As a certain Demoness traverses through her first Dungeon, finally reaching a point of respite in its depths, the inhabitants of Dharta continue on with their own journeys.
Within the ruined town of Littlecreek, a Rusulka sleeps peacefully in the river's depths, laying tranquilly on the riverbed, shade from the bridge above protecting her from the day’s sunlight. Her most precious guardian, a draugr coated in icy, rusted iron armor, stays vigil at her side, its sleepless gaze on a lookout for anything that would dare to enter its mistress’ territory. An unnecessary worry for the undead to have, as the wildlife in the surrounding areas have long since learned that these waters bring nothing but death.
A couple of miles down the river, inside the depths of the forest that borders the former town, a wolf towers above four of its brethren. The set of corpses lie there, desecrated by whatever killed them. Green moss-like pelts sit beside the remains, and flesh still sticks to three of the skeletal forms. The living Moss Wolf turns his head toward the unnatural wooden structure erected next to the riverside, noticing the door open when it should not be. He heads towards the building to investigate if the new inhabitant is still inside, and as he does so, the lesser wolves gather around the bodies to feast upon their fallen kin, making sure not to make waste of any nourishment that is to be gained. As his fellow Moss Wolves consume the flesh of his brethren, the male Moss Wolf twice the size of the rest of his kin reaches the empty cabin before him.
The Alpha of the pack sticks its head past the doorway, sniffing at the air inside, and picking up an unfamiliar scent. A scent that he can track further into the forest with ease, already having a trail he can follow. The five foot tall, twelve foot long behemoth of a wolf turns around and faces a dirt trail leading further into his territory. Outraged at the audacity of this intruder, the Alpha Moss Wolf howls into the sky, calling upon the pack’s hunters to join him. Soon after, the Alpha Moss Wolf is joined by four others. They are larger in stature than most of his pack, but still dwarfed by the Alpha’s intimidating size by a healthy margin.
Having assembled the mightiest of the pack, the Alpha leads the way, following the scent down the dirt path between the trees. Birds silence their singing and bugs stop buzzing as the procession journeys further into the forest, wary of catching the attention of these beasts. Luckily for the forest’s wildlife, it doesn't take long for the five wolves to reach their destination, and so they enter into the cave’s mouth, ready to devour their prey till nothing remains.
Dozens of miles away from the former town of Littlecreek, a caravan ever so slowly trudges along the unmaintained road. The caravan consists of a single covered wooden wagon that is being escorted by three men and one woman on foot. Singlehandedly pulling the carriage by herself is a young Beastkin woman who couldn't be more than twenty years of age, which is why the small caravan is moving at its slow pace. Luckily for the young woman with rounded ears atop her head and a tail striped black and orange, the carriage she has the displeasure of pulling only has four occupants, three of which being girls around her age. Unluckily though, is that the fourth passenger is sitting up front, and not in the cage containing the other three, and is finding great joy in whipping the young Tigerkin’s back.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Stop dragging your feet kitty, or I’ll let my boys ride the carriage with me while you spend the whole night carrying us all nonstop!”
The Human man wielding the long leather whip yells out at the tigress, using the tool to punctuate his words, which makes the young woman stumble. She does try to quickly regain her footing and quicken her pace though, as the thick piece of metal encasing her neck glows slightly at the command, and she thankfully manages to avoid further punishment in time by a slim margin. The slave master's goons laugh at the sight of her struggling, boosting the morale of all but those who are already suffering.
The Tigerkin woman trudges forwards, weathering the abuse as best she can, looking straight down the path with her glazed over, yellow eyes. She continues to walk as fast as she can, and gains Levels she wishes wouldn't come as she obeys her owner’s commands. Feet bloodied by days of travel, she continues forwards nevertheless, wishing salvation would come for her all the while.
A couple of hours later, the slave master allows his goons to take a break, which has the wonderful side effect of letting the tigress take a break as well since she worked enough that the middle-aged man didn't need to follow through with his threat this time. As she leans against the carriage’s side, trying to [Rest] as much as possible, the Tigerkin woman lets the words coming from the slaver’s enter her ears and exit out the other, barely listening to what they are saying.
“So boss, are you sure that there really is something all the way out here worth the trouble? I don't mean to question you or anythin’, but this is outta the way of any towns I know of, and I'm pretty darn sure the Wildlands are out this way,” a teenage boy, the youngest of the slavers, asks.
“Shut yer yap boy!” a grizzled older man slaps the back of the teenagers head, before continuing on, “The boss might not be a big wig at one of ‘em fancy-pants Slave Associations, but he still knows what he's doin!”
The only woman of the group not encased in a collar guffaws at the sight, slapping her knee before comforting the kid, “Oh, don't let Ol’ Billy there bully you for asking a reasonable question like that Charlie. Yes we are heading the same direction as the Wildlands, but Boss Weston’s informant is quite trustworthy, and they said that there is something worthwhile out here, so we gotta trust 'em on that!”
The last member of the group, a man in his twenties like the woman, adds onto her statements right after, “Pudicity is right, this is the same informant that got us our big break before you joined in by telling us about a small Beastkin village we could raid. In fact, that's where we got our group’s pet from in the first place.” At those words, the scrawny man with the name of Allen, points his thumb over at the carriage where the Tigerkin woman is slumped over at. “In fact, did I ever tell you about how she was the one who chose to acquire the {Tigerkin Pet} Subspecies before we even put a collar ‘round her neck? The story is fuckin’ hilarious!”
“You can tell the story on the way, you've had plenty of time to rest your feet and there is still daylight to burn,” the slave master named Weston rallies his group, and at that signal, the Tigerkin woman makes sure to climb to her feet and ready herself for the rest of her day before she can gain her owner’s ire. After all, the Tigerkin, formerly known by the name of Ember, has been these bastards' {Tigerkin Pet} for much longer than she would like to think about.
In a starry pocket dimension, two Goddesses watch all of these figures simultaneously on a mirror-like object floating in front of them. At some point, the skeletal figure known as Vimortua produced a bucket full of popcorn and has been munching down on the snack, all of it disappearing into the abyss beneath her robes as it tumbles down past her jaw. Iusti pays no mind to the Goddess of Undeath however, as her focus intensifies even more as these seemingly separate figures all grow closer to the one who shall intervene in their journeys.
The demoness girl who is similar to the tigress in more ways than just age.
The demoness girl who just plucked a long wooden thorn from her eye, doing what is necessary to grow, no matter how painful.
The demoness girl who the Goddess of Justice decided to make one of her precious Chosen.
The demoness girl who might just become the Saintess Iusti wishes for.
The demoness girl who goes by the name of Chloe Wright.