***Vendrith Kinzena***

“You did what!?” Vendrith Kinzena demanded, standing behind his desk.

“I let Sasha Honnuken go. She’d been imprisoned for six weeks and was quite obviously not pregnant.” Raze said, his voice as monotone and bored as ever.

“Who gave you the order to do that!?” Vendrith growled. He still hadn’t decided how best to leverage Sasha against The Immortal.

“It was implied that were she not pregnant, she would be released.” Raze said.

“What I say to her to give her hope and what I want you to do are two different things.”

“My mistake,” Raze said, completely unrepentant. “I’ll go kidnap her in front of her uncle, then.”

“NO!” Vendrith shouted, his forehead pounding. He knew Raze was trying to make him angry, and by all the gods, it was working. Despite his son’s hobbling, he was still quite the willful one.

“You need to learn your place,” Vendrith muttered.

“What place would that be?” Raze asked, hands clasped behind his back “As far as I’m aware, I’m your successor as The Omnipresent ever since Kalzeth was killed on Earth.”

Vendrith’s expression soured.

Kalzeth had been the only one in the family who could hold a candle to Raze, if only a candle. But Raze was no longer a real option as a successor either.

He’d been hobbled by the cursemark. Mentally damaged. Rendered void of emotion and will, stupefied, with a leash that anyone with the power could grab hold of, and no patriarch could be allowed to have such a liability.

The only problem was, no one besides Vendrith knew about the cursemark, so everyone else in the family expected Raze to succeed, and they treated him accordingly.

It was maddening. If Raze hadn’t forced his father’s hand, he might even be the Omnipresent right now.

Do I have to put all my hopes on one of my nieces shitting out a prodigy? How long do I even have?

Vendrith was in perfect health. One of the perks of a close alliance with the Honnekun family. But he was old, and he felt it in his bones. Eventually it wouldn’t be enough.

He met Raze’s eyes. Saw the cold calculation buried deep underneath the constant confusion. The unquenchable rage shimmering through the apathy of the curse.

How long can you last, old man? Raze seemed to say with his intense stare.

“Enough, I’ll do damage control,” Vendrith said, waving dismissively. “You keep your eyes on the Dinamore stretch.”

“Oh that. Overnight, The Vith crossed the entire stretch, bypassing several minor forts and destroyed the southern castle.”

Vendrith’s blood ran cold.

“You’re kidding.”

Raze continued staring back at his father, his hands tucked behind his back. Expressionless, and definitely not kidding.

“They seem to be under new leadership.”

***Nema***

“Some of you may know me by reputation,” The naked woman said, pacing in front of the assembled Vith. “A select few of you may have even seen me in person.” She said, her gaze alighting on Gunn for just a moment before she continued.

“I’m not going to give you a speech about how I’ve changed, and come to appreciate your people or your values. It would be a lie. None of that matters to me. The only thing I know about Vith is that you’re among the most fun people I’ve ever had the opportunity to slaughter.”

“I do like a challenge.” She said with a demonic smile.

“No. You don’t need a reformed Outsider that has suddenly had an epiphany about the value of sapient life.”

“What you need is a MONSTER!” She said, raising her fists in the air. “A remorseless machine that will deliver the horror of war into your enemy’s very homes!”

“What’s with this woman?” One of the warriors asked. “Is she playing at being a warrior or something?”

“Excellent!” Kar’ell said, pointing out the warrior in the crowd. “A volunteer!”

Gunn raised his finger, then thought better of it and shrugged. “Just don’t kill him.”

“Deal. Come here, meatbag.” She said, crooking her finger. “I wanna play with you.”

Nema winced.

“Sound fun,” The warrior said with a cocky grin, pushing his way through the crowd. “Never could down an opportunity to do a little naked wrestl- Oh By the gods!”

In the space a sharp breath, the slender tattooed woman grew over a foot and a half, towering over the Vith warrior, her body turning dark red with boney armor protrusions across her entire body.

The Vith warrior yelped and tried to leap backwards, but the creature caught his ankle and began wielding the poor man’s body like a club, slamming him into the ground over and over while the crowd recoiled away from the sudden violence.

After a good thirty seconds of beating a Vith-sized hole in the dirt, Gunn cleared his throat and tightened his grip on the steel spear.

“Here’s the plan.” Kar’ell said, casually tossing the Vith aside, where he climbed unsteadily to his feet and limped away, aided by his friends.

“I was watching the history channel on Earth when I was introduced to a concept I grew rather fond of: Blitzkrieg, or Lightning-war. Kinzena are so used to being the fast ones, but how far can a Vith run in a single night? A thousand miles? With the supply deliveries the sperm donor has arranged for you, what do you need supply lines for? They’ve become meaningless.

“I think it’s time those soft-handed southerners get a rock-hard Vith cock up their asses.”

“Is she normally this crude?” Nema whispered to Suzie, who had become a purple-skinned woman with horns.

“Honestly she’s usually worse. She hasn’t killed anyone, violated any corpses, and didn’t describe the shape or color of the cock at all.” Suzie responded quietly. “She’s really famous for that back home.”

“You there!” Kar’ell said, pointing at Suzie.

“Shit.” Suzie uttered.

“Ilspeth eighty-nine?” Kar’ell asked, cocking her head.

“It’s Suzie now.” Suzie responded. “I got myself a Name.”

“Ah,” Kar’ell said, her expression brightening as she approached. “That’s fantastic news, I assumed congratulations are in order!” She said extending her hand.

“Well, thank you, I- EEEK!”

“Kar’ell grabbed the purple mottled outsider and heaved her over her head, spinning to show her to the assembled crowd.

“And with this slack-jawed, big-tittied tongue-fucking frog-desk-jockey, we can track exactly where they’ve taken the sperm donor and kick their collective nuts into their mouths!”

***Tom Graves****

Tom and Lily lay on the top of the grassy hill overlooking their high school, skipping school to fool around. Lily’s hands roamed Tom’s body while Tom’s did the same, slipping under her clothes and exploring exciting new places…

“Wait,” Tom said, gasping for air as he broke away from the passionate, wildly enthusiastic kisses. “Wait.”

Lily paused and looked up at him, her raven hair framing that perfect pout.

“You’re not just having sex with me because I’m an En’hol, are you?” he asked.

Lily frowned, a brief look of concern on her face. Rather than respond, she reached behind her and pulled something gold out of her purse.

Is that a –

“I thought this might happen as we get closer to consummating. You’re drifting. I’m gonna reset your femur now.” She said, holding the crypt to his forehead.

Wait, what?

SCRAPE!

******

Tom’s scream was cut off as the buxom healer muffled it with her thigh while her hands yanked on his leg with pitiless strength, causing the very bone to scrape against itself, radiating a sensation and a sound that a human body should not be subjected to.

“EEP!”

The healer squeaked as Tom involuntarily bit down.

“~!”

As his leg radiated a strange warmth, Tom heard deep voices calling in a foreign language. The language of the southerners. Of the Kinzena.

Tom craned his neck to scan the area.

He was lying on a grassy field with a girl on top of him.

That’s probably what triggered that…dream? Memory? Scrying?

The rest of the situation was significantly less nostalgic.

His leg was covered in blood, he had a rip in his pants where the bone must have jutted out of his leg just a moment ago.

Thank you God for pain-induced memory loss. Maybe blood-loss induced memory loss.

Now the tear in his pants revealed nothing but pale, unbroken flesh.

Above him loomed a huge, windowless tower, where he’d come from. The grass they lay on was a field of some hundred or so feet around the tower in every direction, surrounded by a high wall with guards patrolling, wielding lamps using Fresnel lenses to concentrate the tiny flame into spotlights.

Spotlights that were moving across the grass, straight toward them.

“Hold your breath.” Tom said, despite knowing she couldn’t possibly understand what he was saying.

He wrapped the arm that was holding the Crypt around the honnuken. His other hand formed a claw that dug deep into the turf as he watched the beam of light approaching them.

Tom’s heart pounded as the spotlights got closer and closer, approaching from both sides as the men on the wall meticulously scanned the grass.

Gotta time this just right, Tom thought as the Honnuken wiggled in his grip.

-NOW!

With a quiet grunt, Tom hauled himself toward the wall, building as much momentum as he possibly could by bucking forward, shoving off the grass with his legs.

As he was about to flop back down to the earth, Tom triggered the Ghostwalk crypt.

The crypt didn’t normally put you through the floor, in fact, it had parts that prevented you from going into the ground, unless that was what you wanted.

In which case, you would sink into the ground something like a piece of driftwood, sinking down for a moment before your buoyancy lifted you back up.

Another safety feature. The creators of the crypt were highly aware that getting stuck in the middle of a solid substance was basically a death sentence, so there were a lot of safety features designed into the crypt.

The one Tom was taking advantage of was that the crypt always reserved enough magic to push the user out of whatever surface they were in if the Soul pulses were cut off.

Tom cut off the flow, and the two of them bobbed back up to the surface of the field, having slipped through approximately twenty feet of grass while they were underground. Tom looked down and spotted the spotlight drifting across where they had just been.

“Alright, just…four more times. No problem.”

To Tom’s surprise, once they got to the surface, the Honnuken girl didn’t squirm or try to detach herself. She seemed to understand what Tom was doing.

Her body tensed, hands gripping the grass.

“Now.” Tom said, before lunging forward. The healer did it too, adding far more momentum to their underground drifting.

When they bobbed back to the surface of the grass, Tom realized they only had two more to go, having crossed thirty feet this time.

“Now.”

They drifted quietly through the unnatural silence of the underground.

“Now.” Their timing was perfect on the last one, carrying them that extra few feet beyond the walls of the prison yard.

They resurfaced in a cobblestone street outside the ominous walls.

They were in what appeared to be a Victorian era city in the middle of the night, only faintly lit by the massive lanterns towered above the street, shiny metal hoods reflecting most of their light back down to the ground.

Still, there were deep pools of darkness off the main street, which Tom and the blond healer were resting in.

“~” she said something quietly in her language as she rose to her feet. Tom had no idea what she was saying and decided to interpret it however he wanted.

“Yes, you’re welcome, but this is where we part ways,” Tom said, still laying on his back. “I’m sure you’ve immediately fallen hopelessly in love with me, and from what I can tell, you’re a very nice lady, and I appreciate you fixing the leg, but I’ve got what appears to be a really long walk ahead of me, and while you’re not not my type, I’m currently seeing someone, so I’ve gotta nip this in the bud before it gets out of hand.

“We can still be friends though. Cool?” Tom asked.

Rather than answer, the girl with eyes as bright as the blue flame of a gas stove extended her hand, to where Tom lay.

I suppose I should stand up, shouldn’t I?

Tom clasped her hand and grunted as she hauled him up with more strength than he expected from someone with her frame.

She bit her lip as Tom rose to his full six foot five, then her eyes widened as Tom’s eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled backwards like a felled tree.

Blood loss is a bitch.