Chapter 49: The Ogre’s Prowess

Note: Thanks to WRC 264 for beta reading this!

Kora Falk – Az, Princedom of Kivoneth, The Strifelands of Zeutch

My stomach tightened as Ava crashed into the hallway wall. I knew that wasn’t her real body, and yet seeing the feyhound form struggling to gain its feet, the front, left leg snapped and half-hanging from splintered twigs, tore at my heart. Ava limped forward down the hallway. Though her proxy was battered, she was still fighting.

My fingers shoved into my pussy, coating them with more of my juices. It was hard to keep my cream flowing, but I needed it to power my illusions. I thrust my arm before me, focusing at the ogre and moved my fingers. I created another Zanyia, crouching low and hissing. Then she sprang around the brute.

His fists swung at it. I puppeteered my illusion low, the blow crashing over it. The real Zanyia hissed and jumped onto the ogre’s back. She scratched at the leathery back. The monster howled and threw himself towards the battered wall. The lamia sprang out of the way moments before the ogre crashed through plaster and wood. Debris flew through the air, fuzzing my illusions as splinters rained around the brute.

Where was Sven?

My stomach twisted, blood screaming through my body. I shook as the dust washed down the hallway. I had to keep focused on the illusion. I had to keep them moving. But ... How much longer could we keep battling this brute. We weren’t hurting it.

“TRICK!” bellowed the ogre, the entire inn shaking.

“Brother,” I whispered.

Ealaín

My war ax slashed and hissed before me, clanging against Antrevia’s slenderer sword. The midnight-black woman fell back. The building shook around us. The ogre bellowed from the other end of the boarding house. Footing grew treacherous as the floor lurched from the monster crashing through walls.

I couldn’t dwell on what the ogre was doing. I had to focus on the tip of the sword slashing at my body. It blurred in mirrored silver across my vision. It darted for my flesh, wanting to bleed me. To kill me. Antrevia’s dark eyes gleamed with bloodlust.

“You are just so interesting,” Antrevia purred.

I didn’t care about what she was babbling about. I didn’t care that we had the same skin tone. She wasn’t an aoi si. She wasn’t a hermaphroditic demigoddess, but some sort of human with exotic coloring. I slashed hard at her, my ax hissing through the air.

My weapon struck her sword. Hard.

The impact threw her sword to the side. It struck the wall, furrowing into the plaster and making a chunking sound as it hit the wood beneath. Antrevia’s eyes widened as she jerked, but her weapon was bound in the wall’s thick frame.

I slashed up at her, war ax streaking for her flesh.

Antrevia released the grip of her sword and threw herself backward. She tumbled with athletic grace. She contorted her body, doing a handspring to launch herself farther down the hallway. She landed in a crouch, a smile crossing her lips.

I charged after.

She sprang to the left, darting down the ruined stairs the ogre crashed up. My bare feet smacked on the ground, breasts heaving before me. I wouldn’t let the bitch get away. Not when I had her disarmed. I just had to close in on her, hack her down, then go help fight the ogre.

I reached the stairs, steps crushed by the ogre’s weight, the walls cracked and dented by his bulk. Pieces of plaster spilled over the runners. The handler landed in a crouch on the middle landing and sprang to the left at the stair’s bend. I leaped after her, sailing over the ruins on the stairs and landing in her wake with a heavy grunt, my tits smacking together.

“Yes, yes you are something interesting. But are you what I am?” Antrevia asked as she crouched in the ruined common area of the boarding house.

I charged after, bellowing loudly.

Her body flowed. The dark leathers she wore ripped out of her body as she grew waxy and bloated. Her limbs grew narrow, hands melting into almost spear-like points, her boots falling off her feet turning into the same daggers. Two more sets of limbs sprouted from her sides as I hurtled towards her. She grew bigger. The sclera of her eyes fractured into segments. They became faceted like those of a bug, growing dark and shiny. Her mouth twisted into pincers and...

“Werespider!” I gasped in shock. I had only heard rumors of the race existing, dwelling in those far-eastern lands long lost to knowledge because of the Biomancer Vebrin’s monsters that had spawned all throughout the Vilianth Ocean, cutting off any trade.

“You know what I am,” the thing said, its words distorted. She had the bloated form of a spider, spindly, red hairs thrusting from her black skin. From her abdomen, something twitched. “But we’re not the same, are we?”

“No!” I snarled and swung my ax at the disgusting thing. “I am birthed of beauty, not of the God Las’s spilled seed spurting onto a nest of spiders. I am not an abomination!”

She hissed and blocked my ax with her leg, the blade sparking off the chitinous limb. She stabbed it at me. I jumped back, landing past the stairs, stumbling on the broken leg of a chair. The ogre had wrecked the first floor, furniture splintered, a massive hole battered through the wall.

She followed, scurrying on her eight legs after me. A primeval fear swelled in me. I grit my teeth against the terror and bellowed, “Rithi’s inspired art!”

My war ax swung before me. She blocked it with a slicing leg and rose. Something twitched on her abdomen. I frowned and then gasped as something white and sticky fired out of her ... spinnerets. Her webbing hit me.

Zanyia

Ava’s broken body lumbered froward as I crouched on the ground. My claws had down nothing against that dumb ogre. It picked itself up from the ruins of the room it slammed into. Parts of the ceiling crashed down on it, spilling white dust across its sallow hide. It rose into a crouch, grasping its dick, stroking it.