

"Hmph. I'll stick right here, thank you very much." Hjerd rolled his neck and resumed his watch for encroaching threats, but kept stealing glances at his companion. He finally said, "do you... uh... like musicians and wordly-wise people, then?"

"Who wouldn't like to be wooed by a strapping fellow who's strong of arm with a voice like thunder yet and has dextrous fingers to lilt along the strings?" Ingen said with a voice like honey.

Hjerd cleared his throat. He then cleared it a second and a third time before he finally stammered, "I-I mean, I could always give it a look in. Broaden my horizons and all that. I used to play the lute a bit as in my youth."

"Oh, really? There's nothing wrong with broadening your horizo-" Ingen flinched as if icy water had dripped down her neck and she took a step back.

Hjerd looked at her for a moment, then tried to follow her line of sight.

Beyond the trees and growing clearer by the second appeared to be a very short argonian woman with an impressive belly and bust, and a thickly built khajiit. Then Hjerd noticed they were walking by one of the rocky outcrops by the trail. One that was a good height for cover in case of archers, yet it didn't reach the khajiit's knee.

"By the Gods!" He gasped and stepped back as well. The beastfolk pair were fast approaching thanks to the length of their legs, even at the plodding gait the argonian set. The only thing that stopped Hjerd from fleeing into Riften to summon help was when he saw the emblem on the khajiit's surcoat; the crest of Cheydinhal, a circular and interwoven run of thorny vines with a green background.

"I can't believe it's true." Ingen suddenly muttered under her breath.

Hjerd looked at her, and she at him, and she continued. "I thought it was some hogwash drunken tale; beastfolk giants working for the legion. Some far flung mammoth-shit spun when those infernal gates opened to explain how the imperial capital survived with so little damage when they suggested they were the target of the invasion."

The khajiit, who Hjerd was increasingly convinced was female as well by her hips swayed as she walked despite her stocky frame, waved a gloved hand their way, pulled down her chain coif and smiled with a row of wicked, sharp teeth. Both nords looked at each other once more, straightened up, and stepped forward to meet the bizarre beastfolk before them.

The closer they got, the more both loomed over almost everything in the area. Hjerd fought the urge to flee every step until he faltered, raised a hand and called out, "halt!" To his surprise, both women stopped. Even more of a surprise than how his voice didn't break. Hjerd started to disbelieve what was before him and, in a show of either through bravery or idiocy, he walked up to them until he was in arms reach of the khajiit. Her arms, at least. If he got any nearer he wouldn't be able to look her over.

Hjerd gulped and stared up; he was a head taller than her knee. She was as tall as a mammoth was and it took every shred of courage not to step away.

The khajiit leaned forward to look back down over the rise of her bust, although all this did was make it seem like she was sizing him up with her menacing presence, despite the innocent glint in her eye and the way her ears flickered in confusion.

Hjerd looked her up and down a few times before he made one final pass from the ground up. Metal plated leather boots, which he noted had whole shields as shin-guards but bent in the middle to better fit the curve of the leg, and he noted how her knee was about level with his chest and capped with a flattened pair of imperial helmets. Several layers of chainmail wrapped around her thighs, strung together with rope and thick twine. The surcoat looked to be a repurposed banner but it fit as if tailored.

Beyond that, her waist narrowed but it was obvious by her less-than-svelte girth that she either had a strong core or was overweight, but with her exposed arms there was no mistaking she had a powerful build as each muscle flexed from the little flinches as she stood arms akimbo. Even in spite of the fact she was a khajiit or her size, being a nord he had an instinctual appreciation on her build. It looked hard earned.

Beyond the swell of her chest and to her inquisitive face, she looked likely to be in her early twenties at the oldest, with a pink nose and the insides of her ears and thick, puffy fur on her cheeks. It was probably the biggest clash; she had an innocent look about her. Naive perhaps.

Hjerd tried to maintain his composure but was glad for his full faced helmet, since he was slack jawed and gawping. He gulped and felt just a hint of relief as he walked over to the pregnant argonian.

She was notably smaller since he was almost as tall as her hips, but that was of little comfort since she still looked fit and able enough, pregnancy not withstanding, to tear him in two. Her legs were armoured in a similar fashion as the khajiit but more akin to layers of chain in a sort of skirt, but her astonishing belly and ridiculous chest clearly prevented a woman of her size from wearing anything protective. Instead, clad in furred boots, similar makeshift armoured leggings, she was dressed haphazardly in an open fronted shirt, with blankets tucked in to help cover her scales, and a coat that was full to bursting over that.

He finally stepped back and cleared his throat. "So, what business do you Cyrodiil folk have in The Rift?"

The beastfolk looked at each other. The argonian nodded, then the khajiit, who looked down at Hjerd and responded, "I'll try to be as transparent as possible, sir. We're agents of the empire; We're Knight-Errant Katia Managan," she said and pointed at herself, then to the argonian, "and Knight-Errant Quill-Weave. We're not here on official business; we've been given leave of absence to..." The khajiit trailed off and Hjerd could see her face flush through the yellow fur of her face.

"Go on, Kat," Quill-Weave said and rested a hand on her friend's hip. The look they shared was thick with bashful joy despite their odd beastfolk faces.

"We wanted to make use of the services in your temple," Katia said, although she was becoming quieter as she went on. "...to get married."

"Really? Aww!" Ingen cooed.

"I don't know about this," Hjerd said, more confused than ever.

"Aw, c'mon," Katia whined. "Don't make me pull rank or something lousy like that. We're all servants of the empire here. We're meant to be off duty and enjoying ourselves."

"Aye, quit being a worrywort, Hjerd," Ingen said. "Do you honestly think they're spies or something? How many giant khajiit and argonians do you think there are? They've got to be the beast- uh... the legionaries I've heard of. And besides, who're you to stand in the way of love?"

"Oh, fine," Hjerd sighed and gestured them towards the gate. "Just be careful where you walk; you haven't been to Riften before or I'd have heard of it. A good portion of the town consists of wooden platforms over the waterways and, no offence, neither of you look especially dainty. Head straight to Mistveil keep and announce your presence to Jarl Bragne, because I get the impression we'll have to take special measures if you want room and board and she likes to know everyone in her town."

The guards jogged to the tunnel and pulled open the doors, although they had to leave the awning to stand out of the way as the argonian crouched and struggled through, then the khajiit had to crawl on all fours. With the two of them inside the city proper and the doors shut the nords once more took place on watch. Things were calm again as they stood in silence for a while, as if nothing strange had just occurred.

"I'm impressed, Hjerd. Very authoritative. I didn't believe for a second you were afraid. No wonder you're the one who trains all the young recruits."

"Damn it, woman. Do you want me to stay a guard or become a bard? What are you getting at?"

"Good rhyme but by Talos, man, you're dense," Ingen stormed up to Hjerd, spun him by the shoulder and lifted her visor to invoke her steely blue eyes. "You and me are going to finish this shift, then you're going to serenade me with your lute over a roast pheasant and a bottle of wine, and then we're going to spend the night in your place with all that entails. Is that clear?"

Hjerd blinked a few times, his facade broken again but still concealed by his helmet. He eventually nodded and, without another word, Ingen returned to her spot. The silence, beside the rustle of dry leaves, helped sooth the confusion, although Hjerd's fingers twitched as he tried to remember how to play the lute.

Then three robed and hooded figures approached, faces obscured by the thick furred lining. Once more, Hjerd approached.

"Halt. What business do you have here today?"

A female voice, raspy and harsh, responded, "we're seeking Katia Managan and Quill-Weave. We know they came this way. Where are they? I pray we aren't too late."

* * *

Katia was used to many things. Waking up naked in an unfamiliar bed with most any partner (albeit only male companions before the curse business), sinking deep into the drink on a single cheap ale and usually culminating in bedding more strangers. Being in the depths of despair, culminating in getting drunk and once more waking up in bed with someone. She was used to offending people with her ignorance and the way she had a knack for being offensive in general, which dragged her into the depths of despair.

Katia stopped thinking about it. This mental spiral was a well travelled path. It never ended well, and that just wasn't her any more.

The point was that there were an ever-increasing number of things Katia_was_ used to in life: fighting, arresting people, eating a whole cow and whatever could be foraged up daily, simply being massive and being a few bad decisions away from growing relentlessly until she believed she might end the world if she wasn't careful. So yes, many things.

One of the things she wasn't especially used to was walking through densely populated towns and cities. It was dangerous and people sometimes bumped into her, or she would clip a resident with one of her feet, which since they were half as long as some people were tall, tended to end badly for them.

She usually stayed outside cities for that very reason when she patrolled the roads. Even when she reached civilisation, she was grateful that her fame and official position meant she could freely sleep at stables and barns. Most of them even had dedicated rooms for her, even if it was just a section cordoned off with spare blankets and sheets hung up for modesty. It made her feel wanted. People even told her that crime plummeted whenever Katia was in the area. It was honestly heart-warming; she was famous for reasons beyond her old shame and even the incident with Mehrunes Dagon.

Katia was sidling along the stone pavement of Riften as the townsfolk stared and kept a respectful distance. The walkway was wide enough for her to fit, but as per the advice given, half of it was just hammered wooden planks supported with log struts which she didn't trust in the slightest yet they were the only thing between her and the massive canal that was at the bottom level of the town. A canal filled with murky water and the walls were covered in outlets that looked suspiciously like sewage runoff.

Katia elected to let Quill-Weave go ahead and for once the khajiit was the one slowing the pair down. She came into view of a market square (although Katia smirked to herself; it was more of a market circle) and an even deeper ocean of faces stared.

"Everything alright back there, Katia?" Quill called from the other side of the market.

"Yes. Maybe? Look, just go on ahead and see about meeting the jarl. I'll be there when I can or at least reach the temple." Katia resumed her slow pace as Quill pressed on and out of sight, she soon mumbled to herself, "alright, slowly but surely. Use that catlike balance. Like a big cat. Like... like a sabre cat!"

Every step along weighed on her as she couldn't even lean back for safety; the wooden second story looked less sturdy than some building's she had accidentally damaged by brushing against. It was tightrope.

And then there was a building with an overhang that protruded out to the edge of the walkway, which left a paltry eight feet height of clearance and even narrower for width. Katia nibbled her lip and looked at what other routes she could take.

There was a bridge to the other side of the canal, but it was tiny and the stone walkway it led to was somehow narrower. The bridge to the market circle was old but solid, as it should be since it allowed access to the core of the town for dozens of people at once. While its age wasn't especially worrying,

Katia had learned a thing or two about building in her year of helping to reconstruct Anvil; she would probably be too much weight all at once if she stepped near the middle. She could leap it but it would be risky to the people and even the edge of the market islet could break.

Well, the answer was obvious; she could crawl on her belly and spread her weight out, she would just need to-

"Katia Managan!" A harsh and angry voice bellowed from behind.

Katia turned on reflex and her foot shifted forward to allow her to see who it was. As soon as she saw the robed figure, there was a damning crack of wood as her foot punched through the walkway and sent her into the start of a fall. Her tail whipped about in a feline attempt at recovering her balance.

"Fuck."

Katia threw her arms about to recover her balance and managed to catch herself. It came at the expense of more splintering wood as her flailing send a fist through the upper floor of a house.

"Fuck!"

She plucked her arm out on reflex, only to find the extra bit of momentum away from the wall tipped her balance again.

"Fuck fuck!"

Katia plucked her leg out of the broken wood and tried another desperate step for sturdier ground. A deep thump... silence. Success!

It creaked. It shuddered. Then more silence, both from Katia and the onlooking crowd as they all held their collective breaths. Success?

Crunch.

The change in direction of her fall sent her away from the canal proper and instead in the direction of the market bridge. Katia landed with a mighty thud, then more fracturing wood as boards and beams fell away, rope frayed and burst, but she was held up for a moment.

"Mother-fucking shi-" Katia managed before she plunged into the murk.

It wasn't especially deep but Katia got a mouth and a nose full of silty, muddy water. Except it wasn't just mud.

The khajiit pulled herself upright and heaved up the collective waste of Riften. Her yellow fur was matted and streaked brown for the first time since her ill conceived painted undergarments. After she purged her airways of shit-water, she looked up at the figure she had only briefly glimpsed before her fall. Her eyes went wide and her ears pricked up.

"What're you doing here!?"

* * *

"... and that's why we're here, your ladyship." Quill said. "You'll have to excuse my inability to curtsy or bow, Jarl Bragne."

Bragne was a witch in royal court finery in all but name. Her broken, overlong nose drooped. Her eyes were dark and sunken, with one a distinct milky white while the other was... maybe light brown, but Quill couldn't tell (and she cursed her colour-blindness). Her wiry grey hair was matted, dirty and long. She even seemed to chew or nibble on something almost all the time, or just made whatever weird oral gestures humans seemed to do a lot when they got old enough.

They weren't quite eye level with each other, even though the argonian stood on the common room section of what was more like a mead hall than something suited for audiences. A long row of tables around a central firepit with metal pots filled with soups and stews bubbling away, a spit roast flank of some type of deer and the jarl sat upon her throne with an altmer man who stood ominously in the corner, arms folded and facial details obscured in the dark.

"I would have preferred more of a warning. Perhaps to even form a welcoming party for such... grandiose guests." Bragne cooed and licked her thin lips. "I do so enjoy guests, but having both you and the mighty Katia Managan here at once, without even a hint of forewarning almost feels like you're trying to scare this poor, decrepit old woman, that perhaps the empire is making sure us 'snowskin savages' are gnawing on the boot of the young, handsome new emperor."

Bragne leered at the argonian and the tiny crone made Quill's scales crawl, but she held her nerve and let the nord say her piece.

Her discomfort reached a harder boil than the stew before Bragne sat back and said, "but no matter; we are all servants of Emperor Martin Septim here." She snickered, shuffled in her throne, clasped her fingers together with elbows on knees as she leaned forward and peered at Quill with a degree of confidence the knight-errant hadn't expected from someone so much smaller than she was; even Quill's superiors were often nervous when this close.

"You're asking a favour of us. One I have every intention of giving, my pet, but would it be too much to ask for a favour in return?"

The argonian tried to get a read on the jarl but the wizened woman was as opaque as she was cunning or her blind eye. Quill fought off the urge to hesitate, well aware it might be seen as weakness, and announced, "as a fellow servant of the empire, we would be glad to exchange our services. You need but name it."

"Hmm. Excellent. As it should be. Yes," Bragne cackled and showed her dark, probably yellowed teeth, half of which were missing.

The shadowy figure in the corner approached and knelt beside the jarl, who listened intently to words spoken behind his hand. Her smile tweaked wider for a split second before the man returned to his corner.

"A simple matter. A roving band of..." She paused.

Quill would have assumed senility, but at no point did Bragne's lone eye lose focus.

Such was the intensity of the stare, Quill flinched when she finally spat, "malcontents! Yes. Monstrous people. They have been operating out of an old broken down estate east of the town. I want it destroyed."

Quill tilted her head and asked, "you mean 'them' destroyed, right? The 'malcontents?"

"Oh, these 'people'," she expelled the word with venom, "will come and go, but that is neither here nor there." Bragne tapped her fingers on her unsubtly hairy chin. "No, I have plans for the area and the old building has needed replacing for years. I happen to know that your khajiit friend would find this an especially simple task and it would also make quite the spectacle for the people to see the strength of the good emperor truly is unconquerable. Insurmountable. Beyond reproach."

Quill shrugged back and said, "that seems simple enough. Sure, I suppose that could be arranged."

"It_will_ be arranged." Bragne leaned forward again and her eye somehow turned more intense. "It will be done before nightfall."

"Why the hurry?" Quill inquired and hoped her writhing tail didn't give away her growing nervousness.

Bragne's eyes went wide and angry. "Oh, simple enough, yet not able to be carried out in a few hours? Truly? Hmph. Indeed. Poor show. Milquetoast. Insufficient!" The last word came with a spray of spittle which she ignored as it dripped from her chin hairs.

Once more Quill tried and failed once more to get a read on the old nord, then sighed, "by tonight, fine. I'd best make haste and see to it that my companion is briefed. If that will be all, your ladyship?"

Bragne instantly relaxed and reclined on her throne. "Of course. Yes. Quite so. It will be all. Such is my faith in your success that I shall inform the priest of your intent and have quarters made available. There's a house near the gate that's on sale but it should suffice. All will be as it should."

The giantess nodded, once more unable to bow, and she left the hall. The moment Quill turned her back, she felt a cold shiver run down her spine which made her peer over her shoulder, only to see those chilling eyes and that sinister figure through the grand doors as they were closed behind her. Quill slowly walked backwards and her heart raced as she sucked in a calming breath.

"Hey, watch where you're going, marsh-sister!"

Quill stopped dead in her tracks and spun about. A pale green argonian woman directly in front and below her. A very familiar one, and certainly welcome after the unsettling meeting with the jarl.

"Seed-Neeus? What in Oblivion are you doing here?"

"I'm here wondering what sort of friend doesn't invite her nearest and dearest to a wedding!" Seed-Neeus crossed her arms and looked every bit the imposing matriarch Quill remembered despite the height difference. "Moreover, come along, Katia's caused a bit of an incident."

"Wait, I only left her some ten minutes ago. How did-" Quill caught herself and took a deep breath, then pinched her muzzle as she followed her companion.

"Right. Never mind. Katia."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Katia said as she threw water over her face and washed away the last of the suds from her body with a few more scooped splashes. "The jarl wants me to go and just flatten an old building? What about these bandits or whatever they are?"

Quill shrugged. Most people would have taken in the beautiful autumn landscape; the shimmering lake with the waning sun reflected off of the gentle surface as ships skirted on the calm breeze with lackadaisical and steady passage, as if none of them moved with a modicum of import.

A novelist before the curse, Quill-Weave would have noted the scene for a description when she got around to writing her next book yet couldn't help but let her gaze linger on the wet fur of Katia's body.

It was so impressive it kept stealing Quill's attention even as she tried to muster her senses to discuss the... the thing they had to discuss. She just wanted a few more seconds to enjoy it.

Katia could have come from any nordic legend with a barbarian warrior swinging a sword or axe bigger than they were, all wrapped in yellow fur, and within that a good, earnest heart. A build akin to a woman who ate hearty and worked hard labour every day of her life (despite how she only gained it over a year), and it was even more apparent with the natural puffiness of her fur flattened down from the water so it clung to her in a way that could only be described as seductive. Quill was still lithe and toned, even after her combat drills and training enhanced her form further, but Katia was heavier, broader; less defined curves from muscle and just... luscious thickness and power.

Katia ended up giving her a concerned tilt of the head, a crook of her ears and she waved her hand.

An enjoyable shiver ran down Quill's spine and made her tail wriggle before she finally caught herself and remembered the question. "Uh, yes, that's what she said. She wanted the building destroyed and apparently the same with the occupants."

Katia shook, complete with a little wiggle of her tail that made Quill snicker, then flashed fire into her hands to dry herself. The filth from her body still lurked in the water in a spreading and thinning cloud in the lake as daylight waned in the west where the sun began to dip into the Throat of the World.

"Is it just me or does everyone talk real fancy up here? I thought Skyrim was meant to be 'savage' and 'untamed' by the way most people talk about it."

Quill smirked. "In my experience, most regional dialects and accents give an air both exotic and 'fancy'. I'm sure to them we sound out of place up here when we keep using all sorts of slang and pidgin."

They were away from prying eyes for the moment in a nook of the town wall. A privacy that was all too brief.

Three argonians approached from Riften's gate, each clad in winter robes and a wide breadth of ages. Both giantess' smiled at their approach; welcome faces this far from home. Seed-Neeus, a merchant from Chorrol, her daughter (and Quill's old lover) Dar-Ma, and both Katia and now Quill's current arcane teacher, Tar-Meena.

Seed-Neeus, a green and red accent scaled member of the 'people of the root' and the most finely dressed, was first to speak. "I've brokered a deal to help pay for the bridge. I don't think they expected me to know my ass from my elbow in terms of actual costs but I set them straight. That said, the deal's only as good as Katia helping gather the materials."

"Sure, I'll add it to the list." Katia sighed. "Not like it'll take long, but I'm sorry if anyone wanted to get back home in any sort of hurry."

Dar-Ma, the tallest of the three, paler green than her mother and who could only be described as bouncy in form and spirit said, "I must say I don't mind staying a little while. It's beautiful here," She spun about in a slow pirouette and marvelled at the scenery, doe-eyed but keen. "I wish I'd brought Blossom. This is a perfect forest to practice my horse archery."

Tar-Meena, the short, dark red scaled and eldest argonian, spat on the floor and leaned against the wall then sparked up flame in her hands to warm them and grumbled,. "I'd sooner be off as quickly as possible. If there's one thing worse than a town or city it's one I'm not familiar with and filled with snow-skinned, hard drinking braggarts with only half a brain per ten heads."

"Oh, you can bitch all you like, you old fish-wife," Seed-Neeus scolded back, "you were the one who insisted we get here in a hurry and even took the less safe path. You put up a good show at not caring, but I saw the relief on your face when we heard we hadn't missed the ceremony."

Tar-Meena scowled and looked away as she dismissed the fire and folded her arms.

There was an extended bout of silence.

"You're looking vibrant, Quiwy!" Dar-Ma chimed up and put a friendly hand on Quill's thigh.

Quill scratched her head-fins and cleared her throat. "I think you mean bloated, Dar. I both feel and look ridiculous."

"You look great-" Katia and Dar-Ma both said at the same time, then shared a giggle and Dar-Ma gestured for the huge khajiit to carry on and did so. "You really carry it well, Quilly. Honest."

"And don't sell yourself short, Katia! How you manage to look so strong and pretty at the same time, I'll never know." Dar-Ma said with a big smile that caused Katia to blush.

"Same to you! I-I mean less the strong... uh..." Katia stammered and stumbled, although Dar-Ma didn't stop grinning. "Uh, but anyway, you've healed up nicely and look cute as ever," Katia replied.

"In both topics, I'm tougher than I look!"

"Oh, Akatosh's spit, I'm going to throw up," Tar-Meena huffed. "Can we discuss Katia's mission and how it feels wrong? No arrests? Just outright breaking down a building and killing everyone inside? What kind of due process is this? I knew these northerners were savages, but this is absurd."

"I dunno. It's not that much different than most bandit camps I've dealt with on patrol," Katia shrugged. "I mean, it's not normally this proactive, but whatever. It's probably a good thing you're here, actually. I could use a 'boost' so I can get it done quicker, and between yourself and Quilly, I can be done with it in an hour, max."

"Just how big did you intend to get, Managan?" Tar-Meena furrowed her eye-ridges. "Odds are if you struck fast you could deal with them as you are, maybe fifty feet if you wanted to be especially safe."

"I've had a bit of an... let's call it an itch to really strut my stuff," Katia said as she finished drying herself and tried to pat down the puffy fur as she licked her hands and brushed her claws through it in a gradual battle to make herself presentable. "I was thinking of just stepping on the place. One and done, you know? Less messing around with strategy, more effortless flattening of the building and home in time for dinner."

"Kat, are you sure that's a good idea?" Quill asked.

Katia smirked. "What could go wrong?"

All four argonians all shared a look but nobody said a word.

"Oh, whatever." Tar-Meena said and pushed herself off the wall. "Let's just get this over with. Right, like we used to, Knight-Errant. Everyone else get in the town and tell everyone to keep clear. Katia, let's get a look at the place first and then we'll decide exactly how big you need to be."

"Yes, ma'am!" Katia said and offered a salute. "It'll be like old times!"

There was a sliver of a hint of a twitch of a smile on Tar-Meena's face, but it was as durable as morning dew in summer heat. "Hop to it, Managan. I don't fancy freezing my tail off tonight."

The rest of the group made their way towards Riften, although Quill and Katia briefly held hands and shared an intimate moment. Tar-Meena started her way eastward and Katia caught up after putting her armour on, once more in the blink of an eye.

The journey didn't take long, especially with Katia's long strides and Tar-Meena casting a magical boost to her athletics.

Both winced at what they saw.

It was a grand estate, three floors tall and nestled in a rough and rocky valley with only one way to access it on foot, but that wasn't the most noteworthy part of it. The building was covered in skeletal remains, as well as fresher bodies that were being picked at by crows. Some were even strapped to wooden crosses on the approach and many others were placed around pyres and bonfires that were scattered about. Dark robed figures roamed the area, many in groups as they lackadaisically enjoyed the crisp mountain air.

"Okay, I really don't think I have any moral issues crushing these bastards," Katia growled.

"I concur. I doubt you even need me to boost; they look like necromancers or maybe witches. I'm sure if you just sauntered on up to them, their idiocy would take care of the rest. Besides, that'll leave me to clear up any stragglers; as defensible as their place is, that'll funnel them out my way. Go put on a good show, apprentice."

"Sounds like a plan." Katia cricked her neck, disrobed once more, rolled her shoulders and with a shared nod with her mentor, began her approach as her body began to grow. The little bite of freedom back at the waterfall was nice, but this was an opportunity she didn't intend to squander.

It really wasn't just an itch; it was a presence inside that had to be unleashed. A want... no, a demand to just fuck something up. A deeply rooted desire like needing to eat or sleep or piss; something to be satisfied or suffer the painful or disgusting aftermath.

She wanted to lift the heaviest thing she could find and throw it at the second heaviest thing. She wanted to break the unbreakable. Deep down she wished Quill was like her; able to grow, able to get as big as she could, to give Katia something to really throw herself against and not have to worry about hurting her. It wasn't like her lover was made of glass; Quill was sturdy and they could be a bit rough, but Quill's pregnancy meant that dream sex was an increasingly common compromise.

These sessions were fun but they just didn't sate or scratch and her control was slowly becoming more and more difficult to maintain. Just like how her dream-self was once overwhelmed by a fear of royalty and now gave her a platform to explore a world beyond, Katia's inhibitions had been changed from alcohol to just a basic need to be able to use her impossible body to its fullest.

Even so, Katia plucked her amulet free, took a sharp breath and bellowed, "In the name of the Emperor, surrender and you shall be granted mercy!"

No less than ten bolts of magic approached her, each flung towards her with expert accuracy as the coven raised the alarm.

Katia smiled and spread her arms as the blasts struck. A few hurt for a split second as the growth induced healing suppressed any pain and the others simply poured more power into her hungry form. Her body swelled and grew in haphazard spurts and she couldn't withhold a deep chuckle as her foes, while confused, simply continued their onslaught.

Her growing feet dug deeper and deeper into the earth with each stride, and each step was uneven as her legs lengthened, her mass surged and engorged, yet her strength kept stride as it always did. Hundreds of tons, thousands.

A lifetime of modesty, failure and realistic (if not cynical) expectations would never let her make the connection or comparison out loud, or even internally on any given day, but she knew it in these moments.

Katia was a goddess.

Now she wanted to leave her mark.

Katia kicked against the ground to sprint and tore up a long section of grass and rock that were flung behind her at enough speed to snap tree limbs and embed rocks into the trunks. Her toe claws raked against the ground for as much grip as she could as momentum granted her impossible speed and her mere footfalls shook the world. The impacts knocked the casters off their feet and one was crushed underfoot. Even those further afield were toppled as as Katia hopped, coiled as she landed and leapt skyward with a pirouette as a flourish that brought everyone to a standstill.

Katia's trajectory was flawless as she approached the grand building. Her hand wreathed in flame and curled into a fist and left a comet-like trail behind her. She flew in an unabashed flourish of power, flame and even as she focused on the attack, she allowed herself the time to confess she probably looked sexy as fuck as her every firm muscle twitched and flexed mid-flight, juxtaposed with her supple and soft breasts as they lifted and bounced as she reached the apex of the leap. Even these modest, pliable things could break anything with an errant touch if she willed it, allowed it, as if the world was at her beck and call. She was a magnificent, destructive spirit as she fell towards the building with her infernal arm cocked and ready.

She didn't need grace for the landing. She wanted to make the biggest impact she could, so her arms stretched overhead, the fire around them merged as she swung both fists down as a hammerblow.

It was a punch heard for miles. Hundreds of miles. A ripple on the air from the force of a magic explosion further punctuated as her body, which she wasn't even sure how big it was at this point, crashed into the ground and a web of cracks expanded from her feet and fists that spread from one high valley wall to the other. The lofty building was blasted apart and Katia's body stopped growing; the mission was complete, yet she could feel herself grow wet at her carnage.

Smoke trails scattered about as the explosion, a mere ruffling of her fur by comparison, devastated the area with scorched and burning wood scattered in all directions. Katia even saw a splinter as long as a man skip off the broken ground and launch off with enough force to pass right through one mage who had stood far enough away to survive the blast.

A less fortunate soul was launched hundreds of feet into the air and over the mountainous region, but the initial blast had obliterated his body; his form spun about, his limbs outstretched and tearing free from his body from the sheer velocity.

This was Katia Fucking Managan. A skinny waif from Hammerfell good for fucking strangers over a sip of booze no longer. This was Katia Fucking Managan. A goddess who, if it pleased her could march up to the White-Gold Tower, stomp on whoever got in her way, and declare herself Empre-

Katia gasped and her heart turned icy cold. She stood and retreated a few steps.

What the fuck was wrong with her!?

She was Katia Managan. Soon to be partner of a loving woman, one who was pregnant with a child that carried a little bit of her within. She was a loyal imperial agent of a nation that had accepted her for who she was. She was a woman cursed to almost become a monster who, by happenstance, stopped an otherworldly invasion, an achievement that that outweighed some truly monstrous actions.

She was a murderer, even if she had no control when it happened, and she had a lifetime to rectify the mistake despite the good she had given back since this all started. What just happened to her?

"Katia, snap out of it!"

A voice; magically loud.

The khajiit gasped again and looked down. Tar-Meena sighed with relief as they met each others gaze and Katia finally realised she was probably in excess of two hundred feet tall, and a moment later, her body shuddered as her growth resumed. A quick cast of Katia's purge spell, and Tar-Meena put her hand against the vast expanse of Katia's foot then set about draining her.

The area was obliterated. The building was a smoking crater, the area was peppered with bodies and it was obvious Tar-Meena barely had to do any work thanks to just the initial blast.

As soon as she knew she wouldn't burst the argonian's ears, Katia's own folded as she blushed and whispered, "I think I might have gone a bit too far."

"Well, you certainly followed the order to the letter, Managan." Tar-Meena said flatly. Her voice shook the air like thunder with a spell she made for just such an occasion, back when for a year, the pair spent most of their time together while Katia learned to cope with her new body. Strict as she was, Katia respected her above anyone else and she felt a lot of comfort that Tar-Meena was the one who saw it.

"Did you get it out of your system at least? Scratch that itch?"

Katia almost didn't want to answer, but the fixed stare forced it from her with an utterance of, "yes, ma'am. It was... enlightening, if worrying."

"I anticipated a degree of feeling 'cooped up', and I imagine that itch, as you called it, is how it's revealing itself. That said, there's still so much about your condition we may never understand, Katia, but it's part of who you are young lady, and I doubt this will be the last time you feel the rising urge.

"I'm sorry but once you've concluded your business here, I think it would be for the best if you returned with me to the university so we can find out more."

Katia nibbled her lip as she dropped below fifty feet in height but remained silent despite the roaming questions she kept wanting to ask; how often would she need to do this? Would she need to unleash more destruction each time? Just how rapid would the onset become?

These were questions Katia just swallowed down and, as soon as she was back to her normal size and back in her armour, admitted she felt a lot better as a whole. She even smiled as she remembered what was to come.

"Okay, Tar-Meena, sure. Let's just get back to town; I have someone waiting for me."

* * *