Slice O' Fantasy Ch.1
She was caught naked between the dark diamond dusted regalia of the night and the pale blue robes of the day. The sky blushed in a rose tinted dawn over a desert landscape that was not quite the dry dead dust bowl that most imagined it to be. The dunes were thick with short, hardy scrub and fuzzy fields of cacti. Saguaros and yucca trees stood watch at the hilltops and floral fragrances drifted through the valleys where agave plants sent brightly flowering stalks skyward. Insects were already buzzing through the morning air, hunting through the bristly underbrush of a world all their own.
A lone Lioness sat cross legged on the rock with a heavy spear of bronze laid across her lap as she waited patiently for the day, neither urging time onward nor wishing to hold it still. When the sun had at last begun to warm her fur she stood and stretched the night's soreness from her muscular body.
There was little doubt as to which gender nature had favored as hunters and warriors in this particular world. The feminine shape was expanded to great proportions and packed with dense muscle wrapped in snarling ligaments that stood out under the fine sandy colored fur. Her breasts were larger by an order than her head, uncovered as was usual for a wild and immodest spirit. She was weighed to the ground by wide hips padded thickly with fat and a broad butt covered only by her thick tail. A sun-faded red loincloth filled the valley between her bulging thighs where a bit of finer lighter fur was hinted at. The garment was attached to a thick leather belt titled forward where it rested at her tail's base.
Many rumors had come to surround Autumn in her years hunting the desert's untamed wilds. Some said she was a witch who could command wild beasts. Others claimed she was half demon and possessed such bloodlust that she never slept. Everybody said she had nipples the size of doorknobs. In the chill of the morning air they stood true enough to legend. But she left rumors up to whoever cared for talk more than action.
Several of the boulder sized shapes began to stir in the field around her, beaked reptilian faces rising from the scrub. Low, creaky groans filled the air as the baleful beasts known as anklyops began to rouse. Each of the dinosaurs was covered in rusty scaled hide, with wide ridges behind their heads. They dragged three tails along in their path, all of which ended in bony oblong flails. One drew close and raised its head lethargically to inspect her. The beast froze, any notions of grazing forgotten as it was pulled into bright green, brown speckled eyes and for the first time in its life a greater purpose dawned on its primitive brain.
In their mismatched fashion they marched up the steep path from the canyon's depths, a line of forty or so figures clad in weatherwhipped leather accented by bone or metal scraps. Their demeanor was not entirely different from the monsters they shared their home territory with. Raiders- an apt name if not a very creative one. But they had done nothing else to distinguish themselves any other way.
The veterans among them displayed their trophies proudly, strange three-eyed skulls or strings of dagger sized serrated teeth, horns or claws taken from no natural creature. Many hunched backs were among them, identifying them immediately as Hyenas though a sizeable chunk were from the big cat and canid tribes brought into their ranks through birth, force or choice. Spears bobbed, the necks wrapped in pelts to be presented at the end of their journey and judged for the volume of blood and gore soaked into them.
Collectively the raider troop came to a halt when a leonine roar went up from somewhere beyond the canyon's walls. Heads and weapons whirled about though they could not trace the source of the roar as it bounced down the narrow avenue of rock.
"Wot 'n the bleedin hell was that?!" Demanded a fat Coyote, the head of her flail dangling at the ready.
An eruption of dust answered as the slope above seemed to collapse and spill forth a herd of charging dinosaurs. The bellowing anklyops piled down the slope in a wall of scales. Panic struck immediately and the raiders scrambled in every direction as the first of the anklyops plowed into their midst. Shouts and bodies were tossed violently through the dust.
Near the end of the stampeded Autumn rode one of the dinosaurs, crouched behind its head ridge with spear at the ready. She swung sideways off the mount and drove her weapon into the first raider she encountered, who had stumbled out of the fringe of the chaos. The momentum drove the spear straight through the stunned Hyena and in the next instant it was zipping through the air, dropping raiders with each bone shattering impact.
Those who had retreated down the canyon could see little through the dust aside from the size and speed of their attacker. This was enough to send most of them into retreat, weapons dropped in the rush to escape to the safety of the monster riddled badlands. By the time the sun had cleared the mountains, silence settled along with the dust.
A labyrinth of sandswept streets and adobe buildings sprawled out, packed with crowds drawn to the noisy bazarrs that operated day and night. At the city's center there glinted huge glass pyramids that served as greenhouses, fueling the town's spice markets. Traffic was steadily making its way through the city gates in a line of carriages and carts weighed heavily by their goods.
Although he wore a determined expression, it was obvious the Stag was out of place here. He could say there was just as much sand in his fur as any other adventurer, but the ivory freckles on the mahogany fur of his cheeks, along with the big amber eyes, would quickly sabotage any ferocity he might try to summon. His gear had been charged with the noon time heat, leather armor and pants that clung closely to the lean, long runner's legs and a pert round butt beneath his perky tail. The hood he wore was a little too hot given the weather, but it concealed the pair of short rounded antlers that sprouted from the mop of spiky russet hair. It was best not to attract attention in such a place.
In front of him at one end of a wide plaza, a barrel cactus stood in a bed of gravel with two spears crossed where they penetrated it. Hung between them was a sign- The Cactus Barrel, of course. It was a dark red adobe structure shaped into a utilitarian square and fronted by a row of logs sticking out horizontally to support the roof.
The tavern was as boisterous and smoky as expected. Tarn was thinking he had slipped in unnoticed as he crossed the floor searching frantically for whatever shady corner he could duck into but then a wolf whistle rang out, literal or not he could not say. Many stares were on him at once, managing to home in on the one male in the room. Most of the noise had been coming from a table toward the front where a burly Panther in battered chainmail was perched on a table, in the middle of telling a story that was apparently so good it had to be shouted and accompanied by wild gestures. A group of cohorts sat around her.
The Panther fixed him with a toothy grin and a twitch of her whiskers.
"About time this old watering hole hired a bar buck! And a damn fine one at that!"
She seemed to ignore the bow and quiver full of arrows slung across the Stag's back, far from hidden. She puffed her chest out enough that it looked like two cannonballs wrapped in chainmail.
"What's your name, cutie?"
He kept his eyes locked on hers rather than what she wanted him to stare at.
"It's Tarn Thornbough. A pleasure but I'm actually here for the guild announcement,"
"Oh? Is that so?"
The Panther threw her head back in laughter joined by her minions. One of her companions, an old age-grayed mare, took the pipe out of her mouth and pointed it at Tarn.
"It'd be an honor to bring wine to ol' Ultha here, little laddie. She's been fighting monsters 'fore you was knee high to a moghopper!"
This only widened the Panther's cocky grin.
"My friends know me well," She said, "Males just aren't cut out for the bloody work. Why else would we carry the cubs?"
"And y'all get too angry to think straight!" Someone else piped in from a nearby table.
Ultha cupped her hand in the air to make an obscene gesture, "And let's not forget. You've got one major weak spot dangling between those legs,"
"Yeah..A nice big, thick 'un!"
This earned another round of obnoxious laughter.
"We'll just see if the guildmaster agrees. That's all that matters to me," Tarn replied calmly as he turned his back on the group and moved to a vacant table.
Ultha laughed but with a bit more venom on the sound, "Nobody can say I didn't try to warn him,"
Behind the bar, a door opened and shut. A bright plumed hat bounced across the other side of the counter. Rounding the bar was a fairly regal looking Giraffe. Her poofy hat was complimented by gaudily colored clothing and multiple necklaces, fingers laden with gemstones that clacked at every movement. Although the Giraffe was a dwarf, her long neck served to average her out so she stood about as tall as any average sized species.
"Off the furniture, please," The Giraffe sniffed, "I need everyone's attention for an announcement,"
Ultha did as she was asked though she didn't hurry to do so. The Panther sauntered over to lean against a support beam with arms crossed.
"Alright gals, settle down," Ultha said, "Loriot here is gonna give us the long and the short of it!"
The chuckles from that quip died out as Loriot waited patiently. Then the Giraffe pulled a scroll out of her robes and unfurled it. Clearing her throat, she read the message off in an official but clearly bored tone.
"Hear ye, one and all! By order of her imperial majesty, Empress Tyr. Effective immediately, the official order of guilds has been reinstated. All powers and priveliges are to be conferred to selected guildmasters-"
She paused to jab a thumb into her chest.
"...And it shall be their responsibility to raise and direct competent and hearty warriors for the vital task of recovering all unaccounted artifacts of magical origin. Steel thyselves, for the days of hiiigh adventure! ...Ahem, are upon us once more,"
The Giraffe crumpled the scroll up and tossed it over a shoulder. She clapped her hands together with a crack.
"Alright, let's get down to brass tacks here. After carefully reviewing each of your applications, I've decided that you lot are better than nothing. So congratulations, you've all made it,"
Murmurs went around the room which Loriot silenced with a raised hand.
"Now! As we all know, time is money. If I'm sending you halfway across creation on a mission, I want to be sure you won't die the first time some gobbledegook crosses your path. So before any official quests are posted, I'm sending you as groups for a little training mission. As per guild law, you of course are entitled to whatever non-magical loot to be found,"
Ultha sighed with irritation, "Hopefully this place starts turning a profit soon. Maybe then we can get some alcohol aroun dhere instead of the usual muck,"
Loriot frowned at her, "If your tab is anything to go by, you don't seem to mind our liquor too much!"
"I take everything to the extreme," She replied proudly, flashing a look in Tarn's direction.
"Hopefully you do," Loriot replied, "As the most experienced of the bunch, you're going to be in charge of our very first group. Listen up! The following guild members are to depart under Ultha's command at once!"
As soon as the Giraffe pulled out another scroll and began to rattle off names, Tarn knew. It would be just his luck to be stuck with somebody like that straight away. And fate agreed readily.
The outpost could have been a grain of sand against the vast sea of dunes making up the desert's heartland. A circular wall surrounded the compound, with cracks tracing up from the ring of rubble and dessicated bones littering its perimeter. Some of the ramparts had been replaced with giant rib bones or wooden spikes where needed. A tower rose from the center to survey the landscape, made up of concentric domes like a pagoda and with each floor sporting a quartet of spiky pylons as if to mimic the thorny vegetation.
There were many such structures around the desert, scattered on the ebb and flow of the war between the raiders and the northern legion. This war was nowhere near as worn out as the battered structures themselves, still going strong two decades after the monster influx that threw the badlands into chaos.
High in the northern sky, a pinpoint glinted in the sunlight as it moved in slow, wide circles through the rising heat. It was a shrike, a bird that bristled with metallic feathers. It went unnoticed except by the two raiders dashing across the outpost's wall. With the tip of her spear, a tall and mangy Hyena pointed toward the shrike. Beside her was a muscular brown Canine sporting a crimson mohawk and a scowl on her broad scar-crossed muzzle. Shielding her eyes, she squinted to make out the creature.
"A bird? This is what you called me up here for?"
The Hyena retreated a step, "I was afraid it might be...y'know- the demon bitch,"
"The what? Start making sense or I'll cut your tongue out if you can't use it properly!"
Mohawk seemed to mean it as her hand moved to the hilt of the scimitar tucked into one of the many belts crossing her black leather armor.
"Th-that Lioness...they say she can talk to beasts. Wh-what if she sent that bird to spy on us?"
Stepping forward, Mohawk grabbed the Hyena by the neck, pulling the taller raider's face close to her own.
"That mangy cat is flesh and blood like any of us, got it? We are here to hold this fort at all costs. And that is what we shall-"
Just then a commotion was rising at the other side of the compound. Shouts went up along with a cloud of dust as something crashed to the ground.
A single set of gates was allotted to the outpost, tall sturdy doors of wood made pale by the sun. Not as huge as castle gates but solid enough to keep out anyone lacking a battering ram, or so it was thought. Wood splintered loudly as the gates bucked in and out. Stone cracked where the hinges joined the walls. Once more they surged inward and the log holding them shut snapped in half, prying off its bracings. In an avalanche of debris the gates were wrenched free with one last mighty heave just as mohawk arrived on the wall over a suddenly empty entrance.
The gates were being hauled along as their visitor moved into the outpost. A group of raiders scrambled out of the way as the gates were flung suddenly, crashing through the big double doors of the tower and collapsing most of its front wall. And there she stood as the dust settled. The demon-bitch herself. Rumors could be chalked up to foolishness but the eyes did not lie so easily as the tongue.
Mohawk was aware several of her raiders were staring at her.
"We hold the fort at all costs, right ma'am?"
"You know..We can always hold the fort in our hearts. Let's get the hell out of here!"
She didn't have to tell her troops twice after what they had just witnessed.