Chapter 132: A Beastly Hold Up
Deep in the Demon Lands, far south beyond the Boiling Seas, the demon Baroness Syraleth sits upon her throne of obsidian and ivory, lips twisted into a sneer as she glares at a scrying sphere spinning lazily in the air before her. Black and crimson lightning crackles off her horns with every tap of her fingers against the armrest.
"This is... ridiculous!" she snarls, throwing her arms up in frustration. "Every five minutes, another distraction. Another side quest. Another sad little village with little peasants getting in the way! At this rate, my prince’s little band of misfits will never reach the Zenirith Plains."
In the throne room below her, a congregation of powerful demon-kin generals and warlords hunch over a sprawling war table, plotting the Baroness’ conquest of the continent to the north. They discuss in careful whispers, desperately trying not to draw her attention and wrath.
"I can’t hold an army on standby for weeks!" Syraleth sulks, watching the sphere show the team chatting pleasantly with a circle of masked figures. "Months, at the rate they’re crawling south. I want to act. I want the Prince!"
She flicks a finger and the scrying sphere shatters against the marble steps beneath her.
She rises slowly from her throne, her gown of living smoke pouring down her body like ink. Every demon in the room finds their gaze hypnotically pulled to her, helplessly entranced by her curves despite the Demon’s Queen’s curse.
"I am done waiting to claim what’s already mine." She announces, "They’ll reach the dwarves in days, and who knows how long they’ll be stuck there providing his divine gift to others while I starve on my own throne. We move on the Prince. Now. Before he reaches the Dwarven Kingdom."
The demons around the war table all look at each other nervously, eyes flicking between one another until one incredibly courageous general hesitantly raises a trembling hand.
"B-Baroness, will all respect, that’s... an extremely bad idea. We don’t have enough time to move the whole army with in days. We don’t know how the dwarves would react to an incursion."
The other generals slowly nod in agreement while a warlord rises and clears his through.
"N-Not to mention, Lady Syraleth, the plan hinges entirely on intercepting them at the Zenirith Plains. Everything has been planned around meeting them there."
"A-And," another general adds, "There’s Vexena. We haven’t figured out how to neutralize her yet, we can’t do anything, not while the Demon Queen—"
Syraleth slowly lifts her hand, flicks a finger up mid-sentence and the scrying sphere lifts off the shattered marble floor with a series of cracks, then comes to rest beside her hand.
"Baroness, please, I-I was just..."
She taps the sphere and it rockets across the room in less than a blink, through the stuttering demon’s skull and buries itself in the far wall with a deafening thud.
The rest of the demons stand frozen in fear as blood sprays across the war table. The massive body of the demon general slumps forward onto their maps with a wet and final thud.
The entire room’s breath is caught.
"Any other suggestions?" Syraleth asks, a warm and pleasant smile across her lips.
Silence.
"Good. Prepare the mass teleportation glyphs. I want every available asset ready to move the instant I give the word."
Another general swallows hard, glances at his decapitated colleague and slowly raises a finger, "If Vexena finds out about this,m’lady, are you—"
Syraleth lifts an unimpressed eyebrow, and the crystal embedded in the wall shudders ominously.
"We’ll have the glyphs prepared immediately, Baroness."
"I’ll handle Vexena," Syraleth explains, more to herself than any of the demon’s present, "Our precious Queen isn’t the vicious monster she once was. Quite the opposite, in fact." she says as she sinks back into her throne.
She smiles, cold and utterly terrifying, then looks down at the body still slumped across the war table, fingers twitching slightly as blood pools steadily onto the ancient stone floor around it.
"Someone clean that up, please." she adds with a nose turned up in disgust, "And requisition a new scrying sphere. I might have broken that one."
Every head in the room nods at once and scatters for the doors.
---------------
Back near the Dwarven Kingdom’s border, Vuvi, Sera, and Veena stand frozen, hands raised, ringed by masked figures in heavy fur cloaks. Only clawed, furred paws visible, gripping fully drawn bows and blades.
Frostlick bursts from behind them, snarling, fangs beared, until one of the masked figures steps forward, their furred limbs lifted respectfully, and speaks a few soft words in a rare and ancient tongue.
The hound’s jaws snap shut and she immediately slumps down, tail thumping, panting happily at her would-be captor.
Zora drifts down beside Vuvi, hands raised in solidarity. "They spoke Green Tongue to control Frostlick." He reports helpfully.
"You are, without question, the single most useless lich I have ever met. Do something! Zap them!" Vuvi snarls through gritted teeth.
"My fighting days are behind me," Zora says, unbothered. "I’m strictly here for observation. And logistics."
Sera chokes back a laugh while Vuvi visibly restrains herself from screaming.
"You were bragging just yesterday about slaying hydras," Veena hisses. "What happened to all that terrifying lich energy?"
"That was a professional obligation. This is different." Zora inspects his own bony fingers. "I’ve retired from violence, I’m afraid. I’ve transitioned into more of a support role. Very fulfilling, actually."
"Your support role is standing there with your hands up like the rest of us?!"
"Moral support counts."
"IT DOES NOT." Veena snaps.
High above the commotion, Pip spots the standoff first and gives a sharp warning beep, pointing down.
Raikya follows his gaze and shouts back toward Lula and Penelo sweeping in behind them. "Trouble below!"
The four of them drop in together with a dramatic flourish.
Pip and Raikya sticking perfect three-point landings, Lula flaring her wings just above the ground, the gust ripping every fur cloak clean off every body that surrounds the team.
Pip tilts his head, eyes bright and curious.
Because, from beneath the cloaks, appeared various kinds of furry bodies. He saw a squirrel, mouse-folk, a pair of foxes, a raccoon, a cat-kin, and what he thought was probably a ferret. An entire circle of beast-kin women, shrieking as Ka’Lula’s landing sends a shockwave of air through the grass.
Penelo tumbles face-first off her back, landing in a heap of ears and elbows. "Ooof," Penelo huffs, from the ground, breath and dignity knocked right out of her.
Smoke curls from Lula’s nostrils, as she poses, hands on hips, embers drifting off her wings while they arch high above her head. "Is there a problem here?"
The archers shudder, but hold their bows steady. The heaving breathing clearly audible behind every mask. Then one steps forward, crossing to Frostlick and scratching gently under her chin. The hound licks her hand, and a soft chuckle escapes from behind the attacker’s mask.
She pulls it off and two enormous bunny ears pop free, golden curls tumbling loose as she shrugs out of her coat, revealing a curvaceous, caramel-skinned bunny-kin frame dusted with tufts of pearlescent, cloud-soft fur.
Pip’s eyes flash bright with interest.
She flashes a series of quick hand signals to her group, and one by one the others lower their bows and pull off their masks in turn. A whole cluster of young beast-kin women blinking in the setting sunlight.
Penelo scrambles up from behind Lula, shaking dust from her ears. She pokes her head out from beneath the dragon-kin’s wings and asks, "Who were those—" She freezes mid-sentence, spotting the bunny-kin leader, and her whole face lights up. "BUNNY! You’re like me!" She bounds over, waving both arms wildly.
"Careful," Raikya snarls, claws still half-extended. "They just had weapons pointed at us."
The bunny-kin woman eyes Penelo with open disdain, turning her back before saying something to her group in Green Tongue.
Penelo stops in her tracks and yells something back at the bunny-kin in the same fluid, verdant dialect.
The bunny-kin leader turns back to Penelo, her expression shifting entirely, brow arched, some of the hostility draining out of her posture. She answers back, tilting her head, eyes sweeping across Pip and the team, clearly asking a question.
Penelo responds, pressing a paw to her heart and gesturing at the team behind her with wide, honest eyes.
The bunny-kin studies them all, suspicious, then gestures toward the dark treeline ahead, speaking again in the old tongue.
Penelo claps both paws over her mouth, eyes wide with distress.
"Any guesses?" Sera murmurs to the team, arms crossed over her chest.
"Damsels in distress, maybe?" Veena shrugs.
"Damsels that had swords and bows pointed at us?"
Raikya stomps past between them, paws balled into fists, fangs gritted, "I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re already licking the enemy!" she snarls as she snatches Frostlick by one ear and starts dragging the hound back behind the group.
Vuvi scoffs. "If I had to bet? Their forest’s probably on fire, and they need our help to save their home. Something painfully predictable."
"You say that like it’s a bad thing," Zora says. "Predictable is easier to deal with."
"Nobody asked for your professional opinion, support lich." Vuvi sneers.
"You say that like it’s a bad thing too!" Zora gasps, clutching the general area where his heart would be, if he had one.
"Our lives aren’t that predictable," Veena chuckles, "I’m sure they’re—"
"Actually," Penelo turns back, pouting. "Vuvi’s right. That is pretty much exactly what’s happening. Sort of."
"Why do I even bother anymore." Vuvi groans, slapping a palm over her face.
Sera and Veena high-five instead and and shout in unison.
"SIDE QUEST!"