Becoming the Witch’s Familiar

With one final stroke, Eldura had completed her masterpiece.

The painting was of a simple subject, but one that could be construed as important given the time and care dedicated to its immortalization onto the canvas.

“Well…” A voice rang out in the back of the studio, one that came with the accompanying fragrance of flowers, “This might be your best one yet.” Her arms wrapped around her fellow witch’s waist, embracing the rail-thin woman against her fairly ample bosom.

Eldura smiled.

It was a relatively new arrangement, but one she found herself leaning on more and more. Putting down the brush and palette, she turned around and framed her hand around her lover’s face, “You think so?” She could not help but giggle at the compliment, “I think it’s only just alright…”

Pulling her face towards her, the visiting witch kissed Eldura deeply.

Her tongue danced around the thin woman’s mouth. Running circles around the tip and sucking her tongue into her mouth, the blonde witch was in top form.

“Ooh! Babe! You must be worked up today!” The witch with the overbite managed, finally breaking away from the lips of her lover. She was already wet with excitement, another thing she had been growing appreciative of these days.

The blonde witch locked eyes with Eldura, her expression growing dark. “Call me ‘babe’ again.” Her nose was small, the bridge thin with the tip pointed up. Batting her long eyelashes, the painterly witch felt powerless against such an onslaught.

“And what would you do to me if I did, my little flower?” Eldura teased, her thin frame sliding out of her lover’s grasp. While the onomancer was tall, her partner was by no means short as well. The woman before her’s breasts were lively and full, a strong indication of good genes and a solid upbringing before making her pact, something neither of which Eldura had access to before signing her own.

The second witch’s smile turned sweet, an endearing quality. Much like the flora she bore the name of, she had a charming face with hidden thorns. “Well…” She strode forward, emanating an air of playful coyness, “I would kiss you on the lips…”

She leaned forward, showing her alluring cleavage, peeking from her pink ensemble. The fairly basic wardrobe matched her similarly pastel pink hat, “I would rub my special tonics on you, especially on your sore back…”

“And then maybe…” The witch drew close to Eldura once more, her hand lightly grazing the space between her lover’s thin thighs, “Treat you to something nice?”

The Onomancer was putty in her visitor’s hands.

“You know how to get a rise out of me, babe…”

- - - -

Eldura’s nipple pebbled in the blonde witch’s mouth. She loved it when someone teased them with their teeth, it made her feel as if she was being someone’s plaything. She felt her pussy quiver as her lover’s finger slowly found it’s way inside. The finger was slow, making sure to stroke each wall that sent shocking sensations up the receiver’s spine.

The flowery witch claimed to be fairly new at the subtle art of pleasuring her fellow women, but picked it up just as quickly as the magicks that came with her pact.

“Mmm… Deeper, darling…” Eldura’s spindly arms wrapped around her own head, pulling her long straight black hair, helpless to the pleasure forced upon her. While short, the finger hit where it needed to, rubbing her pubic bone in a circular motion. She had a few male suitors she kept and a few toys for when they died on her, but no one knew how to pleasure her womanhood like another woman.

Leaving gentle red bite marks on the flat witch’s tit, the blonde witch smiled once more, “Are you sure you have everything under control? Ashara’s been around a bit longer than the rest of us…”

Squirming to the finger still massaging her insides, Eldura could barely manage anything greater than a moan, “Th-that stupid bitch…” She could barely think of what to say, “Acts like she knows more… More than all of us.”

Lifting up her lover’s face, their lips met. Her partner even had plump lips to match her fuller figure, something she would always be jealous of, but certainly enjoyed in this moment. “With your help, we can stomp her back down… Back to her level…”

The flower witch’s smile bore it’s thorns once more.

Adding a second finger and pushing past the pubic bone, they found a small bump that no one but Eldura and now her lover knew about. Like a small nipple that existed against her cervix, it stood erect and starved for attention.

Her eyes rolled back, forgetting about everything she had just said as her partner flicked the small nub deep inside her.

“I’ll lend you my most precious to ensure you don’t fuck-” the witch bit her lip. Father had always told her not to swear, lest she turned into… Well, a witch. “-mess this up, dear… We can’t have you ruining the plans.”

Eldura could not hear a thing. She ran her fingers through the blonde mess she made on her sex partner, pulling the hair as her legs did not know whether to bend or lay straight. “Oh Asphodel! Asphodel!”

- - - -

Steam surged from the creature’s nostrils with every breath.

Appearing almost similar to a male dwarf, it stood head and shoulders above the women before it. As it snarled, it unveiled a row of daggers within it’s jaw. Teeth capable of rending flesh as easy as a hot knife through butter, the creature stood strong as it chose the first prey of the night.

The horn on it’s head was as full and sharp as a direwolf’s, leading one to believe it was some sort of strange variation of such.

“Uh… Witch? Do you know what that thing is?” Sara shouted as the creature’s red eyes fixated on her.

Once again, the witch seemed unfazed by such an occurrence. “Hmmm…” She mused, treating the twisted creature more like an art piece rather than a ravenous monster, “He appears to be a direwolf dragged over from Alzahett and modified with esoteric- no, onomantic magicks… Certainly Eldura’s handiwork!”

With a sudden burst of speed, the bipedal wolf dashed forward. With hands and jaws open, Sara narrowly ducked out of the way of the charging monster, causing it to run past. It’s limbs flailed with unnecessary movements as it tried to slow itself down. Now, more than ever, Sara wished she had a weapon.

“Okay, do you have an idea on how to kill it?”

Ashara shrugged, “Cut off his head or stab him in the heart?”

The succubus had no time to feel the headache come on, “Obviously, you bitch! But that’s fucking hard to do without anything to cut or stab it with!”

Regaining it’s footing, the man-wolf turned around, somehow filled with even more rage than it had upon it’s arrival. Getting low to the ground this time, it prepared another lunge.

“Why not charm it and suck it dry of it’s mana?” The Archivist suggested.

Sara shook her head wildly. Never would she entertain such a thought.

Years of experience took over instead, causing her to leap for the fire, narrowly dodging the creature’s immense form lunging for her once again. Rolling awkwardly beside the flame, she quickly reached for a stick, the end alight.

Wielding the makeshift weapon, Sara felt wieldy with only one grip upon the fairly long branch. The wolf stood once more, not even considering the open flame a threat.

It had been quite some time since she held a weapon, even an impromptu one like this, but the many years of training and sparring allowed her to slide back into where she left off. Her mind ran the figures of what to do, what tools she had at her disposal and how to deal with the beast figuratively, and literally, single-handedly.

The monster drew near, using it’s imposing figure to intimidate the woman before it.

Sara could smell the musk of the creature. The imposing rippling muscles were both fascinating and terrifying. It licked it’s jowls as it examined her meaty form as if choosing which bone to gnaw on first.

Going on the offensive, what one should do when fighting such a beast, the former knight took a modified fencing stance. Stepping forward and twisting her arm, she drove the flaming end into the creature’s chest.

In the half moment’s hesitation as she saw the man-wolf was unfazed by the flaming blow, it grasped the stick and wrenched it out of her grip.

Tossing the weapon aside, the flame went out quickly against the lush plants somewhere out in the darkness.

“Witch!” Sara shouted, watching her options quickly dwindle before her, “Fucking help me out here!”

Checking her long straight black hair for split-ends, she nonchalantly chirped up, “It’s a monster altered by onomancy. Have you tried saying it’s true name?”

The succubus ducked out of a swipe. She threw herself backwards, barely landing on her feet. She needed to stay out of the wolf’s range, as it could crush her if given the chance. “And what the fuck would that be? Rover? Fido?”

“No, you silly goose!” Ashara chuckled, “It’s tsaragarsavir-longitsvummr-ashgnosis!”

Slashing against her waist, the direwolf’s nails rendered her skin into ribbons.

“Fuck! Shit! Give me real fucking help, you bitch!” Sara knew that the fight was quickly coming to a close, most likely not in her favor. Her wound began to burn, the real pain most likely numbed by the fact that it was not her real body that got injured.

The witch shrugged, “Maybe hit it’s crest or something?”

Sara had not noticed the glowing purple rune alighting the creature’s lower waist in the dim light, she tried her best not to look down there as much as she could. Much similar to the one she had, it appeared to be a Familiar’s Crest, although far less complicated than what she had bore upon her before a visit from this creature’s master.

Her mind raced as she contemplated whether or not it was worth approaching such a monster just for a possibility of a weakness. Her own crest did not ever hurt, if anything, it had the opposite effect when touched, once more something she would never consider doing.

Deciding to go for the killing blow, the upright direwolf crouched down to a leaping stance, one it may have done before it was altered into it’s current twisted form.

The succubus was about to be this creature’s feast.

With another leap, far more coordinated than the last, the direwolf leapt upon the devil.

It’s hot breath pimpled her skin as it’s teeth were mere inches from her throat. She knew that she would not die if it bit this throat, but it would make surviving immensely harder. In a trained motion, it growled as it reared it’s head back and-

“Aughhh!” Bellamy screamed as it’s body wrapped itself around the wolf’s head.

In a fit of confusion, the creature lifted it’s hand to claw at the white jelly covering it’s face, allowing Sara’s hand to be freed. With an old familiar sensation returning to her, she slammed her palm against the creature’s chest.

“Jump off of it!” The succubus shouted as she wormed out of the man-wolf’s pin as the monster started to rise.

Despite the desperate swipes, the sharpened nails clawing away at the strange substance now enveloping it’s skull, the slime held on. “No!” Bellamy shouted as it ascended along with the fellow monster. The self-proclaimed alchemist appeared to be struggling to restrain the creature, globs being torn off, lying inert on the ground they splat upon.

Snarling and ineffectively clawing at the gunk that clogged it’s mouth and nostrils, the wolf began to slowly turn into the air, now freed from the constraints of gravity. Every swipe and kick rotated the creature as it grew more and more reckless with it’s motions. Gnashing it’s teeth and kicking with it’s feet ineffectively, the direwolf struggled within the slime’s grip as it’s airways were being restricted.

“I have been gifted an opportunity to redeem myself before you both! Allow me to capitalize on such an event!” Bellamy sounded the same despite being wrapped around the man-wolf’s head, the sphere remaining in the slime with them.

After another minute of the monster remaining suspended in the air, life slowly being choked out of it, the strange dire wolf finally went limp.

---

Monster notes: Great Horns

Hailing from the far flung lands of Rhelor, Great Horns are massive mammals that can grow to roughly the size of an evergreen tree. Named after their equally impressive ivory that can be shaped into many ways and forms, they are furred mammals with six great toes upon each leg roughly as thick as a log. Their bodies hang low to the ground, and they are uniformly herbivores with tiny heads as compared to their imposing figures. While sharing the aspect of massive horns, there is little shared between the two as there are currently two known breeds of beast (and reason to suspect even more exist within the Origin of Storms): Roaring and Decorative.

Roaring Great Horns, the larger of the two, let loose bellows that can be felt anywhere on the continent. Using the dense trees to project the sound further, these gorgeous beasts create what is known as 'dirges' to the native Tundrafolk when a fellow Great Horn is found dead. The lowest order of these mighty beasts, they are still capable of understanding basic orders and the occasional one can be found in assisting in labor within Tundrafolk camps. Their very blood is said to assist in virility, causing a brief stint of poaching, before the 'greater' breed of Great Horn taught those alive to resist the hunters.

Decorative Great Horns are much smaller, roughly the size of a home and frequently show the ability to follow more complex instructions. Denoted as 'Decorative', their horns can come in more twisted or 'full' shapes and patterns, often painted by other Great Horns as a strange form of ritual. The dense fur that cover such lumbering beasts is known the world over as exquisite, collected passively from the beasts as deceased relatives are often collected by those remaining and taken within the Origin. The Tundrafolk refer to these beasts as 'K'naenrae' or 'Enlightened Ones' after spending centuries upon the abandoned continent.

When pried upon what lay within the Origin of Storms, both devils and those who are foolish enough to enter describe the fauna as something that should neither exist on this dimension nor within the twelve hells. As the storm expands, Great Horns continue to show a great tie to what lay beyond, showing that what we know currently is only but a tiny fraction as to what they are certain of.