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Hello, everyone, I have a new story. This one's gonna be a bit different from my usual ones, and is much slower paced than the others. This first chapter contains desperation and fear wetting, but lat

I actually finished this story. I actually did it. Motivation to write this whole story came and went constantly, but I honestly do believe it's my best work. It's most certainly my longest. I re

I meant to have this posted some time ago, but some drama at work got someone fired, and I had to pick up all their hours, so I've had almost no time to write. Finally, though, I got it done, and here

Yeah this is pretty great, as usual. I can't say I'm a huge fan of seeing the accident from a locked perspective, I would much rather be in Alma's head as she's terrified and having an accident. But that's just my preference so eh. You did a fine job of hinting at it and describing it from Hazel's perspective. We'll see how Hazel handles being alone, though Alma being unconscious means less of her being scared :X

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  • 1 month later...
  • 3 weeks later...

I apologize for how long it's taking me to roll these chapters out. I've been having to work unholy hours for the holiday season, so haven't found much time to write.

But I have been writing, whenever I can. The next chapter is huge. There's a lot of exposition, but I'm trying to make each of the omo scenes as nice as possible.

I can't say for certain, but I'll try to have it posted within the next few days. As a teaser, I'll just say that fear accidents will be in healthy supply.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Aaaaaand here it is, finally. Real sorry for how slow I am about this. Like I warned in the last post, this is a long chapter, and a lot of it is exposition with not a huge amount of omo content. If you want to get to the good stuff right away, skip about halfway through.

On an entirely unrelated note, I've been considering making an interactive story in a sci-fi setting, and was wondering if anyone would be interested in seeing that. If you are, just leave a comment.

As always, feedback is appreciated, and I hope you enjoy.

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The mother of all headaches rampaged through Alma’s skull. Like a searing hot knife between the folds of her brain. She gritted her teeth and groaned in pain. Like a child waking up before classes, she wished more than anything that she could roll back over and go back to sleep, except…

 

Hazy!!

 

Her eyes opened wide, the assault of morning sunlight turning her headache into a banshee’s scream in her skull. As she sat upright, she felt herself wobble, and almost collapse onto her side. Woozy and migraine-stricken, Alma turned her head, looking for her friend.

 

“Alma!” Came a familiar voice. The relief in Hazel’s voice matched the relief Alma herself felt, knowing her friend was safe.

 

Still not completely awake, she turned towards the source of the voice, and was caught off-guard as Hazel practically tackled her, bringing both of them back down to the ground with a yelp of alarm. Hazel wrapped her arms tightly around her, and she returned the favor.

 

“How’d things go, Hazy?” Alma asked, her voice still weak.

 

“Alma...” Hazel sounded on the brink of tears, “I’m so happy you’re okay,”. Her tone made it sound like she’d never spoken truer words in her life.

 

The two finally ended their embrace, and exchanged joyous smiles, “I’m sure you took good care of me, Hazy,” She placed her hand on Hazel’s head as she said this.

 

Hazel sheepishly looked away, “Well, actually...”

 

“I helped,” Came a woman's calm, stoic voice. It was not one that Alma was familiar with.

 

Caught completely by surprise, Alma’s head swiveled towards the stranger. She looked with confusion at the short, tired-looking newcomer.

 

“O-oh, right!” Hazel stood and stepped between Alma and the witch, “Alma, this is Eliza. She, uh, helped us,”.

 

“I see,” Alma said, not really understanding, “Well, you have my thanks, Eliza,”.

 

“It’s unnecessary,” Eliza replied, “Not long after I helped you, Hazel here saved me from a wolf demon,”.

 

“A wolf demon?” Alma’s eyes looked Hazel up and down, and she finally noticed the dark patches running down Hazel’s legs, and the bandaging on her arm. “Hazel, are you okay?!” She asked.

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Hazel answered, holding up her hands.

 

“The bite on her hand was bad, but it was the worst the wolf did to us,” Eliza began, “Shortly afterwards, I stunned the wolf and Hazel killed it,”.

 

“You killed it?” The edges of Alma’s mouth curled into a proud smile.

 

“Well, I couldn’t have, if Eliza hadn’t-”

 

“Hazy, I’m so proud of you!” Alma stood up, staggering like she was drunk, then clapped her hand on Hazel’s back. Hazel just blushed and fidgeted a little. Feeling a chill breeze blow between her legs, Alma finally realized she was standing in her underwear. Alma wasn’t half as shy about nudity as Hazel was, but she still preferred to have pants on when she was meeting new people.

 

Seeing Alma’s distressed realization, Hazel quickly stammered out an explanation, “O-oh, er, y-you uuuhhh...” she cleared her throat, nervously, “wet… while you were asleep. I didn’t want to just, eh, leave you like that, so I-I, um...”

 

“Hazy,” Alma interrupted.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thank you,” Hearing Alma’s appreciation, Hazel breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Alma knew that if she waited for Hazel to finish her explanation, they’d be there all day. And she was grateful; after everything, it would be annoying to wake up to a puddle and a rash. She really was in good hands.

 

“I left your pants out to dry, right over there,” Hazel stumbled over the word “dry”, as if still not daring to believe someone like Alma could piss their pants. Oh how wrong she was.

 

As the mirth of the moment faded away, the reality of their situation dawned on Alma, and she knew that they needed to get going. Ghosts, oranzelgs, and wolf-demons were already hunting them, and Alma didn’t want to know what else the forest had to throw at them. If they didn’t get to safety immediately, their luck was going to run out.

 

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A short while later, Alma had gotten dressed into her usual monster-slaying attire: her wide-brimmed black hat; a cross necklace; her crimson shirt; her tight, black trousers; and her brown boots. Hazel had offered Alma her coat back, but she had refused, and told Hazel she could keep it if she liked. The look on her face was one of childlike wonder when she heard Alma’s offer.

 

As they all labored to gather whatever supplies could be salvaged from the carriage wreck, Alma looked over at Hazel, and she couldn’t suppress a smile as she saw the young merchant wearing the oversized coat. She looked almost like a child who had thrown on her father’s jacket. The once professional and intimidating garment now looked downright, well, cute, on its new owner.

 

Once they’d gathered everything together, Alma looked grimly at the miserably small pile of supplies that sat before them. Hazel struggled to wear an optimistic smile, and Eliza maintained her tired, bored look. Hardly any food or water, only a couple crates of Hazel’s wares, and only one other set of clothes, which had yet to be washed after Hazel pissed in and soiled them. Even now, one glance at the pants Hazel was currently wearing was enough to know she’d had another accident.

 

“You two won’t make it very far,” Eliza said as she observed the pile.

 

“Sure we will! We’ll just have to… eat less than usual, and...” Hazel began, but drifted off as she came to accept their situation.

 

“Eliza’s right,” Alma admitted, crossing her arms over her chest, “We need food and water. If this were any other forest, I could just hunt something for us, but that’s not a very sound strategy here. The rest is more-or-less negligible,” Alma hated that Hazel might be condemned to wearing her wet trousers, but being wet and alive beat being dead any day.

 

“I have food,” Eliza suggested plainly, drawing surprised looks from the other two women.

 

“You do?!” Hazel asked, excitedly.

 

“I live here, of course I have food stashed away,”

 

Alma gave the witch a pleading look, “Eliza, I hate to ask any more of you, but-”

 

“Yes, you can have some,” Eliza answered, before the question could be asked. “I didn’t help you nearly as much as she helped me, so I am in your debt,”.

 

Alma had no idea how exactly Eliza had helped them, but she wasn’t about to question the young witch’s offer.

 

“Thank you, thank you, Eliza!” Hazel excitedly cheered. Alma gave a thankful smile.

 

Almost imperceptibly, Eliza seemed to smile, just a bit. She reached down, and picked up some of their supplies while Alma and Hazel carried the rest, “Come on, my home is this way,” she said, as she wandered into the woods.

 

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Eliza’s “house” was as pathetic as it was impressive. Near as Alma could tell, it was built with a wooden frame, then had hardened mud or clay for walls. The whole structure was somewhat circular, the shape bearing similarities to a giant onion. A wooden door was the only indication of what constituted the “front” of the house. Eliza had even managed to create small windows here and there. The trees surrounding it had long strings running between them, almost every inch of which were covered in strange trinkets and charms. While most of them were unique, Alma noted a startlingly large number of what appeared to be dreamcatchers dangling from the wires. As the wind blew, the various objects clinked together like hundreds of windchimes.

 

Wordlessly, Eliza opened the door of the house, and gestured for them to come inside, “Don’t touch anything,” was her only stipulation.

 

Basic wooden furniture adorned the inside, along with more of the strange charms, and, fittingly for a witch, nothing short of a few hundred vials, jars, and flasks filled with various things.

 

As Alma and Hazel stood and took in the witch’s house, they were caught off-guard when Eliza emerged from another room and lobbed a pair of green pants and panties at Hazel, who only barely caught them in time. “Feel free to throw those on,” Eliza said, eyeing the urine stains between Hazel’s legs.

 

“Right, er, thanks Eliza!” Hazel stammered out, blushing hotly as her wet pants were mentioned. Alma couldn’t help but find it somewhat cute. Not that she was in any position to think as much, considering she’d crapped her pants when she fought the oranzelg. And according to Hazel, she’d even pissed on herself while she was passed out.

 

Recalling that fact, Alma glanced down at her own pants, and was grateful they were black- there were no residual stains visible on them. She suppressed a chuckle as she mused on the reason she suspected hunters wore all black. It was a lesson newer hunters tended to pick up on pretty fast. It took her apprentice a few runs into the forests before he fully understood.

 

She winced as she recalled Donny. She’d been negligent, and he’d gotten hurt because of it. His injury put a fairly decisive end to his career as a hunter. He lived, at least; that was more than could be said for most people who drop their guard in the forest.

 

“So where are you two headed?” Eliza asked.

 

Alma was brought back to reality with a quick “What?”.

 

“Where are the two of you going? I need to know how much food you’ll need,” Eliza stared blankly at her.

 

“Oh, sorry. We’re going to Arnwick,” Alma answered, Hazel gave an accompanying nod as she finished putting on the clothes Eliza had given her. Alma hadn’t even noticed her friend had been changing.

 

Eliza’s eyes opened only slightly more than usual, but still the widest Alma had seen them go, “Arnwick?”.

 

“Our home was starting to wither, so we thought we’d head to Arnwick,” said Hazel.

 

Eliza fixed Hazel with an analytical stare, then quickly turned her head towards Alma, “If it were just you, or you and another hunter, I wouldn’t question it,” She again turned to look at Hazel, “but since you’re bringing her, I can only assume you don’t know about Arnwick,”.

 

Alma Hazel exchanged worried glances, then both looked back to the young witch for an explanation.

 

“You don’t, huh?” She gave a quick sigh, “Some sort of powerful monster appeared in Arnwick a couple weeks ago. It did something to the people, made them go crazy. Now the place is a breeding ground for monsters,”.

 

“Arnwick is...” Alma began, trying to think what the monster could be. Nothing she knew of behaved like this.

 

A moment of silence lingered between them, until Hazel broke it, “T-then… all of this...” her voice was shaky, Alma looked up to see horror written across her face, “Was for nothing!?”.

 

“Hazy...”

 

Alma walked to her friend, and put a hand on her shoulder, but retracted it when Hazel whipped around to face her, “Alma...” tears were welling in the merchant’s eyes, “I sold everything for this!” the tears began to flow down her cheeks, “I-I lost everything with the carriage!” She brought her hands over her face as she was wracked with sobs, “Oh, God, what am I gonna do...”.

 

Alma gave her a comforting hug, “What are we going to do, you mean. You’re not alone, Hazy,”.

 

Hazel calmed down a little, but she still needed a moment. As Alma was comforting her, Eliza coughed lightly, then spoke, “There is always the option of killing the monster,”.

 

“Kill it?!” Alma retorted, “A whole town couldn’t kill it, why would we stand a chance?”

 

“Because you’ve got a witch,” There was no doubt- Eliza smiled slightly as she said that.

 

“Y-you mean...” Hazel looked up at their new friend, still teary-eyed.

 

“If the two of you are up for the challenge, I’ll gladly help you kill the monster,”

 

“But why?”

 

“Because sooner or later, the monsters are going to figure how to get by my charms, and then I won’t last an hour against them. If we kill the big one now, then I won’t have to leave my home,”

 

With one last sniffle, Hazel finished her moment of grief, and took a step back from Alma, “And you think we can do it?”.

 

Eliza gave a simple shrug, “Probably. I have enough materials in here to kill everything in the forest. I just need to brew the right concoction, then throw it at the monster,”.

 

Alma knew it couldn’t be that simple. She knew it wouldn’t be that simple, and she was pretty sure Hazel and Eliza knew it, too. Still, though, Eliza was undoubtedly a talented alchemist. If any of them could pull of some miracle that would save them, it would be her. Hazel seemed to be thinking the same thing, as newfound hope shone brightly in her eyes.

 

“Alright, Eliza,” Alma held her hand out to the witch, “Welcome to the team,”. Awkwardly, Eliza begrudgingly shook her hand, clearly not accustomed to the gesture. “Gather our things; we have a town to save,”.

 

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It’s funny, how easily the excitement of a moment can ruined simply because you need to relieve yourself. Sadly, this was the situation Alma now found herself in. She could feel a weight resting in her abdomen, and it would have to be dealt with, or else it would wind up resting in the seat of her pants. Ordinarily, she would have no qualms about taking a quick break and paying a visit to the nearest bush, but things were different now. Time was of the essence, for one thing; but much more urgent was the abundance of monsters. She’d be vulnerable if she stopped to empty herself.

 

Of course, if a monster attacked them, she had a feeling she’d wind up in need of new underwear anyway. Alma didn’t often get the crap literally scared out of her- not like Hazel or Donny- but more than once she’d been attacked while she needed to go, and ended the fight with wet streaks down her legs, or a mess on her rear end.

 

She recalled how, a few years ago, she’d been on a hunt with Donny, and had forgotten to relieve herself beforehand. Much like her current situation, she found herself bursting. As she excused herself, a bear, rabid and crazed, charged at her. As she fought it, she had no attention left to give to her bowels and bladder, and unconsciously filled and drenched her pants. Donny teased her about it, so she later placed the body of a monster they slew inside his tent, causing him to fall backwards and soil his trousers when he opened it.

 

This memory is not helping to take my mind off of this, She thought, almost sternly, to herself. She decided to busy her mind by simply studying her surroundings. The forest around them had abandoned all pretense of being a regular forest. Jagged, twisted branches sprouted from black trees, their leaves a muted and dull green. Gray clouds loomed overhead, letting in just enough light to cast creeping shadows and turn the unsettling forestry into nightmares. She turned and looked at her traveling companions. Eliza, as expected, looked straight ahead, with a facial expression that would make one think she had no interest in what she was doing. Hazel quietly and nervously looked around, keeping an eye out for monsters. The poor thing had been surprised too much on this trip. Alma noticed with some pity that the two of them were both beginning to sweat, and Hazel was breathing harder than normal. Neither of them were used to lugging around so much stuff, and the exertion was getting to them. Alma smirked, for she had barely even noticed the extra baggage.

 

An angry gurgle from her abdomen informed her that her efforts to distract herself from her needs were doomed to failure.

 

“What’s that?” Hazel asked, her excitement slightly masked by her exhaustion.

 

Looking where Hazel pointed, Alma and Eliza beheld a large inn nestled between the trees. They exchanged confused looks, but hurried towards it. Hazel and Eliza needed a place to rest, and Alma rather desperately needed an outhouse. The outside of the building was fairly well-maintained, with only slight signs of wear. From inside, the clatter of dishes and utensils was audible, even among the much more audible sounds of merriment and festivity. Warm, orange light streamed from the windows.

 

The place could hardly have looked more inviting. And that worried Alma. The party arrived at the threshold of the door. Hazel’s mouth was practically watering at the prospect of entering. Eliza’s face had shifted to one of uncharacteristic confusion. Honestly, more akin to downright befuddlement.

 

“When did… How...” Eliza struggled to even formulate her questions.

 

“Eliza,” Alma asked in a serious tone, “Is this structure strange to you? Should it not be here?”

 

“I...” She paused, and looked over the exterior of the strange building, “am uncertain,”

 

“Then perhaps we should-” The door of the inn swung inwards, revealing a stocky woman in a barmaid’s outfit. She had fiery red hair that curled around her head. She had a friendly face, and wore a smile just as warm as the inside of the tavern.

 

“I thought I heard someone outside the door!” the barmaid’s voice was loud and friendly. Seeing the surprise written on all three of their faces, the barmaid chuckled, “Been a long trip, huh? This place is paradise to anyone who’s been traveling to Arnwick,” She turned to the crowd of people inside, and shouted “Ain’t that right, boys?!”. In a thunderous chorus, the large crowd of atleast thirty people cheered their agreements.

 

Exchanging looks of disbelief with Hazel, Alma finally spoke, “Sorry, we just… Weren’t expecting to find someplace like this out here,”.

 

“Neither were they!” the barmaid replied, stabbing her thumb towards the crowd, “That’s what makes this place so wonderful!”.

 

“It… does look pretty nice in there...” Hazel quietly said, giving Alma a hopeful look.

 

Alma leaned in to whisper in Eliza’s ear, “Tell me if you see anything out of the ordinary,”. The witch nodded in reply.

 

The group entered the building, Hazel much more happily than the others. They were greeting enthusiastically by dozens of people- men and women, most of them looking as though they had as rough a time getting here as they, themselves had. With a curt smile and quick wave, Alma’s greeting was done. Hazel simply blushed and averted her eyes. Eliza, however, looked as though she had just beheld the most horrifying monster imaginable: a crowd of people, all looking at you.

 

Eliza was frozen, stiff as a board. Picking up on her distress, Alma grabbed Eliza’s wrist, and made her wave at everyone. It seemed to be enough for the crowd, who laughed it off, then resumed their festivities. Everyone’s eyes off of her, Eliza released the breath she’d been holding. The bags under her eyes had more than doubled.

 

“You okay?” Alma asked, putting a hand on the woman's shoulder.

 

Slowly, Eliza’s eyes focused on Alma, and she gave a quick nod as her answer.

 

“If you say so,” Alma didn’t want to press the situation any further.

 

After a minute of searching, the party found an open table, and settled in. Hazel sat herself right next to Alma, while Eliza sat across from them. They were fortunate to have found a table near a wall, away from the bulk of the celebrants. Eliza was very careful to sit facing away from the crowd. Alma could see that the poor woman had gone pale, and beads of sweat dotted her forehead.

 

“Not a fan of parties, I take it?” Alma asked, trying to ease the tension.

 

“N-not-” Eliza’s voice was squeaky and very weak, and she cleared her throat, “Not as such, no,”.

 

Before the conversation could proceed any further, the barmaid approached their table, and placed three mugs of cold ale in front of them. “On the house!” She said with cheer.

 

“Oh, thank-” Hazel stammered out a reply, but was interrupted when some in the tavern began to shout.

 

“Oi, Isabel! Need more drinks over here!”

 

“You got it!” The barmaid, apparently named Isabel shouted back. She walked away without a second’s hesitation.

 

Hazel reached for her drink, but Alma swiftly slapped her hand away. When Hazel looked at her in confusion, Alma simply shook her head.

 

“They could have put anything in there,” Eliza answered.

 

“Don’t you two think you’re being a little paranoid?” Hazel asked with a skeptical look.

 

“Absolutely,” Alma’s voice was dead serious, and she affixed Hazel with an unblinking glare, “It’s how you stay alive, Hazel,”.

 

“Here,” Eliza retrieved a thin, straight object from her coat pocket. Dipping it into Hazel’s drink, she pulled it out, and turned it over, scouting for irregularities. “The drink is safe,” she finally said.

 

“See?” Hazel lifted the cup, and took a quick gulp. She shuddered as the taste of alcohol fully registered.

 

Hesitantly, Alma listed the cup to her lips, and took a small drink. Both of them looked expectantly at Alma, but she just pushed the cup away.

 

A loud crash caught the party’s attention, and they looked to a nearby table to see that a young woman had passed out. “I think this one’s had a bit too much!” one her friends yelled as he laughed, clearly having had a bit too much, himself. The woman was lying flat on her back with a blissful expression on her face. Alma had a clear view as her groin was quickly saturated in urine. The wet patch grew along with a puddle underneath her.

 

Seeing someone ruin their pants reminded Alma of how close she was to doing the same. Moreover, seeing someone piss themselves made her realize her bladder was now full, as well. She crossed her legs in order to hold it. She was honestly more worried using the bathroom here than she would have been in a bush in the forest.

 

The sound of an empty mug hitting the table drew Alma’s interest. Hazel had already downed her entire drink. She was now eyeing Alma’s untouched beverage. Hazel wasn’t the drunken-partygoer type, and the look in her eyes wasn’t so much lust for the drink, but closer to desperation. Alma understood suddenly: Hazel had just seen her life’s work go up in flames shortly before seeing her friend get mauled by a giant monster. It was understandable that she’d want something to help her forget. With a sigh, Alma slid her mug over to her friend, who greedily scooped it up and started drinking.

 

Just seeing Hazel gulp down the ale made Alma’s bladder ache. She motioned for Eliza to lean forward, then spoke in a hushed voice “I’m going to go look around this place,” Careful not to draw attention to the act, she slid one of her silver daggers across the table to the witch, “If anything happens, you scream for me, and I’ll be here,”.

 

“Understood,” Was all Eliza had to say.

 

Alma stood, and navigated her way through the jubilant crowd. Eventually, she happened upon a hallway that seemed to be empty. There were only a few doors, and most of them contained nothing of interest. At the end of the hallway, however, was a door to the basement. If there was a place to keep a dark and disturbing secret, it would be the basement. Ensuring that no one was watching her, she stealthily slipped in.

 

The basement was dark, and the air was stale. Keeping one hand on her dagger, Alma began looking around. Something felt off, though. She had a peculiar feeling, one that made her hairs stand on end. As her paranoia intensified, Alma realized what the feeling was: she was being watched. She was certain of it.

 

Her head whipped around, looking for any sign of another person, but she was well and truly alone in the room. She knew this place felt off. More than likely, whatever watched her was demonic in nature, and she had no earthly idea what it could be. An icy coldness filled her chest, slowly spilling out to the rest of her body. It was an emotion she was well-acquainted with, but so rarely felt so strongly: fear.

 

“Got tired of the party?”

 

The voice nearly made Alma jump out of her own skin. She whirled around to see Isabel, who was still giving a friendly smile. Alma felt a heat welling up around her womanhood, and clenched herself as hard as she could when she realized she’d just pissed in her panties. She didn’t think any of it leaked through to her pants, but at least several inches of her underwear were now wet with urine.

 

On the bright side, her near loss of control gave her an idea for an excuse, “Sorry, I was looking for the restroom,”.

 

“Heh heh, You’d better hope I don’t catch you making a puddle in my basement,” Isabel laughed. She was smiling. She was laughing and joking.

 

So why did she seem so sinister?

 

“Well, I should really return to my friends...” Alma walked past the barmaid, until Isabel grabbed hold of her wrist. As soon as she did so, the door to the basement swung shut, blocking off her only avenue of escape. Alma was right: this place was demonic.

 

Wasting no time at all, Alma drew her silver knife, and lashed out at Isabel, aiming for her throat. A look of surprise was plain on her face as she lifted her thick arm to block it. The knife’s blade bit into Isabel’s arm. As Alma expected, a sizzling sound like burning meat filled the air as the silver parted her flesh. Isabel was possessed.

 

“AAAAAHHHHH!!” She howled, grabbing at her wound. She looked up at Alma with hate-filled eyes.

 

She would find no mercy in the monster hunter, who struck out once more. The barmaid’s eyes widened as the dagger flew towards her face. She tried to pull back, but was too slow, and the knife left a two-inch long gash on her cheek. It, too, sizzled and crackled with holy scorn.

 

In a flurry of rage, Isabel began swinging her powerful arms, trying her damnedest to land a punch on Alma. She swung the knife once again, but this time, Isabel had learned her lesson. She jumped back, giving Alma to opening she needed. Drawing her crossbow, she aimed for Isabel’s chest, and fired. The woman’s eyes lit up with fear, and she covered her chest with her arms, allowing the bolt to sink in to her right forearm.

 

She fell to her knees in agony, suppressing screams. Alma ran forwards to deal the final blow. As she drew near, Isabel launched herself at the monster hunter with inhuman speed and strength, slamming her mighty shoulder into Alma’s chest. She stumbled backwards, her chest aching, until she fell backwards.

 

“The darkness is my domain, hunter,” Isabel said, her voice augmented by demonic powers, “Allow me to welcome you to it,”. She grabbed hold of the room’s only lantern, and, with a quick breath, extinguished its flame. Alma’s eyes widened as the room, and her opponent, were bathed in impenetrable darkness.

 

Pulling herself to her feet, she clutched her dagger tightly, and prepared for the demon’s assault. She felt unsteady, and she noticed that her legs were shaking.

 

Fear.

 

Her heart was beating so fast, she could hardly hear anything. Something toppled over to her right, and she turned in the direction of the noise, but then something was smashed to her left, drawing her attention. She pivoted back and forth, trying so hard to make out any shapes in the darkness. Her effort was for naught, though, as she felt something of titanic strength grab hold of her right arm. She could not see what manner of demon she faced, but it was a very strong one.

 

As she struggled to pull her arm free, a loud CRACK sounded in the dark room. A second later, the sound of her dagger clattering to the floor was audible. And another second later, the pain of a broken arm was apparent. Alma made a choking gasp as pain seized her. With hardly a flick of its wrist, the demon threw Alma against the wall, and she slid down, until she sat on her rear, her back leaning against it.

 

She looked up, into the endless abyss around her, and she felt numb with terror. She could hear running water, and she knew instantly that her bladder had just failed her. The hot liquid soaked her crotch, and she felt it wetting the fabric of her pants under her ass, as well. Her left hand, which she still had feeling in, rested on the ground near her, and she could feel the warm urine spread to her fingertips as the puddle expanded in all direction underneath her.

 

“I did say you’d better hope I don’t catch you making a puddle down here...” The demon mocked her.

 

An unfortunately familiar hand gripped Alma by the throat, and effortlessly lifted her into the air. It began crushing her throat. Alma felt tears flowing down her cheeks. Her mind raced like never before. Everything seemed to move so slowly as she struggled to think of something, anything that could save her.

 

More and more of her body was failing her as her damage grew more severe. Some unladylike noises filled the room, and were followed by a very loud squelching sound as she emptied her bowels into her pants and panties. All of what she’d been holding in spilled into her clothes. It was only semi-solid, and a very large bulge formed on her ass. Her panties reached their limit, and much of the mess escaped them, and the lumpy bulge now ran halfway down her thighs, too. She could feel liquid waste running down the back of her legs, as well as whatever urine was still left in her body rewarming her groin. Failing to think of anything that could save her, Alma resorted to simple struggling. She punched and kicked at the powerful arm that held her. She did her best to ignore the squishing of her mess as her legs thrashed about.

 

Suddenly, an idea struck her. With her good arm, she reached behind her, and drew one of her silver crossbow bolts. Using it like a dagger, she began rapidly stabbing the arm that held her, until the pain overwhelmed the demon, and it released her as it howled in pain. Alma landed in the puddle of her own urine. Moreover, she landed on her rear, flattening the bulge in her pants. As this point, there was hardly an inch of her backside that wasn’t soiled.

 

But the state of her pants was far from the most pressing issue right now. She was outmatched as long as she was in here. If she could see, then she stood a chance, but as things were, Alma was little more than demon food. She had to get out of this room, back into the light. If Eliza and Hazel were there, she knew the three of them could defeat this demon. As she fumbled around for the stairs, she felt some shame that she was running back to her much younger, much weaker friends for help. She was especially unhappy about the fact that, upon her return, her loss of control would be seen not just by her friends, but by the thirty-something people in the tavern. Swallowing her pride, she finally located the stairs. Behind her, the demon stirred, no doubt preparing to attack her once more. She ran up the stairs, as fast as her legs would carry her. Swinging the door open, she emerged into the light.

 

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<Several Minutes Ago...>

 

Eliza watched as Alma pushed through the crowd of people. It was good that Alma had not asked her to do it, as Eliza would sooner die than interact with so many people. She turned the dagger over in her hand, wondering if she might need to use it, tonight. Her interactions with other humans were so rare, she had never really been able to acquire silver equipment. She lamented at how much easier her life would have been if she’d had this little knife a few years ago. So many monster encounters would have been easier. So many pairs of pants could have gone un-soiled.

 

Eliza looked over at Hazel, who had now gulped down every drink on the table. Her face was flush, and she had the carefree expression Eliza knew to associate with inebriation. She was somewhat surprised. Sure, Hazel had drunk quite a bit, but for it to hit so hard, so fast was unusual. She must be a lightweight, thought Eliza.

 

Realizing Hazel’s state made her suddenly conscious of her own. She found herself wobbling about, even though she was sitting, and had only had a small drink from her cup. She was certain this was abnormal. For just a moment, her vision blurred as she teetered, and a thought struck her. Trying to keep from looking too panicked, Eliza turned around, and looked to the various tables around them.

 

No, no, no, no, no, She was thinking, methodically surveying every table. After she had seen all that weren’t obscured by the crowd, she concluded: there was no salt, nor any silver cutlery. Either object would have kept monsters at bay, even killed some of the lesser ones if they touched it, and yet this establishment had none. In the middle of a monster-infested forest.

 

She slowly turned back to look at Hazel, who was slumped over onto the table, unmoving. The cacophony of sound around her seemed to go out completely. A pit formed in her stomach as fear and anxiety took root. This is the house of a demon, She concluded. She hoped very dearly that the beast was not aware that she had seen through its trick.

 

“Hazel?” She asked, slowly, and with rising worry.

 

But the woman did not move. Eliza took a deep breath to quell the near-hysteria inside herself. She took Hazel’s hand in her own, and felt for a pulse. She was relieved when she felt it. Hazel was not dead- not yet. Perhaps the demon thought to put all of them to sleep, then claim their souls as they were passed out. Greater demons were known for their trickery.

 

She clutched the silver knife so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Alma couldn’t return soon enough. If, indeed, she would return at all. The thought caused her breathing to quicken. Both she and Hazel were nearly killed by a lesser wolf demon, but a cunning greater demon would make a mockery out of both of them.

 

Eliza’s shoulders slumped, and she felt fatigue tug at her. Whatever was in her drink was taking its toll. She had to think, and fast. An idea came to her, and without hesitation, she stabbed the silver blade into the table, and began carving. Making twists and turns, the etching was finally completed, and a holy symbol now rested upon the table. Such markings carry the power of the heavens, and deter weaker monsters. She would need more. Making another cut, she created a second symbol. Then a third. Then a fourth. The minutes blurred together as she converted their table into a sanctuary.

 

Now came the last, and most miserable step. She looked at the palm of her left hand, and raised the knife. This was a trick she’d only theorized would work, and she’d hoped never to have to repeat it. She took a deep breath and held it, then stabbed the tip of the knife into her hand, making the same twists and turns. The pain was searing, and she felt tears welling in her eyes, but after a moment, it was done. A holy symbol- carved by silver, no less- was now part of her body. She sobbed lightly a couple of times, trying to ignore the pain.

 

Eliza’s preparations were interrupted by a loud thud from the basement. She was surprised she could hear it through the festivities. Until she realized that the room had gone completely silent, and perhaps had been for a few minutes, now. Her heart beat so loudly she wondered if everyone around her could hear it. As she turned to look at the crowd, the first thing to enter her vision was a greenish-blue light. She turned further to confirm her suspicions. The crowd had shorn their disguises, and revealed their ghostly forms. She stood from her seat in alarm. An entire horde of spectres was slowly surrounding Eliza and Hazel. Each and every one of them stared right into her soul with murderous intent.

 

Eliza felt numb, and looked down when she heard the splashing of water. She had urinated a little- enough to create a short stream from under her skirt. The liquid’s impact with the floor caused a splash, and some of the piss droplets landed on her legs. After realizing her loss of control, she also noted the presence of a few drops of her urine slowly sliding down her thighs.

 

They wanted to kill her. They wanted so desperately to kill both Eliza and Hazel, and yet none of the approached her. Eliza wasn’t particularly religious, but even she thanked God that her plan with the symbols worked. She had bought them time. Quite a bit of it. Eliza pulled out every last bottle, conister, satchel, and stray ingredient she had on herself, desperately searching for ideas about what to do. She could most certainly make a firebomb, but she couldn’t be certain they’d be able to escape. Not to mention that the fires could trap Alma inside. Hazel shuffled slightly in her sleep, and gave Eliza an idea.

 

Grabbing everything she’d need, Eliza swiftly began concocting a potion of awakening. One of the spirits gave off a ghostly screech as it hurled itself towards the pair. Eliza whipped around in sudden fright, her tired face pale and eyes wide. The spirit dissolved in mid-air just before it reached them. Eliza let go of the breath she was holding- the holy symbols worked. As long as the greater demon didn’t attack them, they were fine. Her relief was short-lived, though, when she detected her body had attempted a different kind of relief. More warm streams slowly wound down her slender legs. She had only released a little bit of urine, and she could feel there was much more just waiting to escape.

 

After a moment, the potion was done. She pulled Hazel onto the table, opened her mouth, and poured the mixture in. Unlike the one she made for Alma, this potion wouldn’t have to battle with oranzelg venom, and should wake up the woman in only a moment. She also took a small drink from the mixture, herself. Almost immediately, she felt the life return to her, and the drowsiness wear off. With Hazel’s treatment completed, Eliza was wracking her brain trying to think of what to do next. She found most of her thoughts kept returning to almost praying that Alma would return soon.

 

What am I doing?! She thought, ashamed of herself, I am a witch! I will find a way out of this.

 

She perused her ingredients once more, going through a mental checklist of possible concoctions. Hazel shuddered suddenly, as the awakening potion spurred her to life. Looking at Hazel, Eliza suddenly knew what to do. With renewed vigor, she gathered ingredient after ingredient, and began mixing.

 

Minutes later, she heard the sound of a door slamming against a wall. Looking toward its source, Eliza saw Alma emerge from the back hallway. A large wet stain covered the front of the monster hunter’s pants. Eliza saw the hunter’s right arm dangling limply, and she felt she knew what prompted her accident.

 

Of greater import, however, was the fact that all the ghosts now gazed at the unprotected and injured Alma. The hunter was already breathing heavily, already exhausted, and she seemed to be low on hope. Seeing the blue-green tide of malevolent spirits appeared to suck the little drive she had left right out of her. She fell to her knees, and the spirits started to close in.

 

Swearing silently, Eliza looked to the mark on her hand, and prayed she was right about its effectiveness. Clutching the dagger tightly, she stood on shaky legs, and walked out of the safety of her impromptu sanctuary. A few spirits immediately charged towards her, sending a chill down her spine. As they drew near, she held her palm out to them, and they screeched as the holy symbol prevented their approach. Of course my plan worked, she thought to herself, trying to ignore the new droplets of piss falling between her legs.

 

Walking as fast as her frayed nerves would allow, she waded into the sea of ghosts. They all screamed and wailed as they parted to let her through. Funny thing is, Eliza found this preferable to walking through a crowd of living people.

 

After what seemed like hours of walking, she finally reached Alma, who was nearly in the fetal position. As the witch drew nearer, she smelled a horrible odor about the woman, and realized she’d done quite a bit more than simply wet herself. She couldn’t help but notice that rather enormous bulge in the back of her trousers. Eliza shuddered. She didn’t know much about Alma’s constitution, but surely anything that could reduce her to this must be a force to be reckoned with.

 

Extending her marked hand, she grabbed the hunter by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. Alma looked up at her in complete disbelief. She couldn’t believe that she was being rescued. She had already accepted that she was going to die. Ghosts had a way of doing that. Of draining your hope and courage.

 

“Alma!” Eliza shouted, in her usual monotone, “Snap out of it! We need you!”.

 

Alma simply stared, not comprehending. So Eliza delivered a mighty slap to Alma’s face. She blinked rapidly, then she looked around, taking in the situation. “Hazel!!” She yelled as she spotted her friend. She started to run towards her, but Eliza grabbed her arm to slow her down. Using the mark on her hand, she once again cut through the swarm of spirits, until they arrived at the marked table.

 

Alma looked in confusion at the strange mixture Eliza was making. Eliza then held out her hand, simply saying “Bolt,”.

 

“What?”

 

“Bolt. Crossbow bolt. They’re silver, right?” Eliza didn’t even take her eyes off of her work.

 

Alma foraged in her pack for a second before finding some of her spare bolts. Fortunately, they hadn’t been lost in the fight, “Yes, it’s silver,” she said as she handed one to the witch.

 

Using the silver bolt, she stirred the mixture, then just dropped the bolt right into it. After a few seconds, it transitioned from a deep blue to a milky white. With no hesitation, Eliza lifted the concoction up, and poured it into Hazel’s mouth, making sure to keep the bolt from falling in, as well.

 

“What is that, what are you giving her?”

 

“It’s-” Eliza began, but stopped when the room seemed to grow extremely cold. The greater demon was here. She leaned in to Alma’s ear, and quietly whispered what she had done to her.

 

“Are… Are you sure-” Doubt was written plainly across Alma’s face.

 

“Of course I’m sure,” She hastily threw her belongings back into her satchel, “Now come on, we have to-” She stopped talking as she looked over and saw the greater demon approaching.

 

It was a terrifying creature. Pale, purple skin was stretched over an emaciated, elongated humanoid body. All along its unholy skin, faces sat, their features writhing endlessly. What she could only assume to be the primary face out of the many on its head affixed a cruel sadistic glare on them.

 

Eliza swore her heart stopped beating as it walked towards them. She stumbled backwards, bumping into Alma, who caught her before she could fall. In its state of terrified confusion, her body’s first act was to spray urine down her legs. Her cold and damp panties turned hot once more, and a thick stream fell between her legs, splattering onto the wood floor. She could feel sheaths of warm liquid sliding down her thighs, as well.

 

“Alma,” Eliza said, her voice quiet, “Now.”

 

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Hazel opened her eyes, and nothing but blurry smudges and a headache greeted her. That and… a strange, inexplicable feeling that she could not describe. Sitting up, she found that she was lying on a table. Next, she realized that she was alone. Shaking her head a little, Hazel looked around, and finally saw the army of ghosts and the twisted greater demon approaching her.

 

She shot up to her feet, and tried to run, but stumbled and had to brace herself against a wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eliza and Alma.

 

Leaving the building.

 

She was confused at first, then heartbroken as she realized they had abandoned her. Tears began to flow down her face. The whispers of the ghosts grew closer and closer as she flattened herself against the wall.

 

With no resistance, her bladder emptied itself into her green trousers. The fabric around her womanhood swiftly darkened, and twin stains grew and grew, the urine surging downwards. The wetness reached her ankles, and there some flowed into her shoes, filling them up; some flowed over the side, puddling on the floor below her. Similarly with no resistance, she voided her bowels- as easily as if she were using the restroom. With a light crackle, her pants and panties tented out. Her mess collapsed on itself, making way for even more. After a short moment, she could feel her warm and sticky waste pressing up against her bottom, the hug of her panties completely replaced by her fear-driven release.

 

“Looks like your friends decided they were better off without you,” The greater demon spoke, its voice echoing, “Don’t worry, they won’t make it much farther,”. The monster reached out its hand towards her face, “And you’ll always have a place in my little family,”.

 

Still weeping, Hazel shut her eyes against the horror that stood before her. The hand reached her forehead, and she felt this horrible draining feeling, almost as if she was being pulled away, yet not moving. And then, there was screaming, but it was not her’s.

 

A horrible eldritch howl filled the building, nearly rupturing her ears. She opened her eyes, and saw the greater demon’s hand melting away where it had touched her. Little cracks and fissures appeared all over its body, before they evolved into horrifically deep lacerations. After several gut wrenching moments, the beast finally perished, and all of its physical form simply boiled away. Following after their former master, all the trapped spirits lingered for only a moment before passing on.

 

Hazel had no idea what to think. She glanced down at her hands, wondering if she had somehow just caused that to happen. Taking a worried step forward, Hazel swiveled her head around to make sure there were no more surprises, but the whole building was empty, now. Taking a few more steps, she scrunched her face as she felt her wet and full panties cling to her.

 

Then the door flew open, and Alma charged inside. She gave Hazel a very quick one-armed hug, then immediately began checking her for injuries.

 

“W-what just...”

 

“It was Eliza’s plan,” Alma answered.

 

“I made you drink a mixture. Normally those ingredients are used to consecrate things against the unholy, so I made you imbibe it. When it tried to pull your soul out, it learned that I, more-or-less, consecrated you,”.

 

“Y-you could have told me!” Hazel shouted, looking at the both of them.

 

“Hazy, please, there was no time, we had to run, and-”

 

“It had to look genuine” Eliza finished.

 

“It was genuine.” Hazel said firmly, “I… I thought you two had actually...”

 

“Hazy, we would never do something like that,” Alma assured her, looking into her eyes.

 

“Let’s… let’s just go...” Hazel said after a pause. A lot had happened, today, and there were a lot of fingers to point. She wanted to change her pants before they got to any of it.

 

Silently, the group retrieved all of their belonging, and exited the cursed tavern.

Edited by DsGSilver (see edit history)
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12 hours ago, JLH99 said:

Great chapter, but I have just one question. How can a ghost wet itself?

Monsters wetting themselves is an important part of fear accidents scenarios! It has to go both ways!

Anyway, excellent job as usual. I don't think I have that much to comment on this time, other than being annoyed I was teased with a redhead that didn't even have an accident and ended up being a demon D=<

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  • 3 months later...

Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present the first chapter of Journey to Arnwick to be released in 2018... Nearly five months in. Sorry about the slowness.

But this chapter was a lot of fun to write, and I hope its a fun read, as well. A new major character gets a lengthy introduction. And, fair warning, there's a few very brief male wetting/messing scenes. I'm kind of testing the waters to see if people will be too upset by it, or not mind that much. Feel free to voice your opinion on whether or not you'd mind there being male scenes in future chapters.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy.

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A harsh sound, almost like the cracking of a whip, accompanied the crossbow bolt as it soared away from the weapon that bore it. Through the cool, night air it flew, before it sailed passed a hastily-constructed target, and buried itself into the bark of a tree.

 

“Damn...” Hazel muttered dejectedly under her breath.

 

“Imagine where the bolt is going to fly, not where you want it to fly,” Alma instructed. The monster hunter’s right arm rested in a makeshift sling after their encounter with the demon in the tavern. That had been a few days ago, and it was going to take many more until Alma could actually wield her favorite weapon again. In the interim, Alma had been teaching Hazel how to use it, in the almost inevitable event that they are attacked once again. Her training had begun yesterday, and continued in the early morning and late night, whenever the group was camped. And she was bad at shooting. Very bad. Alma was doing her best to tutor her, and insisted that she would come to learn how to use the crossbow with some practice.

 

But she wasn’t learning it. She missed most of her shots. Her arms were sore from holding the heavy weapon, and her hands ached terribly from constantly having to reload it and pull the tight string back. Hazel turned to Alma, intent on saying as much, but didn’t get a word out before Alma’s encouraging smile and a hint of pride in her eyes made her keep her thoughts to herself. Alma thinks I can… She thought, And Alma wouldn’t be wrong about something like that. I will make her proud.

 

Ignoring the cramps in her fingers, she tugged the string back, and fitted a bolt inside the weapon. She took aim at the target. She took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled as Alma had advised her to. Another harsh sound shattered the silence, and the bolt was let loose. Flying through the air, it pierced into the target, landing roughly halfway between the center and the outer edge.

 

Hazel felt a smile creep onto her face. She couldn’t help but feel happy on the rare occasions when she actually landed the shot. A rough-but-friendly pat on the back from Alma indicated she felt the same.

 

“There you go, Hazy!” Alma was almost beaming.

 

“Thanks, but...” Hazel began, but trailed off.

 

“‘But...’?”

 

“Well, I know this training is for emergencies, but I can’t help but feel that...” She paused for a moment, “Well, that if there is an emergency, I’m just going to wet myself and be too frightened to use it...”

 

Alma seemed to consider this for a moment, then said, “Let me tell you a story,” she gestured towards their campfire, and the two sat down near it, basking in its warmth. “On one of my first official hunts with Donny, when he was maybe nineteen,” she began, gazing into the flames as she spoke, “we took up a contract to exterminate some ghouls that had overrun a lumber mill and some neighboring cottages. Very basic stuff, childsplay, honestly,” it still impressed Hazel that Alma honestly considered slaying ghouls to be easy work, “so we set out, and before long, it became pretty clear that there was, indeed, a ghoul infestation. The wildlife had all fled the area, the plants were suffering, and the air reeked. Now, this was one of Donny’s first hunts ever, and most certainly his first encounter with undead ever. Long before we even saw any of them, he was pale and shivering a bit. I tried to ease his nerves, told him how easy prey that ghouls were, and that worked a little,” she chuckled lightly as she reminisced, “Well, he got scared again very soon. The moment the fighting started, and he actually got face-to-face with one, all the color and life just drained out of him… and down his legs,”

 

“He wet himself?” Hazel asked, beginning to see the point of Alma’s story.

 

“To say he ‘wet himself’ is pretty forgiving. The poor thing sent half a lake’s worth of piss down his legs. And it goes without saying what he did to the seat of his trousers,” Alma chuckled again, and Hazel joined her. “But, do you know what happened?” Alma asked, and Hazel shook her head, “Once we’d cleared out the undead, we did a quick search of the area before deciding that we had killed all of them. We had not. As I sheathed my daggers and slung my crossbow over my shoulder, a crawler ghoul-” Alma noted Hazel’s look of confusion, “- a very fast and agile type of ghoul that likes to crawl on all fours- snuck up behind me. It jumped from a rooftop, and slammed into me as my back was turned, bringing me to the ground. It started howling and clawing into my back while I was trying to shake it off. I was struggling as much as I could, but it was hardly any use. And then, with no hesitation whatsoever, Donny sprints over- piss still dripping off his legs- and shoots the thing in the chest. While it’s screaming in pain, he keeps coming, and starts bashing it with the bluntest parts of his crossbow, until it stops moving. I pick myself up off the ground, and help him finish it.” She mimicked the act of stabbing with her good arm.

 

“Now…” She continued, “I had neglected to tell Donny one reason I was so relieved that the day’s hunt would be easy and quick,” She put on a slightly embarassed smile, “I needed to empty my bowels, somewhat urgently, and was hoping to do so after the hunt had ended. Once the crawler was dead, I quickly noticed how little I needed the privy anymore, and how heavy my trousers had suddenly become.”

 

“I think I see what you’re trying to tell me, but, well, I’ve already seen it, Alma.” Hazel averted her eyes as she explained, “you’ve already both wet and soiled yourself in front of me. I understand that it happens to everyone, but-”

 

“That’s not the point of my story at all,” Alma interrupted.

 

“It isn’t?”

 

“No, Hazy. My point was that Donny, so scared he pissed and shit in his own pants, put his fear aside and charged into battle with the courage of a hundred men the moment he knew that he needed to. He and I have seen each other in dire need of a change of pants or underwear hundreds of times, but we always came to the other’s rescue, no matter how terrified we are. We did this because we knew it was the right thing to do. Being brave isn’t acting without fear, Hazy. It’s acting in spite of it,” Alma reached her hand out and patted Hazel on the back once again, “and I know that you’re very brave, even if you don’t,”.

 

Hazel looked up at her, unsure of what to say.

 

“And that’s why the crossbow training isn’t going to stop until you’re a master. Whenever you do turn brave, I won’t have you dying just because I didn’t teach you to use the damn thing,”.

 

“Okay, Alma,” Was all she could think to say, but, in all honesty, it was all that needed to be said, as she looked into her friend’s eyes with gratitude.

 

They stood back up, Hazel with crossbow in hand, and resumed training.

 

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A young lady crouched in the bushes, quietly observing the two women. One of them appeared to have a broken arm, and the other could barely lift her crossbow. These two hardly looked like the “great warriors” she was meant to be looking for. She looked a bit more closely at the two, and even through the taller woman’s thick jacket, it was immediately evident that her physicality was impressive. As the tall woman seemed to be coaching the smaller one in the use of a crossbow, she guessed that the tall woman’s broken arm meant she had to relegate the duty of protection to someone.

 

One of them glanced in her direction, and she felt her heart skip a beat as she feared she may have been spotted. She quickly assessed herself, to see if there was any part of her that would be immediately visible. Her brown skirt covered her legs down to her ankles, and fit in well with the environment around them. Her white blouse certainly wasn’t blending in, but she was obscured enough by the foliage that it shouldn’t have mattered. It helped that she was not exactly a large person. She was only freshly nineteen years old, and even then, short for her age. Even so, anxiety began to get the better of her, and she realized that her light skin and blonde, fluffy hair were not exactly conducive to stealth.

 

A million sentiments of worry played through her mind as she wondered what they might do to her if they caught her. She knew nothing about these people, and worried that they could be dangerous.

 

Whether or not one of them may have suspected her presence, they both resumed their training, and seemed to forget about whatever it was that caught their attention. The hidden woman breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and felt her body gradually stop shivering. She hadn’t even realized she was shaking.

 

Very slowly, very quietly, she retreated further into the bush, preparing to head back. Whether or not they’re the ones we’re looking for, I should still tell-

 

Her thoughts were interrupted as she turned around and came face to face with a young woman in orange dress, almost bumping into her. The woman in orange looked at her with tired, inquisitive eyes. The woman couldn’t help but scream in shock, no matter how fervently she tried to suppress the sound. She stumbled backwards, until she tripped and fell, landing on her rear.

 

At the sudden commotion the other women had stopped their training, and were now walking towards them. The woman in orange stepped closer, then spoke, “Who are you, and why are you watching us?”

 

As the other two women closed the distance between them, the she noticed with dismay that they moved to encircle her. She was surrounded. She shook her head slightly, then forced herself to rise to her feet, determined to stand tall in the face of danger. Staring the woman in orange in the eyes, she answered “M-m-my name is E-emily...” Hearing the fear in her own voice caused her confidence to weaken.

 

Emily peered at the other two women from the corners of her eyes. The one with a broken arm had drawn a silvery dagger in her still-functioning left hand. The other was loading the crossbow, which was pointed at Emily. The one in the orange dress took another step forward, then spoke “And why were you watching us? What are you doing here?” Beyond being merely inquisitorial, the woman’s voice was cold, suspicious, and mean.

 

The questions were also almost perfectly synchronized with the rattling of a crossbow that had just been loaded and armed. The gravity of her situation was already crushing her; it was difficult to breathe normally; her heart felt ready to erupt out of her chest; and the harsh sound of the weapon being readied became the straw that broke the camel’s back.

 

Between Emily’s legs, her gray panties began to darken as bodily control faltered, and her bladder began to release. The hot stain grew from her womanhood, slowly spreading to encompass her entire groin, before she could feel the shameful heat beginning to spread to her backside. Emily blushed fiercely, knowing that she had begun pissing herself. Try as she might, she was unable to stop her release, only slow it. Two thin trails of hot urine trickled down her thighs, past her knees, and arrived at her feet, where they began pooling into the dirt.

 

Having slowed her urination, it was subtle enough that the women surrounding her might not even realize that she was wetting herself. Nonetheless, she was all too aware of what she’d done under her skirt, and she burned with shame about it. Though it felt like an eternity must have passed since she started to wet herself, it had only been a few seconds, and, after mentally collecting herself, she answered the woman’s questions, “I was w-watching you, because...” She paused to ponder just how much she should divulge to them, “M-my town is being attacked, and a witch hunter who’s protecting us said that some ‘great warriors’ should arrive soon. I was hoping to find them...” She was proud of herself for maintaining her composure while speaking, even though she could still feel the last of her piss trailing down her thighs.

 

The three women stopped to consider her words, until finally, the one with a broken arm said “Emily, is your village close by?”

 

“Y-yes,” Emily replied, “Just a few hours to the north,”

 

“And Emily?” The broken-armed woman continued. “May I see your hand, please?”

 

Confused, but not wishing to antagonize any of them, Emily complied, and slowly lifted her arm up, facing the palm to the woman. She stepped closer, then, with incredible speed, pricked Emily’s hand with her dagger. Emily shrieked in surprise and pain, and withdrew her hand, clutching it in pain. After a few seconds, she looked at the wound, and was relieved to see that it was little more than a deep scratch. It stung, but that was about all it would do.

 

“Sorry, Emily. The last ‘friendly’ person we met turned out to be a demon in human skin. I didn’t want a repeat of that encounter,” Seemingly satisfied with Emily’s reaction, or perhaps, lack thereof, she put her blade away, and signaled for the others to do the same with their weapons. “You can go, miss. And tell this witch hunter of yours that we’ll be along shortly,”.

 

“Y-yes ma’am,” The words came to her almost unbidden. Even with her arm in a sling, the tall, muscular woman commanded an aura of respect. Heeding her instructions, Emily turned and began to walk to the north, back to her home. Her face burned red with shame once more as she felt her shoes squishing with each step. She didn’t want to look behind her, but she was sure she had left a large puddle on the ground.

 

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Alma, Eliza, and Hazel watched Emily walk away. Hazel had noticed very quickly that they had frightened the poor woman into urinating in her clothes. It took all the willpower she had not to drop the crossbow and hug the poor thing when she noticed the little pools gathering around her feet. Though, like Alma said, their last “friendly” encounter had likely instilled each of them with some long-lasting trust issues.

 

“So, what do you think?” Alma asked, breaking the silence. She glanced back and forth, between Hazel and Eliza.

 

“Her village is on the path we have to travel, though I wonder if it would be safer and faster just to travel around it,” Eliza intoned.

 

“But she said it was being attacked” Hazel rebutted, “They might need our help,”.

 

“Hazy, we aren’t in fighting shape,” Alma said, with a grim expression on her face. Hazel hoped dearly that her friend wasn’t about to suggest they leave these people to their fate.

 

“B-but what about that witch hunter? Something about ‘great warriors’? Surely we should see what that’s about,” Hazel was desperately trying to find something that would convince the others to not ignore the village.

 

“We haven’t been very subtle. We killed a greater demon just a few nights ago. In all likelihood, this witch hunter was just hoping that whomever was responsible for that would happen upon the village,” Eliza said.

 

“Well, what luck!” Hazel half-shouted, growing exasperated, “We were responsible for it, and we have happened upon the village!”

 

“Hazy,” Alma said sternly, “I cannot fight in this state, and the two of you can hardly fight at all, we would be no help to them,”.

 

“S-sure we would!” Hazel was on the brink of tears, “Eliza could make them potions, and you and I could...” Hazel stopped when she saw Alma’s face. She had a miserable expression, and it quickly became clear to Hazel that this decision was not an easy one for Alma. “D-didn’t you just tell Emily that we’d ‘be along shortly’?”.

 

“Yes. To make her leave, while we weighed our options,”

 

“It was foolish of them to make their homes in this place,” Eliza interjected, “If they are wise, they’ll abandon their village. Even if we saved them from this crisis, a new one would arise the moment we departed,”.

 

“B-but the witch hunter!” Hazel’s eyes lit up with an idea, “Someone like that would be ideal for fighting the monster in Arnwick! A-and you said it yourself, Alma, we’re in no fighting shape. We need their help,”.

 

“Hazy...”

 

“Alma just… please...” the last word emerged as a choked sob. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving people that needed their help. Over the last several days, she had learned well what it meant to feel helpless, powerless. To come so close to death time and again. It was something Hazel wouldn’t wish on anyone.

 

Alma opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, as she looked sadly at Hazel. After a long moment, she sighed and said “All right, Hazel… We’ll go,”.

 

Hazel’s eyes widened, and she felt tears run down her cheeks. A smile came to her face, and she rushed forward to hug her friend, muttering “Thank you,” repeatedly.

 

“We’ll go to look, Hazel. We’ll decide what to do from there,” Alma’s tone made Hazel think that she had already made up her mind, and that she had decided to help out the village.

 

Eliza groaned in anger, “Your goodwill is going to get us all killed,”.

 

Their destination set, the group decided to turn in for the night. While the trip may be short, they were not likely to be in for an easy day if the goal was to save a village from destruction.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Glug

 

Glug

 

Glug

 

Tabitha let out harsh exhalation as she pulled the wine bottle from her lips. A grateful innkeeper had gifted it to her as thanks for the protection she’d offered the village. It was good. Certainly of a much higher quality than one would have expected out of such a meager village. But, in truth, Tabitha was most grateful for its potency. The intoxication was a welcome thing.

 

For four days, this village had been under siege from the living dead. For four days, Tabitha had stood at the forefront, vanquishing the fiends and protecting the innocents. And on each of those four days, as she stood, alone save for the few villagers bold enough to take up a scythe or pitchfork, she had shivered and shaken in fear. Swirling the red liquid around in its bottle, she chuckled lightly, recalling how a young girl had remarked how incredibly brave she must be, to fight such monsters, when, in reality, Tabitha had actually shit herself in terror. Even as the girl was speaking of her bravery, The seat of Tabitha’s trousers were bulging and browned. She was quite grateful that her coat hung well passed her rear, hiding her shame. Similarly, she was grateful that the undead had such a powerful odor about them, as her own odor was completely masked by it.

 

At long last, she was given something alcoholic. Something she prayed would grant her enough courage to face the undead without her body going numb. She was undecided if she felt it was comforting or not that she was far from the only one to lose control of themselves in these skirmishes. Every night, the dead attacked, and every night, most every man and woman who was courageous enough to stand by her side became paralyzed with fear at the sight of undead horde. The ones who survived almost always went home in wet and soiled clothing.

 

“Soiled clothing...” She thought, You would be hard pressed to find trousers more heavily soiled than the ones I’m wearing. Numerous accidents had left her dark green pants mildly discolored down the inner thighs. Though her long, brown leather coat hid her rear from sight, she knew the seat of her pants had turned brown. At least her boots had been spared most of the damage. A dark green doublet covered her ample chest, though with all the cuts, rips, and tears it had sustained in the fighting, Tabitha figured it wouldn’t be terribly long until the garment disintegrated off of her. She was caucasian, though much tanner than most from her time in the sun. Bright, reddish-orange hair hung perfectly straight from her head, down to her shoulders. As was tradition amongst monster, witch, and demon hunters, a wide-brimmed hat sat upon her head like a crown.

 

She looked up to the sky. It was dark. Very dark. They’d be here soon. The thought filled her with dread. She lifted the bottle up to her lips once more. Her drinking was interrupted by shouting. Setting the bottle down, Tabitha quickly patted herself down, ensuring she had all of her equipment, then sprinted towards the source of the noise.

 

“Emily!” The voice of a worried woman split the night. “Emily!” Tabitha could see her, now. A simply dressed woman was running around the village, calling for her daughter. Her face was a mask of unparalleled worry. Upon spotting Tabitha, the woman rushed towards her. She clasped her hands together, and, despite being out of breath, spoke quickly and clearly, “Madame Tabitha, please, have you seen Emily?!”

 

“Calm down,” Tabitha began.

 

“Please, just please tell me if you’ve seen her, I can’t find her anywhe-”

 

“Calm down,” She repeated, “Breathe,”.

 

“Of course, of course, I’m sorry...” The mother took a few deep breaths. “But… it’s almost time...”

 

“Emily’s a clever one,” Tabitha remembered Emily. The woman had kept her company during her days here. “I’m sure she’s safe, wherever she is,”.

 

“I know that, but… Can’t you please help me search for her?”

 

Tabitha suppressed a groan of annoyance. Since she arrived, she’d had to play mother for everyone here. While it filled her with a sense of pride and accomplishment, she was growing very tired, and with the attack about to commence, there was no way she could spare the time to help search for someone.

 

Not wanting to upset the woman even further, Tabitha spoke softly, “I’m sorry, miss, but-”

 

THEY’RE HERE,” Someone screamed.

 

Tabitha felt her body go rigid. Time was up. Emily’s mother had gone very pale. The two of them turned towards the largely ruined eastern end of the village. Sure enough, several villagers were fleeing for their lives, a nightmarish undead horde advancing behind them. Tabitha heard a splattering sound, and worried briefly that her bladder had already failed her. She pat her crotch lightly, and was satisfied to feel no wetness. Turning towards Emily’s mother, Tabitha saw that she had not been so lucky. The front of her blue skirt hosted a large, uneven wet patch that was steadily growing, while large drops and streams of urine fell from between her legs, splashing heavily on the ground. A foul smell in the air indicated she had lost control of her bowels, as well. She was petrified with fear of the oncoming horde. Tabitha grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her viciously.

 

“Get to the town hall! Do you hear me?!” Tabitha’s shouting had no effect. The witch hunter raised her hand, and delivered a powerful smack to her cheek. That seemed to wake her up. “Get to the town hall, barricade the doors, and grab whatever you can use as a weapon!” The woman only nodded, so Tabitha gave her a little shove, “Go!”. So far, the town hall had served as a small fortress during these attacks. Anyone not taking part in the defense gathered in there for protection. Tabitha hoped it could hold for another night.

 

Looking back to the battle, Tabitha swore as she saw it had begun without to head the defense. Precious few villagers, surely no more than twelve of them, armed with weaponized farming tools or kitchen utensils were already engaged with the undead at the head of the pack. Tabitha drew her weapon- a masterfully made saber, forged with silver and heavily consecrated. It was a weapon made to slay the unholy by the thousands. She took a deep, deep breath, then charged into battle, sword held high.

 

Her eyes darted back and forth, analyzing the battle. She had a talent for doing so. She quickly counted that four of the villagers were in dire need of help. Almost immediately, she decided upon the order to aid each of them, before she charged into the bulk of the undead to draw their attention. This was the way the fighting had gone every night.

 

Firstly, a man and his wife had been driven back by a number of undead. Their backs were against the wall fo a ruined building, now. Tabitha sprinted towards them, as fast as she was able. A cluster of ghouls was surrounding them, and they had only pitchforks to defend themselves. A sheath of wetness was running down the man’s left leg, and a little down the right. As Tabitha arrived, she delivered a mighty horizontal slash into the group of ghouls. Like a hot knife through butter, her saber flew through them, casting ash and cinder into the air as the holy blade vaporized them where it touched them. She had slain at least six of them with a single strike. With a series of expert stabs and slashes, Tabitha dispatched the remaining ghouls as the young couple used their pitchforks to slay newly arriving ghouls.

 

“T-thank you, Tabitha!” The man said, real gratitude in his voice. She gave a curt nod in reply.

 

With the undead that were advancing upon the couple now after her, she ran for the next target. A middle-aged man wielding a woodcutter’s axe was felling ghoul after ghoul, while three children huddled behind him. He was slowly being surrounded, though, and it would not be long until he was overwhelmed. Much like she did with the couple, Tabitha ran up and cleaved several undead apart at once. She could see a wicked smile break upon the old man’s face as he and Tabitha began slicing the ghouls apart side-by-side. Once they were clear, she shouted to him, “Get the kids to the town hall!”

 

“I was trying to! Thanks for the save!” He gave the kids a shove to get them moving as he ushered them to the safehouse. She was relieved they were unharmed.

 

Third on the list, the town had a skilled hunter who was very adept with a bow. He was standing atop the roof a ruined building, trying to shoot the more dangerous of the undead before they reached the other defenders. But it seemed the undead had caught on to this strategy, as now crawler ghouls were scaling the wall of the building, and would soon be upon him. Sheathing her sword, Tabitha stood in front of the wall of the building. She coiled her legs, then jumped as high as she could, her fingertips just barely able to catch the edge of the roof. Straining her muscles horribly, she pulled and pulled, until she finally was able to climb onto the rooftop.

 

And just in time, as a crawler lunged onto the hunter, pinning him to the ground. It howled as it beat him furiously, and Tabitha could hear him screaming. She prayed she wasn’t too slow. She drove her blade into the crawler’s side, the holy blade killing it instantly. Kicking off the rooftop, she offered a hand to the hunter, who rose shakily to his feet, his face bruised. He was battered, but not severely injured. His courage was beginning to fail, if the large, lumpy mound in his pants was any indication, and Tabitha worried that he might retreat if he became too terrified. They needed his support. She patted him on the back, “Good work so far. Are you all right?”

 

“Y-yeah, I think so...” He was clearly very dazed.

 

“Just keep shooting, we’ve almost fought them off,”

 

Without another word, she leapt from the rooftop, into the middle of the horde. With a spinning slash, she chopped every ghoul around her into two, before advancing forward while continuing to cut down every ghoul before her. Once she cut her way out of the horde, she spotted the final person who needed assistance.

 

A woman, wearing trousers and wielding a shortsword (both apparently oddities in this village, though they were in no position to complain) was dueling with a powerful undead man. Unlike the ghouls, he was not slow and cumbersome, and he wielded a longsword. Tabitha knew she would be in trouble if she were forced to parry his attacks with her own sword. As powerful as her blade was, it was meant for laying the dead back to rest, not for sword-to-sword combat. Evidently, neither was the woman’s shortsword, as she was being driven back by his merciless onslaught.

 

Tabitha took a roundabout path to them, hoping to stab the undead man from behind. Just before she could strike, the man whirled about, as though told of her attack, and swung his sword at her. She jumped away at the last second. Behind him, the woman with shortsword took the opportunity to begin stabbing and cutting him as much as possible. Once again, he whirled around, swinging his sword at her neck. With a scream of fear, the woman ducked, narrowly dodging the huge attack. Even over the cacophonous sounds of combat, Tabitha could hear a loud PLBRTPLBRTPLBRT as the woman’s fear caused her to empty her bowels into her trousers, the seat of which rapidly darkened and tented outwards.

 

Though this attack nearly cost the woman her life, it was an amazing stroke of luck for Tabitha, as the undead man had lodged his blade within a wall, and now struggled to pull it free. Wasting no time, Tabitha swung her saber, and severed the undead man’s head. The body fell to the ground.

 

Tabitha helped the woman to her feet, and she struggled to catch her breath. After a few seconds, she reached a hand to her backside, and silently swore when she felt the large release resting there.

 

“It’s almost over, just keep fighting!” Tabitha said, the woman, still out of breath, nodded enthusiastically in reply.

 

Tabitha’s words of encouragement were not false, either. The horde was mostly destroyed, now. Tabitha ran into the bulk of the undead once more, slicing through them as they were mere weeds. As each of the defenders were galvanized by her display, they pushed the horde back, until they stood beside her, and routed the rest of the fiends.

 

As the young couple from earlier cooperatively drove a pitchfork into the last ghoul, the defenders began to cheer and celebrate, for they had survived another night. Tabitha, though more exhausted than she had ever been, found it difficult not to get swept up in the mood; after all, she had ended the battle without pissing or shitting her pants.

 

The impromptu militia gathered around Tabitha, cheering for her. She would humbly suggested that it was a collective effort, and that she didn’t deserve all the praise, but there was no air left in her lungs to do so. So, she settled for just smiling while she panted furiously.

 

Curiously, she noticed that her breaths were creating thick clouds of steam in the air. Seconds later, a terrible chill struck her, freezing her to the bones. Looking around, she was not the only one- the celebration ended before it could begin, as the militia now looked around in barely-contained panic.

 

Looking into the forest, Tabitha saw it:

 

A huge, twisted creature was peering at them from deep into the woods. It was shaped somewhat like a human, though its very large, feathery wings and oddly bent legs were evidence enough that it was not one. Just looking at it, Tabitha could feel her heart stop. And not start again. Panic seized her, and she averted her eyes from the creature, and pounded on her own chest. Her relief when she felt her heart begin pumping once more was immense.

 

The creature raised a hand, and from the ground in front of it, a monstrous hand burst forth. Pulling itself further above ground, an absolutely grotesque monstrosity, seemingly an amalgamation of dozens of ghouls now stood before them. The winged creature that summoned it vanished into the shadows of the trees, and the colossal ghoul then lumbered towards the village.

 

It was monstrous in its proportions. It’s body was muscled to almost comical proportions, and its arms were so long that it dragged them along the ground.

 

“What do we do?” Someone behind Tabitha asked.

 

“What do we do?!”

 

Psssssssss…

 

Tabitha could feel the liquid courage she drank earlier draining out of her, now. Her groin had turned hot and wet, and the front of her pants now bore a sizeable wet stain. She pressed her thighs together, clamping down as hard as possible. As the monstrosity drew closer, Tabitha felt as though the earth were shaking with every step it took.

 

Pssssssssss…

 

She unwillingly released more of her urine into her own pants. With her legs pressed so tightly together, the urine travelled across the front of her legs, staining the green fabric a darker green as little trails wound every which-way down her toned thighs. Once again, she forced herself to clamp down, and stopped further leaking.

 

“Tabitha, what do we-”

 

The man’s desperate question was interrupted when the colossal ghoul let loose an ear-rending roar, causing everyone to cover their ears in pain. Knowing any hope for at least semi-dry pants was gone, Tabitha stopped holding on, and fully emptied her bladder into her panties and trousers. The green fabric was flooded immediately as her water poured into them, the streams falling into a puddle below her. The insides and front of her pants were completely soaked through with piss.

 

The monster, through great effort, raised its arm into the air, preparing to slam it down onto Tabitha. The milities scattered, but Tabitha could not move. As she saw the arm descend, bringing certain death, she was suddenly pulled away. Coming to her senses, she saw the shortsword woman had pulled her out of the way at the last second.

 

“Come on! It’s almost over, Tabitha!” She said, lifting the witch hunter to her feet. Tabitha looked at her saviour. The woman’s pants also had huge dark streaks down her legs. It looked as though Tabitha wasn’t the only one to wet themselves at the sight of the creature. Inspired by the woman’s actions, Tabitha nodded, then readied her sword.

 

The monster swiped its gigantic hand across the ground, and the two women barely jumped out of the way. As they struggled to rise to their feet, the monster came close, preparing to crush them both. It raised its goliath fists, then stumbled backwards suddenly, roaring in rage as an arrow pierced its eye. Tabitha looked in disbelief as the hunter still stood on the rooftop, furiously firing arrow after arrow into the beast. He had bought her quite a window of opportunity.

 

She ran forward, ignoring the drops of piss slinging everywhere as she did so, swung her blade into the monster’s leg. Much like the ghouls, it flew through it, as though there was no resistance. It continued its agonized roaring, and Tabitha continued slicing, until she had fully severed the beasts leg. It fell forward, resting on its belly and holding itself up with its arms. If this thing was at all like other undead, then destroying its head should finish it off. This in mind, Tabitha ran around it, attempting to reach the monster’s front. The hunter continued to distract it, and the colossal ghoul was trying, in vain, to swat him.

 

Arriving at the beast’s front, Tabitha began to carve out a hole in its gargantuan chest. Its head was too high up for her to reach, and she decided that any damage was better than waiting for the head to come into range. Remarkably quickly, the monster’s attention shifted from the hunter to her, and moved its massive hand to grab her. Tabitha noticed all too late, and was lifted into the air as though she were weightless. The beast squeezed her tightly, and the strain caused her to drop her sword, which fell to the ground below her.

 

The ghoul opened its mouth, and prepared to devour her. She struggled hard against its grip, but it was pointless. She closed her eyes and turned away in fright. As she did so, her bowels voided with a noisy BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAP. The release was warm and wet, and she could feel it smearing across her rear and collecting in the space between her legs. The semi-solid mush escaped the cuffs of her panties, and numerous brown trails slid down the back of her legs, staining her pants. A foul squishing sound continually emanated from the witch hunter as she continued to soil herself.

 

And then, she was falling. She landed on the ground with a rough thud, and looked at the beast. The woman with the shortsword had taken up Tabitha’s saber, and cut off the arms it was holding her with. In pain, the beast fell to the ground, unable to support itself with only one arm. The woman threw Tabitha her sword, and in one fluid motion, Tabitha plunged the sword into the colossal ghoul’s head. It’s roaring was silenced quickly as the unholy life drained from it.

 

All was quiet for a time, as everyone caught their breath and awaited for further surprises.

 

But there were none.

 

The quiet was eventually shattered when a woman shouted “She’s killed it! She’s killed the monster!!”

 

“The monster’s dead!”

 

“Tabitha killed the bastard!”

 

All around, the townspeople had emerged from the town hall, and they and the militia were cheering and celebrating as though there were no tomorrow. Tabitha was much too exhausted to even try and disguise her accidents, but the people hardly even seemed to notice. Truth be told, after the strange creature had summoned the giant ghoul, it looked as though half the people hiding in the town hall soiled themselves, as well.

 

While the people were celebrating, Tabitha approached the woman who had saved her. The two talked for a time, both of them insisting that their own heroics were nothing, and that the other was the true hero. After a time, both of them shook hands and departed to wash themselves, and then sleep.

 

Every part of Tabitha’s body ached. Every part of her lower body needed to be washed. She couldn’t remember ever being so completely mentally and physically exhausted. She left the people to their festivities. After all, if the undead were going to continue bringing in stronger and stronger creatures, they might not have too much time left to celebrate.

 

She said a long prayer before she went to sleep, begging and pleading for the ones who slew the shapeshifting demon to find this village. They were dead men and women if help didn't arrive soon.

Edited by DsGSilver (see edit history)
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