[Episode 264363] [Episode 264363]The Asian woman stared down at the head that had been her half-sister before her gaze rose up, unflinchingly meeting the scowl of the angered werecheetah. “I admit... you surprise me, Keeper Cheetah,” she replied, actually deigning to use the woman’s proper title now that she proved herself to be a significant theat. “I will make preparations for my leave for now. Farewell...” she then stepped over the head of Pilfor and started walking towards Britanny, only to move past her to where the Horned Reaper had Xin’s Elite Dark Mistress pinned to the ground.
A snarl crossed the feline woman’s features. The electricity of her lightning aura arced across her body, adding a physical show of power to the already darkened creature. Needless to say, the werecheetah looked like something that crawled out of the deepest pits thanks to her Tempest Mode. “And where do you think you are going?” she snapped at the woman.
Xin paused in her footsteps, only to turn to her right so she could be positioned to deal with both the Horned Reaper and the other keeper if the need arose. “There’s nothing for me to gain from further conflict,” she said in a surprisingly calm fashion. “Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hurt me,” the woman then stated in a rather factual way. “If one of us killed the other, it’s not permanent and all that will do is affirm my conviction to focus my attention to snuffing you out permanently.” She smiled again, those ruby-painted lips curved in a haughty smile. “You should be grateful I’m willing to let this go even after the death of one of my precious dragons...” her eyes turned to the corpse that had been Keeper Raksasha, or more specifically the sword that lay beside him before they returned to the werecheetah. “So relinquish that sword to me and have your Reaper release my Dark Mistress. I give you my word that I will be out of here without further confrontation. In fact, I will even let you keep the slaves here.”
Her arms crossing over her breasts, the electrically-charged werecheetah firmly met the other keeper’s gaze. “No dice, bitch. You toasted me alive. Do you have any idea how much that friggin’ hurt?” her lip curled back in an animalistic snarl. “If you want to drop out now, I’m willing to do it but only if you leave Ayane with me.”
Now the Oriental woman’s eyes narrowed. “No,” she stated firmly. “Ayane is one of the premiere Dark Mistresses of the Underworld and one of my best Minions. I refuse to relinquish ownership. Any further delay and I will use every resource at my disposal to destroy you and your dungeon heart. Is that clear?”
Britanny nodded her head. “Yeah... loud and clear, bitch...” she brought her own hand up, fire flicking along fingertips, colliding most violently with the electric sparks of the lightning aura that was already in place. “Let’s see how you like it!” she thrust her hand forward to aim as she performed the spell, “Incendiary Explosio!”
Her eyes narrowing in annoyance, the Asian keeper cast in turn, “Incendiary Astralus.” Almost immediately, a layer of pulsing fire surround the woman in regal geisha robes with a protective sphere of fire. Keeper Xin then smiled as the inflammatory attack from the kitty keeper was for naught, the flames being consumed and assimilated to the protection spell.
The werecheetah’s jaw dropped, wide enough to reveal that while in Tempest Mode, her mouth and tongue were the same neon-green as her eyes. “What the hell!?” she shouted in surprise. She knew what that spell could do–she’d experienced it firsthand! Why wasn’t this haughty bitch being enveloped by the flames of dungeon righteousness!?
Xin released a rather unladylike snort at cat sex-slave’s obvious confusion. “Blasted idiot. You truly are a Neophyte. Anyone could down Pilfor if they wanted, but I can see now it really was dumb luck that you managed to defeat Raksasha.” Her hands on her hips, the woman surrounded by a fiery aura stared down the much taller woman. “Since you are so ignorant allow me to explain this in terms your small, sex-toy brain can understand. The Fire Aura is a spell that will absorb all damage and power itself further if the attacks are fire elemental. My fire shield can ONLY be removed if I cast the spell again. I’ve also maximized it to allow for the absorption of more damage. Does that get through to your pea-sized brain you nitwit?”
Britanny was clenching her hands tightly. It was like her Tempest Mode in that regard. While like this, the werecheetah herself was immune to all electric spells. But worse, no matter how deep the depths she tried to delve through the Dungeon Heart via the connection within her soul, no spell was coming to the forefront of her mind. The knowledge of such didn’t exist to either her personal knowledge or her Heart. “Let me guess... custom spell?”
“At least your smart enough to figure that out,” Keeper Xin said with a yawn, feigning boredom. “One of the benefits of having Elite Minions working on spell research. They think outside of the box.” She chuckled darkly as the spotted cat-woman glared at her. “And this isn’t the only aura they’ve been able to design for me...” she left the threat hanging. “Now I believe I’ve made my point. Release my Dark Mistress and relinquish Keeper Raksasha’s sword.”
Her hands clenching into fists, the werecat couldn’t believe that this bitch had a way to make herself immune to fire while making it perfectly clear that she could do so for lightning as well. While she wanted to take vengeance, the cat’s curiosity was geared more towards this world’s ‘Ayane’. She was so much like her home dimension’s yet incredibly different. She didn’t know if it was homesickness or a chance to find a way home that brought forth such feelings, but the female lycanthrope was not going to give up her stake on the Dark Mistress. “First off, I don’t know why you’re so hung up on that blasted sword, Xin... but fine! Take it! Do whatever you want...” Britanny’s blackened features scrunched on her face as she continued to stare heatedly at the other woman. “But you’re leaving without Ayane!”
“OH JUST KILL THE LITTLE BITCH ALREADY, KEEPER!” Horny shouted breaking the somber mood and seriousness that had occurred thanks to the stalemate. “YOU TWO TALK TOO HOLY MUCH! ESPECIALLY THE SHORT, FLESHY ONE!”
Keeper Xin made a show of sighing in a theatrical fashion. “Oh, is that so? I’m so terribly sorry to have bored your Reaper, Keeper Cheetah,” the Asian replied, her tone of voice mocking the werecheetah’s title while giving her faux apology. “But this just won’t do. You see Ayane is mine, pure and simple. Her soul is pledged to my Heart. If you think I’m going to let you claim someone you could use against me...” she rose her right hand up, smirking as the werecheetah moved herself into a guarded pose. “Not a chance.” She then closed her hand into a fist as she cast the word of power, “Slave.”
Her eyes widening, Ayane SCREAMED in agony as the Must Obey spell started to tear her asunder. As a Dark Mistress, pain was ever-so-delightful; the cleanser of body, mind, and soul. However, this was anything but a pleasant experience! It felt like it was ripping the woman apart at her very core, as if her very essence was being erased from existence. Even Horny was surprised enough that he released his cloven foot from her, the woman immediately going into convulsing spasms on the ground as the spell that ensured her loyalty was turned on her.
Seeing this version of her friend in such pain made the werecheetah feel as though heart jumped up into her throat. “STOP IT!!” Britanny roared.
Xin merely laughed at the werecheetah. “STUPID CHILD!” she laughed, her voice echoing as she asserted her power over her Minion. “Do you really think I’d allow you the proverbial keys to my kingdom? If I can’t have her, I’d rather she be destroyed!” She then cackled in a particularly melodramatic fashion worthy of the traditional overlord as she continued to snuff the life out of the Dark Mistress through their Bond.
“Keeper, quickly! Use a spell! Throw something at her!” The Mentor shouted at his protégé. He had stayed back during the fight, mostly impressed by how she had been handling herself at the time. Why, she was even preparing the foundation for an eventual assault on Keeper Xin’s dungeon: the Dark Mistress would be a grand source of information along with being a powerful weapon to employ against the rival keeper. Sadly, that could only come to fruition if the Minion survived Xin’s ploy for total denial. “Don’t just stand there! Do something!”
The werecheetah’s fur was standing on end. That bitch. No. That fucking CUNT! How dare she... how dare she hurt Ayane!?
Emotion was overturning rational thought when it came to action. It was neither her training under the gaoblin mages nor the Dungeon Heart that assisted her. This was pure protective instinct bursting forth, the desire to defend someone she deemed her friend. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t HER Ayane, this was still an Ayane!
Her shoulders and tail were buzzing brightly now, the werecheetah’s Tempest Mode receding as her embedded ether vents were pulling in the ambient mana rapidly from all around her; the woman’s naked body on display once more, showing that her lycanthrope regenerative abilities had healed her completely. Her gaze was firmly on the Asian woman who laughed as she tortured the Dark Mistress and her anger, her rage only grew. Only one thought was on Britanny’s mind now.
She.
Would.
End.
HER!
Her hands rising up quickly, Britanny raged forth with all the collected mana she had, releasing the stores she had gathered quickly, even tapping into her own personal exo-aura that made up the enchantments that MADE her a lycanthrope. She was giving it her all just to make, “FIRE TO BURN FIRE!”
The phrase didn’t make sense. In fact, it sounded like utter nonsense. But no matter how asinine it was, one could not argue with the results. Immediately, the screams of Ayane were replaced by that of Keeper Xin’s, the woman’s fire aura turning on her as it was overwhelmed by the flames that burst forth along the surface of the magical shield. Her elaborate, material-laden set of robes and long, luscious hair suddenly became a very bad judgment call on her part as all such did was add fuel to the fire. Her body was going up in flames that wouldn’t stop, very similar to what she had done to the werecheetah with the Inferno spell earlier... only where the woman’s spell tried to only immolate Britanny, this magic worked WITH the fire aura, keeping the Asian woman alive long enough to suffer as long as possible, sustaining her body to the last moment.
And it WOULD be the last moment. Unlike Xin’s spell, which was a one shot of raging fire, this was a vacuum effect. It would keep burning until everything within the field of effect was used up as fuel, including the Fire Aura spell she was generating.
Once it had gotten to the point where the woman’s nerve endings were dead and the pain was dulled, Xin could only cackle in a mix of madness and despair. She managed to look up past the flames towards the werecheetah; able to only stare back into that green gaze for a fleeting moment before her retinas fizzled out from the heat. Her voice starting to become strained as her body cooked, the Keeper could only mutter, “I can’t believe I’m being killed by someone... with such a fat ass.”
“WHAT!?” Britanny snapped, her eyes going blood-red as she once again cast, “FIRE TO BURN FIRE!”
That time, it WAS the Dungeon Heart that fueled the spell and immediately, the result was more dastardly. The woman never even got the chance to scream out as she was thoroughly burnt, even the fire that she had cast to burn the Fire Aura was being BURNT! It made no sense for fire to physically be able to burn fire, but through the abuse of magic and raping the laws of physics, that IS what was happening. Eventually, the spell ceased, revealing the blackened, smoking form of what had been the keeper. The crispy critter that had been Xin dropped to its knees and then falling forward, head hitting the ground with a dull thud, leaving the corpse in a ‘cheeks up and face down’ position... rather akin to a burnt Thanksgiving dinner, actually...
The Reaper gazed over the smoldering mess, feeling emotions that were completely foreign to a being of his stature for the first time in his existence. This... this wasn’t just an execution. This was inspired! “...I think I’m in love...”
The ghost turned to face the demonic warrior. Although his features were blurry, one could make out as his left eyebrow quirked up in a pantomime of curiosity. “Pardon?” The Mentor queried, a tone of confusion evident to his voice.
“...Erm...” Horny paused, fingers twitching as he realized what he said. What to do, what to do... ah! Yes! “I said I think of olives... they go great with dragon liver!”
The Mentor wasn’t buying it.
“...What!?” the red-skinned demon of destruction snarled. “Don’t you know that I am a gentlemanly and sophisticated Reaper?” huffing in annoyance, Horny made his way over to the dragon, using his scythe to cut it open much like his Keeper had done to that little redheaded bitch. Come to think of it, he really could go for some dragon liver...
Deciding to ignore the Reaper’s shenanigans, the apparition slowly floated over to the mortal remains of the woman whom had foolishly threatened his chosen apprentice; black smoke rising up through his incorporeal frame. “Congratulations, Keeper,” The Mentor spoke as he looked over the flaking, blackened corpse. “I had only heard rumors of such a spell... but yes. Somehow, you actually managed to burn fire.”
Panting for much needed breath, the Dark Mistress rolled onto her side, staring at the cat-woman sex-slave of a keeper whom rescued her from obliteration. “You...” she gasped, her frame trembling in pain–okay, now it was feeling good again. “You saved me, Keeper.”
Turning back towards the woman who reminded her so much of her friend, the werecheetah nodded her head slowly. “Yeah...” she smiled. “I did...” she raised her head up, smiling wider. “I DID IT! I TOTALLY OWNED THOSE SONS OF BITCHES!” She placed her hands on her hips as she reared her head back, laughing hysterically. Dead God, had THAT had been so therapeutic!
*Glomp*!
Britanny blinked her eyes as she felt a tight pressure around her right leg. She looked down, only to see the Dark Mistress on her knees, the woman’s arms wrapped around the werecheetah’s knee while she rubbed and nuzzled her face against Cheetah’s furry thigh. “Um... would you cut that out?” she asked, feeling a little embarrassed.
“NOPE!” Ayane chimed out. “You saved me, Keeper! My life is now yours! Do with me as you will! Slave! Sacrifice! Soldier! Sexual Conquest! I am yours to command!” she then playfully bit the woman’s thigh, before licking it. “Yours now and forever!”
Squeaking in shock, the werecheetah would have jumped had the woman not been holding so tightly onto her. “Wuh-what the hell!?” she cried out, surprised to be on the receiving end of such a submissive display. Back home, she knew Ayane wasn’t as domineering as her stage persona of ‘The Mistress’ would have lead people to believe, but she certainly wasn’t THIS subby either! Maybe she made a mistake saving her?
And that’s when she heard it. Laughter. Britanny’s ear twitched as she caught onto the sound. Turning to look over her shoulder, the werecheetah stared at whoever would dare still mock her. Her ears flattened back and her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the purple-dressed Keeper still sitting in his chair. “How the hell did you survive?” she demanded to know.
Dumbledore looked at her over the rim of his teacup, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Oh, quite simple, Keeper Cheetah,” he replied. He tilted his cup back to take a sip before be placed the cup back onto the small dish. “It is quite well known that a Horned Reaper will only attack if you flee or attack it first. By staying calm and finishing my tea, ignoring the bloodshed around me, I was left alone.”
Gawking at the man as if he’d grown another head, the werecheetah turned her head towards her Reaper, the red-skinned demon stepping out of a mess of dragon entrails. He’d wanted to get to the liver before it went cold. “Explain!”
In his defense, Horny merely snorted. “S’truth...” he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders, the annoyance he was feeling obvious to those around him as he admitted that. “The man’s got me there...” he murmured, his yellow eyes glowing as he stared down the older, frail target for his scythe. By all that was damned, how he wanted that robe!
The wizarding Keeper was thoroughly unimpressed by the show of intimidation. “...Sorry, Reaper,” he told the hellish warrior. “No matter how much you glare, attacking you is something I just won’t do!”
“...Friggin’ wizardy Poof...” the Reaper grumbled as he tossed the rest of the dragon liver to the ground and stepped on it in frustration.
“You know, you could just do it anyway, like you do everything else,” The Mentor told him in all seriousness. He was a blessed Horned Reaper for crying out loud! What was to stop him from just gutting this potential enemy of their Keeper!?
The Horned Reaper inhaled deeply, his massive chest expanding as he did. He held up his right hand, in a fist with his his index and middle fingers raised up. “Two problems with that... one, there’s no ‘pay’ for me to do that. It would be like nicking a wall. Damage is done but I get no satisfaction.”
“And two?” The Mentor demanded to know.
Rounding about on the ghost, Horny stare down the incorporeal instigator. “Do you have ANY idea the orc-shit I’d have to put up with for killing a Poof who was taking no action against me!?”
It was at that point Britanny temporarily ceased her efforts in trying to pull her leg free of the surprisingly affectionate Dark Mistress. “You know Horny, from what I saw, you currently are the Law here.”
Again, the Horned Reaper snorted in annoyance. “Ye~eeaaaah... like that will cover my ass. Damn Goblins with communication stones... we didn’t have ones that took stationary images in MY day!”
As if to prove his point, the Elite Goblin was still standing, holding up a rock covered in a series of red glyphic runes. He held it out towards the corpse of one of his downed compatriots, speaking aloud, “And here is Zan with a shocked look on his face.” He then held it up to the side of his head, the voice coming from said stone unintelligible. “Why, yes! Those are his internal organs instead of hair. Still a funny image though!”
“WOULD YOU GET OUT OF HERE!?” Britanny snapped at the goblin. The only reason she allowed it to still exist was due to its fashion sense. It knew of the miracle that was PANTS! He didn’t live like the other goblins and tried to pretend he had the build to pull off a loincloth, he actually wore something conservative! That at least earned him a pass this one time.
The Elite goblin eeped in surprise before hurriedly speaking into the rock in his hand. “Sorry! Grubb gotta run! Keepers are mad!” He then turned about, arms raised high as he ran away shrieking in hysterics like a little girl.
Britanny sighed. Well, that was once annoyance down. She then turned her attention back to the Dark Mistress whom had yet to release her all this time. “Ayane, I’m glad you appreciate me saving your ass and all... but would you PLEASE just get off of me already!?”
The woman sighed, lowering her head in defeat. “Yes, Mistress...” she murmured as she released the werecheetah’s leg. She then returned to a standing position, the woman at attention as she remained by the Keeper’s side.
Sighing at how obviously uncomfortable the woman was with not worshipping her, Britanny sighed. “Damn it, Ayane. I can understand you being grateful to me for saving your life and all... but you don’t have to bend over backwards, all right? I just want to get to know you!”
Ayane immediately perked up at that statement. “Do you want to top or should I?”
“I DON’T MEAN GETTING TO KNOW YOU LIKE THAT!” the feline lycanthrope howled in frustration. “Damn it, Ayane! Stop trying to be so damn submissive!”
“She can’t help it,” Dumbledore spoke up, the man putting his now empty tea cup on top of the mangled corpse of a goblin that had landed beside him as if it were a couch-side table. “It’s just how things work in the Underworld. You have proven yourself superior to her former Keeper and by all right, may take her as your Minion now...” he smiled. “Might makes right, after all.”
Cheetah raised an eyebrow as she turned her attention back to the purple-clad keeper. “Pardon?” she asked in a curious tone. “What do you mean, ‘might makes right’? Isn’t that a bit barbaric?”
“No more barbaric than when you slaughtered two Keepers and set the third aflame, burning her alive,” the bearded wizard replied with a smile.
Blushing a bit in embarrassment, all Britanny could do in her defense was mumble, “They had it coming...” she then spoke in a louder tone, “Besides! They attacked me first! What was I supposed to do? Roll over and let them kill me?”
“Of course not,” Dumbledore replied. “Trust me, dear. You were well within your right.” Folding his hands together so his fingers were intertwined, the bearded keeper looked the woman over, appreciating her fine form. “Since it’s obvious you were a surface dweller before this, allow me to try and clear up some confusion you may be feeling. The Underworld exists and operates in a perpetual cycle based on the principles of, ‘You take what you want’ and ‘You keep what you kill’. There is no real written law beyond that of the strong or social order outside what’s been imposed by the locals, be they guilds or keepers...” he smiled. “After all, self-interest makes for quite the guiding force, making those of the Underdark but putty in the hands of greater evil like us.”
Seeing one of the serving girls return now that combat had ceased, the older keeper waved her over. Gladly accepting the small plate with slice of cake, the older man poked at the dessert with his fork. “If you want something and you can take it, and then keep it, then it is yours by right of conquest. If someone is strong enough to stop you, you’re an idiot for challenging them and you deserve what you get. If you bite off more than you can chew and get struck down, it’s your fault for being too greedy.” For emphasis, he then cut off a large piece of cake with his fork before stuffing it in his maw and chewing thoroughly. Once he swallowed, he continued. “That’s why in the Underdark, it is perfectly acceptable for a sex-slave such as yourself to slit the throat of her master and claim his power as her own. Now that you have it, you’ll have to fight to keep it. But if you can, you’ll have proven yourself worthy of it. You’ll have shown all that you had the greater will and the ability to back it up.”
Britanny’s fur bristled. Why, oh WHY did everyone assume SHE was a sex-slave!?
“He is right, Keeper,” The Mentor spoke up, breaking the werecheetah of her current line of thought. “It’s why bonds and oaths are so common with dungeon keepers. With such a self-interested population with strong tendency towards duplicity, mystical bonds and magically enforced contracts are often the only way to get anything done, and even then you can expect every loophole to be exploited ruthlessly!”
Britanny twitched. “Like Horny had been doing when I was trying to make Imps?”
Nodding his head, The Mentor replied, “Of course. However, that is nothing new. Subordinates are expected to betray their leaders to some degree, and everyone inevitably has their own personal agenda. The way power and authority is commonly kept is you either dominate others completely, tie their self-interests into yours enough so that betraying you is a conflict of interest, or as SMART keepers do, with a mixture of the two.”
“Then why is Ayane already so damn loyal when I haven’t Bonded her to my Dungeon Heart yet!?” the werecheetah demanded to know. “She seemed just about ready to start humping me for crying out loud!”
Turning his attention to the Dark Mistress, even The Mentor had to admit, “In the Underworld, loyalty is a strange thing... it is seen as fleeting, but at the same time, as something rare and inordinately valuable that is to be rewarded richly lest it fade away.” His floating turned him towards the werecheetah he had chosen as his protégé. “You saved her life, Keeper. Ergo, it is now yours. She is willing to throw her lot in with you and will do whatever it takes to stay on your good side. You have proven yourself the stronger dungeon keeper for now, and it is likely Lady Ayane here would be remiss to go back to the keeper who tried to destroy her.”
“As I said,” Keeper Dumbledore spoke up. “You keep what you kill. You killed not one, not two, but THREE of your fellow keepers just now. Anything of worth left behind is now yours to do with as you please... it is the way of the Underworld, our original sin.” He smirked as he turned his head to look up at the Horned Reaper. “And sorry to say, I’m still not going to attack you.”
Horny huffed in annoyance, stomping his right cloven hoof in annoyance. “ATTACK ME, DAMN IT!!”
“No,” was the elderly keeper’s blunt reply. He turned his attention back to the werecheetah, making sure to get an eyeful. Smiling once more, the purple-clad wizarding Poof continued as if he hadn’t stopped to admonish a Horned Reaper of all things. “And that includes not only an Elite Minion, but that trinket of Keeper Raksasha’s. I believe it is of considerable value...”
Britanny rolled her eyes. She wasn’t hurting when it came to value–she had Imps mining a gem vein around the clock to thank for that–but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. Xin had specifically stated she wanted that sword and even in her enraged state, she could remember the black knight in the armor not-so-black was trying to get close to it too. What the hell was so special about a sword?
“Very well,” the werecheetah finally replied. “But if it turns out you’re trying to manipulate me, I’m gonna be REALLY pissed.” Making her way over to the corpse of her adversary, the feline lycanthrope knelt beside the flash-fried body, reaching for the weapon. The grip and pommel were a solid piece of intricately carved obsidian with the handle portion wrapped with a strip of finely waxed black leather that was surprisingly smooth to the touch. Britanny recognized the cross-guard to be made out of solid gold but the texture was all wrong, as it was firmer than gold normally was. Still, it shone brightly and was made with a beautiful crown design–also gold. From the handle came a massive blade, wider and longer than a regular long-sword. The fuller seemed to be a solid piece of black impala graphite marble, but it was surrounded by a finely honed edge of metal that was indescribable. It reminded her of mithril but even then, the magic to it was something far darker. Hell, the chosen curve patterns in the blade itself made the look like a pointing finger with a very sharp talon.
It didn’t help matters that upon holding it, the blade began to pulse with a red aura that looked like a shimmer of blood across the surface.
Not knowing what it was she was handling, the werecheetah turned to look over her right shoulder. Catching sight of her ghosty godfather, the woman queried, “Hey, Mentor. Do you know what this is?”
Realizing the woman needed his expertise, The Mentor murmured, “Let me see that...” as the woman stood up and turned to him, she held up the weapon, allowing the spirit to get a food view of it. If he had any specific definition to his face let alone working organs, his eyes would have been bulging out their sockets. “Oh by all that is unholy... Keeper! This is the Maelstrom!”
“The Maelstrom?” Britanny queried as she looked the blade over herself once more. Okay, quite an impressive name, but besides its unique appearance, it seemed to be nothing more than a bastard sword with a width that was boarding on being a broadsword.
Nodding his head energetically, the apparition replied, “Yes, Keeper! This is a long-sword that had been forged by the Dark Gods themselves! Beings far more pure in their evil and their power than mere mortals could comprehend...” he placed a hand up to the blade’s surface, only to sigh as it merely went through it. “It was a long ago when Keeper Sinistrum tried to summon one of the Dark Gods to enslave as a Minion. It wasn’t too surprising that he quickly discovered he was unable to control it. Before the Dark God disappeared back into its own dimension, it had slaughtered the keeper, obliterating his dungeon heart and every one of his minions for his insolence, leaving behind its instrument of punishment behind as a warning to others... the Maelstrom.”
The Mentor raised his head, gazing upon his apprentice keeper with black orbs that could have passed as eyes. “Having been made by the Dark Gods, The Maelstrom is a legendary weapon. A one-of-a-kind long-sword with an equally unique augmentation: True Scourge!”
Britanny’s tail whipped back and forth in curiosity. “Augmentation? True Scourge?”
Nodding his head, the guiding ghost explained. “Yes, Keeper. Augmentations or ‘augments’ for short, are mystical charms that can bound to weapons by master blacksmiths of considerable skill. They provide a benefit of one sort or another to the wielder while the augmented weapon is equipped. Once bound, the augmentation is permanently fixed to the weapon. You should know that there is the regular Scourge augment that can be created by mortal Underworld blacksmiths. It is a weapon augment that, once applied to a weapon, allows the armament to strike additional damage to good enemies, but less to evil. In comparison, True Scourge allows the Maelstrom to not only inflict greater damage to lawful beings, like knights, villagers, and heroes but still cause regular damage to those of the darkness... and believe me, the sword itself is powerful enough. To be blunt, the Dark Gods’ version completely negates the downside found in the regular Scourge augment.”
Whistling in appreciation, the werecheetah had a better understanding of why Keeper Xin had been so keen on trying to make a deal with her to get the sword. “So basically, this is a weapon of great power and I could kick all kinds of ass with it.” It wasn’t really a question.
Although true expression was beyond him, it was obvious that The Mentor was frowning. “While that is rather blunt way of putting such, that is precisely it, Keeper. It is a weapon of great renown and wielding it along with this infamous act of defeating three rival keepers in a single battle should garner you some respect... something which, if you’ll forgive me for saying, you have been in serious lack of.”
Snorting, Britanny murmured, “Tell me about it. Ever since we met that asshole Tailor, my life went down the toilet ASAP...” she trailed off as she crossed her arms over her breasts. She then paused in her grumbling for a moment as a realization struck her. “Speaking of which, just WHERE did that asshole go to?”
“What’s that smell?” The Tailor asked, as he and the other members of the Slave Guild arrived from outside to find Crescens’ friends. His lady had been at her wit’s end since that horrible battle had begun. Hopefully there was enough of the catgirl left to scrape off the floor.
Rolling her eyes, the werecheetah could only irritably mutter, “Of course. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear...”
Seeing as no one was answering him right away, the dark elf frowned. Looking over the few people still standing amidst the destruction, the effeminate sylvan fashion designer demanded, “Seriously? Just WHAT is that stench?”
“That,” Horny spoke up, a smirk on his face. “Is what burnt fire smells like.”
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