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You are standing around a dying campfire with the other characters. You don't know them well yet, but you've already survived hell together, and you've sworn to build a Dungeon with each of you as Lords - one that will be greater then any that came before.

Each of you has a Dark Heart on your character sheet, which in this case represents a great deed of some kind you accomplished either while the dungeon was falling or during the escape. Please introduce your character and share a flashback to your great deed (or , discuss it IC if you prefer!)

Zaz'ak

---

---

Crackling and popping embers resounded from within the roar of the open flames of the campfire dug beneath the boughs of an old looking tree, and sitting just out of the firelight the silhouette of a reptilian humanoid leaned against the tree that kept the fire from dying. Zaz'ak was the name he'd been given at birth by his tribes chieftain but he rarely got referred to by his name under the command of his previous master, and yet even now he knew nobody would listen to a kobold as it was widely known that his kind were simply used as fodder and employed as lackeys to be commanded by bigger and stronger monsters.

With brightly colored aquamarine eyes the kobold turned his head towards the others gathered underneath the old tree, faintly the patter of rain could be heard outside as they huddled around the campfire trying to dry off by the warmth of the open flame. There were four of them each different than the next but it was too early to tell if anything beneficial for him could be gained from striking up a friendship with any of them, but at the very least they kept to themselves and left him alone.

"Alone..." he muttered in draconic remembering the dragon that once ruled their dungeon before it was usurped by the master who changed his peoples way of life.

"Ah what a tasty morsel all alone in my lair," deeply a voice disturbed mountains of treasure and old relics in a dusty chamber where a lone kobold held up a single copper coin "Is that all you seek whelp?" the voice was mocking and filled with venom "A single copper when gold surrounds you?" it sounded more curious than mocking as a single great glowing eyes drifted out from the darkness. The winged behemoth snorted smelling the kobold and grinned a toothy grin.

"Your name whelp?"

"Zaz'ak." the horned kobold whispered feeling the scar below his eye from the battle he fought while escaping the dungeon in his cowardice alongside a few other kobolds.

Darc Matter

---

It's been too long since Darc has feasted upon flesh. He had to get by consuming mere insects and plant matter, biomass which barely sated his hunger for meat. He knew he had to be conservative with his meals because the rest of his companions certainly wouldn't have survived this journey if Darc ate his fill. But that consideration was only out of pragmatism: he's already seen what happened when the last Lord failed to gain the cooperation of his minions. He wasn't about to repeat his mistake. Those days in the dungeon were a complete bore to Darc, a waste of his talents. His lord had created him, enlighten him, to be more than a mere slime but all that lord did was make Darc clean the dungeon and take out trash. Like some imp! It was demeaning.

As tough as it was, the attack on the dungeon really let Darc show what exactly he was capable of. While the dungeon lord cowered in his safe room, Darc and his brethren were among the first to attack the adventurers. Originally, his slimekin were just suppose to charge right at the adventurers to slow them down with their bodies. But Darc had a better plan. He had taken large barrels of oil to a narrow hall where the adventurers were suppose to meet them. Taking advantage of his amorphous shape to position himself he broke open the oil barrels as his kin charged, slithering across the ground. The confusion on those adventure's faces as the tunnel was flooded with oil and slimes put a nonexistent smile on Darc's grotesque mass. Afterwards he himself snuck closer, his blacken mass hidden underneath the tide of glistening oil. His slimekin simply attacked whoever was closest but Darc knew that he needed to sneak past the frontlines to attack the ones in the back: the ones armed with ranged weapons and magic. In particular he spotted the priestess: the one who would keep this group alive after each gruesome combat.

Darc struck hard and fast. As the priestess was about to cast a spell, Darc rose from the oil slick and wrapped his claws around her throat, cutting off her incantation. His slimekin distracted the warriors from being able to stop him, and the ranger wouldn't dare take a shot at Darc while he used their precious priestess as a human shield. Darc retreated back from the battle, taunting the adventurers about what would be the priestess' fate as he slowly choked the life out of her. Once he was safely away he lit the oil on fire to buy more time and possibly even kill some adventurers, whilst he voraciously dined upon the body of healer. Of course his little fire trick also ended up causing a bit more collateral damage than Darc had anticipated, but at that point he didn't care too much about what happened to the dungeon. It was already chaos and Darc simply planned to fulfill his own bestial desires, and shortly after he broke into the larder to dine to his heart's content. He wasn't even sure what happened to his Lord; Darc had already escaped the dungeon by the time the adventures managed to get to him.

Darc sighed wistfully at the thought of consuming mortal flesh. He'd settled for beasts too. And despite being a slime, he knew the delicacies of cooking. If he were a mortal, Darc figured he would make a good chef. Alas. He looked to the others around him. Frankly speaking, he didn't know them. Certainly he knew their names, and vaguely aware of their abilities, but he didn't know them personally. He stayed with his slimekin and the only other person he had extensive conversations with were the lord. He doubts he could trust them, but then again they'd also be right not to trust Darc. Ultimately however, they'd need each other if they wanted to survive. It would have to be a give or take relationship. And so Darc spoke up. "We need to find a proper refuge. Skulking about underneath trees and rocky overlooks is for beasts and barbarians. We'll never be able to make a dungeon if we're living like vagabonds. We ought to look for a forge or workshop: we need equipment if we're going to start raiding the mortals properly. Since unlike myself, most of you lack naturally lethal weapons to protect against mortal steel."

Krieg paced back and forth thru mud soaked land, the rain beating down upon him.
He cared less for the company around him, he didn't trust any of them.
While it may be true that they shared a dungeon before, where is that dungeon now?
Gone, destroyed, my home, my maze, taken by humanoids, adventurers who trespass upon my domain.
Krieg let's forth a loud roar, followed by heavy snort as he stomps his hoof into the thick mud forming around his path.

Glimpses of his past infest his mind, he sees his father wearing human armor, carrying his special axe made by the hands of a dwarf.
His father, the traitor of his clan, his father who betrayed his own family and took up with humanoid adventurers.
Krieg snorted again, and charged directly at an old oak tree, ducking his head down.
The impact was as if lightning had struck the tree itself, as it split open!
A little blood trickled down over his eye, and a strange eerily grin grew across his face.
Satisfied, Krieg had no sooner made it back to where everyone else was, and. Walked in on the end of dark master's speech about beasts standing in the rain.
Krieg stood erect, standing nearly 9 foot 5 inches, "I am a beast, you have problem with that?"

---

What is a beauty? You may have a lady of your liking, or a gentleman so handsome that you become infatuated. Are they beautiful? Indeed, but are they the manifestation of beauty itself? Now let them be sacrificed, let them be non-existent any longer in this world. What would you feel? A loss? A regret? Why? Isn't that because the knowledge of the Beauty itself is already in there? The Beauty itself lies inside you.

Iziza manifests herself inside the desiring heart, not behind any idols or effigies, mere simulacra which meagerly depict the wider perspective of the Beauty itself. All creatures are granted with such passion can cultivate their soul to become one, united with The Sweet Temptress. The first gateway for a soul to understand the Beauty is by exposing the physical senses with the deprivation of the Beauty herself.

That was my teaching, a quite radical doctrine I might say.

My recent work, a ritualistic opera, bringing the title of "Defloration of Iziza", was composed to represent such notion. The sudden dissonant in harmony, the disjointed dialogues, the choreographic deconstruction, and the wounding of the main actors filled the falling down anticlimactic narrative structures. Beyond forms, of course, there's a sublime purgation of the shackle in the hearts of the appreciators, the loss of Beauty in their sense, the realisation that their own desires are the keepers and the very presence of the Beauty itself.

I was excommunicated. My heretical work was destroyed. My sympathizers were persecuted. My life was endangered as the inquisitors were sent to bring me into questions and to judge me for what I created. My own succubus kin, my own adherents and my fellows in the worship of Iziza, turned against me.

Iziza's adherent called me a heretic, but the Sweet Temptress is not her adherents. I believe that it is not a coincidence that Iziza still allows me to live until now. In this dimlight of a humble campfire, I've just met some new fellow outcasts, sharing stories with these gentlemen regardless of the truth behind them. Despite every irony of all that happened in my life, I conduct myself a worship around the campfire. My dance encircles the dim light, my song praises Iziza.

My teaching shall manifest, my temple shall be built, my church shall be prosperous.

Darc Matter

---

While his mask stayed in place Darc Matter was looking at Krieg. The brute from the dungeon who somehow managed to escape instead of die fighting. Maybe he was smart, or maybe he was a coward. And now he was being annoying. His size didn't intimidate Darc as he rose to meet his height, his slime-like body enabling him to manipulate his size and shape with ease. Despite his pragmatism telling him to let bygones be bygones, Darc's Big-Mouth just couldn't keep shut (Dark Impulse). "My problem is that I am no mere beast. If you want to roam the wilds, eating grass and banging your head against rocks, that's your prerogative. But if you plan to be more, to be a true Monster Lord, we need to focus on the task at hand!"

After his little outburst Darc glanced towards the others. They seemed to be distracted or at least not particularly focused on the conversation, so Darc just kept talking. "I remember being sent to this area to scout for the old lord. I know there's a few hamlets and remote villages even we four could take on our own. But we need to focus on which one we plan to take over for ourselves so we can gather information and make the preparation we need. Though we aren't dealing with a militia or adventurers, usually these frontier farmers are retired soldiers or at least expect some danger. Even if we manage to take a place for ourselves there's also other monsters in this area who might try and pick a fight with us. But they might also be allies if we want to try and talk to them. Though considering that most of our wealth was left behind at the dungeon I doubt we have anything they want." Darc returned to the fire, throwing some sticks into the flame to keep it going. He wasn't about to become a servant again, so he was more than willing to start calling the shots if no one else was going to bother taking the lead. And he'd probably still boss people around even if someone did decide to become the leader.

"So yeah. We need to decide what sort of base we want! Again, I vote for a workshop or a forge. It doesn't need to be anything too fancy, just somewhere we can gather gear to prepare for bigger raids and jobs. But once we start gathering more resources and minions we ought to be able to expand. Darc pointed a bony hand over at Zaz'ak, who was muttering something. Workshops attract all sorts of monsters, kobolds in particular, so it ought to be easy for Zaz'ak to gather some minions for raids. Darc turned towards Krieg, still defiant but now cooperative. "And better equipment means you'll be more effective in the field of battle, Krieg. Weapons to cleave your enemies, armor to break their blades, all that good stuff. And finally Darc moved towards the woman dancing around the campfire. Darc didn't dance with her but he at least followed her along. "I'm sure that Baganaria dark rituals will also need things that have to be made, so again, a forge will make sure we're able to make whatever we need to fuel out efforts. Iron idols to your dark god for our minions to venerate, effigies and symbols to show the mortals that their gods won't save them in our territory. Very essential stuff."

---

---

Zaz'ak stepped into view sitting close to the fire, but sat far from Krieg the loud bullheaded warrior yet close enough for the other monsters to glean the somewhat annoyed look on his face. "I do not agree with your plan slime," he made a yipping sound followed by an irritable rasp that was a foul word in his tongue if anyone understood the draconic tongue "We need a hiding place not a billowing forge and you know why?" he asked Darc mockingly.

---

I listen to the scrutinous notion from the slime. How surprising it is to see a creature that seems so simple in form capable of uttering complex arguments. A forge indeed, might be valuable to craft some relics. I might also adorn my loyal servants with powerful unholy artifacts.

Regardless, I still find a dungeon of other style, conforming to a different purpose might still be useful. I'll wait the other gentlemen to take their vote. It is probable that we will each have our own argument in that we'll never reach any consensus if I have any saying now. I will reserve my vote as the deciding finale.

I keep my dancing, putting my innocence as a facade, feigning my ignorance.

"Great Horned King, hear me father, give me the strength to crush your enemies, that I may sacrifice their wretched souls for you to torment."
"Master, was this a test?" Krieg *snorts* "Or was this a betrayal?"
He stopped praying momentarily as he scanned the group, looking at each one closely.
Krieg looked to the stars, "Hear me...." Suddenly Kriegs voice changed, became more deep and distant, "She."
Krieg turned his head, and his eyes fell upon the demonic succubus.
He grinned wickedly,"Yes my father."
"My allegiance and protection will I give freely to her."
Krieg bowed his head.

Darc Matter

---

If Darc had eyes he’s roll then at Zaz’ak snide tone, and the slime quickly retorted. ”Tis only a bad idea to you because you are a craven and your skin burns if exposed to light brighter than a bonfire.” Darc approached the kobold, getting to his eye level. At this low to the ground Darc’s mass made him look bigger and bulkier than when he tries to look tall like he did with Krieg. ” Don’t act so smug when all you’re doing is sitting on your tail brooding like some mortal with parental issues. We’ve been traveling for weeks and so far none of you have offered any plans beyond vague platitudes about slaughtering mortals or becoming dungeon lords. So by all means, Zaz’ak, enlighten us all why you think my plan is so bad and why whatever you think is somehow suppose to be more beneficial than what our previous dungeon lord did.”

Phardax the Ebon

---

The flames danced among the foliage, illuminating the monsters and misfits that had survived the slaughter of their previous master's holdings. Strange, as Phardax wouldn't have considered any of them worthy of survival, but they had their definite strengths. The brutality of Krieg and the cunning Darc Matter were useful in their capacity, not to mention the ability of Baganaria to lure in certain lost souls. Was the Kobold Zaz'ak? He had forgotten all about that one. Perhaps he had underestimated him the most out of the whole lot. Phardax grinned, and as he did so his eyes.

The light of the flames, as if coming to life with his malevolent ire leapt up as fire often did by a gust of wind or catching itself upon the driest timber among the lot. It finally revealed the dark one standing behind them all. Phardax had always been a conniving one. Perhaps not as strong as the brute or as alluring as the succubi, but he was handsome and dangerous, with a smile that pierced hearts and a penchant for dark sorcery. The screams from his victims and the groans of desire from those he spared had been notable amongst their former troupe.

Now it was time to make a new one, a dark alliance of these misfits.

"Interesting." the Drow remarked, his voice heavy with promise. "I had thought you scoundrels would have fallen in amongst yourselves to claim top billing, but it seems you wish to work together. I suppose I'll throw my hat into the ring as well, then. Perhaps with the right cohesion, we could truly drive a stake deep into the very heart of this land."

He held up a hand and tossed a strange powder into the fire, causing it to flare to life like the roar of a dragon. It illuminated his wicked smile, turning his striking visage into one of a devil from the nine hells.

---

---

With a bark the kobold fell backwards, and scrambled away from Darc as the slime assumed an intimidating appearance.
Zaz'ak was frightened by the sudden change and immediately distanced himself from his companion, but accidentally bumped into the drow who suddenly appeared from out of nowhere.

Almost immediately Zaz'ak recognized the dark skinned elf as the illustrious Phardax which illicited an odd noise from the Kobold's maw almost sounding like laughter, and as Zaz'ak stood he gave Phardax a toothy grin. He knew the Drow Phardax the Ebon quite well from the accounts of his many confidante's within the old master's dungeon, and especially knew how valuable the elf could prove as an ally in their shared goal of succeeding where their original master failed.

"Beg your pardon," the Kobold bowed his head slightly in apology for bumping into Phardax, but momentarily turned back to the slime Darc to answer his question "I meant it would be ideal to establish a more covert holding but now that I think about it your idea sounds better." with that Zaz'ak returned his gaze back to the Drow "Yes working together will benefit everyone in the long-term" Zaz'ak nodded in agreement to Phardax's words.

Krieg has dealt with the female species of Dark elves before, very cunning creatures, and the males are great wizards.
Perhaps he should throw in with the dark elf and kobold, although father told him to serve the succubus.
So much confusion inside his mind, Krieg shook his head violently from side to side, and for no apparent reason, and charged at the old oak tree.
He lowered his head and smashed against the tree with a loud thunderous crack!
The tree snapped and broke in half, toppling over.
Krieg shook his head clear, "Much better."
He started to walk over to the elf and kobold, when an aroma caught in his nostrils.
The Minotaur bent down and gathered an armfull of apples and brought them over to the campsite, "Food"
He dumped the pile of apples before the group, some were rotted, some were covered in mud and smelled like Krieg.
Krieg sat down next to the elf and kobold, holding up two shiny apples at them "Truce."

Your conversation is cut short by the prize of warmth, food and shelter. That's right folks, we're jumping into a raid, and this will be the location where you begin your dungeon. Woo! Don't worry over details or scouting for this scene, the system is designed to throw you into the action and let the details fall into place along the way.

In the OOC, decide on a Raid Plan, listed below. I realise you don't know much about what's over there, but you're a monster who wants to get out the rain, and monsters don't wait around for things they want. The plan will basically tell us how you want to approach this particular situation. It might be the consensus is a plan that doesn't match your character's fortay, but don't worry - there will be plenty more raids in your futures taking care of those useless Light scum to build your glory ;)

---

Praise the fate that favors the luck of those who have faith in Iziza. The rain stops the fire, our dispute, our confusion, and my infatuated prayers. Our senses become more aware of our surroundings. There I can hear the voices, speaking the tongue of our natural enemies.

The preys, I've long been hungry since the last time I feast on their life force. I can feel my umbilical mouth tempestuously rumbling, eager for another nourishment. Patience, I command myself, for finally the time of my hunger's fulfillment approach. Yet, I might have not enough power if my preys struggle against their own devourer. Besides, I still have to share with these folks I've just met.

We concoct a plan, not a very sound one but at last, for the first time we can agree on something. I'm walking in prances, unable to cover my enthusiasm as we move to our staging area. I let my umbilical mouth to slurp the raw energy around me, gathering enough aura for me to prepare for my allure.

There, the Slime and the Kobold are commencing our plan, sneakily moving to get some intel on our preys. We manage to lure them out of their cave. There are five of them, I can see one already distracted by the work of the Slime. Unfortunately, the Kobold stumbles himself, along with those lightfolks. In such distraught, I allow myself to be seen by one of them. The man with a sunken face has his eyes directly looking onto me.

Without making any noises, I precisely release the dark aura gathered inside my umbilical mouth. My allure takes effect fully on that man. An infatuation is now planted inside that man's desire, unwilling to share with others. He approaches my position, leaving his friends to themselves without even leaving any clues and without even bringing any weapons.

I bring that man away from his friends to a place where the rest of us can strike a blow to him. The rain soaks me and it might get that man's head cooler, rendering my temptation less effective. That man is now without company, only me and my hiding darkfolks wait for him. I make another distraction, allowing that man to get closer and have a caress on my exposed skin. He won't even notice any strike and won't even be able to retaliate properly.

"* ****** **** **** ***** **** *** *** *** ** ***** succubus... * **** * surprise *** ***"

The man says something that I can only understand the word of how lightfolks call my species, and another relevant word of how they see us. His words put a shock in my dark heart. My trick has been exposed. It's just an eyewink later that I can hear him uttering a spell, unknown to me. I can see a ring in his caressing finger, being pressed by his thumb. That man's hand which I thought was enjoying the exposed skin of my stomach is now brimming with the power of light.

"No!" I gasp, that lightfolk man can not understand what I say.

I can feel the power of holy element being forcefully pushed into me right through my umbilical mouth. As the burning sensation begin to spread from there, I take how little of chance I can have to move away from that man. My body is slowly being paralyzed. As I fall to my knees I let my cry out, begging my monster mates to immediately help.

I manage to hold the holy element power from ravaging my body. I can still move, but the burning pain I feel right where the power was injected still debilitates me. Between my squirming, I repeatedly call my monster mates, demanding their assistance.

"Please... please... I can not die right now... not like this... not like this...!"

--

Very soon enough, I hear some heavy stomps. The Minotaur has just landed himself close by. The man has no time to react as he receives the Minotaur's headbutt, being launched several feet into the air and lands onto the horn. His body is pierced with a certainly fatal wound. The Minotaur seems not going to wait for the body in his horn to slid. He violently launches the man's body onto a tree.

"Wait, Mr. Minotaur... I still need something from that body, please don't mutilate him..."

I'll have my revenge. How dare this man injected a holy element right into me... How disgusting! I shall rip you the little remaining amount of life force residing inside you! I make myself ready for a drain, a specialty of a succubus. I drag myself closer to the dying man's body. I need a power to cleanse myself fully from this disgusting thing he jabbed into me.

A spell, consisting of a certain pitch I make using my throat and my lips is uttered. My fingers help myself to stretch open my umbilical mouth. White pale ectoplasms form around the dying man's lips. He's choked as the stream of smoke-like ectoplasms being pulled out of his body. The ectoplasms form a tendril, its tip is closing into my umbilical mouth. My dark heart throbs in anticipation as finally I am again able to taste my prey.

His life force is delicious, this man must be familiar with a form of magic. My umbilical mouth undulates as I siphon his life force into me. Long I have been missing such delight. I am having a feast, at last. I let out an exhale of satisfaction as the absorption is complete. My head feels refreshed and how happy I have become now.

Wait... the draining should never have this kind of aftertaste. I know the life force sometimes makes my umbilical mouth feel a little ticklish, but it should not be long, and it should never grow more intense. My eyes gaze at the now fully dead man's hand. His finger is forming a seal of dark-countering soul protection.

My body curls, my knees weaken, my arms encircle my stomach, trying to hold this sensation. The tickling inside my umbilical mouth grows harder. I need a protection somehow, as I can no longer sing a spell in this condition.

"Mr. Minotaur... aahhaaha, would you please help me... hhnnha...? I've just made another mess... aaaahhhaahaaahn~!"

My body squirms, curling in that monster's arm as he carries me up.

A voice interrupted Krieg's thoughts of battle, "Go to her, she needs you."
The Minotaur was about to speak,when he heard the succubus cry out for help.
*SNORTS* , steam fills the chill night air from his nostrils, as he stomps his feet, setting for a charge.
Suddenly what sounded like a massive boulder rumbling thru the woods, breaking trees along the way slammed head first into the man who was hurting the female.
Krieg hit him so hard, he heard the man's bones snap inside of him, and then flung the broken man into the air.
But before the broken man landed on the ground, Krieg rose his head up to meet him and gored him thru his chest.
The Minotaur swung his own h3ad back and forth violently, tossing the dead man into a tree.
Krieg walked over to the succubus and picked her up with one arm, and was about to take her to safety when a crazed child with a knife came running and screaming.
Krieg Solvo simply raised his hoof high in the air and squashed the child into the ground, *SPLAT*

---

---

Zaz'ak slowly crept within the shadows along the dimly lit corridor of finely carved limestone, the echo of laughter carried throughout the halls along with words in a language foreign to the Kobold. Keeping close to the walls of the corridor Zaz'ak silently slunk towards the end of the hallway where the noise was coming from and peeked into the brightly lit area spotting several human's and a couple shorter figures enjoying drinks together and laughing jovially.


It had been surprisingly easy to lure the group out of the relative safety of the limestone passage but it was nerve-racking for Zaz'ak, and out of fear he broke into a sprint at the entrance of the long limestone hallway. Unfortunately for the cunning little Kobold his haste caused him to forget the slippery conditions outside, and as Zaz'ak ran out into the open he lost his balance as well as losing his grip upon the backpack he stole.

Unceremoniously falling face first on the muddy ground Zaz'ak panicked as the drunken Lightfolk caught up to him. (Dark Impulse) Zaz'ak screeched and scrambled away from one of the human's as they nearly grabbed him before slipping, and the Kobold instinctively fled in cowardice from the fighting up the cliff, but he didn't look back as his legs carried him up the cliff face before something attracted his attention almost immediately.

Zaz'ak stopped and heard the district noise of braying horses, curiousity drove him to investigate yet it wasn't long before he found a couple horses anxiously stamping their hooves against the ground next to a covered cart filled with crates. He surmised that this cart most likely belonged to the Lightfolk, so the Kobold decided they didn't need their horses and cut the two skittish mares(?) loose.

Finally Zaz'ak crawled into the cart shivering and wet, but he cackled gleefully as he rummaged through the cart finding foodstuffs and other supplies.

Darc Matter

---

As the group was debating their next course of action, there was a slight lull in the wind. And during this lull came a noise all too familiar for the monsters: the language of light. This strange tongue spoken by those who claim themselves mortals, a vastly different tongue than the universal language of monsters. Darc had once tried to learn the language for his own ends, but as it turns out he had a hard enough time trying to understand the dark tongue with his granted intellect. The light tongue was a different beast entirely. Still even if Darc did not understand the words he knew something, that there were mortals nearby. Mortals who could lead the group to great fortune.

The party stopped their squabbling and trailed the mortals to some form of mountain ruin. The ground was muddy and the rain did well to hide their approach. The group decided to lay an ambush: Zaz’ak would draw them out from the safety of their ruins while the rest lay in ambush. Everyone took to their positions, Darc choosing to attack from above as he often does. The slick stone was of no concern to him thanks to his natural body enabling him to stick to virtually anything. When one of the watchmen went to relieve himself, Zaz’ak entered the ruins to begin the operation. Shortly after there was some noise, likely Zaz’ak getting the attention of the mortals, and everyone sprang into action.

The succubus distracted the human while Darc crept closer to the dwarf. He did something, some sort of spell or perhaps a magic object, that caused her to freeze in place. Darc dove down to attack the dwarf but the dwarf spotted and duck even lower to the ground. If Darc did not land safely he would harm himself hitting the ground from such a height, so after his failed attack he lashed his tendril to the cliff face he leapt off of, using his momentum to swing himself safely onto leveled ground.

The others were fending off the other mortals, their fear and surprise easily routing most of them. Darc doesn’t intend to let many escape, or else they may warn other mortals of their presence. So to finish this job Darc would focus on the dwarf, as he seemed to be the only surviving mortal who could potentially be a threat. ”Ah if only you knew my tongue, meatbag. You would find some comfort knowing that your destiny will be in the serve of me, feeding me so that I may grow stronger. So rejoice, mortal. You’re about to become part of something much bigger than yourself.”

Phardax the Ebon

---

The cries of battle intermingled sonorously with the screams of fear. As Phardax crested the small rise that his compatriots had stormed over to assault the goodly host, he saw the mess they had gotten themselves into. As the Succubi was detained and the Minotaur brayed into the air and charged, he eyed the landscape for any would-be escapees. Darc's position with a rowdy Dwarf on top of him made Phardax laugh, making him loathe to try and halt the spectacle. It seemed his companions were having a spot of trouble and needed help with the stragglers. His eyes found their target once he spotted an old cantankerous Dwarf and a dark haired young woman fleeing for the hills.

Dwarves made good thralls if you broke them young, working in conditions no Drow or Man could endure. But an elderly or particularly stubborn one wouldn't serve him if he threatened death on all of his clan in the name of honor or some such nonesense. Instead he opted for the woman. Whether or not she could be useful to them remained to be seen, but he knew she had just as much of a chance of dying in the wilderness as dying here. Why not gather himself his own personal pet to new dungeon? Perhaps she could clean his domicile or aid him with gathering spell components.

Either way he had made his decision! Bounding over a few tumbled stones, he flourished his hand extravagantly, producing a whip of hellfire that hissed with steam in the mortal air. He flicked his wrist with a practiced ease, the whip encircling the helpless and very frightened woman like a constrictor snake. He pulled her in until she stood merely a pace away from him. He couldn't help giving a dashing grin, but he spoke softly and held a finger up. Perhaps he needn't cast a spell.

"As much as terror is a good look for you, you should be a bit more thankful." He told her, and slowly undid the whip around her as he held her gaze. He held out a hand to her, still whispering in his debonair voice. "I'm the only way you're going to live through any of this. Are you as smart as I think you are, or will you be food for my friends?"