A smirk was plastered on The Tailor’s face as he took stock of the sight before him... or to be more precise, above him. His neck craned back, the lithe dark elf watched with amusement and satisfaction as the maiden of the nest struck at the large black crystal that was the source of the werecheetah’s power again and again; the tempo of the artifact’s internal flame beating erratically as the sharpened edge of the woman’s sword made contact with it again and again. Cracks growing along the surface with each strike as little spigots of hellfire escaped in small but intense bursts, filling the room with crimson illumination. That wasn’t all though as even the maiden’s spiders were helping her! They were spitting webbing that had a freezing effect on it, the cold making the heart itself brittle against the blows of their mother’s durium blade.
Raising the wine goblet he’d purloined from the soon-to-be-deceased keeper’s chambers in praise of the arachnotaur’s valiant efforts, the effeminate fashion designer cheered, “A toast to Lady Dusque! Destroyer of Keeper Cheetah and most blessed of Arachnea’s servants!” He waggled his eyebrows for effect. Oh yes, she might not be Lady Crescens but Lady Dusque could be a wonderful substitute.
Snorting at the inferior male’s attempt to suck up to her, the maiden continued her assault on the ceiling-mounted dungeon heart. “Oh shut up, will you? Stop kissing thorax and make yourself useful! Make sure that big imp doesn’t interrupt before my babies and I destroy this thing!” She raised her sword, Shadow Cutter high before slamming it down upon the surface of the black crystal again; the magical relic pulsing with another flash of red light from within once more as she dealt more damage to it. Normally she didn’t do the dirty work herself for things like this but Dungeon Hearts were notoriously durable and took higher level minions and spells to cause real damage to. Her children would be at this for hours if she left it up to them alone and time WAS of the essence!
With the woman having spurned his advances, The Tailor merely shrugged, unperturbed by this. Lady Dusque WAS of dark elven stock, so it was only natural that she would possess the same matriarchal views and attitudes that the rest of their race was known for. No skin off his nose though, he was THE Tailor after all. He was certain he could wear down her resistances with time. So with that thought in mind, the sylvan clothing designer made his way over to the mass of spider-webbing that contained the vile abomination just as the maiden of the nest had commanded. “So...” he queried of the grayish viridian creature that fought within its silken web bondage. “Are we having fun yet?”
“IMP!” was the rather violent–and offensive in impish tongue–retort from the largest of Britanny’s servants. The Mega-Imp struggled with its bindings in a valiant effort to break free from the spider-webbing that constricted it, its desire to protect the Dungeon Heart going full-force now. Imps–and by extension, Britanny’s own version–were not combat driven creatures in the slightest and quite useless in battle, despite the strength amount of strength their bodies held. However, when the very source of their existence was threatened, they too could be made into warriors via their primal survival instinct.
However, all they could do was fight with the webbing they’d become entangled within; only the Mega-Imp finding some leeway with its far superior strength... and even the big guy was under constant watch by two of the giant spiders, the arachnids continuing to apply more and more webbing as he would start to break free, leaving the large pale green mass of muscle to have to start all over in his efforts.
A devious smirk crossed over the dark elven male’s face. “That’s what I thought. Nothing you can do but await the inevitable then. Still, I’m not entirely heartless. Have one last drink, on me...” he then thrust the goblet forward, allowing its contents to splash all over the exposed face of the Mega-Imp. “Or to be more precise, it’s on you! Buahahahahaaaaa!”
As the digging minion’s roars and struggles intensified in their ferocity, The Tailor couldn’t help but feel smug. After all, it wasn’t too often that a lesser underworlder could pull one over on a keeper. Soon, the cat strumpet that dared to call herself a Keeper would be banished to the abyss where the dark gods would rend her soul, Lady Crescens would be freed of her servitude and freer still to move in with him, and once Lady Dusque was done claiming as much gold as her little spiders could carry, he would swoop in and stake claim to whatever was left behind of value so he could start up a new business. After all, he wasn’t likely going to be able to move his store back after the greenish brute of a minion had moved it, which meant he was going to need to purchase some new real estate. Maybe somewhere other than Skid Row this time, the dark elf thought as he began to fill the goblet with one of the many wine bottles he’d procured from the soon-to-be-departed catgirl sex-slave’s liquor cabinet. “To revenge!” he chimed before bringing the solid gold drinking cup to his lips and savoring the sweet and tangy flavor of the magically constructed alcohol.
Ah yes, nothing sweeter than revenge. The dish best served cold
However, as the dark elf indulged in the enjoyment of his ill-gotten booze, there was a burst of power that illuminated the room far greater than the previous flashes of crimson illumination that would fill the chamber each time Dusque and her children attacked the Heart. The insidious fashion designer brought his hand up, rubbing his eyes as his senses were disoriented from the intense spectral display. “Bloody heaven! What in the sacred nine hells... is...” he trailed off, the golden chalice falling from nerveless fingers as the woman he’d been hoping to destroy was there, with a small entourage in tow–particularly the horned reaper!
Naturally, The Tailor did what any dark elf would do in the given situation.
“SEE YOU LATER, LADY DUSQUE! BEST OF LUCK!” he screamed as he ran for the tunnel that the maiden of the nests had entered the dungeon through. He had thought they’d have enough time to annihilate the Dungeon Heart, now he’d be lucky to get away with his life!
Britanny was at a loss for words at the sight that greeted her as the world came into focus around them. Spiders. Spiders were EVERYWHERE! They were on the floor, the walls, the ceiling... little bastards were swimming in her marble fountain too!
However, as soon as she heard the screaming, her head was drawn to the source. The werecheetah’s eyes flared red from the precious mana of her Heart channeled through the woman’s rage. That bastard did this! He’s the one who was hurting Crescens. He’s DEAD! she thought angrily. Still there was a greater threat at the moment. Up top was the largest spider she’d ever seen! Hell, it was a Spider-Woman–not to be confused with an intellectual property owned by Marvel and The Mouse. Large and in charge, she was the main threat right now. If Cheetah and her friend were going to survive, it was a time for action, not cursing. “Mentor! Don’t lose sight of the pointy-eared bastard. Ayane, keep an eye on Crescens and the slaves! Horny and I will handle the bug infestation!”
Of the trio of men bought in the auction, Louie was the one to take some offense. He considered himself a fighter, able to hold his own. For Mylee’s sake, he was able to take on a bunch of trolls! Did she really think him unable to handle a few measly giant spiders?
With Parn’s hand coming to his shoulder, the blue-tressed male sighed. Right, right, they were slaves. Obviously the woman didn’t want her property getting damaged. He really needed to see what he could do about cutting free for the surface when possible.
Hefting his scythe, the demonic warrior clad in crushed green velvet suit snorted. “And like any member of pest control, we’re going to charge by the hour!” He grinned wide, showing off those numerous sharp teeth. “And I’m taking it out on some insects!” Granted, nowhere near as challenging as a dragon, but there was just something oh-so-satisfying about squishing bugs under cloven-hoof.
“Less talky, more squishy!” Britanny yelled as she rushed forward, smashing through several smaller spiders that tried to jump her with a flash of fists and feet. She had to get to her Dungeon Heart and FAST!
As she watched the mayhem of who was likely the one the idiot had referred to earlier as, ‘Keeper Cheetah’–seriously, the natural pelt of fur was a dead giveaway–Dusque raised a curious eyebrow. “Just charging in?” she queried as she stabbed at the Dungeon Heart once more, her durium blade putting another crack into it. “Not going to try and fry us with magic?” she questioned rather snidely.
That made the werecheetah pause as she crushed another of the giant spiders underfoot. She blinked her eyes once, twice, thrice. “Thanks, I forgot.” The spotted blonde grinned savagely as she punched forward and a falcon-shaped fire bird ripped from her clenched fist, sending several dozen charred spiders sailing across the room.
If The Mentor hadn’t taken off to keep up with the traitorous dark elf, one could have bet that he would have been bemoaning about the lack of keeper traditions and new spells being pulled out of her ass on the fly... but at least it wasn’t, ‘Fire To Burn Fire’.
“My babies!!” the maiden of the nest shrieked as numerous little spiders began to burn to ash; cinders floating in the air from the backdraft of the fire spell’s combustion. She snarled and held her sword of dwarven steel with both hands firmly, using her full strength to strike at the Dungeon Heart as if she were taking a chisel to stone. The sharpened tip gouged into the surface again and again, making small crystalline bits chip off from the Heart in sparks of fire.
The poor gaoblin screamed louder as she continued to receive the feedback from such damage in place of her mistress due to the Martyr Enhancement that sacrificed the gaoblin in place of the werecheetah. The ex-high priestess’ skin continued to blacken with a charring effect as the glowing tears in her skin would widen and smoke with rising steam as the heat increased, causing Crescens to gain an appearance more akin to molten lava rather breaking through the earth’s crust than one of the Gardeners’ soldiers.
His body turning about with the swing of his scythe that reaped a number of the miniscule–to him–giant spiders, the crimson avatar of carnage caught sight of the pointy-eared woman’s suffering. “That doesn’t look good,” Horny murmured, not once slowing in his slaying of wildly skittering spiders left and right. “Oh well, better her than me!” he chirruped merrily. Even if he didn’t care–too much–what happened to her... well... he wasn’t going to stop killing spiders. For they were squishy and tasty when roasted over an open flame!
...Or so he had been told, as he had never had one before.
However, it looked like he wasn't going to get a chance with this batch of spiders. The kitty keeper’s flame was so intense that it was incinerating the little arachnid assholes! And he loathed the idea of having to eat dirt again, considering that was all he had for over half a millennia. “Come on, Keeper! Save some of those crunchy-munchies for the larder! I hear spider jam can be rather tasty!”
Her eyes glowing brightly, the arachnotaur snarled in the direction of the hellish warrior. “BEAST!” Dusque accused as she took aim with her thorax and fired. Her special butt attack aimed true, causing a mass of spider webbing to splatter all over the horned reaper’s face.
Although muffled by the mass of arachnid excretion, the cries from the crimson warrior were definitely a mix of curses and promises of pain, the muscled behemoth stomping his cloven hooves in a temper tantrum. He began swinging wildly with his scythe in his right hand as he used his left to pull at the mass of sticky silken wadding that clung to and obscured his face, denying him the sights of slaughter.
The werecheetah shrieked as she threw herself flat against the floor, just barely managing to avoid being cleaved through in twain by the reaper’s weapon. “WATCH IT, HORNY!” she shouted, only to shriek as more of the arachnid mob came back in full force as their main enemy was neutralized for the moment, quickly skittering all over the cat-woman and biting in a frenzy to both poison and eat her. “OW! LITTLE BASTARD! OWW!!” she roared as the felt fanged mandibles plunge into her. “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THIS OUTFIT COST!?”
Raising her head up from the suffering woman, the werecheetah’s minion stared at the mass of spiders that congregated over her employer. “It’s going to cost you and Crescens more if you don’t stop her from destroying your Heart, Mistress!” Ayane shouted in warning, torn between the need to aid the woman who saved her from Keeper Xin in combat and following her female feline superior’s order to protect the afflicted gaoblin.
Britanny snarled, the reminder of what Crescens was going through was really pissing her off, lighting a proverbial fire under her ass both figuratively and literally. “Get...” the spotted blonde’s hands erupted in flames. “The hell...” the spiders started to skitter away as the female werecat’s body began generating a rather powerful aura, casting a red light from her frame. “OUT OF MY WAY!!!” The werecheetah roared ferociously as she slammed both of her hands onto the ground, sending out a rising wave of pure flame travelling outwards in all directions, turning any spiders caught within the rolling corona of fire to ash.
Coincidentally, it also had the effect of freeing Horny from the spider webbing that threatened to asphyxiate him... also coincidentally, it incarnated the green crushed velvet suit he’d mixed with his armor, leaving him in only his proper reaper attire once more. Bless it! I really need to find clothes that are as fireproof as I am! the demonic warrior thought bitterly as he looked down to see the cinders that had been his chosen outerwear wafting on the breeze of the fire spell’s combustion.
Staring in shock at the destruction that had taken place, the maiden of the nest’s jaw flapping wordlessly for a moment before her mind could catch up with what had occurred. “...What the FUCKING HEAVEN was that!?” Dusque screamed as her precious babies were torched, fried, incinerated, vaporized, and just flat-out burned to a crisp by the evil, twisted, conniving, big-tittied, beastial slut in front of her.
Getting back up to her feet, the spotted feline keeper glared up at the arachnotaur, her eyes and the palms of her hands glowing deep crimson via the power of her Dungeon Heart. Suddenly, the ether vents of her shoulders and tail began to glow with power as well; a crystalline blue in stark contrast to the darkened red. “That was simply Fire To Burn Fire, BITCH!” She shouted as she raised her hands up and took aim, releasing an immense corona of fire at the direction of the spider-like woman.
In a most wise fashion, the maiden of the nest leapt from her vantage point to evade the fiery heat of vengeance. Sadly, her children that had been helping her attack the Dungeon Heart were not AS lucky, the giant spiders unable to even release tiny chirps of terror before they were instantly vaporized by the intensity of the magic flame that had been unleashed upon them. Still, even as she landed, the chosen of the dark goddess Arachnea did not relent and used the opening to attack. “You crazy bitch! You’ll kill us all!” the violet-tressed maiden accused, her mouth opening wider as she released a twin torrent of green fluid from the corners of her mouth.
“Nope!” Horny’s shout echoed powerfully as he swung his weapon at the surprisingly nimble arachnotaur, slicing into the spider woman’s side and causing blood to rush out. “Just you...” he grinned deviously as he had her pinned now. That would teach the woman for spurting her spider webbing in his face. That crap was unsanitary and he was a gentleman’s horned reaper of sophistication, thank you very much!
Dusque screamed as the curved blade of the reaper’s scythe tore into her, piercing through the chitin of her armored spider abdomen. She turned her head, her pupils glowing red as her rage began to rise. “You idiot!” She snarled as she firmly grasped onto the shaft of the scythe with her right hand to deny the large demon the chance to tear her wound open further. Although she trembled and began to sweat from the pain as she was bleeding out, the arachnotaur accusingly stated, “Keeper! Just because you have a horned reaper does not mean this is the end! King Reginald is going to kill you when he finds out you’ve set up a dungeon right under his nose!”
Although she was huffing deeply from the exertion of her power, Britanny stared at the woman Horny had skewered on the end of his weapon. “King Reginald?” she queried, the arachnid-woman’s warning having taken her by surprise. “Who the hell is this, ‘King Reginald’?” the werecheetah demanded to know.
“He is the one whom sits on the Throne of Skybird Trill! The King of all Alecressst!” she hissed out that last part as the demonic warrior showed no mercy, tugging on his weapon ever so slowly, a gleam of delight in his eyes as he could see the darkened life-blood oozing out of the foul creature; the giant spiders that managed to survive the slaughter skittering around him like mad as he tortured their mother.
“So, Keeper...” Horny cooed as he relished the pain he was inflicting on this woman who thought she could destroy his employer while they were all out. “What shall we do with this one? Shall I cut her open like a blind cave fish or do you want to have the honor of frying her sorry thorax?” He licked his lips as he gazed over the woman with an appraising eye. “Either way, it looks like I’m in for quite a meal...” he chuckled darkly, feeling his dark appetites singing.
“It would be so easy to kill her...” the werecheetah narrowed her eyes, gazing over the woman that reminded her of a centaur... if they came in an arachnid form rather than equine. “But then again, information is more important right now.” She looked at Ayane and then back at Dusque and smirked. “Besides, I’m sure my new Elite dark mistress could get... invaluable information out of her!”
His shoulders sagging, Horny released a long-suffering sigh. “Bless it!” he cursed in traditional underworldian tongue. “I was looking forward to eating her.”
“You’ve been eating more than enough lately! You can let this one go. But for now...” Britanny looked up at her Dungeon Heart and winced. The power was pulsing more steadily now but the damage was done. The source of her powers was cracked, chipped and looked like a piece of pottery that survived a war-zone rather than an arcane artifact of ultimate power. The deed had been done and someone was going to pay. “Horny, you keep her pinned–”
“I’M ALREADY PINNED!” the arachnotaur wailed as the dark pool of fluid began to grow beneath her, the maiden’s blood continuing to flow out of her side and onto the alternating tiles of black and white marble.
Turning towards the woman who had invaded her dungeon, the werecheetah glared. “Figure of speech,” Britanny snorted. “Anyway, keep watch on the spider-woman, Horny...” her eyes narrowed and her upper lip pulled back in a snarl. “I’m going to find the damned elf...” as she said that, she walked over to the spider webbing that encased the Mega-Imp and began to slice it with her claws as she pulled and tugged the cocoon-like casing open. “Come on, big guy!” she shouted to the behemoth tunneling Minion as it began to pull free from its confines. “You stay here and see what you can do about Crescens. I have a score to settle with that ungrateful freeloader!”
“IMP!!” the massive Dungeon Heart homunculus roared in agreement as its creator, ready to do as told... and all too eager to take revenge against its tormentor and would-be murderer.
“You know you’re screwed ten ways from Tuesday, right?” The Mentor queried as he continued to float above the passageway of running water; the dark elf below the apparition doing his best to wade through the underground river. “You could have been on easy street, able to spend all the time you wanted with Crescens and paid handsomely for your works... but now...” he left the statement hanging, enjoying the terror that coursed through the panic-stricken sylvan.
“Shut up!” the elven fashion designer cried out. “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” he shouted again and again as he fought against the current, trying to swim away from the dungeon keeper. “I’m trying to think here!”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s incredibly difficult for you, given your... shall we say, limited ability to do much of anything right now,” The Mentor quipped with a dark chortle, enjoying how unnerved the wretch was as he frantically paddled through the water. “But then again, that was blatantly obvious when you attacked the Mistress’ heart.”
His right eye twitching, the sylvan male looked up at the ghost for a moment. “She was going to enslave me! What was I supposed to do!?” he demanded of the cat-woman sex slave’s advisor as he continued to wade through the underground river; his white dress-shirt billowing around his lithe frame like a parachute as it filled with water.
Although he had no definitive physical features, the apparition managed to convey that he was raising an eyebrow. “What do you think you were supposed to do? Submit! She proved herself the greater power... although I don’t blame you for what you tried, it’s only natural for an underworlder...” as his eyes narrowed, the feeling that he was smirking seemed to exude from the spirit. “However, you failed... and we all know the price for failure, don’t we?”
A cold chill went up the dark elf’s spine. “STOP TALKING!!” The Tailor roared as he continued to fight the current. “Not much further now. Once I make it to land, I can follow the caverns out of here! I may have to travel above ground for a while but I’ll make it back to where I belong! And I will see to it that Skid Row suffers for the unjust indignities that have been heaped upon me!”
“...Once you make it to land?” The Mentor chuckled once more. “What makes you think you’ll leave here alive? By now the Mistress of this dungeon will have purged her realm of the vile vermin you let loose into her home and is likely to come here and devour your soul. Or maybe she’ll just strip you naked and feed you to rats...” then as an afterthought, he added, “Or she could summon an octopus.”
That lingering threat gave the retreating dark elf a moment of pause. “...What would she be able do with that?”
The Mentor, if he had a face, would have been grinning maliciously at The Tailor. “You don’t want to know.”
Unsure of just what the ghost was insinuating, the sinister sylvan decided he would rather NOT know. So turning his attention away from the undead, the dark elf continued to wade his way towards escape. “Doesn’t matter! Lady Dusque is a maiden of the nest, an ELITE at that: most blessed of my people’s patron goddess Arachnea’s children! She and her minions can handle it! The Heart was already on its last legs before the cat-bitch showed up!” Then after a few moments, he added, “And even if Lady Dusque wasn’t somehow able to end that vile, overweight sex-slave, she is certainly enough to slow her down to allow me to escape!”
“Yeah... a funny thing about that...” The Mentor began before disappearing and reappearing right in front of the Tailor, the water just flowing through his ethereal presence unimpeded. “Under normal circumstances, you may have had a point. Even if she is doesn’t use magic the way a proper Dungeon Keeper would... not to mention that she’s a rather overweight cat-woman, fit only to be someone’s scullery maid sex-slave...” The ghostly advisor admitted, what with his feline protégé having such large tits and a nice rounded ass that any sane man or woman would want her as a sex-slave.
The dark elf just stared at the addled apparition for a long moment. “Are... are you actually going somewhere with this?”
Slowly, the ghost nodded his head somberly. “Yes. The point is, while she might not be the best Dungeon Keeper, you still made one crucial mistake.” The Tailor’s eyes widened as The Mentor started to glow, illuminating the cavernous passage. “You got her angry enough to allow me deal with you!”
The Tailor paused in his swimming, just wafting in the water as he looked up at the glowing spirit, a feeling of trepidation filling him... before realization took hold. His eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, the dark elf accusingly declared, “You’re bluffing! You’re just a disembodied spirit! Unlike proper ghosts, you’re not powerful enough to interact with the mortal realm! I saw it with my own eyes back at my shop! You tried to touch that sword of Keeper Raksasha’s and couldn’t! There’s nothing you can do to stop me! NOTHING!”
A chuckle reverberated through the passage, bouncing off the stone walls. “Oh, how wrong you are elf...” the spiritual advisor to Keeper Cheetah replied rather snidely. “You see, there is something that you’ve forgotten I am quite capable of...” he trailed off, the blurred facial features contorting enough as they stretched out to imply that the spirit was grinning.
Still floating in the water, The Tailor could only impatiently query, “That being?”
“A distraction.”
Before the dark elf could demand to know what he meant, he was suddenly tackled from behind, the fashion designer being plunged beneath the flowing water’s surface with a splash as the damned werecheetah pounced him.
The Mentor laughed maniacally as Britanny held the dark elf under the water. Oh, this was going to be amusing. He always loved watching the woman give into her dark emotions, as it allowed the Dungeon Heart to take hold... and it was going to need her if it were to heal. Oh yes, this was most definitely a, ‘killing two birds with one stone’ maneuver if he ever saw one!
Her hands clasping tightly around the neck of the son of a bitch who’d caused her nothing but grief since meeting him, the werecheetah stared down into the flow of the river, the dark elf’s visage obscured by the running water. “Any last words, scum?”
“Ggggrphhggggllle!” was the skilled sylvan sartor’s burble of a reply as he struggled against the werecat’s superior strength holding him beneath the surface of the water.
“...I mean, besides, ‘Gurgle gurgle’.” the woman dead-panned as the dark elf flailed his arms wildly within the water, futilely trying to stave off drowning. Smirking, Britanny then openly mocked, “Come on and say something! Anything! You were just so free with your opinions before! Let ‘em rip!”
Floating over so he was beside his chosen apprentice, the ghostly presence managed to convey a smirk once more. “You know, Keeper Cheetah, he would probably have more to say if you let him up.” The Mentor commented in an off-handed fashion, not really caring one way or the other if the dark elf lived or died this day. Oh no, this exercise was all about cultivating the woman’s mindset into that of a proper Keeper.
Turning her annoyed gaze towards her advisor, Britanny raised an eyebrow. “Do I really have to listen to him?” She felt she’d listened enough to the pompous asshole to last her a lifetime.
Shrugging his shoulders, the spirit replied, “Couldn’t hurt. You’ve already got him where you want him. What harm could it do to prolong his suffering all that much further?” Yes, The Mentor truly didn’t care about the dark elf’s fate now... because he was good as dead. But if he could cultivate the evil within his protégé via a torture regime on a target she genuinely hated...
“...You know Mentor, that evil laughter isn’t comforting. At all...” the spotted werecat dead-panned. “Especially not when you hunch over and steeple your hands together.” She then turned her attention to the flailing dark elf. “And you! Give me a minute, will you!?”
Composing himself in a more professional manner once more, the ghost was more than happy to suggest, “Sorry... but think of it this way, Keeper.” What could have been the spirit’s eyes narrowed into slits, as if someone were squinting. “As your enemy he deserves to know your full wrath. Perhaps a stay in the dungeon will give you the closure you need rather than a quick and messy kill.”
The werecheetah was silent for a moment, taking in what the ghost had suggested. Frowning, she finally relented. “All right. But if this comes back to bite me in the ass, your own butt is on the line!” She told the spirit in a threatening manner, her eyes flashing with the power of her–admittedly damaged–Dungeon Heart.
“Considering my incorporeal state, I rather doubt that...” was The Mentor’s rather brusque response. “Now do bring him up, otherwise he’ll be joining his ancestors pretty soon...” a deep chuckle reverberated from the apparition. “And I do believe you could do so much before having him leap off this mortal coil...”
Rolling her eyes, the spotted werecat irritably muttered, “Yeah, yeah...” for as much as she hated to admit it, vengeance was a rather good reason for prolonging his life at the moment. So with a mighty pull, the female lycanthrope forced the elven asshole out of the water; the man sputtering and gasping for air most violently, going into a coughing fit. When his gagging and hacking fit subsided enough, the feline keeper commanded of him, “Any last words, you bastard rat-fink?”
Taking a deep breath, the dark elven fashion designer bellowed, “MERCY!” he coughed again, more liquid and phlegm dripping down his chin. “Mercy, oh wise and benevolent dungeon keeper! I beg from you mercy, oh most divine, wise, caring, beautiful–”
“CAN IT!” the werecheetah roared, interrupting the dark elf’s deluge of false praise. Britanny snarled as she pulled him close so that the sylvan son of a bitch was eye-to-eye with her. “I don’t want to hear your bullshit! I want to know what the hell you were thinking!”
When the spotted feline woman didn’t immediately behead him, The Tailor came to the realization that, yes, this was a real command and not a rhetorical question. Gulping for air, he did his best to answer. “I just wanted the lovely lady Crescens for myself?” The dark elf teared up, his voice cracking a bit from the whining tone he conveyed.
Trembling from both growing rage and the cold of the flowing water she stood in, Britanny glared down at the effeminate elf. “You do realize you almost killed her too, right?” At the sudden confused look on his face, the werecheetah explained, “I don’t know the full story myself so don’t ask for details, but at some point Crescens cast a martyr enchantment on herself to protect me... so instead of me being the one feeling intense pain, she is!” Her eyes were practically piercing The Tailor’s as she glared. “That could have been me, but instead, it’s Crescens who suffers in my steed... you almost killed her along with me!”
The dark elf’s mouth world silently, his jaw working up and down in an effort to say something, anything! “I... no... impossible...” The Tailor shook his head violently. “You lie! It’s not possible!” he shouted in a mixture of denial and fear.
“Search your feelings, you know it to be true!” The Mentor quipped from above the two. “After all, if she hadn’t then wouldn’t the Mistress here be in tremendous pain and splitting apart instead of trying to kill you?”
“NO~OOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The Tailor wailed in terror.
The werecheetah twitched. This seemed all too familiar to her for some odd reason... however, what she DID know was that she didn’t like the whiny little bitch screaming in her face, so she quickly dunked him back underneath the surface of the water, hands around his throat as she strangled him once more.
Gazing down at the grisly and rather endearing sight before him, the ghostly apparition queried, “So that’s it? You plan to drown him and leave his water-logged corpse behind?” and after all that buildup he’d given her to continue his torture...
“Yeah. What about it?” Britanny queried as she strangled him with ease. “He’s a threat! After what he did to Crescens, he doesn’t deserve to live!” she snarled. “You may want him alive for torture, but having to listen to him reminded me of just how much I hate his guts! Fashion be damned, he’s as good as dead!”
And for the werecheetah to think of common sense before designer clothing, one knew she was being damned serious.
Although his facial features were muted, the ghost managed to convey a frown. He only had one shot at this, otherwise the woman was going to kill a useful pawn in taking his trainee down the dark path; he’d better make this count. “True...” The Mentor began by agreeing with her. “He is a threat that should be nipped in the bud. But just think!” he chirruped in a surprisingly energetic tone, despite the somber and serious atmosphere. “You have an elite dark mistress at your disposal AND you have the knowledge to create a high quality torture chamber for her. Don’t you want to prolong his suffering for days... if not weeks... or maybe even months? Years!?”
Even as she kept the flailing form of the dark elf submerged, Britanny could feel her resolve begin to crack. That would be one way for him to make reparations for her friend’s pain. “...You... you have a point.”
“...And...?” The Mentor would have raised an eyebrow if he had one.
The werecheetah continued to hold The Tailor down as she stood in the underground river. “...I’m considering my options...” she murmured. The dark elf’s struggles were lessening. Maybe if she just waited...
Reaching his right hand out to motion to the water, the ghost replied, “The longer you take...” he left the statement hanging. He knew what she was going for and wasn’t allowing it. He just needed to cajole her a little longer...
Twitching in response, the spotted blonde knew what she was going to have to do... and that she was going to hate herself for it. She didn’t consider herself someone who killed in cold blood, but oh how tempting it was when it came to this elven asshole. “FINE!” Britanny growled irritably and with a mighty heave pulled the Tailor out of the water once more.
The dark elf gasped and sputtered, looking like a water-logged rat. “Guh...” he coughed, a glut that was a mix of water and phlegm trailing down his face as he cleared his lungs. “Oh...” the fashion designer cough again. “Oh thank you, wise and merciful Keeper! Thank you for this second cha–”
He never got to finish speaking as he was suddenly crushed within the grasp Britanny’s Hand of Evil, the magical white construct of the werecheetah’s power holding him firmly so he couldn’t escape, let alone speak. “Come on, Mentor,” the spotted blonde feline woman told the ghost. “Let’s get back to my dungeon. There’s... much to be done...”
“Good.” The Mentor nodded and followed Britanny as she started to head back to her dungeon. Oh yes, there was MUCH to do... and when settled, he would bring his plan concerning Keeper Belial to her. He understood that of they were to run a successful dungeon that his protégé needed to consolidate her power now more than ever...
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(Posted Thu, 24 Sep 2015 17:33)
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