Valeria Amaranth's Story

The crumbling castle sat idle, a constant reminder of the horrors of the forgotten ages, proclaiming the worth of long lost civilization. It also represented what horrible architecture existed in those days. But, those were more primitive times, when people wrote on walls and held puppy-punting contests to amuse themselves. Castle Grayfemur was a standing defiance to the coming of the new world, as it always had been. Countless lords of questionable intent reigned from within its bleak walls. It also used to be the most infamous casino ever constructed.

Within the walls, now, one will find torn tapestry and crumbling walls. The carpets are ragged and stained with questionable substances. Razor marks decorate chalk-engrained tables, and some still-functional roulette tables litter the dining hall. Rooms fill the decaying castle, filled with all manner of oddity. Some rooms contain all the basic furnishings of a typical bedroom; others are more adorned with whips and chains. Upon moving in, Kalamitus found the skeleton of an elven spice dealer in one of the closets.

The castle presently runs rampant with all manner of devilish cretin: goblins, skeletons, imps, even the occasional p'imp. All under servitude to their dark lord. They handle the general maintenance of the castle (rather poorly, really). Which leads us to the throne room: a "grand" and "spacious" room, decorated with the skulls of many a foul beast, and many not so foul, such as squirrels and raccoons. In the middle of the room is a well, filled with the murky Waters of Petulance, waters that, when consumed, granted irritation of the bowels and a sudden, strong disliking of cheese.

Paintings of rulers past adorned the circular walls. Most had the faces burned out and replaced with crude drawing of Lord Kalamitus' visage, in charcoal. He later executed the goblin for the incorrect portrayal of his helmet. He could remember the conversation quite well, actually: "No, no, no! They aren't bull horns you oaf!" Fwoosh! He laughed as the pitiful creature ran around the room, slowly disintegrating into a smelly pile of ashes. Kalamitus wished the camera had been invented to he could have a picture to forever treasure the event.

Ah, those were good times indeed. Now, he sat, bored upon his throne. Valeria stood at his left (which was odd, considering she was his Right Hand), they both remained quiet. Kalamitus had often find himself thinking that if she weren't so repulsive, what with her flawless skin and slender frame and those damnable horns, he would very much like to have her instead of his current target. However, his black heart lay with the princess of Gamov'r, what with her flawless skin and slender frame. The lack of horns kinda sealed the deal for him.

As he reflected upon this, the door to the throne room burst open. In strode a company of goblin servants, all looking distraught. Kalamitus was sure someone was going to win a beheading today. "M-m'lord!" one of them cried. Kalamitus sat up straight, appearing imposing and threatening. This was a clever tactic to avoid letting loose the pent-up flatulence, however. It would be quite embarrassing for him to deal with official business after such a catastrophe. "Speak!" he thundered.

The goblin was timid, almost as if he were expecting to be carried away and executed. Of course, Kalamitus had decided to do so, so his fears were quite well-placed. "M'lord, it be the werewolves. They.....they've 'unionized' m'lord! They say they demand better working conditions." Kalamitus let out a long, heavy, painful sigh. A werewolf union, huh? "I see," he responded, slowly. He arose from his throne. "I deeply apologize for bringing you such dreaded news, Lord Kalamitus. I'll be sure to assist you any way I ca-UUUGHHH!"

Standing where that goblin used to be, was a creature that slightly resembled a goblin with a pitchfork running through its mouth and pinning it to the ground. That goblin did turn out to be a great help after all: He was an amusing kill. "Valeria, I'll be attending to this werewolf union now. Unless you feel you have something better to do, like anything else at all, come with me." With this, he strode towards the door of the throne room, ready to deal with the flea-ridden socialist dogs.

Literal dogs, in this case.

Valeria sighed, watching as yet another Goblin succumbed to a gory fate at the hands of her murder-happy master. Although she supposed there was a certain advantage to being feared by one's followers, and the fact that the bearer of bad news would inevitably die a horrible, painful death would certainly serve as incentive against failure, there were much more efficient ways to do things. Ways that didn't involve massacring your only sources of information. Still, she supposed, there was little that could be done. Trying to convince Kalamitus not to murder anyone who happened to be standing within his line of sight and not immediately important to his cause had about as much of a chance of success as trying to convince the princess to just marry the Dark Lord and be done with it. Which is to say, none whatsoever save under extraordinary circumstances involving vast quantities of alcohol and a large stockpile of kittens, the procurement of which would doubtless be even more inefficient than allowing a few goblins to be executed for no real reason besides the fact that they were there. Besides, the memories of goblins were strange and pointless things. Likely, the creatures would forget what happened to those who approached Kalamitus within the next two days, at most, so it wasn't like they'd stop coming to tell their master whenever something went horribly wrong.

In fact, things going horribly wrong was quite the common occurrence within Castle Grayfemur. It seemed like every twenty minutes some goblin would come charging in screaming his head off about how an elf had sneaked into the establishment under the guise of a traveling pastrami salesman and stolen one of the Dark Lord's kittens, or something similarly annoying. Actually, when Valeria had heard the late goblin messenger's declaration that the werewolves had unionized, she had been surprised. Namely, surprised that it did not immediately involve kittens, elves, or traveling pastrami salesmen - or anything "similarly annoying." Well, she supposed unionized labor did fit the ticket, but still, that almost seemed too normal for the shenanigans she'd grown accustomed to in the Dark Lord's service.

"Of course, milord," The dutiful Vampire responded calmly after taking a moment to compose herself. Honestly, if she'd had anything better to do, she wouldn't have just been standing around in the throne room waiting for something stupid to inevitably happen. Following exactly two steps behind and to the right of her dark master, she simply did her duty by keeping herself present and accounted for, and awaiting further instructions. Still, being Kalamitus' second in command did have its perks. For example, she could ask him about what his plans were without being brutally murdered on a whim. So she did.

"What means do you think will be best to put down this notion of independence in your troops, milord?" She asked casually. Of course, she already knew what the answer would be. Kalamitus obviously intended to kill every last member of this "union," then return to the castle to play with his kittens. Valeria resisted the urge to sigh at the wasted potential surrounding her, and simply followed her lord.

Striding into the courtyard, Kalamitus took a look around him: weeds and withered flowers. It was all perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be when you had a gathering of ungrateful employees trampling over everything, carrying picket signs and chanting such drivel like: "We're here, we're..."- wait, wrong rally. Here Kalamitus was, hoping to have a good day. Of course, these unsettling beasts were making that impossible; they were making Shanks very, very unhappy. And when Shanks isn't happy, Kalamitus inevitably has to strangle a bitch until their lungs expire.

"What is the meaning of this?!" his voice drowned out the sounds of chanting. Everyone swore that the sky grew darker because of the power of the dark lord's voice. Or it could be due to the unpredictable weather of the Witchlands. The unionists paused, looking toward their employer in amazement. Ingrates. Was it not enough that they had the privilege to serve in Kalamitus' army without being impaled by a silver spear on a regular basis, and now they have the gall to demand better working conditions and pay? This was ending now. Kalamitus had no time for communism in his totalitarian leadership.

One of the mongrels stepped forth, procuring a writ of demands. "M'lord, this is a petition, signed by myself and all the men you see standing before you. We demand that you accommodate us with better working conditions and pay." From somewhere in the crowd, someone cried out "And dental care!" The "foreman" agreed, turning back to his lord in angst, with a glimmer of hope in his eye that their demands would be met. Oh how Kalamitus loved those little glimmers; he really loved to watch them burn out as he drove a pike through their owners' spleens. "I see. Tell me, what might your name be?" the dark lord asked.

This gesture took the werewolf by surprise. "H-Harkin, sir. My name is Harkin." Kalamitus nodded. "Harkin. So, it was you that rallied the werewolves against me, forming this little union of yours?" Harkin could only nod, confidence still brimming on his face. "Allow me to get this right, Harkin: You want me, your master, who has been nothing but accommodating to you and yours, while you piss on the furniture, track mud throughout my castle, leave the scent of wet dog on all the drapes, shit on the carpet without having the common decency to clean up after yourselves, and you have the nerve to ask, no, demand that I offer you better?" Harkin was quiet for a moment. "Of course sir. That's what a union is all about."

It was Kalamitus' turn to be quiet. "I see." Now I feel it necessary for us to bask in the beauty of this next moment. Kalamitus always had an affinity for conjuration. It was so much fun to summon such abominable horrors and think of creative ways to slaughter them, often by using conjured weaponry. He once was able to conjure a phantom guillotine in order to decapitate a horsigator he had summoned from the Nine Hells. He then tested said guillotine on a unit of goblins that had failed to bring him the right brand of cat food. And that was on a good day.

However, today he would need something a bit less......consuming. A blade would do the trick. A silverfire straight sword. Right in the cranium. Mongrel brains went everywhere as Kalamitus lopped off the top layer of Harkin's head, exposing the withering grey matter within. With the union leader now dead, order could finally be restored. Or, you know, that perpetual state of utter chaos that passed itself off as order in Kalamitus' army. The dark lord could only watch, and laugh hysterically, as Harkin hit the floor. He even twitched in death like he did when he was sleeping, chasing after that ever-elusive bunny rabbit. His foot even came up to scratch him behind the ear. "It's no wonder Shanks hated you," he said.

His burning eyes looked to the rest of the werewolves. "You have five seconds to return to work before I start neutering!" he shouted. With a quickness and with fearful, dog-like whimpers, the unionists scrambled back to their posts. Kalamitus turned to Valeria. "And you once said I was unreasonable."

Valeria raised an eyebrow at the somewhat uncharacteristically efficient manner in which her master dealt with the source of the problem - decapitation was a much more practical and swift means of execution than she had expected him to employ, after all. To be honest, she had expected that he would do something theatrical and agonizing like replacing the werewolves' blood with melted cheese and turning them into a giant fondue of death, or perhaps releasing some sort of tentacled monstrosity and/or a telemarketer to painfully torture them until their minds at last snapped under his torment and they succumbed to death. Simply cutting down their ringleader was... well, Valeria just supposed that it seemed too normal.

Nevertheless, she wasn't complaining. Cutting down the ringleader so effortlessly would demoralize and cow the rebels into submission, and would imprint in their memories a firm indicator of exactly what would happen to those who dared challenge Kalamitus. To Capture The Bandits, Capture Their Leader: the 18th of the 36 strategems of combat. Or, as it was more commonly stated, cut off the head, and the body will die. By eliminating their leader, the Dark Lord had instantly put down their revolt, regained his previous control over them, and had eliminated a potential threat all with as little effort as possible.

"I only called you unreasonable when you killed a goblin for shining your boots of his own volition, then accidentally placing the left boot on the right and the right boot on the left when he returned them to your wardrobe. Then used his head as a coffee mug, which you then bronzed and sent to Gamov'r as a courting gift to the Princess. I assure you, when it comes to more relevant matters such as the practical elimination of this revolt, I do not hold any such opinion." Well, this was only partially true, of course. She thought his actions in this particular instance were quite practical, but as always, she was still prepared for, and, in fact, expected, the most pointless and impractical of cruelties from her dark master. But, there was no need to mention that when it would mean trying her overlord's patience, and would probably result in one such cruelty being inflicted on her if she pressed her luck. He would probably file off her horns with a rusty spoon, or something, and although neither he nor she was particularly fond of them, she would rather not go through the pain - or worse, the indignity - of having them removed in such a silly manner.

"But, if I might suggest something," Valeria continued, a smirk playing upon her lips as an idea struck her. "I think that one more step might be in order to ensure cooperation in these dogs." Naturally, she waited for her overlord's approval before continuing with her suggestion, but made sure to string him along, hoping to play upon his curiosity in order to secure his permission to speak her thoughts. He knew her well enough to understand that her idea in this case would be both effective and, quite probably, very amusing - read: evil - and, if she knew Kalamitus well enough in turn, she had a feeling that the opportunity wasn't one he'd pass over without hearing her out.

Kalamitus eyed Valeria curiously. He couldn't help but think that she were about to manipulate him, an art she was disturbingly too good at, for her personal interest. However, she did know how to tickle his curiosity (and maybe some other things, but those won't be discussed). "What are you proposing? Ooo! Shall we impale them upon their own arm bones? Or, make them walk across the Bed of Pins and Needles? Or....or....." excitement rarely seemed to escape the Dark Lord, but when it did, it usually did so in a violent and explosive manner that results in sixteen workplace casualties. Seventeen if you count the injured goblin, who merely asked if workman's compensation would be a possibility, that Kalamitus swiftly and decisively punted into a snake/lion/porcupine pit full of scorpions. Either way, he decided there was enough ellipses as is. "Shall we get another cat?" he concluded.

Another cat was just the thing he felt this castle needed. Although Shanks would be more than displeased; little tike might try to kill him in his sleep again. "Now Shanks, what did daddy tell you? Go for the jugular if you really want to kill someone!" Ah, memories. Suddenly he felt a strong urge to plunge something into the infinite blackness of the Pit of Immeasurable Suffering, or maybe to grab a goblin and shape them into a compact, spherical shape and play goblin ball with the imps. Or maybe he was craving a sandwich. Either way, he had the most detestable feeling in his bones that just urged to be fulfilled. It could quite possibly be the suspense that Valeria was keeping him in. Although, she wouldn't be keeping him in suspense if the writer of this particular portion of the story would stop doing what he was doing and allow the story to flow instead of making an attempt at hogging the limelight like some sort of git.

We like to break things around here; most notably the fourth wall.

Kalamitus' attention returned to his adviser. "Ehem. Go on...." he said.

"Very well," The demonic Vampiress said, giving a calm smile as she outlined her plan. "Quite simply, I think that it is insufficient to merely break in our little pack of mutts through straightforward discipline. Although you can teach a dog by punishing it when it steps out of line, I believe it may also be in our best interest to focus on pre-emptively disciplining our even less intelligent followers, such as the dolts who will forget what happened here within the course of a few days. Of course, due to their lack of comprehension of events such as this, simply punishing them in a similar manner once a new issue arises, although enjoyable, will be largely ineffective. Consequently, what we really need is to give them a more permanent reminder of what happens to those who try to make demands of their master. We now have the perfect opportunity to do just that." Pausing a moment to ensure her reasoning had been followed, she then continued, calmly as ever. "Furthermore, there is another problem we now have the perfect chance to solve simultaneously. Although cowing those dogs by making an example of their leader will doubtless keep them in check for now, unless more comprehensive measures are taken to ensure that each and every one of these protesters gets his just desserts for stepping out of line, they may eventually come to forget their fear and repeat their past mistakes. Of course, simply torturing or maiming all of these unionists would not only be unnecessarily time consuming, but would also reduce their combat effectiveness tremendously, and put us behind schedule on more important things, such as world domination. Consequently, I believe the most expedient course of action would be a blanket response that makes an example of each and every one of these rebellious dogs without directly impeding their effectiveness, limited though it may be. In short, a punishment meant to demoralize and discourage, instead of outright destruction." Valeria gave a slight smirk. "I think you'll like the idea I've come up with. In the most simple terms, I would recommend... giving them exactly what they wished for, for as long as they wanted it, and then making them regret every second of it. For example, their precious 'dental plan.' Let's say you pretend to capitulate on that matter, and give them what they asked for. In exchange, however, you forbid them from entering the palace under the pretense of their own bodily waste in our halls creating 'unsanitary working conditions,' and give them much more dangerous jobs to do, which, although paying more individually than the paltry tasks they are currently delegated to deal with, will kill off enough of them in the process to make the increase in wages irrelevant. In short, if you demonstrate your capability to give them exactly what they want even while taking it away, I believe they'll lose the will to resist you, let alone make demands of you, in the future. At the same time, by making a constant example of them to remind other potential dissidents of what happens to those who rebel, we may be able to bring your other followers in line much more easily from now on." Concluding her recommendation, Valeria once again lapsed into silence, awaiting her lord's reply.

Of course, she already knew what it would be. He would, of course, take full credit for her plan, and then immediately find some way to work at least thirty-seven instances of gratuitous decapitation into the proposed punitive measures, rendering her own consideration for maximum efficiency completely irrelevant. The Vampiress resisted the urge to sigh at this somewhat depressing but true thought. That was just how things worked when one was in the employ of a sociopathic mass-murdering tyrant. But, oh well. At least the terms of her position exempted her from the possibility of suffering a similar fate save in the event of high treason, and, incidentally, also included a very good dental plan.

Kalamitus considered her proposal for a long while. This whole business of being able to give the unionists what they wanted, and yet make them hate wanting it, was pure evil beyond comprehension. Kalamitus practically shook in envy that he hadn't thought of it first. However, the benefit of being Dark Lord over Aldaria meant he could claim credit for the plan.

"Right. Great idea, me! How insightful! Valeria, I've just had the most brilliant idea...." You know where this is going. "So, in short, in order to give them better working conditions, some repairs are going to be necessary around the castle, particularly involving the Boulder Room." Ah the Boulder Room. It was a pesky room, considering the fact that one couldn't step inside it without being crushed by the giant rocks that fall from the mountain paths that wrap around castle Grayfemur. Having the werewolves patrol that area, and make repairs to the damages caused by said falling rocks, would invariably instill better working conditions.....after a few initial casualties, of course. He would also get his precious decapitations this way, claiming incompetence on the part of the work foremen. He could just imagine those conversations: Workplace casualties on your watch? What kind of foreman are you? Imbecile! *thwak*. Ahhhh. He got chills just from thinking about it, which really said something considering he was a walking corpse composed of fiery skin.

He turned to Valeria. "Get the word out immediately, Valeria!" he ordered, "Meanwhile, I have a game of Grottos and Giants with the henchmen that needs attending to." With that, he strode away, tattered cape and a rather grotesque cloud of flatulence billowing behind. He perked his ears as the sounds of a goblin choking to death on its own vomit traversed the airwaves. He laughed his maniacal laughter, coughing a bit at the end, looking around to make sure no one had seen that bit of embarrassment.