Series Title: Monstrosities
Author: D.L. SchizoAuthoress
Rating: R
Notes: Don't say I didn't warn you! This story is most definitely Nightmare x Tira, with no Siegfried in sight. While I enjoy reading it, I don't like to do Siegfried x Tira myself. (Oh, and no worries about the sex, okay?)

Monstrosities : Willing Slave II
a soul calibur 3 fanfic by d.l. schizoauthoress

Tira hums happily as she grooms Sleipnir, her black stallion, after leaving Nightmare's territory to scout for new victims. For the two weeks that she has belonged to Nightmare, to Tira's delight, their nights have been dedicated to killing. The two of them have killed whole villages of people. They venture far afield in their hunt for souls, and though Nightmare rides no mount, he travels fast enough on foot for Tira to require Sleipnir.

At the moment, Nightmare is sleeping, and Tira dedicates the rest of her time to preparation--such as changing her hair color and clothes. Patrols of soldiers, attracted by the stories of slaughter, might be looking for a teal-haired Tira. She bleaches her hair to platinum blonde and changes into her black skirt, short red tunic, and red half-jacket. Pulling on her boots and gloves of red leather, Tira thinks, 'I hope I won't have to dye my hair again soon. If I keep this up, the chemicals will make my hair all fall out...'

In order for Tira to be a proper servant of Nightmare and Soul Edge, she must learn many things. She does not mind--what Nightmare has to offer her can only make her a better assassin. For instance, Nightmare has shared with Tira the way to draw the souls of her victims into the shard embedded in her body, so that the people she kills will feed the cursed sword and strengthen him. In addition, she must also learn the history of Soul Edge and its nemesis, Soul Calibur.

Tira is most interested in her master, and in his current situation. The armor of the Azure Knight, which is now the real host of Soul Edge, cannot yet be removed from the new body being molded by the magic. This magic, powered by the spirits of the Lost Cathedral, who gave their energy to gift Nightmare with corporeal form, must constantly be replenished by fresh souls. But with only a few more powerful souls, Nightmare's physical body will be completely realized. Then, he will be able to claim that body as his host.

Screams rise in the still night air as Nightmare continues his bloody harvest. Nightmare chuckles, "What sweet sounds...of death." Blood, gobbets of flesh, and bits of bone decorate his armor. Nightmare revels in the massacre, and for once, there is no conflict in his mind...no guilt...no other self shrieking at the horrors he commits. He hacks a man in half vertically with his Shadow Breaker move, then grabs the small child the man was protecting and crushes her to a pulp in his right hand.

Exultant, Nightmare thinks, 'Blood, darkness...souls...come unto me! My resurrection draws near!'

He hears wild, half-mad laughter nearby. His servant is enjoying her duties. He moves toward the sound of her voice, laying low the fighters of the small town.

"Your heart beats..." Tira growls low, circling her prey. "The sound is grating!"

The swordsman takes a mid-level slash at her, but Tira ducks and deals him a blow to his legs with her Low Swoop. He stabs downward, piercing her shoulder. Tira screams, with rage, but he mistakes it for a cry of pain. The man grimly loosens his sword from her flesh and stabs down again.

Tira isn't there anymore, though. She has rolled backward, and now extends an arm toward the swordsman. The Ixion whirls on her wrist, fast as thought, and hits him several times before he has a chance to block. He stumbles back and Tira is following, yelling, "I'll make sure to grant you your death!"

Ixion ignites with bright soulfire as she swings it back, snarling, "Hurry up...and die!" Then she spins in place, slamming her ringblade into her opponent's torso. The swordsman flies backward, and slams into the wall of a nearby building. His back shatters, and he falls to the ground in a limp, useless heap, his clothes and skin smoldering. Tira grins. No one can stand against the Blazing Cadenza.

Then Tira lifts her hands, which are suddenly wreathed in purplish-red lightning. The energy travels through her body and into the shard she carries. Nightmare feels a rush of power as the soul of Tira's opponent flows into the cursed blade.

He laughs appreciately. "Yes...I can see your darkness..."

Tira shouts, "Behind you, Master!"

Nightmare turns, delivering a Dark High Kick to the chest of his attacker. The warrior goes down, losing his battle axe in the process. Nightmare stabs his blade into the man's back and gathers soul-energy in his free hand to perform a Soul Smasher. A powerful bolt of lightning slices the sky and strikes the Phantom Soul Edge, which channels an overload of energy directly into Nightmare's victim. As the warrior screams a death cry, Nightmare crows, "I'll burn you alive!"

Then Nightmare falls back into a Night Side Stance, and feels Tira at his back, raging silently at the people of the town. An older female fighter charges them, and Nightmare dispatches her with a Skull Chopper strike. Tira takes a few steps away from Nightmare, driving back another fighter with a Low Swoop, which she quickly follows up with a Low Pitch Pointe, effectively disabling the man. To finish him off, she simply uses the abilities granted by her shard and rips his soul out.

A fresh wave of fighters rushes them. 'A reserve force!' Tira realizes. 'Dammit, I should have seen it!'

Nightmare is unpeturbed. "Cower in fear!" he roars, unleashing a Soul Wave on his unsuspecting opponents. Then, the two warriors of Soul Edge make a break for it, running at full speed into the cover of darkness. Nightmare unknowingly outpaces Tira, but she manages to keep a steady following distance. That is, until the sneak attack.

A woman of middle age, dressed strangely like a noble, leaps down from a rooftop, and lashes out at the teenage assassin with her chain whip. Tira shrieks in real agony as the sickle-shaped blade at the end of the woman's weapon rips into her side.

Nightmare spins at the sound, and is frozen with mingled shock and rage at the sight of the female fighter stomping at Tira, who is lying on the ground, too pained to do more than shield her head from blows. He attacks the noblewoman with a Cannonball Splitter, going into a forward flip, smashing the woman with his armored feet, and then bringing Soul Edge straight down on her head. Then he shoves away the remains, and scoops Tira up from the ground.

The Watchers circle overhead, shrieking in their bird language. If he could understand their tongue, he would know that they lamented the lost chance to avenge Tira themselves. But the Watchers were pragmatic souls, as always, and would settle for murdering the people left still living within the town.

"Master!" Tira gasps, and he sees blood staining her teeth and lips...her blood. The sickle has pierced her side deeply, curving under her ribs on the right side of her body. Nightmare cradles her gently to his chest with one arm and runs with all speed, soon vanishing from sight.

In no time, Nightmare finds a place to rest, below the archway of a bridge. It is far enough from the town they attacked to offer some sanctuary from pursuit. The Ixion falls from Tira's weakening grip as Nightmare ducks underneath the masonry. He places Tira on the thick carpet of moss near the riverbank, and inspects her wound. As he suspected, it is fatal. His slave is going to die.

Unless...

Nightmare reaches to a pouch hanging on his belt. He pours its contents into the massive palm of his right hand and murmurs, "The shards..." It is the only hope. His left hand picks up one of the largest fragments and he snarls at Tira, "Fight it, slave! I order you, fight your death! Or this place shall be your grave."

"Nightmare..." Tira chokes out.

"Brace yourself," Nightmare says coldly, "this is going to hurt." And he shoves the fragment of reddish-black metal into her wound. A wordless howl of pain rises from Tira's throat. Blood gushes anew from the gash in her side. But the evil power of Soul Edge, sensing her darkness and her eagerness to accept it, begins to heal her.

Nightmare places three more shards into her body. Tira's eyes, wide open and blazing with power, seek his. Her hands claw at his armor, her nails draw blue sparks from it. "Nightmare! Master!" she moans, "Oh, Master!"

Her body shudders. Already, her wound has closed and is healing over in a wide, reddish scar. Nightmare is relieved to see the success of his desperate gamble. Tira has proven her worth time and time again, and it would pain him to lose her. Her eyes no longer glow in the darkness, but tears glisten in them, diamond-bright in the starlight.

"Master mine..." Tira whispers reverently. "You honor me with your mercy."

"Hmph," Nightmare snorts, pretending indifference. "I don't know why. I suppose I've become accustomed to your presence, slave."

He stands, unceremoniously picks Tira up and sets her on her feet, and glares back in the direction they have come. He will massacre the fools who dared to harm his own. Tira wades into the shallows of the river and plucks Ixion from its resting place wedged between two rocks. She gazes along the same line of sight as Nightmare, and suddenly cries, "Master, look!"

Far in the distance, but steadily getting close, a dark, seething cloud rises into the air. Nightmare stares at it, unable to identify it. "What in hell is that?"

"My ravens!" Tira cries, "My beautiful Watchers! You will see, master mine, as they draw near, how their beaks and claws drip with blood. My Watchers are true assassins, always!"

Tira does a bit of joyous bouncing, an action met with silent, salacious approval from Nightmare. As the ominous cloud comes closer, it does indeed resolve itself into a large flock of dark-feathered birds with eyes like glowing coals. Tira leaps high, twirling once in midair, and lands facing her master. Then the ravens swarm her.

For a long while, Nightmare watches as Tira dances with gleeful abandon. The young woman moves the way that she fights: with beauty and grace, and yet, not without the potential for deadliness. She seems to be singing in a low voice, so low that it is nearly lost in the rush of the multitude's wings. "Yillaweh, yeehabani, odeh...yillaweh, yeehabani, odeh..."

In the midst of this, the horse Sleipnir comes galloping up. Nightmare grabs the beast before he can disturb Tira's celebratory dance, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on her lithe, shapely form. She has done this every time at the close of their hunts, and Nightmare never tires of it. Suddenly, the ravens spiral upward into the night sky, leaving Tira behind. Feet firmly on the ground, Tira stares up at her brethren, motionless. The expression on her face is one of such longing, of such sorrow, that Nightmare can hardly bear it.

His voice sounds rusty, it is so near a growl, as he grits out, "Tira, we're going home."

"Are you in pain, Master?" Tira asks anxiously, hurrying to his side.

"Not exactly, Tira. But I long to remove this cumbersome blue armor."

"Oooh, Master!" his slave squeals with excitement. "Does that mean we succeeded? Have you a true body to be your host, now?"

Nightmare smirks. He merely shrugs, and motions for Tira to get into Sleipnir's saddle. As she obeys, he remarks tauntingly, "You know, I do believe that I won't tell you."

He can sense her mind much more strongly now, through the connection of her shards. She is frustrated at her failure, overwhelmed by Nightmare's generosity in saving her, tired from her exertions, and tantalized by his reticence--and, coloring all that is an undercurrent of sadness. For some unfathomable reason, Tira's insane mix of emotions gives Nightmare comfort. The usual order of things has been restored to him.

Tira is nearly mad with curiousity by the time that she and Nightmare arrive back at Ostrheinsburg. The blood on her skin and clothing (both hers and that of others) has dried a dark, rusty brown and itches her as it flakes off with her movements. She knows that her outfit is probably ruined, and will at the least be exceedingly difficult to clean. She sighs, but is glad that she didn't choose to wear her dark yellow outfit--the last remnant of her life in Scandinavia--that afternoon.

The three of them--Azure Knight, assassin, and horse--enter the fortress by the secret bridge in the forest. Once across, Nightmare orders Tira to care for her horse and join him in the chapel once she is done. Tira leads Sleipnir away, and Nightmare enters the chapel.

First of all, he removes the helmet from his head. The spiny crest, imitative of a Roman helmet, and long alicorn-like decoration on the brow might seem fearsome to others, but to Nightmare (especially after a long night), they are just heavy. He sets this down on one of the remaining pews and proceeds to take off the rest of his armaments. When they have all been removed, Nightmare clothes himself with a pair of plain brown pants and begins to clean the blue armor of the spattered remains of his victims. He smiles to himself, pleased to be doing this task himself, pleased to feel the chill of the night breeze on his skin.

Had Sir Stefan still been alive, and had he been in the chapel to behold Nightmare, the old knight would have been astounded at the similarity between this monstrous man and the man called Siegfried Schtauffen. The shape of Nightmare's face, the proportions of his more human body parts, and the grimness of his features...all echo the form of his former host. It isn't surprising, if one considers that Zasalamel had used Nightmare's most recent memories as the basis of his ancient spells. Of course, the similarities made the differences between the two men stand out all the more. Siegfried was fair in complexion and hair, with blue eyes, not unusual for a German; Nightmare's skin was pale brown, with a reddish undertone, and his hair was blood-red, like his eyes--red-irised with a black cornea.

The most striking of differences was, of course, Nightmare's huge, horrifyingly constructed right arm. The skin of it is a dull goldish-tan in color, its shape rough and blocky due to an almost blade-like bone structure and a thick musculature. The hand that his arm ends in is completely inhuman, the back decorated with spurs of bone and the palm padded with scaly green flesh. The three digits of the hand--two fingers and a thumb--each end with a wicked claw. The mutant parts even extend to other places on his body, such as his back--the bulging vertabrae has, in three places, developed into sharp spikes that broke out of his tough skin. But that is not the worst part. The worst parts are that extra eyes glare out from random areas of that arm...that the shoulder has a fanged mouth on the side, protected by four tusk-like protrusions...that another extraneous mouth bares vicious teeth on the right side of his chest. The eyes, though they roll and blink at times, are stone-blind, and the mouths seem to be clamped permanently shut, but the twisted features are nonetheless grotesque and unsettling.

Nightmare finishes the job of cleaning his armor just one of the chapel's double doors creaks open. Tira appears, wearing only her sleeveless black dress, having shed the extra layers of her outfit. The large tear on the right side exposes the shiny red scar that stretches across her flat belly, nearly to her navel. She runs to Nightmare's side, violet eyes shining.

"Master! Amazing," the young woman gasps, "it worked!"

She reached out her hands, unable to resist giving in to the curiousity of touching him. Her hands run over his stomach and chest and the shoulder of his left arm before she even thinks that he might not want her to. Tira gazes up into Nightmare's face, a bit fearfully, and mumbles, "Sorry, Master. I should have asked..."

"It's all right," Nightmare assures her. "Your hands feel good. It has been a long time since I felt anything."

Tira lets her fingers trace the shape of his bicep and the crook of his elbow as she asks hesitantly, "If...if it would please you...I'd like to touch your other arm."

Enticed by her sudden shyness, Nightmare nods his assent and carefully studies his slave. Her hands stroke the rough flesh of his right arm, and she traces the outline of one of his blind eyes with her index finger. Intrigue and wonder fill her eyes, and her cheeks flush with color. There is no fear, no disgust in her mind as she looks at him, only awe and a softly burning desire. A desire that reflects his own.

'It wouldn't be wrong...to give in...would it?' He wonders for a moment.

Whether it is or not, neither of them cares. Nightmare clutches her close, and kisses her hard, smearing the rouge on her lips. Tira winds her legs around his waist and kisses him back with equal ferocity.

TO BE CONTINUED...
...in the "Gods and Demons" arc...

Name and Language Notes: In Norse mythology, "Sleipnir" was the name Odin's eight-legged horse. Sleipnir was one of Loki's sons.

"Yillaweh" means 'he will become attached', "Yeehabani" means 'he will love me', and "Odeh" means 'I will give grateful praise' in Hebrew. I didn't mention this before, but since "Tira" came up as both a Hebrew name and a Scandinavian one, I made the Bird of Passage a group of Hebrew speakers. I don't mean to offend anyone with that, so I apologize if anyone is.