Author Topic: Meeting the Empress  (Read 1270 times)

Offline Stratovarius

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Meeting the Empress
« on: March 28, 2017, 11:06:21 AM »
This was me goofing around with some stereotypes. The I in the story is an empress.

“A dwarf fighter, an elven mage, a halfling rogue, and a human cleric. Really. Did you lot just read 'How to Overthrow Your Emperor in Five Easy Steps?'” 

There were some murmurs and shuffling feet from the heroes in front of me. 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me. That book was written as a primer for children. Children. I didn't expect serious heroes were going to use it.” 

“We have made it this far, thou evil despot, and we will remove you from your throne once and for all!”  

I almost expected the cleric to pull out 'Insulting the Despot: A Verbal Guide' to check for her next line. She was certainly quoting from it.  

“Okay, let's see... I killed the human's parents, locked up the dwarf's cousin, kidnapped the elf's sister for my harem, and sold the halfling into slavery, from which he has now broken free.” 

There was more shuffling. And then an answer. 

“Not so much, y'see. We're all happily married and our families are doing just fine. We just don't like the idea of a despot, especially not one as evil as you are.” 

“Oh hell. You're all bloody do-gooders. You're not a paladin, are you?” 

The dwarf blushed. 

“Ranger, actually.” 

“A dwarven ranger. Let me guess, mountains and tunnels.” 

“Bit more of a swamp person, meself.” 

My jaw dropped. 

“You're a swamp dwarf? What the hell is that? Aside from an oxymoron. And what's your familiar, a mosquito?” 

“Snake, actually. Very useful creature.” 

“If you say 'in bed', I'm having your family disembowelled with a hot spoon while you watch.” 

Eyebrows waggled in response. 

“That's it, your entire clan is going to die. Incidentally, what's your wife's name? I want to be able to insult her while she's being tortured.” 

“Oh, I don't have a wife, I have a husband.” 

“But you're a he...” I trailed off. “Alright, which lunatic standing in front of me did you bribe into sleeping with you?” 

The elf grinned and waved. 

“An elf and a dwarf. A gay inter-racial non-stereotypical hero relationship. I'm really going to have to write some new laws about this sort of thing.” 

“Do you not appreciate the beauty of what we have?” 

That was the elf talking. 

“I may be a cannibalistic, brutal, dictator, but I can appreciate beauty. I'm quite fond of it, actually. The notes people make after their testicles are removed are exquisite. And I'm rather attracted to the elven form, right up until the point where I think of one bumping uglies with a dwarf. A short, fat, hairy dwarf. In fact, didn't I write just such a law against it?” 

“You did, but then one of your generals petitioned you to lift it so he could sleep with every elven female in the kingdom you were conquering. My homeland, incidentally.” 

“Oh, of course! Thanks for reminding me. I'll have to have the general lightly tortured, because his actions led to something as revolting as you two. And please, don't tell me the halfling and the human are shacking up too.” 

“A little bit on the side when we get bored.” 

My face dropped into my claws. 

“Fine, enough chitchat. You overcame the required challenges, you've survived the maze, fought through the guards, and are now standing before your evil overlord. So let's get to the main event, shall we?” 

The ranger brandished both his axes, the halfling pulled out a crossbow, the human a mace and his holy symbol, and the elf a large wooden stick.  

Which he then turned into a monstrous king cobra. Druid. Of course. And... yes, there it was. The elf was changing forms into something suitably big, ugly, and good for smacking people in the face. 

The holy symbol was brandished in my direction, along with a whole litany of prayers and chanting, followed immediately by a crossbow bolt. Well coordinated attack. Not bad, but they'd have to do a lot better than that. 

I slapped the crossbow out of the air, and then uncurled from the throne. This took a while, because there's a lot of me to uncurl. And no, I'm not fat, I'm just sinuous.  

Thankfully, there are a lot of limbs to help with the uncurling. Eight, in fact. And they're in need of a shave. If I don't keep the bristles neatly trimmed, they itch something awful. You try scratching an itch with a large claw. Doesn't work well, let me tell you.  

“Ow!” 

I looked down to find the snake rather manfully trying to swallow my tail. And I could feel the waves of poison it was pumping into my system. A particularly potent venom, especially against one of my breeding. I made a mental note to have my alchemists work on a solution, after all this was over. 

And then I felt my flanks being raked by the shapeshifted druid, while some axes carved gobbets of flesh from my thighs.  

All I could do was take it. Being as properly imposing as I am does mean you're a bit slow to get started when battle comes calling. Most creatures, they send a thought down to their foot, it obeys instantly. Me? My feet are practically in another kingdom. It's why I've got four brains.  

Oh, don't look at me like that, I don't have four heads. I'm a beautiful evil creature, not a corrupted one. I'm the one doing the corrupting. Anyway, brains. There's one in my head, obviously, and a further three scattered down my spine. Takes all three of those to manage moving this great big form of mine about, which is, admittedly, a bit of my own fault. I did put rather a few too many limbs on it when I first designed it. 

By this point of the fight, I was bleeding copiously, the snake had managed to stuff half his own length of my tail down his gullet, and the holy symbol that was being wafted in my face was beginning to do a bit more than just mildly irritate. 

At this rate, I was going to have to actually exert myself. So I lashed out with four legs, and all three sets of claws, as well as flinging my tail about to try and slam the druid into a wall. The heroes dodged, as I expected they would, but they'd all been forced into a bit of a clump. Which I then breathed phosphorous on.  

It's not a material you often see used by evil villains, and I don't know why. It's almost impossible to put out, and burns through damn near everything. And unlike the molten lead I used to use, it doesn't leave giant puddles of metal around that the servants have to spend weeks chipping away. Nor does it poison the servants so you have to get new ones. Training up a new butler every couple of months was such a pain. 

The phosphorous breath did what it was supposed to, and sitting in the middle of my throne room were now four very smoky corpses. 

“Pain...” 

Make that three very smoky corpses and one not-quite-dead cleric. 

I examined her. Cute, before the burning. Kind of kinky, since she'd sleep with a female halfling.  

“If you promise to serve me well, I could save you.” 

“You're evil!” 

“Look, I know that, you know that, the peasants four kingdoms over know that. What I'm offering you is your life back, complete with that nice blonde hair of yours, in exchange for a couple decades of service.” 

“Why?” 

“I'm thinking I can probably make you into an evil cleric. You know, tight leather, good possibility of whips, elegant thigh high boots. We'd have to do something about your bum though, it's looking a bit saggy for leather. But don't worry, I've got a few spells that can clear that right up. So, what do you say?” 

“Go to hell!” 

“Been there, done that, married a demon prince. Killed him later on, of course, but it was nice while it lasted.” 

There was a gasp of pain, a whimper, and some writhing from the ruined flesh on the floor. 

“I'll say yes, as long as you shut up.” 

“Perfect, it's a done deal. Your soul, in exchange for your body.” 

“You never mentioned my soul!” 

I sighed. 

“How do you think I keep control of such a vast apparatus of government? Spies are too inefficient, and even I don't have enough limbs to do it all myself. If I was going to try that, I'd have turned myself into a squid with a compensation problem.” 

I gestured to the servants, who had been listening in from their alcoves. 

“They'll clean you up, get you healed, and at some point I'll be back to finish up our little agreement. But first, a barbecued snack!” 

The servants had arranged the three dead heroes on platters, each one artfully formed to best portray the meat in question. Still in their armour, of course. When you're my size, the phrase 'iron in your diet' takes on a whole new meaning. 

“I'll start with the dwarf.” 

The only sound louder than the crunching of bone and armour was the weeping of the cleric as she was carried away.