Sisters of Sodom

Nothing but a tall blanket of snow covered the expanse, almost blindingly virgin. At first glance, there was nothing special about this place, but she could feel sacred energy lingering there. She was certain this was the spot.

She trudged to the center of the clearing and unhooked her spade. With a shove, she drove it through the frost, hearing a dull thud as it connected with the rocky soil. When she began to dig, she found the earth stubbornly resistant, but she was filled with determination.

Grunting, she dug in with all of her might and managed to displace a large cluster, then another. With each heave, she felt the ancient essence swell in the air around her, replenishing her resolve. This would be a taxing dig, she knew—but the treasure she sought was more than worth it in her eyes...

It was then that she felt something whizz by, dangerously close to her head. Startled, she spun around to see an arrow jutting out of the ground, its shaft still vibrating. Her eyes darted around quickly, but she could not see anyone.

Another sharp whizzing sound, and suddenly she felt a piercing pain in her calf. She stumbled back, but maintained her balance only to find a similar arrow sticking out of her leg. A flesh wound, thankfully—the thick canvas of her knee-high sneakers seemed to absorb some of the impact, but now it was stained a deeper red.

Enraged, she pulled the arrow out and tossed it aside, then roared to the gray heavens, "C'mon, you damned coward! Show yourself!"

Her posture stiffened as her powerful voice echoed throughout the forest. An updraft punctuated the moment, sending a flurry of snowflakes into the air.

With the sting in her leg sustaining her agitation, she raised her spade in a defensive position. She silently cursed herself for not bringing something more fitting for a potential battle. Had she really become so overconfident as to think she'd have no viable competition? Apparently so...

"Show yourself!" she yelled again, the slightest hint of anxiety in her voice now.

From somewhere deep in the thick forest, she heard a husky female voice, creakily intoning, "Baka...baka..."

Though the word was foreign to her, the tone communicated everything she needed to know. It was the voice of a challenger. One who, undoubtedly, was betting on a home turf advantage.

Eudora brandished her spade defiantly, swiping up a plume of snow dust. Another arrow then grazed her neck, slicing a fine line there. Knowing she was all too easy of a target in this large clearing, she dove towards the edge of the hilltop, where dense trees formed a seemingly endless maze.

She made it no further than a few steps before a fourth arrow landed squarely on her chest. There was a loud twang as the projectile ricocheted away. She gasped, realizing that if it weren't for the sacred breastplate she'd already acquired, she'd probably already be dead.

Startled, she lost her footing and tumbled off down the side of the hill. Falling between two trunks, she slammed the handle of her spade between them and gripped it for dear life.

This managed to stop her momentum, but also sent her face-first to the ground. She stifled a groan and tensed up, trying to blend into the scenery. There was just enough sunlight left for her to see that her attacker was drawing near, a shadowy figure hugging the edge of the clearing in search of her.

Eudora stealthily pulled herself up, balancing herself on her happenstance weapon. She hid behind the trunks, waiting. The figure slowed down to a cautious slither, then paused nearby to draw another arrow into its bow.

Eudora studied this stalker. Definitely female, definitely a native Japanese. The woman had a long oval face and silky black bangs cut right above a pair of intense dark eyes. Strapped to this intruder's long back was some kind of large studded club.

And she appeared to have an unusual fashion sensibility, as well. She wore a robust, frilly black dress lined with medallion-like buttons. Heavy crimson stockings disappeared into a pair of cloven geta boots. Eudora inexplicably found herself staring at this woman's footwear for a moment before disregarding the impulse.

As her target momentarily crossed into a beam of fading sunlight, Eudora took this brief moment of acuity to steady her hands and pounce, swinging her tool with murderous ferocity.

An audible clank filled the air as the broad side of the spade's head connected with the woman's elbow, knocking her bow and arrow out of her hands and sending her flying back. The foe cried out in pain, then cursed aloud, "Bakayarō!"

Eudora took advantage of the woman's shock and kicked her hard in the ribs, then grabbed her by the hair and dragged a few feet up into the clearing, shrieks of outrage filling her ears. She placed the sharp end of the spade against the woman's throat. Gasping, she barked, "Who are you! Tell me!"

The woman did not answer, instead spitting into the air, narrowly missing Eudora. In a fit of rage, Eudora raised her weapon to smash the woman's face in for good, but she suddenly felt her arms grow heavy.

"What the..." she mumbled as a subtle smirk surfaced on her attacker's smooth face.

"Noroma..." the woman muttered in her deep voice, looking up with intense hatred in her eyes. She slunk out from under Eudora and stumbled back up to her feet. Eudora couldn't move her arms without an incredible amount of effort, and she felt her fingers begin to lose grip on her spade.

"Shit..." she let out, suddenly realizing that this wasn't an ordinary woman. This was a fellow Pythoness. And one, she could tell, with considerable powers of her own. Sensing she needed to up the ante, Eudora made eye contact with her and shouted, "Giyǣda Ēquoi!"

Immediately the words created a perceptional link between them. Two women, from two different countries, raised with separate languages and cultures, both knew exactly what those words meant, as well as the weight they carried.

Giyǣda Ēquoi. The oath of Pythonesses, taught to them by their overlords. Which must mean...

"Giyǣda Ēquoi?!" The woman repeated back with wide-eyed incredulity. "Impossible. You can't possibly be a Pythoness...you are far too weak," she added, her words now made intelligible to Eudora through their metaphysical link.

Eudora attempted to mouth a fitting comeback, but the quickening weakness in her limbs began to demoralize her, and she found she could no longer hold onto her spade. She felt it slip from her grasp just as the woman came within striking range.

"I'm stronger than you think, you...Lucy Liu-ser," Eudora finally retorted sneeringly.

"Huh. A brat, too," the woman observed. "An ignorant one, at that."

"Whatever! I don't care what you are, or who you are...just know that I'm going to get that treasure first, bitch."

"You must be new to this," the woman said slowly, taking a step closer to Eudora's nearly petrified figure. "I am Mistress Ayaka. All Pythonesses fear me, at least the smart ones. And whoever you are, remember my name. When I send you to hell, you can tell the devil I sent you..."

The woman named Ayaka waved her arm dramatically, sending a powerful wave of dark energy at Eudora and knocking her to the ground.

Even as the shock rippled violently through her body, fraying every nerve, Eudora refused to cry out; she didn't want to give this woman any ounce of satisfaction during this momentary act of dominance. In fact, she began to smile in spite of her pain, feeling a wellspring of youthful power begin to bubble within her. All she needed was the perfect tactic...

As far back she could remember, Eudora had a talent for manipulating others. She'd made an absolute hobby out of it. That she also possessed spellbinding beauty and uncannily quick wits certainly helped in this endeavor.

Base physical combat was all good and well, but to dig into her foe's mind—to twist virtue into vice, and therefore strength into weakness—that was her true specialty.

And that was the reason why, even as she lay there paralyzed in the cold Japanese snow, that grin remained on her face. In her mind, this "Mistress Ayaka" bitch was no different than any other standing in her way.

The scowling Japanese witch casually walked back over to where her bow had been dropped and picked it back up. Pulling a fresh arrow from her quiver, she placed its nock against the white bowstring and pulled it tight. She then aimed it directly at Eudora's head.

"Now, young brat. If you beseech final forgiveness from the Divine Ones, I will grant you a merciful death on their behalf. Unless you'd prefer to suffer..."

Eudora felt no fear, at least not yet. She said nothing in response, her mind working quickly. By this point, she had already begun to piece together bits of her rival's attitude.

A reverence of the Divine Ones certainly dated the woman, she figured. The new breed of Pythonesses, of which Eudora counted herself, cared little for the pantheon. In their novel heterodoxy, she and her peers found the old goddesses—Circe, Abonde, Oya and all the rest—to be nominal invocations at best, their eminence purely ostensible.

This younger, more heretic breed of witch was a generally more sadistic one, as well. Given how cutthroat the scramble for these far-flung artifacts had become recently, the thought of offering a swift death to a competitor on such archaic grounds seemed laughable. In fact, Eudora had to refrain from laughing herself at such a quaint gesture, even as the threat of death seemed to loom over her.

She quickly noticed a few more details about her would-be executioner. Ayaka's favoring of long-range weaponry indicated a cautious woman who did not like getting dirty. Her humorless intonements and stiff body language spoke of a soul governed by notions of tradition, not to mention her slightly anachronistic manner of dress.

Simply put, Eudora could see that this was definitely a veteran witch of the Old Order. A well-preserved one at that. While necromancy was a young woman's game, it was often said, there were always those dangerous exceptions whose souls and bodies remained quite vital, and whose ambitions had yet to be retired...

What Eudora finally discerned in that potentially deadly moment was that Ayaka's entire sense of self was predicated on maintaining an unquestioned superiority over others. So any effective challenge to this could potentially leave her vulnerable. That was the key.

"Wait," she said, merely to buy time.

Ayaka seemed to honor this, if distrustingly, pulling the arrow back a notch more and steadying her aim. "What," the woman said at the edge of her patience.

With this, Eudora took a moment to consider the immense occult energies lying dormant in the area, flowing through its very soil. She knew nothing about this place, but she could definitely tell that many bad things had happened there in the past, and those occurrences had congealed into a dark, restless power that she might be able to exploit somehow.

"Why the fuck would I beg some....old slut dressed like Babymetal's nanny?" Eudora suddenly yelled back, savoring each crass word as it came out of her soft lips. "You can take your 'Divine Ones' and shove 'em up your ass!"

She knew that behaving like a snide, foul-mouthed youth—which she still was, after all—would hit the right nerves in her opponent, and even felt a shiver of pleasure in dressing up for the role.

Mistress Ayaka's eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn't comprehend the girl's strange pop-culture references, but what she did understand was her blasphemous language and defiant tone. Those words were not just an insult to her, but to the Divine Ones in whose favor she remained forever indebted. Outrage immediately flashed in her dark eyes.

"Hold your tongue, you filthy..." Ayaka began, her mind racing with potential punishments for Eudora's digression. An arrow through the head would be too merciful, she now concluded.

"Filthy what? It's not like you're squeaky clean, bitch. You want the same thing I want, the only difference is that you need some imaginary sky girlfriends to pat you on the fuckin' back first. I hate old witch cunts like you, dressed up like it's fuckin' Halloween with your cheap-ass threads..."

"You will pay dearly for your unwise words..." Ayaka snarled, lowering her bow and angrily shoving the arrow back in its pouch. She now reached for something quite a bit more intimidating—the large studded club slung to her back.

"A size queen huh? I guess you keep that thing around for when you can't find a date...which must be often," Eudora remarked as she looked at the massive weapon being unsheathed. It did actually scare her somewhat, though she refused to show it.

Rather, she was grinning wider now, and for a specific reason—with her foe flustered and distracted, Eudora had managed to regain some mobility in her arms and legs. She locked eyes with Ayaka and and kept talking in the hopes that the woman wouldn't notice the slow hand movements required for her to weave a new spell.

"Actually, I take that back. I'm sure there are some desperate guys out there who would still take a shot at that cobwebbed MILF cunt of yours. At least if you put a bag over your head..."

"I will beat the impudence out of you, blasphemer..." was Ayaka's only response as she pulled the mighty club free. Eudora couldn't help but be impressed by the sight. The instrument was nearly as tall as Ayaka, its ancient wood coursing with its owner's retributive malice. Its metal teeth gleamed as it was held high.

"Jeez, someone's touchy," Eudora continued even as her heart galloped. "What, Amaterasu ain't ticklin' your tulip much these days?"

She then paused, to make sure those profane words would sink into her opponent's immense ego. As she'd hoped, she could now finally feel the forest's energy react to her derision, the winds spinning about them with a chaotic and fearsome momentum. This was what she wanted. To antagonize, to create disharmony in the mind of her enemy.

"Anyway, I don't believe I will ever surrender to you, Shinto slut. Not even with all the dark energy in all of fuckin' Japan to prop you up!"

That was the bait Ayaka could not resist. How dare this ungrateful little misfit mock the gods, trivializing their occult gifts with such an inelegant and childish attitude. All that the senior Pythoness wanted was to erase Eudora from existence.

Of course, Ayaka knew the entire history of this place—the forest known as Aokigahara, the "Sea of Trees." And she had tapped into its unique powers before. Almost without effort, she started focusing her witchcraft to collect darkness from all around and channel it into a new attack.

Although she needed to focus, the Japanese mistress could not resist from shouting, "So that is your answer, insolent whelp? You come here to claim artifacts you do not understand, wielding powers you do not deserve...it will be my pleasure to exterminate you!"

"Talk, talk, talk..." the punk pythoness returned with a dramatic eye-roll. Looks like this bitch means business, she thought to herself. She quickened her hand movements and began to chant the necessary counter-incantation under her breath.

Ayaka was not of right mind anymore; never had she met such an outrageous young girl. She could feel indignant fury growing within her, the emotion infusing her spell with a wilder, more unstable quality. And then an ashen mist began to gust from the tight space between her tightly-clasped fingers, spiraling outwards in broad rings.

Whatever the woman had planned, she knew it would be formidable, so she had to time her reaction perfectly. Thankfully, due to her enemy's deeply agitated frame of mind, Eudora had regained full control of her own body now. Just as the dark swirl of energy began to reach her, she made her move.

It all looked rather clumsy. She stumbled to one knee, clutching her spade in both hands and tossing it rather sloppily in Ayaka's general direction. It flew cleanly past her target, missing her by several feet.

To the Japanese mistress, this was just more proof of Eudora's novice foolishness—was her aim really that poor? What a joke.

But the joke, it turned out, was on her.

In truth, Eudora had excellent aim. But this time, she had intentionally missed. Knowing that a straightforward attack with such a large, slow object would probably just be dodged or deflected by the woman's magic, she opted for something trickier.

It was an unorthodox technique to be sure, but a simple one—as the shovel whisked by Ayaka, Eudora called it back to her opposite hand in mid-air, creating an impromptu boomerang. And the subsequent resounding thump that filled the forest air let her know that her trick had paid off. As did the attending cry that flew from the lips of her stunned challenger.

As hoped, the shovel had brained Ayaka with a terrible impact during its arced trajectory. The blow sent the woman flying forward like a mere puppet, tossing her across the icy terrain.

"There ya go, you old goth slut!" Eudora cheered as she watched the screaming woman fall flat on the ground with her hands clutching her rattled head. Thankfully for Eudora, the shovel's speed had been greatly reduced by the impact and was returned to her palms safely.

Eudora took a quick moment to admire the results of her ruthless subterfuge. "I hope you enjoy eating snow, you brain-damaged bitch, because that's the only thing on the menu for you today. Gratis!"

Her voice was filled with childish amusement. She was thrilled by the spectacle in front of her eyes—an older, much more experienced Pythoness falling for a well-timed trick and paying for it.

"I guess I should thank this freakin' place, actually..." Eudora gloated, gesturing, "This forest has so much miserable, confused energy, it was easy to use it against you. What the hell happened out here anyway, an A-bomb or something?"

Ayaka was cursing and stumbling about, trying to stand up again. Dirty snow had seemingly fallen into every crevice of her dress, and blood poured liberally from her lips. Eudora was not in the mood for a round two, however. She knew she had to finish this woman off before she collected herself.

She waited for Ayaka to turn her head right before delivering a ferocious kick to her face. Whack.

To her delight, it cleanly knocked the woman unconscious, sending a stray tooth flying off into the distance. "I told you, slut!" she shouted at battered woman beneath her. With that, the punk pythoness's victory was complete. She only needed to grab the artifact and leave the Japanese cunt to mend her ego for years to come.

One thing passed through the punk pythoness's mind, though—after that struggle, and she was feeling utterly drenched in sweat. Which would mean, her rival would be too...even in such a chilly place, it was inevitable, especially considering how lavishly-cloaked she was.

And then without even noticing, Eudora's eyes wandered down her defeated opponent's body, and lingered at her expensive boots.

Why did her eyes hang there so? She couldn't pull them away from Ayaka's exotic-looking footwear, no matter how hard she tried.

The weathered, crinkled fabric of those tawny leather geta-boots beckoned her for reasons she could not fathom. With a grunt of utter frustration, she quickly knelt over the prostrate mistress and reached for her ankles.

Eudora tugged once, finding the woman's rigid boots very hard to remove; they were fastened tight with a series of hide straps. In a sudden flash of desperation, she found herself clawing at the prongs, tearing them loose one by one.

Her heart racing as, little by little, she saw the boots begin to slacken, and then finally hang free. The weight of their boxy, clog-like soles caused them to drag.