Posted 10/24/2010

Last Updated 10/24/2010

 

            The sweltering heat was just beginning to intensify as the sun emerged over the peaks of the Saphrodine peaks onto a sky devoid of clouds. Spring was quickly fading to memory and the adamant heat promised a relentless summer. Still the farmers labored in the fields to yield what was already beginning to indicate a meager harvest. Many families were going to starve in the coming winter if the heat didn’t slacken, but weather was indifferent to the needs of men.

 

            Pulrik had worked this land long before his youth abandoned him. Age had tempered his resolve, and although each day was another battle, one he was eventually destined to lose, he persisted. The aches and pains of his labor had tormented him for as long as he could recall. He had endured worse. The day was still young.

 

            A cool breeze wafted over him, a brief relief from unrelenting torridity. However, something was usual; there was shade. Squinting, he looked up to the horizon and could distinguish the silhouette of something advancing over the peak of a mountain. From this distance he could scarcely discern the outline of a human figure. Nobody ever traveled across the Saphrodines, or at least not in Pulrik’s lifetime. It was lunacy to even contemplate such an ambitious feat. And yet the figure was walking directly towards him.

 

***

 

            The sun burned Kraeta’s bare back raw. Intensely focusing her eyes, she could distinguish the outlying farms of what indicated a nearby city. Glancing back, she could see that her cohort was about half a league away making their way up the final peak. As they approached the anticipation on each of their faces became more and more apparent; a mirror of her own fervent ardor. After a month of traveling, she had finally exited the encumbering somber mountains and could appreciate what the fruits of their labor would herald. The land she looked down upon was a surreal resplendent mixture of green fertility, a sharp contrast to her and her people’s desolate home.

 

            She lingered while the cohort caught up. The group of soldiers, four hundred in number, would have been an imposing sight to most. Kraeta wasn’t like most. The soldiers barely overtopped her ankle. Even after centuries of fighting alongside these miniscule soldiers, she could still sense the awe they harbored every time one of her kind was in their presence. They had seen her work before. The truth was she was one of them once, but that was another lifetime ago. Now she was something greater, singularly as powerful as the entire cohort and the other three which accompanied it.

 

The captain of the approaching cohort strode forward to meet her. “I can see farms and granaries. Means they are growing wheat. Also probably means that there is a city within a few leagues.”

 

 Kraeta made no effort to strip the eagerness from her voice, “It’s been a long while since I’ve got to…play with a city.”

 

The captain stared down at the flat expanse of farmland spread out before them for a moment before he spoke, “Well let’s change that shall we.” his shaky voice betraying his feigned assurances

 

Kraeta’s mouth twisted into a malicious leer before she took off down the slopes.

 

***

 

It had taken moments for the silhouette on the slope to cover the half dozen leagues between Pulrik and the mountains. As it got closer it grew more distinct, the figure was emphatically feminine, of a slim robust build, her movements lithe and fluid as she ran. She was nearly naked, with the exception of a paltry leather brazier and skirt that only just covered the top of her thighs. She carried a spear about a foot taller than herself. It didn’t take long for him to realize the peculiarity; she was enormous, over a hundred feet tall he ventured. Pulrik recoiled fear, realizing the speed at which she was traveling, and directly at him at that. With vigor he had not felt in years he turned and ran. Towards what, he had no idea, but it was away from her.

 

He never had a chance. In the time it took him to cover a hundred yards she was upon him. The shadow of her foot descended upon him before crushing him into paste.

 

***

 

Kraeta felt the familiar satisfying crunch beneath her foot as she crushed the decrepit old farmer. It had been far too long since she had last experienced such a sensation. His remnants clung to her sole like wet tar as she ran, endeavoring to crush as many structures underfoot as possible on her dash towards the city. The first semblances of buildings were a few leagues off in the distance. It was, by her home’s standards, a thriving assemblage of human architecture.

 

Moments later, she was stepping over the futile walls, barely reaching halfway up her thighs, obvious evidence that this land had never warred with an Urtyke before. The city was entirely ill prepared for her. Whatever defenses they had were intended to stop foes their own diminutive pathetic size. Arrows and quarrels shot by the astonished defenders ineffectually bounced off of her reinforced skin painlessly. The infantry, haphazardly attempting to get into formation, were quickly dispatched by the blunt end of her spear, dead on impact and thrown with extraordinary force before colliding into the tenuous structures, some collapsing into wreckage.

 

She forcefully brought her knee into the stone wall, demolishing entire segments of it and annihilating the archers and crossbowman in the avalanche of stone which blockaded the gates to city. Ignorant of the futility of their retaliation, they continued to fire more and more projectiles and continued to be systematically slaughtered.

 

Pain, almost entirely an unfamiliar sensation to Kraeta, enveloped her right side. It burned incessantly, and scanning downward she could survey the smoke and flames rising off her skin where some sort of charge had exploded. Dropping her spear, she gripped her side with her right hand; it was slick with blood that now cascaded down her side, a waterfall of crimson. Her hand fingered the gap where the chunk of flesh had been blown clean off. Glancing further downward she locked onto the soldiers preparing to fire another munition. Her free hand arced down, swiftly crushing them into pulp. Artillery like that was quite rare in her homeland since Urtykes provided all the necessary destructive force needed to eradicate any semblance of a defense.

 

Looking around, it seemed that the remaining defenders were already scattering. Her enhanced restorative skin was already closing, new flesh growing and coalescing where it had been eradicated. Her lips curled into a feral malevolent grin as she surveyed the pandemonium of the river of people who rushed through the streets in a struggle to escape, oblivious to the fact that the exits they stormed to were obstructed by debris. She brought her fist down onto the torrent of people pulverizing dozens with a single swing. Again and again she massacred them until her chest began to heave with exhaustion, her arms painted a thick shimmering lustrous red. Thousands upon thousands died before her implacable onslaught, a savage slaughter unlike anything this side of the Saphrodines had ever witnessed.

 

Fires burned haphazardly throughout the ruins of the city, now seemingly devoid of life other than the scarlet coated titan who sat decimating the remnants of the ruins, indulging in the fragility of the pathetic structures which had comprised the once majestic city. From the distance she could make out the beginnings of the cohort approaching the city. It would have taken them hours to cross the distance. Glancing skyward, she realized the sun had reached its pinnacle and exactly how long she had been satiating in the devastation. She always did have a habit of getting carried away.

 

The captain approached her, the abhorrence of the spectacle clearly disquieting him, “Well it seems everything went…as expected” he said, apprehension wracking his voice. Kraeta simply gave him a contented smile, her face spattered with the crimson flecks.

Chapter 1: Clash of the Urtykes

 

Tuest reclined back, gazing up at the constellations that marred the otherwise austere sky. He was a man of simple pleasures, unsophisticated in nature. That was all the world seemed to have room; extravagancies but a distant memory, pale and faded with age. War made no allowances except for the necessities, and even those were sparse nowadays. The only means of maintaining sanity was savoring simple pleasures the world seemed so reluctant to grant. He vaguely recalled a time when his thoughts weren’t tainted with the scars and atrocities he had endured over the past twenty years. Friendships, brotherhoods, and an unbreakable tenaciousness, had been annihilated before him. It was enough to break most men, and since the time when the Trykes had first crossed the Saphrodines it had broken many.

 

Yet Tuest’s sanity endured. Hard men ultimately grew fickle, but Tuest’s resilience wasn’t born of implacability. It was born of purpose. Idealistic as it was, he persevered, believing nothing was insurmountable and that was the source of his persistence. The serenity of the heavens was a welcome reprieve from brutal reality.

 

After a few long moments of this Tuest rose and examined the encampment before him. Most of the soldiers had retired for the night, and the camp was eerily still. Scanning over it he spotted Antara resting on her back, gazing up at the heavens. Sleep remained an elusive prey for her as well.

 

He approached her.  Lying on her back as she was, her body still reached higher than he did erect. A time ago, a few years that seemingly stretched into eternities, this would have discomforted him, but he had grown accustomed to her presence. She was the only Urtyke he could make the claim for. Time changes me still, old and weathered as I am, it seems.

 

“It is strangely profound,” he said still approaching her, “the insignificance of everything we value, when balanced against the heavens and all their majestic vastness.” She turned her head to face him, her exquisite freckled face a perfect mask of serenity.

 

But that’s all it is; a mask. Underlying that placid expression was the same anguish he himself had grown all too intimate with over the last two decades. More so, she had kin on both sides of the war. A traitor to her own kind, Antara switched in the belief that the Trykes were incapable of ever overthrowing their current malicious rulers, and throughout the war she remained the only vestige of hope for him and his homeland, Romshilar.

 

“It’s a comforting thought in a way, no matter the outcome of this conflict, the heavens remain indifferent.” She took a deep breath and sighed, “Less pressure, if only as a fanciful notion.” She turned her head towards him, shifting her raven black curls emanating the tranquil moonlight, and offered a meek smile, “Can’t sleep either Tuest?”

 

“It’s more difficult each night, but why should sleep differ from anything else now days. Even the blissful ignorance sleep carries is a struggle to attain.” He shook his head, bringing his hand up to stroke the grey ruggedness covering his neck, “Self-pity never did anybody no favors though, and frankly, I prefer being awake, aware. The bliss of sleep is nothing but a lie.”

 

She scrunched her face sensing his dour mood, “Is that so unpleasant though? As you’re fond of saying, you have to find pleasure in the little things. Thinking thoroughly enough about anything, everything becomes a lie, and all notions happiness decays with it. Sometimes it’s better to just accept things for what they are and enjoy them.”

 

She always did have a way of seeing the lighter side. “I suppose.” He shrugged. This time they both exchanged a brief, modest smirk.

 

Antara turned her head to gaze back up at the stars, “But sleep does make tomorrow come that much quicker, and so for tonight I am contented to stay awake. A bitter victory is the best we can hope for; you know that. But we make the best of what we are dealt.”

 

Changing the topic, Tuest asked “Do you ever think back to the days before your people crossed over?”

 

“Occasionally, even back as far to remember it fondly sometimes. I can even recall sparse memories of the time before my ascent but they are unclear, muddled.” She turned again to look at him, her smooth salient face larger than his body many times over, “The happiest thoughts are those of the future. A future without this savage war and the world is returned to a peaceful place again; a world without refugees constantly fleeing northward. But this time I can completely abandon Tress and all its depravity”

 

“I guess we are cut from the same cloth in that respect, always finding redemption in what’s to come.” They exchanged a warm smile, “Would it be permissible for me to come aboard?”

 

“Of course, it’d be a welcomed respite from the solitude. I always enjoy your…touch anyways.” Antara’s grin widened as she placed one of her silken, cottage sized hands next to Tuest. He stepped up on it, and she lifted him over her chest and set him down on the top of her chest, between her two lavish breasts. He reclined, still in his soldier’s attire, resting his back against the pliant flesh and staring into her nubile face, illuminated by lucid moonlight. I always imagine heaven similar to this. Doesn’t really matter since I’ll never see it.

 

***

 

            They lied together until the first glimmers of sunlight beamed over the horizon and signaled the day to come.

 

            Soldiers were quickly engaged in deconstructing the encampment, loading wagons with supplies. The bulk of it was carried by Antara, in a pack rigged from leather and sheepskin that attached to her leather skirt. With the help of an Urtyke, it took minimal time to bundle the remainder of the site and mobilize.

 

            The city was still a few leagues off, and even mounted the soldiers could scarcely keep up with Antara, who lumbered slowly as to allow for a somewhat manageable pace. Tuest rested on her shoulder beside her neck, grasping her long, golden hoop earring to maintain his seating as they traveled.

 

            “So the last scouts said there were ten thousand Trykes and half a dozen Urtykes amassed thirty leagues or so away from Altoa, with no mention as to their ranks which I assume probably means all they are all Gargans.” Tuest informed her. Urtykes came in three ranks. The smallest ones, usually no bigger than 120 feet, and most common were called Gargans. Antara herself was a Gargan, just under 90 feet tall. Pantarchs were less common that Gargans and tended be somewhere between 150-200 feet, a significant increase from their Gargan sisters. Lastly there were Paragons. He had only seen one in the last two decades and heard that less than half a dozen existed. The Tryke generals seemed reluctant to use them, as they were very thorough in their annihilation and often killed as many Trykes as Romshilans and occasionally an Urtyke or two. Nobody was exactly sure how much larger a Paragon was than her Urtyke counterparts, as they left so few survivors and those that did survive never were presented the opportunity to make a good estimation. Exaggerations were easy to come by. Some fools even claimed they were over a league tall, but that was lunacy. Tuest guessed they were somewhere over three hundred feet tall, still breathtakingly colossal.

 

            “Twenty five cohorts of soldiers, seems we’ll both have our hands full. What do we know of the city’s defenses?” She asked. Over the past couple years she had learned how to lower her voice so she didn’t whisper, but still keep from traveling far enough so that the infantry or Calvary below could overhear or eavesdrop on their conversation.

 

            “Well fortified, for all that means now days: A full five regiments of Silica Pegusi and Pearl Aeronauts with bombardiers to accompany them, twelve thousands soldiers which are primarily infantry, a few dozen demolitionists with fluxa charges and pyrite bombs.” He paused for breath, as maintaining his seating a speaking wasn’t particularly easy. “The artillery also seems to be well prepared. A couple dozen catapults and trebuchets line the city walls.” An intimidating amassment by any foe’s standards, and the reason Tuest and his five thousand soldier’s had been afforded the time to reach Altoa before it was leveled. “If rumors are to be trusted there was another group of Urtykes, Pantarchs, arriving at dusk which meant the assault could be expected as soon as midday.”

 

            “Hmm…” Antara hummed, musing to herself. Although she might only be a Gargan she was easily the mightiest Urtyke, other than the Paragon, he had ever witnessed. Only the most desirable women were chosen to become Urtykes with little regard given to martial prowess. Antara was the only Urtyke who, to the best of his knowledge, had had any sort of prior combat experience, and that made her extremely deadly to other Urtykes. Urtykes were chosen in this fashion as sultriness was very effective at unnerving enemy soldiers. A vile abomination was significantly easier to rally against than a colossal nymph, and the tactic continued to prove effective throughout the course of every war the Tryke’s had fought.

 

            However, this left them a very exploitable weakness, one which Antara was contented to capitalize on. Urtykes had little to no aptitude for fighting other Urtykes. Antara however, was an unequaled swordswoman and had slain dozens of Urtykes over the last few years, posing the single greatest threat to the Tryke invasion. Armed with her Karabela and swordbreaker she was a force to be reckoned, even had she been of normal stature.

 

The cities walls were just coming into view. An hour or so and they would be among them. By this point in the struggle, Antara was well known by both of the enmities, and would cause little to no panic among the citizens sighting her.

 

As they made their way through the drawbridges into the city, or in Antara’s case, over it as she had to step over the natural walls, the scope of the forthcoming battle became even more apparent. Soldiers lined the walls armed with longbows, crossbows, javelins, spears, and an assortment of other pull arms with swords and bucklers strapped to the belts and backs of chainmail clad figures. Silica Pegusi soared overhead. The Pearl Aeronauts riding them, armed with long serrated lances and pyrite munitions, making certain to steer clear from Antara’s path.

 

The Silica Pegusi were the chief factor, even before Antara’s change of heart, in engaging the Urtkes these past twenty years. Without them, the war would have been a systematic slaughter of every person this side of the Saphrodines would pave a path from Berikhall to Altoa. Still, it was a losing fight. Urtykes were incredibly resilient, even beyond the natural endowments their size gave them. They healed extraordinary quickly, and their skin was nigh impenetrable. Still, the Romshilan army had killed their fair share of Urtykes, mostly Gargans, but also a few Pantarchs since the struggles inception.

 

A prominent trade center, Altoa acted as the primary junction between the north and south dominances and thus was extremely prosperous, well-fortified, and populated. Illustrations of their wealth decorated the entire city. Massive simulacrums, standing much as forty feet tall, of historic commanders and patricians were erected throughout its famed avenues and plazas. Streets intersecting the palaces and mansions of the aristocracy paved with marble made an exorbitant display of their affluence. And even on the eve of this irreconcilable siege, the streets bustled with travelers and merchants, peasants and pedestrian strolling through the bazaars throughout the city.

 

Stepping between and around them was proving quite tricky for Antara. She had been here once before, back before the city had become a lodestone for refugees fleeing their extinguished homelands. Their tents and wagon circles surrounded the city walls. Apparently the ruling council resolved to deny the citizens knowledge of the impending attack. The obscenity of this city’s elected councilmembers brought forward a rancid taste in Antara’s mouth. They weren’t worth their salt; these civilians could have been spared, to flee northward…And what, become refugees again? Continue to live the same hapless lives, caught in a mordant cycle of fear and flight. Perhaps it’s not cynicism which elicits this decision, but a sardonic mercy.

 

She pitied them, but couldn’t afford to show it. She was their savior. It was evident in their eyes as they gazed upon her. A partisan she must remain at least in image, ascetic and resolute, lest these people lose what tattered faith they clung to. Now more than ever she felt the fatigue from her cross to bear.

 

Finally they reached their destination, the southernmost buildings of the city. Once they had housed thousands upon thousands of the city’s most impoverished. Now they were home to the bulk of the cities protectors. Lodging designed to accommodate less than half their numbers quartered twelve thousand soldiers, now seventeen thousand with Tuest’s additions. The city was splitting at the seams from overpopulation and refugees.

 

Antara, aware of their arrival, reached up to her shoulder and set Tuest down aside the largest tent amidst the makeshift barracks. He waved her off and entered the general’s tent.

 

***

 

The captain sat lurched over a large wooden table, maps and parchments sprawled out haphazardly atop the surface, heedless of Tuest’s entrance.

“Sir” Tuest said straitening himself and saluting.

 

“At ease.” The wrinkled aged marshal gave Tuest a cordial grin, “It has been far too long friend. And you’re still as repulsive as ever.”

“Go die in a fire you old wretch.” He countered with the same sincere warm smile, “It’s good to see you to, Paliadus. Seems timesa’ been cruel to you also”

 

“I make due. Seeing you and…your companion stirs memories of my youth save the naivety and credulousness I haven’t felt in decades. Alas, I regret we will have to wait to be reacquainted; more pressing matters to attend to.”

 

“There always is. Still, it was pleasant. Not many I can call friend now days.” Tuest sighed, “So what’s the situation?”

 

“The latest report from Silica scouts is that there are currently six Urtykes, all Gargants thankfully, and an estimated fifteen thousand soldiers counting the newly arrived, mostly infantry with some negligible Calvary. The direness, though, is from what’s approaching. Four Pantarchs are estimated to be arriving in a couple hours.” Palaidus abruptly broke into a coughing fit. He recovered after a moment and whipped the spit from his lips. They resumed speaking “Age makes fools of us all, aye Tuest?”

 

“Aye it does.”

 

“Anyways, these Pantarchs. Alone they are more threatening than the entire army currently camped outside our gates, and if I had to wager on it, I’d say they plan to attack as soon as possible, before cover of dark.”

 

The Urtykes derived much of their power from the sun. During the night their enhanced regeneration and reinforced skin disappeared, making them more vulnerable. They had yet to develop anything other than baseless theories as to why.

 

Almost as if on cue, warning horns sounded in the distance, signaling the approaching enemy. “And so it begins” Tuest announced, to himself more than anybody.

 

***

 

Goliath footfalls, massive and terrible, fueled explosions which rocked the air and signaling the attackers’ approach. The preliminary attacks invariably led with the Urtykes. Their eagerness kindled by patience which had been stretched tighter than a silk bowstring awaiting the attack. Redolent sweat permeated the ranks upon ranks of soldiers along the city walls, assembled into intricate formations. Tuest could feel their consternation, ineffectually hidden beneath a mask of false intrepidity. Fear, littered the throngs of defenders like an outbreak of leprosy, ubiquitous and unyielding. Sensing the apprehension in their brethren only served reinforce their own. The rituals of comradely and patriotism failed to invigorate the soldiers as it had in decades past against typical foes and so beyond the explosion of footfalls from the oncoming titans, stillness characterized the approaching dusk.

 

            Tuest felt it also; the cold ever present chill, a relentless barrage against any mortals resolve. Years upon years of battles, defeats, victories, and death had deadened Tuest’s sensitivity to fear, yet it was still undeniably there. His heartbeat pounded ceaselessly, endeavoring to shatter his sanity. The entirety of it, the fear, apprehension, anticipation, he had become all too intimate with in the past two decades. But here he was again, staunchly grounded before an unstoppable foe. I’ll never learn will I? He chuckled lightly under his breath.

 

            The cool wind, a forerunner of the soon approaching winter, gusted across him fluttering his coat and cooling the sweat permeating his brow. He ran his arm across his face to whip sweat which had gathered in his beard away. Their entire operation depended on Antara. Once, a few years ago, this might have worried him. However, she had proven her competency time and time again. What worried him were the primary soldiers. They were brave men, astonishingly so considering they took upon themselves the most perilous duty. That bravery was soon to be tested and, provided enough of them persisted, the city might hold past the initial blitz.

 

            From around the canyon bend Tuest could make out the first signs of them. Large, beyond all scope of the word, they closed the distance between them and the city at an astounding pace. A deep war horn pierced the air reverberating off the fortifications. The Pegusi took to the sky in a wave of alabaster. They separated and dispersed, flying far above even the heads of approaching Urtykes, concealing themselves among the clouds. Captains barked orders, and soldiers reciprocated. The defining moment of the day was upon them

 

            The massive beauties were nearly upon them, clothed in their normal attired and armed with their enormous spears, when Antara burst from atop a cliff meeting the tailing member. In the briefest of instants her Karabela severed the head of the smallest Urtyke in a fountain of red raindrops. The body ran for a few more steps before collapsing motionlessly to the ground, momentum carrying the head to land a few feet behind it. The Urtykes, having overcome their instant of shock, turned to engage her. Antara simply grinned and braced herself for the coming attack. They rushed her, their movements awkward clumsy when compared to Antara’s polished grace.

 

            From the clouds descended wave upon wave of the Silica Pegusi, the size of baby birds to the Gargants, seemingly unthreatening; however the Urtykes knew differently from experience. Clusters of fluxa charges descended upon another Gargan, bombarding it in a series of explosions and dropping it to its knees and then the ground. It wasn’t dead, and given a few moments it would rise totally revitalized. However, the primary infantry were already upon it, hacking and gouging it indiscriminately. As long as they could force it to keep healing, it couldn’t rise. A specified squad worked on its massive chest, large for a woman of any size, slowly making its way to the one organ which would ensure the creatures demise. Many of the Urtykes, Antara among them, had remarkably large breasts. Supposedly it was both a combination of the selection process, and furthered by whatever made them so large. Regardless, it made killing them an even more arduous process.

 

            Antara glided around thrust after thrust, occasionally using her swordbreaker to deflect the jabs she was unable to evade. She was being forced further and further from the city. However, only three of the standing Urtykes were attacking her. A fourth, this one large even by Pantarch standards, was making its way towards the city.

 

            Catapults lobbed boulders from the city forceful enough to crush fully matured dragons beneath them. The Urtyke, an exorbitantly beautiful blonde whose unblemished lightly tanned skin radiated beneath the descending sun, effortlessly caught the boulder and flung it back, demolishing a segment of wall. Catapults and demolitionists fired again and again, but she merely caught the projectiles with her seemingly delicate fingers or casually sidestepped them. The boulders she tossed back demolished more and more of the cities fortifications. An evil grin shone from her flawless face. An explosive managed to graze her ear, and another she barely caught. The effort was becoming noticeably more difficult as she closed the distance. Eventually one struck her on her copious breast, staggeringly large even for an Urtyke. It spoke for the sheer strength of the material attempting to contain them, pressed up and out as they was. The boulder ineffectually bounced off; leaving no trace she had even been struck.

 

She continued onward, repeatedly being ineffectually struck, the same disdainful grin on her face. Just coming upon the city walls, she easily kicked her foot through the assemblage of stone and mortar. Soldiers and debris were thrown over the troops and citizens inside the walls. She forcefully brought her other foot down upon a structure, thirty feet in height it barely reached halfway up her calf. The stone and wood structure simply vanished beneath her massive foot, spraying a barrage of splintered wood and shattered mortar over Tuest and the other Romshilan soldiers.

 

Gazing skyward he could see her face, distorted by the smoke thrown up by her onslaught upon Altoa. For the briefest of instants he felt their eyes lock, an unspoken exchange. He could see the hesitation her gaze now held. She averted her attention away from him and the city and looked back towards the engagement developing outside, scanning for Antara. From his vantage point atop the barracks Tuest could make out the majority of the battlefront. The primary army had not been afforded enough time to exterminate the falling Gargan, and was now engaged with the Tryke army. The versed soldiers of the Romshilan army met their callow adversaries with an overwhelming fierceness. The clock was ticking, and the wounds marring the falling Gargan were slowly mending themselves. It was only a matter of moments until she was fully recovered and primed to reenter the fray.

 

            Even further was Antara, attempting to stave off the attacks of three different foes who weren’t quite as incompetent as they had initially appeared. Spears flashed with blinding speed, and were promptly evaded and parried with spryness beyond what even the most adept warriors possessed; her movements blurred, too quick for most mortal eyes to follow. An incongruous symphony of explosive cracks of metal meeting metal reverberated off the canyon walls, seeming to come from all sides at once.

 

From behind her, Tuest could make out the second wave of approaching Urtykes. Three Pantarchs in their massive splendor, who’s massive forms seemed to tower over even Antara. The tallest, when completely erect, was almost twice Antara’s size, although still noticeably shorter than the blonde assailing the city; Antara’s eyes when she stood erect would stare directly into this gargantuan’s womanhood. She was in trouble.

 

The Pantarch assailing the city, her feeling of safety reestablished, turned to regard her prey, the same arrogant lecherous grin on her face. Without warning, a massive conflagration consumed her right shoulder. The great inferno seared her flesh an amalgam of black and crimson. She loosed a shriek of Agony, gripping her charred appendage and dropping to her knees, decimating a substantial strip of great stone wall.

 

From the heavens he spotted half a dozen Silica Pegusi descended from inside the cover of clouds towards the towering woman. The bait had worked.

 

***

 

An earsplitting shriek indicated the success of the first bombardier. That would make Lixi’s job that much easier. The wind ripped past his face at incredible speeds. The glass eye covers affixed to his face allowed him to see through the torrent of air as he sat behind the Pearl Aeronaut piloting the Pegasus. Bellow he could see the tremendous nymph, already sowing death and destruction upon the defenseless citizens of his hometown. He tightened his grip on the alchemic ball in his left hand and the grappler in his right. Sweat was blown off his face as soon as it was excreted from his pores.

 

Closer…closer…closer… The giantess only seemed to get larger. “Release!” the pilot yelled as the Pegusi began to arc upwards back towards the clouds. Releasing his grip on the beast’s mane he fell. He flipped backwards over his head to face the ground, spreading his arms wide for maximum air resistance, bomb and hook still in hand, as he descended upon his enormous target. The exhilaration of freefalling was amplified by the peril of his objective. Shifting himself, he adjusted his trajectory to parallel her unscathed shoulder.

 

What must have been seconds seemingly stretched for minutes, but he was upon her. He hooked her skin at the top of her shoulder and continued to fall until the rope fastened to him caught his weight with a starling traumatic tug, but his body had been trained for such forces. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, using the rope as a pendulum he swung himself towards her skin, and fastened the explosive to her using the alchemic goo which would detonate it. He cut the rope as he push off horizontally, away from her, and fell again towards the ground before pulling his wafting halo, a makeshift parachute made from a three and a half foot diameter ring and lightweight tarp, from his off of back and glided safely away, carried by the whim of the wind.

 

A few dozen seconds later he heard her excruciation holler as explosive followed by explosive detonated in interspersed mixture of fire, blood, and smoke. Looking back, he could see the Pantarch was terribly injured. Empty gaps erupted where chunks of flesh had been blown clear off. Her skin was covered in deep lacerations which bleed incessantly. Yet she still remained upright, on her knees and forearms, heaving with the effort. She looked nearly dead from what he could tell with her back to him. And then she started to rise…

 

***

 

The newcomers were closing on Antara’s unguarded rear and flanks. At their size, she judged she had under a minute to get passed her attackers. They’ve improved a lot in the last two years. She could recall a time when three opponents were easily dismissed. Now evading and parrying their attacks wasn’t necessarily difficult, but their combined assault left no room four riposting. No choice. Backs against the wall, literally!

 

Using her tongue, she dislodged a small round bundle from between her cheek and backmost molar and crunched it between her teeth. Boundless vitality accompanied the release of sorcerous energy which immersed into itself into her flesh, permeating every splinter of her body. Her skin began to glow a light translucent cerulean. The Urtykes, suddenly aware of what was happening vaulted away from her. With a single thought she embraced the profusion of inhuman energy contained within her, focused on a single invocation, and suddenly she was gone.

 

            A shockwave of blue power discharged in every direction from where Antara had just stood. The closer cluster of Gargans were hurtled away and tumbled across the ground two dozen paces. The approaching Pantarchs’ feet were ripped out from beneath them and they tumbled to the ground, ensuing further shaking of the valley.

 

            Blindingly, a second strobe of light flashed and Antara was returned exactly where she had been. Without hesitation, she lunged at one of the grounded Gargans and thrust her swords directly into her throught, following her momentum over the corpse and tucking into a roll. Blood showered from the wound as the titan crumpled and died. Antara gracefully transitioned from a roll into a run, and sprinted towards the periled city. Behind her the remaining Gargans and Pantarchs rose to pursue.

 

Ahead she spotted the thrashed Pantarch which looked more dead than alive. Yet it was rising, its wounds healing unnaturally fast, even for a Urtyke. Holes and gaps healed nearly as quickly as they had been inflicted, and in seconds the enthralling colossus stood unmarked and unclothed, the only sign of the barrage were the remnants of her incinerated garments. Even Pantarchs don’t heal that quickly.

 

Antara, driven partially by purpose and partially adrenaline, squelched her fear and sprinted faster. The Pantarch turned and their eyes connected; fear was supplanted with terror. Before she could react everything became distant, her muscles no longer her own. They continued to mindlessly propel her forward. Panic riddled her mind; that was unquestionably her own. It had utter control over her body, but not her consciousness.

 

However, she could still see through her eyes, commandeered as they were. She got closer and closer to the apparition which had once been a Pantarch. Something entirely more powerful stood before her now. Something out of myths and legends, an entity that had nearly attained deity, but still incorporeally resided among the mortal world, waiting to ascend to godhood. Aldeitus was their proper name, but in flesh they were nicknamed the eyeless and it seemed this one had gotten impatient, choosing to return to the flesh. It was a very uncommon occurrence as it often prorogued or entirely denied them access to deity.

 

Antara continued to stride towards the possessed buxom marvel of feminine form, futilely trying to recapture her own muscles to no avail. Another explosion, a bomb which had somehow been delayed, eradicated the entire right side of the eyeless’ torso, breast and all, but it instantaneously healed. The eyeless heedlessly disregarded the entire incident.

 

Dead, we’re all dead. Hopeless, that thing its... its… NO! Fight it! Resist, somehow. Her struggles were fruitless. Even separated from her muscles, her mind felt the exhaustion from her efforts. So this is how I die. I had to know it was coming eventually, right? A sardonic deceit, betraying myself with delusions of success. Cold bitter irony. Antara conceded her struggles and fear, simply surrendering to her fate.

 

***

 

The entire battlefield was motionless. Even the Pantarchs, now barely twenty, relative, spans distance from the city, stood unmoving observing the spectacle. An eyeless had appeared in the flesh; such a spectacle was virtually unprecedented, and now before them stood a very specimen validating what was generally believed superstition.

 

Tuest stared slack jawed along with everybody else. Even the humblest stories of eyeless insinuated their extraordinary power, so it only seemed natural that it would take the form of one of the most powerful creatures on the continent. The posture, strait and implacable, was one suited to a demigod. Standing as it was, nearly right on top of him, he could only examine its backside. It had the a physique to make princesses out of stories seem hags; with its long sculpted legs, slender hourglass torso, and wide hips all immaculately complemented by her firm and flawless lightly tanned skin still further accentuated by her silken blonde hair.

 

Antara seemed to be the only other individual moving, and she was striding towards the demigod. She halted just a few paces away, the top of her head below the Pantarch’s golden trimmed crotch. Whatever exchange was going on beyond the two of them, it was completely beyond Tuest. Antara cocked her head up to meet the eyeless stare of the giantess who dwarfed her, comparatively. What in Abyss’ name is going on. They’re just standing there, almost as if they are in a trance.

 

Flexing his fingers to break the tension onset by the stillness, he was finally able to avert his gave from the spectacle and look upon his troops and enemies. None of them seemed capable of what he had just done, but his gut told him whatever was about to occur would shape the rest of this battle.

 

            In stark contrast with previous moments, the blonde Pantarch abruptly kneeled, grabbing Antara’s head and smashing it into the ground, emphatically obliterating it. It exploded, shooting pierces of dismember scalp and skull in every direction accompanied by a spray of crimson. The once pristine image of the Pantarch was now stained with blood, the innocence of which made it seem that much darker to contrast her light complexion.

 

Tuest could only stare dumbfounded in arrant shock, his mind failing to register what had just occurred. Antara had always seemed immortal, she didn’t even age, and now…she’s dead. No, Antara can’t die. Its…impossible. But the irrefutable proof of her demise lay a few hundred yards before him, decapitated in an expanding pool of blood.

 

Shock was gradually displaced with sorrow and with total disregard for his image, the battle, and everything else, Tuest’s resolve which had carried him adamantly the last twenty years shattered; the perpetual silence broken by his sobs of grief.

 

***

 

Antata awoke in wafting darkness

Comments criticism and suggestions all welcomed

 

***

 

            Antara awoke amidst the wafting darkness. It permeated from every corner of wherever this place was, reluctantly embracing her frigidly as a child would its disdained stepfather. Cold and distant, seemingly omnipresent and unrelenting, it overwhelmed her vision in every direction. This place and everything in it, including herself, seemed foreign; looking down over herself she glimpsed the source of the exoticness; her body was missing. She couldn’t hear or smell or feel, physically, anything. Only sight, her spectrum of perception narrowed to a singularity, remained.

 

            Around her the darkness stirred and shifted motionlessly. Slowly forms began to coalesce amongst the void. Her eyes struggled to apprehend, the nature of the spectacle beyond comprehension of mortal eyes, yet forced to watch, lacking eyelids close. Where am I? This place, it feels unnatural. Is this death? Certainly has the feel of Abyss. It would make for a sufficient explanation. I think I remember dying, but how can I remember anything if I’m dead? Oh my head! How can I still feel this pain without a body? Her head…No her mind was throbbing, the world around her transitioning from ethereal darkness to a solid tangible substance, now visibly resembling the world she had just left behind. Looking down she realized what she had been staring at.

 

            While everything else was becoming more defined her object of focus stayed blurred and indistinct, yet she was aware of exactly what it was. My body. So I am dead, that’s the only remaining explanation. Nebulous as it was, she could still recognize her headless body in the pool of her life’s fluid. Unexpectedly, she didn’t feel all that shocked. The abstruseness and finality of expiring, a daunting inevitability to all mortals, were contingent on the cryptic nature of death, and seeing as now she was actually dead the fears relinquished all influence over her. It’s said that a bombardier is born anew after his first freefall, similar yet unbound in a way that they said nothing else but death could achieve. Guess they weren’t exaggerating... She attempted to exhale, forgetting she was bodiless. It seems even after hundreds of years I am still as human as anybody else, characterized by the same analogous flaws. Forever apt to imagine the worst, fear eventually transforming supposition into fact. And so we are utterly terrified that following our desultory existence only oblivion awaits.

 

            It seemed fitting that in death her thoughts would stray to the staggeringly profound. Ironically, it seemed with resolution of one deep question another one was birthed. What do I do now? Glancing around revealed the world to be a mirror of her own, a few minor differences aside. It was completely devoid of movement, not even wind stirred the vegetation. Also, it seemed to be locked in a perpetual unnatural night. Eerily reminiscent of the murals of Abyss back in Tress. Had she had a body, she would have chucked. Well I’m not about to sit here for eternity contemplating philosophy, that’s for certain.

 

            She made her way towards the city; her intangible conciseness seemed to be bound to only a single location at a time, so traveling was very similar to having a floating, numbed, and weightless body. Aware of the fact that she could travel anywhere instantaneously in her present state, she still chose to move at the rate she had become accustomed to hovering about ninety feet above the ground.

 

            Without warning, a flash of light consumed her vision.

 

***

 

            Birds chirped joyously to the tune of spring beneath a benevolent sun warming the coastal village. The day resembled those which wintertime dreams spawned, with just enough clouds overhead to provide sufficient shade yet still unnecessary due to the mild temperature. Children frolicked, tramping barefoot through the dirt streets intersecting the town with the occasional dog joining them. In the homes, wives cleaned clothing and prepared meals for the youths, while off in the distance their husbands were fishing to sustain the family. The prosperity created a tranquility which surpassed any in remembered history. War was a nearly forgotten prospect, reserved for stories and gossip of far off lands.

 

            Antara could see it all unfolding before her. A gut instinct told her this was an illusion, a displayed recurrence of something which might or might not have already happened. Still, it was enjoyable to spectate. It nearly resembled the world she fantasized and fought so that one day it might become more. It was almost as if someone had brought a painting to life, the scene possessing an intrinsic perfection unattainable in reality.

 

            Captivated, she watched the scene unnoticeably. Time was entirely immaterial now, and further she was without purpose. Oddly, it was more of a blessing than she ever would have guessed. When was the last time I felt so independent and free? Certainly before the ascension, if ever that is. Still time passed, or did it here? So many new questions. It would have driven a more inquiring mind than hers mad. Still it stirred her imagination.

 

            The tranquility was abruptly broken. A thunderous crashed resonated from somewhere off in the distance. Startled and broken from her contemplative musings, again, she surveyed the landscape in search of whatever caused it. It came again, this time distinctly from her right. Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

 

            Her attention went back to the village, its levity gone, and evidently taking notice as well. Another pair of booms made Antara’s heart sink. She knew exactly what was approaching, and by the sound of it, it was close. The Urtyke approached gracefully reserved, an uncommon trait among her kind. Antara didn’t recognize this one, meaning it was from one of the newer generations. It was a Gargan and a relatively small one, even shorter than Antara had been. Antara had only seen a handful of Gargans that small, which she estimated was somewhere between sixty and seventy feet.

 

            It was heading directly for the village and the inhabitants hand no means of fighting such a foe. Size made numbers irrelevant when you had no way to leverage them. Antara recalled  back in conquests which had united her homeland, before entering Romshilar, hearing how a single Urtyke had single handedly killed an army of eighty thousand soldiers before proceeding to massacre the entire populous of the city she was instructed to conquered. A quarter of a million had been killed within the span of a few hours by a single woman. It was the straw which broke the camel’s back, prompting the bindings, an oath sworn by each Urtyke and all future ones to obey the emperor and the council second after him. She still lacked evidence to how she was able to forsake those bindings two years ago. Just another question devoid of resolution which longs for closure.

 

            Her mind snapped back to reality or this imitation of reality if that’s what it was. She watched, incapable of anything else. The giantess, attired in minimal vestures, similar to what all Urtykes wore, revealing an excess of dark immaculate flesh complementing her slender figure. Her face matched her posture, elegant yet powerful, and was framed by flowing Auburn hair which was quite long, falling just shy of her naval. With each stride she indifferently uprooted trees and decimated the wildlife, some beasts many times the size of a man.

 

 

***

 

            The Urtyke was nearly upon the town and the effects of her approach could be felt in the reverberations in the ground. Her expressionless face now housed anticipation. The first casualty, a small boy, came as she brought her foot down with brutal force crushing him to pulp. The people, who were already stirred into a panic before, mobbed as fast as they could away from her. Unfortunately, away was towards the ocean. They flooded aboard the docked vessels chocking the docks. This only served the giantess’ destruction as now they were grouped. She stood over them enthralled by her implacable power, totally invulnerable. She continued to systematically kill them, in some cases flattening them underfoot and in others burying them in the wreckage of their once majestic structures.

 

            It took only moments to demolish the entirety of the city, and only few people still remained alive in it. The others were either dead or floating on the crafts which had evaded her wrath. Lowering herself, the giantess searched for the survivors. Now that her assignment was complete in her mind she could proceed to her favorite part. She spotted a tiny creature attempting to feign death among one of the collapsed cottages. Settling down onto her belly and placing her weight onto her elbows, she plucked out the male. She judged it was somewhere in its adolescence from its size and absence of facial hair.

 

            She rolled onto her back, flattening more wreckage, and dangled the terrified pathetic creature over her face. The Urtyke always enjoyed observing their struggles before ending them. Abruptly the movements ceased; apparently it had been frightened unconscious. Now uninterested, the giantess lazily dropped it into her mouth and closed her jaw with a satisfying crunch, severing it at the waist; the legs fell to ground. Smiling, her mouth dripped red streams down her cheeks and into her hair.

 

***

 

The illusion fled in another flash of light. Mortified, Antara couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Is it really so naïve to believe our fanciful wishes are more than just that, fanciful wishes. What is the purpose, is everything just an empty promise? She didn’t know who she was asking, and despite her depression broke into a fit of laughter at the irony of expecting an answer.

 

“I believe that’s the quickest I’ve ever seen somebody go mad here.” The voice was a deep melodious tone. Although it spoke more in her head than anything but still undeniably there. However looking around she saw nothing. “Ok, so maybe not mad.”

 

Regaining her composure, she tried to run a hand through her hair and realized she had body, exactly the same as before but fabricated of an ethereal energy. Her limbs could flow right through one another as her hand had just done, yet the nature of the form and limits of her movements imitated those of flesh impeccably. “Who are you?” She asked, trying to decipher the flood of emotions and questions which threatened overwhelm her. “Uh...better yet actually, where are we?”

 

“Why, in Romshilar obviously. Just look around you!” Locating the voice, she gasped at what she saw. It came from another ethereal figure similar to herself, only this one was masculine and that it looked at her with solid human eyes. “Boo!”

 

Despite her best efforts she jumped. Had she had skin, she would have blushed. “You aren’t…well not that I was expecting to meet anybody, but…” she gestured at the bleak surroundings.

 

“Not somebody so enlivened? Simply because I reside in such a dreary place doesn’t necessitate my personality to alter to mimic it lass. In fact, if that were the case I surely would have killed myself by now.” Riotously, he at his own joke but, noticing she wasn’t laughing, steadied himself and merely simpered at her. “Well if you can’t laugh at yourself. As if there are many to appreciate my jests here anyway.”

 

“I suppose.” Her expression a mixture of confusion and irritation. Who is this clown? “But you didn’t exactly answer my question.” she said, giving her best attempt at politeness.

 

“Oh, and what answer were you expecting?” he responded facetiously, a stark contrast to the soothing vibrancy of his voice.

 

“Well, a pixy haven I imagine.” Her reply was bitter and sarcastic, as if studded with rusty nails.

 

“Bravo! That’s the idea.” The apparition’s hands clapped together soundlessly, “Only idiots fight fire with fire. Now water! That is how the astute retaliate. And if melancholy is fire, what better suited than to the role of water than humor.”

 

Her expression didn’t lighten.

 

 He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, “But I digress. If it is a formal introduction you desire I am delighted to accommodate. I am Hashidor Pespori, once an influential dignitary in a kingdom now beyond histories meager recollection and now a simple but esteemed aldeitus. Now if you’d be so kind milady.”

 

“I’m Antara, no surname. Abandoned that long ago.” Hashidor chuckled at her reply. Is everything a joke to this guy? “I wasn’t being sarcastic that time.”

 

“I realized that, but amusing still. Your notions on time are what tickle me. Humor me; in your estimate, what constitutes a lengthy time?”

 

            She knew exactly where this was headed, but played along none the less. “A hundred and twenty three years.”

 

            He chuckled again, gesturing towards the sky with his hand. “But a drop in the ocean, no more than a fleeting gust amidst a hurricane.” Her expression hardened on him, “My apologies Antara. Rambling is such an unbefitting habit that seems to plague me. My conversations have tended to be very...one sided. Now what was it you wanted to know again…? Right! You wanted to know our whereabouts.”

 

            “Gods yes, and for Abyss can you be less enigmatic?”

 

            “Candid and nothing less. I promise.” He flashed her a droll smile, “Bluntly put, we are still in Romshilar, just not quite as much so. Notice how the only parts of my flesh I retain are my eyes? They are what tether us here; contain all that we are, our very essence. The expression “eyes are the gateway to the soul” couldn’t be more literal. However, there are variances.”

 

            “Differences?”

 

            “They are of no consequence. Just let me say that you are an unordinary visitor. Which transitions us nicely to my next point. It seems you are a mortal without a body, so shall we fix that?”

 

            “As in bring me back to life? You can do that?” Her mind was racing. Would it be possible for him to bring her back to life, and at what cost. Would she still be herself? Would she take somebody else’s body? Would it even be on the same continent as Romshilar?

 

            “Oh heavens no, I am only an Aldeitus, it would require to powers of a god to do that. However, we are not going to need to bring you back to life as you aren’t actually dead?”

 

            The revelation stunned Antara near speechless, “n-n-not dead?” she finally managed to work out, if just barely.

 

            “Oh no, which is what makes you such an unordinary visitor. I have only met a handful of living here and they’ve never stayed long. Without any outside influence, the soul and body should die simultaneously. Occasionally though there is interference, some sort of preservative magic serves as a disruption, meaning the body will be destroyed but the soul still lives, but without a vessel, and so it ends up here.”

 

Magic…the flash charm! It must have left some residual effect or something.

 

He continued before she could explore further on that thought, “Irrelevant information, and since I promised to stay on topic so I shall. Now don’t wander off, I’ll only be a moment.” His eyes disappeared briefly, leaving the human apparition behind, and returned. “It seems I’ve found a suitable body and in Romshilar to boot. Now just let me clear it out for you and I can-“

            “No! I won’t be stealing another person’s body.”

 

            “Oh calm down, the body is already being usurped. If anything, I am setting things right.” Again, his eyes disappeared. Suddenly, she felt a tugging on her entirety, and was subsequently consumed by another flash of light.

 

***

            The Eyeless rose in solemn emotionlessness. It turned to look upon the other Urtykes before to move towards them. The remaining Urtykes, five standing, showed an unprecedented emotion, fear. They made no hesitations in their decision to flee, trampling many of their own soldiers in the retreat. One threat had seemingly replaced another. Although the Urtykes and the Tryke soldiers were fleeing, the Eyeless remained, its ominous presence unsettling Tuest. The thing pivoted back to face the city it was now standing over. Despite lacking eyes the thing was still voluptuous.

 

            Its lip curled in an arrogant sneer, the first sign of emotion Tuest had seen from this creature. It was strangely comforting, as any emotion made it seem more human and less divine.

 

            However, comfort was hollow protection. It raised its foot, intending to crush the largest remaining structure, the barracks whose rooftop Tuest was on. At this distance, the sheer mass of it was daunting. He had grown accustomed to Antara at close proximities, but this was an entirely different animal. This woman was much larger than Antara, and his current situation only served to reinforce it. Also, and this was the deal breaker, he knew what the Eyeless planned.

 

            So these are my last thoughts. Funny, I always presumed my departing thoughts would be of regrets. Instead incredulity masked all thoughts of anything beyond the present.

 

***

 

            Hashidor returned to catch the final wisps of Antara’s departure. And in her place slowly solidified another ethereal figure, also feminine but its face distorted in contempt. Hashidor unaffectedly beamed back.

 

            “Meddling idiotic bastard!”

 

            “You’ll thank me eventually” he replied, still maintaining his humorous demeanor.

 

            She stared at him briefly. Her expression shifted into an evil grin, “I don’t think I will.” She said closing on him, “In fact, I don’t think I will ever have to suffer you again.”

 

            “Oh! So you have finally come to enjoy my company? Marvelous!”

 

            “Not that either you oaf!” she spat, “I noticed something while I was gone. Here, let me show you.” She pointed at him, and a beam a light streaked from her fingertip.

 

            Hashidor didn’t have time to respond. Slowly his ethereal form solidified into stone. The process was quick, completed in a matter of seconds, and the only part that remained unchanged was his eyes. “This land we stand on now, it is very unique and powerful, capable of maintaining a binding strong enough to even imprison an Aldeitus as powerful as us.”

 

She approached him, her eyes inches away from his, “Further, I learned something else interesting in my brief visit. These Urtykes, although seemingly different, are simply humans. Normal pathetic humans who simply have discovered the power of one of our bound brothers or sisters and you know what that means.” Hashidor’s eyes widened, comprehending her allusions, “That’s right. I can take whichever body of theirs I choose.”

***

 

The world came back in a flood of colors. It threw Antara off balance and onto her butt. Her tailbone screamed in pain, but it healed and subsided quickly. Her vision was still quite blurry. Rubbing her eyes, detail returned to the world.

 

Directly ahead of her was Altoa, mostly intact with the exception of the south most walls which had been almost entirely decimated. Strangely enough her legs seemed to be resting upon its wreckage. Looking down at her considerable breasts, totally bare and noticeably larger than before, and the blonde hair which rested on them she realized exactly whose body she now had. Relief flooded her. If she inhabited the Pantarch’s body, then the Eyeless who had possessed it must have been expelled elsewhere, or so Hashidor said.

 

She stood up bare as the day she was born. Seems fitting that I’d be reborn naked as well. Looking over the masses of people running in panic made her realized two things. One: her nudity was on display for thousands to see. The urge to find something, if it existed, to cover herself welled up inside her, but she ignored it as best she could. Shame can wait for later.

 

Two: she was big. She had grown accustomed to being big, but this was almost something entirely new. She was easily over twice her previous height and from this perspective everything seemed different. The only building in the city which had previously overtopped her, the senate building, now neglected to even reach her breasts. The people who had once seemed small were now infinitesimal. The people! They don’t know it’s me!

 

            Looking down at them her eyes found a familiar figure, lone in its stillness and gaping up at her. She smiled and bent over, placing her knees atop the vacated wreckage of the walls and brought her face closer to Tuest. Unadjusted to her new figure, she accidentally leaned too close and flattened a small building underneath her breasts. She cringed as she felt the thing collapse beneath her, but experience had instilled that recoiling at such mistakes only furthered the destruction.

 

            “Tuest. Don’t be afraid. It’s me, Antara” she said.

 

            Visibly recomposing himself he replied, “I know. I saw you…return, recognized your eyes. But…how?”

 

            “A long story and one which is best saved for later.” She turned her head to look over at the damage her endowments had caused, “This is going to take some getting used to.”

 

            He gave it a brief look as well. “Yes it certainly is.” He started, realizing the implications of his remark, “Both of your new sizes I mean.” He looked back up at her, their eyes meeting, “Appearances be damned, and it’s still you no matter whose body. Just looking into your eyes reaffirms that for truth.”

 

            At this size it was difficult, but she could make out the dried tears on his cheeks. Looks as if I’m not the only one who seen hardship. But we’re alive and sane for what it’s worth.

 

            She rose and took in the scene, the wreckage, and the panicked throngs. This is going to be a lot of work.

 

***

 

            Avalaeish’s eyes shot open. In truth, she had no eyes here, but to everybody else she would appear to. It had been a month since she had been expelled from the mortal world, but her constant barrage on this creature’s mind during its sleep through constant nightmares had finally yielded her the opportunity to force her way into it. Whatever once controlled this body was gone now and it was hers to do with as she wished. The body of a paragon in the hands of a god.

 

To be continued…

            The smoldering detritus cluttered the city where buildings once stood. Only those constructed of slower burning material still smoked. Repair crews were busy at work salvaging scraps and clearing ground to reconstruct the trampled wall among other fortifications. The attacked had ironically provided a much needed demolition. The architects had built the fortifications intending to rebuff the assaults of more traditional foes. With the reconstruction it would be instead designed to withstand the new, much larger threats. Concealed inside the makeshift mortar and stone was a nasty surprise for their Urtyke friends. Keenly sharpened metal spikes, taller than any man and many times as massive, positioned to literally be a thorn their toe, a very very large thorn. Moreover, the new walls were smaller, both to further incite reckless destruction from the giantesses and because rebuilding the walls in their former splendor was redundant as they would simply be plowed over again. Altoa, once boastful of is lucrativeness, would either adapt or perish.

 

            Tuest observed from his perch on Antara’s naked shoulder. Initially she had been quiet stubborn to find anything suitable to cover herself, but Tuest had made it plain that there were no such garments short of Tress, especially for her new size. Looting dead Gargans had proved effective before, but at her new size there were nearly no other Pantarchs who measured up. Although, once put into perspective she reasoned she didn’t actually reside in her own body. Delusions always make for the best motivations but, then again, is it delusional to hope she might one day recover her old form? It was a pointless question and so he dismissed it. However, with all that had happened in the past few days Tuest was hesitant to call anything impossible regardless of how farfetched it appeared. Throwing Aldeituses into the mix always complicated matters in the worst possible ways. To say they had kicked the hornets’ nest would be a drastic understatement. More like we bathed in lard and charged into a wolf’s den screaming like banshees. He chuckled at the mental image of such an absurdity.

 

            Her new body lacked ear piercings and so also lacked the large hoops which he had previously acted as a railing for him. As if they would be long enough to hang from her ear to me anymore. The sheer alteration of size was still settling on him. His psychological familiarities protested still, as they had when they met two years ago, and clashed against rationality. Even her personality seemed contorted, whiplashed from being ripped thrown right back into this world, yet still recognizable. Whatever had occurred between her death and rebirth had, although she refused to admit it, shaken her. It was still a tremulous topic which he was hesitant to bring up and so he filed it away for later.

 

            His attention shifted back to the construction. The months it would take to rebuild the walls would be just another intangible effigy branded upon the memories of the Altoan people, the wall itself a palpable one. And yet the months upon months of effort these people expended to complete this arduous task Antara was capable of effortlessly outputting in a few motions. The raw power she possessed now was easily greater than that of every human which resided in the city, many…many…many times over. Still, delicacy and strength were not synonymous. Her force was a sort which would easily decimate what many years of effort compounded to construct, but never be so subtly and intricately directed to create such a structure. It was, in Tuest’s mind, what differed between species.

 

            The Urtykes had a similar relationship to humans as humans had to ants. The miniscule marvels ants fashioned could never be imitated by humans. Yet humans were capable of destroying them effortlessly and indiscriminately. The small build and the large destroy, simply the nature of any hierarchy characterized by such disproportionate power. Predictably, most Urtykes embraced this, falling into the niche they had created for themselves, destruction begetting purpose. Antara fought that current and in rebelling against it, embraced it. She had to destroy to have any hope of building one day.

 

            Tuest looked over at her face, expression unreadable, and wondered where her thoughts roamed. Wherever she was musing, it was deep, the profundity matching his own. “They no longer seem to regard fearfully.”

 

            “Don’t embellish it; I’ve gone from predator to pariah in their eyes, hardly something worth celebration… Although I do admit, it is not as bad as them looking to me as their savior.” Her voice still sounded foreign to his ears, altered both by her new body and size, the discrepancy disturbing him. He suppressed a shudder.

 

            “It’s still better you stand aside and leave them to their labors unaided. Even before you made them uneasy, and although I know you’d never hurt them their faith in anything is fragile. Gratitude is rarely reciprocated when warranted, but they’ll come around eventually. Just keep giving them their space.”

 

            “Can’t say I blame them.” The sympathy was more sincere than Tuest would have thought, yet she was still clearly vexed, as much with the irrationality of her frustration as of the citizens.

 

            “Dwelling on it isn’t doing us any favors…” He paused, carefully choosing his next words, “It’s good to have you back.”

 

            Her tone betrayed unease, “It’s good to be back. Even so…its… well-”

 

            “You don’t need to say it, I know”

 

            Neither of them spoke for a moment, simply observing the construction, both reluctant to speak, procrastinating where the conversation would eventually wander. Words escaped him. Tuest loosed a deep sigh and spoke. “Our…alone time…it’s not going to be what it was.”

 

            “No, it won’t.” her voice held a pained sadness to it, “Nothing will be what it once was.”

 

Tuest shared her pain, a dull pressure on each muscle and joint, but despite it he constantly found himself stealing glances at her new unfathomably large bust. Lust, the vice of every man with a cock, desire overcoming guilt indefinitely. Comprehension, if anything, only worsened his guilt. He found his mind reciting some of the basic tenets of his training if only so he could escape the present. ‘You never have perfect knowledge.’ ‘Should you be presented with perfect knowledge, know it for a lie.’ ‘When confronted with a foe, on or off the field of battle, sever yourself from pride, but never intuition.’

 

Antara grunted, snapping Tuest out of his daze, realizing from her perspective it appeared he was gawking at her chest for…Abyss! How long was I staring for… “Oh…uh, sorry Antara; it wasn’t what you think it was.” It sounded as corny and hollow as it felt.

 

“I’m sure…” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s ok, I know we’re all antsy.” She raised a hand to grope her right breast. “They are much larger than befo-ohhh” She squeezed, the overabundant tit flesh firming out between her fingers. He felt her shudder beneath him, her eyes dilated with the delectation. “and…much more sensitive” she said breathily. She tightened her grip, distorting more tit flesh, and conceded a whispered moan, “Ohhh…”

 

Antara’s self-control was as staunch as it came and so for her to indulge despite herself was truly uncommon. She wasn’t lying; they were emphatically more sensitive. “Perhaps we should we seek some privacy?” his voice staggered

 

She released her breast with a deep exhalation. Her rock hard nipple served to further signify her arousal, as if it wasn’t already apparent. Fortunately dusk was less than an hour away, the darkness already sufficient so that the inhabitants likely overlooked her slip. Those who would have seen would convince themselves their eyes deceived them or so he hoped. “Yes, no need to confirm what their imaginations will come conclude anyway.” She said, visibly recomposing herself.

 

She made her way to the southern rim of the city; now mostly abandoned farmland littered with the remains of homes, barns, and granaries, the wreckage just another casualty of the assault three days ago. It served  to keep Antara far enough from the city to provide some measure of privacy, a peaceful escape from civilization which had begun fostering an intimate climate for Tuest each night, Even before her new stature, her sexual escapades could rock the earth something fierce for miles in every direction. She was always cautious though, lest Tuest meet with an unfortunate accident. The experience was comparable to an avalanche melded with a cyclone, consuming everything with a power incomprehensible to his miniature mind. Regardless of her denials of such times, there had been plenty of close encounters where Tuest had nearly met his end. Such are the perils of my existence. Rather I die young and invigorated than old and trepid.

 

The walk was similar to the previous nights. Her footsteps beat rhythmically over the night’s susurrus sounds, silence perpetually broken and restored, redolent of condensation beads dripping down upon a subterranean pond, the rippling water virtually settled into stillness only to be roiled by the subsequent drip. The sound was oddly euphonic for noise birthed of such power, fashioning amenity from eerie darkness. The tranquility suffused Tuest as it had the two nights prior, reconciling the obstinate tension which racked his muscles and psyche. Unburdened and blissfully idyllic, Tuest traveled aloofly on Antara’s shoulder. His residual endurance would be drained by the night’s events regardless.

 

She covered in minutes what was considered a good day’s march for a good sized regiment of infantry before settling down amidst the emptiness and serenity, placing Tuest on her thigh. They were quickly becoming intimate, decadent impulses overwhelming other caprices; intimacy, it seemed, both subliminally and patently embodied the night. They cut strait to the chase, dispensing with the usual formalities and romancing as quickly as their clothing…well Tuest’s clothing.

 

Since he had met Antara she had possessed a mirror of his own possession, with a single exception. Her sexual volatility was … well volatile. She might go weeks or, in some cases, months without a single indication of libido, but it invariably returned with renewed vigor. The first night always the most vehement, as tonight would be he surmised.

 

The moonlight was sparse, yet provided sufficient illumination to display the massive womanhood awaiting him. He met her eyes and, in a fashion anything but subtle, she closed her tender hand around him, the contact deceptively dulcet given her size, and strayed towards the folds of skin between her thighs, sluiced in amorous fluid. The vastness of it dominated his eyes, demanding awe. His attention shifted upward, regarding her face. Biting her lower lip, eyes deep and pleading, she wore a sultry expression which begged permission to relinquish her last shreds of restraint. Deeper still was a hidden message. “His sanctioning, while preferable, was not a necessity.” Lust would win out over her inhibitions.

 

He gave her a terse affirming nod, swiftly plunged into the wet eager crevasse, and overwhelmed in the deluge of her natural lubricants, displaced by his penetration, rushing by in a convulsive torrent. She loosed a wanton moan, muffled to Tuest’s ears. The fingers gripping him retracted from the blissful abyss, providing Tuest only an instant to fill his lungs before plunging back into Antara’s ambrosial ever ravenous nether lips. Her juices slopped against him, squeezing him in their fluid embrace upon each entry as he displaced them. Her lewd moans were deadened, suffusing with the sounds of her turbulent cunt; the totality of the situation amalgamated his multiple senses into a singularity. Taste, sight, feel, scent, and sound became indiscernible from each other as he was barraged with an overwhelming battery of sensations.

 

Overloaded by the enormity of it he let himself slip into autopilot, still aware and as perceptive but submitting to his futility, accepting his impotency against Antara’s overpowering sexual onslaught. Antara was not treated with such an option. If she absolutely yielded to her carnal desires Tuest would exit his next submergence crumpled, contorted, and lifeless among a discharge of crimson tinted lubricant.

 

The ever approaching orgasm was fittingly climatic of Tuest and Antara’s awe-inspiring convergence. The spastic contractions of her cunt muscles shook her entire gargantuan form. Tuest poured out in a river, cum suffused to the deepest reaches of his core, beyond what any bath is capable of ever removing. As he was spat out, Antara’s previously muffled screams of ecstasy could be fully recognized; a cacophony assaulting his feeble ears and easily audible for miles upon miles off.

 

***

 

            Avalaeish, Ava, bowed her head as she knelt, a feigned display of subservience. Even on her knees she stood taller than any of the other Urtykes in the emperor’s presence. Their surroundings were bleak and desolate, the turgid commonalties of the emperor’s courtrooms absent, not that any human structure would house this audience. Urtykes didn’t seem to possess any appreciation of human artistry anymore and even were disinclined towards the established formalities of such gatherings. However, the emperor was quite stringent. Appearances seeded power, and so much to the distaste of the Urtykes, each gathering began with all in the emperor’s presence bowing on their knees. Occasionally, the emperor would have to tug on the leash for the more independent Urtykes by invoking their vows. A smart man to demand such of his subjects. Unfortunately for him, brains can’t save him this time.

 

            Glancing to her left she studied the collection of Urtykes, mostly Gargants. The largest of them, when upright, didn’t even reach her knees. A few Pantarchs were interspersed among them. Unknown to Ava, the thoughts belonging to this body still permeated from the back of her mind and contaminated her own, fueling a hatred for this man. Foreign animosities bubbled to the surface. It’s an atrocity that something so small, so weak, so insignificant should have authority over us.

 

            Self-control honed from countless years doing nothing but waiting suppressed that anger. A little longer was nothing as far as she was concerned. Still, impatience incessantly itched.

 

            This was a significant meeting and thus demanded that each and every citizen of Tress, the nation’s self-titled capital, attend. Any person who broke the ritual’s silence was punished severely. Although his rule was absolute, the people were content, living a lucrative existence under his effective rule. Yet his ruling method had one simple flaw. It only could be sustained by constant conquest. The Urtykes, used as the stick to enforce his edicts, were not contented to simply act as police. They yearned to destroy and if kept home too long they became tense and unpredictable. The bonds which maintained their obedience could only be pressed so hard and accidents did occur.

 

            The utter silence of the opening ceremony was broken by the emperor’s austere voice, magically enhanced to reach the furthest members of his audience. “Rise.” He was garbed as he always was in typical Tressian warlord attire. Different cloths mixed in an intricate pattern of red and gold. Six spears pinned to his lapel marked him as the highest rank of warlord, the single supreme authority of Tress.

 

“This morning I received alarming news from a messenger returning from the most recent Romshilan campaign. It seems that one of our Urtykes fell in a siege.” The people stirred with curiosity. Urtykes dying, while spoken in hushed tones, was not all that uncommon an occurrence and certainly no reason to prompt such an assembly. “But that is not what I have gathered you to announce. Zandra, one of our most imposing Pantarchs did meet her demise. Yet something entirely more grievous coincided and it appears an Eyeless walks this world in her place.”

 

A wave of gasps and nervous chattering supplanted the awed silence, the nervous shifting of Gargants and Pantarchs even more obvious signs of nervousness.

 

“Hush!” his voice boomed with imperium. “This is no reason for fear. The stories of these beings are greatly exaggerated. Further, these tales are from an earlier era, a weaker era. We now possess means of combating such creatures.” He gestured towards the Urtykes, Ava the most dominant figure among them. “Our Urtykes are a weapon unprecedented in the history of our species and are easily capable of dispatching this apparition.

 

He turned to regard Ava “Lorill, our newest and greatest Paragon shall be the fulcrum by which we expel this unwelcomed intruder.”

 

Ava felt her anger spike. This self-important fool thinks us tools! Objects simply by which he can exert his authority! For the first time in a long time she felt her resolve tested by this fury.

 

“We will crush this apparition into dust!” he yelled, raising his hand in front of him clenched into a fist. “And then Romshilar will feel our wrath!” He gestured again towards Ava and the other Urtykes, “Lorill and her force will amass with the forces of our other two Paragons, an unstoppable regiment of over 200 Urtykes, the force of which nothing can oppose!”

 

A cheer erupted from the audience. The Urtykes simply stood in solemn obedience. Their celebrations would come later. For now anticipation sustained them well enough. His speech had been exactly what Ava anticipated, an assemblage of nearly every Urtyke. It served her ends perfectly.

 

She simply stood silent, her lips curled into an evil grin.