Kobolds, rocks, and someone new

Several kobolds rush out of the hole as you approach, spears drawn. When they see Kakkchal and his dragon staff they lower their weapons and then sink into deep bows, forming two rows between which the three of you pass into the dungeon. The inside of the hole is ringed by wooden platforms, stairs, and huts; a rickety platform hangs from a rope in the middle and yet more kobolds usher you on to it. The elevator proves sturdier than it looks. As the platform sinks into the pit, wood creaking and groaning, the sun's light is gradually overtaken by the reddish hue of burning torches.

"Say, wouldn't it be more convenient to have portals or something like I've set up? This seems like a bit of an inconvenient way to enter your home." You look around at the kobold structures that pass you by, still winding around the walls and occasional ledges of the deep pit.

"My mistress prefers it this way. Exiting is no issue for her, and for everyone else it reminds them of her majesty." He points his staff towards one of the walls, and you notice the grooves are deep gouges from the claws of some huge thing. The level of sheer destruction that must've been necessary makes you feel small in comparison: you see what the diplomat is getting at. "We are almost at the bottom. I will speak to my lady, but I expect you will be asked to wait until tomorrow for an audience. In the mean time, you may retire to the guest quarters: a servant will show you the way." He pulls out a pair of gaudy gold necklaces with red gems set in the centre of large medallions and hands one to each of the two of you. "Wear these so that the servants recognize you as honoured guests. My lady has also heard that you have the ability to transform into a human. She requests asks that you choose that form for today, but not for your audience."

After he's finished carefully listing off all of his orders, the dragonkin holds out his hand. You grasp it in a firm handshake. "Thank you again for your hospitality, daemon. All on Imporne pay the great wyrm her due respect, but not all of them are as welcoming as you were. I hope we meet again some time." He turns to Zalreanne. "And thank you, madame. Your master is lucky to have you." The maid gives a polite curtsy at the compliment.

"It was my pleasure, sir." Goodbyes said, you wait in silence. The black pit below you suddenly fills with faintly visible rock: you're almost at the bottom. You oblige the wyrm's strange request and transform, the platform rushing towards you as you lose almost two feet of height. The platform slows to a halt and crunches against the dirt just as you finish your transformation. Kakkchal walks towards a huge, gaping hole in the rock face. Several short, hunched kobolds swathed in robes scurry over and gesture towards a doorway cut into the opposite wall. The hallway that follows is beautifully carved and well-lit by torches, the intricate patterns putting your themed levels to shame.

"Please, master, mistress, this way." A wizened kobold bows as he speaks, gesturing down a hallway to the side. A delicious smell wafts through the hallway, some sort of perfectly roast meat: your stomach rumbles despite the fact that you don't even need to eat to survive. More robed kobolds bow at the door ahead, and the smell now seems to surround you. The other side contains a gorgeous carved wooden table, two chairs, and a large roast boar on a platter. The meat is surrounded by apples, tomatoes, and roast carrots and onions. Zalreanne eyes the food with a hungry expression, and her tongue peeks out of her mouth just enough to lick her luscious lips. "I will wait outside, great ones. Let me know when you have eaten, and I will show you to your room."

The solid wood chair you choose to sit down in is incredibly comfortable, sculpted perfectly to support you without feeling too hard against your flesh. The dark elf maid takes up a position beside you and starts cutting pieces of meat and vegetables off of the display at the centre and arranging them on a plain metal dish before pushing it to you. Task accomplished, she stands and looks enviously as you savour a strip of boar. "Not hungry, pet?"

"My duty is to serve you first, master." She holds up a cup of wine to help you wash down your food. "Would you like me to continue feeding you," she runs her hands down your chest sensually, "or would you like some under-the-table attention?"

"Oh, forget about that, Rea. I don't think you've really had a treat since our contract a month back. We're on a trip and you've been great this past month: have a bit of fun." As much as you enjoy your maid's recent devotion, you pride yourself on rewarding good service by your underlings. What sort of dungeon boss would you be otherwise?

The maid has an uncertain look on her face, eyes darting between you and the food as her nose competes with her sense of duty. "Oh, fine, your master wants you to come sit in his lap." She curtsies then takes the position, sinking into your lap. You reach around and she gives out a little moan in anticipation, but rather than groping her you take a forkful of boar and bring it to her lips. She stares at it for a second before obliging and letting it in, releasing a different sort of moan entirely as the exquisite flavour fills her mouth. Next you spear yourself a tomato and take a bite, then spear another for her. Serving her for a change is surprisingly relaxing, so you finish the meal like this, alternating between feeding the two of you and occasionally stopping for more of the delicious red wine. By the end of the meal, Zalreanne is curled up in your lap and beaming, happy little sighs escaping her lips.

Thoroughly stuffed, you bask in the aroma for a few more minutes before standing up and setting the lavender elf down beside you. The kobold walks in and bows as soon as he hears your footsteps approach the door. "I trust the food was satisfactory?"

"It was excellent. What did you think, Rea?" She just gives a little sigh and leans against you when you squeeze her and look at her. "Well, there you have it—it passed inspection."

The kobold gives a little cackle. "I will pass your compliments to the chef. Now, please, come. I'll show you where you will be staying, then some of the entertainment available while you wait. I regret to inform you that my lady will not be able to see you until tomorrow: she is extremely busy."

"No problem, no problem at all." You give a nod in return, then stride after the kobold as he walks down another corridor. The walls are lined with statues of the same woman, a towering amazon with flowing, wavy hair, and generous curves. Scaly armour covers more of her body than is strictly necessary while still being quite titillating, and she holds a tall halberd in various imposing postures.

"Admiring my mistress?" Your eyebrow raises, but then you nod. If you can take on a human form, it stands to reason that a powerful dragon ought to be able to do something similar. "Each one of these statues commemorates one of her victories, although only a discerning eye can recognize most of them. Ah, here is your room." His hands gesture to a door to the left, and he pushes the solid slab of oak to reveal a massive bed covered in soft pillows and thick, embroidered burgundy sheets. "Now, do you wish to rest here, or should I show you what other facilities we have to offer?"

"Rea, what do you want to do? You have the day off." Excitement crosses her face and she gives you a bright smile before launching herself into the room, almost tripping over her heels before she tosses herself on to the bed and wraps one of the pillows in a deep hug. "Well, I think she'll be staying here." You laugh at the display. "I'd be delighted if you could show me what else you have here."

"Of course, of course. If you'll follow me, then." The scurrying servant bows again and gestures out of the room, then walks down a new hallway. More statues of the same woman pass as you follow him down another hallway. The winding corridors are quickly beginning to feel like a confusing maze reminiscent of your old dungeon.

"Say, voice, is this the same great wyrm that you knew?" A picture of one of the statues in front of you fills your mind as you try to visualize an exact copy of what you see.

Annoyance. "Why do you insist on calling me 'voice?'"

"well, what else am I supposed to call you? You still won't tell me your name."

"How about mistress?" You mentally snort. "No? My lady?" No. "Great One?" Uh-uh. "Your grace?"

"Dream on." You visualize a giant pair of rolling eyes, and get a mental glare back. "Anyways, is this the great wyrm?" Not convinced the woman ever listened to you the first time, you draw a mental image of the statue once again.

Excitement at a friend thought long-lost. "Yep, that's Romie! She looks just like I remember her!"

"Oh, does she like to be called 'Romie?'" You'll file that away.

Amused tittering. "I'd like to see you call her that. I wonder if you'd be back to your dungeon right away, or if it would be slow."

"Okay, fine, I'll stick with 'my lady' then. High-level monsters are so stuck-up, I swear..." You mentally roll your eyes.

Skeptical entertainment. "Oh, and I imagine you go by 'Azazel' to all your own minions, then?"

Frustration briefly overtakes you, but soon after you just feel guilty amusement instead. "Okay, fair enough, I guess you me there. Say, how did you meet her?"

Eager reminiscence. "Oh, it was back when I was a young fae." She was a fae? Interesting. "Yes, I can hear you. Now are you going to listen or should I stop talking?" You do your best to try to clear your mind. "Good. So, as I was saying. Back when I was a young fae I was still going out on adventurers fairly regularly. It wasn't like now where you can apparently just snap your fingers and have a dungeon as long as you kill an adventurer or two: most dungeons were already there. Unless you inherited one somehow there wasn't much way to move up in the world, and my mom was still running the forge back then. It was a beautiful day out. Nice and brisk, fresh snow and all, you know? I was talking to this gorgeous ice nymph," your willpower fails and you tune out the story that doesn't seem to be going nowhere in particular.

Insulted indignation. "Hey, you know I can hear you, right? Or not hear you as the case may be. In any case, I know you were ignoring me."

"Sorry, could you just get to the point? I don't see how the freshness of the snow has anything to do with meeting the great wyrm."

Resigned frustration. "Well maybe you would have if you could listen for a minute. Whatever, enjoy your tour. I'm going to have a nap." Is that even possible? "Well, it's the same idea. Anyways, try to quiet down or concentrate on something else, will you? I can barely hear myself think!"

"Oh, who's this?" A feminine voice in your ear brings you back to the world and you open your eyes. A woman towers in front of you, probably around seven feet tall. Her golden eyes end in sharp points to either side, with long lashes above them and thin, straight eyebrows. Her small nose sits above a pair of plump lips, surrounded by her heart-shaped face. The visage gives you the impression of a young woman in her early twenties, although her mannerisms are an eclectic mix of someone less mature and yet quite a bit older. Two thick horns emerge from her long hair, betraying her monstrous nature. Her gorgeous mane of wavy hair is jet black except for a wide ribbon of yellow. Long, pointed elf-like ears peek out from either side. Farther down, her athletic body is shaped into a slight hourglass figure, with tanned light-brown skin that contains just a hint of a reddish hue. Golden scales form a sort of armoured underwear over her intimate parts, providing a tantalizing but not scandalous view of her toned body, and her clothes consist of a complicated array of golden bangles and clasps from which slightly transparent red silks hang.

"Mistress, I am honoured by your presence." The kobold gets down on his hands and knees in a reverent pose, and the woman's hips sway as she steps up towards you with practised steps. Although she looks quite similar, she clearly isn't the woman from the statues: you doubt the wyrm would insist on ambushing you in the halls like this regardless.

"Ooh, you're a cutie, aren't you?" One of her palms presses against your chest, then she drags her long, claw-like fingernails down your torso. The tips leave slight scratches that stimulates your nerves without feeling painful. "Oh my gods, are you an adventurer or something?" The woman disappears behind you, and you resist the urge to look around and get another eyeful of her assets. "A human, right? I thought your species was all, like, wimpy and frail, you know? You don't seem that bad though." You feel her bust press into you as she reaches her other hand around you, her fingers brushing over your crotch for just a moment before pulling away. You suppress a slight wince as she jabs you through the fabric and her other hand leaves a slight cut in your side, seemingly the result of inexperience or carelessness rather than sadism.

The soft sensation disappears from behind you and her left hand retreats, then moments later she's in front of you, her eyes looking down to your own. "Yum, you're so tall too! Such a hottie, and a human." She savours the word again. "I bet mom would loathe you. Say, why don't you ditch this boring old servant and come have some fun?" Her right hand drags down your chest one last time then pulls away. Her hips sway as she starts walking down the corridor, and you pause a moment to admire the view. "Are you coming or not?" Her long lashes bat at you as she looks back over her shoulder, and at that you follow, the deferential kobold left forgotten on the ground behind you.