Take the sinister thorn whip

You run your fingers over the tightly-bound handle of the whip once more, feeling the power coiled within its thorny length. You can see yourself, a mistress of pain, punishing all who stand in your way, bring discipline to the undisciplined. You've felt powerless for much of your adventure, so the image is exciting and empowering to you. Without even realizing what you are doing you wrap your slender fingers around the handle and pick up the weapon.

Immediately there is a burst of smoke and you feel completely changed. Your tattered clothes are gone, replaced with an outfit suited to a queen of discipline. Thigh-high boots of shiny leather end in high stilleto heels that push your shapely ass out. You feel confident despite the awkward footwear and stride easily to a silvered mirror to admire your new costume.

Your body is cinched into a black leather corset, your flesh paler and seeming to glow with black energy. Your large breasts are piled up on your chest and your thighs are naked. An underpiece cradles your hungry sex and wedges between your cheeks. Immodest, perhaps, but you feel further empowered by your own sexuality.

You crack the thorny whip and it responds eagerly, dripping with a magical venom that you know will paralyze your victims with both pleasure and pain. Thorny barbs launch from the whip and wrap tightly around your arms, biting into your flesh, but it is painless and the blood that flows out becomes red ink tattooing your limbs.

Your hair becomes long and straight and black, your eyes heavily shadowed, and your lips scarlet red. Your skin grows so pale that it seems powdered. You see things with new eyes. The world has been bad and you're here to punish all the boys and girls who have been naughtiest. Put them over your knee and give them a spanking or worse, laying your thorny whip into their hides until they repent.

You ascend the drafty staircase to the surface door, your heels clicking as you take each step.

You travel for a few hours and cross a treacherous mountain bridge over a deep valley. The high heels and constraining costume fits you comfortable and easily. It is as if you are naked. You travel through a sunlit pine forest. When you emerge you stand before a massive mountain capped with snow.

This is the heart of the Dragon's Spine known as Great Peak. High atop it, at the limit of the tree line, the druids make their home. It will take you a day to climb. At the base of the mountain, alongside a clear stream and a narrow mountain road, you see a modest inn with a turning water wheel. A few horses are hitched outside. The sign marks the inn as the Wayward Lass and depicts a bawdy young lady sitting and holding two mugs of ale.

Hmm, no doubt bad boys and girls in need of some discipline. You could stand to wet your lips with a wine and teach these upstarts a thing or two about obedience. You lost track of time in the gnome tunnels, but it seems early afternoon. If you started climbing now you could perhaps reach the druids by tomorrow morning. Or you could order a hot meal and perhaps test your skills as a mistress on the guests at the inn.