The Tale of the Three Swords, Part I
by T. Prince, tk_prince@hotmail.se


This Chinese epic tells the story of a forgotten war between East and West.

HISTORIAN'S FOREWORD:

The following text was recently recovered from the ruins of a Manchurian
library burned down by Mongols in the 15th century. International scholars
initially discredited the historical accuracy of the text, partially because
it contradicts most of our currently held knowledge about the Middle Ages, but
especially because of its frequent discursions into supernatural or
mythological territory. However, each month of research yields new evidence in
support of this outlandish account, which would overturn just about everything
we think we know about Asian and European history (not to mention the universe
we live in).

Because of the archaic and sparse language of the original text, the version
presented here has been reworked and modernized by the popular Chinese writer
Mei Minling, whose specialties are fantasy fiction and lesbian erotica.
Contrary to what you might expect, she is a perfect fit for the material.
Continue reading and you will see why.

Professor Ba Liang, Beijing University

THE EPIC OF WEI-LING

PART I

Before the time of the Golden Horde, there lived a woman alone in the desolate
red wastes of wind-beaten Xinjiang. This woman answered to the name of
Wei-Ling, and was a warrior of great repute. Once, it was said, she had
defeated three hundred outlaws with her bare fists, using the time-honored
technique of Two Hills, One Valley. But despite her legendary reputation, as
well as the social privileges available to any woman of her exceptional
beauty, Wei-Ling preferred the solitude of evening-reddened Taklamakan. There,
she was free to contemplate the teachings of the old masters in perfect peace.

One morning, when the sword-master was meditating in the early glare of the
Eastern sun, a dragon came to her. A small, spiral-shaped ribbon at first, it
soon came twisting out of the clouds, and landed gracefully on the ground
without a sound -- a magnificent beast with scales gleaming in all the colors
of the earth.

"God-chosen! Be not frightened," the dragon boomed in a voice like one hundred
Mongol horns, "although I come with news of a great evil. Listen well, for
that which I am about to speak of will soon be upon you and your countrymen."

"Oh, sailor of the skies, truly you are the most beautiful creature of heaven
and earth," Wei-Ling replied, bowing low. "The poems and paintings fail
utterly to do you justice. I will do as you command, and listen."

"Then hark this: A strange army is amassing in the kingdoms of the setting
sun, and it is led by a sorceress of unimaginable powers. This sorceress plans
nothing less than to bring all the peoples of the Eastern continent to their
knees in subjection. She intends to topple your walls, empty your treasuries,
defile the temples of your ancestors, and make serfs of your brothers and
sisters."

Wei-Ling was taken aback. She had heard of the Western kingdoms and its
inhabitants -- they were said to be both tall and well-built, with hair yellow
or brown or even red, and eyes of all different colors -- but she had never
considered them to be an immediate threat.

"The name of this wicked woman is Mariana LeFoy," the dragon continued, "and
unless her schemes are foiled, she will sit on the Dragon Throne as the
Empress of All Asia come next winter. She must be stopped."

"But what can we do?" Wei-Ling inquired. "My kingdom recently suffered an
attack from barbarians which has left our defense in shambles -- we have no
standing army!"

"That is true. The nations of the East are weaker than ever, a fact that the
demon witch of the West is well aware of. However, China has something that
will catch Mariana LeFoy entirely unguarded -- namely, warriors such as
yourself."

"I do not understand," Wei-Ling said, head bent downward.

"The task of defeating the red-haired sorceress and her mad schemes will be
yours, Wei-Ling of the Wind-Beaten Wastes," the dragon replied, its eyes
glowing like distant embers. "But you will not be alone. You will seek out two
other warriors, each of them as formidable as yourself -- one from the island
of Japan, and the other from the land of the Mongols. They will lend their
swords to your cause."

"But the Mongols have been our sworn enemies throughout history!" Wei-Ling
protested. "And we have never attempted an alliance with the Japanese -- they
are nearly as foreign to us as the Westerners. They will not trust me, and
they will have good reason for not doing so. What can I possibly do to
convince them to join me?

"Listen well, Wei-Ling, and I shall tell you how," the dragon began, turning
toward the Southern horizon. "Tomorrow, you must ride nine full days in the
direction that I am pointing out to you. There will be no landmarks available
to you by which to make your voyage easier, so remember it well, and do not
deviate from it. On the morning of the tenth day, you shall find the Mountain
of the Nesting Phoenix blocking your way. This mountain you must ascend. On
its top, you shall find an enormous nest, and inside that nest, the sword that
the gods call "Blue Wind". It is a sword forged from the breath of the last
phoenix, turned solid by the hand of the Jade Emperor himself. It is powerful
enough to cut through any material known to man. Both of the companions that I
have allotted to you will recognize this blade, and in doing so, they will be
persuaded of the importance of your mission."

"I trust your foresight in this matter, as I would in every other, oh guardian
of the heavens," Wei-Ling said, bowing before the immortal beast. "Whom shall
I seek out then, that I may stop this fiendish wind from the West?"

"First you must go to the island of Hokkaido. There you will find Shiori, a
descendant of the goddess Ameterasu, and the finest swordsmith in all the
known worlds..."

***

On a white chalk cliff overlooking the ocean off Hokkaido, a lone woman stood
hammering a glowing white strip of metal against her anvil. The woman, who was
of middle age, neither young nor old, was slender like women of Japan
generally are, although maturity had blessed her with a fuller figure than the
woman who was now approaching her. The swordsmith had medium-sized, round
breasts and matronly hips, and each move of her arm revealed ample muscle
definition. Her long black hair rippled in the wind, and although she had a
beautiful face, it nonetheless appeared to be stuck in the permanent frown
that comes from a life of troubles.

"I greet you, Shiori, descendant of the gods," Wei-Ling said, bowing her head
slightly. "I am Wei-Ling, from the overseas kingdom of China."

Shiori looked up, glowering, and Wei-Ling noticed that she had a permanent
scar that reached from her forehead to the tip of her chin.

"You've come a long way to arrive unannounced at the doorstep of a stranger's
house, Wei-Ling of China," the swordsmith said, somewhat brusquely. "What is
your errand?"

"I have heard disturbing rumours of a force gathering in the Western
kingdoms-"

"So have I," Shiori cut her off, and resumed her hammering. "But unlike you,
it appears, I do not find it cause for worry. When I traveled the world as a
ronin, I fought against countless Westerners, and I never once lost. They are
large and full of swagger, and once you lure them out of their comfort zone,
they are easy prey. They will not take Japan."

"The rumours also say that this army is led by a powerful witch-"

"I have heard that as well. And what do you propose to do about it?"

Wei-Ling and Shiori locked gazes, until the Chinese woman bailed and looked
down into the ground. Shiori snorted, half with disappointment and half with
contempt, before carrying on with her smithing.

"A few weeks ago," Wei-Ling began, "I was approached by a dragon-"

"I asked you, Wei-Ling of China, what you propose to do about it?"

Wei-Ling hesitated for a moment. Then, remembering the words of the dragon,
she brandished the blade which she had traveled ten days and climbed a
mountain in order to acquire. When she did this, the symbols engraved along
the unbreakable edge of the "Blue Wind" began to glow faintly with blue light,
and the sky seemed to darken, as if in respectful tribute to the legendary
weapon.

Shiori's eyes lit up, as if ignited by distant fire. Her hammer fell to the
ground.

"The Sky-Sword," she intoned, and fell to her knees.

"The being who showed it to me called it 'Blue Wind'," Wei-Ling corrected her.

"Yes, but here, we refer to it as the Sky-Sword," Shiori said, unable to take
her eyes off the artifact. "Every warrior here knows its name, and it is said
that whoever lays eyes on it has been called upon by the gods. Your bringing
it here is prophetic."

Relieved, Wei-Ling sheathed the sword. "I am glad to see that you are
reconsidering."

The Japanese swordswoman remained on her knees, staring absent-mindedly off
into the distance. "It appears that greater forces are in motion than I had
thought. You said that you were visited by a dragon as well? This is
troubling, indeed. The gods have sent us many signs, and that can only mean
that the threat of invasion should not be treated lightly."

"Then you will join my cause, after all?" Wei-Ling asked, with baited breath.

"I am no longer young, and my heart no longer yearns for battle," Shiori
responded, a frown once again darkening her face, "but I would be a fool
indeed to ignore a call to arms issued by the gods themselves. Let us rise,
then, to counter this foul wind from the West, and strike at the heart of its
source."

The following morning, the two women sailed across the strait to the Chinese
mainland, and promptly set off for the deserts of Mongolia.

***

They found Nerg?i alone in the desert, mounted on a massive, fur-covered
horse. The Mongolian warrior was wearing a grey fur cloak, and a huge black
bow hung over her shoulder. On the other shoulder, her hunting falcon sat
perched, staring off into the gleaming sunset. Without warning, Nerg?i's head
suddenly jolted up, after which she slid down her bow, placed an arrow on the
string and fired into the horizon -- all in one fluid motion. Two hundred
yards away, a rabbit fell down, impaled by the arrow.

"Erdene -- fetch!" the archer commanded, and the falcon took off with a
shriek.

Wei-Ling and Shiori exchanged glances, and then approached the lone rider.

"Hold!" cried Nerg?i, and placed an arrow on her string. "What business brings
two lowlanders like yourselves to Mongolia? Speak quickly or you won't live
long!"

"Lady Nergui," Wei-Ling began, "Your skill with the bow and arrow is
legendary, and we would be foolish indeed to disregard your advice. I am Wei-
Ling, a swordswoman from China, and this is Shiori, from the island of Japan.
We have come here to ask you to join us in stopping a sorceress from the West
who aims to bring the East to its knees."

"Hah!" the Mongol cried, spitting on the ground. "My people need not your
help. Our scouts are well aware of the coming of the army of which you speak.
The witch and her minions will have to pass through the narrow rock-gates of
Turkestan before she reaches your kingdom in the lowlands, and our mounted
archers will be waiting for them there."

"Lady Nerg?i, if I may," Shiori began, "we suspect that this is no ordinary
witch. According to the latest rumours, she travels under the cover of magical
night. She will know where your forces are and choose a different route, or
else attack you from behind. Whatever tactical advantage you think you have,
she will circumvent it."

"Then let her attack us from behind, I care not!" Nerg?i roared, throwing back
her head with a cackle. "Western women are weak. They have been raised on
sugar, soft bread and cow's milk, and have grown big, soft and clumsy as a
result. Their breasts are too big for them to make good archers, and their
soft bottoms are to sensitive for them to make good riders. Moreover, our
Mongolian climate will make them slow and stupid. My people will crush their
army like bugs, and mount their blond braids on our walls for decoration!"

"And what if the witch summons all the forces of hell to come to her aid?"
Shiori asked, impatient with all the Mongolian swagger. "Or all the hosts of
her Western deity? What then will you do?"

Nerg?i's face darkened, and a look of contempt appeared on it. "If you rice-
growers and island-dwellers are so cowardly as to be intimidated by the coming
of the Westerner, then I have nothing more to say to you. Go ahead, then, try
to barter with the bitch sorceress. We Mongolians will fight, and we will
win."

"We do not suggest bartering with her," Wei-Ling replied.

"Then what do you suggest, lowlander?"

Once again, Wei-Ling unsheathed the "Blue Wind", and held it aloft. The edge
glew brightly, enchanting the surrounding rocks with its ghostly light.

"The Dream-Sword," Nerg?i said, almost breathlessly. "Countless times have I
seen it in my dreams, but I never thought I would live to see the day when I
would lay eyes upon the blade itself."

She dismounted, and prostrated herself in the deepest reverence.

"Lady Nerg?i," Wei-Ling said, sheathing her sword, "the peoples of the East
cannot afford to distrust each other in this dark hour. We must stand united,
and we must move quickly. Mariana LeFoy expects us to produce an army, whose
movements she can track with her spies and magical eyes. Therefore we must do
the opposite, and attack her with the smallest possible numbers on our side.
If you join our cause, we can move to surprise her at the Great Wall next
week. If not, we must find someone else, and risk arriving too late."

"Worry not, Lady Wei-Ling, for you have my services," Nerg?i replied, just as
her falcon returned from its hunt, and perched on her shoulder as before. "Let
us put Eastern discipline against Western arrogance, and swordpower against
witchcraft! The sun is setting in the West, and soon it will rise in the
East!"

***

Mariana LeFoy stood overlooking her army, waiting for her raven to return. She
was every bit as beautiful and exotic as the stories indicated and more --
tall and statuesque with porcelain skin and hair as red as the setting Western
sun. Yet the traces of wickedness were plain on her gorgeous face -- it was
there in the curve of her blood-red lips and the crazed gleam in her emerald
eyes. She had a body worthy of Aphrodite, and her long-sleeved red gown
delineated every curve of it, from the contours of her great, luscious breasts
to the undulating hills of her hips to the deep ravine between her perfectly
shaped buttocks.

Behind her stood her five champions, each wearing her signature color. There
was Rowena the Black -- also known as Rowena the Fearless -- a pale, curvy
black-haired woman wearing a black tunic, a supple breastplate of polished
steel, and black tights that clung to her shapely thighs and calves. Rowena's
eyes were dark brown, and her glistening raven hair so long that it reached
all the way down to her well-proportioned hindquarters.

Next was Leocadia the Purple -- also known as Leocadia the Wise -- a taller
and slightly less curvy woman wearing a purple and gold breastplate, with gold
chainmail leggings. Leocadia had a severe face, with a sharp nose, steel grey
eyes and an orange-blond ponytail, and her breastplate depicted a prancing
pegasus, whose wings stretched roughly from nipple to nipple, and whose hooves
seemed to rise out of the blonde's navel.

Then came Helena the Green -- otherwise Helena the Merciful -- who was shorter
than the other two. Helena had fiery red hair, alabaster skin, emerald eyes
and a slender build, although a swelling bosom and round hips nevertheless
gave her something akin to the hourglass figure of her peers. Her clothing and
armour was completely green, and designed to resemble floral petals.

Next was Alexia the Blue -- or Alexia the Innocent -- the youngest of the
quintet. Young Alexia was barely a woman; a youthful girl with sun-dappled
blond hair in a boyish page cut, lively blue eyes, and a sapphie-colored
armoured tunic that clung tightly to her gentle curves. On her modest bosom, a
white dove -- her insignia -- spread its wings. She was resting her buttocks
against the edge of her triangular shield, which she had stuck into the ground
to serve as a makeshift chair.

Finally, the fifth champion was the greatest of them all. Ophelia the White --
also known as Ophelia the Pure -- was the tallest and curviest of the five
women; a voluptuous, fair-skinned Nordic blonde with azure eyes, thick red
lips and a body that could keep a sculptor busy with inspiration for a whole
career. Unlike the other four, Ophelia wore no armour, only a small white
tunic that ended halfway down her hips, which was low-cut enough to showcase
her full, delectable breasts, and which rippled teasingly in the wind to give
anyone standing right behind her ample glimpses of her hidden treasures. Her
golden hair was in a single, ornate braid that reached down to her thighs, and
swung back and forth in the wind in the wind like a pendulum, occasionally
taking the time to bounce off her heart-shaped derriere.

"There he comes!" Mariana cried out, as her raven appeared in the distance.
The bird landed gracefully on the witch's shoulder and whispered something in
her ear.

"My messenger says that there is not a single soldier guarding the wall," the
sorceress said, a bit taken aback. "How can this be? Either our enemies have
misjudged how fast we are moving, or else they expected us to attack from a
completely different direction."

"My lady, this is easily explainable," Leocadia began. "The Oriental peoples
are notoriously superstitious. Undoubtedly, they have heeded the words of some
foolish seer and based their entire strategy on her irrational advice, which
is why they have, against better judgment, left the most vulnerable part of
their wall unguarded."

"Lady Leocadia has spoken truly," someone else concurred. This turned out to
be Lady Isabel -- Mariana's high priestess -- a young, immaculately beautiful
dark-haired woman with the bronze skin that is typical of the Iberian people.
Lady Isabel held her head meekly bowed forward and her hands clasped before
her. She was wearing a virginal white robe with the hood up, and the golden
symbol of her deity around her neck. "Surely this is testament to the
falseness of the Eastern gods, and the superiority of ours."

" 'Ours'? I thought your deity disapproved of magic, Lady Isabel," Mariana
asked.

"That is true, my lady, although he looks with great favor upon evil being
employed in the service of a greater good," the priestess replied, smiling
radiantly. "Such as the conquest of the unholy East."

"And for this goal, who are willing to overlook the most ancient of
restrictions laid down by your deity?" Mariana continued.

Lady Isabel flinched. It was obvious what the sorceress was talking about, and
the two women instantly turned toward the object of discussion. Further down
in the valley, a strange woman sat by herself in the middle of a barbaric-
looking circle that she had drawn up in the ground. The woman was naked except
for a thin breechcloth, and her ghostly pale, curvaceous body was covered from
head to toe in purple and black tattoos -- the most eye-catching of which was
a series if demonic-looking tentacles, which began with a narrow stem
appearing out of the upper cleft of the woman's buttocks, and expanded until
they were covering her whole back in an eldritch mess. Her hair was completely
white. She was meditating.

This was Ritsa, a summoner from the northernmost wastes of Lapland.

"For the time being, yes," Lady Isabel answered with some hesitation. "An
alliance with a summoner is a compromise I would not have made myself, but I
defer to your superior judgment in this matter. However, as soon as the East
has been conquered, I intend to deal with her in my own way."

"I see," Mariana LeFoy replied curtly, and took a while to collect her
thoughts. "Now, if I could only find out what our enemies have prepared for
us-"

"Perhaps they have simply failed to notice our presence," Rowena suggested.
"After all, we have traveled all this way under the cover of magical night."

"Impossible, there are eyes in the East that cannot have missed that we are
coming."

"Then perhaps this is a sign of surrender," Ophelia said, in a voice as gentle
as an angel's harp. "The Easterners have submitted to our evident superiority
as a people. Tales of our grace, wisdom and unmatched beauty must have reached
their ears and caused them to lay down their arms."

"Lady Ophelia, you are my most prized knight and companion," Mariana replied,
letting her eyes travel slowly up and down the body of her champion. "But your
pride will one day be your downfall. Let us tread carefully and investigate
further before making our move."

***

Up on the Great Wall of China, the three defenders of the East stood side by
side overlooking the Western border. It was a beautiful day, with a perfect
cornflower sky and a light breeze rustling the immense fields of grass on both
sides of the wall. Suddenly, Nerg?i gave up a loud whistle.

"The Westerners are coming!"

And coming they were -- rows upon rows of archers and foot soldiers were
approaching over the grassy knoll, in perfect lock-step. A single horizontal
line of armored horsewomen brought up the rear.

Soon, Nerg?i -- whose eyesight was the best of the three -- had managed to
come up with a breakdown of the invading army:

The infantry portion consisted of four thousand soldiers -- about half of them
carrying spears, and the rest of them armed with swords and shields. The
footsoldiers, all of whom were women, were uniformly dressed in knee-length
blue and white tunics, as well as unadorned nasal helmets.

The archers were about one thousand, and were dressed in longer tunics, which
were red and yellow. These women were wearing kettle helmets, and about half
of them were armed with longbows, the others crossbows.

The cavalry portion seemed to consist of five hundred riders. These soldiers
were wearing green tunics with breastplates and larger helmets that covered
their faces, but their legs were dressed only in black tights -- presumably
for maximum maneuverability.

Furthermore, there were smaller groups of specialized warriors from different
regions in Europe: about one hundred fierce-looking, busty Amazons dressed in
animal hide tops and loincloths and armed with ten foot spears, one hundred
voluptuous shieldmaidens from the Scandinavian kingdoms with blond braids and
horned helmets, fifty armoured and rapier-wielding Spanish conquistadoras on
horseback, and fifty priestesses in long white cloaks, carrying the symbol of
Lady Isabel's deity. Ten standard bearers rode alongside the army, carrying
flags adorned with what appeared to be Lady Mariana's sigil: A golden griffin
rearing up against a red background.

"I count nearly six thousand soldiers," the Mongolian declared in a matter-of-
fact tone.

"Two thousand for each of us, then," Shiori replied, smiling. She was running
her finger along the edge of her no-dachi -- a sword so long that, when
balanced against the ground, the tip of the handle reached her forehead.

"Let us hope that our enemy does not have any major surprises in store for
us," Wei-Ling added, pacing back and forth on the wall. The Chinese warrior
was dressed in a traditional fighting costume -- a light blue emboidered tunic
with loose white pants. Her hair was in a conservative bun, and "Blue Wind"
hung sheathed from her shoulder.

When the time had come, she approached the bulwark and shouted:

"Mariana LeFoy!"

Immediately, the army stopped marching, and remained standing in perfect
square formations.

"I am Wei-Ling, humble servant of the Emperor, and wielder of the sword known
as "Blue Wind"! With me is Lady Shiori of Japan and Lady Nerg?i of the
Mongols, two of the finest warriors of their kin! Know that you have reached
the end of your march, and that any Westerner who attempts to pass through
this gate will swiftly regret it!"

A full minute of silence passed, and the three guardians on the wall waited
with baited breath. Then, the sorceress sent her reply.

A noise as if from a thousand beehives rose through the air, and an immense
cloud of arrows darkened the sky.

"So she has chosen humiliation," Nerg?i said. "She shall have it."

Wei-Ling and Shiori drew their swords, and Nerg?i brandished her riding spear.
Within moments, the arrows were upon them, and the three warriors began to
dance through the barbed hailstorm, sending arrows spiraling off in every
direction. The floor beneath them was soon covered with half arrows and wood
splinters. Soon afterward, the rain of arrows died out -- and the warriors
stood completely unscathed in a ragged sea of deflected projectiles.

"Let's give her our response," Shiori cied out, at which point Wei-Ling
grabbed a bulky, ornate object that she had stowed away under the bulwark. It
was a small, gilded mortar. She adjusted the mouth of the cannon so that it
pointed straight at the section of archers, and then lit the fuse.

"Let's give them a taste of Eastern firepower!" she roared.

With a thundering boom, the cannon sent a fiery projectile flying in an arch
through the sky, leaving a black trail of smoke behind it. A moment later, a
terrible fireball appeared in the middle of the Western archer troop -- and
soon an ear-splitting explosion followed. Archers were thrown in every
direction, as were bows and helmets. When the smoke scattered, there was a
small crater where the bomb had landed, surrounded by the knocked-down bodies
of about twenty archers. The explosion had burned off much of their clothing
-- some of them had been stripped completely naked by the inferno and were
lying face down like toppled white mannequins, their backs and bare, upturned
backsides streaked black with soot.

There was a brief commotion among Mariana's soldiers, as the turned around to
see what had just happened. Then, after less than ten seconds, a second blast
erupted in the archer's section, sending twenty more soldiers screaming
through the air with burning clothes and roasted rear ends.

Mariana LeFoy watched what happened with complete detachment. After the third
mortar strike, she ordered a full-on infantry charge.

"Here they come!" Shiori cried out.

"Sarangerel!" Nerg?i shouted, following which her trusty horse came galloping
up a nearby ramp and appeared by her side. She mounted the horse and took out
her bow. "I will patrol the wall -- you two go down and fight on the field!"

Wei-Ling and Shiori exchanged glances and smiled. The time had come to put
Eastern steel against Western.

With a deafening battle cry, Shiori leapt off the edge of the wall and landed
in front of a surprised-looking soldier. The physical contrast between the two
was striking -- the Caucasian was a muscular, full-figured brunette with
round, protruding breasts, whereas the Asian was short and slender, with
gentle curves and a small, compact chest. But if this comparison seemed to
stack the deck in the Westerner's favour, the odds were instantly evened out
when Shiori unsheathed her fearsome no-dachi, which was nearly three times as
long as the white woman's longsword.

The brunette made a timid attack. Shiori put steel against steel, and
instantly shattered the longsword into splinters. When the soldier gasped and
put up her shield, the Japanese warrior simply pulled her giant blade upward,
slicing through the shield like butter, and let the two halves fall harmlessly
to the ground. The busty Westerner was now unarmed, and could do nothing but
stare back at her opponent as the latter let her no-dachi sing through the air
for a few seconds, swooshing close to the brunette's curvy body without ever
actually touching her skin. When Shiori lowered he sword, the soldier's
uniform fell apart from neck to toe, leaving the speechless white woman as
naked as a baby.

The brunette instantly covered up in shame, like a young girl caught bathing.
Shiori stared a her for a moment, amused, letting her eyes travel up from the
Westerner's coyly crossed ankles to her hefty thighs to her overproportioned
mammaries and finally her blushing, cherubic face.

"Pitiful," the Japanese woman grumbled, before head-butting the humiliated
Westerner with a satisfying *THUD!* and sending her falling like a felled
tree, landing tits-up and legs apart in the grass.

Laughing, Wei-Ling followed her lead, and landed in the grass a bit further
away, where she immediately cut the tips clean off of two spears, and knocked
out their wielders with their own weapons. A swordswoman soon came after her,
but the Chinese warrior quickly dispatched her with a well-placed scissor
kick, and finally a heel drop to the soldier's forehead, sending her crashing
face first into the ground -- back body arched up and tunic blown up to give
her compatriots an unobscured view of her plump backside.

She picked up the soldier's shield and threw it off into the distance, where
it buried itself in another swordswoman's belly, sending her crashing into the
soldier behind her, and knocking out both of them.

"Hey Shiori, you'd best pick up the pace! I'm already in the lead with 5-1,
and you've been here longer!" she shouted merrily across the battlefield.

"Why the hurry? I'm taking my time and having fun instead!"

Shiori sliced off another swordswoman's tunic, spun around and buried her knee
in the buxom enemy's blond crotch with a loud *CRACK!*. The soldier's eyes
rolled back up in her head, and she fell to the ground in a pathetic pile.

Up on the wall, Nerg?i had just finished tying an explosive charge from
Wei-Ling's mortar to one of her arrows, and was scanning the battlefield for
the right place to rain down some hellfire. A moment later, an explosion
appeared in the middle of the infantry section, once again sending half-naked
soldiers shrieking through the air with smoke trailing from their ash-streaked
backs and behinds.

"Nice shot, Nerg?i!" Wei-Ling cried, just before knocking a spear-carrying
blonde out cold with a clean punch, swiping the spear out of her limp hands
and breaking it over the back of a red-haired swordswoman. Without skipping a
beat, she then let "Blue Wind" dance through the air and reduce two attacking
soldiers' clothing to tiny strips, before grabbing both women by their hair
and knocking their curvy bodies together -- flattening two pairs of huge boobs
against each other moments before their foreheads touched, and the women were
out cold.

Meanwhile, Shiori had managed to grab a helpless blond soldier by one ankle
and was swinging her around her like a great flail, striking soldiers left and
right and knocking them over like bowling pins. Finally, when her unorthodox
weapon had served its purpose, she simply let go of her ankle and sent the
screaming projectile flying off into the air until she crashed face-first into
another soldier's shield and lost consciousness.

The battle progressed, and Nerg?i continued to fire combustible arrows into
the increasingly demoralized battlefield, blowing off clothing and knocking
out soldiers until she was forced to take a break to deal with a few ladders
that had been erected against the wall. She promptly gave each ladder a kick,
and with each kick sent six or seven hapless soldiers wailing to the ground
with them.

Wei-Ling had just roundhouse-kicked three timid soldiers in the face and
reduced them to pitiful piles, when she heard Nerg?i cry out from the wall:

"Cavalry!"

The infantry was clearing the way for a fast-approaching line of brown and
green, which was heralded by a clattering noise as of constant rolling
thunder. The cavalrywomen were standing on their stirrups, bent forward with
their lances pointed straight ahead. Their face-covering helmets removed any
trace of individuality -- an army of implacable, busty automatons.

"They're only armored down to their waists," Shiori yelled to her companion.
"So let's hit them where they're exposed -- below the belt!"

The line came closer and closer, and the two warriors steeled themselves for
impact. Shiori held her no-dachi vertically in front of herself, pointing it
skyward. She saw the lances of the two riders directly in front of her being
slowly adjusted, so as to hit her straight on. Second by second, the moment
approached, until...

CRASH! With an earth-shaking battle cry, Shiori rotated her blade like a great
wheel, trapping the lances and twisting them clockwise along with it. The two
riders were flung diagonally out of their saddles and collided head- first
with each other mid-air, after which they were knocked unconscious.

Shiori, without missing a beat, grabbed a lance from the ground, swung herself
up into the saddle of one of the horses, and changed course completely --
while the cavalry was charging ahead in a straight line, this lone rider rode
in a diagonal line behind them (taking their forward motion into account), so
that she would pass each rider from behind until the end of the line. She
extended the lance to her left, and began to strike the riders out of their
saddles at an incredible rate.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
THWACK!

Each blow sent a flabbergasted Western rider toppling helplessly off her
horse, with most of them landing on their heavy, iron-covered heads and
knocking them- selves out cold.

Meanwhile, Wei-Ling had dealt with the cavalry charge in her own way: armed
with a discarded spear, she had struck an oncoming rider in the center of her
breast- plate and thrown her out of her saddle, causing her to land hard on
the ground on her curvy butt, legs cluelessly akimbo. As the horse swooshed
past, Wei-Ling had thrown herself up in the saddle, where she remained
standing on the horse's back, like some circus artist. Still keeping the horse
in line with the others, the Chinese woman had then proceeded to jump from
horse to horse, methodically dispatching of each rider in different ways. Most
were simply shoved out of their saddles, but since some were still standing on
their stirrups, and jutting out their pert rear ends so invitingly, Wei-Ling
couldn't resist the occasional kick in the crotch or up the ass.

Before the cavalry officer had time to order her forces around, the two Asians
had already taken out well over a hundred helpless riders.

"Riders halt! Turn around by the wall and attack again!" the officer cried,
but this command proved too much for the troop, which was already in
considerable disarray. No one could tell exactly where the enemies were, and
riderless horses were darting in and out of the chaos.

And Nerg?i was ready to pour oil on the fire.

BOOM!! An explosion erupted in the middle of the Westerners' ranks, throwing
scorched, half-naked riders flying out of their saddles and horses jolting
away in panic. BOOM!! Another explosion, more soldiers falling face down in
the dirt with smoke trailing from their burnt bodies.

By now, horses were actively rebelling against their riders, throwing off
their shapely mistresses and leaving them on their plump backsides in the
dirt. To make matters worse, Shiroi was still circling the chaos with her
lance, picking off riders like bowling pins.

"Stay calm! Regroup!" the officer commanded, but the order fell on deaf ears.
The troop, which now mainly consisted of riderless horses, had already began
riding back in the direction whence they came -- a path which lead directly
over most of the actual riders, as well as some of the infantry. The riders,
most of which were lying on their stomachs or sitting flat on their backsides,
tried to make a run for it, but to no avail. A legion of hooves thundered over
the ground, toppling the Westerners and pressing them into the dirt, while the
next line of hooves proceeded to pound their horseshoe-marked signatures onto
their soft thighs and bottoms.

The commander was left virtually alone near the wall, where she continued to
bark out orders to no one in particular. Wei-Ling winked at Nerg?i, who had
produced a roll of thick rope and was smiling.

With a nimple leap, Wei-Ling climbed on top of the horse behind the cavalry
officer, and let "Blue Wind" make short work of her armour. When the magical
blade had performed its work, the bulky, ornate helmet fell apart in two
halves, as did the breastplate and tunic -- leaving her only in her tights.
Suddenly, the fearsome, fully armoured officer was transformed into a
freckled, red-haired maiden with her succulent breasts waving freely in the
breeze, and a crack of ass visible above her thigh-hugging tights.

The officer immediately jammed the spurs into the sides of her horse, not
noticing that a rope had been tied around her waist -- and was consequently
thrown out out of her saddle when the rope tightened. From up on the wall,
Nerg?i was holding the other end of the rope, and soon began to reel in her
catch.

"I will not talk! You can torture me all you want!" the officer barked as she
was lifted higher and higher into the air, until her head finally appeared
between the gaps of the bulwark.

"We're not interested in your information," Nerg?i snapped, just before she
grabbed the hem of the commander's tights, pulled them upward -- "AAOOWW!!" --
and hung them on a sharp corner of the bulwark. The resilient fabric of the
Westerner's tights suddenly rocketed up the cleft of her vagina and ate into
her firm white ass. "We really just want your troops to see their commander
with her tits out and her tights pulled up into her snatch."

"N-n-noooo!!" the commander wailed where she hung, trying to wiggle away from
the hard string sliding up between her buns and into her private parts, but
Nerg?i simply patted her on her carrot-colored head and returned to her
routine.

The battlefield was now in complete disarray. During the cavalry retreat a
tremendous amount of dust had been kicked up in the air, which caused the
confused and fragmented infantry troops to stumble around as in a thick fog.
Left and right, their companions were snatched away by an unseen enemy,
darting in and out of the dust like a spectre.

Shiori had just finished punching an unlucky horsewoman in the face until the
whites of her eyes appeared and she fell limp to the ground, when she turned
around to find herself staring into the malicious dark eyes of none other than
Lady Rowena the Black. The pale, black-haired knight came walking out of the
dusty fog with long, confident strides. She was grinning like some malevolent
demon, and both of her hands were wrapped around a fearsome, rune- adorned
greatsword. The ranks of soldiers parted to let her through, and then closed
behind her.

"I'm going to take a guess and say that you're some form of a knight," Shiori
said, examining her new enemy from head to toe with a skeptically raised
eyebrow. "Although to be honest, my first association was: madam of a vampire
whorehouse."

"You won't be so insolent after I've strung you up and cut you open like a
fish," Rowena replied, still smirking. She turned toward her soldiers and held
up a warning hand -- a sign that meant 'everyone stay back and watch without
interfering'.

"Well, that gives me a lot of time to be insolent," Shiroi retoted.

A flash of anger darkened Rowena's eyes, and she attacked, raising her
greatsword over her head and aiming a powerful vertical blow at her foe.
Shiroi parried, and when the two blades met mid-air, the friction between
Eastern and Western steel gave rise to a blood red electric spark.

"I'll spill your guts, you Eastern rat!" the Japanese woman hissed, and
continued to chop away at the air with her behemoth blade. Shiroi alternately
dodged and parried the ferocious blows, and so the fencing match went on until
a particularly powerful impact pushed Shiori down on one knee.

"That's right. KNEEL -- like the serf you will soon be," Rowena laughed, and
abruptly released her blade, causing her enemy's sword to recoil and leave a
quick opening in the Japanese warrior's defenses. Pouncing on the opportunity,
Rowena slammed the hilt of her greatsword into the back of Shiroi's head,
causing the proud swordsmith to slump forward on all fours.

Smiling triumphantly, the black champion raised her sword for the killing
blow. However, Shiroi regained her wits in the nick of time, and pulled
backward just in time to avoid certain decapitation. The sword sunk harm-
lessly into the ground, and Shiroi had time to get up on her feet.

"You are only delaying the inevitable, you know," Rowena said, licking her
dark lips like a hungry predator.

Shiroi made a lunge for her no-dachi, but the curvy white woman promptly set
down her foot on it, shaking her head with a tsk-tsk-ing sound.

Suddenly a voice appeared behind the towering champion:

"If you fight like a woman without honor, you ought to be dressed like a woman
without honor!"

Rowena's eyes widened in surprise, and soon the stranger's blade went singing
back and forth through the air. A moment later, a long, vertical gash appeared
along the middle of her breastplate, and it fell apart. As did her tunic. And
her tights. Finally, the buxom dark knight was left only in her tight little
undies -- a black bikini top that could barely hold her ample bust in place,
and a pair of black panties that cleaved her majestic rump like a great split
peach. She gasped in horror.

"That's better," the stranger chuckled.

"You stay out of this, Wei-Ling!" Shiori grunted. "I can fight my own
battles!"

"Fair enough, then," Wei-Ling replied, and gave the callipygian Westerner a
parting smack on the tush with her blade. "She's all yours!"

Rowena spun around with a furious roar, intending to skewer the impudent
Easterner alive, but the latter had already disappeared in the fog.

"Hey, fat-ass!" Shiori called from behind. The raven-haired knight turned
around, only to find herself staring into the sole of a boot, quickly growing
in size.

SCHWACK!!

The boot collided with the Westerner's face, scrunching its lovely features
together, sending shockwaves through her pale cheeks and drawing a geyser of
spittle from between her night-black lips.

"If you want to fight without swords, we'll fight without swords," Shiori
growled, slamming her elbow into Rowena's right hand with an audible crunch
and depriving her of her greatsword. "Only problem is, you shouldn't have
picked a FISTFIGHT with an ASIAN!"

She fired off a quick series of punches, each one striking the buxom knight
squarely in the middle of one of her ripe, marble-colored tits. Rowena
shrieked and moaned as the Asian pounded her majestic mammaries like two
chunks of bread dough.

"Now I finally get why they call them 'knockers'!" she mused as she continued
to tenderize the white woman's boobs until they were pinker than two baskets
of plum blossoms. She then delivered two synchronized uppercuts to the
undersides of the blushing breasts, which finally caused them to pop right out
of Rowena's bra -- brown areolas and two stiff nipples bouncing from the blow.

Hissing with rage and humiliation, Rowena aimed a punch at her smaller enemy,
but the latter simply dodged it and buried her fist in the curvaceous bad
girl's exposed stomach, causing her to double over like a drunkard about to
throw up. This caused her well-formed backside to bob up in response.

"This ought to teach you fat-breasted Western harlots to keep your lily white
asses out of the East!" Shiori said as she grabbed hold of the semi- elastic
fabric of the humiliated villainess' panties and gave her a ferocious wedgie.
The flimsy black strip shot up into the crack of Rowena's vanilla- colored
bum, and disappeared between the vibrating glutes.

"OOHHH!!" the knight wailed as the wedgie brought her up on her toes, and her
hands immediately flew to protect her pounding privates.

But Shiori wasn't done with her yet. Having planted her feet close together,
she began to spin around in a circle -- with her butt arched backward for
centrifugal support -- dragging Rowena along with her by her underwear. The
buxom Caucasian was soon flying through the air, around and around in an
excruciatingly painful wedgie carousel, her glistening body tipped forward and
her well-fattened rump spilling halfway out of her panties.

"UUUNNGGHHH!!" Rowena moaned as her cooch grew sorer and sorer, and her rear
end slipped further and further over the edge of her razor-sharp panties,
until Shiori was looking straight down into the white woman's pink, winking
butthole.

***

From the safety of their hill, Mariana and her cohorts were observing the
battle through a crystal ball. Ophelia and Leocadia were following the
humiliation of their sister-in-arms with a mix of contempt and disappointment,
Helena was shaking her head, Alexia and Lady Isabel looked aghast, and Mariana
herself looked strangely amused.

"Take a good, long look at what's happening," the sorceress informed them,
"because this is what awaits you if you fail. Let down your guard once, and
you'll be the one with her tits out, ass bared and panties buried deep up her
snatch."

"But... this is unacceptable! It's undignified!" Alexia the Blue gasped. "No
knight should be treated this way!"

"Clearly, Lady Rowena was no real knight," Ophelia declared with a sneer.
"Otherwise she would never have ended up in a situation like this."

"Careful, Lady Ophelia," Mariana warned her. "I have seen her hold her own
against the best warriors in Europe, including yourself. Also, you would do
well to check that pride of yours. I have said it before -- the prouder the
woman, the harder the fall."

"Then the gods must not have favoured her," Lady Isabel suggested, her head
still bowed piously forward. "For this reason, we must pray fervently for
their continued protection."

"It could happen to you as well, Lady Isabel," the sorceress said with a
malicious smirk. "Do not think that those virginal white robes will save you
from humiliation when it's you who are up against the wall."

The other knights said nothing -- they simply stared at the triumphant little
figure at the center of the crystal ball and the disembodied white ass
orbiting her like a moon.

***

Meanwhile, the conquistadoras had thundered onto the battlefield in full
force. With their thick, gleaming breastplates, large shields and curved
helmets, they were the heaviest-armoured unit in the Western army, and when
all fifty of them had drawn their rapiers and were charging forward in arrow
formation, they were a fearsome sight indeed.

"Nerg?i!" Wei-Ling cried from the ground, where she was busy pounding a blond
sweordswoman's head into the ground. "I think this is your cue!"

Up on the wall, Nerg?i nodded. She prepared an arrow with the explosive charge
tied to the middle of the projectile rather than the tip. She then took
careful aim at the conquistadora chieftain, who was riding in the very tip of
the V-shaped squadron.

*THWACK!* The arrow burrowed itself into the chieftain's thick breastplate,
knocking her right off her horse and sending her tumbling to the ground.
Sitting in the mud on her backside, the Spaniard looked down at her chest --
the arrow had lodged stuck in her breastplate without penetrating it, but
there was a strange lump attached to it that shouldn't be there-

*BOOOOM!!* An enormous fireball engulfed the chieftain, sending scraps of
metal and strips of burnt cloth spiraling in all directions. When the smoke
settled, the proud, armour-clad conquistadora had been replaced with a
completely naked, lost-looking girl sitting on her curvy ass, legs akimbo,
with her hair standing in all directions and her skin streaked with black soot
from head to toe. Between her hefty legs, her pubic hair had gone up in smoke,
leaving only a smoking, wet slit, and her big, chestnut-colored nipples had
been burned to a very dark shade of brown.

"Yes! That'll teach 'em!" Wei-Ling cheered.

"This is for my homeland!" Nerg?i cried out, right before firing off a volley
of combustible arrows, all of which hit their mark -- five conquistadoras
right between their breasts -- knocking all five of the would-be conquerors
off their horses and down on their butts, where five explosions soon blew
every last scrap of metal off their heaving tits and curvaceous asses.

After more than half of the conquistadora unit had been decimated the same
way, the remaining riders were seized by panic. They halted abruptly, turned
their frightened horses and began galloping back the way they came. But the
Mongolian was not about to let them off that easily -- her arrows continued to
rain down over the terrified Spaniards, this time burrowing into the backs of
their armour and sending them flying over the heads of their horses. These
conquistadoras landed face down in the mud, and only had time to swear
monosyllabically in Spanish before the bombs on their backs stripped them of
every ounce of armour and clothing, and pushed their naked bodies so far down
into the soil that only a soot- streaked face and a smoldering naked rump were
visible.

Finally, there was only one poor conquistadora left -- a young new recruit
with a long, shimmering black ponytail trailing behind her, standing up in her
saddle and whipping her horse with the flat side of her rapier. In doing so,
the nubile young girl was unwittingly sticking out her rear end in a way that
caught her hunter's eye.

Smiling to herself, the Mongolian broke off the metallic tip of her last arrow
-- leaving only a blunt end -- and then took aim at the bouncing youthful butt
in its stretchy, tight red pants. She let it fly.

TTHHWWOOCCKK!! The blunt arrow flew five hundred yards through the air and
then struck the bobbing tush in its exact center, tearing a hole in the
colorful pants and passing expertly in between the Spanish girl's tight
buttocks -- where it burrowed snugly into her anus. The impact sent the
shrieking girl flying out of her saddle and landing in a compact pile, with
her skewered tush unwisely pointed skywards. Soon thereafter -- BOOOMMM!! --
the explosion buried the poor little conquistadora so deep down in the muddy
soil that only her blackened ass stuck out, with the still burning shaft of
the arrow rising out of her asshole like a grotesque sapling.

***

Lady Mariana surveyed the battlefield from afar, looking displeased. Nearby,
Lady Isabel was kneeling on the ground praying, Ritsa the summoner was
meditating, and the other champions were fencing the air, seething with
impatient bloodlust.

"I think we've had enough for today," the sorceress suddenly declared. "Order
all forces to retreat. We'll regroup and hit them harder next time."

"Retreat!? My lady, we cannot retreat!!" Lady Ophelia protested. "There are
six thousand of us and only three of them! If we retreat, we will become
laughing stock!"

"Patience, Lady Ophelia," the sorceress replied. "We have many powerful cards
left to play. In fact," she smiled, "we have barely begun."

***

"Yes, run, you cowards! Run back to that spell-casting bitch you call master!"
Nerg?i roared from atop the wall.

Like a horde of lemmings, the Western forces were disappearing back behind the
knoll over which they came -- some running, others limping and many crawling
on all fours. Hundreds of their sisters were left naked and unconscious in the
mud.

Only two dots were moving in the field of bodies -- Wei-Ling, who was making
her way back to the wall, whistling cheerily, and Shiori, leading a black
horse on top of which a white woman was riding backwards without a saddle.
This woman was none other than Lady Rowena the Black, who had been stripped
completely naked. Her arms were tied behind her back, and her bulging breasts
had been slapped and squeezed until they were almost as red as her positively
glowing rump. Her face was puffy with tears, and she was pouting like a
disobedient child after a well-deserved spanking.

"I see you took a souvenir with you," Wei-Ling chirped, delighting in the
sight of the humiliated knight.

"Well, you didn't think I was finished with her, did you?" Shiori replied,
giving her captive a rap across the nipples with her no-dachi, causing the
blushing mammaries to jiggle like oversized flans. "If those prissy Westerners
are going to hide behind the hills like a bunch of babies, then I need some
other source of entertainment for the evening!"

"You may have won the battle, you yellow scum, but you have no idea what
awaits you," Rowena hissed, inbetween sobs. "My lady has all the forces of the
earth, seas and skies at her disposal. Blood will rain from the skies, and the
oceans will rise above the mountains!"

"Good, we were getting bored anyway," Shiori cackled, and gave the horse a rap
across its backside. The horse immediately set off in gallop toward the wall,
with agonizing consequences for its wailing, sore-bottomed rider.

The two Easterners turned toward each other.

"Well fought, mainlander," Shiori said, tipping her head slightly.

"Spoken with true Japanese terseness," Wei-Ling replied with a smile. "They
will be back soon, of course, so we shouldn't get too comfortable in our
camp."

"Then let them come. The Eastern dragon is awake, and she is hungry for some
griffin meat."

Laughing, the two warriors trudged through the mess of mud, weapons and
unconscious white bodies back toward the wall, while the afternoon sun passed
in the opposite direction, toward its setting place in the West.

TO BE CONTINUED