FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The glowing embers of the campfire flickered briefly back to life before dying completely as the freezing wind blew through the trees. Clattering branches and rustling leaves echoed throughout the clearing, a moment before the darkness was chased away by a set of floodlights on Traget's armour. Ammon shut her eyes and grimaced as she struggled to adjust to the blinding beams illuminating the area.

Traget looked around blearily, her face aching and swelling into a bruise. Her vision blurred in time with the throbbing in her head, while her chest flared with pain as her heart struggled to return to a normal rhythm. Saliva began pooling in her beak as her stomach rolled, threatening to release it's contents if any sudden movements were to happen in the near future.

Closing her eyes, she wallowed in her pain and misery for a moment, reviewing her defeat at the hands of the red woman. While expecting her whole body to ache, she was rather surprised at the swelling desire emanating from her nethers. An unwelcome desire to mate seemed to have come from nowhere, her thoughts drifting towards Kincade. To be crouched under him, to be-

She shook her head angrily. Those weren't her thoughts. So what if she had seen his penis a few hours ago? She'd seen Melissa's vagina too, that didn't make her want those small, soft lips stretched obscenely around Kincade's tongue, warm body rubbing...

I don't have to think of this. I refuse! She fumed, fighting the unwanted urge to breed, to masturbate, to do something to relieve the hated, stiffening need in her loins. Damn it, body! I own you. For once, do as you're bloody well told.

Black spots formed across her vision as she clenched her beak in fury towards the red woman, towards her own body for betraying her. The red woman must have done something to me before I shot her. How dare she force thoughts into my head? Make me feel things I don't want! That sack of shit, I'll make her eat her own legs!

Oh, forget it. I need more booze, She thought, resting her head against the ground and letting out an exasperated sigh. I'm a better person when I'm drunk, far less emotional. Calm down, count to ten. One...Two...Thr- And that little rat turd! Where'd she go?

Slowly shifted around, Traget's clumsy rolling scattered sand as she brought Ammon into focus. Lying on her back and panting shallowly, her body stretched out by Traget's feet, the ratkin clutched a rolled up ball of her dress to her stomach as she desperately tried to stem the flow of blood. Her round ears twitching nervously as her beady black eyes fixed on the valravne hovering over her. With a horrified fascination, Traget watched the bloodstained, makeshift bandage overflow, bright red droplets dribbling down the ratkin's side, staining her otherwise well maintained grey fur a sickly crimson, before leaking into the ground.

Forcing a stoic expression onto her face, Ammon watched as the armored figure loomed over her, the glowing blue eyes glaring down at her. Her heart racing in her chest, the ratkin ran her tongue around her dry mouth, knowing the extent of her injuries ensured that these next few moments would be her last. Even if the demon in front of her didn't kill her itself, no healer save for Queen Jozlene's personal physician could hope to repair so deep a tear to the abdomen as the one she had.

Meeting Ammon's gaze for a moment before turning away, the valravne's body shook from the sight of how much blood had spilled. On her own world, the bodies of those killed during the war could still be found littering the landscape, their scattered bones the only memorial to lives lost. While the desiccated corpses themselves were familiar to Traget, all had been dead for years, many having been killed by energy weapons that had quickly and cleanly cauterized the wounds as they killed. She had never even had to kill to eat, all of her food coming from dried storage and tinned meals. To see the true result of tearing into someone's flesh with talons set her gut rolling and she found her eyes scanning the clearing for something else to focus on.

Shuffling over to the remains of the food Kincade had left on the ground and absently snatching a nearly empty bag of jerky from the air as the wind tried to take it away, she began stuffing the uneaten food and supplies back into the duffel bag. Despite her best efforts, her thoughts drifted guiltily back to Kincade and Melissa. They seemed like okay people, but I tried to help them. I literally died trying to help, they can hardly expect more from me than that. It's time to head home, sleep off the concussion and try again in a new reality.

A seed of doubt began to sprout in her mind. Was it my fault? Should I have done something differently? Angry thoughts came unbidden as she remembered how easily she had been beaten, the arrogance the red woman had displayed as she had dismissed Traget, as though she were nothing. Tears of anger built in the corners of her eyes as she violently shoved the tent back into it's bag, breaking one of the support struts. Even with your armour, you couldn't hold off a naked human thing, couldn't stop her from kidnapping people. That fucking bitch with her squishy face, rubbing her fucking hole on - on -

Dropping the bag to the ground, Traget was suddenly acutely aware of the dampness on her stomach, left there when the red woman had straddled her and rubbed her leaking sex against Traget's prone form. Thoughts of some stranger's bodily fluids, mucus, vaginal discharge all seeping into her skin set her stomach rolling anew, her whole body trembling. Certain she was going to throw up this time as nausea swept over her, she staggered slightly before slumping to the ground, head spinning and vision blurred.

Stabbing blindly at the keyboard on her left foreleg, she found her suit's self-cleaning options and started a full internal decontamination. Within moments, a gentle warmth flowed across her as the chemicals washed across her skin, burning slightly as they found bruises or open cuts.

Whimpering in disgust to herself, a soft giggling caught her attention. Snapping her head around to the sound, she saw Ammon through a haze of black dots swarming across her vision. The injured ratkin had her lips pulled back, teeth bared in a facial expression Traget could only assume was one of laughter. She lowered her head, ears flicking anxiously, certain she was the source of Ammon's amusement. Bitter memories of her family bubbled up in her mind. How they had laughed at her failures, her struggles, as if she were nothing more than a punchline to someone else's joke. She knew she wasn't smart enough, she wasn't a good enough fighter, she could never be charming or witty. Had they thought mocking her for failing to be what they wanted would fix her? She may have had to tolerate it from them, but not from Ammon.

Not this time, not again! Traget refused to be made fun of ever again. Be angry! Anger is more useful than despair. Her temper flaring, dizziness the only thing stopping her from launching across the clearing and pummeling the injured female's head in, she instead opted to crank up the volume on her loud speakers and snapped, “DON'T LAUGH AT ME!"

The booming voice echoed across the forest, terrifying birds and animals out of hiding for miles in all directions. Ammon instinctively threw both hands over her ears in pain before dropping them back to her stomach the moment the echoing proclamation had died down.

“I'm sorry," the ratkin squeaked out, face turning to a grimace of pain as she jostled her injury. “I didn't mean to anger you." Closing her eyes for a moment, unable to fight back the tears, she asked, “Please don't leave. I...I don't want to be alone."

“Yeah, well. Few of us get what we want." Traget murmured at normal volume once more as she lay on the ground, calming down and considering her options. Ammon had helped kidnap Melissa and Kincade, she had been a part of Traget's own injuries. If someone hurts you, they must be made to pay, that's how she had been raised. It was only fair after all. If her ancestors were here, they would be telling her to break Ammon's limbs, flay her skin and leave her for dead. Perhaps pull out Ammon's stomach and squeeze the acid over her crotch for good measure.

Perking up at the notion, Traget indulged in the fantasy of the atrocities she could commit on the little rat bitch. Leave a message, right? Hurt me once, you're a fool. Hurt me twice, not a fucking chance. Extending her claws, she absently scraped them across the dirt. Then I go after the suck... Zug? Zugyoubiz thing. The Red Bitch! She likes sex? She'll get my whole fucking fist up her hole! I'll shove a whole fucking rat up her! And - and anything else I can find! Read MY mind? MY thoughts? I'll shove her head up her own arse! In front of a mirror so she can see it happen!

Traget felt the muscles in her skin tense up, trying to puff out feathers she no longer had. The itch ran across her body before she sagged back down and sighed bitterly. She was exhausted, hungry, aching all over, infuriatingly horny and the medical report that kept flashing across her HUD seemed more worrying every time she read it. Oh, forget it. What are you going to do? She thought miserably. Barge into the red woman's home and demand retribution? She out classed you in every way. And what do you expect to get out of it? Revenge? Are you going to free Kincade and Melissa? Play some hero in shining armour? The metal of her foreleg squeaked against her helmet as she absently tried to rub at her eyes. All these new people and places, she hadn't been prepared for any of it. I just want to go home.

“There was a bakery near where I grew up." Ammon said, startling Traget out of her inner monologue. “I always passed it when I went to work, but I never went in. It's strange how I regret that now, isn't it? When I was a kid, I always wanted chocolate cake for tea. I could have bought a cake everyday when I went past." She gave a sad sigh as she stared up at the night sky. “I'm never going to have cake again."

Traget remained silent, listening as Ammon rambled more to herself than anyone, wondering why she didn't just go. It's a shame about Melissa and Kincade, but you don't owe them anything. You tried to help and had basically been killed for it, you weren't good enough. They no doubt think you're dead anyway, so why not leave? She tapped her tongue against a button in her helmet, pulling up her HUD's menu. The cursor followed her eye movements as she scrolled down the list, until the arrow was hovering indecisively over her recall beacon's icon. No, it wasn't right to leave them, but her family used to tell her that you always need to know when to cut your loses.

Ammon looked over, red tinged saliva dribbling down her face. “I'm sorry about your thralls. Queen Jozlene wanted them. You know we couldn't have disobeyed."

Grimacing at the spit glistening on Ammon's face, Traget cocked an ear at the unfamiliar word. “What's a thrall?"

“The human and hippogryph. Weren't they your servants?"

“No. Just some people I met." Traget said, absently. "I didn't really know them."

Traget slowly climbed to her feet, her head swimming and her body swaying slightly as she stood there. A medical scan flashed up on her HUD, reporting imminent heart failure. Maybe just break the ratkin's legs, then leave. That seems fair.

Ammon lay her head on the ground and closed her eyes. “Well, I'm sorry anyway."

“Why?" Traget asked, “You didn't know them, did you?"

Struggling to remain conscious, Ammon mumbled, “You shouldn't have to know someone to feel bad for them."

Traget slowly shambled over to Ammon and dropped down on the ground next to her, careful to avoid the blood stains. “Is that why you think I care about you not going to a bakery?"

Ammon removed a hand from her belly to wipe some tears from her eyes, her hand cold and clammy against her cheek. “I just want to talk. I want to... This is the last time I will get to talk to someone. I'm...I'm scared. And it... It hurts so much. I don't want to die. Can't we just talk for a bit?"

Traget groaned inwardly. Her own social skills were little more than a collection of half forgotten memories of her parents, and whatever she had gleaned from a lifetime of watching old sitcoms, none of which had prepared her for comforting the sick or dying. She doesn't deserve comfort. No, but she is dying, isn't she? Isn't that punishment enough? Scratching absently at the ground, she brought anger back to her voice. “Why should I care that you're dying? We're all going to die. Death is not a punishment, it's an end to a punishment. You should suffer for what you have done."

Ammon's bitter laugh came unbidden. "I never wanted to attack you. I don't even know you. I was just a servant at the castle when Queen Jozlene picked me out of a crowd and forced me to come here. Like she forced the others. You don't say no to her."

"Why not? What would she do if you said no?" Traget perked up, interested in hearing the gory details. The pain in her chest was getting worse now. If her head wasn't throbbing so badly, she might have been worried.

"The same as any succubus Queen would do to disobedient subjects." Ammon murmured, eyes closing and head resting on the ground for a second, before she jerked back awake. "Please, can you heal me? I can make a payment, or a deal if you wish?"

Traget closed her eyes, ears focused on Ammon's shallow and laboured breathing, wondering what use ratkin money would be to her. Her own breathing felt difficult, her heart pounding erratically in her chest. With her eyes closed, she thought back to her own brush with mortality. That crushing pain in her chest while a heavy weight seemed to hold her down, stealing away her ability to fight, to run. The fading light as her consciousness had slipped away.

"No." Traget said, in a softer tone than before. Examining Ammon's stomach, the blood oozing from around the ratkin's clutching grasp made it seem unlikely she had much time left. “I'm… I'm sorry."

Ammon stared up at the stars, then asked. "Do demons believe in an afterlife?"

Traget sighed irritably. This demon crap again. "I don't know, I've never asked one."

Ammon smiled softly. "I was always taught about Elysium. And about how I will meet my family there. And there won't be pain or sadness, and maybe I'll get all the cake I want. I'm really hoping it's true."

Traget shifted unhappily, her mind drawing a blank as to what to say. As a mage made species, her own culture had always assumed that if an afterlife did exist, they weren't invited. One day, she would die, everyone who ever knew her would die, and then she would truly be dead. Who would remember her? Who would remember Ammon?

Traget hesitated, before slowly asking, "Do you have... someone... who will remember you?"

The corners of Ammon's mouth quirked up. "My family. My parents, and I have two brothers. And there was a guy, Trieth." The smile faded from her face. "I'll never-" She grimaced suddenly, a look of pain distorting her features before it settled down. “I thought he might be the one." She panted softly, getting too tired to keep her eyes open. "And you?"

"No." Traget mumbled, thinking this may not be enough of an answer, but unwilling to go into details. “They're all gone."

“I guess you've seen a lot of people die?" Ammon asked sadly. “Killed lots of people?"

“Oh, uh. Yeah. Lots." Playing with her toes, Traget tried to sound nonchalant while she panicked a bit. What self respecting valravne hadn't killed by her age? Couldn't Ammon hurry up and die instead of ask personal questions? Maybe I should kill her, solve two problems at once, she mused. “You wouldn't know about them. Lots of bandits and mages and, uh, mercenaries."

“You sound proud of that." Ammon mumbled, light headed and struggling to concentrate.

“Shouldn't I be?" Traget asked, uncertain, before scolding herself. These people were clearly not as violent as her own had been. Of course things are different here, it's a different reality. Open your bloody eyes, you idiot.

“It's not difficult to take a life." Ammon said, "Heh, my uncle broke his neck falling down a flight of stairs. Demons always talk about it as though it's some great achievement. Like it makes them clever or – or something. It just makes you a thief." Tears began running down her face freely now. “You're just stealing someone's life. I wanted to have kids. Settle down. Have..."

Traget shifted uncomfortably, listening to the ratkins fading breath. I should have just left. Little shit, she's just trying to make me feel guilty. Fuck this, I'm going home. Once again, she highlighted the return button on her HUD. Go home. And then what? Was there any point to this whole excursion?

Ammon's breathing seemed to have stopped. Shuffling over and leaning her head down to the little female's chest, Traget could still hear a slowly beating heart. Pulling back, she lay there in silence for a while. Can I really fault her for her part in all this? I suppose not. Not if she really had no choice. She rolled her head indecisively, conflicting emotions running through her mind. Just following orders, right? No. That's no excuse. Is it? Too complicated, make it simple. Two people were kidnapped, she did nothing about it. That makes her guilty.

Sighing, she thought of the town only a few minutes flight from here. The very concept of a doctor was something that had never sat well with Traget. How it was possible to have faith in someone healing you, when they stood to gain more money the longer you stayed sick, just seemed like asking for trouble. But under the circumstances, perhaps there would be one that would help Ammon, if she could bring her to them. Forget it. She's probably dead anyway.

Standing upon shaking legs, the world spun violently enough that Traget had to dip her head and close her eyes to regain balance, swallowing back the urge to throw up. Nursing a concussion, with severe bruising to her face and several broken ribs, the pain of which was thankfully drowned by a significant helping of morphine, Traget's thoughts felt like they were moving through molasses. Slow and uncertain, she decided she wasn't thinking clearly enough to make decisions regarding the immediate future. After taking a moment to reduce the amount of painkillers her suit was pumping into her in the hopes it would clear her head, she staggered slowly over to the remains of Ammon's pack mates.

Casting an eye over the carnage, she bit back a bit of bile as she saw the full extent of Kincade's work. Bright red blood had sprayed from torn arteries like water under pressure, shocking Traget by it's coloration and quantity. So different from her own dark, nearly black blood which would have dribbled out slowly and thickly from even the deepest of wounds. One ratkin had nearly been decapitated, head hanging on only by the broken spine, visible through her neck. Another was torn open, his intestines spilled out across the sand, hands still clutching at his belly from trying to save himself before he had succumbed to his wounds. The last lay in a crumpled heap, limbs twisted and shattered, face contorted in a rictus of agony, as though he had been squashed by some heavy weight.

Traget shifted nervously, hesitant to get too close to the butchery that lay before her. Once living people, now nothing but slowly cooling husks in a lonely clearing in a forest. There was no telling what customs this species may have held towards the dead, but Traget felt some effort should be made.

“I'm, uh. I'm sorry, I suppose." she mumbled. “You probably deserved better. I don't really know what you're... What I'm supposed to say. Maybe if you hadn't been such a bunch of bastards, you wouldn't have died. 'Just following orders', my arse! You stupid-" She bit back on her words and coughed awkwardly, “Well. Sorry, maybe that's too harsh. But you attacked Kincade, so you can't really complain that he fought back."

Do it properly, she scolded herself. “Umm. There's an old funeral thing I remember. Something about, you live on in the memories of your loved ones. That you'll walk together again in their dreams. And if you don't have anyone who loved you... Well, I guess there's a lesson for us all."

Quickly making her way from one body to the next while trying to side step the blood, Traget pulled off any pouches or bags she found and rummaged through them. A small collection of polished stones had been in each bag, presumably some form of currency. Two knives, a few vials of liquid with labels in a language she couldn't understand, a pencil and some crumpled up paper.

Her thoughts once again drifting to Melissa and Kincade, with Traget certain they had been forced there by the binding spell Melissa had placed on her. Fuck them! she thought angrily. That turdburger throwing mind control spells on me. Let her rot. Teach her for messing with people's heads. She nodded to herself, momentarily satisfied. What will the red woman do with them? Does Kincade deserve it?

She dropped heavily to the ground. There was nothing she could do to help. Jozlene had over powered her, her attacks phasing right through the armour, as though it hadn't been there. Traget's own attacks simply sliding off the red skin without a mark. How do I defend against magic when I don't understand it?

Then there was that twisted facial expression, the red woman's lips pushed together and those narrowed eyes. Traget may not be adept at reading humanoid facial expressions, but she recognized the tone in Jozlene's voice. Her blood boiled at the memory of that grin, what could only have been an arrogant, cocky look.

Traget could ignore the broken ribs, the bruises, even the damaged heart. She had been the first one to strike after all, so it was only fair that Jozlene had fought back. A body was simply a form of transport to get you where you needed to be, and taking a bit of sadistic joy in leaving your mark on the one who had angered you was a perfectly acceptable outcome to a fight in valravne society.

But the mind was where someone truly lived. Two separate people had tried to forcibly control Traget's mind, to violate her very thoughts and memories. Unforgivable! she fumed. How dare they? Is this what magic users think is acceptable? They think they can take someone's free will away? To steal their right to choose?

The metal in Traget's gloves creaked as she balled up her fist in rage. To stand over a fallen enemy with a look of such undeserved superiority, with that haughty, condescending expression, that sparked a hatred Traget could not ignore. She didn't win because she was better than me, that wasn't skill or luck. That was just...Just...Magical invulnerability! How dare she look so fucking smug about that!

Talons snicked out from her forelegs and gouged up the soil in front of her. What has she done that gives her the right to look at people like that? Because she lucked out with genetics? Because she was fortunate enough to be born a certain way, she thinks that makes her superior to others? That her natural gifts are better than other people's hard work?

Hard work, she seethed. The ratkin that lay scattered around her had worked hard to capture Kincade and Melissa. Were they subjects, or were they slaves? Slaves to an uncaring master, they had been injured, had died trying their best and were then ignored. They had tried taking on a superior force and had failed, but then so had Traget.

Her head pounding in pain as her blood pressure rose, Traget made a decision. Like countless valravne before her, she bore grudges, and if she couldn't defeat her enemy, she could certainly fuck up all their shit, scorched earth style. Stomping back to Ammon, unsure if it was too late to save her, Traget wrapped her forelegs around the little grey female, carefully lifting her from the ground as she raised up on her hind legs. Spreading her wings wide, her jets let out an almighty roar of heat and fumes, and blasting sand and dirt away, she rose vertically into the sky. Hovering above the tree tops, she spun around until she could make out the lights of the town, glowing dimly on the horizon. Destination in sight, she made sure Ammon was secure before throttling up her engines and tearing across the night sky.

______________________________________________________________________________

The capital city of Mavala shone like a beacon in the darkness, mage lights and torches spaced evenly throughout the narrow streets. Long, low buildings were favoured by the ratkin inhabitants, who preferred to tunnel underground rather than build multi story houses. Sleepy guards meandered lazily down the streets, confident that any crimes being committed would be out of their sight and could wait for the day shift to take care of.

To the north of Mavala was a platform mound backing against a wide river, built centuries before to support the palace of Queen Jozlene. Taking up more than twenty acres of land, it's owner would describe it as a modest home, no more than was necessary for one's needs. In contrast to the city below, the palace was an immense, multi story building with windows lining the outer walls and balconies positioned evenly to allow the occupants to take in the city views. The white and gold finish shone brightly from an inner glow, while balls of mage light hung from ornate marble pillars in the gardens, chasing shadows between the bronze and marble statues that lined the crushed stone pathways.

Melissa saw little of this, busy trying to convince Jozlene to let them go, while Kincade stumbled along behind her, his eyes distant and confused as he struggled to awaken fully from the drugs he had inhaled.

“Neither myself nor Kincade are of any value to you, I'm sure." Melissa huffed, following Jozlene up a flight of stairs to the palace entrance, having to jump the steps two at a time to keep up with the succubi's larger stride. “I'm certain we come to an arrangement if you just contacted my guild and let them know where we are."

Staggering to a halt at the top of the stairs, Melissa took an involuntary step back as Jozlene turned sharply to address her for the first time, the naked demoness leaning down to her eye level. “Stop blathering, little human." she said, in her rhythmic, smokey voice. One hand reached out and caressed Melissa's face. “I am in a good mood right now. Don't change that."

Melissa gasped as she felt energy spark from the hand upon her cheek, a heat flaring between her thighs and tickling the nerves deep in her body. In a single moment, she felt her inner walls clenching painfully, desperate to grasp around something while a tingling built in her clit. Forcing mental shields in place, she threw a hand out to steady herself when her knees went weak. Hot, warm flesh squished between her fingers as her flailing hand closed around a bright red breast of the Queen.

She jerked her hand back, blushing furiously as the queen flashed her pearl white teeth in a grin. Standing up, Jozlene sauntered over to Kincade and slid her four arms under his belly, lifting him from the ground without apparent effort.

Letting out an undignified squawk of surprise, Kincade jerked around and found one of the succubus's arms, clamping his beak down with all his strength and twisting savagely, intent on tearing the flesh from her bones. Rolling his eyes up to see her face, he was dismayed to see her cocky grin even larger than before.

Turning away, ignoring the humiliated hippogryph's struggling, Jozlene glanced over her shoulder. “Roe, take our little human and get her some more suitable attire. The hippogryph can stay with me."

Roe looked up, one hand resting comfortingly on the shoulder of a white furred ratkin with tears streaks running down her face, a couple of other ratkin milling around them. Patting her shoulder soothingly, he jumped to his feet and forced a cheerful grin onto his face. “As you wish, my Queen. Did you want her in anything specific or just -"

His words trailed off as Jozlene disappeared down a corridor, the sound of a slamming door soon following. “Okay, just walk away while I'm talking." He mumbled, before turning to the other ratkin and clapped his hands together. “Alright, good work, team. I know we had some loses, but our Queen's happy, and that's what we're all here for right?"

“Get your tongue out of her cunt, Roe. She can't hear you." A heavily built male said, as the small group turned and walked away. Roe raised a hand to protest, but dropped it again, instead turning to Melissa.

“They're good people, really." He said, almost apologetically. “They've just had a rough evening."

“My heart weeps." Melissa replied, coldly, hands straining against the urge to throw her clothes to the floor and sate the need coming from her swollen lips. Her breathing was getting faster as her eyes fixed on Roe, imagining his clever little fingers working across her breasts, his furry body driving into hers. Ever since Kincade had worked her to near orgasm earlier, she hadn't had a chance to relieve her tensions. Left to simmer for the past several hours and reignited by Jozlene, she found herself more than a little tempted by the male before her.

Feeling the moisture building between her legs, she let her gaze wander around the room, looking for a distraction. Standing inside the main entrance to the palace, she had an unobstructed view of the entrance hall. Gold and white tiles were set in the floor, polished to a gleaming shine in the soft yellow light coming from recesses in the walls. Silken red curtains hung down from the ceiling, hiding the windows beneath their bulk, with a flight of stairs leading to the next floor on the left side of the room, along with the corridors Jozlene had taken only moments ago. To the right was another set of corridors, these with a pair of ratkin guards standing outside them, trying to look as threatening as their four foot height would allow.

Hanging from the white walls were several tastefully done paintings, featuring a large, red figure Melissa assumed to be Jozlene in various outdoor activities. Determined to maintain her dignity, she willed her legs to move without buckling as she walked over to one of the paintings depicting the succubus sitting regally upon the back of a large, six legged elk-like beast in the middle of a meadow, a proud look etched upon her face.

“Painted by Bratten, one of our best artists." Roe said, moving quietly up beside her. “The queen has always had a fondness for riding."

Melissa nodded absently, one hand pressing against the thick fabric covering her crotch as her mind's eye saw the elk creature standing above her crouching form, her lips wrapped around it's meaty girth. Tearing her eyes away, she pulled herself up haughtily. She had never had much interest in art, but saw no reason to admit ignorance in front of someone who was, technically, her captor. “Yes, the brushwork is adequate, I suppose. For what it is. Though I'm surprised Jozlene was painted riding above the creature, rather than under it."

Roe rolled his eyes, choosing not to point out the wet spot building on Melissa's robe, before gesturing for the mage to follow him. “Yes, yes. We have a sex demon for a queen. And I suppose all our paintings should be pornographic, our buildings should be shaped like dicks, and our doorways built like gaping beef curtains, right?"

He rubbed at his worn cloak, absently teasing a finger through a tear in the fabric Kincade had made when Roe had been trying to subdue him. “We still have a civilization to run. We can't spend all our time genital jousting."

Waving a hand for Melissa to follow, her led her up the flight of stairs and down a corridor to an extravagantly furnished room on the second floor. Polished oak furniture sat around the walls, with an enormous circular bed having pride of place in the center of the room, and a mirror covering the entirety of the ceiling. Swathes of red silk was draped across every surface, with a thick golden rug enveloped Melissa's feet as she took her shoes off and ran her toes through the fibers.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she ran her fingers through her hair, feeling her face flush as she once again eyed Roe and imagined the things she could do in this room. A smile crept across her face, before her features hardened. She needed to get out of here and this wasn't the time to get lost in her lusts, yet a succubus' magics were too powerful an aphrodisiac to just ignore. Pulling her legs up, she sat cross legged on the bed, closed her eyes and softly hummed, trying to center herself.

“Well, this is your new room." Roe said, opening a drawer and rifling though the contents. Pulling out a folded set of clothes, he turned to Melissa and noticed her sitting there. “If you're trying to meditate away the Queen's magic, I should tell you more powerful mages than you have tried."

“Do you really expect that to stop me trying?" Melissa hummed louder, trying to ignore the raging fire that was radiating from her crotch, her face flushing from the constant itch in her belly. “Magic is magic, no matter who casts the spell."

Roe nodded, holding out the outfit. The transparent orange silk billowed out around the thin strip of fabric that served as the underwear. Barely big enough to cover enough skin to be considered clothing, Melissa stared in offended disbelief. “That isn't clothing, it's string. If you're Queen thinks I'm flossing my arse for her amusement, she can go sodomize herself with a cactus."

“Our Queen, she's yours too, now." Roe replied, placing the outfit on the bed. “You'll accept that, soon enough. No one can fight a demon's influence for long, not in their own realm."

“Indeed," Melissa murmured, feeling the effects of the magic intensifying. Once again, she found herself examining Roe with a critical eye. His slim, toned figure, those clever little hands and nimble fingers, and that tail offered some interesting possibilities. A frown creased her brow as she tried to fight back, but the dampness was turning into a flood between her legs, that terrible fire that could be so easily quenched. But not by Roe, not by her kidnapper.

There seemed to be only one thing for it. Climbing to her feet, she checked her magical reserves. They hadn't charged much since her earlier exertions, but there was enough for a basic spell. She never been one for offensive magics, but the longer she stayed here, the more danger she would be in. Spurned on by that notion, she began concentrating her energies into her hands, certain she could come up with something to incapacitate Roe. Magic was easy to cast when you knew how, and Melissa was a trained mage, after all.

“Well, perhaps the two of us could work something out ourselves?" She asked, trying out a sultry voice as she knelt down to Roe's eye level, smiling with a not entirely fake look of lust. Placing a hand on his stomach and sensually sliding it down to his belt, she tried feeling for his mind. A suspicious look stole across Roe's face as to her disappointment, a strong mental barrier blocked her probing.

Pretending she hadn't tried to make a mental attack, she instead unbuckled Roe's belt, letting the unresisting ratkin's robe fall open. Wrapped in a fine brown fur, the sleek balls hung beneath a very human like dick, the shaft already at half mast in anticipation. Barely containing herself, Melissa burrowed her head into the male's groin, her tongue darting out and guiding the stiffening member into her mouth. With a joy she was surprised at herself for feeling, she sucked greedily on the three inch member. Amused by the size difference in their bodies, Melissa spent a moment indulging in the experience of the thin shaft sliding between her lips, opening her mouth wide and taking his balls inside as well.

Roe moaned happily, pressing his hands on top of the large head between his legs. It was a rare treat for him to be able to breed with a human, and a broad grin split his face at the feeling of such a powerful being sucking at him for all she was worth. He tried to buck his hips, but Melissa's hands gripped him and prevented his thrusting.

Melissa knew the male must be close, she could feel the twitching reflexes across her tongue as she went down on him. His furry belly slapping against her nose as she pulled him into her, her face hardened as she drew the magical energies she had collected into her hands. She was sure he would cum soon, and despite herself she desperately wanted to taste him, to feel that hot, sticky cream fill her mouth and flow down her throat. Taking every ounce of her willpower not to drive her fingers between her legs and fall into the immense pleasure she could obtain, she instead sucked as deeply as she could, placing one hand on the stomach above her head and released a massive telekinetic push.

Opening his mouth to say something, Roe was cut off as the force knocked the wind from his lungs and threw him across the room, rolling to a stop against the far wall. With her captor gasping for breath on the floor, his cock still hard and pointing to the ceiling, Melissa faced the toughest decision of her life as she looked between the door to freedom, and throwing her underwear off and riding that cock to completion. Legs buckling from the effort, she ran for the door and darted from the room, trying to remember her way back out.

Racing down the hallway, voices from ahead stopped her in her tracks, forcing her to back track down another corridor. Time and again, she found this happening, her bid for freedom being blocked by guards, dead ends or locked doors. Opening a door at random, she staggered in, hoping for at least a window so she could orientate herself.

Marble statues filling the room stood at attention against the corners of the windowless room, while paintings of long dead rulers lined the walls. Bent over and gasping for breath with sweat trickled down her face, Melissa barely glanced at the decorations, her entire body feeling as though it were on fire. Grabbing at her robe, she unbuttoned it and threw it to the ground.

Driving a hand between her legs, she found her painfully hard clit and pressed it deeply, playing her fingers against the button with the talent of a master. Letting out a mighty groan at the sweet relief that filled her, she gripped at her breasts with her free hand, tweaking the nipples and squeezing gently. Moisture ran down her legs as she slid her fingers between her engorged folds, driving her fingers into herself as she felt her pleasure build, faster than it had ever done before.

Rubbing furiously, she couldn't hold back a cry of exstacy as her orgasm washed over her, her body quivering and twitching in joy. Breathing heavily, worry filled her mind as the burning need didn't fade, remaining at that pre-orgasmic level. Again her fingers worked their magic, sliding between her plump lips as they sought out that momentary high. Her hair fell across her brow, beads of sweat plastering it to her face as her body heaved once more, riding another climax as she dropped to the ground and pistoned her drenched fingers into her body, grinding against her own hand.

Melissa barely heard the sound of the door opening behind her, nor the hushed whispers of Roe speaking to the guards with him, she was so caught up in another failed orgasm. Hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet and still she could do little more than try to satisfy that desperate need between her thighs.

“What do you want us to do with her?" one of the guards asked Roe, helping to support the twitching mage as he slipped a magicka dampening circlet on her head.

Roe rubbed his stomach, a large bruise forming beneath the brown fur. A perverted grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as he looked towards one of the statues in the room. Standing at eight feet tall, the marble incubus stood with his arms wide spread, a large set of wings were folded against his back in lieu of the second set of arms Jozlene sported. With muscles bulging and fangs on display, he was an imposing figure, made all the more so by the stiff, twelve inch rod of stone jutting from his groin. The thick, bulbous shaft pointed to the sky and would make a very uncomfortable seat for Roe's troublesome mage.

“Bring her here." he told the three guards with him, taking their sets of manacles and attaching them to the statue's arms and legs, before gesturing for the guards to lift Melissa up.

Through the haze of demon induced lust, Melissa knew she had been caught, could tell things had gone wrong, yet struggled to think of anything beyond slipping her fingers across her throbbing clit. She struggled as she felt her arms pulled away from her, felt herself being lifted and pressed against something hard and cold. She looked up and saw the grinning stone face looking at her, his handsome features igniting her desires even more.

The loud click of the manacles locking around her wrists filled her ears, but the moment she felt the frigid stone cock press against her tunnel, she found her focus once more. “No, you can't, can't do this. Please-"

“I tried to be polite," Roe said grabbing Melissa's legs and helping to pull her down. “We'll give you a few days here and see if you're more co-operative after that."

Melissa squirmed, then bit back a scream as the marble phallus ground against her clit, betting coated in her lubrication. The ratkin around her started pulling her down, her body slowly dilating open, her muscles tensing from the chilled surface sliding inside her body. She had never had children, but as the over sized head forced her wider than she had ever been before, she was certain this was what it must feel like. With her own weight pushing her down and the excessive lubrication her body had been dispensing, her puffy labia stretched into an obscene O, engulfing the spire inch by inch. Soon she had swallowed enough for the head to press roughly against her cervix, her body supported by the shaft buried inside her.

Roe quickly wrapped the last sets of manacles around the statue's legs and pulled Melissa's own down tightly, keeping her spreadeagled and ensuring she wouldn't be able to get off the marble dildo. Stepping back to admire his work, he clapped his hands together in satisfaction. “Well, my friend. I'll send someone down in a few hours with some food, and we'll get you sponge bathed every day. I think maybe a week should be long enough to let you calm down, don't you?"

He ignored the furious look Melissa shot over her shoulder, instead picking her robe from the floor and dusting it off. Pulling his own ragged robes off, he slipped into the mages robe and buttoned it up. The lower hem bunched up on the floor and the sleeves were far too long, but he adjusted it well enough to his satisfaction.

Melissa pulled on the chains on her arms, lifting herself enough to relieve some of the pressure from her seat before the leg chains stopped her, the suction from her sex so tight she could barely get any friction. Looking over her shoulder, she worked up some saliva and spat at Roe, splattering his new outfit. She said, “Go to Hades."

Roe tutted, wiping at his robe. “Maybe make it two weeks."

He turned and walked to the door, before pausing and rubbing at his bruised stomach once more. “Certainly no more than a month."

Kincade stood in the corner of the bedroom, wondering what he had done to deserve this fate. Well past midnight, the darkness filling the outer glass doors seemed all encompassing, held back only by the yellow mage lights set in the bedroom walls. Red satin and silk cascaded down from every surface, the polished wooden furniture gleaming as Jozlene pulled straps, whips and sex toys from one of her chest of drawers. Pulling out a metal collar, she turned and peered at Kincade thoughtfully for a moment, before placing it on the large, four poster bed in the center of the room.

With her back turned, Kincade found he had a clear run to the door he had been brought through, leading back out to the corridor. With his legs shaking so badly he imagined Jozlene must be able to hear his knees rattling, he took a single step towards the door before he noticed the gold plated door knob. With his clumsy fore claws, there wasn't much chance he could open the door and get through before he was caught. Casting a fearful glance towards Jozlene, his eyes narrowed, ashamed of himself.

He was a hippogryph, proud and noble, cowering like a frightened fledgling. This demon may be beyond his ability to over power, and there may have been little to nothing he could do to control his fate, but he was determined to maintain his dignity. Pulling himself upright and puffing out his feathers, he took a moment to compose himself.

Jozlene was standing between him and the balcony door, making it a difficult prospect to go for. If he charged towards it, he may have enough time to smash through, hope his feathers protected him from the worst of the glass shards, and make a break for it. As powerful as the succubus was, she certainly couldn't fly. He just needed a chance to get around Jozlene and make a break for it.

While the idea of leaving Melissa here alone was distressing, he would have a much better chance of rescuing her if he wasn't under lock and key himself. Satisfied that he had a basic idea in mind, he knew he needed to distract the queen somehow. Clearing his throat, he said, “That's quite a collection of toys, there. May I ask, what you're planning to do with us?"

Jozlene turned and flashed a toothy grin at him, gently slapping a riding crop against the palm of one hand. “Oh, I'm certainly not going to harm you, if that's got you worried. Not badly, anyway." She strode over and tapped him on the tip of his beak with her whip. “In time, you will come to enjoy it here."

“Well, that's good to hear," Kincade replied, moving back and around her, trying to get closer to the balcony door. Surprising himself with how calmly he maintained his voice, he continued, “But it's really late and I'm really tired, and I didn't get much to eat today, so maybe we could discuss this in the morning?"

“Oh," Jozlene sat down on the bed with her legs spread and feigned a pout. “Don't you want to just sit and talk for a while? You're making me feel unwanted."

Kincade could feel the succubi's influence creeping into his mind, her magics tickling at his arousal as his eyes drank in her form. The dark red breasts, heaving with every breath as her nipples stood from her body, swollen and tender. The way her body curved in to her well toned stomach, flaring out again at her hips and merging down her thighs, finishing at her angular, black hooves. Behind her, that thin red tail flicked back and forth like a metronome, almost hypnotizing with it's consistency.

“Well, I certainly never intended any insult." He said, blood rushing to his cock, his sheath swelling slowly in need. “But I usually like to get to know people, first. Maybe have a meal, go to the theatre, things like that."

Jozlene pulled one leg up to her chest and leant back, giving Kincade a better look at her dark red lips, a thin layer of juice glistening in the light. As large as the succubus was, he was sure his dick was big enough to be a struggle for her to fit, the idea sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. To breed with a creature so different from himself, he could only ever have imagined what that would be like. Now, sitting before him was a chance to find out.

No, no! I have to get out of here! He yelled at himself, pulling his eyes away from her body. A tickle started on his neck, and he was startled to see Jozlene had moved without him noticing, crouched in front of him with her fingers playing under his beak. He lifted a foreleg to push her away, but somehow found his grip closing on one of her firm, smooth breast, his claws kneading at it like a kitten, mesmerized by the rolling flesh beneath his pads.

“You don't need anything I cannot offer." Jozlene whispered into his ear, her voice echoing around his mind, replacing his own thoughts with her words. “Stay. Mate with me."

“Well, maybe I could stay a little longer." Kincade replied, his erect cock twitching beneath him, desperate for something warm and yielding to bury itself into. His rational mind managed to send one last look towards to exit before his thoughts became too cloudy to think of escape.

Gracefully twisting around on all fours, Jozlene hiked her hips upwards and spread her legs, flicking her short tail to the side. Thick, puffy lips pressed out from her body, the engorged flesh of her clit beading with juice as it ran down the inside of her thigh. Glancing provocatively over her shoulder, she grinned and said, “Come on big boy. Let's see what you can do."

Kincade could feel the air hitting his exposed member, with the blood having forced him to full mast within moments, he could control himself no longer. The need to breed, to empty himself into a willing partner was too great, the succubi's magic flooding his mind leaving no more room to debate. Rushing forwards and driving his beak between her legs, he inhaled deeply, lust taking over as he lapped violently against her slit, delving as deeply as his thin tongue would allow. The sensitive tip of his shaft slapped against his belly as he instinctively thrust his hips into the empty air, barely in control of himself.

He knew this was wrong, knew that this wasn't what he wanted, but the desperate need between his legs couldn't be ignored. Flapping his wings, he leap upon Jozlene's back and shuffled forwards, digging his claws into her sides as she support his weight with ease. His shaft jabbed between her legs, searching for it's prize before the flat tip struck yielding flesh and he drove his hips forwards, sinking himself into the Queen's body, her powerful muscles clamping down and sucking him in.

Jozlene let out a satisfied gasp as the hippogryph's immense girth speared into her, her body swallowing two thirds of his equine length before he bottomed out. The thick shaft split her with agonizing pleasure, struggling to expand her rippling muscles as she gripped down tighter than any female he had ever had before. His brain addled with lust and indifferent to her enjoyment or comfort, Kincade pulled back before slamming his hips forwards to begin the wild hammering of a mindless beast, his cock bending on every thrust as it hit the succubi's cervix.

The sound of his massive balls slapping back and forth was accompanied by the squelching of their connected bodies, Jozlene's breasts rolling in circles every time she was pushed forwards while her rolling clit twitched and pulsed with desire. Kincade's soft feathers flowed over her and massaged her back as she pushed against him, burying herself into him as he buried himself into her. His long, curved talons bit into her belly, unable to break the skin but delighting her none the less as they held her in place, her head pulled back as he gripped her long, black hair in his beak. A loud moan of pleasure escaped from her lips, her jaw hanging slack as she indulging in the rare feeling of being so thoroughly stuffed.

The heat of her body and the vigorous milking from her muscles rapidly brought Kincade to his limit. With his tail thrashing behind him and wings beating above, he let out a shriek of ecstasy as he forced his shaft deeply into her body, his sack pulling taut against his body as he emptied himself, fluids squirting past the tight seal and dribbling down onto the floor. For a brief moment, he held himself as deeply as he could, his flare unable to expand in the tight confines of Jozlene's body.

With a wet slurp, his dick came free, dribbling cum as he slipped from Jozlene's back, his legs aching from the effort. Coming back to his senses and still caught up with his own enjoyment, Kincade didn't notice the look of disapproval the succubus shot him, instead searching for something to wipe his cum splattered dick on.

Jozlene climbed to her hooves, thick white cum pouring from her body as she grabbed the golden collar from the bed and turned on Kincade. Moving with a speed he hadn't expected, she locked the collar around his neck, the magical device resizing to fit his thick neck. The instant the lock had clicked in place, he felt his entire body go slack, slouching down to the floor in spite of his efforts to keep himself upright.

Rolling her shoulders and stretching, Jozlene said, “You're going to have to much better than that. Now, get an erection and try that again."

Kincade had no idea what she meant by that, and his effort to explain the impossibility of getting another erection went unheard, his voice refusing to come out. The satisfaction of an orgasm was chased away when he realized he could no longer move on his own accord, even breathing and blinking seemed to be controlled by some other force, and he could only watch in dismay as the succubus bent over once more and presented herself to him.

Unable to stop himself, he rose to his feet, his shaft swelling again to full size. Trapped in his own mind, Kincade tried desperately to say something, to regain control as his body moved itself to Jozlene and climbed back onto her back. His pleasure now turned to torture, his muscles burning and hips still sore from the previous effort, his body began jabbing his member around Jozlene's crotch, searching for her entrance. He tried repeatedly to ask for a breather, to get just a few minutes respite before his still over sensitized spire slid back into her.

Nothing he could do could stop his body from thrusting, from feeling the hot body pressed beneath him. Hours passed as his exhausted body moved on it's own accord, orgasm after orgasm racked his body, yet still he had no choice but to feed his bruised shaft into her tight hole. Jozlene never explained what she had done nor talked to him outside of giving orders. Finally, after longer than he could tell, exhaustion mercifully took him and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

More than a dozen small wooden buildings lined the perimeter of the large courtyard, in the center of which was a large water feature, the peaceful sound of water audible to all those still awake at such a late hour. Brightly glowing mage fires burned through the night at the tops of their poles, simultaneously lighting the town center, while blanketing the alleys between the buildings in deep shadow.

A low rumble came from the sky, growing louder with each passing moment.

Traget veered wildly as she struggled to remain conscious. A combination of low blood pressure, major concussion and a near overdose of morphine was impairing her judgment as she dropped down into the courtyard, wings flared and engines roaring mightily in the silence of the night. The ground shook as she landed on her hind legs, before momentum carried her onwards, feet kicking up sparks as she skidded on the cobblestones with her wings and forelegs waving wildly, trying to land upright. Twisting around, she fell heavily onto her side with her HUD flashing red and alarm bells ringing in her helmet, warning of possible heart failure.

A sharp stabbing pain tore through her chest, forcing a gasp from her as her suit suddenly punched flexible tubes between her ribs, sinking them down and forcing them into her arteries, assisting with her heart functions and bringing the blood circulation back to normal levels. Biting down on the air tube that tried to force its way down her throat, Traget shook her head, deactivating the breathing systems.

Slowly climbing to her feet, body wracked with pain, her floodlights lit up an eight foot tall stone statue of Jozlene set in the middle of a fountain, circled by nine bushes expertly trimmed into the shapes of ratkin bowing down to their master set upon the outer edge of the water reservoir.

A clear amount of talent had gone into the construction of the Jozlene statue, the sculpted muscles and detailed anatomy gave the impression it could get down from it's plinth and walk away whenever it wished. Traget could not remember ever having seen a female urinating statue before, let alone one with such a look of intense pleasure on it's face while it did so. Standing with it's legs spread and chest pushed forwards, the statues' face seemed the picture of bliss, three of it's arms reached wide, while the fourth was pressed against the cleft of it's vagina.

Traget stared at the hand on the statues crotch, her mind slowly working. The water pouring from the cavern between it's legs wasn't meant to be urine. Realization dawned. “Oh, that's just disgusting!"

She sank down to her haunches, her metal glove squeaking across her helmet s she absently tried rubbing at her face. Her mind felt muddled and confused, thoughts floating around like soap bubbles, popping and vanishing the moment she grabbed onto them. There were too many drugs in her system, she couldn't even remember what she was doing. Calling up her medical aid controls, she dialed back the pain killer and waited for her mind to clear.

Her head throbbing, she squinted up at the statue, trying to work out if it was the red woman, or just a look-a-like. The muscled figure may have been attractive for a biped, Traget couldn't be sure without anything to compare it by. The narrow, four jointed shoulders framed a pair of large mounds of fat on her chest with dark black points on them, wrinkled and thick. Memories or something, wasn't it? Traget thought. She could remember Melissa having something similar. A common trait amongst mammals, valravnes certainly had nipples, though they were no more than a vestigial leftover from their canine origins and served no practical use for child rearing. Traget couldn't imagine any mother considering beaks to be suitable for suckling from any organ attached to their body. Although Kincade was doing something to Melissa with his beak she seemed impressed with, so maybe it's just a matter of skill? Looks ridiculously top heavy. Males must find big memories very unappealing.

Nodding to herself with this sound logic, her eyes drifted down, landing on the statue's hips. So different from her own, the statue's were wide, designed for walking upright. Her legs were splayed around a fatty deposit on the pubic bone with what looked like stylised hair chiselled into the stone, splitting down to a wide spread labia, displaying the vaginal hole that water was gushing from. A vertical slit, so different from a valravne's, with several thick folds of skin surrounding the small sphincter leading inside. Traget tilted her head slightly for a better angle around the stone fingers rubbing at the apex of the labia. Spotting what she could only assume was the clitoris, the small fleshy protuberance stood firmly out from the body, stone beads of bodily fluids frozen in place on it.

That must make masturbation so easy. I wonder what the males look like? she thought, scratching at her helmet, feeling for the locks that held it in place. Based on canine and avian, her own anatomy was a conflict of totally different species, leading to some poor physiological arrangements. A female valravne had to reach several inches inside herself to find her own clitoris, nestled deeply inside her own vagina. Extremely difficult and outright dangerous with a valravne's natural claws, the invention of mechanical hands had been one of the biggest steps forward for self pleasure her species had ever achieved.

Traget pulled at her helmet some more. And now I'm thinking about sex again. That fucking cumdumpster and her mind crap. She was feeling very claustrophobic in her armour, the cold metal pressed against her skin more noticeable than it usually was. Assuming males want a vagina. An arsehole is a damn sight tighter than a cunt that's been squeezing out eggs it's entire adult life. Would I want to fuck a tight arse or a loose vagina? Having a vagina would be nice.

No, no, no! Go fuck yourself, sex drive. I refuse to think of this, she thought bitterly, pulling at her helmet once more, trying to remember how to take it off. Statues should be erected in honour of whoever made the first silicone dildos and fleshlights. Fuck! Her head swam, dizziness rolling over her. The red bitches fault! She thought, fury building towards the succubus. She flared her wings and glared at the statue above her, a high pitched whine rising as her lasers warmed up and the cross hairs moved to rest on the stone face. She shook her head, feeling her anger clear her mind, certain she was forgetting something. Something important.

"Shit! Ammon!" she cried out, spinning around so quickly she nearly fell as she searched for the grey female. Spotting her lying on the ground a few meters away, she weaved her way over, trying to concentrate on her task. Placing her head near Ammon's chest, she couldn't hear any breathing, only a low gurgling noise. Unsure how to pick the ratkin up without causing further injury, Traget turned and staggered over to the nearest building with lights on, struggling to focus on it.

Hopping up onto the wooden veranda, there was a splinter of over stressed wood as the weight of her armour came down heavily, her forlegs crashing through the planks and hitting the dirt below. Falling forwards and banging her head loudly against the door as she stumbled, she fell back to her haunches and groaned, feeling like she would throw up again. A few seconds later, the door slowly creaked open, revealing an old grey ratkin wearing a white tunic and a cautious look upon his face. Shielding his eyes from Traget's still lit floodlights, he let out a sputtering gasp of fear, pulling back from the door. His eyes wide in fear as he took in the scene before him, he seemed to collect himself and peered up at her with a cautious expression. With one trembling hand holding a small oil lamp, he asked, "Yes? Can I help you, sir?"

Traget sat there in shock, her feet still buried in the veranda and her mind racing through conflicting emotions. It's fucking wood! You should've known it wouldn't hold your weight, you moron! Shit, now he's staring. Why do these people have to stare? What am I supposed to say? And Ammon's probably dead. It's that red bitches fault! How am I going to pay for the floor?

A polite cough from the ratkin caught her attention and she looked up angrily. “What?" she snapped, before looking away embarrassed. Slowly wagging her tail in what she hoped was a friendly manner, she lifted a paw, slid out her metal fingers and gave a slight wave. “Uh, hello. Uh, sorry. Sorry about your... wooden floor thing."

The elderly ratkin nodded uncertainly, holding an arm up to try to block the light coming from Traget's floodlights. “Uh, that's okay?"

Traget stared at the old male silently, her stomach rolling and saliva dribbling from her beak. Idiot. Say something. She stood up and looked around frantically, feeling the sick in the back of her throat. “Uh. Is there a doctor? There's a dead rat over there."

“A rat?" asked the old ratkin, confused. Taking a slow step forward, keeping just inside his home ready to slam the door shut in an instant if need be, he peered out into the darkness trying to see what this strange creature was on about. Seeing nothing, he shifted back inside. “I'm sorry, I don't know what a doctor is."

It's the red bitch's fault! All of it, her smug fucking grin and – and everything else about her! Traget's frustration built as she snarled out, “Your doctor! Healer, shaman, whatever. Someone who fix physical injur - uuuuurgh!"

Traget threw up violently into her helmet, body jerking backwards. Now somewhat displeased, she screamed into her own sick, before tearing at the locks holding it in place. With a clicking pop, the latches disconnected and she tore her head free. Coughing and retching violently, she repeatedly smashed the helmet into the ground, breaking the cobblestone paving beneath her.

Fury burning in her eyes, she grabbed the helmet and whirred in place, hurling the helmet with all her strength towards the statue of Jozlene. Missing wildly, the helmet whizzed past with more than a meter to spare, before smashing through the wall of a wooden shop on the other side of the court yard. The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood was closely followed by a scream echoing out into the night, before a light flickered on from a window. Moments later, lights from the houses on either side lit up.

Traget's anger was instantly replaced by panic as doors and windows opened, furry heads poking out to see what was going on. Beady eyes stared at her from every angle as she realized what she had done. Arching her wings above her body defensively, her lasers useless without the helmet's interface to fire them, she snapped her claws from her feet and shut off her flood light.

With blood freezing in her veins, she lurched to the side of the doorway and threw a wing up over her face, peering under the stylized metal feathers at the old male still standing in shock at the door. Her breath catching in her throat, she gently wagged her tail and dropped her ears, sinking to the ground while trying to look disarming. Slowly lowering her wing, she struggling to think of what to say as the old male stumbling backwards, his hand darting to his mouth as he stifled a cry of horror.

With the floodlights no longer blocking his view of the creature, the old ratkin could only stand frozen as the demon destroyed his door step and seemed to start tearing it's own armour off, using the pieces as projectiles to attack the neighboring buildings. Three massive claws exploded from its forelegs as it mantled it's wings and turned on him, crouching down as though about to pounce while it's tail thrashed behind it.

Quaking in fear, his wide eyes fixed upon the long, black beak mere feet from his front door. Big enough to swallow his whole head, the jagged edges of the beak curved back to reveal a row of yellowed fangs, each one as big as any of his fingers. Devoid of lips, the dark grey gums were exposed before they merged with the jaw, giving her a rigid skeletal like grin. Set in it's face, the right eye was being favoured, the blood red sphere locking onto him, while the left was nothing but a milky white mass rolling around blindly. Devoid of feather or fur, large pointed ears framed the scowling face, while the dark grey skin was covered in pebbled markings like a plucked bird.

With a sudden explosion of movement, the ratkin leapt forward and slammed the door shut in Traget's face, the action immediately followed by the sound of bolts being rammed into place. Traget jerked back from the door, spinning wildly and hopping from foot to foot indecisively. She swung her head from side to side, blinking rapidly as she tried to bring the world into focus without the corrective optics in her helmet. Seeing nothing but a blur of colours and shapes, she turned and ran for the cover of darkness between the adjacent house. Stumbling in panic, her armour hydraulics whined while her rubber tipped toes smashed against the stone pathway, the thunderous booming following her as she squeezed into the tight alleyway.

Protected by the shadows, she pressed up against the nearest wall, body trembling, cursing to herself. Around her, the frightened whispering of the onlookers continued, the large worried faces visible from windows and doors followed by the sounds of sliding bolts and locks slamming and clicking. Traget twisted around, oversized ears atop her head swiveling, listening to the sounds coming from the wooden houses surrounding her. Her large ears granted her excellent hearing, allowing her to catch the gentle muttering of voices as ratkin exchanged fear filled concerns.

“Did you see it?" “It was horrible." “There was some poor girl lying out there." “What did it do to her?" “NO! Stay away from the window!" “Stay quiet, it might hear you."

Lungs heaving in her chest while her struggling heart hammered erratically, she gulped down deep breathes, waiting for her mind to clear. Without her helmet, she had lost the protective barrier between herself and the world, her head whipping back and forth, expecting to be attacked. Slowly, the remarks from the townsfolk quietened as they hid in their homes, hoping they would be left alone.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Traget dropped her head, face and ears burning in mortified shame at her foolish reaction. Congratulations, dipshit. Terrify some old guy a third your size then run away like a frightened fledgling. Cross that off your bucket list.

And I threw away my fucking helmet. You stupid spunk stain. Taking a deep breath, she was startled by the scents in the air. Without her air re-circulation, she could smell the dampness of the soil and grass, mixed with the strangely rodent like scent of the ratkin around her. Wild and unfamiliar scents of flowers from a window sill garden just around the corner of the house she was hiding next to caught her attention, and she inhaled deeply these new sensations.

Peering out into the courtyard, she sniffed cautiously, having never paid much attention to the way things smelled before, and moved closer to the edge of the house. Brown, blurry boxes stood all around her, buildings she could no longer recognize. A grey blur stood in the middle and through a combination of squinting and listening for the source of running water, she made out the outline of the succubus statue.

Pulling back into the shadows, she cursed softly. No, fuck the helmet, it's gone. Fuck Kincade, fuck Melissa, fuck Ammon. Fuck everything! I'm going home. She dropped to her haunches and raised her wrist, flipping open the small keyboard and LCD screen attached to it. She stared at the display, struggling to bring it into focus but seeing nothing but a mass of blurred lines and coloured boxes. Lifting the screen up to her face, then moving it back slowly before tapping one of the buttons, she got nothing but an error sound in return.

Oh, fuck me.

Snaking her black tongue out of her beak and clicking it against her teeth, she lifted her head and looked back out into the main square. A slightly darker brown blob may have been the still body of Ammon, crumpled up unnaturally like discarded rubbish. Traget apologized silently to the unfortunate female before she shifted her gaze to a light flickering from a building on the other side of the courtyard, presumably the one she had thrown her helmet into.

Traget fidgeted quietly, unable to make up her mind. Having been born completely blind in her left eye and with her right one getting worse every year, she relied upon the corrective lenses in her helmet to see. Stabbing blindly at the keypad in the hopes of finding the right control to get her home would end in disaster, but to get the helmet back she would need to confront whoever lived in that house.

Rolling her head in frustration, she slapped the keyboard closed and dropped her feet to the ground. Eyes half closed, she lifted her head to the sky and tried to enjoy the feeling of the warm air blowing across her skin, listening to the soft creaks and groans coming from the houses around her. Far above, stars were forming unfamiliar constellations, supporting the moon while it drifted across the sky on it's eternal journey.

Taking a few calming breathes, letting her thoughts reorganize themselves, Traget waited as a gentle calm filled her. No longer in the sight of any prying eyes, she felt her unstable heart rhythm slow down, the tubes in her chest flexing as they assisted with her circulation. Gently raising a metal hand to her face, she supposed she must have looked rather fearsome to the ratkin, given the difference in appearances. Sliding her fingers along her beak, she flinched slightly as the cold metal tips touched her face, before running up and over her bald head. She never realized how much she would miss the feel of wind blowing through her crest of feathers until they were gone. Just another thing my body denied me, she thought, bitterly.

Diagnosed with multiple genetic disorders while she was still in the egg, Traget had been left in cryogenic storage rather than be permitted to develop to maturity. Started as a mage made species, her kind had been riddled with defects from the first generation, and only centuries of selective breeding had weeded out the major issues. Still, issues like her still cropped up from time to time and with the abundance of eggs, there was little reason to allow all of them to progress past the embryo.

Strangely, the end of the world was the only reason she had ever existed. When the few survivors had found they had been sterilized by the radiation left from the war, they had scoured the remnants looking for eggs still frozen and viable. Few had survived intact, and only hers had hatched. She snickered quietly. When they had no other option, they turned to me. Absolute last pick.

With her failing eye sight, low intelligence and health issues, it had come as little surprise when her feathers moulted when she was younger and simply never regrew. One defect among many, if an obvious one. If people thought it strange she hid inside her armour, then that was better than to be seen as a mistake.

Bringing herself back to the present, she slowly exited her alcove and ambled down the street, trying to enjoy the quiet stillness the night offered. The town was small, with only a few wooden buildings lining the main road. A large thatched roof extended from one building, hanging over an anvil and forge. The dividing wall was covered in heavy work tools and farming equipment that Traget couldn't make out. Hearing the loud snores coming from inside, the homeowner apparently undisturbed by the evenings disruption, she quickly moved towards the statue of Jozlene in the middle of the court yard, reminding her why she was here. Standing next to it, she could see a light shining from the shattered window on the building on the opposite side of the court yard.

Cursing softly to herself, she watched impatiently, alert for danger, but forcing herself to remain calm. Several minutes went by with nothing she could identify as movement, so she slowly made her way over. Maybe I can sneak in, grab the helmet, and get out without anyone noticing?

The soft whirring of servo motors and the thumping of metal clad feet hitting the ground dispelled any notion of sneaking. If I took the armour off... Jerking her head around, eyes scanning for threats, she dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. Desperately hoping no one saw her seemed to be the only option.

She glanced up at a sign hanging above the entrance signaling this to be some form of shop, before pausing at the door and raising a foreleg, wondering whether to knock. The place seemed silent despite the light, so she gently rattled the door knob, unsurprised to find it locked. Even if it weren't, she could never have fit through the tiny doorway. Peering in through the large display window, the interior was full of tables with a variety of clothing and books stacked neatly on them. The walls were covered in shelves with crystals and bottles of liquids. Opposite the broken window, the wooden planks that made the wall were shattered and splintered as though struck by a sledge hammer, one half of a broken shelf held up by no more than a twisted nail. Sitting on the floor amidst the shattered remains of several bottles, she made out her helmet still laying where it had landed, coloured green by the contents of the vials it was soaking in.

Quietly pulling the broken pieces of glass from the frame, Traget leaned in through the window and looked around for movement. Seeing nothing, she clumsily dragging herself through the small opening, wings scraping the window sill as her claws sunk into the wall for traction.

A horrified shriek seemed to pierce through her skull, freezing her in fear as she was halfway into the room. Whipping her head towards the noise, she saw a small white head adorned with hairless pink ears cowering from behind a cupboard in the corner of the shop. Flailing her legs wildly, Traget's wings flared instinctively, smashing through the window frame on either side of her. The cracking of wood filled the air as she dropped her full weight onto the window sill, claws tearing free and showering splinters across the room. Tangling her forelegs underneath herself, she tipped forwards and slammed her jaw into the ground, biting her tongue and spitting black blood across the blue and green rug covering the shop floor.

Thrashing violently, Traget's hind legs caught as she pulled through the window, ripping the damaged planks free and rolling her to the side. She barely felt her flapping wing strike a roof support before it smashed down on a table, sending clothes sailing across the room. Shelves popped from their nails and spilled their contents across the floor while dust and dry straw making up the roof rained down from above.

Lifting her head from the ground and squinting over to the male ratkin quavering in the corner, who only now shut off his terrified scream, Traget carefully climbed to her feet. Flaring her wings slightly and moving her head down to avoid his gaze, she still found her ears pressing against the low ceiling. Spotting the helmet still lying at the foot of the wall where it had landed, her eyes darted to the ratkin in the corner while she hurried over and picked it up, shaking the spilled liquid from it. Ignoring the sickly smell coming from the helmet, she slapped it onto her head and let out a sigh of relief as the locks clicked into place and her HUD flickered to life.

Letting the sense of security flow over her, she turned to the shopkeeper while her systems rebooted. Clearing her throat to apologise, she was cut off by the white ratkin still trembling in his corner. “Please demon! Please don't hurt me! Take whatever you want, it's yours!"

Glancing guiltily over to the broken wall and ceiling, Traget said. “I'm not going to hurt you. Uh. Sorry about your shop."

“It's fine, it's fine! Really!" Flashing a manic grin at her, his head nodding furiously, hands clutching at a crystal necklace around his neck, as though it would provide a barrier between him and the being before him. “Please take whatever you want, Master."

Wondering where she had left the money she had taken from the dead ratkin earlier, Traget watched as a section of roof slowly sagged down until it touched the ground. Glancing down at a crunching noise, she kicked a trio of yellow crystals from beneath her feet. Scowling sightly as her scanners detected a slight heat signature emanating from them, she picked one up and held it towards the white ratkin. “What is this?"

Watching nervously, he said, “It's a, a light crystal. You know? It makes light. To see in the dark."

Continuing to hold it out, she asked, “Can you turn it on?"

Reaching out slowly, the shopkeeper tapped the side of it before yanking his hand back quickly, as though expecting to lose it. The crystal began glowing a bright yellow light, before Traget held it back out to the shopkeeper so he could turn it off again. Turning it over in one hand, she stood silently, scanning the curiosity. No power source, no obvious circuitry. No on/off button. Even the rocks in this world must read people's minds.

Opening a compartment on her armour and dropping the crystal in, she glanced back at the ratkin and struggled to think of how to repay the damage she had done. An idea occurring, she asked, “Are diamonds valuable in this world?"

A slow nod came from the male, his eyes nearly bulging from his head as Traget held her right wing in front of her and slid open a panel. After a moment of twisting and cursing, she pulled out a large, clear, star shaped crystal bigger than the ratkin's balled fist and set it down on the table in front of him, asking, “Will you be able to repair your shop with this?"

Greed overriding his fear, the ratkin tentatively picking the rock up, a multitude of colours dancing across his vision as he stared deeply into the gem. Running his hands almost reverentially across the edges, he gasped aloud. “This is...is this really diamond?"

“Yeah. It's actually synthetic, but on a molecular level it's identical to a natural one." Traget said. “It's used as heat sink for one of my wings lasers, so the cut might be strange, but it should be big enough to get re-cut if you need it to be."

She watched as the male ogled at his prize, apparently forgetting she was there in the face of his new riches. She coughed awkwardly, “Ah, well. Is there a healer or medicine person around here?"

“No." he replied dreamily, before remembering who he was talking to and dropping his head in submission. “No, my Lord. The nearest healer is in Marla, several miles from here." He pulled a face Traget couldn't identify. “Unless you count Buten. But he's not... He's a pig farmer. I wouldn't trust him unless there were no other options, my Lord."

“Oh. Alright." She turned away, before looking back and adding, “Thanks."

Carefully stepping around the shattered debris, she pushed her way through the broken wall, pointedly ignoring the furry faces that stared from every window, the entire town once again alerted by the evenings noises.

With a determined stride, Traget headed back over to the fountain, looking for her duffel bag. Passing Ammon, she paused and leaned down to examine the body, noticing the drying blood staining the ground beneath the ratkin. There seemed nothing more to be done. No doubt the townsfolk knew the proper burial rights.

Could she still be alive? Fuck it, I don't care. Traget growled to herself, twisting around in frustration. No, nothing to do with me. Let the town deal with her. Glaring up at the sky, she rocked her head from side to side. They'll probably pour leeches on her and make her drink arsenic. But that's her problem, not mine.

Grabbing the duffel bag from where it had landed, she rummaged through until she found the EPIRB and looked around for somewhere to leave it, needing a safe place to hide it for if she ever decided to return to this dimension. Wondering for a moment if it was water proof, before she gave an indifferent shrug and threw the device into the water reservoir of the fountain.

Traget stood in the darkened courtyard, glowing blue eyes staring down at Ammon, the once clean ratkin now covered in dirt and dried blood. Why did I even bring her here? I can't help her. What do heroes in movies do? Save everyone, no doubt.

The minutes passed as she struggled to make up her mind. She started to cheer up as a thought came to her. Not a movie. A computer game. And I have a quest. Storm the stronghold and rescue the captives from the big villain.

Silence was all around, the voices from before having stopped, as once again the villagers had gone back inside and locked themselves away. Raising a foreleg and hovering it indecisively over Ammon, she eventually placed it gently on the ratkin's chest. Flickering briefly, Traget and Ammon turned translucent for a moment, before vanishing.

To be continued.