The carriage barreled along the dark highway, jostling and swaying to give the viscanti Lord a rather enticing view of his ward's heaving bosom.

 "Magnagora will love you," he assured the young woman, leering closer with an unctuous grin to lightly smooth down one stray flaxen curl. Doe eyes like sapphires stared back up at him, lips parted in unspoken question.

 "It's an honor to serve such a noble house," the Lord haughtily insisted, leering once more at the young girl. One hand, scaled, the rot beneath barely concealed, reached out to cup the young woman's chin, lifting her face up so he could study her better in the dim, wavering lantern light. Her features were stunning - the first blush of womanhood stained her cheeks, while lush lips practically begged to be kissed.

 "Oh, yes," the Lord murmured, grin widening as the woman stared back silently, quivering like a cornered rabbit. "You will make quite a lovely gift."

 The woman shivered, eyes averting to look out the carriage's window at the dark countryside racing along outside. "Tolborolla..." she softly murmured, regret heavy in her voice.

 "And then Acknor and then our gates," the Lord impatiently muttered, frowning as he rapped the handle of a long, gold-capped cane on the carriage's ceiling. "Pick up the pace, you worms, before I have you grease the Engine from the inside out!" He tempered the outburst with another slimy smile, one scaly finger stroking the girl's cheek as his voice dropped back to a genteel tone. "Can't have the family waiting too long, after all."

 "F-family?" the woman stammered, dizzy at this new detail about her predicament.

 "Oh, yes," the man grinned, eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "The Warlady's noble family has paid quite well for their new toy."

 "Toy..." the girl whispered, shock draining the color from her face - even wan and pale, her beauty still shone, eyes wide and luminous against her white skin.

 "Toy," the man confirmed, white teeth flashing bright in the dark carriage compartment as he laughed in disbelief. "Did you think they would put a pretty thing like you to work in the kitchens?" He chuckled again, head shaking in amusement as he caressed the girl's cheek again. She shivered as he gleefully continued. "Oh, no, they have far more exciting things planned for you and your bod---"

 A high-pitched scream pierced the night as the carriage suddenly lurched sideways, luggage, man and girl suspended for a gut-wrenching second before everything twisted and toppled. The horse howled again and then there was a snapping sound as hoofbeats receded into the distance.

 "Those damn drivers," the Lord muttered, struggling to extricate himself from the piles of luggage. His own cane rapped him across the nose and he cursed, eyes squinting closed as he climbed upwards to the window - now on the ceiling - to shout out, " You useless Merian scum! Do you enjoy having hands? This is how you lose han--"

 For the second time in nearly as many moments, the Lord found himself rudely interrupted, his threats subsiding to a panicked hiss as he fell back into the carriage.

 "That's right," a gruff, deep voice commanded from outside. "Nice and easy and keep your hands where I can see them." The words were accented by the needle-sharp point of a rapier, glinting softly in the wavering flames of the overturned lantern. The blade was soon followed by a face, features obscured by a rugged mask to leave only a pair of dark, mysterious eyes shining forth. As they spied the maiden, they sparkled. "Good evening, miss."

 The woman had no words - a moment ago she had been unwillingly bound for Magnagora and now she was stuck in an upside down carriage, held at swordpoint...before her mind could even adjust to her new circumstances, a shriek shattered her thoughts.

 "Fire! Fiiiiiire!" the viscanti shrilly screamed, fluttering his hands anxiously as he did his best to evade the sword and scrabble at the door overhead. Indeed, smoke was beginning to full the small chamber - the lantern's oil had spilt and now the magnificent velvet curtains were beginning to smoulder.

 "Ah, ah, ah," the highwayman - for that was surely what this stranger was - archly scolded. "You need to pay the exit fee."

 The viscanti vascilliated for a moment, anxiously wringing his hands as the fire crept closer. After a scant moment of deliberation, he cried, "Anything! Anything! I'm not built to burn!"

 The stranger chuckled, vanishing for a moment. The door creaked open and a short length of role was dropped down into the carriage itself. Eagerly, the viscanti reached for it, using the woman as a soft stepstool as he scrambled up and out, stumbling onto the dirt embankment as he gulped in ragged mouthfuls of air.

 "My fee," came the highwayman's reminder, blade finding itself back at the viscanti's throat.

 His feet beneath him now, on firm ground, the viscanti found a slight backbone, making a show of straghtening his coat and adjusting his cravat as he patted his vest down, finally producing a silk coin purse. "Of course," he smoothly insisted, irritation flushing his porcelain skin a sallow hue.

 Inside the carriage, the girl heard only snippets of this exchange - the fire was spreading and the viscanti's manhandling had shoved her into a far corner of the compartment, flames barring her escape. "Help!" she cried out, voice soft and sweet as a swallow's song. "Oh, help, please!"

 The highwayman's eyes sparkled at the cry, and up he leapt to the top of the carriage. Grabbing the rope, he swung into the compartment, through the flames, and grabbed the girl around the waist, slinging her over his shoulder as he shimmied up and out to safety. Bosom heaving as she drew in deep breaths of fresh air, the maiden clung to him, trembling in his arms as she slowly recovered.

 "Her."  The highwayman named his price, turning to go.

 "Now wait just a moment, you Light-pocked Vagabond!" the Lord bristled, stomping forwards. "She is my charge and is a special delivery for the Warla-"

 A swish, a snick and a shine of fire across metal, and the blade found its way back to the viscanti's throat. "Her," the highwayman repeated, a smirk in his voice.

 The Lord gulped nervously and then blanched, that small movement slicing a thin cut across his throat. Blood dribbled down, staining his creamy silks. The man seemed about to object, despite the threat...but then the carriage went up with a whoosh of flames and a groan of wood, illuminating the stranger properly. He was nearly seven feet tall and bristling with muscle. The fight drained out of the slight noble and his stare dropped as he plucked anxiously at the hem of his vest. "Her," he weakly agreed.

 The highwayman's eyes sparkled again and then he turned, backlit by the roaring  flames, as he walked off into the night, his payment still softly slung over his shoulder.

 "Fain's toes," the viscanti cursed as he watched his delivery vanish. He straightened his hat, stare shifting to the wreckage of the carriage and then he let out a dark, bitter chuckle, his frustration fading to grim amusement as he watched the two vanish into the night.

 "The fool."

 ******

 "I can walk," the young woman quietly insisted as the highwayman plunged through the woods beside the road, recovering from her shock to struggle against her rescuer...or was it captor? The man only chuckled in reply to her claim and tightened his hold. "Sir! I can walk!"

 "But can you ride?" the man asked, emerging suddenly in a small clearing. The missing horses were tethered there waiting, along with a trio of other ruffians, all dressed in matching, concealing garments. Before the woman could reply, she found herself unceremoniously swung over the back of one steed. The man quickly jumped up behind her, arms wrapping about her as he grabbed the reins. "Don't fall off," the man softly warned her and she dutifully wound her hands through the horse's mane, shivering at the sound of his voice so close to her ear.

 The other bandits laughed bawdily, swinging up onto their own steeds as they called out wishes of what they would like to do with their new prize. The girl paled at that and then flushed as her captor barked out an order for silence, a hot blush tinging her cheeks as the man's arms gripped her tighter. He kicked the horse and then they were off, all of them, galloping through the woods at a breakneck pace.

 "Where-" the maiden began, but the man covered her mouth, filling her nose with the scent of blood and leather and musk.

 "We will be there soon," the man murmured into her ear and again she found herself shivering. "I will explain everything then."

 Silently, she nodded, and on they rode into the night. Hours passed - a fat yellow moon rose overhead, illuminating the small band as they galloped through the forest. After several hours, they stopped to rest and water the horses, and the leader - her highwayman as she had begun to think of him - lifted her down to stretch and rest for a moment. She staggered, then, legs shaky from the riding, and swayed against him. He held her tight until she recovered, passing her a leather skin which she tentatively sipped. She immediately coughed as she tasted bitter fire, clinging tighter to the man. "Wha..." she mumbled and the man's eyes sparkled beneath his mask.

 "Nothing helps an all night ride like a few fingers of whiskey," he chuckled.

 "All...night...?" the girl wondered softly.

 "Nearly there, princess, don't worry," the man assured her, guiding her back towards the horse to lift her into the saddle again.

 "Oh, I'm not...not a princess," she weakly protested, dizzy from the drink, exhausted by the ride and battling a curious new hunger building in her belly.

 "No," the man agreed, swinging up behind her to quietly murmur in her ear. "No, you aren't. You're a queen." The maiden flushed at that, eyes averting as the horse began to move.

 The rest of the ride was uneventful and silent, horses carrying them deeper into the woods, across a marsh, skirting an inland sea, onwards, onwards until the pink rays of morning began to streak the clouds rosy. Haloed in the dawn's hues, the small party turned off the dirt trail they were following to press through a thick patch of scrub. The maiden pulled her skirts tight about her, but still they snagged on thorns, leaving them tatters from the knees down. Behind her, she could hear - feel, more than hear - the man chuckling, and she found herself blushing again, adjusting the shreds of fabric to best hide her legs.

 The hidden trail opened suddenly, revealing a small, crude camp. A log lodge lay at one end of the little village, with a communal fire pit filling the center of the clearing. Smaller, more temporary structures skirted the perimeter and it was to one of these that the girl was led. Exhausted and half-drunk from the whisky, she nearly fell off the horse into the highwayman's arms, eyes remaining open barely long enough to register soft furs, a toasty fire and a vague, smirking smile, before sleep took her and all went black.

 ******

 "A highwayman, really?" The Warlady's tone was sharp and cruelly amused. "You MUST be joking."

 "Lady, I swear on lots of Magnagoran things," the viscanti nervously blustered. "I did my best to duel the ruffians, but there were too many - and all of my slaves ran off, let me point out!" The man's eyebrows arched and he found a bit more steel for his tone. "YOU are the one who insisted I use those Merians."

 The viscanti noblewoman waved one hand dismissively, lips pursing as she considered the ramifications of this news. Her pacing stilled and then stopped as she slid elegantly into a throne near the window, gaze drifting out to look at the city below. "Do you even understand why I wanted this girl? Can you even begin to comprehend what her loss will mean?" The question is posed softly, almost kindly, like a teacher asking a student for a simple answer, and the nobleman eagerly began to reply.

 "You are wrong." Before a single word could be uttered, the man was already cut off by the sharp admonishment from the Warlady. Her stare shifted back to the man, eyes dark and furious. "You think of pleasure and pain and carnal delights and of transforming her flesh into something transcendent through agony-" The man began to protest but his words were quickly steamrolled as the woman relentlessly continued her exposition. "-do not even try to deny it, dear, that cat escaped its bag long ago and half the city is quietly aware of your predilections and we do love you so for them." She flashed the man a sudden smile, the warmth on her lips vaguely reaching her eyes for a brief moment. "That's why I chose you, afterall."

 "Warlady?" the man asked, voice oily with respect.

 "Do not interrupt me when I am monologuing," she absently replied, fingers fluttering in a gesture for silence as her stare swept back across the city. Brooding, she lapsed into a thoughtful quiet, before she finally cleared her throat, a cruelly beautiful smile forming on her lips as she let out a soft murmur of approval. The noise repeated, louder, and then slowly transformed into a faint chuckle, growing louder and fuller as her head tilted back. Soon, peals of laughter echoed through the chamber as the Warlady cackled in glee. The other viscanti began to anxiously laugh along with her, which earned him a withering stare.

 "Don't be a sycophant," the woman snorted, before she threw her head back again, continuing her evil laughter. The man smiled uneasily, shifting his weight as he waited.

 Finally, the woman seemed to have indulged herself and smiled broadly, laughter quieting. "Oh," she murmured. "Oh, yes."

 "Yes?" the man echoed eagerly, stepping a bit closer.

 "Shut up," the woman sharply commanded before returning to her dark thoughts, manicured nails toying with a small figurine in her fingers. She smiled down at it, lightly stroking the vague features of the face, before, giggling, she snapped the entire piece in two. "Oh, yes...." she murmured, beginning to laugh again.

 Watching the symbolic gesture - though he had no idea what exactly it was meant to symbolise - the man mirrored the woman's laugh, throwing his own head back as he cackled malevolently.

 A sigh interrupted his chuckling. "Look," the Warlady grunted. "You're...just go. Now. You are ruining this for me."

 Abashed, the viscanti slunk out of the audience chamber, the sound of malicious, evil laughter over nefarious plots echoing in his ears.

 *****

 Everything ached - at first, that was all she could register when she woke: stiff, sore muscles from the riding, singes from the fire, scrapes and cuts from the brambles. Gradually, the softness of the furs seemed to soothe the most  immediate injuries, an almost cool sensation on her skin as the scent of baking bread filled her nose. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open...to see a man sitting just feet away, watching her. She yelped, pulling the furs up to cover her torn dress and immediately regretted it. A flash of pain shot up her arms and the man frowned, leaning forward.

 "You'll disturb the bandages," he cautioned her. Belatedly, she realized the cool sensation was some salve, smeared across her arms and gently mending her wounds beneath strips of linen. She blushed, fur falling from numbed fingers as the man gently adjusted the bindings. His touch left an odd feeling lingering in her, an unfamiliar ache in her stomach, and she found herself unable to look at the man for more than a few seconds. He was Elfen, she thought, broad shouldered and with a craggily handsome face, but she was too nervous to study him more.

 "There," he murmured, voice soft and gentle. Something about it was familiar. "You!" she suddenly realized, recognizing the sound of her captor.

 "Me," the man chuckled in agreement. The maiden risked another glance at him. In the light of day, he wasn't so menacing - if anything, he was attractive, and she felt a heady rush flood through her. Her stare fell back to her hands. Anxiously, she fiddled with the furs, nervous as she finally asked, "What will you do with me?"

 The man was silent for a span, considering that question, before he finally cleared his throat, a rueful grin in his voice. "To be honest, princess-" He winked at her, catching her eye as the title made her look up to object. "We really didn't expect you to be part of all this."

 "Oh..." the maiden quietly replied, confused as she tried to process this new information.

 The man leaned forwards to catch her eye, smiling in a broad, friendly sort of way. Unthinking, the woman found herself smiling tentatively back. The man nodded to see that and, voice still gentle and friendly, explained, "We intercepted a missive about the upcoming shipment from Gaudiguch to Magnagora. We just want the Illuminati's new project, princess. Once we get that-" He spread his arms, smile widening. "You'll be free to go. I'll even escort you wherever you like, myself." He winked at this promise and again the maiden's stomach lurched.

 Blushing, the girl replied, "I...I don't know anything, I promise." Why was this all happening? she wondered in despair. The carriage, the fire, the ride and now this - two days ago, she had woken up in her own humble bed and had been quietly happy. Now, she was being held by bandits and quizzed about Illuminati secrets.

 The man nodded in sympathy, gently laying a calloused, strong hand on the girl's shoulder. "I believe you," he whispered, leaning in close enough that his breath stirred her hair. Another shiver shook her body. "But my boys..." his words trailed off, resignation heavy in his tone.

 The maiden abruptly became aware of the sounds outside of the small shack she was laying in, eyes widening as the hubbub and bustle of a tiny village reached her ears. Wincing, she shifted her weight to her knees. Kindly, the bandit helped her rise enough to peer out the window above the bed. Her eyes widened - she hadn't dreamt it, no, and in the light of day it was far easier to see the camp for what it was: a warband's temporary shelter. These were no ordinary bandits.

 Stunned, she looked back at the man who simply shrugged, offering a rakish smile. "The north has been getting creative lately," he grinned. "Straight battle isn't the only way to defeat your foes."

 "W-which I am n-not one of!" the maiden insisted, finally finding her voice long enough to stammer out a protest. The man merely shrugged, flashing her another wink.

 "Maybe you are, maybe you aren't," the bandit mused in a friendly voice, eyes roaming over the woman's body. Blushing, she pulled the furs up higher, but the man merely chuckled, nodding towards a chest at the foot of the bed. "There's a gown there. Come eat when you're ready."

 The girl merely nodded as the highwayman - soldier, she now realised - stood, his wooden chair creaking, and strode to the door. "And don't try to run away," he suggested, voice and expression amiable. "My men are one of the least dangerous things in these woods."

 And, with that, he left her to dress, her stomach churning and cheeks on fire as she puzzled over her fate.

 ****

 "No I will NOT call back again another time!" the Warlady haughtily insisted to the grinning dracnari at the other end of the communication crystal. "You get the over....ober...your BOSS linked in on this now, tavern night or not!"  Her eyes flashed a dark, angry crimson as her voice dropped, coldly threatening, "If he doesn't flay for you for the delay, I will!"

 "A man once caught a salamander in his hands," the dracnari calmly replied, gaze vacant through the projected image. "Trying to eat the moon, he found his hands transformed into cheese and the salamander began to dance. Let us medita-"

 "I'M GOOD," the Warlady thundered back, drowning out the assistant's voice.

 The dracnari smiled, taking a slow puff of a pipe in one hand. His smile widened as he exhaled, smoke wreathing his head. With a cough, he wheezed, "Dzaa, here he is-" and then a new, shorter figure resolved out of the haze, hiccuping somberly as he tried to focus his bleary gaze on the conjured image of the furious viscanti.

 "Warl- *hic* -lady," the dwarf beamed. "How is our..." The man leaned forwards, eyebrows raising as he whispered, "...little arrangement going?"

 "Going?!" the woman coldly asked. "It's gone! Bandits attacked the delivery. YOU insisted we wouldn't need guards!"

 The man frowned, doing his best to assume a serious mien as he contemplated the news. "Once there was a cat who chased a fiddler-" he starts, words quickly cut off by the Warlady.

 "Nope, nope, no," she barked. "None of that." A surge of impatience rippled her elegant features and for a moment her face twisted in a vicious snarl. "My intel suggests these "vagabonds" are a unit out of the north, the crassest soldiers from our enemies, turned to guerilla tactics." She sniffed once, disdainful, commenting, "Likely those shit-streaked savages from Serenwilde behind the idea."

 The leader of Gaudigich slowly nodded, letting out a pensive belch as he stroked his beard in thought. He seemed unruffled by this new state of affairs and merely shrugged, pointing out, "Mag flubbed the delivery, not us."

 The Warlady's eyes narrowed, a low hiss escaping her lips as she clawed at the image in frustration. The man's features wavered and dimmed into simply smoke and shadows before the image re-established itself.  "YOU are the one who approached ME," she reminded the man, voice saccharine sweet as she did her best to control her irritation. "YOU wanted a way to dispose of the failed experim-"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" the man interrupted. "Ixnay on the ecretsay!"

 The Warlady pinched her temples, voice coming through clenched teeth. "...dispose of refuse," she corrects. The man beamed back broadly, lifting a flask in a salute to the wording before downing a long swig. Belching, he wiped his mouth and grinned.

 "Don't worry about this one," he reassured the woman. "The pyramid has plans for this one."

 The Warlady's eyes narrowed. "That was not part of the arrangement," she warily replied.

 "Hey, you did your part," the man grinned, letting out another happy hiccup. "Consider this one a freebie. We've got it under control." Beaming, he continues, "Meditate upon the Tainted mutt, who chased after-"

 "Ugh," the woman muttered, waving one hand to sever the link. "It's like talking to children, honestly."

 "No decorum," her lackey agreed from behind the woman, eagerly offering the Warlady a glass of blood-red wine.

 "Mmm," she agreed, sipping thoughtfully from the goblet. "If it wasn't for the copious amounts of bodies they give us-"

 The Warlady suddenly spun about, eyes narrowing as she focused on the noble. "Didn't I tell you to go?" she demanded, eyes narrowing.

 "Well, yes, but," The man nervously stammered. "But, but, you looked thirsty and I know just how much evil scheming takes out of you, Lady..."

 A faint touch of warmth slipped across the stern visage as the noblewoman softly traced her nails along the man's cheek. "I knew I kept you around for a reason," she murmured fondly, before draining the goblet with a decisive drink. Slowly, cruelly her lips began to twist into a smile.

 "Gaudiguch will not interfere," she then concluded, her frustration from the talk melting away as her malevolent mood returned. "We are free to recover our property, then, as I had hoped. On our own terms." Eyes flashing as a sudden bolt of lightning crackled outside, the Warlady began to laugh, ominously promising, "...and we will even thank the northern soldiers for their troubles in keeping the package safe."

 She tossed her head back and began to laugh, cruel chuckles echoing throughout the chamber. At her side, her lackey began to join in, his own laughter unctuous, oily giggles.

 "Ugh, no," the Warlady suddenly commanded, her own laughter abruptly halting. "Just stop. You sound like a demented schoolgirl." She attempted another chuckle and then scowled, sighing. "You've completely killed it." She gestured towards the table along one wall, directing the man, "More wine."

 Quickly the man refilled her goblet, remaining as silent as possible as the Warlady thoughtfully sipped, her gaze looking out over the Engine. A faint, malevolent smile curved her lips. "Oh, yes," she murmured, finding her inspiration again. "We will give them quite a thank you..."

 *****

 Fangs and fur and snarls greeted the girl as she emerged from the small shack and she screamed softly, stumbling back to hide in the doorway.

 "Easy there, Shadowsmoke!" came a familiar voice - the girl glanced up and felt something flip-flop in her stomach as she saw the bandit trotting towards her.

 "Is he..."

 "He's tamed," the man chuckled, rubbing a spot right behind the wolf's ears. The growling subsided to a faint rumble. "Just don't tell him that."

 The maiden smiled shyly, hanging back, assurances or not, and looked up at the man. She found herself blushing again and then found her blush deepening as she realized her reaction. Glancing away and swaying, she mumbled, "So, this delivery..."

 The man's smile faded, one arm reaching out to steady the woman. "If you know anything, anything at all, this will go much easier..." His voice was soft, his grip tender as he supported her.

 "I wish I did..." the woman began to say, voice trailing off nervously as the man's full words registered. Body tensing, she stared up at him, eyes wide with fear. "Easier...?"

 The soldier laughed, shaking his head at her assumption. "Oh, no, princess," he quickly assured her. "Nothing untoward or painful, on my honor as a Serenguard. Still, a battle camp is no place for such a fair lady...." He finished his words with a soft smile, hand slowly lifting to graze her cheek with a light touch. Her skin flushed beneath his fingers and that curious, disorienting hunger returned in her belly. Swaying, she clung to the man for balance and immediately felt strong arms surrounding her, embracing her, supporting her.

 "Come," the soldier murmured, leading her back inside. "You're trembling."

 "I....no, I'm fine...." the woman whispered, steps slowly guided by the knight back into the small cabin. Her protests melted into soft murmurs as he helped her back towards the bed. Her hands held his tight, reluctant to release him, and so the knight sunk down to one knee beside her, his eyes meeting hers.

 "Oh..." the woman whispered, staring deep into his eyes and, for once, the man found himself silent as well. One hand lifted to cup the maiden's cheek. Her flush deepened. "I..." she began to say, but he softly pressed one finger across her lips, silencing her.

 For what seemed like eternity, they sat like that, lost in each other's eyes, before that curious churn in her stomach made the woman blink. She frowned, trying to murmur an explanation, but the man merely smiled. "Butterflies," he grinned. "I've got them too-"

 A sudden shout roared through the air as an explosion rocked the camp. In a heartbeat, the man was between the maiden and the door, sword at the ready. "Stay here!" he commanded, looking back at her longingly. "Stay safe..."

 She began to protest, the hunger building, but he silenced her again. "Stay safe," he softly repeated. "For me, princess."  And, with that, he vanished out the door into chaos.

 *****

 "It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" the Warlady cooed, wandering past a pile of sentries ripped to shreds, their broken bodies surrounded by upthrusts of rock. "All these northerners crushed to pieces like so much dust..."

 "Yes, beautiful," the viscanti man quickly enthused, trailing a few steps beyond the woman.

 "That was a rhetorical question,"  came the exasperated reply, eyes rolling. She palmed a dagger, handing it to her lackey. "Go be useful. Interrogate someone or....something. Find me my package."

 The man eagerly bobbed into a bow, holding the knife like a prized trophy as he scurried away. The Warlady sighed, absently flicking a speck of dust from beneath immaculate nails, and continued her proud survey of the camp's destruction. The package had been facile to track, afterall, given the nature of it, and the poor Northern fools had merely led the Magnagoran warriors directly to their hideout. The woman couldn't help but chuckle at that, one hand swishing slightly through the air to send a scour of sand dancing, blood and gristle and guts swept up in the brief skirl. She smiled. Carnage always lightened her mood.

 "Foul thing!" a stern voice shouted out across the ruined camp, a clarion call above the chaos. Limed in firelight, before a small shack, a burly warrior stood, waiting, swords in hand as he stared at the Warlady. She inclined her head at the greeting, lips curling in a sardonic smile, and cooed back, "Me?"

 "Prepare to die!" the knight cried out, beginning a rampaging charge. Behind him, lurking in the doorway, the Warlady caught sight of a slender, frail beauty, wide eyes watching the carnage in horror. The viscanti's smile widened and one arm raised, the earth shaking as her fingers clawed at the air.

 "Oh, hey, Warladylady," a voice suddenly slurred into existence, buzzing in her ear like a gnat. 

 "Busy," she grunted, her other arm fumbling with her communication crystal.

 "Well, I talked to the Cipher-" The head of Gaudiguch swam into view, blearily grinning. She must have pressed the wrong button and she cursed, fiddling again with the crystal. 

 "Damn Hallifaxian devic-" the Warlady muttered again, her attack quickly diverted into a defensive shield of swarming earth as the knight's charge reached her. Concentrating, she growled, and the shield suddenly sprouted spikes, stabbing at the man to find and follow chinks in his armour to scour the skin beneath. He hissed in pain, but his assault continued.

 "Look, things went a bit unexpected-" That drunken fool! the woman thought, doing her best to ignore his babble as she focused on the fight. One arm swept sideways and the ground beneath began to quake wildly, pitching and bucking to send the warrior flying backwards. Another sweep of her arms and the shield condensed, earth solidifying into a deadly, sharp dagger of stone - it hovered there, before her, for a half-second, and then she screamed triumphantly, arms pushing forwards to send it lancing towards the knight, its point aimed directly at his unarmoured throat.

 "Ooooooooooo-" A heartbreaking cry rose up over the clamour of battle as something pale and quick darted across the field. The girl, the Warlady realized with a stab of fear, arms spreading as she quickly dampened the raging earthen maelstrom. Churning earth slowly settled, leaving a dusty cloud in its wake, and a single sillouette began to take shape - the man was bent double, cradling something in his lap. The viscanti's lips twisted in a harsh, triumphant smile, and she walked forwards to claim her property.

 "You killed him-" the man's words were little more than whispers in the dying wind. The Warlady's steps faltered as she peered into the dust cloud. Shapes took on more resolution - the girl was wrapped in some sort of shaggy fur...

 "Oho, now that's a twist!" the dwarf's voice crackled in amusement through the link. The Warlady's head twisted, pure fury meeting the man's red-eyed grin. "BUSY!" she growled, before her gaze snapped back to the knight. His wolf, she belatedly realized, falling back a step. The knowledge came too late, however. Already the man was on his feet, body spinning with swords outstretched. The viscanti raised her arms defensively.

 "Ooooh..." the dwarf's image winced as, in a single, furious sweep, the knight slashed through the Warlady's hands and neck. Her eyes bulged in surprise, mouth working silently, before her body collapsed, head bouncing to roll in a bloody trail off towards the stone-choked rubble. With a soft pitter-patter, her severed fingers rained down in a scatter beside the corpse.

 "Have you heard about the hungry demon who tried to eat the stars?" The Gaudiguchian link was still active, the crystalline device buried beneath the slain viscanti, but the angle of projection was all wrong, leaving the dwarf's features dancing in the dying flames of the firepit. The knight ignored him, exhaling raggedly as he slowly turned to look back across the battlefield at the maiden. She smiled shyly in return. 

 "WARLADY!!! OH MY WARLADY!!!"

 The knight froze and then swiftly spun about. The lackey lord was running full-tilt towards the body, a small dagger gripped in his hand. The knight slashed his swords through the air. The viscanti seemed to think better of his idea and, impressively fast, veered off to his left, vanishing into the woods. 

 "...onwards, his body unfolding as he consumed..." The dwarf chattered on, exhaling a cloud of smoke that mingled with the fire's dying gusts. The warrior stomped past the projection, feet quickening to a trot and then a full run towards to maiden, sweeping her into his arms.

 "Princess," he murmured, holding the woman tight as one hand lifted to cup her cheek. She stared back, flushing and trembling, and then her eyes closed.

 "I..." she began to explain, that curious hunger returning to her belly.

 "Shh," the knight murmured, pressing his cheek to hers. "You're safe now. I've got you."

 "No, I...I..." the girl's voice slowly shifted. Her eyes opened, lifting to stare at him, and they were as black and empty as the Void. In his arms, the man felt something change and twist, the soft body warping into something sinuous and impossible. Raspy, laden with the slithering hiss of a thousand insects and coming from a deep, dreadful depth, the girl whispered, her voice cutting through the sickening sound of flesh unfolding from within itself:   

 "I...I'm hungry."

 With a snuff, the fire went out, plunging man and maiden into darkness. The last thing the knight saw was her gleaming, shining teeth, glinting in the soft starlight, and then, as his screams stilled, only the dwarf remained, face suspended and glowing in the night, as his parable concluded. 

 "...and they wept. Let us meditate upon the hungry demon."