[Episode 233400] [Episode 233400]Seeing the young black-haired girl—who oddly enough, smelled of skulls of an almost blasted celestial origin—the Dark Elf shook his head and turned back to the Dungeon Keeper whom was for all intents and purposes, the chosen of the wonderful male whom he was still working on a wonderful, splendiferous, wardrobe for. “So my dear,” The Tailor replied as he slunk about her with the suavity and smoothness of a fire-pit snake. “You feel this is not up to your standards?”
Yes, The Tailor could take criticism. Especially when it allowed him more chances to experiment. He knew the Dungeon Keeper had not the problem with quality, but the fashion itself.
“I think that would be a ‘yes’, oh great Tailor,” the Mentor replied as he floated around Lina.
The Dark Elf frowned for a moment. “That is The Tailor. Yes, the ‘The’ is an appropriate part of the title...”
“Can we just get on with it?” growled the flushed woman, who not only noticed a draft in the shop, but also had two points of proof now sticking up against her possible outfit.
“Always willing to oblige,” The Tailor said in all seriousness. “Would her “The Queen of the next great Dungeon Keeper” be willing to allow me to start from the foundation up?”
The redheaded sorceress snorted. “Oh please,” the Dungeon Keeper that was one of the strongest if not most infamous Magic-users of her world drawled. “Just what is with all this ‘The’ stuff anyway?”
“Well, t’is only appropriate…,” the sinister seamstress of male persuasion replied. “It only shows a basic to introducing how truly grandiose one truly is. Doesn’t it make you feel more powerful, more important to be known as THE Dungeon Keeper? Why, there are so many titles that lose the flair their station holds without a proper suffix. I mean, how would you prefer to be known as Bandit Killer rather than The Bandit Killer? Or Enemy of All Who Lives compared to The Enemy of All Who Lives? Or finally... uh... oh, I don’t know... Dragon Spooker rather than THE DRAGON SPOOKER!?”
The Tailor paused as he noticed her ladyship twitching erratically. “Madame, it’s not polite to start tapping into the Mana of one’s Dungeon Heart in preparation to smite me when I am out to only make you fabulous!”
“You know, the rather effeminate elf has a point there, young Keeper,” the—sorry—The Mentor replied in all seriousness. “If you destroy him now, the only way you’ll get such quality clothing is by travelling to the great city of Dis... and those prices will easily be fifteen times as much as this Dark Elf’s changes, easily.”
One could hear her knuckles popping, even a small vein on her forehead throbbing—a trait that had she not gotten a Dungeon Heart when she did, probably would have meant she’d be lucky to see 30—as Lina did something rare to her: reign in her temper.
Even in this Gods forsaken world, those damned names still follow me.
A pink cape. If they offer me a pink cape, everyone dies.
“Now then, oh Ladyship of a Powerful House of Dungeon Keepers,” the Dark Elf said with an exaggerated bow, the ruffles of his shirt sleeves fluttering for a moment, “may I be allowed to give you the needed image you wish to portray to your enemies? I will need to work from the ground up.”
After taken several calming breathes and resolving to blast her dear husband when they returned—well, it wasn’t like she had anything to hurt the—THE—Mentor—she stood tall and straight. “Fine, let’s get it over with.” She was starting to miss her old outfit now, even if it had become a little worn from having to wash it so often in the underground river.
“Wonderful!” The Tailor said, clapping his hands. Then, holding up a pair of scissors that began to glow with a black light, the man said, “Hold still my dearest. I shall recycle this outfit you consider an affront for materials for later use...”
Then with a flourish of his hand, a simple cut of the scissors, the outfit literally came apart at the seams, becoming the sum of its parts...
And leaving Lina standing there naked.
“WAUGH!” Lina gasped out, arms moving over herself for some level of decency. “What the FUCK do you think you’re—PUT THAT KNIFE DOWN!” the young sorceress shrieked as the Dark Elf took out a long, black blade with his free hand as his right was already putting down the scissors.
SHING!
Crimson hairs fell to the floor, causing the young woman to scream and raise her hands to her head. That was odd, nothing felt out of place, so then where did her hair... fall... from...
The Dark Elf smiled. “A smooth cut; as you don’t want such showing up through the sheerness of what I plan to dress you in...”
“YOU CRAZY FUCKER!!!” the Dragon Spooker shrieked at the top of her lungs.
“Well, they do say that it is a razor-thin line between that of genius and insanity...” The Mentor said in a calming voice—read-as-not-giving-a-shit—to the woman his protégé had chosen.
Laughing, the young girl who was missing more than half the marbles in her figurative bag clapped her hands together. “Do it again! Do it again!”
Seras stared at the sight on the floor, eye twitching. Lucky bitch. Her carpets matched the drapes! That one something the Greater Vampire had hated about her human life. She was always accused of going to see the village healer to dye her hair due to what lay between her nethers...
“I’m sorry, dear child, but such is a trick done only once a week at best to a person,” he then looked up up at the raging redhead on top and bald beneath woman. “Now, now, such talk does not suit such a beautiful woman as yourself...” the Dark Elf said as he brought out a white—yes, WHITE—garter belt with black silk outline and onyx clasps, topped with an emerald in the center. With a flick of his wrist, it was around the woman’s waist.
Without waiting for a response, he brought both hands to the girl’s shoulders … and pushed her over, causing her to shriek as she fell back onto a couch. He then pulled up a pair of white, thigh-high spider-silk stockings The material was sheer, practically see-through, except for where there were embroidered patterns of black silk atop, the designs that of twisting, thorny vines that lead outwards from a single red patch of embroidery shaped as that of an Underworld Blood Rose.
Lina shrieked as The Tailor was between her legs, pulling the stockings up her limbs and clasping them to the garter belt with the straps. “LONG-EARED BASTARD!” the woman cried in righteous indignation.
“Now, now, my dear, that is debatable—my parents did eventually marry—but please, allow me to do what needs to be done first before we have such a thorough discussion,” the Dark Elf replied as he stood up and made his way over to a chest. Quickly, he searched through the stored garments with precision and focus, pulling out a few items.
He then came back to Lina’s legs with a very tiny pair of black thong panties. He pulled them up her legs and brought them up for a close fit, rolling the sorceress over so he could then tug them up properly between her butt-cheeks. The back of the material was a firm silk that held together nicely but that density only lasted from the top of the tailbone all the way to just over the nether part of her pubic area. That entire front space was so sheer a material, it was almost as if nothing was there, with only the faintest hint of gray belying the truth!
No wonder he freakin’ shaved her!
Finding herself rolled over in a sitting position, the Dragon Spooker gasped out in frustrated, “WILL YOU STOP THIS!?”
“...No...” The Tailor calmly replied as he started to pull fingerless arm-sleeves up along her arms one after the other. The material was in a similar pattern to that of the stockings. A single red blood rose on white backdrop of material that reached about all over with black, thorny patterns to represent vines. The roses themselves were on the backs of her hands.
As the Dark Elf left her, back turned as he looked through a closet, the redhead tried to stand. “SIT!” The Tailor demanded.
Blinking her eyes once, twice, Lina ‘humphed’ and crossed her arms over her chest as she sat on the couch of cranberry-colored crushed velvet.
“There we go,” the Dark Elf replied as he pulled out two black leather items. “These should compliment nicely.” He walked over to Lina; his right hand grasping a pair of shoes and his left a top of some sort. He kneeled before the redhead, putting an ankle-high black leather boot on her right foot; the leather itself stamped with an etching pattern of spider webs with only the faintest hint of a silver inlay. The silver was more apparent on the top where there was an intricate silver clasp done in the shape of a spider. The left boot he then put on her showed that it was indeed the perfect twin.
As soon as The Tailor said, ‘you may stand’, the woman was up on her feet. “Finally! Now listen you overbearing, self-center, son of a...” she blinked her eyes as he was no longer standing in front of her. “Hey! Where the hell did you gooOOOOHH!?” she moaned out as she felt a fierce tightening sensation around her torso.
Nodding his head as he fixed the lace straps in the back, the Dark Elf smiled superiorly. “Well, I admit, you wanting attention away from your top at this time may seem odd but this is perfect. Leather corset to give you a functional top, sturdy, hour glass-figure inducing and always appreciated by Mistress Minions. With how it covers your breasts, you my dear shall not worry about it drawing attention there yet leave enough curvaceousness that idiots don’t question if you’re a woman or not.”
“Now, the final touches: odds and ends with a little luxury!” The Tailor shrieked giddily as he ran back to the cashier’s counter, getting a large box from a shelf.
Wafting over to the stunned Neophyte Dungeon Keeper, The Mentor tilted his head as he looked the woman over. “Can’t breathe, can you?”
“...Barely...” Lina whispered, slowly inhaling and exhaling, trying to get the top to give a little in that regard without straining herself.
“Here we are!” The Tailor sing-songed as he simply picked up the box and brought it over to the woman, placing it on a stand next to the couch. He picked up a small vial and a brush. “Silver, violet, and lavender… Makes for a wonderful eyelash application that is both exotic, and attention-catching in this environment with how it will reflect light.”
Closing her eyes, Lina allowed him to apply such a make-up, she wondered how it at come to this. Upon the added command of ‘pucker your lips’, the woman did so, feeling an application of lip-stick. Finally, there was a light, puffy sensation against her cheeks. “Open your eyes now.”
Opening them, the woman saw as the Dark Elf put down a red stick of lipstick before he then perused through his box once more; make-ups aside in search of ... jewelry.
“This should do nicely...” the Tailor picked up a black leather choker with an emerald in a fire-burst cut, like the one on her garter belt. She felt it close around her neck, yet unlike the corset, this wasn’t tight.
However, if she knew there was a D-Ring on the back for Ranma to tie leashes or chains to it and keep her as his pet, she would’ve freaked. Fortunately, her hair hid that aspect very well.
“Now let’s see... little earrings here...” with deft movements, he held a set of platinum earrings with onyx inlay; the jewelry in a pentagram shape. He then placed it in the holes in her ears, having already taken out her large bulb earrings. “Now then... ah yes!” he giggled as he took a tiara from his box, placing it on her forehead; an intricate crown with a molding almost as if it were platinum molten and allowed to cool with heavy winds blasting upon it. Centered was a very large ruby.
“Almost done but... AH HA!” The Tailor smirked and took off two of his own rings. “Consider this a gift my dear, for one so delightfully cute as yourself!” He then placed his pinky rings on her middle fingers: a perfect fit. “VOILA!”
Turning her about, The Tailor placed her, standing, before a mirror. “So, tell me, The Future Queen of the Underworld and All You Survey, what do you think?”
Lina opened her mouth to respond ... and promptly collapsed to the floor from lack of air and passing out. She couldn’t have commented anyway, as the said lack of air had made everything blurry.
“Well ... that should make things easier,” smirked The Mentor, enjoying that she was finally quiet.
“Um ... will she be okay?” asked Seras.
“Oh, she just fainted from the shock of such beauty,” waved off The Tailor. “Even if something was wrong; worst case, she is reborn at her Dungeon Heart and you’re forced to carry everything back. Although, this does make my job a lot easier. Truly, one of my more difficult customers...
“Not like her husband! Now that man knew how to treat a tailor right!”
“My turn!” cried Skuld with a smile, having slipped under their notice and began poking Lina with a stick no one was sure how she got.
After a day’s ride, the party, led by the Prince, arrived at the entrance to the Underworld, the den of darkness and evil—and in this world, both pretty much meant the same thing. As expected, they found it guarded by a sleeping troll, one that only opened his eyes as they approached, making the Prince curse that they had not snuck up on the beast. Even a troll was no easy creature to slaughter. “Move aside, foul beast, so that we may pass into—”
“Go ahead.”
“... What?”
“Stopping you would be too troublesome, and I can’t enjoy watching the clouds with you guys being so loud.”
One of the braver knights decided to chime in. “Aren’t you supposed to stop us, the Agents of Good?”
“Feh, they haven’t paid me. I’m on strike.”
Michael stared at the Troll through the visor opening in his helmet; a defensive devise specifically sculpted as the holy and regal beast of land, the Lion: the symbol of his country and family. “You’re joking, right?”
“Fuck no,” the Troll snorted. “I like clouds and I get all the wandering sheep I could ever want to eat, but a Troll cannot live on sheep alone!”
The creature of the underground turned to look at the group: twelve knights and one captain. “So look, either go down or go away. Can’t you see I’m busy writing a letter of threat of resignation!?”
“And should they pay you while we are down there?”
“My job is to keep people out, not keep them from leaving.”
Michael stared at the beast in utter shock and awe. The noble part of him that his father brought up screamed at him to attack the foul beast, simply for being an affront to all that was good and just in the lands above!
The other voice... that of reason and common sense--which he listened to more often than not—said to simply take advantage of this while he could. “Good Troll, if I pay you a sum of twenty gold, can I at least trust you to watch our horses.” He frowned as he realized something. “And I mean keep them alive and safe from thieves. You are not allowed to watch the horses as you eat them.”
“... Fine,” he muttered. Damn, so much for an easy lunch.
“Is there a time limit I should expect you back?” the troll asked, returning to his letter.
“Depends, how distant is the lands of the ones who recently raided a village not too far from here?”
“... Long way, considering they’re all dead. Place burned down, no survivors. But go look for yourself, you might find something. Take the third tunnel on your left, follow the puke-green moss.”
“And thank you,” Sir Michael replied as he took a small sack off from his belt and dropped twenty coins into his palm: the print of the frog-adorned royal crown and a lion head on the other side. He then tossed them to the Troll, who caught them deftly with his massive hand. “We shall see you when we return.”
The Troll chuckled. “If you return.”
Ranma looked out into the expanse of cavern the Imps had made. Their work was really coming along now... granted they weren’t building rooms as fast as he would have liked but they were making the necessary arrangements so rooms COULD be built well enough. It did help that now he had Lina’s Imps helping now and none were being pulled away to keep looting Sidarian’s Keep.
The cavern they exposed though... a vast expanse of illumination given by... moss and mushrooms?
Now, if he could find those damned Warlocks. He was about to summon them and finally stop walking around—it was like the bastards were trying to avoid him—when he got an alert: a new being had shown up at the portal.
Sighing at his task once again being put off, he teleported there. Wasn’t he supposed to have someone who did this stuff?
When he appeared at the Portal, he paused as he got a good look at what came in. A woman; dark, dark skin that was shone off in contrast with her shock of white hair and white leather outfit; one which hid a good deal of what was important and thus good protection, but still tantalized. Violet eyes that shone forth like amethyst crystals and her lips were red like rubies.
She turned to look at him, the cold circlet on her forehead shimmering in the light. She smiled, even as her gloved hand went to the rapier by her side. “Greetings. May I ask whom I am speaking to?”
“Ranma Saotome, the Keeper,” he replied, doing what she considered odd for what looked like a human keeper: maintaining eye contact instead of staring at her cleavage.
“Ah yes,” she replied. “I heard you were present at Skid Row a week ago, made quite the impression.”
He chuckled nervously, before his hand lashed out, catching a trio of darts she had launched at him.
“So, you are skilled as they say,” she said with a very pleased smile. “I take it I do not need to test further with the bow?”
Frowning a little, Ranma crushed the darts in his hand; a force of will and mana from his Dungeon Heart melting them in his grasp to nothing. “No, you do not... and I don’t appreciate little sneaky jabs like that.”
“Forgive me,” she stated with a smile. “But one cannot be too careful with rumors they hear in the Underground. I simply wished to confirm you were as skilled as the rumors portrayed.”
“And you didn’t think to ask for a simple spar?” he growled.
She shrugged. “This was quicker.”
Ranma started massaging his temples. Why do I always get the crazy chicks? he asked himself.
She smiled as she gazed at the look of frustration on his face. “I take it you don’t deal with Dark Elves too often. Tell me, my Dark Lord... am I your first encounter?” There was a twinkle of mischievousness in her eyes that said she knew she wasn’t ... but she wanted to hear it from him.
“No,” Ranma muttered. “I’ve met a Keeper and a tailor that are Dark Elves.”
“Pity,” she stated. “I do hope they did not sour you on our species as a whole.”
“No, but I ain’t gonna trust a male Dark Elf for a long time,” he replied with a heavy sigh, forcefully pushing down the memories of The Tailor’s ‘accidental’ gropes while getting measurements.
“Well, come along,” he stated, turning around. With this headache, he didn’t want to try teleporting now—not with his luck lately. “We can discuss any and all terms over in this room.” He’d seen The Mentor do it. Surely, he could do it. After all, there was nothing Ranma Saotome couldn’t master!
The Dark Elf followed him with a careful step, not wanting to set off any traps. After a bit of walking, she came to a stop, smirking as she realized where she was. Albeit a bit on the small side, with the luxury, the bar, the craps and card tables, there was no mistake. “You already have a Casino, sire?”
Ranma shrugged. “Well, while I didn’t think it much, The Mentor kept mentioning how something like this will attract Minions...”
“Likely Goblins and Rogues, but it’s not bad...” the Dark Elf looked at him, raising a hand to brush her long hair back.
Shrugging his shoulders, Ranma walked over to the bar itself. “Well, yeah. I did the best I could with the plans on hand. Not much, but it’s supposed to boost morale and funding.”
“True,” she replied, sitting beside him. “So, this is where you discuss business?”
Ranma shrugged. “Ain’t got an office.” He wasn’t about to take her to the throne room, as stuff from the looting that had yet to be sorted—and Lina forbade him from touching—was in there, and no way in hell was he inviting anyone to his personal chambers.
He wasn’t that stupid, thank you. “So, what are your terms?”
The Dark Elf tilted her head, giving him a small smirk. “Well, I hope that you have a Guard Room and Training Pit to work with... I try to keep my skills sharp. I do intend to continue to live and often the best defense is an even better offense.”
Her smile became more devious. “I need to prove I’m better than the males. Often enough, when it comes to Dark Elven forces, the males are preferred and even when hired, the females are only paid half...” her eyes flashed. “If I am to be hired, I insist on full pay.”
“Well, warning you, be careful sparring with the Mistresses. They’re ... grabby,” he replied with a blush. “And I don’t care about gender. You do it right is all I care about.
“Well, that and not betraying me. But that goes without saying,” he quickly amended. Damn it, he knew he should have wrote that stuff down.
That perked Pirotess’s interest. “Really? That’s it? You’re not going to argue with me or demand I prove my skills?”
Ranma shrugged. “You walk like a person with a lot of training, you threw those darts with good speed, accuracy, and without any wasted movement, and I learned a long time ago that there ain’t any real differences in worth of a man or woman fighter.” Well, not true, the women he knew fought dirty: always flashing him a bit of skin he should have been desensitized to, what with his own female form, and then somehow achieving a God-mode to smack him about as if he was a white-belt.
That pleased the female Dark Elf immensely. She got off from her bar stool and knelt before him. “Then, my liege, I, Pirotess, toss my lot in with you. I will follow your will, my Dungeon Keeper and Master.”
Ranma blinked in shock as the bartender put down a stein of ale before him. Wow... That was easy! The Mentor made it look so damn hard.
Feh! I really am good at this.
“Cool!” he replied, taking her hand and having her stand up. “Welcome to the team ... um ... what’s your name?” Ranma asked, blushing, swearing he would at least write down questions he should ask.
“My liege,” the woman said as she accepted his hand and stood. “I told you, my name is Pirotess.”
“...Oh...” Ranma said slowly. “I thought that was a title.”
“Okay,” Ranma nodded. “I’ll have the Imps start on a room for you, and when they get back, I can have The Mentor go over pay and stuff with you.”
She just kept smiling. Equal pay and a room of her own? This was starting to look like a great deal.
Plus, he had yet to mentally undress her.
Oh well, like he’d be the first gay keeper she had worked for.
“Yes, my liege,” she said as she nodded her head. “I am grateful for your generosity and will do my best to live up to your expectations. If you want, I’ll even see about finding you some male company.”
“... Huh?” Ranma asked, blinking innocently. “What do you mean?”
“Do you not prefer the company of men?” she asked.
“I don’t get your meaning.”
“Aren’t you gay?” she finally asked.
“... WHAT?” he bellowed, silencing all the chat in the small bar as the assembled minions all turned to face him.
She winced at that. Well, hopefully she didn’t lose anything because of that. Who knew he was so in the closet?
Then again, she just might have been wrong. Surely The Tailor wouldn’t have been silent if he was hitting that.
Ranma twitched. A lot. “I’m not gay. In fact I...” he winced as the implications hit him, as they always did when he considered it. “I have a wife. She is a Dungeon Keeper and shares my Dungeon Heart. You’ll be working with her as well.”
That made the Dark Elf raise an eyebrow. “Oh? You do?” she smiled. “So you’ve been tapping that then and proving your virility?” Whoever this wife was, she had to be extremely attractive that her husband wasn’t even trying to flirt with her.
Ranma twitched. Again. “Er... not exactly.”
Smiling, she grabbed her own offered stein and leaned towards him. “Oh, please explain,” she asked with a smile. She did so love juicy gossip, especially when she could play it off as getting to know her boss.
Ranma sighed as he grabbed a stein that the Mistress running the bar handed him. “Where to begin?” he considered it. “Oh yes... my original intent was to kick Keeper Sidarin’s ass, you know, conquer his dungeon, kill him, take all his earthly possessions and minions, the usual...” he shrugged. “Turned out, I was maybe something like six hours too late. Lina killed them all and had become that Dungeon’s Keeper.”
“I take it Lina is your wife?” the Dark Elf tried to wheedle out of the human.
Nodding his head firmly, Ranma replied, “Yep. I beat her, not realizing just who she was... tried to save her life or at least make her subservient and...” he shrugged. “Did it wrong so now we’re together from now until eternity, ‘til destruction of all reality do us part as it were...”
She nodded, sipping her drink lightly, making sure it wasn’t drugged or poisoned—a habit that had saved her life and her underwear on several occasions, as she looked at the odd Keeper. “So because of that, she’s refusing her marital duties, as it were?”
“Eh, it’s okay,” Ranma stated, taking a large swallow of whatever passed for liquor in this odd world. “I’ve had enough people trying to force me to do it, ain’t gonna be a bastard like that.” Sometimes, he still woke up at night, dreaming of Kuno’s groping hands. Bastard didn’t even try to be gentle.
Now the Dark Elf warrior frowned. “Sounds like you’ve been through some tough times if you yourself do not wish to take from her what is rightfully yours.”
Raising an eyebrow, Ranma looked at her over his mug. Lowering the metal stein, he asked, “Excuse me?”
‘Well, you are man and wife,” the pointy-eared female replied. “Such is practically law of the lands, both above and underground. Even if a Dungeon Keeper, that she does not perform her duties as a wife, speaks badly of her own personality and attitude towards you.”
Ranma blinked. “Um ... really?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Such is the ways of the lands, as I have said.
“But if she is not fulfilling such duties, has she not at least allowed you to get your needs met elsewhere?”
Ranma just blinked, not used to being on this side of the argument and someone taking his side.
“Have you sought others?”
Ranma just chuckled nervously, not wanting her to think he was some sort of deviant if he mentioned Skuld’s promise.
The Dark Elf frowned for the first time since meeting him. “You’ve not sought others?”
Placing his stein down on the counter, the pigtailed Dungeon Keeper just shrugged. “Hey, it’s not like I’ve had time to go looking into that. I’m still trying to set up a dungeon here. I can’t just stop for ... that ... when I’ve got more rooms to build, traps to set up, and Minions to employ and train.”
She closed her eyes, giggling lightly, as a picture started to make sense.
He was shy! The human Keeper was shy around women, uncertain how to proceed given his own bad dealings from pursuers. Perhaps at one point, the boy had been someone’s slave, or sought to be such.
However, it did offer her a wonderful opportunity. And he was easy on the eyes…
“Well, then, my lord...” the Dark Elven female spoke up as she leaned forward, showing off her cleavage, visible in a tactically-placed opening in her leather top. “Mayhaps I may first see fit to serve you in ways that do not require my skills as a soldier?”
“Um...” Ranma sputtered, leaning back a bit, angling his eyes up—mentally noticing how someone had carved something into the ceiling that looked like a mural and wondering how long that had been there, and ensuring his hands stayed where they were.
“My form does not displease you, does it, sire?” she asked with a pout.
Now normally, Ranma wasn’t considered smart, but he recognized a trap when it was like that. He should, after having fallen into it ... hundreds and hundreds of times.
Still, even if he recognized a trap for what it was ... he still hadn’t learned to safely ‘disarm’ it.
“Oh no. You’re very nice for a Dark Elf... but I’m lookin’ for soldiers right now and I think you’re going to be a lot of help in that regard.”
Was he successful?
He would have to say ‘Hell no, you idiot!’ as she leaned forward even more, her ‘assets’ now in contact with his body, as the traitorous bar refused to move and allow him to lean back further. “We all have needs, my sire. There is no shame in such.
“And I will admit, I have the same needs, needs we can both help each other with.”
Ranma’s jaw flapped wordlessly, unable to find a way to respond to that. Hell, so shell-shocked was he by this that he didn’t even think to just pluck her up with the Hand that was his mental avatar and just drop her in another part of the Dungeon!
No. Like most men with little to no experience, he was the proverbial deer caught in the headlight or whatever the local equivalent expression was. His mind was screaming at him to do something, try something.
Sadly, his body betrayed him.
SQUISH!
It had raised a hand to try and push her back, give him some room. Instead, it had just enough movement to come in contact with her breast and squeeze gently.
There was no question now, he realized. This would only end one way.
Smiling a devious little grin, there was a faint hint of blush to the Dark Elf’s beautiful features. “My lair or yours?”
And ... that wasn’t it.
He looked left, right. What’s this? No perverted fiancée rushing in to clobber him for being a ‘cheating jerk’? No ride on mallet express airways? Just ... one deceptively happy harlot?
Smiling at how cute he looked—and mentally thanking the Dark Gods that the Keeper was apparently a virgin and thus could be properly trained to please a woman as opposed to untraining him and retraining—she leaned across the final distance and claimed his lips.
Oh, she wasn’t stupid, she kept her ears alert in case the frigid bitch of a wife of his showed up. Unlike them, she had but the one life.
Eyes widening for a moment, Ranma paused at the lip contact; his pigtail sticking out behind him like a bolt of lightning. Holy crap! A kiss! An honest-to-goodness kiss! And there was no pain! NO PAIN!!!
It was definitely different from what he had experienced in Nerima, and his one kiss here from Skuld. There was only a simple need, nothing like what seemed to be transmitted from the kisses back home.
Granted, he had felt something from Skuld’s kiss, but he couldn’t read it too well, he assumed it was due to her madness.
However, the traitorous body wasn’t done yet. His free hand circled her waist, pulling her closer, as the other continued to grope her.
I blame the mana for this, he thought, trying to justify his current actions. Surely, before his arrival, he’d never have done something like this ... well, not without a cure or some challenge hanging in the balance.
Continuing to hold the lip-lock, Pirotess allowed herself to be pulled on her lord’s lap. Her chest pressing against his, she brought her own hand up behind his head, scratching his neck gently, and even playing with his pigtail between two fingers.
He was certainly a very nice change of pace from the usual Dark Knight.
And if what she felt in her lap was any indication, she was about to finally get her itch scratched properly.
“We’re back!” came a cry from the entrance.
Oh no! Ranma thought in fear, his newly awakened hormones—so yes, the mana could be seen at fault—overridden by self-preservation as Ranma released the kiss, not even noticing as her teeth held onto his bottom lip for a second, as he turned.
He was a dead man.
At the entrance to the casino/bar/office, stood Seras, holding Lina who appeared to be thankfully sleeping in ... some weird outfit, and Skuld, who was staring at him and tapping her foot, now wearing a dark blue frilly dress.
“You promised I’d be your first,” she whined.
Arching an eyebrow, the Dark Elf turned towards her liege. There just had to be a story behind that.
Fortunately, for his sake, the Dungeon Keeper failed to notice the look on his new Dark Elf minion as he just stared at Lina. “Why is Lina dressed like a street walker?”
“Dark Elf fashion...” was oddly enough, the surprisingly in-sync answer of Seras and Pirotess.
“Ah,” he nodded, giving it no further thought. “And she passed out from ... shock?” he asked.
Seras shrugged. “That or lack of air.” Humans did have that odd habit of breathing.
“Perhaps you should have a chat with her, Keeper,” The Mentor stated, floating beside him—he’d long grown use to its attempt to create a reaction from that. “I will discuss a contract with your newest acquisition.” And to think, only a fortnight ago, the Keeper would never have been cheating on his wife in a bar. Oh, how they were corrupted so quickly.
Read the comments on this episode
See other episodes by The Demented Redhead
(Posted Fri, 07 May 2010 08:09)
Questions? Problems? Suggestions?
Send a mail to addventure@bast-enterprises.de
or use the contact form.
らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
All other series and their characters are © by their respective creators or owners. No claims of ownership of these characters are implied by the authors of this Addventure, or should be inferred.
The Anime Addventure is a non-profit site.