Ona of Ozmora Series

Ona meets Takari for the first time while exploring a cave. After quickly becoming friends, they stumble together into a hidden chamber, where a legendary sword awaits.   -- Ona had been called in secret to Pylia to heal the queen's daughter and only heir. She had succeeded, and today, all of Realm Callimor was celebrating. Humans danced in the streets, waved streamers, beat drums. The princess lived! But because it was illegal among humans to employ the services of an elven, no one would ever know how such a miracle had occurred.    -- With her great size and enormous strength, the eemore could have punched her way through the walls for all Ona knew. But in reality, the beast woman had likely wiggled her comical way through the narrow passages, intent on licking moss from the walls with her long, slimy, pink tongue. The cavern they stood in was abundant in the bright purple moss. Most of it had been licked flat, presumably by the eemore, whose tongue was purple from the venture. Her tongue slapped out, and she licked her eye, paused to dig a long black nail in her ear, another in her nose.     Ona held back a laugh: it had long been debated among the o'eka whether or not the eemore people had indeed once ruled Allaca. The eemore's behavior − as it picked its nose with delight − was not very convincing.  

After being woken from her hundred-and-fifty-year nap by bumbling explorer Haliver, Ona bumps into her estranged wife and a fight breaks out over a dragon egg.    --  The skywalker gasped at the sight of Ona, pulled out a sketchpad, and started to sketch her. "By the goddess! An Old One!" she cried, tongue in teeth, feverishly sketching away with a bit of charcoal. "I can't believe it! The proper size and covered in moss and everything! The university isn't going to believe −!" she muttered to herself. She glanced up and noticed Ona's baffled, irritated face. "Er – Don't mind me! I just need to sketch you and then you can go back to your nap. It looked cozy."    -- "No. I prioritized my own survival." Emora shook the egg in her grasp, eyes urgent and wide. "Don't you understand? This is bigger than some bird women dying in the swamp! This is the return of our world!"    "I would see Ozmora return, but not at such a price."    Emora snorted as if Ona were a naïve child, and in that moment, Ona felt a naïve child.    "Blood is always the price," Emora said – simply, quietly.   

Ona is asked by the queen of Purvara to use her skills to stop the Red Hand, a band of raiders who are terrorizing the countryside. Though Ona and the queen were once lovers, the queen keeps their meeting as businesslike as possible.    --  "Which one was taken?" asked Ona, thinking of the sweet little girls.    "Aurora," said the queen heavily.    Ah. Aurora was the youngest, and – if Ona was honest – her favorite of the three. A redheaded, curly-haired, giggly, innocent child with large green eyes. And she'd been taken by forest-dwelling ruffians! Ona still wondered how it was possible. The royal guards were highly trained, dedicated, and well-paid. They couldn't be bought.    "I will kill these bandits for you," said Ona. "Where are they?"    "My scouts have tracked them to a cave outside the village. Crystal Falls. Their leader currently resides there. Bring me her head." 

When strolling in the moonlight on the beach, Ona stumbles across a mermaid princess who has been sacrificed to a sea dragon and attempts to rescue her.    -- "But what is it?" the princess wondered in amazement.     Ona watched her, silently amused to see someone so baffled by something as simple as an apple. "It's an apple," she said.     "Awwwwwpple," tried the princess. "And the big thing it grew from?"    "A tree."    "Treeeees. What are they?"    "Plants."    "Do they speak?"   "Sometimes."  

Ona, a sorceress of a bygone era, is summoned by a council of goddess to answer for a violation of their laws.   -- "The audacity!" hissed Mizra in quiet astonishment and disdain. "Do you understand that we formed the stars that eventually farted out the stardust from which your pathetic life took form?"    "I understand," said Ona quietly. "I just don't care."    -- "So even the god-race can make mistakes," said Ona hoarsely after a while. She slowly lifted her face. "What right, then, have you to judge me?"    More silence. The towering goddesses simply looked down at tiny Ona, who stonily looked back.