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(Author's note: Went in a line completely different than intended. Took a major hiatus from other works concering Cryptosporidium's characters and actually did this. Was mostly for fun. Take note, I would never brutalize a woman in this way, this is why fiction can be a very very good thing. Enjoy it, Krystal fans.)

Sign of an Open Eye

by Korpse_Infested_Karnival

(KIK)

A rampage. A massive ongoing carnival of slaughter and siege. Every day filtered with the smell of acrid, charred wood and flame engulfed carrion. Bodies laid askew in messy piles with essential limbs laying in haphazard directions, their silent frames gut open and literally torn of their precious supporting organs. Skulls were cracked with maggot holes and scales peeled off as though used for some form of flesh coat, teeth broken from maws alongside dislodged spines and ribs. Carcasses were stripped of all their armor; the thick furs, coarse leather, the crude, rusted iron weaponry and bucklers, each one pilfered to every extent of their death. Other corpses were used as though in some manner of warning, torsos stuck to long, menacing pikes or mutilated then hung about on a sturdy tree branch, whilst some were actually still breathing, but left to squirm so as to be eaten alive, slowly and sadistically, by bulging, meat engorged carnivore worms and larvae. Bases were raided and left to ruin, taverns plucked of every member then burned to the ground, and camps were quickly the focus of a breathing storm that was moving with a swift, blood drunk intent.

Krystal had been following this defiled pattern of butchering and death for nearly a week now. Everywhere she paused to check the remains of the battle scarred field, she saw the same thing, the same painting of finely meshed death as the violence escalated into simple genocide, where not even the tiniest trace of life could crawl from the blackened eye that was this unfitting end. And yet the target was always the same. The azure and cream furred vixen had caught on to the pattern swiftly: the attacks and raids were focused primarily on the SharpClaw, or, the invasive inhabitants of Sauria that had been trying to capture her and eventually serve the will of some greater, more wicked purpose. Yes, these lizardmen were becoming an example of what horrific things could be done to a body, no definition left to small idle eyes as each lifeless husk presented even more and more grotesque ways of possible torture and pain. Some were even layered with carvings or chained to signs with engraved symbols and text the blue fox girl could not understand, but she surmised it was something of fear, something of a message, a warning.

How long she had been on this planet and discovered new things, but this was by far the most revolting. Lizardmen of the SharpClaw had shown a nefarious magnitude of cruelty, as any would do when controlled by the ire that was General Scales, but this, this was far, far worse. Who. . . or what, was doing this? None of the dinosaurs inhabiting Sauria had ever shown such a keen taste for mutilation and bloodlust; even the vicious carnivores did not "pick the bones" and literally drag out the intestines of a lizardman and leave it their to stagnate and die. This was why Krystal had negotiated to steer away from the efforts of General Scales for the time being. If she had chosen to ignore this, she would be ignoring the plea of the dinosaurs themselves, for this circuit of butchery could extend to far more than just the SharpClaw contagion.

The day was as grim as the somber silence of doom itself. A paled, slate grey sky ambushed the normally sunny form that was Sauria's landscape, and cold, chilling drizzle of timid raindrops grazed the emerald canopy of wiry trees and grass fields. The vixen was stealthily speeding along the freshly damp earth with her spear tightly gripped in one hand, staying low to the ground, pressing on as quietly as possible. Her sensitive smell had picked something up earlier. A fresh stench. A rotting stench. The scent of newly embalmed dead whom had just met the bitter bite of serrated steel, their copper-salt blood lifting into the air as the rain made the aroma mingle together in a stamp of aerial permanency. Krystal could tell. She was close, closer than she had been when the vixen began her tracking. Whoever, whatever, had been committing these atrocities, the azure fox girl was soon to find out. The SharpClaw may have been evil, but they did not deserve this. Nothing did.

It was at least another half of a mile or so before Krystal reached a clearing surrounded by thickets of trees and heavy vines. Based on the intensity of smell, the fox girl realized she was just a few footsteps from discovering the engineers behind this hybrid holocaust, to which her paw gripped the gold spear even tighter, her heartbeat raced, her hackles rose, and ears directed forward as her senses kicked into a cautionary overdrive. Making it a tactic to remain hidden, Krystal made sure the brush of the forest covered her steadily so she could observe in safety, or otherwise be routed by what may be her worst enemy come full circle.

She went to her knees, and crawled a bit, at the very hem of the clearing, while her jade iris' gaze out to the location of the malformed carnage.

There it was. The same image as before. Fire. Blood. Rot. Death. The scene was fresh and vivid. Nightmarish. Horrific. A bundle of lizardman bodies had been casually thrown together, amidst vivisected legs, arms, heads, tails, hands, and perhaps the occasional intact husk, while an engulfing flame was slowly consuming the pile with gusto. There were low groans and yelps, as, shockingly, some of the SharpClaw soldiers still drew breath, painfully trying to grip away from the battlefield, clawing at the earth with hands in a desperate attempt at escape (some had been relinquished of their legs). Others were a simple mirror of everything that had occurred before. Skinless frames, broken bones, torn insides, worm consumed carrion. A glimmering depiction of dread and dismay.

Krystal brought a paw to her muzzle, gasping slightly. It was one thing entirely to see from an age old action, but now, at the front, at the sight of what was truly being done, she felt sick in her stomach, a pit of nausea forming from the devastation she witnessed. She was almost enticed to vomit, but she stopped herself, suddenly spotting a moving figure to the right.

It was. . . another lizardman? No. . . similar, but different. This one's skin was charred as black as night, though it were burned in fires upon birth, with a strange array of armors coating its flesh, some familiar as being from the SharpClaw forces and others of its own making. Patterns of tattoos and war paint slathered over its bulking mass, from skeletal whites to acidic reds and yellows, while its serpentine face bore two, pale, blank eyes, a thick neck supporting an enormous muscular jaw no doubt used for crunching and rending. It's tail was long and spiky, and it wielded a serrated, onyx black blade that was virgin metal no more, stained with the luxury of the SharpClaw lizard's blood. A contusion of bones was wrapped about it, collections of spines, skulls, and other such marrow used as holsters to carry other implements of pain or worn in decorative neckpieces, all in all finalizing an visage that was most monstrous, a child of suffering that bore its actions proudly.

And it was not alone.

With care, Krystal remained still as she saw even more of the reptilian-esque leviathans patrol about the area, all with blood fused grins spread over their maws, grunting to each other in a harsh, cracked voice with accents the blue vixen was unfamiliar with. Some were greedily munching a down a still living lizardman while others seemed to bark orders at one another, apparently trying to ensure there were no survivors of any kind. Surprisingly, there were more of them than the azure vixen had realized. Seemingly out of darkness and shadow, more of them clambered about with familiar roars of approval and conversation. A mass of them came from the left, then right, and suddenly, Krystal realized that at this point, she could do nothing. Though she was steadily preparing herself to engage the beasts and eradicate them, their numbers were starting to grow, and by the look of each, these were not a rabble of minuscule cowards led by Scales. These were enormous, hulking abominations riddled with deadly weaponry and obviously malicious intent. They were not controlled or directed by fear, but cunning, cunning and wrath, to which would easily spread like a disease on Sauria.

Krystal stood, slowly. Regret took hold of her. She knew that these. . . things would eventually try to harm the dinosaurs of Sauria, and it was she who swore to help them, but she, herself, could not turn the tide alone. It would be too much. She had to go back and get assistance. Turning, emerald eyes wearily watching the brush, she took a few steps before ready to sprint, until her foot paw stepped on something rather lumpy.

Something snapped.

"Wha' the? Gittoff me!!" a crackled voice spewed from seemingly nowhere, inadvertently causing Krystal to trip and land on her haunches. Taken aback, the blue fox's eyes widened when she saw something from the ground literally spring up, causing a vomit of dirt and mud to shatter around it.

Almost shrieking, the fox realized that one of those monsters had been buried in the ground this entire time, perhaps as a safety measure, and that one had just risen from the earth due to her accidental clumsiness.

Sitting up from the ground, the beast gazed at Krystal with fury, its skin a mulch-like forest green and earthy brown, war paint to help camouflage itself even further. With leery eyes, it studied Krystal wearily, the fox quickly assuming her standing position, a trickle of sweat breaking from her hair.

"Wha' da' hell? The hell you iz? You ain't no lizard!" it demanded with the same accented lilt, a tone similar to knives breaking apart ice and frost. Taken aback, Krystal did not know what to do. She could not run backward, that would lead her directly into the hive of the other ash-black creatures. If she went forward, she might get away, but the beast had all ready moved most of itself out of the ground, and how many more were still buried she did not know. She would have to kill it then.

Pulling itself entirely out of the earth, the reptile thing still looked at Krystal with a flabbergasted stare. "You'ze blue. You'ze muzt be some kinna' fruit. You'ze a weird lookin' fruit."

Regardless of what could have been mistaken for a child's innocent ignorance, Krystal took no pity, and capitalized on its stupidity with one severe blow to the monster's stomach. The energy radiated through her staff was like a spark of magma. The reptile gasped out for breath as the power fried open its belly, a spew of oil filth liquid pouring from the laceration. Oil black? Was that it's blood?

What, however, would have been a killing blow to any lesser form of life, had merely become a bruise to this detestable creature. It buckled, but just barely, groaning, as it let loose another flurry of words.

"Oi. . . you'ze some kinna' killa' fruit. . . ain't had no killa' frutz before. . ."

Angrily, Krystal was ready to bludgeon the thing's skull with her staff, but, as surprising as it was that the reptile had come from the ground, it was just as so with a sudden rush of aggression from the thing. Speedily, it burst forward and tackled Krystal with its heavy head, causing her to lose her breath while she unfortunately lost grip of her golden weapon. To the ground she went, on the moist grass and leaves, when the mine-creep pinned her down with its thick, tree trunk arms, its "blood" still pouring to the ground in copious amounts. Literally, its stomach had been busted open, and it ignored the pain and injury entirely.

"Get off!" said Krystal, yelping and trying to force the lizard to get off her with her strong legs. Regardless, the thing would not budge. It was far too heavy and far too strong for her to do anything. She was practically helpless, her only reaction to fight and squirm against her enemy's grand vicegrip.

Punching, clawing, kicking, she did not see the beast reach for something behind its back, did not see what was like a coarse leather blackjack. In an instant, there was a crack of the air, and a sudden lash of pain shocked through Krystal's cranium, as the beast brought the leather weapon across her head. Her skull buzzed, her sensitive ears rang, and her eyesight was immediately becoming very hazy and dizzy.

"You'ze one crazy killa' talkin' fruitz. . ."

She tried hard to fight, tried to scream at herself to stay awake, stay conscious, but nothing would give. Swamped by pain and the intensity of the creature's strike, Krystal eventually blacked out, left to the mercy of the mutilators and their blades.

****

Krystal's eyelids snapped open. Her first instinct was to find out where she was, urge replacing cerebral functions, the fox sniffing the air, gazing blindly, trying to allocate sound with her finely tuned ears. Her senses alerted her that her wrists and ankles had been clamped together by heavy iron cuffs and chains, and her smell. . . it revealed a great deal of things. A deep, thick rot of more finely cooked bodies lingered, a noisome mixture of blood and vomit clamped with the overdraft of alcohol all washing over her in one, grotesque wave. Light was only available through fire, crude lamps and torches hanging above and around her in whatever pattern suited the creators. Noise was everywhere. Echoes upon echoes of laughter, screams, roars, talking, voices, clanks, cranks, and metal groans besieged Krystal's ears, almost overwhelming her senses because of the smell coupled with the raucous around her. Finally, her sight lost its fuzz, its blur, to where she saw a rather small crowd of things looking at her with interest, all of which were in patterns of eyes that were curious, baffled, and confused all at the same time.

Krystal gasped. There were several of the creatures watching her, this time lacking any armor or weapons, simply their veiny muscular arms and venomous slitted green-yellow eyes. Realizing what had become of her person, Krystal was now a prisoner, bound by metal, awake to see what actions these beasts would perform for their own twisted pleasure. Judging by what they had done to the corpses, Krystal feared she would be subjected to a gruesome array of knives and cuts, slowly hacking apart until she could scream no more.

"I tellz ya', it ain't no frutiz. It's a foockin' veggible," she heard one of the reptiles say, a medium sized one with a cascade of blue tattoos over its chest. A mongrel next to the one who had spoken slapped it in the head.

"I ain't never seen no veggible da's blue! Ya' idjut! Only fruitz iz blue!" this one said, its head masked with fins layered with bone piercings and such.

The blue tattooed beast retorted. "It killed ol' Jaka! Bust iz' stomach like a hook fish! Only veggible's be killin'! Ain't no fruit never gone an killt somebody!" it yelped back, keeping a leery gaze on the blue furred vixen.

"Sides', veggibles be hairy and all. No foockin' fruit gotz hair on it!"

A storm of words immediately sprang betwixt the two. Krystal, still assaulted with fear, found herself only halfway relieved to find they had no idea what she was, but also grew anxious at the fact that they would eat her anyway if she was a fruit or "veggible." One serpentine freak that was sitting close to Krystal scratched its leather (not scaly, strangely) chin.

"Mebbe' it's swig. Mebbe' it's swig and now we gots swiggy, and we just imaginin' iz a fruitz er' veggible?" said it, a plastered face of green with a necklace of fingerbones the voice behind the conjecture.

The two bickering reptiles stopped and then paused, looking back to Krystal, who was busy trying to find a way out through the corner of her emerald iris'. The blue tattooed beast shook its head.

"Nuh. I be drinkin' loz o' swig. I had me a barrel o' it edder' day, and I ain't felt no swiggy. Da's why iz a veggible!"

More fighting and arguing over the statement. The one reptilian monster whom had suggested Krystal was something called "swig" ignored the two and continued to watch her, as the other two went on in their guttural roars and threats to slice the other in half for disagreeing. A fourth creature, behind the three, suddenly came forward and leered at Krystal.

"Waitz, I know. We cutz it open!" it stated, with eagerness resonated through its voice. "Yuh, we cutz it and watch itz insides spill allo' da' floor! Da's how i'z know whatz I be eatin'!" it said, its gnarled, contorted visage of scars and warts making Krystal.

With gusto, the beast yanked out a terrifying knife and brandished it before Krystal, eyeing her stomach and starting to aim where it wanted to strike. Fear surrounding Krystal, the blue vixen opened her mouth to stop it, yelping and starting to squirm in a futile attempt to escape.

"No! No! Don't hurt me!" she cried, fighting at the heavy iron cuffs as though it would save her more time. Ignoring her, the scarred up serpentine prepared to land a knife straight into her abdomen, most likely sawing it open to see what the end result was.

A crack of sound hit the air.

Immediately, the lizard with the knife dropped his weapon and stood, an ingrained sense of concern rising over what was none other than the painful sting of a well oiled leather whip. All the others stopped what they were doing as well, for the one thing that they despised more than losing was the beating and scornful wrath of a dangerous switch.

A loud, cold, seething voice erupted over the crowd and mass of beasts. "Waz all thiz nonsense!! Waz going on out here!?!?" roared the unseen creeper. It was shoving past the monsters towering over Krystal like they were nothing but children, and not a single one of them fought back.

"You lazy worthless dripz! We got rip-work needz doing and you foockin' cuntz are gathered round like a bunch o' maggots in a drizzle!!!"

The vixen managed to finally see who was causing all the commotion when he shoved through the last line of soldiers and gazed hatefully at the original four of the group. He barely glanced down at Krystal until his eyes met with the one whom had dropped the knife.

"B-b-b-bosun! We wuzn't doin' nuttin! We woz. . . woz. . ." sputtered the scratched up serpent, actual fear caused by the very presence of this grindworker, whom was clutching its whip with anticipation as though he was ready to beat one of the grunts.

The blue tattooed beast quickly spoke up.

"We juz' found diz veggible' out in da' raid! It killt Jaka'! We wuz' goin' ta figgir' it out for-"

"That's not your job!!" boomed the bosun, threatening to bludgeon the marked lizard with his fist. "You filthy stealin' cuntz was gonna' steal thiz for ya'self, eh!? Gonna' take what belongs to Chieftain Eirik, eh!?!?" accused the tormenter, causing the others to whimper and recoil.

"No, no, no! We juz didn't want it ta' be no poisonz! We don't not steal from Chief! We'z promise! We'z promise!!"

The bosun, in a sudden rush of either an impulse or actual anger, took his fist and smashed it across the tattooed serpent, then the sitting one, then the scarred one, and then a few random others in the crowd. Then, with his lethal whip, he clipped his disciplinary tool in the air a few times which sent most of the crowd in a scattering withdrawal.

"Back to your stationz you lazy dog cuntz! I see this kinda' nonsense again and I'll give you'ze all a good lashin'! Now GET!!"

They all instantly scampered away, the others on the floor skidding off to get as far from the bosun as possible. The fright this one individual caused amongst them all broadcasted the notion that he must be the leader. Even Krystal was frightened out of her skin. But. . . no. . . it had said chieftain. So this terrorizing form wasn't their main head, so to speak. But who was?

The bosun finally retracted his angered eyes to Krystal, of whom he regarded no differently than the others. Roughly, he suddenly bent down and grabbed her by the neck, painfully pulling her up with one hand, causing the blue fox girl to choke somewhat, grunting with agony.

"I don't give a damn to hell what you'ze are, but you'ze comin' with me, mongrel filth!"

The fight had left Krystal for the moment. Her options at this point were very scarce. She swiftly looked all around her to see if there was any possible route of escape, but alas, none came to her sight. The hallways were seemingly barred with heavy iron gates, and no doubt there would possibly be one of those creatures hanging about as a patrol guard, not to mention, Krystal had no idea where her location even was. She estimated it was in, perhaps, a cavern, since there was no light from an outside source, and there was no scent of moist ground or rain that came to her nose. Even with all the filth, Krystal would still be able to sever one stench from the other.

Dragged through a few corners and halls of stones, Krystal only caught shots of what the structure was like. Mostly, she was distracted by the bosun's painful tugs at her neck fur, squeezing her eyes shut to escape the bit of flesh pulled far out of a comfortable angle. In between open and closed eyelids, the walls revealed markings and text she could not read or understand, paintings of obscure figures that could have been past leaders, and trophies and statues composed completely of dried out innards, marrow, and bones. To say the least, the aura of death was present here always, the floors stained with blood from past victims ruined by sword, and skeletons of many kinds hung crudely from the ceiling in efforts to represent their constant ferocity.

They arrived at a grandiose, malevolent appearing dark iron door, a frame layered with designs all resembling skulls and spines, ornate patches of runes engraved with other such obscure shapes leading the frightened blue vixen to believe this was their leader's room. The bosun still kept his iron grip around Krystal, but its visage vanished from unkind scorn to an apprehensive uncertainty. Looking blankly, the bosun licked its lips and hammered his free fist on the door, three times, holding its breath as the sound echoed through the hall. For a moment, nothing happened. The bosun was prepared to knock again, until, suddenly, a voice stopped him.

"Enter."

With a deep breath, the bosun plunged open the dark frame and peeled through the arch, leading Krystal in as she was introduced to the one whom they called Chieftain.

The quarters were both extravagant and shabby, glorious and unkept. Meeting Krystal's luscious emerald gaze was a powerful amber flame that hung over her and the bosun, cascading its scarlet hued light to every corner of the chamber. The walls were layered with trophies, statues, tapestries, paintings, shields, swords, and a great many other things that were considerable treasures of ornate magnificence, some of which the blue fox had never witnessed before. Tattered old books were thrown into piles with little care, some ajar as though having been read, while, in some places, maps of what may have been of Sauria were folded crudely with ink vials and ripped feather pens. In some spots, piles of golden coins and other precious gems were kept inside well crafted, reinforced chests, along with rings and strips of rare fabric, those obviously placed with care so as not to damage them. Finally, there was the throne, at the long shire of the room, grotesquely wondrous in its own manner and forgery, a collection of both silver metals and morbid stonework, the final touch to what might have been a demon's domain.

Shockwaves of fear now spiked through Krystal like never before. She was beyond help now. A location she did not know, at the very heart of the beasts that had caused a parade of genocide, and worse, she was presented to their leader like some form of sacrifice. If the bosun itself was so nervous near its own leader after having caused so many others to tremble, then what, praytell, would give the same reaction to it?

"What is it, bosun?" a voice emitted, from seemingly nothing, a chilling, cold and cryptic tone that was as icy as the silent abyss womb of death itself.

The bosun, irregardless of not seeing its lord, bowed its head respectively, half remembering that Krystal was still with him. Worry easy to see in its eyes, the bosun spoke quickly, so as not to enrage his Chieftain if that was the apparent case.

"I brought you'ze somethin', Chieftain Eirik. . . The gruntz was hobbled' round' it that I ain't knowin' what it was, so I brungz it to you like everything sposed' to do. . ." the bosun replied with care in his tone choice, attempting to stamp down his fear but at the same time sound submitted.

Where ever it was originally, the one known as Eirik finally showed itself. Upon doing so, there was an intensively clear reason why he was the leader and the bosun was afraid.

Its body was richly toned and a magnificent, bright scarlet hue with a sheen that was similar to silky blood. Its muscles were massive and rippling, grand hands looking as though they could crush a skull merely by squeezing it, and whilst one of the previous reptiles had a small set of head fins, Eirik was endowed with many, many more, almost as though some kind of mane, the flesh of the bones a deep, indigo blue shade that strangely complimented the fiery red skin. Black tattoos swarmed the creatures lower left and right arms, and, unseen to Krystal, there were even more on its back, all a symbol of something the leader had done in the past. Its eyes sat in deep, nightly pits were a stinging yellow burned at the image of Krystal and the bosun, and its long, ropy tail swayed vigorously in the presence of. . . well, perhaps just the blue vixen, but it may have been its response to all company. Finally, for clothing, there was nothing, save for but a burgundy cloth wrapped around its waist a few times and covering its loins.

As Eirik emerged, it stared intensively at Krystal, but not in the sense of being confused or taken aback, but as if it knew exactly who, or what, the fox girl was. The bosun did not react to this, keeping its head lowered.

"I see. Thank you bosun, you may leave." the malevolent serpentine commanded. Surprisingly, its speaking was not cracked with garbles of grammatical errors like the others.

The bosun's head snapped upward, but, it questioned naught, releasing Krystal, standing. "Do. . . da's you'ze know whatz it iz, lod'?" dared the bosun.

Blankly, Eirik flicked his gaze to the bosun, and then back to Krystal, unmoving. "Yes. Now, be gone. I want no disturbances for the morrow'."

No hesitation. The bosun bowed again, and quickly took off, carefully opening the dark framed door and closing it, heavy footsteps heard as it sped away. All that remained was the silence, Krystal left with the monster that was Eirik.

She did not know why, but within her, she suddenly threw caution to the wind and attempted to gather up the strength, gather courage to confront the mind behind all the mutilations, the sinister being engineering raids that obliterated every SharpClaw they encountered.

A simple query, at first. "Who are you?" said Krystal, struggling to form some manner of composure with the iron cuffs round her wrists and ankles. Eirik hadn't cast its stare anywhere else, and at her question, it barely shifted its muscular neck, bemused.

"Who am I, indeed. I don't think that's entirely appropriate when I've lived on my home longer than you, and you have the audacity to claim ignorance of me?" it replied, coyly, sneering through a set of stalactite-esque teeth.

"What?" she queried back, confused. "You've been butchering SharpClaw and committed acts that are unforgivable! What kind of monster are you to claim Sauria as his home?" she fought back, forgetting exactly how easily Eirik could have split her open or snap her neck.

He scoffed. "SharpClaw? Irrelevant filth. Simply because we've been living in tunnels all these years doesn't make it less of our world than the others. In fact, we know this planet better than any sentient maggot attempts to claim, including those pseudo-pacifist walking fossils." said Eirik, beginning to chuckle vibrantly at the bitter end of his own loathing for the other cold blooded species.

"Oh yes, we've been existing in those dark corridors for too long, spiders our only companions. . . proven so by the ignorance of my own kind. Vegetable? Fruit? Alcohol? Indeed. I could hear those damned soldiers blithering on and on about the new 'discovery' and what you possibly could have been."

These words surprised Krystal immensely. Either this Chieftain was lying in some self proclaimed hallucination, or he was actually telling the truth, which meant that he was as much a resident here as the dinosaurs and the SharpClaw. There didn't seem much to be gained by lying, in this case; he had nothing to prove to the azure furred vixen, but Krystal found it almost impossible to believe that a brother of Sauria kind would dare commit these holocausts out of spite or cruelty. Then again. . . the SharpClaw were no different, save their methods were less intense and sadistic.

"What do you want with me?" Krystal continued in question, finding it strange that she was prepared to know the answer after fearing it since her arrival. The mind would do strange things to survive.

A long pause infiltrated the space between the two. At this, Eirik's eyes peered down at his hapless victim, and unfettered amusement rolled forth through his mind as he knew his reasoning from the very moment Krystal had been brought to his presence. The Chieftain started to pace, began to circle the vixen, facade silent and composed, savoring what was to eventually come to pass.

"I happen to know exactly what you are. I've been dissecting warm and cold bloods since I was just an eggling. You see, my soldiers have been scalping lizards and SharpClaw for as long as they can remember, and that has led to some very poor theories on what other forms of life look like." said Eirik, growing closer and closer to Krystal with each circle pass he made.

At this, the blue fox girl did not know what exactly to do. Terror was springing through her heart as she wondered if this is where she would die, in the pit of stagnation and evil.

"But I know precisely what you are. You're a woman. A female. A gender which I've not seen for many, many years. Certainly, SharpClaw are said to have females amidst their ranks, but all of them are so ugly and hideous its impossible to differentiate the two." continued the Chieftain. Upon listening to the chiseling ice of the creatures words, something was beginning to spark within the intellectual chasm of Krystal's mind. Something that she wished was not true, but deep in her heart, it whispered, it grinned, it laughed.

You know what he wants.

"You ask me what I want with you," stated Eirik as he came to one knee behind Krystal, "I made up my mind the instant you came into my chamber."

Krystal started to shiver. She dared not turn to look at him, for seeing his eyes would reveal the truth of his will and intent.

"I may have power, a host of soldiers at my call, treasures upon valued treasures, and the resources to spark an empire, but regardless, I'm missing one crucial element that any lord should desire. I imagine other kings and such would be greedy and want more, but I'm satisfied with just one. One. . . delicious. . . concubine. . ." said Eirik, with such a lethal intensity and softness of the words it was as if they slithered up Krystal's back and wrapped around her throat.

Tormenting thoughts raced through the fox girl's mind, and her chest exploded with an eruption of true terror as an intent she secretly hoped against bloomed at the very helm of these beasts. She started to shake now, desperate for escape or some alternative, but dread and dismay, nothing presented itself to her.

"No! No, please no!" she whispered back, staring at the ground, wishing some hole would erupt and take her away from this place.

"One seductive sex slave," continued Eirik, ignoring Krystal's pleas, "that denies me no command, that obeys my every whim, that will always be my ever desirable pet. . ."

Krystal shook her head frantically, a slight frisk of tears forming in her eyes. "Please don't! I am a warrior, not a slave! Please, just let me go!"

Eirik chuckled and took a long, dangerous claw and gently ran it across Krystal's delicate back, causing her to shudder. "No, a warrior you are no longer. You are what we call a 'war spoil.' The fruit of victory. You lost your right as a warrior when you fell so quickly to a simple sneak attack. Your will shows me that you, deep down in the pit of your heart, did not want to be free, but be captured, as has been done." said the Chieftain, taking his maw to Krystal's ears, letting his words seep into her mind as her blank, tear filled stare racked itself with disbelief and horrified curiosity.

"And for that you have become a trophy. A very beautiful trophy too, of which only I know the value of. For that, you should crawling to me in thankfulness."

Somewhat sobbing, Krystal timidly pulled away from the Chieftain's light touches and narrowed her eyes, fighting back, resisting, not allowing herself to become a simple toy to this creature.

"I'll die before I let you touch me. . ." she responded in a hoarse, angry tone. Eirik chuckled again.

"Mm? Think so? Well, let me paint a little scenario for you, as I seem to be good at it. You have either two options in front of you. Your first is simple: be a good little pet and do as you're told. Be the obedient sex slave who wags her tail and that is all life will demand of you here. Or. . . I can easily educate the masses that are my soldiers on what you are, and what they can do to you. They have quite the imagination with a corpse. Think of what they'll do when they find out what those things in between their legs are for."

"And believe me, I can keep you alive. You'll think to yourself that your body just can't take anymore and you'll finally collapse and die, freeing you from your torment. But no. I have prisoners whom lack any skin whatsoever, and are bathing in washes of salt, and regardless, they still draw breath. I know the flesh well enough to where I can sustain it or destroy it, make it or break it. By serving me, you serve me only, the most intelligent of his kind. But with disloyalty, by fighting back, I'll let my guards and men ravage you from sunup till sundown, and when they're done with you, I'll drag you in here and then have my own way with you. Either way, consider yourself a casual encounter, a concubine with one host. . . or many."

Chieftain Eirik wove the scenario in front of Krystal in the manner by which nearly broke her spirit. The inevitable was present, and was not going away. The creature still breathing down her neck (literally) she would have to serve as his concubine, or, if she refused, Krystal would find herself at the mercy of hundreds of these reptilian nightmares, and though she doubted that the scarlet hued sentient could keep her alive, that wasn't something she wanted to risk. Dying in a never ending scene of a gang-bang violation was not the way to go. But was being the victim for just one any better? What about the rest of Sauria? The dinosaurs? General Scales? Everything had happened so suddenly. . . this morning she was a proud, powerful blue fox girl that was the young heroin for the despairing. . . now, a little whore to bark for her master and do whatever he wanted.

Eirik then took his thick red finger and circled it just above the slip of Krystal's buttocks. Before she realized what was happening, she yelped in surprise, as the leathery digit rammed up her anus and pumped up the walls of her rectum, twisting it about as the blue fox lurched forward and began to gasp in both horror. . . and pleasure.

Without words he retracted his finger and stood, walking over Krystal, with his finely tattooed back to her stunned gaze, which was still wide-eyed and misty from the serpent's actions. He chuckled warmly yet again, but kept his eyes away from hers, as if entranced and captured by the walls themselves.

"A pretty thing you are. Very beautiful. Very exotic. It would pain me to see all that marred and ruined by a voracious assault of horny little scalpers. So. All you need to do to avoid a far worse lifestyle is simply answer me thus: will you be a good little pet and do what master wants? Just tell me those two magic words, "yes master," and I'll spare you the indignities you could suffer. The choice is up to you, now,"

The words barraged the azure and cream hued fox girl like a hail of arrows, each one supposedly a killing blow to her once free life. Agonized, there could be only two options, not a third. Krystal had no hope of escape. . . not now. . . and even though she could hope for one in the future, something told her this beast's cunning wouldn't allow that. Her spirit told her to keep fighting, to retain her free soul so as to never be broken, but for what cost? Being raped by one was better than being raped by many, as much as she loathed to admit it to herself. Over and over, the sniffling fox tried to find some loophole, some magic escape, but the concrete answers were always there, and there they would remain. It was inescapable. The faster Krystal could accept it, the better she could ease her own suffering. Could it be worse?

She sniffed, choked a little, and let a few tears run down her soft, fragile cheeks. Eyes downcast, she couldn't believe what she was about to do. . . but it had to be this way. As terrible as it all seemed, Krystal wouldn't go to suicide. That would be worse.

". . .ys. . .msstr. . ." she mumbled, barely audible, a tiny, fractured whisper that revealed her will was lost and gone.

Eirik turned, raising a leathery brow, tilting his masculine neck at Krystal's noise. "I'm afraid I didn't understand that. Speak up."

A shudder from Krystal. By the gods, why? Why did she have to do this? Couldn't he just let her get it over with?

"*sniff*. . .yes. . ."

The Chieftain stepped forward once, looking down at the fox, waiting for that final word. "Yes? Yes what? Out with it, pretty girl."

She paused, struggling with the words. Her throat felt so tight it was as if it didn't want her to speak.

"Yes, master. . ."

There was no roar of victory afterward, no sadistic laughter of cold manipulation to follow, no physical strike to bludgeon the fox girl for physical dominance, merely an affirmative nod from the hulking blood red reptilian. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot once, then spoke up, tail swishing about in some form of communication Krystal did not understand. . . or care about.

"Good, good. You will always call me Master. In turn, you will find I am outrageously generous, for I will refer to you as 'pet'. I could easily call you slut, whore, bitch, cunt, and a variety of other derogatory terms to cause you shame and such, but I will revert from doing so, unless your attitude changes."

Krystal did nothing to show a reply. She merely watched the dusty ground, eyes raw and misty from her salted tears, awaiting what terrible fate this creature had in store for her. Eirik regarded her with interest, until he let his hands undo the buckles to his coarse leather belt and loin cloths. As orderly and intelligent as he seemed, Eirik would not dare deny himself his primal urges when it was practically lapping at him in the face. With one last strap, the leather collapsed to the floor, revealing a slightly stirring member that was his enormous shaft, a slightly darker toned genital that was instantly aroused as Eirik's. . . creative and ambitious thoughts began to consume his mind.

"As certain as I am," he began to say, "that you will be a submissive concubine, I can still see shreds of will and resistance in your eyes. You may seem broken now, but the fight rages through you still. . . so. . . let us, shall we say, break you in? Come here pet."

Krystal finally let her head rise to see what the beast desired. His hands were resting on his hips, while his cock-shaft still swayed as a soft and unhardened pole, though becoming filled with blood as Eirik gazed at Krystal further. True, she was not nude or stripped down (as Eirik personally wanted to reveal that side of her slowly and satisfyingly), but the idea of finally fulfilling desire that had been sleeping for years was almost too much for the Chieftain to bear. Carefully, the fox girl, with little reaction in her face save for an obedient torment, began to pull herself up, until Eirik raised his hand, stopping her.

"No, wait. Crawl to me, pet. On your knees and hands."

Strangely enough, Krystal found this easier to perform, as the chains holding the iron cuffs of her ankles and wrists did not allow for full walking strides or balanced positions. So, obeying, she went to her knees and began to crawl toward Eirik, ample breasts bouncing lightly as her gold-lined bikini top offered very little resistance for the curvy mounds. When she reached her standing dominator, he stopped her with a gentle hand to the head, which stroked through the bangs of her deep ocean-blue hair as though trying to comfort her, in its own twisted sense of a forced rape session, anyway.

She looked up at him (somehow), seeing the newly formed lust in his eyes, while a suggestive grin rolled over his maw in excited anticipation. She did not realize it, but by simply mustering up and looking to him, it was a silent word that said "what next?", the very beginning of an obedient concubine.

"Do me a kind favor," stated Eirik, somewhat in a patronizing manner, "and wrap your lips around my cock, pet. Do me a kind favor, and suck on it for master," he ordered, disregarding the intense vulgarity of his sentence in order to explore this profound pleasure.

The blue furred vixen blinked. She was slightly naive to the concept her new overlord had just stated, but her survival demanded she adapt. She looked at his slowly growing member, which was throbbing in want and appeared very smooth and powerful, somewhat like a velvet trunk. In disbelief, Krystal took her two chained paws and gently grasped the long penis at its base, while she took the brim of her muzzle and nose to the head of Eirik's prick, hesitating, both for intensive humiliation and pure uncertainty as to what to do.

She opened her maw and engulfed the hot genital. The large mast that was her master's "tool" filled up most regions of her mouth, while Eirik let out a small moan of satisfaction as Krystal's cool, pink tongue slid up on the underflesh of his cock. Krystal, remembering that the beast had said "suck" created an intense vacuum with her mouth and took one long stroke with her head, pulling at the member as it swiftly became rock hard, at full length. Going along with this, the vixen gripped the penis slightly tighter with her paws, started to dive in with her mouth, and retract whilst she swirled her tongue and moistness about the penis and pulled harder with her maw at the same time. Without realization, Krystal found herself exploring the manner by which she could pull at her master's tool. She attempted to take the full length of it down her mouth and throat, saliva and drips of precum beginning to drool out of her lips and slather down her neck, her head motions becoming faster.

"Gghhmmf. . ." she uttered out, unable to perform any normal speech pattern based on the organ taking up most of her inner mouth. And even though the vixen could have looked away, could have shut her eyes and simply tried to ignore her actions, she did not. She kept her emerald iris' affixed to Eirik's throbbing mast, slight mist in her retina for betraying the once great warrior she used to be.

Eirik enjoyed every moment of it and watched with fascination at Krystal's forced oral fixation. He smiled when he saw her experiment, releasing his cock-shaft and then simply lapping at the muscular pole with her flat canine tongue, then sneaking a movement under his genital to lather his testes with kisses and nips, then resuming to the blood-engorged penis with her relatively skillful fellatio. This was the one moment in his time where he preferred not to use the nine-tailed whip in order to achieve complete obedience.

Her lips were now glistening with a mixture of saliva and preluding seed that was Eirik's load, and she paused, strangely enough, to lap away at it, cleaning her mouth off, before resuming work on the massive genital. Without realization, the vixen forgot who she was with, where she was, or what she was doing. She had escaped this slavery, for the moment, by imagining it in some different magnitude, some reversed version that would make the experience all the more bearable. Indeed, Krystal would pause to nuzzle the shaft with her silky cheeks, take her paws and run it down the length of the meat while tickling the plum-sized testes with a finger, cupping them, practically performing an early act of cock worship, something the Chieftain had not expected to witness.

Harder and harder she continued on. Eirik, in his intensive euphoria of pleasure, eventually knew that he was close to an orgasm, but what was soon to happen would take even he off guard. Indeed, a transition of strange proportions would take place, and whether it was by will or survival, Krystal had become a new fox entirely, accepting it for the sake of survival. Or something else.

"Swallow it. . ." Eirik breathed out.

Before Krystal realized what the tall reptile had meant, a blast of searing white cum shook her maw as Eirik emptied his load inside her mouth, to which, as ordered, she swallowed, licking and lapping the honey flavored liquid as it rushed through her mouth, some of it escaping in copious degrees at the side of her jaw, but the vast proportion of the semen captured by Krystal's pink mouth, using her tongue to slurp up some of the cum from the head of Eirik's genital. Satisfied (for the moment), Eirik gently pat Krystal on the head and through her strands of hair, as she continued to drink from his shaft like a thirsty dog, keeping her paws cemented to the penis' base as the fox was affirmed she had gotten all she could. The taste was not foul either, Eirik's seed in flavor like that of a warm nectar, making the experience slightly more bearable, if only just so. She then relinquished her grip, sitting back on her haunches in a confused and violated daze.

The blue fox girl's face was heavily rushed with a humiliated heat, her cheeks splattered somewhat with the white spew, while her flushed cheeks were barely hidden by the layers of her soft fur. Even so, Eirik continued to stroke her hair and ears, softly grunting with a satisfactory feeling.

"Ah. . . that was good, pet, very good. I think you'll come to enjoy that," murmured Eirik, still musing over the glistening stimuli pulsing through his loins. The large Chieftain knelt down, like before, and then grasped Krystal's delicate wrists which were still held by the cumbersome chains and cuffs.

"We don't need these right now. . ." said he, to which Krystal imagined he would pull out a key and unlock them. But no. Taken aback, the Chieftain exhibited a miraculous strength and literally snapped off one iron cuff with his masculine thumb and finger, then proceeding to do the same as his rippled arms ripped off the last link of metal, though at the same time keeping Krystal from being harmed.

Now her slender arms were free from the tyrannical grasp of the heavy iron. . . and it made her wonder, could she try to get away now? No. Still no. Eirik did not appear as if he would remove her ankle bonds, so there was no way she could fight him in that condition. Besides, if this serpentine could break folds of iron with his hands. . . just how fast and strong was he?

"Down on your legs and knees, little pet." commanded Eirik, stepping around the azure vixen to where she could not see him. A tactic she quickly grew fearful of.

"Yes, master. . ." she whimpered, grotesquely fascinated that she not only obeyed by getting in the demanded position like a dog, but that she even obliged with a verbal affirmation, for, behind all that embarrassment and tears, a tiny, small, fractured part of her. . . actually enjoyed it.

It was proof enough that her body had become aroused by merely lapping at the throbbing shaft of Eirik, for her loins were lightly dappled with moisture, her snatch shimmering with the ilk of dark, dark desires. This was even worse to Krystal. It was as if her body wanted to be taken by hundreds of voracious reptiles, ignoring her mind's pleas and acting on its own carnal insanity.

She felt a strange sensation, realizing that Eirik was clipping off the strands of her own loincloth, simply tugging down the tethers which clasped her curvy waist and moving aside the fiber which guarded her delicate nether lips and anus.

"N-no. . . master. . . w-what are you doing?" she pleaded in query, though Krystal knew precisely what the hulking beast was up to. Eirik did not respond, did not laugh, did not hit her, merely took the head of his still erect shaft and pushed it up the grip of Krystal's moistening slit. Eirik murred in delight as he felt the warmth encapsulate his member, which also caused Krystal's vagina to dampen severely.

"Please no. . . I'm not. . . I'm still. . ." Krystal begged, even though it was futile, seeing as how her fate had been sealed quite a while ago.

"Nnnnnhhh!!" she moaned, as Eirik still pushed on inside her juicy inner walls, they being greatly stretched as Eirik's shaft was larger than intended for the fox girl. The blood-red serpentine was almost in halfway when he felt something resist the tip of his cock-shaft. Surprised, and lightly amused, Eirik could see that Krystal was still a virgin, a hymen barrier still present in her cervical walls.

He planted his hands on Krystal's buttocks, squeezing them roughly as he grinned inwardly. "Ah, a virgin, are we? Well then, I promise you'll enjoy this," said he lightly, Krystal in effect clenching feebly at the ground as her body was racked with a combination of pain and unrestrained ecstacy.

"Oh, pleeaaaAAGGH!!!" Krystal screamed, finally have the thick mast shove firmly past the hymen barrier, a searing spike of pain flaring in her nether region. Perhaps for others the membrane would have broken in a few thrusts, but the size of Eirik's pole was large enough to accomplish that in one mere thrust.

As he fully pushed in her wet snatch, Eirik let his cock move around a bit inside her, letting the fox feel his meat entirely while he continued to massage her haunches, Krystal in turn bucking and arching her back, eyes littered with tears from the quick moment of agony she had suffered. The Chieftain then began a slow transition of mild amusing ploys to a slow beat of lustful thrusts, taking his manhood out almost entirely, and then swiftly diving back in. The intensive wetness of the blue vulpine made it so there was little resistance, the massive member able to move around with relative ease which allowed more ecstatic explosions of raw pleasure rather than agonizing sensations.

"Guuugh. . ." Krystal moaned, her breaths rising in intensity as she bucked forward with each powerful slam, supple breasts bouncing at gravity's delight with each movement. Her eyes rose upward, and her pink tongue rolled out of her maw, drooling from the cascade of enjoyment she was experiencing.

No. . . I can't let him do this. . . not this way. . . she told herself mentally, attempting to try and resist the actions of the serpentine, but being swallowed by the wondrous rapture lighting her flesh ablaze. Her moans and grunts betrayed her. Her mind fought and struggled to tell her body that this thing was taking her, stealing her virginity, raping her, but nothing would give. Her smoldering sighs and moans betrayed all this, each push letting forth copious amounts of her nectar to the floor, and every time the fleshy pole entered her fully, her body reacted by trying to squeeze it, keep it there, not let it escape. This horrified the fox girl. How could she even let herself do that when the situation was they way it was?

I don't want to. . . but it feels so good. . . she somehow mused, now taking her ring covered and moving it out of the way so Eirik could thrust with more ease.

"AAAHHHH!!" she yelped out, when a bursting, searing orgasm wrought forth, flooding Krystal's moist walls with Eirik's all ready familiar seed. Slowing his thrusts, he still pumped her full of his thick cum, some of it oozing out of Krystal's nether lips as their hot juices intermixed together like a sweet, sex oriented soup.

Eirik still stroked Krystal's rump, taking his long serpent tongue and licking her left cheek in a few rotational movements. As powerful as the orgasm seemed, and Krystal seemed rather exhausted, Eirik remained hard, still full of potency, the fire of his groin not yet sated from his desire.

"So wet and lovely," he said, "I need to taste you more,"

Though the azure fox girl herself the actions could go no further, Eirik pulled his mast out of her inner wall, taking his member and eying a different direction to go. Krystal was breathing heavily, filled with both tremendous shame for acting the way she did, and a small fizzle of delight for having something so large and smooth penetrate her. She had never had sexual relations before in her life, and had never really expected to. This was both a full grown nightmare and dream come true at the same time.

The unthinkable pursued next. Just like the hem of Eirik's cock had pressed into Krystal's snatch, so did it the same when the curvy fox femme found it prodded at her anus. The fox gasped, turning to see with curiosity as to what the serpentine was attempting, completely in disbelief.

"No. . ." she whispered, uncertain as to why she kept backtracking from enjoying these actions to fearing them, and then to thinking she could stop them. As for the Chieftain, his face was painted with interest, as he braced himself and shoved his cock into Krystal's rectum, which was made easier by the previous juices of their orgasm.

"AGH! No!! It's too big!!!" she yelped, whimpering now, as this feeling was far different, a very odd mixture of seemingly pain but actual pleasure. Eirik was content simply to go on as he wished, banging her hot back door which was far tighter than her virgin clit. And once again, through all the despair of loathing herself for acting in compliance, Krystal's buttocks tried hard, every time, to squeeze the shaft as it penetrated her over and over.

Eirik saw in raw interest as Krystal's back arched backward, her ample mantle dangling freely even through the restraint of the golden straps. The serpentine would have been eager to delight himself with those tantalizing mounds, but he found himself more enjoy this form of intercourse at the moment. Indeed, he decided to leave her with most of the jewelry she wore, the braces and anklets coupled well with her tribal tattoos and stunning blue fur.

"Uuuuhhh. . ." moaned the vulpine dreadfully, saliva freely falling from her mouth as she was gaping from the intensity of her master's actions. It was hard to say if she was truly experiencing ecstacy, or pain, or a combination of the two, but the feeling was so unusual she was, like before, beginning to enjoy it.

The Chieftain, though, was content to end it as quickly as he started it. His rod, once again, suddenly burst with a flaring orgasm, seeping into Krystal's hole and flooding her rectum with his honey-nectar seed. He kept thrusting speedily as he did so, but eventually, after filling the vulpine with his cum, he retracted his large member, groaning and sitting back, unaware of the fact that Krystal herself had her own little orgasm as well.

"Gleeggh. So very good. I had forgotten after all these years. . ." said the reptile wearily, either to Krystal or himself. "All I need now in something to pull the insides out of and this would be perfect."

The blue vixen didn't really hear him. She had gone to her side and was panting intensively, tongue hanging out to touch the floor, vagina and rectum still drenched with the fluids of the two's sex. While she was tired now, Eirik apparently lost no stamina, on his feet quickly with tail lashing about in its same frantic manner.

"You may not want to put your mouth on the floor, pet," he said, "a lot of things have died there." implied the serpent, blindly gesturing to the ground as though it were coated with blood (not counting Krystal's). He then took a few steps to where Krystal's gaze did not follow, most likely returning to strap on his leather cloths and such.

At Eirik's warning, she let her tongue fall back in her maw, but nothing more. She was consumed by both tendrils of exhaustion and humiliation. How could she not?

She was more than defeated. She was now all ready what Krystal thought she would avoid. She had tried to resist but fallen prey to being taken advantage of. Her mind would wrestle with the concept all it wanted, but the fact remained, she liked having Eirik fill her nether lips, she liked lapping away at his shaft, she liked being taken advantage of by this enormous reptile.

Whether or not she was still tired or just trying to find an escape, Krystal's clamped her eyelids shut and soon drifted off into sleep. As for what Eirik had planned for her, she would not know until her jade iris' met the world again, met this life again, met the face of her new master. Was this her purpose in life? Was she always meant to be a mere concubine? Was it a sign?

A sign indeed. The sign of an open eye.

(KIK)