Prelude
The sound of battle rang out across the vast plain as the armies
of light and darkness clashed. The tower of the great red witch loomed
in the distance, a pillar of wickedness blotting out the sun as the
hordes of undead poured forth from the dungeons beneath it.
Across
from it the armies of light, an alliance of Elves, Men, Dwarves, and
Orcs, rallied, raising their banners as their warriors marched forward.
Magical missiles raked the battlefield, landing among each army as they
neared, finally crashing into each other like two opposing waves.
Celtric
Hammerspell watched with a grim expression as the wind billowed through
his dark hair. For years he’d worked to bring the peoples of the world
together to oppose the red witch’s ambitions, and it all culminated in
this battle.
He turned towards his companions, his loyal knights
and followers who had been with him since the beginning, “The hour of
the Red Witch is at hand,” he shouted, walking among them as they
watched solemnly. “She is even now preparing herself a new body to
transfer her essence into, a body said to be all but invincible… We must
stop her from completing this ritual!” They cheered, raising their
lances high as the battle raged.
“I will lead a strike force
behind their lines, bringing the fight directly to the witch’s tower,”
Celtric continued, “I must warn you, there will be no retreat, this
attack will succeed… or we shall all perish.”
“I don’t care!” a
girl’s voice called. Tulip, the orc girl he’d taken under his tutelage,
pushed her way to the front, “I’m with you to the end Celtric!” she
grinned and clapped her hands together, producing a pair of magical
fireballs that hissed in the air.
Celtric’s face softened, and he
couldn’t help but smile, “If a girl like Tulip has courage to face the
Witch, surely I can count on the rest of you?” The men cheered as they
mounted their horses, galloping to the edge of the battle to ready for
the charge.
“This is it, isn’t it?” the young green skinned girl
murmured, walking up to him, “time to get revenge for mom and dad, and
everyone else from my clan…”
Celtric sighed, “Tulip… you’ve been
very brave, gods know I tried to find a good home for you after the
witch destroyed your village… but you stuck to me like glue.” He smiled
and ruffled her hair.
She grinned, “You’re the best magic teacher a girl could ask for, even if you are a stuck up humie!”
“This
last mission…” he glanced around, “Tulip, it’s more dangerous than
anything we’ve done before, it’s a move of desperation…”
“I know,”
she said solemnly, “I’m ready, I’ll stay close to you and- HEY!” she
grunted as a massive orc warrior picked her up, tucking her struggling
form under his arm.
“Thank you Terrack,” Celtric sighed, “Take her somewhere safe.”
“I will take her far away,” he muttered, “where the battle will not reach us.”
“You
can’t do this Celtric!” Tulip screamed, pounding her fists feebly
against Terrack’s back as he turned to leave. “You can’t make me stay
behind.”
“I’m sorry,” He said, looking away. I’ve asked so many others to die for me today, he thought bitterly as the girl’s protests turned to sobs, I won’t ask you to do it too Tulip.
He
sighed, gathering his thoughts and steeling himself. His dwarven made
armor clanked ominously as he marched through the camp, and he rested
his hand on the pommel of his enchanted blade as he inspected the troops
one final time. With a flourish he leapt into the saddle, his dark
green elven made cloak billowing behind him as he drew the blade,
rearing up his horse.
“Onwards, to victory!” he shouted.
Behind
him the finest horsemen of a dozen kingdoms and peoples thundered down
the hill, cutting a path to the gates of the fell witch’s fortress.
Celtric cried havoc as he cut down scores of undead, trampling the bones
beneath his war steed’s hooves. The next wave of defenses was the
witch’s black knights, those evildoers who had sworn allegiance to her
for the promise of gold, power, or desires too dark to ponder. They were
a hardier force than the walking skeletons and zombies of the first
wave, but still no match for the furious charge.
Soon the host
came to the gates of the witches fortress, and Celtric leapt from his
saddle, raising his sword high. There was a boom of thunder, and a
second later a bolt of magical energy lanced down from the roiling
clouds, blowing the forged iron gate to twisted and glowing rubble.
“Inside!
Quickly!” he shouted to his men, forcing his way into the dread
fortress while the armies outside surged around them like the waves of
an angry sea.
His remaining knights fought their way to him,
swinging their swords and hefting shields as they met with the hardened
black armored knights that waited within. Each inch was paid for dearly
as the attackers climbed the stairs of the massive stone tower, and soon
Celtric found at the highest level. He glanced back at his men as he
felt the ominous dark magic just beyond it, and with a sigh realized he
had to face the Witch alone.
There was a loud *boom*
as Celtric’s spell blew the rooftop door open, and he twirled his sword
defiantly as he walked out through the smoke. The rooftop was clear
save for a raised platform in the center, where a featureless body of
clay covered in glowing red runes waited.
Her new form, he realized, a powerful homonculous, unbeatable…
“Ah,
Celtric, I’d wondered when to expect you.” She walked out from behind
the platform, her high heels clacking ominously on the black stone.
Eliza
the Red Witch was a picture of statuesque beauty. She stood over six
feet tall, with an ample chest and curvaceous behind that was only made
more apparent by the form fitting red outfit she wore, one that clung to
her like a second skin, just barely obscuring her pale flesh. Jet black
hair fell in curtains from beneath a wide brimmed crimson hat that
brought shade to her gleaming yellow eyes.
“It seems you weren’t fast enough,” Celtric said, looking up at the homunculus.
She
threw back her head in a mocking laughter, “My creation is only minutes
from completion, and the final spell will seal my soul within it,
rendering me immortal and invulnerable!” She gave him a lustful look as
she stalked towards him, “I could be convinced to spare you and your
pathetic friends though Celtric, if you would agree to give me your hand
in marriage!”
Celtric scowled angrily, “I would never stoop so
low! Your reign ends here!” With that he leapt at her, shouting a battle
cry as he slashed at her with his sword and sent waves of roiling green
lightning at her with his free hand.
Eliza just laughed, gliding
backwards and matching him blow for blow, causing shimmering shields to
appear in the air to block his sword and spells. Celtric grunted as the
first of her fireballs burst upon his chestplate, the dwarven armor
absorbing and dispersing the magic before it could harm him.
“That armor makes a fine crutch for your lack of skill with magic!” Eliza taunted.
“Lack
of skill?” Celtric laughed, flicking his wrist and sending her flying
across the stone floor with a gust of wind. “I’m one of the finest mages
in the alliance!”
“You may as well brag that you’re the tallest
halfling!” Eliza retorted, gritting her teeth and rising again. This
time there was real hate behind her magics, corrosive slime appeared
from the air, stinging his skin, bats made of some shadowy mist flapped
over him, trying to fight and scratch at him as he dispelled them one
after the other.
“You’ll never win!” Celtric grunted, holding his
sword up and absorbing waves of fell energy that radiated from the
witch’s hands as she tried to cook him alive.
“I already have
fool, look!” she pointed out over the rim of the tower, to the
battlefield below. Celtric’s voice caught in his throat as he saw the
alliance’s armies were faltering, the lines breaking as the witch’s
seemingly endless hordes overran their positions. A second later there
was a rumble, the earth shook as a pillar of white light descended from
the clouds, lighting the raised pillar in the center of the tower. Eliza
grinned, “Your armies have been crushed, and my new body is ready!” she
taunted, stepping towards it.
Celtric looked down at his armor,
his face pale. It was cracked, the dwarven runes broken and fading, the
metal itself seeming to erode like hot wax.
There’s no time to try anything else, he realized, I’ve got to give this one last charge everything I’ve got!
With
a roar he sprinted forward, raising his sword high. The witch raised
her hands, sneering as she prepared another blast of energy, but at the
last minute Celtric turned away from her, bringing his sword down on the
still humanoid form of the homunculi body.
“NO!” Eliza screamed, blasting Celtric with every curse and attack she could muster.
Celtric
screamed in pain, but managed to twist his sword, killing the
homunculus before it took its first breath. As the energies locked
within raced along his arms, mixing with the witch’s magics, his body
began to disintegrate, blowing away like ash on the wind as the clay
homonculous crumbled in turn. There was a final blinding white light,
and the magical body exploded, pieces flying in all directions as the
last of Celtric’s form disappeared in turn.
One of those pieces of
enchanted clay, still smoking from the heat of the combined magical
energies, tumbled down the side of the tower, landing in an obscure spot
beneath some shrugs and boulders. As the battle raged around it, it
cooled.
Slowly, as days passed, months, years, it began to take form, recreating the essence it had absorbed.
…
Chapter One: Recalled to Life
Celtric gasped as his eyes shot open. He sat upright, panting. He
was in a cave of some sort, with light trickling in from somewhere. He
realized he was naked as the rough soil scratched against his skin, and
he stood up right, climbing up the piled boulders and out of the cavern
he was in.
“What in the gods name…” he murmured.
It was the
field in front of the Red Witch’s tower, only it wasn’t filled with
armies, it was overgrown with grass and wildflowers, stretching as far
as he could see. He looked up at the tower itself and gasped, it was a
burned-out ruin, with no trace of the powerful sorceress who had once
dwelled within.
“Impossible,” he whispered. He reached out with
tendrils of magic, hoping to detect any sign of the Witch, of any mage,
but his probing mind found no other spellcasters.
The next thing he noticed was just how much larger the
ruins of the Witch’s temple had become, they towered like mountains.
With a nervous gulp Celtric lowered his gaze, looking at the grass and
weeds that now towered up over him, and the “cavern” he’d escaped, which
was no larger than a rabbit’s burrow.
“Gods above, I’m… I’m…” he took a deep breath, No, he decided, you’ve
clearly been cursed with some sort of size reduction spell, not the
Witch’s usual bag of tricks to be sure, but it stinks of her! He
started as he realized he was covered in strange red runes, and as he
experimentally harnessed his magic, they glowed up and down his body. Definitely the witch, he decided, I need to find someone who can remove these runes and undo this!
He started out across the field, walking through the waving prairie grass as though it were a massive forest.
After a moment he chuckled, slapping his own forehead, Walking across this field will take forever at this size… He summoned his magic, feeling it course through him as he called the wind. Odd, he thought, watching the runes glow, it’s almost like it’s… easier? He put it out of his mind, leaping into the air and flying across the field like a grasshopper, covering hundreds of feet… Well several feet, with each jump.
…
Despite
his size Celtric was able to utilize his magic to cover a decent amount
of ground, but he was quickly finding that none of the villages or
camps he remembered from the buildup to the battle remained. Finally,
after nearly a day of searching, he spotted a collection of tents,
orcish by the looks of them.
He leapt again, slowing his descent
and skittering along the dusty ground as he looked up at the towering
tents, looming like the massive stone towers of the finest cities on the
continent. With a sigh he dusted himself off, strutting proudly into
the village.
“Hey, someone used magic over there!” a woman called.
Celtric
winced as the earth shook, and a moment later a pair of massive green
legs filled his vision. His eyes trailed up, and a pair of armored green
women with spears loomed over him like mountains.
Don’t panic, he told himself, the orcs are your allies!
“Hello!” he said with a wave, “I’m-“
“Look at that Turla,” one muttered, leaning over and squinting, “that’s a tiny human!”
“Humans
aren’t tiny Betty,” the other one, Turla muttered. She poked at him
with her foot, causing him to fall over into the dirt with an indignant
grunt. “Also they usually wear clothes, they don’t just go naked like
this guy.” Before Celtric could react she bent down, wrapping her tree
trunk thick fingers around his body like pythons, squeezing him tight as
she lifted him up to her face. “What are you?” she demanded.
“I’m human!” he snapped irritably, “I’m just… temporarily small!”
“I don’t know about that,” Betty grumbled, “He could be some kind of spy from the Witch!”
“The witch?” Celtric said eagerly, “I’m her mortal enemy, Celtric Hammerspell! Mage-General of the Alliance?”
The two orcs just started laughing, “Oh that’s a good one humie,” Turla chuckled, “There ain’t no alliance anymore!”
“N-No alliance?” Celtric asked, stunned.
“And Celtric Hammerspell died fifteen years ago, the witch killed him!” Betty finished.
Dead? FIFTEEN YEARS!?
“Listen,” he said eagerly, “I am Celtric Hammerspell, you need to get me to whoever is in charge here immediately! I can sort this all out!”
“Hey
Turla,” Betty asked with a grin, “You remember anything in those
stories about Celtric Hammerspell being three inches tall?”
“Nah,”
Turla said with a wave, “he was supposed to be a real looker, handsome
and tall and all that, I feel like someone would have mentioned it if he
could fit in your hand.”
“It’s obviously a trick,” Betty laughed, “let’s bring him to Thundra and let her figure out what to do with him!”
“He does look right about the size for eating…” Turla laughed, licking her lips and letting her warm breath wash over Celtric.
“Whoever Thundra is, bring me to her at once!” he shouted angrily. Maybe their chieftess can resolve this…
Part
of him had hoped for something to cover himself with, even doll clothes
or a loose cloth and some string would have sufficed, instead the two
guards tossed him into a brass birdcage, laughing at how he gripped the
bars, looking like a forelorn prisoner as they carried him through the
camp.
Where are the men? He wondered with a frown. The
camp was naught but women and children, while orc women were known for
their ferocity in battle, it was odd to see none of their menfolk back
at camp to guard it while the rest were away.
The tent at the head
of the camp was larger and more elaborate than the rest, with bison
skull totems posted outside and glimmering multicolored beads on
lanyards hanging over the door.
“Hey Thundra,” Turla bellowed, “come take a look at what we’ve caught!”
“I thought I told you I was not to be disturbed!” an angry woman’s voice shouted out from the dark tent.
Turla gulped, looking at Betty for support, but the other green woman was backing away, her hands raised defensively.
“I
am attempting to divine a course of action,” Thundra growled, staring
out at them from the shadows, “I cannot meditate if I am being
interrupted for every stubbed toe and skinny rabbit-“ she paused,
sniffing the air. She slowly stood up, stepping out of the shadows.
“What is that smell?” she demanded, “What is…” She glanced down at the
cage, fully stepping into the daylight. “Gods above,” she whispered,
leaning close to the cage, “C-Celtric?”
Celtric looked up in awe
at the gorgeous green face. It was more mature than he remembered, a
woman in the place of a girl, sharp with years and with long dark green
hair down her shoulders. She was bigger too, with muscular arms, and a
bust that barely fit into the tight leather armor.
Still, there was no mistaking her, “Tulip?” he gasped.
“Nobody’s called me that in…” she chuckled, “A long time…” She sighed, taking the cage, “I’ve been meditating on a solution to our problems… I guess the gods sent me one.”
“Tulip, I don’t understand, what’s-“
“It’s Thundra now,” she said sternly, carrying him into the tent, “and you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
…
“S-So it’s all over?” Celtric asked, sinking to the ground in shock, “She won, she conquered the world.”
“Not
if I have anything to say about it!” Thundra bellowed, slamming her
fist on the ground so hard that it shook the tiny man before her. “There
are still plenty of us fighting, even fifteen years on, and now that
you’re back we can start getting the Alliance back together and turn
this resistance into a full blown rebellion!”
“But I’m…” he looked
down at his body, “I don’t know how this happened, but I can’t dispel
it, I think…” he gulped, “I’m starting to think it’s not a curse, I just
am this size now.”
Tulip, no Thundra now, just
laughed picking him up by his arm, dangling him in front of her face,
“Yeah you’re tiny now, and it looks like your magic is tiny too…” She
snapped her fingers, letting a small spark hover over them a moment
before wisping out in a puff of smoke, “Still, as strong as you always
were, the man I remember was most valuable because of who he was…
Teaching us, leading us!”
“And what am I supposed to do if someone simply wishes to flick me over?” he asked despondently.
Thundra
shrugged, “I’m big now, and I’ve been practicing magic and fighting for
years, I’ll fill in for whatever brawn you lost.”
He sighed, “You’re right, I owe it to everyone to keep on fighting, even if I’m… like this.”
“That’s
the spirit, we’ll set out for the Kingdom of Alregon first, they’re the
human realm most likely to join us, especially if you’re back!”
“My
old homeland,” he said wistfully, “if it’s under the witch’s yoke I’d
see it freed first…” He grimaced a moment, “I don’t suppose you have a
doll or something I could borrow clothes from?”
“Not a lot of orc
girls play with dolls,” Thundra laughed, “but we’ll figure something
out…” She leered at him a moment, her enormous eyes rolling over his
body with a lustful look. “Tell you what, you take a load off in here
while I start getting some stuff ready for our trip.”
“In whe-“
his question was cut off as his tiny body was roughly stuffed in between
the orc woman’s massive breasts. He fought for a moment, as if he were
treading water on the sea, but her green finger came down and slowly,
but firmly, pressed him beneath the surface of the twin mounds of green
flesh.
Thundra couldn’t help but giggle a little at the ticklish
motions of the tiny man trapped against her chest. She’d always had
something of a girl’s crush on Celtric, one that had blossomed into
fantasy after his disappearance. The return of the fabled hero, and the
man who had saved her so long ago, was igniting a lot of conflicting
feelings in the orc.
Celtric might finally bring some hope to this world, she
thought, walking out of the tent and barking orders to the nearest
group of guards. She watched them go, readying her horse and traveling
supplies, still thinking, Celtric… you always had so many girls trying to get your attention, I was like a little sister at best… She grinned smugly to herself, now I have the opportunity to change that, don’t I? She stopped, scowling at herself, Focus Thundra, you need to be his muscle for now… She slowly smiled, then when the battles are all won you can be more.
…
Eliza the Red Witch’s eyes shot open, “Impossible,”
she whispered to herself. She’d been meditating over her crystal ball,
scrying the land to find any sign of the rebel orc chieftess Thundra,
but instead she’d been graced with a familiar essence, a scent on the
magical winds that was impossible to mistake for anyone else.
“Celtric!”
she sneered angrily, storming out of her room. Her acolytes all snapped
to attention, racing behind her as she marched down the halls of the
massive fortress, “Prepare hunting parties,” she ordered, “and ready a
bounty of one hundred thousand gold coins for a capture or kill!”
“A-And who would be the target?” Tabitha, one of her cultists, asked fearfully.
“Celtric Hammerspell,” she scowled.
Tabitha
gulped, looking back at the rest. She was a small woman, made smaller
still beneath the looming visage of the statuesque Red Witch. With short
cut pearly white hair and pale red eyes, the effects of Tabitha’s own
dabbling in dark magic were readily apparent, but her skill paled before
that of her mistress, and fear was evident on her face as she broached
the question.
“C-Celtric Hammerspell is dead mistress,” Tabitha said slowly, “he’s been dead for-“
“He’s alive,” Eliza growled, “I don’t know how, I don’t know where, but he is alive. I will not let him throw my plans to ruin again!”
“Ruin mistress?” Tabitha asked, “but you’re the queen of all nations, ruler of the world!”
“I didn’t want to be a queen,” the Red Witch seethed, “I wanted to be a GOD! And that fool Celtric destroyed my homunculus avatar, the sorcery put into that can never be recovered!”
“And why is that mistress?” Tabitha questioned innocently.
“Because
I killed the wizards who helped me make it, fool, now go! Put every
resource towards finding Celtric! Or I’ll have your hides!”
The
acolytes jumped to attention, racing in all directions as they scurried
to carry out their mistresses orders. Eliza watched them go, glowering
angrily at the thought of Celtric walking the earth once more. She
giggled suddenly, indulging in the thought of what she would do to him
if any of her servants managed to bring him in alive.
Oh Celtric, she mused, you’d make such a good little husband for me, if only I could get you properly under control. She
sighed, imagining Celtric with his eyes glazed over in proper adoration
for her, rubbing her feet, carrying her things behind her, putting that
handsome face between her legs for hours on end. She practically
squealed in excitement, part of her almost hoped her bounty hunters
would manage to capture him alive… but that was a fantasy, what force
could ever overwhelm the mighty Celtric Hammerspell?”
…
“Unhand me!” Celtric gasped, fighting feebly against the orc’s fingers as she easily pinned his wrists with her thumbs.
“I just want to get a look at those runes,” Thundra muttered, “before you cover them all up!”
“T-Thundra, please,” he blushed, “W-We can study them later, perhaps when the entire tribe isn’t present?”
A
dozen grinning female orc faces were behind Thundra, jostling for
position to look over her shoulder at the handsome human man. Tiny or
no, evidently he was quite the piece of eye candy.
“All right,
sure,” Thundra chuckled, letting him up and handing him down a small
doll’s robe. With a sigh he put it on, it didn’t quite fit him, but it
was certainly better than going naked. “Right, let’s get going,” Thundra
said, standing up and grabbing him off the small desk. She walked
through the camp, barking orders as she went, “Turla, you’re in charge,
avoid fighting with any loyalists and keep the tribe out of harm’s way. I
don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but you’ll hear from me soon, I
promise you that!”
She stopped as she looked at her horse, then
grinned at Celtric, “Okay small fry, do you want to ride in the
saddlebags, or up with me?”
“Up with you of course,” Celtric said, raising an eyebrow, “why would I want to go in the-“
The
orcish women of the tribe cheered as Thundra once again slid him into
her open cleavage, jostling her breasts slightly so he was wedged
between the titanic green pillows. This time she left him enough room
that his head stuck out at least, letting him see the world as she
hoisted herself up into the saddle.
“I know it’s been a while, and
I’m the big one now,” Thundra laughed, “but I’m glad to be on another
adventure with you Celtric!” With that she kicked the side of her horse,
setting it off at a gallop across the plains while the orcs whistled
and chanted for their victory.