FAUX DRAGONS AND FOES DRAGGED ON: THE INVINCIBLE INVENTIVENESS OF CHAINDOG
By Quillon42
AFTER COMPLETION OF ALL DRAGON LEVELS
Infinitely more than exhausted were the twosome of Trialing Champions after having emerged from the garnet gauntlet comprised of so many vermilion-partitioned passageways ending in an excruciating encounter with what was alleged to be the Dragon to end all such Dungeon denizens. Through all the avoidances of bright yet baleful sparkling energy balls lobbed by the damned drake and vaulting across to its precarious platform in the mostly vain hopes the truculent thing would hover low enough to sustain slashes from swords so scarlet, the pair of primitive paladins responsible for its defeat hunkered on down to take in their triumph as their overpowered enemy settled to the ground inertly.
Thence both the thoroughly un-Cimmerian Chaindog and the utterly un-Hyrkanian Red Lotus witnessed what set them both to seething when the most inconsequential of Imps leapt up out of what turned out to be the main monster's actually-manufactured remains. Sneering at the homicidal couple now was the minuscule gremlin with the same brandishing the standard knife and fork which he had heretofore secreted in the cockpit of the creature who allegedly so ruled over all other abominable organisms in this direst of Allansian Dungeons.
Here the heroes would not allow this most insubstantial of opponents even a single snicker, as a flustered Blunderbuss blast would take the toddling terror off its cocky cobalt feet and render him a mere splatter then against the side of the carmine cavern.
After this the two leaned back against the beryl bricks and sighed heavily. For all of these horrific troubles and tribulations the cash prize was officially a whopping ten thousand gold pieces. Otherwise there was the freedom of the town which ostensibly seemed its own reward, but still here. Perhaps for those of Titan the ten thousand coins might have seemed a Fighting Fantasy book's final boss's ransom, but to this author it seemed rather scant whether for the challenges of The Walk within the pages and especially for the multitiered nightmare upon the Playstation (or Personal Computer).
In light of the latter in particular it seemed an Austin Powers 1960s Doctor Evil sum to demand; this author does not know the exchange rate for Titanic gold coins to American dollars, but unless those former suckers are like a Benjamin apiece, such that ten thousand translated to a million United States smackers, it seemed as if Sukumvit were ripping off the reavers who ventured into said stronghold. If but for nothing else, it appeared that the reward money would barely cover the hospital expenses from all the hurting any adventurer would endure down in these depths.
Leerily Chaindog thought of how his exploits in this evil place might additionally land him a few wily wenches, especially if he had indeed freed them from the clutches of Sukumvit. However, the armored oaf determined at any rate that there was a greater score to secure when he set eyes upon the lovely Lotus alongside.
Surely indeed the auburn-scalped swordslady had not been the only video game in town when it came to rather fetching females within this seeming fucking country carved out of a cliffside (given the voluminous encompassing area of this arresting stronghold). Those toffee-tressed temptresses taking thrusts at the man several times, for example, had made him rather envious of Agrash, the demon who claimed to be the head of a harem containing scores of such militant maidens.
Of course, though, then there were the much more butch misses with mohawks all down here, as well as the orcish witches and then the beguiling yet groinless girls of a more serpentine persuasion. Honestly that all these chicks so churlish harbored only a passion regarding Chainy's demise and not his deflowering did not help his desirous cause any. Anyhow, in some cases the imposing adventurer could not penetrate the defenses of some of these damsels of the damned in the first place, while others did not even warrant such desires in the first instance here really.
Considering all of the latter, Chaindog figured that maybe Red Lotus in her physiological magnificence and her frank abject humanity was the gold, or rather the gules standard in the vicious vicinity after all. Because of this, the fearless Fang champion now took it upon himself to court his co-victor while he could, before she off and took her tawdry ten thousand ducats and aimed for her next foray into fantasy and fighting.
He was well aware then, was the combat compatriot of this girl giving off pheromones with energy that no charm could ever conjure, that once Red reached the pub back in town once again, she would have her choice of however many man toys she wanted. Because of this, the hero knew he had to strike regarding this hunger while his default brass-hilted K-Mart sword was still sharp.
Instantly as it was now the hero activated a Warding to boost his confidence and defenses, then approached his cohort in carnage.
"Lotus," the man began, a look somewhat fierce, somewhat famished upon his countenance, "you and I have trammeled through all nine realms of this Dantean depth of a Dungeon, with mostly only fleeting elevator rides and abrupt portal jaunts for a respite.
"What say that, before we walk on out to claim our pathetic pecuniary prize from Baron Suck…you and I engage in a little kind of…personal plundering of our own?"
He addressed her somewhat warily from the other side of the downed dragon, knowing that her loveliness was matched only by her lethality. With confidence the warrior knew that he could possibly take her if it came to combat; the fact was that etched so vividly upon his libido, like so many post-Dungeon-section statistics embossed as an epitaph upon a virtual tombstone, was the voracity he harbored when it came to the vixen before him.
Presently this siren stared absently into the stark scarlet masonry across from her, then at her nymphet nails which she had kept even more compulsively sharp than her very sword.
"Look… … …Chainsaw…"
"It's Chaindog." He felt as if six green skulls of Poison Status were inscribed into the onscreen menu of his abject pride. "Like, gods of Fortune and Skill, couldn't you have at least absorbed that along the way during the thirty to forty base bastions we conquered?!"
She cast a weary gaze down at the terrifying infernal terra cotta floor. If it were any other awful hombre the woman encountered on such a constant basis, Red Lotus would have declined instantly and punctuated such sentiment with however much force was required. This fellow was admittedly rather unique, however, and it was the case that neither really had the chance to even broach the smallest of talk while minding miles of minotaurs and avenues of automatons aching for the duo's destruction.
"Chain… …I…"
Here she was still so put out from the effects of the Strength and Speed Potions she had downed in her bid to bring the Red Dragon down. Her imposing companion was feeling more than the aftertaste of such diabolical drinks as well, though his more massive constitution allowed him greater tolerance.
Not unlike the swetlry Sonja whom her character completely did not utterly plagiarize, the lurid Lottie did assume an oath not to give herself to any man unless he had bested her in battle.
Well, though, she figured wryly, there had been several levels during their haunting jaunt during which Chaindog had secured a higher score than she did…so the murderous mademoiselle decided that that should technically count to sever her own chains—those which concerned the crushing burden of virtue and celibacy (if not prudery). And there were the countless occasions in which each of these canny contestants had the back of the other on various occasions…she getting his when the Golden Golem had almost rolled over the latter battler…he helping her when Skabulus was bearing down upon the dame with his scepter of rodentperson reckoning…
Yea, through all of these thoughts the lady became decided in her present course of coital action. Ever so much more relieved was the winsome woman now concerning the end of such a curse than she was about even the culmination of her protracted delve into the Dungeon.
Even as she was still reeling from the imbibing of several fuchsia potions (for which the downing of each one made within her mind that weird in-game auditory effect upon securing such imbued beverages that sounded like a chorus of disgruntled Germans going "Oh, Ja!"), Red Lotus ever noticed that Chainy was kicking off his weathered obsidian boots in anticipation for their confrontation most concupiscent. Admittedly amorous herself by this juncture, the lady extended her lily legs so that her fabulous atramentous thigh-high footwear could fly through the air as well.
Inspired by and emulating from thence the names of the heads pertaining to the Hydra the two had taken down an hour or so earlier, Lotus proceeded to Rend and Rip at the remaining undergarment that the brash boor across from her had boasted, the vibrant virago railing to Roar regarding the reserves of raunchy desire which had been brewing within her all these years.
Deftly did the Lotus now divest herself herein of the onyx leotard which had obscured the glory of her torso's lithe flesh. Underneath was actually the originally-engineered metal brassiere and panties, the former of which Red had delicately doffed as well in her gambol with the guy who had emerged with her as fellow victors (while the latter of which the Chainer dragged off her waist via his champing choppers). Meanwhile that same brazen bruiser upon her had by now worked his way out of the jet greaves and gauntlets and plate otherwise comprising his armor in this stygian screamscape.
Freely did the pair have at one another now, each pleased just to be able to interact most intimately with another normal and unpossessed human for the first time in what felt like weeks. (Surely it could not be denied that their ever wayward adventure did take several days, given how involved each of the near-dozen levels had been in actual fact.)
Now (and as predictably as this author has perpetrated in so many other entries), most malevolent metaphors would invade this intimate encounter as the Dog made the Great Engine of his parched tongue glide against the Inner Tunnels of the ferocious femme's incandescent thighs, then made that same unconquerable oral muscle make musingly upon the gleaming Great Keep of this malicious sister's most sacrosanct back. Descending from the offering of homage from said spine was the wayfaring warfareman as he then clucked at the cleavage upon this querulous queen's rear, he drinking the Antidote of her astound-abounding ass by treating said Sunken Castle as a salad so choice for him to toss most tenaciously.
Thereafter this chain-canine-handled heavy allowed his hostility-charred cheeks to caress the soothing Belfry that was the smoothed belly of his medieval mistress. Hence he trundled with the kneading Knackerer of his intent tongue upon the duet of exquisite Agrashes that were the domes of the delectable doncella's knockers. Resting for a moment beyond this was the weary weaponeer as he nuzzled the weathered Warhammer of his nasal organ against the pleasant quiescent Quarry of the Lotus's lovely throat.
Chains then chose to charge his enormous energy-emitting Automaton toward what he believed to be a Shooting Gallery but instead had been a far more virginal sort of Labyrinth maintained by the Alchemists that were the woman's virtues. Carefully the ordinarily-barreling brute proceeded to traipse among said Treasure Halls in order to open the red-gated portcullis without the occasioning of too much chaos; he then drove his insatiably-insane Spire into the temptation-teeming Trench of the lamia of lust that had been the Lotus in fact.
All this had transpired of course again in the instants after that in which the honorless hound that was Chaindog indeed had blasted away at the Imp who was eked out of the Red Dragon's rear. Just as the latter had been laughing it up at the reveal that Melkor was actually a mockup and not the real reptile everyone in Allansia thought him to be, the man opposite him hesitated not but brought out his Blunderbuss a second later, he divesting the diminutive dipshit of his seat of manufactured might.
But now and again the Chainer looked once more to the ostensibly-expired arch enemy alongside him and the heroine; seeing its still yet nonetheless imposing (if artificial) husk set the back of his mind to restlessly percolating while he and the ravishing Red went about restoring the coal-hued clothing they sported otherwise during their entire time down here in this awful Gehenna of games.
In the moments during which he was perusing his stack of special items to treat some of the friction his Buff Spirited Sword experienced cleaving into the void of the vavavoom alongside him, Chainy came to the most inspiring realization.
"Lottie, I think I may have a way in which we could capitalize on this little ruse that the Baron and his munchkins here have pulled on us both…"
His exposure to so many magic users from the demon sorceress to Ugluk Stormfart, all during what was essentially a period of incarceration in this Dungeon, made Chaindog almost basically osmose an ability to combine spells and charms for certain desired effects. He turned to the cobbled-together carcass of what was once Melkor and flexed his swordless hands.
Yes…as it turned out here, matters did work out in favor of what the battle-bred fighter had imagined. Now having melded an Icy Cool with an Anti-Magic and imbuing the same with an Arc Of Power, the sworder-turned-scientist managed to reboot the Red Dragon but render the maroon machine a threat no longer (at least not to himself and his new leatherbound love).
What loomed before Chain and Lotus now was no longer the likeness of a loathsome lizard that had been Melkor, but instead a fantastic aerial conveyance upon which these eradicators of evil themselves could commandeer and ride. Now there would be no acre of Allansia, no tract upon this planet of Titan which would be shielded from the benevolent campaign of these chary champs to eliminate any warlord who would force random swordbearers to take arms and singlehandedly discomfit them after hosts of lucky and unlikely choices on a "One True Path" journey that no one could possibly achieve in a single attempt.
Going by the books literally were Chaindog and Red Lotus herein, they intending through their coursing upon Melkor to rid the tenuously-civilized planet of all other enemies. Thanks to their eager interventions, there would be no Lizard King continuing to imprison many races abjectly upon his Fire Island; nor would there be a Snow Witch anymore who was attempting to usher in a new Ice Age; nor would there be any Malbordus in the ancient city of Vatos whom with his own division of antediluvian vatos indeed would seek to overtake the entire world that was Titan.
Forsooth, already the two were planning their future despite the fact that their slim winnings allowed them to almost afford an extra value meal at the tackiest of taverns. With the Melkor mechanism under their control, the two could ply their protective trade upon all kinds of towns and reap their well-deserved reward through their own invented means. Thence Chainy and Lottie would eventually come back to Fang all the more imbued with righteous resolve and reinforcement, and through the ersatz lizard's assistance, they would make Sukumvit slog through the Dungeon like some turnabout-condemned feudal Dan/Damon Killian and see how far he would get in turn.