--- Aphrodite POV
He doesn’t speak to me, instead, his joy issues forth without warning and I slam my chest against and wrap my arms around the stalactite to hang on as my head is thrown back. The warmth of a hug, the kiss of a loved one or the caress of a lover are all poor comparisons to the celebration radiating from Azizos the Quest Dungeon. Time flows by; an instant, a heartbeat or several heartbeats and I sense no minion within his Dungeon can keep count, all in a pleasurable rapture depending upon their inclinations. The lustful howling of Orcs reaches my ears, the image of their engorged members still engraved upon my mind. The crunch and blast of thrown boulders by the Ogres a supporting echoing hum and then I worry about myself.
My eyes roll back further and with a final shudder of my body, the ripple of pleasure subsides, my deep rapid breaths slowing and my eyes focusing. My warm cheeks cool upon the damp stalactite as a welcome relief, while a stirring in my loins reminds and yet doesn’t reveal to me, a loss. I wail like a mother who has lost their child. How can I when I haven’t suffered such a trauma? Yet, my heart aches, torn asunder revealing a hollowness and only by filling this void do I determine, will I heal the hurt of my loss. How?
My screaming halts as warm tears roll into my howling mouth, the dying echo reverberates within the Cavern, and I sob anew. The anguish within my fading scream is overwhelming as my memory fails me. I hug the cold unfeeling stalactite, no doubt in my mind there should be warmth returned and my breasts respond … to a phantom, just out of reach, failing pitiful memory I swear at you. I grind my flesh upon the stalactite trying to will a memory into the embrace. My unyielding skin rubs against pieces of mineral and sediment, they flake off in defeat, the single significant benefit when Monster Dominate is near or greater than Sentient Dominate. I inwardly smile at the worthless victory over the physical, as sadness awaits. On the edge of a revelation, I fall short, tasting bitter failure.
Filling my disappointment, the monster Lamia erupts and awakens; illusion, seduction and finally carnal pleasure as a heat inflames my loins. A crack sounds. I am oblivious, consumed by a sudden need as my loin rubs against the stalactite unbidden and out of control. Cooling air rushes past my cheeks, which I ignore sinking further into my sensual rapture.
“Aphrodite, release the stalactite and unfold your wings, fly free …”
Her contact jolts me from my trance. Alba? I blink. The tip of a Stalagmite grows larger beneath me. How?
“The spike falls, fly free … NOW!”
Do I trust Alba? Doesn’t she serve Zeus? Several weeks of silence … almost unbearable, then suddenly she returns?
“Please …”
I release my embrace of the cold stone and unfurl my wings; the freedom of flight returns as I soar on beating wings into the darkest heights of the Cavern. A distant crash dimly noted, perhaps I should investigate?
“Unnecessary High Priestess of Zeus no longer … rest and recover … talk to me.”
My snake torso sprawls upon the ledge high in the Cavern provided by my Master. From habit, I prop my human torso up upon an elbow enabling me to spy upon the Cavern floor far below. My breathing steadies, although my free hand seeks the lingering warmth of my loins, insatiable curiosity. The Lamia craving, while lingering, ebbs away with each beat of my heart and each sweep of my eyes scanning for intruders. The routine of several weeks returns. My free hand loses purpose.
Oh! A thought. “Alba?”
“I have joined you my Priestess in earning Zeus’ ire. I battled … near exhausted … then a joy uplifting … finally freedom.”
“Alba?”
“Yes … Alba, I am still Alba, former Giant Gar, former bound spirit servant of Zeus …”
“Alba?” I try to question, seek to encourage her to speak as I am cautious, where does her loyalty lay. Not Zeus doesn’t automatically mean me?
“Zeus’ new High Priestess tried to claim me. Captured, created and bound she degreed no escape and yet free of his Temple, within another’s lordship and bound by your promise I resisted.”
Yes, I remember the promise, return Alba to a body. My mind flashes back to my evolution, do I share what I have discovered? Will she declare my indecision a failure?
“Then the Master of this realm evolves and celebrates! Due to your efforts Aphrodite, sweeping aside all who try to invade his Dungeon. You glow like a beacon calling me to your bosom and I return …”
I am in awe. “Weeks have passed …”
“Time is meaningless to me, yet Zeus expended much power, his servants forced into battle to win me … you angered him with each death you inflicted and with each mercy, you granted to non-worshippers …”
“There weren’t many …”
“Hush modest one, enough to be noticed, enough to convince potential Initiates to join his ranks as Lay Members instead as they also numbered in the survivors. You must take credit for your scheme to enrage and sink him to ungodlike pettiness. As each week passed while fighting to recover me, I sensed his distracted, impotent wroth.”
True I targeted worshipers, although not especially avoiding non-worshippers … encouraging though, Zeus the King of Gods, subject to petty feelings confirming I am not the only one incomplete and yet to discover my full Sentient Dominance. The irony is not lost on me.
--- Son of Swift Spear POV
The laughter subsides and I eye each in turn.
Waleran the Calm cradles his huge maul in his arms his furred brow furrowed. The Snake Kin sways, often twisting to look behind, fearful or petitioning for guidance from the black depths? Helmer rests himself and his armour on a rocky stump all thought and expression hidden by his full helm, perhaps the tapping of a plate mail encased foot a sign. Blessalla in contrast, eyes bright even while under torchlight, hands gesticulating whispers to herself.
“Do we form a Questor Group?” I ask.
Helmer cranks his head up slowly. “Do you know if we can leave at any time?” He glances at the Snake Kin. “You know in case we don’t like a particular companion. No offence.”
Alasse hisses, although I don’t discern a direct challenge, more an assertiveness to ensure a right of reply.
“Dog we warred once, no longer. We seek trade and now I would suggest we allow both our Kin’s ancestors some rest from the vengeance of the living.”
A barking snort. “Your Kin looks down upon others, why would you even consider remaining with us? A simple wait, for the steps to materialise and you can return to your kind …”
The swaying Snake Kin I realise dallies, collecting her thoughts or fabricating a lie? All eyes are upon her, all Kin want to know the answer.
“There is a distaste, or for some of my Kin, a loathing for the lesser, erm … other Kin, which I don’t disagree with and yet we are here. My House requires sacrifice to grow, and all Kin have gathered for the Ancient Quest because they smell change on the wind. Change is an opportunity and I intend to entwine myself as far as possible within it regardless of my discomfort or probable hardship.”
Opening her jaws, two longer fangs glistening, she ends her speech hissing.
Pivoting to face us, hands still, Blessalla pipes up. “The Questor Group needs a Snake Kin. Perhaps a truth, perhaps not. Alasse is ours, how many other Kin would ask a Snake Kin to group with them?”
Helmer scoffs and then his eyes blink wide open. Waleran shifts from one large booted foot to the other.
“Exactly!” said Blessalla. “We would have the running, be the first for who knows how long …”
I wonder if I should add a confirmed rumour …
“We will need to ensure worshippers of the new religion are excluded.” They all look at me, including Alasse. “A Lion Kin High Priestess, Pleasant Voice revealed worshippers, in particular, found certain death in the Dungeon.”
A rumbling deep voice broke the silent contemplation. “We must lie then?”
Stepping forward grabbing Waleran’s huge paw and placing hers within, Blessalla’s eyes met his. “There are no lies. None of us worships the new God, I am a Lay Member to enable the purchase of the Faith Spell of Healing and to obtain any more I must pray within the Temple twice a year. The offer to form a Questor Group only occurred when a Snake Kin joined us. While many have tried before with different numbers and Beast Kin none have succeeded until now.”
Helmer stood. “What if any five different Kin would be offered, we would look foolish stuck with a Snake Kin. No offence.”
I place a paw on the shoulder of Helmer and Blessalla. “We believe though.” I look around for confirmation. “We believe only with a Snake Kin can a Questor Group be formed, and we don’t need to inform anyone of other possibilities or theories.”
She hisses. “I will convince my House Kin to seek out your family or clan Kin to form additional Questor Groups if there aren’t any objections to furthering all of our interests, beyond ourselves, so all close to us rise with us.”
We all blink. I didn’t confirm with my own eyes yet know this as a truth. The obvious advantage in seeking Snake Kin is a given and the main reason for their poor reputation. The appeal to our family or clan loyalty is manipulative, definitely Snake Kin. Could Alasse command her House? Doubtful, not our problem, I hope.
“You doubt my sincerity or capability? Perhaps both?”
I step before her. “We are … mmm, shocked to glimpse the inner workings of a Snake Kin proposal. Our agreement minor, to support the obvious truth to maintain our unique lead, so … well passive and benign.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Rapid hisses her response, laughter perhaps?
“Which is why I don’t intend to research the Questor Legend because a disagreeable truth could be revealed and we don’t wish to raise any suspicion or be caught in a lie, such unbearable shame.” Her head throws back and then returns; her deep black eyes lock onto mine. “After all.” A slithering hiss issues from between her jaws. “We know the answer to the Questor riddle, don’t we? Me, a Snake Kin.” Alasse shrugs her shoulders. “Still, it seems plain for any group to succeed each Kin must bring a required strength to the group for the Quest to be completed.”
I add, “An examination must occur and while not impossible for all of one Kin to be offered the title of Questor Group, highly improbable given the weeks of failure.” I offer my paw, stout and level, eyeing each in turn.
Blessalla quick to add hers, next Waleran, grunting. I assume an agreeable grunt, although he still has me guessing most times. Alasse eyes Helmer and as a positive sign, they offer their hand and paw respectfully, simultaneously. I will accept to form a Questor Group.
Collapsing to the Cavern floor I regret the location of acceptance as all my senses, cease to function. After time unmeasured my mind is subject to scrolling information.
{Questor Group established:
Leader: Son of Swift Spear
Guard: Helmer
Caster: Alasse of House Burning Fang
Healer: Blessalla of Meadowvale Sett
Brawler: Waleran the Calm
Questor Group Level One Grant: Group Telepathy – may your heads be always full of strategy and tactics. Only operates within Quest Dungeon.
Son of Swift Spear anointed Questor Level One.
Level One Blessing: Ten (10) Skirmish points}
I blink my eyes and welcome in the dark. With cold stone beneath me, I roll over and climb to my feet in one smooth movement, my spear to hand, unaware until then of my weapon. A flame blooms off to my left attracting my attention, although I don’t move, except to present my spear. A scuffle, metal upon leather then upon stone, and mutterings further left. The flame grows and sheds light, a torch! The torch approaches smoothly, not the step-by-step approach expected, and I brace to defend myself.
“Relax fearless leader, your Caster Alasse of House Burning Fang approaches.”
Did I detect an undertone of humour?
Other noises, scraping, scratching, and scuffling of boots home in on the torchlight.
“What are Skirmish points?” asks Blessalla.
“We all blessed with ten?” I ask. The torch firelight reveals four heads shaking in denial. “I will ask.”
After framing several questions without receiving an answer, “explain skirmish points” responds.
{Son of Swift Spear know Skirmish points will adjust the bad to be not so bad and perhaps the near-miss to be a success.}
After explaining the how, to each in the group, each cast a faraway look and I suspect contemplate the same few words of wisdom revealed to me.
Helmer growls, “Survival points more like, although the day you depend upon them will be the day, they’re zero.”
A general mumbling of agreement, except for Blessalla. She squints and puckers up her nose and only because she stands, do I know she isn’t trying to attend to private business, which begs the question.
“Blessalla, what are you trying to do?”
She opens her maw to speak and then twitches her nose. “Well, if you must know I am trying to telepathy with you, without much success, I might add.”
Helmer wraps an arm around her shoulder. “There is a condition Miss B, we must be in the Quest Dungeon, so we mustn’t be there yet.”
“Well, then we must exit.” Waleran rumbles out the few words, crossing his arms.
My warm smile greets each bemusing look he receives for stating the obvious. I grab a cold torch lighting it from Alasse’s and lead the group to the uniquely smooth and sheer Basalt Cavern Wall. Either other invaders will enter soon and recreate the stairs, or they won’t.
Alasse approaches and then retreats on several occasions and halfway to the wall, I decide to ask her.
“What do you wish to tell me Caster Alasse?”
She props, her head set back before sliding forward. “There could be another exit.”
Her words grab our attention and I wave her on to continue.
“One in the original group, a Fox Kin, Dilia survived and told the story of a Golden Key. She used this key to find an exit and yet didn’t take the key with her. Many accused her of hiding the key to sell later, but she never did and persecuted she left. Her story remains.”
Helmer begins a low snarl.
“And for your benefit Guard Helmer, her story a traded one, to a Snake Kin Merchant for remedies, not stolen or blackmailed.”
“Who?” he snapped.
I place a paw on his shoulder.
“You don’t need to restrain our companion on my behalf, fearless leader. The answer is simple the Dog Kin Council.”
My acute hearing picks up Helmer’s strangled whine.
“Why?”
“Your Kin were dying and the information in face of death worth trading. Although I suggest if any Snake Kin Merchant possessed an effective curative, they would have sold their snake oil to the richer Snake Kin Houses first.”
Helmer’s head drops. “So worthless?”
I sympathise after he says the two thin words with such hopelessness.
Alasse, deflating her posture meets Helmer eye to eye. “Hope is never wasted, who is to say one or more were saved because they believed in the curative …”
A show of concern for another Kin, from a Snake Kin? Glancing at Blessalla, her toothy satisfaction of being proven right unbearable and I catch a shrug from Waleran’s huge shoulders as I look upwards searching for an explanation.
I blink. A ripple of some sort flows across a stalagmite and yet when I concentrate on the spot again, nothing.
I shake my head and hear Alasse’s hissing words again. “… will and faith always make us stronger and add to those two, purpose and possibly a knife-edge result can be tipped towards success. Certain death by disease defeated by the will to live, faith in a false curative and the need to care for your family. The noblest of purposes.”
The Snake Kin’s words echo away, their solemn import not lost on any of us and yet a suspicion gnaws at the back of my mind. Is this Snake Kin manipulation? My body tenses, should I call her out? My jaw sets as I observe each acknowledge her wisdom in different ways, the slight imperceptible nod, maws parting and I decide to release the feeling growing within me returning to a Hunter calm, clearing emotion as the prey should know nothing about the hunter until the first strike.
False or not her words draw us to her and perhaps if our team is to succeed, we need to be five, not four plus one and so, I break the silence, inviting Alasse to lead the way. The section of the wall is not particularly far from where the steps form in any case.
“What are we looking for?” I ask Alasse.
“It can’t be readily seen, so I suggest we start pressing blocks at about Guard Helmer’s shoulder height and if you find the keyed block keep your hand upon it.”
The search didn’t last long, the block glowed with an eerie golden haze, Helmer being the lucky one. With Waleran’s assistance, the block gave way, sinking back into the solid black basalt wall. Waleran’s strength proves the difference and a fresh breeze carries the scent of a hundred forest flowers tempting us outside.
Casting a searching look above, the Cavern roof near the stairs didn’t gain a stalagmite and with that assurance I climb into the tunnel and crawl to freedom, enduring the cursing of Alasse in front of me, protesting her bent posture, having to slither snake-like.
{Questor Group Son of Swift Spear has exited Quest Dungeon Azizos.}
My feline eyes quickly adjust to the dark of night. The litter of many struck camps greet us in the field before the Dungeon face, my companions equally bereft of speech, given the scale of abandonment.
--- Small yellow-green gelatinous blob POV
{Evolution paused ... searching for explanation ... due to Monster Dominate Parameter: “Manipulate Monster Form”}
…
Oh, misery. *squelch* I review the system logs searching for the unknown. His arrival is a mortal blow and I learn he is not alone, as his worship builds eleven others of his pantheon will follow.
{Incompatible Profession Detected …}
…
[System error … Profession removal method incompatible with Profession object.]
I realise my fatal error, the mortals require guidance, a being or beings who reward those who follow the edicts and punish those who don’t. Unguided they settle for an unambitious existence, especially the Beast Kin, why not for the humans?
[System recalibration … New Profession method Created … Calibrating … Naming … Allocating parameters … Assigning]
{Profession Prophet enabled}
Oh! System, please explain Prophet.
{Prophet Profession: Able to espouse the virtues of an existing Religion to enable the conversion of worshippers and rapid adoption; or able to venerate a mortal to lift the mortal to Godhead by gathering worshippers of like purpose; or able to venerate themselves and in exceptional circumstances reach Godhead. The first purpose is the easiest to facilitate, the second possible although time-consuming, and the third highly unlikely although not impossible.}
Is this the opportunity I have waited for? Could this grow to defeat him or at least challenge him and his infesting brood?
I find her, the Quest Dungeon no obstacle for its creator. I stalk her, appreciate her recruiting technique, and ponder. Her natural ability, more human now or perhaps the Prophet Profession subtly assisting. I need to gift the Living Basalt creation of Zeus and enlighten her about another possibility. Her pain of loss almost breaks me and standing on the edge of deciding I withdraw, to return her memory of motherhood would be a distraction …
The Snake Kin, is also mine, my creation upon my world, except for the portions now owned by his Temples …
Her torso rests upon a coiled tail, snakehead with eyelids closed, upon her chest. Trusting of her new companions. Odd. No not odd, expected, one of a Questor Group, I dimly remember the bonding by design. I bubble rapidly and try to regain my composure; I have forgotten much of my design and my plan … I am less … although I hope enough. My resolve returns and I continue, time to interfere and I expend another shard of my precious power …
--- Alasse, Daughter of House Burning Fang POV
My eyes stare into the black, awake, and yet immobile. This isn’t night, I know this since the black is perfect, without natural sensations. No wind stirs, no sense of cold or warmth … nothing. A void.
A voice speaks directly into my mind. “Alasse, Daughter of House Burning Fang, bound by a blood oath, I proclaim you Prophet of Aphrodite. Do you accept?”
I form the words in my mouth, even as I imagine them in my mind. “What does that mean? Prophet? Why me?”
“Your body is in the image of her, your blood oath confirmation of service, your fates now bound, and you drew my attention. You will proclaim her Holy and Divine, worthy of worship.”
“I don’t understand … those words, what do they mean?”
“If a being could set you an ideal to emulate, strive for, and by your adherence to that ideal reward you, elevate you up beyond the ordinary would you not wish to sing their praises?”
“I suppose …” Knowledge engulfs my mind, a squeezing shoving tightness and yet when I try to scream, I can’t, my mind too preoccupied with learning, no capacity for voluntary functions or choice. I wish to flee until eventually, I don’t.
The warmth of the morning sunlight wakes me accompanied by certain mumblings …
In good humour, Helmer asks, “Awake at last princess?” I nod absently, distracted by the information arrayed within my mind’s eye.
{Caster: Alasse of House Burning Fang.
Questor Level One.
Level One Blessing: Six (6) Skirmish points}
{Prophet Level One: You are to spread the word extolling the virtues and benefits of worshipping the being Aphrodite. Building worship to empower and strengthen.
Godhead: Aphrodite
Realms: To Be Assigned
Holy Symbols: To Be Decreed
Prophet Skills: Oratory, Evangelise (Aphrodite), Theology (Aphrodite)}
--- Aphrodite POV
I manage to cast the Magician Spell [Invisibility] before the Lion Kin can confirm his suspicion, unwisely risking discovery to eavesdrop upon my loyal blood oath sworn follower. Identifying her as such I realise there isn’t a need to check up on her, her life is mine. Still, their forming of a Questor Group locking Alasse into the team and easing her acceptance, fortunate. More of a mystery is the fact Quest Dungeon Master Azizos fully accepts and supports the Questor Group to the point of re-energising the Golden Key to release them, against his rules.
“A loyal and bound pet?” said Alba.
“Yes, although her ambition aligns with mine and now as a member of a Questor Group her future secure and most likely privy to plans previously beyond her importance.”
“Yes, the Beast Kin will want to form more Questor Groups, odd Azizos is exceptionally pleased by this development.”
“He is Master of a Quest Dungeon.”
I swoop down and scout the Cavern before returning to my perch. Time for rest.
The moment I close my eyes, pain explodes behind them. My mind alternatively assaulted, squeezed, kneaded, and expanded. My body is helpless, a dead weight with no influence or impact. A knowledge invasion occurs which my instinct compels me to resist and only after unbearable agony, do I pause to regroup and prepare more deeply to reject this foreign thinking. Instead, I discover peaceful enlightenment. A higher purpose settles upon my now accepting mind. My soul restructures. I am aware of my soul every moment, the percentages of each Dominate real, at times explaining my mental and physical condition and reactions.
{System Owner adjusts your soul: Divine Dominate inserted and set at 0%.}