pp123 85 Posted November 1, 2018 Share Posted November 1, 2018 this story is amazing DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
Deathfrombelow 34 Posted December 14, 2019 Share Posted December 14, 2019 Amazing setting, unique monsters, wonderful accidents, believable character interactions...I absolutely love this. I just have two questions: Do you know when/if there’s going to be another chapter, and what exactly defines a witch in this world? DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
DsGSilver 782 Posted December 15, 2019 Author Share Posted December 15, 2019 1 hour ago, Deathfrombelow said: Amazing setting, unique monsters, wonderful accidents, believable character interactions...I absolutely love this. I just have two questions: Do you know when/if there’s going to be another chapter, and what exactly defines a witch in this world? Thank you, I'm glad you like it! I've been thinking about returning to this series a lot recently. I never meant to abandon it, I just kinda couldn't find the inspiration. I've been writing a lot lately, though, and Arnwick may see its finale, or at least part 1 of it, in the near future. I'm terrible at providing or following deadlines, so the best I could really tell you is that either this month or January I could probably have it made. The current plan is for a 3-part finale. As for the question about witches, it has 2 answers. Someone who makes a pact with an unholy entity for power is called a witch/warlock, depending on their gender. To a lesser extent, someone who practices any kind of magic, but does so without regulation and not under the jurisdiction of a church is also called a witch. Eliza is more the latter; she lived alone but had an advanced knowledge of magic- both holy and not. Quote Link to comment
Deathfrombelow 34 Posted December 15, 2019 Share Posted December 15, 2019 Thanks for the info! Please don’t abandon this, it’s beautiful. DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
ed2 153 Posted December 18, 2019 Share Posted December 18, 2019 When is the movie coming?..... This is as good as Tolkien. Even if I try look beyound the fantastic omo-content. I feel really invested in this universe, and in this story! Great interactions, paralel storylines and the structuring is like a proffessional novel! Amazingly written! I hope you will continue on this, but no pressure, HBO will take you up and make an ending to it for you anyway. 😉 DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
ed2 153 Posted December 18, 2019 Share Posted December 18, 2019 On 5/12/2018 at 8:28 AM, DsGSilver said: The last of her energy spent, she collapsed, and after a short second, the demon man did as well, holy sword jutting from his chest. She was lying on her stomach on the ground, and that weight in her abdomen made itself known once more. She could hardly have avoided shitting herself if she wanted to, so she gave a quick push, and felt the mess slide out of her easily, and come to a rest in her panties. Her body needed no instruction after the first log, and continued to pour soft mess into her pants, which now had a slowly but steadily growing bulge on the seat. Before fading into unconsciousness, she looked up and saw the witch girl pointing a recently-fired crossbow at them. Her last thought was that it was just her luck that the witch of all people would’ve saved her. On 10/31/2018 at 9:48 AM, DsGSilver said: She took one step, wondering if she could make it to a bush or something for some privacy, but felt her butt part and more mess flow into her panties as she did so. She sighed, and resigned herself to her fate. With a slight push, her mess slid out of her, and deposited into her panties with a quiet crackle. The soft mass collected in the back of her underwear, flattening and spreading out slightly, but mostly just creating a ball. She could feel quite a bit more still inside herself, and it joined the rest of the mass, further flattening and condensing it. By the time she had finished emptying her bowels into her pants, her trousers had an absolutely monstrous bulge on their rear. It had been a long time since she’d loaded her panties this badly. I loved this, when they just decided to screw it, and push. Keita123, DsGSilver and ifeelgood 3 Quote Link to comment
DsGSilver 782 Posted March 6, 2020 Author Popular Post Share Posted March 6, 2020 (edited) At long last, the finale of the Journey to Arnwick begins. The other two parts are pretty much done, and will be released within the next several days. This one is largely just a setup for the next two parts, but the big finish is gonna be worth it, and will be released very soon. This one features a prominent male scene, fair warning. The rest of the finale will basically only feature female scenes, though. Journey to Arnwick Finale Part I: Dark Times The cracks grow… The fortress will fall… She cannot resist much longer… She will be the one… The one to complete the circle… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hazel awoke as a ray of sunlight shone upon her face. Groaning in pain, she forced herself to sit upright. The fight yesterday left her sore and bruised all over, and something as simple as getting out of bed was quite an effort. Remarkably, she found herself sitting in a dry bed. She’d figured grotesque nightmares and a soaking mattress would be her companions as she slept, but she’d actually slept like a baby. Perhaps she was just too exhausted to have done anything but go comatose. Despite how deeply she slept, however, she saw that she was only the second one to rise. Alma and Tabitha were still out cold. Hazel thought of waking them, but decided to let them rest. They’d be going after the puppetmaster behind all of this soon, and they’d need to be rested when it was time. Hazel finally stepped out of bed, and stretched. Her muscles and joints ached, and a chorus of cracks sounded from her back. Looking over her clothes, she found a red blouse and long, black skirt she fancied. When they set out to Arnwick, she’d need to wear more appropriate clothing, but for the time being, why shouldn’t she wear something nice? Hazel felt she’d more than earned the right to treat herself, even if just a little. Using a mirror in the room to make herself a little more presentable, she noticed the weary look on her own face. It had been only a few days. And yet she felt the exhaustion, stress, and anguish of decades weighing upon her. She thought of her old home, now in terrible danger; her new home, destroyed and made into the lair of a demon; her belongings, scattered and destroyed throughout the woods; and of her closest friend, Alma. When Hazel’s group had returned to town, they learned that Alma had set out on her own mission to rescue Emily. Hazel hated to think of Alma putting herself in danger with her arm still broken. She forced a smile, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make it look real. She had no idea where they would go, what they would do once the demon in Arnwick was slain. Finished with the mirror, she turned and prepared to leave. She grabbed Alma’s crossbow, as danger could come at any moment. A sudden groan broke the silence, making Hazel jump slightly. Tabitha was tossing and turning in her sleep. Hazel wondered if she was having a nightmare, and if she should wake her. She stepped closer, and noted with concern that Tabitha’s forehead was drenched in sweat. She reached down to gently shake her, but pulled her hand back as Tabitha began forcefully rolling and twitching. Her spasms flung the blanket off of her body, and were there not more pressing concerns, Hazel would’ve been embarrassed to know that Tabitha slept in only her underwear. “Tabitha, Tabitha!” She said sharply, attempting to steady her friend’s movements. A loud hissing became audible, and Hazel spared a quick glance to confirm that Tabitha had begun to wet herself. Her panties darkened, and a growing stain spread across the mattress below her. “Tabitha!!” Hazel shook the woman’s shoulders as hard as she could until, at last, Tabitha’s eyes opened. The witch hunter didn’t speak, she only made a terrified gasping sound, and reached for her sword. “Me, it’s me!” Hazel fearfully stated. “Hazel?” Tabitha’s erratic breathing slowed. “Are you all right? What was all that?” “All of… ” Tabitha trailed off as she wiggled her thighs a little. An annoyed expression was all Hazel needed to know that she’d just noticed the puddle underneath her. “You… You were thrashing about. You seemed terrified.” Hazel sidestepped the wet bed issue as elegantly as she could. “I have these… nightmares. They’re terrible,” She seemed lost in thought, almost forgetting Hazel’s presence. “Er, thank you, Hazel, for waking me.” “Of course,” Hazel stole one last look at the piss stain, which had grown considerably. Tabitha’s white panties were thoroughly saturated. “I’ll leave so you can get dressed. I think Eliza is already downstairs, so we’ll be there.” “Mm,” Tabitha only grunted her assent. Hazel wondered if she was just embarrassed by the accident, but even that seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind. The contents of her nightmare must’ve been truly disturbing. “Do you... Wish to speak of your nightmares?” “I don’t. I’ve been having them since I arrived here, and I think they’re part of a curse. I won’t give some witch or demon the satisfaction of acknowledging them.” “I see,” With that, Hazel left their room. She understood that Tabitha wanted solitude to clean herself more than she wanted company. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Every day, the town seemed to grow quieter. The tavern that comprised the inn’s first story was full of people, but largely devoid of sound. Most of them just sullenly pecked at their meager food and drink. It did not take long to find Eliza, huddled in a corner, as far from other people as she could get. She was intently studying a very large, very thick book. Hazel dragged a chair over, and sat down across from the young witch. It wasn’t until Hazel finally spoke that Eliza noticed with a start that she had company, “Hello, Eliza.” “Oh!, Uh, hello Hazy.” Close enough, now, to see the text in the book, Hazel tried to make sense of it, but much of it seemed to be arcane and hieroglyphic. Whatever knowledge that book had to share, it wasn’t for her. Eliza must have noticed her intrigue in the book, as she explained, “It’s an old grimoire that I stole from my parents years ago.” “I certainly can’t make sense of… whatever those shapes are.” “This section explains how to create runes of summoning. This is how they called that monster here.” “The thing that destroyed Arnwick?” “Exactly.” Eliza ensured that no one was listening in on them, then leaned in to speak, “Hazel, you haven’t been… having any odd dreams, have you?” “Miraculously not.” “Nothing strange?” Genuine concern was etched into the witch’s face, “Not necessarily frightening or disturbing, just… off?” “Um, no, Eliza. I haven’t dreamt of anything lately.” Eliza exhaled in relief. “Very good. In that case, I can confide something in you.” Hazel held up her finger, “One moment! Is it… a problem if anyone’s been experiencing terrible dreams?” “If this tome is accurate, then it could mean that the Beast of Arnwick has cursed them.” After a second, the implication of Hazel’s question struck her, “Who?” “It’s Tabitha. She was throwing herself about so wildly I thought she might fall out of the bed.” “Oh dear… ” Eliza seemed to very suddenly get lost in her own thoughts, seemingly trying to find out how this new information would shape the coming conflict. “What exactly does this mean?” “I’m not too sure. From what I can gather, the Beast can peer into the minds of those it has cursed.” “Do you mean-” “Whatever she knows, the Beast knows.” Once again, she leaned forward, saying slowly and emphatically, “Hazel, she must not discover what we know. If the Beast learns our plans, we won’t stand a chance.” She opened her mouth to announce her shared distress at this news, when angered shouting drew her attention. “Just give us the food!” A young man howled at the terrified woman running the tavern. “Please, sir,” the woman pleaded, close to tears, “We don’t have enough to give more than a small-” He produced a knife, and stabbed it into the counter. “My sister and I need food to get the hell out of this cursed place, so just give me whatever you’ve got, or I’ll jump back there and take it!” His eyes were wild, and unsure. He was scrawny, and didn’t exactly look like a thief or a robber. But Hazel had learned a lot on this journey, and she easily recognized the look in his eyes: fear. Abject terror. Different from the kind reflected in the bartender’s eyes, but fear nonetheless. A wild, unpredictable fear, a kind that drives once kind people to acts of violence and madness. A kind that might drive a man just trying to feed his family to murder. The people in the tavern began to file out, leaving the situation behind them. The others simply gazed long into their plates and mugs, not willing to intervene. Why should they? Death was coming for all of them, why try to be a hero? For a split second, Hazel was certain she saw Arnwick, the place that was to be her home, in the fear of the man’s eyes. Was it merciful and fast for Arnwick? Did they descend into hopelessness and chaos? Did they turn on one another, kill one another? Something inside her urged her forward, something declaring that the cruel fate that befell Arnwick would not take this place, too. The tavern matron was stunned in fear, and the man began to climb onto the counter, preparing to take his claim by force. Hazel stood, she didn’t know when the crossbow found its way into her hands, by there it was, loaded and ready. “Hazy, no!” came Eliza’s harsh whisper, but it fell on deaf ears. With the crossbow’s sharp and terrible sound, a bolt was thrown, cutting through the air mere inches from the man’s nose. He shouted in surprise, and fell backwards, off of the counter. He sat upright, and felt the back of his head for injuries. Hazel was nowhere near as skilled with the weapon as Alma, but she still had enough time to reload it. “Don’t!” She commanded, halting the man’s attempt to stand. Their eyes met. His eyes were angry, full of defiance, but his rage collapsed under the weight of fear. The will left his face, and that wild, hopeless look returned. She wondered what he must have seen in her eyes, as the fear mounted, and overwhelmed him. His trousers grew dark at the groin, and a pool of urine slowly spread underneath him. A faint hiss was audible, and a little steam rose upwards. He glanced down at his pants for a second, but then back up to Hazel. “Get rid of the knife!” He seemed to weigh his options for a moment, but given that the puddle under him was still growing, it was evident he hadn’t found the courage to attempt an attack. He begrudgingly threw the knife aside. “Now stand up.” He stood, arms outstretched and palms open. Some piss streamed and dripped down his legs, ensuring more than just his crotch and butt were soaked. All of the tavern’s remaining patrons had fled when Hazel fired the crossbow, so he was at least fortunate enough that few of them saw him urinate on himself in terror. “Might as well just shoot me and get it over with!” He muttered. “I don’t want to kill you, please don’t force me to.” “Why not! That… Thing will be back here soon enough, and then we’re all dead, anyway!” He took a step towards Hazel, nearly making her shoot him, “I don’t care if I have to threaten someone or hurt them, my sister and I need food so we can survive the trip out of here!” “You know,” a cold and menacing voice uttered from behind him, “That’s not unlike the mentality of the witches I hunt.” The man’s eyes widened, they all recognized Tabitha’s voice. He spun around, far more worried about the witch hunter than Hazel and her crossbow. “You’re about to cross a dark threshold, my friend. I’m more than prepared to do what needs to be done if you do,” Tabitha wrapped her fingers around her sword. Everyone in the town had seen how easily that sword severed heads and limbs. There was a crackle, and a brown discoloration formed on his rear. Hazel cringed slightly as the smell struck her. “Dark times require strong people,” Tabitha began, “Only cowards betray and abandon their own. If you really want to make sure your sister is safe, then pick up that knife and prepare to drive it into some undead. We’ll be fighting their lord, soon enough.” He stood there in a daze, looking close to fainting. “If we have an understanding, then leave, and find your courage. We’ll need it before long,” Tabitha commanded. “... Right… ” He quietly turned and left the building, retrieving his knife along the way. There was silence for a moment, until a small but grateful voice spoke, “Thank you both, so much.” Hazel remembered the tavern matron then, having completely forgotten that she’d done any of this to protect her. The dark skinned woman wore a cream-colored dress, and smiled warmly at her. “Oh, right, of course. You’re not hurt, are you?” She approached the counter, wondering how badly the man must’ve soiled himself for the smell to have reached so far and lingered so long. “No no, I’m fine. You stopped him before he could actually do anything. But, well… ” She shuffled uncomfortably, and Hazel began to think it wasn’t the man’s accident she was smelling. “I was quite frightened, and I’m afraid that I may now need to, um, find clean underwear.” “I understand.” "Do you?" Not all the townspeople had been present when they returned from the necromancer's lair. Not all of them had seen the group attempting to walk as they though hadn't each pissed and shat in their pants. But in truth, a different time had come to Hazel's mind; a time from years ago. "I actually used to be a merchant. Once, a drunk man kicked the door open and started waving a sword around. He was demanding money, and free merchandise, but I was hardly in any state to grant his request," Hazel blushed going into the next part of the story, "I was paralyzed, all I could do was fill my underwear and then make a puddle under myself." The woman smirked a bit, still shuffling and trying to find a comfortable way to stand with a mess in her panties. Hazel continued, "When it happened to me, I had to answer to the town guard about the drunkard. The whole time I was explaining what happened to them, I had a giant wet stain down the front of my skirt." They both chuckled, "Anyway, we'd be happy to watch your store for a moment while you get cleaned up." “Would you?” She asked, silently grateful that no one else had said anything further about her soiled drawers. Even before she and Alma had set out for Arnwick, Hazel had difficulties controlling her fears. At the slightest provocation, she would run and hide, often leaving a urine trail behind herself. She didn't live in a dangerous town, but any town has its troublemakers, and Hazel was terrified of all of them. After all they’d been through, she wondered if there was a regular human anywhere in the world who could scare her that badly now. The thought of the demon they had to face certainly made her bladder feel a little weak, but it seemed to have that effect on everyone. She’d grown much bolder, too. Never before would she have had the courage to do something like she just had. Only a couple weeks ago, she likely would’ve just soiled herself along with the tavern matron, and waited for someone else to save the day. Pride welled within her, and she wished Alma had been there to see it. “Well done, Hazel,” Tabitha said as she walked by, and took a seat at the bar. “I was worried you were about to shoot him,” Eliza murmured, “But you didn’t. Nice work.” Hazel blushed, but Tabitha cut their celebrations short, “I hope you two have been discussing strategy down here. We really don’t have long before that monster musters another army. I don’t think this place can survive another assault.” Eliza shot Hazel a very serious look, clearly insisting that she say nothing. When the message was received, Eliza did the talking, “We’ve worked some things out. I think I know how to enchant our weapons in a way that will kill the demon.” “Splendid. I see why they’ve kept you around,” Tabitha’s voice dripped with contempt. Hazel despised Tabitha’s attitude towards her friend, “‘Least Eliza didn’t piss her sheets… ” The witch hunter’s cheeks burned in shame with the accusation, signalling its truth to Eliza. “She also is the only one of us who escaped the necromancer’s lair unscathed. You’re a fool to call that a coincidence.” “She killed them! She saved your life!” Hazel’s voice had become a shout, “What more does she have to do for you to respect her?” “She’s lived a life of witchcraft and sin, it takes more than a couple good deeds to make up for such a thing.” “She has been nothing but helpful-” “Do you know what is most damning, Hazel?” Tabitha forcefully interrupted, “That not once has she refuted what I’ve said. Not once has she jumped to her own defense. She knows I speak the truth.” Eliza cast a pained look down, to the floor, still silent. “You see? Nothing to say, as always.” “I am quiet because my actions speak for me,” Eliza muttered. Both of them looked at her. Tabitha was surprised to hear the witch’s voice, Hazel was overjoyed that her friend might finally fend for herself. “I came to the rescue of Alma and Hazel, and they returned the favor. I have traveled with them, and many times over we have saved each other’s lives. I have saved you, too. I asked nothing in return, and now I am preparing to create weapons that will kill the Beast of Arnwick. If you cannot hear how loud my actions speak, then you are willfully deaf.” Tabitha’s scowl deepened, but heavy footsteps descending the staircase mercifully stole everyone’s attention. Alma smiled at them as though nothing was wrong, even though she had undoubtedly heard the argument. “Hello Alma!” Hazel chirped. Alma waved her unbroken arm, reached the bottom of the stairs, and walked towards them, sidestepping the puddle on the ground with a curious glance. “That’s a… long story,” Hazel said, deciding to tell her later. Edited August 31, 2021 by DsGSilver (see edit history) Keita123, ifeelgood, pp123 and 5 others 6 2 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted March 6, 2020 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted March 6, 2020 I loved that chapter can’t wait to read part 2 DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
Keita123 1,103 Posted March 6, 2020 Share Posted March 6, 2020 Oh, I loved how the NPC woman also soiled herself! DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
pp123 85 Posted March 6, 2020 Share Posted March 6, 2020 this was an amazing chapter DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
DsGSilver 782 Posted March 14, 2020 Author Popular Post Share Posted March 14, 2020 (edited) Only one to go after this, and it's the big finish. It's one I've been planning for a good while, and I'm excited to finally bring it here. I've also been excited about this one, so I hope everyone enjoys Part II! Journey to Arnwick Finale Part II: Fear Fear is the most terrible, powerful weapon in any arsenal. Fear divides, conquers, and destroys. Fear drives the righteous to commit atrocities, brings the brave to their knees. Fear kills the enemy long before the battle is joined. And Fear is the domain of demons… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “He will be surrounded by his army of the dead,” Eliza had explained. “We will need any townsfolk willing to fight to come with us, or we’ll never get close.” Hazel could see it, then: a calamitous battle. The people, haggard and desperate, following the lead of their heroes in a suicidal charge that was their only chance at victory. Unbeknownst to these imaginary warriors, their heroic leaders were just as frightened and desperate as they were. They would fight, and many, maybe most, maybe all, would perish. It made her sick to think about. “These people don’t know how to fight,” Tabitha had interjected. “But you do,” Alma had countered. They passed by Tabitha’s impromptu training grounds. Every able-bodied man and woman stood before the mighty witch hunter, doing their best to repeat her motions, and heed her advice about the foes they would face. They were farmers and merchants, they’d never in their lives thought they’d be fighting to save the land from a nefarious demon. Tabitha nodded and smiled approvingly, pleased at the success of her teachings. “The last time he struck this town, he brought a goliath flesh creature with him. It took everything we had to stop it,” Tabitha had stated. “Eliza knows how to make all sorts of potions,” Hazel had suggested, “Maybe she could teach some of the people how to make firebombs or something?” Hazel hadn’t known how good of an idea it was when she’d said it. But now, as she passed by the collection bin where Matthew and some other hunters had been depositing the foraged reagents Eliza had specified, she knew it was an excellent idea. The couple of cooks still alive in the town gathered the ingredients, and followed Eliza’s instructions on how to convert them into deadly weapons. Already, Hazel and Alma saw dozens of little vials of liquid fire, just waiting to be unleashed. “Now, Tabitha,” Eliza had said, “This demon stops your heart when you gaze upon him, yes?” “Correct.” “I can devise charms that should inoculate us to the worst of that curse. Being in his presence will not be pleasant, but it will not be lethal.” True to her word, Eliza was hard at work, poring through her grimoires and skillfully merging various magical components together. The two of them approached, and checked on her progress. The witch had a mixture of holy tomes and dark grimoires on the table in front of her, combining their teachings to craft the charms that would permit them to truly commit to the assault on the Beast of Arnwick. “We fell prey to an unholy creature’s trap days ago,” Alma had added, “That’s why my arm is broken. We killed that creature by having Eliza perform a consecration.” “Indeed,” Eliza had continued, “But those meager blessings won’t be enough to kill a greater demon. The consecrations I can perform will weaken him, render him vulnerable. Tabitha, your weapon is a truly holy one. When we have wounded him, it will fall to you to deal the finishing blow on the monster.” “Understood,” Tabitha had answered. But that had not been the truth. Tabitha could not be trusted. Whether she was aware of it or not, she had become the demon’s greatest weapon. The Beast saw through her eyes, heard through her ears. Their plan did hinge on Tabitha, but not in the way they had told her. “A curse of possession… ” Eliza had explained, once Tabitha had left to train the townspeople, “creates a bridge of sorts between the possessor and the victim. Just as the demon can inflict harm, so too can the victim. His control over her will be absolute, but if we weaken him there, at the bridge… ” “We can kill him?” Alma had asked. “It may be our only hope. If he is as powerful as my parents’ tome describes, our weapons will be all but completely useless against him.” She finished the charms just as they arrived. Everything was going perfectly according to plan. The time to prepare their actual secret weapon was upon them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “So this is it,” Alma’s voice was flat, emotionless, yet still it spoke volumes. “One way or another, this nightmare will be over,” Hazel replied. They sat on a bench outside the town’s chapel. Eliza was inside, preparing a ritual of some sort that would either give them the magic sword they needed, or leave them at the demon’s mercy. She’d been light on the details. “I’m proud of you, y’know,” Alma nudged her in the ribs with her elbow, “You kept saying how you weren’t brave, and yet here you are, preparing to face down a demon.” Alma leaned forward, and turned to face her, “Do you know how many people in the world have the courage to take on a demon, Hazy?” “Guess there can’t be very many, huh?” A slight smile broke onto her face as she found herself finally unable to reject Alma’s praise. “Only the strongest, craziest people in the world, my friend.” “Well, I’m not very strong, so I guess I’m just crazy,” They both chuckled. The two were quiet, until Hazel spoke again, “Thank you, Alma. Really.” “I’ve been telling you for a long time that you were-” “No, not that,” Hazel grinned as she faced her closest friend, “For everything. You’ve never… Well I guess you’ve never let me down. I can’t think of a time I really needed you and you weren’t there.” Hazel knew that Alma wasn’t particularly good at articulating her feelings, and the monster hunter could do little but smile, and try to pick some words of gratitude. Hazel had a feeling they’d be there all day if she waited for Alma to think of a proper reply, so she kept going, “When this is all over… Would you stay with me?” “Sorry?” Alma stammered. “Will you stay with me? I don’t know where we’ll go, or what we’ll do. Arnwick is gone, all my money and all my things are gone, but… I would really like it if you’d come with me.” Alma took a moment to answer, “I think I’d like that, too.” The two sat in silence for a short while, each lost in thought. Hazel was overjoyed that Alma had accepted. “Besides, it’s not like we don’t have a plan. You’ve turned out to be quite the little killer. I’m sure we can find a village somewhere beset by hordes of monsters.” The two laughed. Finally, the door to the chapel opened, and an exhausted Eliza beckoned them inside. The church looked like it had been ransacked and defiled. Every pew was shoved aside to create a large open center, in which was a large runic circle and an assortment of candles and miscellaneous reagents placed at odd and precise intervals around the floor. The purple paint used to create the rune seemed to pulse and hum with life. Hazel couldn’t tell if it was friendly or not. “Alma, tell me, do you happen to know a demon’s greatest weakness?” Eliza inquired. “I don’t believe so, but I think I’ve heard that demons hide their true names. I know they make it a point never to give their real names.” “Precisely. A demon’s name gives a summoner power over it. My parents knew his name, but they chose to submit to him. If they hadn’t been so… ” She swallowed her bitter words, and was struck with a wave of sorrow before continuing, “They held the key to stopping him. They died with it, and they didn’t dare leave it written anywhere.” “So… Is that meant to help us learn his name?” Hazel gestured towards the disturbing rune etched into the ground. “...It is,” Eliza gave both of them a grim look. “There’s a catch, I presume?” Alma intoned. “This… ” Eliza turned to face her handiwork, “will permit us to speak with the dead.” Hazel was taken aback, and Alma was speechless. “The catch is… ” Eliza crossed her arms, and fixed a hard and steady gaze on the two of them, “The person who uses it may join the dead. Whatever force it is that separates the world of the living from the world of the dead, it does not tolerate trespassers. Spirits that the grimoires call ‘jailers’ will hunt you once you’re inside, and if they find you… ” “That’s it?” Alma asked. “That’s it,” Eliza confirmed. “I’ll do it,” Alma replied. Hazel gave her a pleading look, already seeing the new future she’d envisioned going up in flames. “Alma, you don’t understand. This is a ritual even my parents dared not perform. You need to really think about this-” “I’m a monster hunter, Eliza, I thought about it a long time ago. I’ve been ready to give my life for the greater good for as long as I can remember,” She attempted to lift her broken arm, but could only bring it a few inches higher, “Besides, I’m hardly gonna be any good in the real fight.” “Alma, please… ” Hazel’s voice was shaky. “Don’t you worry, Hazy. I’m not dead yet. I will see you again after this.” She turned to Eliza, “So what exactly needs to be done?” Eliza’s face was wrought with guilt, like she was walking her friend to their execution. “From here, I can help guide you. I will try and bring you to the souls of my parents. If there is anything human left within them, they will tell us what we need to know. If not… ” “I understand. I’m ready when you are.” Eliza had Alma sit in the middle of the rune, and lit the candles. From her dark tome, she read a series of unsettling incantations that charged the air with a malicious energy. A haze slowly gathered in Hazel’s mind, she felt the world slow and blur, as if she was about to fall into a deep sleep. This seemed to be the desired effect, as Alma, still sitting with her legs crossed, was put into a trance. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alma’s eyes opened. She was lying on her back in a dark and unfamiliar place. There was only darkness above her, as though there were no sky. She stood, and turned in a full circle. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Only an endless expanse of utter blackness. A cold chill permeated the air, chilled her to her core. She noticed with joy that her arm was no longer in a sling. Exactly as it had been, her arm was once again fully functional, as though it was never broken. She didn’t have much experience with witchcraft, but she assumed it was simply a side effect, or a trick of this place. Alma, don’t make a sound. A voice, Eliza’s voice, suddenly echoed through the darkness. The sound reverberated oddly through the shadowy land, Alma could not even say from what direction the sound emanated. I’m going to perform the next part of the ritual, now. It should bring you to one or both of my parents. Little lights broke through the smoky darkness above, shining down upon her. They grew rapidly, until the black sky was split apart and a golden light rained down. Reflecting the blinding glow in the sky, the ground opened up as well, until Alma was forced to shield her eyes from the onslaught of light. When she dared to open them again, she beheld a robed and hooded man, kneeling a few feet in front of her. He was faced away from her, and seemingly was praying. Alma, if you must speak, do it quickly and quietly, Eliza’s disembodied voice warned. She looked around, verifying that nothing was watching or preparing to attack her, and spoke in a low voice, “Excuse me,” The kneeling man raised his head slightly. Very slowly, he lowered his hands to his side, “... Did my daughter send you?” “She did.” “I presume she wants to put an end to the demon?” “We do.” He turned his head slightly, his face still obscured by the hood, “Our bodies, were they slain?” “I’m sorry?” “Our bodies. The demon kept them in his service. But I had forsaken that husk long ago. Trapped here for years. Something changed only a short while ago. Did you lay the bodies of my wife and I to rest?” “Eliza and my friend Hazel slew them, yes.” His shoulders lowered, and he drew a deep breath, “Thank you.” “We need your help.” “The allure of power is irresistable. I fell victim to it. My wife fell victim to it. The demon wielded his gifts as his strongest weapon. Only when it was too late did I realize we were never in control. If I am to help you, you must make me a promise, child.” She took a step forward, “Anything.” “If Eliza has sent you here, she must be in possession of my old grimoire. Burn it. Burn all of them. Destroy all of my life’s work, and bring my daughter someplace far away from Arnwick. Once the demon is dead, leave this sad story behind, and never look back.” Alma placed her hand over her heart, “I swear to you, I will destroy all of it. I will bring Eliza with me, wherever I go.” His voice was a quiet, almost choked whisper, “Thank you, dear child.” “Please, now, I need to know-” “The demon’s name,” He interrupted, “Correct. I only learned it after I’d been enthralled by him, when I could not use it against him. To know his name will give you tremendous power over him. It will weaken him, it can subdue him, give you time to slay him.” He finally stood, and peered out at the endless black expanse. “Zalacay… ” He muttered, and the word seeped into shadows around them, wriggled and wormed its way into Alma’s head. Her heart beat rapidly, and she took deep breaths to steady herself. He turned to face her, revealing a gnarled and disfigured face. Scars cut deep into his flesh, and his left cheek was simply a gaping hole, revealing teeth. “Do not take him lightly, child. Even with this weapon, Zalacay will not go easily.” With no flash of light, no effects whatsoever, the old necromancer was gone, vanished into thin air. “Did you hear that, Eliza?” No reply came, it grew uncomfortably silent, “Eliza, are you there? How do I leave?” The chill of the place grew more severe. Alma crossed her arms over her chest, shivering slightly. Her breaths created plumes of steam. Dread cut into her heart like a knife, perhaps it was simply her instincts, or some supernatural force, but at that moment she was certain that she was not truly alone. She whirled around, the cold threatening to freeze her to death. Whispers floated through the air, as though carried by the wind. Their voices blended together into a cacophony, but she could make out just a few words and sentences. “Who are you?” “How did you get here?” “She doesn’t belong.” “She must leave.” “She must die.” Alma’s fear was nearly overwhelming. The voices surrounded her, but she could see no source. And yet, she could feel something approaching- something horrible. “We must take the dead,” came one of the whispers, louder than the rest. All at once, they repeated this phrase. Take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead. A sound like a low moaning rose from behind her, and Alma could hardly muster the nerve to face it. When she did, she saw a humanoid figure rising from the shadowy ground. Clad in steely gray armour and black robes, a helmet like that of a knight, albeit of a cruel and jagged design, covered its head. Even through the gaps in the metal, there was nothing but inky blackness underneath. In one hand, it carried a bladed mace, with each of its edges serrated, and covered in ancient blood. A long chain was wrapped around the other arm, ending in a scythe-like hook, similarly discolored with the reddish-brown tinge of old blood. Take the dead take the dead take the dead take the dead, roared in her ears, deafeningly loud. The creature rose to its full height, atleast ten feet, and loomed over her. The creature, presumably a jailer, radiated a terrible presence unlike anything she’d ever felt. She was paralyzed, stricken numb with fear. She couldn’t even feign surprise when she felt her underpants grow heavy. Her panties tightened in the front as her waste stretched out the back, replacing the sensation of cloth with one not unlike mud. The bulge in the seat of her trousers was very large, she had well and truly voided her bowels on herself. The jailer drifted forward, not moving its legs, simply floating. When it drew close enough, it raised its sadistic mace into the air, and brought it crashing down. Alma knew death was certain if she did not react. She had forced her eyes closed, and fought through the terror. She could only rely on instinct as her mind was addled by fear, but it was enough as she dodged backwards. She stumbled, attempted to turn around, and fell to her hands and knees. The jailer still drifted towards her. She looked back at it for only a second, eyes wide, before she forced herself into a sprint. Her breaths came out as ragged sobs, and her whole still felt numb. She’d not felt fear like this in a long time, perhaps not ever. She heard clinking metal, and forced herself to look upon the jailer. It swung its chained arm, and the sharpened hook was thrown at her legs. Her reflexes couldn’t save her in time, and the hook wrapped around her legs. Mercifully, the angled blade hadn’t stuck into her, but the hook instead encircled her lower legs, just below the knees, and tripped her. She fell to the ground with a thud. Her body jerked, and she realized she was being dragged right to the jailer. “No, no! Please!” She pleaded, but still she was dragged towards a fate possibly worse than death. A short but fierce stream of urine wet her pants, and then another. After a couple seconds of being dragged, her bladder fully emptied into her clothes. She pissed hard on herself, flooding her black panties. As she was lying on her stomach and being dragged, she could feel the warmth of her urine soaking into her shirt, reaching nearly to her chest. Take the dead, the voices screamed, take the dead take the dead, they were louder than ever, and louder still as she was pulled closer to the jailer. But then, another voice broke through the nightmarish wails, two, in fact. “Alma!!” she heard Hazel scream. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out!” Eliza promised. ------------------ Hazel had watched Eliza and Alma with bated breath, worried half to death for her friend. Eliza guided her for a time, until it seemed that Alma had found her own way in whatever place she’d been sent to. They sat in silence, hoping that nothing would go wrong. For a few minutes, nothing did. Panic had gripped the both of them when Alma had started to shudder and shake. A foul smell filled the air as she soiled herself, and a yellow pool rapidly expanded underneath her as she pissed herself. Eliza flipped through the pages of her fell tome, but swiftly threw it aside, opting instead to grab Alma by the shoulders and begin shaking her. Whatever nightmare had taken her, it refused to let go- Alma didn’t even budge. “What do we do?!” Hazel nearly shouted, “Eliza, what’s going on?!” The witch didn’t listen to her, but instead produced a piece of chalk, and began drawing an extension to the circle. She moved with great haste, yet still the circle was as detailed as she could manage. She sat down in the new circle’s center, slowed her rapid and erratic breathing, and closed her eyes. After a long few seconds, she, too, was pulled into the same trance as Alma. Hazel watched, waiting for something to happen, wondering if it was even possible for her to help. When neither of them stirred, she picked up Eliza’s grimoire, and began searching for a solution. It was difficult to focus, and she found herself constantly looking up from the book, to check on her friends. Before too long, she found a passage not in the eldritch tongue much of the book was written in. It looked like old notes from a previous owner. Hazel inhaled sharply as she realized that it was, indeed, a description of a method to escape the realm of the dead in an emergency. One needed only to inscribe in that dark place the same rune as they used to enter. Hazel had little doubt that Eliza had gone to do just that. A pained gasp from Eliza broke her concentration, and Hazel dropped the book to attend to her. Just like Alma, Eliza had begun to shake, an expression of sheer terror overpowering her normally passive face. Hazel heard a hissing, and sure enough a steaming puddle issued from underneath the witch. The wetness soaked into her skirt as the pool continued its expansion. It got her, too! Hazel realized, in horror. She had no choice, then. She and Tabitha couldn’t fight the demon alone, and even if they could, she wasn’t about to leave Alma and Eliza behind. They’d come too far together. Steeling herself, she grabbed the chalk, and began to draw another extension to the circle. ------------------ For the most part, Eliza was a rather stoic person. She kept her emotions in check to the best of her abilities. More than once, she’d been overcome by fear, but it was always a primal thing. Something promised mortal danger, and her body failed to overcome the weight of that. But when she arrived in the nightmare she’d sent Alma into, when she gazed upon the unrelenting might and silent scorn of a jailer, she learned new fear. It was a cold and hollow feeling. The thing promised mortal danger, certainly, but there was an element to it that would’ve been lost on an animal, unlike the other frightful things she’d faced. An existential dread pervaded every part of her mind. They were not meant to behold this monstrosity. She saw Alma there, wrapped in unholy chains, being dragged to her demise. Eliza stood there, trembling. Her grip on the chalk she’d carried with her loosened as her body went numb. It fell from her hands, clattering to the black floor of the shadowy place. Slowly, menacingly, the head of the jailer, entombed within its jagged metal helmet, turned upwards to see her. It stopped dragging Alma, instead leaving her bound in chains on the ground. Take the dead, the ethereal chanting finally registered in Eliza’s mind, increasing in volume until it seemed deafening. The jailer moved forward, bladed mace held aloft. To leave Alma subdued, it had relinquished one of its weapons. Eliza’s body was paralyzed, unable to move, completely stricken numb with fear. She collapsed, landing on her rear. She felt herself begin to urinate, her panties swiftly drenched by the strong stream. Across the sheer black floor the hot pool grew. The warmth washed over her butt and wet the back of her dress she was sitting on. The steam and acrid smell drifted upwards. With a wet crackle, her bowels voided. Her mess bulged out her underwear, having to squeeze out uncomfortably, given that she was sitting. Still pissing, the liquid washed over her burgeoning load, furthering her shame. The jailer drew closer and closer, preparing to bring its foul weapon down on her head. Behind it, though, there was a flash of movement. Hazel had entered the land of the dead, as well. You idiot!! Eliza mentally chastised, Now you’re going to die in here, too! As expected, Hazel froze in fear as she saw the jailer. Her legs shook, and she shuddered suddenly. With a seemingly unconscious movement, Hazel reached to the back of her trousers, feeling her own rear. Once again unsurprised, Eliza identified these as the movements of someone who’d just shat their pants. Shamefully, they were motions she was all too familiar with. But what followed actually did surprise Eliza. Hazel closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and ran forward. She was holding a piece of chalk. She was succeeding where Eliza had failed miserably. Hazel reached Alma, and began recreating the rune circle. She worked quickly, and hopefully, accurately. While the jailer had seemingly not noticed the new intrusion, he was almost upon the young witch. She needed to buy the others some time, but her body still refused to listen to her. It was all she could muster to scramble backwards, unable to stand upright. She was still leaking the final stores of urine her body had, leaving warm little trails on the ground as she crawled backwards. Behind the dark creature, Hazel finished the circle. She stood, and took a single step before halting completely. She had moved to come to Eliza’s aid, but there was hardly a person alive who could’ve found the courage to charge towards a jailer. Eliza knew it would be up to her to save her own life. Were it not for the fact that the thing had given up its hook and chain to subdue Alma, it might’ve been impossible. The jailer was so close, preparing to deliver the single strike it would take to ensure that Eliza belonged in the realm of the dead. She rolled to the side, and willed herself to her feet. It was as if lead bricks were tied to every part of her body, but she fought like never before to stand. She attempted to sprint, but quickly fell forward, landing on her face. She shoved herself off the ground, and ran once again. Her legs were shaky and unresponsive, but somehow she managed it. Hazel reached out, and steadied her when she was close enough. They huddled down, next to Alma, ensuring all of them were within the limits of the circle. A petrifying growl emanated from the jailer, who raced forward, eager to bring its wrath down upon them. “Ch- Chalk!” Eliza managed to say. It was all the direction Hazel needed, and she handed her chalk to the witch. Eliza put the finishing touches on the circle, uttered an arcane word, and the foul darkness of their surroundings melted away, replaced instead by an almost blinding white light. ------------------ Each of them gasped hard for air, as though they’d been drowning. The air that greeted them was rather unpleasant, however; acidic with the reek of urine and vile with the stench of three pairs of soiled underpants. Eliza looked down at herself, and regrettably confirmed that Alma’s accidents were not the only ones to carry over into reality. A cold pool of water resided under her, and she could feel a mass like wet clay between her rear end and her panties. “Alma!” Hazel was already looming over her friend, inspecting her. “I’m… I’m okay, I think… ” The monster hunter was inspecting her own body for injury. A veteran, more than experienced with such things, she quickly and easily looked past her wet and soiled trousers, disregarding them seemingly completely. But Eliza knew the embarrassment was not lost on her. “...Thank you,” Alma murmured the most heartfelt words she’d ever heard, and suddenly grabbed Eliza by the shirt with her good arm, yanking and pulling her into a tight embrace that encompassed Hazel as well, “I’ve never… Felt… Just, thank you both, so much.” “All I did was ruin my underwear. We owe our lives to Hazel,” Eliza muttered, her face being held against Alma’s chest. “And Alma,” she began, pulling out of the embrace, “I’m sorry. I had no idea how dangerous it would be-” “I knew it would be dangerous. And besides, it wasn’t for nothing. We’ve got our secret weapon.” Eliza jumped to her feet, errant droplets of urine scattering, “You learned the Beast’s name?!” “I met your father. Made a deal with him,” The mention of her father made Eliza wince, “He told me the name.” She breathed in and out a few times, letting silence settle before she spoke it, “Zalacay.” The name sent shivers down her spine, and Hazel crossed her arms and shivered. “So… that’s what we needed, right?” The merchant asked, “We… We can actually fight him now, right?” “That we can,” Eliza confirmed. “So when do we take the fight to Arnwick?” Alma asked, standing with Hazel’s assistance. “I’ll need to make the final preparations,” Eliza said, interrupting herself as she stopped to tug on her wet and soiled skirt, that had clung to the backs of her thighs, blushing intensely, “Which I will do just as soon as I can change my underwear.” “That… Does sound like a plan,” Alma mused, similarly adjusting her trousers. “Look at you, Hazy,” Alma said with some pride, “Not only did you save us, but you’re the only one to come out clean.” Hazel laughed a quiet, nervous laugh, “Don’t get too excited… ” She once again reached back, cupping her rear. Eliza faced Hazel’s side, and could see the true bulk of her accident. A very large mass rested in the back of her pants. Her panties must’ve been completely filled, as it looked as though some of the mess had escaped into her actual pants. “Oh,” Alma muttered, then laughed a little. “But, truly,” Hazel withdrew her hands from her backside, and looked up to meet the monster’s hunter’s eyes, “I’m so happy you’re okay. We saw it begin to go wrong, and I was so worried about you!” “I did say that I’d be fine, Hazy. Besides, I made a promise to Eliza’s father that I’ve got to see through.” ------------------ Tabitha did not like letting the little witch out of her sight, especially with the eve of battle drawing so near, but she understood the necessity. The sun was setting, and the townspeople needed rest for the trials ahead. She’d done her utmost to whip them into a fighting force, and some of them showed quite a bit of promise. Of course, any time her gaze drifted down to the pants and skirts of any of them, she was reminded that they were not fearless champions. Nearly every single one of them, men and women, had large stains and discolorations, the memories and remnants of past terrors upon their pants and skirts. Most bore the old stains of past wettings, many bore the browned splotches of messy soilings, and who knew how many more had filled their pants with relatively “cleaner” soilings that left little record behind. Naturally, a great many of them bore both kinds of stains, Tabitha among them. It’s a good thing we’re not fighting against a human army, Tabitha mused, How could we possibly look intimidating like this? She had wondered if she should instruct everyone to at least attempt and clean themselves, before deciding it would be pointless. Virtually every one of them was liable to void themselves when the fight began, any way. As the sun set, and the witch hunter’s impromptu conscription and training seminar concluded, she retired to their room in the inn. Her head was pounding with a headache the likes of which she’d hardly felt before. She collapsed in bed, willing sleep to come and get rid of the pain. She lied there for some time, coming to lament that she hadn’t emptied her bladder beforehand. She briefly entertained the thought of rising to do just that, but found her pounding headache too overwhelming. Just gonna piss my sheets again when the damned curse gives me a nightmare, anyway, she reasoned. She closed her eyes, and strained for a moment before her bladder released. The wetness flowed into her panties, spilling down into the sheets and mattress. The sickly, wet warmth slowly crept along, covering her butt and reaching the backs of her thighs, and up to her lower back. She felt some shame at having wet her bed intentionally, but the screaming pain of her headache swiftly assured her that she couldn’t have risen from bed, no matter how hard she’d tried. It must’ve been another aspect of whatever curse the Beast had placed on her. Finally, sleep came, and with it, that disturbing dream. But this time, it was different. Those figures and voices, once distant and nondescript… Now she could see them. Now she could hear them. Edited August 31, 2021 by DsGSilver (see edit history) Astolfosuki, Bismiris, pp123 and 7 others 10 Quote Link to comment
Keita123 1,103 Posted March 14, 2020 Share Posted March 14, 2020 That was wonderful! Beautifully written as usual! DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted March 14, 2020 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted March 14, 2020 What a fantasmic chapter can’t wait for the next one DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
DsGSilver 782 Posted May 27, 2020 Author Popular Post Share Posted May 27, 2020 (edited) 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 really enjoyed making this whole thing, and I'm very happy to see it finally finished. I'm also happy so many people liked this story, and followed it for so long. Thank you all for sticking with my indefensibly slow speed, and without further ado, I present the grand finale to The Journey to Arnwick... Finale Part III - Bravery “The End has come Armageddon, the Eternal Silence The Fell Legions have risen Guided by our herald, and the Black Prophecy This world will be awash with blood and fire and fear” ------------------ Night came, and with it, the army of the dead. They descended upon the town as they had many times before, a legion of savage monsters, a veritable tide of rotten flesh strewn with intermittent teeth and claws. Bounding through the trees were the nimblest of them. At their forefront, a vanguard of creatures like living walls of meat, prepared to absorb arrows and destroy barricades. Standing atop goliath creatures were two necromancers, converts from Arnwick, to oversee the annihilation of the problematic “heroes” rising within this little village. It was a colossal horde, unlike any they’d seen before. Each face- each vile, undead simulacrum of a face- was a unique nightmare. Together, the visage alone was enough to bring grown men and women to their knees. Arnwick was not too distant a town, many of the villagers knew people there. The Beast had been quite careful to leave just enough of its victims intact to identify. “Oh God, I knew him, I’d recognize that scraggly beard anywhere...” The twisted sights of old friends… “That ratty old coat… Is that? No… ” Loved ones and family “Tiff! What in God’s name did they… Oh, sister, I swear I’ll put you out of your misery.” All misshapen and violated. All actions meant to terrify, to frighten the defenders into surrender, to kill the warrior spirit the heroes had tried so fervently to unearth in them. The heroes- Tabitha, holy warrior and peerless swordswoman; Eliza, brilliant mage and alchemist; Alma, cunning slayer of monsters; and Hazel, a brave and innocent soul- had done all they could for them, and now stood as sentinels, ready to fight and die for them. They’d dressed them as warriors, armed them like warriors… But only the sight of the Beast’s machinations, his horrific mockeries of the living, ignited their souls, and set their hearts ablaze. “Vengeance for Arnwick!!” Someone cried. “For the ones we lost!!” Another called. “Prepare to die, demon!!” The crowd began to chant and call both rallying cries and scathing taunts. Zalacay, an Archdemon, the Beast of Arnwick, Dark Herald and a master of terror, had made a mistake. He’d shown his victims the face of death, he let them know it, understand it. He left them with nothing to fear. Frightened civilians had prepared to face the dead, but it would be warriors who would meet them in battle. ------------------ The flesh walls, riddled with arrows and doused in alchemical fire, collapsed shortly after they broke the initial barricade. One was felled even beforehand, collapsing and impaling itself upon the palisade it was meant to smash. It was all the same to the dead, as they clambered atop its malformed body and joined the battle. At the forefront, the strongest fighters broke the charge of the undead. Tabitha foremost among them, she stood further out than any, expertly cleaving apart any challengers. There were many more of the creatures than she was accustomed to fighting, but she swallowed her fear, and devoted herself to the art of slaying. By her side was the woman who’d stood with her during the last siege. Unbeknownst to Tabitha- not that she would’ve even acknowledged it- The woman had soiled herself quite badly in anticipation of the fight. When the army of the dead was nothing more than howls and roars in the distance, the dreadful anxiety had overwhelmed her, and her bowels had messily voided themselves. Wet filth ran all down the backs of her legs, and sat in a sizable mound in her panties. When the time for fighting came, she jumped into action, skewering ghoul after ghoul with deadly precision, valiantly trying to ignore the brown, fetid ruin of her backside. She slew and slew, but their numbers seemed endless. They sensed her weakness, or perhaps their master did, and they focused their violent fury upon her. The tide of the dead smashed into her. She swung and thrust her blade, but was so beset by the dead that she lost her grip, and her sword was carried away, embedded in the still-moving corpse of an Arnwick denizen. She fell on her back, claws and teeth tearing into her. Her punches and kicks did nothing to push them back. She screamed, in equal parts pain and terror. A muffled voice shouted above her, and the ghoul above her face was suddenly decapitated. Tabitha kicked the body aside like a ragdoll, and set to work killing the others. With her life saved, she began scrambling backwards. She could feel urine leaving her body, soaking into her pants as she did so. She left a trail of wetness on the ground, until another defender came to aid, lifting her up and pulling her to safety. “Fall back!” Tabitha commanded. Their initial defensive line had been completely annihilated, and she could see that many of the protectors had already perished. With the archers covering their retreat, the vanguard pulled back, past a series of wooden stake walls and spiked barricades. -- Along the rooftops, the archers stood. Unlike the last siege, this time they were accompanied by guardians to defend them if the more agile undead assailed their position. “They’re clear! Use the vials, now!!” Matthew called to his companions. Each of the dozen archers, a crossbow-wielding Hazel among them, withdrew a vial of fiery orange-and-blue liquid. Eliza’s instructions had been clear enough- just shake vigorously, remove the cork, and throw. Hazel struggled to uncork hers quickly, and was briefly stunned by the brilliant glare of alchemical fire as the ground that had been ceded to the undead was engulfed in flame. Potentially hundreds of the Beast’s army had been incinerated in the blink of an eye. … And Hazel had still not uncorked hers. She shook off the awe at the sight of the explosions, and readied hers for use. “Hazel, look out!” Alma, who’d volunteered to be her guardian, shouted. She looked up in alarm just in time to see a malformed ghoul leap from a tree towards her, baring its fangs and screeching. Alma interposed herself between them, her good arm wielding a silver dagger. The screeching monster impacted her protector, and though she plunged the weapon into its heart, killing it instantly, the force still threw her back, colliding with Hazel. They both grunted and collapsed, the vial of fire falling with a sharp clink onto the rooftop next to them. “You all right?” Alma asked, shoving the body off of the both of them. “Yes, I’m-” the sizzling and smoking vial beside her stole her attention, “Alma! Alma!!” She pushed her friend up, and they both rushed to get away from it. Looking over the side of the roof, they saw only the eager maws of the dead. While Hazel tried to think where they could go that would be safe, she was tackled. She panicked briefly before realizing that it was Alma on top of her. The monster hunter was shielding her with her own body. She would have protested, but the vial detonated in a fantastic eruption of fire and force. It rattled and shook her bones, and the heat scathed her skin. She whimpered and curled in on herself. She hated that Alma was putting herself in such danger on her behalf, but the primal fear in her at that moment wanted nothing more than to curl up and have the stronger woman protect her. As she lay on her side, curled into the fetal position, her bladder let loose. Hot piss flooded her groin, staining her left thigh. The wetness spread across the front and back of her leg, and pooled underneath her, soaking into the bottom of her shirt, as well. Alma, poised over her, had noticed the wet sensation when it reached her own knees, and pitied her friend. “Hazy… ” Alma began, but found her voice choked and strained, “You hurt?” Hazel’s ears heard only ringing, and she looked upwards at her friend, wild fear still in her eyes. Alma coughed when she tried to speak more, accidentally spitting a splash of blood onto Hazel’s shoulder. She’d taken the brunt of the explosion, and her innards hadn’t appreciated it. After another short coughing fit, her voice finally broke through, “Don’t worry, Hazy We’re-” The sound of splitting wood interrupted her, and she looked at the roof they sat upon. The fire bottle had vaporized a large percentage of the building, and much of the rest of it had been set ablaze in impossibly hot fire. Now what remained of the roof threatened to give way under their combined weight. “Shit,” Was all Alma had time to say before the wood gave way, and the two women tumbled down, Hazel screaming as they fell. Alma wrapped her good arm around her, and tried to cushion the fall. When they impacted the hard ground, littered with splintered wood, shattered glass and flaming debris, Alma gasped in agony. “Ahh, fuck!” She writhed in pain. Hazel finally came to her senses, shaking off the last of the shock from the explosion. She stood, and crouched beside the injured huntress. “No, no, no! Alma, where are you hurt? Is-is anything broken?” “Landed on my back, bad arm hit the ground, too,” She answered through gritted teeth. She was pretty sure her back had been perforated by glass shrapnel from the bomb, and then by splinters, too. “Don’t worry, I’ll… ” She looked to the ruin of the home’s front door. It was a veritable wall of flame, and beyond it was a sea of the dead. “I’ll… ” She didn’t know what to do. “Hazy… crates in the corner,” Alma wheezed out, “drag me behind them, we’ll hide until we can move.” “Uh, right! Good idea,” She lifted Alma under her arms, and did her best to ignore her friend’s groans of pain. She propped Alma against the wall, letting her sit and rest for a moment. Hiding behind the crates, the sound of the dead finally reached them. It was horrific, wet gurgling growls and rabid snarling. A sound so vile and overpowering, Hazel wondered if she would ever hear anything else again. She clutched the crossbow in shaking hands. For the first time, she noticed her wet pants. Her crotch was soaked, and her left thigh, front and back, was saturated. Alma cursed her injury, and the fact that Hazel was in so much danger because of it. None of her wounds stung as badly as the agony of not being able to protect her. She clutched her silver dagger, and silently prayed that nothing would find them. The shock and fear of the fight had also awoken a familiar need in her abdomen. She groaned, feeling the need to empty her bowels present itself. The fight was very, very far from over, and she knew there was no way she would leave it with clean underwear. It was better to end the discomfort of it immediately, as she’d long ago grown accustomed to fighting whilst needing to change her panties. Indeed, her panties were already wet, as she’d been leaking for the last several minutes. With just a light push, her release made contact with the cloth of her underwear. That simple movement put her well past the point of no return, and the rest of her mess began to meet her panties. “Hazy… sorry… ” She muttered without explanation. “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” She quickly replied, clearly not grasping just what Alma was referring to. As the monster hunter’s load filled the seat of her panties with soft mush, both a muddy, crackling sound and a foul smell filled the air. “O-oh,” Hazy blushed and averted her eyes. “W-well, hey, I need to change, too,” She gripped the large piss stain on the front of her trousers. The two of them quietly chuckled, as Alma continued relieving herself in her pants. -- Eliza had been given the rather inglorious task of guarding the safehouse. Many of the residents of the town were simply not physically fit to serve as soldiers. The young and old, and those that either couldn’t be sufficiently armed or weren’t fit to wield arms waited inside. Eliza found herself staring longingly out the window, at the horde of undead, and wished she was there, being torn limb from limb, rather than stuck in the cursed safehouse with all the panicking, crying fools. The large room, formerly a town hall, now a hastily fortified shelter, stunk terribly. With even a cursory scan of the room, it was perfectly evident why. Eliza looked to a young woman, whose gray trousers were drenched in her own urine, from the top to the bottom. She stood bowlegged, and refused to sit down, despite the free chair near her, indicating she’d shat herself, too. Not too far from her, a somewhat older woman sat against the wall, holding her legs close. A brown discoloration and a telling bulge were present on her rear. When a foul smell had first struck her, she was the first soiled person she had spotted; Eliza had initially given the woman credit for not wetting herself as well, though as she looked at the rapidly growing puddle underneath her, she had to retract that praise. A man, the one Hazel had stopped from attacking the bartender was a victim to fear as well. As he looked out the window, his bladder gave way. He slowly shifted his gaze to the rapidly growing stains racing down his legs, and spilling out around his feet. Indeed, nearly half the people in the shelter stood either in or near a pool of piss, and just as many walked with a wide stride so as not to upset the loads in their pants. Perhaps Eliza just felt galvanized after the success of their prior ritual, for all she could think was, What children! They haven’t even breached the doors, yet. For my sake, soil yourselves after I’ve died, so I don’t have to smell it! A creak of wood above them silenced all within the shelter. Another creak, then another, and another. Footsteps. One of the leaping ghouls had made it to the shelter. Eliza’s heart began to race, for she knew the implications of that. Alma and Tabitha had positioned the archers in key locations to protect the shelter, and offer suppressive volleys into the dead. If they’d reached the shelter, then all of the archer nests had been overrun. Without them, they could be flanked and surrounded, and had no vision on the horde. That alone may have meant that the battle was already decided, and Zalacay had won. “We’re gonna die!” A woman behind Eliza shrieked, the sudden burst of noise nearly making the witch jump out of her skin. She turned to see the culprit, and saw a crying woman on her knees, a spreading stain on the front of her blue skirt, and a steaming puddle around her knees. “Quiet!!” She whispered through gritted teeth, but it was too late. An animal-like hissing broke the silence, and the footsteps grew more and more numerous. Guttural snarling from the one who’d found them seemed to draw more, and before long, it sounded as though there must’ve been a hundred monsters swarming the building. With a loud grunt, one of the ghouls began banging on the rooftop. Following suit, the others began slamming into the wood with all their might. It rained dust and splinters onto the survivors. Near where the original ghoul had begun assaulting the structure, a rotted hand burst through, broken and sliced by the old wood, but it broke through nonetheless. Now would be an appropriate time to lose control of your bowels, she thought. There was numbness in her legs, and she quickly reached back to feel her own rear, and verify that she had not yet taken her own advice. “Uh, e-everyone! Get to the basement, now!!” She called out, though the people were too stunned to move. She drew the sword they’d given her, and it made a harsh rasp as it scraped its scabbard; the sound caught the attention of the citizens. “Basement! Now!!” She barked once again, though this time with results. The door to the basement was thrown open, and the crowd of frightened, soiled people ran inside. Eliza watched the ghoul as it continued to smash apart the wood with no regard for the fidelity of its own body. Blood and chunks of maimed flesh fell through the burgeoning hole just as much as shattered wood did. Once the people were all through the door, Eliza moved to follow after them, so she could defend the narrow stairwell. Just as she reached it, seconds before she would’ve closed the door, she heard sniffling behind her. Looking for the source, she spotted another terrified woman hiding under a table. She was on her hands and knees, Eliza could immediately see the stains between her legs. “Come on!” Eliza shouted, “Come on!!” when she did not budge. She was shaking like a leaf, and it dawned on Eliza that she was completely paralyzed in fear. Sheathing her sword, the witch ran over to her. Having lost her patience, she pushed the table over, revealing the woman's hiding place. She squealed, and Eliza grabbed her arm and forced her up. As forcefully as the little witch’s physique would allow, she pulled the frightened woman to the door, and shoved her inside. The ghouls had just widened the gap enough that they could pass through, evidenced by the spent carcass of one of them falling to the ground with a meaty splat. As she hurried the woman inside, she grimaced when one of her pushing hands contacted the woman's rear end, squishing the mess which had been present there. A couple other survivors dragged her inside, and more still hoisted barrels and furniture up the stairs, preparing to barricade the door. Hardly anybody inside could fight, and most of the ones that could had no weapon. Some had ripped the legs off of chairs, or grabbed any sharp silverware. The ghouls charged the door, banging on it, slamming against it. Before long, they would break through the meager fortifications, and Eliza was confident she would only be able to kill one or two of them before they overwhelmed her, too. If the others did not prevail soon, no one in the shelter had any hope. -- The defenders that hadn’t fallen in combat were being driven back. The dead gathered around the town, encircled it, surrounded and swarmed them. They were impossibly numerous, and Tabitha realized all too late that this meant Arnwick was not the only town or city to be consumed. The Beast was fast, unbelievably fast, and had built such a colossal force in such little time. In the furthest recesses of her mind, she understood what this meant: their fight was hopeless. Even if they had twice as many soldiers, the dead would still outnumber them to an incalculable degree. That the Beast waited so long, kept Arnwick alive when it had such an army… it wanted something. But Tabitha was trained as a witch hunter, trained to withstand their manipulations and mind-altering spells. She filtered these thoughts from her mind, she focused solely on the battle in front of her. The townspeople she’d defended already knew Tabitha was a peerless warrior, but those still alive, who could see how she stood in defiance of the Beast’s army, could not believe what they witnessed. Tabitha, gore-splattered, stood in the center of a bloodbath. Hundreds of ghouls lay at her feet, eviscerated, decapitated, maimed and destroyed. Each one singed and immolated by the magical properties of her sword. As she whirled about in a flurry of strikes, sparks and billows of flame flying from her sword, each motion felling an opponent, it seemed even the walking corpses were terrified of her. The army of the dead advanced around her, careful not to stray too close. Indeed, she suspected that the ones engaging her were not doing so in an attempt to kill her, but rather just to keep her occupied so the others could pass. She’d barely even noticed, but the enemy’s numbers were waning sharply. They had initially seemed so overwhelmingly huge that she felt it impossible to defeat them. Now, though… She hated the little witch, but credit was due: her plan had worked stupendously. Their organization, their weapons, their special equipment, the timing of it all- the Beast had marched his army into a slaughter. Not that it would be an easy victory- not that victory was even assured. The town was in absolute ruins. Tabitha had been so inundated with monsters to slay that she’d completely neglected to take stock of their defenses, but she had no doubt many, likely most of their defenders had fallen. She paid it no mind, though. All that mattered was the death of the archdemon. Even if every single of them perished here, his death would forbid the calamity from spreading any further. “Are you truly so desperate to find me, child?” The voice froze her breath and her muscles. Sanguine and cold, dripping with depraved delight. She’d been stopped mid-swing, her blade only inches from the neck of a ghoul. But… the ghoul had stopped, as well. In fact, they no longer pressed the attack against her. They surrounded her, and just watched. With a savage grunt, she completed the swing, felling the ghoul. The sounds of slavering fiends and clamoring fighters behind her did not abate, the fight raged on. “Show yourself, abomination!” Tabitha called into the night, voice shaking and ragged. Something in her mind, a sensation, gave her a silent answer. She did not know how she knew, but she knew suddenly what she would see when she turned around. Abject terror flooded into her. She had known that the demon would make an appearance, but even so, now the time was nigh, and her body had been frozen in fear. Wetness cascaded down her legs, drenching her pants. Noisily, a puddle formed in the crimson dirt below her. “Turn around,” The Beast commanded. Tabitha found herself unable to refuse. She slowly came to face him, gazing upon the unholy gargantuan. As she’d observed before, he was like the dreadful union of man and vulture. Easily twelve feet in height, composed of spindly limbs with taloned fingers. An avian head with a cruel beak. Massive wings that moved to encircle the both of them. Her heart didn’t stop, though she wondered if that was a blessing or a curse. The witch’s charm worked. Her sword clattered in her hand, and a new warmth settled into her panties. The mass there grew and grew, until she’d filled her trousers substantially. “So difficult to resist your fear, isn’t it?” She could sense the monster’s jubilation. Beyond being humiliating, her wetting and soiling herself indicated that she was terrified. To a demon, that meant she was malleable. “Give in.” The edges of her vision darkened, her thoughts became clouded. The sounds of fighting had grown dim and distant. “Come with me, little hunter. Fulfill your purpose, and I promise that you’ll be free from fear.” She tried to answer, to reject him, but was too numb. She only babbled half words and sounds. The Beast reached out with a huge, clawed hand. In a surprisingly gentle motion, he clasped her hand. “Be the first. Our champion. Our guiding light. The Black Prophecy await- AAAAGGHHH!!” The Beast howled in fury and pain, and Tabitha gritted her teeth, twisting the holy blade she’d driven into him. With a swipe, he knocked the sword from her hand, and it clattered to the ground below. A demonic force gripped her, and held her in the air. Perhaps intentionally, the wetness of her pants and the mass in her panties were pushed and held against her, as if to remind her of her fear. The wound, a jagged gash in the monster’s chest, mended itself before her very eyes. “Worry not, little one: I forgive you.” He leaned in closer, his rotted face only an inch from her nose, “Perhaps I am being too hasty. The choice was made on your behalf, some time ago. You do not yet know that you are willing. You will learn.” The force holding her aloft dissipated, and she descended into the waiting arms of several ghouls. “To Arnwick, we have one final act of service to complete.” Obediently, the ghouls followed after their master, vanishing into the night. -- Unbeknownst to Tabitha or the Beast, Hazel and Alma had been watching and listening. The swarm of undead around them had abated enough to allow them to begin their escape. Though they’d only made it as far as the window before Alma shoved them both to the ground. She’d witnessed the arrival of Zalacay. While they huddled together and eavesdropped, Alma, ever courageous, rose to a crouch and peered out the shattered window. The monster hunter gasped sharply, and ducked back down, on her knees. Her eyes were shut, and Hazel immediately recognized the familiar sound of piss flowing into pants. Sure enough, Alma’s brown pants, already host to a bulging mound in the rear, darkened as sheaths of urine coursed down her thighs. The puddle grew between her legs, and a strong stream of her piss flowed through the fabric at her crotch, loudly adding to the pool. Hazel blushed for her friend’s sake, and shimmied away slightly when the puddle nearly reached her. “They took her,” Alma spoke after taking a moment to collect herself. “I heard,” Hazel answered, “Arnwick… looks like we’ll be making it there after all, huh?” Hazel joked, but she could not hide the shaking of her voice, the tears and sobs within her. “We need Eliza. We weren’t planning on the Beast doing this.” The two of them hesitantly stood, both being so familiar with the sensation of pissed pants that both of them had largely forgotten about their “matching” trousers. With Tabitha’s abduction, their greatest bulwark was gone. The last of the survivors had withdrawn to the town hall. The dead swarmed its walls and roof like flies. But if they were so intent on besieging the building, then it meant Eliza had successfully been defending it. She was alive. “Grab the crossbow, Hazy, this may be our last chance.” Hazel took a deep breath, and readied the crossbow. She knew they were walking out to face a veritable army, but somehow, she wasn’t afraid. Alma clutched her silver dagger, and took a position close to her. They stepped back out into the night. By then, almost all of the dead had gathered around the safehouse, and were ripping the building apart. It was impossible to miss, so Hazel simply fired indiscriminately into the horde gathered outside the doors. Each bolt struck and vanquished a ghoul, though they both knew she didn’t have the ammo to do all that much to the horde. The sound of mad gibbering filled their ears, and soon a hasty scampering joined it. They spun, and Alma jumped into action just in time to slay a crawler before it reached them. But then there was more, another came rushing in. “Shit, shit, shit!” Alma muttered, sprinting back over, “Keep shooting, Hazy! I’ll protect you!” She did as she was told. The ghouls had begun to notice the two, and several members of the horde broke off, and charged towards them. The brush around them shook and rattled with stalking fiends. Alma fought them back as much as possible, but they would soon be overwhelmed. A ghoul appeared suddenly, in front of Hazel’s face, it’s ruinous maw open for a bite. She screamed, and tried to heft the large crossbow in time, only for an arrow to pierce the monster’s skull. “I’m here, you two, don’t worry!” Came a man’s voice- Matthew. “Let’s finish this!” Someone else, a woman, shouted. She glanced over, and witnessed Alma being aided by the woman who’d stood beside Tabitha. With their numbers doubled, the dead were suddenly being held at bay. Hazel and Matthew continued to deplete the horde’s numbers, but Hazel knew it would not last. They had not nearly enough bolts and arrows to succeed. She glanced around in desperation, and her eyes settled on something. A fallen archer, and something glittering on his belt… A glowing orange vial. -- Eliza and the survivors she was protecting had done everything in their power to seal the passage into the basement, but it would not hold for long. The bravest and strongest among them had grabbed anything that could be swung as a weapon, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, ready to receive their oncoming guests. Although, calling her comrades such a thing was rather generous, since they were the “bravest and strongest” of the most cowardly and frail people left in town. Eliza looked to her right, and there stood a woman somewhat taller than herself. She clutched a small dagger in one hand, and wore quite a fierce scowl. She was shaking, though- nearly trembling. Her pants darkened suddenly between her legs as her bladder relaxed. A wet spot, only slightly larger than a coin appeared. It grew, doubling in size. Then it grew again, and again. Well, credit where credit is due: she’s at least trying to hold her water. As the sounds of slavering ghouls grew louder and closer, the woman’s trousers grew wetter. In a matter of seconds, the urine stains had nearly reached her shoes. To her left was a man, whom she recalled hearing about during the creation of the battle plan. The poor fellow seemed to have quite an intense fear of the things the Beast created. He was known to be paralyzed with fear during each attack, hence why he stayed in the safehouse. Yet, here he was, prepared to fight and probably die. He wasn’t completely cornered- not yet, at least- there were still people for him to hide behind. There must be someone in here he wants to protect, no matter the danger to himself. At least he’s found some courage. Her thoughts were silenced when she noticed the brown foulness seeping into the rear of his pants. There was only a faint bulge, but the brown stains began to flow down the backs of his legs. He, too, was shaking. Rabid snarling outside the door signalled that the time had come. Wood splintered, and reanimated bodies smashed against the barricade. They’d done all they could to reinforce the door, but it wasn’t much. Another slam, and the wall of debris shuddered. Somewhere behind her, Eliza heard the disgusting sounds of someone soiling themself. Another slam, and the barricade shifted, beginning to lurch. Eliza stood with her sword drawn, trying to take careful, measured breaths. The pit of fear in her stomach and tingling numbness in her limbs had been there for some time, but she noted that they had been joined by a curious deflating sensation. Another slam, and the defence began to crumble. “Please!! Please don’t kill us!” Someone screamed, before devolving into a fit of crying and sobbing. Be silent, you frightened children!! A thought occurred to her, and she looked down at her own legs; she believed that she’d just figured out what that strange sensation was. As predicted, a puddle surrounded her boots, just finishing up its expansion as the last of her pee struck the ground. The front of her dress was wet, and cold droplets fell from the hem like rain. She didn’t even know that she’d been wetting herself- her focus had been stolen by other matters. Having realized her accident, she was able to detect the sensation of soaked panties, and the piss coating her thighs and filling up her boots. Her hand clutching the sword shook, and she almost couldn’t even lift the weapon. A sad, bitter smile crossed her lips, Yup. Frightened children, the lot of us… The barricade was destroyed by the onslaught, and the first of the ghouls rampaged through. Eliza swallowed hard, grit her teeth, and raised the sword. Perhaps viewing the witch as the runt of the litter, it made for her. It launched forward in a brutal charge, impaling itself on the sword, but not dying. It swung wildly, its claws raking across Eliza’s face. Her right cheek was rent open, and she screeched in pain. The monster’s unholy strength far eclipsed her own, and she was overwhelmed immediately. They fell to the ground, and Eliza covered her head with her arms as the ghoul unleashed its rage upon her. “Eliza! Help her!” Someone cried out, and after a few painful seconds, the beating ended. A number of the people who’d been hiding in the back had come to her rescue, pulling the ghoul off of her and bludgeoning it with a length of wood. The others had managed to just barely hold out against the horde, and it appeared no one had any life-threatening injuries. The ghouls continued to pour through the gap they’d created, until one of them began his foray through the destroyed barricade, only for something on the other side to pull him back. There was a yelp, and then silence, as the last of the ghouls was slain. Eliza could hardly believe it when she saw a human face peering down at them- Hazel’s. -- Hazel took a young woman’s hand, and helped her through the decimated barrier. She was the last person to leave the basement, and, upon seeing that she’d thoroughly ruined the front and back of her skirt, Hazel could say with some confidence that a majority of the survivors had had at least one type of accident in their pants- herself among them. She ran her hand over the lopsided stain that almost exclusively covered only one leg. It had nearly dried, but the stain was still unmistakeable. Around her, people were tending to injuries both grievous and minute. Many sought or provided comfort. Many could only sit in silent horror at the devastation surrounding them. In all the war stories, everyone always celebrates and cheers when the battle is won… But there was no celebration here. They had not won. They had survived. Granted, even that was a feat of almost miraculous significance. Hazel gaped at the wall of the safehouse that had been incinerated by the firebomb she’d thrown. It was pure luck that the archer hadn’t been able to use the bomb before meeting his fate. “Well… It worked, Eliza.” Alma clutched the charm pendants the witch had made for them. Indeed, she’d stared directly at Zalacay, and not died. “Excellent,” Eliza winced, speaking clearly not being pleasant with her new scars. “All that’s left is to strike Zalacay where he’s weak.” “What about Tabitha? Why did he take her?” Hazel chimed in. “I… I have no idea, I’m afraid. He must need her for something.” “We have to help her!” Hazel spoke with determination. “We will,” Alma replied. “Indeed… ” Eliza seemed to be rapidly progressing through a train of thought, “Taking her may have been a grave mistake. He didn’t ensure that we perished here. Without him, his forces were defeated, and now he has only a small contingent left at his side. I’d planned to confront him with an exorcism during this fight, but I never got the chance.” “But now we have a perfect opportunity,” Hazel felt a newfound strength well within her, and lifted the crossbow in a display of determination. “All right, my friends… Let’s finish this, and save Tabitha.” “Agreed,” Eliza tacitly replied, though she smiled back. “Hear, hear!” Alma cheered. The three of them turned, and began their trek towards Arnwick- to the end of their roads. As they reached the edge of town, Hazel’s foot struck something. She looked down, and spotted Tabitha’s holy sword, discarded on the ground. -- “Arnwick,” proclaimed the letters wrought in an elegant iron script, forming an arch. It must have once looked lovely, but now was profaned with gore and viscera that hung like banners. The buildings in the small city were mostly rubble, but they were quite similar to the arch: soaked in blood and decorated with banners of organs and fleshy effigies. The stench of the place was unbearable, to the degree that Hazel could only figure that it was completely unnatural, as if the air were poisoned. Growths like veins broke through the cobblestone path, running towards some central point deeper inside. “Uh, eeuugh… ” Hazel’s stomach turned, and she recoiled at the brutal assault on her senses. “Be strong, Hazy, just a little more,” Alma’s voice was strong, determined. Hazel had never completed her move to Arnwick, but there was a strange melancholy that came with seeing it in such ruin. Naturally, the tragic calamity that had taken place there tugged at her heartstrings, but it was something different that troubled her. She could picture the place before the end, and the kind of life she could’ve had there. It was the lost possibility, the happy lives that never were that weighed on her mind. The Beast would pay for this atrocity. The walk through Arnwick was startlingly, unnervingly peaceful. Not a single ghoul attacked them. Near as they could tell, they were not even being watched. She did not like it; she would’ve preferred if they’d been swarmed by monsters the instant they arrived. The vein led them to a disturbing sight. The veins formed a large, circular basin in the town square. The basin was filled to the top with blood, in which swirled a murky black substance. Many ghouls sat in a circle around the ritual basin, kneeling in some sort of reverence. On the other side stood Tabitha, stripped down to her heavily soiled underwear. She seemed to be in some sort of trance, unthinking and unmoving. And behind her… Behind her hovered the giant, corvid form of an Archdemon. “At last… ” He began in his slow voice, “I’ve gotten to know each of you quite well, by now. Shall we speak, or shall the feeding hour come early?” Hazel’s body locked up. As described, Zalacay radiated some kind of power, one that instilled mortals with incomprehensible fear. Urine spilled out into her already wet panties, refreshing the stains on her legs. What little hadn’t escaped her bladder earlier certainly did, then. Beside her, Alma would have relieved herself into her clothes, but she’d already emptied herself completely during the battle. Eliza’s body, on the other hand, had more to give. Her panties tented, then tented further and sagged under the weight of a completely solid mess. The back of her dress was pushed back, and she had to grip her underwear to prevent them from falling down her legs. Once the hard log broke off, the rest of her mess was softer, and piled up around it. In only a short few seconds, the mess in her panties had gone from a sideways tower to a mound. The witch had never made such a mess of herself in her entire life. “You’ve come to know such terror, opposing the inevitable in such a way,” the Archdemon continued, “Such pain and loss. All I ask is your loyalty, and you will have you desire- you will be free of pain and failure and fear. You will be safe. You have my word.” “Your words mean nothing, fiend!” Alma shouted. “Tabitha! Get away from him! We’ll protect you!” Hazel called to their addled friend, but she did not seem to hear them. “You will not see reason? Such a pity. Children, you may feast.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, the remaining ghouls jumped to their feet, and sprinted forward with a ferocity they had not seen before. But they were ready. It was not Hazel, but Eliza who hefted the crossbow, and loosed a bolt into a charging undead. Alma sprinted, and cut down the ghouls that sought to kill Eliza. Hazel drew a weapon that was new to her, but filled her with a divine purpose. Wielding Tabitha’s lost sword, she struck down the nearest ghoul, marvelling at the way the blade passed through its body, cutting perfectly, and leaving a streak of flame in the air. Even hurt and exhausted as they were, Zalacay’s ghouls proved no match for them. “Ha ha! I would’ve been utterly disappointed if you fell so easily. Tabitha, begin. I will see to our uninvited guests.” The witch hunter mutely strode forward, into the unholy pool of blood. Little embers rose from the basin, filling the air with a dark energy. Spreading his rotted wings to their full length, Zalacay took flight, then descended in the blink of an eye, smashing into the ground between Tabitha and her friends. “I hope your plan was more sophisticated than it seems to be… ” “I think… ” Eliza spoke, fighting through the terror, “You’ll agree that it was… Zalacay.” The Archdemon recoiled, both in shock and pain. He made a confused noise, but Eliza gave him no reprieve. She produced her grimoire, and began to read from it. It was an arcane incantation that Hazel did not understand in the slightest, but even she could tell that it was distinct from the harsh, demonic tongue she’d seen before. It was softer, yet filled with conviction. Whatever it was, Hazel was willing to bet that it was a holy chant. An exorcism. Zalacay stumbled backwards, little cracks formed in his mottled flesh, and a brilliant light shone through. He was stunned and weakened, Hazel could feel his deathly aura lifting, her senses returned. But behind him, Tabitha had reached the center of the pool. She lifted a knife, and poised it to stab into her own heart. “Tabitha, no!! Just wait a little longer!” Hazel screamed. She didn’t know if it was her words, or Tabitha’s own iron will, but the edge of the dagger stopped just before it could break skin. Seizing the opportunity, Alma rushed into the pool, and tackled the woman with all her might. They both crashed down into the crimson liquid. “No, No! You will not impede my glorious work! The Blakc Prophecy has come at last!” Zalacay screeched. Even through the holy force of an exorcism empowered by his true name, he lunged for Eliza. His large, taloned hand swiped, and the shock stopped the witch’s chanting. She backstepped, and her life was saved by it, as the talons shredded the book from which she read, but missed her. In his other hand, a black and green ball of fire formed, and he reared back to throw it. Holy sword in hand, Hazel came to her friend’s defense, and severed the arm holding the flame. Unlike the ghouls, the blade did not carve through Zalacay easily, and the effort it took to push the blade forward was enormous, but it was not wasted. The arm fell harmlessly to the ground, eliciting an agonized scream from the Archdemon. But he was not dead, and Hazel knew that he would need to land only a single hit to kill either of them. Do what Alma would do… In the pool, Alma wrestled with Tabitha, fighting to take the knife from her. It pained her to admit, but Tabitha would be a better fighter even if Alma’s arm weren’t broken. They rolled and battled in the pool, Tabitha constantly pulling just ahead. She couldn’t win, but she did recall what Eliza had told them: that Zalacay’s control over the witch hunter created a mutual bridge, one that could be the Beast’s downfall. She got off her, allowing both of them to stand, so Tabitha could hear her. “Listen to me, Tabitha! We’ve come to save you! That monster is all that’s left, now!” The witch hunter’s arm slackened just a bit, and she once again refrained from plunging the dagger into her own heart. “The townspeople survived, Tabitha! They’re alive! We won, we beat his horde!” “W-won?” Tabitha muttered in a pitifully weak voice. “We journeyed to a dark place, learned that thing’s true name, and Eliza is binding him right now! He’ll be exorcised in mere moments, and we’ll be free! Please, Tabitha, come to your senses!” The hand that gripped the knife relaxed some, then more and more, until the blade fell and splashed in the sanguine pool below them. She laughed meekly, and took a stumbling step towards Alma. Another step, and she fell forward, before being caught by Alma’s good arm. “Heh, knew you’d finish this… ” As the witch hunter seemed to fall into unconsciousness, another unseen blow smote the Archdemon. His aura grew dimmer and dimmer, until it was only a whisper. “Mortal infidels… This day was prophesied a thousand lifetimes ago… You will not stop it.” “You lost, demon,” Hazel had never felt so galvanized, so powerful. She ran, and jumped into the air. She collided with Zalacay’s disintegrating form, and drove the holy sword into his chest. He made a sound, like he was gasping. He shuddered, and the lights breaking through his skin grew blindingly bright. Hazel shielded her eyes, but felt some unknown force throw her into the air. She struck something when she landed, and the whiteness that filled her vision went black. -- “Hazy. Hazy! Are you hurt?” A concerned voice asked. She opened her eyes as if she were finally waking from a long and terrible nightmare. Both Alma and Eliza stood over her, and she wasn’t sure which of them had just spoken. It honestly could’ve been either of them. “Is it… Is it over?” She almost didn’t dare ask. “He’s dead. We did it, Hazy.” Eliza answered in a choked voice. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and a wide smile crossed her lips. It was the happiest Hazel had ever seen the witch be. “Tabitha?” “She woke up a moment ago,” Alma motioned to a spot nearby, “She’s confused, and feels unwell, but she’s alive and kicking.” Hazel joined Eliza in crying more than a few tears of joy. She still felt a little delusional from all that had happened, and more or less uttered the first thing to come to her mind, “Can you imagine… If I’d just chosen to move somewhere else… ” They laughed, and helped her up. She very nearly fell right back down the instant she was on her feet. Her friends kept her stable, and she finally saw Tabitha. The proud woman must’ve been unhappy that Zalacay’s ritual had put her in such a state of undress. Tabitha seemed the sort to not want her underwear seen even when that underwear wasn’t filled with her own waste. A ragged bedsheet was draped over shoulders, giving her at least some measure of decency. She fixed Hazel with a disbelieving stare, “Hazel… What you did is… Well, it’s unbelievable. That thing was going to use me to usher forth the greatest legion of demons this world would ever see. His ritual needed a holy warrior’s heart to be complete. It makes me sick to think of how long he’d been using me.” “I’m just glad that you’re okay, Tabitha. I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you everythi- Oh!” Hazel began to pat her sides, searching for Tabitha’s sword. “I need to give you back your… ” Tabitha slowly shifted her head, looking upon the ashen, lifeless body of Zalacay. The sword jutted from his chest like a flag triumphantly planted on enemy ground. She walked forward, and ripped the weapon from the body. Walking back, she held it out to Hazel. “Take it. Keep it. You’ve more than earned it, my friend.” “What? I couldn’t possibly- what about you? Don’t you need it?” “I can use any sword, Hazel. I can kill witches with any old weapon. I can’t kill an Archdemon, though. This is my gift to you, as your friend; and something I bestow upon you, as a paladin offering you the greatest honor I can give.” Hesitantly, she reached out, and took the blade. “I… Thank you, Tabitha.” She nodded in reply, then turned to Eliza, “I won’t apologize for my treatment of you, Eliza. I will always regard your lot with due suspicion. But… if ever there was a witch that was good, you’re her. You saved us all, and for that, I thank you.” “Ah, um, of course,” Eliza had clearly been caught off guard. “And lastly, Alma,” “Yes?” “I’d be honored if you’d join me. My order must hear of this at once, and they will likely begin a colossal demon hunt. Your skill would be most welcome.” “Ah. I’m sorry, Tabitha, but… ” She glanced at the others, “I’ve made a few promises I have to keep.” “That is unfortunate, but I understand. All of you have done more than could ever have been expected of you. I have to leave now, but if you ever need me, seek me out in the witch hunters, I will come to your aid with a second thought. Farewell, my friends.” They said their goodbyes, and parted ways. After a few more minutes, Hazel had finally regained enough strength to walk, and the trio chose a path leading out of Arnwick, and set out. They didn’t know where the path would lead, but they wanted very badly to leave Arnwick and its horrors behind them. -- The sun broke through the gray blanket of clouds that had refused to leave since the beginning of their journey. So far, their walk through the forest had been entirely peaceful, not a monster in sight. They’d talked a little, but all of them were much too tired to hold any real dialogue. Something strange happened as they walked, though. Hazel’s panties seemed to shift, and a dreadful and familiar sensation caressed her butt. She reached a hand back, and felt the burgeoning mess there. She was presently soiling herself, with absolutely no provocation. A soft load absolutely filled her underwear, forming an easily visible bulge in her trousers. “Um, oh my… ” “Something the matter?” Alma asked with concern. “Ah, I’ve, um, I’ve soiled myself,” She said in shock. “Oh. Did you only just notice?” Eliza asked, “I did it, too; the second I saw him, I… Well, you know.” “You probably did it when you jumped at the Beast like that. I certainly would have,” Alma added. “No, I… Yeah, I suppose you two are probably right. Must’ve done it then.” She laughed a little, but she could feel herself still going in her panties. She elected to save a little face, since it made her seem less childish to have crapped herself while fighting an Archdemon. She didn’t understand why she just emptied her bowels, though. Perhaps she’d needed to relieve herself, but the numbness from that burst of light made her not notice until it was too late? At any rate, she most certainly was not alone. Both her friends walking by her side carried similar loads in their pants. Poor Eliza still needed to grip her underwear to prevent them from falling. They would need to find a river or somewhere to wash themselves off before they stopped by any town. Epilogue - Two years later Hazel awoke, and sat upright in her bed. She stretched and yawned, then carefully rose from the bed, being as cautious as possible to not disturb Alma beside her. Looking out the window, it wasn’t quite light out, yet. That meant she had some time before the others awoke. Stepping outside the room, the merchant quietly lifted up her nightgown, and inspected her diaper. Wet, as usual. She grimaced, and made for her study, where her extras were kept. Placing her hand on the door, a voice behind her startled her so much she had to cover her mouth to keep from making a noise that would wake Alma, “Oh, good morning, Hazy.” The surprise caused Hazel’s weakened bowels to void, soiling her diaper. The sound was loud and obvious, and her nightgown spared her the shame of having Eliza see her diaper brown and bulging, but she could still feel the mess filling the garment. “Eliza!” She hissed in an angry whisper, “Please be more careful not to sneak up on me! Why are you even awake this early?” The witch was never awake this early. “Oh dear, I’m sorry, Hazy! I was just finishing some research, and needed to use the lavatory.” Since the battle with Zalacay, they’d learned that the energy that had buffeted Hazel had done more than a few strange things to her. Her skin was a little paler; her eyes had turned a blue-green color; she had a tendency to sleep for abnormally long periods of time, reaching upwards of an entire day asleep. And finally, it had rendered her almost totally incontinent. An unfortunate price to pay for her heroics, but it was something she’d been learning to live with. “Wait, ‘finishing’ some research? Eliza, have you been awake all night?” “Oh, yes. I think I’m getting close to understanding all the changes that happened to you.” Eliza had been dedicatedly trying to undo these mutations since they were discovered, and Hazel was deeply appreciative of it. “And, er, speaking of changes… ” the witch covered her nose, sending a fairly unambiguous message. And just like that, my appreciation is gone. “Yes. Of course,” She muttered through gritted teeth. She entered the lavatory, and began the laborious process of cleaning and changing herself. The slow, arduous process. The painfully snail-paced task. The activity which she normally could complete in a few short minutes, but this time seemed to take ages. “Um, Hazel, will you be done, soon? I need to use the restroom as well.” “Afraid not. A certain someone caused me to make quite a mess.” Several more minutes passed, and the sounds of Eliza shuffling and shifting were music to her ears. Before long, there was a gasp, and then a sound of liquid splattering on the floor. She opened the door, completely changed and clean, and took in the sight of Eliza bent over, wetness running down her nightgown, and growing puddle around her feet. “You’re more evil than Zalacay… ” She murmured. Hazel smiled while Eliza set out to clean herself up, as well. As sweet as revenge was, Hazel had work to do. Two years ago to the day, they’d vanquished Zalacay and his minions, and saved the land. Hazel intended to ensure they enjoyed a lavish ceremony to commemorate the events that had brought the three of them together. After the battle, Tabitha had found them, and she and her order presented them with a colossal sum of gold for their efforts. Alma and Hazel had grown… much closer than they’d ever been. They’d bought a house in an isolated place- where Alma could hunt, Hazel could farm, and Eliza could perform research in solitude. Not everything was perfect, though. Even beyond Hazel’s incontinence, which she figured must be the most humiliated curse in existence, there were rumors that more demons stalked the land. For two years, Hazel had wondered if they’d defeated Zalacay as thoroughly as they thought they had. Perhaps it was possible something had escaped before they ended the ritual. But they were done with fighting. They enjoyed the lives they carved out for themselves, and had no intention of uprooting themselves. Hazel threw on some clothes that hid her diaper from sight, and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. She moved for town, mentally creating a checklist of foods to pick up. As she walked, the first rays of sunlight kissed her face, much like when they left Arnwick. In the end, Arnwick really had been a new beginning for her. Certainly not in any way that she’d expected, but even through the pain and horror, she wouldn’t have changed her decisions even if she could. The people they’d become were so much more than people they were, and she wouldn’t trade that for anything. Edited August 31, 2021 by DsGSilver (see edit history) Keita123, pogbernard, Sashabear and 12 others 12 3 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted May 27, 2020 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted May 27, 2020 What a fabulous ending to such a amazing story I really enjoyed reading that story DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
Guest JackFrost16 Posted May 27, 2020 Share Posted May 27, 2020 This feels like the finale of a TV show. Truly amazing work. I'll definitely miss reading this story. Quote Link to comment
Astolfosuki 100 Posted May 27, 2020 Share Posted May 27, 2020 (edited) It was a fun journey, thanks for the hard work. Edited May 27, 2020 by Lolilover (see edit history) DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
ifeelgood 89 Posted May 27, 2020 Share Posted May 27, 2020 That was such a good read! Awesome story! It somehow gave me GrimDawn vibes. 🙂 Thank you for putting in so much efford! DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
Thispieguy1 41 Posted May 28, 2020 Share Posted May 28, 2020 I loved this story so much, can't wait to read whatever you do next! DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
ed2 153 Posted May 28, 2020 Share Posted May 28, 2020 AMAZING! Kind of sad that it is over, this has been a great journey to follow these characters through. Thank you so much! DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
Poowrite 50 Posted May 29, 2020 Share Posted May 29, 2020 I'm so glad you found the motivation to keep coming back to this. It was an excellent story from start to finish. The finale was absolutely epic. I particularly enjoyed part 2. The jailer was fantastic and terrifying, and the moment between Alma and Hazel before the meat of the chapter was genuinely touching. Truly exemplary. DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
ed2 153 Posted May 30, 2020 Share Posted May 30, 2020 I sort of "hated" Tabitha as a person. You know, that is when you have written an excellent story, when you feel you can judge a character like that. DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
pp123 85 Posted May 30, 2020 Share Posted May 30, 2020 an amazing ending, well done DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
DsGSilver 782 Posted June 2, 2020 Author Popular Post Share Posted June 2, 2020 I don't normally like to comment unless I feel that I have something substantive to add, but I just had to make a post to thank everyone for the outpouring of support and kind words. This was one of the first omo stories I ever wrote, and I was happy to see it to the end along with all of you. So, thank you all again for sticking with it. To satisfy my need to add something substantive to this message, I guess I'll throw in that I'm working on a new story, tentatively called The Warband, which is a spiritual successor to Journey to Arnwick. Thispieguy1, Bismiris, Sashabear and 5 others 8 Quote Link to comment
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