Posters were pasted upon message boards, and scrolls were delivered to adventurers and champions. The message was the same, clear and unmistakable. “The harpy infestation must cease,” it read. “By decree of Countess Harmonia, until the change of the season, all heads of harpies gathered in her name will be rewarded handsomely for their service. Hunters and sellswords alike are encouraged to brave the Crumbling Valley and slay any such winged-beasts that they observe.”

A diagram was provided, detailing the harpy anatomy and pinpointing weaknesses and strengths. They were magical creatures, beyond the laws of nature but resistant to the laws of mankind. They appeared like most human women, though their hair often grew wildly and from a splendid variety of colors. For arms and legs, however, their bird-like qualities stood out. From the shoulders sprouted wide wings in place of arms, strong and capable of flight, and their legs were inverted at the knee, ending with sharp talons that could pluck and pry from above. Due to such unique legs, harpies stood taller than humans by more than a couple heads, but their slender builds were better equipped for flight rather than a fight.

These magical creatures were not in the same tier as dragons or ogres. They were disorganized pests -- lethal, predatorial pests, but nuisances more than they were terrors. They protected their territory and hunted within their own grounds, only ever bothering the humans that intruded. However, harpies from the Crumbling Valley were not so passive and reserved. They expanded more outwardly from the wilds, flying further from their nests to harass, steal from, and slaughter any who traveled near their land. Such territory may have belonged to them, but legally, this violence was breaking out on Harmonia’s soil. As countess, her duty to her people was to bring an end to these monsters.

An arrow struck its target. A razor yelp, “Kieeeeeyyy!!” Out of the sky dropped a flailing body, falling from a burst of feathers which trailed behind the spiraling shape. A canopy of trees shivered as a wounded harpy collapsed past its branches, somewhere in the canyon.

“Right in the wing,” someone remarked, a celebratory pump of a fist to go with it. “She never saw it coming, Captain. Excellent show.”

The bow was lowered like an exhale. Reina’s muscles relaxed along with her poise, but her stoic stare remained. “Fetch her,” she softly commanded. By her word, three men jogged into the thicket, equipped with nets and ropes. Reina did not supervise them like her lieutenant did. Rather, she surveyed the skies, on the search for the next mark.

Reina was a foreigner to this nation, but hunting was always familiar. Her homelands were only plentiful with its dangers, disciplining her to the ways of survival. When she was too young to travel alone, she seized the life of a sellsword, adapting her ways to new lands rich with opportunities. Age had only honed her skills, and she stood now as a proud hunter, dressed in quality studded cloaks that brazenly boasted her arms in particular. Against the red of her uniform was the jet black of hair, its length impressive even while packaged into a braid behind her. Although she sported a haul of gear, her strides were casual and unshaken, a testament of her upper body strength.

“Spotted another?” the lieutenant wondered, tracing her gaze upwards. He was a stout man that looked up to many, but especially so when it came to Reina. Over thirty volunteers joined this expedition, yet only the biggest of them could see over their captain’s shoulders.

“No,” she replied, after a long and studious pause. “They fly in pairs, if not more. Different altitudes from one another allow them to sift through more land at once.” She looked behind her, still to the cloud-rich sky. “There’s another somewhere.”

“Hah, we shouldn’t be greedy! Leave some wings for other hunters to get!” the lieutenant chuckled. “We’ve struck down five at this point. The countess herself will be cooking our meals when we bring them back! She’ll have to with the bounty she’s promised, eh?”

Reina trekked forward in the midst of what was being said, her disinterest not hidden. “These birds are deadly hunters themselves,” she said. “I am keen to compete against them.”

“Fair enough,” he chortled. “They should begin their hunt soon, before it’s too late for them.”

All this time, the harpy’s crying hadn’t ceased. It was a sharp screech of pain, not unlike the wailing of its slain sisters before her, yet not one of them had put up such a fight. Quite so, there was an argument between her and the men sent to retrieve her. The lieutenant turned back in their direction, suspicious of what trouble could be had with such a simple task.

Yet unphased by all this, however, was Reina. The sound didn’t bother her, not like the scenery concerned her. Along the stony cliff sides, she sensed disturbing details. Carvings were weathered into the rocks, strips of damage as though a significant battle took place. Reina stepped away from the rest of her group and into a flat clearing, her ears perked towards the open air.

The lieutenant stomped into the scene, his concern matched with a curiosity to see the beast closer. The harpy still had fight in her yet. She stood tall on her legs with her wings spread far, becoming a stretch of red-and-black feathers. A net was wrestled over her, but even with its weights and the strength of two men pulling down, the harpy refused to be completely anchored. She was wild and desperate, her flash of orange hair tossed over her face from whipping and yelling. Like the other harpies before her, she donned a unique robe over her torso, designed for a winged creature’s anatomy, and not with the same dignities as human fashion.

The wind was picking up as the crying still continued. Reina felt a chill in the air, unsettled by how strange of a noise this particular harpy was making. It wasn’t a pained cry, and she did not speak a human tongue against her hunters. It was like a call -- too late did she solve that, however, as from the peak of distant cliffs rose exactly what was being spoken to.

Reina’s instinct was to position herself and rally her mercenaries. The sight she beheld, however, washed away that trusted wisdom. Her reflexes froze, because what came upon her and her men was beyond any creature a league of their caliber was meant to face. She dared ask what army was supposed to challenge the mammoth beast soaring into the valley. It’s size suggested it was a dragon of legend, but it was in fact a harpy -- the matriarch.

Yet no matriarch was ever of this scale, none that Reina ever researched. Regardless of her expectations, reality crashed onto her and her forces. Massive wings of countless purple feathers whipped at the air, stirring whirlwinds that ravaged through the valley. Dirt and sand was picked up by the gusts, barreling through the trees that shook and bent like a storm was uprooting them. It became difficult to see, but it was impossible to not understand the magnitude of what they had summoned. Above the dust clouds was the harpy, hovering closer to the ground in a not-so-gentle descent. The sun behind the matriarch blinded the eyes that stared up at her, but her landing could be felt by anyone with their feet on the ground. A quake rattled through the wilderness, like the earth itself was growling back at the five-hundred foot tall beast perched into the valley.

The movements of flight came to an end, but for moments afterward was the air still disturbed by the matriarch’s entrance. Reina was dumbfounded, her steel-cold wits having been shattered. She thought to run, but where? The harpy above her, as tall as a palace, could undoubtedly find and claim her anywhere in the valley. So she then thought to attack, but how? An arrow from her bow would be fortunate to travel even halfway up the harpy’s body, let alone pierce flesh and cripple. The only reasonable target of attack were the talons, as they clenched deep into stone, but even just one claw was bigger than her strongest brute.

Reina realized then just how alone she was, evident when the dust began to settle. Her mercenaries were still deep into the thicket, where the crying harpie was. A shiver dashed up her body, “Get out of there!”

A talon rose from where it had been planted and hovered over the wooded area. Reina gawked at the underside of the matriarch’s foot, deafened by how silent the threat was. Her hearing returned; the sounds of mercenaries haphazardly evacuating, fleeing desperately into the valley’s hills and crags away from her. Conflicted still on how to act, Reina’s body didn’t move. She only watched as the claw pinpointed where that crying had resonated from.

Swiftly, the talon descended upon the trees. Its claws ripped through the canopy, turning branches and leaves into debris. A fraction of the thicket was mangled in this one grab, dozens of trees torn from their roots and crushed down into chunks. The mess was discarded, lazily tossed behind the matriarch like sand thrown to the wind. Beneath her, the ground was exposed, and it revealed the lieutenant and his three men, bunkered down or toppled over, surrounding the net-captured harpy.

“Mother! Mother!” the harpy yelled in a clear human language. Not at all did she buckle with fright; she beamed with pride and excitement. Without her captors there to weigh her down, the harpy finally wrestled out of the net. She couldn’t fly, not with the arrow still inside her, so she jumped and waved a wing up at the behemoth matriarch. “I’m here, Mother! And the humans as well!”

A sole claw was pointed forward and then lowered down into the area just exposed. It made for a platform that the harpy could perch on, fluttering up to it as best she could with the injury. The men were too paralyzed to stop her, watching as their prey ascended to safety in the grasp of the giant monster. It dawned on them too well that the tides had utterly turned.

Something of such incredible size was difficult to perceive as a mother, but as the mercenaries marveled at the beast, they saw just where the name came from. The creature above them was a woman, more mature than the harpies from before. At her wide hips did the digitigrade legs meld into human flesh, becoming the body not unlike an actual mom. The title “mother” was not literal, the matriarch being a leadership role more so than an actual bearer of children, but her feminine physique had her appear more like one. Past the large hips were a pair of breasts that spilled outward from her chest, significant in shape even relative to her gigantic proportions. Exotic and revealing clothing exaggerated this size, decorated with gemstones and rubies unearthed from the valley’s mines, more like a studded harness than the robes and tunics the lesser harpies wore.

The matriarch brought the harpy close to her face with an unreal balance, capable of holding her own incredible weight up on one leg while the other was used to carry her subordinate. The small harpy was joyful to be this close to her leader, brought near to her sharp green eyes. A cascade of purple, a shade not far from that of her wings, made for a wind-rustled mop of hair. It was wavy and long, lazily tended to at best, with bangs swept to one side and concealing most of one eye. Lips quite soft for a hunter curved into a devilish grin, pleased to have her minion returned to her.

“Excellent misguiding, little one,” the matriarch cooed. Her tone was gentle, but the whisper was an omen that growled high above the mercenaries. While some still fled for cover, others were too amazed to do anything but watch the giantess move, even her slightest motion drawing so much attention. “Our plan succeeded. It seems the humans have gathered together nicely in one place.”

“I-I never doubted your plan, Matriarch Atilda! G-Genius!” the harpy complimented, gnawing at the arrow embedded in her wing. With a violent pull, she ripped the stick from the wound and spat it away. “It was an h-honor to be struck for you…!”

Atilda leaned forward, nuzzling her cheek into her minion and receiving similar affection. “A worthy sacrifice for our kind,” she muttered. Her eyes flashed at the stumbling mercenaries below. “How many have they claimed so far?”

“I-I heard them! I heard them say I was the fifth!” the harpy whistled. “They’re being paid, mother! They said a countess is paying them!”

A winter befell the atmosphere around Reina and her mercenaries, a cold season set upon by the matriarch’s unchanging expression; a glare and a smile. They were being tattled out, far too late now to beg for a reconsideration. Atilda said nothing in response, merely moving her talon to a far cliffside for the harpy to leave, her gaze never leaving the mob of mercenaries. “I can’t wait any longer,” she told her harpy, restraining a giggle. “For having killed four of you brats, I will make sure to leave a message for humans that will not be forgotten.”

Another wave of panic revitalized the mercenaries, spurring them to run away. Reina turned and watched as the rest of her troops were rushing back where they came, leaving behind inventory and weapons just to lose the extra weight. Reina remained where she was; she knew it wouldn’t matter where they went, a concept confirmed by the movement of Atilda’s claw.

In the cradle of two hills, many hunters clustered in an attempt to funnel away and escape. They climbed over the stone as much as they climbed over each other, and the madness didn’t cease even as the shadow of Atilda’s talon blanketed them. With that same amount of ease, she dragged her claws through the cliffs and hills surrounding the humans. Boulders crumbled down in avalanches, crashing together regardless of what souls came between them. The matriarch gathered more stones in her grasp, depositing them over the same area with much enthusiasm for the disaster she caused.

Mercenaries cowered from this rearrangement of the geography. They were trapped in the valley, cornered by a harpy that acted as though this were a game. Already had she spilled enough blood to match her losses one-to-one, but she insisted on more, her eyes flaring to life for the first time in years. There was excitement to be had in simply leaving her foot hanging over the squabbling men and women, her keen hearing picking up on their screams, their pleading.

“Ha! These are the mighty hunters sent to kill my family! Look at you all trample over yourselves so pathetically,” Atilda laughed, her mouth only vaguely veiled behind a wing. Out of curiosity, she dropped her talon close to the mercenaries, pointing to them with a lone claw. Thicker than a spear, the claw hovered precariously over individuals at a time, each hunter shoving others out of the way to avoid being targeted. After that fun had been drained, the claw plummeted. Atilda’s precise vision allowed her to specifically strike right through a single soldier, an impalement that immediately lead into being crushed under the talon’s weight. The crowd around the unfortunate hunter broke away in screams, only a select few brave enough to draw their weapons in retaliation.

“Hoohoo… You think you can fight me? You think that?” Atilda tilted her head. She then hunched close to the ground, squatting so she could stare down at the tiny humans. Locks of her loose hair swung over their heads like vines, and her breasts sagged only a short distance from them, like a wall of rotund flesh waiting to enclose them. Yet, it was her green eyes that posed the most terror onto the mercenaries, her gleeful look to watch their horrified and helpless reactions.

The rest of the talon flattened across the stony ground, forcing the survivors around it to leap aside. Her foot was in the center of their scattered ranks, motionless and vulnerable. It was like a tree that sprouted from the valley and impossibly high towards the clouds, virtually unmovable where it was rooted. The hard exterior of the leg promised a solid defense, yet a number of hunters still chose to engage with it in a desperate melee. Swords and lances were equipped and slashed into the leg, but no steel could break the titanic talon, nor could they even make a toe twitch.

Atilda laughed again, an eruption of fiery sound as she rose back to full height. She was embarrassed for them and these weak attempts of attacking her, the most pity she could offer. “Why even exhaust yourselves?” she teased, her smile always creeping wider. “Whether you fight or not, you’ll all die like vermin the same. If it were up to me…” Atilda coiled one nail of her talon, scraping through the hard stone. With that single claw, she kicked down a hunter striking at her, throwing them back twenty feet. “... I would just relax and die.”

The foot launched into the air, high above the troops once again. Any spirit that had meant to put up a fight had been abandoned, and the dozens of mercenaries were rapidly trying to climb past the blockade or find refuge elsewhere. She already knew how in vain these efforts were; a second later, the foot dropped back down with tremendous force. A cluster of hunters despaired in their final moments, swallowed into darkness as an ultimate weight flattened them and more into the valley.

Atilda raised her talon, surveying her work. A distinctly shaped mark was imprinted into the land, a pit of narrow crevices in the shape of her claws. Remains of her destruction that were embedded into her sole began to drizzle apart, like dirt stuck to her foot. She flexed her claws, relishing in the mayhem she was able to cause with a single step.

“I don’t believe any of you really understand just how small you are,” the matriarch announced, eventually setting her gaze down onto the scrambling people. A group had taken a route directly under the giant harpy, hoping to weave past her legs and escape deeper into the valley. They would not run unnoticed, and Atilda saw an opportunity to make an example of these humans.

Atilda’s dexterity was uncanny for how huge she was. Despite every limb certainly weighing tons, she expertly balanced herself while on one leg, using the other to pick out her targets. Swiftly, her talon fell and crashed into the valley, but she avoided stomping out any lives. Instead, it was with that dexterity that she plucked the hunters off the ground. She carried five of them in her one talon, raising them higher so that she could examine them. Along the ascent, one warrior lost his grip, and down did he fall back to where he had been taken from, his shout dwindling the further he went.

Like a mighty crane, the talon lifted the four unfortunate souls until they were level with the eyes of their predator. Green pupils lit with excitement as she observed their distress closely, entertained by how they flailed and scrambled to maintain a grip on her feet. One was squeezed between two digits, and another clung to the tip of a claw, his legs circling around in kicks. Regardless of their desperate positions, not one was truly luckier than the other underneath Atilda’s gaze.

“What terrible hunters you all must be, to end up caught by your own prey,” Atilda giggled, her voice resonating through the tiny bodies. “You deserve to fall down a ring in the food chain.”

Slipped from Atilda’s grin was a red tongue, a coat of saliva freshly applied as it slithered forward. Chaos was stirred anew among the mercenaries, though they had no where they could race to. Trapped in the giant talon, the only escape was to commit to the jump, from a height that was hundreds of feet tall, but there was no time to grapple with even that suicidal plan. The tongue was its own beast, a predator of its own form, and as such it was agile in picking its targets. All it took was a dot of touch for the tongue’s adhesiveness to grip one soldier out from Atilda’s grip. He begged and pushed back, he reached as far as he could to grab the hand of another, but the red snake reeled back in, past the slightly-parted lips to where the mercenary was sealed.

The other three witnessed the scene and its grave details. Just beyond the cheeks and lips of this maternal face were wild screams of terror; a man losing a fight against a behemoth tongue, drowning in saliva as perfectly intended. Moments later, there was no battle to speak of. A gulp had sentenced the mercenary to his fate, and Atilda returned to the remaining three, a hungry expression not yet vanquished.

“You don’t even count as a meal,” Atilda spat, an insult to folks already immensely belittled. “You really are disappointments, even when you die…”

She shrugged, a playfully sarcastic gesture. The talon was brought close to her mouth again, this time a giggle signalling the end for someone else. Another lick picked out a struggling mercenary, and a follow-up attack also gripped another. Both were swallowed instantly, doing away with the illusion of a possible struggle. Her final victim was raised highest over her head, his grip on the claw’s tip gradually failing under the building pressure. Only for so long could he last before the wind forced him into a fall, plummeting right into the monster’s expecting maw.

It was after that final swallow that Atilda moaned in delight. Her now empty talon returned to the canyon floor, never noticing that it collapsed over a straggler. Her wings folded around her stomach and her smile aimed down at those who had survived thus far -- a scrambled array of mercenaries, sifting through the rocks and trees like the bugs she saw them as. It was a disorganized retreat from a morally crippled force.

“How funny! Trying to get away? To where?! You’re at my feet, humans! You’re in my canyon! You came thinking you could exterminate us harpies?! Not one of you will sneak away from punishment.” Atilda spread her wings, casting a long veil of shadow over the terrain. With a few strokes, she summoned whirlwinds of air to sweep across the ground, gusts strong enough to bend trees, uproot shrubs, and topple armored foes. She laughed at their clumsy dismay, then called forth her own kind; “Come, children! These pests will be our prisoners! They came to our canyon and now they will never leave!”

Her call was answered immediately. From the cliffs and trees, harpies took to the skies with an adrenaline rush. They gathered around their matriarch as a swarm, swirling around their queen and producing a storm of cackles and caws. Multi-colored beasts flew together in a cluster, their numbers outgrowing that of the mercenaries. By the aim of Atilda’s wing, the swarm dove to where the survivors were scattered, freely swooping down on their foes with overwhelming speed.

A woman was caught in the razor grip of talons and dragged into the air, while two others wrestled with a heavyset man until he was off the ground as well. Few had the nerves to draw their steel and fight back, and even those that did were vastly overpowered by their flying opponents. Cries for help were flooded by the laughter and taunting of the harpies, their counterattack a resounding success.

The messy scuffle only worsened for the hunters. Atilda would not allow only her minions to have their fun, and so she stepped into the fray with a laugh of her own. A single stomp cratered the land, crushing down on unsuspecting mercenaries. That same foot bounced back into the sky, tearing with it a chunk of the stone it had just cobbled, and then again it fell, a devastating crash that took out not only a handful of mercenaries, but a duo of her own harpies as well. Her children knew best to stay away from their matriarch’s feet, aware of her merciless nature, yet some stomps were too sudden for any to dodge.

Atilda was pleased, almost overjoyed with how the tides had turned against the invaders. As the remaining lives were being stolen by her children, all seemed to have been flawless. Not a single hunter had dared resist her impossible might -- she had thought so, at least, until she felt a burn on the back of her thigh. There was a pop to accompany it, leaving behind an itch that drew Atilda’s attention to behind her.

The giantess turned and surveyed the canyon beneath her. Her opponent made no effort of stealth, having to sacrifice that advantage just to get an angle to attack. Reina had not been idle while Atida and her family brought havoc to her soldiers. After all rank was lost, Reina gave up commanding her forces and took to her own position. She knew from the beginning how overwhelming the matriarch was, and so she had staked her location atop a rocky spire, a high ground that only matched a fraction of Atilda’s digitigrade legs. Normal arrows were not readied in her bow, but instead, projectiles tipped with gunpowder explosives, set to burst into flames on impact.

Fearlessly, Reina launched another such arrow that whistled through the air. She aimed as high as she could, but the arrow would only reach Atilda’s thigh, the point at where her bird legs became human. The explosion had the force to crumble a brick wall, but the soft skin was only blackened by the fires. Uninjured, Atilda merely wafted at the burns with a wing, her sneer pointed sharply at Reina.

“Spare them, matriarch!” Reina yelled, her bow aimed with one hand while the other waited at her quiver. “Let my mercenaries flee, and we will all leave you! Continue, and I will finish this hunt myself! You, and all your children, will not continue this violence and still live!”

“Hah? Is something speaking to me?” Atilda’s expression softened, her eyes purposefully glazing over Reina. “Was that a human I heard challenging me? If they were wise, they would have ran when they had the opportunity, yet someone dares attack me.” She refocused on Reina, only then deciding to study the hunter and her potential. She was certainly brave, and it wasn’t ignorance that emboldened her. Atilda acknowledged that this woman was a capable warrior -- for her kind.

Reina was patient for resolution, but Atilda’s attitude actively tested that quality. She equipped another explosive arrow, the weighted head slowly pointed to its target. “We can settle this without another soul being lost,” she emphasized, drawing far back on the string. “Be reasonable, matriarch!”

Atilda scoffed with a cocky smile, a brow raised in question. “You threaten me with this?” she asked. Unphased by Reina’s words, Atilda only knelt closer to her, her knees bending back so that she was in a graceless squat directly in front of the stone spire. Her crotch was just shy of being completely exposed, a string from the waist-half of her harness offering just a bare minimum of concealment. The shameless sight unsettled Reina, who looked upon the center of Atilda’s hips with a blushing shiver. Atilda giggled, detecting that faint scent of fear and embarrassment from Reina’s sweat, a delicious combination.

Reina’s gaze had been locked onto that one spot, but her thoughts did not stray for long. She took aim again, taking advantage of Atilda’s squat. “This is no joke,” she lectured, and the arrow was launched. A brief whistle sounded just before the boom of combustion -- a direct hit against the matriarch’s right breast, too big to miss. An explosion that could have downed a unit of cavaliers, however, had only the effect of leaving a black cloud around the fatty flesh. When the smoke cleared, the breast appeared untouched, the blow unable to break even her harness’s top.

Atilda mocked Reina with an obnoxious laugh, her loud voice rattling the canyon with its echoes. She brought the end of a wing to her chin, her coy grin put forwardly on display. “Ohh? Was that an attack? Those arrows are interesting. Should you be wasting them like this?”

Reina growled, her hand reaching for another arrow. Disrespect had surmounted the limits of her calm, and so she angrily took aim for another attack. Her instincts burned, knowing how fruitless these special arrows were, yet her fury had been ignited. The fuse was lit, Reina arced her bow for a higher angle, she pulled--

Splash. A day’s worth of rain had been compiled into one lone droplet, a drip of saliva that bombarded Reina with a ruthless crash. She saw the collection of spit only in the last second before landfall. All went black upon the wet impact; Reina was temporarily knocked out, the force slamming her hard into the ground. The spire had been washed of its details, a coat of saliva consuming the position Reina had taken. It was quite warm having just left Atilda’s mouth, and it was considerably heavy, constantly dragging the hunter back down as she struggled to her knees. The once proud persona of the hunter had been ruined and replaced with a savage image, her hair an untamed mess and her clothes stained with mud.

“You asked me to be reasonable,” Atilda chuckled. “And so I am! When an ant bites you, do you compromise with it? I imagine that’s not the case from a hunter like yourself.”

Reina gagged on the flood of spit, powering through the viscous water so that she might stand up again. Panting, she reaffirmed her grip on her bow and arrow, but there was an issue. The gunpowder-filled head was drenched. As wet as it was, there was no chance of it lighting, let alone bursting on contact. She hadn’t prepared any tool better for an encounter of this scale, not having expected one at all.

“Are those even good now?!” Atilda used her wing tip to point harshly at Reina’s weapon, a giggle bubbled between her words. “Did my spit turn your fancy arrows into duds?! Haa! Hoho~! I didn’t even mean to…!

“There must not be anything else you can do, hm,” Atilda wondered, her amusement finally being leashed. “Useless things are better off dead. I suppose you’ve earned a counterattack for your efforts, at least.”

The matriarch rose only slightly from her squat, enough so that she could remain seated on one leg while the other reached forward. The talon gripped the spire in front of her, digging into the stone with crushing claws. The tactical position Reina had taken now worked against her; she was stranded on the spire, now an island that was literally in Atilda’s grasp. “The question is, how to properly humiliate something as insolent as you…?”

Reina felt a tremble. She first feared it was herself that shook, that her composure had melted away completely, but it was the ground beneath her that quaked. She heard fissuring from below, then the shaking intensified, forcing her even lower than her knees. Suddenly, she was airborne, rocketing upward along with the spire. Atilda had torn it from the canyon floor, claiming it as her own possession. Even less than before did Reina have any hope of escaping.

It was not just any height that Atilda brought the spire to. She intentionally held the jet of stone so that its peak was level with her chest. Reina took notice of this fact from her peripherals, undeniably glimpsing at the deep cleavage but persistently returning her glare to Atilda’s watchful eyes directly above her.

“I have a little plan for you,” Atilda explained, subtly reeling the spire even closer to her plump breasts. “But first… Children!” Her voice flared with commanding presence. Immediately, a quintet of harpies left the swarm behind Atilda to join her at her shoulders, loyally awaiting their directions while eyeing their prey. “Strip her. Take everything away from her.”

Feminine cackling whipped like their colorful wings. The five harpies dove their target as instructed, surrounding Reina from above. Still glued down by the excessive spit, the hunter was easy looting for the bird women. Talons lunged and snagged anything of Reina’s they could grapple, tearing them from her possession in hard tugs. A strong struggle was made for her bow, the first of her things to be grabbed at, but the weapon was eventually pried from her hands. If Reina concentrated on one, then another two were snatching her satchels, or her belts, or her blades -- even her attire was not off limits, becoming shredded by the fast-striking claws. From each direction, Reina was pulled and shoved, her cries of anger piled over by the harpies’ jeering and taunting.

There was no shelter to be taken. Soon, Reina was prone with almost nothing left of her status as a champion hunter. Her prized bow had been stripped, held like a flimsy replica in the careless grip of bestial talons. Her gear faired worse, a bag being dumped by accident into the open air as a duo fought over its contents. She herself was disgraced and vulnerable, her once fine garments for hunting now just shambles of red cloth that she had to hug to keep on her. So much exposed skin allowed the sting of saliva to seep over her wounds, a wide number of scars and cuts given to her by the mad harpies.

Atilda marveled the results, chuckling maliciously. “What a miserable sight,” she cooed to the defenseless woman, bringing the spire slightly closer. Reina shuddered under the matriarch’s breath, a breeze that threatened to blow away what was left of her clothes. “This was who the countess sent to slay my children. A naked, quivering woman. If anything, this countess has an eye for cute girls.” She laughed, a huff that involuntarily shook the stone and its lone survivor in her grip. “Had you come to the Crumbling Valley looking like this from the beginning, I would have assumed you were a peace offering! Hoohoo~!”

“I won’t beg,” Reina spat, her voice hard like ice. Her courage was cemented and unyielding. “I’ll never plead with a monster, let alone one as wicked as you.”

“And I don’t expect you to!” Atilda replied. “You don’t strike me as the begging type, so I won’t even bother. But, there is someone I can think of with so, so much to offer…~”

Atilda turned, finally returning some attention to the mayhem she had unleashed. Her harpies continued to dart through the canyon, swarming the disorganized hunters with vicious attacks. A team of over thirty mercenaries had been soundly deconstructed; half were killed, and the rest captured. Satisfied with these results, the matriarch began marching forward, her lumbering footsteps announcing to her minions that they were to take to the sky and avoid her. Reina mostly wrestled with her balance atop the rock, but as captain, she too surveyed the battlefield, despairing over their defeat. Worse yet was Atilda’s enthusiasm for even more carnage, a promise that this was far from over.

Reina’s view of the chaos was interrupted as the ground under her began to tilt sharply. The sudden incline had her rolling backwards, away from one ledge and spiralling to the other, until she tumbled off the spire entirely. She withheld a scream, fast to notice the surface intended for her. She held her breath, expecting not to break upon impact, but to possibly suffocate; she was being dropped directly into the matriarch’s cleavage.

Her body bounced from one boob and onto the other, where she then was slipping into the cleavage itself. Disoriented from being tossed about, she had only a small window to prevent herself from sinking too deep too quickly. Gripping the plush flesh was as difficult as it was humiliating, requiring Reina to practically swim to stay poked out from between the two breasts. That, however, was when Atilda was stationary. As she began to march again, the motion was even harder to bear, with the two globes of skin hopping in response to every stride. Every footfall had the potential to be the one that shook Reina from her place and saw her sink deeper into the cleavage, a pit whose softness was meaningless at such size.

“Release me!” Reina demanded, hoping a punch against one of the rotund breasts would get her attention. “You can’t keep me like this!”

“Calm down, now, this isn’t so bad~” Atilda hummed, her voice sugary sweet. Casually, she threw the spire to the wayside, thoughtlessly rearranging the geography. “Are you comfortable? We have a ways to go, so you might as well enjoy it while you can.”

Reina growled, her face reddened by a mixture of anger and embarrassment. From this belittling position, she had to crane her neck completely back just to gaze up at Atilda’s expression. The matriarch’s face loomed like a distant canopy, trails of purple hair traveling down the breasts like ribbons on a slope.

“You will guide me to this countess,” Atilda explained, staring across the horizon. Where the valley ended, it became rolling hills, lush woods, and a wide river. The mercenaries had traveled far to reach the Crumbling Valley, but it would take her only half an hour to complete the voyage. “Lead me to her, and I will release you and your hunters. That is, what’s left of them.”

“Th-The countess?” Reina stuttered. She would be at her estate, a prime vineyard along the border of a city. Those were innocent lives -- it was her and the hunters that volunteered to risk their skin, not any of them. Yet, the numbers were grimly factual. In exchange for a handful of lives, the price of one noble was all that had to be paid.

Atilda continued towards the end of the valley, all the while smiling down at Reina. A wing was gently brought to where the hunter was stashed, brushing the unwilling pet with light, feathery strokes. “I’ll let you point the way. Don’t fall.”

The wings spread apart to their widest span, each purple plume given the space to breathe before take off. The wings flapped down, hurdling storms of wind at Atilda’s talons. The air rippled with such might, cleansing trees of their leaves with every gust. Against any common expectation, the extraordinarily-sized harpy was hovering in the air, a massive body held afloat by the strength of incredible wings. Her talons pushed off the valley floor with a great thrust, giving a significant jump into the air where she could then fly over the vast lands.

A farmer wiped the sweat off her brow with a rag she had pocketed. Before the sun was to set, it blazed one last heat onto the field of workers, punishing them on this cloudless day. The others across from her looked up; she thought nothing of it at first, until a shadow blanketed the earth. She wondered if the weather was changing, but upon staring upwards, she realized that such was not the case. It was no cloud, but a silhouette gliding through the sky. Before long, every farmer was ceasing their labor as to awe up at a distant figure, what could only be a monster from myths. Long wings flapped and drummed a low rhythm that was heard regardless of how far this creature had to be.

An uneasy motionless fell upon the farm, like prey without a place to hide. Some trembled back towards the barns, others quietly muttered a prayer. Suspenseful seconds passed, everyone standing on edge, but the shadow was past them. The monster, if something that big was merely that, was uninterested in the farmlands, and continued to fly by. As the enormous figure continued to the mountain-lined horizon, the farmers breathed once again, wondering what disaster was about to unfold elsewhere in the world.

The harpy matriarch had no reason to acknowledge the peasants of the countryside. Atilda was not an aimless beast looking to strew senseless mayhem; she was a queen, bound to a mission of her own devising. There was only one destination she would stop for: Countess Harmonia’s vineyard manor, located in scenic Redrun. Rarely did Atilda stray far from the Crumbling Valley, but this was thus far her most joyful excursion yet, a wicked grin maintained through most of the flight.

Much of her amusement had also stemmed from Reina, the defeated warrior turned accessory. She was Atilda’s guide to Redrun, dragged into aiding the matriarch under threat of her and her mercenaries being slaughtered. Losing in battle to a beast was humiliating enough, but the torment persisted with where she was trapped. Hugged between Atilda’s very own breasts and forced to hug them back, for if she didn’t embrace her prison, she would plummet to an inarguable death. Every beat of Atilda’s far-reaching wings teased that risk, pushing Reina to relief when the walls of Redrun first appeared.

“So many buildings,” Atilda mused, surveying the civilization. “So many little lives…! How exciting… This is my first time visiting a true human city! And I have you to thank for this.” She glanced down to her chest, always aware of how Reina squirmed in her cleavage. It had kept her entertained for what had become a long flight, that occasional tickle of a warrior’s struggle.

Reina had been silent throughout the voyage, at odds with where she was positioned. She shuddered between the breasts, using the fat to ward off the high-altitude cold that would otherwise freeze through her tattered clothes. It was almost an escape from reality to succumb deeper into the cleavage’s heat, but upon hearing Atilda’s enthusiasm, she had to protest. “You made a promise, bird!” she yelled, striking a hard punch into a flab of skin. “You are only to take the countess! That is what we agreed to--”

Atilda laughed over herself, “Such an attitude from a trivial runt! You still don’t know your place, do you? It’s out of your control how I and this countess decide to settle matters. If you care so much for others getting involved, then pray -- pray that she offer herself up quickly. Or, perhaps I could turn around now, and settle with keeping your mercenaries as slaves for the brood~ They’re tough warriors, so they would last us a decent while.”

“That--! No! Those were not the terms!” Reina barked back, enraged into another pointless attack against one of the fleshy walls. The frigid air bit at her exposed skin, but regret gnawed through her soul. “Innocents will not be thrown into this! You will leave them be--” She was cut off, gasping; the massive creature was suddenly on the descent.

A crash struck the earth’s surface, accentuated by sweeping winds that blew across the land. Atilda had landed with a storm-raising debut, and Reina was nearly jostled free from the impact. She swam between the skin and rose out from the cleavage, where she was greeted to the cacophony of Redrun’s reaction. Screams of horror stood out from the chaotic muttering, a stampede could be heard of panicked citizens in the streets, but Reina saw none of it, tucked deep into the giantess’s chest and only capable of hearing the distress and how it compared to Atilda’s smile.

The winds of her wings had caused their own havoc, separate from any intentions Atilda herself had. The gusts battered the walls and billowed through the gates, which were seen to that they be closed immediately. The wind whipped at the people, knocking some off their feet and startling others into taking cover. When they next looked up to understand what had befallen their community, they saw a feathered woman that towered over everything, even the highest buildings failing to to surpass her digitrade joints. Not a meteor or magic, but a single harpy, hundreds of feet tall and eager to invade.

Atilda stood at her complete height so that she could wallow in her superiority. She hesitated to speak, allowing the humans to arrange themselves before introducing herself. The long wall that supposedly blocked her was one step away from being breeched, regardless of how far its sides were spread or how frantically they drove the drawbridge up. Guards fought against the crowds to maintain a semblance of order, leaving only a handful of soldiers to arm themselves in the face of the impossible opponent.

“Redrun!” Atilda announced, her voice booming and bouncing off the colorful rooftops for all to hear. “I understand that this is a human city, but all I see beneath me are insects scurrying at my talons! I’ve come here in search of someone you humans prize as a beautiful noble, but…” She leaned forward so that her weight overshadowed several blocks of buildings, stirring new wakes of fear where her amethyst eyes hovered. She giggled, “Is it actually possible that Countess Harmonia is among you? I’ve heard such wonderful things about her grace~ Would any of you pathetic things do me the honors of taking me to her?”

She knew well how her question would be answered, tantalized by that very outcome. Of course, it was not an escort that was arranged for her, but a defensive attack. A line of catapults along the city wall unleashed their loads, having overcome great doubt to commit to the attack. Despite the courage, however, their shots did nothing, splintering against the talons that they aimed at. In retaliation, Atilda merely clenched the claws of the leg that was hit, scarring the soil as she braced to scratch an itch. The other talon rose; its size boasted a tremendous weight and yet the harpy maneuvered it expertly, mocking the combined efforts of the archers.

Atilda wouldn’t even recognize such a feeble defense, finding it beneath her. If nothing else, Reina had succeeded in upping the standards the matriarch had for resistance. She would respond callously, raising her talon over the heads of her enemies and launching it past their positions. “No one will offer to help?” Atilda teased, her purple wings displayed from her waist for all to envy. “That’s fair enough~ How do such small, wingless things navigate the world, anyway? I’ll just let myself in.”

Those words were the townspeople’s only warning, had they not heeded the threat of her hugeness before. Crowds disassembled from the roads that the talon hovered over. Wiser folk flooded out into alleys and other streets, while others mistakenly hoped they could hide inside one of the many buildings. The first footfall into Redrun was being placed, and beneath it was a fraction of that civilization. Roofs crumbled first, then the walls toppled down. Darkness deepened, and finally, an extensive crush, rubble and bodies being grinded into a flattened, claw-shaped heap.

That very shape was what saved some from their demise, contrasted to that of a human-like foot. Between the toes of her talons, survivors pushed up from the debris and looked up at their destroyer. Their eyes climbed the long, monstrous legs and then climbed further for the woman they became, a mature and devilish woman that had no interest in the lives that she trampled upon. Shops and warehouses and homes alike all disappeared under her step, and it was just the beginning of her intrusion. The survivors could not even celebrate their luck as the next talon was flying overhead, targeting another district entirely.

Atilda laughed at how the people ran from her. “Such cowards! That’s my talon, you fools, just a talon~” Her next step landed, doubling the damages in an instant. The walls that had reliably thwarted a history of invasions had been bested that quickly, failing to prevent one harpy from entering. “If humans are truly so adaptable like you claim to be, then you will surely widen these roads when you rebuild. Where else do you expect me to step?”

A trail of destruction followed Atilda as she proceeded into the center of the city. Complex architecture was instantly wiped out and replaced with footprints of debris. In some steps, small fires broke out and smoke thus rose to the sky, yet still not as high as the destroyer herself. Within the central squares of the city, the disaster was upon them faster than expected, and few at the time had even comprehended what monster terrorized their home. The roads had once been busy with ordinary traffic, but now all paths were tightly congested with rioters running for their lives.

Reina heard it all. Although she rarely had an angle to peer down at the city far below, a clear image was painted in her mind. The battle she had only just survived was repeating again, more one-sided than before. Instead of a brigade of hunters falling to the very prey they sought out, it was bystanders to the conflict being crushed underfoot, only coughing a pitiful resistance against Atilda. She distinctly heard the strain of wood and stone under pressure, cries for mercy being cut short, and the harpy’s playful giggling.

“This is wrong! You promised me!” Reina screamed, newly invigorated with rage. She clawed out from the crevice, almost able to free herself. “They are innocents, matriarch! They are uninvolved!” She spat, uncaring of how it flicked onto a wall of skin. Her desperation weighed on her, and she nearly stuttered aloud, Please! Please stop this!

“You again, spoiling my fun…” Atilda grinned while whispering to her captive, enjoying how it must have hung over someone that plead to her. “These insects are more than free to avoid where I step. Besides, they did attack first~ Humans, barbaric as usual.”

“Quit this! They did nothing to you -- to the harpies! I-It was the countess, it was her decision!” Reina groaned, “I am begging you, matriarch, consider their lives--!”

Atilda’s patience ran dry for Reina, and so she brought a wing’s edge to her chest as to usher Reina deeper between her breasts. “Quiet now, you,” Atilda gently hushed. Her strides were slower but unceasing while her wing sank Reina. Her tone was surprisingly soft and motherly, all while her footfalls boomed over a panicking crowd. “You will learn soon enough that the countess thinks of her people the same way as I. For now, you can just relax, and breathe.”

Reina was sentenced to just that, incapable of anything else while trapped between Atilda’s breasts. Shadows conquered her, leaving her in a bleak prison that bounced and shook with each footfall. Reina pushed against the walls that closed around her, but the fat was too heavy to be moved. Worse yet was that fatigue dragged at the hunter, and so she breathed in the humidity, the scent that polluted what little air she was allowed.

Having handled that nuisance, Atilda refocused her attention onto her intended target. She scanned the city from its center, blissfully ignorant of how stragglers attacked her anchored talons with anything that could be salvaged. Her eyes lit up as they crossed one of the corners, locating a generous square of land within Redrun that featured open courtyards, rows of colorful bushes, and a manor that proudly overlooked it all. It was a vineyard, like the one Reina described, and Atilda grimaced at the sight. She could smell the property, that unmistakable stink of nobility.

“What a gaudy looking place,” Atilda complained, striding over towards the vineyard. Rubble spilled from her talons and rained upon townspeople as she walked, each step swallowing entire streets and homes whole where they crashed. “Of course that countess would live here. Does she feel big looking over her subjects from so high up? Fufu~”

A long staircase followed up the steep hill that held the manor, but it was ankle-high to Atilda’s massiveness. Where the flight of steps ended was an impressive gate that encircled the home, a defense that would be easily bested with just a single step. Within the walls were Harmonia’s personal mercenaries, hired guards meant to protect the property. Their numbers were normally stretched across the entirety of the vineyard to ensure its safety, but all had been arranged at the front gate. An array of guards stood at the ready, their ranks scrambled together in the courtyard and shivering as they watched the mighty harpy approach.

Atilda laughed at the forces propped against her. “What is this, what is this? An appetizer for an unexpected guest? If nothing else, nobles do know how to greet company properly!” Her words struck nightmares into the crowd of guards as she planted her feet deep to either side of her, a bold stance that looked down upon them. The guards gazed at her legs which stretched higher than any tower, awing at her from within her shadow. Not one raised their weapons, assured that they would be obsolete if used against the tyrant.

A talon rose and took aim into the wide courtyard, its shadow unnerving the guards. She took her time, as though it mattered where her next step went. As proven when it crashed into the earth, Atilda’s talon flattened all that was underneath it -- hedges, trees, fountains, and guards alike. Those that survived the impact scrambled for shelter, and a crowd quickly formed at the tall double doors into the manor. They pounded against the wood desperately, but the entrance could barely budge. It had been barricaded from the inside, just after the guards took position, so that their lives were committed to delaying Atilda’s assault.

Another great crash rattled the ground from a second footfall. Atilda now stood firmly within the courtyard, her claws crumbling the masterful marble statues and shredding the intricately trimmed hedges. There was a meek resistance at her feet where brave survivors took up their weapons and slammed them against the hard talons, but they could only muster a tickle onto the harpy. She admired their efforts if only for how they amused her, but the guards had strategized a stronger attack than this.

The signal was given to strike. From along the walls of the courtyard, cannons were revealed that took aim up at the beast. At an officer’s call, all six cannons let loose their shells as if sieging an enemy fortress. Their loud booms were followed with fiery explosions up and down Atilda’s legs, every shot having hit their mark. Before the smoke could clear, however, it was obvious that this attack did nothing to cripple the giant harpy. Her legs stood as sturdy as ever, weighing heavily into the stone pathways of the courtyard. Only after a second round was prepared did Atilda even acknowledge their strike with a haughty laugh.

“Even your strongest bug weapons have no effect on me,” she taunted. “Should I make it easier for you? Will that even the odds at all?” As suggested, Atilda shifted so that she could make all of her body a possible target for attack. She lowered herself to the level of the courtyard, her legs kicking back and shattering through the frontward walls as she positioned into a crawl. With her rear propped up and her wings spread over the courtyard, she could now look at her prey on a more personal level, just as they could gaze upon their destroyer more closely. Not one ground-level guard stood their post and fought this impossible foe, instead cowering where they could, warmed by her giggling breaths.

There was a tense pause, so stiff that even the lit fuses of cannons seemed to stand still. Guards gawked up at their foe, drenched in shame at how miserable their defenses were. Cornered like mice, they all backed themselves away from Atilda’s presence as far as they could, and she matched that distance with a lean forward, her smile keener than their blades. She was the sky fallen to earth, locks of hair flooding through gardens and an enormous bust that swayed with tremendous weight.

A panicked grunt from the cluster broke away, and others followed. Their attempts to flee could lead them nowhere, only serving as a prelude of entertainment. Cannons popped furiously and without rhythm, six more explosions upon her giant body. One to her shoulder, two to her ribs, three to her ass; Atilda was tickled into laughter, feeling only pings along her skin. Even the most vulnerable parts of her were too thick and resilient to be effectively burned.

“Mmm, should I admit that I was almost worried?” Atilda teased, looking behind her and along the walls. “This is such an opportunity for you all… Is this the best you can do? Really~?” She turned her sinister glare over to the ground-level guards. “The cannons are fun, so I’ll have to start with you. Last as long as you can~ That’s what the countess wants! She wants you to slowly digest inside of me~”

At the peak of her excitement, Atilda could continue her mockery no longer. She revealed her tongue which dripped with a heavy strand of drool, taking on a savage look before lunging at her targets. A wave of textured pink crashed into the stone pathway, shattering a path that several mercenaries had been on. Turning made no difference for these souls as the tongue jerked forward with great speed, its wrinkles and saliva picking up stone, shrubs, and soldiers alike. There was little chance to outrun the monstrous limb, and as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished into the ominous mouth, leaving behind a scar of unearthed dirt where she had licked. Atilda’s head raised up from the ground, signalling a definitive swallow.

Screams of horror enticed Atilda to continue, her appetite far from satiated. She leaned forward even further, her breasts collapsing onto the courtyard to cause unintentional damage. Her tongue appeared again, this time with an even more delighted giggle behind it. The guards ran unsure of where she would strike, but her target was the doors, where so many still fought to break back into the manor. Without anywhere to duck away, the tongue caught its victims like a net, trapping them between its sticky wetness and the hard brick of the building. Ironically, it was as they hoped that the manor’s entrance would be broken; Atilda’s tongue forced forward and snapped into the luxury home, spilling into the foyer as it rose upward. A wide balcony on the third level was appropriately crumbled, and stained glass windows were gracelessly shattered into pieces that melted onto the tongue. This act of destruction was all swiftly dismissed when she swallowed again, sentencing the scene to her stomach.

It was monstrous, uncultured, and exactly how Atilda loved to express her dominance. Every playful spat of violence she cast onto the guards awakened more energy from within her, and where she would normally slow herself to humiliate her victims, she instead continued her chaos headstrong. Eyeing the mercenaries that tried to escape into the manor’s newly opened front, she struck them next with a bite. Her lips, regardless of their softness, swept the hardened soldiers off their feet, tossing them into a throaty abyss. Other stragglers were attacked by a wave of feathers, her wings falling upon them with crushing force. All the while, cannons continued to shell her from all sides, but hopelessness was settling in. Rather than fight to their deaths, gunners fled for their lives and back into the city. It was the wisest tactic as just a moment later, Atilda’s talons would jet into the walls as she rolled about in joy.

Amidst the atrocity, Reina endured from her position in Atilda’s cleavage. Blind to what was happening to the outside world, she was thrown recklessly in senseless directions. Attempts to claw herself free were fruitless, her position constantly shifting and the weight around her too impossible to navigate through. A curse was upon her, for she could hear well the screams of victims and the crumbling of structures, and she was helpless to stop any of it, trapped in a sweaty prison that was unbearably close to the action. A rage snapped within her, and all at once, Reina pushed forward intensely, committed to ceasing this violence. Her damp world had slowed its shaking, allowing her a rare opportunity.

“Atilda!!” Reina roared the moment she felt the cool relief of open air. She pried the flesh apart until an opening allowed her to see the orange daylight, a glimpse of the ravaged scene. The first image she blinked into was that of the manor, a familiar sight had it not been for the gaping hole blown into its entrance. From the mounds of fat she continued to pull herself forward, discovering more of Atilda’s rampage. Where she once heard the cries of numerous mercenaries, Reina witnessed only one that remained, courted by two wings and a devilish smile.

Atilda’s head tilted from side to side, enjoying how the man crawled away from her and into a fluff of purple feathers. Every word she began with was interrupted with a giggle until she finally swallowed her amusement, “You don’t have to be scared. You’re very lucky~ You get to live your little bug life, if you just tell me one simple thing. Where is the countess?”

The man was deathly terrified by the immenseness of this threat, yet there was a certain calmness in how he was spoken to. His breathing was frantic, but with this proposal presented, it slowly steadied to just a rapid rhythm. Hesitation lured Atilda closer, conjuring spasms from the unfortunate guard. He cowered behind a shield and finally barked, “She’s behind the manor! A-A carriage is taking her away! Please, please!”

Atilda giggled towards the ground, imagining the countess’s haste to evacuate Redrun and how useless that struggle was. She lifted her head, causing the man to coil deeper into himself. He expected a cruel twist to the harpy’s game, but he was in fact stroked by the edge of Atilda’s wing as it passed over him. He looked up past his shield, gawking at the giant as she rose to a squatted position.

“She thinks to escape… This countess must love to play,” Atilda remarked, scanning the land that was beyond the high roofs of the manor. She glanced once more at the man, leaving him unharmed as promised. “You’re smart for an insect. Be grateful for that little life I’ve allowed you to have.”

Reina was perplexed by Atilda’s decisions. She was a surreal, impossible enemy for anyone to face. She made games out of a battalion of mercenaries, demonstrated without doubt that the manor itself was a toy to her. The conditions sparked fury in Reina, “Why?! Why do you torture these people, harpy?!” She smacked the breasts that enveloped her, panting from exhaustion. She continued to push and pull at the flesh, “You could have ruined this manor within seconds! Why do you play with their lives when you could so easily claim the countess?!”

Atilda snickered as she stood, using the manor as a prop to rise. “Why so curious of my methods? Are you trying to understand the logic of harpies?” Regarding Reina as a pest, she dismissed her once again by pushing her back into the cleavage, tickled by how she fought against her wing. “Killing the countess would be too easy and not very fun. That is how harpies think, my little hunter. Hunting is not just a means of survival to us, but part of what we are. Establishing our dominance, playing with our food… Oh, you disciplined hunters make me laugh! What a tasteless view of the world you all have, fufu~”

The maid’s strides were the definition of elegance. Her posture was uptight and diligent, never slacking as she made her rounds about the oval table, pouring fresh tea into tiny cups wherever one was depleting. As she followed this routine, another maid entered the room, carrying a plate of confections to replace the previous one. With as much grace as her colleague, she performed a thankless job; not one of the eight guests remarked on their courtesy, instead continuing their discussions with one another. When they were finished, the maids returned to the countess’s sides, awaiting their next orders with their hands clasped in front of their auburn dresses.

The guests invited by Countess Harmonia were also of an elite class, though their status did not compare to her’s. They were property owners and trade managers, the majority of them fat and well-groomed, brought together to discuss the continued growth of the land -- where their profits were concerned. Each wanted to woo Harmonia, to win her over in order to spread their influence and obtain more power. They roared with laughter at her jokes, they agreed with her in any debate, and they complimented her endlessly, not only in regards to her rulership, but as well as her pristine white gown, her cascade of curled brown hair, the gold and gems that lavished her attire. Rarely did they look elsewhere but to her, at the end of the table, seated most contently while she allowed the others to speak.

“It would make a most exceptional export, milady,” a particularly hefty guest chortled. He lifted his tea, “Your wine is the trophy of the province, and the southern peoples would pay handsomely for its trade. Nothing like it exists there!”

“The climate is difficult to grow berries there, so I’ve been told,” Countess Harmonia spoke. Her voice was steady like steel, and for as cold as it was, there was an undeniable sheen in her tone. “The harvest this season is proving to be especially top quality. Negotiations to trade should certainly happen.”

The man nodded, but the others became timid and looked to their tea. “It would be a privilege to speak with you more about this,” he said, “but there is the matter of, well, reaching the south. A-As you know, milady, the Crumbling Valley is the most direct route, but currently…”

A woman shook her head, taking over where the man hesitated. “Those beasts are simply too numerous!” she said. “Why, they can fill the skies with their numbers! So it has been said, at least. I required an urgent letter to be sent south, only to hear the messenger was swarmed by those birds! It goes without saying, but the letter did not reach its destination as I had hoped, and I had to write another!”

Murmuring of agreement began from the other guests, but these worries did not plague Harmonia. “The Crumbling Valley is a menace to travel through, indeed. You should be pleased to know that I have dedicated my efforts to trampling the harpy threat in that area. Bounty hunters from around the kingdom have left for the valley, including Reina the Relentless.”

The name struck awe from her audience. The archer had recently made a name for herself in the kingdom as a peerless hunter turned mercenary, leading fellow sellswords into a number of fantastical creatures. Minds were put to ease by this fact, and the discussion of beginning a wine trade to the south was about to continue.

One of the guests suddenly jumped from his chair and onto his feet. Eyes whipped to his position in surprise, but they immediately then felt a ripple of a shockwave, so strong that it rattled their tea and shook the furniture. The chandelier above began to sway over their heads while the delicate architecture of the chamber creaked in its most strained areas. After the quake ended and the people had recovered, they looked outside the large window at what had caused such an impact. There was a suspended pause as the guests, maids, and even Harmonia herself gasped at what had fallen outside Redrun’s borders.

“A harpy?!” a guest coughed, visibly shaking as though the shockwave riddled him once more. “A harpy… I-Is that a harpy?!”

“No… Wh-What is that?!” a woman asked, clutching the table’s edge for balance. “What kind of monster-- it’s huge! I-I-It’s attacking the city!”

Harmonia rushed to the window while others trembled away from it. She surveyed the city that largely belonged to her, the many buildings and towers and shops and barracks that paid respect to her. Flooding the streets were panicked people, rushing about on foot or on horseback, either awing at the monster’s appearance or fleeing from it. The purple-feathered giant stepped over Redrun’s walls, her footfalls alone causing irreparable damage and claiming any number of lives. Her shadow from the setting sun stretched into the city’s heart, creeping closer to the manor’s grounds as the matriarch invaded.

The doors opened with a slam -- the youngest of the guests blitzed out of the chamber, pushing aside manor staff. Harmonia turned, revealing her horrified reaction. She stuttered to say anything to keep her guests from fleeing, but others took after the young man, scrambling from the table amidst their own cries and shouts. Only Harmonia remained, as well as her two maids.

“Milady… Your orders…?” one of the maids asked, leaving her position to be behind Harmonia. Despite the perilous circumstances and the panic that had broken out, both maids exercised a diligent calm, refusing to show their fear through anything more than minor shivers.

Harmonia glared out the window, at her faint reflection in the glass. A row of homes went missing under a merciless talon, all while the giant smiled and snickered at the destruction. Harmonia imagined the room around her closing in, crumbling around her.

“Arrange my carriage,” the countess ordered, looking at the maid through the reflection. The maid nodded and swiftly left the chamber. Harmonia turned to the other maid, “Alert the guards. Tell them to hold the front courtyard.”

The maid blinked. She hesitated to remark, “B-But, milady, what could the guards possibly--”

“Do not question me! Do not question me!!” Harmonia hissed, her fists thrust down at each of her sides as she spun towards the maid. “Do as I say! Do as I say!”

The manor was in a rush with activity, busier than the decorated halls ever had been. Manor staff raced up and down the stairs as they arranged to evacuate the countess, thinking of their own safety as a second priority. Harmonia’s heels were heard clacking at a hurried pace as she was escorted to the rear courtyard, a road that allowed her one final view of her vineyard. A white and blue carriage awaited her, where her two personal maids loaded her belongings and then joined her in the cart. Before the door even closed, the driver whipped at the two horses into motion, and within seconds, they were past the manor’s gate, the wooden wheels kicking up dirt behind them.

All the while, Atilda’s approach had been uninterrupted. Her footsteps were reminiscent of a thunderstorm, but far more violent in its rhythmic mayhem. As the carriage escaped the gate and the trees, Harmonia witnessed the beast closer than ever, crawling at the front of the manor with her tail raised high into the air. Her face was nearly pressed into the window as she watched the harpy devastate her guards. Yet, that was a relief to her, that the monster was distracted with meaningless guards.

“Have your fun, animal,” Harmonia mocked, a brave smile wanting to crack wider. As she turned away from the carnage, she scoffed, “Those damned mercenaries. Were their pockets too heavy to slay this beast? Miserable cretins, all of them…”

An uneasy silence settled in the carriage, only the trotting of horses and the turning of wheels offering any noise. The maids looked to each other, unsure of what was ahead, or what they could do to appease their countess. Before either could speak up, however, there was a damning crash, a quake that made the carriage jump while its occupants gasped.

Through the window behind her, Harmonia gazed at the beast, now crouched behind the manor. In one leap, the entirety of the building had been surpassed. Atilda rose to her full height, throwing back a heap of purple hair to unveil her devilish smile. Her one revealed eye then lit up with a flash of excitement, having found exactly what she came searching for. One dreadful step towards the speeding carriage was enough to launch Harmonia into hysterics.

“Faster! Th-That thing-- Faster!!” she yelled to the front of the carriage. The driver, still shaken by the harpy’s impact, quickly followed the order and whipped again at the horses, but their speed was maxed, already running for their lives. They whipped past corners and across foot bridges with reckless force, but the monster tailing them was unimpeded by any obstacles, her talons flattening all things in her path as she followed after the carriage.

Harmonia stared out the window, her maids looking over her shoulders from where they sat. Footfall after footfall, the talons crept closer with greater impact, their immense size always impressing the fleeing occupants. The cycle of steps seemed neverending, until a despairing shadow blanketed the carriage. In that next instant, the carriage shook violently, its forward momentum completely gone. Harmonia and the maids were thrust out from their seats, the windows’ glass shattering onto the floor as a monstrous talon grappled the vehicle. Harmonia and the maids screamed, their voices overpowered by the wild cry of horses being lifted off the road, trapped to their reins -- snap, partway into the air, the animals collapsed to the ground and dashed away. The driver, too, was shaken from his seat, and he plummeted to the earth for a painful landing.

The wood of the carriage creaked, threatening to crack apart any moment as Atilda brought it up to her face. Her low rumble of giggling grew louder as she looked over the toy-like vehicle, admiring how fragile it felt in her grasp. From within, she heard the distressed shouts of Harmonia and her maids, which sharply peaked as her huge eye peered inside to ensure the countess was truly there.

“Did you think you could get away?” Atilda asked, her whisper still powerful enough to overwhelm the continuing cries from inside the carriage. “How disrespectful! I came a long way to have a conversation with you, and you chose to flee like a scared insect. This was not how I imagined the countess to act, certainly not to a fellow matriarch…”

Harmonia did not reply to Atilda nor comprehend her. Her head was buckled under her arms as she screamed out for help. Bored of this scene, Atilda shook the carriage from side to side, watching in glimpses through the windows as the three inside were tossed against the carriage walls. In this movement, the door on the carriage’s side swung open, posing a threat that Harmonia and her maids could fall out. Planning on this, Atilda rose the carriage higher and angled it so that its entry looked down at her. Hamornia and her maids were thus thrown to this wall, dangerously close to slipping out into the open sky.

“I see the countess is not alone. Helpers of yours, I assume?” Atilda giggled, acknowledging the two maids. “They must be dedicated assistants, coming with you through this! Surely they must understand what kind of trouble you’re in. It’s almost a shame that they’ll be involved with this, it would have been wiser of them to have abandoned you~”

The maids made glances at each other, then to their countess. Harmonia had kicked away from the open door and into a corner, a cowardly position ill fitting her status. She shook and stammered, “Wh-What is it you want?! Name it, beast, j-just name anything! I-I’ll get it for you, in time!”

Atilda inhaled, then laughed into the carriage, making it creak and groan from her volume. “Oh-ho! Are we bartering now? I thought there would be more formalities. Not even a greeting for your guest? You just hurry to pleading for your life?” Atilda shook her head. “Foolish noble. I already have everything I came here for~ Plus a little extra. Those maids of yours aren’t necessary. So, as punishment for trying to escape me, I suggest you sacrifice one.”

Harmonia’s eyes widened at what had been asked of her. She looked to her maids who looked back at her, equally speechless. One maid shook her head, the most of a reply either could muster. Harmonia hesitated, and the carriage shook. Atilda’s patience was dwindling.

“Isn’t this how royalty works? Your skin and blood is too precious to be spilled~ so you have lesser people take punishment for you. Do you feel at home being treated this way? Do your maids agree with being used as tokens? I wonder, but I also hunger~” Atilda licked her lips, exposing her maw in a long stretch. Only the maids looked down into the abyss of a throat, the expecting tongue that lashed with saliva. The carriage creaked again as the talon gripped tighter, “I’m waiting, Harmonia! Choose one, either one~ If not, I can just snap my talon shut now, and have all of you crushed at once…”

Harmonia could not respond, not until both faces aimed their worry to her. She clutched her head with both hands to ward off the stress, but there was no escaping the cracking sound of the carriage wanting to snap apart. Her head lifted with a vicious glare pointed at her servants, “Go! One of you, go! J-Just drop in! Save me!”

The maids were stunned, their hearts having dropped like anchors. This truly was no dream, not even a twisted comedy, but an actual choice that their beloved countess forced them to make. They had to decide who of them would die, and who would live in the harpy’s talon alongside their countess. The cavernous throat below groaned dissatisfied with their delay, and so too did the countess whine with impatience underneath the creaking wood. Harmonia looked at them again, even more enraged than before; “You!” she declared, pointing to one of the pair. “Feed yourself to her! Now!”

“M-M-Milady…” the maid gasped, her knees trembling into paralysis. “I-I can’t! Pl-Please, there has to be--”

“You will not ruin me…! You will not…!” Harmonia snarled as she charged up to her servant, grabbing her by the long, decorative sleeves of her attire and tugging her towards the open door between them. The other maid screamed as the feud unraveled, backing away while her partner pleaded for mercy. No cry would stop Harmonia from dragging the maid into the hole, stomping her hands and wrists when they refused to let go of the frame. The sacrificial maid could hold no longer, and so she fell, crying in the open air as she dropped into the mouth.

Atilda giggled at the scene above, her predator’s senses madly teased by the dangling of a woman. Her tongue stretched ahead in preparation, catching the small body onto its wet form. The maid’s screams dwindled as the maw was sealed, leaving the survivors with a toothy smile to look down onto in place of where the woman once panicked. A distinct swallow was heard, and that smile flickered even brighter.

“A delicious choice. My regards, Harmonia,” Atilda chuckled, licking her lips clean with satisfaction. “The taste of servitude is quite savory. A life of loyalty marinates the flesh. So much dedication to one’s mistress, only to be cast aside as a crumb for something more deserving. Fufufu~

“But what is a meal without a drink? Certainly no meal served by a generous hostess,” Atilda continued, gradually lowering the clutched carriage to her abdomen. The vehicle was rolled around in the talon’s grip so that its doors were now the ceiling rather than the floor. Her mighty wings met together and formed an uneasy hold on the carriage, allowing her to carry it back towards Redrun. The feeling of two souls trapped inside stumbling along the rotating walls did not go unnoticed, tempting Atilda to rattle and shake the carriage spontaneously as she strolled back up the road. “It would be insulting to come this far and not enjoy some of your delicious wine, crafted here at your own vineyard~ I simply must taste what you have become so deeply invested in…”

The scene had become quiet in Atilda’s absence. Surrounding the manor and within its vineyard were scattered workers, the remnants of Harmonia’s staff, whose livelihoods and homes had been decimated before their eyes. Many were misplaced, while others returned in order to offer aid. As a shadow crept over them, however, they knew the harpy was not concluded with Harmonia’s manor, nor the city it was in. Panic swelled anew as thundering footsteps intruded the territory again.

The vast, round hills of the vineyard stretched out in front of Atilda like patches in a quilt. She could see the intricate designs that made for a maze-like farm of bushes and vines, all trimmed and positioned to make for a graceful view. Lost within its pathways were many of Harmonia’s servants, those that had been too far from the harpy’s arrival to even understand what had overcome the manor. Their terrified gazes up at the sun-blocking Atilda made the matriarch grin; her attention turned to them directly, sparking a godless fear in their hearts.

“Ah, fufu~ More little servants…” Atilda sounded pleased, even relieved, that she had not massacred everyone. Her words froze whatever resistance these farmers had, but they were completely petrified when Atilda squatted in front of them. A circle of workers huddled around a storehouse for shelter, but the underside of the titan above them eclipsed the sky. They existed between her talons, her enormous face hanging directly over their position with a cascade of purple hair on either side.

“I have your mistress now,” she explained to them coyly. “I own her. So, that makes you my own by extension. You served a pathetic worm of a countess for this long, so you will obey a true ruler without difficulty… yes? Fufu~ If you value your little bug lives, you’ll agree with me, and you will listen when I tell you that I am thirsty.” Her amusement was deathly apparent, seen in the shimmer of her eyes. “Gather enough wine to satisfy me. I am sure you can scrounge enough together for at least a taste.”

The shamble of workers could not respond, not one voice between them courageous enough to answer. Such was unnecessary, Atilda decided; she rose up from her squat, freeing the servants of the overwhelming pressure, and turned her attention back to the city. Fires sprawled across the most devastated corners, and riots were held in the most congested of intersections between the craters that had been made. “Oh, I have inherited so much,” Atilda jokingly commented. “An entire city is now under my watch, it seems. A disorderly little civilization, but if I can tame the harpy horde, then surely some humans will pose no problem.”

As Atilda made her strides onwards to the city, she made an effort to cause as much harm to Harmonia’s vineyard as possible. Her claws scraped at the ground that had been tended to and refined over generations, uprooting years of work and progress in a mess of leaves and juices. To a particular square of land, Atilda struck hard with her talon, enough power to billow fierce winds across the field, and then further, she grinded the flattened lot deeper into the ground, twisting her claws to leave behind an empty waste.

All manners of resistance were armed and ready to fight off Atilda in a desperate hold, whipped together in the moments preluding Atilda’s return. Guards were posted atop the city’s walls and even the roofs of buildings, equipped with both magic and weapons that they knew could only slow the monster as a distraction. Only one pace away from stomping into the city, a proud attack was announced, signalled by the blaring of a low horn. Arrows soared through the air, trebuchets launched their boulders, and elemental energies were conjured into thrown projectiles. Yet, this all-out offensive went completely ignored, not even deserving of insult; Atilda stepped into the streets without ever acknowledging the chaos at her ankles, the plentiful attacks that failed to make her even flinch as she proceeded how she wanted. Entire teams of guards were crumbled along with their outpost, vanquished by a single footfall that just as quickly leaped forward away.

“Your countess has failed you all!” Atilda taunted, spreading one wing out as to address her subjects. “She instigated an attack on harpy-kind and failed! As punishment, she has relinquished you all to me~ You are under my domain now! You will serve me, Atilda the Matriarch! You will not leave this city except in my stomach! Return to what is left of your homes and relish under my presence~ This is a glorious time for you, insects! You have been freed of your inferior ruler and now obey a greater, stronger one! Your destiny is ahead of you; either die resisting like worms, or thrive as slaves to your queen!”

Her speech rattled the very foundation of the city. There was no alley where her voice did not echo, and no conversation held about anything but her tyranny. Atilda had established her rule without the mass rioting ever needing to be hushed. In her shadow, conflict began to simmer, but there was a wave of revolution still burning through the people. Many would not accept this obnoxious ruler, refusing to submit themselves to a supersized beast. Despite the overwhelming odds and the endless pressure exerted by a being of such incredible size, rallies were still held disparaging Atilda’s control, efforts made to evacuate and abandon Redrun entirely.

Atilda’s vision narrowed on these edges of the city, where clusters of townsfolk pooled together in their attempts to escape out of the gates. Though clearly an act of disobedience, Atilda yet grinned, pleased to be given the excuse to make an example. “So be it,” she said, “but do not deny that I gave you all the choice.”

Chaos waged at the doors in and out of the city. Chains of communication between Redrun’s defenses were broken, leaving guards without order or directions. At one gate, citizens clashed with guards in a bout to control the doors, both sides disagreeing whether to obey their overlord or fight for freedom. In other corners, there was no debate, and drawbridges were lowered so that evacuees could pour out. Regardless of what the people did, Atilda could not trust them with open doors, and so she sought to disable these exits, forcing her newly-acquired subjects to remain.

The matriarch enjoyed overlooking the many streets that passed under each deadly step as she progressed to the border. A bell tower was caught between her claws and beheaded, a river was flooded by a crashing talon. The landscape was her’s to manipulate, and she had a design in mind to disperse any further resistance to her rule. A church stood atop a pedestal-like hill, a respected sanctuary supported by proud columns and brought to life with stained glass depictions of saints. Its beauty alone had not caught her attention -- she considered it as gaudy as the rest of upper class aesthetics -- but how people pooled there, gathering under its roof for protection. It had become crowded and clogged with people and their prayers, a keen location for Atilda to play with.

“You have no gods that will help you now, insects! Fufu~!” Atilda bent forward so that she could closer perceive the church. She glanced at her carriage with a smile, ensuring it had some window of the scene below. “You should be praying to me. I will gladly show you the power of a god~”

The warning could not be understood from within the sanctuary’s walls, not able to overpower the mob-like banter of pleas for safety. Only the most dedicated of worshippers continued to chant their prayers when the walls and ground began to shake. Priceless windows shattered as the pressure around them increased, removing the colorful effect that had been cast within. Crowds struggled to push themselves free out of the building, but for nearly all, it was too late. Atilda’s talon surrounded the church and more, dug into the ground so that its entire foundation could be uprooted and stolen. Those that had fled to the outskirts of the church found the earth missing from their feet, replaced with a blurry horizon as the sanctuary was craned to a different part of the city.

Among the streets, citizens had already instinctively fled from the creeping shadow that was Atilda’s talon, but the rain of debris over their heads produced additional dangers to avoid. Many identified the lump of bricks and glass in her grasp to be that of their church, now used as waste to serve her vile intent. The load was carried directly over the first of several gates, where a stampede of evacuees rushed to cross the drawbridge. So many were committed to fleeing that they refused to change course, clogging the exit further as the claws started to part.

It all fell from her clutches like pebbles and dust. Tons of crumbled bricks and shattered wood hailed onto the gate below, violently entrapping would-be evacuees under a mountain of rubble. Within the gravel of the church were also fanciful curtains, damaged relics, and the corpses of those that had sought salvation. Remnants of the mess spilled out into the streets, taking over corners and intersections, denying access to a row of buildings. When the air cleared, all could see how their path had been ravaged, that the gate was now buried by the trashed remains of a holy building.

Some wept at the base of the mound while others cursed up at the harpy, but they were all countered by a maniacal laugh that was quick to abandon them. Atilda did not dwell on their circumstance any more than it amused her, and other gates required similar feats of destruction. She trailed Redrun’s outer wall as though she were strolling through a garden, carelessly leaving craters where she walked. A swipe of her wing was enough to tear down a long bridge, leaving in its place a single purple feather atop the water. Another gate was disposed of with a tower, tipped over by an idle push of a claw. She circled the entire city, cutting off the exits, before she was back at the vineyard where she began, pleased with the plumes of dust that signalled each devastated gate.

Atilda pointed the carriage out towards Redrun, turning it so that the occupants inside could survey the turmoil and distress. Harmonia and her maid stared in horror of the destruction, the setting sun symbolically sealing the fate of her domain. “Slowly, my order is being established,” she said mockingly. “I’ve made some improvements to your little city. They have no reason to leave their beloved queen, fufu~ They should be grateful that the temptation no longer exists. Mm, are those cries of celebration I hear from my people? An event as monumental as this is worthy of a drink -- wouldn’t you agree, Countess?”

Two steps alone crossed into the vineyard, adding yet more distinctly shaped craters with those that had been planted before. Tireless workers dashed between the fields and the manor storage, hurriedly arranging what they had been demanded to offer: enough wine to satisfy the giant harpy. Their efforts amused Atilda, relating the humans to ants as they scrambled in the quake of her return. Time was up, and the fruits of their labor, rushed as it may have been, was now to be judged.

“Well…? What have you prepared for your queen, my servants?” Atilda humored herself, her free wing taken to her mouth to veil her expression. “This manor-- nay, this entire city has survived on the quality of its wine, so I’ve been told… Is its taste enough to save your lives? Impress me, and I may just keep you as loyal pets~ fufu~”

The workers stood pale and silent, knowing they had no right to speak nor the volume to even be heard. The foremen took the lead, guiding Atilda’s gaze over to their offering. Nearly every major supply of wine had been gathered; wagons were full of kegs and barrels, and tanks of larger storage were removed from the warehouses and rolled out into the presentation. It was enough to overwhelm a royal feast and some more, yet at the talons of the great harpy, the collection’s quantity shrank to that of a few drinks. The workers muttered to themselves about such a dispute, wondering what more they could have been expected to do.

But to their surprise, Atilda’s eyes widened with interest. “Oh… Hmm…” Her tone could not be inferred, spelling suspense over the shoulders of those awaiting a more definitive reaction. The crowd flinched as a claw was lifted, unintentionally ripping up a row of bushes before nearing the supply. Its sharp edge scratched at one of the tanks, which could be pinched by her whenever she decided. A small shake of the container revealed its fullness, and a short smile shined down on the workers.

“Well… This is… an acceptable offering…” Atilda said. An uneasy but welcomed relief lifted the servants, but she continued, “... regarding the amount, that is. Fufu~ Now, to actually taste what Harmonia has you slave away for. I expect a flavor bold enough to make me reconsider eating any more of you humans.”

Atilda licked her lips in preparation for the tank that she had selected, its weight insignificant in her grasp. Her massiveness was balanced on a lone leg as the other was risen and flexed to bring the tank to her lips, whereupon a clench of her talons cracked open the metal and released the wine inside. The eruption could be heard down below among the servants, a surplus of their prized wine crudely torn into and devoured in just a single gulp. As they continued to observe, the container was haphazardly released and dropped onto the crowd, forcing them to scurry away moments before it shattered on the earth with a red spray. The panic was quelled quickly, as all attention went back to the giant, direly awaiting her next remark.

A low giggle sang over their heads, yet without an answer. Atilda’s uncovered eye flashed with excitement as the wine ran down her throat. “Hah! Only just enough to be felt on my tongue,” she mocked. To these words, unrest swept the servants, fearing their doom. “A weak flavor… but what else can you miserable cretins produce, hm?” The workers flinched wildly as the talon came down, though it descended only to claim a clump of six barrels. Seemingly enjoying the taste enough for a second helping, the harpy bust opened the barrels over her mouth, ignoring any splinters of wood that crumbled in with the drink.

The foremen of the vineyard servants fell to their knees in response to the judgement, offering huge gestures of gratitude. They barked at the others to bow as well, to show respect for their ruler. They cheered in her honor, but the noises they made sparked only a raised brow from Atilda as her tongue whipped over her lips.

“Eh? What is this?” If this was a human custom, she was unfamiliar with it. She sighed, “I don’t see a purpose in you remaining here. Are you sure it’s wise to waste time? I will surely be thirsty tomorrow morning as well…” Her hint was slow to dawn on the servants. She articulated her intent by creating a bullying gust of wind with a wave of her wing, a gale forceful enough to topple even the heaviest workers backwards. With the wind guiding them, the servants fled into the desecrated vineyard, followed by Atilda’s chuckling. “Humans are too thoughtless~ Every harpy in the horde knows her place and what to be doing when not given a command. If I must harden you in the coming days, then so be it…”

A deep breath was cherished after the servants were scared off, allowing Atilda time to herself -- as much privacy as she could have, at least, as a gargantuan winged-beast towering over Redrun. She looked out to the city, again enjoying the smoke-riddled vista and the distant rioting. The manor behind her caught her eye as a worthwhile location to perch, and so she turned to claim a seat atop a part of the roof. Her ass had no regard for the delicate architecture or the designed beauty, carving its shape into the structure until it was suited to her comfort. The ceilings inside crumbled, floors caving into subsequent floors, and a constant groan itched from every wall and column as her weight occupied the roof.

“A moment of peace…” Atilda hummed, her wing bringing to her focus the carriage that she had carried all this while. Her eye peered inside through the door, her pupil hunting for the two souls within. A grin went unseen to them as they stumbled over each other, moved about anytime the harpy swayed or shifted her grasp on the carriage. “This is quite busy work, isn’t it, Harmonia? Drinking wine and slaughtering people -- you know how that is, surely!” Her laughter roared into the carriage, the sight of her maw opening wide a frightening image for Harmonia and her maid to witness once again.

Harmonia crawled to the door, hanging tightly to its frame. Her maid hesitantly pulled at her gown to reel her away from the exit, but the countess’s rage could not be subdued. “Y-Y-You…! You… m-monster…! You uncultured killer!” Harmonia’s rant worried the maid into pulling at her again; she was met with a firm backhand across the cheek and a shove to get her away. Harmonia swung right back to the giant, seething, “What more?! What more could you want from me?! You’ve taken… e-everything from me…! My manor, my vineyard, my city…!”

“Fufu~ Is that all you have? Really?” Another laugh bellowed into the carriage, the burst of breath pushing Harmonia away from the door. “I disagree, Harmonia. You have yet more I can take, fufu~ Something precious, that only you humans have -- so you all say, when it comes to murdering my kind.” She tilted the carriage, urging the occupants into a slide closer to the exit as it was brought nearer to her mouth. “Dignity… and I’ve thought of a wonderful way to rob you of that.”

Atilda looked over her seating arrangement, feeling another few supports snap underneath her. Deciding it to be a fitting time, she rammed her ass further backwards into the manor, grinding into the building so that its brick walls were ground to dust and its wooden infrastructure splintered into pieces. All across the manor, the rumbling could not be escape, quakes causing every painting, every vase, every decoration to fall from their positions, assuming they were not destroyed by Atilda’s body itself. With several thrusts, she continued to break down the manor, shredding a significant fraction of it until she was rolling backwards into the wreckage, causing more with her playful movements. Within the shaken carriage, Harmonia shrieked for Atilda to cease and spare the manor, a property her family had built and operated for multiple generations, but Atilda’s rear made short work of it all, leaving the matriarch seated back in a wide split that tore into the manor’s heart.

After spreading herself some additional space amongst the debris, Atilda used both tips of her wings to hold the carriage steady in front of her mouth. “Come, Harmonia~ Enjoy this wine! Let us share a drink as matriarchs! Let that smell tempt you…” Her mouth opened and her tongue sprung free, twisting towards the entrance of the carriage. It was stained red from the wine, radiating the sharp and distinctive scent which filled the carriage even before it raided the inside. Two screams fought against the tongue and its lashing for a target, their kicks unable to hold it off as it coiled around someone’s legs and waist.

The human was pulled from the carriage, hugging the very tendril that abducted her as the open air brushed at her uniform; it was the maid, Atilda discovered, and not the countess she had hunted. The maid begged to be spared, and she was, though her plight had nothing to do with Atilda casting mercy. The tongue unrolled and flicked so that the saliva-drenched woman was thrown off from its tip like a drop of drool. The thick coat of liquid had the maid stick to her immense bosom, her body slumped into the hill of flesh as more spit oozed over her, sealing her where she landed.

Atilda giggled, “No one else to hide behind, Harmonia~” Her song ended with her tongue once again penetrating the carriage, completing a swirl around the interior so that she could not miss the remaining occupant. She hummed with delight upon feeling the resistance against her tongue, the sputtering efforts of a royal being choked by the alcoholic breath. As the same with the maid, Harmonia was ripped out from her shelter, and then discarded with a wad of spit, planted further down the slope of her breast. Atilda shined a mean smile over her captives, amusedly noting how their pristine attire was now stained in a bloody shade of red.

Harmonia gagged as she pulled herself up from the pool of saliva, a struggle that risked her drowning if she failed. She had fully expected to be devoured, and so she frantically searched her surroundings for understanding. Her maid was slowly slipping down to her level, carried lower by the weight of spit. Pushing through the stickiness, Harmonia crawled up the chest and to her servant, grabbing her arm in an attempt to pull her free from the glob. Before she could make progress, however, she was shaken off her balance by a rumbling chortle.

“What game is this?” Harmonia demanded to know, her voice lacking that anger that once burned in her throat. She despairingly looked to the giant, intimidated by the shadowy face that was stark against the cloudless sunset sky. It felt like a different world, a nightmare, to be perched atop the gigantic breast of a bird-creature, surrounded by the ruined interior of the manor she once called home. Everything that once attested to her privileged name was stripped from her and turned into a mocking scape of destruction -- she had no pride left to swell her anger. “Why must you do this…? Has not enough been done…?”

“Certainly not,” Atilda replied. “Do not worry, Harmonia. The fate in store for you is not a violent one, but one of love and companionship. Your punishment will be quite beautiful~ Breathe in that smell, Harmonia… That scent of the harpy… Do you feel it tingle down your spine? Do you feel the heat entering your body? Fufufu~ Accept it~ Accept it, like your proud huntress has…”

Harmonia’s glare blinked like glass cracking. She scoffed, still yet to recover from being spat out onto the harpy’s chest, but heavier than the saliva coat was the meaning behind Atilda’s tease. It seemed like a riddle, one she thought of with every sharp inhale of air -- whatever harpy scent Atilda referred to, it was impossible to detect over the wine’s persistent odor. It became clear, however, what the beast had meant when she spoke of the huntress, and as if lured by that very mention, Reina had appeared.

Her entrance was like the undead crawling out from a grave, first revealed by arms clawing at the skin from where she had been buried. It startled Harmonia, who turned towards the cleavage that her huntress had been submerged in. “R-Reina!” the countess gasped. “Is that… t-truly…?”

Reina groaned as she pulled herself free from the constricting grasp of Atilda’s tits. She shambled forward, weary as she dragged herself up the slope of the breast towards Harmonia. She did not look at the countess, her head seemingly too heavy to be risen, but Harmonia felt a harshness beaming at her, as intense as if being stared directly through. Reina pushed herself to her knees and revealed an empty expression with flicks of loose hair over her face, her entire body moist from an afternoon’s worth of sweat. The sight disgusted Harmonia, who recalled glamorously sending the huntress off, along with her mercenaries, in far better shape than this.

But to see the champion alive was worthy of cheer. “Goodness, i-it’s really you! Reina!” Harmonia stood, successfully so as her balance was impeded by the ever wobbling ground that was the harpy’s mammary. “What has she done to you?! Y-You look like you’ve been through a storm!”

Reina said nothing, likely having heard nothing. It was this lack of response that Harmonia felt the eerie chill of Reina’s condition, sensing an emptiness that was not at all usual to how she presented herself. The once fearless huntress was now blank and without character, cast under a spell that made her an obedient drone. She did not move from having peeled herself free from the fleshy crevice, not until a hum vibrated the air. Atilda, reclined in the ruins, produced a resonating song from her closed lips, a melody that stirred something visceral within Reina.

Influenced by this hum, Reina staggered closer with a limp, feeble arms stretched forward. “C-Countess…” she breathed, almost a hiss. “Countess… Harmonia…”

“R-Reina…” Harmonia backed away, but she was cornered atop the breast’s peak. Another step further risked her slipping down the round slope and into the jagged remains of her manor below. Pushed to this point, Harmonia snarled and moved forward instead to meet with Reina, each step overcoming hesitations. “Reina, wh-what has come of you? You--”

Reina dashed with both arms spread apart, her weight falling over onto Harmonia. The countess gasped and writhed in the grip, struggling to keep the arms off her while also standing her ground. She barked at Reina to cease, but Harmonia was intercepted by a surprise -- a kiss, forced onto her lips aggressively, an abuse she was entirely unaccustomed to. The connection lasted for an eternal second before Harmonia finally whipped free, a crude headbutt used to dissuade Reina from pursuing, though their arms remained tangled in a wrestle.

“E-Enough of this!! What has happened, Reina?! What overcomes you?!” Harmonia panicked, betrayed by someone of her own kind and attacked in such an unfamiliar way. Whenever overpowered by Reina, the huntress groped her or leaned in for more kissing, careless as to what it took to achieve as much. Harmonia whimpered, slowly coming to terms that Reina had been hypnotized; not by magic, but by the infamous influence of a harpy.

Atilda’s razor eye could read into Harmonia’s realization, a fact that she met with a hardy laugh. “You understand, yes?” Atilda giggled mockingly, her humming interrupted to do so. “Your huntress has fallen under my control. She has breathed in the matriarch’s musk and now listens to my song. Can she be broken free from my spell? Fufu~ It would entertain me to see you try~”

Harmonia winced as Reina shoved in for another kiss. She wrangled the arms off her and managed to slip under the huntress during her attempt, partially thanks to a bounce in Atilda’s breasts giving her the boost she needed. After only a few steps, Harmonia was tripped again over the unstable skin, and Reina was swift to come after her, clutching one of her knees to tug her back. Harmonia squealed at being chased and kicked hard with her other foot down on Reina’s shoulder, but she lacked the strength to strike down such a sturdy opponent. Reina crept onward, her fingers ripping at the frills and ends of the countess’s gown in her attempts to restrain her.

“Countess… There is no need to feud…” Reina finally spoke, though Harmonia shrieked louder than her droned speech. “I want only to love you… We are brought together… We must be together…”

Harmonia whined as Reina climbed over her body, her weight putting more strain on the dress until its long skirt ripped. In just half her outfit, Harmonia used this chance to scramble out of Reina’s grasp, crawling quickly up the rotund hill until faced with another obstacle. Standing before her then was her maid, dripping in spit and hunched forward by its weight. Harmonia hesitated, studying the downcast expression -- wavering eyes and shivering lips were signals that she, too, was being warped to Atilda’s whim.

“Countess… My countess…” the maid muttered, her fingers curling unsteadily. Harmonia rose a hand, wanting to be lifted by her servant, but the maid did not even look her in the eye. “I-I can’t… I do not wish to… b-but, I can’t resist… C-Countess, you shouldn’t…”

“Hah. This one hinges on sanity, does she?” Atilda’s coyness flared, rapidly raising Harmonia’s temper. “Your slave is weak-willed, but she has only just listened to my song, smelled my scent… Can you save her, at least? Or, do you not even know her name…?”

Harmonia’s neck stretched, wanting to speak that name aloud. But Atilda was correct, that the countess knew not her own maid’s name, nor any of her loyal staff’s. They were but servants to her, not unlike the furniture in her manor or a resource she could spend. She could list off whole families of investors or nobles, but one of her most trusted maids was nameless to her. Under the maid’s shadow, Harmonia continued to mouth different attempts, but as Atilda hummed on, her hope for freeing her soon faded.

Despair festered within Harmonia, her muscles giving in to the stress and fatigue as all around her turned sour. “Please…” was all she could whimper to her maid. A hand then grabbed her ankle and pulled at her as Reina returned, bound to overtake the countess no matter the toll. As Harmonia stuttered to speak to the huntress, she was then grappled by her maid into a lazy embrace, the servant dropping overtop of her and releasing steamy breaths of desire. Flanked on both sides and prone, Harmonia was easily swamped by the two women, forced into the bed-like breast as they crawled over her struggling form.

The haunting hum was broken by Atilda’s amusement. She shifted in the wreckage, crumbling what was around her and causing unpredictable tremors along her body. Peering straight down at her chest, Atilda unleashed a hot exhale that blanketed the three humans, a simple sigh of delight. “Treat her well, slaves,” she said. “This is your beloved countess, fufu~ Do not spare her any of your affection!”

Awakened by this call, Reina and the maid both jittered from an electric chill. Their gusto increased, both women throwing their arms and legs over any part of Harmonia they could reach. The countess squirmed and shouted, but she could not break out from their pin, helpless to defend herself from their obsessed assaults. Reina hugged Harmonia’s legs even with a heel leveraged against her head, her tongue making long, wet strides from the calves to the thighs. The maid was wedged under Harmonia’s arm, her hands pulling apart the dress and subsequently the corset underneath -- this was in between frantic kisses that pecked at Harmonia’s face and neck, or anywhere that the maid could manage. The attention flustered Harmonia into wild flails, inconsiderate of how she wailed on unwilling humans.

“B-Back away! Release me! No!” Harmonia barked repeatedly. She rolled her maid off of her, only for Reina to climb up her body and apply her warrior’s worth of weight over the noble’s thin frame. “Reina, no! Cease this!” Reina did not listen, instead grabbing Harmonia’s ass while her other arm wrapped over her chest. The maid then returned in a dizzy crawl, subduing Harmonia’s legs by cuddling around them.

A rain of laughter interrupted the humming, like war drums dropped into a lullaby. A constant source of Harmonia’s humiliation was that cold amusement heard from overhead. A massive eye, sharp and fierce, watched the commotion unblinkingly. “Such untame pets you humans tend to make,” Atilda sighed over her captives. “But you are so entertaining~ You will learn to be obedient, I’m sure, fufu~ All of Redrun will~”

Another floor of the manor collapsed under the gigantic harpy’s weight. The snapping of the structure was dulled under Atilda’s mass, a pleasant crunch that welcomed her to relax. Whisked away by a talon were three of the wine barrels, brought up to Atilda so that she may break them open over her mouth and enjoy the bold taste under the setting sun. Three women frolicked on her boobs, among them that obnoxious countess that had dared raise mercenaries against her and her people. Atilda’s retaliation had won her not only Harmonia, but her servants, her champion, and the city itself. The matriarch stretched out her bird legs and crossed one talon over the other, allowing them to hover over a district of Redrun precariously as she dozed off into a casual slumber.