A World of Steel and Water

The brush tickled and probed the porous canvas, and with its passing came the final coat of a baby blue to shade the dismal chamber’s ceiling. Solid black eyes peered at the effect: it wasn’t as she wanted it, but it was close to how her pool reflected the nightlight onto the ceiling of her home. Something of it gave her pause, though, and now she realized that, at the outset, she had not intended to paint this rendition of her cell--her entire world--at all.

The naked half-merfolk had peeled out of her clothes the moment father had left. His visits were spaced out, sometimes by days, and his daughter felt no inclination to wear clothes if not for him. Moreover, Deanna loathed clothing: how panties and bras felt against her skin, how shirts compressed her gills, how pants tormented her fins, and how skirts, if nothing else, seemed a pointless article. It was one of the many things that proved the world was not made for people like Deanna... or, when self-doubt arose, that Deanna wasn’t made for the world her father promised would one day be hers to enjoy.

But the room was not exact in her portrayal. She had amenities, books, painting supplies, her well-worn easel, and other effects strewn about to make a large and comfortable bedroom out of a steel room without windows. But the room in her painting lacked her affairs and showed, instead, a hypothesis; a wish. The room was barren except for the pool, bolted into the floor and walls as it was. She had painted an open cell door without the purple tinting for the alarms that might sound if she ever stepped out of her cell and into view of the camera. This was her ideal room.

A room that she was no longer in. It was a room that would only be hers after some far-fetched freedom, the sort that father promised he would make real, was finally obtained. Deanna smiled too brightly, and knew too little, to consider how else the Order might let her leave: on a slab in a British laboratory or else in an unmarked grave.

Yet even without this, the painting had a certain sense of... foreboding. The shadows were too dark. The water too murky. The walls lacked the glittering of light. There was something... bad about how Deanna had left this room. It didn’t help that she hadn’t even intended to paint it, but why-?

The cell door opened... the real cell door, that is. It had been mere hours since Father left and only two days since Lorelei’s last weekly lesson. If the timing wasn’t odd enough, it was neither Deanna’s father nor her tutor: she glanced and was struck dumb by the bizarre shape and sight of a stranger, a woman, who locked the door hastily behind herself. The stranger wore the Order’s Rose and vestments like the few Hospitalers who had ever analyzed Deanna in her youth... but this one was strange.

She was... lumpy. Too oddly lumpy to be normal, Deanna decided.

“What’re you-?” Redd shut her mouth as she glanced about with a worried expression. “There should be an internal cell or a restraining- J-John! I don’t think this is her,” the Hospitaler hissed, “and whatever it is, it’s loose!”

Deanna flinched at that, but she was too surprised to protest. What’s more, she had been wholly unprepared for the lumpy woman’s robes to suddenly birth a fully-grown, naked man. Deanna’s eyes fell upon the stranger, upon the first penis she was ever allowed to see without the aid of a heavily censored textbook... and immediately, she had an opinion of the unknown, well-endowed male.

An unseen aura turned that opinion into love.

John planted his feet and swept the room with a tactical eye. The creature in the cell had given him the mixed reactions of a monster and a teenage prisoner; the impression didn’t leave when he saw her information.

Deanna Home
<The Order?>
Level 5 Artist
HP: 45/45
MP: 71/71
Stats: Str 8 Agi 16 End 9 Int 15 Wis 9 Cha 14 Lib 169 (20)
Status Effects: Bindings of Sir Elrick the Wise (Barren, Chastity, Frigidity, Numbness, Virginity)
Qualities: Seer's Brush
R/S: +200
The eighteen--soon to be nineteen, she'll eagerly correct--year old orphaned daughter of a rogue mage who, as part of a dark conspiracy, mated with a captured Teluvarian Merfolk male. Deanna watched her mother be murdered by an Order Knight but, by the decree of Lord William Brighton, was herself spared, studied, and kept safe. The memory of this origin was wiped from her mind so long ago as to be irreversible, and so she only remembers her idyllic, isolated days inside the Order's holding cell. She was raised on the teachings of the Order and has grown into a devout worshipper of the Lady. Deanna hopes to be allowed to serve the Order as a Hospitaler one day, or else as a squire to one of the legendary Wardens. For now, she remains bound by the enchanted gold melted into her flesh to keep her from completing the goal of that forbidden conspiracy: to spread inhuman DNA. Besides the censored books and videos she's allowed to consume, she has never known life or people outside of the depths of the Order's special holding cell... until you showed up.

John nearly dropped his jaw at the sudden, maxed-out relationship score. Crap, my aura...! It had been a tactical choice to leave it on as a kind of weapon that might buy him a necessary moment’s hesitation with any weaker Knights they encountered. A quick spot of math made John realize he was increasing the strange girl's relationship score by 288 just by being near her. John hesitated to turn it off; for now, the young woman seemed complacent... if this was truly a woman.

Her flesh glistened as if wet and seemed smooth, hairless, and poreless, not unlike the hide of a dolphin; its gray-blue coloration only furthered this impression, interrupted only by the purple of the small, puffy nipples that sat atop her modest breasts and the indented, unnatural lines of actual gold that scarred geometric patterns into her flesh. Her head was the only place that seemed to grow hair: eyelashes, eyebrows, and a full head of dry, bright orange hair managed to grow, giving the girl ever more human features to counter the large, deep black orbs that were her eyes. He noted the purple of her lips that matched her nipples and, as she spread her thighs open towards John, the purple-blue of her pussy-

John blinked as her moist sex was suddenly spread before him.

The girl's body trembled as her face turned bluer in a furious blush. Her nipples began to harden, though they could not escape their swollen, puffy shape. Her hands drifted down to her thighs, and her body quivered in anticipation. "H-Hi..." Deanna had only her stunted, but monstrous inclination to mate; she had neither familiarity with, nor talent for, the act of seduction.

John was almost shocked long enough to forget to refresh Redd's freedom... and doing so had given him just enough time for Redd's judgmental glare to snap him out of his own lust. "W-What? I'm not-" John's lack of pants made lying very difficult, and his scepter now pointed--accusingly--at the source of his arousal. "Well I wasn't going to!"

Redd, who was now pregnant with John’s child, had her reasons to doubt that. “Sure," Redd sighed, "but more's to the point... what is this creature, and why is she not restrained? She could have dived past us to escape; this is- I mean, it would be wholly unacceptable by the standards governing this level! Something’s wrong here."

Deanna had the quiet urge to snap back at the rude woman present... but remained so enamored with John that she couldn't spare the fellow redhead the attention. "M-My name is Deanna... I'm... ah… happy to see you..." Deanna’s body warmed too hot to bear, and her skin began to glisten more visibly.

John looked back at the horny girl... and stared right into her tight-looking sex as it visibly squirted a bit of the moisture building up inside. Good GOD, but if this girl's really eighteen...! Priorities, John. Right, right... this isn't Lily, and I've got plenty of... questions… for this one, but I can't get distracted. Not yet.

As a test, John turned off Cult of Personality. Deanna's relationship score only dropped to +23; his first impression on her had already been too good. Still, the girl seemed to recover slightly as she squeezed her legs shut… with an audible groan in her throat before she managed, “W… wait… w-who are you?”

John looked about the girl and then at the painting of the cell they were in, bereft of everything… Bereft of her. John looked at her information again… and the pieces clicked into place. He saw her features, looked at her reported past… and thought back to the memory from Sir Krieg, the Order Knight who killed a rogue mage in front of her alleged daughter, a redheaded-… No fucking way… there’s no fucking way that Lord Brighton didn’t kill that girl…! I saw it! But the memory had ended just as the unseen blow was struck. What had really happened? The truth was right in front of John… even if it didn’t add up to what Lord Brighton appeared to be. The girl cocked her head curiously at John. He gave Redd a reassuring nod before replying, “I’m John. This is Bertha. We’re going to es-… we’re going to leave this place. Do you want to come with us?”

Redd slowly turned to stare at John. “Another?! We’re too large a group as it is-!”

“I’m…!” Deanna’s eager approval stopped just short of leaving her lips. Her features suddenly became dour as she pouted while mumbling, “Does Father know about this? He told me he would be here when I was ready to leave…”

“Well then,” Redd sighed, “that settles it-“

“Who’s your father?”

Redd exhaled audibly through her nose.

“Oh! Well, his name is William Brighton… I mean, you work for him, right?”

Redd hastily answered, “Why, y-yes! Yes we do!”

John’s teeth clenched as he contemplated the meaning of this. This girl is younger than Moira… so he couldn’t have actually- wait, no, it’s impossible for a few reasons. So he adopted this girl… or else pretended to be her father… just to give her a parental figure? Why? Why did he put this much… John looked around the amenities of her cell once again. Why did he put all of this here just to comfort something he was looking to kill, something he’s still holding prisoner? John glanced at her special properties and read them in turn.

Bindings of Sir Elrick the Wise (Barren, Chastity, Frigidity, Numbness, Virginity), passive
This single, multi-faceted enchantment is permanently etched into the flesh of the target as gold that is fortified to be ten times as resilient as steel. The gold also grows and changes with the host’s flesh to prevent infection or injury. These bindings are numerous enough to give this host +5 physical damage resist. The binding of barren prevents the host from ovulating. The binding of chastity grants a -20 to Libido + 1 per Libido gained by the host from the time of binding (presently: -49 total). The binding of frigidity grants a flat -100 to Libido. The binding of numbness prevents up to 95% of all physical feedback felt by the host, be it pain or pleasure. The binding of virginity fortifies the host's hymen +20 damage resist.

Seer's Brush, passive
This person can sometimes get glimpses of potential futures by entering a trance while painting, drawing, writing, or otherwise engaging a mode of creative expression. The byproducts of this trance become a portent or omen of what may become; they occur more frequently and with greater accuracy depending on the creator's level.

So she’s some kind of oracle. That must be why Lord Brighton's keeping her... right? John erred on the side of his distrust of Lord Brighton and presumed the latter was using this poor creature. "Well, we'll go and ask Lord Brighton for you; would you like that?" John was telling the barest of truths; indeed, he'd come back and save this girl once he had "talked" to Lord Brighton.

His lie had suddenly made him guilty when her eyes almost glittered with naked joy. "Yes, sir! I-I would love to, wherever we're- oh, will this mean I can go anywhere?"

John nodded sternly. "I'll make sure of it."

Deanna covered her mouth as she felt herself grow blue again with this overwhelming joy; her relationship score shot up 20 points on this promise alone.

Redd looked to the chamber's pool as she muttered, "Could this really be Lord Brighton's...?"

John looked back to Redd. "Later. Let's get back to Galley and talk about it. If Lily really isn't on this floor, then we need to get out of here fast."

With that, John crawled back under Redd’s robes, and the two were departed. The moment the door closed, Deanna happily hummed a tune while she sprang into the pool and felt the relief of the cold, filtered water pass over her body. The heat that had built up inside her was almost enough to overcome her joy… and even now, once she knew she had privacy again, her hands dove to her virgin crotch as her instincts demanded. She wondered if Sir Krieg looked like that naked… and on those thoughts did her body and fingers writhe.

The camera switched off, and Lord Brighton considered the table before him. Could he repel a rebellious, dangerous Gorbachev with only the Order’s troops and specialists? Moira's description of the creature's power made that seem unlikely. While his daughter had awoken to her power well, he didn't feel confident leaving it to her, either. He loathed to rely on the Warden of the Spear, much less invite her to stay for longer, but he was no fool: whatever risk the Gorbachev posed, Laksha Singh would help neutralize it enough to minimize casualties, perhaps even to zero, and protect his daughter-

"My Lord, an incident of note," Sir Krieg suddenly declared.

Lord Brighton's plotting was put on hold; he did not ignore any of his men, much less one of his most trusted. He nodded to Krieg... and slowly his features darkened as he was told of the Hospitaler's visit. "... and the Confessor who brought her, Confessor Lazarus, has yet to report back from his investigation." Sir Krieg stared, dumbfounded, as his Lord threw off his suit jacket and began to undo his tie. "M-My Lord?"

"Put the guard on alert and arm two squads to venture down into the sub-C levels. I will go ahead of them myself."

"As you command, my Lord; for the purpose of equipping them, however, what do you suspect?"

"No Hospitaler would visit that cell for mere curiosity; pray I am wrong on this," the older man declared as he clipped his sheathe back onto the hoop of his pants, "and that the Warlock has not proven himself ever resourceful the moment any woman is alone with him."

Sir Krieg's eyes widened at his Master's meaning. Surely no Hospitaler, man or woman, would be charmed by a manaless and bound mage, much less one who attempted to kill Lord Brighton and **** a Warden. The thought was preposterous, so much so that Sir Krieg could not help but exclaim, "But he is neutralized-"

"So I believed," Lord Brighton whispered as he marched towards the door... and paused. "How long has Lazarus been gone?"

"I'll find out, my Lord, but I'd estimate he requisitioned one of the cars about three hours ago."

"Have him report in to ensure he's alive," Lord Brighton ordered as he continued his march, "and do not raise any alarm. Arm the Knights quietly, call on three experienced Confessors and Hospitalers, and do not bother the Wardens with this."

Sir Krieg found himself questioning his orders... a doubt that was quickly tidied by a well-worn blessing into a mere recommendation. "Even the Spear Warden, my Lord? She would no doubt make short work of him.”

Lord Brighton nodded. “To invite her would indeed be to sentence the Warlock to ****. Our Warden wishes him alive; for the sake of her wishes, then, we shall avoid precisely that.”

Sir Krieg blinked in surprise at his leader… but smiled with the pride of the Order. “Understood, my Lord!”

"Then she's not here," Galley replied, "or else she's seriously, sadistically evil, and she's one of the other things they're keeping down here."

The three would-be escapees had gathered around the hospital bed where the **** Hospitaler now laid underneath the blankets. Galley had taken a few more confident whiffs of the dungeon; it stunk of nothing but the most putrid of monsters, souls, and wills. John nodded briefly as he looked at his new minimap function. Though he hadn't been conscious for it, the Game had mapped the path of his body as it had been escorted down by the Knights carrying him: the map showed the whole of every hall of the mansion, every room John had ever been in or seen, and all of levels A, B, C, and H where a closed door hadn't prevented John from mapping it. Though John's map didn't show it, Redd described an emergency staircase next to the elevator John's captors had taken; like the elevator, it would allow escape from this barrier.

They had a path... but it at least partially depended on not getting trapped in an elevator or, alternatively, ascending four flights of stairs without getting stopped. Galley would be able to get a better sense of Lily's presence or absence at every floor between H and C; once at the top of the stairs, on floor C, they were free: John could open a portal to his home, to the Cuck Factory, the Academy, or wherever he damn well pleased that was as far from the Order as he could will it. He'd let everyone out first and then proceed to portal around the cells of C and the mansion proper in search of Lily and Brenda. With enough portals, navigating the mansion quietly would be a cinch compared to Juniluny's labyrinth.

The plan was sound enough... but it required haste. The cameras overlapped too well; John was without any means to leave with Redd that didn't involve being a human-sized tumor on her side, and she'd snap out of her presently free-willed state the moment she strayed too far. They'd have to get as far ahead as they could... and then gun it the moment the cameras realized what was happening. John had no way of knowing how long it took to get the barrier extended beyond level D... but he knew they had plenty of time to prepare it before. If it does come up and engulf the mansion... then I just need to find and destroy whatever's making it happen. Either way, we'll be free to portal out of here. There were too many unknowns for John to be comfortable... but the longer they remained here, the longer Lazarus had to return and move their plan forward without their slight advantage of surprise.

Every way the plan came out as they discussed it ended the same way: the cameras spotting them before they even left level H. John had no way, by Craft or his own talents, to knock the cameras out; even if they did, Redd assured him that a disabled camera was an immediate alert on level H. After a frustrating ten minutes of realizing how hedged in they had become, the group made their move.

Sir Auren narrowed his eyes at the Hound’s cell door; as Hospitaler Redd left it, she had forgotten to close it! If it were anything but the hospitalized and disarmed Hound, who must have also still been under Hospitaler Carey’s watch, Sir Auren may have raised the alarm then and there; instead, he trusted that the situation was under control. Nonetheless, he typed the incident into his report for disciplinary action later.

Redd turned the corner as she left the smaller hallway where John, Galley, and now Deanna had all been held captive. With a bit of luck, she did so fast enough for the guards, and camera, at the end of the hall to miss the John-shaped lump clutching her back. The camera that was now behind her and looking at the guards, having only a two-dimensional and disadvantageous view, couldn’t make the lump out well enough for Sir Auren to notice.

Redd sighed with relief. Neither guard seemed to react to her, at first... but her approach had both suddenly standing at attention, and their rifles swung into their arms, albeit still pointed at the ground.

"A moment, Hospitaler Redd," urged the tanned Knight to the right, "we've received orders to keep you here until more Knights arrive."

Redd stared at her fellow faithful with naked surprise. Neither Knight saw guilt in her reaction; they too would be shocked by such news. She nearly protested... and recalled that she wouldn't, had the blessing remained intact. "As the Lady wills," she briefly offered. She gauged the distance between them--some fifteen feet--and knew that John wouldn't be able to reach them as planned from here. She looked at the automatic rifles they now carried in leisurely, but sure, grips. "But while we remain here: can you help me restrain the rogue mage? She is stirring from her hospital bed, and, um, Hospitaler Carey needs some strong arms to keep the enemy down."

John held his breath under the robes as Redd's awful lying went to work.

Both Knights looked at one another with concern... but neither had reason to suspect a lie from a Hospitaler. "Our orders were to ensure you did not leave... so..."

"That would suffice," finished the other Knight. "C'mon: the last thing we want is to raise an alarm just because we didn’t help.”

Redd paused for a clean six seconds. John could kick her if he wasn't so tightly wrapped around her body. "Y-Yes, that's... exactly it. I'm not sure how much longer she'll stay down with just the ****-"

"Alright, let's go."

Redd bowed deeply as they approached... and either one stopped just short of her as they realized she wasn't moving as urgently as her words suggested. John heard their steps stop near enough and quickly sprang into action. Exploding from the front of Redd’s robes, his hands blurred as they rapidly stabbed into the sides of both Knights before they could get their fingers onto triggers.

Your serpent's bite deals 264 subdual damage to the Knight.
Your quickcasted serpent's bite deals 264 subdual damage to the Knight.
The Knight has been knocked ****!
CRIT! Your quickcasted serpent's bite deals 792 subdual damage to the Knight.
The Knight has been knocked ****!

"GALLEY, LET'S GO!"

Sir Auren’s typing ceased as he watched the Warlock sprout from the Hospitaler and apparently kill his fellow Knights, followed by a fully restored Hound now fleeing her cell. Fury and hate raised his fist; he had not received Lord Brighton's instructions to raise no alarm and, without hesitation, he smashed that fist onto the red button by his console. With that single motion, the Brighton Estate was locked down.

The purple-lighted alarms screamed as steel barriers came down over the glass windows. Each alarm type was coded, and purple meant only one thing: an escape attempt from level H was in progress. Not since the young Deanna had innocently poked her head out of her cell had this alarm been rung. Reginald was still conducting his most civilian inspection of the second floor. Remote as he was, he knew that the second vault would be inaccessible to most; if it was the Warlock who made this almost-unprecedented alarm ring, then it also meant that Lord Brighton might soon demand that the barrier be extended. In anticipation of such an order, Reginald began to rush down to level D to enter the secret vault. Reginald offered a prayer to the Lady to guide the Knights who would no doubt be the first to respond to the threat and then another to the Warden for her protection.

Lord Brighton very nearly cursed as the alarms screamed. His Knights would still be arming themselves, and Lord Brighton himself had not yet entered the first basement level, much less arrived anywhere near either the secret vault or the stairwell where the escapee--or escapees--would attempt their getaway. Sir Krieg marched behind him as he yelled over the alarms, "My Lord, my instructions were already being transmitted-!"

"It matters not," William replied, "we were too late in noticing. Now all that matters is correcting this oversight, in the Lady's name!"

"In the Lady's name!" came the cry of Sir Krieg and the two Knights guarding the stairwell leading down.

It opened into the hallway as Knights scrambled about... and Lord Brighton knew that he would not be able to reserve his strength before getting there. "Krieg, to me with all due haste."

"My Lord-?"

Lord William Brighton clutched his blade... and summoned the memory of the Rose, those spare traces of the Lady's gift that still lingered in his powerful frame. Knights nearby became bewildered as Lord Brighton seemed to vanish in a blur of wind and color... and the stream of his movement aimed at the stairs leading downward. Despite his age and injuries, Lord Brighton moved in top form.

"What is that, now?" Laksha asked as she rose from between Moira's thighs.

The red-faced redhead had lost all arousal at the scream of the klaxon. "I... I don't know, I've never seen… purple alarms before, but a red alarm means someone’s breaking out of one of the cells below!"

"Fancy that it's your man causing this trouble, then?" Laksha offered with a wolfish grin. "Seems he's got everyone in knots." Before Moira could reply, the swarthy warrior was already bounding out of the tub, still a dripping mess as her spear leaped to full-size to fit into her outstretched hands. “Time to meet my future brother-in-law!”

"W-Wait, you can't go naked-!"

"Think he'll have second thoughts?" Laksha shot a wink at her hostess before escaping the bathroom.

"Like Hell- wait, this is serious!" Seriously, like Hell! Moira fumed at the idea... and, given John's track record, at the very real danger. She barely managed better garb than Laksha as she called her shield to her arm and struggled to get her latest full-body hauberk out of it.

"We're not even at the stairs yet," Galley yelled as she ran full tilt after John and Bertha, "and they're already ringing the bells!"

"We're damn near close enough," John urged just as they reached the elevator room. The two Knights there didn't hesitate as they opened fire on the first one to appear.

-34HP
-45HP
CRIT! -100HP
CRIT! -120HP
-0HP
-8HP
-30HP
CRIT! -55HP

Most of the rounds hit John as he rushed in and quickly dispatched these two as he did the first, knocking them ****. Without the aid of their Hospitalers, they remained knocked out this time. John looked back, refreshed the Eye on Redd, and waved Galley towards him as she continued to gun down the hall to catch up. We're already halfway there...!