Imyne couldn't even muster the strength to scream anymore. She simply let her body shake as the werewolf below forced her to ride him to climax.

She bit her lip to avoid moaning out in pain and pleasure. The monster seemed to laugh at her, getting rougher until he finally came. Her chest ached as she tried to ride out her own forced orgasm.

Her eyes went wide as she felt the werewolf trying to pull out of her. Her teeth bit deeper into her lip as she tried to avoid groaning out in pain. The monster simply laughed as he kept pulling, seeming to enjoy her discomfort and the way her auburn hair shook atop her head.

Eventually, the werewolf came out of her with a loud pop. Imyne immediately fell forward, panting as her hips and legs gave out beneath her. She managed to land on her side, pale skin clashing against the green grass below her. She looked up at the canopy above with blurred vision...that was soon taken up by a spurting murky white substance.

"Looks good on bitch," the werewolf growled while turning away from Imyne, "Ulf will be back later. Fill you with pups."

Imyne shivered in fear at the thought of bearing that thing's children. She waited until the feeling in her legs came back then pushed herself to her knees. She wiped the ejaculate from her eyes and beheld her fellow scouts.

Or at least, what had become of them.

To her left, blue haired Aldyia was curled up against a tree silently sobbing to herself. White, murky liquid dripped from between her thighs and covered the rest of her body. Some even dripped from her hair onto the ground. No tears fell from her eyes, as she had been crying the entire day.

Not ten feet from her, raven haired Eliza hung limply within the grasp of two werewolves. Both pumped away at her body, "sharing" her between the two of them. Four other werewolves stood around her, jerking themselves as they watched her violation with glee.

To her right, the two non-human members of her troop were screaming in abject pleasure. The Halfling, Bella, was hugging a werwolf as it held her up. Empty eyes contrasted the smile on her face as she cried out, "Oh~! Yes! Deeper! Harder! Be rougher with me~!"

Next to her the half-beast woman, Liz, was on all fours as another wolf took her from behind. She cried out in pleasure as the monster grabbed her brown furred, dog like tail and pulled on it. She didn't speak, but Imyne could see the expression on her face. Completely identical to the one on Bella's.

Imyne felt her heart sink at the sight. How did this happen? A day ago, the five of them were on patrol like usual. Liz and Aldyia were butting heads while Eliza asked Bella for tips on how to fix a broken sword for a man she was sweet on. She was taking up the rear, smiling as she watched her comrades of two years go through the motions.

Then the werewolves...they came out of no where.

They took Eliza first. She didn't see the ones that jumped from the trees. Aldyia tried to save her but got pinned by five of them. Bella and Liz managed to take out four of them, but got dragged down by the reinforcements.

She took out two, but could tell they were outnumbered. So she ran. She ran to get help. To find someone who could save her friends.

She didn't get far before the one called Ulf caught her.

After he took her virginity, she was dragged back to the rest of the pack. It was then she learned that this was a two-hundred strong pack. Likely sent by the Dark Queen herself. How they managed to get across the mountains without dying alluded her.

Not like it mattered now.

They were kept as the pack's "playthings" and "stress relief". Which just meant they were passed around and fucked by whatever monster decided to take them at the time.

Aldyia broke when ten werewolves took turns using her. She just wouldn't stop crying or curling in on herself. Wouldn't even scream anymore...or couldn't. Eliza didn't take long after that. She just went limp, the light in her eyes disappearing a few moments later. She's not sure when Liz and Bella broke. Nor did she know why they started to enjoy the rape.

All she knew was that she was the only one with her sanity left.

And, if she was going to get away, she had to wait for an opening.

Imyne pushed herself to one foot. She ignored the aching in her legs and thighs, examining her surroundings and the werewolves. The leader, a strange one that hadn't touched any of them despite being a monster, had taken a large portion of his force off into the woods. Likely to scout out the path forward or some other reason. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that he only left nine werewolves to watch them.

Werewolves who were currently pre-occupied with her comrades. Including Ulf, who was grabbing Aldyia's head.

Imyne mustered her resolve and looked to her west. She recognized this area from her patrols. If she was right, there was a road that led to Baskerville directly west of her position. If she ran, she could probably reach it and find help. If not on the road, then in the town itself. It was risky but she didn't have much to lose.

If she stayed, she'd be raped.

If she was caught, they'd rape her, then drag her back here to rape her some more as punishment.

But if she found someone...

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Imyne looked over at the werewolves. She had to time this just right. Just when they all started to cum, they'd be too busy and preoccupied to see her run away. And, if her experiences had taught her anything, it was that they should be climaxing any...second...

...Now!

Gathering all the strength she had left, Imyne dashed into the woods to her west. She ignored the brambles and briars cutting into her legs, pushed passed the low branches, and hopped over anything that was in her path. Her bare feet ached as she ran across hard leaves, rocks, and worse, but she kept going. She didn't stop for anything. Not even when she heard the sound of something chasing her. She kept her eyes focused on what was in front of her.

It had to be here. Just a bit more. Please...please...

The sounds started to close in on her...

Just as she felt her legs start to flag, she saw it. A light shining through the trees to mark the end of the forest. With one last burst of speed she jumped through the bushes and landed on the other side. She stumbled as her feet hit the ground, tumbling to the dirt road and scraping her body even further. She ignored the pain and looked up, hope surging through her as she beheld two people who stopped to look at her.

One wore silver armor that shined in the morning sun, while the other was a giant of a man that carried a large blade on his back.

A sound behind her made her turn around. Fear filled her as she saw Ulf leap from the forest with five other werewolves in tow. He snarled at her, spittle running down his jaws as he spoke, "Naughty bitch! Ulf take back! Ulf fuck until screaming!"

Imyne scrambled away from the monsters on all fours. She only stopped when she was behind the two strangers, grabbing the giant's leg while yelling, "N-no. Please...don't let them take me...please...no more."

She shivered as multiple emotions raced through her body and mind. Fear, anxiety, hope, relief, despair, and...

...And suddenly it all went away.

She felt a hand patting her head, her mind going back to when she was a child and her father did that to calm her down. She looked up at the giant of a man...and felt her breath hitch as her heart skipped a beat.

This man...she didn't know why but...just looking at him soothed her heart. It made her feel safe. Like she was under the warm embrace of the sun itself.

"Do not worry," he spoke in a stoic yet kind voice, "We will keep you safe."

Gwyn took his hand off the woman's head.

Then he turned to regard the furred monsters with curiosity. They appeared to be some strange fusion of man and wolf. Of the six, three loped around on all fours while the remaining three stood on two legs. Their hands ended in curved claws, their bodies were covered in dark brown and gray fur that seemed to be covered in sweat. Spittle dripped from open elongated snouts that held rows of sharp teeth within. Their yellow eyes shined with the type of intelligence you only see in beast and mad men. An instinctual kind that only sought to sate base urges.

"Interesting," Gwyn turned to Lily, one eye focused on the monsters that started to surround them, "Lily, did you encounter any creatures such as these during your travels."

Lily shook her head, ignoring the three circling werewolves as they snarled at the two of them, "Not exactly, my Lord. I faced wolves and strange wolf-like creatures that stood on two legs. But I can't recall a time I fought these type of creatures exactly."

"I see. Excuse me, young lady," Gwyn turned to the woman hiding behind his leg, startling her from her thoughts, "Apologies, but my companion and I are not native to this land. Could you tell me what the creatures we face are called?"

"W-w-werewolves," she stuttered out, not paying any real attention to what Gwyn said.

Gwyn nodded, "And what is your name, young lady?"

"Im-I-Imyne."

"Imyne. A wonderful name. Now, could you please release my leg? I will require it to deal with these monsters."

Imyne did as the Lord of Sunlight bade. She released his leg and fell onto her backside. She could only stare as Gwyn stepped forward and placed a hand on the hilt of his blade.

"My Silver Knight," he spoke, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "I ask you to defend Lady Imyne. I shall deal with these monsters."

"Of course, Lord Gwyn. If anyone gets past you, they shall contend with me," Lily reached into her Bottomless Box and withdrew one of the Ringed Knight Greatswords from within. Imyne's eyes went wide as she beheld Lily heft the massive blade like it was a toy. She turned back to look at Gwyn...and her shock only grew.

His blade was longer and thicker than the Silver Knight's...yet he held in in a single hand. He separated his feet as he took a fighting stance that looked to be full of openings from Imyne's perspective. He presented his left side to the enemy despite having no shield or other way to defend himself. She could see the chain-mail beneath his clothes, but she knew that would do little against the werewolves' claws. She just couldn't understand why he took such a stance.

A dreadful fear seeped into Imyne.

The fear that she just got two innocent people killed in an attempt to save her friends.

"This is quite a development, is it not Lily," Gwyn continued to speak in a casual tone, even as the werewolves closed in. He turn to look at the Silver Knight with a small grin on his face, "Not even a day out of Baserkville and we are tasked to save a maiden from a pack of monsters."

"It is a tale of legends come to life, Lord Gwyn."

As Gwyn nodded to Lily's response, the werewolves made their move.

With a growl, one went low planning to hamstring Gwyn's right leg. Another dove for his sword arm, hoping to hold it in place and stop him from attacking. A third went for his throat, planning to rip it out while he was injured.

Imyne closed her eyes, certain that her actions had been for naught.

She heard three swift swings of a blade. Then the sound of three bodies hitting the ground.

She dared open her eyes...and her mouth gaped at what she saw.

All three of the werewolves that tried to attack Gwyn were dead on the ground. The one that went for his arm was bisected vertically down the middle. The one that went for his throat was bisected horizontally, its torso having flown over him and landed on the ground behind him. The last one had been stabbed through the back before it could even get close to his legs. It didn't have a chance to struggle, the blade big enough to pierce through its back and head. Gwyn swiftly pulled his weapon from the monster and swung it to the side. The blood splattered onto the ground, leaving the blade spotless and shining in the morning sun.

Imyne was speechless. She didn't see what happened, but she knew there was no way one man could kill three werewolves that quickly without taking a single hit. The only people skilled enough to do that were on of the Seven Shields or Vault.

Could...could this man be...?

"Grrr...," Ulf growled in fear as his remaining two werewolves began to back away from Gwyn. The Lord of Sunlight looked up and shook his head.

Ulf and Imyne blinked at the same time.

Then Gwyn was in front of the three werwolves, his sword already in motion.

The three werewolves jumped back in an attempt to dodge the horizontal attack...only to be sliced in twain as the reach of the weapon exceeded their jumps. Their dismembered bodies fell to the floor with wet thumps. Blood pooled on the dirt road, seeping into the ground below. Gwyn swung the blood off his blade then looked at it.

"Hmm. That was faster than I anticipated," Gwyn stated while moving back to Imyne, "I'm afraid you were not needed this time, Lily."

"It is fine, my Lord. I am simply honored to able to see you battle such monsters," Lily tilted her head in respect to the Lord of Sunlight. Gwyn nodded then turned to address Imyne.

Before he could speak, however, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She screamed through the tears in her eyes, "Please! Please save my friends!"

"What do you MEAN she got away!?"

The werewolf flinched under his alpha's furious anger. His tail went between his legs as he whimpered under the burning yellow eyes of his leader. He spoke with clear terror in his voice, "P-p-pretty lady. Ran when we not looking. Bu-but Ulf took some others to chase. They catch her soon."

He felt some of his fear abate as he told of Ulf's actions...only to have it dashed as Roffe smacked him across the face with a closed fist. The werewolf flew into a tree, his back making a loud cracking nose as he smashed into the tough wood. He fell to the ground and didn't get back up.

"You damn fools!" he shouted, cowing the other werewolves around him. He turned to the rest of his pack, "If you all didn't think with your dicks so much, this never would've happened! Now, you may have completely ruined our plan!"

"Bu-but alpha. Won't Ulf catch lady?" one of his pack dared to ask, "He did before."

"Yes. When we were far from civilization and had no chance of running into anyone who could find or help her. Now?"

Roffe pointed a claw in the direction Ulf had run, "Down that way is a single dirt road that leads straight to our target. Knowing Ulf, when he catches her he'll take hours fucking her as 'punishment for running away'. Time for someone from Baskerville to hear the commotion and send someone to check it out. Where they'll find Ulf and discover us! You fucking idiots!"

Roffe's outburst sent the rest of his pack scrambling back. None wanted to be close to the Alpha when he was this angry. Lest they end up like the dead werewolf not ten feet away from them on the ground. Roffe panted with rage, his mind working overtime to try to think of what to do. He felt a pull on his leg and found the beastwoman wrapping her arms around his thigh. Her pointed brown ears flicked back and forth as she panted up at him. Her tail shook alongside her hips as she pleaded with her eyes for him to take her.

He growled and kicked her away, "Get off of me!"

She landed next to the four remaining women, smile still on her face and a hand going between her thighs. Eliza and Aldyia were hugging each other while Bella was doing the same thing as Liza, yelling for someone to fuck her. Roffe turned back to his pack and growled to himself. This was his fault. He was the one who let his pack keep those women for so long. He thought they could stay focused on the task at hand, only fucking if they had a moment to themselves. Figures he had put too much faith in them. If he had just killed the women after everyone (excluding him) had a turn, none of this would've happened. They would've kept going to Baskerville, taken the town, and been on their way to Rad.

But no. He didn't do that.

Now he had to deal with this, lest their entire plan come crashing down.

Rubbing a hand down his face, he pointed a claw in the direction Ulf had run, "Forget it. Half of you go find Ulf. If he's under attack, help him and kill whoever showed up. Don't let a single one of them get away. And if they have women, kill them too. We can't risk this again."

"Yes, Alpha! Yes!" the pack said in unison, one hundred werewolves dashing into the western part of the forest.

Roffe waited until their forms disappeared into the trees. Then he turned to the remaining one hundred, "The rest of you come with me. We're going to go to Baskerville and take it down before-"

"GAAH!"

The familiar scream of pain made Roffe pause in his orders. His head swiveled to the western edge of their camp, the rest of the pack following his gaze. Screams of pain and the sound of bloody deaths echoed through the trees. Each one sounding far too similar to a pained scream of one of their own. After a few minutes the, the noises stopped.

And replacing them were the sounds of armored footsteps moving through the trees.

Roffe acted quickly, "Half of you hide in the woods east of the camp. Stay close enough to see us, but don't come out until I give the signal."

"A-Alpha why-"

"JUST DO IT!"

Fifty of the werewolves dashed into the underbrush east of the camp. Once they were hidden, Roffe pointed at what remained of the pack, "The rest of you form up around me and in front of the women. The enemy's gonna be coming from there, so be ready to face them. Got it?"

They all nodded at his words. He waved for them to form up and the fifty remaining werewolves soon surrounded their leader. Roffe made sure he melted into the crowed while moving close to the women. If push came to shove, they would make great hostages.

The werewolves stood firm, growling and baring their fangs at the western edge of their camp. After a few minutes, the armored footsteps grew louder and a form walked through the forest and into their camp. They looked like a Knight, but not one any of the werewolves had ever seen. Their armor completely covered their body from head to toe and had no features identifying their sex at all. It was silver at one point, but the mountain of crimson blood, pieces of dark fur, and cut up organs diluted the original color. And, judging by the smell that hung around them, none of that blood was theirs. In their hands were two identical, massive greatswords. Their blade edges seemed to glow with an inner fire that seemed to warp the air around them.

Roffe could already tell that they were outmatched. He didn't know who this person was. But if they were able to kill one hundred werewolves on their own, then his remaining fifty had little chance. Perhaps it was time he cut his losses and ran...no. Whoever they were, they were alone. And he still had the rest of his pack in hiding. If they attacked, he could simply wait until they weren't paying attention. Then he'd call in the rest and they'd swarm them.

He still had a chance.

The newcomer scoffed while wiping the fur and organs off their body, "Ah. I will need to clean this armor later. A shame. I really like it."

Then they turned back to the gathered pack. Their helmeted head slowly swept the entirety of them, until they landed on the captured women up against a tree. They watched them for a time before turning back to the monsters, "I will say this once: Release the Maidens if you value your lives. Otherwise, step forward and face a Silver Knight."

The newcomer pointed their blade out towards the werewolves. Some could sense the killing intent radiating off them. They started to back away, with only Roffe's presence preventing them from running off into the woods. The alpha let out a low growl which turned into a high pitched howl. Soon the other werewolves joined him, all howling at the morning sun in an attempt to raise their courage.

"Attack!" Roffe shouted while pointing at the newcomer from behind the rest of the pack. On command, the fifty werewolves rushed towards the lone Knight. Their steps kicked up dust as they dashed forward, claws and teeth ready to tear into the foe for killing their fellows. Meanwhile, Roffe stepped over to stand next to the women and raised a hand to be ready to give the signal.

The newcomer remained undaunted. They merely watched the tide of fur and claw as it ran towards them without a single emotional reaction. Then, as the wolves closed the distance, pulled their blades back and made ready to strike.

The first five werewolves reached them and lept into action.

The Knight swung their right blade once.

All five were cleaved through, their bodies sent flying into more of their fellows. Five more tried to come at their feet, but were splattered to the side by the blade in their left hand. Others kept coming, thinking they would be slow to recover after the first two swings.

They were soon proven wrong as the Knight whirled around, their blades dragging along the ground as they became a vortex of death. Any werewolf that got close was either cut in two or slammed into the ground, their bones shattered by the force of the attack. Then they somehow jumped into the air with their blades held over their head. Ten werewolves stopped and tried to block the attack with their arms...only to be sliced in two as the blade sliced through their bodies. Two werewolves managed to get behind the enemy and sliced at their back with their claws...only to watch in horror as their natural weapons shattered against the surface of the armor.

They were soon cut in twain by an errant cut from the Knight.

Roffe could only stare in abject horror at the slaughter. His pack tried every tactic he had taught them. Surround the enemy, go for their legs, attack the gaps in their armor, even dog-piling ontop of the foe.

None of it worked. They were either killed, thrown off, or knocked away to be killed a moment later.

He knew this wasn't a normal fighter...but he hadn't expected this. They swung those blades to and fro as if their weight didn't matter in the slightest. And wherever they swung one of his own died. And that was just on the offensive. Their defenses seemed almost impregnable. Whether by claw, fang, or fist, no blow managed to break through their armored body. His fifty strong pack seemed completely useless in front of the newcomer's assault. Not even grabbing their limbs was enough to slow them down. They simply swung the clinging werewolves into their fellows, using them like living bludgeons.

They had the enemy outnumbered.

But they were completely outmatched.

Even more so than he had originally anticipated.

He had to call in the reinforcements. Now. They'd come in and he'd use one of the women as a hostage. Then the enemy would be forced to-

"I assume you are the leader of this group of monsters."

Roffe felt his blood run cold. Slowly, painfully, he turned his head to his right. Standing there, looming over him, and staring him down with uncaring eyes, was a man tall enough to block out the sun. He had emerged from the forest...the east side of the forest.

Where his hidden werewolves were supposed to be.

And Roffe knew what the blood on his blade smelled like.

"If so, I must inform you, that you will not get a chance to use any of those women as a hostage."

Roffe stared up at the giant.

Then her turned and tried to lunge for the halfling.

His head flew off before his feet could leave the ground.