Saiko, known in her homeland as the Hitokiri--the Man-Slayer--had traveled to another land after leaving her homeland of Wakoku on a self-imposed exile. Of course, she had always planned on going back one day. The abundant peace that had begun to spread in the decades after the end of the nearly one-hundred-year long Himura Rebellion had left her bored. Spilling the blood of young soldiers who'd never seen combat was not as satisfying as she would have thought.
So she left, stowing away on a merchant vessel bound for a western country of the name Gallia. A country, she had heard, was embroiled with a war with a neighboring kingdom. A land brimming with warriors she'd never seen before. Fighting styles she had never encountered. Weapons and armor that she had known of only from a training manual she couldn't read. It was the first time in many years that the Man-Slayer's blood began to stir.
Until the day the fires of war once again spread across her homeland, Saiko would keep herself busy in this new land as the reaper of souls on the battlefield. Spreading her name within its borders, driving all who heard its whispers to the brinks of despair. Naturally, it was only a matter of time before the people of this land had begun using an epitaph for her: the Bloody Ogre, from what little she knew of their language. A monster that travels the roads and battle sites, slaughtering those who cross her, letting live only those she knew would spread word of her havoc.
Somehow, however, the rumors had mistaken her for a man. She found this somewhat troublingly amusing.
But this is not just her story. This is also the story of Remy-Adel de Rochefort. A virtuous, if not pitiable young man. As fair and as beautiful as any maiden, if not more so.
Remy was a young blond man of eighteen--no, boy was much more fitting, and even then there were many who (justifiably) had their doubts--and a member of the once great Rochefort House, though these days it had fallen out of the king's grace. Remy himself, had abandoned his right as head of the house to his eldest sister. Though small and weak, Remy had dreams of becoming a great hero. A man who commanded respect and admiration and the love of his people.
Sadly, such deeds were not as easy to come by as he believed in his childhood.
It had been three years since he had left his home in search of honor and glory, only to find himself working as a bounty hunter to survive. Granted, he had become something of a local hero in small villages and hamlets whose problems seldom exceeded an out of control giant rat infestation or a small tribe of poorly-equipped goblins demanding tributes.
It had been only three years, granted years of endless training and working--not that his eternally soft skin and lithe body demonstrated this, oh no--but only three years. Yet Remy was just about ready to give in and return home, back to his sister who had warned him of this.
It led him to his current situation. Sitting pitifully at a tavern a glass of warm milk sat in front of him. He had desperately tried to convince the plump, middle-aged barmaid that he was, in fact, old enough, yet she did not believe him.
"Whatever you say, hun," she would reply. "Should I get you anything to eat with that? You know boys like girls with a little meat on them."
"I'm serious...!" he whined as she sauntered off.
"Did you hear?" came a low whisper Remy could only barely hear, his forehead making close friends with the bar. "It's the Bloody Ogre. He's here."
"What a load of crock. Don't you think we would have seen him by now?" retorted one man. "Isn't he supposed to be seven-feet-tall and accompanied by the stench of sulfur?"
"Moron, he doesn't present himself so openly," said the man. "They say he can assume the form of any creature, almost like a changeling of sorts. Some say he even presents himself as a nubile maiden from the East."
The man's partner scoffed. "Bah, off with ye, you old fool."
The Bloody Ogre... a demon from the East, supposedly. One that intruded upon battles between his home of Gallia and the northern Germanian Empire. He had heard of the name many times in his travels, though he was never able to find much more beyond rumors. Even at the aftermaths of his rampages, stories of his appearance changed, though many claimed him to be of over seven-feet tall, with black, fiery horns sprouting from his head. Others claimed he was a disarmingly handsome man, with wild, cherry-color hair. And others still, like the man before, claimed he could assume multiple different forms.
But never had he been so close. Still, it struck Remy as odd. If this Bloody Ogre was here, then surely there would be carnage to follow him?
Remy leapt from his seat and stood before the two much older men, who leered him up and down with lust-filled eyes. He was used to it by now--and even played into it sometimes for the sake of extracting information--but was nevertheless creeped out by their gazes.
"Excuse me, good sirs, but can you tell me where you saw him? The Bloody Ogre?"
The two men exchanged glances, then at the sword on Remy's hip, and then erupted into laughter.
"Sorry little girl, I don't think the Bloody Ogre is someone you can seduce into a dungeon."
Remy, red in the face, balled his fists up at his side, bending forward slightly with his cute little rear jutting out slightly. The resulting pose made him look even more like a girl.
"I'm not going to seduce him! I'm going to defeat him and--!"
"BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" they laughed, even harder than before, loud enough for the others to hear.
Remy chewed his plush lips, the boiling humiliation in his belly driving him to clutch his sword's handle.
"Careful, Pierre!" one of the men jeered. "The Ogre Slayer has her sights on you now!"
The other man, Pierre, kept laughing, reaching over and grabbing Remy's soft ass. The boy squeaked and spun out of the man's grip. Of course, with his butt facing the Pierre, the older man used his other hand to smack the feminine boy's cute little rear. The loud smack echoed throughout the tavern.
Now everyone was laughing. Chanting over and over again. "Ogre Slayer! Ogre Slayer! Ogre Slayer!"
Not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of humiliating him further, Remy ran out of the tavern, intent on keeping his eyes dry and his ego steeled. He had no idea where he was going to go. It was the only place for lodgings in town. And it was late. Much too late to travel to the nearest town nearly three hours away by horse.
Eventually, however, Remy's sprint through town came to a sudden, soft, stop. He had collided with something. Someone. A woman, judging from the soft bosom he found his face buried within. The boy flushed bright red, pushing himself away from the woman.
"Please forgive me!" he apologized, bowing at the waist. When he looked up, he was surprised to not have been able to see her face. So he craned his neck up further, and further still and...
The woman before him was... well, she was tall. Almost freakishly so. He'd only ever seen men that big, and even then they were usually outliers. She must have been well over six-feet tall. And her clothes were so strange. A long, flowing black Eastern robe adorned with red, exotic patterns. There was a long slit running down the leg, exposing a generous portion of her thick, toned thigh. The valley between her chest was also similarly exposed. Remy would have been appalled by her lack of modesty...
...had he not been so terrified.
She looked down at him, her golden eyes glistened ominously in the darkness of the night. Her face was impassive and unreadable. A long scare trailed down from one of her eyes. Her face was framed by her short, but wild hair.
Remy stood there in fear, frozen as he tried to find the strength to... speak? Scream?
'Some say he even presents himself as a nubile maiden from the East.'
This was, without a doubt, him. Her. The Bloody Ogre.
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Saiko stared down at the young boy? Girl? Warrior? No, most definitely not. Despite the sword on their hip, it seemed almost too big for them. They stood there, frozen in fear. Saiko recognized this as one of two things. Either terrified by her appearance, or they knew who she was. Amazing, considering these people's confusion as to her sex.
Saiko saw no reason to bother with them either way, brushing past the shivering wreck as she made her way down an alley.
It was not an uncommon reaction. She was a great deal taller than most that dwelled in this country. Even in her homeland, she was considered to be a giantess to some. Many just assumed her to be a traveler, the idea that the Bloody Ogre could be a woman was just too infeasible to this lot. Though her pride was admittedly wounded at first, she found it was excellent for getting through places relatively unhindered. She was sure they would eventually open their eyes to the truth, so she decided to take it in stride for now. Every now and again, one brave soul would piece together the truth and challenge her.
'Challenge.' The thought made her laugh!
She was sure that wouldn't be the case this time.
Or... maybe not?
She could hear it. The pitter patter of feet behind her. Soft, silent, but nothing escaped Saiko's senses. The Man Slayer, the Bloody Ogre, she could not call herself these things were she to be so easily taken off guard.
She wondered... was it the fair-looking blonde from before? She was seldom ever 'challenged' by warriors as cute as they. It would almost be a shame if she had to kill them.
Well, she knew just the place...
>>>|<<<
