Frowning, Britanny stood against the far wall as she gazed over everything before her. The VIP Bidding Theater of the Auction House was decorated lavishly in overindulgent decadence. Everything was covered in throw-pillows or drapes of smooth silk or overly plush wooden furniture adorned with precious gemstones and/or inlaid with gold... and the air absolutely reeked of sex, strong alcohol, and heavy incense to her werecheetah senses. It was like something out of a darker version of, “A Thousand-and-One Arabian Nights”.
The central stage that lead to the curtained back wall was not unlike some unholy mix of the fashion show runway with its build and lighting, an auction block with the podium off to the right with The Guildmaster holding a heavy-looking wooden gavel, and the stage of a Strip Club, complete with a trio of shimmering waxed poles. Circled around the length of the stage leading into the room were the previously mentioned overly plush couches. There sat the all the Keepers, who were being served various fine wines and luxurious hors d’œuvre by beautiful young slave girls dressed in the decadent refinery of bejeweled gold collars and manacles and wisps of sheer satin that made tissue paper look substantial.
As for why she was standing, the five couches were already taken up by the others while their minimal entourage were already settled all about. From right to left, it started with Keeper Pilfor. The leather-armor adorned redhead was holding an entire bottle of red wine in her hand, lounging over the couch; one of the goblins sitting on the left armrest, using a cloth to shine her boots while the four other goblins surrounding her sat on the floor, eating from the plates of... er... we’ll call it ‘meat’. As for the woman herself, she was using a dagger to daintily stab into the plate of sausages she’d been served, picking them up one after another and feeding herself.
Next to her, the woman’s sister wasn’t using the next couch, per say... her goddamned Dragon was using it as a headrest while Xin herself was laying on her belly across the beast’s head and back of its neck; her elbows propped up so she could get a better look. The luxurious kimono-clad Keeper was no longer smoking from a hookah as the device merely lay on the floor near the Dragon’s chin. She was, however, enjoying a small bottle with suspiciously Asian-esque script on it and pouring the clear, warm contents into another small cup before inhaling it.
Britanny couldn’t help but fume as she looked at the couple sitting at the central couch at the tip of the stage. There were that rat bastard Tailor–she refused to denote him as ‘The’–and her friend Crescens. The gaoblin was relaxing in a way much similar to Keeper Pilfor, lounging over the length of the overly plush furniture. Yet, while Pilfor was only getting her boots polished, Crescens was getting a foot massage by the fruity dark elf’s skilled hands while one of the Auction House’s slave girls was feeding her ripe, vibrant purple grapes while another was refilling her crystal chalice with more wine.
The werecheetah began fuming as a third girl joined the fray to serve Crescens, holding a plate of treats... and if her nose wasn’t lying to her, those were salmon puffs! Deciding to bury her jealousy before anger consumed her and allowed more of the dark power of the Dungeon Heart into her, Britanny turned to focus who was next in line on the left. That black-armored asshole, Keeper Raksasha. She had to admit, it was interesting that the Keeper’s title was that of her friend Genn’s race, but he was anything but. He sat with a grim expression on his face; his two soldiers standing at attention to either side of him. None of the slave girls would go near them, but she could understand that... they were obviously here for business rather than pleasure.
All three were decked in jet black plate armor; the chest-plates were made with reinforced cuirass–giving it a double-plate effect–with a fold added making the chest-plate into a series of three pieces around the abdomen for added flexibility. Continuing up from the torso, the gorgets raised up like a collar to protect their necks and pauldrons. Their arms were protected by shoulder-guards, vambraces, and heavy gauntlets, which had hardened black leather added for the fingers for improved dexterity. Finally, black fauld with tasset combinations finished off the torso armors, while pylons and grieves finished off the look. Needless to say, that look screamed, ‘danger’ or at the very least, ‘leave me the hell alone’.
Finally, on the very end and opposite Keeper Pilfor–who was now throttling one of her goblins as he happened to nick the leather with one of his pointy fingernails–was that bearded old wizard adorned in vibrant violet robes. Britanny couldn’t help but feel how out of place he was; more so than her even. He seemed like the gentle sort, a lengthy but nearly trimmed beard and reading glasses on his face. Why, he was even sitting alone... or rather, without an entourage of servants. He was merely content to smile and nod his head to the slave girls; the majority of which seemed to be drawn to him like flies to honey. They were giving him foot and shoulder massages, one constantly refilling his gold goblet, and two were working on peeling and cutting up various fruits to feed him. Apples, pears, oranges...
Britanny grit her teeth as her stomach grumbled. As usual since meeting up with that damned dark elf, everyone was ignoring her. She was a Keeper too, goddamn it! But no, because the asshole–who was apparently something of a local celebrity for Skid Row–was fawning over Crescens, everyone was just assuming the gaoblin high priestess was the new Keeper on the block. She was getting the attention, the comfortable furniture, the exquisite food, the refreshing drinks, the foot massages... while the werecheetah was stuck hanging around the back wall!
And when she said stuck, she meant literally! She was being treated like a slave–no, worse. Like a piece of furniture! Since she wasn’t serving the gaoblin, the damned Guildmaster had told her to stick to the back of the room and get out of the way. It had her positively fuming. She could understand since there were no more proper couches but they could have brought her a friggin’ chair!
“You know, Keeper,” The Mentor spoke up as he floated beside her. “While this could be good for you for the time being, what with you allowing your servant to be set up as a proverbial lightning rod, it’s setting a bad precedent. The longer people assume that the gaoblin is the Keeper, the longer it’s going to take for people to reconcile the fact that you are the one in charge once you properly take your throne.”
Turning to look at the apparition of advisement, the feline lycanthrope narrowed her eyes. “Who said anything about allowing? That damned tailor has been sabotaging me ever since we came across him! Are you sure there’s no one else in the city I can go to?”
“In Skid Row? No. No one; not a chance,” the ghostly presence replied most sadly. “He truly is the only one you can go to at this time in your career that could make you the garments you deserve. The Tailor, for all his foibles and questionability, is someone on par with the great tailors of the Capital Undercity of Dis. However, as you are a Neophyte Keeper, bringing you to such a city would be too dangerous a maneuver as all the successful and powerful Keepers from around the globe flock there for the best goods and services ill-gotten fortune can buy. You’d stand out like a sore thumb, be thoroughly crushed, and your Dungeon Heart taken to add more power to someone else’s, killing you instantly.”
The werecheetah took all this into account and frowned as she realized just how much of a pain in the ass it was that she couldn’t go to such a place just yet and have her pick of high-scale clothiers rather than having to stick with one guy who treated her like absolute shit. “But the problem is, even if he has the skills he doesn’t allow me to have nice clothing anyway! Do you not see the different between the dresses he made for Crescens and I?”
Turning his attention back to the gaoblin who was being waited on hand and foot–seriously, why was that one slave girl even attempting to give a hand that was made of energy a manicure–The Mentor studied her for a moment before nodding his head. “True. I can see that she has a higher level of detail in her dress than yours, but the material itself is cut from the same cloth so you need not worry about the quality there. You’ll just have to either settle with waiting until your infamy and power grow so you can safely go to a high-scale tailor... or start kissing up to that dark elf twat so he will be a little more forthcoming with better outfits for you.”
Eyes narrowed, Britanny helpfully suggested, “And what about the option of giving him to Horny and claiming him as a Minion?”
Although his face was incapable of expression, an eyebrow did raise on The Mentor’s mostly opaque features. Had her eyes suddenly glowed with the corrupting power of her Dungeon Heart just then? Perhaps he should take her to more people that would deny the woman her personal vices if it got the woman thinking more like a Keeper. “That is a possible option... though perhaps one saved for later as well. Some of the local Keepers may become upset if you claim him and may start trying to find ways to invade your Dungeon to reclaim him for Skid Row–or more likely for themselves.”
The werecheetah nodded her head in acceptance as she released a huff of annoyance. “Fine, fine...” she grumbled irritably. While one would think the werecat’s anger was due to the influence of the Dungeon Heart, this was actually all her. She had spent six years in a realm with no shopping and the first chance she got, some dark elf pansy was cloth-blocking her! Oh no, she was not very forgiving of that at all, and hoped to have better luck here and any other places they visited afterwards.
As annoyed as she was, the werecheetah was torn from her musings as The Guildmaster smacked the podium with the gavel in his right hand. “All right, all right Keepers! Settle down now!” the dark elf looked around the room with his one good eye. Seeing he had the attention of the gathered High Rollers, he began greeting them. “I would like to personally thank you all for deigning to come to the Skid Row Slave Guild this afternoon! We have a fine selection of servants and slaves today for your patronage! Our stock today is nothing but the best quality.” He smacked his gavel down on its wooden plaque base, as the troupe of Dungeon Keepers looked unimpressed. “Even better, we have made certain that these girls are one-hundred percent, bona fide virgins! Perfect for those of you looking for a good virgin sacrifice for your dark gods of choice! So allow me to begin with this foxy little number!”
He motioned to the side and the red curtain pulled open from the center, revealing a male dark elf in black leather armor with the Slaver’s Guild Seal on the right shoulder. Gripped in his hands were a chain that lead to the collar around the neck blonde and buxom beauty; a blank look in her blue eyes and equally vacant smile. She stepped forward as the Slaver lead her, the bounce of her curvature very prominent thanks to the rather wispy, nearly translucent satin material of an outfit that would have made Carrier Fisher blush. “Marla here is your traditional soft spoken, trained in all the critical chores required of a servant, and thanks to the wonders of possession-based training, is subservient as well as trained in the arts of pleasure while retaining her virginity! Perfect for those masters to enjoy a little subservience with their pleasure! Understandably, bidding shall begin at one thousand gold pieces for the girl! Do I hear one thousand?”
Not a one of the Keepers moved, just staring up at the dark elf with a blank expression. Even though Britanny was interested to spend some money, she too refrained. If these people weren’t interested in buying, then why should she? Maybe they could see some flaw in her that she couldn’t...
“...Anyone?” The Guildmaster tried as there were no immediate takers. “How about eight-hundred gold?”
It was so silent, one could have heard a tumble-weed blow through the Slaver’s Guild... as there were no tumble-weeds around, everyone was greeted to the sound of one of Keeper Pilfor’s daggers burying itself into the wood of the podium instead.
“...Oh, right...” the eye-patch adorned dark elf murmured in annoyance. “Female Keepers, a General looking for soldiers, and a wizarding Poof. Allow me to get the MALE slaves out.” He put the gavel down and clapped with both his hands, signaling for his subordinate to get the blonde tart out of there.
Sitting up in his chair, the elder Dungeon Keeper clad in purple spoke up. “Excuse me, The Guildmaster,” he started, using the proper prefix of the dark elf’s title. “Before you bring out the male slaves, I must make an inquiry. Do you know if perhaps any of those boys–”
“NO!” the eye-patch clad sylvan slaver suddenly snapped. “WE DO NOT HAVE ANY SNOT-NOSED BRATS WITH RUNES ON THEIR FOREHEADS! MUST YOU ASK THAT EVERY DAMNED TIME YOU COME HERE!?”
Dumbledore blinked his eyes once, twice. “...Well, never hurts to ask.”
“...It may... it may...” The Guildmaster grumbled before he turned his full attention back to the menagerie that made up the other Dungeon Keepers. “Admittedly, because of the tastes and requirements of you, my esteemed Keepers, our stock of males is nearly out. Fortunately, where we are lacking in quantity, you can rest assured that the quality is what you can expect of the Guild’s finest! Topside acquisitions of notable skill who have value in one way or another...” he smirked. “And as always, we only deal in those who fit the criteria of virginity!”
This seemed to please the gathered troupe of Keepers, two in particularly seemingly interested in that last fact. Xin sitting up atop of her dragon as the beast raised its head with smoke slowly seeping from its nostrils while Keeper Dumbledore merely rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation. The rest–Keeper Cheetah included–were merely anxious for the dark elf to get on with it already.
It was less than thirty seconds before the selection was brought out; a trio of males that ran the gauntlet from waifish, to athletic, to beefcake! The rather lanky male could only be described as ‘bishounen’ for lack of better terms, with delicate features, smooth porcelain skin, and the remains of clothing–formerly white shirt and equally dirtied pressed black pants–that spoke of nobility. The next in line was a lightly-muscled brunet in brown pants, a few scars on his frame suggesting the beginnings of a fighter; unlike the noble who was herded onwards by only a collar, this man also had a pair of manacles around his wrists. Finally, the third male–clad in torn blue pants–in the lineup was tall, tanned, broad-shouldered, and muscular with wild, long blue hair. Unlike the previous two ‘auction lots’, he was also being proceeded by two handlers, the dark elf pulling on a heavy chain connected to headwear that was more akin to an ox-yoke than a collar that had a heavy-duty set of manacles connected to it while the one behind the blunette held what appeared to be an electrified cattle rod. He growled through his ball-gag as he tried to glare over his shoulder, only to have the ‘collar’ block his view.
“Up first,” the Guildmaster proclaimed as he motioned to the black-tressed girly-man. “We have something special! I present to you Endymion, Crown Prince of the Golden Kingdom, which proclaims itself one of the protectorates of Skybrid Trill!” The Guildmaster smirked as the interest of the couch-bound Keepers was prevalent. “Even though Endymion has four guardians, the Four Kings of Heaven, who protect him, he was easily captured when he disobeyed his parents to meet with Princess Serenity of the Moon Kingdom in secret. Now, just because we can’t ransom his sorry ass due to the Kidnappers Union holding domain over such venue, doesn’t mean we can’t make do with him! Thus, we of the Slaver’s Guild are passing on the savings to you! Keep him as a slave or send him back home piece by piece until you get three times the gold it will take to purchase him! The choice will inevitably be yours!”
Noticeably, it was Keeper Pilfors and Raksasha that had the most interest. Always out to keep their coinage up as they battled in what were essentially wars of attrition–figuratively and literally respectively–having a prince who could be sold back to his royal house would do quite nicely to not only earn a serious payday but was also an insidious act that could add to their infamy as well, earning affluence amongst the underworld. Either way, The Guildmaster was feeling good about this. And he still had two others to sell off!
Speaking of which, the eye-patch adorned dark elf raised his gavel and pointed to the brunet standing center-stage. “Here we have another surface-dweller, although he is more along the speeds one traditionally wants of male slaves. While young Parn here is what one could consider your typical, simple village youth, it should be noted that from what we’ve discerned, he is also the son of a dishonored knight! However, instead of doing the sensible thing and becoming a black knight, he went and donned his disgraced father’s armor and sword, taking on the role of an unaffiliated knight; a freelance fighter. As you can see, we’ve had to restrain him as while he specializes in the use of bastard sword, he isn’t entirely defenseless if you take it away. It turns out that he has had some unarmed training. We’re not sure who taught him, but it makes more useful, let me tell you...”
There were some murmurs amongst the Keepers–even Crescens who wasn’t truly one–as a strong, healthy, able-bodied individual could be used for just about anything. Still, it was Keeper Raksasha who’s interest remained healthy, as this was exactly what he was after: filler for his ranks. Even Keeper Xin seemed intrigued; albeit possibly more for the fact that the boy’s father had been a dishonored hero than anything else. There might be some use for him in her plans.
“And finally, we have the brute that my men have had trouble with,” the cyclopean dark elf stated firmly. “The most recent acquisition of the Slaver’s Guild, Louie here hasn’t had much time under the skilled hands of our Trainers to learn his place. More of a fixer-upper than anything, still, one cannot deny that they’ll have a FINE foundation to start with. A member of the Magician’s Guild in Ohfun and the adopted son of Carwes, a retired Hero and that guild’s master. Muscular and a little on the dumb side; Louie tends to use brute force instead of magic as a result. Despite his obvious shortcomings as a wizard, he’s actually a lot smarter than he appears to be. He was a roaming ‘adventurer’,” The Guildmaster practically spat the term out. “With three female compatriots until they were ambushed; the ladies leaving him behind to save themselves as they ran for the hills. A pain in the ass now yours to spread pain to others! Hard labor, sexual satisfaction, sacrifice, ransom, another Minion to add to your Dungeon forces: this meat-sack had his uses!”
Now it was that Keeper Dumbledore became absolutely ecstatic, gleefully squealing like a young maiden at the ball! Oh, how he always wanted to get another student to teach the arts of wizardry too! And even Keeper Raksasha’s interest held firm; Louie was obvious ‘grunt’ material if he ever saw one. No matter who he picked up, this was the day for the male Keeper to have come in! Everything available would be an asset to taking down his bitch of an ex-wife!
Allowing the group a moment of quiet to build up anticipation, The Guildmaster raised his gavel before banging it twice on the podium’s plaque. “Now then, let us begin, my fair Keepers! The Bidding shall start with Louie here, at the bargain price of two-thousand five-hundred gold! Do I hear two-thousand five-hundred?”
Raising her hand, the redheaded Keeper was quick to open with the call of, “Two-thousand five-hundred gold!”
Pointing his Gavel at the woman, the dark elf chimed, “And that’s a bid of two-thousand five-hundred from Keeper Pilfor!” he smirked deviously. “But do I hear higher?” he queried, prompting the other Keepers to take command. Rivalry was the lifeblood of the Slaver’s Guild, after all. The more they tried to one-up each other, the better the payout they offered.
And such was the case. The fact her sister was bidding was enough to make Keeper Xin reconsider her position on going after this one. She may have withdrawn any initial curiosity she may have had for this slave due to the old wizard shrieking like an excited surface-born child, but she would be damned if her sister gained anything here. One of her tactics was denial to her sister, leaving the redheaded bitch with nothing but the bottom of the barrel of underworld society. “Three-thousand gold!” The Asian-appearing woman smiled at the snarl that crossed her half-sister’s face.
“And that’s a bid of three-thousand from Keeper Xin!” The Guild Master crowed. “Do I hear–”
He never got to finish as the old wizard sat up, chiming in with, “Three-thousand five-hundred gold for the pretty boy!”
“And Keeper Dumbledore brings this to three-thousand five-hundred gold!” the dark elf licked his lips. “Do I hear four?”
Britanny was about to open her mouth, only to find herself beaten to the punch by Crescens of all people!
“Yes! Four-thousand gold is a fair price,” the gaoblin proclaimed. “Considering how free-spirited he is, any more would be fool-hardy for wares that obviously do not live up to the esteemed reputation of the Slaver’s Guild.”
The dark elf’s one eye winced at the accusation, but he couldn’t really fault her for that biting comment. It was true to a degree. “And that’s a call of four-thousand gold from the latest addition to our menagerie of dark overlords and overladies, Keeper Crescens. If anyone feels that she is wrong, you’re free to bid higher!”
Britanny’s jaw dropped. That... that ASSHOLE! He knew that Crescens was her servant, they even took the time to explain it to him! And he was still disrespecting her!?
Noticing the look on his protégé’s face, The Mentor leaned in, whispering, “Calm thyself, Keeper. So what if your servant decides to bid in your steed? She certainly portrays what is expected of a Keeper.” More so than you, was the thought that went unsaid.
Finally, another voice boomed forth, Keeper Raksasha not to be denied this first round. Even if he didn’t win, he couldn’t show weakness, and he would make sure someone paid through the nose. “Five-thousand!”
Now The Guildmaster smiled anew, as the bidding seemed to have rekindled itself. “And lord Raksasha thinks differently, lady Crescens!” he seemed to chuckle. “A whole thousand-gold difference!” His one eye looked over the group. “Anyone else also think differently?”
The redhead woman raised her hand as she shouted, “Five-thousand five-hundred gold!” There was no denying that the man had a nice body... and more importantly, it had been quite a while since she’d seen such prime, Grade-A beefcake. So what if she would have to break him in a little? That was part of the fun!
Before the dark elf in charge of the proceedings could even acknowledge the female Dungeon Keeper, it was Keeper Xin who shot out, “Six-thousand gold pieces!”
Snarling, Pilfor snapped right back, “Six-thousand five-hundred!”
Smirking back at her half-sister, the woman turned her devious visage back towards the Guildmaster. “Seven-thousand gold!” she stated, just to spite her sister.
“And that’s a whopping seven-thousand gold pieces for the blue-tressed wizard!” The Guildmaster cackled as what was easily the least desirable amongst the slave offerings was now officially ‘profitable’. Oh, he knew starting off with the schmuck was the right idea. The sisters tended to goad each other on and could make any slave cost more than their worth. He was certain he’d have made profit off the other two but now he was certain today was a guaranteed win for him and the Guild!
“Oh for the love of the Dark Gods!” Dumbledore whined aloud, annoyed at the bickering of the two. Ignoring the set of glares they leveled towards him, the old man bid, “Eight-thousand gold for the boy-toy!”
“Call of eight-thousand from Keeper Dumbledore for Louie!” The Guildmaster bellowed. “Do I hear nine?” He smirked. Not that he was trying to deny the old man his vices, but the good of the Guild came before that of any of the Dungeon Keepers. The more of their gold that was earned, the better off the Slavers would be!
“Screw it and these idiots! NINE-THOUSAND!” Keeper Raksasha shouted as he raised a black-armored fist. His own plan still stood. He was either going to get a soldier or he was going to make one of his peers pay through the arse for him!
“Well, screw you too,” Crescens snapped, interrupting the Guildmaster again as she took personal insult to the term, ‘screw’. She’d gotten ‘screwed’ through the head to insert her ether-vent after all so she was going OVER NINE-THOUSAND!! “Guildmaster! Fifteen-thousand gold and not a coin more!”
The other Keepers stared at the latest to join their fold with a mix of annoyance and awe. Obviously, this woman was trying to prove herself their equal, if not better... still, fifteen-thousand gold WAS a bit steep for a slave with minimal training, no matter what he had to offer.
Looking around the room, the Head Slaver nodded his head. It looked like that would do it. “A bid of fifteen-thousand gold from Keeper Crescens! Going once! Going twice!” He brought his right hand up, ready to bang the gavel down to confirm her purchase.
“TWENTY-THOUSAND GOLD!” the werecheetah managed to roar from the back, finally getting ahold of her bearings and join the auction proceedings.
Jaws dropped: Keeper, Minion, Slaver, everyone just stared speechless at Cheetah as she stood there defiantly, a wide smile on her face that showed off pearly-white teeth.
“Congratulations, Keeper,” The Mentor drawled. “You managed to outbid your own servant.”
Hands on her hips, Britanny nodded her head firmly. “Damn right I have!” That would remind these people who the Keeper of the two was!
Despite his incorporeal nature, the apparition of advisement tried to palm his face. Again, it went through him as expected but at least the fact he tried drove home the point of how he felt at the moment.
It was the redheaded Dungeon Keeper that managed to get ahold of herself first. Turning back around in seat and facing towards the stage, her gaze immediately went to the eye-patch adored dark elf. “Excuse me, Guildmaster!”
The dark elf sputtered for a moment, the man brought back to reality by the snappish call from the woman. “Yes, Keeper Pilfor?”
Raising her right hand and thumbing over her shoulder, the leather-armored warrior demanded to know, “How come we’re allowing a slave to barter? Shouldn’t her Mistress and her boy-toy have her on a leash or something?”
Britanny went absolutely livid. “EXCUSE ME!?”
Looking over her shoulder, the woman snarled at the cat-girl. “Don’t take that tone with me!” she turned to her left, staring down Crescens. “Keeper! Do something about your unruly cat sex-slave!”
Sighing dramatically, the gaoblin stated, “I’ve tried. I try so hard. But as you can see, she is just SO unruly no matter what I’ve done.”
Britanny’s jaw flapped silently for a moment, completely blindsided by what she heard her supposed best friend say. “Crescens! YOU TOO!?” she cried out, the tone of horror ever prevalent in her voice. She couldn’t believe the gaoblin would say that. Whether keeping up some kind of cover or not, that hurt!
Removing her left glove, Keeper Pilfor muttered, “Obviously, this girl needs to know her place among her betters...” she snapped her fingers; her goblins immediately jumping to action, starting to surround the werecheetah. “Allow me to put the cat-cunt in her place.”
Seeing what was going on, the armored male Keeper nodded his head. “Gentlemen.” While this wasn’t his fight, he wasn’t one to overlook a woman overstepping her boundaries. Plus, his men could use the exercise. Training was always more genuine when you could hack flesh.
Getting the hint, the two black knights left their master’s sides, coming to give aide to the Keeper Pilfor’s armed goblins. While no ally of their lord, the Keeper wasn’t an adversary either. This was merely the old adage, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ in action.
“Britanny!” Crescens yelped, starting to get up to give her Mistress aide; only to pause as The Tailor’s hand went to her shoulder, sitting her back down. She pouted at him, her annoyance obvious.
“Now, now Keeper Crescens,” the dark elf that was a fashion aficionado purred in hear ear. “There’s nothing you can do. Sometimes there’s just no salvaging an uppity slave. Perhaps you’ll be able to remold whatever’s left into something more obedient when the other Keepers are through with her re-education.”
Steam was now firing out from Britanny’s ears. Literally. No small feat mind you; warm pressurized air was actually firing out from hear ear drums. It was now very apparent that bonding with the Dungeon Heart was a good thing, otherwise The Tailor would have caused her to drop dead from an aneurism that very moment.
As the ether vents in her shoulders and tail began to glow with the blood red light of her Dungeon Heart’s magic, the blurry visage of The Mentor’s face shifted enough to give the impression that he was raising an eyebrow. “Keeper...” he said, his tone brooking annoyance.
The werecheetah didn’t hear him though as only her physical self was there at the moment. Her soul, the projection of her consciousness was scouring over Skid Row; the woman once more breaking tradition as now her Dungeon Eye ability wasn’t confined to what was HER territory. It passed through the shithole of a village with only one goal in mind. She needed her Horned Reaper. Now.
Eventually, she found him outside a tavern; the huge red force of rippling muscle in a shirt three sizes too small for him as he was writing inside of a book that appeared to either be made of human flesh, pork rinds, or some combination of the two.
“Tsk, tsk, TSK!” Horny muttered as he clicked his tongue against the pallet of his mouth, shaking his head in disappointment as he stood before the downed orc and bile demon. “Gross and disorderly conduct, public drunkenness, assaulting an officer of the law–me...” he closed the book and placed it into the chest pocket of the bloodied shirt he was wearing. Hefting his scythe up high, he grinned down at the two with a smile that would give them nightmares for the rest of their lives if they lived past the next ten seconds. “Looks like Sheriff Horniculus is going to have to gut a couple of bitches! All in the name of the law, of co~OOUURSE!?” he yelped out as he was suddenly picked up by a large, semi-translucent white hand. “WHAT IN TARTARUS IS GOING ON HERE!?” he roared in annoyance as he was lifted high, the appendage carrying him across the roof of the cavern that made up Skid Row. “PUT ME DOWN! DON’T YOU KNOW THAT I AM THE LAW!?”
Eventually the magic construct did put him down inside the Slaver’s Guild Auction House... right beside his Keeper... and before at least six people whose stances showed they obviously meant to cause her harm while their faces couldn’t hide the level of sheer terror filing them as they stared up at the Horned Reaper. “Well, hello there...” Horny stated as he looked around the room at all the horrified faces. “I’m not interrupting something important, am I?”
Raising her right hand and pointing, the werecheetah commanded of her Minion in a booming, thunderous voice, “HORNY! KILL ‘EM LIKE THE REST!” She could berate him on the fashion suicide that was the dumb derby and small shirt with chintzy metal pins he was wearing later. Right now though, she wanted blood for the Blood God!!
Hefting his scythe in both his hand, the smile on Horny’s features was one of infernal delight. “Really now? Happy birthday to me!”
Read the comments on this episode
See other episodes by Red Priest of the 17th Order
(Posted Thu, 01 Jan 2015 22:31)
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.