Branch 1: Miyula

---D-Day+70, Daroine 9th---

"Uagh!"

A heavy blade chops downward.

Landing between shoulder and neck.

Blood spurts.  Flesh rends.  Bone breaks.

Around it, more blood flies.  Together with screams and cries.

Hate and fear.  Rage and despair.

Bodies hacking away at each other in the hot damp dark.

The floor cluttered and slick with the debris of violence.

A savage attack.  A desperate defense.

Protectors overrun.  Terror and flight.

Torture and violation.

A home lost.  Fallen.

Some escape.

Pursued survivors.

Cornered. Doomed.

A final stand.

Another blade chops.

Meets shoulder.  Hard leather splits.

Bone crushed.  Muscle torn.

An arm pulled.  Ripped away.

Another scream.  Another body falls.

Whispered sorrow.

"Otti..."

A chill invades.

Sound fades.

The world.

Freezes.

...

...

Pain.

"Mila!"

Pain.

"Please Mila!"

Heat.

Tears.

"Don't leave me!"

*huuehh* *cough* *cough* *wheeze*

"Sis!"

There is a weight on her chest.  But it is light.  Squirming.  A weak hug.  The woman only knows one hug like this.

"...Otti?"

Eyelids caked with dirt and blood struggle open.  On top of her battered leather breastplate crawls a girl with dark spotted fur and tall pointed fuzzy ears.  Only one girl in the tribe has this pattern.

Her adorable little sister, Otti.

"Otti...  R-run.  Get...  L-leave me."

The collapsed girl does not know how her sister got away.  Her clothes are filthy but still on her.  If she had been caught she would have...  Have been...

!

"No..."

A new face is in front of her eyes.  Its an orc!  Otti must run.  Must run now!  The warrior slashes at the brutal face with her great sword.  Or would.  Oh, yes.  The female remembers.  My arm is gone.

Wait.  Is it an orc?  It looks like an orc.  Sort of.  But it doesn't smell like an orc.  Instead it smells, cold?  The face is difficult to see.  Even in these dark tunnels the face seems to be in a, shadow?

~Hmm...  The breather lives.  Humph.  Scurg not see the why.  Churchy.  Why save breather?  Better to free breathers.~

That's not a voice.  How are they speaking?  A voiceless voice?

*clank* *crunch* *clank* *crunch*

The scared and confused fighter's eyes feel pulled to the steps on her other side.  Something completely covered in armor stops by her and looks down.  The plate and chain seem ill fitting.  Rattles too much.  Like the body within it is just, bone?

This one smells cold too.  But there is also another smell.  Ash.

~What are you doing?~  Burning eyes deep within the helm stare at her, and then twist to the left.  ~You saved a breather?  You can't trust the living.  If you won't put it out of its misery.  Shall I?~

~No.  Look at this beastkin.  Tight blue-black fur.  Brilliant light blue eyes.  Good teeth.  Big tits.  Grippable ass.  Fuzzy tail.  Tell me small one.  Is she a virgin?~

A third voice makes the confused, and now embarrassed, beastkin realize that there is another cold thing.  This one standing at her feet.  It looks human, sort of.  The same smell though as the not-orc still by her face.

The little beastkin girl laying on her chest sits up and enthusiastically nods her head.

"Big sis was going to give her first to Sechy next feast.  She was so happy..."  Saddness.  "He's dead now though."

The shadow thing at her feet raises a clenched fist.

~Yes!  He has no one like her!  Shame about the arm but that makes her even more unique.~

The wounded warrior feels fresh tears.  So many she loved are gone.

~Why churchy want flesh cage again?  Why want be heavy and slow again?  Scurg not see.~

The not-orc thing is shaking its head.

The cold armor speaks again.

~Return to the prison of life?  Foolish.  You have the eternity of death.  Why have you been so obsessed with this?~

The thing at her feet.  The beastkin realizes its a woman, sort of.  Answers angrily.

~I respect the Lady of Fire.  She earned her place as his sword and wife.  This new one?  No.  She has earned nothing.  I will not stand aside for her.~  The not-woman trembles with rage.  ~But to fight for my place, I need a breather.  One different enough to draw his eye.~

~Tch.  Dragging another filthy thing before Him?~

~Go away Drabek.  Don't you have crows to scare somewhere?~

~Ugh.  Scurg is bored.  Go find more killing.~

The cold not-orc rises and walks away with hollow sounding feet.

Armor turns and starts to walk away but, stops.  Its helm twists to face the not-woman again.

~Be warned paladin.  He is not yours alone anymore.  There are many more bones now.  And we will keep growing.  Soon, He will have no more time to play with shadows.~

~All the more reason to stake my claim now, skellie.~

The rattling armor walks away and the not-woman returns to staring at the one-armed beastkin.  The small beastkin sticks her tongue out at the cold armor's back and returns to curling up on her big sister's chest.

"...Ottie?  What happened?"

"Auntie saved us, Mila.  You, sniff, fell and the orkies were reaching for me."  The little one starts crying again.  "I was so scared Mila.  Saw what they were doing to mama when you took me away.  Waaahhh!  Mommy!"

The beastkin girl starts wailing.  Older sister hugs with her left arm.

~As soon as she told me I sent my squad to your village but...~  That clenched fist again.  ~The skellies had already come thru.  They?  Don't really like those that, breathe.  Everyone, orc and beastkin, were already dead.~

Turning her head in a useless attempt to hide her tears she sees other children from the village.  Huddled together and trembling.  When the gate fell she and her friends had grabbed all the children they could and run.  Hard and fast.

Thought they had escaped when the orcs found them again.

She doesn't see any of her friends, alive at least.  Not even all the children.  Not even a dozen survived.  The last of the Jodu tribe.

This tribal warrior is no fool.  Knows they were not saved out of the goodness of their hearts.  Knows they don't even have hearts.  But its all up to her now.  She owes it to her family and friends to save what is left.

Looks back at the cold not-woman of shadow standing at her feet.

"What must I do."

The not-woman's grin is, disturbing.

~You will give yourself to me.  Completely.  Then we will give ourselves to Him.~  A shiver of, anticipation?  ~In exchange, I will save them.  If He accepts you?  He will accept them.  Protect.  Provide.  None will dare touch them.~

"For how long?"

~Forever.  There are limits to us being one.  When we are not?  You must still be his.  Utterly.  I will allow these little ones but, besides them?  There must be nothing and no one else in your heart.  Only Him.~

"Why would such a man want such as me?"

~One, He likes adult women.  Two, He likes pretty women.  Three, He likes big titty women.~

Mila turns her head away.  Trying to hide her shame.  She has never liked how large her breasts are.  Often getting in the way while training and fighting.

"...I see."

~You will have to do a lot more than just 'see.'  If you fail to catch Him?  Fail to keep Him?  If He gets tired or bored of you?  He might just let you go.  I will not though. ...  So, do you agree?~

The one armed tribal looks back up at the not-woman.

"There is nothing to agree.  This just must be.  He will be my everything.  I will give Him my everything."  Otti helps Mila to her feet so her big sister can look the not-woman in the not-eyes.  "I am Miyula of the Jodu."

A large smile spreads across the shadowy face.

~A pleasure to finally find you Miyula.  I, am Emelina.~

Drabek (undead skeleton (male, human))

Emelina (living shadow (female, human, tourinese))

Miyula (female, beastkin, barbarian)

Otti (female, beastkin, barbarian)

Scurg (living shadow (male, orc, barbarian))