Field Report from Olangru
“Boss,
“The half-dozen mortals who desecrated the outlying shrine to the Prince of Demons some months ago continue to persist in existing, despite the best efforts of the largely laughable ‘Infamous Seven’ of this vermin-infested island.
Below is a transcript describing the initial abduction of the fleshlings’ self-styled group biographer, commonly known as ‘The Journalist’ for some unfathomable reason. Perhaps it will tickle your fancy to understand something of what we face in the near future…
“The young female human settled down to meditate in the deepening hours after her companions had set camp for the night, foolishly wandering a good half-mile into the jungle. Just about midnight I elected to make my move, after the birds had been long quiescent, the insects’ susurrus droning out my stealthy approach.
“Inattentive to her surroundings, it was simple enough to clamp my left paw about her mouth from behind, deliberately exhaling upon the warm thin hair of her head as I whisper into her ear: ‘Ready to join the parrots little girl?’ [This was after I had amused myself with setting up a dozen crucified avians 30 or 40 yards distant from their camp a day or two prior along what was their inevitable path of travel.]
“She attempted to cry out for the one known best to her as ‘Captain’, then futilely flubbering the incantations to invoke a spiritual weapon of the Far Wanderer to strike me. I clasp her throat from behind with both paws after that rudeness, starting the delectable process of throttling her.
”SHUNNNOFFFAAABEEECCCHHH” she gasped out.
"I can tell you are most decidedly ... not male ..." was my reply.
“ASHHUL”, gasp, choke, “wuuyuuuuwaaannnwfffmmmii?” A delicious tantalizing hint of panic crept into her voice.
As my mighty paws start squeezing her throat, my voice scented with dinner, still behind her, the heated speech puffing her hair with each syllable ... " perhaps ... a plaything ... perhaps ... "
She starts to struggle as much as possible, her Light spell fizzling as spots no doubt danced in front of your eyes, painful sparks in the darkness of the jungle night.
"We have so much to talk about little girl ... your false gawd for example ... or your choice of mating partners ..."
“Mmmatnnprtnrshh?”
"Your fellow males, my dear ... they need to become ... female, I think ...”
“Eeeeewww … fffrrkkuu …”
"Is that an offer little one?”
“NNNNNOOOO!!” She saw fit to channel her abundant, if not entirely profuse, healing power into herself, buying her mortal frame further time in this world. Amazingly, that infusion of energy gave her some voice. “CAPTAIN!!!!”
“As she dug her nails into my hide, I continued to throttle her, savoring the prospect of what this frail morsel offered. Impressively, she held concentration sufficient to continue pouring healing energy into her frame, prolonging the delicious agony of being literally throttled like a chicken.
“Muferpusbkt...” was her feeble reply as the delicious throttling quickly bruised her entire neck.
Unexpectedly, she finally betrayed her patron gawd to me, inexplicably squirming free of my grasp, which would not have been possible otherwise. Quickly, she took to running the eternal half-mile from where she so foolishly chose to meditate towards her allies’ unreachable camp fire beacon. “Watch me! Watch me fly!” she cried, before a flick of my Will knocked her arse over teakettle, face planting into material best described as “organic”. I knew I should have not eaten that cabin boy so early in the day…
When she finally looked up from the ground in the dim moonlight filtering through the jungle canopy overhead, not only was she treated to my furry magnificence, she also noted 3 of my harem’s pairs of eyes in the darkness of the undergrowth. Chuckling in Abyssal, which she clearly did not comprehend, I bade my mates to abduct her to the Shrine of the Demon Prince in the midst of the Fogmire. The ladies pounced upon her, seemingly caressing her limbs. The wee lamb pinched her eyes shut, anticipating a beating or worse … and left the silent jungle in a sulfurous *pouf* of nothing.
When I teleported into the harem’s lair in the shrine, I find the fleshling encircled by my trio of mates, the children howling and excreting in cacophonous glee at the prospect of another feast of long pork from behind the bars of their abattoir. The occasional flaming poo bounced out from between the bars added to the ambiance.
Naturally she immediately proceeded to concentrate a bit too hard in an attempt to not permit my mates an opening with which to thrash her soundly, ruining what I expect was her most capable healing spell. She was rather in bad shape, physically, although my intention was not to kill her. A barked command and my trio beat her like a red-headed stepchild that owed me money. She reeled, punch-drunk from the six second beat down. It was hilarious.
For some unfathomable reason, clearly trapped underground, she elected to cast a spell of magical flight. “I think the little girl means to leave us my dears…” It was easy to dispel the spell with an act of will, giving me cause to grin at her. My mates pummeled her unconscious in a flurry of brutal orangutan slap-downs.
Some time later, she finally awoke, basting over the great sacrificial fire pit before the hallowed golem that anchored the Demon Prince’s influence in this area of the island. Her sweat had been delectably sweetening the air with the aroma of tortured dreams. Naturally, I secured here above this pit during her lengthy time of unconsciousness to ensure her remaining present. She was no high priestess of Fharlanghn yet, or she would likely have been able to easily escape my clutches with a simple Word of divine magic.
No, with this simple pulley chain-and-manacle device, she would be able to easily escape her bonds only to plummet to a delectably fiery, hideous death a moment later.
During her nap, I saw fit to inscribe certain things within that fascinating tome. Through trial and error I found one or two of its secrets, in addition to inscribing proper harem recruitment incentives within that book’s nigh-indestructible pages.
As she rouses from her slumber, I shoo the journal and its accompanying quill to float once more adjacent to her, presently content to return it to her custody. She clearly looked around as best her confinement could permit to look around for her possessions.
What fun is a captive who retains all their toys?
With parched lips and raw throat, she raspily whispered, “This can’t be good.”
“It is for me, Joselin.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Your journal of course.”
“What do you mean this is for you? And stay out of my journal!”
“Why, this is good for me,” I replied, briefly taking in the sacred chamber with a short sweep of my arm, grinning as only a bar-igura can. “You are different from the local female homids in complexion, certainly far more rambunctious…”
“Well I’m not covered in hair that’s for sure, and I’ll kill you and your byotches if I ever get out of here.”
“I do not recommend exercising Fharlanghn’s inclination to be free of physical hindrances to movement at this moment… the plummet would be… baneful to your complexion I think…”
“Well the sweat isn’t helping either monkey boy.”
“”My byotches indeed!” My grin widening, “And I think five more may become available soon. It took you some time to regain consciousness…”
Looking herself over as best she can given her position, “So much for this complexion you speak of, after your dumb ape women beat the sh*t out of me.”
“They could have done worse.”
“I have taken the liberty of updating your journal, up to when I returned it to you.”
“Oh no you didn’t.”
“The quill responds to whomever currently ‘owns’ it – not just to you. By returning it back to your side, I have similarly returned ownership to you.”
“I don’t care… that’s personal… you have no respect for anything or anyone, do you? I’m going to strike everything you wrote in there from the record. You won’t be living long enough to need remembering anyway.”
I favor her with amusement in my eyes. “What can be taken by force is mine to do with as I see fit.”
“Yeah, well you have yet to do anything over here that claims any sort of ownership to me. And a good thing for you, as you won’t live long afterwards to really enjoy it anyway.”
Roaring with mirth, I reply “I could, for example, have sired – how is it the sages say – ah, ‘half-fiendish’ offspring at your expense. You are a fiery tempered one, aren’t you.”
“Untie me and I’ll show you how much fire I will light under your arse!”
“You are mine girl, make no mistake! MY chains bind you above a fiery death – and if you choose to slip free, I will feast on your charred flesh after sacrificing your smoking heart to the Prince of Demons!”
“Wow … can’t wait…” The sarcasm is clear in her reply, though I choose to ignore it.
“Really now?” As a single claw snikts into position from my left paw.
“Piece of sh*t monkeyman.”
“Such flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Ha! You yould take compliments from the depths of an insult – shows your intelligence.”
I sidle forward, my right paw behind my back beneath the cloak, that single claw glistening in the wavering heat in her vision, now aiming over her head. “Child, you have yet to grasp what I am, have you?”
“I could care less. Well, you’re not dead, and not really alive, that’s for sure… so a freak of some sort is obvious.”
At that moment I teleport onto the chains above her head, my sudden weight causing the pulley to groan and the chains to rattle. “A freak? Your flowery praise is improving.”
“Yeah… well my luck isn’t… get off!”
Still grinning, I deliver a string of saliva so that it slides down the right cheek of her face.
“Ummm… ew… keep the spitting on me to a minimum.”
“I’ve never tried a mortal female in this position before… I wonder…”
“DON’T YOU DARE!”
“Slobbering my dear… spitting involves aiming.”
“I WILL RENDER YOUR PARTS USELESS!”
I roar with laughter, clearly even to her dim mortal perceptions delighted at her responses, watching her tear up and shiver despite the intense heat.
“Why do you fear such a simple act? The feel of it… the brutal, animalistic intensity…”
She remains silent for a moment before noticing that the quill has been scritch-scratching the entire time. “Hold Quill!”
I inhale deeply, lowering my snout to just above her hair so she can feel the hair on the top of her head lift with each inhalation, so she can smell my fetid breath.
“Hmmmmm… the tang of sweat mixed with fear and loathing…”
“Please don’t…” as the fleshling’s tears increase from a drip to a stream.
“Tell me Joselin, what do you think your precious Captain would look like… as a female?”
“WHAT?!” Are you off your effing rocker?! He’s enough of a pansy without having one in hand.”
“A foolish cabin boy came bearing involuntary gifts… much to my amusement, they have a rather interesting property.”
“I wouldn’t… you will regret it… just as you are going to regret this night ever happened…”
“It would seem a certain relation of your patron had them in mind for your captain, the frail savage and the beardless dwarf. A remarkable piece of deception that Vanthus.”
“OOOOOOOOOOHHHH THAT PIECE OF S+*~ FROM HELL!”
Roaring with mirth as the chains shake, “I do not regret this time in the least! Such intensity! Such pugnaciousness!”
“You’re using big words for an ape, and Vanthus is going to meet your same fate – not a good one.”
“And what fate would that be, little one?”
“Eternal slumber, not in a cozy bed, in a tomb from which you will never rise from!”
“My… a tomb? For me? I am honored!”
The tears resumed, “You’re impossible!”
“Although… your linguistically-capable beguiler might need to acquire the translations from the Trade speech of this assbackwards world into Olman.
The fleshling has now fallen totally silent, whimpering and crying.
“Finished? Already?” I teleport below once more, cradling my chin in my left paw, contemplating her tender form as she settled back into a stable position, sweat droplets spraying the chamber. Strangely now reticent, I circle beneath her around the fire pit, never taking my eyes off her, savoring future torments to come.
“Which of the others would scream the most I wonder… the good Captain? Ever confident, suddenly deprived of his manhood, then… Hrm… mayhap I shall turn him over to the affections of my harem instead, he strikes me as overly robust.
“Perhaps the frail savage, always eager to do battle, yet too eager to avoid the fury returned in kind… an excellent subject, not deserving of his current gender I think.
“And of course the false dwarf, what wonderful humiliation! To be transformed into a truly beardless dwarf… then savaged at my whim.
“The others… ah, of course, in due course, I expect…
“Perhaps just braising a leg over the fire pit below you first… to soften their resistance, so to speak.” At this point, I stopped, staring into her eyes, then exerting my Will, lifting her chin to lock gazes with me despite her desire otherwise.
I could hear her mental thoughts: What now lippy?
Naturally, it was time to further her education. Not speaking does not mean you have been silent.
“For the gawds’ sake, whatever it is you want already… you have the power to take it… what in the Nine Hells are you waiting for…do you enjoy making me cry… worrying about what will happen to me next… WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”
Further exerting my Will, I forced open her mouth and inserted her shift as a gag.
Of course I enjoy making you cry and worry about what else could possibly happen to you. It is a nectar sweeter than the most heavenly mead of Celestia to drink of your fear, to sup of your loathing. I leave you to contemplate your fate. Weal, or Woe, or Worse? Losing your maidenhood to a fiend, dying as the litter devours you alive from the inside, interminable agonizing months later long after your fragile mind disintegrates from the taint of your unwanted progeny…
And at that I was gone from her. Others needed attending to you see…
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