While normally the completion of a mission would have instilled Clotho with at least a small amount of pride, she felt that the triumph over the village inspired precious little to be proud about. It had offered no challenge, and in ignoble defeat, offered little in the way of valuables. Sure, the horde of imps had turned up some mildly worthwhile things buried here and there, but such a simple settlement hosted very little in the way of anything that would intrigue the swarm queen. Gold and slaves did not excite her; only power and control would suffice, and with the paucity of effort that it had taken the Master's army to crush the hamlet, she felt her skills had been poorly showcased.

As such, after respectfully attending the Dungeon Keeper's speech and not at all questioning his meager take, Clotho quickly retired. Forced to move slowly to accommodate her two new works, she led her way through the tunnels, hallways, and edifices of her Master's underground dominion to a little corner she called her own: the Hive. Here, rather than stone, wood, or earth, the walls and floor were a crisp, papery substance, exactly like a wasp's nest. The humans naturally grew tremulous when asked to enter an area of the dungeon that hummed with the flutter of insect wings, but after some prodding from Clotho were convinced that, even if the bugs didn't ignore them as Clotho said they would, they'd regret defying her if they did not enter. Compared to the other sub-domains established in the dungeon, Clotho found only her niche habitable. It was certainly lively, not for the least part because the swarm queen's largest minions also made their homes in the vaulted hive.

She directed the two to a small chamber with cots, where some time ago she herself had slept before creating for herself a more comfortable cocoon. “I want you to compile a list of all materials, organic or inorganic, that you might need in alchemical studies. My bugs will find all that can be found, and I myself will procure those that require more attention. Tomorrow, you are going to begin brewing special magical toxins and fluids for me. I'll see to it that you receive food and some basic comforts, but do not mistake providence for leniency. Only the strongest and most skilled survive in this place; I'll expect the both of you to pull your weight.” She brushed a finger on the young girl's cheek, and for a moment felt a pang of regret for stealing her away from her mother and forcing her into such a terrifying place. Of course, the other monsters would have treated her far less adequately.

The Overlord felt a sort of bitter triumph when Shukra knelt. It was an embarrassment to have to even suffer such insolence from one of his minions in the first place, yet at the same time it was pleasing to dominate his minion and put him back into his place. The groveling, quick apology, and explanation on Shukra's part would spare the warlord from much further embarrassment or punishment. Just as the warlock was about to summon That Which Consumes Peace, the demon having already left the meeting with eight captives, That Which Consumes Peace returned on his own volition.

Having apparently heard or otherwise sensed the accusation, the Master sensed the shadowy demon's form traveling through the dim tunnels of the dungeon with unnatural ease. That one was comfortable in the shadows, it would seem. A few moments later, That Which Consumes Peace made a sudden appearance, and a rather violent and dramatic one at that as he proceeded to strike Shukra without warning. The Dungeon Keeper half listened to his minion's tirade whilst trying to process all of this sudden information and decide what in hell's name he was going to do about this wretched situation.

When Narza's name came up, he did shoot her a glance. It was quick enough so that some might miss it, but she would not; it was impossible to not feel his burning gaze, even on your back. Narza would be aware of the fact that her Master knew.

However, before he could decide upon a course of action or what he would say, That Which Consumed Peace suddenly finished his spiel. Everyone, minion and human slave alike, were staring at the warlock and waiting for his response, while the Master could only freeze, at a loss for words. This was a rare glimpse at the Master's weakness and poor leadership; it was evil's nature to quarrel and fight amongst themselves, and this Keeper was more often than not content to simply allow infighting to occur. He didn't know how to mediate or create stability. After a few moments, he bought time by casting a look in the humans' direction.

"These prisoners have both heard and seen far too much," the warlock suddenly declared. Gesturing at the chained humans one by one, he cast spells upon them. The shadows in every dark crevice suddenly were animated to life and began crawling across the cavernous floor over to the helpless humans, encasing and smothering them in an impenetrable layer of darkness. Like a cocoon of spider's silk, the darkness would restrict their motion and speech. It would also prevent them from hearing even their own muted screams. The living darkness would allow them barely enough air to breathe in order to stay conscious, thus ensuring that they would stay calm and cease struggling, or else pass out. While he did that the warlock noticed Narza's feasting, though he was far too preoccupied with the current dispute to react to it.

After that long pause to the conversation, the Dungeon Keeper at last spoke, "Yes. I witnessed the rampage of That Which Consumes Peace. Yet that does excuse your spiriting off captives without so much as bringing them here and staking your claim before us. You are to return the humans that you stole to me. The imp taskmasters need more hands to do their work here, and so those humans will be their slaves. It will spare me the effort of summoning more imps, and spare you from being stabbed in the dark or hunting down deserters."

The Master scoffed before explaining his last comment, "Did you really intend to bring a meager dozen humans into your army of orcs, and expect them to serve well as replacements? Such foolishness, to give them weapons and expect them to meld right into your army. At best your orcs would slay them, at worst the treacherous humans would have fled your camp in the hills to warn the other villages, or tried some other treachery."

Then he turned to That Which Consumes Peace. Scowling, he growled in a low tone, "It is strange for you to speak of treason, for I find that such thoughts only cross the minds of traitors themselves. In any case, your actions have created a mess; an attack on a mere hamlet should have been easy and yielded no casualties. We were worse off for your presence. This," the Keeper said as he gestured to the room, referring to the spectacle of the petty argument, "is an embarrassment." A sickly glow began to emanate from one of the warlock's hands as he conjured forth his vile black magic. In not even a second, that glow of light suddenly turned into a whip of fire as green as envy. Without warning, he lashed that whip at That Which Consumes Peace.

The soulfire, as the whip was made of, burned with an unnatural heat that not even Torrens could have matched. Rather than consume any tangible items like normal fire, this magical flame consumed one's very soul. Brief contact from the whip's lash would not harm the physical form of That Which Consumes Peace, but it would strike the demon at its very core and inflict an indescribably tortuous amount of pain, if only for a few moments. After the whip flashed forward and cracked, lighting the entire room with its blindingly bright glow, it vanished.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the Master spoke, "You would do well to redeem yourself with future success. Those in my services are expected to pull their own weight."

Despite the pain that he inflicted and the harsh punishment, the Overlord notably did not have That Which Consumes Peace return the captives that he had earlier claimed. They, along with many other things, would be taken away if the demon continued to be a disappointment. Shukra had only had his meager dozen humans confiscated as a statement against his deception; while others might see it different, the Master saw it as a slap on the wrist. What were a few worthless humans, anyways?

Silence still pervading the room, the Master said, "Let us resume. Is there anything else that must be said, any more spoils that you lot would lay claim to?"

While the Master's minions squabbled and schemed in the dungeon, Kor simply skulked in the shadowy corner of the caves that he claimed as his own. He had no room; he had no need for a room. Every last one of his possessions was already on his accursed body. The impaled human still hung from his sword, but he had absolutely no use for it so he let the meat sack slide down to the floor before it became completely dried out and a pain in the ass to remove. He simply kicked the corpse to the side for the imps to play with, or perhaps that Kobald would use it for one of his mad experiments. Either way, there was little from the spoils that interested Kor. What use had he for a slave? He was a Darkwraith, he ate, sowed chaos, and basked in the dark. How could a human slave help him with that? And the humans, now captive, would not even make a decent meal. Their spirits were broken, their hope depleted; they were morose shells of their former selves; they were rotten. It was well that the master took them away.

However, there was one thing in the spoils that caught Kor's eye. It must have come from the manor, for it was so finely crafted, and it was an object that any bipedal creature, no matter how depraved, could appreciate. When the Master made one last call for his minions to lay claim to the spoils, Kor stepped forward. When he approached the Dungeon Keeper, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head in deference without demeaning himself as the other groveling minions had. "My lord," he began in a tone that was surprisingly formal for a creature born in a black Abyss. "When your imps looted the manor, they brought back one object that has caught my attention." He gestured toward the the pile of loot that still remained and pointed to the object in question. "With your permission, I would like to lay claim to that chair." It may have seemed like a strange request, but hell, even minions of darkness want to rest their ass on something other than stone.

However, one could suspect an ulterior motive. After such flagrant displays of, greed, disrespect, and insubordination, Kor was the only one to show their Master -- and indeed few seemed to realize the meaning of that word -- truly proper respect. And, he was the only one to ask before taking.

The appearance of That Which Consumes Peace was expected. What wasn't was the sudden assault against Shukra, causing him to be sent a few feet and onto his side. Had he been in a better position, he would have remained upright and only skid a few inches. But, thanks to him being on his knee and expecting the presence of the Master to keep the others at bay, he was blindsided, and was now forced to pick himself up off the ground, rubbing the back of his hand against his cheek. It stung, but his pride was bruised more than his face. If they'd been anywhere else, in the presence of anyone else, he'd light that demon up like a bonfire and watch it burn to ash. As it were, though, he held still and waited for the demon to finish his accusations, before scoffing. He would hold his tongue, though. This was the Master's decision to make.

And he did not try to defend his reasoning or what he would have done with the humans. The Master did not wish to hear it, and he did not have the patience to explain it. So, he merely nodded, and would have them returned. There were always other villages, more humans. While his faced remained as a calm irritation, a smirk came to his face and he had to hold back a laugh as the Master whipped That Which Consumes Peace with light, the demon's weakness. Once the entire spectacle was complete, Shukra rubbed his sore cheek once more, and glanced around the room.

"Master, if I may be so bold," he began, bowing his head before looking up at the warlock, "few in this dungeon would have use for the weapons and armor, especially those with enchantments. My men can make use of them, far better than the imps here. If neither you nor one of the others objects, I would like to have them and distribute amongst my ranks, so that they could be put to some use, rather than be a trophy for an imp." He gave a disdainful look to one of the little monsters, then once again bowed to the Dungeon Keeper and waited for a response. It was a ballsy move, after just having his prisoners taken away, however he did have a feeling that his Master would see some reason. At worst, he would simply say no. Or strike him for his arrogance. Either way, he would take whatever was given to him.

Athinar viewed the proceedings with a wicked grin, one that even the Master would see. He approved of the punishment, even if he thought that the oversized pussy was in the wrong. No matter what he thought, believed, the Boss was always right. Athinar stepped up behind Consumes Peace, and patted him on the back, roughly, mocking sympathy. "That's rough, mate." Winking at Shukra, he simply said one word. "Pussy." Turning away, and to the Boss, Athinar smiled, and clapped. Athinar genuinely liked the Boss's leadership style, even if it was somewhat lackluster.

Athinar decided to take the bold approach. Fortune apparently favored that, or would, if he hadn't punched her in the throat, three years ago. Smiling broadly at the Boss, he said, speaking to the Master alone, although letting the others hear him, "Hey, Boss, I like your style, I really do, but might you consider delegation? Organization is necessary to win in a battle." Back at the monastery, the monks had taught him well, they really had. He might come off as having a one-track mind, but he does know most everything that there is to know about combat, even if he isn't a good strategist, he was a good tactician. Placing his gauntleted hand on his chest, he said, "I hate to say it, but while everyone here is either a good leader, or powerful, or a good strategist, I am possibly one of the best tacticians in here. So, Boss, the only thing I want to talk about now is a request. Would you put me in a position to oversee these fools, at least in the middle of raids and battles?" Hopefully the Boss would listen, and Athinar beating up Lady Luck three years ago wouldn't come to bite him in the ass.

"Very well then. Take what armor and weaponry you will, then," the Keeper answered Shukra. He also permitted the Darkwraith to have his chair, though it was an odd request from Kor. Perhaps the wight saw something special about the mundane object that nobody else had? Suddenly remembering that Twich had asked his leave to take a dozen slaves before the spectacle had started, he at last turned to answer the expectant kobold.

"Your request is granted," he finally answered. It was then that he realized with the shadows over the slaves' faces, it was rather difficult to tell which ones were made defective by Narza. Not to mention that he had no clue which ones the kobold had picked out earlier. The Dungeon Keeper blessed the kobold with eyes of night, at least temporarily, so that his vision would suddenly be able to pierce the thick cocoons of shadow that cloaked the shackled slaves in the corner. With another gesture he created a dark singularity nearby, a small spot of utter darkness for all others, but to the kobold's temporarily augmented vision he would see it for what it truly was: a portal back to his own chambers. It was a rather kind gesture from the Master, who normally would have left the tiny kobold to figure out how to move the prisoners. Twich seemed both respectful and useful though, a seemingly rare combination amongst the rabble that served the Master.

"If any survive your loving care for long enough for you to want rid of them, donate them to the imps. They could always use more hands, and...entertainment."

The Keeper was then distracted by Athinar's compliment. Such a deliberate compliment or appeal to his ego made the Master suspicious; Athinar obviously wanted something. Fortunately he didn't have to guess what that something was, as Athinar proceeded to request a leadership position. After a moment of thought, the Dungeon Keeper smiled. His answer was, "A bold request; you may have potential, Athinar. Yes, you will lead one of my next attacks. Yet do not consider it permanent by any standard, for your continued rank will depend upon your success. I do not take failure lightly or kindly." At that, a chuckle reverberated from deep within the warlock's chest, a low rumble that would likely sound more like a growl than a laugh. It came not from the human body, but from the demon that possessed it. The Master wondered if Athinar knew what he was getting himself into.

He had been waiting for more of a response from the raven haired beauty about the plans for a second raid when others joined in the idea, if they all went then it would go just as badly as before. If the keeper wanted to take on an army, they could do it if only for the fact that there is so much chaos in the ranks that the enemies could never make a proper plan to counter it. That chaos peaking when they begin to squabble in his very presence.

For just a moment he thought he saw hesitation in the keepers body language, imps were one thing, but infighting amongst the strongest he could assemble is reason to falter, but he did well enough to merit out a blinding lash of hellfire that even he had to shield his eyes.
Octavius turned his raised hand once the time for requests was made, using his meager magics to make the stockpile of magical arms and armor glow visibly for all to see.

"I'll take a claim from those, but I'd like the chance to catalog them better before making my choice."

After That Which Consumes Peace finished his counter-accusation, there came the critical moment. Now it was the Master's turn to act, and that realisation seemed to hit the Keeper pretty hard. The Keeper hesitated, while Torrens watched and within his mind judged the Keeper. Unlike most of the beings here, who were first timers when it came to serving Keepers, Torrens had served many Keepers before this one over many Ages of Evil. This Keeper was not an expert leader or diplomat, but that could be forgiven since Keepers very rarely if ever have to settle disputes among their own minions. In all the past Ages Keepers had conjured their own minions and Constructs, which often varied from loyal to unerringly obedient, and took only one or two Rogue Beings. However, inside this Dungeon were not one or two but at least thirteen Rogue Beings, including himself, filling a full spectrum of loyalty and temper. He could understand why the Master might err at this moment.

With this analysis in mind, Torrens deduced that the casting of the shadow spell on the slaves was to buy time to think more than any other reason, especially given the slow way he cast it, individually rather than all at once. Given that time, the Keeper had finally found words to say and berated the two beings standing before him. Then he passed judgement and punishment. With Shukra, he confiscated the stolen slaves. What he did with That Which Consumes Peace, though, made Torrens stand to attention. In the warlock's hand materialised a whip of concentrated soulflame, which Torrens instantly recognised. Before he could so much as take a step, yet alone grab a sample, the which cracked and it was gone as fast as it had appeared. He admired the control the Keeper had over the flame, controlling the strike such that the shadowy demon's soul would only be slightly burned, not catch fire and be completely immolated. For soulflame is tricky stuff to contain indeed- the foul magic behind it makes the green flames almost alive, seeking out a soul to burn unless the utmost care is taken. The moment was over, but Torrens made sure to remember that the Master had the power and knowledge to summon soulflame.

With the scene over and business shifting back to dividing up the loot, Torrens left the chamber and sought out a room to call his own. Unlike most of the other denizens, who would be satisfied with any room provided it had suitable furnishings, Torrens needed a room which would contain his thermal energy and minimise his heat loss. A lava pit would be ideal, but lacking that he knew what would be second best. He entered the Dungeon's forge, which was occupied at this time by imps preparing for the influx of metal to work with. He walked up to a group of them and said, "I have a request- well, an order, really. Build me a room behind the furnace. Reroute the furnace's exhaust into that room, so as to keep it hot. You'll probably need to conceive something to stop the smoke from coming out the doorway filling the rest of the Dungeon. And I want it done quickly. Understood?"

These imps, however, were not keen on taking up extra work. "Bah, find yerself another room. We got work 'ere to do."

In response to that Torrens slammed his hand onto the bench beside the imp and leaned over so his face was right up close to the imp. Although this imp was a furnace worker, being in such close proximity to Torrens was still deeply uncomfortable and even somewhat painful and the imp was forced to shy back. "It wasn't optional," Torrens snarled, "You build me that room, or else you'll be getting to know me a bit too... closely. Understand now?" The imp swallowed hard and nodded. Getting the response he wanted, Torrens stood back up and returned to normal tones, the only sign of his anger before being the deep, red-hot smoking hand-print in the workbench. "Good. Get to work. I haven't got much better to do." As the imps prepared to dig, Torrens went to the furnace and sat down at its opening. It wasn't particularly hot for a furnace, since it wasn't in use, but it definitely beat standing in the cold cave.

Emily sat at the back, and didn't really watch what was going on. Some sort of arguement between people. It wasn't her thing to pay attention to the bickerings of the minions. She was here for Master, and that was it. Emily casually hoped that Master knew how she felt about him, or weither he hadn't planned her growing beyond what he thought when she was first created. Either way, there was no chance she would ever bicker in front of him and cause him to get annoyed.

But then, by way of two of her Spirits suddenly peaking interest, Emily watched what was happening more closely. Master had, for some reason, spawned great Soulfire and whipped one of the less physical minions with it. Such a creation was marvolous, much like the True Empyrean, which stood leagues above her own. All she knew about it that it was to far beyond her at the present time to consider trying it. The thing would probably backfire and kill her, and everything else it came across as well. However, it certainly did the trick for settling the arguement, and she was free to move in, after he was asked about someone getting a leadership role for a new raid.

"Master, I need to talk to you about something. Could we get more private chambers?" She asked, a touch of powerful Spirit-Mage in her tone, and a touch of cute, innocent girl. It never heard to use both when talking to anyone.

The Dungeon Keeper shot a glance at Octavius and the selection that he made glow. "Take what you like, go through it and I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for. You have first pick over Shukra, as what he takes will be given to mere orcs."

It looked like most had said there share and taken whatever they had wanted; this meeting was drawing to a close. Already several of his minions had left. The Master himself was about to retreat to his own quarters to think of a plan when Emily asked to talk about something. He was in a somewhat foul mood after the fight between Shukra and That Which Consumes Peace, though he would humor Emily's request. Without a word in response, he teleported the two of them to a more secluded and private section of the dungeon. Then he merely stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to begin talking.

The fact that the master had accepted his request and provided him with several minor boons to ease with the transport of his new crop of test subjects made Twich a very happy kobold. Reaffirmed in his choice of patron master, Twich went to work gathering his new test subjects (In some cases, having some of them drag the unresponsive bodies of the soulless with them) and shepherding them through the provided portal.

With enough prodding and a few kicks here and there, Twich was able to successfully get his new slaves through the portal without a hitch. Offering his Master one last bow he stepped through the portal himself.

Twich's quarters were really a two roomed area that he had mostly made for himself; The fact that the kobold had been willing to help dig out his rooms instead of just commanding the imps to do it had earned him at least a small amount of grudging respect from the imps themselves. Not much in the ground scheme of things but enough that when he requested two holding cells be dug into the wall of one room and a second room be dug out to convert it into a larger, communal holding cell he had been able to get them. The room was littered with books, medical and alchemy equipment and a heavy, blooded soaked table that was bolted to the floor standing in the middle of the room that was covered in heavy leather and metal restraints.

Physically making the test subjects that were carrying soulless bodies on the floor, Twich herded those still standing through the door into the larger holding cell. It would be rather cramped at the moment, but after the primary tests on the soulless bodies Twich would get around to solving the overcrowding problem easily enough. Once the slaves were secure, Twich dragged one of the soulless bodies over to his table and with much effort got the big bastard onto it.

All he had to do now was figure out what experiment he wanted to start off working on...

"Hmm... What to start off with. Could make something to kill the master's enemies on mass... Could figure out how to improve it to make better slaves and servants... Decisions decisions..." Twich muttered privately to himself with a large, toothy smile on his face.

Athinar nodded knowingly, as if the Boss had made the only sensible choice. Grinning, he waved in farewell to the Master."Thanks Chief! You won't regret your decision!" His smile became decidedly more sharklike as he headed back to the other champions. Saying nothing, he passed by them, and grabbed an imp in a massive fist. As he reached the connecting tunnel, he said, "Hey. Minion. Come with me." Taking him to his room, he found Meat sitting in the middle of the room, on his knees. Surprisingly, the barber had a faint smile on his face, even though his cheeks were covered in rapidly drying tears. Cocking his head curiously, he threw the imp into the far corner of the room, causing him to land against the rough stone wall, stunned from shortness of breath. Closing the door behind him, and locking it, Athinar asked, "Meat? What are you doing?"

Meat smiled, and said, "I've come to terms with being here. Boss, I see that were're similar." At Athinar's confused look, he said, "For so long, I was treated like trash, and now I-" He sucked in his breath, a look of bloodthirsty determination in his eyes. "With you, I can get revenge on the world that wronged me." Athinar was surprised, but it was a good surprise. He didn't think that Meat had it in him.

Smiling, and patting him on the back, he said, "Meat, don't worry. We'll get them all. However, don't ever, EVER try and betray me. No matter how tempting it may be, I WILL kill you." Meat gave him a confident nod. He was entirely Athinar's.

Emily felt the teleporting happen suddenly, and instantly. Like her flame pillar, only without the spinning head, and feeling of sickness, and needing of an actual flame pillar before hand. But, the gesture was appriciated. How he wordlessly accepted a private talk with her. It was nice that he didn't think she was going to kill him, or he was so far up his own ass he didn't think she was a threat. That was much more likely.
"Ok, so, most of the bodies where splattered beyond even Abominations, and melted on the way. Even those that did survive are a mess, and wil probably melt in a few days. The ones that are slightly better are still in rough shape, so I'd give it a week before they all go and the spirits start looking for new hosts. I did, however, manage to speak to one of the not-so-dead Zombies on the way here. They can't really speak very well in dead bodies, so decyphering it was a pain, however I think I managed it eventually" She blabbered, before stopping. And taking a breath.

"Basically, I need to summon a Kitsune. They are haughty, and rather arrogant creatures, and to get their attention would require quite a considerable show. So, I need to incinerate a village, with all it's people and buildings and grass intact. And, I was wondering if I was allowed to do that. I mean, it's kind of a waste, but the Kitsunes are really smart and kinda open when they are summoned"

Shukra bowed to the Master and thanked him, only for him to suck in a breath as the human requested some pieces and was given permission to take what he pleased before him. He held back a growl of irritation, then folded his arms. He would wait for the witch to make off with the gear, then get some imps to carry it off. Unlike the rest, he had no room here. No, his home was far away, in the mountains to the northeast, with his orcs. This dungeon, in its current state, wasn't fit for his presence. It wasn't fit for the presence of anyone but the imps and those creatures that hid in the darkness of its corridors. Pathetic, really. Even the Master had to admit that. But, he would not, would never, belittle the place in front of anyone that would take word back to the Dungeon Keeper. That was just inviting a lashing upon his back.

Once Octavius had made his pick, Shukra barked a few orders at the imps, the flames on him flaring up to give him an intimidating stance. He might have just groveled for the Master's forgiveness, been punched by a demon, and ridiculed by a buffoon, but that did not make him any less of a threat. In fact, it might have just made him more of one, for now his mood was foul and he was more likely to strike down the little red creatures and blame something else for their deaths. And they knew it, too, for he managed to round up enough to carry the equipment for him. Shukra walked before them, hand on the hilt of his sword, something he hadn't even drawn all day. He almost wished he'd sliced the form of that despicable demon with it, just to prove that he could. But, no matter. The others knew of what he could do, and that he commanded more forces than them. Forces that he'd built himself, in fact. They'd just grovel to the Master for their petty prizes and troops they didn't earn. Except maybe a few, perhaps.

Speaking of a buffoon, Shukra remembered the thing Athinar requesting to be put above them. A snarl came to Shukra's face, causing passerby to avoid him by as far as they could. By now, they were out of the dungeon and heading up into the mountains, where his orcs would await him. No matter what the Master said, Athinar would not, could not, order him around. Besides, the Master said that he would lead a future raid, not command the other minions. Those were two different things. He smiled, strolling into a cave. Yes, he was still free. The creature would not be able to order him around, and if tried, well, Shukra had the forces to ignore him. The men he'd brought today was only a taste of the Vorhaas clan, who were three hundred strong, two hundred of which were warriors. He could have performed the entire raid himself, if the Master had allowed it. And he would not let Athinar turn that well oiled machine into a damn battering ram to smash against the walls of a castle until none were left.

When they arrived, Shukra ordered the orcs and imps to trade loads. He looked at the humans, let out a sigh, and said, "I am sorry, friends. You must go to the Master. Perhaps later I can take you back with me." The humans cried and yelled for salvation, but Shukra silenced them all with a burst of flame and a roar. He then had the imps create a circle, much like they had for the Dungeon, to take him back to his home, and in minutes, he, the orcs, and the enchanted equipment were gone from those mountains in the south, leaving the humans at the mercy of the imps and the Dungeon Keeper.

Ekusha was baffled at the situation unraveling before her. It all seemed to happen so quickly. The events were incredibly revealing of character that she had even forgotten her own train of thought in the moment. What had occurred between Shukra and That Which Consumes Peace had been rather distasteful, but unsurprising for two naturally aggressive beings. The Keeper's handling of the situation did not help to garner cooperation, either. With that, Athinar's pride landed him a shot at leadership within the group. Ekusha began questioning the structure of this group, but only time could tell how this would all transpire.

Octavius, the human, seemed to be the simplest one present. Appearing both rational and humble, he didn't seem to seek much outward validation from this group, a trait she very much admired; rather, it looked like he wanted placement and purpose, something she could see him finding in himself through the Dungeron Keeper's movement. We'll definitely be working very closely, human.

As everything seemed to be settling down, Ekusha approached Twitch in his quarters. He had been left to his own devices with his new dummies, but what better time to converse than during this down-time?

"Kobold, I say you, I, and the Rakshasa work together on carving out an empire in this world. The Master will have the totality of this world, but we can become gods in our own right. We can jointly oversee a vast domain with each of us securing a disjoint realm: you intellectually, I metaphysically, and I believe Shukra has the means and the mind for kingship! This group has a lot of individual potential, but probability and security in success does not increase with such high numbers and overlapping desires."

"I have no doubts we will have our disagreements and inevitably butt-heads, but with the separation of our powers aligning with our goals and personas, we can achieve stability so long as we cooperate from our respective positions of influence. I do not believe in the rule of good or evil; all I believe in is the power of rule, and I feel you can empathize being the professor of science you are. All I ask is for your consideration on this matter. The new world order has already been set in motion: we just need to secure our own places in it."

As Emily had guessed, the Dungeon Master (perhaps arrogantly) was under the impression that she posed no threat to him. After all, what could possibly rival his power? In the Infernal Realms he had countless slaves and had bested nearly as many rival demons. In this world of the living, he had amassed an army the likes of which had never been seen before, and soon enough he would conquer the entire kingdom of Ardebit. She could not surprise him or best him.

...or so he thought, until she went on and surprised him indeed by proposing to summon a Kitsune with some sort of ritual that would involve razing an entire village. He was agitated at the mere implication that she had thought to create some sort of flame zombies, bringing the creatures into the dungeon, and only later stating that the spirits would incinerate their hosts and wreak havoc looking for new ones. He was doubly provoked by the thought that to fix this problem thy would now need to sacrifice an entire village's worth of loot and potential slaves.

Still, the last village had yielded little of worth and so he saw no real need to strip another of all its resources. There were a few nearby hamlets that would need to disappear soon, so Emily's request had been timed well. At any other point he would have flatly denied such an absurd request, but he would humor her this once. "Very well. You may try to burn down a village and perform your ritual, though I would advise you not to fail. If let survivors escape, you will know my wrath."

After letting that sink in, he continued, "Take the one known as Torrens Igneus along with you. He will no doubt appreciate the chance to burn a village, and his help may prove useful. Take all of the fiery creatures of your as well; you will find them locked in one of the empty storage rooms. I will give you half a day to prepare, and then you will go. There is another village only slightly northwest of the last one that we raided. That will be your target."

His spiel complete, the Master began to leave. His infernal gaze continued to stare at Emily as it had throughout this entire encounter, though the fiery red began to grow ever more dull. Within a few moments, Emily would find that the warlock before her was transparent. Then he melted into a mere shadow, and then he was gone, having teleported back into his Dungeon Heart.

He ordered one of his imp servants to enter the dungeon cells and bring back one of the human slaves that he had claimed from the last raid. Several had no doubt noticed the Master's rather meager claim when the spoils were presented. None of the paltry material items had interested him, only the flesh. He took only ten because he did not require personal slaves; he had imps for that. No, he only needed humans for the occasional blood sacrifice or soul.

After several minutes, a team of imps carried a limp woman in. While she was still alive, her eyes were glazed as they simply stared into nothingness. He kept all of his blood slaves both drugged and under magical enchantments, to avoid any escapes or resistance. They did not need their minds or their bodies, anyways. After a rather gruesome sacrifice upon his altar, the warlock was empowered. With this temporary strength he was able t perform all manner of feats and dark rites. He used his magic to scry lands far away, spying on nearby lords, eying defenses of towns, searching for any threats or opportunities. Then he scourged the sacrifice's soul, sifting through the woman's various memories in search of anything useful.

When all of this was done, he used his newly acquired information to begin plotting. He would soon have more work for his other minions...

Emily listened to the Master speak, and then bit her lip as he said she could try to burn a village. She knew it wouldn't do much, but she had to correct him anyway, it was an obsession.
"It won't be me that burns the village. It'll be the Kitsune, if they accept the 'gift'. The incineration is just a side-effect and happens instantly" she told him, but then he started to look transparant, and eventually vanished totally. So, she knew she wasn't going to get a reply. But, her orders where absolute. She was to take her 'Fiery creatures' with her. But, he didn't specifically say to the village, so that meant she could let them off and have them go find new hosts. Spies, to keep track of people and listen to rumor could be helpful, as well as them acting as double agents if the village was ever raided.

So, with much on her mind, Emily wandered out of the room, and found the storage where her beasts where kept. Emily then took them out of the dungeons and released them from the fleshy shells, by engouging their power momentarily and causing the flesh to melt around them.
"There is a village to the south west of where you where summoned. Do not go near it. Anywhere else is free game. So, hunt those who still live, and take host within them. Try to keep a low profile until told otherwise though" she told the now spiritual forms. They then flew off into the sky, howling with excitement. Mayhem, even a low profile mayhem, was always fun in the mortal realm.

With that bit of business done, she returned to the Dungeon and looked around the entrance. It would certainly benifit from having a few Runes around the cave mouth and surrounding area, but that would be something for another time. Right now, she needed to find Torrens. Which, would not be hard. He woiuld obviously be in the Forge, since the rest of the cave was rather drafty, and wouldn't do him any favours. Her sucpiscions where right, as she found him standing over some imps, doing something that she wasn't really interested enough to find out.
"Torrens!~ Master told me to take you out on an expidition I am going on. I am sure I could find you something nice, if all goes to plan" She cooed, siming and waiting for the fire-eater to respond.

"Take what you like, go through it and I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for. You have first pick over Shukra, as what he takes will be given to mere orcs."

"Sir."

It was all the permission he needed to leave, a snap of fingers had a dozen imps taking away the indicated items to his corner of the universe. He worked quickly and quietly to get the unwanted to the Tiger lord. Octavius was feeling over each item to find anything beyond "Magically sharpened sword" and "Magically hard armor". As the keeper said, these were going to orcs. A round shield that had been used as a mirror but refused to wear any soot from the fires, old scalemail that looked like the village had been built over it and a dagger that was radiating heat as much as magic.

With those three things secured away, he left the rest to the leader of orcs and retired to his room. One there he removed the pearl from his ear and set it into an earing to not miss a summons but still to keep the Keeper out of his head in as literally a way as possible.
The odd thing about his room, is that it looked like any tavern for the night. Hardwood floors, hardwood walls, a 'window' looking out to a night sky and the ambient sounds of bards in a mainroom singing with others laughing. It was all illusions, of course, but it was a pleasing illusion, or pleasing to him at least. If another came in, they would see what they wanted to see. Tinkerhel, for example, always found herself quite pleased to see all manner of device and implement upon the walls with a bed of nails rather than his tightened bag of hay.

He had the three imps set them on his bed and leave, giving each of them a bit of jerked horse as they go. The hexblade would get to work upon unraveling the enchantments of the stronger magic items later, but for now he needed to relax. He clapped three times then out came a buxom blond brownie bound and gagged. Working for the keeper had its benefits.

Nothing much was happening in or near the Forge, save for the imps digging a new room into the stone wall, so when Emily passed in front of the entrance to the chamber his gaze automatically shifted to her. When Emily mentioned that he was to go out on an expedition, he leaped to his feet and bounded over to a safe following distance, obviously excited to have something to do. He rubbed his hands together and said, "Excellent! I was hoping to find use for my energy before I lose it. Where are we going? More importantly, what do I get to burn?"

In his mind he remembered that this was the girl who could draw runes and had pyromancy and spirits and stuff. So, as far as he could tell, it was very likely that something was going to burn, and a lot.