Stripped down to her skivvies Britanny stood on a diving board before her Treasure Room. While normally just a room, the feline lycanthrope had the area initially dug as a huge pit to contain the massive amounts of gold that the Mega-Imp stockpiled for her as she had it working that gem vein. The treasure room itself was built on a z-axis, the depth of which that would contain a three-story building. However, despite all that space, it was filled to the brim with coins, bars, ingots, raw nuggets, gems, jewelry, ceremonial swords and shields, chalices and plates, statues... yes, all of it made out of nearly one-hundred percent gold; with the occasional addition of jewels or platinum inlay for accentuation.
Yes. Apparently the more one stocked up on gold, the alchemical process of the Dungeon Heart could transmute it into more than just coins. Wealth of various makes and styles filled her own personal money bin... money and gold beyond imagine: money that would have made the other prize of Muthia look like chump change!
She would know after all, this was just her personal horde. The werecheetah already had two others built for Dungeon usage and the third Treasure Room was nearing maximum capacity so quickly that she was considering having her original four imps build another one before the overflow started flooding her Inner Sanctum... again.
However, all thoughts about having enough money to buy the souls of Bill Gates and Donald Trump were broken by a frantic cry. “Lady Gia!” Crescens spoke from behind the spotted blonde, the tone of voice conveying the urgency she felt. “I do not think this is a good idea! Remember what happened the last time you tried to dive onto the first pile of coins?”
“I remember,” Horny chimed as he stood tall behind the gaoblin. “It was fucking hilarious!”
Turning to look over her right shoulder, Britanny smirked. “Relax, Crescens! I got this! I figured it didn’t work last time because there was more body mass of perfect werecheetah than there was that of gold coins. Obviously I couldn’t break through the gold that way, oh no! With there being far more treasure than there is me, this time I’ll be the one to break through it!” It had to work! After all, Disney showed her it could be done! Not all of Disney could be evil!
“No, Lady Gia!” the gaoblin High Priestess insisted. “I don’t think it works that—”
“Oh let her try,” The Mentor spoke up, interrupting the green-skinned woman with no arms as he phased through the Horned Reaper—whom he paid no mind even as the crimson demon glared at him angrily—before coming down to float beside her. “There are just some lessons that a Keeper has to learn on their own, no matter how good an adviser they have. Just leave the Keeper to her machinations for now...” besides, it wasn’t like there would be lasting repercussions what with Dungeon Heart magic and being unable to die normally and all that.
Britanny huffed. “Gee! Thanks for the vote of confidence you guys! Well, I’ll show you how one really goes about enjoying their gold!” Turning back towards her vast riches, the werecheetah began to bounce up and down on the diving board a few times before taking the lunge forward...
*THUD*!
*CRACK*!
*CRACK*!
*CRACKITY*!
*CRACK*!
*KER~CRACK*!
*CRACK*!
*Splurt*!
As Crescens looked on in horror as the werecheetah tumbled and limbs bent at unnatural angles, the spectral presence blandly said, “Eh... I give that dive a three-point-five. Nice take off but a very ungraceful contact and recovery to it. Quite poorly executed, really...”
“AAAAUUUUUUGGHHH!!” Britanny bellowed in absolute suffering as she lie there a broken heap; joints smashed and torn limbs resting about like a rag-doll atop the bloodied patch of gold. “IT’S NOT A LIQUID! IT’S A GREAT MANY PIECES OF SOLID MATTER THAT FORM A HARD FLOOR-LIKE SURFACE! AAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGHH!!!!”
“And that, good Keeper,” The Mentor spoke up with an, ‘I-told-you-so’ tone to his voice. “Is why people don’t jump into vast piles of riches from a considerable height!” Coming to float down to his bruised and battered advisee/protégé, the ghostly apparition inquired, “Now do we understand?”
“AAAAARRRRRRGGGGHH!” the werecheetah growled/screamed as bits and pieces of her were forcefully and most painfully popped back into place as both her lycanthrope regenerative abilities and the magic of the Dungeon Heart went to work restoring her body.
“...I’ll take that as a resounding ‘yes’.”
Cringing at the absolute mess that had been her friend, the gaoblin shook her head. “Do you... require assistance, Lady Gia?” Crescens asked before making her way down as well, despite the fact that technically, her arms were not connected to her body, thus should not have been able to practically hold her body against the ladder to ease her into the treasury.
“Now, now,” waved off The Mentor. “She needs to learn this lesson; lest she try again. And as amusing as her torment is to me—”
“ME TOO!” yelled Horny from above, holding up a skull with ‘4.2’ written on it—he had a penchant for suffering, which upped the score.
“...As I was saying,” The Mentor drawled. “I am beginning to question why this desire to ‘swim’ through gold is so important to her? The way this is going, I fear it will not end well.”
The gaoblin turned towards the sarcastic specter. “For Lady Gia?” Crescens asked with a growl.
Shaking his head, The Mentor deadpanned, “No: just sanity in general.”
“WHY IS NO ONE HELPING ME EASE MY DAMAGED BODY BACK INTO SHAPE BEFORE MY HEALING FACTOR DOES IT WITH GREAT FORCE!?”
“Now, now Keeper. Lessons are most important. And what kind of adviser would I be if I didn’t teach you anything?” The Mentor replied to the agonized spotted werecat.
“A GOOD ONE!!!” Britanny screamed as a number of vertebrae snapped back into place, causing her legs to kick up violently as she was no longer paralyzed...
“AAAAUUUUUGHHH!! WHYYYYYY!?!?
...And could feel just how broken and mutilated said lower limbs were.
“Precisely!” the ghostly presence quipped. “As we are better than the goodly peoples of the topside, we shall teach you properly. As the old saying goes: ‘no pain, no gain’! And as you—both figuratively and literally—cannot go anywhere for the moment,” The Mentor added as Britanny screamed from her knees realigning. “It is time to discuss a chore we have long-put off, as you have been busy making unknown horrors and violating Keeper Tradition with a proverbial spiked dildo.”
“WHAT!?” Britanny screamed. “WHAT COULD BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN FEELING EACH AND EVERY TOE, FINGER AND LENGTH OF MY TAIL SNAP INTO PLACE!?”
“I’m afraid, Keeper Cheetah, that we have reached the limit of what we can do here, and thus must journey into the dank dark recesses of Skid Row to... purchase things.”
“OH DEAR GOD WHY IN HEA—did you say shopping?”
Taken aback by the surprisingly perky response, it took the adviser to get his thoughts back on track. “Erm, yes,” The Mentor finally replied. “Shopping. You see, each Dungeon Heart only has a few basic commands to start: Create Imp, Inner Sanctum, Lair, Hatchery, and Treasury. There are still so many rooms you don’t have and will NEED! You don’t have a Feast Hall with which to allow a place for your minions to eat together and keep each other updated. You don’t have a Prison, with which to lock up prisoners, goodly folk and heroes that come down attack you, nor a Torture Room with which to convert them to your cause. You also don’t have Training Rooms, Graveyards, Dark Temples, Casinos, or any of the other amenities that a Keeper needs to raise the versatility of their Dungeon, let alone all the various doors and traps to aid in its protection! No, instead you simply harvest gold more and more, to the point where I’m certain you have more treasure than the Kingdom ABOVE us! As it is, you’ve turned your dungeon into one huge target and if we’re going to stay safe, then we need to find a Portal Gem and connect us to proper Underworld Society so we can get what we need to better fortify this place and hire some minions to fight under your banner!”
Managing to finally sit up—wincing as she felt aches and pains of torn and bruised muscles not having fully mended—the werecheetah asked, “And... will there be other places to shop? Shop for things other than Dungeon upgrades?”
“Of course,” the ghostly presence admitted. “While Skid Row is the lowest of the low when it comes to the cities of the underworld, it is also the relatively safest as not any of the big name Keepers would dare to lower their standing by stepping into such a hovel. You’ll also find other simple personal amenities like servant auctions to get personal staff, blacksmiths for weaponry and armor, alchemists for potions and spell books, tailors—”
“TAILORS!?” Britanny chirruped, perking up considerably. “As in... CLOTHES!?”
“Er... yes,” The Mentor responded, a bit annoyed that he’d been interrupted.
Standing up quickly in a way that should have been impossible due to the remaining injuries, Britanny coughed into her hand, tapped into her Dungeon Heart, and...
*Pop*!
*POP*!
*POP*!
*POP*!
*WHOOM*!
She summoned her four Imps and the Mega-Imp.
“Okay, team! Listen up!” she yelled. “We are on a search for a Portal Gem! I want a hard-target search of every outhouse, dog house, flop house, cat-n-mouse—”
“Lady Gia,” sighed Crescens.
“...Just find Mama a way to go shopping,” Britanny sheepishly finished.
“Shnapple!” the First imp cheered in response.
“Shnoozle!” went another.
“Shnaggle!” the third saluted.
“Shnizzle!” the fourth make a gang sign with its free hand. “...My nizzle!”
“...IMP!” bellowed the large greyish brown monstrosity.
The four mini-imps stared at their little-big brother and sighed in exasperation. The big lug always had to break tradition...
“AWWWW!” came a cry from above, making them all look up to see Horny peering over past the diving board. “Do we gotta go looking for a way to the rest of the Underworld right now? I wanted to see her jump again!” he yelled out with annoyance.
“...Well, given her slowness for learning, I’m certain you shall get another chance,” The Mentor spoke.
Britanny just glared at the ghost. “Or we can always push you off.”
“Not physical here,” the spectral adviser waved off. “Ghost, remember? I might actually be able to swim through this.”
“NOT BETTER THAN ME!” yelled Britanny, as she raced up the ladder.
“Lady Gia!” called Crescens, taking off after her.
“...Sometimes, it’s just too easy,” The Mentor chuckled, a smile almost visible on his blurry face.
Sitting on her throne, the werecheetah—once more garbed in her black and skin-tight Dungeon Keeper attire—tapped her foot impatiently. “What’s taking them so long?” she asked with a huff of impatience.
Coming to float beside her, The Mentor explained, “My Keeper... considering where your dungeon is stationed at, being underneath Skybird Trill, and thus, far, far away from the rest of the underworld, they’re going to need more than fifteen minutes...”
“Oh, not really,” Britanny waved off, kicking a leg over the other and crossing them. “I gave them plenty of proper motivation.”
Turning towards the werecheetah, Crescens just glared. “You told them that if you were not shopping within the hour, one of them would be entertaining Horny.”
“...Proper motivation,” the feline lycanthrope said, defending herself.
Her shoulders slumping, the gaoblin High Priestess sighed. “...Sadly, Lady Gia, I feel unable to discern if that attitude is from your normal self, or the vile magic coursing through this place.”
“Oh, probably like, ninety percent of Column A, the rest from B,” Britanny replied to her friend, before once more looking into the tunnel the Imps were digging in. “Five minutes left, bitches! Then Horny gets to take his pick!”
“Shnapple!!” came the fearful cry from further down the tunnel the imps were making; not that the little imps could do much, what with Mega-Imp outpacing them... but they still had high hopes they would survive the wrath of their goddess/creator/mistress.
Britanny just looked at her finger nails, mentally keeping tally. Finally, it got to the point where the lycan was count off, “Five... four... three... two...”
“IMP!!" came a roar from within the long expanse of tunnel. The earth seemed to shake; the tremor getting stronger and stronger. The source was finally revealed to be the Mega-Imp as it came storming into Britanny’s Inner Sanctum. It jumped up and down, pointing back towards the tunnel, going, “Imp! IMP! IMP!!”
“...What’s that, boy?” Britanny asked curiously. “The bank robbers are hiding out in the old cabin by the river?”
“...Actually,” the ghostly former Keeper piped up, not entirely too sure he wanted to tell her this or not. “It would appear that your imps have indeed reached a portal and are waiting to claim it in your name. He says there is just one simple problem...”
The werecheetah grinned. “Oh? And what problem would THAT be? They got a portal, right?”
“Yes... a portal fifteen miles away...” The Mentor dead-panned.
The werecheetah considered that for a moment before shrugging it off. “...Well, I’m used to walking three times that at the mall—gotta check each store five times to make sure you got everything—so this will be a cake-walk!” Getting up from her throne, the werecheetah cheered, “Come on, Crescens! Let’s go SHOPPING!! Mama’s got gold in her own personal bank just waiting to be SPENT!”
Looking over the ramshackle fort that came into view before them after the world around them settled from the teleportation of the Portal Gem, Britanny was less than thoroughly impressed. “...What... a... DUMP....”
Finally fully phasing into existence once more—those Portal Gems always screwed with his form—the ghost floated over to the female feline’s side. “Well, it’s named, ‘Skid Row’ for a reason,” the advisor explained. “Still, there is no denying that despite its looks—or lack thereof—this is a very useful place to underworlders as it IS a trading town, even if only one of minimal significance.” He perked up as the werecheetah glared at him. “Fortunately, it has a highly active black market and its many casinos, bars, fighting pits, and brothels make it a favored watering hole for all kinds of monsters, mercenaries, and the occasional surface brat of importance who wishes to philander amongst their inferiors. Besides that, there is a sufficient trading post as well, and as mentioned before, many places where a robust woman such as yourself could enjoy herself.”
“And why did I have to come?” asked a very irritable Horny.
“Well, for one,” Britanny counted off. “If I left you behind, I doubt anything would be left alive when I returned...”
“...Point,” the huge and muscular demon offered.
“Two,” Britanny began to grin in a dark fashion that was most befitting a Dungeon Keeper. “I figure having a killing machine, one itching to unless Hell on Earth or wherever we are, will lead to massive discounts; not to mention letting you deal with the occasional pickpocket or shopper trying to horn in on my deals.”
She never could get Muffin to do that for her—stupid morals.
The Mentor sighed, managing to make the noise sound very organic, despite not having any lungs. “Very well. Let’s get going...”
It didn’t take long to get to the entrance: a large metal door being guarded by a hideously ugly pig thing dressed in a mismatch of old worn leathers and bits of armor that were both tarnished and dented. In one hand, the offence creature held a rusted spear... the other hand was stuffed down the front of his smelly and ratty pants, scratching himself.
As soon as the orc saw the two exotic women coming towards him, the piggy bastard was about to ask as a blowjob in return for using the town’s bridge...
...However, upon seeing a huge, red, and vicious-looking creature of nightmares-made-flesh that was supposed to have been extinct right behind the two women, the all powerful and dreadful Horned Reaper, the piggy individual did the only sane thing.
“SQUEEEEEE!”
*SPLASH*!
He jumped off the bridge and into the river below to get out of the way.
“That, ladies is... or rather, WAS... what we call an orc,” the ghost said as he peered over the bridge, watching the violent flow of the river carry the porcine individual away, smashing him against the occasional upward jutting of jagged rock. “Orcs are a relatively common minion: strong, tough, loyal as long as they’re paid on time, nearly as unhygienic as a Bile Demon, and exceptionally stupid. They are the very definition of underworld ‘hired muscle’. No doubt, he had been stationed here by the town in an attempt to collect some kind of toll for entry.”
This, of course, depressed Horny, as he had wanted to vent on the local Po-Po.
“Well, saves us some gold, I guess,” Britanny mumbled, staring at the doors.
“Should we not go in, Keeper?” asked The Mentor. “There is little to buy out here, lots of free diseases, though.”
“One second, thinking,” the feline lycanthrope stated, before nodding. “We’ll use it for a guest bathroom, maybe... just take it and put it up somewhere I don’t go.”
The Mentor slowly turned to the werecheetah. “...Keeper, what are you—”
“IMP!IMP!IMP!IMP!” cried the oversized Imp, as it ran from the darkness behind her.
*GRO~OOOAN*! *BANG*! went the main door, as the Mega-Imp used its strength to rip it off from its ancient hinges.
“IMP!IMP!IMP!IMP!” went Britanny’s servant as it ran back into the darkness and the portal.
“...Did you just steal the door to Skid Row?” The Mentor asked.
Smiling, the werecheetah gave the ghost a mischievous grin. “Always wanted to do that since reading that wizard book back home,” Britanny purred. Yep, just because a door could warn people that someone was breaking into a bank did not mean it could warn when someone was stealing the door itself!
“...Wow... she doesn’t mess around..." Horny replied, somewhat impressed now as his Keeper and her priestess made their way into the small and dank city of the Underworld. He was curious as to what she would do next...
Sitting in an ebony wood chair that was intricately carved with ornate spiders—wonderful natural seamstresses that they were—and finished with crushed burgundy velvet cushioning, was the lithe form of The Tailor. The effeminate male dressed in shiny black leathers and white spider silks merely reclined back as he relaxed, his dark elven mind lost in dreams of fashionable robes, arcane runic embroidery, and love slaves dressed in wispy garb that served to cover little, but at the same time, to catch the eye and tease...
However, his meditations on such refined garments were interrupted. His elongated ears twitched as he heard the door chime to his business ring and tingle as it had been opened. Slowly opening one red eye, the Dark Elf peered towards who was entering his establishment now...
And nearly sprang forward from his seat as a most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on simply waltzed in. “BY THE SPIDER GODDESS!” he shouted in near disbelief. “YOU’RE GORGEOUS!” Truly, he was blessed by the dark gods to have someone of such refinement, of such uniqueness grace his shop! She would become the canvas for his masterpiece!
“Aww... shucks!” Britanny practically cooed as the dark elf stormed up to her. “That’s sweet but don’t you know? Flattery will get... you... nowhere...” she trailed off in confusion as he walked past her and dropped to one knee before Crescens.
Taking one large Void Claw in both his hands—and pleased it was tangible enough for him to feel—the dark elf practically purred as he looked up at the gaoblin’s perfect and most alluring face. “Oh great and powerful mistress of the dark arts, thank you, oh thank you for choosing me to take care of your clothing needs! I shall work day and night so that when you’re ready, the entirety of the underworld will know of your magnificence when you step towards them in outfits of my design and then grind the heel of your beautiful, perfectly curved and shapely-toed foot into their skulls.” He then kissed the top of said claw in a show of adoration and fealty.
As Crescens flushed—she wasn’t exactly approachable back home—it took several seconds for Britanny to reboot.
“...I was passed by,” the spotted blonde muttered.
“You need but ask me, a humble but excellently skilled tailor, for whatever outfits bloom from the desire of your dark heart, and I shall do whatever is necessary, to fulfill your desire, so that you may make the lands tremble with both your power... and your beauty!”
“...Passed by,” Britanny continued.
“...Oh... oh my...” Crescens sputtered, feeling her dark olive skin take on a firm red hue. She raised her other Void Claw to her face, resting on her cheek. “This... this is so sudden. I... I don’t remember the last time anyone...”
“...Passed by...”
“Rubbish,” the dark elf known as, ‘The Tailor’ replied. “A beautiful woman such as yourself must have all the male dark elves pounding at the door of her dungeon, demanding to work for such an exquisite beauty!” he kissed her Void Claw again and again. “Oh, my dark mistress of darker desires, just command me as your humble servant, and everyone will know of your eternal dark beauty...”
“...Passed... BY!?” the werecheetah snarled as she turned to glare at the underworlder on one knee practically making out with her friend’s hand.
Raising an eyebrow at the noise, the male seamstress turned his head to look at the feline lycanthrope... and then once more gave Crescens his full attention. “My dear dark queen of the underworld, your slave is most unbecoming. Far be it from me to tell you what to do, but I believe you should take steps to curb your titty kitty’s attitude.”
“I try,” Crescens sighed. “I try so hard, but she just won’t listen to me.”
“You passed me by…”
The Tailor nodded. “Yes, must be quite resistant to being brought to heel—a common trait usually found in all cat hybrids, no matter the source.” Pausing, he turned to give Britanny an appraising eye. “Though I must commend you on choosing to go with an experienced cat as the base. Many just throw in a kitten or some such into the mix, and then they groan and complain about it having no fighting skill. Why, I once saw—GURK!”
Growling, Britanny dragged him closer to her face... by way of her hands clenched around his neck. “One, I am the Keeper here! Two: did you just call me old?”
“Britanny!” Crescens snapped, forgoing the usually reserved and respecting ‘Lady Gia’. It had been millennia since mama got her pipes cleaned and she did not need this bitch cunt-blocking her right now!
Frowning at her friend and then turning her attention to the tailor who’s throat she was crushing underneath her grasp, the werecheetah told him, “Listen here, fairy. I am an all powerful and sexy Dungeon Keeper! Crescens is MY assistant! I am all powerful, rich, and command a goddamned Horned Reaper!”
“Aww, shucks!” came the reply from outside the establishment’s door. “I’m goddamned? You really think that highly of me? Thank you for the compliment, Keeper!”
Britannny twitched. “But number three and most important... I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO SHOP IN SIX YEARS!” she roared in his face. “YOU EITHER START SUPPLYING ME WITH CLOTHES RIGHT NOW OR I’M GOING TO SHOVE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS SO FAR, YOU’LL BE TASTING TOENAILS FOR A MONTH!”
Turning... well, whatever colors drow turned to signify oxygen deprivation, The Tailor brought his hands up, grabbed on to Britanny’s wrists, and...
*POP*!x2
“Oh Space Christ!” Britanny cried, as her wrists were fractured.
“Really now; was that drama really necessary?” he asked, rubbing his throat. “As you can see as proof of the stereotype, my Damned Vision of the Void, that many things they claim about cat-people are all true. Why, she simply could have waited until after I finished reciting my fifth sonnet I had spontaneously created for you, before gently informing me of your proper titles! But to be so... heavy-handed...” He turned about suddenly, facing the spotted werecat. “NO SILK FOR YOU!” he yelled, pointing at Britanny.
“BUT I WANT SI~IIIIIIIIIIIIIIILK!” the werecheetah whined, moving her hands back and forth to get feeling back into them as the wrists healed.
“NEIN!” The Tailor turned The Silk Nazi replied firmly, waving a finger at the naughty feline lycan. “NO SILK FOR YOU!” he repeated firmly.
Sighing as it looked like Britanny was about to start bawling, Crescens reached a hand out, placing the ethereal limb onto his shoulder. “You must forgive Lady Gia. She has been so excited about shopping that she was willing to kill her entire squadron of imps if they didn’t get her here as quick as possible. Shopping means the entire world to her and that’s all she wants. Won’t you please do it...” she batted her eyelashes at the dark elf. “For me?”
The Tailor tried to fight the twitching at the corners of his lips, but couldn’t. A smirk soon blossomed on his face. “Fine. But I’m charging the catgirl double on any silk pieces she purchases for herself and you have to go out to a luncheon with me this afternoon...”
Smiling, the gaoblin nodded her head. “Deal.”
“HEY!” Britanny shouted. “I’m the Dungeon Keeper here! Shouldn’t I be the one to make deals with—”
“For the love of the dark gods, don’t ruin this for yourself, Keeper!” The Mentor interrupted firmly, wondering how it was that, even as only the ethereal imprint of a soul long since passed that he could still feel a migraine headache.
Britanny turned towards him. “But... but shop keepers always fall over themselves to serve me... and give me discounts... and foot rubs... and sometimes cash.”
“Perhaps that was true, in whatever po-dunk village you called home,” The Tailor waved off, taking Crescens’s hand and placing her on a small pedestal, as he whipped off his measuring tape/belt from his waist began to take her measurements. “But here, in the big... er... city—I guess we could call Skid Row that as over fifty-percent has indoor plumbing—we have a set of different standards and we shall not play to what you and yours define as ‘beauty’.”
“Besides that, you’re... what? Thirty-something?” Horny asked. In this world where most died in their twenties due to some disease or another, that was damned near old-age!”
Britanny glared at him. “I am twenty-four!”
Crescens nodded her head in agreement. “Yes, Lady Gia has been this twenty-four, for the six standard years I have known her.”
Blushing furiously so that the crimson showed up through her white facial fur, the werecheetah firmly replied, “That’s because we were stuck in a pocket dimension where time didn’t flow right! Sure, six years passed but in the REAL world, only one day had gone by!”
Nodding her head, blushing a bit as The Tailor started to work her top down, Cresence replied, “Yes. But we still had the six years where we were stuck in Oblivion. And your daughter Tifanny was certainly not a newborn she’d been upon arrival compared to when we left.”
“Lies!” the werecheetah hissed. “Lies and slander!”
Coming to float next to Britanny, The Mentor told the feline woman, “Oh, relax Keeper. So what if you’re thirty? The fact is now that you’re bonded with a Dungeon Heart, all aging is stopped and your body will be at the same level of perfection it is now until the end of time... or until someone destroys your Dungeon Heart... or you give up the Dungeon Heart. Really, until whichever comes first!”
“...” deciding to get off of this topic before she was humiliated further, Britanny was quick to point out, “Fine, fine. Just one question. WHY are you undressing Crescens!?”
“Just part of how I work; all completely professional, I assure you,” the dark elf replied, getting his measuring tape around the gaoblin’s bare chest. “When I make outfits, I always start from the ground up. After all, does a SMART builder just start building homes on bare dirt? No; you need to set up the base first and then build out from there to create the most magnificent piece...”
Placing her hands on her hips, the werecheetah glared at the dark elf. “And I suppose you’ll expect that from me as well?”
“...No, you’re a ‘Large’.”
Eyes wide with murder, Britanny flexed her claws ready to kill the smug elven bastard, before The Mentor stated something that stopped her.
“Keeper,” The Mentor began in a warning tone. “May I remind you, that aside from this boutique, the only other place to purchase any wears of quality is the ‘Hot Topic?”
“...Fine! He lives... for one more day...” Britanny’s eyes narrowed. Oh that fucker’s days were numbered!
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(Posted Sat, 22 Dec 2012 01:28)
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