Version two (added what to do with the mother, imp designs, )
Krlnkir Yrlvnt
1) Stays in Dolnar, summons hundreds of coloured imps out of all that evil
2) Enjoys the tournament
3) Considers nonimpregnating sex with the wife
4) Corrupts the river
5) Studies the ring
6) Locks the mother's basement from the other side with his own locks, leaves a little hole for food, that should be provided by cultists
Army and CFM
1) Rape\kill\pillage
2) Raise zombies\skeletons\Amberashs
3) Escort princess
4) leave other towns alone, for now. Let them hope a bit, then we'll take it away, with our imp\ghoul armies
5) Participate in the tournament
The princess
1) Enjoys the tournament
2) Considers nonimpregnating sex with the husband
3) Finds a horse and together with "guards" (20 Skeletal Knights, 20 Armoured Sintaurs, 20 Barrtal Knights, 70 spectre, and, most importantly, 10 black dragons ) Goes to Aviermore and diplomatically tries to conviece them to give up \\ princess should prefer less bloody way \\
Tournament
1) Participants: Randomly chosen (40 Armed Cultists, 50 skeletal Warriors, 5 novice wizards, 300 ghouls, 100 Barrtal Swordsmen, 25 beastmen, 20 Baneghouls, 5 Skeletal Knights, 5 Barrtal Knights, 5 Armoured Sintaurs, 6 Water Elementals, 5 green imps, 25 Yellow Imps, 25 Blue Imps, 5 Captive Monster-Hunters, 5 Acolytes)
2) Place: Either island on the Barr river, or inside Dolnar walls, or some other place
3) Rules: Fight to the death, last men standing. Krlknkyr and rest of the army cut any attempts to escape
4) Reward: Barrsdoom, Chapion status, demonic fixing if nearly dead, 50 resources and physical\mental might if the champion is to stupid to wield the axe and\or too small for it)
Realm
1) Loot Dolnar, transfer resources to Barrspring\Akataki, stockpile
2) Build dry docks for big warships, \\really, I think fleet is very useful, and we should brainstorm a bit about ship's design \\
Cults
1) Build secret temples in remote evil places
New imp designs
Appearance: Cloudlike,
Advantages:
1) Flying,
2) can change weather (very marginally) ,
3) weak lightning attack
Disadvantages:
1)Very-very slow
2)Can be blown away by a strong wind
3)Easily destroyed by air elementals,
4)Almost non-existent physical might
Advantadges:
1) Pretty Stealthy,
2) Not bad soldiers, can use human like weapons,
3) Good farmers (but their plants are... unusual),
4) Love to "adopt" humanoid children and either eat them or teach their magic.
5) Love obsidian and can use it to build impressive buildings.
Disadvantages\habits.
1) Have a mysterious limit on how many plants can creature damage in their presence, stronger creature = higher limit. If limit is reached - berserk attack: May even rebel against Greater demon.
2) Rivalry with black imps
Oh, Pretty Princess. What have you gotten yourself into?
As you sit upon the walls of the palace in your new dress (similar to the wedding dress, but more practical, and also made from actual cloth), looking out over the burnt-out shell of the city, and the river- which, as promised, runs red with blood from here into the distance-, you can't help but feel... like you should feel a lot more upset than you currently feel.
Even more than the apathy, however, you worry about the small voice in the back of your head which is giggling with glee at all of this death and destruction.
In the square before Dorael's temple, you can see your husband towering over the buildings, sucking a vague blackness from the air, and between his hands (one still bearing the ring, which resizes itself, and remains impossible to remove), forming it into little imps. Hundreds of the colourful tykes pour between his fingers, and gleefully/madly/glumly/manically/mysteriously/lazily/gaily spread throughout the city.
Around his feet the dead rise, spirits cackle, and men change.
You tap your ring.
Your husband's voice rasps into your ears. Eliza!
Dearest. What can I do for you?
You announce that you are bored.
The demon offers to send you some imps to play with.
You say that imps are boring.
He suggests that you could go see how the set up for the tournament is going.
You sigh.
He offers to send his dragons to follow you around constantly.
You shudder.
He says that if you wait until he's done with these imps, you could consummate your marriage.
You retch. You know what, you say, you think you
will go and see how the tournament is doing.
It is a short ride from Dolnar to the Dead Man's Barr. The Styx, a half-jokingly named tributary, splits about half a mile before joining the Barr, and Styx One and Styx Two -together with the Barr itself-, cut off a narrow piece of land, forming a sort-of-island: Dead Man's Barr. Swampy, rough, overgrown with sickly trees- and tombstones. For Dead Man's Barr- the entire island- has been used as a cemetery for centuries. Every corpse from Dolnar with nowhere else to go gets carted here and thrown into a pit half dug with spades, half with buckets, and given a tombstone and a quick prayer. There are also some larger crypts, from when DMB was a classy place to get buried- after a story circulated about some great hero being buried there, there was a trend for knights and nobles from old Barrtal to have stone tombs built, and carefully waterproofed by the finest masons in the land. This lasted for about a decade, after which it became apparent that the best masons in the land could not waterproof things as well as they thought they could.
Naturally, folks have been avoiding the place recently, what with the whole 'undead' thing. However, it took but a word from your husband, and all the undead neatly filed out of the place, to join his armies, and giving his engineers access to the place. They were to build a series of palisades and gates, and a host of stands- like those at a tourney field, and several cages. The palisades are to keep the competitors on the island. The stands are to let people watch in comfort as the competitors kill each other. The cages are to hold any competitors who are not eager about competing.
You ride up to the bridge. The guard there nods amicably to you, hands you a coin and tells you to throw it in the water. You ask why. He points at the shadows under the bridge. Three sets of yellow eyes glare back. You throw the coin in the water. One of the sets of eyes darts forwards, and you get a brief glimpse of rows of blue skin and rows of sharp teeth, and then the eyes retreat back into the darkness. It's you or the coin, the guard explains.
...Blue Imps, why not. You cross the bridge, and are greeted by a 'knight'. Princess!, he exclaims. So good to see you!
You recognise him- he helped you train your swordplay for a while. You greet him coldly.
The knight seems unfazed. He offers to show you around. You accept.
You see ghouls -twisted humans with skin diseased and burnt, minds like animals, and a taste for human flesh- hammering and sawing under the careful direction of a human foreman. The ghouls may be stupid, but they can take orders, and work hard. Though work began only two days ago, already it is nearing completion.
The stands and walls, the knight explains, will be enchanted by Krlnkir Yrlvnt to prevent competitors from interfering with them. Thousands of Krlnkir's followers will be able to revel in the bloodbath, and be there to congratulate the winner when stands alone, Barrsdoom in hand, new general of the Dark Lord's armies.
You ask if he will be participating. Oh yes, he says, oh yes. He had the good fortune of being chosen for this great honour. And he intends to win, he says, even if all his limbs are cut off one by one. You point out that he would have difficulty fighting at that point. He replies that he will bite his enemy's legs off.
The tour continues. A small forge has been set up on a dry patch of ground, and seven black imps are busy hammering out nails and sharpening swords. For construction, but also to fix participant's equipment, the knight explains. If you snap your sword in half whilst hacking a Baneghoul to pieces, this lot'll fix it for you, if you can make it here alive. During the tournament?, you ask. Oh yes, he says. They're strange buggers, but they can work wonders with metal in the blink of an eye.
The tour ends by a row of wooden cells. Trapped within are a motley collection of treacherous soldiers- cowards who could not face the risk, the knight explains. They will fight regardless, but they'll have to make do without armour or weapons. In a stronger cage are trapped five men who, unlike the soldiers, are well armed and armoured, and with blades of silver and amulets of protection at that. Monster hunters, the knight explains, caught and tortured at the CFM. They should liven things up a little bit, though I doubt they'll last long.
One of the women looks up. She recognises you, and walks up to the bars to talk to you. She motions to send the knight away. You tell the knight to wander off. He complies. The woman whispers to you. She can tell that the demon has placed a spell on you, she says, but that you are not fully under his grasp. If you free them, and help them escape, they can remove the curse before it becomes permanent.
You laugh in her face. The 'curse', you say, is the only thing keeping me alive. Secondly, I have another curse- you hold up your ring- which a thousand wizards working side by side could not remove.
The woman cringes. Okay, she admits, we can't help you. But you can still help us. Please.
You say you'll consider it.
You return to the knight's side. One last cell remains: this one made of stone and steel, which crackles with magical energy. Within, twenty massive Baneghouls slumber in enchanted sleep. The knight looks at the creatures with defiance in his eyes.
These will be participating as well?, you ask in disbelief. Oh yes, the knight says. These will be participating. Don't worry, though- I know a trick to killing 'em. You see, they really love eating. So what you do is, you take a limb from a fallen warrior- or one of your own, whatever, and use it to distract them. Then, you use a bow to shoot each of the six faces, and then you finish off the big head, and down they go. You can also lure them into groups of other competitors, killing two birds with one stone- the things are strong, but if they take too many blows at once, their regeneration can't keep up, and one critical hit to their major organs will at the very least knock them out for an hour- enough time to finish them off in peace.
You sound like you've got this all planned out, you say. Oh yes, he assures you. He has a strategy for every enemy, he's scouted out the best places to ambush, the best places to counter-ambush, and has even 'acquired' some documents listing where each group of competitors will begin. He describes a few of his cleverer tricks. The way he tells of slaying his opponents makes your blood begin to boil. You too yearn to wield a sword in anger. When he mimes crushing a skeleton's skull with his pommel, you imagine yourself holding the sword, crushing the skull into fragments of lifeless bone. When he speaks of how he will drop down from a ruined column to surprise people on the path below, you can see yourself sneaking up behind a hapless soldier and snapping his neck.
Sounds like fun, you say. He is glad that you agree. If only those soldiers in the cages would understand that. His fellow knights do, he says. They are jealous that he has been chosen to fight instead of them- they offered to swap places, but no sir. They will just have to watch as he claims Barrsdoom for himself.
You nod thoughtfully. Say, you begin, we're about the same height, right? He measures with his hand and confirms it. And your helmet, you say, it covers your entire face, right? That's right, he says. And those imps, you say, do you think they could refit a suit of armour between, say, now and the start of the tournament? He laughs. They could probably do it in an hour, he says. Why do you ask?
Oh, you say, no reason.
Lets stop being a pretty princess for the moment.
We'll go back to being a demon for a while.
You are a pretty demon. Wait, what, no. You are an ugly demon. Wait.
...
...
...
You are a demon. You finish up the summoning of imps. The ruins still pulse with evil, but you have used most of that which was easily accessible. You summoned five hundred imps or so, as well as raising more sintaurs, zombies, skeletons, spectres, and mutating a few survivors into beastmen loyal to your cause.
You commune with Balthanor at the Church of the Flames of Madness. He reports success on the experiments with Biolopolyboli, and has managed to create a tormented turret, or, aha, a Turrment. They have also produced many more Biolopolyboli for your other forces to wield, which have been shipped to the city. Twenty-six, to be precise. He apologizes that there are not more, but it requires great skill and concentration to properly construct them. But, he volunteers, he believes that with the right equipment, he could speed up construction- and now that there is no need for secrecy, they can 'acquire' more workers with ease; in the future, Biolopolyboli will be more plentiful.
You oversee the looting of Dolnar for a while, then eat a few slaves that just weren't working hard enough. Slave-galleys transport the resources upriver to Akataki- which, you understand, is becoming quite the fortress, with all the resources being poured into it. Some peasants complain about the high tax rates. These are informed that if they will not work and provide for your realm, they are free to pay there taxes another way. Got any family members you don't like much?
A more serious concern, raised by the lords of the land, is one of trade. Whilst Barrtal does not suffer from the misfortune of requiring food imports, it still isn't quite self sufficient. Much of what comes out of its mines is meant to be sold, in exchange for various other goods which make life bearable. This trade happened in Dolnar. With no more Dolnar, that trade is disrupted. This is not a problem at the moment... but if they remain unable to trade, shortages will occur, whilst your peons sit on piles of gold, wool, and other 'useless' things.
They suggest either conquering some of the Forest Kingdoms (Nagaron, for example), or establishing a new center of trade, and convincing foreign merchants that the razing of Dolnar is nothing to worry about. Not immediately, of course- but preferably before next winter, so that they can get what they need to survive the snows.
Of course, you could just let them starve and freeze.
Several hours later- early morning- you have finished your mundane tasks, accepted and distributed the twenty-five Biolopolyboli, eaten a few messengers who wanted to talk to you, and can now finally begin the tournament. You join the mass of people flocking to Dead Man's Barr, though you stride overhead whilst they bow before you and praise your name. At the island, you take your seat upon a great stone throne, carved especially for this occasion, overlooking the clearing wherein Barrsdoom lies- stuck in a rock, just waiting to be taken. You watch contently as the contestants file onto the island from various points, where they await your command to begin. Spectators fill out the stands, chatting excitedly about what they expect to see.
Eventually, all is ready.
You rise.
All present (save a few monster hunters, and various beasts incapable of speech) praise your name. You feel the rush of power- insignificant next to the constant flow provided by your thousands of subjects all the time, but empowering nonetheless. You cast a series of great wards upon the stands, the walls, and the island itself, as that none may leave without your say.
Then, in your native tongue, you bid the game... Begin.
Immediately the sound of steel striking steel rings out, as groups of competitors turn on each other and start killing. The roars of Baneghouls awakening across the island fills the air. Soon the first cries of pain signal a fallen warrior; many others soon follow. A pair of knights- one skeletal, one human, ride into the clearing, bashing their shields against each other as they ride. As they enter the clearing, they separate, and slow; circling the stone containing Barrsdoom, and each other. On some unspoken signal they stop; face each other, and lower their lances.
And then, upon another unspoken signal, they charge. Clumps of wet earth are thrown up by thundering hooves; both riders focussing on holding their lance steady, watching their opponent, and angling their shield to best deflect the oncoming blow. Then the skeletal horse seems to stumble- ever so slightly, throwing the knight out of his concentration, causing his lance to swing wildly to one side. The skeleton raises his shield against the lance- but the lance is not aimed at him. The lance is aimed at the horse's skull. It strikes; a weak blow- had it hit the rider, it would not have unseated him. But the horse's skull is not so sturdy as it's riders sitting; the lance cracks the bone, and shatters the skull- whereupon the 'horse' falls apart into a pile of bones, sending its rider falling to the ground. To his credit, the skeleton recovers quickly, drawing his sword and turning to face his opponent- but he has no chance; the lance strikes, again at the skull, destroying him in a single blow.
The knight quickly drops his lance, rides over to Barrsdoom, and with a bit of effort, yanks it out of the stone. A sintaur, a captive swordsman in place, charges into the clearing, and another human knight charges in from the other side. The first knight raises the axes, and in a single well-timed swing, decapitates both foes as they ride past; taking a hit with a sword from each- though it does not pierce his armour.
Now a horde of ghouls swarms into the clearing, along with several groups of armed cultists, soldiers, beastmen, and a Baneghoul chasing after a novice wizard. The knight rides through the horde of ghouls, hacking several to pieces with the axe, before riding off into the forest.
Now the clearing degrades into a chaotic, free for all melee, with blood, limbs, and bodies flying through the air. The Baneghoul falls under a hail of blows; the cultists fall to the superior skill of the soldiers, who in turn fall to the mighty beastmen- who in turn fall from exhaustion after slaughtering dozens of ghouls. As the ghouls settle down to feed, the novice wizard emerges from behind a rock, a fireball in each hand, with which he kills half a dozen ghouls, and then a few more with some hasty spellcasting before the remaining ghouls break through his wards and tear him to pieces. Peace finally descends upon the clearing, as the last few surviving ghouls gorge themselves upon the fallen.
You quickly bore of watching ghouls eat, and project your vision across the island, looking for interesting things. You see green imps, lurking in shallow pools, luring lone soldiers into treacherous bogs, where their armour drags them down, to their deaths. You see yellow imps, hanging from trees, dropping onto the unsuspecting heads of passing cultists, laughing manically as the cultists screams bubble through their gelatinous form, until all but the skull has been dissolved. You see blue imps lurking in foetid pools, leaping out to tear into a careless skeleton.
You see five monster hunters, working together, stalking through the woods, analytically and efficiently taking out any competitor they come across- their silver blades doing major damage to a majority of the competitors. They seem undefeatable, when six water elementals rise as one from a series of pools, and knock them off their feet with bursts of compressed water. They then leap upon the prone figures, and start drowning them. The monster hunters clench their teeth and flail their swords, slaying the elementals; yet two of their number have already passed out, and their attempts to revive them are hindered by a skeletal knight crashing down the path towards them; they flee, whilst the knight finishes off their companions; blood and water both spilling from their slit throats.
Someone asks you where Eliza is. You come back to your body. A slightly nervous-looking cultist has edged up to your throne, and informs you that Eliza has not shown up. You think for a moment, then tap your god-given ring.
Eliza's voice sounds in your mind. She is breathing quite hard; as if she is running, and her voice sounds echo-y, as if she is wearing a helmet.
You ask her where she is. She gives a shout of surprise. How odd; she must be very distracted if she did not notice the ring... ringing.
Eventually, between breaths, she tells you that she is at the palace.
Doing what, you ask.
She starts to answer you, then asks you to wait a moment. Her breathing becomes more measured. You hear her take a deep breath, and then shout incoherently. She then laughs victoriously, her breathing now more of a panting.
You repeat the question.
Oh, she says, right. Uh.
Eventually she tells you that she is playing the piano.
You remark that it doesn't sound like playing the piano.
She asks you if you have ever heard her playing the piano before.
You confess that you have not.
Well then, she says.
...You ask her why she has not come to watch the tournament.
There is another pause. Her breathing is becoming more regular now.
Eventually she replies: Why on earth would she want to attend this spectacle of violence? Do you think she likes ch-
watching other people chop off the heads off of riderless sintaurs?
You privately muse how incredibly annoying this ring is. Mortals are so very hard to understand when you cannot peer into their minds. And this ring has completely locked off Eliza's mind to you.
Well?, she asks.
No, you suppose not.
Exactly, she says. Now if you'll excuse her, she can see another... sheet of music coming, she needs to get back to her piano.
The ring cuts off.
You turn to the worried cultist, and explain the situation. She raises an eyebrow, and says that they destroyed the piano whilst looting the castle.
Well then she must have fixed it, you say.
The cultist nods, confused, and leaves.
As the number of living contestants dwindles, you start mentally calling them back to the clearing. Soon they start arriving, and battle is once again joined. Ghouls fall to the blades of cultists and soldiers, who subsequently fall to the dark magics of Acolytes, who are snatched by blue imps hiding in a pool, who are killed by more cultists who pacify them with coins, then stab them through the head. The cultists fall to the blades of skeletons, who are smashed by beastmen, who are ridden down by sintaurs, who are slain by knights (both skeletal and human). And then the monster hunters arrive, and attack everyone at the same time- which causes everyone to set aside their differences for the moment, and turn on the hunters as one. The hunters fight well, and with their blades and wards manage to kill many combatants before eventually falling.
Only a few contestants remain; one human knight, without his horse, sword and shield in hand. A skeletal knight, similarly dehorsed, wielding a wicked battlescythe. Three armed cultists, two soldiers, seven beastmen, five skeletons, eleven ghouls. Two sintaurs, riders slain, fleshy tendrils writhing from their open chest, tasting the air for a new rider. Two Acolytes, surrounded by the dark glow of necromantic shields. And a single green imp, which has been lying on the ground disguised as a rock for the past twenty minutes.
Something is missing. The competitors, unanimously deciding to take a breather before returning to the fray, notice it too.
Barrsdoom.
The great axe; the prize of the fight; snatched from the stone in the first minutes of the competition. If whoever held it was slain, then the killer would have taken the axe for themselves. Which means that not only the axe is missing. But also the contestant holding it.
All eyes turn to the trees. The sound of a Baneghoul approaching... approaches. A Baneghoul holding Barrsdoom. The sentient competitors wordlessly draw closer together, and point their weapons tree-wards. A beastman takes up a fallen lance, and holds it like a pike.
And then the Baneghoul comes, crashing straight through a rotting tree, smashing it to pieces, showering the clearing in bits of wood. The Acolytes prepare their spells, the cultists aim their crossbows-
And the Baneghoul falls. Flat on its face, a thick steel bolt just protruding out of the back of its skull. And from the path cleared by the Baneghoul limps a figure. A knight; but missing pieces of armour- hastily replaced with pieces of armour taken from other warriors. Blood pours from a multitude of open wounds.
Barrsdoom across his back. A Biolopolybolos in his hands.
The grouped competitors scatter, but not before two fall to the knight's bow. And those that scatter fare no better; with pinpoint accuracy, the knight takes out half a dozen more. And then the clip was empty. The knight shrugs, and throws the bow aside. From a satchel by his waist, he takes a vial containing a glowing red liquid. He lifts up his visor briefly, downs the liquid, then throws the vial aside as well.
Calmly, he unhoists Barrsdoom from his back, and takes it in his hands. He rolls his shoulders. And then he swings the axe through the three ghouls that lunge at him, jumps to one side (his injuries healed in mere instants) to avoid the charging sintaur, cleaves through its back leg as it turns to face him, then leaves it writhing on the ground as he charges forwards, smashing the skull of a skeletal warrior with an overhead swing, blocking a beastman's mace with no hint of effort, then pushing it aside and hacking through the beastman's belly, spilling his entrails across the ground. The two Acolytes simultaneously throw pulsing orbs of dark energy at the knight; he responds by dropping the axe and shooting two balls of fire from his hands, which collide with the dark orbs, causing twin explosions which handily take out another skeleton and ghoul. The remaining sintaur, having snatched a soldier who was staring at the knight in disbelief, cautiously advances towards the knight, swinging its pike menacingly. The knight, unimpressed, kneels down to pick up Barrsdoom. The sintaur charges, levelling its pike at the prone warrior. Who rolls aside, simultaneously throwing a stoppered vial towards the sintaur. The sintaur, perhaps distracted by the vial, does not adjust the pike in time to hit the knight. Fortunately for it, when the vial shatters upon its flank it has bigger problems; to wit the immediate disintegration of the undead flesh in contact with the spilt liquid, and the slower but nevertheless disconcertingly fast crumbling of the flesh surrounding it. Its ribcage becomes exposed; then its spine, then dried out organs spill forth, and the sintaur stumbles and falls, thrashing helplessly as nature reasserts itself, and long-dead flesh assumes its rightful form.
The knight retrieves the axe from the ground, just as all the remaining ghouls charge at him. He suffers several scratches and bites, but dispatches them all. The acolytes, now standing behind a line of the remaining contestants, struggle to perform some feat of magic; whatever it is, they fail; one actually collapsing from exhaustion. The other shakes his head, and with the last of his energy, places a weak shield around each of the rest, then joins his fellow in collapsing. The remaining warriors muster their courage, and together charge the knight, circling around him; dodging back too fast for him to wield his mighty axe.
So the knight doesn't. He drops the axe, and leaps at one of the skeletons, who is too slow to raise her sword, and finds herself knocked to the ground, sword now in the hands of the knight. Thinking to take advantage, a cultist leaps forwards, swinging his axe wildly, but the knight recovers easily, blocks the axe with the skeleton's sword, and slices the cultist's neck open. As he falls, the knight grabs his axe, and turns to face his enemies once more. One of the beastmen grunts a command, and all strike as one against the knight. Though he blocks two blows, and makes to dodge away, the rest all connect; denting his armour, cutting his skin; breaking a bone in his right arm. The knight takes his injuries as best he can; dropping the sword, securing his footing, waving the axe around. But he is defeated, and he knows it; a beastman swings his club too fast for him to dodge in his injured state. The blow connects right in the stomach, caving the armour, crushing his lungs. The knight falls to the ground; twitches once, and is still.
The skeleton is the first to turn on his comrades. With no breath to catch, he almost immediately turns to stab the beastman to his right, driving his sword straight through the beastman's heart. The skeleton is unable to retract his sword in time to avoid the blow of a second beastman, who punches the skeleton in the skull, sending it flying through the air. The last cultist swings his axe at the beastman's back, leaving a deep wound but not killing her; she turns round and swings her own crude axe at the cultist, cleaving through his arm and into his side. He falls, coughing blood. The beastman who killed him is slain by a blow to the skull with the mace used to kill the knight; leaving only the beastman standing. He walks over to where Barrsdoom lies, picks it up and holds it over his head.
You silence the cheering crowds, reminding them that there are still several living competitors; albeit crippled. You will only announce a winner once there is only one living- or undead- hand holding the axe. The beastman rolls his eyes, and stalks over to the Acolytes- one of which is indeed rising and attempting to cast a spell.
Your enjoyment of watching the beastman slowly chop off the acolyte's limbs is interrupted by your ring ringing.
This had better be important, you say, not taking your eyes off the beastman.
Eliza coughs horribly. Hey, she says. Kill that beastman for me.
You ask her to repeat herself.
She coughs again- sounds like she's coughing up blood or mucus. Kill the beastman, she repeats.
You ask her if she is sure.
Please?, she says in her sweetest voice, somewhat hampered by the horrible coughing that follows..
...Fine, you say.
You kill the beastman with a blast of darkness, which simultaneously finishes off the other acolyte.
One more thing, you hear Eliza say. Just give me a tiny boost. I can't quite get up.
You send a tiny amount of energy into the ring.
And then, to your great surprise, the knight, presumed dead, arises, rolls his shoulders and takes off-
Her helmet? This is a completely unexpected development! You did not see this coming at all!
For the knight who with trickery and potions and a wide variety of fighting skills managed to slaughter dozens of fellow competitors was no knight at all! It would appear, now revealed for the first time to you and all the spectators, that it was all along Princess Eliza!!!
:O
She proceeds to remove her chest armour- which was indeed caved, but thanks to the padding worn beneath to disguise her feminine physique, did not crush her lungs as was previously thought- along with various other bits and pieces, until she stands in naught but a leather tunic (heavily scratched) and a pair of leather shorts (ditto). She then limps over to where the beastman fell, removes Barrsdoom from the pile of ash, then drags the axe along the ground, where she uses it to crush an entirely innocent rock which was actually the last green imp- and, conveniently, the last challenger to her victory.
Still confused, slightly annoyed (and really annoyed that you fell for that whole piano business), you arise from your throne, and declare Eliza the winner.
That the confused crowds can understand. They cheer, roar, request that Eliza show them her breasts- to which she responds with rude gestures-, and chant her name. Eliza grins widely, leaning on Barrsdoom for support, accepting the cheers with the grace of a princess, but also the excitement of a warrior. You may not be able to read her mind, but her eyes betray a fierce bloodlust, recently sated. Her eyes meet yours for a moment, and she smiles at you.
...NOT THAT YOU CARE OR oh who are you kidding.
Later that evening you consummate your marriage. It is quite pleasant for both parties, and the marriage ends up consummated several times over, often quite violently- and not solely on your initiative.
Nevertheless. The question remains: having married this princess, whose mind is now a closed book to you, whose requests you feel strangely compelled to fulfil, and lies strangely easy to believe; can you now also make her the general of your armies, your champion warrior?
-Of course you can. What was that about sending her to diplomatically annex Aviemore? Scratch that, give her an army and send her to conquer it!
-No, no. She would have too much power. Let her keep the axe, and give her the reward money- but she can't be a general. No, you should waste her knowledge of tactics and leadership by having her sit around Dolnar moping.
-No! You will cruelly deny your wife her victory. She won, but she cheated! Multiple times! She smuggled in a Biolopolybolos somehow, she used a bunch of self-made potions to heal her injuries and hurt her opponents, and she wasn't even supposed to be in the fight in the first place! This level of evil cunning is simply unacceptable! You should do the
right thing, and disqualify her altogether. Declare the cowardly green imp the victor, as it was the last official participant standing! You can probably scrape its remains together and make a general out of it... somehow!
-I detect a certain hint of railroading in these suggestions, and would like to complain. Certainly, sir (and/or madam), you may visit our complaints department
HERE.
Yeaaaaaah. That just happened.
Anyway you have a whole mess of other stuff to take care of. The Aviemore project was put on hold for now.
Also, fun fact:
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I kid you not. Status moved to the post below.
Author
Topic: Demonhood. -Slumbering for an indeterminate number of Strange Aeons- (Read 237135 times)