Her black hair tied back in a ponytail and adorned in a heavy smock and goggles, the dark elf Lady Katherine of House Uralimpiel or ‘Kat Burntwine’ as she was commonly known in Skid Row, was someone who considered herself ahead of her time. Unlike the vast majority of her race, she was someone who preferred the newer technologies compared to tried and true archery. She started out with her crossbow training at a young age, as most underworld noble sylvan were and was on the fast track to becoming a dark elven archer... but that changed when she and a contingent of her House’s raiders ambushed a surface elf of all things down in the tunnels, one Horatio Peel. He was underground purchasing mana-stones–something difficult to come by on the surface–for his creation: the clockwork pistol.
She’d been enamored by the weapon when the surface elf showed it to her–particularly by gunning down the rest of her group who’d tried to mug him before any one of them could even draw a bolt into their crossbow strings–and had offered herself up as his apprentice on the spot. While it had turned out the only reason he hadn’t plugged her was because six shots was the limit for an immediate ammo repository and he needed to reload, it didn’t matter. He didn’t accept the offer, but neither did Mr. Peel end her life once his ammunition enchantment readied itself once more. Seemingly a bit of an outcast himself due to his interest in such an, ‘eccentric art’ he instead offered the girl a steel flintlock and one of his older note-books before heading back towards the tunnels leading to the surface with his sack of ether-charged ore.
Since then, Kat had pursued the entirety of aspects for this new trade. As a gunsmith, she worked with trolls to hone her skills as an artisan, learning the trades of parts fabricator, metalworker, blacksmith, and woodworker. She also had to become knowledgeable in mathematics, ballistics, chemistry, and materials engineering; machinists tools and measuring devices, and be capable of working accurately and precisely–her warlock teacher was a huge help. It was a half-century of diligence but she was satisfied. While her own firearms were not the masterworks of Horatio Peel’s, the dark elf was successfully self-employed and owned a small gunsmithy she could call her own. The four walls, crystal ceiling-torches, the numerous wooden planks with painted targets over the windows and back wall, her small furnace taking advantage of the natural lava-flow of the earth, her workspace, and stacked boxes and shelves of the materials she needed further down her tunnel-space were all she truly wanted.
As it was, the female dark elf was currently working on an iron and yew model as she sat on a wooden chair bench before a desk that was aligned with various tools with a pile of polishing cloths with a handle sticking out to her left and a stack of rune-marked papers held in place with a metal stamp holding them down to her right. The soot-covered sylvan woman was skillfully moving a thin, thick-bristled brush back and forth to remove an obstruction. It was bad enough that the dumb orc had dented the length of the barrel during a bar brawl, but the piggish bastard had gotten grog down it, having drunken from his damn gun on a dare which had started the fight when he won! “Would have served the daft arsehole right if he blew his brains out.”
As she grumbled and worked on cleaning out the flintlock, the dark elf’s ears twitched upon hearing the door chime ring. She turned her head... and grinned. She always found herself to be more of a team player–Hotario himself still managing to turn her crank as he was surprisingly effeminate even by elven standards–and she was liking what she was seeing. Most expensive spider-silks of red and black with platinum-infusion, artsy jewelry, a badass sword, an hourglass figure, hips that didn’t lie, leg for miles...
She looked up and smirked. Well, that explained the excellent body. Cat-woman sex-slave. “I take it you’re here to pick up an order for your master, cutie?” she replied, tilting her head towards the spotted feline. “Because if you’re here to drop off more work, I’m sad to say that it’s gonna be a wait,” she motioned to the parts on her workspace with the brush she was holding. “Some idiot made a mess of an iron pistol he bought from me and I don’t want my reputation tarnished by a moron who brandishes a gun with my mark that doesn’t work or merely explodes, taking his hand with it!” She then frowned as a dark mistress came in after her. Those women could be downright sexy, but a bit too kinky for Kat’s tastes.
Nodding her head, the werecat pulled the pistol from the right side of her hip and held it out to the women. “You mean, one like this?”
Placing the brush and barrel down on the work-table, the dark elf reached out for the weapon with her right hand as she pushed aside some of the soft cloths, revealing that she had a magnifying glass in there. Her left hand grasped the handle as she brought it over, checking the base of the barrel. She frowned as she saw her sigil: a wine glass with a flame. “Yeah, this is one of my cheaper works...” she put the magnifying glass back down as her gaze returned to the two women standing before her, feeling unnerved as a third, green-skinned elven-like woman entered with glowing ethereal arms. “Funny... I’m certain I would have remembered a customer like you...” she sat up on her wooden bench, her left hand now slinking under the table for where she kept a piece stashed for an emergency. “Where’d you get it?”
“Keeper Pilfor,” the werecheetah said firmly. “I got it in fight with her after the bitch called me a slave and then goaded most of the other local keepers into attacking me. Gutted her good and... well...” she smirked. “Victory gives you looting privileges and all that.”
Kat paused in her movement, although her hand was still on the flintlock underneath, ready to draw. She’d heard the rumors; that dumb lummox Axe, had mentioned something about a battle amongst the dungeon keepers at the Slavers’ Guild when he’d dropped off his piece for repairs earlier. “...And you are?” she asked slowly, not really sure if she wanted to know.
The woman smiled. “Oh, allow me to introduce myself. I am Keeper Britanny Elin’Gia Diggers or, ‘Keeper Cheetah’ if that’s easier for you. This,” she motioned to the Asian woman standing beside to her left. “Is my Minion Ayane, an Elite Dark Mistress.” The woman’s had swayed to the right. “And over here is Crescens, my friend and former high priestess of te gaoblins.” And finally, after if to drive the point further home, she thumbed to the entrance. “And standing outside, as he’s a bit too big for this space, is my Horned Reaper, Horny.”
“Only to my friends and boss!” came the booming voice from just outside. “To everyone else it’s, ‘Horniculus’ or, ‘Please-Don’t-Kill-Me’... although I may let you off with a simple, ‘Sir’ if I’m in a good enough mood.”
Kat immediately withdrew her hand from underneath her work-desk, retracting it so fast one would think she burned herself. The last thing a person would want was to give a Horned Reaper an excuse to slaughter them; even with the door being too small, she wasn’t a fool to believe that the demonic warrior couldn’t break it and the wall surrounding it down if it really wanted to. Turning herself about on the bench so she could face the cat-woman–DUNGEON KEEPER, she mentally berated herself–the dark elf was quick to carefully state, “I... I see...” she did her best to appear as non-threatening as possible. “What can I do for you, Keeper?”
Seeing the woman was unnerved and not likely to be a snarky bitch or screw her over like The Tailor had been doing, the werecheetah gave her a disarming smile. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble, Miss Burntwine, would you restore the ammunition enchantment on this gun?” Britanny asked. “I’d be more than willing to pay.”
Kat blinked her eyes once, twice. She brought her right hand up to the side of her head, pushing her goggles up so they would rest around her forehead. The sylvan gunsmith stared up at the werecat’s green and cobalt eyes with her own crimson and black ones. “Seriously? You’ll pay?” If it was one thing dungeon keepers were known for, it was taking whatever they wanted merely because they could. Traditional underworld ideology to be sure, but it always sucked to be on the receiving end of the practice.
Nodding her head, Britanny replied, “Of course. If you’re straight up with me, I’ll be straight up with you...” she waved her hand, summoning an amount of gold... a very simple five-hundred coins; the pile covering the woman’s desktop all of a sudden. The summoning was so quick that most of them rolling off and onto the floor. “I’m not afraid to pay well for prompt services.”
It was a startled dark elf that looked over the glittering surface of her workspace with wide eyes. “Unholy shit...” she murmured in awe. Her shoulders trembled as she chuckled. This... she just hadn’t expected this kind of treatment from a dungeon keeper, particularly one that was powerful enough to defeat and steal from Keeper Pilfor. “I can’t say I’ll ever be ‘straight’ for you, but for this kind of cash?” a mischievous gleam twinkled in the dark elf’s eyes. “Consider yourself bumped up on the appointment docket!”
With that said, the woman turned herself about on the bench so she was facing her workstation once more. She placed the gun down atop the surface of gold coins as she reached over for the metal stamp with her right hand before placing it down near the gun. Again, her right arm reached over, her fingers, taking one of the papers off the top of the stack as her left hand grasped the gun. Holding the flintlock up, she tilted the barred down, causing the frizzen latch to open before she reached into the pan, placing the paper with red mark on it. Releasing the paper, that hand then went to grasp the metal stamp, which she then used to press down on the paper, which was followed by a ‘sizzling’ noise. The dark elf held it tightly as the paper slowly burnt to ash cinder by cinder.
Removing the metal stamp once the process was done, she revealed that while the paper was no more, the red sigil that hard marked the paper still existed, having been transferred to the flash pan, glowing brightly with crimson light. She titled the gun back so the barrel pointed up, the frizzen latch clasping down into place on the pan once more, hiding the sigil. “Here you go! One iron flintlock ready for service once again, your Keepership!”
“Great!” the werecheetah chirruped, pleased that it had been so quick. “So about that gun...” Britanny murmured, eyeing the pistol that had belonged to Keeper Pilfor. Despite coming to terms with it, she still felt slightly conflicted over the fact that GUNS of all things were available in a dark fantasy setting–even though watching the woman work on one hammered the point home. Really, that was like putting lasers, jet packs and body mech in Call of Duty! Not that the werecheetah played it, mind you, but she’d seen enough of Brianna playing the game before becoming frustrated and going off to work with the real thing after she got tired of foul-mouthed twelve-year-olds spouting their tripe over her headpiece. “What can you tell me about it?”
The female dark elf nodded her head at the woman’s curiosity. She paid well, so she would get her desired answers. “Well, this is pretty much your standard iron flintlock pistol. You just pull back the hammer, aim, and pull the trigger to shoot.” So saying, the woman stood up from her workstation and cocked back the hammer with her thumb. She then pointed the handgun at a plank of painted wood hanging on the far wall where she kept extra materials to make her weapons. Taking a moment to steady herself she closed her left eye and pulled the trigger. The gun fired, scoring a perfect bulls-eye on where she had the painted target. “Just like that.” Kat then flipped the gun over so it was upside down, offering it back to the spotted blonde werecat. “Do you want to give it a go?”
Now THAT display of accuracy and power caught the werecheetah’s attention. “Don’t you have to reload?” she asked curiously. The others had mentioned that an ammunition rune was needed, but she wanted to know if there were other options. It would be convenient if the werecheetah didn’t have to keep going back and forth between her dungeon and Skid Row for repairs to the ammunition enchantment.
Shaking her head, the dark sylvan woman answered, “Not manually. With an ammunition rune, the gun itself is enchanted to create its own powder and ball. As long as the enchantment holds, you just have to wait for the spell to work.”
Britanny decided that, yes, if she ever got home with one of these, Brianna was going to kiss her ass and owe her a boatload of favors. She’d be unstoppable if they could apply this enchantment to more modern firearms. “How long does it take for the enchantment to work?”
That question gave the woman pause. The female dark elf took a moment to consider it before answering, “It varies from maker-to-maker. But the rune I gave it, on a flintlock like this? It needs only a second, maybe two. My better pistols can pretty much be fired as fast as you can cock the hammer, but those–most accordingly mind you–cost a lot more gold for the effort and outsourcing I have to do to make them. I’m not warlock and have to pay for the better enchantments I can’t make on my own but have to apply.” She looked back to her desk and smirked. “Not that I think you’d have any trouble paying...”
The werecat nodded in affirmation. It was true. Gold was of no consequence for her at the moment. “So what am I to do if the enchantment gives out again?”
“Well you have two options,” the gunsmith Kat replied. “If you do overtax the thing and break the ammunition enchantment, you can either wait for the charge to build back up from the ambient magic in the air–which takes a BLESSED long time–or you can take it back to me and I’ll make faster repairs for some gold. This piece had obviously waited awhile so all I needed to do was add the enchantment. If it’s a fresh break, I would need to first pour some powdered mana-stone down the muzzle for a recharge and then reapply the right runes. You would be good to go again in no time!”
“All right,” Britanny replied. That actually seemed pretty reasonable. “How many shots do you get from the thing?”
The sylvan woman held up the pistol again. “They vary depending on the synergy between the quality of the weapon and the enchantment. On something like this one? You get four good shots; one to two seconds between each shot and then you need to wait at least ten seconds between each full ammo reload. Good for up to six times a day before needing a resting period. Push it further than that in a twenty-four hour period and the enchantment is going to bust irreparably. But like I said earlier, this is model one of my cheaper guns. The better the gun, the greater the versatility.”
The feline Dungeon Keeper nodded as she took the offered weapon back from the gunsmith. She didn’t think she was going to need to kill more than two dozen people in a day with just an iron flintlock revolver. But then again... it would be more useful if it were something to arm a less-than-skilled Minion force. Not that she had one at the moment, but she was going to eventually. “And you have these ready for sale?”
“I only keep a few of my cheap irons in stock as they’re my best sellers down here in the Skids. Any large or specialty orders and I’ll need to take the time to make them,” Kat replied honestly. “As long as you got the gold, I got the guns.”
Britanny smiled. “Bullion for bullets?”
Nodding her head, the dark elf cooed, “Exactly.”
“All right, now... hypothetically...” the werecheetah started, “I wanted to get a custom weapon for myself... how long would it take?”
The dark elf looked the werecheetah over again. “For you? Not long at all,” Kat replied as she smiled. “I’d gladly bump up your reservation as a priority order. From there, it’s deciding what type of weapon you want, the materials, and any extras you’re looking for.”
That answer made the spotted blonde werecat blink her eyes. “Type of weapon? You make more than pistols?”
“OF COURSE!” the dark elf chimed with pride. “I may only be knowledgeable in making a flintlock mechanism, but the device can be versatile in how it’s used. Keep in mind though, each weapon model has its own strengths and weaknesses,” she pointedly stated before continuing. “First up, is the ever popular pistol, like the one you’re holding. Quick to reload and its size makes it easy enough to use in confined areas underground. Sadly, the range of the bullet isn’t as great as it could be, nor is the damage all that powerful. You can hurt someone but unless you have a high end model, you’re not taking anyone down in one shot.”
“Next, would be the pistol’s big brother, the rifle!” So saying, the dark elven woman motioned to the entrance of her establishment. Just above the doorframe and fastened to a wood plaque, was a metal long-barreled and wooden stocked flintlock musket. “Unlike the pistol, the much longer barrel allows for not only a greater range but a higher damage output. Even with an iron model, you could go sniping goblins for fun!” She then frowned. “However, while it has only one downside, it’s a big one. The blessed thing is slow to reload. You’re waiting upwards of twenty seconds between each bullet with an iron! If you miss or fail to put down your target, they have more than enough time to either run for it or counter-attack.”
“And last, but certainly not least...” she made her way back to the work-desk, kneeling down so she could remove something from underneath. Kat then withdrew a weapon that was similar to the rifle, but the stock was thicker, and the barrel was both shorter and wider. “Is the blunderbuss!” She turned to the werecheetah with a wan smile. “Not going to lie; this baby is an acquired taste. The range is shorter than a pistol and its reload time is even worse than a rifle, well over half a minute between each blast.” However, that grin soon became devious. “But I’ll say this here and now, Keeper Cheetah. I swear by the blunderbuss above all else! The damage this baby can inflict is incredible as not even a dragon can ignore it! It also releases a wide spray of bullets when you fire, allowing for a far greater chance of actually hitting your target... and then some!” She gently caressed the flared muzzle of the weapon as if it were a favored pet. “And even better, it has wonderful shock and awe value. You pull and trigger and everyone takes notice! It’s like a shot of thunder!”
Cheetah considered that for a moment. “I’d stick with a pistol for now,” she finally replied. “If only just to I could get a feel for handling guns to begin with.”
Smirking wide, Kat was quick to ask, “So I take it this is no longer hypothetical then?” The more money she could make, the better it would be for her!
Chuckling slightly, Britanny nodded her head. “Yeah. I kind of want something better than what that cheap bitch would settle for...” she straightened up, thrusting her chest out as she took on an air of confidence. “So tell me, The Gunsmith...”
“Just ‘Kat’,” the dark elf said in all seriousness. “I haven’t been working long enough to earn my job as an actual title. But please, continue.”
The spotted blonde werecat nodded her head. “Fine, Kat...” she smiled, feeling relieved that she’d finally met someone who wasn’t a pompous asshole. “Tell me, what are the options available to me when it comes to making a pistol?”
“There are three combinations when it comes to materials,” the sylvan woman answered. “Iron and yew is the weakest variant available. An iron flintlock is fairly cheap, gets you four shots at a time, and useful against all lesser Minions such flies, beetles, spiders, imps, skeletons, and goblins. It’s even useful against unarmored Minions such as rogues, warlocks, and my fellow dark elves... but they’re just a bad match-up against stronger monsters like fallen angels, bile demons, and dragons. Shooting at them with an iron flintlock is just asking for them to kick your ass as all you’re gonna do is piss ‘em off!” she frowned a bit as she admitted, “Also, customization is limited to purely superficial adornments as it’s blessed near impossible to augment these weapons. The impurity of iron ore, even forged, can’t integrate the mystical abilities. We’re just lucky they can handle a dark gods-blessed ammunition enchantment!”
The feline dungeon keeper nodded her head. “Understood. No worries, really as I wasn’t looking into an iron weapon, anyway. What else do you have?”
Smiling as it was obvious this woman was more than willing to spend, Kat continued, “Next up is the traditional steel and oak combination. Such is the most commonly used model you’ll find, both here and topside. Better than iron, these do cost significantly more but the jump in quality is more than worth it. The bullets hit with increased force and you get an extra shot before needing to allow the ammo enchantment to reload, putting you at five attacks in one go. The shots are strong enough to the point where they will definitely put the hurt on hell hounds, orcs, trolls, and the like. More importantly, a steel flintlock can handle a single augmentation so it’s possible to empower them even further with the right augment, enough to injure dark mistresses, maidens of the nest, and even demon spawns!”
“And finally,” Kat went on to continue when the keeper didn’t say anything. “We have the top-of-the-line model. Obsidian and ebony wood! Often referred to as, ‘black metal’ obsidian is in actuality a form of volcanic glass, the art of forging such founded in ancient times, giving us an ‘ore’ that is stronger than steel! You won’t find this stuff topside in any village blacksmith either! It’s considered, ‘evil’ in nature by the overworlders and was subsequently outlawed.” She smirked deviously. “But make no mistake, Keeper Cheetah! The obsidian flintlock is very deadly against many enemies, both below and above ground! You do NOT want to be on the receiving end of this thing unless you’re a dragon or stronger, and even then it’s gonna hurt like a mule-kick! These are a great substitute for Masterworks and Legendary weapons and possessing a weapon made of this material is often a sign of great wealth, if not being of underworld nobility. It matches the six full shot of said Masterworks AND the materials are mystical enough to allow for two augmentations! You can make these suckers even deadlier than they already are!” she cackled maniacally.
A grin coming to her own face, Britanny nodded her head. “That sounds more like it!” she chimed. “We’re definitely going for the obsidian and ebony wood model!”
Hearing that, the dark elf gave the woman her attention. “You’re sure now?” she asked with a serious tone. “While it’s probably nothing a keeper would worry about, the materials are expensive. Even without any augmentations, it’s going to cost four-thousand gold. The ritual for forging obsidian is slow and precise, and ebony wood has to be harvested from the swamps of the overworld. Oak can always be stolen from material shipments, but as the topsiders don’t trade in ebony wood so we have to send our own people upside for it specifically.”
“All right,” the feline lycanthrope keeper replied. Made sense and really, it was no problem. She was going to pay more than that for a single slave before the redheaded bitch screwed everything up. “Really, it’s no problem. I definitely want an obsidian flintlock. So... you mentioned augments. What do you have in stock?”
Now, the dark elf appeared to be a bit embarrassed. “While there are many weapon enchantments, I am sad to say that I only keep a few of those on hand as they tend to be expensive...” she perked up. “However, all of them are popular ones! From cheapest to most expensive, we start off with the Flame augmentation, which would allow your bullets to scorch your enemies with additional fire damage if they’re not immune like demon spawn or salamanders, to name a few such creatures. That last aspect is why a lot of people down here prefer the Lightning augment aka ‘The Killerwatt’. Harnessing the power of storms, bullets will cause electrical damage. Unless a special enchantment is in place, no one has the natural ability to withstand lighting damage.”
“All right,” the werecheetah replied. “Anything you can do that’s not elementally-charged?”
“I was getting to that, I was getting to that,” Kat replied in all seriousness. “Next up would be the Piercing augment. Popular with archers, this augment continues its find use to as –similar to what it could do with arrow-heads–enhances the density of the bullets themselves so they hit harder and inflict greater damage, allowing shots fired to ignore most forms of mundane armor. And finally, there is the Silver augment. Stolen from topside, this augment incorporates your bullets blessed silver, allow it to harm the were-creatures that roam topside as well as damage the undead, putting down and all but the most stubborn of the unliving.”
Britanny stared at the dark elf, feeling the fur on the back of her neck stand on end. That was not something she’d been expecting to hear at all. “Were-creatures?” she squeaked out. “This world has were-creatures?” Good God... if she could find more werecheetahs...
With a single nod of her head, the sylvan gunsmith replied, “Well, yeah! Werewolves! Vicious, nasty creatures brought forth by a blasphemous combination of magics from the gods of light and darkness that had gone–not too surprisingly–horribly wrong. The citizenry topside is terrified of these beasts, and with good reason! Werewolves can infect humans, turning them into more of their kind through a bite. Their natural aggressive tendencies would suit them well here in the underworld, but they are just outright vicious! No, they prefer ‘nature’ and other places untouched by man, like many others of the mystical races. Rumors indicate that the most notable population of werewolves exists in the forests near the western cliffs of Woodly Rhyme. That’s why Silver the post popular augment down here. A lot of those who have to go topside into the swamps for ebony wood tend to have clashes with the werewolves who see it as underworlders trespassing on their territory.”
The werecat went silent then. Werewolves. Werewolves existed here. What did that mean for her? Did she ignore this or pursue?
Noticing the serious expression on her client’s face, Kat cautiously asked, “Is... everything okay, Keeper?” When dungeon keepers were upset, they tended to take it out on those that had perturbed them in the first place. And the dark elf LIKED breathing, thank you very much!
Shaking her head, the feline dungeon keeper went on to say, “Yeah, everything’s okay. Just thinking...” she looked about, noticing Kat, Crescens, and even Ayane were looking at her with worry. Taking a deep breath, Britanny went on to say, “Obsidian and ebony wood with Piercing and...” she shuddered. “Silver.”
It seemed foolhardy to keep a weapon that could hit with silver on her person but the werecheetah had an inkling that she would need it. Besides, she didn’t need electric when she could produce it herself and fire... hell, she could BURN fire as well.
“Good idea,” the gunsmith had to agree. “Obsidian and ebony wood with Piercing and Silver augmentations.” Kat repeated, making sure she had heard the woman correctly. The dark elf took a moment doing the math in her head. “It will be a hefty seven-thousand, seven-hundred and fifty gold coin price tag for such a work but believe me! It will be worth every coin considering the versatility it would have. And hey! At least all the werewolf breeds are susceptible to silver so you’d be ready for anything!”
That caught the feline woman’s attention. Tilting her head, the spotted blonde werecat stared at the pointy-eared woman with a confused expression. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but deep down, she had a NEED to know! “...What do you mean by, ‘werewolf breeds’?”
“Well, yeah! There’s just so many!” the dark sylvan woman chirruped. “Besides the standard werewolves, there’s also Frost Werewolves when you go further north. At first appearance, they look like werewolves with thick white fur. However, make no mistake, as they are much more dangerous than the regular werewolves. They possess increased physical strength, having to be hardier to survive such an environment. That’s also why they’re blessed with winter coats; it’s due to living in Northern Wastes! Gives them excellent natural camouflage in such a frozen environment.” She smirked. “Still, due to living in the snowy part of the world for so long, fire tends to hurt them and I mean badly!”
“And then on the opposite end of the power spectrum, there are the Blood Werewolves...” Kat visibly shuddered. “Now those guys, they’re distinct by their brick-red fur. Blood werewolves are also noted for being incredibly agile, quickly jumping to and from great heights both to evade attack and capture as well as to attack prey. Although when it comes to physical strength, they aren’t any more powerful than a standard werewolf... hell, they might even be weaker! However, Blood werewolves have a personal boon in that they not share their species’ common weakness to fire: natural or mystical. They’re just plain nasty to have to deal with if you’re only using blades and it doesn’t help they’re the most ‘social’ of werewolves. Where you can expect to come across specific werewolves in certain environments, you’ll often find a blood werewolf amongst other breeds, if not outright leading them should there be no Whites around...” the sylvan twitched again, making Cheetah wonder if she was talking about the frost werewolves. “Really, Silver augmented firearms are the only way to go when it comes to dealing with those bastards. They’re too fast for anything else to be of use!”
A sour expression crossed Kat’s features. “Then, there are the Poison Werewolves. Although they behave much like normal werewolves, the poison variant are visually very distinct, with raggedy green-colored pelts due to the swamp algae growing in their fur. Oftentimes, they also emit a trail of smoke from their nostrils due to the time spent in the damp and muck, inhaling the toxic swamp gases. Because of this, poison werewolves are dangerous for the toxins that build up in their bodies, making their claws poisonous. Scratches and slashes can inflict their prey with blurry vision and a sensation of vertigo as if they were drunk, making combating the beasts difficult if they get a solid hit in. Worse, they prefer massive swarm-attacks that can easily overwhelm their target, leaving the poor schmuck unable to defend his or herself.”
The gunsmith paused, considering how to go about this next one. “Then, we have the Corrupted Werewolves...” the pointy-eared woman stated slowly, carefully. “While it doesn’t happen all that often, there are werewolves who have forsaken the surface and chose to live underground with us decent folk. These werewolves eventually change, becoming visibly tainted with the corruptive influences of underworld magic the longer they stay down here, hence their name. With eyes glowing orange-red from the magic pulsing in their veins, these werewolves are similar to their common brethren in all ways except one. They are invulnerable to almost all physical damage due to the corruption shielding them. The only ways to effectively harm them are through the use of offensive magic spells and weapons augmented with elemental magic or imbued with silver.”
“The worst though, without a doubt, are the White Werewolves,” again the dark elf visibly shuddered. “Unlike other types of werewolves who can either be born into their species or change upon into such upon being enthralled by a pure-breed, a white werewolf can only come from someone inflicted with lycanthropy. In particular, whites happen when a normal human is bitten during a full moon, which supercharges their ascension. As you can guess, they are named for their distinctive white coats but don’t even think of confusing them with frost werewolves! White werewolves are larger and stronger than all other werewolves breeds. Not surprisingly, even though they weren’t born into the park, they often serve as the pack-leaders due to their physical superiority and can summon their lesser werewolves by howling the pack-call. Only weapons enchanted with a Silver augmentation can harm a white werewolf.” She took a deep breath before exhaling. “So like I said. The Silver augment? It’s the only one that can hurt all werewolves... plus,” she managed a small smirk. “You get the added benefit of being able to put smarmy vampires in their place. It can’t put them down for good if the creeps have a connection to a keeper’s graveyard but either way... they won’t mess with you again.”
The feline dungeon keeper just stared at the sylvan woman in shock. Oh, she so needed to have another talk with the spirit who acted as her advisor. Just where was he when the werecheetah actually needed him?
Little did Britanny know, The Mentor...
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