[Episode 182475] [Episode 182475]Even among the inhabitants of the underworld, the Stygian Abyss was a realm of dreadful reputation. Physically isolated and lacking in most common resources, the realm was known by most only for its terrible pits. Massive crevasses that were thought to be so deep that they were without end, pits so deep that they were said by some to reach down to the subterranean prisons of the dark gods themselves. From these prisons arose all forms of terrors, toxic gases and ear splitting garbling said to be the fetid breath and phrenetic rantings of the dark ones themselves.
To the zealously faithful, it was a holy place of minor significance, to just about everyone else, it was a place where only death and madness awaited. To Keeper Zeldon, it was home.
Deep within his inner sanctum, laying on his favorite couch, the physically old and chronically ancient Dungeon Keeper was lost in thought. Tonight's question was the new player on the local stage, Keeper Ranma. The boy was a mystery to be sure, and if there was one thing Zeldon didn't like, it was mysteries.
Zeldon was an old Keeper, very old. While many would say that was apparent at first glance, they were fools. Dungeon Hearts among their many gifts granted immortality. Once a person became a Keeper he became ageless, timeless, beyond even the grasp of physical death as long as his heart remained intact. Should a Keeper's body be destroyed but his Heart remain intact, he would be left but a disembodied specter, greatly reduced in power but still able to resurrect himself, born again in the flesh using the power of his heart.
Zeldon was just unfortunate enough to have become a Keeper late in his mortal life, and thus, he had the body of an old man. His true age was shown in the fact that he'd been alive for a millennia. He hadn't lived that long by being a fool. His carefully crafted public reputation was of a senile, religious old fool who sacrificed slaves at a whim and only remained in this pit due to his irrational level of faith.
As with all reputations there was a grain of truth. He was religious, and while not a priest in any sense it had been his faith, mixed with whim that had brought him to this inhospitable crack in the Earth. It had been the abundant Mana Vaults that had kept him there. And yes, he would clearly admit that he did sacrifice an above average number of slaves to the dark ones. That was because he had an above average number to begin with, for he found slavery to be a very particular institution, and one of interest. What he wasn't though, was a fool. He had not lived this long by being a fool. What you don't know, could kill you and as such, and only fools let mysteries stand.
He knew nothing about this Ranma besides the fact that he was a Keeper, that he was chosen by the mysterious Mentor, had a Horned Reaper at his beckon, and had swiftly made enemies with the immediate areas' other three Keepers.
Yes, the boy was a mystery, so he'd have to consider what he knew... which in turn created new mysteries. The Mentor was a spirit who's origins had been lost to the sands of time, but who's existence was irrecusably tied to that of the Underworld. According to some legend, the mentor was the creator of the first Dungeon Hearts, according to others, he was the spirit of the Hearts themselves, and in others still, he was nothing less than a projection of one of the dark gods, created to find a Keeper strong enough to burn the lands above and wrench the hated sun from the sky. According to historical records, he was the personal advisor of several of the most successful, most powerful, Keepers of all time, including the great Dis himself. Not quite a god, but smarter than your average ghost.
The Horned Reaper was also another legendary figure. While once, long ago, they had been semi-common, in the past several millennia they'd all by vanished. Some said they'd been defeated by the Dark Angels and replaced as the Dark Gods' favored. Others said that the Dark Gods had began to fear their power and sealed them into the depths. Others still said that they'd grown contemptuous of the petty feuds and self aggrandizement of modern Keepers, and had gone into hibernation, waiting for a master deserving of their power to arise and usher in a new era of darkness. Legends aside, this boy had a Reaper, and that alone marked him as being able to access a force that was truly terrible to behold.
The other Keepers, his rivals, Ranma's enemies were far less of a mystery to him. He'd lived close to them for many decades and in that time had made sure to learn as much about them as was physically possible.
Keeper Sidarian, long ago had been known as Sid the Squid. During his mortal life he'd been a rogue of little note, known only for his near absolute lack of backbone when under pressure. Still, while cowardly, he was relatively competent and too fearful to ever consider betraying his master. Or rather, so the poor fool had thought, right up until Sid he discovered that Sid sold a intricately detailed map of the his primary dungeon to a group of powerful and enterprising heroes looking to make names for themselves. Sid used this betrayal to catapult his own rise to power, as when his masters heart fell, he in turn bound himself to the newly unbound Dungeon Heart that lay at the center of what had once been one of his master's secondary outposts.
Since orchestrating the fall of the late Keeper Falcon and changing his name, Sidarian had had done little of importance, remaining painfully true to his nature. Sidarian was nothing more than megalomaniacal a coward and thug, happily surrounding himself with his fellow scum and the easily bullied.
Next he considered the Dark Elf, Keeper Malbrin. He had once been a favored servant of the famed Dark Elf Keeper Tzzird, a keeper famed for his success and contempt for humanity. Tzzird had hated humans. He loathed to deal with them, never employed them, and detested them for being lesser creatures to did not know their place. Instead preferring his own kind, or when he had to tolerate it, would use lesser humanoids, all the time making it clear that they were the inferiors of his Dark Elf servants. In fact, it was this dogma that was a source for much of the Dark Elves current aloofness, that almost allowed him to become King of the Dark Elves, and in the end, had lead to his extermination at the hands of the other Greater Keepers.
Late in Tzzird's reign, Malbrin had been given status as a Vassal Keeper, powerful, but subservient to Tzzird. When his master fell, his quickness to shore his defense and declare his neutrality, mixed with his utter lack of importance ensured that the Keepers of Dis ignored him as a potential heir to Tzzird's legacy. Since then, he'd retained his aloofness and smug arrogance, but really, what else could one expect? He is a Elf after all.
Lastly, he considered the revolting Keeper Nelfania. Long ago, Keeper Nelfania had been the lovely and fair Lady Nelfania, a noble of the lands above who's great beauty had been second only to her great vanity. Like all mortals, her youthful beauty faded over time, and with the aid of an indulgent, sedentary lifestyle, had been replaced with the disappointment and obesity of middle age. Now, some women, abet very few in Zeldon's experience, were able to take the physical decay of age with some level of dignity.
Not Nelfania though, she did everything she could to stem off the inevitable and avoid having to work to maintain her figure. She tried potions, spells, curses, everything, but while she could slow the inevitable, she could not stop it. Thusly, rather than have to fess up to her own faded looks, she even turned to the darkest of arts. She actually paid for the location of an inactive dungeon heart, bankrupting her lands, abandoning her people, and betraying her lord to abandon the sunlit worlds above to restore her good looks.
This made the old man smile. While a Dungeon Heart could stop the clock, it could not turn it back. By binding herself to her Dungeon Heart all she'd done was ensure that she'd live out eternity as a disgusting ball of lard that only an Orc could love. To this day, the woman was still searching for a way to restore her own looks and in the mean time, took it out on everyone around her. Especially attractive slave girls, for their beauty was a hateful reminder of all that she'd lost.
It almost made him believe in Karma. Almost. Everyone had their sin, and if Karma was real, then he was due for a terrible punishment, for were especially vile.
Pausing for a moment, he snapped his fingers and an glassy eyed slave girl who's exquisite body was covered in tattoos wordlessly walked over to him and offered him a tray of snacks. Calmly, he picked a rather cute, chirping baby chick from the tray and without pause popped it into his mouth. The animal chirped in horror, but its fear was quickly abated with a loud crunch. Enjoying his quick snack, he rubbed the slave's perfectly formed rump, instigating a low moan as one of the many spells bound to her increased her sensation of pleasure by a magnitude.
Where was he? Oh yes. Sins. His sin was slavery.
Humanoid bondage had always interested him. The domination of being over another… it was one thing to be a lord, to have control over those below you, but true power, true power was owning another life body and soul without question. It was a bit of an obsession of his really. Some Keepers longed to dominate over as many as possible. He wished to dominate as deeply as possible. He had always wanted to be able to enslave completely. To leave not a thought that was not totally thrall to his will. It was this need that had drove him to create most of the spells that bound slaves even today.
He had created the modern slave collar. He perfected most of the minor spells that bound slaves to their masters. He had helped master the application of the various techniques, potions, and salves that increased the pleasure reactions, removed the imperfections, and reinforced loyalty that any slave master worth his chains these days used.
He grinned. Of course, that had only been the beginning. You can only do so much with the creative application of hypnosis, charms, and magical beauty aids. This is what lead him to research the magic inherent in tattoos. It had taken him ten years to locate, and another two of torture to glean the secrets of the art out of masters of this once foreign branch of magic. They had allowed him a breakthrough in binding spells to the bodies of his servants.
Using tattoo magic mixed with far older, far darker arts, he was able to perfect his process... using those techniques he could do amazing things. He could create a tattoo binding a girl as surely as a slave's collar, to connecting her to master's Dungeon Heart making her as unaging and obedient as any imp, to even shacking the soul, making the poor slut nothing more than an appendage of his masters will.
He smiled at the slave who had given him his snack and she laid down the tray and began to seductively strut towards him with a sassy smile on her otherwise blank face. Once she'd been a Paladin of great power, the glorious and powerful Paladin, Lady Allara. She'd been the famous Bane of the Orcs, who had lead a force of peasant levy to victory against an army three times their number. She'd been the heroic Slayer of Dragons of killed the Black Wyrm K'thrak. And now... she was his greatest victory, his most successful creation. She'd gone from a powerful, zealous, boisterous, independent, heroic slayer of evil, to an obedient, near mute fuck toy who's only thoughts were how she could best serve him. From hero to nothing more than an object from which he derived pleasure.
His smile widened as she lowered herself onto her knees and began to service him orally. The old man just layed back and chucked darkly. "Now THIS is victory."
From her place on her knees, Allara paused and looked up to him questioningly.
With slight annoyance, he looked down to her. "Keep going, keep going!"
She immediately began again.
As he enjoyed his pleasure, his mind wandered back to the events of the day and the core issue at hand. Keeper Ranma.
He had to find more about this lad. Only way to do so would be to get someone in on the inside. Find out how he operated, where is base was, and if an alliance would be beneficial at this moment. To do so, he'd have to send a spy. Someone loyal, someone that would be beneath notice, but smart enough to give him a somewhat detailed overview. A Firefly would be prefect, and he knew just the insect. Once he had information, and if the news was good, he'd make the alliance and seal the deal.
He smiled. Seal the Deal indeed. After he had perfected the art of enslavement, Zeldon had turned towards breeding. In the darkest tomes he'd discovered a spell that by all rights should not exists. A spell so vile, so hateful, that even he'd paused when he first saw it. It had been a ritual that, when used on a virgin, would ensure that she became pregnant when she lost her maidenhead with a child of exceptional power. After modifying the spell to produce only daughters it allowed him to begin his newest project.
Unfortunately, at least for the mother, the spell was universally fatal. It powered the gestation by sapping the very life from the girl. A girl who was impregnated as a beautiful maid, just entering the flower of her life, would give birth a desiccated old hag, usually dieing in the process or moments after… and that was if she lived long enough to give birth in the first place. An unfortunate loss, but as they say, omelets and eggs.
The girls that were born though. Yes. The one thing that could warm even his dried out old heart. His beautiful, wonderful, exceptional daughters. Every one possessing unquestionable power. Every one special in their own way. Every one trained to be the best spys and concubines in the whole of the underworld.
Should Ranma prove worthy, he'd send him one of his daughters as a concubine, and arrangement that would benefit both. Ranma would gain an unquestionably loyal servant, and he would gain an agent in Ranma's inner sanctum. In fact, he had a feeling he already knew which of his girls would be prefect.
He sighed as he reached release, and not knowing if he was thinking of the pleasure or the plan, he muttered, "Wonderful"
Swallowing deeply, the blonde slave looked up to her master. "I exists only to please."
"I know," he remarked, "Now be a good pet and tell Hotaru she is needed"
"By your command."
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(Posted Sat, 27 Jan 2007 05:46)
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