The Economic Woes of the Lord of Evilland
Epic #8 – The Sentinel Hill Death Derby pt. 3
As Lavinia returns to her seat with her long-time friends a commercial for a most peculiar event begins playing on the holoprojector in front of the bleachers - “Are you ready for some Virgins?!?” a loud, enthusiastic voice proclaims from the speakers as massive red and yellow graphic text appears of those words.
“Monday Night!” a group of cheerleaders echo in response as they wave their pom poms and preform high-kicking maneuvers in answer to the prompt of the disembodied voice. “SA-CRI-FICE!” they chant as the same red and yellow text appears across the projection as the announcer makes a physical appearance in front of the cheerleaders: a satyr in a pin-striped business suit with coiffed, black hair emerges from beneath the projection with a microphone in hand and a toothy grin on his face.
“We at the newly-formed National Sacrifice League are proud to present a Virgin Country tradition – sacrificial sport!” the satyr announces with great zeal. “You are invited to come on down to the Virgin-Mobil temple complex - located just two miles south of Emperor Zhorg's lair in Evilland City!” he continues as the projection displays images of the complex of pyramid-like structures constructed with black basalt stone blocks and various alters dedicated to the deities of Evilland's pantheon.
“This Monday, see the first sacrificial competition to take place there as two long-time rivals face off against each other for the favor of their gods: the priests of Yig and Tsthaggua will put their skills on display for your entertainment!” the announcer goes on as footage of previous sacrificial events of the two teams – a priest in blue pulls out a heart as eerie mists pour from the alter stone in one brief clip, another shows a priest in green slitting a virgin's throat for ethereal serpents to enter the body through the gaping wound and yet another shows a priest in blue slicing open two virgins at the abdomen in a single stroke as what appears to be a long, tongue-like appendage wraps itself around the spilling bowels and drags them into a portal.
The projection displays the sigils of the the respective gods juxtaposed to each other as a disembodied voice sings to theme music playing off-projection - “We got the priests on the field and we turned down the lights, cause the priests of Yig and Tsthaggua kick off Monday night!” the lyrics effortlessly rattle off as the two sigils collide with an explosion.
“Ugh! That is such a guy thing...” Audrey remarks at the end of the commercial. “Why do they have to be all macho and compare their skills in slaying virgins all the time? Seriously, it's just a glorified dick-waving contest.”
“You just say that because you can't appreciate how hardcore and heartless a man has to be to do that!” Lavinia retorts. “Admit it - if you had it your way, all males would just write angsty poetry and play guitar in your punk bands instead of doing the things that make Evilland what it is.”
“And what's so terrible about that?” the punk girl queries. “It's not like Evilland is all that wonderful anyway – in fact, there's something more than just a little bit off about it in case you haven't noticed...”
“Off? Evilland? Don't be ridiculous!” the goth cheerleader-turned-intern-turned-race-queen rebuffs. “Everything is at it should be – we have plenty of virgin power for our Istones, displays of savage might to keep us amused and a certain ruler of the whole kingdom just made an interesting confession to me recently! He thinks that I'm charming and sexy!”
“Oooh!” Rach chimes in upon hearing this news. “Perhaps this is a sign of initial attraction that can lead to the formation of that most beautiful of all things in this world – true love!”
“Pfht! As if!” the punk girl immediately rebukes the hippie. “What you call 'true love' is just a base instinct that compels animals to breed! Besides, I don't think anything that even approximates 'love' can ever come from a man who orders his own harem girls to be roasted alive on baseless rumors about elven conspiracies.”
“You're just jealous that Lord Emperor Zhorg finally shows me attention while you struggle to get anyone to look at you as more than a Debby Downer!” Lavinia replies. “Just you wait – I'm on track to join his harem one day while you are stuck playing in any bar that's willing to grant you a part-time gig! When he gets back from settling his business with those spectral wraith guys you'll see how much he loves me and...”
“Wait, did you say spectral wraiths?” the punk girl interrupts. “Lav, do you know what those things are?” she continues as a look of concern comes over her face.
“Oh, just one of my boss's many creditors” Lavinia casually replies. “He just missed a small payment on some statues and he's gone off to renegotiate the contract related to their delivery – nothing to worry about!”
“Lav...” Audrey pauses. “Those things aren't of our world – and they pose a threat to any mortal, even previous Lords of Evilland have fallen to them before!”
“What...” Lavinia blurts out before succumbing to a stunned silence as her confidence in her master to handle the situation is shaken to the core...
***
The wheels of the hellfire chariot kick up fire and molten dust as the diomedan horses sprint towards the statues located along the track of the derby in order to beat the wraiths' repossession party to the area – along the way, the orc finance minister briefs his lord about a few potential compensation plans he can propose to the Spectral wraiths' representative to dissuade them from reclaiming the monuments they erected to the Lord of Evilland.
“Listen...” the orc pauses as the chariot comes to a stop about fifty feet away from the first monument on the pathway – a cobblestone road that's littered with bodies of the executed prisoners of the first special event of the derby. “Let me do the talking here, ok? If I can point out that this was merely an oversight rather than an intentional attempt to withdraw from the contract, I might be able to get them to leave the monuments in place with only a token amount of compensation that would be given to them just to reinforce the principle as that's what these entities are primarily concerned with.”
“Very well – The Lord of Evilland permits you to negotiate on his behalf...” the emperor relents. “Let's finish this business so that The Lord of Evilland can return to his unfinished conversation with his father – with whom he has some unresolved issues to address.”
“Far be it from me to get involved with your personal life my lord, but I believe that you need to pay more attention to vital matters of your kingdom” the orc opines. “With all due respect, your intern is now more involved with the day-to-day affairs of your realm than you are and you need to be better informed about the goings-on within – you can't do this when others are doing your administrative work for you and it cuts you out of the the decision-making process of making policy for the kingdom.”
“Whatever...” the emperor rebuffs his minister. “The Lord of Evilland is involved in those things that matter to him and that's all he truly cares about – all the minor details regarding how things get financed or how other rulers think of him can be handled by the council.”
“But my lord, those details are very important!” the orc minister protests. “Matters of financial and foreign policy have direct impact on the issues you care about the most – take for example...” the orc minister pauses as he observes the skies above them begin to darken: a portal of pale-blue light opens up within the clouds and a hooded specter carrying a scythe descends from above – stopping only a few feet in front of them.
“We have come to lay claim to the property you have failed to adequately compensate us for” a deep voice from beneath the hood of the pale, transparent figure declares. “The account you designated for payments has been found wanting and now we demand that you return the monuments to us.”
“We understand your concerns and respect your position” the orc minister begins - “but we ask that you don't take possession of the statues. The failure to make the payment was the result of an accounting error that left the personal account of Lord Emperor Zhorg about three thousand gold short of the funds agreed upon by the contract and we apologize sincerely for this mistake with the promise of additional compensation to the missed payment.”
“We are aware of the fact that Evilland has been having significant difficulties in repaying its debts lately” the specter replies. “The excesses of your kingdom have not gone unnoticed and we have had to reconsider many trade provisions on account of your decadence and lack of fiscal responsibility. Tell us what you may possibly offer us to make us overlook your breach of contract?”
“The Kingdom of Evilland is prepared to reimburse you the three thousand gold payment in the next few days as it will take some time to shift funds around the treasury to make this happen. In the meantime, we will be happy to issue to you treasury bonds with a one year maturity date at an interest rate of 10% equal to the payment that was recently missed, effectively compensating you for your loss and then some” the orc proposes hopefully.
“We have strong doubts about the financial stability of your kingdom” the specter rebuts. “What guarantee do we have that said bonds will have any value at all when the maturity date comes? We know of your many military conflicts and the struggle you have to properly finance them and yet we observe you throwing massive spectacles like this 'death derby' of yours in spite of your many debts...”
“Hmm...” Rorgaag the Slayer mutters to himself upon seeing his initial offer turned down - it was a long shot that it would be accepted, but he had hoped that the specter would take the bait and end the negotiations right there as he never really cared for making deals with these ethereal beings. “Well, perhaps a more tangible offer of goods would be appropriate if you are so concerned about our financial state? We can offer you a promissory note for virgins equal to the value of the missed payment at market price for no additional cost to you as you wait for the funds to transfer - you can redeem it at any Virgin-Mobil station immediately and we will pay the cost to them when funds are available to do so.”
“We have made significant progress towards leaving virgin power behind” the specter replies. “We simply do not value this resource at the same market price of your kingdom - perhaps if you offered us an additional thirty percent value of this resource we would consider this to be adequate compensation for the missed payment?”
“An additional thirty percent?” the emperor questions with more than a hint of outrage in his voice. “Do you take us for fools? Do you know how long it takes to breed viable virgins for sacrifice?”
“My lord!” the orc minister whispers with urgency to his master. “I believe that it was agreed that I would do the talking...”
“What is there to discuss?” the emperor queries of the finance minister. “This thing before us presents us with an insult to the kingdom of the Lord of Evilland!”
“Do you refuse to accept the offer we present to you?” the specter inquires. “What would you consider to be an acceptable compromise given your position? Or do you not have one?”
“Damn you specter!” the emperor roars in fury. “There shall be no bargain with the likes of you this day - you shall remove yourself from the realm of Evilland this instant without the monuments and await whatever compensation that the Lord of Evilland deems fit to grant you when the funds are available!”
“We do not consider this an adequate solution to the issue at hand” the specter replies. “If you refuse to bargain with us on our terms, we shall simply take possession of the property in question by force.” As the specter finishes his sentence, the pale-blue portal above opens up once more and a host of other wraiths descend to the earth below to back his threat of action.
“Then so be it!” the emperor shouts in reply as he reaches for the axes on his back. “The Lord of Evilland ascended to the throne by force and so shall maintain his power by force!”
“Gods dammit...” the orc finance minister whispers as he readies his shield and draws his own battleaxe. “My lord, this fight will be difficult to win with the resources we have at our disposal – these ethereal beings aren't so simple to defeat as just hacking them to pieces. We should...”
“Die specter!” the emperor roars as he charges the emissary of the wraiths before his adviser could finish his thought.
“Just... Fucking... Great...” the orc mutters before following behind his lord – for all his criticisms of his master, he still has a measure of loyalty to the position of the Lord of Evilland regardless of who happens to hold the title. And right now the Lord of Evilland has no one else to watch his back...
***
In the bleachers of the Sentinel Hill arena, the Lord of Evilland's intern-turned-model recovers from her momentary shock enough to feign some confidence in the diplomatic prowess of her master. “Well, I know that he can be pretty charming – perhaps he's already negotiated a bargain with those wraiths already!” she asserts with gusto. “And besides, his most trusted minister is with him! What could possibly go wrong?”
“You are in denial, Lav!” Audrey replies with dismay in her voice. “You have seen, over and over again, that your boss frequently ignores other people's advice! He might be in real danger right now!”
“What's this I hear?” the hippie questions her punk friend. “Are you genuinely concerned for the safety of a man you have repeatedly decried as a horrible person? Shouldn't you be be at least content in the knowledge that bad karma has finally caught up with him?”
“This isn't just about one man!” the punk girl rebuts Rach. “Think about it – he's the Lord of Evilland! If the wraiths slay him, what happens next? There's no designated successor and all regions of the kingdom are controlled directly by local warlords – there will be a massive power struggle as Evilland descends into civil war!”
“You are worried for nothing – my lord has everything under control!” Lavinia reassures her friend. “Have a little faith in him, will you?”
“We have new developments from the track!” a voice calls out from over the PA system. “It seems as though we have a brawl near the site of our first special task!” it continues as the holoprojector shows the Lord of Evilland attempting to strike the wraith.
“This has officially gone to shit...” the punk girl mutters as she buries her face in her hands...
***
As the Hell Raiders exit a burning village of pixie fairies that they and their fellow derby competitors have laid waste to, Tharook takes a little pixie girl in hand with a menacing look in his eyes - “please mister...” the pixie begs of her captor. “Look into your heart – you don't want to do this! If you let me go, I...”
The orc captain places the pixie's head in his mouth – biting down with a massive crunch before she could finish: savoring the fatty brains before shoving the rest of the deceased body down his throat. “Dem pixies makes for some good eatin'!” he enthusiastically comments on the quality of the snack he just consumes.
“Need. More. Blood. Now.” Fenrik utters monosyllabically as he licks the blood from his claws furiously.
“Are you never satisfied?” the driver queries of the wolfman. “How much more bloodshed do you possibly need!”
“Let da wolfman have his fun...” the orc team captain apathetically chimes in. “It looks like we gots a new challenge – more gits to kill!” he continues as he pulls a vibrating Istone from his leather armor: he opens the projector of the device to reveal images of the emperor engaged in combat with the wraiths near the monuments near the first challenge.
“Ha!” the orc exclaims. “Looks like we iz gonna be fightin' with da emperor himself today! Gettin' him on our side is gonna really get some status!
As his teammates relish the possibility of raising their positions in society, “The Scarred” quietly steers the chariot towards the next task – pulling the glass bead from his pocket once more with contemplation. Could this be my moment? he ponders to himself. I might be able to take vengeance in all the chaos of battle, but what if I become the target before I strike him down?
He looks to his left and to his right to seen that several competitors are following closely behind him – after a few more moments to think it over, he puts the bead back into his pocket upon realizing that there's just too much that can go wrong at this point. Patience... he reminds himself. Just wait until the time is right...
***
The orc finance minister waits for the wraith's strike – parrying the blow with his shield before striking at the outstretched arm of the incorporeal entity in the brief moment the ghostly form is solid enough for a blade to harm. “I sent out a signal my lord” Rorgaag the Slayer curtly informs his master. “We should be getting reinforcements soon, but we really need to...” he pauses to parry another attack from the ghostly foe that managed to reconstitute itself in the moment it took for the orc to utter his statement.
“Damn these spirits!” the emperor shouts in frustration as he cleaves through a wraith only to see it dissipate into mist and form in front of him again in a matter of seconds. “If only there was some way to inflict permanent harm upon them!”
“Only magical weapons and spells are known to do real harm to these things” the orc answers as he repels another strike from the specters. “But I'm no battlemage and I don't think I can get these things to cooperate with a ritual...”
Miina was the one with the gift of magic in a former life the emperor reminisces to himself. “Damn everything! If only a book of spells were available to provide us with the necessary incantations to inflict harm upon spirits!” he remarks in despair.
“Wait a minute...” the orc pauses after repulsing yet another attack. “Don't you carry around a copy of the Necronomicon with you?”
“Well... uh...” the emperor stammers in search of the words to answer. “The Lord of Evilland never really learned more than a few basic ritual spells – the traitorous bitch he took it from was far more adept in magic than he, but the Lord of Evilland supposes that he can take a look at the index for a moment if you stand between him and these undead souls...”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Well hurry up!” the finance minister yells with urgency as he leaps in front of his master to stall advancing wraiths. “These things aren't dying and I can't do this forever!”
“Hmm...” the emperor mutters as he opens up his pocket edition of the Necronomicon – he looks through the index to see spells for summoning demons, raising up the dead, corrupting flesh, twisting minds and souls of mortals, conjuring pastries and other diabolical acts of dark magic until he happens upon a spell that can instill magical energies into items.
“Alright, the Lord of Evilland believes that he has something...” the emperor pauses to flip to the appropriate page cited in the index of the nefarious book. “Ah, here it is.”
KLAATU!
BARADA!
NIKTO!
Upon reciting the incantation, the weapons of the two warriors begin to glow with a pale-green light that seems to emanate an eerie mist into the air – the orc swings his axe and effortlessly cuts down a wraith while it was still in its purest spirit form, causing the others to give pause and back away from them.
“Seriously?” the orc questions. “That's all it takes for you to call upon this kind of power? Why don't you use this more often?”
“The Lord of Evilland isn't much a magician himself” the emperor replies. “Besides, he rarely ever needs to use magic in battle anyway as few can stand before the force of his axes!”
“So, it seems that you have discovered a means to do harm to us.” one of the wraiths casually observes. “You succeed only in forestalling your own deaths for we do not truly die – we continue on in unlife and our memories are long. Know this and...”
“You talk too much!” the emperor barks with rage as he throws is axe into the head of the wraith addressing him. “That's all you necro types ever do – talk, talk, talk!”
Just as the emperor resumed combat with the specters, a faint rumbling becomes audible in the distance – the pounding of hooves and dull roar of wheels rolling across the cobblestone path. “It seems that we have some backup, my lord” the orc finance minister states with a mix of confidence and relief just as the first line of chariots came into view on the horizon.
“Now the tide has turned against you, specters” the emperor observes. “Leave the realm of Evilland at once or come as close to death as your kind can possibly experience!”
***
“And now our competitors will face the next challenge – assisting the Lord of Evilland himself in attaining victory against the wraiths” the voice on the PA system announces followed by the roaring cheer of the crowd. “These undead horrors have sought to steal the treasures of our great land and now will pay for it in blood for your viewing entertainment!”
“Geez, I despise the inhumanity of this event but I really hope this is enough to get Zhorg out of this...” Rach observes hopefully.
“And all we can do is watch as the fate of our society hangs in the balance...” Audrey adds. “Meanwhile these drunken idiots think this is all just some game – what the hell is wrong with us?”
“Well, politics has always been something of a spectator sport in Evilland” Lavinia opines. “I mean, let's face the facts here – who has what position of power is nearly always decided with a contest of arms and those are just so exciting to watch!” Hell, I can barely contain myself watching this and just feel the desire to... Well... Do some things...”
“Ugh!” the punk girl interjects. “Why must you fetishize the brutality like this? I swear that being around this kind of destruction is the only reason you affiliate yourself with brutes like your boss – you just want to see the carnage so you can get off!”
“Hey! Who are you to judge me?” Lavinia replies with a sense of indignation. “These traditions are what make Evilland the great nation it is and if that just so happens to... Stimulate me in some ways... Then it's a good thing, right?”
“Oh please!” Audrey rebuffs. “This isn't about Evilland – you just drool over violence in the same way that horny teenage boys drool over those magazines you model for, but I can at least excuse the teens for their excesses! You, on the other hand, have some serious issues that you are running away from instead of confronting!”
“Horny teenage boys...” Lavinia pauses while lost in thought. “Magazines... That's it!” she shouts while snapping her fingers as inspiration came to her.
“Lav... What are you thinking?” the punk girl questions her friend as Lavinia rises from her seat and begins sprinting towards the exit. “Hey, come back!”
***
KLAATU!
BARADA!
NIKTO!
Once again the incantation is performed by the emperor with the tome of cursed knowledge to instill the magical energies into the weapons of the charioteers as they enter the battlefield – endowed with this new power, the derby contestants drive forward into the mass of ghostly forms. Javelins fly and blades slash at the wraiths, dissipating them into an eerie mist with each successful strike against the stunned horrors.
“Victory is nigh!” the emperor shouts triumphantly as the number of spirits on the battlefield dwindles away. “Let this be a message to those who oppose the Lord of Evilland – even death does not pose a threat to him for his strength is such that even mortality itself must yield to his will!”
No sooner than the time it took for the Lord of Evilland to finish his speech, the pale-blue portal above begins to pulsate with a strange light – an ominous, deep chuckle is heard across the battlefield as the remaining wraiths vanish into thin air.
“Do you really believe that you have won?” the deep, disembodied voice mockingly questions the apparently victorious emperor and his forces. “Behold now as your vanquished enemies return to lay claim to vengeance that they rightfully deserve...”
As the voice finishes speaking, the slain forms of the prisoners from the first event of the derby begin to emit a pale-green mist – the rotting flesh of the corpses begins to writhe and mutate into unearthly forms, combining themselves into a great blob-like mass. “Mommy...” a shrill voice calls from a mouth jutting out of a massive lump of undefined flesh with a javelin piercing it. “Accept... your fate...” an older, deeper voice proclaims from the mouth of a large tendril that has linked itself with the formless mass with the javelin. “You won't... go... unscathed...” a more shallow, female voice announces from a mouth of a large organ reminiscent of an eye. Before long, the enormous mass becomes a cacophony of sorrowful and angry voices calling out for all manner of things!
“Really?” the emperor queries sarcastically. “Another undead mass of flesh? Are you necros really so lacking in creativity? The Lord of Evilland has smashed such abominations before and will happily do so again!”
The pale-blue portal above begins pulsating with light once more as the deep, disembodied voice begins a chant in a language unknown to anyone else present – immediately afterwards the mass of writhing flesh begins to pulsate with the same pale-blue light and mutating even further: pseudopods sprout from beneath the hulking mass, great thorny growths appear all over the main body and corrosive ooze begins pouring from the multitude of mouths that still cry out all manner of unintelligible desires of the souls trapped within – then the mass leaps upon the charioteers gathered on the field with unbelievable speed!
Before they could react, a chariot pulled by war boars was snatched up by crying tentacles – the thorny growths slicing the flesh of the pigs like razors as they swirl around their forms, flaying them open in a matter of seconds. The minotaur crew attempts to run from the onslaught, but they too fall victim to the assault and are immediately reduced to flesh ribbons hanging off a few chunks of bone.
“Okay...” the emperor pauses. “This one might be a little tougher than the Lord of Evilland first thought...”
***
Audrey and Rach give chase to their friend as she sprints through the corridors of the area towards the photo studio – they finally catch up with her as she finds Asmodeth and his paramour just outside the door to his reserved place of business for the event. “There you are!” Lavinia cries out with an exhausted huff. “I think that I might be ready to make a bargain with you!”
“Lav, you know how dangerous it is to deal with demons” Audrey warns frantically. “I don't know what you think he can do for you, but it's not worth the risk!”
“We love you and we want you safe” Rach chimes in. “Come and let's support Zhorg by sending out appeals for the positive energies of the universe to intervene on his behalf!”
“Come now girls – why the cause for concern?” Asmodeth questions. “After what this fine model has experienced, I doubt that it's even possible for me to do anything to her that hasn't already been done!”
“Wait...” Audrey pauses. “What do you know about us?
“Oh honey...” the demon chides - “I am a greater demon of Chorneesh. A piece of his essence lives inside me: I know what he knows and he knows what his son has been up to with this fine, young thing here...”
“Oh shit...” the punk girl softly whispers under her breath. “Lav, don't trust him – he will use you for his own pleasure and cast you aside. I know of people that...”
“And what business of yours is that?” Gruuther interrupts her train of thought. “The deal is between the two of them, not you little miss...” he pauses to read the green letter text against her purple shirt. “Eat my asshole.”
“Look, it will be just fine Audrey!” Lavinia attempts to reassure her friends. “I know full well what demons are capable of and what they want – and even if not, isn't taking the risk of dealing with one worth averting that civil war you were talking about earlier? Go back to your seats and let me handle this.” she concludes with a confident smile on her face as she places her hands on their shoulders.
“Ok Lav...” Rach tenuously agrees after sharing a knowing glace with Audrey. “We will trust your decisions here.” With that comment, Rach and Audrey turn around and head back down the corridor – hoping that they can trust the judgment of their friend.
“That's great!” the demon exclaims as he opens the door to his office. “Now, what can I do you for? Have you decided to finally drive your boss mad with lust?”
“Ha!” Lavinia blurts out with great mirth. “No – I have a different idea in mind. I need an advance in compensation and I want to take a look at the contract with 'Chariotworld' before I commit to anything...”
***
The Hell Raiders' rig struggles to keep distance from the mass of undead flesh – constantly sprinting in short bursts towards higher ground, stopping to allow the orc captain to unleash a volley of javelins upon the approaching blob to slow it down as other rigs try to flank the abomination with their own weapons.
“Just what kinda magic do da dead things got ta make dis?” the orc queries as he casts off yet another volley of missiles – all of which find their mark, but still succeed in doing little more than temporarily stunning the blob.
“All we can do is try to stay ahead of it” the driver comments. “I don't believe that we have the means to do enough damage to this thing to really matter – this thing just regenerates and keeps on coming!”
“Maybe we can't, but he can!” Fenrik shouts as he points towards a rig pulled by a massive horned salamander that just entered the battlefield – the old sorcerer driving the rig runs it parallel to the mass of flesh and begins his incantation: a portal of shadow and flame forms on the ground below and a massive claw of a great demon beast comes through the doorway to the realms.
“Ha!” the orc captain exclaims. “Dis thing is gonna git it now!” Cheers of celebration can be heard from the other rigs as well at the sight of this summoned beast, but they are short-lived as the sorcerer suddenly develops a hiccup – as soon as the demon fully enters the realm of the living, it snatches the one who summoned it with its massive jaws and immediately bites him in twain: the upper torso is devoured by the great beast whilst the bowels plummet to the earth along with the lower half.
“Well...” the driver pauses. “So much for that idea...”
***
Audrey and Rach look on with the cheering crowd to the events displayed on the holoprojector with much anxiety – both towards the massive abomination of putrid flesh that threatens to destabilize Evilland as well as to the complete obliviousness of the crowd to the significance of what is transpiring before them. “I wonder what kind of deal Lav is making to end this...” Rach ponders aloud. “What is she willing to give up to save us from this peril?”
“Whatever it is, I hope that it's worth it” Audrey replies. “Deals with entities like that exact a high cost – I knew a guy that bargained with a demon for a better throwing arm to get an edge on the high school death derby team: turns out that the demon gave his arm a mind of its own – one that strangled him in his sleep after an argument he had with it...”
“Oh gods!” Rach exclaims. “I was always taught to avoid making dark pacts for reasons just like that – you might get what you want, but never in the way that you want it!”
“Well, this girl just got everything she wanted at a price she can pay!” a voice speaks up from behind Rach.
“Lav!” Audrey half-shouts as she rushes over to her and grabs her in embrace. “Please tell me that you knew what you were doing – that you aren't going to be lost to us!”
“Ha!” Lavinia laughs with gusto. “You worry way too much! I've been sitting in on so many bargains negotiated by the ministers of Evilland that I picked up a few things from them – I know what specters, demons and otherworldly beings want and how to get them to play ball! If you don't believe me, just keep watching the holoprojector for the next commercial break, which should be starting any minute now...”
Within moments, the live feed cut out as it switched over to a word from the sponsors of the death derby – a couple short ads for McBurgerprince and Dwelling Depot depicting the latest deals they offer play before Lavinia's form appears in the holoprojector's feed. “Hey boys!” the massive, scantily-clad image of the race queen says in a sultry voice. “How would you like to have me?”
“Yeah – the real me!” the holographic image continues. “For a limited time, each copy of 'Chariotworld' magazine you buy can enter you into a sweepstakes event where I am the prize – just submit your proofs of purchase to the address listed below” she whispers in a seductive tone while holding up the latest edition of the magazine, featuring herself as the cover girl, as flashing red text with a P.O. Box number appeared below.
“For one night, this can be all yours” the image on screen elaborates further as it rubs the curves of her body with her hands. “My bodacious B-cups, my sultry lips, my gorgeous ass – nothing is off limits! If you are into it, then I am too! Buy now and enter today!”
As the ad concludes, there is a massive rush of fans from the bleachers towards the “Chariotworld” kiosk – throngs of young males line up with their coin purses in hand ready to fork over their hard-earned cash for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take a celebrity model into their beds. “I'll buy five copies!” a voice shouts from the crowd. “Ten! Ten for me!” another cries over him. On and on, the purchasing spree continues until the kiosk exhausts its supply of magazines.
As the chaos unfold around them, Audrey stares at Lavinia in amazement - “Lav, what kind of bargain did you make?” she asks with some measure of disbelief at what she had just witnessed.
“Yeah, about that...” Lavinia begins. “You see, the contract negotiated for my modeling work includes a 3% royalty on all magazines that feature my likeness in them – I just needed to provide people with incentive to buy those magazines now so that I can raise the money to settle the debt and end this conflict between the specters and my lord!”
“But how could you raise that kind of money through magazine sales?” Rach questions. “How many magazines would you have to sell to cover a debt between nations?”
“Oh, it's a relatively small debt” Lavinia answers nonchalantly. “It's only around three thousand gold, so I just need to sell one hundred thousand gold in magazines to get the 3% royalty to cover the debt! Simple!”
“Yeah...” Audrey interrupts. “Too simple. And just what did the demon require of you to make this happen?”
“I have to agree” Rach chimes in - “this deal seems pretty risky here – what if some sicko wins this little contest of yours? You are contractually bound to do anything he wants!”
“Relax!” Lavinia reassures her companions. “This event is fixed! I already know who's going to win! Now all I need to do is watch the account for the cash to roll in...”
***
As the chariots attempt to draw attention of the abomination, the Lord of Evilland and his orc minister struggle to fend off the tendrils of this monstrosity that aren't engaged with the derby competitors that have thus far failed to do any significant damage to it – the best anyone can do against this thing at the moment is not perish at the will of this thing.
“Well, it looks like we have officially bitten off more than we can chew” the orc minister remarks as he slices off a tendril that advanced towards his head. “You should have just let me talk it out with these specters, but no – someone had to let their ego get in the way of a deal!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah...” the emperor repeats in response to his minister's chiding as he hacks at a tendril that sought to grab his ankle. “If only you had some advice on how to destroy this monstrosity. What? You don't? Then shut up!”
“Well, excuse me for coming prepared for a negotiation rather than fighting a mass of rotten flesh the size of a small village!” the orc retorts as he strikes at yet another tentacle that attempted to grab his tower shield. “Besides, it's your fault we are fighting this thing right now! Do you have any bright ideas on how to kill this abomination? No – of course not...”
As they bicker, the portal begins to pulsate with pale-blue light once more – the abomination before them stretches out its fleshy pseudopods, allowing them to become thin and membranous. Then everything around the beast suddenly becomes lighter: chariots begin to lose their traction and float for distances of several feet before returning to the ground upon running over any speed bump. The thin membranes of the abomination give it the mobility to move through the air with greater maneuverability that the chariots inhibited by the suddenly reduced gravity, enabling it to snatch up the surprised chariot crews as they suddenly become airborne.
“Ok, this has gone from bad to worse...” the orc minister observes. “You better have a miracle to pull out of your ass right now, because I have no idea how to handle this!” he continues as he begins to float in the air.
“Uh...” the emperor stammers as he too begins to lose contact with the ground. “Well... We could... Uh... Gods dammit!” he continues to search for anything resembling an idea as he grabs onto one of the marble statues that is the source of this conflict. “The Lord of Evilland should not be facing situations like this! He should be the one dominating the field of battle, not tossed about on it by strange magics!”
“You are the one with one of the most powerful magical artifacts in existence!” the orc minister rebuffs as he too grabs onto a statue before the statues begin to rise towards the sky themselves. “It's not my fault that you didn't take the time to learn its secrets! If anything, you should be the master of the arcane after all those years you had it in your possession, but somehow this escapes you as your brutish nature...” the orc's ranting is interrupted by the vibrating of his Istone. He pulls it out of his pocket to see Lavinia's number on display, ponders for a moment if he really wants to answer and ultimately decides that it's better than lecturing the big ape of a lord he serves before being slain by a flesh monstrosity.
“Whatever you have to say, make it fast!” the orc shouts into his Istone as Lavinia's image is projected by the device. “I am more than a little busy right now!”
“Oh, I have some good news for you!” Lavinia cheerfully informs the minister. “I managed to get the cash to pay the debt!”
“Wha... How did you...” the orc minister stammers. “Never mind! I'm putting the volume on full blast! Now, shout out what you just told me towards that giant portal above me!”
“Hey mister portal!” Lavinia shouts into her phone. “I got your cash! I wired it to your account already – go ahead and check it! The debt is paid!”
“The debt is paid – there is no longer a need to repossess the property” the deep, echoing voice announces from the portal. “Now we take our leave of this place of living, crude matter.”
The massive abomination emits a pale-green mist that assumes the form of the ghostly specters upon release from the rotting flesh, which falls to the ground and becomes a putrid puddle of strange, brown liquid as gravity reasserts itself once more – having immediate effect on all objects nearby.
As the pale-blue portal above vanishes with the wraiths, the statues plummet back to the ground – cracking under the force of the impact as they throw both the emperor and the minister from their respective perches on them. “Gods damn...” the orc minister moans in pain as he rises from the ground. “That was a disaster – remind me to thank your minion for bailing us out of that jam later...”
“The Lord of Evilland is victorious!” the emperor cries out triumphantly upon rising from the earth. “The magnificent portrayals of his mighty image in marble have been preserved now and for all time!” he continues to boast just as the statue he fell from lost an arm – collapsing right next to the loud and arrogant Lord of Evilland.
“Well, enjoy being 'victorious' while you can...” the orc mumbles to himself as he turns his attention to the derby contestants.
***
The driver of the Hell Raiders' rig manages to wade out of a massive puddle of ooze left by the now-dissipated abomination – he looks around to see most of the competition in the immediate vicinity in ruin as the sudden impact after the gravity returned smashed wheels, cracked frames and disabled mounts of the derby teams fighting this beast.
“Well, it looks like we made it out of this more or less ok...” the driver remarks. “We should probably get a move on before the others get here – let them deal with this mess.”
“Yeah – dis is fucked” the orc captain agrees. “We ain't gotta do nothin' for dem – lets get on da way to da next event before anotha one a doze things shows up!”
The driver cracks the reigns and rolls the chariot as far from the scene of the incident as possible. I'll just have to get my vengeance later – when there are no complicating factors... “The Scarred” ponders to himself as the disabled chariots of the rival teams vanish into the horizon behind him...