The sounds of metal objects clashing echoed through the darkness. Two foes matched each other blow for blow, neither willing to let a single scratch be laid upon their bodies. On one side was the risen Dwarf King Gilder Ironheart IX, reborn via the sacrifice of his ancestors into the form of a Dwarven Hero God. The other side was held by a monstrous mockery of both animal and man; Rippa Steelwhiskers fought like a demon, her hideous face twisted in a mix of delight and satisfaction.

“How lucky-fortunate that you would come-come to us! Now I get to kill-kill you myself!”

Gilder said nothing in return, merely speeding up his swings and dishing out more Rune Magic to try and defeat the twisted abomination in front of him. It was strange; he should be so much more powerful now, yet he was unable to make a single mark on the damned rat-bitch’s armor, let alone its flesh. He was growing restless. The rat-bitch was countering his double-headed battle axe by dual-wielding twin halberds, each of them covered in what he assumed to be a mixture of gore, hazardous chemicals and foul plagues.

He had managed to keep this hideous monster from landing a blow on him so far, but he could feel that the tide was slowly turning in the rat-bitch’s favor. It seemingly had an unlimited amount of stamina and unlike himself it seemed to be able to unleash Martial Skills without verbal commands.

If that wasn’t bad enough, its tail was tipped with a long, curved and serrated blade that was obviously treated in the same manner as the monster’s halberds. He could only imagine and dream of having watched the monster before him wince and scream in pain as the weapon was bolted and fused to the flesh of its worm-like tail. Still, he could not let his mind wander, for if he did the rat-whore would take first blood.

“Rippa, stop toying with the fool and end it.”

The tallest of the five monsters lounged on a chair build from the bones of Gilder’s own people. As it had watched the fight it ripped off and consumed the flesh from the fried leg of a Dwarven woman, mumbling to itself about how it needed to get some decent oil, salt, pepper, various other seasonings, eggs and wheat flour to make a decent deep fried drumstick.

Fucking savages. To view his people as mere food; he was going to enjoy gutting the lot of them. He was concerned by what the biggest monster-bitch had said, but he was sure that it was just trying to make him panic. After all, he was now a Hero God, the same as the first of his line! He had the power, the speed, the stamina, the equipment and the size! He should be able to dominate these mangy, disgusting monstrosities before long! All he had to do was focus a little more of his power on killing the armored shitstain in front of him and then move on to the next one and he would-.

Lost in his own internal monologue, Gilder let his guard slip for a moment. Rippa took full advantage of that lapse in concentration and her tail whipped out from behind her a sliced between the openings in Gilder’s helmet. Gilder snapped out of his internal thoughts and back to the world around him, barely pulling back enough to keep the tail-blade from gouging out his right eye. The blade still struck him and cut across his face, leaving a bloody gash that ran from what little of his brow could be seen to his check which was mostly defended as well.

“Gh!” Gilder grunted in frustration as he swept his hand across the wound, reciting a bit of Rune Magic to mend the cut. He then made a few signs in the air and boosted his immune systems while drawing the contaminants through his body and into his mouth. He spat up a glob of saliva, mucous and the stuff that got into his wound before once again charging in to fight the armored monster-bitch.

…

The Beard-thing Hero ‘God’ was quite enjoyable. Weak as he was, he was managing to give Rippa a treat. None had ever been able to come remotely close to harming her, and this young little brat of a Beard-thing was a welcome distraction from her boredom. She would yank it around for a bit, giving it hope that it might do anything to her, but then she would tear that hope to bits and pieces and leave the stupid Beard-thing in a bottomless abyss of despair. Only then would she allow it to die, and only after she and her fellow councilmembers began to gorge themselves on his meat.

The stupid Dwarf was filled with blind rage after Rippa had managed to catch it during a momentary lapse. As it charged forwards, Rippa’s face contorted into sneer as she gave out a hideous and mocking laugh.

“First Blood is mine-mine!” She said as she cackled with glee.

The Dwarf King-thing had escaped from his fate earlier that month, he had managed to free his soul from the stomach of Chuu, and now was far more powerful than ever before. Still, he had left his original body behind when he resurrected, and Rippa and the rest of the Five-Clawed Paw salivated as they looked at the being before them. He had tasted good before; his blood, flesh, organs, eyes (what was left of them), brain (what was left of it) and marrow were exquisite!

He was delicious before, and now that he was bigger, stronger and definitely juicier as a ‘Hero God’ they could barely begin to think of how to prepare his meat. A bit of salt, some other seasonings, maybe a bit of slow roast over the burning corpses of his own kin? They had nearly forgotten the taste of a Dwarven Hero God. Nearly, but not totally. The last time they had one was… how long ago was that?

Rippa accidentally let her own mind wander as she dreamed of the mouth-watering taste of Gilder’s meat and, in that momentary lapse in concentration, Gilder almost repaid her for the earlier blow. His axe nearly slammed into her side, but just as it connected, she regained her focus and leapt out of the way. Still, there was a slight mark on her otherwise pristine armor (save for the blood and gore). The mark was too small to be easily noticeable and even with a good look it would have been hard to make it out unless it was highlighted. Nevertheless, Rippa was furious and decided to waste no more time in dealing with the bastard before her.

She launched herself towards Gilder who swung his axe with all the force he could muster. But, as the axe nearly reached her, Rippa seemed to meld her body with the very air itself, bending her form around the two-handed weapon in a twisting motion as she closed in for the kill. Luckily for Gilder, his distress led him to take a wrong step and he slipped to the ground and out of the way of the twin halberds aimed at his face.

Rippa rocketed over the falling dwarf before using yet more aerial acrobatics to plant her halberds in the floor and use her motion to slingshot herself back towards the now prone dwarf. Now missing her halberds, she pulled out her twin falchions and lunged at the Dwarven Hero God with a look of fury and mindless bloodlust in her eyes.

Gilder managed to get to his feet and raise his battle axe to block the falchions as the fell, but the force of the blow sent shockwaves through his body and forced him to his knees. Rippa put more and more force into his shoving match as her falchions began to push through the metal handle of the axe, much to Gilder’s shock and horror.

“Damn monster!” Gilder shouted as he began to chant a Rune Magic Spell that would teleport him back to the Hall of Kings.

“NOT LETTING YOU DO THAT!” Rippa screamed. She would NOT let this bastard escape her, not after he had managed to do what no other Dwarf, Hero God or not, had managed to do. She would never let him run from her! He would die, here and now! Screw torturing him to madness, fuck eating him alive and relishing his screams! He would die today, here and now and by her paw! She would tear out his throat with a single swipe from her razor-tipped tail! Or better yet…

Rippa’s head lunged towards Gilder’s who thought she was moving in for a headbutt. Instead, at the last moment, Rippa opened her mouth wide and sunk her teeth into Gilder’s neck. Her incisors tore through the chainmail that guarded his throat and she bit down with ever increasing force, slowly ripping his throat open as her teeth shredded his flesh.

“Just a bit more and I’ll reach his jugular and he will die! See now, you little shit?! You will die no matter what you do!” Rippa thought as she savored the taste of the Dwarf Hero God’s meat, sweat and blood. She could feel the pulsing of his heart though each spurt of blood that came from his ever-widening wound. It was so rich, so delicious, so absurdly amazing!

She almost lost herself in the sensational flavor for a moment before snapping back and pulling her jaws and head back. With a single motion, the front of Gilder’s throat was torn off and blood spewed from his opened neck. He tried to gasp for air and complete his spell, but he could not even keep the blood he was losing from pouring down his exposed windpipe and flooding his lungs.

He sputtered and dropped his axe as his hands desperately grasped at his torn throat, trying in vain to do something, anything to stop his encroaching demise.

“No! I must survive! For my people! For my line! My Ancestors put such faith in me; made me into this! It can’t end this way! I have to… I have to win!”

As his eyes rose towards the ceiling, they locked with those of Rippa who gleefully licked Gilder’s blood and flesh from her stained muzzle. Her eyes were filled with nothing but malicious mockery and sadistic contempt as she raised her falchions to the air and brought them down again and again as she cackled with twisted and depraved glee. Gilder stayed alive for far longer than either of them had expected, and even as Rippa hacked away at the defenseless Dwarf Hero God, Gilder still managed to hold on to life.

Each blow cut another chunk of his body away, and each one brought him closer to death. After what seemed to both of them to be an egregiously long period of time, Gilder’s mind sank into blackness once again as the light left his eyes. His last thought to himself was something along the lines of, “I know how to escape death now. Even if I am killed, I can come back, and next time I will be more careful. They will still die by my hand; I just need some time to prepare.”

However, he would not be given another chance to flee his fate. Just before he died, Rippa tossed his body over to Chuu, who once again wrung the soul from his body and swallowed it. This time, she focused her full concentration of digesting the soul of the former king of the Ironheart Kingdom, rather than letting it be digested slowly like last time. She could feel the spirit of the foolish Beard-thing squirm inside her and struggle to resist the process that not only gave her and her fellow councilmembers more power, but also extended their lifespan as well.

He was a fool to challenge them, his actions able to be viewed as suicidal and insane to anyone who knew the vast gulf of power between him and his quarry. But now he was gone, and the sacrifice of his ancestors was for nothing! It was painfully ironic that the one whom his ancestors placed all their hopes fell and was consumed by the same monster they gave their eternal rest away to in order to save their line. Even more ironic was the fact that he had effectively offered himself up on a silver platter.

The five of them felt their strength surge and their bodies de-age. They were overjoyed; normally they would need to have Chuu consume hundreds of thousands of Rattan souls a day for a year to get this kind of boost to their power and their youth, but this one Beard-thing had managed to give them a whole year’s worth of sacrifices in a single sitting!

…

As the rush from the surge of power died down, Chuu looked down at the dead Beard-thing and spoke up.

“Maybe we should breed these ‘Hero Gods’ into existence. Would certainly allow our kind to flourish a bit more.”

The other four looked at their leader who chuckled to herself.

“Just a joke. We need to keep the population down somehow and the weak don’t cull themselves. Still, we should at least try breeding these Beard-things. Even if they take ages to reach the maturity where their meat is most delectable and it takes generations to make them submissive and compliant, we five have long enough left to make it worthwhile. At the very least, I believe that the… what do the Man-things call it? Veal? Yes, that is it… that the veal would be good. It would take time and effort, but we have time and we have the facilities needed to make prime meat-producing material. It may take centuries of trial and error, but as long as we don’t eat the lot of them it should be fine.”

With a sinister laugh, Chuu tore off the armor covering Gilder’s right leg before ripping his leg off and beginning to gnaw on his now detached limb. She had to admit, it tasted divine. A shame she could not have ‘tasted’ her beloved Vaile before the damnable Beard-things stole him from her. She was so looking forward to getting to know every nook and cranny of his body in a quite personal and sensual manner. She was really looking forward to actually bearing children for the first time in her life; no doubt that Vaile would thank her and the others with his body after they rescued him from whatever terrible situation that he was more than likely in.

Still, she was certain her beloved Vermin-King would have hated her true appearance and those of her fellow councilmembers. She knew how Man-things would nearly lose their lunch when faced with a normal Rattan, and she knew that she and the others were certainly in a similar position to the lesser ones when it came to what man-things viewed as ‘attractive’. The fact that she and the others had long since been using a powerful Glamour in the event they ever found him proved how little they thought their beloved would think of them if he ever saw their true appearance.

Nevertheless, she was in a position where if she and the others kept the glamour up their foes would be attracted to them, and they were NOT going to let these insufferable Beard-things fap to them. They had taken their Vaile from them, and they would NEVER be forgiven for that.

The Beard-things would pay. She would kill and/ or enslave the lot of them. They deserved only the most horrible of treatments for crossing her and her kind in such a manner. As she cracked open Gilder’s femur and sucked out the marrow within, she contemplated just how she could bring the most pain and misery to the damnable Beard-things that had wronged her so.

“As for how breeding them would work out? Well, you know what they say,” she mused aloud through her stuffed mouth as she enjoyed the flavorful meat, blood, nerves, sinew and marrow from Gilder’s leg, “practice makes perfect and nothing good comes without effort. Don’t the Man-things have a saying along the lines of, ‘Good food doesn’t just come without hard work’?”