Crescens blinked her eyes once, twice. Well, at least her ladyship seemed pleased with this proverbial—and likely literal—deal with the devil. “So... you are okay, Lady Gia? You’re not hurt or anything, are you?”
Looking down at herself, Britanny breathed deeply as she used her own hands to heft her breasts up a bit. “Oh, ye~eessssss...” the werecheetah hissed happily. “Perfectly fine! In fact, I haven’t had a set like this since my early twenties...” she cooed. As much as she appreciated her mother taking her training seriously... she missed a certain ‘curvature’ that had been sacrificed to keep up with the hard work. But now, thanks to the power of the Dungeon Heart, she was right as rain once more. Shoot, she was probably BETTER than before!
Well, better physically at least, but... the woman thought with a curious tone, even though she was smiling on the outside. Wherever the power of this artifact originated, it was a decidedly effective albeit corrupt influence. Make no mistake, Britanny may have been a bit head-strong at times but she’d faced many an undead menaces and numerous monsters before. There was no mistaking it. If this wasn’t similar then she was the Queen of Aebra...
...Which she should have been! Stupid Archon! Trying to take her husband! Her husband whom the bitch performed a rushed half-assed surgery on to load him up with Artifacts and then used him to save the planet at the near expense of their own wedding and then didn’t have the nerve to give her and Stryyp any sort of reward in return—not even a wedding present—besides the bitch hitting on HER man up to the very moment of departure! Kryn skank! She’d see her burn in the pits for that while she and Stryyp ruled over a planet of gold! Sweet, alchemically infinite gold!!
The werecheetah blinked her eyes as the realization of just WHAT was going through her head hit her. ...Yep. DEFINITELY a negatively-charged power... You knew it was bad when you started to internally monologue about vengeance against people who hardly did anything to you. Maybe taking the power of the Dungeon Heart HAD been a bad idea?
And then she looked down at her large, firm and perky tits once more and realized it was a fair and equitable trade for the most part.
Realizing that her ladyship was deep in thought, Crescens was hesitant to interrupt her. However, seeing the look of annoyance growing on the demon’s features made the gaoblin realize that she needed to her the werecat’s attention. “Lady Gia?” the woman stated firmly. “How do you feel? You’ve changed for certain but...” she paused. How did one politely ask if someone was still ‘right in the head’ as it were?
Seemingly catching onto what her friend was trying to bring up, the werecheetah answered for her. “Well, let’s see... this ether has made me all nice and sexy... very sexy in fact!” she spun about in place for emphasis, only now realizing that her white gaoblin ceremonial outfit was now a much skimpier black leotard with high-heeled boots and elbow-length gloves. “But... it is rather dangerous...”
Crescens’ yellow eyes flashed. She knew it! She knew this had been a bad idea! “How so?” she inquired, ready to spring into action to aid the woman she’d pledged her life to.
Realizing that poor Crescens was going to stress herself out, Britanny decided to keep the full truth to herself for now and play the changes off as merely cosmetic ones. “Well for starters, the power the Dungeon Heart is pumping into me turned my ether vents red... and as you know, red is simply NOT my color!” the werecheetah huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “As you know, I prefer blue or green, something to highlight and accentuate the luxuriousness of my natural and soft golden fur!” she shrugged her shoulders. “I mean, sure, thanks to this pact with the Dungeon Heart, I got black clothes now to help balance out the red but—”
“WILL YOU JUST GET US OUT!?” Horny roared, interrupting the two women. “STOP SQUAWKING LIKE A BUNCH OF DELICIOUSLY KILLABLE HENS AND GET US OUT OF HERE!”
The werecheetah was quick to turn on her heels. “Hold up! I’m still trying to get used to everything here! This is a lot to take in you know...” she tilted her head back and looked up at the tall mass of red and muscle. “And how come you’re mouthing off to me? I thought you said you’d serve me if I accepted this Dungeon Heart as my own!”
Rolling his large yellow eyes, the Horned Reaper spoke, as if trying to explain things to a five-year-old that he would step on with a massive cloven hoof as soon as look at. “Look, I can serve you, but first I need to swear allegiance to you at the base of the Dungeon Heart,” he said as he motioned towards the domed dias altar containing said beating red and black crystal. “Once I do, I will be at your service: you will be able to use me at your command and have nothing more to fear from me. I wouldn’t be able to attack you even if I wanted to!” For the most part, Horny mentally added. Even if he swore allegiance, a bond was not a guaranteed thing and could dissolve over time if she pissed him off enough. “So taking me on as a minion is all up to you, Keeper. Do you accept?”
Looking tall, dark and gruesome up and down for a few moments, the werecheetah finally nodded her head. “Very well, Big Red...” she outstretched her left arm, motioning towards the center of the room as she told him, “You’re on!”
Nodding his head and letting out a gruff snort of understanding, the tall and muscular demon from the eighth layer of the pits stormed toward the black domed altar that contained and somewhat protected the Dungeon Heart. Stopping before it, he couldn’t help but smile as he felt that familiar yet comfortable lure of a Heart’s power. Taking a deep breath, he spread his arms wide and opened himself to it, basking in the light of its glorious evil. “Ahhh... that’s the stuff...” he whispered, feeling the connection established as images of the werecheetah started to fill his mind.
Frowning as he watched all this, it was obvious Jon was none-too-pleased. Sure, he was only an imprint of a soul, an old “file save” if you will while the true Jonathan Diggers continued on with his life and then unlife as a lich but the fact was even if he was only a living record, the spirit tome knew everything that the real Jon had up to that point in his life, and could learn more as people wrote in his pages... and Crescens and Britanny had written a lot in his book over the six years they’d spent in the Realm of Oblivion... and he knew he didn’t like what he was seeing. “He’s taking a considerable amount of power for himself. It would be wise to keep an eye on this one.”
“I know, Jon, I know...” Britanny told the apparition, the feline lycanthrope in complete agreement... yet at the same time, it was like she suddenly knew the Reaper better than she knew a lot of people. There was a connection; she suddenly knew things about Horny that she didn’t ask about nor would have cared to know. Like how the Demon enjoyed mass genocide, mindless slaughter, and a fine Sunday brunch of popping baby chicks into his mouth even though he didn’t necessarily NEED the nourishment... or how he hated excessive talking, being bored, not getting to kill, or slapped—yet somehow enjoyed a ‘slap and tickle’ which in itself was a feat to accomplish considering he was as anatomically correct as a Ken doll.
Yeah, this was definitely more than the werecheetah could have ever or even wanted to know about the infernal fiend.
Slowly, he turned about to face the woman and her servant once more. “There: it is done. I am now your faithful minion, oh Kitty Keeper. Yours to beset against your enemies at your beck and call... and trust me, I’m quite adept at dispatching enemies...” the Horned Reaper licked his lips at the mere thought of getting to shed blood again. “Oh so very skilled...”
“All righty, so that means I should now use the power to—somehow—dig us out and we’re home-free,” Britanny replied as she looked from Horny towards her Dungeon Heart. She frowned as she was getting odd feedback from it whenever her focus was on it, images of various schematics floating in the back of her mind... hell, it was almost like she could see everywhere at once within the prison. She’d have to find out if that was part of being a Keeper or if there was feedback from her ether vents.
“Actually, Keeper,” Horny spoke up to make sure he had the werecheetah’s attention. “I would highly advise against that for the moment...”
Glaring at the big red thing that looked like a cross between beefcake and a side of beef, the werecheetah-turned-Dungeon Keeper demanded to know, “What does that mean? You’re the one who told me if I accepted the power of a Dungeon Heart that I could get us out of here! So why the hell would you want me to stop when that was your whole selling point for getting me to do this?”
“Actually, that was merely one of my selling points and I feel the freedom from sagging was a bigger hit home for you,” Horny argued. As the two women and even the apparition glared at him, the demonic entity of destruction—and refinement—explained, “First off, there are still some basics you need to know about. The mana from your Dungeon Heart will preserve your body indefinitely but you need to keep in mind that it is STILL a body of flesh and blood. So yes, you cannot die under normal circumstances while a Keeper, but you will still feel the sensations of thirst, hunger, and fatigue.”
Britanny gawked at the scythe-wielding behemoth. That was completely unexpected, yet at the same time, a relief. While she looked forward to the idea of never having to age again... she was worried she would never have a craving for tuna ever again either. “So... I still gotta eat, sleep, and a drink?”
“Precisely,” Horny replied. “It’s just that you could survive such... unlike your armless friend here,” he told her as he motioned towards the gaoblin with a wave of his scythe. “And as I mentioned before, we are thousands if not hundreds of thousands of yards from any civilization, both below or above the planet’s crust. So if you want your friend to survive the time it’s going to take to dig our way towards other people—deliciously killable things that they are—let alone avoid the discomfort you’d be putting yourself through while you wait, then you’re going to need to provide for yourselves.”
Looking over towards Crescens, the two women nodded their heads before turning their backs on the large demon; it was time for some girl talk. “Well, you heard the demon. Do you think he’s on the level?”
“Well Lady Gia, he DID pledge servitude towards you,” Crescens replied. “That act alone says so much on so many levels... plus, there is the fact that he still needs you to get him and us out of here.” she frowned as she quickly added, “However, we’ve only been with this creature for, what, a half hour maybe? In that time I can definitely tell that he’s not someone I’d trust to be alone with you.”
Nodding her head in agreement, the werecheetah was quick to reply, “All right. So trust him to an extent but be careful about the leeway we give him. Offer an inch and he’ll time a mile, right?”
“Precisely,” the female gaoblin replied.
With her proverbial wing-woman having offered her advice, the werecheetah finally turned back towards the Horned Reaper, who was looking mighty ticked at having been ignored. “Okay Big n’ Beefy,” Britanny told the Horned Reaper, smirking at the indignant look that came over his face at the nickname she’d given him. “I’m gonna believe what you told me. So I need to take care of Crescens, myself, and likely you... so what do I need to do?”
Snorting, Horny explained, “I might not be a Keeper but I’ve worked for the best as well as stormed many rival dungeons. What you need to do is use your power to create some imps and send them out a digging! It doesn’t matter the direction as you need to find materials hidden within the earth first rather than any specific direction. Fortunately, I do have some idea: as we’re under Skybrid Trill, gold should be plentiful at these depths as the people from above won’t dig underneath their own feet and precious town, nor will any underworlders dare to get too close. Once you have your gold, you can then use it in those magical transactions with the Dungeon Heart to reconstruct this room into a proper Inner Sanctum from which you can rule your dungeon and direct your forces as you send them out. Once you have an Inner Sanctum, you can then use the gold to force your imps to build a Lair and a Hatchery so there are places to rest and food to eat!” He smirked and finished with, “Then you can take as long as you need to dig us someplace as you won’t have to worry about dying down here.”
Blinking her eyes once, twice, all Britanny could ask was, “Imps?”
“Yes, imps,” Horny restated. “You know; annoying little things, make half as much noise as a chicken when you stomp on them? I mentioned them earlier.”
“...”
“...They should be easy to call up, part of every Dungeon Keeper’s standard set of abilities,” the Horned Reaper offered.
“And... how exactly do I do that?” Britanny asked.
“I would believe that is where I come in,” replied a disembodied voice.
“Say what now?” Britanny spoke up as she looked about the room; her ears perking up at the noise.
Finally, she caught sight of a floating robed being phase through the walls. “Despite what Horniculus here may have you think, the imp is actually the most important creature a Keeper has. They do everything that your other creatures can’t, including but not limited to: digging, claiming land, installing traps, rescuing knocked out minions, be they yours or your enemies, etcetera, etcetera...” he frowned as he gazed down at the female. “However, you should know that imps do not fight, and instead will run from battle. And in order to expand your dungeon, you need these creatures to—SWEET FUCKING BLACK ABYSS! Those are some HUGE breasts!”
Horny snorted.
Crescens sighed at the stupidity of this world.
Jon merely shook his head and went back to his book. He didn’t feel like interacting with something else that was incorporeal for the moment.
Meanwhile, Britanny preened, feeling like she was back in high school and had sent one unfortunate athlete running into a brick wall during her cheerleading tryout, forever ruining his sports career from there-on-out.
Turning to the Horned Reaper, the gaoblin motioned one of her ethereal hands towards the ghost. “And who is this?” Crescens inquired.
“I am The Mentor,” the floating figure stated firmly before Horny could answer.
Turning towards the spectral being, Britanny growled. If she heard the words ‘unpaid’ and ‘intern’ in the next few minutes, she was going to call the Ghostbusters on his floating ass! “And what, pray-tell, does a Mentor do?” the werecheetah asked curiously, crossing her arms underneath her impressive mammaries, accentuating them.
“Well, my dear freshly-minted Keeper, I’ll have you know that I was once a highly successful Dungeon Keeper... but like all things, my reign of terror came to a rather abrupt and bloodily painful end. However, unlike most Dungeon Keepers, I made plans just in case my forces and myself were ever overwhelmed and ended up as an—and this is the important part—utterly indestructible and immortal spirit.” he brought his hand up, making a motion that he was clearing his throat to allow them time to digest that fact. “Now, as you have probably deduced from my title, I mentor fledgling Dungeon Keepers like yourself, bestowing upon them my boundless knowledge to occupy my time. So here I am, your own personal adviser to teach you to use your Dungeon Heart, provide hints, notify you when your creatures have a payday, if your dungeon is under attack, or simple individual creature notifications such as if there is a jackpot winner or if a creature rebels against you, all while regaling you with my own brand of witty dark humor!”
Crescens tilted her head. “There seems to be a lot of entities around here who were involved with formerly successful Dungeon Keepers, enough to make one question if you have sound advice, or perhaps if they fell as you entered their service.”
Britanny heard none of that, trying to wrangle a thought that was currently escaping her. Staring at The Mentor, she replayed what he had claimed in her head, before wincing, as the fact finally swam to the surface. “You’re the local equivalent of that damned Microsoft Word office document program...”
“...A what?” The Mentor replied, not recognizing the term.
“You know...” the werecheetah kneeled and used a finger to make a marking into the floor, that of a paperclip. “This!”
The Mentor peered down at the sketching... and surprisingly perked up. “AH! I see we have an aficionado of the Dark Arts! That is the mark of the darkest of all Dark Gods, he of chaos and pure utter evil who’s name cannot be spoken properly while one has a tongue in their mouth... that was very nice of you to compare me to such a magnificently evil being; thank you.”
Britanny could only blink. So... here, that annoying paperclip... was considered a vile and evil religious icon...
And yet, I feel no shock or awe, merely simple acceptance, she thought. It makes—in a way—perfect senses... that somehow, it either got here or I just have renewed hope for getting home, as it was obvious this little fucker was trying to make inroads to our world! Thank you, fickle consumers with ADD attention spans!
The Mentor chuckled. “Well, I’ll take that praise and smile as acceptance. It will be a pleasure working with you, fair Keeper...?”
“Cheetah,” Britanny was quick to tell the ghost, hoping that he wouldn’t start fighting with Jon.
“Well, yes, Keeper Cheetah,” he started. It made sense, considering how animal-like she was. “I must admit, you are certainly the most unique Keeper I’ll have had the pleasure of working with.”
The werecheetah raised a curious eyebrow. She hadn’t accepted him as such but the ghost guy seemed pleased with the prospect of working for her. The woman guessed she might as well hear him out for a moment. “And why are you looking forward to working with me?”
“Well Keeper Cheetah, as I’ve stated before, I’ve worked with many a Keeper, particularly those of the female gender... but you’re the first to actually have any looks to her!” The Mentor admitted. “Most women pick up a Dungeon Heart as a last resort to maintain their already ravaged looks or are too young to know any better and so are flat as a board. But no, not you, ever so perfectly curved and womanly... there shall be many a minion that will simply throw themselves at your feet for the chance to work for you, even if you had the Reaper by your side at the time!”
“Hey!” Britanny yelled. “I’ll have you know that I’ve got way more skills than an admittedly smokin’ hot body capable of breaking a chaste priest in five paces!”
Ah... high school memories were so cherish-able!
“I meant no disrespect, Keeper,” The Mentor spoke, bowing, although even though he didn’t have visible eyes, Britanny still felt like he wasn’t staring into her gaze. “I was simply offering you the fact that you already have a potential selling point to attract forces to your banner, without even having to open your mouth to make them false promises.”
“Ah...” she smiled. “Well thank you, Mr. Ghosty. Now if you’re going to offer me some help then tell me... what’s this about imps?”
“Well Keeper, imps are the backbone of any successful Dungeon Keeper so you must have them created. Yes, created. But by being mere extensions of your will, they do not require being paid and will work day and night to please you.”
“Sweet!” Britanny chirruped. More money for her... if she actually had any...
“Now then, to create imps must first focus your energies, let the power of your Dungeon Heart flow though you and your instincts as a Keeper be your guide…” The Mentor told her firmly. “Imp creation is one of those innate things and you really don’t need me to walk you through it.”
The werecheetah nodded her head in understanding. “...Fine…” Britanny whispered before she breathed deeply, trying to clear her mind. Her ether vents began to glow that bright red once more the power that was now hers slowly began to build up within her.
Raising an eyebrow, the apparition nodded his head. “Very good, you seem to be a natural spell-caster… unique, sure, but definitely a natural. Now repeat after me while maintaining focus: Impious Acturia!”
“Impious Acturia!” the woman shouted suddenly, releasing the built of ether. She opened her eyes at the sound of a small cry.
The ghost looked over the Keeper’s work. “...Good... for a first attempt,” The Mentor drawled.
“Quaid!” gasped the creation. “Start the reactor—”
*CRUNCH*!
Whatever it might have said next was cut off as the Horned Reaper stomped on it.
Eyes wide with horror, Crescens and Britanny stared at him.
“...What?” Horny asked due to the looks he was getting. “You put something defenseless and annoying in front of me, people! What did you think would happen!?”
Britanny glared at the large beefy behemoth. “HEY! That was to be the start of my workforce!”
The large demonic entity nodded his head in understanding. “Quite. Your FREE workforce. I on the other hand, require pay...” Horny told her seriously.
“Say WHAT!?” the neophyte Dungeon Keeper screeched. “You told me you pledged your allegiance!” the werecheetah snarled, pointing an accusatory finger.
“Right. And as a minion, that means I get PAID,” Horny grinned wider. “However, unlike other minions who will demand gold and mana... I need BLOOD! So if you’d be kind enough to conjure me up some imps for the next hour or so, we’ll consider me settled up for the next week or two.”
Not to be ignored, the spectral advisor put forth his two coppers. “Keeper, this is a most inopportune time for this foolishness. You must do something to keep your Reaper’s attention away from your imps,” The Mentor spoke up with a firm tone. He then smirked as the cat-woman glared at him. Good. He had her attention. “I would suggest making a Hatchery so Horniculus can slaughter some defenseless although still very bloody chickens so you can focus on tunneling and expanding what is needed with the imps. That, however, will require capitol with which to begin construction. You should start by selling the tunnel leading to here and whatever else remains.”
The werehceetah blinked her eyes once, twice. “And just how am I supposed to do that!?”
Shaking his head, the apparition of a former Keeper replied, “Not to worry: the Dungeon Heart has many inbuilt magical functions that are second-nature. All you need to do is focus.”
Staring at the spirit for a moment more, Britanny then closed her eyes and concentrated on just that, thinking that she was going to ‘sell’ that tunnel she and Crescens appeared in. Within moments, a sound akin to a cash register ringed. The werecheetah snapped open her eyes to find a sizeable pile of gold coins had materialized on the floor of the Dungeon Heart room.
“OH HELL YEAH!” the werecheetah crowed with delight. “I'M GONNA SCROOGE MCDUCK IT!” Britanny cried out before she belly-flopped onto the pile of cash.
*THUD*!
“...Are you okay, Mistress?” Crescens asked, as the werecheetah was bent over the pile of gold.
Britanny was quiet for the longest time. “...Just...” came a pained gasp from Britanny. “Experiencing the discovery of another lie from childhood.”
Clapping sarcastically, the Reaper glared at his new ‘boss’. “Oh well done,” snorted Horny. “You managed to knock down the universe’s respect for you several pegs. Now, if you might hurry, since when you sold your old space, you sold the mineral rights as well.”
“Minerals?” Britanny spoke, slowly sitting up enough to allow her abused ribs to heal.
“You know, the FRAKING AIR!” growled Horny.
“...Oh...” the werecheetah went wide-eyed. “Then how will we breathe if we need to make chickens!?”
Raising an incorporeal hand, The Mentor tried to smack himself on the face. When it merely went through himself, he just settled for a long, arduous sigh. “Keeper, merely conjure up some luminescent moss for the corners of this room. While minimal, it costs nothing and will aid in making some oxygen for you and the green armless one to breathe. Then you conjure up some imps,” he turned to glare at Horny. “THAT YOU WILL NOT SLAUGHTER!”
Horniculus frowned.
“And then,” The Mentor continued in a calmer tone. “You can make the imps; four for now until you get more experienced, but you will always have a minimum of four active at any time. With that start, you can have them tunnel out space around your Dungeon Heart Room once more, claiming any materials and minerals they find, and then use said space to make a hatchery, allowing Horny to go to town so you can get some real work done: claiming more space, mining for gold and other materials, creating lairs, halls and finally turning this room into a proper Inner-Sanctum. Do you comprehend this?”
Groaning as she slowly lifted herself up to a sitting position atop the stash of cash, the werecheetah looked at Mr. Ghosty. “Hold on...” she grumbled. “My ribs just finally healed. What was that you said again?”
“...Moss. Tunnel. Hatchery. Tunnel. Gold. Tunnel. Lair. Tunnel. Gold. Inner-Sanctum.” The Mentor dead-panned.
“Right!” Britanny chirped happily, cracking her knuckles. “Now, let’s try this again!”
“De plane, boss!”
*CRUNCH!*
“Next!” chirped Horny.
“Hooo~ooome!” cried the latest attempt, one finger glowing.
*CRUNCH*!
“Next!” cackled Horny.
“They’re always after me lucky charms!”
*CRUNCH*!
Removing his colven hoof from the mess, Horny reached down for the bloodied green derby—it was a nice piece of cultured clothing. Placing it on his own head, he called out, “Next!”
Placing a comforting astral hand on the werecheetah’s shoulder, the gaoblin gently massaged her. “Mistress Gia, I must admit, I did not think you would have such difficulty trying to summon this dimension’s imps,” Crescens offered.
“I’m surprised I was able to summon a giant chicken that is in a punching contest with Horny,” Britanny muttered, pointedly ignoring the large mass of yellow and the larger mass of red hitting each other.
“...” went the newly summoned Imp.
“Damn!” the Horned Reaper cursed, snapping another piece off the toughest damned chicken he had ever fought—but damned if it wasn’t the tastiest thing he’d ever sucked the marrow from. “No more fun?”
“Schnapple?” the imp asked.
Horny grinned and raised his scythe.
“Be still, Horniculus! This is normal for an imp!” The Mentor shouted, hoping to cut off the demon’s continued slaughter.
Bending over to get a better look, the werecheetah studied the small creature; the tiny body with spindly arms and legs, oversized head with huge black eyes; pick-axe in tiny hand and a large sack over its back. “You’re lucky you have a cute voice. Otherwise you'd definitely fall into the ‘fugly’ category.”
Horny snorted at the Keeper’s comment. “You really think that thing is cute?”
Turning her head to look over her right shoulder, Britanny replied, “Have you seen Chihuahuas? They’re status symbols and they’re just plain uglier versions of this thing! I’d say besides being a step up in the looks department, the imp is also far more practical!”
The imp smiled widely. "Yes’m pretty Keeper! Schnapple is good! Schnapple do good job and tunnel well!” he nodded his head back and forth so fast, it looked like it was going to snap off from his twiggy neck.
Reaching down with her right hand, Britanny immediately stopped his head, for fear it actually would! “Yes, be good, dig good! You go now, do work, yes?” she asked, speaking to the imp as she did to all civil employees. Granted, she usually did this while flexing her claws—especially at the DMV when she got the window with the one straight female or gay male—but decided that would hopefully not be necessary... for now.
Nodding its eyes, as that was all the movement the head was capable of for now, it waited for Britanny to release it. It then took off to the nearest wall and began digging.
“Well done, Keeper,” The Mentor spoke. “You have successfully summoned an imp, kept it alive for several seconds, and had it begin its job of expanding your domain.” If the thing survived its own tunnels, he’d bet even money at this point. “And it only took you enough tries that your Horned Reaper is now indebted to you until your original mortal form would have perished.”
Britanny glared at the Mentor. It only increased as she heard the Reaper call out, “Totally worth it!” from behind her.
It didn’t help when Crescens came up to her and offered Britanny a chicken wing the size of a human forearm. “Do you want some of this chicken, Lady Gia?” she asked of the werecheetah. “Despite how it came to us and its abnormal size, it is quite tasty!”
Britanny twitched. She wanted to be angry, just oh-so angry...
*Gurgle*!
Sadly, her stomach didn’t care about her dignity. “Okay, lunch of spit-roasted chicken and then I continue making imps?”
The Mentor rolled what were the approximation of his eyes. “I’d suggest you take the time to make three more now. That way when you finish lunch, you might actually have some progress! And don’t forget to make the luminescent moss! I’m surprised you didn’t run out of air fifteen minutes ago thanks to all the fire Horny was using on the man-sized chicken.”
“Yeah, about that,” Britanny spoke, turning to face Horny. “Where did you get the stuff for the fire?”
“I believe it was your eighth attempt, Mistress,” Crescens offered. “It just wouldn’t stop screaming, and the fires never consumed it.”
Horny nodded. “Solved by me consuming the vocal cords it needed to scream!”
Putting the oversized chicken wing down, the lycanthrope Keeper twitched. “...I’m going to make the moss now.”
“Cool!” Horny cheered, wondering what horrors she would release now!
Read the comments on this episode
See other episodes by Red Priest of the 17th Order
(Posted Fri, 30 Nov 2012 16:02)
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.