At the top of the mountain, in a place inaccessible to humans, resided a prehistoric dragon. Its colossal size was incomparable to that of any other living creature, and its pitch-black scales not only caused terror but also effectively discouraged attacks due to their extraordinary strength. Razor-sharp claws, reminiscent of obsidian in color, decorated its powerful paws, capable of taking down a two-story building in one fell swoop. Its head was also decorated with numerous horns, among which two on the sides particularly stood out. Larger than the tallest man, and curved upward, these two great horns were a true symbol of power.
The majestic dragon goddess of legends, Ruler of Death, and Guide of Souls in the Underworld, the Death Goddess Morana Vel, in her original physical form, resided in the company of three souls, one of whom had a human form.
That soul was a once fear-inducing witch. An old friend of the dragon, the witch Sybil La Vexx, whose activities five hundred years ago contributed to the present-day infamy of the Crow Forest.
“Morana, that's enough. The forest is dying. You must do something before it's too late,” Sybil pleaded, trying to convince the dragon to act.
“Five more... minutes...” muttered Morana, lying on her back with her muzzle open.
*loud snoring*
“Eh...”
Despite many attempts, the dragon would not let herself be woken up and only mumbled that she still wanted a short nap. She was extremely stubborn when it came to sleeping. Finally, Sybil decided to try more firmly.
“Yesterday they slaughtered a whole village of orcs. They killed their leader. Didn't he ask you for help? Don't you care about the fate of your worshippers?” Sybil asked.
“Aaauh! Can't you even give me a moment to sleep? What kind of a friend are you?” Morana was outraged.
“What kind of a goddess are you? Instead of helping your worshippers, you sleep all day. We have to do something about it.”
“I had the night shift, okay? You think being a guide is such an easy job?” Replied the annoyed dragon.
“You sleep almost non-stop. You haven't moved from this mountain in a good two hundred years,” Sybil reminded her.
“You know very well that I don't have to move from here. This body is only part of my form, I can be in many places at the same time. Besides, it could only lead to panic and chaos,” Morana replied, laying down on the other side.
“Maybe that's what we need? A group of people led by an elf is killing everything that lives in this forest. Even my beloved pets couldn't handle them,” said a worried Sybil, stroking the two balls of light floating beside her.
“Everything dies someday, Sybil. Get used to it. It is not my role to take life, but to lead after it is over,” Morana replied in a monotone voice.
“I was supposed to protect the forest for you. You wanted me to keep death away from you so you could rest. Why are you indifferent to this now, as death draws ever closer?” Sybil asked.
Morana raised her dragon head from the ground and looked at Sybil.
“You have another guardian,” she stated, noticing only two balls of light next to Sybil. “Send him to them.”
“Well, Sornek is not very suitable for this task...”
“If he can't handle it, I'll take matters into my own hands,” decided Morana.
“Let's just hope he doesn't go crazy...”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Elrianthe Room...
< Siren Speech > (Class A) A powerful spell that absorbs 90% of the caster's mana, allowing him to give orders with his voice. When imposed on the target, the 'Last Command' effect will make him or her absolutely compelled to obey the command, regardless of his or her own will. The impact of the 'Last Command' will be registered in the target's mind and will persist until his death. This effect cannot be canceled or interrupted, and the person casting it himself has no way of revoking it.
Price: 5,000 essences, 3 gold tokens.
“Okay, okay. I have 1,567 essence pieces and two tokens, although I don't even know where from... Maybe for this eagle and bear? Then I'll have to hunt for one more monster of that ilk,” Elrianthe planned.
The skill she found will be crucial to her plans, so raising the currency to buy it will become a priority in the near future. Although there isn't much of it left.
[ Gaz Prum promoted to level 10 ]
'You've had enough,' she thought, changing the receiving of XP by Gaz.
“I wonder if the shaman is ready to cooperate yet...”
In the dungeon, in a dark cell, hung on a chain an old orc - the shaman from Narzagul's fortress, Urguluk. To his misfortune, he possessed something that was extremely important to Elrianthe.
Illusion magic. His ability < Illusory Aura > allowed him to use his magic aura, circulating around his body, to manifest illusions. Urguluk used this ability to fool Gaz's eyesight during a duel with an orc chieftain, and Elrianthe had a plan to use it to confuse the marquis' vision.
As in most cases, the shaman had to be 'persuaded' to submit to Elrianthe's magic, so he was hung by his feet. Hanging in his new abode, he had a wide bowl of water under his head. Nothing unusual?
The bowl was placed centrally under the hanging shaman, and his head was partially submerged in its contents. The shaman couldn't lean back enough to drink from the bowl, and his thirst was intensified by the destructive thoughts that Elrianthe had instilled in him. Needless to say, the effect of such a test of will was highly effective.
To take away his skill, Elrianthe had to gain at least 90% control over the orc. Although skills could be picked up as low as 80%, < Illusory Aura > was an S-Class skill, which involved higher requirements and greater risk.
Elrianthe went down to the dungeon to check on Urguluk. Already on the stairs, she heard lamenting and babbling in the nasty orc language. As she walked through the dungeon, she had to pass the cell where Carl and Jim were staying. When Carl heard approaching footsteps, he came to the bars, and at the sight of his favorite slave burst out in aggression.
“You fucking slut! Let us out of here! How much longer do we have to sit here? I swear I'll fuck you up when I get out of here!” Carl shouted.
“Have you forgotten how you should address me, trash?” She replied with deadly seriousness.
“Elf whore.”
Elrianthe stopped in front of him and pulled out a spear from her magic stash.
*clang*
The bars rang, and sparks of colliding metals sprinkled around.
“Ay!”
Carl barely stayed on his feet as Elrianthe thrust the spear toward him. The metal bars stood in the way of the crossed blade, stopping it just inches from his throat.
“You pathetic idiot. I should have killed you the moment you opened that nasty mouth of yours, but for you, such a death would be salvation. Enjoy it while you can live behind bars because you won't get an ounce of mercy from me,” Elrianthe said contemptuously as if trying to stop every cell in her body from tearing Carl to pieces like a wild animal.
'Fuck! If it wasn't for the grating, I'd be dead! Fucking lunatic!' Thought a horrified Carl, not realizing that Elrianthe's move was deliberate and there was no mistake in it.
Standing in front of the next cell, Elrianthe looked at the orc hanging his head down, who was mumbling something under his breath. He was already on the verge of insanity, but he still managed to resist. At the sight of the woman, he began to shout and mumble something about the wrath of the goddess, but Elrianthe ignored him completely. Unsatisfied with the effects of the torture, she wondered how to make it better.
'Maybe I'll try to induce some strong desire in him, and then let him satisfy it? What could work on an old orc, though? She thought.
As Elrianthe pondered a suitable object of desire, the shaman twitched from side to side in an attempt to break free from his bonds. His efforts, however, were unsuccessful. Elrianthe noticed that from his loose-fitting clothes, a green snake was beginning to emerge.
“You like smooth blondes, huh? You may hate me, but you can't fool your body,” she said with laughter.
'Wait a minute... blondes? Carl also has blonde hair...'
'YES! THAT'S BRILLIANT! HAHAHAHHA!”