CYOA: The Story So Far (Patreon)

In preparation for continuing the CYOA, I'm posting the entire story (so far) with the last poll winning choices at the very bottom.  I'm hoping to post an update this month or early next month so y'all will need to know what happened when that comes up.

The infectious giggling of small children filled the air before being swallowed by the thick forest on either side of the well-worn path.

Three children of varying ages raced around a small moving cart.  They dipped in and out of the surrounding trees while a taller figure gave chase quietly behind them.  Although slight and covered by a cloak, she had slim, womanly hips that betrayed her sex.  She wore grey and was barely taller than the oldest of the children.  Her perfect silver hair danced behind her while she raced, spun and leapt and her long, graceful ears were alert.

“Hah!” she shouted as she caught the smallest of the children by the sleeve.  The little girl squealed with wide, joyous eyes.  She raced back to the cart, climbing the sides like a long-tailed monkey.

The young elven maid surveyed the forest around her.  Labored breathing focused her attention and she caught a glimpse of a green tunic and fat fingers behind a nearby tree. The middle child was plump and never far away from where they started.  She stalked quietly, one careful foot in front of the other, straight to the tree.  She paused in front of it, her long, slim fingers caressing the rough bark.  As quick as she could, she slid around the trunk.  The child screeched loud enough to make her ears vibrate but she tagged him before he fell.  She gave the boy her hand and he took it, wheezing while standing.  His cheeks were reddened and moist but he still smiled at her while shambling back to the cart.

Movement in the corner of her eyes made the elf girl flatten herself against the tree, her hands flipping the hood of her dappled cloak up over her head.  She slid into a crouch and bolted, grimacing as a misplaced foot caught an old branch with a loud snap.  The oldest child, almost an adult, really, seldom played with the other two but, when he did, he hid well.  

Just not well enough for her.

In a quiet forest without the recent sounds of large animals (mountain cats she knew, in this area) she easily noticed the trail of leaves the boy made.  She slowed, watching her feet.  He’d gone deeper into the forest than was allowed but that wasn’t surprising given his personality and moods lately.  They’d been on the road for almost three weeks and he’d been done with it after one.  Family but, more importantly, old friends had been left behind and she suspected a young lover was pining for him right now.

Leaves crunched and then stopped and she smiled.  Moving from tree to tree, she crept closer and then went wide as soon as she spotted him.  Slowly, slowly she went to him, watching for a sudden turn or glance.  Finally, she stood behind him.

“You’re too far out,” she said quietly, tapping the boy on the shoulder.  

“Charn take you!” the boy cursed, spinning around.  

“Language,” the elven girl smiled.  “They’ll be waiting for us back at the cart and we’re almost there.  After you.”

While the boy crashed through the undergrowth, she chose her path carefully to practice.  Despite her ancient heritage, woodlands were not her preferred setting.  So, she practiced and remembered with each step why she had escaped to the city.

The pair angled toward the cart with the boy going to the back.  He looked like he was already in a sulk so she let him be and padded over to the horses.  She made sure the grey horse, unimaginatively named ‘Apple’ by the oldest child years ago, saw her approach.  She patted the mare’s thick neck and cooed at her.  The animal was built for riding and not pulling but the family couldn’t spare the money for two new draft horses. So, they enlisted Apple for the second spot at the cart.

“We’re almost there, miss,” the father of the family said.  He sat back with the reins laying in his lap and a pipe in his hands.  She wrinkled her delicate nose at the sour scent of it.  “Just around this corner if memory serves.”

The elven girl walked beside Apple, her hand resting against its side until they passed the bend in the path and then the tree line itself.

Hoster’s Hollow lay before the small family.  Wood smoke curled high into the sky but the sight of makeshift scaffolds drew her attention the most.  Groups of men were working on a large wall and the distant smell of tar made her stomach queasy. 

So, she told herself.  A very short stay, then.

Metal creaked behind her.  She turned to see the patriarch stepping down from the cart.  She stood with her thumbs tucked into her slim belt as he approached.  

“Well, Myril,” he said, hefting a small pouch in his hand.  “We’re here safe and I thank you for the time, protection and the amusement of the little ones.  I’ve add a few silvers extra as thanks.  I don’t know how we would’ve done without you.”

“The roads aren’t too bad these days, sir,” she replied, pocketing the pouch with a bright, wide smile.  It nestled next to a smaller, similar bag that she touched briefly.  “Still, thank you and I’ll take my leave.  I hope you and your family settle in quickly and safely.  At the- was it the Prancing Pony, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” the old man nodded.  He stuck his hand out and Myril took it in return.  “For the night.  Tomorrow morning I’ll meet my new employer at the bank and we’ll get settled.  Safe travels.”

“Safe travels,” she replied.  

The young elven girl leaned over to wave at the children on the cart and then left, whistling while she walked the path to town.

---

Faint purple ribbons wavered high overhead in the slowly fading sunlight.  Myril frowned at them.  She’d noticed something unusual in the distance as they approached the town but the forest was thick with old growth and difficult to see anything but the stars above.  Even through the occasional gaps, it’d only seemed like a vague shimmering.  Despite the distance, it made her anxious.  She forced herself to look away, tearing her eyes from the hypnotic display.  A low, dull ache was beginning to form in her temples. 

Just as the elven maid reached for the inn’s door, it opened and a drunken man stumbled out with an incoherent curse.  She stepped through and took in the room quickly.  The inn was old and the ground floor huge.  It wrapped around the long, u-shaped bar until the room was divided into halves.  Laborers, mostly humans and dwarves, seemed to dominate the inn.  Their clothes and skin were marked by the tar they worked with, mixing with the smell of food and ale until her stomach clenched in disgust.  A few families dotted the room and she ignored them.

Aware that she would be attracting attention soon, Myril walked to the bar.  She placed a few coppers on the rough, worn surface and ordered a drink.  She’d spotted her prize finally - mercenaries and travelers.  They kept their belongings close rather than in their rooms and their bags were nearly always packed with interesting and shiny things.

A group of three caught her eye in particular.  All human with a large woman dominating the table.  The woman had an interesting tattoo on her bare right shoulder and thick muscles lining her crossed arms.  Her greatsword lay against the wall next to her.  They appeared to defer to her, stopping their conversation when she spoke.  To her left was a middle aged man with his long, blond hair tied back with a leather cord.  He slouched in his chair but his hand rested on a short sword kept nearby.  She glanced back to her drink when his eyes swept around the room.  To the woman’s right was another man, taller than the woman but far more slim.  He sat with a straight back and he fussed with his food.  Occasionally, the man would run fingers through curly red hair and then touch an array of pouches at this belt.  His lips moved as if counting them.

The blond man and the woman had heavy packs next to them.  Myril ordered a leg of chicken with her drink and continued to watch.  They were planning something.  She saw the man drawing a diagram or map on the table with an ale-soaked finger.  They argued and the woman tapped something that caused more arguments.  The elf devoured her food while trying to listen but the dull roar of the room drowned out distinctive conversions.

Alright, she thought, pushing away from the bar.  She took her doeskin gloves off and flexed her fingers.  Rather than a straight route, she made her way to them by circling around the edge of the room.  Let’s see what we have.

She moved slowly, doing her best to blend in with patrons or standing so they’d block the view.  The tall man was closest but she’d pegged him as a mage and there was no way she’d steal from him.  Gods knew what he had in his pouches and the last thing she’d need was some eldritch horror sucking on her finger while she danced around the room.

Instead, she moved to the blond man.  He seemed cautious despite his posture but the room appeared to overwhelm him and he didn’t know where to look.  Just as she stood next to him, she saw a large cat-like creature laying against his leg.  It was watching her with deep green eyes and the tip of it’s patchwork black and white tail tapped the ground.  She smiled, showing her teeth and moved away.  It laid its head down but continued to watch.

Next, she stepped behind the woman, waiting until they all bent to the table.  The woman’s sword held a large translucent jewel on the pommel and it seemed to gather the flickering torch light, diffusing it into a warm white glow.   She could make no sense of the wet drawing on their table when she glanced at it.  It appeared to be some rectangle with circles around it with no reference to anything else.

With their attention away from her and her back to the group, she knelt carefully, her hand reaching for the woman’s bag.

Dark red light pulsed and the large woman’s hand snaked out, crushing the elf’s wrist.  Myril yelped as she was pulled up.  The other woman snarled, smashing the elven girl’s hand to the table.  Her free hand blurred, snatching a golden dagger that she slammed into the table.  A small drop of red blood welled from the side of Myril’s pale finger and down the edge of the blade that had sliced her.

“Thel, what-” the blond man said in surprise.  

“A thief, Bertram,” the large woman, Thel, replied. Her fingers tightened around Myril’s wrist and the elf girl grimaced before licking her lips.  

“And you left her finger attached?” the thin man asked.

“I missed,” Thel said.

“Well, no,” Myril said quietly as three pairs of eyes swiveled her way. “I, ahh- I moved.  I happen to like my fingers.  All ten of them.”

Bertram laughed and then scratched the cat creature’s ears when it perked up below him.  “So what do we do with her?”

“I’ll bring her before the magistrate,” Thel growled.  “We have other business to attend and no time for this nonsense.”

“You’re planning something aren’t you?” the elven girl squeaked.  She spoke quickly and nervously while focusing on the blond man.  If she were to win anyone over, it’d have to be him.  “In stocks I’m useless but if you’ve been hired on with a company to do some work, I could help.”

“I’ll be damned before-” the large woman began to say.

“Well, now, wait,” Bertram said, scratching his hairless chin.  “Maybe this is providence smiling upon us.  Just as we’re planning on for tomorrow-”

“She doesn’t need to know-”

“Planning for tomorrow,” the man continued.  “We’re handed, hah, a potential ally.  Who’s to say Fate isn’t dipping her finger into our fortunes?”

“Exactly,” Myril said.  “I knew I was drawn to you three for a reason.  Fate smiling down upon us.”

“Or our gear,” the thin man said.  He nodded at the woman’s sword just as the glowing red jewel began to fade to clear.  “Some of which is more priceless than the tools and toys of those around us.”

“But, really,” the elven maid continued.  “Isn’t it the destination rather than the journey that matters most?”

“I say we keep her,” Bertram said lightly.

“I’m not a pet that-”

“A thief?!” Thel said loudly.  “And a bad one, too.”

“I believe Wanderer helped somewhat with that,” the young mage said.

“I’m actually quite-”

“We could use an extra hand,” the blond man said more firmly.  “We already don’t know exactly what we’re up against.  A skilled, warm body would help a lot.  Especially at the front.”

The two glared at each other, the woman’s eyes tightening as her jaw worked.

“Fine,” the woman snapped.  Light flared around her fingers but vanished as she opened her hand.

“Charn’s black blood!” Myril yelled, snatching her hand away.  A circular imprint glowed on the bottom of her wrist before fading away into faint white lines that neatly matched the other woman’s tattoo.  A few old men at the nearby table grumbled and one forked his fingers in an ancient counter-curse.

The mage cleared his throat and his fingers went to his pouches, touching them nervously.  “I wish more people realized that that...  creature’s name still held some power.”

“Girl,” the large woman said.  She tapped the tattoo on her shoulder.  It showed a worn road that forked into two paths and was encircled by miniature arcane script.  “I’m a paladin of the Lady of the Crossroads and that mark does more than just hurt.  I can find you wherever you go and I strongly urge you not to run.  While I’d enjoy the hunt, I have more important business to attend first.  The delay would just anger me more.”

“You had no right-” the elf said, rubbing her wrist.

“I had every right,” came the answer.  “Now up to your room.  I’ll fetch you in the morning.”

“I’m not some-!”

The large woman stood slowly, unfurling herself from her chair.  The jewel in her sword throbbed red with tiny black lightning bolts.  “I. Said.  Leave.”

---

Myril paced her room angrily.  She’d lain out her gear, checking the straps, oiling the leather and ensuring everything was padded and silent.  She’d paced, she’d rested and she’d cursed the woman that had grabbed her. 

“Thel!” the girl cursed, pacing again.  She stopped and her long ears twitched while she listened.  A man and a- woman?  Possibly another man.  It was hard to tell at distance were having a long bout of angry sex.  Another man drunkenly wandered the hallways, muttering about a woman he knew.  Closer by, a woman was knocking on doors to offer her services but had just been chased away by some man’s wife.

Her wrist throbbed as if to remind her of the mark’s presence.

She crept to her window and unlatched it.  With a quick check of her gear, she put her hand on the sill.  Pale pink light suffused the open window, blocking her exit.  She frowned and pushed against it, feeling it resist her efforts.  

“That- that gods damned woman!” she yelled, stomping her boot.  

All the windows yielded the same effect and when she worked up the nerves to check her door, she found herself barred from exit by the same strange light.

“Surely not the walls,” she muttered, grabbing the other woman’s golden dagger from her belt.  She stuck her small tongue out while working the tip between the boards.

---

Scraps of wood and glass covered the floor around the elven girl.  She snored lightly, her narrow chest rising and falling as pale light began to fill the open window.  Loud thumping at the door caused her to snort and sit upright.

“Girl!” came a voice she’d begun to hate.  

Rubbing her eyes, she yawned and stood, pulling at her clothing to settle it around her body.  She forced her most cheerful smile and opened her door.  The large, muscular woman was at the entrance with her fist raised.  She wore nearly full plate but for her helmet and gloves.  Her black hair was short enough to almost be stubble.  The woman glanced around the room and her hard face cracked into a smile.

“Fun night?” she asked.

A hundred retorts flashed through her mind but none fitted properly or had the right barb to them so Myril simply smiled wider, adding a touch of an innocent look to her eyes.  The other woman snorted, stepped aside and waved her on.

“The hostler’s preparing our horses,” Bertram said when they reached the bottom floor.  He wore light leather with hard boots and the large cat lay beside him, its paws crossed in front while its tail lashed behind.  A bow hung from his back and a short sword at his hip. He carried his bag at his side.  The mage seemed to travel lightly in loose clothing and a jacket that barely covered the multitude of pouches on his belt.  He held no weapon beside a long oak staff and no pack.

“Do you have a horse or am I tying you to mine?” Thel asked.

“Oh, yes,” Myril said sweetly.  Her smile widened further while the tips of her ears twitched.  “I have a horse.  May I please be allowed to retrieve my horse?”

The blond haired man hide a grin behind his gloves while the large woman rolled her eyes.  

“Just remember, girl,” she said.  “I can find you a lot faster than you can run.  If I feel you leaving the city-”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” the elven girl said.  “I’ll only be a moment.”

The trio watched her leave.  

“Would you really know?” Bertram asked.

“Yes,” Thel replied.  “Although I wouldn’t waste much time on her now.”

“Fair enough,” the man said.  “I see the groom.  I’d rather wait in the open air than here.  Let’s go.”

The three of them waited for the elven maid to appear and Thel nodded quietly when she did - from a side street instead of the stable itself.

Betram eyed the mare the elf rode.  “Will she be able to keep up?”

“Apple will be just fine,” Myril said with a sniff, her fingers touching the inside of her wrist.  “Lead the way.  And maybe now you can tell me what I’m riding into.”

---

A huge stone tower loomed above the small group.  They were an hour ride away to the base of it but it already dwarfed everything around them.  They stopped deep in the forest after leading their horses from the path.  Purple and gold ribbons of light wavered overhead.  Myril’s ears twitched and she swore she could hear a faint crackling sound surrounding them.

“I’ll go on ahead alone,” Bertram said.  He was unloading his pack while Thel made camp.  “I can scout ahead to see if our information is correct.”

“Be careful,” the mage said.  “Everything around here is off.  The whole air is vibrating with magic.  I can’t tell if it’s from the tower or the land or something within.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” the man said.  “Plus, Hessa will watch my back.”

The tall, thin man nodded and then pointed.  “Keep an eye out about half a mile in- whatever direction that is.  Something unusual there.”

“You know, I could-” Myril said.

“No,” Thel replied without looking up.

“Anything for me, Thel?”  Bertram asked.

“No,” the woman said again.  “Just be careful and make your way back.  Be safe.”

The blond man melted into the forest and the small creature followed at his heels.  The other three arranged themselves around the small camp.  Thel laid back against a tree with her sword across her knees and her eyes closed.  The mage sat on a fallen log.  He pulled a larger pouch from his side, opened it and reached in.  Myril’s eyes widened the deeper he reached.

“Holy hells!” the elf yelled.  “Is that a dimensional pocket?”

“Y- yes,” the mage said, looking away.  He rummaged around and pulled his hand out.  He held a small vial that he uncorked.  With his free hand, he raised his shirt to expose a long, jagged scar along the side side of his body.  The man rubbed some cream on his finger from the vile and massaged the scar with it.

“Did you find it?” Myril asked.  She leaned forward, watching him and the bag.  “Where?  Were there any more like it?”

“He made it himself,” Thel said with her eyes still closed.

“That’s amazing!” Myril said honestly.  “I never got your name, by the way.  I’m Myril.  I’ve always been fascinated by magic.”

“I’m… Wren,” he said, lowering his shirt.  

“Oh.  Like the cute little songbird?  I- I guess I expected something fancy.  Not that that’s not a good name!”

Wren sighed as he put away the vial.  “I know.  I’ve tried to change it but my magic won’t work if I do.  If I give another name as my own, I can’t seem to do anything for a day or two.  Not even a simple cantrip.”

“Wow,” the elf said. “And you don’t know why?”

Rather than reply, the man simply shook his head.

“Can you make another one of the pouches?  I don’t know how much it costs but I have some coins saved up and could absolutely get more if needed.”

Thel laughed, her voice deep and surprisingly rich.  “Girl, he cut out his own kidney to make that bag.  I don’t think he’d cut out his other one for you.”

Myril’s hand went to her side and her face paled.  “Oh.  Oh, I had no idea.  Is that how they’re all made?”

“No clue,” Wren said.  “But it’s the only way I’ve found so far.”

“And that’s why he’s tagging along with us,” the paladin said.  “This sorcerer at the middle of the tower is rumored to have a deft hand with physiology and libraries of tomes filled on the subject.  This fool here made this wondrous bag without any way of regrowing the one inside his body.”

The mage’s cheeks reddened.  “It was worth it.”

“And what about you?” Myril asked, warming up to the conversation.  “Why are you here?”

Silence answered the elf girl and it stretched until she thought she’d get no answer.  Finally, the other woman spoke.  “One of my sisters from the Order is missing.  We tracked her here and I was dispatched to find her.  And so I will.”

“And- Bertram, wasn’t it?”

“That is his business to tell,” the woman said gruffly.

“Oh, it’s fine,” the mage said.  “Our fearless leader searches for another from her Order but Bertram is looking for an entire village that vanished.  Everyone gone, food still out as if they’d been sitting down to eat but not a soul left behind.  No blood, no violence, nothing.  Gone.”

The conversation seemed to die down and they all waited quietly together.  Occasionally, birds called to one another and their horses stamped and whickered and ate from their food bags but time passed. When the ranger suddenly appeared, he was silent.  They all stood and waited expectantly.

“I found a copse roughly where you pointed, Wren,” Betram said.  “Made my teeth itch the closer I got.  There’s a large boulder in the middle of the trees but I didn’t get closer.  Didn’t feel right.  There’s also a sewer feeding into the river at the base of the tower and it looks like we could all squeeze through.”

“Uhh,” the elf girl said, looking at each of them.  “I’m voting for the trees so far.”

“You don’t get a vote,” the paladin said.  “What else?”

“A bandit camp on the other side of the tower from the sewer.  There’s an old gate that I assume is the entrance but it’s unguarded so I’m not sure.  Other than that, I found a cave close to the tower.  I’m not sure it leads to the tower but it’s angled that way from the entrance.”

“I could also try teleporting,” Wren volunteered.  “It’s risky with the interference I’m feeling but possible.  I have everything I need.”

Two pairs of eyes swiveled to Thel while smaller, slanted eyes swiveled to the bag on Wren's belt.  Small, calculating eyes.

Their leader looked into the distance.  Her cheeks and lips moved slightly as if she were physically chewing on the thought of where to go.  "Do you have any strong opinions?"

"The sewer," Bertram answered, holding his hands up placatingly as Wren and Myril made faces.  "Listen, I hate the thought as much as the rest of you but rarely are they guarded.  You walk careful, make your way in and you're right in the thick of it."

"In the thick of shit, you mean," the elven girl said.  "I've had to make use of those routes before.  Twice.  The one time I literally walked out covered in shit and my own puke.  It took days to get the smell completely off of me.  The other time, I walked in and a horde of kobolds swarmed me, flinging their own shit at me as well as full buckets of the stuff that hadn't been emptied yet.  No thank you."

"And I-" Wren said, his face red.

"We know what happened with you," the paladin said.  Her eyes were screwed shut.  "I really don't want to hear the story again and neither does the girl."

"Is it embarrassing?" Myril asked, her eyes lighting up.  "Because I would love to hear it."

"What about the bandits?" Thel asked.  "Are they a danger?"

"No," the ranger said.  He frowned.  "They seem to have a regular trail marked through the forest to the road but they don't seem to have any kind of guards beyond the ones watching the edge of their camp.  I don't expect them to harass us unless we venture close to them."

"And the copse?  Did you find anything at all?"

"No," Bertram answered.  He looked away for a moment, embarrassed at his words.  "I felt uneasy there but I saw nothing.  Some bones and an old hut still standing but the closer I got, the worse I felt."

"Wren?" their leader asked, glancing his way.

"It feels like different magic," the young mage said.  "Something happened there and I think it's worth investigating at the least.  Opposing magic could be useful when we breach the tower."

"I-" Myril began.

"Don't care," Thel said, her eyes far away again.  "We'll make for the copse.  Girl, help me break camp.  Bertram, will you see to the horses?  Wren, do- do whatever you do to get ready for what we'll find there."

Grumbling, Myril followed the large woman around their small camp until their gear was stowed and the horses readied.  From the little she could see, Wren did nothing at all except sit and watch.  She couldn't tell whether the others knew and allowed him the special treatment or whether they honestly thought he was actually mentally preparing himself through mystical means.

The girl's eyes strayed to Wren's waist and she wondered if the bag was linked to him in any way due to how it was created.  She touched her side briefly and wondered whether he felt the ghost of a touch inside his body whenever he pulled something from the depths of the bag.  Whether he could somehow feel the items tumbling around within himself when he moved.  The price was too high to make her own but when they parted ways, perhaps she wouldn't have to pay for it.  Maybe he'd wonder, from a kingdom away, why he could suddenly taste copper and gold at the back of his throat. If that was how it worked.

Bertram took the lead with Thel at the rear and the group made their way through the forest.  The ranger pointed out obscured holes and dead branches while his familiar silently scouted ahead.

"I heard about the village," the elf said quietly behind Bertram.  "Did you know anyone there?"

"I thought I was the talkative one," Bertram said, glancing back over his shoulder at the other two.  "No.  But a friend of mine did.  He had distant family there but not distant enough to ignore what happened.  Found me on the road and begged for me to see what happened.  I'd never seen anything like it."

"Like what?" Myril asked, her ears at attention and her eyes wide.

"Well, nothing," he said.  "They were just gone.  No scuffles.  No blood.  Even the animals were missing.  Food grown cold and thick with flies but knives and forks beside plates or on top.  They just all vanished.  All at the same time.  Had to be.  It didn't take long to narrow down the list.  We have a few wizards of some ability but to pull that off?  Yon wizard at the center of the tower is the only one I know that could do it."

"If he's powerful enough to pull that off," she mused.  "Won't he be powerful enough to stop you?  To see you coming?"

"Us, you mean," he said.  "Maybe.  There's a lot out here to keep an eye on.  Easy for a small group to slip by unnoticed if we do it the right way.  Rile up the bandits or sneak into the sewers or magic our way through whatever we're about to face - he's not a god so far's I know.  He can't be everywhere."

"Well-" Myril said.

"Hush now," Bertram whispered, holding his fist up straight.  They stopped behind him, patting their horses to calm them.  The horses stamped and snorted, waving their long necks while trying to high step backwards.  "Keep them as calm as you can.  Do you feel it?"

A low sense of dread began to fill the elf.  She shivered and rubbed her arms.  Behind her, the mage looked like he was holding back his breakfast and their leader's face was stoney.  

"Tie the horses up further back and follow quietly," the ranger said.  He slipped from his saddle and Hessa seemed to appear near his feet.  

They walked their horses back until they calmed and then staked them before rejoining the ranger at the edge of the clearing.  It was a huge open area with a gigantic boulder at the center, ringed by tall trees.  The elven girl's sharp sight caught a small building near the boulder but nothing else.  No flowers or other plants.  Just grass, the boulder and trees.

"I haven't entered the clearing yet," the blond man said.  "Is it clear, Wren?"

The mage concentrated and his eyes glazed over.  A minute passed.  Two.  Finally, he blinked and nodded.  "We'll be safe enough.  Touch nothing without asking first."

As they approached the tree line, the pressure on Myril's chest and head increased.  She began to shake and nearly bolted away until her foot crossed over onto the meadow and the feeling passed.  She breathed out shakily, stumbling to her knees.  She spat to one said and then forced herself up as the others surrounded her.

"What in the name of the Lady was that?" Thel asked.  She seemed unfazed by the invisible barrier but the hilt of her sword was deep black and her gauntlet creaked around it.  

"I- I don't-" Wren gasped.  The red-haired man leaned on his staff to catch his breath. "Don't know.  There's some other magic here, powerful and pushing against the tower.  Don't trust the calm."

"I won't," the elf said.  "There's no birds or plants or anything.  Just the rock and the hut."

"We'll make our way there first," Thel said.  She loosened her grip on her sword and strode forward toward the hut.  "Follow my lead and remember Wren's words.  Touch nothing."

The whisper of leaves rustling in the wind filled the air.  The trees at the center of the clearing waved their limbs in slow obsequience around the boulder as if dancing around it.

Before them, the thatched hut lay open and empty but for a simple wooden stand.  A tunic hung from the back of the stand but the hut was otherwise empty.

"Hessa," the ranger said.  The large creature zipped away, scouting the area.

"What is it?" Thel asked.  "Other than a shirt."

"Well, it's magical," Wren said.  He stepped closer to it and Myril followed.  The tunic seemed to pull her and she felt the others draw close.

"Is it dangerous?" the paladin asked, reaching her hands towards it slowly.  "I could make a short cape of it."

"It's leather," Myril said, shoving closer.  "Supple.  Lined with fur.  I could use it.  Really flexible."

"Yeah," Bertram said.  He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the elf.  "Yeah.  Looks warm.  Good for camouflage in the woods."

Wren forced himself back, reaching a hand into a small pouch.  He tossed a pinch of red powder in the air and spoke a word.  The group all seemed to breathe out at the same time and their growing fascination faltered.

"Dangerous indeed," Thel said, rubbing her gauntlets together.  She glanced at her sword but the hilt was clear.  "Was it the magic of the tunic or the clearing causing that?"

"I'm not sure," the mage said.  "I'd need more time to inspect it.  As well as more time for the area.  Something is centered on the boulder itself."

"So then," Thel said, turning back to the wooden stand.  "First things things.  What should we do with the tunic?"

"It had power over all of you with just a brief exposure," the mage mused.  He stood close to it and then walked around it, careful not to let any piece of his clothing touch the stand or the tunic.  "I think we should leave it."

"No," the paladin said, too quickly.  The muscles in her jaw flared and she looked away.  "It's here, unguarded and not within the tower.  It's possible it'd be useful against him in some way.  We should take it until we know more about it."

"I wouldn't say unguarded," Wren mumbled.

"I'll take it-" Myril said at the same time as Thel.  The paladin swiveled her head to the short elf and they locked eyes.

"Over the Lady's broken blade you will," their leader told her, her voice hard as the steel of her sword.  "I can-"

"It's better if I take it," Wren said.  He stopped pacing in front of it, facing it squarely.  "I'm used to studying magical artifacts and when we have a moment to rest, I'll give it a close examination."

"As an elf," Myril said, standing up to her full height while puffing out her slim, nearly boyish chest.  "I'm naturally resistant to magic.  I can hold onto it until we're stopped and then you can borrow it to do your research."

Bertram laughed behind her and she deflated slightly, spinning around to stare at him with twitching ears.

"No, he has the right of it, girl," the paladin said.  She looked to the jewel on her pommel, stroking the pure blackness of it, as if to wipe away the darkness.  "Take it, then, and let's be on our way.  There's something horribly wrong with this place."

The mage reached his hands forward and then paused, an inch away from the sleeves.  Steeling himself, he whispered a spell beneath his breath and took it down.  He traced a finger along the brown fur covering the collar and front.  Clever little cylindrical bone buttons lined the front of it on the left opening.  He carefully placed it on the loop of his belt.

"Not inside your pouch?" Myril asked, her slim eyes narrowing.

"No," he replied.  Reaching inside another pouch, he took a handful of salt.  "Not until I know what kind of magic it uses.  I don't want to take the chance of mixing foreign magic with the pouch."

Rubbing his hands together, the mage turned to the group.  "I'm done here."

The group left the hut with Myril trailing behind.  Bertram took the lead, ranging ahead of them with Thel behind him.  

"It's an old place," Myril said suddenly.  She hadn't lied to them; she was resistant to magic but also sensitive to it.  And older than all three despite appearances.  The area felt ancient to her, older even than the surrounding forest.  Older than the tower, even.

They were almost to the trees when Bertram held up a hand, causing them to halt.  Thel approached and then waved everyone forward to the kneeling ranger.  A single bone was sticking out of the ground and everyone's attention was focused on it.  Everyone's but Myril.

The elf sidled closer to the mage.  With deft fingers, she lifted the man's belt gently and began to slide the tunic free.  She eyed the paladin's sword but the jewel was still solid black.  Whatever danger it thought the area presented was hiding her actions from the large woman.

"There's more of them around the trees," Bertram said quietly.  He dug a finger around the bone, cleaning the area so he could pull it free.  "Some people were slaughtered here."

Myril's eyes flicked around the group and she licked her lips.  Almost.  Almost done.  There!

As quickly as she could, she balled the tunic up behind her and sheepishly spoke up.  "I have to water the flowers."

"You have to-" Thel half turned.  "Oh.  Stay within sight and be back quickly. Something's wrong.  Shout if you see anything."

Without waiting for them, she ran off with her prize.  She could hear Bertram whispering about his find but she ignored him.  Slipping behind a nearby tree, she undid her blouse and lowered her backpack to the ground nearby.  Her cheeks burned faintly as her tiny breasts lay free on her chest but she quickly pulled her arm through the tunic, sighing as the smooth, cool leather slid against her bare skin.  She felt a tingling thrill through her body when she slipped her arm into the other sleeve.  As quickly as she could she buttoned the tunic and then squatted with her trousers down to add realism to her lie.

When she finished her business, the young elf struggled back into her blouse.  The tunic was as supple as she'd imagined and she barely felt against her, except for the way it moved against her nipples and side.  She bit her lip as little sparks of electricity within her belly made her squirm.  

"Girl!" a stern voice called.

"Coming!" Myril said in blushing sing-song.  She picked her backpack up and walked back to the group with a wide smile on her face.  Her entire body felt sensitive and amazing.

"Well, is it any more dangerous than before?" the woman was saying.  "Should we look for another way in?"

"No," the mage said, frowning.  "No, I think we're fine.  Whatever did this passed long ago.  But it makes me think of something and it's just at the tip of my tongue.  Damnation!  It's the damned strange magic making it harder to think.  I say we press on and see if this affords us a way-  where's the tunic?"

All three humans glanced at the mage's belt and then over to the elf.

"Girl," the paladin said, anger rising in her voice.

"How dare you!" Myril said, her face burning hot.  Oh gods, what was I thinking?  How could I think I could get away with this?  "Why would you think I had anything to do with this?"

"Well," the ranger said, hooking his thumbs into his belt.  "Maybe you haven't.  But you're the only one that stepped away so I think it's fair to assume that maybe something happened.  The thing's magical and enthralled us all for a minute there.  No shame if it overwhelmed you.  Just show us your backpack."

For a brief moment, she considered refusing but then she realized that if they couldn't find it there, she'd have an alibi.

"Fine," Myril fumed.  "You'll see.  I'm not such a low thief to steal from my trusted companions."

Bertram snorted and then stepped close as she carefully took the contents of her bag and placed them on the ground.  

"See?  Nothing."

"Strip," the woman told her.

"I- I will not!" Myril said, her cheeks as red as the sun.  

"Now Thel," Bertram started.

"Strip or you'll be stripped," Thel said.  "The men can turn their backs but I won't be fooled for a second.  I know your kind."

"My kind?!" Myril yelled, desperately trying to avoid what was coming.  "You mean elves?  The ones who steal children from their mother's cribs and eat the souls of the infirm?  Those kind?"

"No," the paladin said, gripping her sword tightly.  "Poor thieves.  That's who I mean.  Strip or, by the Lady, I'll strip you myself."

The elf's eyes darted around the group but the men simply turned their backs.  Hessa lay on her belly by the ranger, crossing her large paws over one another while the tip of her tail flicked.  She eyed Myril intently.

Cursing quietly, Myril tugged at her blouse and then pulled it over her head, tensing herself for the the woman's onslaught.  Too late, she wondered if the ranger could see through Hessa's eyes.  And yet, something small inside of her liked the idea of him seeing her stripping.  She pushed the thought away and raised her chin while her ears twitched.

"Well," Thel said, frowning.  "You have my apologies."

Myril frowned and then looked down at her bare body.  Her eyes snapped back up as she noticed her painfully erect pink nipples.

The tunic was gone.

The elf's mind raced and she scratched at her forehead while considering what could've happened.  It wasn't stuck in her blouse (and how didn't I think to pull both off at the same time, gods damn me!) and she did remember putting it on.

Could it be invisible?  Does it have a magical property to remain hidden?  She scratched at her side, shivering at her own touch but felt nothing but bare skin.  Maybe hidden to myself even?  Or could it make me invisible somehow?

"Put your clothes on, girl," Thel said.  "I'm truly sorry for doubting  you."

"I understand," she said while putting on her best affronted attitude.  She dressed herself quickly and the men turned around again.  Myril looked them all in the eye, one by one to show how innocent she was.  

"Hessa?" Bertram said, nodding to the tree where she'd gone.  The animal trotted off, tail high and twitching but returned as quickly as it'd gone.  "Well, nothing there either."

"Enough of this," their leader said, releasing the grip on her sword.  She turned and walked through the treeline towards the stone, stepping wide of the horned skull the ranger had dug up.

Myril shivered as she stepped into the trees.  She scratched the back of her neck and nearly ran into a tree while watching the ranger.  Wondering if he'd seen her and liked what he'd seen.  She cursed herself for a fool and focused on the path.

The boulder pierced the ground like the tip of a giant's spear.  Intricate lines were etched into the stone but all eyes were drawn to the jumble of bones surrounding it.  Pain shot through Myril's guts, powerful enough for her to gasp and cradle her stomach.  She felt sick at the sight of haphazard pile.  Her ears twitched in sympathy and the brown hairs lining the edge of them brushed the silver hair covering her head.

"Just like the others," Bertram said softly.  "Can this get us close to the tower, Wren?"

The mage stood quietly, his eyes roaming the boulder.  His lips moved as if reading the runes inscribed on the stone.  He walked forward, stopping at the edge of bones and the others followed.

"Here," Wren said, pointing at four runes arranged like points of a compass.  "A tunnel runs below and if the runes are correct, they continue towards where the tower is now.  This predates the tower.  Maybe even human civilization in the area but if the geography hasn't changed, it should still be true."

The elf glanced down at the bones.  She rubbed the back of her neck to gently massage the small brown and black hairs at the base of her hairline.  She felt an odd sadness that she couldn't shake.

"Can we leave?" Myril asked quietly.  

"I agree," Thel said.  "Can you activate it, Wren?"

"Yes," the mage answered.  "Hold onto a piece of my clothing.  It won't take long."

Myril gripped Wren's belt and her hand trembled.  He was speaking but she didn't know the words and she couldn't concentrate on them.  Odd emotions tumbled through her mind.  Sadness.  Pain.  Loss.

Bright light flashed around them and the cool air was replaced by a damp, stale stench.  Myril immediately felt the pain and sadness vanish but lust filled the vacuum and she moaned quietly, forcing her hand away from fondling Wren's ass.  She leaned back against the wall, scratching her aching forehead while calming herself. 

"Of course," the mage said.  "Of course!"

"What is it?" Bertram asked.  

"Look," Wren said, turning to them.  "The Tower's wizard focuses on physiology.  Mastering the body.  Those bones we found, now that we're not in the center of their magic, it all makes sense.  They were satyrs!"

"I'm still not following," Thel said.

"Legend says satyrs could seduce you with song and dance," the young man explained.  "Once they had you, they- fornicated and you became enthralled.  And then you changed until you were like them.  Lost to your carnal pleasures and seducing others.  The wizard would've sought them out to divine how their magic worked.  How they were able to change others so that he could add to his own mastery.  But, he slaughtered them.  Either because they wouldn't tell him or he couldn't discover the process.  Or maybe he did learn what happened and he was done with them.  It was their magic we felt.  An oasis of ancient, natural magic in the storm of the wizard's spells."

"So the tunic?" the ranger asked.

"If I had to guess?"  Wren said, sucking on his bottom lip.  "A test, maybe.  The first one?  Or after he'd perfected it?  I think he made a shirt of their skin."

Myril turned and dry heaved, her hand pressed against the cold, wet rock of the tunnel.

"Hey," Bertram said, awkwardly rubbing her back.  "Yeah, it's alright.  Just get it all out.  It's gone now so it doesn't matter.  Maybe he magicked it back or something."

The elf girl shuddered and then pressed her body against the man, rubbing her slim hip on his leg.  She sighed when he pulled away.  Get a grip on yourself, girl!

"We move on," Thel told them.  She looked around the tunnel.  "And hope we don't find who's been keeping the torches fresh.  Bertram?  I know you're more fond of the forest but can you look ahead for us?  We'll follow behind slow.  If you come to a fork, come back for us."

Bertram saluted with two fingers and followed Hessa, disappearing around a bend in the tunnel.  The others followed quietly behind.  Myril watched Thel, admiring her self-confidence.

A hard woman but fair, she thought, sizing her up.  I wonder if her tits are as big as the rest-  gods, what am I thinking?

It was hard to judge time in the depths where they walked.  They passed various chutes and channels full of sewer sludge but soon come to a fork in the tunnel.  But no Bertram.  Thel growled and then pulled her sword free, pushing the others back as loud footsteps echoed down the right tunnel.  

Hessa darted forward out of the darkness and Bertram appeared afterwards, panting.

"I know!" he gasped.  "I should've.  Waited.  For all of you.  I sent Hessa ahead and she spotted something I needed to see.  Thel, I think I've found the villagers!"

"You-"

A scream echoed around the tunnel and they all formed into a close group.  Myril pressed her small chest against Bertram's back and then spread her legs to press her sex against Wren's thigh.  The cool air of the tunnel made her shiver and a line of brown fur stood at attention along her shoulders.

A woman dressed in muddied white clothing fell from a small tunnel set in the wall on the left, near the ceiling.  She cried out when she slammed against the floor but then stood, panting and eyeing the small group with wild eyes.  Her hands were chained together with a simple metal clasp.  

"Who-" Thel started to say.  The woman screamed again.  She turned and vanished down the left tunnel.  "After her!"

"Thel, no!" Bertram said, grabbing her arm.  "I don't know if I can find my way back to the villagers if we go after her.  The tunnel twists and turns and it was hard enough finding my way to them."

Male voices echoed faintly in the distance and they all turned to look up at the chute where the girl had come from.

"I'll not ignore someone in need!" Thel snarled.  The jewel on her pommel began to pulse with a steady rhythm, as if the black gem were expelling absorbed light.  

"Look, yes," Bertram said, licking his lips while glancing down the right tunnel.  "I know.  I know your vows.  And your history.  She's a woman and you feel obliged to- oof!"

The large paladin slammed the man against the wall with her gauntlet against his windpipe.  She leaned toward him and their noses almost touched.  Despite her clenched teeth and menacing look, her voice was preternaturally calm.  Bertram's eyes widened and he grabbed at her arm while Hessa arched her back next to him with a loud hiss.

"It has nothing to do with my upbringing," she told him.  The men's voices were growing louder from the chute.  Still unintelligible but Myril's ears twitched, sure she'd caught a few ripe curses.  "Your villagers are together and this woman is alone and apparently chased by gods know what.  You've seen the villagers.  We can find them again."

"Now," Thel said, stepping back.  Bertram collapsed to the ground, massaging his throat.  "You're our tracker so fucking. Track. Her!"

With a steadying hand on his animal companion, the ranger stood.  His usually calm eyes flashed with anger for a brief moment but then he turned and ran and the group followed behind him.  

Myril passed Wren to lag behind the heavily armored paladin.  The elven girl was amazed at how quickly the other woman could run in her full gear.  She idly considered the amount of muscles she'd need and that thought lead her to wonder what she'd look like without the armor.  Or clothes.

All muscles.  Hard and thick.  Wrapped around me.  Forcing me down to my knees to service her.  Telling me exactly what I needed to do to get her off.  Ordering me around.  Gods!  She stumbled, bleating in frustration at her own misstep as well as her inability to quench the lust building within.  Her nimble feet felt dull and unresponsive in her boots but she forged ahead with a burst of energy.  As the tunnels twisted and turned, she could hear Bertram whispering to himself.

"Left," the ranger said under his breath when they took a left-branching tunnel.  "Right.  Right.  Too many.  Too many to remember."

Although the haggard woman had a fair head start fueled with panic, the group began to close the distance. However, after several turns their pursuer's voices echoed more clearly from behind while they could hear the woman screaming amidst loud thumping just ahead.  Thel shoved past Bertram with a sudden burst of speed.

"Right.  Left.  No! Right, not left!  Dammit, woman, wait for us!  Wren can't-"

The tunnel opened into a wide corridor, lined with rusted metal cells and two giant iron-banded wooden doors at the end.  The escaped woman knelt before the door with her forehead pressed against it.  Her right hand hit the door weakly and then dropped. She turned and fell to the musty straw lined floor with her head in her hands to silently weep.

"Girl," the paladin called out loudly.  She spread her arms while walking forward slowly.  "We aren't here to harm you."

"Thel!" Bertram said urgently.  "They're right behind us!"

"Fan out," she replied.  "Wren, slow them down.  Thief, can you fight?  Elf!"

"Wha- yes!" Myril answered.  She blushed with her head down.  She'd been picturing the woman chained to the wall.  Naked and begging to be used. "Just distract them and I can help."

The mage reached into a pouch.  Pulling his hand free, he threw chalky green powder in an arc with a whispered incantation.  As the dust began to fall, he jumped back out of the area and then kept backpedaling until he stood behind Thel.

"Stay by the girl," the paladin directed.  She warily eyed the specks of green on the floor.  "Bertram, go with her with your bow for support.  Until we know-"

Two men rounded the corner and Myril's eyes widened.  They were filthy and bulky and entirely nude.  Bertram barked out an involuntary laugh just as he pulled his bow free.  Still, he eyed them with his easy grin and an arrow held loosely against the bowstring.  The elven girl wrapped her gray cloak around her body with her left hand while her right crept beneath her trousers.  Her long fingers brushed silky hairs before slipping between her already wet lips.  Her mouth hung open while staring at the men's cocks.

"Mmm," the larger of the men grunted.  He grabbed his flaccid cock and smiled.  "Two new bitches to add to our kennel.  Be glad we caught you before Akesha, fools."

"Stay away!" the shackled woman screamed.  

"Oh, lovely little stupid girl," the other man said.  He stepped forward and the small group held their breath.  "We aren't done-"

With another step, the line of powder exploded with an emerald flash and the man howled with pain.  The acrid smoke cleared to reveal him rolling on the floor with a bloody stump instead of his left leg.  

"Stupid.  Fucking.  Meat!" the first man growled.  He seemed to grow larger while hunching forward.  Fur erupted along his body and he roared, flinging spittle with a mouth too large to be human.  The man slammed the ground with his back arched.  They watched his spine raise in a loud popping wave that ended with a stubby tail pushing forth from his lower back.

"Bertram!" Thel yelled a heartbeat before an arrow whistled through the air.

The werewolf twisted, causing the arrow to clack uselessly against the wall behind him.  With his attention diverted, he missed the blurred shape of Hessa leaping over the green line.  The large cat's jaws clamped around the man's ankles.  He growled at it and swiped with deadly claw-tipped fingers.  An arrow sprouted from his arm, queering his aim and the cat twisted away.

Beside him, the other man was on his hands and knees.  His leg was already scabbed and his face was covered with growing black fur.  Myril's glazed eyes slipped down his prone body to stare at his erect cock.  Her fingers plunged into her slippery sex and she sat back against the wall, gasping.  Her silky furred thighs squeezed her hand while she fucked her fingers.  His manhood changed.  Skin flowed along his cock, nearly enveloping it but it lengthened into a pointed, cum-tipped point beyond his new sheath.  She could almost feel the tip slamming against her cervix.  She hungered to feel his teeth in her shoulder.  To feel him slam her to the cold, hard floor and force his sharp cock between her slutty, aching pussy lips.  To-

"What in Charn's name are you doing?!" Bertram yelled to her left.

The curse was a slap to her face and the elven girl snatched her fingers to her mouth, sucking on her juices.  Something writhed against her ass but she ignored it.  With immense willpower, she grabbed a hidden knife and darted to the side, wide away from the men's view but still behind Thel.

For her part, the paladin roared and charged to meet the first werewolf.  He leapt at her and his massive, furred arm slapped at the flat of her blade.  Her wrist bent but she flowed with it, turning the blade to slice through the creature's midsection.  

Glowing magenta lit the corridor.  Thel dropped to her knee as a humming shard of energy shot past her.  Her opponent rolled on the floor to dodge the missile but his mangy tail slapped too close to the green dust.  His tail burst into guttering flames and a second arrow pierced his chest, just below his right nipple.

Two more missiles screamed toward the second werewolf.  He tried to jump away but his missing leg forced him off balance.  The second missile glanced off his side to leave behind singed fur and bare skin.  Worse, it turned him and the third missile impacted against his shoulder.  A spray of bloody mist filled the air, accompanied by the sickening sound of crunching bone and an odd crystal tinkling.

The smaller werewolf grabbed at his missing arm.  He whined piteously and then staggered as Myril latched onto his back.  She wrapped her arm under his muzzle before pulling it back.  Her other hand held a black hunting knife.  Silver runes glowed as it cut into the beast's neck.  The small elf kicked back off of him when he tottered backwards, rolling into a crouch with her blood-drenched knife touching the floor.

"Watch out!" Bertram yelled.  He pulled his bowstring back to touch his cheek and let loose.  The arrow flew true over the elf's head to strike the large werewolf in his belly.

Sparks surrounded Thel and the werewolf as he tirelessly batted away her sword.  Despite the three arrows dotting his body and the healing cut along his gut, the creature seemed to speed up.  He feinted to the left and the woman took the bait, overextending herself with a swing of her sword.  Metal screeched as sharp teeth pierced her gauntlet.

Thel dropped her sword.  The werewolf laughed until she slammed her free hand against the side of its head.  

"Plaatz!" the paladin screamed.  Bright white light flared, blinding everyone that watched.  It vanished and air rushed to fill the void she'd created.  Lightning lanced out beneath her palm, flinging the beast through the air with her gauntlet still clamped in its mouth.  She dove for it, grabbing her belt knife in a smooth motion to drive it through the creature's chest.  Burned, ruined skin surrounded an empty eye socket.

Panting, trembling with fatigue brought on by magic, Thel leaned into the knife and the werewolf sighed.  Fur began to retreat into its body.  She collapsed against him before rolling to the ground.

"Here," Bertram said, reaching a hand out to their leader.  She took it and he pulled, groaning under her weight.

"We- we have to-" Thel gasped.  

"Take your time," the ranger told her kindly.  "We need you too much to have you fail now."

"We have to move," she finished.  "There may be more following them."

"Who or what is Akesha?" Wren asked.  He stepped over a puddle of congealing blood and knelt by the paladin.  As gently as he could, he took her bare arm. She snatched it back.  "Even these monster sounded afraid of it.  The big one is alive but barely.  We could-"

"Uh," Myril said, clearing her throat.  They turned to look at her and then the shackled girl.

"No, no, no!" The woman said.  She screamed, tearing the shift from her body.  Faded claw marks covered her sides and thighs and back.  Lengthening fangs pierced her gums and her torn nails scrabbled at the fur growing from her neck.  She knelt, spreading her thighs while rearing back.  Hardened muscle stood out on the woman's stomach.  Myril's eyes wandered down to her thighs.

"Oh," the elf whispered, her hand sliding down her body to the waist of her trousers.  "Oh gods."

Juices dripped from the changing woman's sex.  She shoved her hand between her thighs with a monstrous moan while her other hand squeezed her ample breast until the skin grew reddened.  The woman's tongue pushed through her widening jaw to hang down to her chin.

"Hot!" she gasped, grabbing at her lips.  She pulled and twisted at her lips, pinching them when they became engorged with her arousal.  The lips grew dark and fat, hiding her human clit behind a bitch's swollen sex. "I'm burning up!  Gods!"

"The cells!  Grab her!" Thel yelled.  She moved, pushing away from the two men but they reached at the same time to grab the changing woman.

Reflexes born of countless battles propelled the paladin faster than either of her companions.  Her fingers brushed the fur growing from the woman's muzzle but the she-wolf snarled and snapped and her jaw closed around Thel's arm.  Lengthening fangs pierced skin with a sickening crunch.  

"Gods damn you!" Thel roared.  She brought her still-gloved arm up, smashing it into the woman's cheek as the two men grappled with the creature.  The large woman ripped her arm free when the she-wolf's jaws opened and the spray of blood filled the air.  

The four of them wrestled with Thel grunting as she flipped and twisted and pushed the changing woman towards the nearest open cell.  Hessa hissed and yowled, her back arched with her fur standing entirely on end.  She circled the group, positioning herself to cut off any sudden retreats.  Behind all of them, Myril slid down the rough stone wall with her trousers around her hips.  She worked her fingers frantically between her heavily furred sex.  In her mind, she was in the place of the werewolf and all three of them were roughly handling her while taking turns with every available hole.

A tiny bleating moan escaped the elven girl's lips as she bucked from an orgasm..

"Betram!  Ready the door - I almost have her!" Thel yelled.  Muscles bulged in the she-wolf's thighs and the paladin crashed to the ground as the other woman flexed.  Bright lights exploded in Thel's black-edged vision.  Already taxed by the battle and her spell, her blood loss and the struggle forced her to focus through the pain and impending loss of consciousness.  She planted her foot and readied herself.  "Wren, move!"

Bloodied black talons scraped against the floor as the she-wolf's claws pierced her toes.  Her tail, covered with patches of fur, swished behind her as her nails scored the heavy plate Thel wore.  The formerly slim woman now matched the paladin's height.

"Now!" Thel screamed.  Her muscles strained but her training gave her the advantage against the werewolf's raw strength. She shifted, twisted and threw the creature into the cell.  

The she-wolf howled with rage as she slammed against the far wall.  She righted herself just as Betram closed the cell door.  When he slid the bolt in place, the creature crashed into the door.  The old metal dented and dust fell from the ceiling surrounding the frame.

Wren stepped forward and placed a hand on the door with his other hand held in a loose fist in front of his mouth.  He whispered hurriedly into the fist and then pressed it against the door, moments before the werewolf launched herself again.  A loud ringing sound filled the air when she impacted but the door stood firm.  

"It should hold her," Wren said.

"Thel!" Bertram cried out.  He knelt beside the paladin as she collapsed.  

"Don't touch her arm!" Wren yelled, moving the ranger's hand away.  "All of that effort will have cycled her blood through her system.  If she's infected, she'll turn faster."

"Do something!" Bertram told him.  

"I don't- wait, I might have something-" Wren said, digging through his pouches.

A thick arm reached up to grab him.  Thel's eyes fluttered and opened completely.  She groaned and then raised herself up to her elbows.

"Just-" she panted, swallowing as sweat rolled down her brow.  "Just help me out of my armor."

The two men stripped their companion as tenderly as possible.  Thel's lips were moving in a silent prayer that was occasionally interrupted by a spasm.  They set her armor beside her, piece by piece until she lay back in her simple tunic and trousers.  The thick padding of her plate was soaked dark brown from her sweat and the rank scent of it filled the air.  Both men stared at each other when they spied dried blood and fresh white scars on her arm.

Bertram put his arm behind the woman to support her as she struggled to stand but she growled and shoved him away.

"I've got it!" she told him, anger flashing in her eyes.  She sighed, her breath exhaling in a ragged shudder as she sat up.  "I've got it.  I'm sorry.  I know you're just trying to help.  I can't- I just need to do this myself.  Lock the cell behind me.  If I can't-  If I don't-"

"Hey," the ranger said.  He reached for her and then thought better of it while she stood slowly.  "Hey, don't say that.  You're stronger than anyone I've ever met.  If anyone can pull through this, you can."

"If I can't," she continued, licking her lips.  She closed her left hand over her right forearm.  Little black hairs pressed against and around her fingertips.  "If I can't, put me down.  The girl's knife can do it.  Bertram, see- augh- see to the information we need."

Bertram started to say something but Wren put his hand on his shoulder.  They stood silently as she walked into a cell opposite the raging werewolf.  Wren closed the door behind Thel as she knelt in the center of the small room with her hands on her knees.  Black fur matted the bite marks above her wrist.  

"Lady, hear me," her whispered voice called out.  "Hear the plea of your fallen daughter."

Her voice gruffly rambled on as Wren repeated his spell to seal the chamber.  

"You pig fucker!" Bertram yelled, stomping the heel of his boot against the gaping wound in the male werewolf's chest.  Frothy pink bubbles formed at the corner of the creature's mouth as he was pulled back from the brink of death.  He wheezed and bloody drool fell from his mouth to drip on his naked chest.  

"I- I can- can smell her," the dying man laughed.  "Smell her.  Changing.  Beautiful."

"Who is she?  Akesha?" Bertram snarled, grinding his boot against the man.  "Answer me!"

"Dragon," he said.  He leaned to the side to spit but his spittle ran down his chin.  "S- surrounded by her- her ha- handmaidens.  Trapped.  'S funny."

"What is funny?" Bertram said, his voice dropping dangerously low as he leaned in to hear the man's fading voice.

"You- you thought," the man gasped.  His hands flailed at Bertram's boots.  "Thought we.  We were the dangerous ones.  To her.  To her just food.  Just.  Just food. Fo-"

The man's hands fell away to his sides as he stared sightlessly up at the ceiling.  With a wordless shout, Bertram stomped on the man again.  He reached back to kick him harder until Wren touched his side.

"He's gone," Wren said quietly.  "It's done.  Leave him.  The living still need us."

---

Myril Lay against the wall with her head between her bent knees, basking in the glow of several orgasms.  She rubbed at her forehead and her fingers explored two hard ridges above her brow.  Beyond her, in the center of the corridor, Bertram was slowly cleaning Thel's armor while Wren thumbed through a large book.  She watched the ranger and her eyes focused on his hands.

Strong hands, calloused from years with a bow, worked an oiled rag back and forth over the metal.  The elf girl bit her lip and sighed as her hand slid beneath her cloak and tunic to brush her hardened nipple.  Her mouth hung slack as she echoed the movements of Bertrams hands.  She whispered his name as she imagined him above her.  Kissing her while his large hands squeezed her slim breasts.

"Gods!" Myril gasped, snatching her hands away.  She bent down and squeezed her temples with her knees to try and focus.  

A heady scent wafted up from the girl's soaked trousers.  She moaned and breathed deeply and her fingers clawed at her thighs.  Just like Bertram would claw at her to spread her open.  To force her knees apart and show her slutty little slit.  Holding her down while he shoved his face between her silky smooth thighs.  

Her own hand brushed thick fur on her lower belly.  She gripped it and twisted, relishing the feeling of it as it pulled at her skin.  Her cum tangled in the fur and she spread it while she toyed with herself.  She gasped as her nails dragged against her thighs, dragging against the hairs beginning to show there.  

No, no, no! She thought, pulling her hands back once again.  It was becoming impossible to think of anything other than sex.  Every line of thought led to her mind twisting it back around towards the carnal desires crowding her brain.

Myril whimpered and pulled up her hood while leaning back against the wall.  She wanted to ask if Thel would be okay but she didn't trust herself to get close to the men.  Still, she surprised herself by feeling sympathetic towards the menacing woman and her ordeal.  Even in the short time she'd known her, the other woman had proven to be a dominating force and it was difficult to imagine anything stopping her.  Not even the cursed blood straining to take hold of her.  She would overcome it.  Overpower it.

"Dominate it," the girl whispered as her hands slid down the sides of her body.  She shivered as she remembered the way Thel had spoken to her.  The confidence in her eyes.  The force behind her words.  Her powerful hand gripping her when they'd first met.  She could imagine herself being held and telling the woman that she wasn't interested in women.

Lying to her about it for she knew now that she'd take a woman as eagerly as a man.

Myril's fingernails clawed her sides as she imagined Thel's hearty, heartless laugh.  Feeling her shame as she was pushed down to service the large woman.  Shame from the act but also because she could feel how much the thought aroused her.  Being forced to do it.  Told what to do and how to do it.  Hearing Thel grudgingly compliment her when she did something right.  When her clever little tongue swirled her engorged clit.  

A deep, throbbing ache formed in the tips of the elven girl's toes.  She kicked her boots off while her finger caressed her swollen pussy.  

"Like that?" she whispered to her imaginary lover as her bare feet swept back and forth against the floor.  Her tiny white feet pushed forward and then clacked backwards as the hardened nails expanded to cover the tips of her toes.  The delicate, pink skin between each of them pulled them together until her big toe connected to the one next to it while the other three merged together.  

The elf girl's white cloven hooves clattered on the ground when her legs shook from a small orgasm. 

"You been quiet," Bertram's voice called out.  He held Thel's breastplate before him.  "You alright over there, girl?"

"Y- yes!" she answered, ducking her hand while pulling her hand away from her swollen, aching, needy sex.  No, gods no, I'm not okay.  I can't stop thinking of fucking.  I need it so bad.  I'm scared but, oh gods, I need it.  I have to work through this.  I have to stop it.  I can't- I can't just give in.

"You should turn in," he told her.  "We'll take turns with the watch but you get some sleep."

Sleep did sound like a good idea to her.  Her orgasms were wearing her out and she'd need the rest to be ready for when they wanted to fuck her.  She moaned and pulled her cloak over her body while tucking her knees against her chest.

Wren could take my ass, she decided.  Her fingers slipped into the slick warmth and she moved her fingers slowly while she relaxed.  Silver hair gathered around the bulge at the base of her spine and it lengthened into a short, wide tail that wriggled happily before settling against her body.  And Bertram could fuck my pussy.  Oh.  Oh, yes.  Both of them inside of me.  Never had it but it has to feel amazing.  Their cocks rubbing together, deep inside.  Maybe- maybe then I'd feel full.  Maybe then it'd be enough and this would pass.  Thel.  Yes, Thel.  She could stand in front and hold my head against her lips.  Pressing me into her.  Making me lick her.  

The girl's feet clattered against the wall.  Keratin consumed the skin over her feet and along her soles and then darkened further until her heavy hooves were dark as the thoughts corrupting her.  Fur sprouted above the hooves and it spread as she drifted off.

----

Myril woke from deep sleep to find her trousers pulled down just above her knees.  She stroked the silver fur coating her thighs and then pushed her trousers down further until they slipped past her black hooves.  She glanced up to see Bertram staring at Thel's cell and she smiled at him.  Sitting up, she undid her cloak and slipped free from her shirt.

The cool air surrounded her and goosebumps rose from her bare arms and stomach.  She stood carefully with her fingers touching the wall nearby for support.  Her short tail flicked twice as she began to walk towards the man.  More hairs dotted the smooth swell of her firm, slim ass and two short horns curled away from her forehead.

"You don't need to take a-" Bertram began to say.  He broke off as Myril stepped over him to straddle his lap.  She lowered herself and kissed him while pressing her slight frame against his chest.  Her stiff nipples dragged against his leather armor and she grinded against him.  His hands pressed against her back and then slid down but her jerked when he felt the soft fur covering her ass.  "What in the five hells?!"

"I need your cock in me," Myril said.  She leaned forward to press her nipple against Bertram's mouth but he turned away.  His hands gripped her waist and she moaned, reaching back to squeeze his cock.  "Yes!  Yes, hold me!  Be rough!"

"Wha-" Wren said, stirring beside them.  He eyed the couple with sleep-heavy eyelids.  "Really?  This isn't the right- wait, what?!"

Bertram pushed Myril off his lap and she cried out as she slammed onto the ground.  Undeterred, she lay back with her furred thighs spread and the tips of her hooves against the floor.  She spread her pussy lips with one hand while her other squeezed at her breast.  

"Like that, yes!" Myril bleeted.  Her pupils compressed as black flooded the skin beneath her nose.  Bones shifted subtly within her face and her small nose pulled back slightly until it flattened.   "I can suck you off, Wren.  Gods, I want to taste you in my mouth while Bertram fills my dirty, slutty hole.  Please!  Gods, please, I'm burning up!  I'm so empty inside.  I'll do whatever you want.  Anything, please!"

The screech of metal filled the air.

"I can smell her out there," Thel's deep voice boomed.  She growled.  "She's not right.  What's happening?"

"Stay calm!" Wren called out.  He pulled a slim knife from a hidden sheath.  "We're handling it!  Just stay calm!"

"What's wrong with her?!"  Bertram asked.  He held the girl down by her arms as she wriggled in his grip.

"The tunic!" Wren hissed.  "She must've put it on when she went out to relieve herself.  It's soaked in old magic and changing her into one of them.  Hold her!"

"Can you fix it?"  Bertram asked.  He sat on the elf and she pressed up against him, rocking her body until it brushed his crotch.

"I think so," Wren said quietly.  He ran a finger along her side and then cursed.  The mage closed his eyes and his lips moved while his fingers tapped the pockets lining his jacket.  He reached into the fifth one and pulled a small pouch.  

"Just undo your pants, Bertram," Myril cooed.  She shook her chest back and forth to make her soft breasts jiggle.  "I'm right here for you.  My mouth is wet and warm and waiting.  I can take all of you.  I won't spill a drop of your seed.  Just use me.  Hold my down and fuck my mouth until you-"

"Quiet, girl!" Bertram yelled.  He grabbed her throat and Myril moaned.

"Harder," she gasped through her clenched throat.

Wren sprinkled blue powder from the pouch onto his fingers.  He lay the pouch down and traced a line down Myril's side with his fingernail.  The blue powder sparked and fizzled just above her hip and the mage immediately brought his knife down against the mark.  He looked over at her and licked his lips.

"Hold her tight," he told Bertram.  "This will hurt her."

Bertram pushed down and sat on the girl's hips.  He lay down against her chest with his hands in hers.

"Gods, your beard feels so go- AAAAGH!" Myril screamed as the knife bit into her skin.

Blood welled around the incision and streaked down her side to drip on the floor.  She struggled and bucked but Bertram held her tight while Wren cut a slow, jagged line along her side.  The she-wolf behind them howled with Myril and Thel joined in.  The paladin's tentative cry grew louder and more sure until her voice mixed with the werewolf's plaintive call.

"I'm sorry," the ranger whispered.  "Hold still.  Hold as still as you can."

Pale pink flesh lay beneath the skin the mage cut away.  As soon as the tip reached below her armpit, the fur-lined tunic appeared on her chest.  The entire right side of her body was slick with red and black blood

"Oh, oh no," Myril said weakly.  

"Can I let her up?" Bertram asked.

"Yes but slowly," Wren said.  He stored his pouch and wiped his blade against the sheath he used.  With long, tender fingers, he pulled the cursed tunic away from her body and over her right arm.  The skin beneath was unmarked.  Pink flooded the girl's blackened nose and it dented out to a rounded point as her rectangular pupils shrunk to circular pinpoints.

Myril lay on the ground with her arms at her sides.  Her breathing was fast and shallow and she seemed to not care that she was naked before the two men.  A loud crack surprised the two men and they looked back to see her hooves separating into five parts.  The hardened material receded slowly until her toes began to take shape.

Wren stood and stalked to where the girl had slept.  He retrieved her cloak and brought it back to lay over her body.

Thel growled from within her cell.  She hacked and spat and then coughed again.

"Is she well?" she asked from within.  Her voice sounded ragged.  "She smells- she smells better."

"Yeah," Bertram answered.  "Yeah, Wren fixed her up.  Everything's fine now."

"Good," the paladin said.

"Will- will you make it?" he asked her.

"Just keep her knife ready," she answered.  "Rest and wait while I pray."

Bertram wrapped the elf in her cloak and lay her nearby while she squawked weakly at him .  He gathered the rest of her belongings to place near her but her eyes were already closed.  Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.  The fur covering her ankles shrunk and then vanished in slow waves.

"Get some sleep," Wren said.  "I'll take my turn.  I need to watch her anyway."

"Hah," the ranger laughed, glancing at the two cells and the sleeping girl.  "Sleep, huh?"

Despite his protestations, the bearded man began snoring while Wren re-arranged the pouches and trinkets contained within his pockets.

---

A soft hand on the ranger's shoulder startled him awake.  Hessa lay curled against his side and she stretched as he woke.  He looked around to see Myril clothed and standing apart from them.

"It's time," Wren said quietly.

"How's the woman?"  Bertram asked.

"Human again," the mage said.

"And Thel?"

"Still with us.  I wanted to wait for you in case I need the help.  In case something goes wrong."

"You still have that knife, girl?"  Bertram called out.

Myril glanced over at the men and blushed.  She'd woken earlier to full realization of what she'd done and how she'd acted.  She'd tortured herself with thoughts of what the men would say or do once they were up and moving.  To be treated so casually gave her a glimmer of hope that her pride was still intact.

And yet, she felt a slight craving from within.  An emptiness and a hungering need.  She pushed and it vanished.  Only to return as the faint edge of desire.  She shivered and wiggled her toes within her boots.  The memory of her hooves almost made her throw up.

"Yes," she said without looking at them.

Nodding, the ranger stood, stretched and then approached the paladin's cell.  He hesitated as he reached forward and then cleared his throat.

"Thel?" he called out.

"I'm here," she answered.  

"Good," the man said, exhaling harshly.  "Is it- did you contain it?"

"Through the grace of my Lady," she answered.  "It's safe to open the door."

Wren beckoned for the elf and she came to him with her knife by her side.  Bertram unlatched the door and pulled it open.  

Thel seemed taller as Myril swept her with her wide eyes.  She blushed as she took in the curve of her hips and her well-defined thigh muscles.  Her gaze lingered between her legs and again at her impressive bust.  

A line of thick hair ran up from Thel's breeches and over her hardened stomach.  It disappeared beneath her linen shirt.  Looking up, the elven girl saw the woman's lengthened canine teeth before the other woman closed her mouth.  She was almost certain her jaw was longer;  something about the shape of it seemed off.  Subtly wrong based on the brief time she'd known her.  It was hard for her to tell whether the black hairs on her forearms was due to her condition or whether she simply didn't keep herself well groomed.

But that wasn't the most stunning change, no.  The woman's eyes were entirely golden.

The paladin walked to her armor.  It was laid out carefully in the order she wore it and she gave a nod of thanks towards Bertram.  The group began to gather their equipment until they heard Thel grunting and cursing quietly under her breath.  Wren opened his mouth to ask if she were alright but the woman snarled.  She hurled one of the greaves at the wall where it crashed against the wall with a loud bang.

Myril's fingers tapped the knife at her belt while she glanced between the two men.  Bertram looked at the mage who frowned and waved at their leader in a sharp cutting motion.

"H- hey, Thel," Bertram said.  He crept close to her with his hands clear of his weapons.  "What's wrong?"

"It doesn't fit!" she yelled.  Black stubble lined her jaw.  "This damn curse has deformed me!  My Lady has abandoned me.  I've- I've fallen in her eyes."

"Now, Thel," Bertram said, his voice even despite the tension in his shoulders.  "Any other person would be feral by now.  You know that.  You held it back.  With the help of your goddess.  If she had abandoned you, you would've turned and killed us all.  You know that.  You've done your best and you're still human.  You're just- you can't stop all of it is all."

"You should leave me," the woman said.  "I could still turn.  I could still hurt you."

"Nah," Bertram said.  He stood behind Thel and rested a hand on her shoulder.  "A wise woman just recently told me that we don't abandon anyone in need.  I have as much faith in you as you do in your Lady.  And I'm not alone.  Am I?"

"I'll always stand with you," Wren said.  He smiled at her back.

"Sure," Myril said.  Still, her hand rested lightly on the hilt of her dagger.

"I think I can actually repress the curse," Wren told her.  "I remembered something I picked up a long time ago.  A lodestone amulet with veins of silver.  If I had something of yours - hair or something to weave into the chain, I can hold the curse back."

Thel looked back at them. Her jaw worked as she considered the offer.  Finally, she walked across the hallway to the cell opposite hers.  The deadbolt clunked back but the door held fast until Wren whispered a release word.  Once unsealed, she stood in the entrance.  A small nude women sat in the corner of the room hugging her knees against her chest and her feet hiding her sex.  Her long, blonde hair was tangled and covered in dirt.

"Use it on her," Thel said.

"But-" Wren started to say.

"No," came the simple reply.  "And I'll need a spare change of clothes from you, Bertram.  She looks to be your size."

Knowing better than to argue, the ranger rested his backpack upon the ground to dig through the items until he found spare breeches and tunic.  He passed it to Thel and stepped back without glancing inside.  

"I'll need one of her hairs," Wren said.  "A long one, if possible.  And clean."

Thel nodded while stepping into the cell.  She closed the door behind her.

"Get dressed," the paladin said, her voice firm.  "Now.  You'll come with us until we find a way out and then I'll escort you to the nearest temple."

A soft voice answered her.

"No," Thel growled.  "You'll get dressed and follow us or I'll kill you myself.  I won't leave you to the horrors hiding here and I won't have you at our backs with our scents in your nose.  You heard the mage.  We have something that can keep you human."

The other woman said something again but was cut off.

"I don't want your damn apologies," came the reply.  "If it wasn't me, it would've been someone else.  Now, hold still."

The cell's door banged open.  Thel stomped over to the mage and handed him a long strand of golden hair.  He took it and wrapped it around the necklace's chain with a simple knot tying it in place.  He sat on the ground and traced his finger over the hair while chanting quietly.  The hair glowed softly before melting into the metal surrounding it.

"My boots still fit.  A small victory," Thel said.  She stamped her feet and then lifted her scabbard from the ground. She held it in her hands while staring at the hilt with a frown.  Cream-colored mist with specks of black roiled through the jewel.  She sighed and strapped her sword to her back.  With another motion, she grabbed a knife and carefully slit the back of both her boots to allow room for her calves.

Myril found herself appreciating the view and it brought red to her cheeks.  Their leader stood in a simple, lightweight tunic and pants that strained against her new size.  Despite her bulk, her breasts were full and heavy on her chest.  A large tear from the collar of her tunic to the middle of her chest showed the swell of her pale skin.

All four looked up when the new woman stepped from her cell.  Bertram's clothes fit her well in my places but were pinched at the hips and chest.  Unlike Thel, she was barefoot but it didn't seem to bother her.  Myril was surprised to note that, unlike Thel, she appeared to be entirely human.  She was pretty in a standard way and was probably attractive once she was cleaned up.  As it were, she had streaks of mud on her face and neck and her hair was a rat's nest of snarls.  Scars lined the skin that wasn't covered by clothing.

"Do you have a name?" Thel asked.

"Al- Alphene," the woman answered, staring at the floor.  She accepted the necklace from Wren with a quiet 'thank you' but continued to stare at the ground.

"Alphene.  Good," Thel replied.  "Follow in the middle of our group, behind me and in front of Bertram.  He's the one with the beard and the familiar.  Wren is the mage and Myril is our safe cracker.  Or, at least that's what she's told us.  She makes a poor thief from what I've seen and that's with all of her fingers.  if she steals from us again, we'll see if she does better with fewer than what she has now."

"I couldn't help it!" Myril said, blushing fiercely.  "The damned thing was cursed!  You saw and felt how it pulled at all of us."

"So you say," Thel grunted.  "That's why you still have ten fingers.  We've been here long enough to attract plenty of attention.  Wren.  Is the door trapped?"

"No," the mage answered.  "I checked this morning.  It's clear.  Just a door."

The large woman nodded.  She stepped up to the door and grasped both handles.  Her jaw flared as she ground her teeth.  Her sharp fangs stood clear of her slightly elongated jaw and Myril swore she heard her growling from the effort.  Metal and wood groaned while muscles bulged along her shoulders and back but, finally, it gave way to show the corridor beyond.

"Do you want me to scout ahead?" Bertram asked.

"No," Thel answered.  She cocked her head.  Myril listened with her, her ears twitching to catch anything beyond the faint scrabbling of rats.  "No, there's no need.  I heard something in the distance.  Follow slowly and silently."

The group crept along the corridor.  It turned and branched off into two separate passages.  Their leader stepped into the right passage for a moment before walking back to the left.  She motioned for the ranger and he joined her to repeat the same movements.  They conferred briefly before Bertram fell back into position.  

Thel stepped into the left passage and they followed her.  Long stretches of the rough tunnel were left in nearly complete darkness but for the sparse light of torches far in the distance.  Eventually, they all froze when Alphene gagged.  The woman covered her nose but Thel turned and spat.

"What is it?" Bertram asked the small woman.

"Something foul," she answered.  "I don't know how to explain it.  It's too complicated but so strong.  I think- wait, do you hear that?"

"Someone yelling," Thel said grimly.  "A woman.  And something else."

"Laughter," Alphene said.  She leaned forward with a faraway look and her nostrils flared until she remembered what she was doing.  She gagged and covered her face again.  "Harsh laughter.  Some creatures.  But something else as well.  Almost there.  I could almost smell it but the other scents are too strong."

"It's just the rats hiding in the walls," Thel answered.  "Come, hurry."

The paladin stooped low with her arm holding her sword tightly against her back.  She ran at an easy pace while the others struggled to keep up with her.  They passed three torches before they found a break in the wall.  Although the passage continued, a large open area to their left contained huge stone stairs leading up.  Thel closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"Should we?" Bertram asked quietly.  "The wizard controlling this tower must live at the top.  Or near it.  If we're to bring him to justice..."

"No, not yet," Thel said.  The rounded tips of her ears flexed.  "I can still hear the woman."

"She's screaming," Alphene said.  She wrung her hands while licking her lips.

"We need to help her," the paladin told them.  "She's not far so we can make our way back if necessary.  Hurry now."

Stealth was tossed aside as they ran and minutes passed until they found the source of Alphene's disgust.

"A laboratory!" Wren exclaimed.  A room lay opened to their left and it appeared to be filled with alchemical implements and books.  Thel pressed her hand against her nose and the growl that issued between her fingers was quite clear.  Aphene whined anxiously behind her.

"Come out, come out!" came a high pitched voice from further down the corridor.

As it had before, the path forked.  To their right lay a completely dark tunnel while the left passage continued beyond their sight.  Splintered wood lay around a stone doorframe down the left passage and lights flickered within the room.  Raucous laughter and the sound of a struck bell followed the words.  Thel took a step towards the left but stopped when a shadow detached itself from the right passage.  In the brief light of the junction, they saw stained clothing and a humanoid shape but it quickly vanished down the right hallway.

"Oh gods," the small woman whined again.  "I can hear more of the creatures coming.  The ones from in the room.  We have to leave.  We can't stay here!"

"Thel!" Wren yelled, grabbing the woman's arm.  Her head snapped down to look at his hand and her strange, golden eyes narrowed.  He released her quickly and licked his lips while glancing down the hallway towards the approaching noise.  "The laboratory is intact.  I've been looking for something like this for years! With enough time and the wizard's research, I could find a cure for you both or- or at least to gather ingredients to help- Bertram, tell her!"

"He's right," the ranger said.  His eyes swept the corridors as Hessa paced between all of them.  "There's a lot coming and I don't know what they are.  We seal ourselves in that room and stay silent, maybe they pass us by.  If we burn time dealing with what's in yonder room, best case is we make it out a different way and they ransack the lab.  Worst case, we're overwhelmed and we die."

"We don't know what's ahead," Myril said.  She gripped the edges of her cloak.  Her ears twitched sporadically as the din grew louder.  "But we know what we have here.  Just give your mage some time and he might even find something to deal with whatever that is."

"Gods," Alphene groaned.  "They smell worse than the lab."

Their leader glanced between all of them.  They watched her nostrils flare above her exposed canines as she tasted the scent on the air.  

"I can't-" Thel started to say.

"Abandon someone in need," Bertram finished for her, sighing.  He pulled his bow from his shoulder and lay an arrow against it.  "Can't say this is how I wanted to go out but I'll always have your back."

"No," the paladin said.  She gripped her backpack and shrugged out of it before handing it to Wren.  Her hand closed over her sword's hilt and she pulled it free, shifting her stance while turning her body to the side.  "Take them into the room and seal the door."

"I'll be damned if you think-" Bertram exclaimed hotly.

"You'll do what I say!" Thel snarled.  "Keep the woman safe.  I trust you with her and Wren will need time to find what he needs.  Just make sure the elf keeps her thieving hands out of everything.  She's lost more sense than she could possibly steal back."

"Well fuck you!" Myril bristled.  She stepped forward but Bertram's outflung arm stopped her.  

Thel turned slowly.  Her fangs were on display and Alphene shrunk back from her with a whimper.  Black fuzz lined the large woman's jaw and nose and her eyes were predatory.  She glared at the small elven woman.

"Get.  In.  The.  Gods.  Damned.  Room!"  she growled, biting off every word.  "Now!  I'll find another way around and meet back up with you all in the level above.  Go!"

They went.

Bertram pulled the squawking elf behind him as he stormed into the laboratory but Alphene rushed past him while holding her slightly baggy clothes tight against her body.  

"Be safe," Wren told the woman quietly.  "Come back to us in one piece."

Thel grunted non-committally and hefted her sword.  Wren watched her stride away towards the far room as he closed the door behind her.  He lay his forehead against the door.

"Kesma, hear me," the mage whispered.  "You who live in the forgotten whispers and the ink of old tomes, watch over Thel.  Twist her fate to keep her alive .  She brings more wonder into the world than is lost and carries me towards my goal.  I need her."

Stepping back, the mage repeated the locking spell he'd used on the cells and then turned to find the group staring at him.  He blushed and coughed and busied himself with his pouches until he pulled a tiny vial free.  Something hard clinked against the inside of the green glass as he unstoppered it and pressed his left thumb against the opening.  

"I need everyone to speak into into my right hand for the spell to work," he told them. As he had with his last spell, he held his fist closed loosely.  "It doesn't matter what you say.  Hurry now."

They approached one at a time with Myril giving him a skeptical look before whispering something in elvish.  He caught a word or two and frowned when he realized she was bad-mouthing Thel.  When they'd finished, he pressed the vial into his fist.  A tiny beetle scuttled forth, tickling his hand as it devoured their captured voices.  He knelt, flattening his hand on the ground. Closing his eyes with a distasteful look, he shoved his hand down and the small creature exploded into green ichor.

"There," Wren said, wiping his hand on the edge of a nearby table.  "That should keep them from hearing us.  Just don't make a lot of noise in the room and we'll be fine.  And please ask me before you touch anything!  In fact, just- just everyone sit down by that table."

Alphene ran to the table and sat on her hands while Bertram slowly followed behind her.  Myril glanced around curiously and browsed a few cabinets under the angry stare of the mage.  Finally satisfied that she'd loitered enough to not be seen as a lapdog, the young elf took a seat at the head of the table.

As Wren began to walk through the room, the thief slipped a small glass tube from her clenched hand into a pocket at her waist.

"Why can't I hear anything outside the room?" Alphene asked.

"The sealing spell and the- well, the other spell," Wren said distractedly as he glanced at a row of colored metal bars.  "It's tuned to us specifically but works the other way as well.  They never found a way to stop that part of it.  Not yet, anyway."

Ancient yellowed labels curled away from murky flasks.  Many of the labels were unreadable and a few jars were overturned with their contents long leaked onto the shelf and floor.  He noted the location of herbs and base alchemical liquids before quickly moving onto other cabinets.

Two tables covered most of the room and were aligned parallel to each other.  The ranger, thief and she-wolf sat at a worn wooden table dotted with splinters.  The second table seemed to be carved out of a single block of marble.  A large basin lay in the center with channels running from it to the edge of the table.

Alphene sniffed in the direction of the marble table and then growled before blushing in embarrassment and offering up a quiet 'sorry' to the group.

Wren's lips moved silently as he tapped a few of the vials and traced the faded writing on the ones still marked.  He picked a few and seemed to randomly place them in his pockets.  Occasionally, he'd carefully take a vial, wrap it in cloth and place it within the enchanted bag at his hip.  

"So, what's it like?" Myril asked Alphene.

"Hey!" Bertram said angrily.  "What the hell kinda question is that?"

"Oh, come on," the elf girl said, rolling her eyes.  "We're not allowed to get up and touch anything.  We can't get out and try to help our fearless leader.  We're stuck here and I'm bored.  I've never been face to muzzle with a werewolf before so I'm curious."

"You're as senseless as she thinks you are." Bertram told her.  "You saw what she went through.  You see the scars!  Hell, woman!  You had your own little incident and you can't empathize enough with her to keep your fool mouth shut?!"

"Alright, alright!" Myril said, throwing her hands up.  Alphene shrunk against the rough hewn chair she sat in.  "I was just trying to make conversation with the new person.  Pardon me for taking an interest and having an open mind."

"I- I don't remember much," Alphene said with her eyes locked on the surface of the table.  She fingered the silver necklace she wore, tracing the chain in careful loops.

"Hey, you don't have to," Bertram said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"No, it's okay," the girl said.  "I just- I just remember feeling warm.  And then too warm.  Like I was burning up.  Like when I was young with the red-banded fever.  And a little- well.  Nevermind.  Everything was so loud that it was hard to concentrate on anything but how uncomfortable the fabric felt against my body."

The girl's eyes looked far in the distance, beyond the room she sat in.  Her voice gained confidence as she remembered the event.

"They made me watch them change," she said.  Red returned to her cheeks and her hand slid down from the necklace to brush the swell of her breast until her fingers dug into her thigh.  "But going through it was completely different.  I lost myself in it and I- I liked it.  It was almost like I was floating up away from my body, watching myself but I could still feel everything.  All that power and anger and hunger.  The pain running through me as it twisted my bones and muscles and made me an animal."

Her lips trembled and her fingers dug into her thighs.  For a brief moment, the flickering torch light shined on golden specks in her eyes but she blinked and they were completely blue again.  

"It was," she paused, swallowing as her chest rose and fell rapidly.  She swallowed again and blinked several times before touching the chain at her neck.  "It was exciting.  For a moment.  Before I lost myself."

"Well," Myril said, exhaling a long held breath.  She fanned herself, looked away and shifted uncomfortably in her own chair.  The girl's words and the way she spoke them pulled at the throbbing arousal she was repressing.  She breathed deeply until she forced her own excitement down again.  Despite her effort, she could feel her slick, hot juices touch the bare skin of her thigh.  When Myril glanced back, Alphene was staring at her with an intense look and the girl clawed at the table.

Fuck me, the elf thought. She stood and walked away from the girl and her powerful nose.

"Oh, gods," Wren muttered.  

The other three turned to look at the mage.  He held the cover of a tome in one hand but it sagged along the middle.  The pages themselves were nearly completely black.  He touched one of the pages and a chunk of it came away.

"No good?" Bertram asked.  He walked over to the mage and glanced over his shoulder at the tome.  Lines of dark green covered the book but he couldn't tell if it was mold or some magical plant gone wrong.  

"No," Wren sighed.  "And there's no other books in the room.  Just material for spells and alchemy and a few potions already mixed."

"Anything we can use?"  He glanced anxiously at the door.  "If you're done, I want to get out of here.  She could still be there."

"It's a gamble," the mage said.  He stepped over to a rack of vials and pointed at them.  "They're old.  Probably over a hundred years old because it uses Pyoli script.  If they're labeled properly, they might be useful.  And valuable.  I've spent time with the alchemists at the Stronghold.  I can only make basic potions but I've seen the likes of these.  Again, this is just roughly translated-"

"Get on with it, man," Bertram hissed.

"Look here," Wren told him.  "Bull's Strength.  And this one can almost translate to Cat's Grace.  Fox's Cunning.  This one's more difficult because it doesn't quite translate exactly but something like Mirror's Focus.  I think.  The second word has multiple meanings.  Bear's Endurance is this one.  This last one is unclear.  The first word is obscured which breaks its translation but the second is another word for 'blur' so I'm not sure."

Bertram touched the stopper on the bottles.

"I could take one of each with us," Wren said.  "We don't-"

Dust fell from the rafters above and the mage fell to his knees with a groan.  He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples and doubled over.

"Wren!"  Bertram said, grabbing the mage before he fell.  "What's wrong?  What is it?"

"Th- th- the spell," Wren whispered.  Blood ran from his ears and his eyes were dazed.  "They're breaking the spell.  We- we don't have much time.  We have to make a decision and ready ourselves.  Help me up."

---

Be safe, the mage's words echoed in Thel's mind as she crept forward.  She hated that she could smell the trail ahead and that she knew it was two of the creatures.  Their scents were similar but subtly different enough to separate them  Mixed in with them but faded were the smell of humans.  And fear.  And death.

She held her sword with the tip just above the ground.  The first thing she'd noticed when she'd drawn it was how light it felt in her hands and she knew it'd take time to adapt to her new strength.

"Ohhh, you stupid, stupid girl," a voice rasped in the room in front of her.  Thel froze, listening to it.  "Let us in and you'll only be raped twice.  If you make us wait, our brethren will pass you around like a prized sheep until you're too loose to pleasure anything.  And then you're just food for Akesha "

Thel grit her teeth and stepped forward to look around the corner of the open doorway.  She'd smelled the dead bodies but the site of them still raised her hackles.

A young woman in white robes speckled with blood and dirt knelt against a pure white staff.  A translucent bubble covered the girl and Thel's newly sharp ears caught the girl's faint prayer.  Every so often one of the two short, red creatures would slam his sword against the protective dome and it would flare as it repelled the attack.  

For brief moments, almost too fast to see, the bubble would blink out and then reappear.

The paladin eyed the creatures.  She'd never seen them before in her travels but their appearance reminded her of a lecture she'd attended.  A lecture from a visiting knight on creatures of the realm.  And yet, the thing's name stuck on the tip of her tongue.  

They were squat and red.  Lizard-like but in the manner of a two legged dragon.  Although short, their legs were heavily muscled.  Black scales lined their backs, forearms and knees and two thin horns sat atop a wide, scaly muzzle.  The first creatures forked tongue slithered forth and then it grinned to show a row of deadly, dark fangs.  Yet it's narrow tail lashed angrily behind to betray its emotions.

The second creature lay back watching with its cock in its rough hands.  She could only see the pointed tip of it as the thing slowly stroked itself.  Both of their backs were turned to her and the shielded girl's head hung low to the ground.  

Thel crept along the ground.  She stepped over corpses of humans and monsters alike until she was two body-lengths behind the first of the red lizards.  It stopped and cocked it's head as its long tongue flicked in the air.  

"Wha-" it said, turning to look at her.  Its eyes widened as Thel leapt silently with her greatsword raised high.  The creature barely had time to raise its sword before the paladin beheaded it.

The second creature cursed in a thick accent while it stumbled over its feet to reach for its shortsword.  Thel pivoted and raised her arms, building on the momentum she had from the first kill.  Her sword cleaved through bone, skin and scales and the foul smell of ruptured guts filled the air.

The girl cried out and collapsed.  Her shield wavered and vanished over her.  Thel knelt next to her, cradling her upper body in her arms.

"We have to go," the paladin said.  "More are coming and I need to draw them away from my friends.  You either walk with me or I carry you but we go now."

"Just- just give me- give me a moment," the girl panted.  She leaned on her staff as a crutch and slowly raised herself to both feet.  As she straightened, she wavered and fell but the larger woman caught her with a muttered curse.  

A dull roar filled Thel's ears.  She could smell them.  All of them.  The horde of creatures coming for their fallen brothers.  Her heart pounded in her chest as she lifted the woman effortlessly with her left hand.

"Staff," the girl groaned quietly.  "My.  Staff."

"Gods!" the paladin yelled.  She dropped her sword to grab the staff, sliding it into her scabbard before grabbing her sword one-handed.  She felt its weight almost as if she'd held it in both hands.

She ran for the hallway, knowing she'd be too late as the babbling, chaotic voices rose in volume.  Just as she exited the room, the first of them appeared from the branching corridor.  It screeched and pointed and others took up the cry.  

There was almost no end to them in her eyes.  She quickly estimated nearly a hundred of them, most with weapons and some without.  All dressed in rags except for the one at the center of the horde.  This one was bedecked with gems and wore ornate clothing.  Her - for Thel could see the bulge of the creature's breasts - horns branched and curved and she was larger than the rest.

The female smelled of sulfur and blood and things that burned Thel's throat.  She pointed a thick, blackened branch toward the paladin but Thel was already moving.  A jagged bolt of electricity sizzled past, raising the hairs along her body.  She was nearly around the corner when she slammed into a glowing wall.  

"Gods damn you!" Thel screamed as she fell back.  The girl she carried rolled to the ground beside her.  The paladin gave the empty air in front of her a swift kick.  Her boot bounced away from solid blue light and she felt the jolt down to her knee.  

With a roar, the paladin twisted, grabbed her sword with two hands and kicked off the ground to launch herself at the incoming creatures.  They lay between her and the laboratory and all she could do was hope the girl she'd saved would wake up in time to break the other creature's spell.

Or that she'd die in her sleep.

A swing of her sword gutted one of the creatures while cutting a second nearly in half.  She pulled and the creature came with it so she slammed it against a third until her sword was free.  They swarmed her and she growled as her greatsword became tangled in the close quarters.

Thel dropped her sword and gripped the next creature's neck with one hand and its arm with the other.  Claws slid forth from her fingertips, slicing through her short nails, as fur emerged from the backs of her hands.  Her claws dug into the creature's skin and she snarled as she pulled.  It screamed as she ripped it in half and blood fountained in the air.

The paladin howled as she mowed through the monsters. More black fur spiraled up her arms, along her neck and down her back and her clothes strained against her body.  She lost herself in the killing and soon found her fangs snapping at red, scaly necks.

Blood filled her mouth and she relished the taste of it.  The creatures screamed as the paladin tore through the ranks.  She barely noticed their swords piercing and slicing her tunic and trousers.  One of the creatures bit her arm and she roared, grabbing it by the throat.  She stood, bare-chested, in a sea of the red creatures with their matron screeching orders from the back.  

Thel twisted, planted her feet and threw the creature struggling in her grasp.  It soared through the air towards the creature's matron but the female aimed her wand.  It bucked in her hand and an acrid scent filled the air.  A red ball of pure, crackling energy vaporized the flying creature but Thel turned at the last moment and then growled as it kissed her side with pain and fire.

The bolt of energy slammed into the laboratory's door.  The paladin stopped as a memory surfaced.  She grabbed for the memory, frantically trying to remember what was so-

"No!" She screamed, launching herself towards the lead creature.  The others stabbed at her and grabbed at her with claws longer than her own in an attempt to slow her down.  Thel could taste the sharp, alien scent of the bolt before it was fired.  She dove backwards, sliding on entrails and blood as the bolt slammed against the laboratory's wall.  

The wood door splintered and broke as the wall surrounding it crumbled to reveal the interior of the laboratory.  

Silence filled the corridor as everyone froze.  Thel groaned, her voice harsh and deep as she realized her friends were in danger.  

The matron spoke in the silence and her voice was oddly musical.  She laughed and raised her wand towards the room.  The tip of the branch wove a hypnotic, glowing pattern as she spoke her spell.

For a brief moment, the world stood in silence, frozen in time as a hazy red ray lanced forth from the tip of the creature's wand.  

Thel snarled, the skin along her nose wrinkling to expose sharpened teeth behind cheeks dotted with black fur.  Her golden eyes were molten fury as she traced the bolt's path toward her companions.

Alphene's eyes widened as the glow approached.  Bertram began to move while sparks crackled from the tip of Wren's staff.  Myril stepped back lightly as she poured the contents of her chosen vial down her throat.  The elf gagged briefly and then tossed the vial before drawing her blades.  

The blonde-haired woman's eyes crossed as she watched the bolt.  Her instincts screamed at her to flee or duck or at least move but she was transfixed as the magic impacted against her.  She opened her mouth and the tip of her tongue split, forking in two to flicker in the air.

And then the ends of her tongue melded together and the silver necklace she wore brightened on her chest.  It hummed and the woman groaned, falling to her knees as blonde fur emerged along her jaw and her canines lengthened into fangs.  She gasped, flexing as veins stood out on her neck and forehead.

With a crackle of energy and a sound like the world tearing apart, the slim woman was blasted backwards to crash against the wall.  Red mist expelled from the silver necklace in a twisting, conic rush.  The tapered tip of the haze whirled past Bertram's extended arms in a chaotic surge, hungrily seeking the nearest source of power.

Wren's eyes bulged as the red magic surrounded him.  His fist tightened on his staff but his tongue stumbled and his uttered spell faltered and failed when he grit his teeth in sudden pain.

"No!" Bertram shouted.  He spun, reaching for his friend.

The world, poised at a precipice, tipped over and time resumed.  

"Stay away!" Wren hissed.  Inky darkness filled his eyes as he flung a trembling hand out to his companion.  He growled and forced his eyes closed beneath a furrowed brow already lined with sweat.  "No.  No, get out- no!"

The mage's staff clattered to the ground next to him as he pressed his hands against his temples.  His fingers dug into his short hair and he pulled strands of red curls away to reveal crimson streaks on his straining scalp.  He growled again and spat.  Two molars clacked against the ground and his tongue, longer and thinner now, explored the gaps.

"Tell me what to do!" Bertram begged as he raised his bow to the mob of kobolds.

Myril slipped back and then around while Wren struggled.  She knelt quickly next to Alphene as the blonde woman's fur retreated.  Satisfied that the girl was okay, the thief glanced toward the diminished horde and her hackles rose.  Whether the effects of the potion or not, she felt light on her feet.  And angry.  Her long ears quivered and shortened almost imperceptibly as she glanced toward the fallen paladin.

Thel snarled and twisted as a pitchfork slammed down by her side, nearly piercing her skin.  She spun and her heavy breasts swayed while she went to all fours.  The triangular patch of black fur covering her upper back wrapped slowly around to her sides and then stopped as she launched herself back into the fray, snapping and swiping at the kobolds surrounding her.  

Wren lowered himself to his hands as sweat dripped from his nose.  He gasped and slammed his hands against the floor.  With a snarling cry, he raked his fingers along the ground, ripping his nails free as thin, black tipped talons pierced his fingertips.

"I can hear heeeeerrr in my heeaaad," he rasped.  He looked up at the ranger in a panic and his pupils flattened vertically before dilating.  

"Fight it!" Bertram yelled.  He sighted his foes while standing guard with his friend and his arrows flew true.

"Can't!" Wren rasped.  His claws dug into his shirt and he pulled, tearing at the restraining cloth to reveal reddened skin and hardening muscles beneath.  His skin writhed and bones crunched within as the absorbed spell shortened his lanky stature.

Slits appeared in the man's back and forearms.  He hissed and his tongue split as Alphene's had when the spell struck her.  The forked tongue licked against his nose and he blinked, showing translucent film that pulled back over ovoid eyes.  Thin lines of blood from the openings in his skin traced down his bare skin.  The light glinted off of the slick blackness beneath his skin as scales emerged in an armored line down his spine.  He raked at his forearms to expose more diamond-shaped scutes.

With a loud roar and the cracking of bone on a lengthening jaw, he tore at his belt and his pouches fell around him.  

"Yessss!" Wren hissed.  He pulled at the band of his pants as the back bulged from the tip of the tail pushing forth from the base of his spine.  "I obey, yesssss!"

Muscles rippled on his shortened but powerful frame and his pants tore to expose his throbbing erection.  Black tips pierced his boots and he snarled as the claws tore into the leathery material.  His toes swelled as the bones within grew thick to anchor the large feet and his boots popped apart, stitch-by-stitch when his feet expanded.  

---

Kobolds swarmed the small room while the rest of them created a wall around their queen, protecting her against the raging half-naked she-wolf tearing through their ranks.

Myril stood before Alphene, slashing with her blades as she carved into the advancing lizards in a graceful dance.  

Skin bulged against the elf's back but the sensation was lost to her as she whirled and stabbed.  Unlike humans, elves had no vestigial tailbone and a sudden, shocking pain lanced through her spine as nerves and bones formed beneath the swell of her skin.  Her blow went wide and she snarled, hissing and spitting as a nearby kobold slashed her stomach.  

The pain refocused her attention and she sidestepped the next strike while raising her arm, severing the attacking kobold's arm at the shoulder.  

Fine silver hairs sprouted from the gentle lump of skin above the elf's ass.

---

"Wren, come on!" Bertram yelled as a kobold stepped inside his bow's range.  In a practiced movement, he slipped his arm through the bowstring to lay the bow against his back.  With the same movement, he swung and his fist connected against the lizard creature's snout.  "Stay back, Hessa!"

As the kobold staggered backwards, Bertram pulled the vial he'd taken earlier.  He flicked the old cork stopper and swallowed the contents.  The struck kobold screeched at him and charged but the ranger drew his short sword and its edge bit into the creature's throat, ending its scream in a gurgling spray of blood.  

Bertram snorted, his chest heaving as he charged into the fray.  His shirt strained against his biceps and his next swing cut through scale and flesh and bone, decapitating his foe in one hit.

---

Alien thoughts intruded into Wren's brain.  He shrugged, shaking his still growing snout before standing.  His black eyes narrowed as the voice screamed in his head.  It was wrong.  Discordant against the rhythmic chorus of his queen's song.  But easy to ignore.  He smiled and his lips cracked and swelled as tiny scales overgrew them.  

The skin of Wren's tail rasped against his ass as it grew.  It molted while it swept behind him, skin sloughing off to show fresh black scutes that quickly dried and hardened.  Dark skin bulged over his brow, just above his eyes.  Nuggets of keratin formed and attached to his skull, splitting the skin to show two onyx horns that lengthened in a fine curve over his head.

He stood away from them.  The enemy with their backs to him, fighting against his brothers and sisters.  His lips formed into a harsh smile as ichor dripped from the many fangs lining his long jaw.  Fighting against his queen.  He hissed and crouched and his eyes scanned them.  He borrowed from the alien intelligence gibbering in the dark recesses of his brain.

Slowly, with sharp glances at the others, he placed a scaled hand on the ground and watched her carefully.  She was tiring.  Her moves were too intricate for him to follow but she was breathing hard and sweating.  He groaned and grabbed his cock, stroking himself slowly while drawing in the other creature's (elf! the voice screamed, Myril!) sweet scent.  

Flesh shifted beneath his rough grasp, as if his very touch reshaped his body.  He pulled at the loose skin surrounding his manhood and it swelled.  Bumps formed along the length of it along the side and it lengthened, skin pulling tight as the flared tip curved into a low point.

She's weak, he thought to himself.  The voice within screamed as he plucked at its faint recent memories.  His smile widened wickedly.  And ripe, yessssss.  Changed.  By lusty magic.  Can smell it.  Can smell it on her.

Wren crawled to her as the battle raged.  Ensuring their attentions were taken, he paused for a moment and then leaped, crashing into the creature (elf!) and pinning her to the ground.  The other creature (Alphene, the voice whined) screamed and he backhanded her to silence her shrill voice.  He held the elf to the ground, grinding his cock between her ass.

"Get! Off!" Myril shrieked, twisting and turning in the kobold's grasp.  Despite the adrenaline coursing through her body, her limbs ached and she hissed in frustration.  White and silver fur rose from her skin, spreading from the bump over her tailbone.  The light, nearly invisible fur lifted along her spine, twining together until it mixed with her long hair.  

Claws cut red lines in the soft flesh of Myril's ass as Wren pulled her trousers down.  She clawed at the ground but he held her tight and she felt the warmth of him between her thighs.  

A soft bleat escaped her lips and blood rushed to her cheeks as a hot wire pulsed in her stomach and a quiet voice cooed to the back of her mind.  She felt herself grow moist as the head of the creature's foul cock slipped between her lips.  His entry was effortless and she hated how much she suddenly wanted it.  Myril gasped as the firm bumps pressed against her clit and lips and her hips raised.

Inviting him.

She bit her lip, pushing, struggling, fighting the urge to rut but it seemed to overpower her senses.  

Movement caught the elf's attention as she moaned.

---

Alphene's fingers raised to the necklace she wore.  Fire flashed in her eyes as she lifted the charm away from her body.

Wren, lost in the pleasure of taking the female, failed to notice as the slim, submissive blonde began to growl in the back of her throat.  She pushed back, struggling out of her clothes until she lay back, nude and trembling.  Fur erupted between her heaving breasts and her nails dug into the hard floor as she raised her pale face into an ecstatic howl.

As the beast began to take her, she wondered why she'd ever held it back.  Her jaw crunched and expanded while her spine bulged, flexing and separating as muscles tore and reformed again and again, lengthening her body beneath a growing coat of blonde fur.

---

"Gods!" Myril gasped, clenching her fists as Wren bottomed out within her.  Her slick lips bulged over his thickness.  Her hips jerked and she mewled as he began to pull back.  She glanced back at him in shamed frustration when he stopped.

The newly changed kobold reached back to strike the other female again her but a huge, furred paw grabbed his arm.  His eyes widened to see the she-wolf standing beside him.  Bare skin lay exposed in patches beneath Alphene's expanding pelt and she suddenly jerked forward, snapping at the air and falling to her knees when her tail painfully connected and pushed forth from her spine.

A high pitched squeal escaped Wren's cracked lips and Myril screamed as Alphene pulled the kobold off of her, slinging him to the back of the room.  He watched the room spin and then darkness consumed him as his head struck the edge of the marble table.

Myril rolled to her side, pulling at the band of her trousers as she mentally cursed her weakness.  Her ears trembled and shortened further and she shivered as her wetness soaked into her clothing.  

She wanted more.  Despite the pain of having him pulled off, she felt empty in a way she couldn't express.  Emptiness beyond the lack of a lover's fullness.  Something deeper that felt as if it could never be completely quenched.  She breathed out in a ragged, heated breath and then levered herself up, grabbing her knives while sitting back against the wall.

The lined, pale flesh of the elf's palms grew warm against the hilt of her knives.  Along the flesh at the base of her thumb, the top of her palm and along the base of her fingers, the skin brightened to a soft pink. Her hilts shifted against her hands as the thin padding puffed out.

Just as Myril had gathered her breath, a huge blonde werewolf swept past her.

---

"Die!" Bertam yelled.  Red veins cracked the whites of his eyes and long, scraggly hairs dotted his chin.  He grunted and roared as his oversized fist crumbled a kobold's jaw.  The ranger's clothing clung tightly to him and showed wide swaths of bare skin.

He laughed as they grabbed him.  Drunk on the magic flooding him, he stomped through them, his sword long forgotten.  His heart swelled beneath his chest, enlarging to fit his new size.  The blood surged and his pants tightened around his sudden erection.  Frothy spittle flew from his lips and his eyes grew mad with bloodlust.  

Stress lines appeared in his leather armor amidst the tears his bulk had already caused.  The ranger snorted, gnashed his teeth and plowed into a group of kobolds as they struck him.  He stood, bloody and triumphant over them.

The head of Bertram's cock slid against his belly until it was freed and the strings at the crotch of his pants snapped under the strain of his thickened manhood.  A single vein stood out against his shaft, outlined by the taut fabric.  His new length forced the skin from his uncircumcised cock down and it swelled into the start of a sheath.  At the same time, the bulbous head flattened.

"Come then!" Bertram laughed.  He widened his stance and his leathers tore, exposing his bare chest.

A blonde blur streaked past the large man.

"No!" Thel yelled as Alphene leapt into the fray.

The she-wolf crashed into a female kobold equipped with Bertram's shortsword.  The woman's claws disemboweled the lizard creature and she pushed off as a bolt of lightning struck her side.

With a yelp, Alphene tumbled and the smell of singed hair filled the corridor.  Thel howled and swept her arms wide to clear her path.  She pushed from the ground to launch herself at the nearby wall as a bolt of energy struck where she stood.  With a single, powerful kick, she flew.

Small claws lined Thel's hands and they dug into the kobold queen's throat and shoulder.  The paladin carried the woman and her rage drove her mouth forward.  She latched onto the creature's soft throat and the acrid taste of the monster's tainted blood filled her.  The two of them slammed into the far wall but the queen's lifeless body softened Thel's landing.

Screams erupted around them as the kobolds, leaderless now, panicked.  The song of their queen died in their minds and they fled, pushing and shoving and stabbing one another in their rush to be gone.

Alphene snarled, holding her leg.  The blonde fur around the leg was blackened but the skin was already healing from the damage.  Still, she dropped to all fours to give chase to the fleeing enemy.

Thel tackled the she-wolf and they tumbled.  Alphene snapped and her jaw latched to the other woman's arm while she tried to pry herself away.

"Bertram!  Help me with her!"  the paladin screamed.  She fought against the rising beast as feathery black hairs emerged from her cheeks.  The large woman focused, growling and snarling and the hairs retreated.

The ranger pounded over to them and his hand closed around the nape of the she-wolf's neck. She struggled and howled but found herself helpless against her two companions.

"Wren! Myril! The necklace!  Hurry!"  Thel gasped, twisting and shifting her grasp as Alphene fought her.

Myril sheathed her knives and raced through the fallen bodies, her nose and ears twitching as she fastidiously stepped around entrails and other internal organs.  She bounced effortlessly over a pile of bodies and landed on all fours with the necklace in her mouth.  Without a second thought, she took the necklace and handed it over.

"I have- oh." Myril sighed and stumbled as she took in Bertram's massive, straining erection.  She could feel it within her, deep enough to make her teeth itch and her mouth water.  She gasped and stepped back, averting her gaze while trying to calm her suddenly racing heart.  

Still, unable to resist, she glanced over to see Bertram's unfocused eyes.  He'd lowered himself behind the she-wolf as if wrestling with her but the head of his cock slipped behind the werewolf's tail.

Bertram grunted and licked his lips.  His nostrils flared as he huffed out.  He could feel the heat of Alphene against him and it drove rational thought from his mind.  Holding her tight, he pressed into her and his cock flattened against her sex.  A part of his mind was surprised when he felt her bulging, twisted lips rather than the slit he'd expected.  He huffed and pushed and she kicked back against him while her tail dropped down between her thighs to try and cover her exposed pussy.

Thel locked her left arm around Alphene's throat before taking the necklace from the elf.  She placed it over Alphene's muzzle as quickly as she could and the she-wolf's sudden, pained howl fractured into an animalistic scream.

The scream woke Bertram and he stepped back in confusion.  He remembered- he licked his lips as the memory of the werewolf's heat began to fade while his blood cooled.  Heat and- and, he blinked, she'd begun to open for him when he'd held her tighter and pushed.  Warm and wet but-

The ranger grunted and moved away, huffing and stomping to clear his mind.  Behind him, Alphene screamed and struggled while the charm worked its magic.  

"Calm," Thel cooed.  "Calm, girl, calm.  Where's Wren?  Where's- why can't I smell him?"

"He's," Myril gasped.  She licked the back of her hand anxiously before rubbing it against her bloody cheek.  "Changed.  That creature's magic changed him.  He tried to-  Alphene took her amulet off to save me."

"That's him?" Thel asked.  She turned and lifted her chin while scenting the air, just before her eyes found the fallen mage.  "He's alive.  Bind him.  I need to check on the woman I found."

Groaning, the paladin stood and stretched and then scowled at her exposed breasts.  They felt heavier on her and her arms kept brushing the sides.

They ached from their fullness.

As she turned, Thel caught Myril staring at her before the elf bounced away.  

On the way to the woman in white, Thel found her sword.  She picked it up, frowning at the black jewel in the pommel.  The other woman's staff was nearby and she grabbed it as well before stalking over to the woman.  She knelt and pressed two fingers to the woman's throat but her nose told her the girl was alive before her pulse did.

"What now?" Bertram asked behind her.  

Thel glanced at him, blushing in her nudity.  He was larger - in more ways than one and she had questions for them but knew that, first, they needed to plan.

At Thel's command, Bertram stalked through the piles of dead kobolds towards the smoking ruin of the laboratory.  He rubbed at his forehead, massaging the twin dull aching points above his temples.  As he walked, he wiggled his toes and then kicked at a body blocking his path.  The man's trousers split along the inside of his thighs to reveal smooth, hardened muscle through the tears.

The ranger pulled at the remnants of his leather armor that hung from his waist.  He flexed, astonished at his bulging biceps and the thick, corded muscle of his forearm.  

When he knelt before his changed comrade, a sharp, pinching pain forced him to open his thighs.  He reached down to grab himself and his wide hand cupped his enlarged testicles.  Now that he was away from the fray and his blood had time to cool, his cock had retreated back into his pants.  Yet he could easily see the bulge of it in his too-tight leathers.

Wren lay on the floor before him, his scaly arms and legs akimbo and dried blood behind his left horn.  Bertram reached back, scratching at a sore spot at the base of his spine before tearing strips from his ruined shirt.  His thick, flattened fingers struggled with the fine work but he eventually made a pile of bindings at his side.

A loud hiss drew the large man's attention.  He turned to see Hessa with her back arched, staring at Myril.

"Is he okay?" the elf asked as she stepped wide of the ranger's familiar.  Her eyes roamed the man's body, taking in the sculpted muscles of his back before lingering between his bent legs.

"Yeah," Bertram snorted.  He shook his head and pressed his thumb against a short, rough bony protrusion on the left of his head.  "I know he's, well, was.  Still is, I guess?  Was just a lanky mage but he's tougher than he looks."

Kneeling beside Wren, he pulled the man's short, scaled arms behind his back to tie them together but he jerked when Myril's hand touched his side.

"Do you need any help?" the elf inquired.

He could feel the heat of her body next to him.  Her palm moved, rubbing him gently in swirling arcs, just below his shoulder blades.  Bertram glanced at her and then grit his teeth at a bone-deep pain in his jaw.  He breathed through his nose as his soft palate stretched and widened, pulling his jaw apart to show gaps in his teeth.

"Are you okay?" Myril asked quietly  Her warm breath puffed over his bare shoulder and he shivered as goosebumps rose along his body.  She moved closer and the void between her thighs deepened.  Bertram's ears flexed backwards as she mewled softly with her need.

The elven girl's nails folded, squeezing at her fingertips.  At the same time, the skin above her cuticles expanded, crawling over her nails as they bent into short, translucent claws.  The girl bit her lips and her hand trembled.  When she opened her hand wide, her claws slid forth from her fingers to stab into the tough hide covering Bertram's back.

Although her claws pierced his skin, the ranger never once blinked or even noticed.  Red lined the edges of his eyes and his broad chest huffed as his cock stirred.

"I'm fine!" Bertram shouted shoving the girl away.  He felt feverish and his thoughts tumbled uselessly.  All he could think of was the girl's touch and scent.  The nearness of her.  He grunted, shoving at his erection.  Squeezing his thickness as it slipped free from the soft skin surrounding it.

Myril rolled, coming to all fours with her flat teeth showing.  In her sudden anger, hairs stood along her arched back and her shortened, rounded ears lay flat against her head.  Her skin-tight breeches flexed outward over her ass, barely concealing the nub of her tail.

An involuntary yowl escaped the girl's lips as she caught Bertram stroking himself.  Her knees dipped to the floor and she raised herself while trembling from the need to be filled.

"Gods!" she gasped, hanging her head.  "Get it- get it together!"

With her head bowed, she blinked and her round pupils compressed into vertical slits.  The gray of her irises expanded, consuming her white sclera.

"Come on," the girl moaned, breathing through the heat rising within her loins.  She could almost feel his gigantic cock tearing her apart.  He was bigger than Wren's changed dick - almost the size of her wrist and she knew it'd be more painful than the time she took her first lover.  Yet the voiceless yammering heat coursing through her demanded it.

Tiny holes appeared in her upper lips and the girl bleated, dropping to her side with her left hand between her closed legs and her right clawing at her stomach.  The crotch of her breeches was soaked through to the insides of her thighs.

Milk ducts formed beneath her taut belly as her body began to prepare her teats.

With her eyes closed, the girl ran through the Elven alphabet in her mind.  It was an old trick she used before beginning an unusually difficult mission.  Something she'd used to settle her nerves.  After the alphabet, she began reciting the Ballad of Prii in her native language.  

Slowly, second-by-second and inch-by-inch, the heat receded from her body.  As she finished the fourteenth stanza of the ballad, she finally opened her eyes with a shuddering sigh.

The ranger had calmed while she worked on centering herself.  She found herself disappointed when she couldn't smell his cum or see the strands of it before him.  A tiny voice in her mind whispered that the poor man needed release and she couldn't deny that she wanted to give it to him.

And wouldn't protest if he took it from her.

Wren lay against the marble table, restrained with the leather straps from the ranger's armor.

Bertram glanced back at the elf and their eyes connected.  In the lingering silence, they shared a wordless pact that both understood - that neither would tell the others what had almost happened.  

Myril pulled herself to her knees with her hands planted on her thighs.  She inhaled and then exhaled before rubbing the back of her hand against her lips and cheeks and then running her fingers through her silver hair.  Soft, clear whiskers peeked through the holes in her lips as she repeated the motion.

---

Thel walked through the gap in the wall with the woman in white leaning heavily against her side and Alphene trailing behind the both of them.  The paladin had bound her breasts with two strips of wide leather stolen from a fallen kobold.  They crossed over her chest, compressing her heavy breasts together until they seemed they would pop free.  Hardened muscle lined the tall woman's body and a tuft of thick black hair trailed down from her belly button.

Myril averted her gaze before repeating the alphabet and tapping her fingertips in a matching rhythm.

"What-" the paladin began as her heightened senses took in the scents wafting through the air.  She stopped only as Alphene lay a hand gently against her arm.

With the pause afforded by the blonde woman's gesture, Thel forced herself to relax and swallow the quick anger and confusion that rose to the top.  Although she was naturally more aggressive than her peers often were, she knew it was the beast within that had shortened her wick.

And she knew, after years on the field, that a battle can raise anyone's blood.  That, mixed with surviving the encounter could sometimes create intense, intimate moments between people.  She'd never partaken and was surprised to see Bertram tempted but she couldn't completely fault the man.  And with what Myril had experienced in the brief time they were together, she knew the girl had certain difficulties with her behavior.

The large woman took in Bertram's stature as he stood.  He was larger than her, now both in height and obvious musculature.  And he smelled- 

She wiped drool away from the corner of her mouth with a quiet growl.  

"How is he?" Thel asked, slowly bringing the wounded woman over to rest against the table.

"Still asleep," Bertram huffed.  He licked his lips and his tongue nearly reached his widened nostrils.  His eyes strained to stare at Thel's chest as he forced himself to meet her gaze.

The ranger looked away and caught a glimpse of Alphene with her back turned.  The woman was bent over a pile of bodies and strangely unconcerned that the slit of her sex showed beneath her rounded, shapely ass.  The man grunted as he stared, remembering her as a she-wolf.  

Remembering how hot and wet she was as he pressed himself against her.  Straining against his body.  Trapped.  Struggling.  Legs spread unwillingly.

He blinked and stamped his foot, crossing his arms as a small muscle writhed above his tailbone and veins stood out on his arms and neck.  The man tossed his head and, for a brief moment, two rounded bumps showed beneath his long, unkempt blond hair at either side of his head.

"Are you okay?  Can you stand without help?" Thel asked the brown haired woman next to her.

"Yes," the woman replied, her voice strained.

Nodding, the paladin crouched in front of Wren.  His reptilian snout was bowed to his chest and his strong, wide feet lay flat on the stone floor with the ankles tied together.  She watched his cream-colored, scaly chest rise and fall for a few moments before slapping him.

"Wren," she said flatly.   

When he didn't stir, she slapped him again, harder and his head lolled to the side before settling back against his chest.

"Wren," the woman said, louder now.

Her hand reared back once more.  She brought it around and stopped, a fraction of a second before Wren's jaws opened and then snapped shut in anticipation of the strike.  The black slits of his eyes narrowed and he hissed at her.

The changed man froze.

He cocked his head, tilting it one way and then another before a high pitched keening sound filled the air.  Myril hissed, slapping her hands against her ears as she moved to the destroyed wall at the front of the room.

"Sssshe's gone!" Wren snarled, whipping his head around the room.  As Thel stood her ground, the rest of the group backed away to leave her with their former mage.  "Gone!  Dead!  My queen!  My qu-"

The paladin's hands wrapped around Wren's thick neck, choking the words from him.

"Uh, Thel?"  Bertram asked with his deep voice.   He scuffed his constricted boots against the ground in uncertainty at his leader's harsh methods but held himself back.

Rather than answer, Thel learned forward to stare into her colleague's face.  Wren's tongue flicked out, whip fast and he slowly stopped struggling.  Again the man's forked tongue slid out and it wavered in front of the black-haired she-wolf's grim face.

"You," he rasped.  "You killed her.  I can ssssmell her blood on you.  Damn you.  Damn you!"

The paladin rocked back to her haunches before standing.

"Can you bring him back?" she asked the woman in white.

The other woman leaned on her staff with her eyes closed.  Her eyelids shifted as if, beneath them, she was searching for something lost.  Or someone.  Pure, brilliant white light, emitted from her staff, bathed her face, bright enough to dispel the shadows surrounding her.  

"Fuck you in the asssss!" Wren screamed, rocking uselessly back and forth.  His cock emerged to grow erect as his former leader ignored him.  "Fuck you like I did that elven bitch!  Fuck you in the- oof!"

Thel's boot slammed into the kobold's side.  He lifted from the flooring in a gasp of expelled air before landing face down with a loud screech.

"Yes," the woman said simply.  She sagged, pressing her cheek against her staff until Thel's gentle grip set her back against the table.  "Just- I just need a few- herbs."

"Okay," Thel said soothingly.  "I know you want to sleep.  I know you're not well but I need you to focus.  I can't let my friend slip away.  What do you need?"

"Worm- Worm's Root," the cleric said.  She sat against the edge of the table with her staff as support.  "Dragon's Drop.  Malik's Essence.  Just- just a spell- of charming, tainted by their god.  It can be broken."

"I don't know these herbs," the paladin said, biting the corner of her lips with a frown and furrowed brows.  "What do they look-"

"Is Malik's Essence also called Dream's Final Desire?" Myril asked.

"Yes," the cleric said, her eyes drooping shut.

"I know them," the elf said.  "I'll look."

"Hurry," Thel whispered as she knelt beside the prone kobold.

"I will!" Myril chirped, immediately starting with the broken shelf next to her.  

Worm's Root, Dragon's Drop and Dream's Final Desire, the elven woman thought to herself as her long, slim fingers slipped quickly and efficiently from bottle to bottle.  The lower layer of skin covering her claws ossified into hardened sheaths.  As she righted bottles and turned the few still covered with labels, her claws clinked against the glass.  Worm's Root, Dragon's- aha!  Dream's Final Desire!

She pocketed the slim vial before moving onto the next shelf.  Her left hand brushed her stomach as an odd feeling of fullness settled over her.  She gasped, grabbing the table in front of her as she swayed on suddenly weak knees.  The nerves within her core flared and throbbed as tiny holes opened along her smooth, pale skin.  

The elf raised her head to the ceiling, her eyelids fluttering over oval shaped eyes as her milk duct orifices formed.  Her heartbeat echoed between her thighs but she bit hard on her lips to distract from the thrilling anguish echoing within her body.

As her thighs rubbed against her engorged clit, the pressure combined with her growing teats to cause a small orgasm.  Myril's eyes widened as she slammed heavily against the table before her, scattering bottles and jars.  Her claws flexed freely, digging deep into the ancient wood.

Fine silver hairs emerged from the bridge of her nose.  More grew forth, one at a time in a thin pattern that led to her brow.  As she panted and regained her footing, a line appeared at the center of her top lip.  Her soft, full lips parted and pulled upward in a subtle crease toward her delicate nose.

W- Worm's Root, she thought to herself, repeating the remaining herbs over and over before wiping her lips with the back of her hand.  She washed her hand with her tongue and then cleaned her cheek, nuzzling against her hand until she felt settled and ready to keep going.  Dragon's Drop.

Myril found the last herb required, Worm's root, sitting amongst scattered shards of cloudy brown glass.  She held the dried, white root carefully by the tip.  Her sharp eyes narrowed vertically as she checked the black lines that marked it from the tip of the root to the diagonally cut top but it seemed well preserved despite the broken glass.

She brought the three ingredients over to the cleric and then moved far away in a corner opposite from Bertram and Alphene.  The elf watched her boots as the imagined voice of Prii's lover sang in her mind.  As she lost herself in the song, her hand closed around the vial she'd taken before the battle . It tapped against the pink padding of her palm in time to the ballad.

Thel watched the cleric dump the herbs in a groove on the table.  The other woman raised her staff to use the rounded tip as a pestle, crushing the plants into increasingly smaller pieces.  The woman leaned forward, spat into the mixture and continued grinding.

"I never asked your name," the paladin said as she watched the work being done.

"Rielle," the cleric said.  "Of the goddess Chal."

"I respect that," Thel nodded.  "I follow the Lady of the Crossroads.  It is through her blessing that I keep my own curse at bay."

"She loves you," Rielle told her.  "I can feel her aura surrounding you.  You're a very strong woman and fierce in your faith."

Thel huffed, clearly pleased but refusing to show it as she crossed her arms beneath her bosom.

"It's finished," the cleric said.  She inhaled, as deeply as she could before breathing out.  "I'm better, thank you.  And I'm sorry for the trouble."

"How do I-?" 

"Just rub the paste onto his chest," the brown haired woman answered.

"Will it hurt?" Thel asked, scooping the thick paste with her fingers.

"Yes," came the answer.  "Quite a lot."

"Bertram," the paladin called out.  "A little help, please?"

She pressed her knee into Wren's throat, holding him until Bertram hunkered down to grip the mage's ankles.  With a nod showing he was ready, Thel smeared the mixture over the kobold's white belly until only specks remained on her hand.  

Wren snapped and hissed, stopping only as the large woman pressed her knee harder into his throat.  Whether from the pressure or the concoction, the mage gagged and bucked beneath her.  Thel grabbed a knife from her side, turning the creature over to cut through the leather strips at its wrists.  

Blood trailed form the corner of the creature's mouth and it screamed, raising itself as much as it could while clawing at the broken stone beneath it.

A single black claw latched onto a jutting tile and it ripped free in a trail of blood as the thing pulled its arm.  A second claw freely fell next to it.  

"No!  Nooooo!" the kobold screeched, rocking its snout back and forth while its chest heaved.  "Ssssstoooop!  I won't let you throuuuugh!"

Scales flaked away from its arms and the pitted texture of its red and white skin grew smooth and pale.  It coughed, gagged again and spat to the side, showering Thel with fragments of broken fangs.  

An unearthly groan filled the broken room.  Deep and chilling came the noise from the fluttering throat of the struggling kobold.  It was neither human or the sibilant reptilian sounds of a kobold but appeared to be pulled from the very depths of Wren's soul.

Shapes moved beneath Wren's skin.  He coughed, expelling blackened blood until it covered his body.  His thick, spiked tail scraped against the floor as his body absorbed the mass to redistribute to his lengthening frame.  

Through it all, the creature's erection throbbed and bobbed above him.  Myril looked away from the bumpy, swollen surface of it as her cheeks burned with crimson and she involuntarily clenched the tight muscles inside her slick, eager pussy.

"Girl!" Thel commanded, staring the elf down.  "I said bring a sheet.  Grab one from Bertram's pack.  His bedroll."

The elf scratched at the wispy silver hairs growing on the inside of her thighs while stalking over to the ranger's pack.  She unraveled a sheet and dropped it by the paladin before moving even farther away.

"Here, Wren," Thel said gently, covering the mage's midsection.  The small sheet hung from his engorged, inhuman cock.  She backed away with him, nodding at Bertram to do the same.

"Th-th-th-th-" he stuttered, rubbing his shortened muzzle against the flooring in sharp, hard movements.  His left horn snapped at the root and he yelled as the cratered flesh surrounding it smoothed out, filling the hole left behind.  The mage reached up to grip the other sleek horn still attached.  He tugged, groaned and then pulled and it came free with a wet sucking sound and the crunch of bone.

Leaving Wren to his privacy, Thel went to Rielle.  She placed her hand on the cleric's shoulder and squeezed her lightly.

"We're in your debt," she intoned, her expression pained yet serious.  "Thank  you."

"The queen had no right to him," the cleric answered.  "Chal alone has jurisdiction over judgement of mortals in our realm.  My goddess frowns upon the clouding of minds and I was simply returning him to his path.  I'm sure your Lady would agree."

"We need to plot our next course," Thel said, inspecting them each in turn.  "Gather around.  Wren, join us when you can."

"J- just g- give me a moment," the mage gasped.  He rubbed his arms and groaned while pulling himself up on both feet, clutching the sheet around his waist.  

Leaning against the wall, the thin young man dry heaved.  A knot formed in the center of his stomach muscles as they clenched.  He gnashed his teeth, pressing the base of his palm against the knot until it began to release.

The group spoke quietly around the slab of a table while Wren searched for his belt and pouches.  Panic seized him until he found the large, sickly green bag with his other, smaller bags scattered nearby.  He knelt to open the dimensional pocket and began rummaging around, withdrawing clothing one at a time until he had an entire outfit laid out on the bare floor.

As Wren removed the sheet, he swallowed and stared at his limp cock.  Although shrunken, it bulged from his crotch, thick and red and lined with bumps in a spiraling pattern.  At the end of his shaft, the end swept down into a curved point.  He pushed it aside and it stirred at his touch.

His testicles were gone.  Or, rather, as he carefully explored, he could feel them or something similar to them just beneath the skin of his perineum.  He pushed, feeling both lumps shift beneath the surface.  A third pressed against the other two and he pulled his hand away, scared at what else he might find.

Throughout his life, he'd found himself disinterested in sex.  The lack had never presented itself as a problem while studying and he never believed he was missing out on anything.

Yet as his monstrous cock unfolded before him, he could feel an alien urge racing through his body.  He ground his teeth while he searched within to identify what he felt as his hand involuntarily closed over the knobby length of his cock.  It was troublesome and elusive but he settled on it being somewhat akin to aggression.

A drive to take.  The  need to hear the plaintive, gasping cry of a voice as he plunged into the hot, wet folds of a woman's sex.  

He could see her in his mind's eye.  Myril's svelte form beneath him, pleading with the other as he took her.  Pushing back into him despite her protestations.  A pang formed at the center of his chest as he remembered how she felt.  How it felt to have her warmth around him.  To hear her needy voice.

To feel the connection.  To be in power.

Wren fell to his knees as his cock jerked in his hand.  Thick gouts of white cum flung away from him again and again as he emptied himself for the first time in years.  His heart hammered in his chest and he licked his lips as the undeniable urges receded.

As his cock grew soft and he clothed himself, he found his thoughts returning to her.  Rasping, growling laughter echoed deep in the back of his mind.

Try as he might, his still-changed cock pressed awkwardly against his thigh when he laced his breeches.  The lack of his ballsack seemed to do nothing to give extra room and the tip was overly sensitive when it rubbed against his thigh.

When he joined the group, he looked up to see Myril standing opposite him across the table.  He frowned as the echo of the urges from earlier arose.  Cinching his belt tighter, he ignored his body and listened to the discussion taking place around him.

"Well, our choices remain the same," Thel was saying.  "We need to make a decision quickly."

Myril looked up to catch Wren sneaking glances at her.  She looked back down as her furred ears lay against her head and her split lip trembled.

Does he remember? she asked herself as a slow burn begin in her cheeks.  He can't.  He was the queen's thrall and- Gods.  Let it be that he can't remember.

Studiously ignoring the mage before her, the young elf tapped the unlabeled vial in her pocket.  She'd felt how smooth and exact her movements were while under the influence of the previous potion.  How perfect her strikes were and how quickly she slipped away from the enemy's blades.

The draw of enhancing herself further tugged at her overly curious personality.

Surely, she thought, licking her lips and brushing the spittle back against her short whiskers and fine silver hairs lining her cheeks.  Surely it can't hurt to try it?

Thel shrugged her shoulders as the leather strips restraining her heavy breasts dug into her skin.  In the brief silence, she glanced down her body, certain her chest was larger.  Either way, bared as they were, they were a distraction.

The thread of a scent wormed its way through the stale, unmoving air of the tower.  The stench of dead kobolds was overwhelming but her newly sensitive nose was incredibly discerning.  Something lay beneath the smell of blood and offal - something that forced her to rapidly inhale.  

It was a pleasing smell that she couldn't quite make out through the powerful scent of death.  It awoke an urge within her, one she'd often repressed - desire.  And hunger.  She looked over her shoulder, her golden eyes searching the room to pinpoint it.  

Black hairs pushed their way through the rough skin along her sharp jaw as the beast within stirred.  She eyed Wren for a moment in confusion as the smell seemed to curl around his body but it wasn't due to his change.  It was something after he'd reverted.

The paladin grunted, her ears twitching in annoyance as she turned back to the table.

"Let me hear your thoughts," she commanded the group.

---

Standing opposite the young mage, Myril glanced up as Thel asked everyone for their opinions.  She felt distracted - not just at the shameful memory of Wren's changed form taking her but from the energy circulating through her body.  It invigorated her and she felt like dancing.  She stepped lightly from one foot to the other, unable to keep her body still.

The unlabeled vial felt cool in the soft pink padding lining her palm.  As the others talked with their attention elsewhere, she made her decision.

A single claw slid free from the sheath at the tip of her finger to pierce the cork stopper covering the bottle.  With her cat-like eyes watching the others, she pulled and the stopper came free.  A harsh, sulfuric scent made her crinkle her small nose.  The silver hairs lining the top of her nose shifted as her split upper lip pulled back to reveal her teeth.

Although many elves in recent years intermingled with other races, sharing their foods and pleasures, countless generations before them lived harmoniously with nature.  The majority, a few outcast offshoots aside, lived off of fruits and vegetables in isolation from the rest of the world.  Their diet led to a mouth full of flat teeth for gnashing and grinding.

Enamel flowed from four of Myril's teeth, shaping to sharp little points that curved as they grew.  She sneezed, shaking her head.  Next to her new canines, eight more of her teeth changed, their roughly square form pushing into wedge-shaped incisors.

At the head of the table, Thel lifted her head and Myril's oval eyes narrowed to slits as she spotted the other woman's nostrils flaring.  Scenting for the new aroma filling the air.

Magically enhanced reflexes brought the bottle up to the elf's mouth in a smooth arc.  She swallowed it and lowered her arm, letting the bottle roll down her leg to the tip of her foot.  At the last second, she kicked it gently and the bottle rolled silently into a pile of other broken vials.

The paladin turned left and then right, focusing on the elf with a frown that Myril returned by shrugging nonchalantly.

"Do you have anything to add to the discussion?" Thel asked, her golden eyes suspiciously looking the elf up and down.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Myril shot back.  Her ears pulled back against her head as goosebumps rose along her back, raising short, scattered silver hairs with them.  "I go off, you track me down, pull me back into all of this and I just keep following along.  And pray that you don't go feral and eat me."

"You test my patience, girl," the paladin snarled, showing her fangs.  "Every step of the way, you've shown yourself to be as duplicitous as every other thief I've had dealings with.  You steal from us, goad our-"

"Thel," Alphene said quietly, touching the other woman's arm.  Her pale fingers lay lightly on the paladin's skin, surrounded by sparse black hairs.  "Don't let it take you."

Thel growled and then closed her eyes, exhaling in a long, ragged breath.  She brought her rough hands up to her face, rubbing at her aching jaw as the fur receded.  It was getting harder to hold back from lashing out and the display of insubordination riled her more than she'd like to admit.

"We go up," the paladin announced, turning away from the elf.  "No wizard is unpretentious enough to build a tower and make his home at the base of it.  We'll find him above.if we find him at all.  Pack what gear you can, as quickly as you can.  I'll not tarry longer than necessary."

Wren set about securing his possessions before walking among the ruins of the room for anything salvageable.  Myril watched him carefully.  Something was off about him but she couldn't decide what it was.  She thought he even moved differently.  More confident in himself.  And yet, she was certain that he found excuses to turn towards her as he dug carefully through piles.

At the table, the new woman lowered herself, her back against the carved surface and her staff between her knees.  Thel leaned to her with a wide hand on her shoulder, whispering something in her ears.

"Nothing fits any more," Bertram grumbled as he scratched at his forehead.  He kicked at the ground beneath him while stomping uselessly around the room.  "Why couldn't we have fought an army of, I don't know, half giants or something?  What the hell am I going to do with kobold scraps?"

One by one, with Bertram in the lead, they filed out of the room.  Thel helped the priestess up but the woman made her own way once she was standing.  Myril glanced back quickly in the empty wreckage, hoping to spot something valuable that was missed.

A single black hair emerged among the silver hairs lining the bridge of her nose.  It seemed to glisten in the light of the torches still lining the hallway.  She turned her head and the coloring of the hair shifted from black to the deep purple of an old bruise.  A second hair emerged closer to her eyes as a third sprouted between them.  A few more black hairs joined the others, their coloring shifting to dark brown before appearing as olive green and back again to black.

Seeing nothing of value, the woman sighed, scratching at the side of her back.  She turned and stepped toward the hallway.

For a brief moment, the elf flickered and vanished, reappearing half a second later in the corridor.

---

Alphene walked behind Thel, just to her right, as they began to climb the wide, dusty stairs.  She clutched the necklace she wore in a tight fist, her knuckles white.  

A part of her - not a small part, wanted to rip it off.

Her transformation had healed her so she couldn't feel the pain from where the changed mage had struck her but it was still vividly real in her mind, tainted by the terror of the situation.  Of the loss of control and seeing the other woman attacked.  Knowing it could've been her.  

And then the feeling of power when she'd removed the necklace.  Feeling the wolf snarling at being free once more.  The blood rushing through her veins as it took hold of her.  Even now, restrained as she was, her senses were heightened.  But when she'd changed, the whole world had changed with her.  Reverting back felt like a loss.  She was duller.  Less than what she was.

The group was quiet as they took each step slowly, lagging behind to allow their newest member to keep up.

The men could change at will, she thought to herself, biting at her lip while staring at the floor in front of her.  That line of thought was painful but she allowed it to continue, soaking in it while feeling her teeth grinding against each other.  They'd taken her from her village, saved her while others were killed.  Saved her because she was pretty.  She'd watched her betrothed die as he tried to protect her.

They didn't wait to bring her to their camp.  With her husband's blood pooling beneath him, his trembling hand reaching for her, she'd been shoved to the ground.  Rough, clawed hands had raised her dress and they'd forced themselves inside of her.  Tearing her with their girth and their impatience.

Alphene tasted blood as she bit hard into her lip.  She ducked her head as her jaw muscles flared.

She felt herself growing wet at the memory of it.  Of the first werewolf to fuck her.  

They'd told her she'd come to love it.  That she'd eventually give herself to them willingly until her belly was full with their cubs, not caring or even knowing which of them was the father.  She'd cursed them, telling them she'd never change.  That her goddess would protect her.  That she would never enjoy their rape.

Now, having experienced it, having felt the beast take hold, she understood.  It wasn't just the power, it was letting yourself go.  It was giving up all of her inhibitions, her worries, her fears and everything else - feeding it to the beast within.  Becoming an animal with all of its base needs and desires.  To hunt, to kill, to breed.  It was addicting and her hand pulled against the necklace.

But she couldn't.  She would resist.  She helped the paladin and she would help herself.  There had to be a way to remove it.  To become normal.

To stop from imagining herself in Myril's position with Wren behind her - and wanting it.  Wanting to be forced.  Like she had with the first wolf and every one that followed.  To stop the strange, haunting desire to feel teeth and claws in her flesh and the pain that followed.  To be hurt and shown who was in control while struggling against it.  Testing herself against their strength until she knew she couldn't resist.

Her slim, bare thighs rubbed together as she took a step up and she felt the slick juices of her arousal against her skin.  Her head throbbed.  She wanted to cry and she hated herself for the weakness.

Maybe- maybe I don't need to be fixed, she thought, licking her lips as she glanced at Thel in front of her.  The thought was traitorous but a thrill ran through her spine at the idea of it.  Maybe I can learn to control it.  To tame it.

She lost herself in her thoughts as she trudged along with the group, replaying the moment of her change, when she was still half-human and could remember how she'd felt before she lost herself completely to the beast.

Perhaps, she said to herself as her hand kneaded her lower belly.  Perhaps we'll find another battle.  Or I can find one for them.  And- and perhaps, perhaps the necklace will be lost.  Accidentally lost in the chaos of it all.  Perhaps I'll have to learn to control it.  It wouldn't be my fault.  It wouldn't.

---

Wren glanced back as Myril joined them at the bottom of the stairwell.  He blushed, cursing himself quietly while his hands nervously touched each of his bags.  It was an old tic of his that he could never completely stop and it worsened when he was anxious.  He counted the pouches while his fingers brushed the strings tying them in place.  

The mage's baggy trousers moved as his cock stirred within.  He lost count of his gear as the sensitive head brushed against the soft cotton.  Without looking back, he adjusted himself, hating the bumpy feel of the grossly engorged reddened member against his fingers.  Even more, he loathed the new desire pulsing within his body - the urge to touch the disfigurement.  To stroke it and pump it until he relieved the pressure.

His fingers clenched the hard, hot flesh and his lips pulled back in a sneer as faint laughter filled his skull.  

Slim and weak and eager for it, the little whore, the thoughts jumbled through his mind.  Spreading her slutty thighs to show her cute little pink cunt.  Wanting it.  I know she wants it!  I'll fuck her like-

He gasped, releasing his hold while stumbling on the step ahead.  When he'd first come to, the creature's voice was still in his head.  Faint and fading but still there.  This wasn't that voice.  It was his voice in his mind.  His own.  His own thoughts.  His own wants.  But it couldn't be, could it?  Was the creature still tangled in him?  Masking his thoughts to confuse him and make him think he was doing this on his own.  Sowing division within himself?  

It had to be, he told himself, his fingers frantically tapping his pouches as sweat rolled down his temples beneath his short, curly red hair.  Finished counting, he ran his fingers through his hair to expose pointed ears, the tips a dark pink coloring.

I'm not like this, it has to be him, Wren reaffirmed.  He pushed at his cock and his hand touched cool wetness.  Looking down, he frowned at a large wet spot over the tip of his cock.  The need to touch himself was a physical twinge.  His body ached, eager in that alien way he'd briefly felt before.  He needed - something.  To empty himself.  To thrust.  

To hurt.

To take.

To see the tears and hear the cries as he plunged himself into the wet hole as the woman struggled beneath him.  To pound into her again and again as she begged him to stop.  To spit and laugh in her face until he filled her with his cum.  To-

"Gods," Wren gasped quietly as he leaned against the wall for a brief moment.  He pushed through the thoughts, recalling his decades of training until he could remember an old recipe for a potent, calming tea.  He was sure he had the proper herbs for it. 

It would help, he knew.  To relax him.  To take away the filthy creature's influence and calm his body until he was himself.  At their next stop.  He would brew it and drink it and all would be well.  It would kill the creature's impulses and stop him from thinking of Myril.  Or Alphene.

Sweet little tormented Alphene.  So shy and demure.  Breaking her would be delicious.  See that terrified face of hers as he tore her clothing away.

Yes, he nodded to himself.  Yes, I'll brew her some tea to dull her senses.  Yes.

The mage missed a step as Myril appeared beside him suddenly.  He cursed as his toe clipped the edge of the next stair but she fell back once again, lost in her own thoughts.

---

"I'm just saying," Bertram groused, scratching at his ears as they walked up the steps.  He looked around for Hessa but found her walking several steps behind him.  When she noticed him looking, she froze.  He snorted at her and his ear flicked in annoyance.  His hand reached up, thick fingers digging at the irritated skin around the small horn growing from his skull.  "We need to look for clothes.  Or beat it out of someone and take theirs.  Take their clothes."

"Wren!  WREN!" the large man shouted, turning once again to look behind him.  His heavy testicles slapped against his bare thigh and his limp cock slipped free to dangle against his leg.  He could feel the head of it nearly reach his knee.  He sighed, gathering it back up to fit inside the remains of his pants.  "How long's this suppose ta last anyways?"

"What?  The what?" the mage asked in a panic.  He looked up, grabbing his hands away from his waist.

"The potion, idiot," Bertram told him.  He couldn't feel his toes and, distantly, that bothered him.  Still, he raised his foot and ignored the clacking sound from the two large lumps of his proto-hooves within his boots.  "How long?"

"I have- I have no idea," the mage said, glancing away.  "Usually an hour.  So, any time now."

"An hour," Bertram huffed.  It'd felt longer than that but he had trouble remembering the flow of events since the battle had started.  He scratched at his back and his fingers tore loose blond hairs from his skin.  More grew to replace them when he pulled his hand away.  A wide line of thin fur spread from the nape of his neck to his ass.  "Seems like longer.  Longer than an hour.  And I'm over here almost naked."

The ranger stepped up and the muscles shifted in the small of his back, just beneath the lump of fuzzy skin.  They twitched to match his annoyance.

His whole body annoyed him with the little pangs and he yearned for another fight.  Something to distract himself from his ridiculously large body and the pains that came with it.  He'd thought the strength would be magical and hadn't expected his body to adapt for it.  

A battle or a drink, he decided.  Either.  Something other than just walking.  Walking was stupid.  He needed something to get his blood pumping and swinging a blade or tearing at the enemy would do it.  He laughed quietly as he remembered pulling the arms from a screaming kobold, realizing too late that it was a female.  But that didn't matter.  And it wasn't his fault, he told himself.  His blood was up.  They attacked.  They hurt his friends.  

There's no tavern here, he thought, grunting while staring at the wall in front of him as it curved to show more stairs.  We should just go.  This was a dumb idea.  The tavern back in- back in- what was the name of the village we were in?  Back in the village.  That tavern was good.  Good ale.  I don't need to be here.  Chasing some wizard and for what?  For nothing.  Good fights, maybe.  More kobolds to tear apart.  

Bertram rubbed his jaw and the bones creaked, pulling his face forward.

Women at the tavern, too, he nodded to himself, hitting the wall next to him in time with his footsteps.  He found himself going to the balls of his deadened feet with each step.  Big breasted women.  Like Thel.  Damn fine woman.  Big enough for me.  Even if she's cursed.   Even if her stupid god fills her brain.  Just hasn't had a real man yet.  Someone to show her what she's missing.  

Once again, the man's cock fell from the tear in his crotch. A thick fleshy line of skin held it in place as the veiny shaft bulged down.  He scratched his stomach as the skin expanded, pulling his cock back into his trousers and then up until the head slipped from the band of his pants.

Gods, he snorted, rolling his massive shoulders.  Thin blond fur waved in the air from the bare skin.  I'd take that.  I'd take her.  Or a good fight.  Or a keg of anything.  Something better than this wall.  Stone and stone and stone and torches and stone and steps.  Big titties on Thel.  Get my hands around them.  That'd be good.  I'd like that.  Sit her on my knee, ale in one hand, her on my lap.  Yeah.  Yeah, that'd be good.  Gooder than all this boring stone.  Stone and stone and-

---

Myril shook herself as she suddenly realized she'd caught up to Wren.  She slowed her pace, falling back several steps behind the mage.

She wavered in the air as if she were a mirage in the desert.  The young elf spat and hissed as the muscles of her back spasmed with stabbing agony.  Her black-furred ears tilted as she clawed and massaged her skin.

Ridges stood out against her flesh at either side of her spine.  She traced the spade-like lines before they flattened and her hand touched smooth skin once more.  The pain faded, leaving her with a dull discomfort.  Her flesh crawled as she felt something moving beneath the skin of her back but, as soon as she noticed it, it was gone.

When she pulled her hands away, short black hairs slid from the inflamed skin.  

More and more, she felt herself growing angry at the paladin.  She tried to recite another ballad but instead, looked up to focus on their leader.  Scarlet dots appeared in her completely grey eyes, moving as if they were tiny living creatures.  At the same time, her incisors began to change further, the white outer layers folding back until she was left with sharp points that matched her fangs.

Inky darkness flooded her short, transparent whiskers and she growled quietly as the wrongness of Thel's scent filled her nose.  Like her ears, the bridge of elven girl's nose was completely lined with black hairs.  The color seemed to drain down from them, dripping into her pink nose until it was streaked with ebony.

The elf flexed her hands at her sides, subconsciously pulling her claws forth before letting them slide back into their sheaths.  Over and over as she stewed in her fury.

Her anger surprised even herself but as she tried to find the root of it, she kept circling back to when she was branded by the woman.  

Like property.  Like a slave.

The crimson in her eyes spread, swarming until only her narrow, black pupils remained.  She flickered on her step, reappearing two steps higher. The nub of her tail twisted, thrashing as she stalked up the stairs.

Myril's hands rested on her daggers when they finally reached the top of the stairs and her red eyes were narrowed while she watched the group spread out with the paladin in the lead.

---

Thel glanced around, taking in the small area.  The hallway split in three directions ahead of them and her keen hearing could only pick out the faint sound of rushing water.  She strained to hear further as she caught something soft mixed with the rushing sound.

Is that- singing? she wondered.

The paladin crept through the corridor until it split, hoping to find a room large enough for them to regroup and rest.  For a brief moment, she contemplated the small area around the stairs but found it too open for her taste.  She sighed as the priestess sat against the wall with her head bowed.

"We need to split off into pairs," Thel announced.  "Report back here if you find a room we can use or if you encounter anyone.  Or anything.  I'll stay with Rielle.  Be safe and come back if you go too far before finding anything."

Bertram stared at Thel and the woman next to her.  Alphene wore scraps of clothing that clearly showed bare skin beneath.  He eyed her and huffed, the air rushing through his broad, aching nose.  She was pretty enough but small.

"You come with me," he told Thel.  His eyes roamed the large woman's body without subtlety, lingering over her breasts as they bulged out from the straps barely holding them in place.  The strip of hair growing down the nape of his neck grew dense as more emerged along his spine, sliding out from the skin and over the bulge of his stubby tail.  "Alphene can watch Ree- Rail- the- the cleric woman."

"No," Thel said, staring up at the man with tired, red-rimmed eyes.  "She's barely able to stand on her own feet.  I'll watch over her just as you'll watch over Alphene.  And Wren will keep an eye on Myril."

Behind the group, Myril wavered and vanished, appearing half a step closer before the paladin could finish blinking.

"The hell do I need someone to watch over me?" she growled, her black-furred ears laying back with her row of fangs bared.  "Especially after what he-"

"I wouldn't-!" Wren tried to say.

"Listen!" Thel roared.  She bowed her head and rubbed her temples as black hairs slid out from her sharp jaw.  "We're all dealing with what's happened but that wasn't Wren.  The foul creatures possessed him but Rielle has pulled him back from the brink of damnation.  He's shown time and again to be trustworthy - far more than you have, and he'll help keep you out of trouble."

Myril ground her teeth in anger, her scarlet eyes flashing.  The flesh above the swell of her pert, firm ass writhed when it pushed forward, dragging across her ass.  The narrow tip pulsed while tiny black hairs emerged from the flesh.  Bone and muscle squirmed within and the skin widened into a thick triangle that pushed against her trousers.  

The oily black fur along the bridge of her wrinkled nose refracted the light, alternating between purple and black.  The spade-shaped skin on either side of her spine pushed outward and slits appeared beneath them.  Her shirt briefly pulled taut, outlining the curves of her small breasts and tiny nipples before the strange new appendages settled back in place.  Her shortened tail lashed as she spat to the side.

"Look," Wren said, swallowing as he stared at girl's chest.  He groaned and looked up as his hand itched to grab his cock.  Instead, he scratched his jaw, digging a nail in painfully hard against his aching gums.  A sneer passed over his lips before he frowned. "That wasn't me.  No, it wasn't.  And I'm sorry it happened like that.  Yes, I'm actually sorry.  I'm chaste and- and- more appalled than you are at what happened.  I am.  It was- was- deviant."

"Wren," Thel said quietly, her eyes narrowing as she reached for him.  "Are you feeling well?"

"Yes, of course," the man said while stepping away from her.  His bulbous, bump-filled cock stirred as he pictured Myril's shirt tight against her chest.  Tearing it apart with claws and lashing her nipples with a split tongue before forcing her jaws open to shove her down-

"-early for you, you can stay with us," Thel was saying.

"No," the mage hissed, swallowing blood.  His tongue worked at loose molars far back in his mouth.  "I'm fine.  I am.  I'll be fine."

Alphene watched the exchanges anxiously.  She licked her lips several times before gripping the necklace restraining her.  Reducing her.  Her eyes flicked to the head of Bertram's cock and she wondered if she should mention how visible it was.  It wasn't wrong to be bare, she knew but the man was shy before, as were the rest of them.  If they weren't-

The slim girl's hand toyed with the rags she wore, pulling them until more gaps left her exposed.

"Fine," Bertram groused, stamping a foot while tossing his head. The swollen bump above his muscular ass was thick with blond fur.  It pushed outward as bones formed within and the tip of his tail tapped against his ass cheeks.  "Come, girl."

Alphene gathered herself and followed the towering man.  The potion had doubled his size and gave him the animalistic characteristics it was named for.  Her throat vibrated in a quiet growl as she spied his huge testicles hanging freely.

The pair rounded the corner and walked quietly together.  Slowly, the rhythmic thumping of Bertram's heavy footing turned to a hard clacking sound as his split hooves formed, the hardened keratin clip-clopping on the stone floor.

"Does it-" Alphene started to ask but red filled her cheeks as her eyes were drawn back to the balls swinging between his legs.  She watched as the rough clothing circling his waist pushed outward.  A thick, fleshy tail bulged in an arch and then slipped free to slap against the bottom curve of the man's ass.

"What?" he grunted.

"Does it bother you?" she asked, walking faster to catch up to his lengthening pace.

"Does what bother me?" he asked, glancing back at her with his flicking ears.

She stared at him in confusion.

Is he making a joke at my expense? she asked herself.

"The- the way the potion changed you," she finished.

He was huge.  Larger than the werewolves were.  His wide hands hung at his sides and thick muscles bulged from every inch of his body.  She licked her lips as she stared at his hands and imagined them on her. Holding her down as she kicked at him.  

Her hand clutched at the necklace.  He was strong enough to pick her up like a toy.  To press her against the wall as his cock spread her legs apart.  

The woman panted while a light buzzing filled her ears and she grew flush as her small, pink tongue lay against her bottom teeth.  

Forcing his way into her.  Claws digging into her skin as growls filled her ears.  Tearing her apart.  Changing her until she was howling like-

"-good, actually," Bertram said, pounding his fist against the wall with every step he took.  "Strong, you know?  Don't have to worry 'bout all that stupid stuff like the forest or gods or whatever.  Just smashing things and fucking and drinking.  Don't have to worry about 'nothing else."

Alphene stumbled and her knuckles whitened on the charm hot against her bosom.  Her lips pulled back and she slowly rolled her head as her muscles tightened and the strap holding the necklace dug into the soft skin of her neck.

"Hey," the ranger said, stopping as his tail whipped behind him.  "Thel likes you.  Talk to her.  Tell her we should leave.  It's dumb. This whole thing is just- just- what's the point?"

Thel, the woman remembered, closing her eyes as her hand relaxed.  I have to keep it together.  For her.  I have to.

"What is that?" Alphene asked as she relaxed.  She turned in place, raising her chin as the faint scent of sea water reached her.  More strange was the singing she swore she heard beyond.

"What's what?" Bertram asked, pounding his hand against the wall.  He reached down to scratch the thick line of skin holding his cock against his belly and then the stubble of blond hairs spreading from his crotch.  His tongue lapped out, long and thick before curling to touch his nose.

Alphene stared at the man, certain that his face was longer but the alluring song pulled her back.  She sighed as it calmed her and a slow smile filled her face.

"Oh," Bertram grunted.  His ears flicked and he nodded his head.  "That.  It's nice."

"Do- do you think it's safe?" Alphene asked, peering into the distance ahead.  She felt like it was safe.  In fact, she felt happier and more relaxed than she'd ever been.

"What's it matter?" Bertram asked, thumping the wall once more.  Yet he appeared conflicted, his massive brow drawn together as he worked through the simple puzzle it presented.  Finally he grinned.  "If it's not, I can hurt it.  If it is, fine.  Sounds like a girl so maybe I can finally fuck something."

Alphene squeezed her eyes closed.  Her lips pressed together, the rose coloring fading to white as she breathed through her nose.  The woman's hands toyed with the clothiing she wore and a single scrap fell to the floor beneath her as they continued to walk.  Clear liquid glistened between her bare thighs as they continued down the hallway.

The singing grew louder as the pair followed the corridor.  Bertram nodded along, lightly tapping his fist against the wall in the same beat while Alphene found herself humming along.  She felt herself grow light as her concerns evaporated.

A path broke away to their right but the echoing song was louder in front of them.  Alphene squinted and saw that it eventually opened into a large room.  She squeaked when she realized Bertram hadn't stopped and she ran to catch up.

Both of them slowed as they reached the room, sliding against the wall and kneeling.

The room was gigantic.  Impossibly, it appeared to not have a ceiling.  A huge pool of water dominated the room, fed by a small waterfall that flowed over a jutting rock.  A flat boulder lay in the center of the pond.

Three women sat on the boulder with their legs in the water.  Small waves rippled away from their shins as they kicked their legs back and forth.  With their hands planted on the rock, they had their heads back as they sang loudly.  Two of them had green, curly hair that reached the middle of their back while the third had blue hair that nearly matched the water.  Her hair cascaded down to coil on the rock behind her.

Alphene's eyes widened as she realized the women's skin was translucent and shimmering in whatever cast the pure white light filling the room.

---

Myril's red eyes narrowed as the ranger and wolf girl walked away.  She rolled her shoulders as the black-furred patches of skin lifted from her back, the slit beneath them separating further to show two tentacles attached to her back.  The spade-shaped ridges twisted to show rows and rows of serrated fleshy hooks.  She hissed, eyes closed as the hooks clawed at the skin on her back.  The elf's rough tongue lashed out as a deep, rumbling purr issued from her mouth at the delicious pain.  She flickered in place while the fur over her nose spread down to her cheeks, cycling between purple, black, magenta, brown and pewter, over and over.  

The elf took a step but was suddenly three feet away before Wren turned to follow her.  The mage gnashed his teeth to quell to voice yammering in his skull.  Sweat stained his tunic as he replayed the conversation with Thel in his mind.  He sounded insane, answering himself in the same sentence as if talking to himself.  

You were talking to yourself, the voice laughed.  Staring at the whorish elf girl flaunting herself in front of you.  Pulling her shirt tight to show her little titties.

"I wasn't," he whispered.  "You're not even real."

I have to talk to someone, he thought to himself.  The cleric, maybe.  To tell her whatever spell she'd used was flawed.  That it had failed and I need something more.  Something stronger.  To restrain the creature hiding in the shadow of my mind.  To bound it.  Tie it down.  Rip its clothing off to show her breasts as she struggles.  Tear its trousers apart to see the wet hole eagerly waiting for me to plunge my cock deep into the depths, to tear her apart and breed her.  Make her my queen and create my own army.

Wren hissed as he grabbed his cock, rubbing the bumps with his thumb while he stroked its length.  He watched Myril's tight body as she walked, remembering how she looked when she lay beneath him.  The wet spot at the front of his trousers began to spread as his strange cock leaked.

Put her down on the ground, Wren imagined, staring at the girl.

The elf reached back to claw herself and then pulled at her pants.  The band of her pants bulged outward as her short tail continued to grow.  The triangular tip flopped free, whipping behind her as black fur spread down from the tip to the base.  His hand sped up as he stared at her ass crack and imagined pulling her tail as he spread her open.

No! he cursed.  He slammed a fist against his temple and squeezed his eyes shut when she wavered and vanished in front of him.  Losing it.  I'm losing it.  Gods!

"You coming?" Myril asked, suddenly standing beside him.  "You're-"

The elven girl froze, twisting to stare down a passage that branched off to the right.  She hissed, dropping to her hands and feet to leap away.  The girl landed on her feet in a dead run.

"Stop!" Wren yelled.  He snarled and gave chase, turning to his right when Myril launched herself at a wall and then jumped off of it, twisting mid-air to roll on the ground and leap into a standing run.

Reaching into a pouch at his side, he grabbed a small quartz cube and then a pinch of white powder from a different pouch.  The mage whispered a spell and the air crackled with ominous red sparks.  His stomach twisted but Myril slowed.

Something's wrong, he noted as he ran faster.  Something went wrong.

It wasn't the first time he'd cast the spell and it'd always gone perfectly the many times before, temporarily stopping everything and everyone around him.  There should be no after effects and the girl shouldn't be able to move at all.  Still, she was far slower than he was and he caught her easily, grabbing her shoulder.

Pressure built around the mage, as if he were slowly being dragged deep beneath the ocean.

Myril turned, her lips pulled back to show rows of deadly teeth.  Her hellish eyes were narrowed and her left hand was coming around.  The girl's translucent claws were streaked with red and black and moving as if she were struggling through mud.

Wren's hand shot out to grab the girl's wrist but he gasped in surprise when she vanished.  The mage tumbled forward as pain bloomed in his ears.  The pressure was incredible now and he struggled to breathe.

Myril reappeared in a mist of inky darkness.

"Of course," Wren snarled, realizing what it meant when combined with her tail, fur and eyes.  

The mage grabbed a small glass ball from a large satchel on his hip.  He steeled himself and broke the ball in his face, winching as blood mixed with the iron shavings and juniper colored dust.  He cried out as agony lanced through his head but he launched himself at the elf with his hand out.  She twisted, too slow for his magically enhanced speed, and his hand gripped her arm.

With a pop that made Wren cough a thick wad of blood from his lungs, he slammed forward, pulling Myril behind him.

"Get off of me!" the girl hissed.  Her slim, elven face was covered in silky coal black fur.

"You stupid fucking bitch!" Wren yelled as rage overpowered him.  She clawed at his arm as he backhanded her and slammed her head to the ground.  "You don't run from me!  You!  Don't!  Run!"

-beneath me, gasping and moaning as I spread her open and fuck her, struggling like she's struggling now until-

He groaned, leaning in to lick her neck as he grinded his cock against her.  His fist tightened around her neck and his nails cracked, growing to uneven lengthen as they dug into the fur spreading over her body. 

The mage's cock throbbed as it hardened, slipping past his trousers to drip pre-cum on her bare stomach.  He grinded against her while she grabbed at the arm holding her in place.  Her jet black claws tore his flesh but it only served to enrage him further.  

Rearing back, he pulled her trousers down and then reached up to rip her tunic.  The girl's slim, bare breasts quivered and he smiled at her, bending down as drool pooled and dripped from his mouth.  Her ears lengthened as his lips brushed her mouth.

Two tentacles slid out from under Myril.  She felt her shoulder muscles working as she gasped for air and watched as the diamond-shaped heads at the end of her tentacles lashed out, rending flesh and clothing with ease.

Wren screeched.  He grabbed at his back with both hands while curling into a tight ball.  Myril flickered, appearing as a gray after-image before reappearing several feet away in a kneeling position.

"Bitch!" Wren screamed, kicking his legs as he squirmed.  The mage groaned, pulling his knees tight to his stomach.  His voice softened.  "M- Myril, I th- th- think s-something wrong with m- m- me."

Myril leaned forward to her hands and knees with her two tentacles high over her shoulders.  Her red eyes narrowed as she stared at him.  Black fur crept down to cradle her breasts.  She touched her neck and then further to a tender spot just below her rib cage.  A soft lump of skin, tipped with five smaller bumps, shifted beneath her fingers.  Skin swelled at the other side of body, pushing away from the side of her chest.  Five red spots dotted the growth.

"The voice," Wren continued.  He rolled to his hands and knees with his head down.  "Still there.  It's still in me.  Myril, I'm so sor-"

"Save it," she snarled.  "Wretch.  Cursed mage.  That's twice now.  A third time and I'll slit your throat and let the beasts devour your body before the light fades from your eyes."

The words felt wrong on her tongue but she couldn't stop from speaking them.  Her long ears lay flat against her skull.  Bones cracked and crunched in her jaw as her face pushed forward.  She groaned and swallowed blood as sharp points pierced the gaps in her gums.  Her flat teeth flowed downward into sharp points until every single tooth in her short muzzle were curved and deadly fangs.

The elven girl's tail slammed against the wall but the smell from earlier was back, stronger than before.  She flickered in place and then reappeared two feet away in a standing position.  Her tunic lay on the floor where she'd been kneeling.

Wren pulled himself to a standing position, winching as the blood flowed freely from the cuts on his back.

Kill her, the voice screamed.  Fuck her and then-

"No," he gasped, swallowing and spitting the blood that filled his mouth.  He massaged his jaws and dead skin flaked away to reveal a single red scale.

The mage followed the elf.  She was slower than before as she paused periodically to scent the air.  He dared not ask her what she was tracking.

It hurts, he whined to himself.  He scratched his jaw and pressed his fingers against his cheeks.  But I was wrong.  I shouldn't have done that.  I shouldn't have.  That was wrong.  I am not- I'm not this person.  This- this foul creature that just takes whatever it wants.  Whatever female it wants.  That forces them down on their knees to pleasure-

He groaned, leaning against the wall and forcing his mind blank but his fingers toyed with a small, rare golden feather and the black leather cord tied around the base of the quill.  

Myril crouched at an irregular hole cut into the side of a passageway.  He sidled up to her but stayed out of reach when the two tentacles attached to her back rose tentatively at his approach.  He could see reddened skin beneath them, dotted with dark fur.

Beyond the elf, a vast cavern opened up beyond the hole but his eyes focused on her back.

Shouldn't have done that, the voice repeated, mocking his earlier thoughts.  His fingers brushed the silky vanes of the feather.  Shouldn't have done that.

It was a simple spell, fast and without a vocal component.  It would immobilize her instantly.  Even her.

---

Thel rested against the cool wall as Hessa circled in front of her.  The large creature paced in a figure eight.  Occasionally it would sit and stare down the passage Bertram and Alphene took.

"Something's wrong," Rielle said.  She looked up and tried to stand but her arms trembled against her staff.

Thel jumped up, instantly ready as her sharp ears angled back and then forward.  She scented the air but then looked down to the cleric.

"I don't smell anything," the paladin said.  She sighed and clenched her jaw when she realized what she said.  "At least nothing beyond the stench of corruption already tainting this place."

"No," the cleric said, reaching a hand out.  Thel pulled her gently up and the woman used the staff to steady herself.  "A judgment has been rendered and the hand that guides it is unnatural."

"Is it," Thel asked, pausing as she considered her words.  "Is it one of them?"

"Yes," Rielle answered bluntly.  "But, I cannot tell which."

"The thief is marked," Thel told her, turning to the elf's general direction.  "I can follow her to the edge of the world if needed.  But I can track the other two if needed.  The curse has certain benefits."

Rielle nodded, breathing deeply to draw her strength.

"Chal guides you," the paladin said.  "Where does she lead you?"

------

 Poll Choices:

1. Betram & Alphene enter the room

2. Wren casts the spell on Myril

3. They track Alphene & Bertram