A few, but you're about as ready as you'll ever be

You wrinkle your nose as your foot touches the floor of your throne room. The area is filled a mix of yelling, arguing, howling, grunting... but that pales in comparison to the smell. Oh god, the smell. Maybe inviting goblins wasn't the best idea. Well, inviting so many at once, and in such a small and poorly-ventilated space. You duck into the altar room—were these doors always so short?—to see a gaggle of goblins, wargs, and even a few ogres standing around. The two angels stand to either side of the altar, while Tlax has coiled around an ogre and is angrily hissing something inaudible through the din. Zalreanne and her two apprentices stand quietly in the corner, a few nearby goblins ogling the head maid's exposed assets.

"Ahem EXCUSE ME!" Sera can be surprisingly loud when she means to. The chatter gradually quiets down until you can once again hear yourself think. "Thank you. Now, you all are here because you expressed interest in joining our dungeon. Now, I regret to inform you that we don't have any open positions for goblins or other greenskins at the moment. That being said—"

"WOT YOU MEAN WINGY HUMY?" "YA, WHY YOU ASK US TO COME BUT SAY NO WANT?" "PURTY LADY MEAN" "Ya gitz, why ya trickz us?" "Mean red black brown lady!"

"IF YOU COULD PLEASE BE QUIET?" Mariel claps her hands above her head but the shouting continues. A loud wind blows through the room and you feel a chill as cold air bites at your bones before dissipating: some of the weaker goblins blue from the frost. When the wind dies down, the room is utterly silent. "Sorry, my sister misspoke somewhat. Part of joining Azazel's Lair involves a pledge of allegiance at this altar which will convert you into a form more suitable for your new accommodations. Any and all of you are welcome to join so long as you are willing to agree to these terms. Do I have any volunteers for a quick demonstration?"

The various potential recruits glance at each other and chat nervously, nobody stepping up. "Good evening everyone. I'm Azazel, the boss around these parts, and I'm glad that you're considering me as your new overlord. I understand this must be a difficult decision for many of you: you've left behind other opportunities to join our growing family. That's why I'm willing to offer a bonus to the first one willing to take the plunge."

A few more murmurs echo through the room, then finally a tiny, scrawny goblin steps up. Well, someone is about to get very lucky. "Me join red guy, become also red guy." The altar accepts his pledge and a roar of flames transforms him into a slightly less scrawny fallen one to a chorus of "ooh"s and "aah"s.

"Now, if you could step over here, mister...?"

"Me Bignose, boss."

"Right, Bignose." You tap him on his shoulder and spend some mana to upgrade his form. Another roar of flames engulfs him, then parts to reveal a broad-chested fallen one who stands over six feet tall: a Fallen Ringleader. His nose is, in fact, rather large, and his transformation is met with a series of hoots, hollers, and a single long howl. "Thank you Bignose. Now, I regret to inform all of you that Bignose will be the only one I reward with a promotion on his first day." A few scattered hoots of disapproval. "However, those who serve me with distinction can expect similar things in their future, in addition to... other benefits." The disapproving hoots quiet down, and a few motivated ones take their place. "Cindy, Annie, if you would?" The adventurers flush, nod, and strut side-by-side over to the large fallen one's position. They slide their hands sensually up and down the fallen one's chest, then when his loincloth starts to bulge they sink to her knees, one on either side. More hoots and hollers. "Cindy and Annie regularly make the rounds, focusing especially on our more distinguished members, and I am actively recruiting more adventurers to increase their ranks in the future." Not content to just watch, you motion for Zalreanne to walk over to you, and she steps over and sinks to her knees with only the slightest tint of pink on her cheeks. You groan as your member sinks between her expert lips and she starts to twirl her tongue around it.

At this point you have the opposite problem: a fight breaks out over who to go next. "EXCUSE ME!" The greenskins freeze at Sera's furious shout, leaving a comical picture of hands tugging hair, ears in mouths, goblins dangling from ogres' fingers, and many other interrupted brawls besides. "My lord has already made it clear that there will be no advantage to going next. If you could please stop trying to kill each other and form an orderly line from weakest to strongest? **** any of your fellow applicants and I will deal with you myself." She grips her sword's hilt with one hand, and a crack rips through the air as she uses her other to swing her fiery whip. There's a crash as several goblins fall to the ground when released by their assailants, but the crowd slowly arranges itself into as orderly a fashion as you're likely to get.

The goblins go first, each converting into the regular fallen ones you've come to know and rely on. Every time enough build up you lazily assign them to the Fallen Warrens dungeon level, vacating the space they took up in a poof of smoke. It takes nearly thirty minutes to clear through this group, being by far the largest contingent of the greenskin forces. The beastmasters come next, each one converting to a Fallen Ringleader not unlike the one currently enjoying the enthusiastic attentions of your two maids-in-training. You wait for the full batch of around a dozen to be transformed, then assign them to the caves, to which they're whisked off by a large plume of smoke that fills the cavern and elicits more than a few coughs.

The wargs come next. Despite being animals they've been the least unruly of the lot, possibly due to their training as mounts. The first warg steps up to the altar and lets out a long howl towards the ceiling. The roaring flames subside to reveal a large, hairless, red-scaled beast with a ridge of particularly tough black plating along its back. The hellhound turns its face to the side to check out its form. Woof! "Great, dat fur gits real hot on da mountin." The daemonic wolf can talk, apparently, and it sounds almost exactly like a fallen one. Because more talking ex-goblins is exactly what you need... eh, underlings are underlings. Warg after warg steps up to undergo the transformation, the newly minted hellhounds growling and talking to one another for the first time before they're all whisked away in another burst of smoke as you assign them to the same place as their companions.

Finally, the first ogre steps up to the altar with two stupid grins, one hand scratching his messy hair and the other scratching his balls under his loincloth. Apparently the altar acknowledges this as some sort of pledge, because a huge plume of flame bursts up and dissipates to reveal a huge two-headed daemon. The new daemon is slightly larger than its greenskin predecessor, its body long and lanky and one horn rising from each head. Each face has a long, wiry beard and green eyes that glint with a cruel intelligence. Unlike its noisy predecessor, it simply steps over to the side to make room for the next ogre. After a reasonably orderly procession, at least insofar as the brutes are capable, the last ogre has been transformed and you whisk away the new Fallen Brutes to serve as elite troops in your first dungeon level.

There's a hoot from near the middle of the room and Cindy starts swallowing urgently, her lips wrapped around the lucky Fallen Ringleader's cockhead. Her friend strokes the daemon's long shaft with her hands while licking up and down the side, a bit of white from an earlier climax still on her lips, and finally the daemon sits down with a stupid look on his face. You assign him to his new home and he vanishes in a puff of smoke. At least the room is empty except for you, your champions, your maids, and a faint lingering odour from the unwashed masses who recently crowded the place. You groan and give the ex-sorceress the last of her meals for this session then pull your hips away from her lips. "Thank you for allowing me to serve you, master." The dark elf's voice betrays none of the venom before, and you stroke her head and her ears a bit as she stands up beside you and returns to her passive position.

"Thanks you three for managing that lot," you nod at Tlax, Sera, and Mariel. "And excellent work to you, pets: I'm glad to see your studies are coming along so well." You nod each maid in turn, and they curtsy in thanks, the juniors blushing as they do. "Okay all, I doubt we'll be doing any more outings before the two week deadline is up. If you have any ideas for how to strengthen the dungeon last-minute, now's the time to suggest or implement them. I'm going to spend these next few days doing a tour of our defences and upgrading what I can in the time we have left." You step out of the room and head back to your summoning portal. Having officially completed its latest request, you upgrade it to its next level.

Unique Structure: Summoning Circle (Level 9)
Level 9: Can summon powerful outsiders, as well as groups of minor outsiders with lieutenants. Can summon willing souls.
Upgrade to Level 10: Return a lost soul to life.

This is the first time that you've been entirely stumped upon seeing the next condition. It's no doubt possible—every request thus far has turned out to be—but you aren't quite sure what a lost soul is or how you would go about finding one. Some of the previous upgrades have had conditions that took a fair amount of work, but you at least knew from the start what sort of things you needed to do. Well, maybe the best answer is to just wait for another Otherworldly Attention to give you information or something of the like. Next off, you open up your Fame income menu for the first time since remodelling.

Fame: 5,712
Recent Activity

• Defeated adventurers (based on level, x9): +300
• Encountered rival adventurer (based on level, x5): +500
• People are talking about you: +3,325
• Defeated another dungeon boss (based on rank, x0.5: difference in rank): +1,250
• Claimed another boss's dungeon (based on rank): +2,500
• Recruited an adventurer (based on level): +2,500
• Target of a minor quest: +48
• A minor quest against you failed: +48
• Provided by adventurers in your dungeon: +1,525

Most of your income was already spent promoting Celestina to a champion, so unfortunately it looks like you don't have much to work with. That being said, it looks as if you've generated quite a buzz, probably somewhat from your mass-release of adventurers and somewhat due to your improved dungeon. It's far from what you'll need if you want to keep moving up in the world—you're still nearly a whopping 150,000 fame from the next boss rank—but it's an excellent start.

You putter for a while and tweak various aspects of your dungeon, but it soon becomes clear that you have nothing more of value to do to prepare your dungeon for whatever is coming, so you might as well spend the rest of the wait relaxing. Celestina is still lying semi-conscious on your bed when you arrive, and you snuggle in beside her, the others giving the two of you some space on the first day of the rest of her life. The next morning you feel yourself being shaken awake by a pair of delicate hands. "Master?" This is new, and not entirely what you were hoping for. You look up to see your head maid standing over you and give her a withering glare. "Sorry, master, but something has happened... I can't serve you like this!" You brace yourself for some new rebellion out of the blue, but then she runs her hand over your pelvis. Oh, right. A thick member slides out, and the ex-witch gives out a little 'mmm' as her fingers wrap around it, then she kneels down between your legs to begin her morning routine. Maybe I'll just stay in bed all day today: after all, there isn't much else to do.

Three days later, you awaken with Tlax and Celestina in your arms, both still sleeping soundly after a wild night. Your head maid's hair earns a sleepy rub as she continues her daily task, but your enjoyable morning is soon interrupted by the blare of trumpets tooting an unusually sour note. A large popup floats over the lavender servant's bobbing head.

World Bounty: The Arrogant Little Imp
Azazel the imp is a pretender, the lowest of daemons, using nothing other than illusions and trickery to masquerade as a grander fiend. He is a disgrace to every monster on Imporne and an insult to every adventurer who stumbles into his pathetic lair. Teach the imp of his utter inferiority and you will be handsomely rewarded by his betters.
Day 1 of 3
Killing daemons will accumulate a streak bonus which is lost upon ****. Higher streaks will yield better items at the end of the day.
Killing non-daemon monsters or other adventurers will be penalized by resetting the current streak to zero.
Killing elite daemons counts as 10 kills for the purposes of this streak. Killing a level boss or champion of Azazel counts as 100.
Killing Azazel himself will be rewarded with an artifact weapon.
(Rewards will change each day)

That isn't how you remember world bounties typically being worded, and what in the world are those rewards? Change of plans. "Zalreanne, pet, I have a job for you. Consider this an opportunity to prove how far you've come in the past week." She perks up while continuing to attend to your needs. "I have a bad feeling about today. I want you to take your two apprentices, get three heavy cloaks to disguise yourselves, and wait for me at the goblins' old base in the forest in two days. One way or the other I'll meet you there. This will be your first time moving outside the dungeon unsupervised: be a good girl and prove your loyalty to me." She gives a nod and then demonstrates her expert skill by taking your whole length down her throat, guzzling her reward greedily, then gently cleans off your cock with her tongue before withdrawing.

"Thank you, master," she gives you a deep curtsy, her artificial tail bobbing slightly behind her. "I won't disappoint you. I'll prove that I'm worthy of serving you." You stiffen again: maybe she can stay for a few more minutes before heading out.