Espara part.01 (Advent of the Goddess)

  A tiny craggy island, a tiny village, a small hut with lights inside and smoke rising from the chimney. Inside an old woman sits by the fire, head to toe covered in grey dusty robes, sitting beside her chair a cane with a birds skull and feathers all about it. Outside the freezing wind howls like a hungry demon in search of prey.

 

   “Gather around children,” says the old woman to a group of ten kids, all the children of the village gathered together in the warmest of the buildings their tiny village has, with the one true fire their small island can afford to build with what little wood they can spare and drift wood they can gather. The year had been bad, as the wood sellers on nearby islands has upped their prices, the fishermen didn’t need to travel as nearly as far as their merchants to gather it; it was hard enough to buy wood to keep their ships and homes intact let alone stuff to burn through the winter.

 

   The children were so covered in furs and coats that one could hardly tell their genders, even from their filthy faces.

 

   “Tonight,” says the old woman, “I will tell you the story of the seven divine heroes,”

 

  “Not this again,” says a boy in the group.

 

  “Hush up,” says a burly man sitting at a table some distance away, a warrior, one of those in charge of protecting the village’s future, and keeping the older kids in line.

 

  “Long ago,” says the old woman, “a great evil witch came to our world from the stars, her eyes shone like blue fire, lightning danced in her hands, she stood upon the very air its self, and the darkness its self was her clothing, what little there was.”

 

   “She wore very little…yet it was shadows…” says a girl, “so she was just naked?”

 

  The burly man glares but the old woman just *laughs*, “she was a shameless witch, evil is like that you see.”

 

   “but she was beautiful,” says the girl.

 

   “Migdra,” says the man.

 

  “calm down, Borlack,” says the old woman glaring at him with one eye, “I remember a little boy who wouldn’t keep shouting during the tale of the Guardians of the Mountain.”

 

 

 

   “Yes my dear,” says the woman back to the girl, “she was beautiful, a shameless beauty, but it was only a mask that hid her true evil. She walked upon the water, burned castles to the ground, fell the greatest of dragons with a single blow, monsters and man even put aside our differences to fight back against her. It is then that the seven divine heroes arrived. There was a battle greater than anything ever seen before or since. The night sky lit up like day, fire became as birds, water as snakes, lightning flashed in mad confusion unsure of which master to obey. However, as evil can never win, the seven divine heroes were able to seal the vile witch into a crystal and drop her into the southern ocean.”

 

   “that’s stupid,” says a boy, “why not just kill her,”

 

   “because she was immortal,” says the old woman, “oh how I have become forgetful in my old age, yes of course, she was immortal. The battle raged on and on for days none stop, the mountains were burned, entire islands sank beneath the waves, unable to kill the vile witch the divine heroes were forced to instead trap her in a crystal and drop her into the sea. We know of this tale only because of Falfa one of the seven who came to our land, to our island in fact, and bestowed here one of the seven great seals that keep the ancient witch imprisoned in her crystal tomb. It is a great magic spread across the world like invisible chains.”

 

   She reaches into her robe and pulls out a black diamond shape object, something that could be a gem or metal, “this is the seal passed down by Falfa to all the great seerers and story keepers of our island. A great power flows through it children, and someday one of you might even become its protector.”

 

   The girl, Migdra, her eyes focus upon the sealing stone hanging from its chain, a strand of her dark hair falling from her fur hood, the fire light dancing in her eyes.

 

    ******

 

   -many years later-

 

    “that’s her,” says a rifleman peering through a telescope.

 

   Below them in the distance is a most unusual sight a woman of lithe build yet full breasts with long hair as black as midnight set against skin nearly as white as the snow around them. She is wearing only a simple white gown that couldn’t protect anyone against the frost of winter. She carries with her a staff, carved into it are the sigils of many a demon and unclean spirit of the wilderness showing her devotion to the dark arts. The staff is tipped with a wooden spike wrapped in carved tentacles like some strange spear. She walks bear foot through the snow, where he feet fall and her gown drags the snow is melted away only to magically reform as she passes leaving a strange trail of snow softer than the rest.

 

   “The witch of the North Woods,” says a swordsman behind the riflemen who is the scout for a small band of five royal hunters plus himself.

 

   “careful,” says the rifleman, “I know these woods, and I know of this witch. She is not some simple curse caster. She has bedded herself with many a vile demon, always searching for a greater dark master to serve and bed. She is a shameless sorceress, and a thief.”

 

   He hands the telescope to the swordsman leading the royal hunters, “look there around her neck.”

 

   She is wearing a black stone, like a gem or unknown metal.

 

  “that is the sacred treasure of my homeland,” says the man, “that witch comes from an island neighbor to my own. She stole it as a bargaining tool, everyone knows she seeks to find the Queen of the Abyss and make a pact with that most evil of spirits.”

 

   “Who gives a shit,” says one of the men in the back, “she’s an evil witch, casting evil spells, in OUR kingdom, the law is clear we catch her, she goes to trial, she dies, simple as that, and your evil rock can be cast in the sea.”

 

   “Then I will help you no more,” says the rifleman, “I will hunt her myself, after you so foolishly charge her and are killed, I will move in when she thinks she has dispatched all her pursuers.”

 

  “Don’t be so hasty,” says the swordsman, “you can have your stone as payment.”

 

  “Sarge…” starts the man in the back.

 

  “Be silent and that’s an order,” says the swordsman.

 

  After their hired tracker, the man with the flintlock rifle heads off to scout a path the swordsman tells his men, “that stone is just some worthless trinket those northern heathens hold sacred. Soon enough their king will convert to the faith of Garudan and they will have to follow suite, remember we aren’t missionaries, we are hunters, and being rid of these vile witches from our islands is far more important than convincing some revenge obsessed tracker that he’s wrong and we’re right.”

   

     ******

 

    A man’s scream draws the royal hunters quickly from their hiding spots towards a cave. The rifleman lay dead upon the ground, is entrails hanging out and blood coloring the snow. Upon the man’s chest sits a horrid beast covered in thorns its unnaturally wide maw of vibrating fangs holding what remains of the man’s poor heart. Its sits upon the still warm corpse in the snow like a perch before a deep dark cave. A chanting and a glow from within spurns the royal hunters to act quickly with little thought. They are easily enough able to kill the beast which must have taken their scout by surprise or else the witch killed him with her vile evil magic.

 

   Then traveled through the dark cave, far deeper yet oddly never darker than at the entrance, than any cave they had known to exist on their islands. The men grew restless urged on by their commanding officer even as their navigator from the boat, come with as part of the hunting party points out that by this distance they should be in the sea beyond the cliffs. Yet turning back those men that gaze behind them always see the entrance not far away. The air grows different as they walk, hotter, humid. Their clothes become a burden as the air grows far more stifling than any summer these men have ever known in their lifetimes. They are forced to abandon their heavy coats as they go deeper.

 

   “an underground hot spring?” offers the navigator sure that the light behind them must be a reflection from mirrored walls tricking them.

 

   “By the great God Garudan!” exclaims their captain as ahead of them out of nowhere as if a curtain had been raised the sun blasts them in the face.

 

   They are standing upon a sandy beach, palm trees, and the sound of seagulls. They know from sailor’s tales that they must be far to the south on one of the tropical islands. But how could only be explained by witchcraft.

 

   “No wander the witch was so ill dressed for the winter,” says the navigator, “of course her fiery master would prefer such a hellishly hot place as this.”

 

   “If this is Hell,” says one of the men, “then I wander how much greater heaven must be.”

 

  “Tis not hell,” says the captain, “this is a tropical island, that cave is bewitched.”

 

  “Listen,” says the navigator.

 

  Not far away they can hear the moans of a woman in sexual bliss. They are silent as they creep along the rocky edges towards the sound. Upon a rock overlooking the sea is the Witch of the North Woods, her gown open exposing her ample chest, flat stomach, and legs to the open air. Her legs are spread apart facing the surf, her staff is between them, its tip inserted into her womanhood.

 

  The captain nods to the sand by his feet as they move behind out of sight hidden among the tall ferns. The navigator picks it up, it is the thing their scout had been so obsessed about. Except it is open.

 

   “the thing was a locket.” says the captain in a hushed whisper as he and his men watch the witch masturbate with her staff upon the rocks even as the waves wash over her like a harsh lover. Something is glittering around her, seven colors, one color per each part of the rainbow.

 

  The captain peers with the telescope, “she has seven gem stones embedded in the rocks around her, must be some witchery that makes them shine.”

 

   The navigator holds up the locket, “there are seven spaces inside here, I reckon those were in

here.”

 

   “So much for just some trinket,” says the man in the back.

 

  “Hush it,” says the captain, afraid the witch might hear them.

 

  As they sneak across the sand they stop dead in their tracks as a giant phantom appears before the woman. It is not clear what it is, save that it is a giant woman with large breasts, the body merging into the sea spray, and what might be long hair in ten stiff braids that goes the length of her back. The image is made of mist and wind and hard to make out. A sigil forms beneath the witch.

 

  Black tentacles like those from some horrid octopus or squid from the depths of the darkest seas appear from the glowing sigil. Her phallic staff falls free as a tentacle squirms to replace it, its living motion, its wriggling excitement bring her to ecstasy. Many other tentacles appear of varying thickness and size, some with and some without suction cups. They move in and out of the sigil like water as they wrap around her legs, abdomen, and arms, seemingly chaining her down to the rock. They wrap so thickly around her as if to cocoon her body in them. Her breasts and pulled on and squeezed, suction cups upon her tits and undulating motions over her mounds massaging them. Another rises up to her face, a smooth one and flat like a tongue of some sort. The witch opens her mouth and sucks it in, sucking upon it.

 

   Suddenly the tongue like tentacle pulls free quickly and vanishes. She is lifted into the air and flung violently into the sand of the beach not far from the frozen still men. Not paying them any attention the witch is wide eyed and crying, “No…”

 

   She touches her mouth with her finger tips, “No…”

 

  She looks back at the ocean mist phantom, “Great Goddess forgive me!”

 

  The form sways, gaining some definition, glowing blue angry looking eyes.

 

  “I was pursued,” she says, even pointing at the men, “I…I made a rash decision, I summoned a demon…the pact…the kiss…”

 

   “None shall pact with me,” says the ocean mist in the voice of a goddess queen, “who are not clean from temptation of demons. Though your body may be washed this time, your mouth betrays you with the foul flavor of low class filth.”

 

   “A sacrifice,” says the witch, “I bring you a sacrifice! I can free you!”

 

  The mist turns to the men, “mortals are as nothing, their lives mere specks of light in the blazing sun that is the eternal flame of my existence.”

 

   The witch digs her long nails into her own crotch, blood from her intimacy spills into the sand as she chants words that are not loud yet sting the ears of the hunters.

 

   The blood forms into a sigil and a burst of flame explodes on the beach.

 

   “Witch of the North Woods,” comes a deep booming voice, the embodiment of masculinity, from the flames as a giant great muscular demon with black bull horns and a face like a boar, legs of a goat, and the dick of a horse emerges.

 

   “You are my bitch,” says the demon, “I the great Eckraick.”

 

  “Eckraick the devil,” says the captain, “guide your eyes men from this unholy sight!”

 

  The Witch stands, arms out and approaches the phantom, “Great One, Mighty Goddess that sleeps in the deep sea, imprisoned by the divine heroes. I give you my sacrifice, the source of all my magic! Eckraick!.”

 

   The devil laughs, his voice heating the air even hotter, the men feel they are about to die.

 

  “Woman,” says the demon, “you are my bitch! In life and in death, your soul will be mine to violate for all eternity if I so wish, and you dare try to give me as a sacrifice to this? This phantom of nothing, this lie told to bring hope to children!”

 

  He forms a massive fireball in his hands, dark electric bolts dance around it, “Dark Phim Gorand!”

 

   He throws it at the phantom. The mist explodes, the sea steams. The demon laughs as nothing remains. Nothing save the gems as they grow brighter. The men dart back as something emerges from the sigil, something accompanied by a sound like breaking glass. A woman emerges, a human torso at least, skin as smooth as eel skin, white as snow, tits white as the rest of her flesh. Her eyes shine like blue flames. Her hair is not hair, rather its is ten long stiff black spear tip like tentacles with a black membrane connecting them atop and behind her head. Her fingers are long and tipped with claws. As she fully emerges her lower body is a mass of black tentacles, ten big fat ones. She crawls from the rock onto the shore, and howls into the wind.

 

  “Free! At long last I am free!”

 

  Her fingers become as tentacles and wrap around the witch as the tentacles had when she was

on the rock, “Clever little witch,” she says, “to use the demon’s arrogance and power to power the seal’s lock to release me, as your unclean sexual magic has failed to do so often!”

 

   The creature squeezes her tighter then drops her. The creature grasps the sides of her head in agonizing pain.

 

  “Who…what…who am I?” screams the creature.

 

  Eckraick the demon king makes a gesture and the witch is flung across the sand into the ferns at the feet of the men, “hunters of my brother Garudan, take this traitor if you wish. But let her see first the power of the one who shall claim her soul for all eternity!”

 

   It breaths deep and spews forth a wall of fire that moves like a snake encircling and engulfing the creature from the sea.

 

   Inside the flames one can see the form diminish, shriveling away. One of the men grabs the witch by the hair, “come on, you are coming with us.”

 

  They and Eckraick stop in surprise as a mighty boisterous laugh erupts from the flames. They dance about and become a ring around someone new. A woman built similar to the sea born creature, only in human proportions with long legs. Her hair is a fiery red and wavy, her eyes red, her skin a strange glowing white with a red aura about it. Her clothes are beyond alien. A red leather top barely holding her breasts in place, red short denim like hot pants that barely cover her ass and barely descend her legs, so tight in the front as to outline her crotch. She is wearing high heeled red boots with a flame pattern on then.

 

   “Who are you!?” demands the demon.

 

   She turns to the tree line, “now, now, boys, that little witch wants to my plaything remember? Not about to let her fall victim to your silly little religion’s back and forth nonsense.”

 

   “Silly!” yells out the navigator.

 

  “Flames from my soul, spread out and engulf the vegetation!” commands the fiery woman. Fire streaks across the ground and engulfs the plant life, its heat felt by no one as it consumes all the vegetation around them and returns to her like fiery tendrils that had just fed for her.

 

   She *snaps* her fingers and a fiery wave engulfs the witch. She vanishes, another appears next to her and the witch is there.

 

  “Fire Wave teleportation,” says the woman.

 

  “What impudent creature is this!” yells out Eckraick, “how dare you ignore me! The great,”

 

  “Shut up already,” says the woman with a sneer and a flick of her hair, “I am the Cataclysm of Fire, the Inferno Queen! I should thank you demon, your power was used to free me, and your attack cleared my head. A few centuries in that Eldritch trap and I’ll be damned if I my Cataclysm of Water’s beast transformation hadn’t taken hold. Stay in that form too long and I’m just a sexual deviant tentacle monster.”

 

   She looks down at the witch, “make no mistake girly, I AM going to fuck your brains out like you wanted. After a good bath of course.”

 

   She turns to the demon and makes a *shoo* motion, “Now go away already…unless you want to die here and now.”

 

   The demon laughs loudly, shaking the very air and vibrating the sand, “You certainly think highly of yourself. I know who YOU are now. You are that witch that came here so long ago, the one those alien heroes fought and sealed in the ocean. I had heard you had found a way to trick some south island witches to feed their magic to you, to sacrifice demons to you, before my brother’s church was able to put a stop to it. Seems these mortals,”

 

  He indicates the hunters, “were not thorough enough in their job.”

 

   “What is going on?” asks the navigator, “why is the devil defending Garudan’s teachings?”

 

  “You bore me,” says the fiery woman, “I will give you till the count of nothing to go away.”

 

  “Dark Phim Garant!” yells out the demon as it tosses it dark energy charged fireball at her.

 

  She holds out her hand and the ball unravels, dark energy and all and flows into her hand.

 

  “Idiot,” says the fiery woman, “I am the Inferno Queen in this form, although I imagine using fire against you would have a similar effect. So perhaps the Cataclysm of Water is better suited.”

 

  “Did you not say witch,” says the demon, “that, that last form was the Cataclysm of Water? And yet I defeated it soundly did I not? Beg for mercy and pledge yourself to me, give your flesh to me for my pleasure and I will forgive your impudence.”

 

   She looks him up and down, “Sicko, I wouldn’t let you touch me with that horse dick if you gave me the power to kick Zanon in the balls and dance on Sahralia’s tits.”

 

   She steps to over the witch who is still laying on the ground, so shocked and frightened that she can’t even stand.

 

   “Now behold the true Cataclysm of Water, Ocean Queen Tsunami!”

 

  A blue sigil forms below them and water rushed up her body. In an instant she has changed, her aura blue now. Her boots replaced by blue high heels, her hot pants by a blue bikini bottom and a white and blue wave pattern shawl wrapped around her waist and going down one side on her thigh. Her red breast plate replaced by a blue bikini top and a white and blue wave pattern vest that isn’t sitting naturally on her, more like floating on her body. Her hair is now blue and while still wavy not as wavy and looks a bit longer as a result. Her eyes are a brilliant blue, as are her lips.

 

   “Worthless,” says the demon, “Dark Phim Garant!”

 

  “Ocean Become my Sword!”

 

 

  She manifests a blade somehow made of water and moving like a raging storm is inside its solid shape. She stabs the ball, which vanishes like a shockwave. In the commotion the men have made a break for it back to the cave, fleeing for their lives.

 

   She raises the sword, “Poseidon, Oceanus, Susanoo, Neira, and all the gods of the sea, in thy great names engulf the land!”

 

   Nothing happens, the demon eyes her and takes a deep breath.

 

  “Coral Barrier of Ryujin-Oh”

 

  She raises the sword and pink and blue bubble that looks so fragile forms around her and the witch lifting them slightly up. The woman floating in the bubble, the witch held in it. The witch closes her eyes as the demon blasts his fire around them, yet she feels no heat.

 

   The watery woman smiles, “chains of Glipnir bind the demon fast.”

 

  Gossamer threads erupt around Eckraick and hold him tight.

 

  “What foolishness is this?” demands the demon, “Holding me wont…”

 

  He looks to the sea in terror, he had not noticed that the tide was going out, too far out.

 

  “Engulf…the…land…” says the demon, who is now struggling violently against the chains.

 

  “Damned witch, how…how is this possible.”

 

  The woman projects her voice from the bubble, “The beast was so massive that its head scraped against the dome of heaven, its maw consumed the king of the gods in the final days before being killed by the prince of heaven. Held from near the dawn of their age till the end by the very chains that hold you now.”

 

  She makes a little waving motion with her fingers, “bye bye,” as the roar of a massive tsunami bears down on them. The wave completely swallows the tiny island. The demon is smothered by the water and its force, the bubble floats a great distance on the wave. The men in the cave managed to reach the other end just as the sound of roaring came through. They ran leaving the body of the scout on the ground. They barely managed to get out of the way before a massive torrent of sea water shot from the wave flooding the area. The cave gives off a white light and caves in. the water stopping at that same moment.

 

   The witch had passed out during the commotion, when she comes to she is lying back on the sand and there is a weight on her. She looks up, blinking in the bright light shining through the soapy bubble to see the blue woman on top of her. As she blinks the woman changes, the aura vanishes, her lips become red, her hair becomes straight and a dark blood red, her top shifts into a black corset like top, her bottom shifts into black leather shorts, and her shows become calf length black high heeled boots as black as everything else she is wearing.

 

   The woman touches the bubble and it pops like any bubble would. She gets off the witch and helps her up.

 

   “So tell me,” says the woman, “what’s your name kid.”

 

  “I…” the woman shakes her head and tries to stand tall, “I am the Witch of the North Woods.”

 

  “Yeah and I was the tentacle monster that molested you on like seven occasions as you tried each time to take it further by being…cleaner…each time to gain my favor…no what is your actual name?”

 

   “Migdra,” says the witch, “my name is Migdra…and you…you really are the Goddess of the Abyss?”

 

   “What a dumb title,” says the woman, “my name is Rhulan, I’m a sorceress, although evidence suggests I’m also some kind of dark chaos goddess too…eh…those hypocritical assholes sealed me inside a crystal this time and dumped me in the sea.”

 

   Rhulan gets a vicious look on her face and shakes her fist, “Next time I see those guys I am kicking their asses straight into a sun! They will beg me not to erase their entire civilization from the face of all existence!”

 

   She stops and smiles, “unless of course they return my cape to me…damn assholes aren’t as dumb as they look…despite all appearances and lack of a dress code it seems…they figured out my cape was my trick…but how…”

 

  Rhulan looks at Migdra, “my cape can’t have left this world. They must have locked it away somewhere.”

 

  “Is…is it special?” asks Migdra nervous not sure how to act…mostly prepared at any moment for this Goddess to seal the pact and shoot tentacles out and fuck her crazy.

 

 

   “Indeed,” says Rhulan with a mischievous smile, “there is more magic in that cape than all the witches…including you…I have seen in all these centuries on this trick of a named world.”

 

   “Huh?” asks Migdra.

 

  “Espiria,” says Rhulan, “sounds so much like…eh….never mind. However…”

 

  She walks around Migdra looking her up and down, “hmmm…you have magical potential alright, seems the demons do this pact that partially seals your power for their use and they channel your power through them to do what you want…damn…its like the supernatural definition of a scam job.”

 

   “My…power?” asks Migdra.

 

  “Yes indeed,” says Rhulan wrapping her arm around Migdra’s shoulder, “and you freed me…wanted to make a pact with…and technically I already fucked you like seven times already…granted kind of roughly…”

 

   Rhulan looks Migdra in the eyes, “stick with me and they’ll go from calling you a witch to the sorceress queen…is that not what you wanted? The ultimate magical power, from the ultimate magical being on your world?”

 

   Migdra takes a deep breath and bows before Rhulan, “Yes! I Migdra pledge myself to thee, great Goddess of all elements even the void Grand One Rhulan!”

 

  Rhulan claps her hands together, “Great it’s a deal then. First things first though…”

 

   She looks around, “well…first I need to do a scrying spell to find my cape, woe be any mortal using it as a placemat…any who…first we need to find someplace to eat. I havn’t eaten anything in centuries, and I am fucking starving right now!”