The sweltering heat of Mount Drakolt was nauseating, even for someone who’d grown up in the desert as Morrigan Moonweaver had. They were sweating through layers of fine silks and Zeinavian fabric, no doubt having already ruined their clothes. Needless to say, they were sweaty, hot, and miserable, ready to be off this damn mountain once and for all.

Oh. And then there were the hellhounds.

Morrigan couldn’t forget the hellhounds.

There were six of them in total, all having run down from the base of the volcano that was currently spewing ash at them like it had a vendetta. Morrigan prayed to whatever god was still up there that the damn thing wouldn’t erupt and make this already shitty day even worse. Then again, getting burnt to a crisp sounded a lot quicker and more merciful than being turned into a dog’s chew toy.

The fellblood raised their bladed fan, taking another step back as the pack drew ever closer. How had things gone so wrong? This was just supposed to be some simple job, a couple hours collecting rocks at best. And yet, the universe just seemed bound and determined to give the charlatan a miserable, wretched experience every time they tried to pick up an honest job.

With a grimace, Morrigan turned their attention to the blonde woman at their side, an unfortunately familiar face - and the shitty employer who’d brought them out here in the first place. If they survived this, Morrigan was definitely going to find a way to sue her for workplace negligence.

“Well, genius? Any bright ideas on how to get out of this one?”

---

Bringing Pets
Luna Rose (Mephit: Beastmaster I)

As if this job weren't enough,

As if the choking heat of the Ashlands weren't enough;

As if the spontaneous arrival of a group of hellhounds weren't enough,

As if the death of all her bots in a huge lava-geyser eruption weren't enough,

As if the fact that she's now surrounded by hell-hounds, slavering lava, weren't enough,

She needs to work together with this clown.

She was already thinking about it. She was already formulating a plan to get them out of this. She *always* has a plan. But hearing this lavender nuisance nagging at her just puts a wrench in all her processes. It irks her to no end, hearing this person (that she for some reason bothered to hire again) harassing her when THEY were the one that got them into this mess in the fucking first place! She's utterly tilted.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact," she snaps, "why don't you lay down and let them chew on you while I get out of here? It'd be the first useful thing you've done on this tri-"

With a sudden snarl, one of the hounds leaps toward her! But she's more than prepped, and not about to put up with that shit. A single pull of the trigger^[1], and the hound is sent flying and sprawling back with a holy blast^[2]. Not wasting a second, she's already flipped the tray open and angrily taken another cartridge out of her coat.

"Don't you have weapons or some shit?! Do something!"

---

1. Musket
2. Angelic Light

All of these hellspawn creatures surrounding the charlatan and the businesswoman, and Veliky still somehow managed to be more annoying than all of them. Morrigan huffed, unfurling their bladed fan and waving at their face with it delicately. “And let those foul things maul my precious money-maker? No thank you!” They rolled their eyes. “Why don’t you just try to bribe them or something, no doubt like you do for every other - OH WHAT THE FUCK?”

They were interrupted from their incessant bitching by one of the hellhounds jumping at Veliky, who immediately pulled out some projectile weapon and fired it at the dog. In a burst of explosive powder and holy light, the damn thing was sent backwards, a chunk taken out of its flank. Veliky turned to them with an angry expression on her face, gripping that firearm like she was debating whether the next bullet should go through Morrigan’s skull.

“Weapons? What kind of brute do you take me for?” Morrigan said, despite the fact they were very obviously holding a weapon in their hand. “I’m a delicate desert flower, I can’t be expected to fight! Don’t you have any more of those bots around here to save us?”

This situation required more firepower than Morrigan had at the moment. They needed something really explosive to get rid of these damned mutts. Taking a step backwards, Morrigan reached into their bag of wonders, hoping that whatever they pulled out would actually be useful for this fight.^[1]

---

1. Jolly Bag of Tricks (1/2)

kd1iVEWH

"...The fuck is that?"

Veliky looks in anger and confusion as Morrigan reaches into the depths of his bag and pulls out a picnic basket? It's draped in a cute little cloth, obscuring its contents save for something poking through -- what can only be a champagne bottle. Honestly, it looks delightful, except that it doesn't do much to aid them in their survival against a pack of fucking hell hounds.

"Are you going to take one of them on a fucking date?!"

And that's not even acknowledging the fact that Morrigan is now claiming to not be a fighter, despite literally carrying a weapon around at their hip. It's as if he were specifically evolved, chosen through the process of natural selection to be as frustrating as mathematically possible. It'd almost be inspiring if it weren't so goddamn annoying.

But whatever. Obviously he isn't willing to help, so she's got to figure out something to do on her own.

"Fine! Whatever! Just cover your damn eyes for a second!"

Just as the pack closes in, she reaches into her pocket and swiftly throws a little pellet^[1] to the ground. It detonates in a blinding flash of light that leaves the hounds yowling in confusion! Then, taking the opportunity upon herself, she runs forward and uppercuts one of the hellhounds in the jaw with such holy force^[2] that it's made to stand on its hind legs -- but only for a moment before she jumps and kicks it in the stomach, sending it to the ground.

...She wishes she could do that to Morrigan right about now.

"You know it's fucking cute that you don't want to fight, seeing as you got us into this mess!"

---

1. (Exploding Pebbles) Miniature Nova Bombs
2. Angelic Light

The bag of wonders, in all its infinite wisdom, shat out a picnic basket of all things.

Morrigan stared at the wicker basket with wide, uncomprehending eyes - what the hell were they supposed to do with this against a bunch of dogs? - before Veliky shouted at them in obvious bewilderment.

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Morrigan snarked back. This was very much not the situation to be getting into a verbal battle of wits with their only chance of survival, but Morrigan was desperate to always have the last word. “At least if I attempted to woo and seduce them, I’d be doing something useful.” They glared daggers at the quarterling, who, thus far, had been the only one doing anything useful in this entire battle.

Nevertheless, they squeezed their eyes shut when Veliky pulled something out from her pocket and threw it on the ground. The hellhounds all froze, momentarily stunned by the sudden burst of light, giving Veliky the opportunity to kick one in the stomach, and Morrigan the opportunity to dart forward and finally fucking contribute something for once as they slashed across the hellhound’s back with their bladed fan. Another hellhound tried to get close to Morrigan, aiming its claws straight for their face.

“Ack, get away from me!” They shrieked, stumbling backwards and nearly falling on their ass. They scooped up one of the nearby boulders from the ground, smashing it into the hellhound’s skull before it could maul them.^[1]

---

1. Gauntlets of Ginma

'Holy shit' are words apt enough for that. At first, she's impressed; obviously, there's more to this 'Morrigan Moonweaver' than meets the eye. But then she just gets even more fucking mad, as this pretty purple prick obviously has a plethora of capabilities that he's apparently just too precious to actually use unless his life depends on it. Maybe she should just call a Vixen and leave him to deal with this on his own, if it'd mean that he'd actually do something to help.

...

This warrants actual consideration. She could do that, and only intervene when the fellblood actually appears to be in danger. Not her fault if he gets nipped a few times. All in all, it'd be tactically sound. The only issue is she'd be risking Morrigan's life, but that seems to be less and less of a problem with every word he says.

But her considerations are cut short by a sudden rumbling that has her stumbling and nearly tumbling. It's a tremendous disturbance -- and one that is woefully familiar. The last time she felt it, her entire platoon of Blixtbots™ was transmogrified into molten tin. She looks around and, certainly enough, the chase of the pack had brought them just beside another superheated geyser.

And it seems ready enough to detonate.

...Well, that helps her thought process.

"Alright good luck!" Raising her fist, she speaks into her gloved hand, and runes appear encircling between her fingers. Suddenly, out of a maelstrom of mind-bending geometry, a clockwork reindeer^[1] manifests^[2] beside her! As she scales its leg, it's already taking to the sky on glowing hooves.

---

1. (Reindeer) Vixen-01
2, Summon Mount

Was… was this bitch actually summoning an escape to get out of here before the geyser hit? And leaving Morrigan down here on their own? Morrigan pulled themselves to their feet, shaking their fist in the air as the tiny shit of a businesswoman took off into the safety of the sky as the ground split open nearby, threatening to pour out the same kind of lava that had killed all of Veliky’s bots before.

Shit! Morrigan only had a few seconds to make a break for safety, fumbling and rifling through their bag for something that could help. Eventually, they found a potion of their own creation, a spare bottle of Dragon-Be-Gone. Snake oil or real elixir? Morrigan didn’t have time to test it, so it was down the hatch and pray this thing actually worked.^[1] Fortunately for them, they were apparently too annoying a creature to actually die - right before the lava from the geyser hit them, Morrigan was coated in a shield of alchemical glitter that burst with a loud POP when the lava landed on them. They were unharmed, albeit covered in a thick layer of glitter that wouldn't be coming off anytime soon.

The hellhounds were not so lucky.

Of the four remaining hellhounds, one of them was not fast enough to escape the geyser’s wrath, and the sheer heat from the molten substance was no match for the demon creature’s fire resistance. That left only three singed hounds, one woman in the sky, and a glittery, peeved off fellblood.

“Veliky, you get your ass back here or I’m going to be submitting complaints to a board of ethics or something! This is worker abuse!” They shook their fist into the air as they reached a hand into the bag of wonders once more, praying that it would actually give them something useful this time.^[2]

---

1. Morrigan Moonweaver's Dragon-Be-Gone (1/2)
2. Jolly Bag of Tricks
ytCDARLP

Fuck, he's alive.

Well... not that Veliky was hoping he'd be incinerated into a puddle of obnoxious, glittery goop, but she wouldn't have lost any sleep over it. Just how the hell did he survive, anyways? Everything this fellblood does is an unwelcome surprise, like some sort of demented clown at a funeral.

Though... given his apparent resourcefulness, Veliky would be lying if she said that she didn't see any potential in him. If she could just open his skull and replace the annoying parts with gears, he'd probably be a good employee.

But that's a thought process for later. For now, there are still three more hounds that need dealing with. It was looking grim, but things are starting to seem quite more manageable. There's now an unhealthy amount of lava splattered about the terrain; but, given that Veliky's currently in the air, that's really not her fucking problem now is it?

But how's she going to deal with any of the ones that remain? Going onto the ground now would be a perilous affair, and the projectiles she DOES have are mostly reliant on flame. But as she considers her arcane arsenal, she sees the answer to her question, sticking out of the ashen ground. It's the Rook's sword, the Novice^[1].

Veliky isn't generally partial to getting her hands dirty, but neither is she resistant to it when such methods become beneficial to her. She commands the Vixen to bring her low and, when she comes near, she leaps from its back and beside the jutting blade! Ship grips the hilt, and immediately feels its magic connecting with her mind. It's an uncomfortable process, with many a flashing light behind her eyes and a feeling like fingers digging into her brain. Her vision is augmented with geometry, diagrams that tell her how, where and when to strike with detail that wouldn't normally. Even in the anatomy of the hellhound before her, suddenly its weaknesses are more clear. She sees azure apparitions of precisely how and when it will strike -- and how, and when, to counter it.

"Come on." she says resolvedly as she yanks the sword from the ground. It's nearly thrice her height, yet she holds it with ease. "Let's go."

---

1. (Sword for Dummies) X-01 Novice

Coins. The bag decided to give them coins this time.

“Well, you’re going to be no help today, are you?” Morrigan demanded petulantly - though whether that was directed at Veliky or the bag of wonders was unclear. They grumbled a string of swear words in infernal under their breath, popping both of the coins into their mouth. Perhaps the polite thing would have been to save a potion for Veliky, but given that the woman was currently hovering above Morrigan, and they were the one on the ground with the dogs, they figured they were allowed to be the one to monopolize the healing.

Then she dropped back down and picked up one of the abandoned swords from her dead bots, which, whoa. Morrigan didn’t even think she was capable of lifting that much weight. Apparently they were learning all kinds of new things about one another today. While she was ready to dash in with the blade, though, Morrigan was about done with this entire excursion, and ready to be back in some Darkveil inn relaxing this horrid day away. They grabbed two potions from their bag, downing both like a shot at once.^[1,2] The strength-augmenting potion and the transmutation tonic worked their magic, and in a few seconds, the fellblood took to the sky on a pair of newly-sprouted wings, blowing a wave of ice-breath down on one of the remaining hellhounds.

The poor fucker didn’t even stand a chance before it was turned into a rather elaborate ice sculpture.

---

1. Bull's Strength Potion (1/2)
2. Beist's Transmutation tonic (wings, drake gland - ice)

It leaps toward her, eyes and teeth gleaming with a singular intent: the tearing of flesh. But, in a motion that should be impossibly swift for her meagre frame, she brings the blade up to chip one of its obsidian fangs! A swift turn and a bash from the pommel sends it reeling, but only in time for another to surge toward her with vicious claws! And yet she simply, curtly guides the hound away from her with the sword, diverting a course like a stone would divert a stream. They're on either side of her, flurrying with claw and fang, but every attack is only met with the flat of a whirling blade as Veliky dances between scalding puddles of glowing lava. She sees their every attempt at her life seconds before they're made. Even as she's surrounded, it's the hounds that are wavering and faltering!

They gather themselves, reuniting flank-to-flank and facing her. At once, they leap!

...But, in what seems to be an instant, they both meet their end. With a single dash and a single cleave, she brought the blade slashing across both their exposed chests. And now she stands on the other side of them, blade coated in formic ichor as both hounds crash to the ground.

It's done.

As it turned out, Morrigan didn’t have to do much more. Veliky swooped in and took the last two dogs out with that sword of hers, and the danger was eliminated. Morrigan landed back on the ground, pulling out that same beaded fan and delicately waved it in front of their face. The heat from the lava and the exertion from the battle had left them utterly exhausted. They turned their nose up at Veliky, observing the gory scene spread out in front of them.

“… Not bad.” They relented after a moment, albeit begrudgingly. “I’m surprised that you didn’t merely turn into a frog and hop away at the first sign of danger.”

The dig was a half-hearted one, uttered with the tone of someone who just wanted nothing more than to go home and take a bath at the moment, but couldn’t resist getting one final insult in to add salt to the wound. With those final parting words, Morrigan turned and started making their way back down the mountain, not giving a particular shit about whether Veliky followed or not. Before they left, though, Morrigan paused and cast one last glance back at the businesswoman.

“And I think this goes without saying, but I quit. I’ll expect my final check in the mail as compensation for the physical and emotional torture you just put me through.” With any luck, the gods would be merciful enough on Morrigan and prevent the two from ever crossing paths again.

Unfortunately, Morrigan was never that lucky.

...

As the enigmatic grievance known as Morrigan Moonweaver walks away, Veliky lets in a deep and gradual breath: a breath of the Ashlands and its ash-choked air; a breath of the smothering heat that bubbles around them in pools; a breath of the cathartic, yet somehow pyrrhic victory in this battle. And then she lets it out in a long, quiet, and exasperated "Fuck you..."

It's over. She may as well consider this mission a failure, seeing as they didn't get the magma-salt that she wanted. But, at the very least, it's over. Her ride home sets its feet down on the ash beside her, ready to take her back to Darkveil.

Yet, for a moment, she simply watches the fellblood leave. He's a riddle, that one: a riddle in the sense that there's probably some mind-blowing answer that'd leave her amused and befuddled, but that is layered in such frustrating obscurity and smug jeering that she wonders if it'd even be worth it to try and solve it. His prowess with a weapon, his sudden transformation into some sort of draconic hybrid, his apparent proclivity to casually picking up boulders and using them to commit animal rights violations all point to a true mystery.

But does she care?

...

That's a question for later. She's done for today. That is, she's *done* for today. Scaling the leg of her mechanical steed once more, she waits for its hooves to assume that same gleam before it takes to the sky.

"Take me home, Vixen." And as they ascend into the sky, she looks down at the blasted landscape of the Ashlands below her. "...If Drakolt ever does blow up and wipe this place off the map, I don't think I'll lose much sleep."