Grimora the Sorceress Chapter 4 first draft

Boss fight

A frantic rapping at the door shook her out of her reverie. She growled. Never a moment’s peace!

“WHAT!?” she yelled at the door.

“Mistress!” cried the voice of Sneegleeves. “A th-thousand apologies! There are intruders in the Forest of Forgotten Souls, heading for the fortress!”

“Agh...fetch me a towel! Several towels!”

A long waddling down the hall later, and she stood by her crystal ball with Sneegleeves, staff in hand, wearing a now cartoonishly tiny bathrobe that covered nothing, and a towel wrapped around her hair. She waved her hand mystically over the ball, and its insides cleared to reveal a scene of battle in the forest. 5 people, some with axes, some with swords, and one with a staff, were fighting a small army of skeleton warriors in a grove of dead trees.

“My my...they do look like a determined lot,” Grimora mused. “It seems soon we will have visitors. Sneegleeves, prepare the defenses.”

“At once, your evilness!”

As Sneegleeves scampered off, she wondered how quickly it would take for those interlopers to get here. She decided she had time to get properly dressed to greet them. She ponderously waddled to a special armoire that she had for just such an occasion, and with a wave of her hand, it flew open. Inside was a fearsome battle outfit, with a skull crown, matching cape with spiky skull pauldrons, a wicked looking black dress, a belt that was also full of skulls, and her favorite pair of foe-stomping boots.

She sighed in disgust. Of course. She wasn’t going to fit in any of that. Well, maybe? She would have to improvise.

The dress was obviously impossible. She went with one of her flowy dresses instead. The cape still worked just fine. What would she do about the belt? Wouldn’t fit where it was supposed to, but could she work it somewhere else? She tried to fasten it between her chest and the top of her belly, and found, surprisingly, it worked. The skull ornaments made a wreath over the top of her fundus, and made her boobs look great. She smiled. Success! But she looked at the boots and immediately abandoned hope. Not with those ankles. Damn it. I loved those boots, she groused to herself. She settled with a set of ankle bangles, which also had little skulls of course. I’ll just have to do my skull crushing with my bare heels.

She checked her crystal ball. It looked like the intruders were fighting the gargoyle sentries at the entrance. Looks like she had time for makeup. She sighed. After another pee break.

“Pot!” she barked. A teeny blue minion scrambled out from under her bed carrying a chamber pot, and brought it over to her. Blowing hard through her lips, she hiked up her dress and squatted down.

“How I await the day...when I hold this conqueror in my arms...and I have a bladder bigger than a thimble,” she grumped.

Now then. Time to make herself feel sexy and scary again after that. She eased herself down to sit in front her vanity mirror and got to work. Lighter foundation to tame those blushing pregnancy cheeks. Fuckton of eye shadow, as usual. She smeared some of it down her cheeks for extra intimidation points. Mascara, she liked dark eyes but eyelashes were still important. Dark lipstick, as if there was any other kind worth wearing. Tried adding some lip pencil lines down from the sides of her mouth to see how that looked. Realized she made herself look like a black metal grandma and wiped them off. She turned her face right and left, admiring it. “Marvelous.”

She checked the crystal ball again. She saw the invaders trying to make their way through a hallway full of swinging pendulum blades and spike pits. Grimora giggled. They’re going to love the hidden flame traps at the end.

“Hmmm…” She noticed there were only 4 of them in that hallway. Weren’t there 5? She swished her crystal ball’s view around until a roguish young woman appeared skulking down a side passage, dangerously close to her chambers.

“Ha! Split the party, you fools. Step on the tile, missy! Step on the tile!”

The rogue stepped on the tile. The floor opened up under her, and dropped her into a dark abyss. Grimora cackled, and swiped over to where she would land: the wolverine pit. She cackled harder as they mauled her to death in a hilarious fashion. One down! And she finally got to use the wolverine trap door!

Then she went back to the party, and saw less good news. The minions were trying to hold them off, and the do-gooders seemed to be taking a beating, but they were pushing through to the heart of the fortress. Time to take her position.

Grimora put on the crown and displayed herself before the mirror. Death’s head staff in hand. High crown sharp and full of skulls. Face done up pale and black like the goth queen she was. Dress and cape flowing long and black over her body. Her belly was enormous, yes, but framed with skulls and spikes, and with all the rest of it? She thought it swelled out confidently, intimidatingly, huge, black, and imposing. Like a towering billowing storm-cloud. She posed; staff leaning out, hand outstretched with long black nails. Yes. Oh yes. That was the look. Doom. Huge, wrathful, impending doom.

She rubbed that huge belly, and looked at herself, satisfied. “Marvelous. Slaying for two. Come along then. It’s time for us to go smiting.”

In the throne room, the ax-wielding warrior booted in the double doors with a crash and the surviving intruders filed in. There, high up on the platform at the end of the room, Grimora the Black Sorceress sat lazily in her throne, stroking her massive round middle. She had recently got another cramp, and it made her belly very hard. It did not hurt, but the feeling was fascinating.

“Well done, heroes! You’ve made it into my lair. What brings you to the domain of Grimora? Tell me, before you die.”

“What did you do with Molly?” demanded a sword wielder.

“What, the little thief? Fed her to my pets. Terribly sorry about that. She really should not have wandered off on her own.”

“Bitch!” roared the ax-wielder. “I’m going to cut off your face and wear it on my shield!”

“Ah! Such violence! Have you no decency? Can’t you see I’m...expecting?” She patted her belly smugly.

“We know!” shouted the staff wielder. A wizard no doubt. “You stole the Chronicles of Origath! You’re trying to resurrect him! And we won’t let you!”

“Resurrect him! Is that what you thought I was doing? Oh dear no. My warrior will be even better than Origath! Together, this child and I will conquer the earth and rule it for a thousand years! To start! I am so close to bringing him forth. But before I do—”

She heaved herself as smoothly as she could to a standing position. She couldn’t help but grunt. But she managed to stand there imposingly, hand outstretched like she practiced in the mirror.

“—I will destroy you all! Minions! Attack!”

A series of hidden doors suddenly burst open from the walls, and out of them poured a reserve army of imps with scimitars to make a final stand.

And so they fought. The fighters tried their best to fend off the horde and protect their mage. The wizard hurled a fireball at Grimora, who batted it aside to explode on a nearby wall. She responded with a lightning bolt, which the wizard blocked with a force field. She cackled as she let him have another, breaking his force field and bringing him to his knees.

It was clear that they were already worn down from their battles to get here. Grimora knew they would not last long at this rate. But it looked like the ax man was making a break for it. He furiously swung his ax, cutting down 2 or 3 minions with every swing, and furiously wading his way to Grimora. He was going to make it through!

As he charged up the steps, Grimora made a quick pattern in the air with her hand, and reached out to the ax man as if to seize him. He froze where he stood, quivering, paralyzed.

“Be still, you worm!” Grimora shouted. “You will not touch me! You will not touch either of us! The world will be ours!”

“Oh...yeah…?” the ax man growled through gritted teeth. Through some force of will or rage he broke his limbs free from her grip, and staggered up the steps. With a roar he took a wild savage swing with his ax at the surprised Grimora. She stumbled backward, and the blade grazed her left breast. She fell heavily and painfully on her backside. She put a hand to her chest. Blood.

She glared up at the ax man with a look of pure searing hate.

“You cut me...IN THE BOOB!”

She reached out a hand like a claw. The ax man spasmed, then screamed as furious jets of steam shot out of his nose and mouth. His muscles shrank, and his skin began to stick to his bones. In a moment, the last the steam left, and his last breath with it. All remained of him was a standing brownish mummy, all moisture sucked out of him.

Heart pounding, Grimora took her staff and pushed herself and her heavy midsection up with a groan. And then with a screech, she smashed the mummy with her staff into a cloud of brown dust.

She turned back to the main battle, breathing heavily. There were so few minions left. But only the wizard was still standing. He shot off one last spray of fire, then fell to his knees, spent.

“Bring him...here!” Grimora shouted breathlessly.

The surviving minions dragged the beaten wizard before her. She grinned evilly at him. Then she grimaced, as a cramp hit her. She put her hand on her expansive middle, which was hardening rapidly.

“Ah...how fitting,” she grinned. “He is coming soon. Born of battle. What a marvelous emperor he will be.”

The wizard looked up at her and her belly overshadowing him, exhausted, but defiant.

“Was that a contraction? Woman, I almost pity you. My only comfort...is that that great infant will kill you, and the world will be saved from two tyrants!”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth, as her belly tightened into a rock. “I think first...he will kill...YOU!”

She kicked him onto his back, and the minions held him down. Grimora crouched over him, took her hard, huge, and heavy belly in both hands, and with a yell, she brought it down on his head. She rose up high on her tip toes with another yell, then dropped it again. And again.

She sat there in a squat for a moment, panting. Then stood up again, with the front of her dress stained with blood. The contraction relented, and she let out a long breath.

“Minions...gather all survivors. I want the bath house furnished. Bring a bed, table, chairs, cushions. Food and water. And some of my stuffies. The time has come to prepare it for the coming of our overlord."

“And then get all these corpses out of my throne room.”