Meeting the first contender

A sharp rap wakes you up the next morning, and you open your eyes to see a stern dragonkin guard tapping the butt of her spear against the stone floor. "My queen has summoned all of the contenders to the great hall. You have ten minutes." With that, she wheels and marches out of the room, closing the door behind her. You groan and shift Aethane off of you, eliciting a series of protests as everyone is woken by the movement.

"Alright, everyone but Aethane, time to go." You stand and stretch as you speak, mentally preparing yourself for the upcoming intrigue. "Unless you want to come too?" The wolfish priestess looks up groggily, then shrugs and sinks her face into the nearest pillow.

Outside the door, the guard stands with her back to the wall. The moment you step through, she starts walking down the hall, saying "follow me" without so much as turning to you. She leads you into a hall you haven't seen before, the walls lined with exquisite tapestries. One depicts a knight with a plumed helmet and shining armour standing tall against a massive red dragon with a volcano erupting in the background. Another depicts an elven archer in a green cloak ducking and nocking an arrow as a hydra's mouths snap all around her in a fetid swamp. Another depicts a wizard defiantly channelling a sphere of light with his staff, frigid snow buffeting it from the fae sorceress in the vortex of the swirling blizzard. Many more follow, each depicting an adventurer and monster locked in combat in some exotic location.

Two more dragonkin guards pull open huge oak double doors as your party approaches, revealing massive and ornately decorated hall beyond. The centre is large and wide open, long tables lined with food and drink framing the floor. A small raised stage stands against one wall, while the others are ringed with small, secluded booths. Statues of Prometheia, dragons, adventurers, fae, daemons, and other monsters besides are scattered throughout the edges of the room. Overall, the room gives you the impression of a tavern fused with the ballroom of the castle you raided several months ago. The hall swarms with activity, uniformed dragonkin and kobolds serving as guards, guides, and waiters. Numerous other monsters of various shapes and sizes talk to one another or try the refreshments. Your guide stops at the door, moving to one side and gesturing in.

Eyes on a secluded booth in the corner, you squeeze through the crowd. A huge armoured ogre nearly knocks you over, shifting on his feet as he speaks to two brightly-feathered harpies. Shortly after you're seated a gong sounds through the room and the chatter dies down, all eyes turning to the raised stage across the floor. Prometheia steps up, clad in a dress seemingly spun from fine strands of gold itself, a crown encrusted with huge diamond, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires on her head. Two large mana crystals dangle from her ears, hung on gold chains and surrounded in a spindly wrought cage of the precious metal.

"Good morning: I am glad that everyone could arrive on such short notice. As you all have no doubt heard, a great commotion has reached our corner of Arkus. Several powerful lords and ladies seek an artifact rumoured to be in these parts, even going so far as to ally with adventurers to find it." Some members of the crowd hiss and boo, and you see a nearby snake-person give your table a suspicious glance. "Those of you who have ruled long on Imporne know that, though I am queen, I try to avoid meddling in the business of my subjects. Those newcomers and their own vassals may not know much of me other than scant rumours."

"Despite our differences and occasional squabbles, all-out war between monster and monster does none of us any good. Least of all when adventurers wait to swoop down and steal our treasures at the earliest opportunity. I have called this gathering to at least allow some dialogue before the coming battles. Talk if you will, prepare to fight if you must, but I hope that those who have not already involved themselves in this little drama can stay protected from the battles to come. For the contenders and those others who come from afar, let me be clear. I intend to remain neutral in your squabbles, should you allow me. However, should any of you attempt to usurp my position or destroy my vassals in earnest, my response will be swift and final." She pauses for emphasis, seeming to grow larger on the stage, and the room is utterly silent.

"With that warning out of the way, enjoy yourselves. Those of my vassals who choose to involve themselves are free to do so. Be warned that you forfeit my protection from the consequences should you do so. I also hope that those from Imporne extend the same courtesy to their neighbours from elsewhere. To the contenders themselves, please ensure you do not leave without speaking to one another, if only so that you know who to kill. Thank you all." With that, she steps off the platform and disappears into the crowd, quickly replaced with the dull roar of a hundred conversations.

"Well, time to meet the competition." Selena slides out of the booth, Lucia, Sandra, and Becca following shortly after her. You move to follow them and seek out some of the other contenders when a harpy walks up to you.

"Azazel, I presume? You can call me Iria." She holds out a tan, taloned hand. When you take it she pulls herself towards you, giving you a peck on the lips before retreating with a bat of her eyelashes. "So nice to meet you. I'm told you're one of the big-shots here. Say, any chance you're recruiting? I'd love to work under you." She gives you a sultry smile and pushes out her chest, her C-cup breasts hidden under a bra-like growth of feathers.

Iria, Level 14
Monster, Harpy, Microboss, Explicit

"I have to say, you make a compelling case." You smile and openly ogle her, and she starts to creep her foot up your leg under the table. "I'm only looking to recruit at most a few vassals today, though, so I'll get back to you."

Her sultry expression momentarily flashes to an annoyed glare, then settles on a polite smile. "I understand, you must be very busy given how important you are. Just so you know, I've done quite well for myself, already gaining five levels and a dozen minions in this past year. Plus I'd be happy to show you some other perks of taking me on..." her foot finds your crotch, rubbing up and down where your cock would be, and you resist the urge to unsheathe.

"Of course. I need to meet the other contenders, any adventurers in the crowd, and no doubt many other monsters besides. However, I'll be sure to think it over and find you later." She gives a slight nod and stands up, her pale green wings framing her round, tan ass as she struts away. You sigh once she's out of earshot.

"Not your type, master?" Annie shoots you a confused glance and you chuckle.

"She's attractive enough, it's just that no doubt there'll be dozens of minor bosses like her looking to claw their way up into power by attaching themselves to me. I don't have the time, energy, or resources to work with all of them, and she seems like far too small a fish to bother with. Anyways, let's get—"

"You Azazel?" A bare-chested, muscular orc steps up to the table, a huge great-axe strapped to his back. "My clan and I have heard of the powerful up-and-coming daemon near our slope. I'm Targuk. We'd like to negotiate an alliance."

Targuk, Level 19
Monster, Orc, Miniboss, Explicit

Well, could be worse. You take his proffered hand and give it a firm shake. "Look, I'm terribly sorry, I have a number of monsters approaching me and for now would just like to meet everyone, but I'll seek you out later if I'm interested."

"Of course, that is reasonable." He gives a stiff nod and walks off into the crowd.

"Well, at least he got the message quickly." You sigh as you see a brightly painted centaur already working his way towards you.

"Mmm, shame too. I wouldn't mind having him around," Cindy licks her lips as she watches the Orc's form vanish behind two dragonkin guards.

"Well, maybe you and Annie can help me convince his clan that they'd be better off as my underlings than as an independent dungeon." You smile before standing up to greet the approaching centaur, trying your best to put on a friendly face. If you have **** but to meet every low-level monster in this half of Arkus, you might as well at least see if you can identify some useful ones as potential underlings or vassals.

"Azazel, my clan has heard much about you." The massive horse-man stands at the entrance to the booth, not able to fit inside, and you politely stand to give his hand a shake. "Our village has been raided again and again by adventurers, carrying off our loot and slaying our young. We fear that the wizard Chronos has been responsible for many of the incursions." You open up his character sheet as he speaks.

Jorth, Level 14
Monster, Centaur, Microboss, Explicit

"What makes you think that Chronos is responsible? It's rare for monsters to work with adventurers, present circumstances excluded." You give the huge beast a skeptical look and he growls.

"The adventurers attack often and seemingly without reason! Several of our clan have even been seized and taken, and never to return. One group spoke of being paid handsomely for 'the specimen' by 'the wizard'!"

"Well, you'll be happy to know that I fully intend to destroy Chronos, along with all the other contenders." You do your best to give him a winning smile. "However, I'm afraid many monsters are seeking me out today, and I can't take them all on as vassals. Would you like to move to my dungeon as underlings?"

"Our village is our ancestral home!" The man snorts and stomps the ground.

"Look, I'll consider it once I've had a chance to meet everyone." You do your best to look apologetic, although you really wish he'd just leave.

"You had best, or the souls of the Bloodhoof clan will be on your head, daemon!" The centaur turns without waiting for a response and walks off, making a point to stomp with every step.

"I see they aren't sparing you either." A woman with light brown skin reminiscent of your angelic twins walks confidently up to you. She stands over 6 feet tall and is swaddled in an intricate arrangement of layered, semi-transparent strips of red cloth. Her wavy black hair is tied below her shoulders and cascades down her back, the top parted to frame her heavenly face. A tiara with an opaque stone sits perched on her head, while the rest of her body is adorned with countless rubies encrusted in jewellery. Large gems hang from gold chains attached to her ears, while a silver necklace frames another valuable stone while calling attention to her modest cleavage. Bangles line her arms and each finger carries a band or ring. One of them, an intricate band wrought into a smoky shape and seemingly entirely carved out of one of the gems, reminds you of an identical ring Alastra wears: one that you had taken no special notice of before. "Sahr'rhazad, your competition. Charmed." She slides into the booth opposite you and gives you a dazzling smile; you take the opportunity to confirm her claim.

Sahr'rhazad, Level 49
Monster, Djinni, Elite Boss, Explicit

"I don't suppose I could convince you to give up your bid on the Soul?" You give her a lazy, cordial grin. "I could use an ally like you: it seems like everyone else here is riff-raff."

She gives a gentle laugh, then follows it up with a sharp glare. "Can we save the posturing? 'Surrender to me now, I'll crush you, why not help me instead'—I'm sure we've both heard it a dozen times in our past, and no doubt we'll hear it again before this is over. If anything, I should be offering you that deal: I'm not the weakest of the contenders, after all." She gives a pause, then smiles again. "Not that I would expect you to take it. We're both ambitious monsters seeking to rise above our station, and one of us will have to find another opportunity—if they aren't ground to dust in the aftermath."

You lean back on the booth, stretching your arms across the back. "How about a deal, then? Should one of us be defeated they'll help the other. That way neither of us has to give up just yet, but both of us could use the help against the others should we win."

"Mmm, but what does it mean to be 'defeated?' No doubt you have died more than once in your quest, and yet you haven't given up." She idly plays with one of her many rings as she speaks.

"No, nothing like that. Let's leave that vague. I trust you to recognize and admit when you have been defeated, and I hope you'll trust that I do the same."

Her mouth twists into an amused smile. "Very well, Azazel. I can't say that's what I expected, but with those terms I see no reason to refuse. I suppose that, should I truly lose, hitching my wagon to yours is perhaps my next-best chance. No doubt you feel the same." She stands up, her bangles producing a musical sound as they shift slightly on her arms. "Well, this was somewhat more interesting than I expected. I suppose we should both get back to meeting the plebs." Her ribbon-like fabrics rise as she turns around, momentarily making her look much larger than she is, then settle back down. The booth is scarcely empty before a satyr moves to take her place, and you let out a little groan that you hope he doesn't hear.