Toofy Ch. 19

The fox shrugged, "Being simple, 'nuf. I yasta be da chosen toy of da mischief god. She's kitsune, lika ma. She used ma ta fuck wit da emper'r 'n all. But den one day, dis neko, she fuck wit death. Takes onna god of death, and fuck ma if she don't win. So, ma goddess turns around 'n tells me it's over. I gotta help da cat, or stay da fuck away from 'er. So I be bitchin' ta be pissin'."

It took the half-ork a few moments to translate the broken human in her head. More than a few. Followed by a few more as the ramifications sank in.

"You're an avatar. A chosen prophetess."

"Was." The kitsune said sourly, "Noaw, I jus' be pissin'."

Khild considered the options before her carefully. She had seized control of the clan to attack a dragon, a threat. Said dragon might not be a threat to her at all.

She'd just marched an army into human territory.

There was not a single chance that the march of the orks had not been reported on. She hadn't put the last human fort to the sword. They will have sent messenger birds ahead of her.

Even now, soldiers would be gathering to expel the invasion, if they weren't already. The salamander that had kidnapped her master would have caused a stir as they flew over the capital, as well.

Khild needed more time to think. For now, she was committed to this action.

---

The flames shifted towards him momentarily before the magic of the thunderstep propelled Sai through the battlefield. He didn't bother with his blade against these flies.

The ripple of his passing was enough to burst eardrums, twist armour, and shatter limbs.

His thoughts were not on the royal guard. Those idiots hadn't brought nearly enough to deal with the pissed off salamander that had a thing for his neko.

Others may die. Others could always die.

He searched for Toofy through the smoke and dust. Flashing through the ruins of this small village that had been destroyed, looking for golden eyes in the chaos.

The sound of his repeated passage tore through the air. Lost in the similar chaos of the real thunder as lightning burst from dark skies, and the ground turning into debris as the royal warlocks cast their magic.

He jerked to a stop as one of those bastards blocked his next thunderstep.

Sai rolled across the dirt to the side as a fireball struck, drawing his sword as he did. The lord blocking the spear looking to skewer him, redirecting it into the ground before casting his own spell and immolating the soldier.

The warlock behind them saw Sai, and vanished in a swirl of black smoke.

Before it reformed Sai had turned and his blade was coming down on the predictable moron. Teleporting directly behind someone was about as effective as begging for mercy on the battlefield.

The warlock's head rolled, and Sai vanished in the ear-shattering boom as he returned to his hunt for Toofy.

---

Arina vomited violently, falling to her knees in tears.

The handmaiden leaned on the haft of her scythe, shaking her head and moaning, "I... I can't. I can't."

Just touching the magic of the god made her feel all kinds of horror. It made her feel even worse than when she'd seen Isaac die. Gone was her inability to feel anything.

Arina pushed herself shakily to her feet, looking around to see where she was.

She'd tried to teleport straight to her mistress, but had felt something draw her off-course.

She frowned, looking at the mounds of dirt all around her. Half-circles of plates sticking up out of them. Some were silver-edged, others were gold, but the majority were simply painted in bright colours.

A graveyard.

There was a single mourner, but he didn't seem to have noticed her arrival. He was kneeling at a grave. Dried tears on his cheeks, and blank eyes. A canteen was loosely fallen from one of his hands.

"A good learning opportunity." Death whispered in her ear, "You could reunite them. Bring him peace."

Arina was reviled at first.

She had no intention of killing anyone, if she could help it. Murdering someone just because they were hurting was beyond cruel. Everyone left someone behind, even if they didn't know it.

However, another thought occurred to her.

She had the power of a god now, and that was the point. She needed to broaden her horizons if she was going to learn what was, and wasn't possible.

Arina walked over to the mourner, using her scythe to steady her recovering legs. "Morning, old timer."

He blinked, looking up at her confusion, "Oh. Hello miss. You're young... Visiting family?"

"Passing by." She replied, and waved to the grave, "Your wife?"

He looked down sadly, "My daughter. My precious Astren. Sorry. She was taken even younger than you."

Arina put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and then flared her stomach-churning magic into being. He was startled as her eyes sucked all the light out of the area, leaving the two of them in a dark and otherworldly place.

"Fuck!" He cursed, but she kept a hand firmly on him.

"Papa? Papa!"

He turned his head in shock as a young woman ran towards them. His Astren diving into him, and hugging him. The two whispered apologies to each other in the mingle of tears.

Astren stroked her father's cheek, "I had a good life, Papa. You did right by me. You need to stop blaming yourself, or you won't be able to join me in paradise. Just because I didn't marry, doesn't mean I didn't enjoy my life. The plague killed me, not you."

He nodded, dumbfounded.

The girl looked up at Arina, "I have to go back, don't I?"

"Yes." A voice like gravel crunching emerged from her own mouth, surprising her.

Astren gave a deep sigh. "I'll wait for you, Papa. I'll wait, and I want to be kept waiting. Give me long enough to build us a home. Okay?"

With that, the girl turned into a mist, whilst the man grabbed for her.

Arina released his shoulder, dropping the two of them back into the graveyard. As she did, she heard the spirit calling out to her father, "Live, Papa! Live!"

She felt a wave of exhaustion briefly roll over her, and slid down to sit on the ground. The scythe disappeared as she let go of it, yawning.

The man looked at her in fright, "Goddess. I..."

"Nope. I am just a servant, sir. As human as you are." Arina shook her head, and then winced and glanced at the grave. "Do you think your daughter would mind if I had one of her rolls? I'm famished."

He quickly grabbed the offering, handing it to her. "She would insist. My Astren. She was all heart, staying to help me work the farm instead of finding her own family."

Arina guiltily bit into the roll, "Sorry. I'm still new at this. I would have given you longer if I could. But piercing the Void, even as Death's servant, is... Difficult. I'm not sure how to do it. Just happens."

"May I... Ask? How you became their servant? Why you shared such a powerful gift with me?" He was wide-eyed.

She shrugged, "I impressed Death. Somehow. Not sure about the details. Mostly to do with my mistress. Her name is Lady Twenty Four de Sai. And I... I love her. Completely. I was on my way to rejoin her, when I sort of just... Ended up here."

"Lady Sai." He repeated, "I will remember her name. I have little to offer, but I will sing her praises. I can't say that I comprehend, but you have blessed me."

Arina smiled, "If you want to repay me, then do what Astren asked. Live. Make her proud of you."

She held out a hand, the scythe reappearing, and pushed tiredly to her feet. "Unfortunately, sir, I need to keep going. Lady Twenty Four needs me. May the rest of your day be blessed, and the gods look favourably to you."

"And you." He replied earnestly.

With her energy partially restored by the roll, Arina reached back into the Void, dragging herself back into the spirit world.

---

A wordless screech of rage burned her throat as Astadia's ears pulled back. She ripped the spear out of her dead chest before grabbing the mortal by the throat. Lifting them into the air, snapping their neck.

She tossed aside the corpse, screaming to the army bound to her will, "Kill them! Kill them all! Fucking kill them!"

The knot of anger in her chest binding her to this world tightened further. Stripping away a little more of her sanity, as her tired soul fragmented even further.

It didn't matter.

All that mattered to Astadia was protecting her foolish younger sister. The misguided elf who had sworn her life to one of the betrayer gods, with not a clue that she would be used and then discarded.

None of the gods gave a fucking damn.

Astadia had been granted the ability to turn and raise any dead elf as a draug. A promise given to her royal ancestors by Death in years long since passed. Yet, she'd still had to fight for that right.

Had to be punished, for the crime of demanding her due.

At the end of this, Astadia would die for good. She wouldn't be granted passage back to the Void. No paradise awaited her. Her soul would crumble and she would simply cease to exist.

Before that, long before, the madness would take her.

Fuck the gods.

The elf screamed in frustration, grabbing the head of an enemy. Her hands crushed the helmet in on the woman before Astadia tore them apart into two bloody hunks.

She felt something sharp pierce her, looking down in insult to see a sword there. She snapped the blade off with a yell, spinning around before ramming it through the skull of the soldier.

As they fell, she continued to lift and stab the weapon fragment into the dead soldier. Roars of anger tearing violently through her with each blow, until there was nothing but pulp left in the dirt.

She staggered back to her feet, "Protect Trician! Protect the stupid cunt!"

---

"I am glad that you could receive me." Lord Han bowed his head, lazing on the couch in the sunlit tearoom. Green plants dotting almost every single surface around them.

Lady Castelle gave a quiet smile, "I could hardly refuse you, minister. Though I confess to some confusion. If you wished to speak with me, you had only to request it. Why did I have to send the servants away?"

He lifted a small green bead from a pocket and placed it on Elizabeth's saucer. He smiled at her, "I have a few questions about your recent guest, that I was hoping you could answer. Questions it would not do to gossip about."

"Lady Twenty Four." She said, wondering about the significance of the jewel. She had never seen it before, and yet it felt familiar to her. Familiar and uncomfortable. Anxiety inducing.

Han nodded, "My official report into the events leading up to your husband's death will be incomplete, I am afraid. An unknown person seeded a path with caltrops. A person with magic. Which obviously clears your name."

"I am saddened to hear it." She said without a hint of sadness.

He shrugged, "I expect it will be of little import. All those connected with Lady Twenty Four will soon be... Either put to the sword, or elevated, I suspect. Though my proposing it... Could be construed as treason."

"A careful tongue is needed around the subject of our fascinating neko ladyship." Elizabeth acknowledged.

He nodded sadly, "I believe she has dreamed of life within the palace since she was but a kitten. Something that I must, unfortunately, report. I can only delay so much."

"You would be a powerful ally to her." Elizabeth prompted.

He shook his head, "I am the minister of justice. I must remain impartial, lest I end up as Lady Efina. If I were to see Lady Twenty Four, I would be required to arrest her. A most unfortunate possibility. No, a cloak of neutrality would be best."

She glanced at the jewel again, "Disappointing. I am sure she would have liked to tour your estates. She quite likes shiny things, and you have many riches upon display."

"Lady Efina kept many such things. I am certain that Lady Twenty Four would be familiar with them. In fact, I believe she would even know them better than the priestess herself." He replied guardedly.

Elizabeth tucked the gemstone away, "It must be frustrating for your investigations that she was sent so far from this city."

"Her return is but a matter of time." Lord Han said softly, "Though if she were to return on her own, I would find it beyond shocking, m'lady."

"Indeed?"

He stood up, "I have indulged myself, taking up so much of your time, m'lady. I hope I have no need to return to you in an official capacity. It would be nice to walk your beautiful estates simply for the enjoyment, one day."

She stood and curtsied, "It would be an honour, sir."

---

Tyre sorely missed the ability to transform his body as he fought. Having to rely so much on his sword skills after years of becoming a bear or lion left him at a significant disadvantage.

His instincts would fail him, reaching for a magic that was no longer there.

He had started the battle by Trician's side, but had long since been separated from the elven princess. He was almost glad of it. Orli was as much a liability as she was a benefit.

Tyre put his hand to a guard's chest, before making it disappear with a blast of wind. He turned aside from them, blocking a spear. He slammed his head into another, regretting striking bone to metal instantly.

One mistake became two. As his head rang, a sword pierced his spine and he collapsed to the ground, completely immobilised.

His mind drifted as the darkness gathered in at the edges.

"A farmer." The black-skinned ork sneered, looking down at him. "These are the perfect specimens you promised me, Kaden?"

A sword appeared at the ork's throat, and a fierce looking man with intense blue eyes glared at him, "You are not so important that all impropriety will be excused, ork. He is your emperor."

The ork tried to knock aside the blade casually, but it went nowhere. "I am an ork, human. Propriety means nothing to -"

"Bullshit waar'lok!" The man shouted, "Los no da, kri!"

The ork blinked their green eyes in surprise, "This one speaks my language well. Is that why you selected him... Emperor?"

"Slag came to us after he was exiled. He's the son of Hammerhand. I thought you might find him entertaining." The man lazing nearby said tiredly. "The heir of your old rival."

Slag didn't take his eye off the ork, "Respectfully, I am the heir of no one, your grace. As an exile, my only way to inherit would be to kill my father in single combat. His physical strength, let alone his mastery of magic, makes that an impossibility."

"These two will do." The ork said grudgingly, "Farmer. Stand up. I need to take a good look at you."

Tyre forced himself up, and whispered with his eyes aimed at the ground. "I'm a hunter, sir. Wouldn't know wheat from cabbage. Sir."

"An animal side to you." The ork agreed, grabbing his head in an oversized hand and tilting it back and forth. "What's your name, boy?"

"Tyre, sir."

The ork nodded, "This one will be for Baa'lam. If the demon doesn't eat him, then that animal side... Well, it will be interesting to see what happens."

Slag sheathed his sword, "Demons. An ork willing to make deals with demonkind."

The blue-eyed man barely flinched as he took a full swing to the face from ork. He didn't even stumble.

"Tra'arsk." The ork said, impressed, "The demon of storms. If he proves worthy, this Slag will be stronger than any forged iron."

The emperor yawned, "Get on with it, Menes. These two are just the experiments to prove it will work. Westcolm and I are the goal. You promised to make me a god, don't forget that. It is the only reason you weren't executed."

Tyre's vision swam as a howl screamed in his ears.

He stood there in agony, looking at his blood-soaked claws in horror. Begging himself to wake up from this nightmare. Begging the ragged bundle of clothes to stand up.

He heard thunder crack on the horizon, head jerking around to see Slag arriving, his eyes glowing green. Any hint of youth long since expunged from his face with what they had done.

Tyre tried to speak, but all that emerged was a territorial growl.

"May the gods torment Menes for all of eternity." Slag stated, crouching beside the body. He was silent, his face blank. Yet, to Tyre, the man might as well be lying on the ground and screaming in grief.

Tra'arsk's ever-present voice whispered in Tyre's ear. The words passing without comprehension, but he could feel his control slipping away, again. Feel the bloodlust trying to take him.

"Helen. I'm sorry. I was too late." Slag brushed the forehead of the dead woman affectionately.

Tyre felt himself lunging.

Slag's eyes flashed to green, and Tyre was deafened. As the world spun around him, and the darkness closed in around his vision, he found himself hoping that this was his death.

Tyre winced, sitting up in a place that was dark.

He stared in surprise as he saw a brook bubbling peacefully nearby. A beautiful woman kneeling at the edge of it. She was humming as she washed blood-soaked clothes in the water.

The song was a happy one, reminding him of birds tweeting at the sunrise.

"Helen." Tyre gasped as the tears began to fall, and reached out towards her.

There was a burst of lightning and he fell back, his muscles cramping and forcing him into a shuddering ball on the ground.

A comforting hand touched his shoulder, and the pain eased slightly. The hooded woman it was attached spoke sadly, "I'm sorry. I tried to argue with them on your behalf, but they... Can be stubborn. Seeing paradise, just this once, is all I could win for you."

"Paradise..." Tyre whispered, "I really am dead, then. She's waiting for me... But I will never get to see her, again."

The figure nodded, "I'm sorry. Your soul belongs to the demon. He'll claim you, soon. I... I'd fight him, for Twenty Four's sake... But even as an avatar, I'm not an equal. I don't stand a chance."

"Arina?" Tyre realised, not comprehending.

He saw her mouth twitch into a small smile, "You remembered me, sir. I'm honoured."

"How... Are you here?" He asked, "Are you dead?"

"Something... Else." She shook her head and stood, "Forget me. Forget Lady Twenty Four. Spend your final moments with your love, even if she cannot know it. Helen loved you, Tyre. Even as she fell."

---

Saia slipped quietly back into the underground city, trying to forget the horrors that she had found. Hoping that whatever fucking evil thing that had happened to those that held Arina... Hadn't happened to the innocent handmaiden.

Even the assassin had found herself beyond her experience when she'd entered that house, just outside the city.

The ceiling had been covered in congealed fat, blood, and shattered bone. Like someone had been turned inside out and thrown outwards against every surface. Like a pig's bladder bursting, but not filled with air.

The only surface not covered had been a shadow of someone who had been standing in the middle of all of it.

After that, it was a pleasant surprise to see the elf and halfcat had found a way to occupy themselves.

The succubus' tail twitched excitedly as she crept her way closer. Her red eyes dull in the dark. She peaked around a pillar, watching as the halfcat flipped the elf onto her back, kissing at Esme's neck.

Taudry might not be temple-trained, but she clearly seemed to know the things that Esme liked.

Deft little hands moving through the elf's hair, kisses alternating between her neck, mouth, and the tops of her exposed breasts. An almost feverish desire moving through the once-timid woman.

Saia had guessed that Esme would dominate in the bedroom.

She was very wrong.

"Please." The elf begged, "More. Please."

A finger touched her lips, silencing her, and Taudry let out a deep purr, "Patience."

"Saia will be back, soon." Esme said timidly, "Please."

The cat began to slowly unbutton the shirt, pausing after each button to kiss the elf's impressive rack. "Keep that up, and Taudry will stop."