Jenkins snapped his eyes shut, wondering if his toes would go rock solid before or after his dick. Twin sapphires haunted his mind, embedded in a pit of vipers and a distinctly angular face. Either way, he wasn’t happy to die having only talked the talk and not walked the walk. Cmon Taloc, you couldn’t let me score at least once?! He thought. A roar erupted from his left and right, as hellhounds met Sintran steel.

His men needed their captain. Jenkins risked wiggling his toes, emptying his lungs in a whoosh of relief as he found them mobile. With a Jerk, Jenkins opened his eyes, averting his gaze from the sapphire eyed gorgon.

twang

THUNK

Phaedra’s bowstring echoed between the keep’s walls and the pig pens, heralding the fletched javelin she called an arrow. It caught the right hellhound beneath its shoulder, in between the clavicle and scapula. Her broad-headed javelin severed a half dozen arteries on its way into the hound’s torso. Five Sintran’s plunged their hunting spears into the beast, leveraging their combined strength to hold it in place. Their spear’s guards keeping the thrashing monster at bay.

“Go back to Hell!” Shouted Jenkins, sprinting forward and lancing his own spear into the beast.

It cried out, dazed, but in agony. Dying a swift death over several minutes.

Behind Jenkins a new creature moved –similar in form to a gorgon– yet entirely diversified. Splendid blue scales shone with an oily gleam, brighter than Arlet’s polished armor. She was longer and far wider than Phaedra, with a dorsal fin running down her tail which terminated in a paddle-like appendage. Brutish spines dotted her back, each a spear in their own right.

The sea gorgon, for she was certainly aquatic in mutation, extended her hand towards the second hellhound, who was occupied with mauling a militiaman. Her chant was short, spoken in a language unknown to humanity, and forgotten by the Medusan gorgons.

Ice formed across one of her four brass hands, extruding into a three foot cone of blue ice. Her chant concluded and the icicle zipped into the hellhound’s side punching through its lungs and heart and protruding out its opposite flank. The beast staggered, turning to gaze into the newest gorgon’s eyes. Red lupine eyes stared into blue sapphires, growling until its heart pumped dry.

“Helloo cousin.” Called the Sthenomorph, directing her –unusually long– snakelocks towards Phaedra.

Who opened her mouth to reply, only to have shrieking erupt. Jenkins tensed, pressing his spear deeper into the dying hellhound. Phaedra jerked towards the pig pen, nocking another arrow. Yet the sound had come from within the stone building.

Feline hisses and cries for help reverberated around the pig pens, accompanied by the oddly s-stretched words of gorgeous speech.

“Save the slaves!” Shouted Jenkins.

His company ran for the door, finding it secured with a steel lock. Two of them tried kicking it in, only to find the door to be solid oak.

“Phaedra! Break it down!” They shouted, knowing the gorgon was physically far stronger than any man.

Which was true, Phaedra greater leverage, and gorgon strength was far above any human’s. But a door presented unique troubles, her serpentine form had no way to congregate force on a single point. If she swung her tail then the stone walls would absorb the impact, if she coiled and threw herself at the door, it would put her female torso at the force’s apex, likely breaking her arms. Unable to explain these implicit facts, Phaedra scrunched herself together, bunching her substantial length.

In one mighty spring she launched herself into the air, bending and leaning back so her serpentine belly impacted the thatch rooftop, neatly punching a hole so her female form –still covered in the lacy-blue dress– could slip into the pig sty. Thalya aped her aunt, with her arboreal form gliding from the distant walltop to punch through the thatched roof. None of the men moved, too startled by flying snakes to trust their eyes.

“Don’t stand there like landlubbers! Get your dicks wet!” Roared Jenkins, snarking the Sintran’s out of their stupor.

—

Thalya watched the Sintrans fight, annoyed. She had come to this frozen forest to find mates, impress them with her glittering scales and go home! Not slither over shoddy walls and cower in the shadows. So when she saw Phaedra break into the pig sty she had a single thought.

That looks fun.

Eager to display her unique morphology, Thalya bunched herself into a tight puddle of yellow danger noodling. Then launched her –far lighter– from high into the air, splaying her gorgon tail wide for increased air resistance. To increase her flight time and carry greater momentum into the thatched roof.

She crossed her arms and leaned backwards to protect her torso. Before flexing her tail back to it’s original density and piercing the thatch like a yellow Prince-Rupert’s-drop.

Thatch gave way, alongside the sparse framing beneath. Thin beams that snapped easily, giving way to the two gorgons. Thalya landed hard, bouncing with the impact and slithering into the darkness, she alternated her snakelocks, awaking those who had kept their eyes shut til now. Instantly adapting her vision to the darker confines. Young as she was, the sensory input of even a single dozen separate eyes was too much for her.

But she didn’t need any of her eyes to see the cat-astrophy at the end of the pig pen. Her thermal-sensing pits told her everything. Immense balls of heat –a hellhound– wrestled with something familiarly different.

The hellhound had set the roof ablaze, trying to cook the enormous serpent wrapped around its trunk. Flames licked the sea serpent’s scales, contrasting beautifully against their azure hue. Humanoids with collars around their necks lined the walls, a captive audience.

Thalya raced to aid the serpent, but she was too late. The hellhound kicked forward with its hind legs, shifting the coils forward so it could bite down on the sea gorgon’s arm, bypassing her metallic hand and crunching into the bones. She bit back, attempting to sink her fangs into the hellhound’s snout, and snapping them.

But she persisted, snakelocks bit at the hellhounds face, failing to pierce the creature’s hide. The beast kicked off again, releasing her broken arm and biting at her throat. Obsidian fangs snapped shut around the sea gorgon’s throat.

A wail of agony escaped from the sea gorgon. Who weakly wrapped an arm around the hound’s mane, futility attempting to keep the beast from shaking. All while knowing one sharp jerk could snap her neck, if she wasn’t already dead. Half her snakelocks had been severed by the beast’s fangs, proofing their sharpness.

Thalya reached the melee, swimming over the constricted mass of hellhound and sea snake. Her own golden coils slithered over the azure scales, pausing only to entangle the hound’s rear legs, stealing its only foothold. Without delay Thalya slid above the hellhound, who looked up at her, teeth tightening on its prey.

“Die mongrel.” Hissed Thalya, drawing and plunging a Sintran dagger into the hound’s defiant eye.

It yipped in anguish, releasing the sea gorgon and trying to jerk away. Rear legs kicked futily, trapped in Thalya’s coils. Though she hadn’t won yet. Darting forward she looped the midsection of her tail around the hound’s throat, then constricted with all her might, bending the hellhound’s neck backwards til it cracked, then she kept going. Coils tightening until the creature’s spine cracked a dozen times over, going limp.

Stolen novel; please report.

Phaedra arrived and took no chances, cutting the beast's throat open, sawing through its esophagus until blood sprayed in twin jets, pulsing with each dying heartbeat. Satisfied with her work, Phaedra moved to the sea serpent’s head, checking on her cousin’s throat. Blood leaked from dozens of holes, depriving her brain of blood.

“Coussin,” Said Phaedra in their native tongue, “resst eassy, releasse your coilss, for our healer iss near, resst.”

Whether or not the sea gorgon understood was unknowable, though her snakelocks lay flat. Passive in the muck of the pig sty. Phaedra saw a nearby rag, barely suitable to clothe a child and wrapped it around the sea gorgon’s neck, pressing it into her punctures to staunch the bleeding.

One moment later she realized where the rag had come from, several slaves laid about, huddled and shivering, slowly turning blue. Irrefutable evidence of her cousin’s venom. At least three were bitten, but there were nine and a half felinids –one being a soaking wet child– cowering against the pig sty’s door. Too scared to move.

“You! Go to the eassstern gate! Take poissoned to Matimeo!” Shouted Phaedra.

A black haired felinid in a maid’s dress fainted. Eyes rolling backwards as she slumped against the wall. None of the others moved.

“Sstuborn fools! Ssstay here and I'll break your bonesss! Go! Get! Our! Healers! NOW!” Shrieked Phaedra, her voice swelling into a roar that shook the unlocked door open.

The simple motion spurred the felinids, who turned and ran as a group, fleeing from the legendary women.

—

Liam was shaken from his cadaverous thoughts by shouting, closely followed by roaring hellhounds.

“Dorian! To arms!” Shouted Liam.

Not that he needed too, Captain Dorian was already racing around the keep, heavy wheellock cocked and loaded. With a score of outriders behind him. Liam was forced to follow on foot, leaping from the wagon and running behind them, reaching the northern gate in a few moments.

No pistols sang, and half the outriders turned back, marching with a calm order that told Liam they were unbroken and on a mission of their own. One carrying a blue skinned slave.

What causes skin to turn blue? Blood would have to stop circulating air, so muscle paralysis of the heart or lungs… Oh, poison… Which my healing magic doesn’t cure, you need purrification or holy magic. Thought Liam, reaching a group of cowering slaves.

He glanced over them, finding two more of the blue skinned slaves.

“Dorian! Get anyone who’s been poisoned to Matimeo, are there any monsters left?”

“Yes sir,” Said Dorian, directing his men with a few quick jabs. “Enemies are dead, but we’ve got new gorgons sir, they’re… different, they look you in the eyes.” He finished, dismounting and leading Liam into the pig pen.

Dorian was careful to stay on the raised walkway, avoiding the worst of the sty’s muck. An understandable complaint given the high polish on his boots.

Liam froze. One glance at the two enslaved maids and the mire around the slave’s feet, told him everything. Really Blackwood? Keeping the slaves in your pig pens? His jaw tightened into a snarl.

Fury rose like bile in his throat. He reached out and caught a black haired maid by the throat. Fingers tightening around her slave collar. Yoko cowered, ears flicking away from him in fear. Without a word he leeched the mana out of it, causing the shackle to slip open. Liam repeated the action for the dripping girl in her arms, noticing her collar contained far more impressive magicks. Though that only meant it took a few seconds longer to drain.

Then he followed Dorian into the smoking pig sty. Flames ran across the roof, casting flickering light that mingled with the sunshine. While smoke began to choke his nostrils. Sintran soldiers ran hither and thither, fighting the fire by knocking the burning thatch inward, where slaves could smother it in muck. They were doing an excellent job of it as well, but Liam needed those flames–

–And Rhendal had taught him a trick.

Raising his staff into the air Liam focused on the heat the flames gave off, channeling it into the aetherial force known as mana. He strode forward, giving his staff a swirl as he commanded the fires. Just as Rhendal had done in Avignon.

Red mana coalesced into his staff, stored within the rune shod stick for later usage. Dorian waited for him, using his spear to scootch something blue and wiggling out of the walkway. Confused by what it might be, Liam allowed some of the flame out of his staff, utilizing it as a mana torch. The thing was twitching azure serpent, or at least six inches of one. Its snout was thin, cylindrical instead of diamondlike. Still, its fangs worked, flexing in and out of its maw, meaning this was the most likely cause of their poisoning.

Three writhing masses ahead convinced him to leave his curiosity for later. Phaedra’s dark scales seemed to vanish in the dark, while Thalya’s yellow scales scattered his torchlight through the pen, illuminating the third mass. Sparkling azure scales held the corpse of a hellhound, its blood covering the female half of a bronze-handed female gorgon. Her eyes were an irradiated blue, yet every part of her was different from the other gorgons. Her scales gleamed with a water repellent oil, and were shaped differently, smoother and flatter. A dorsal fin ran the length of her body, from her cervical spine all the to the tip of her tail, where it flattened into a paddle.

A swimming gorgon? Ah, a sea snake’s morphology. I know there were three sisters in Medusa’s legend… Medusa, Euryle?, and Sthethoscope? No, that’s not right, i’m just terrible with ancient Greek f it’s outside of a medical context.

“Thalya, hold her hair for Liam!” Hissed Phaedra.

Her tone hastened his steps, calling out to him with a desperation that reminded him of the EMT’s at Sarah’s side, the desperation of knowing you were too late. He swallowed, pushing past Dorian and jogging to Phaedra’s side, speaking the chant for his Shadowshield. Dark mana covered his body, dulling his sight –but considering the present company– that was a boon.

He slid into place alongside Phaedra, placing his shrouded hands around the sea gorgon’s neck. [abbreviated cast] activated, mana flowed from Liam’s hands into the gorgon, entering her flesh and sealing the dozens of punctures. One hole after another sealed, with Liam prodding his mana inside her throat, seeking a bleeding artery. None appeared, by some twist of fate, or maybe the hand of God, her neck had avoided any lethal injury.

“Thank god, she’ll be fine.” Said Liam, rising and stepping away from the striking snakelocks. Half of them had been removed, ripped apart by the hellhound’s teeth.

“Are any other’s hurt?” Shouted Liam.

“Appears not sir.” Said Dorian, walking back towards him from the far end of the pig sty. “A few slaves are bruised, but no injuries from today. Seems like the -erm, blue snake-lady intervened in time.”

“Rightly saved their cocks.” Called Jenkins, peeking in through a hole in the roof, an enormous sapphire sea gorgon peeking over the wall behind him.

“Jenkins! I leave you alone for half an hour and you show up with two new gorgons? Keep it up and I’ll send Arlet to chaperone you!” Called Liam, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Have mercy sire!” Laughed Jenkins, his face falling before he spoke again. “The northern gate was unmanned, totally unmanned. Tis lucky we were nearby, had five pups been summoned we would be mourning the dead sir. Oh, we checked the other pens m’lord, they’re as empty as grandma’s naughty list. Only holding pigs and chickens.” He reported.

Hmm.. The gate was totally unmanned? Blackwood, bruh, what the fuck. How can you be so incompetent? Maybe I overestimated Blackwood’s abilities… Ugh, that means I’ll have to pick up his slack. I’ve got my work cut out for me here, there are a ton of slaves, I can leech their collars for mana and heal them, but this will take all day.

“Dorian,”

“Yessir.” Answered the royal captain immediately.

“Take charge of Blackwood’s defenses, they ought to listen to a royal captain. Coordinate with Arlet as well. They left a gate unguarded, that’s unacceptable. Make it supremely clear that their captains should be whipped and flogged for such an error. But do not harm them, we need every man in fighting fitness and can’t waste the healing. Congregate the civilians in communal areas, just like we did in Sintra. I want three hundred and sixty degree coverage, day and night, if a portal appears inside the walls, I want it ambushed!” Ordered Liam.

Dorian gave him a smile, pleased by his fidelity. “As you command Lightning Lord.”

“Jenkins, I'm putting you in charge of the felinids. Whatever made Blackwood skinny seems to have inflicted his brain with rot. Assume he’s bungled everything and get the slaves inside the castle proper, where people live.” Said Liam, emphasizing the word as he scanned the felinids.

Pig muck and literal chickenshit caked their feet, complimenting their ratty clothing in conditions that made his eyes twitch. They’re people, who treats other people like this? Thought Liam, noticing their ‘clothing’ had never been more than roughly sown sacks.

“Get them bathed and fed, we’ll see about winter clothing and getting them drilled as militia later.” Said Liam.

Jenkins muttered something about the eighth company turning into a petting zoo, drawing Liam’s ire.

“You’ve got a week to turn this petting zoo into a colosseum of gladiators.” Snapped Liam, earning a surprised squeak from Captain Jenkins.