Party Wipe
(CW for: non-con, monster-fucking, tentacles, forced impregnation.)
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It was the quiet that told Claire they were getting close.
The first two nights in the forest had been filled with the usual springtime music, scattered birdcalls mingling with the chitter-chatter of insects and the rustling of leaves. But on the third night, a silence settled in. It was an unnatural stillness, as though the trees themselves were holding their breaths; as though even the wind was scared to tread here, deep in the woods where Claire's wicked quarry lay.
It was a warm night. But Claire had decided to light a fire anyway. The crackling wood helped steady the young mage's nerves, keeping that awful quiet at bay.
Unfortunately, the effect didn't seem to reach her companion, Alyx, who was beginning yet another pacing lap around the camp. "You're sure this is a good idea, right?" she asked for the umpteenth time.
Claire looked up from her spell book, annoyed. Attuning her staff to the proper enchantments was hard enough, even without the constant interruptions. "We'll be fine," she replied. "According to the reports, the Wystral is still rather young. At our current levels, we should be more than a match for it."
Alyx nodded, even as she restlessly re-tied her wild, auburn hair. "I know, I know, it's just..." her eyes scanned the surrounding forest. "We've never hunted anything like this before."
"That's exactly the point," Claire reminded her. "This is the fastest way we'll rank up and graduate out of this godforsaken region. You seemed fairly excited by the prospect yesterday."
Again Alyx nodded, but still didn't seem convinced.
Claire had to admit, it was unsettling to see the fighter of their party act this way. Even among other Apostles of her class, Alyx was an imposing figure: tall, broad-shouldered, with arms and legs sculpted from well-toned muscle. Her face was cuter and rounder than the average fighter—something Claire often teased her about—but she was still able to intimidate lesser warriors with nothing more than a glance. Adding to this awe-inspiring impression was her choice of garb, which forwent the usual layers of armor in favor of simple chest and shoulder plates strapped over her elegant Apostle robe. This was in part due her prizing speed over durability. But it was also evidence of Alyx's faith in her mage, a sign that she believed Claire's wards and blessings to be more dependable than steel.
So for Alyx to be acting this way, practically whimpering in fear...it didn't just shake Claire's faith in the fighter, but in herself as well. At least Valerie, their ranger, was still out scouting ahead—if she saw Alyx like this, the whole party would be going into battle demoralized. A bad idea, under normal circumstances.
And possibly fatal against this particular foe.
The creature they were hunting was a Wystral, a demonic parasite that humanity had nearly managed to hunt to extinction. Though the creatures weren't exceptionally hard to kill, they specialized in enchantments of the mind, and, without the proper precautions, even the strongest of warriors were liable to fall under their sway. Left unchecked, it was a said a lone Wystral could become powerful enough to enslave entire cities to its purpose, though as far as Claire could tell, there was no historical record of such an occurrence.
In any case, the newly discovered Wystral was the perfect target for her and her companions. As Apostles of Gloria, it was their duty to spread the Goddess' praises and teachings through great deeds, slaying monsters and saving citizens in Her name. But as relative newcomers to the group, Claire, Alyx, and Valerie had spent their first year relegated to low-danger areas, fulfilling mundane quests, fighting minor beasts, and receiving the miniscule rewards that followed.
By the spring of year two, Claire had been at her wits end. If she had wanted dull tasks with little gratitude, she would've remained at her family's inn, dodging the leering eyes of men and the gossip of their wives, who never missed a chance to assure Claire that her golden hair, large breasts, and "baby-making hips" were destined for a long, fruitful life of motherhood. She could think of nothing more mortifying. Claire didn't want the domestic life her parents lead: she wanted adventures and glory, just like the brave men and women she had spent her whole childhood reading about.
So far, the adventuring life had been a disappointment. But killing the Wystral could change that. It would solidify the party's bona fides as warriors of justice, and likely earn them enough experience points to shift their patrol routes to greener (and more exciting) pastures.
First, however, Claire had to do something about party morale.
"Here," she offered her hand to Alyx. "Show me your logbook."
Alyx sighed, and withdrew a small brown book from her robes before passing it to Claire. Every Apostle had one such tome, an enchanted log of their journeys, battles, and stats. It was an invaluable tool, both for keeping team members informed and organized. Every logbook contained a breakdown of its owner's capabilities, quantified by individual characteristics as well as an overall level. Using the logbook, Apostles could watch in real time as their rank and competence grew, receiving experience points every time they completed a mission or training course.
Claire never forgot the feeling of accomplishment that came when she first leveled up. It was a sort of gratification and validation she had never felt before, and one that she often drew upon in times of doubt.
"Look," Claire pointed to the first page of Alyx's logbook. "What do you see?"
"My profile," the fighter answered, her adorable lips curving into a sullen pout.
"It's not just your profile, Allie," Claire pressed. "It's the profile of a Level 28 fighter. Do you remember when we first started out together? You thought you would never reach past level 20, much less be on the cusp of 30!"
Alyx looked away. "Yeah, so?"
"So, you've already achieved what you once thought was impossible," Claire answered. "Remember how much work it took? How we felt like we were grinding ourselves into the dirt with the constant training drills and pest hunts? Compared to that, this Wystral will be nothing."
Alyx nodded, but still her eyes refused to meet Claire's.
The mage paused. "Unless there's something you haven't told me."
That was it. Alyx looked at Claire, then sighed. "Promise you won't tell Val?"
Claire hesitated. As party leader, it was her duty to treat each of the members equally. But as Alyx's friend, it was difficult not to honor her request, especially when she seemed so troubled.
"Go ahead," the mage prompted.
The fighter fidgeted. "I...I heard Val talking in her sleep last night."
Claire arched an eyebrow. "Did she...say anything in particular to worry you?"
"I...couldn't really hear her clearly," Alyx confessed. "But...I think I could make out a 'yes' here or there and, well...she sounded like she was, um, really enjoying herself, if you get what I'm saying."
"You think she was dreaming about the Wystral," Claire deduced.
