Ilartha, The Eye of the Storm

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!" yelled the wounded succubi, as she furiously flapped the stumps of her wings.

"Kill me?" said Ilartha. "How? When you where a whole worthless half-demon you couldn't, then how will you do so now that you are already bleeding to your dead?"

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ouch! D:

Drawing done for of his character Ilartha, the Eye of the Storm. Ilartha is one of the oldest "battle succubus", and is renown both for her long, demonic left arm, disporportionated for her body -and with a disproportionated strength superior to the one of any other succubi-, and for being a killer of her own kind: Her own kind, that she regards as worthless half-demons, beneath her, who proudly shows her arm as display of her stronger demonic blood.

This was a prize for winning in the Ozcuras! Contest in the Narrative section.

His entries:
Ozcura Training-CampAt the entrance of the recently founded "Ozcura training camp!" - as the big sign at the entrance clearly told - Rasgarra, an Ozcura breed, nervously waited for the soon to arrive officer of the demon legion, who would inspect the camp and decide its future. She nervously scratched her upper lip with one of her fangs while making sure that she looked good in her uniform: her shoulder pads, spiked with bone parts of enemies - of course from enemies she killed herself, not some other Ozcuras! - were properly attached. The small leather belt around her chest to make her boobs less jumpy-jumpy, was tight. Her axe was attached to the belt holding her loincloth. Her leather stockings were high enough, to protect her legs from the edge of the axe, so she wouldn’t cut herself - only morons would run around without proper stockings protecting them from their own weapons!
Rasgarra turned around to look at the camp. It was located in a valley in the mountains, a few dozen buildings, mostly Mooomyyyy...!!Askira was comfortably sitting on a tree stump in front of her hut in the plains of Debejor. It was a peaceful day, the little ozcurillos and ozcurillas were playing in the little mud hole in front of the village, while their mothers were busy, preparing arrows, spears and armors for their next raid, cooking, or simply relaxing, just as Askira did. Askira stretched, yawning loud, before she relaxed again, leaned against the wall of the hut behind her and watched her children playing.
She didn't foresee the troubles that were at bay, to ruin her day.
“Mooooooomyyyyyyy....!!!” a yelling voice suddenly arose. Shocked and alarmed, Askira opened her eyes, reaching for her weapon, while she tried to shake off the aftereffects of her warrior-meditation state that she build up, as she was lying in the warm sunlight. She finally got hold of her club with one hand, while the other was rubbing her eyes. Her well-trained immediate state of alarm was aborted, as she saw the source of th