<img src="images/londo1.jpg">
  The warm light of dusk bathed the towers of Anor Londo, as always. And like many times before, deep inside its halls, one of the many Chosen Undead pushed her way through a fog door, a vague gray dampness pressing in on her as she entered the vast chamber.
  As soon as she passed through she heard the crunch and foreboding yell of another Chosen being absolutely obliterated. He fell, giving off one echoing groan as he hit the ground and faded away, leaving only a fresh bloodstain.
  Virtually unscathed, the victors stood above him. One, a tall slender man in shining gold armor with a lion motif. The other, a massive, imposing weirdo with a big, scary hammer.
  Ornstein and Smough.
  The tall man in the lion armor laughed and yanked off his ornate helmet, revealing a handsome, scruffy-haired man. "Ha! Did you see that? That was amazing. You were watching, right?"
  But Smough said nothing, merely let Ornstein continue to celebrate how he'd totally stabbed that guy. And it was hard to tell with the armor, but it looked like Smough had noticed their new guest.
  Eventually Ornstein stopped, following Smough's gaze. "What are- The fuck?" He quickly struggled to reattach his helmet and maintain his intimidating presence. After three tries, he jabbed himself in the eye and gave up, tucking the helmet under his arm and stomping over to where the Chosen stood, bringing with him a faint electrifying aura.
  "Hey, what are you doing here? You're early."
  "I am? Is there a schedule?"
  "Well, no. But..."
  Behind him, Smough began collecting the pieces of the destroyed columns that littered the floor and connecting them back together.
  "Should I leave?"
  "No, you don't have to... Okay, fine. If you wanna fight, you're going to have to wait. There's decorum to think about."
  She shrugged. "That's fine by me."
  Ornstein fitted his helmet back on and they waited together in silence while Smough set out to reassemble the columns.
  Soon she noticed that Ornstein was taking longer and longer glances at her, which no doubt would have been less obvious had he not been wearing the large ornamental helmet.
  She crossed her arms and turned to him. "Is something wrong?"
  "No." He looked away and was quiet for a moment. "Or maybe. I don't know. Are you really here for the fight?"
  "Yeah, sure. Why?"
  "No...I mean, it's just that-" He gestured vaguely at her body.
  "What?" She looked down at herself. "Is there something wrong with the way I'm dressed?"
  How *is* she dressed?
[[A full suit of armor (Knight)]] ❤
[[Something fashionable, but anachronistic (Sorcerer)]] ❤❤
[[Tattered robes (Pyromancer)]] ❤❤❤
(Hearts denote approximate level of smut)
  This was a bit too much.
  "Actually, I'd much rather stay in and-"
  "Haha, even more for me." He took another snort and stormed out the door, trailing a cloud of resin dust.
  From off in the distance they heard a splintering crash as he sprinted headlong through a door.
  "So much for that." She caught sight of many more packages tucked into the the cabinet. "I don't suppose anything in there is a little more...mellow."
  Smough considered it, then went to the cabinet and fetched a small sack.
  They were small white mushrooms, and they each took one.
  The sorcerer examined it briefly before popping it into her mouth. It was chewy, with a faint, pleasant saltiness.
  "Is this going to fuck us up?"
  Smough swallowed and nodded.
  "Then we should go back and get comfortable before this knocks us on our asses."
  From deeper into the building, they heard the faint crashes of Ornstein on his resin-fueled rampage.
  On their way back to the lounge, she suddenly felt a tug as the mushrooms began to take effect.
  "Uh oh. Is this hitting you now, too?" She looked back and his eyes were dilated. "That's a yes."
  They detoured to a bedroom, locked themselves in, and collapsed into the four poster bed, shoulder to shoulder.
  As she laid there, she could feel a planetoid sized weight pressing down from the other side of the ceiling, it's gravity pulling at her guts.
  "Oh, I see. It's going to be one of these sort of freakouts." Too bad it was far too late for caution. All she could do was sit here and ride it out. "It's getting really warm in here. Mind if I take off my shirt?"
  She stripped off her top and threw it out into the melting floor. Then she pulled off her bra, exposing her chest.
  "I'm still warm. Feel." She took his hand and pressed it to her stomach. Her vision was switching rapid fire between several visual spectrums and she could see something stir in him like a fountain.
  Slowly she brought his hand up until it was cupping her breast. That internal fountain shifted colors.
  "You know, if he hadn't had a freakout, I was probably going to have sex with him. Does that bother you?"
  Smough shrugged. Then the walls shrugged with him.
  She took in a deep, long breath and exhaled a storm cloud. "Well, are you going to fuck me or wh-"
  She was cut off as he pulled her into a deep, powerful kiss, the sweet aftertaste of the mushrooms still clinging to their tongues.
  As their bodies met, her limb arrangement and actual number of limbs seemed to be in flux. It didn't bother her to have extras, she still had the body parts she needed. Teeth to bite with.
  Her body reformed long enough to shake out of her clothes, then get her legs up on his shoulders as he ate her out.
  But with her body in a more normal shape, the room around them became fluid and agitated.
  This was perfectly fine.
  Smough's body became a fanning web of feathers, and the longer this sex act continued, the larger her skeleton felt.
  "Oh my god, I am completely fucked up. This must be what going insane feels like. ...Hey, I didn't say stop."
  Smough continued his ministrations and she sank into the bed, or the abstract shape that had replaced it, growing hotter and more volatile as she got closer.
  She had the distinct thought that if she came right now, the universe would explode along with her.
  Good. She hated the universe.
  A hundred years later she woke up, obliterated by hangover, but back in the correct version of reality.
  She sputtered out a dry groan and slumped off the bed. On shaky limbs, she made her way to the nearest window. It was so stuffy and dark in here. What she needed now was some fresh air to clear her head.
  What had even happened? She had the scratchy memory of fucking the big man for a small eternity. But with all the hallucinogens in play, it could have been a five minute quickie followed by a night of fever dreams.
  She wasn't able to pull the window open more than a crack, but that was enough. And though the light was harsh initially, it was pleasant.
  When she was able to look without squinting, the first thing she saw was Ornstein, naked, slumped over a parapet. Ass exposed to the sky. "He looks like he had fun."
  In the light she noticed that her hands were shriveled, the flesh gone to the consistency of jerky. "What the-" She looked down at her body and she had wasted away in the night. "Aw fuck. I'm hollowed? I knew I shouldn't have mixed whatever I took with whatever else I took. Shit."
  Once she got some strength back, she'd have to go find her things so she could spend the rest of the day mainlining humanity.
  This was about the best result she could have hoped for.
<img src="images/toofar.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  Despite how on edge she was, she found Ornstein's presence rather soothing and they passed the time idly chatting until Smough finished up and hefted his hammer, signaling that he was ready.
  Ornstein stood up. "All right. Let's get to it." He eyed her, then tapped his spear on the ground, hesitating. "You know, we've already messed up the protocol this much. You want to just call this off?"
  "Call it off? Can you do that?"
  "We can do whatever we want. And I've got my fill for bloodshed for today. You wanna go chill in the back room? Maybe get comfortable? See what happens?" He nudged her with his elbow.
  Hmm, that did sound pretty good. But she came all this way for a boss fight...
[[Lose your nerve and call off the fight.]]
[["NO! I must have blood!"]]
  Oh, right. Parrying. She'd been meaning to get more practice. And a well timed parry could turn this entire fight around.
  Could she even parry these guys?
  Worth a shot.
  She turned her eyes to Ornstein and focused on his movements. The way he held that spear. The way his weight shifted as he dashed forward. The arc.
  There it was. An opportunity.
  She could see right through him. She squared up with Ornstein and prepared for the strike.
  But she had lost sight of Smough and before she could even put her plan to action, a very big hammer struck and turned her into a very big puddle.
<img src="images/died.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  As he was staring, foggy-eyed into the middle distance, his hand had crept down the front of his pants and he was idly stroking himself.
  "Uh, what is he doing?"
  "Hmm?" Ornstein coughed into his hand. "Oh. He does that."
  "He does that?"
  "That's kind of how he winds down."
  "I see."
  Ornstein coughed again and smacked himself in the chest. "Is that cool? Are you freaking out? I can make him leave if you're freaking out. Smough, quit freaking everybody out."
  "Well..."
[[Frankly, into it.]]
[[This is fine. Let him continue.]]
[[No thanks. Not a fan.]]
  A blush rose in her cheeks as a warmth was growing in her belly. "Actually...it's fine."
  "It is?"
  She made meaningful eye contact with Smough and sank into the couch. "Yeah."
  "Are you sure, because I can make him-"
  "Stop talky." She flapped her fingers at Ornstein. "More smokey."
  He shrugged and passed it over.
  She took a deep breath and the smoke suffused her entire being, then she let it out and the warmth in her guts had intensified.
  She motioned at Smough. "Are you going to do that too?"
  He gave her a side-eyed glance. "...I might."
  "Okay."
  He stretched out, hand on his belly. "You could join in too, if you want. Get comfortable. Good way to ease tension. We won't judge."
  She didn't answer, just took a long drag on the moss.
  Watching Smough and the slow rhythm of his strokes as she crept her fingers under the waistband of her pants.
  Through the haze, she noticed that Ornstein had scooted closer and had begun stroking himself through his pants, like he was making an offer. And as soon as she saw that, she began rubbing herself furiously.
  This moss had made her extremely festive. How festive was she going to get?
[[Extremely festive. Get festive with him.]]
[[Ignore him. Proceed with personal festivities.]]
  "Not gonna lie, I'm not happy about this."
  "I knew it. Smough! Quit jerking it in front of guests."
  Smough didn't seem to hear so Ornstein kicked the couch to startle him, which sent it tipping and Smough tumbling over. This did not stop his activities.
  Ornstein led her out into the hall where they sat outside the closed door, passing a joint back and forth.
  "Sorry, is this weird? This is weird, right?"
  "A little."
  "He'll be at that for hours. You want to get out of here?"
  "Where to?"
  "Somewhere private. Away from him."
  She took the joint back, her mouth where his mouth had just been. "Is this you formally asking me out?"
  "Wait, was this not already a date?"
  "The fact that you would even call this a date sure says something. Sounds more like you're trying to turn this into a messy hookup."
  He took the joint back and took a long pull. "Maybe."
  "You're such a weirdo."
  "Is that a no?"
  "Well..."
[[Make it a hookup.]]
[[He's not *that* irresistible. Go for a pleasant walk together.]]
  "Fine. You got me. Let's go."
  Damn it. Further evidence of her bad taste.
  They passed the joint back and forth, finishing it off as he led her to a dimly lit room packed with bookshelves and an ornate four post bed. Surprisingly not covered in dust.
  "Wow. This is nice. Whose room is this?"
  "It's ours until someone kicks us out."
  It wasn't long until they found their way into the bed, sliding under the heavy covers.
  And they weren't there for long before she was taking his tongue into her mouth. His hand found her thigh, sliding up.
  She broke the kiss and gave his nipple a harsh twist.
  "You're awfully sure of yourself to assume I'd let you do that."
  "You're not stopping me."
  She sighed and licked her teeth. "...No, I guess I'm not."
  She grabbed his hand and moved it up further, cupping her buttocks. As they kissed, he hooked his thumb into her underwear and eased them down.
  She shifted her body to allow him access. "Didn't really think this was how my day would go. I came here for a fight."
  He pulled her underwear down and rubbed the bare skin, reading the indentations left by her clothes. "Well, much better this way. I hate to hurt pretty girls like you."
  He went in for another kiss and she pulled away from it.
  "What's that supposed to mean? You think I wouldn't win?"
  He paused for entirely too long and then still picked the wrong answer. "I mean, yeah. No offense, but-"
  "But nothing."
  "What does it matter?" He kissed her neck and shifted in between her legs.
  However small, the slight still hung in the air.
[[Fuck him anyway.]]
[[Prove your dominance. (attack)]]
  "Tell you what, let's go somewhere outdoors. Somewhere to get some air, and if I'm feeling it, who knows?"
  "Okay. That's cool." He took one last hard drag and stamped out the joint. "This way. I know a good place."
  She followed Ornstein through the halls. She was still rather scantily clad, but the moss had put a comfortable fog on her brain and she didn't even notice.
  At a crossroads they stopped to let a silver knight pass. Slow clunking steps, not looking in their direction.
  Ornstein watched him go. "Those guys freak me out."
  Once it had moved out of sight, they continued to a large shaded balcony with an ornate railing.
  Ornstein presented it to her proudly, as if he'd built it. "What do you think? Nice, huh?"
  "Yeah, it is."
  She stood with him at the railing, savoring the view that stretched out before them.
[[Enjoy the breeze.]]
[[Push him.]]
  They could do whatever they wanted, she was going to enjoy herself. It wasn't her responsibility to make sure they were taken care of. She hooked one leg over the arm of the couch.
  As the moss settled into her, the rest of the world dimmed and all that existed was the warmth.
  It felt so good, although occasionally her sense of self would falter and she would feel like her entire body was becoming an abstract concept before crashing back into the shape of her physical form masturbating lazily on a stranger's couch.
  It wasn't bad, just weird.
  When the moss fog broke, time had passed according to the now obliterated supply of moss. As she let her heartbeat settle, she became aware of Ornstein, now much closer to her.
  "What are you-"
  She didn't even have a moment to react before he grunted and came like a cannon, splashing her neck with hot fluid.
  "What the fuck?"
  Ornstein blinked slowly. "Oh. Whoops."
[[Revenge!]]
  "You slimed me."
  "Yeah. It was great."
  This crime could not stand.
  As she looked around for something to clean herself off with, she noticed Smough. Still jerkin', but getting close.
  She pointed at him. "Smough. I require revenge." She pointed at Ornstein. "Slime him."
  "What? No wait." Ornstein fumbled with his pants.
  Before he could escape, the Chosen hauled back and kicked him in the chest. He stumbled and fell off the couch, hitting as many pieces of furniture as was possible on the way down.
  Smough did not argue and heaved himself up, went to where Ornstein lay and completed his mission.
  "Good job. Oh..."
  Ornstein appeared to be knocked out, a line of blood leaking from his head. About as much blood as semen pooled on his chest. "Is he alright?"
  Smough patted him on the head, gave her a solemn nod, then went to fetch a towel.
<img src="images/vengeance.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She looked down at her tattered garb. "Is there a dress code here?"
  "No. It's not that." Even through his helmet he could tell she had the faint, pleasant aroma of spent gunpowder and herbs. "Are you one of those people, you know, from out in the swamps?"
  "Are you trying to find a less rude way of asking my profession?"
  "Yes, I suppose so."
  "You're not doing a great job, but yeah, I'm a pyromancer."
  "Ah, I thought so. You struck me as a burny type."
  "Oh I burn plenty of things." She tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned in to whisper. "I could burn you if you want."
  He audibly gulped. "Haha, what? I can't really tell if that's a threat or not."
  "It could be a lot of things. Wanna find out for sure?"
  "Yes?"
  She leaned back and studied him. "Let me see that face."
  "Huh?"
  "Don't be so nervous. I'm just curious about what I'm working with here."
  He set his spear aside and reached up to detach his helmet, revealing a handsome face and a shock of attractively mussed hair.
  "Hmm, not bad. I wouldn't kick you out of bed."
  "Oh. Well, you're not too bad yourself."
  "Well, then it's settled. Boss fight canceled. Let's go back to your place and get nasty."
  "What? Really?"
  "You think I dress like this for fancy dress balls? I dress like this because I'm usually not wearing it for long."
  "I see."
  "What's wrong? Am I scaring you off?"
  "No, it's fine." He cleared his throat and turned back to Smough. "Hey, buddy. Uh, it turns out we're not going to do the whole fight thing right now."
  Smough stared back silently.
  The pyromancer gave him a curt wave, but he still didn't respond.
  "By the way, do you have anything to drink around here? Something festive."
  "Yeah, actually. If festive means it'll get us drunk. Sure."
  "In that case, you should offer me a drink. And then I should be so grateful that I'll commit any number of debased acts on you."
  He turned back to Smough. "Go get some drinks from downstairs. The good ones. Then meet us back at the lounge."
  Smough sighed, looked at his handiwork and dropped his hammer.
  The pyromancer offered her arm to Ornstein. "Shall we?"
  He tucked his helmet under his arm and they made their way down a side hall leading deep into the cathedral.
  He gave her a cursory tour as they went, a practiced introduction he must have given many times before.
  She didn't hear a word of it as she was already doing the mental math of what she was going to do with this lad when she finished consuming everything his hospitality had to offer.
  Then again, the insistent nag in her guts didn't have to be drawn out. What if she vetoed the lead up and jumped to the part where they fucked like crazy?
[[Fuck him now.]]
[[Not yet. Settle in first.]]
  Ornstein fidgeted. "No, I mean they're very nice. You just don't look most of the people who come through here."
  "Because I'm all tarted up?"
  "Yeah, I guess. Usually we get a lot of weirdos with masks and no pants."
  "Well, I'm not wearing pants either if we're being technical." She pinched her skirt and did a curtsy. Then watched him eyeing her legs.
  "So you're a sorcerer then?"
  "I dabble."
  "How are the stats on that getup?"
  "Eh, not bad."
  "Even so, you don't really look like you came here for a fight."
  "Maybe I didn't."
  "Oh?"
  "Let me ask you something, since we're getting all chummy. What do you and Mr. Smashy-Times over there do for fun? When you're not fighting, I mean."
  "Oh, you know. Relax. Maybe have a little something to help relax..."
  "Hmm." She put her fingers to her lips and mimed smoking, raising her eyebrows to put a question mark on it.
  "Why yes, actually."
  Smough was getting dangerously close to finishing his task, which would mean an end to this social moment.
  The sorcerer nudged Ornstein. "Hey. Take off that helmet."
  He was quiet for a moment, and then obliged. He shook out his hair and tucked the helmet under his arm.
  "You've got a good face."
  "Oh? Thanks. You're not half bad yourself."
  "Let me make you a deal. I won't slap you on the snout with a soul spear, and mess up that pretty face. And in exchange, you and the big guy take me back to your place and treat me like a proper guest."
  "You're saying you want to get high with us?"
  "Yes. That is what I'm saying."
  "Hell yeah." Ornstein pulled back and chucked his helmet like a bowling ball. "Smough, fight's off. Meet us back at the lounge."
  Smough looked at them, then looked at the column he'd just reassembled, then shrugged and threw his hammer into the far end of the room.
  Ornstein led her down a side hall to the promised lounge. She'd had doubts, but the room was much more cozy and inviting than she would have assumed. The furniture filling the space was mismatched, probably stolen and collected from around Anor Londo. Same for the conspicuous pile of paintings stacked in the corner.
  Warm as well. A good temperature but too much for all these layers. She pulled off her jacket and hung it up over the back of a chair.
  Ornstein began molting his armor off, piece by piece. "I'm so glad you're cool. We don't get enough cool people through here."
  "Am I the first person you've brought back here?" She sat down on the nearest couch. Pleasingly soft.
  "Not exactly. Every now and then...you know."
  She didn't know but she had a guess what that meant.
  As soon as Ornstein finished changing out of his armor, Smough arrived with a tray of implements and grasses. Smough had also changed out of his armor and looked surprisingly normal. Also not a bad face.
  The thing that struck her about Smough was how Big he was, in every respect. Not the massive giant he'd appeared to be when out in the hall in full armor. No, he was way more meaty and solid and attractively thick.
  There was a brief, silent standoff as they jockeyed to be the one to sit next to her.
  "Don't worry buddy. Take that couch so you have all the room you need." Ornstein slid in next to her and Smough gave him a dirty look before taking the opposite couch to get to work. Mortar and pestle. Rolling papers.
  Ornstein was chatting at her but all she was paying attention to was Smough's fingers working. He'd clearly done this many times before.
  Smough offered the first meticulously crafted joint to Ornstein and he took hold of it like a wounded bird.
  "This is the stuff. Crescent moon grass. Imported."
  "Interesting." He handed it over and the sorcerer caught the earthy scent immediately.
  "It's fairly strong, but we've got some even harder stuff as well, if you're into that. Whatever you want."
  This was more like it, the kind of hospitality she wished she would see more of around here. Pinwheel hadn't even offered her a drink.
  "You're our guest. What are you feeling?"
  "Hmm." Her choice of party chemicals, but more than that, she had pick of these handsome boys, and the thought gave her a warm tightness in her belly. She was definitely going to have a go at one of them, maybe both if she wanted.
  Then again, could she really afford to go completely off the rails? Some amount of discretion would be advisable.
[[Go heavy, embrace oblivion.]]
[[Get blitzed, but moderately so.]]
[[Take it easy.]]
  She looked down at her bulky suit. "It's armor. Everybody around here wears armor."
  "Yeah, I guess so." He removed his helmet again so he could take another evaluating look at her. "Maybe it's just because you're so cute."
  "Cute?" She flipped up her visor. "You can't tell I'm cute under here. I'm a tin can."
  "I can tell now."
  She blushed and slammed down the visor. "Shut up."
  "Besides, I don't think that armor hides your figure as well as you think it does."
  "Do you hit on everybody who comes in here?"
  "Hmm. Nah, I guess not. Usually just charge them and try to kebab their guts with my spear." He paused. "Literally. That's not innuendo, if that's what you're thinking."
  "Okay. Great. I didn't think it was."
  "Okay. Good."
  Ornstein refused to fight while the arena was still being cleaned up, so they sat off to the side while Smough stuck the columns back together, each one constructed of distinct pieces that snapped together for convenient reassembly.
  Soon, the Chosen became agitated. She'd come in here expecting a fight and having to sit here and wait was seriously bothering her. It killed her momentum.
  "You're just going to watch him do that?"
  "It's fine. If I helped it would just cramp his style. Right, buddy?"
  Smough stopped briefly and stared at them, but said nothing.
  "See, he's having fun."
  "Okay."
[[Wait for the arena to be ready.]]
  This wasn't much of a choice at all. It was either risk getting destroyed by spear and hammer, or chill out for awhile with this handsome idiot.
  "Okay, sure. I guess that's fine."
  "Yeah, I knew you were cool." He turned and launched his spear like a javelin and it lodged into the far wall. "Quitting time, Smough. I'll meet you back in the lounge."
  "You have a lounge?"
  "It has couches. Come on."
  He led her down a side hall with a spring in his step. Now that she was walking behind him he didn't seem nearly so freakishly large and looming. Just taller than average. Maybe it was an optical illusion created by all those columns?
  The lounge was a cozy, warm room packed with mismatched furniture.
  "I'll be back in a bit." He pointed at her chest. "You're wearing something under there, right?"
  "Huh? Oh, under the armor. Yeah. Kinda."
  "Then change here while I'm gone. We don't have many rules here, but no lounging around in armor. It messes up the furniture."
  "I guess."
  "What's wrong? You're still cool, right? Is this still cool?"
  "Yeah, yeah. Get out of here."
  He winked at her and tripped on an end table as he left the room.
  This was pretty weird.
  She'd never had a boss fight turn into an intimate hangout session before. Gaping Dragon hadn't even offered her a drink.
  As she surveyed the lounge, she got increasingly worried that this was some sort of elaborate trap. Even if it wasn't, she didn't actually have that much in the way of clothes under this armor.
[[Don't be a prude. Take off the armor.]]
[[Need to stay on guard. Better keep the armor on.]]
  "I came here to do murders and I intend to do those murders. Yours."
  Ornstein sighed. "Ugh. Fine. I thought you'd be cool. Let's get this over with." He picked up his helmet and began walking towards the back of the arena. "You stay over there. No free hits."
  He spoke inaudibly to Smough, tapping his spear on the ground, pointing back at her.
  Then, Ornstein refitted his helmet in place. "Last chance, lady."
  "Shut up and get bossing."
  "Are you sure? We could still-"
  Smough slammed his hammer on the floor, eager to get it over with.
  Ornstein groaned. "Okay, fine. Let's do this shit."
  Seconds later, he dashed, gliding across the floor at inhuman speed.
  Huh. She'd expected a countdown or something.
  Only a split second to react. No time to think about it, better-
[[Attack!]]
[[Dodge roll!]]
  Strangely, she was totally fine with this.
  The way this moss was making her feel, she might have done the same thing. Not when in the room with a couple of weirdos she just met, but she wasn't here to judge.
  The festivities continued unabated, quickly depleting her supply of blooming purple moss. Hopefully she wouldn't need that later.
  Of course, that was a future concern. Right now she was more concerned with the swimming constellations of particles in the air, the varying weight of each individual organ in her body as her insides turned to clouds.
  As they continued smoking, Ornstein was moving closer and closer. Or she was getting closer to him, it was hard to tell.
  Either way she could feel the same heat coming off of him.
[[Get comfortable.]]
  Oh what the hell. Why not?
  She pulled of the breastplate, cool air hitting her skin.
  This might be a bad idea, removing any means of defending herself. But why bother when they could have turned her to paste several times over, even in a fair fight.
  Not like she hasn't died many times over on the way here.
  She was more concerned with the fact that once she had stripped out of the armor, her underclothes were a bit more revealing than she would have liked. Would it look too strange if she kept the greaves on?
  She was still mulling this over when Ornstein returned. He was wearing loose-fitting clothes with a tactfully displayed slice of bare chest. The only thing left of his armor was his lion helmet which he carried in, then underhand tossed into the corner of the room. "Looking good."
  "Shut up, I'm a mess."
  Ornstein sat down next to her on the couch and despite her wariness, fell easily into conversation with him about the various exploits that had brought her here.
  She was trying to delicately veer away from the topic of how long she had recently spent dodge rolling through rat-infested sewers when Smough entered, similarly casually dressed, and plopped down on the couch opposite theirs without a word.
  They idly chatted like that, gradually warming up to one another, when she offhandedly mentioned almost getting murdered by trees.
  At this, Ornstein perked up suddenly. "Hang on, you've been through Darkroot Garden?"
  "Uh, yeah I guess so. It was fairly garden-y."
  "Hmm." Ornstein rubbed his chin and made meaningful eye contact with Smough. "I don't suppose you found any moss while you were down there..."
  "Moss? Yeah, plenty. Why?"
  "Would you be willing to share with us, your new best friends?"
  "Share? Why, are you poisoned or something?"
  "No, pfft." Ornstein brought his fingers to his lips and blew through them.
  Whatever this was meant to convey, it was lost on her. "What is that? Are you...kissing a tiny violin?"
  "No. Like smoking." He did the motion again to illustrate. "You smoke moss. Have you ever smoked moss?"
  "Uh, no. I just nibbled on the end of it when I needed."
  Ornstein slapped his knee. "You're missing out. Of course, if you're willing to donate some moss to the cause, I can show you."
  "I suppose so."
  As she reached for her pack, she noticed that Smough had shifted from half-dozing to intense interest, sitting up and leaning forward.
  She presented her inventory to Ornstein and his eyes lit up. "Oh my great goodness."
  "What actually happens when you smoke it? What does it do?"
  "You've been missing out. This shit will get you fucked up. ...In a good way, I think. Are you cool?"
  "Cool?"
  "You're not a narc, are you?"
  "I guess not."
  Something in the bag caught his attention. "Ooh, and you've got some blooming too. That's the good stuff."
  "I need that for curing toxin. Can't you smoke something else?" She dug around in her bag. "How about the red moss? I never use this stuff."
  "You have red moss?" Ornstein and Smough exchanged an excited, worried glance.
  "What?"
  "Red might be a bit too advanced for starting out. How about we settle in with this purple?"
  Smough was up, heading to a dresser in the far end of the room to look for supplies.
  Ornstein held out a tuft of the blooming purple moss. "Take in some of this aroma. It's transcendent."
  She took a quick, deep sniff and her head briefly clouded over. Not entirely unpleasant. "Oh."
  Smough sat back down with a set of rolling papers and other implements.
  "How about it? Going to join us? No pressure."
  "Well..."
[[Abstain. You're not really a smoker.]]
[[Take them up on their offer and smoke some of the purple moss. Nothing bad will happen.]]
[[Fuck it, smoke the red. Invite chaos.]]
  "Actually, I'd better not." She wasn't really the 'drugging herself into oblivion for fun' type.
  "Oh...that's fine."
  Both of them were staring hard at the bundle of moss.
  "But, uh, you wouldn't mind if we..."
  "Ugh, fine. Help yourselves. I wasn't using it anyway."
  "Hell yeah."
  As apology for her not being included in their antics, Ornstein made sure to load her up with snacks. He had an aggressive urge to be a good host, surprisingly so considering his main activity was attacking and murdering anyone who stepped through his front door.
  She hung around, eating and making small talk with them as they smoked. It was all pleasant enough, until the drugs kicked in and they became incapable of even basic communication. Aside from Ornstein mumbling endlessly about the nature of owls.
  After filling up on these weird salted egg-shaped treats, she considered going for a walk around the premises. The air was getting too thick in here, so much so that it was making her eyes water.
  She stood and brushed off the crumbs she'd accumulated. "I think I'm going to head out."
  Ornstein couldn't figure out how to light his current joint and had stuffed it in his mouth to chew and gnash on it. "Wait. You should hang out and tell us stories. And we'll have a good time and...kissing. Bit of kissing." His eyes were wandering as he spoke. He seemed to be unable to tell the difference between her and the nearby fireplace.
  "Actually, I should-"
  She was cut off by Smough passing out and cracking his head on an end table, smashing it.
  They both looked at him.
  "Is he okay?"
  "Yeah, probably."
  "He's bleeding."
  "He can walk it off." He spat out the nasty chewed up remains of his joint. "I feel like I'm dying."
  The Chosen sighed. "You two are such a mess."
[[Take care of them.]]
  No time for reading the situation, time to attack!
  She could see a perfect visualization of how she'd roll through his attack and then open him up like a big 'ol tin can of beef substitute.
  But she mistimed it and succeeded in only placing herself in the exact right position to get obliterated by the hammer swing.
  She let out a "Hurrrk" as she was hurled up into the air, leaving her blood stain on a high wall.
  Ornstein whistled. "Wow, holy shit. You launched her. Now I kinda feel bad."
  Smough just shrugged.
<img src="images/died.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  Better keep rolling. A few more rolls and this fight can actually start.
  A missed hammer swing destroyed a column and sent the Chosen Undead rolling for cover.
  As she stopped to catch her breath an electric bolt narrowly missed her face.
  Ornstein and Smough were closing in on her from either side. If she didn't do something drastic now, it was over.
[[Never. Stop. Rolling.]]
[[Try Parrying.]]
[[Scream Mercy.]]
  Later in the hall, a man with a toucan-esque nose and rotted blue skin rolled his way in through the fog door.
  Smough looked mostly the same, although he was noticeably moving much slower, like he didn't want to upset his stomach with too much flashy hammer work.
  On his cue, Ornstein jumped down from above, held his composure perfectly for a second, and then collapsed on his face. They hadn't been able to find his helmet so they'd replaced it with a sack with a drawn on tiger face.
  They didn't have a reveal worked out so their new third walked in from the sidelines lugging her zweihander and helped Ornstein to his feet.
  "Okay, let's do this."
<img src="images/newfriends.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  Nope, fuck it.
  She threw down her sword and screamed unintelligibly, hoping that the offer to call this off was still valid.
  A moment later she was speared and smashed so hard she ceased to exist.
  As she faded away, Ornstein pulled off his helmet is tossed it aside. "Huh? Did she say something at the end there? I can't hear anything in this helmet."
  Smough shrugged and went about his task of reassembling the arena.
  "Ah, whatever. Let's wrap up here and go get *blitzed*."
<img src="images/died.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  "Yes. We need to do this now. This makes perfect sense."
  They fell into each other, kissing and humping while a second set of curtains ignited.
  Their frantic, frenzied coupling was all the more exciting thanks to the threat of imminent burning. It made this ill-advised, clumsy fuck into a real momentous event of mortal peril.
  There was no time for escalation. They had to sprint headlong toward some kind of satisfaction before their better sense caught hold of them.
  She was holding onto the headboard as she slammed against him, but had to let go when the fire crept so close that it was starting to singe.
  When the orgasm hit her, it hit hard. Clawing at his back while shocks ran through her body.
  In the first brief second of afterglow, she became aware of the intense heat of the the fire that was much closer than when they had started.
  "Aw fuck. We need to go."
  "Oh thank god." Ornstein wiped the sweat from his forehead.
  "What happened to your hand?"
  "Burned it. Didn't want to say anything."
  A lick of flame crept up the side of the bed and they tumbled off the other side in a tangle of flesh.
  Their pile of clothes had long been consumed so they hastily wrapped themselves in singed bedsheets and fled.
  By the time they got outside, the upper towers were consumed in flame.
  "Why is it burning so fast? What is this place made of?"
  "I'm kind of surprised we didn't burn it down sooner." He squinted at something down by the stairs. "Oh, there he is."
  Off in the distance was Smough, wearing a cobbled together pile of his and Ornstein's armor that he'd saved from the fire.
  Ornstein gave him a thumbs up with his unburned hand. "Good job, buddy."
  Smough shrugged, and then turned and walked away, armor clunking as he went.
  "That guy's kind of weird." Ornstein adjusted his toga. "So now what?"
  "What do you mean 'now what'? This was your place."
  "It's fine. Let it burn." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "I know a place we can lay low and get our bearings. Might have to kick out some of those electric chicken goblins."
  "Okay. I should probably sober up anyhow."
  A large chunk of roof caved in with a crash.
  "This'll show them to give me any responsibilities."
  "They?"
  "Don't worry about it. Let's go." Ornstein tightened his bedsheet toga and marched away.
<img src="images/wardrobe.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  Wait, no. That's stupid. This is stupid. Fire won't wait for them to finish fucking.
  "Are you insane? Get off me!" She chopped him directly on the bridge of the nose. "We need to leave now!"
  He groaned and stood up. "Fine. I'll take care of it." He yanked a sheet off the bed and halfheartedly threw it at the fire. It ignited as soon as it touched the base of the flame.
  "Fuck. It's unstoppable." He bent down to scoop his clothing from the floor. "Let's get out of here before we get blamed for this."
  They gathered up their belongings and escaped down the hall, half-dressed with the rest of their clothes bundled up in their arms.
  They ended up back at the lounge but Smough was nowhere to be found.
  But the drugs were still here.
  He stared down at the tray of goods. "There's no time to save it all. I'd better smoke all this here while I have the chance."
  He threw his armful of clothing aside and sat down to get to work.
  "What are you doing? You can already barely walk. You're going to smoke more? Now?"
  "Come on share with me. We've got time enough before that fire gets here."
  She began pulling on her underwear, not noticing that they were backwards. "I can't do this now. We should be out telling someone about this. Right?"
  "Fine, suit yourself. More for me."
  He lit the hastily rolled joint with a flame butterfly, and then hurled the butterfly over his shoulder. It hit the couch behind him and burst into flames.
  He spat out the joint in a spray. "Oh fuck me. The fire followed us here. Run!"
  As they escaped to the great stairway out front, the building already had two distinct columns of black smoke seeping up into the sky.
  "I feel like we should do something about this."
  Ornstein coughed and groaned. "Nah. Screw that. You wanna fuck?"
  "Here? On the stairs?"
  "Sure."
  "No thanks. I'm going to get out of here and try to sober up."
  Ornstein sighed. "Yeah. I should go see where Smough got off to."
  They parted ways under the growing stain of black smoke.
  Still not the worst end to one of her sleepovers.
<img src="images/worse.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She watched him lean on the railing, completely oblivious. She looked from him, to the vista spread out before them. The bottomless fall.
  A sudden urge overtook her and before she could form a second thought, she shoved him.
  All he could do was let out a strangled "hurrk" as he fell over the railing and plunged down into the infinite void below.
  "Huh."
  Why did she do that? Was this because of the chemicals coursing through her system, or in spite of them?
  "I guess I win the boss fight." She shrugged. "Should probably go find my pants."
<img src="images/victory.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  It was quite nice out here. Pleasant. The breeze against her skin sent a delightful chill through her body.
  The mixture of sensations and chemicals made her want to dissolve.
  When Ornstein moved closer, she moved to meet him. Skin touching.
  Their lips were about to meet when there was a loud crash of a massive arrow hitting the railing. They both jumped and shrieked.
  "What the hell?"
  Ornstein squinted out into the distance. "Oh I should have known." He jumped up onto the railing, shaking his fist and a figure with a massive bow. They were already nocking another huge arrow.
  "Hey, what are you doing, you lunatics!? I was about to fuck this lady!"
  "Excuse me? No, you weren't."
  "What? But I thought we had a good-"
  Another arrow struck him and he cried out as he tumbled over the edge. The Chosen tried to grab and save him but only managed in sending them both over the edge.
  They plummeted down into the abyss. A stream of dragonslayer arrows followed them down.
<img src="images/died.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  No, best to err on the side of caution. Of course, there wasn't really any reason to trick her into letting down her guard. From what she'd heard they could have easily dispatched her in combat.
  Well, even so, she didn't want to strip down in a strange place.
  So she waited. But the waiting went on too long to keep standing in full armor, so she took a seat. The couch creaked and sagged under her weight.
  Soon after, Smough entered. He had already stripped out of his armor, looking surprisingly normal. A very normal, huge slab of meat.
  He gave her a strange look and laid down on the couch opposite hers. He looked about ready to nap.
  She'd felt safe in this outfit before but now that someone else was here in comfortable-looking casual wear, she felt incredibly awkward and overdressed. And warm. It was so warm in this room.
  Should have taken off the helmet at the very least. But the longer she sat here, the more she seized up. And the more the anxiety crept in.
  When Ornstein returned with drinks, she was still in full armor, fidgeting and sweating.
[[Though paralyzed, attempt to act natural.]]
  She would have felt bad if she'd left them now. These big scary morons had turned into helpless babies.
  If she had known more about this moss business she could have tried to convince them to go easy on it and not completely blitz their brains out.
  Nothing to be done about it now except to open the windows and sit here to make sure they didn't choke on their own tongues.
  Ornstein woke up much later from a crazed fever dream to find himself on the floor, blanket draped over him. Squinting through a mighty headache, he noticed the Chosen Undead applying a cream to Smough's wounded head.
  "You're still here?"
  "Of course I am. I had to take care of you."
  "Wow. You're such a nice person."
  "It was mostly pity, but sure. I'll take a compliment."
  Ornstein groaned and sat up. "Ugh, my mouth tastes like garbage."
  "You probably don't remember but you spent about twenty minutes vomiting into the fireplace."
  "That sounds like me."
  "You should drink something. You're probably dehydrated."
  "Can I kiss you now?"
  "What? No! Not with vomit mouth. Or at all."
  "That seems fair." He rubbed his temples, then took in a sharp breath as a distant bell rang. "Oh wait, what time is it?"
  "I have no idea. I'm not convinced time exists here."
  "We have to get back to the hall for a fight."
  "You're actually going to fight like this?"
  "We have to. This is our thing." Ornstein kicked Smough in the side. "Wake up. Time to fight."
  "You're just going to embarrass yourselves."
  "Not if you help us."
  "Excuse me?"
  Ornstein got a sudden chill and draped the blanket around his shoulders. "Would you be willing to be our third?"
  Smough groaned and rolled over, but didn't stand up.
  "This is ridiculous."
  "It would be super cool of you."
  "Ugh. Fine."
[[Become their third. The more the merrier.]]
  Ornstein had also changed out of his armor and was carrying a trio of chilled glass bottles of some uncertain beverage.
  Ornstein stopped in his tracks when he saw the Chosen still wearing armor. Something about her posture must have shown through how uncomfortable she was.
  "Oh, I thought you were going to change."
  She bit her lip and said nothing. Her own breathing was horribly loud inside her helmet.
  "Are you okay? Is this too weird?" Ornstein looked around the room and then settled on Smough lounging. "Hey, you're freaking her out."
  Smough shrugged.
  "Go, uh, go put on your armor. You're making her uncomfortable."
  Smough squinted back at him, then heaved himself up. He slowly trudged away, swiping a drink from Ornstein on the way out.
  Once he was gone, Ornstein took a seat next to her. "Drink?"
  She took it and tried to say 'thank you' but her throat had gotten so dry all that came out was a strained whisper.
  Well, now she had this drink. It would have been silly to take off her helmet now that she's gone on this long. But what she didn't realize was that it was far more awkward to try and fit this bottle inside the visor of her helmet. When she tried to wrap her lips around it for a sip, she accidentally dumped a cold shot of it down her neck and into her suit.
  As awkward as this situation already was, she was certainly not going to make it worse by admitting she spilled her drink all over herself like a big iron baby.
  So she sat there, horrified and hoping the sticky mess didn't leak through her armor to the couch.
  Smough returned and his huge, absurd helmet poked in through the door.
  "Hey, there he is. See?"
  Smough tried to enter but he got stuck at the shoulders. After attempting to shove his way in, he gave up and laid down halfway through the door.
  "Great. Good job." Ornstein sighed and turned to her. "Do you want something to eat?"
  More than anything else she wanted to strip down and bathe. Well, ideally she would like to rewind and try all of this over again and not act like such a weirdo.
  "I think... maybe I should go."
  "Uh, okay."
  She stood up and felt something slosh around in her chestplate. "Sorry."
  She left in a hurry, stepping and tripping over where Smough was laying on the floor.
<img src="images/awkward.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  "Yeah, I'll try it. Might as well. It's my moss."
  As soon as she agreed, Smough made meaningful, approving eye contact with her. This seemed about as close as she was going to get to having an actual conversation with him.
  When the first joint was handed to her, her stomach dropped with the anticipation. She'd agreed to this without knowing what exactly this moss would do. But they were so at ease, it was hard to stay nervous.
  The first puff sent a pleasant pulse of warmth through her body.
  "Oh."
  "Oh?"
  "This seems... pretty good."
  Ornstein took a long pull and released a series of smoke rings. "This is the good stuff. Definitely worth getting bitten by trees."
  Halfway through a drag, she suddenly remembered the plant creatures that had dropped this moss and had the beginnings of a crisis as she considered what possible implication there was to this activity.
  Were they smoking plant children?
  Then she took another hit and the warmth hit her again.
  Probably not a big deal.
  She felt herself doze slightly, savoring the warmth. Then she dipped back into self awareness long enough to notice Smough doing something...
[[Oh...]]
  "Fuck it, let's smoke the red."
  "Wait, seriously?"
  "I'm not as much of a lightweight as I look. Roll it up."
  Ornstein looked down at the red moss and seemed to reconsider, then looked at her. "Okay, fine. But only 'cause the cute girl told me to." He handed it over to Smough to prep. "Might as well ride this train to the last stop."
  For such a big guy, Smough's fingers were surprisingly dextrous. He assembled a joint from the red moss with surgical efficiency. Well-practiced motions.
  "Do you two do this sort of thing a lot?"
  "No. Or... maybe."
  Smough presented the hefty joint with a fierce look in his eye. Staring at it like he was afraid it would spontaneously escape under its own power and wreak havoc.
  "Only one? Are we sharing?"
  Ornstein scoffed. "Of course we are. We'd all keel over and die if we tried to smoke a full one of these alone."
  Smough nodded solemnly, then passed it to Ornstein to light.
  The first puff wasn't so bad. She felt a brief light rising behind her eyes as she inhaled, but no immediate effect.
  In all honesty she was a bit worried by their caution, because she had slightly overrepresented her experience in these matters.
  The third time it was passed around to her, one hand was shaking, but not the other. And a red cloud was squeezing through her eyes. Suddenly the smoke was filling her up and injecting her muscles with a strange heat.
  "Wow." She exhaled and could see the sound of it emanating from her mouth.
  Ornstein coughed into his hand. "How does it make you feel?"
  Good question...
[[Horny!]]
[[Powerful!]]
  She exhaled slowly, and could feel the deep heat settle in her belly.
  "I feel like I could fuck this castle in half."
  "What? Okay, cool."
  The heat in her belly turned nuclear. "That's why you invited me here, isn't it?"
  Ornstein exchanged a look with Smough. "Not specifically, but it's not off the table. Although..." He looked at his hand and did not like how reality was warping around it. "I might take a rain check on account of my brain being full of every kind of light all of a sudden."
  She jumped to her feet. "Silence, coward! Take off your pants. I want to turn your lower half to meat."
  "That sounds frightening, so let's do it." He accepted the joint from Smough, took a hit, and winced. "Might have to vomit fir-"
  She tackled him, knocking him to the floor as the red haze in her brain taking over. As she straddled him, she pointed at Smough. "You too, big times. I require your sustenance."
  What followed was a bleary, violent threesome that resulted in several broken pieces of furniture.
  While the moss had whipped them into a frenzy, it also severely impacted their ability to remember or enjoy it, the entire act being swallowed up by a blood crazed amnesia.
  All she would be able to recall later were small swatches of time in a big, blank sea. Suddenly she'd be violently hip checking Smough while biting his nipples. And before she could scream "I'm freaking out", she'd black out again.
  The next morning, or what passed for such, the Chosen woke up naked on the floor, her arm gone numb from being tucked under her. Bloody nose, itchy scalp. Any memory of the act had been swallowed up in a deep red void. Nothing left but the scratches and bruises on her legs.
  Smough had disappeared and Ornstein was crumpled on the floor, legs spread to try and ease his aching, brutalized crotch.
  "This was a mistake. We should have gone with the purple moss."
  The Chosen tried to redress, but got tangled up in her underwear and finally gave up and remained on the floor in a heap.
  Best to just try and sleep this off.
<img src="images/holyshit.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She'd never felt so JACKED.
  She swiped the joint back from Smough and took an extra hit. She exhaled fire.
  "I feel like I could punch this castle in half."
  "Oh, that's sounds cool."
  "I'll prove it to you!" She jumped to her feet. "Headbutt me!"
  "Huh?"
  She grabbed him by the ears and smashed her skull into his, knocking him down into a heap. "I came here for a fight now lets do the fight right when the fight is happening. I eat the sky!"
  "Ah fuck. This was supposed to be chill." Ornstein turned and ran. As high as he was, it turned into less of a run and more of a tangled spider crawl.
  The Chosen chased him out into the hall, screaming as she cartwheeled away. "Headbutt me, coward!"
  Left alone, Smough scooped up the remains of the joint and took a solemn puff.
  Some time later, the Chosen awoke in a different room. The furnishings were far fancier than the lounge. She heaved herself up, head aching, muscles on fire.
  Ornstein was nearby, crumpled in a heap on the floor with a bloody nose and no less than six different chairs broken over him.
  The Chosen left him there and went for a walk to find where all of her belongings had ended up.
  She'd only been escorted through these halls once and certainly couldn't find her way back on her own. But she did manage to stumble upon Smough.
  He was sitting out on a balcony, bare-assed, eating handfuls of green moss to take the edge off. In between long blinks, his eyes were rattling in his skull.
  She sat down next to him and he silently offered her a tuft of the moss.
  She sighed and took a bite.
  It tasted like grass.
<img src="images/hangover.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  A stray thought struck her and she laughed. Her body forgot how sitting worked and she slid off the couch and landed on the floor. She made one attempt to raise herself, but her head started swimming so she decided the floor was better for her.
  It was nice down here anyway. Different perspective.
  The world above her was all on hinges, but down at floor level everything seemed stable.
  But down here she also noticed something she otherwise would have missed, a small splotchy stain under the couch.
  She touched it with one finger and above her a hazy translucent spectre manifested.
  From her spot on the floor, she had a perfect view of the ghost above her. Bent over, hands on the couch, getting fucked. Pushing back at an unseen lover.
  "Hey, what is this?"
  Ornstein coughed into his fist and waved away the cloud of smoke that had gathered around his head. "Aw jeez. Smough, I thought you cleaned all those up."
  Smough was still slowly stroking himself in repose. His face made him look ready to doze off, but his hand was still moving, more urgently than before.
  The ghost of the long gone sexual act faded away.
  "You bring people back here to fuck them?"
  Ornstein shrugged. "Sometimes. Often. Not always. Why? You wanna?" He slid off the couch to join her on the floor.
  She pushed herself up to a sitting position, which shifted the room around her.
  When did he take his shirt off?
  This entire room was steeped in a deeply horny aura. She could very easily embrace that and accept his proposition, leave behind another ghost stain for someone else to find.
  Or she could stay out of it. Her brain was in a different world right now.
[[Yeah, time to fuck.]]
[[Nah, let them take care of each other.]]
  To hell with it. Now is the time.
  "Get over here and fuck me like you fucked that ghost."
  "She wasn't a ghost when I fucked her. Just to be clear. I don't fuck ghosts."
  "Shut up." She reached down and pulled her shirt up over her head, exposing her chest.
  He took one last pull and passed the joint to Smough before joining her on the floor. "You want to get up on the couch?"
  "No, I live on this floor." She shifted so he could slip off her underwear. "If I try to move from here, my brain will leave and go to space."
  As soon as he entered her, she inhaled sharply and looked over at Smough. Despite what was happening mere feet away from him, he was still in his own world.
  She wondered if these two often had sex in front of each other or if this boldness was entirely the moss's doing.
  It was certainly making her more bold than she ever would have been under normal circumstances.
  She closed her eyes and rode the physical sensations, wrapping her arms around Ornstein's neck as the chemicals wreaked havoc on her.
  Every thrust was bringing her closer to the edge. Biting, sucking his neck. Pulling him in, urging him on faster.
  She was almost there when suddenly his rhythm slowed down.
  "What are you-"
  She opened her eyes and Smough was right next to them, presenting a massive, freshly-rolled joint. Holding it up for Ornstein, and now he was trying to take a hit, fully sidetracked from the task at hand.
  "What in the fuck?" She slapped at Smough's offered joint. "Stop distracting him."
  She forced Ornstein to look her in the eye, commanding him to finish her off. She raised her hips and locked her legs around him.
  Her brain was still acting up, so she left it behind and aggressively fucked him, chasing that final hot twist in her guts.
  And eternity later, she spasmed and kicked him in the back. "Oh fuck."
  After she came, she felt like her entire body had evaporated. It wasn't until she collapsed and let go of Ornstein that she realized she'd become a walking sweat swamp.
  Smough was still waiting patiently, so she waved him over. "Okay, now."
  He delivered the pristine new joint to Ornstein, already lit.
  "Hell yeah. Thank you."
  She tapped Ornstein with her foot. "You'd better not ash on me."
  He made a show of tapping the ash away from her, then offered it.
  Her brain had finally started to clear up, so of course she took a hit and went spiraling back to where she'd started mentally.
  "This makes me feel crazy. And underwater."
  "Yeah, it's pretty great."
  She passed it back. "Did you finish?"
  "Did I? Not sure." He took another hit, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was still hilt deep in her.
  "You're not sure?"
  Oh whatever. He seemed satisfied. "Now everyone leave me alone. Time for a floor nap."
<img src="images/regret.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  Nah, she wasn't feeling it. Laying still on the floor suited her fine.
  "No thanks. I'm good." She looked over at Smough, still idly stroking his way through a cloud of smoke. "You should take care of him though."
  Ornstein laughed it off in an unconvincing, noncommittal way. Of course he would never do any such thing.
  But then Smough reached out and grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close and straight into a deep kiss.
  Ornstein put up the briefest of resistance, merely for the theater of it, then gave in and reciprocated.
  The Chosen slowly returned to her place on the floor where the world wasn't so wobbly. "Huh. Didn't take any convincing at all." She squeezed in under the couch for refuge while she cleared her head.
  And it was a good thing she took shelter there because very soon Ornstein and Smough took their festivities to the floor, rolling around on one another in a big, meaty heap.
  As they moved close, kissing fiercely, she noticed that Ornstein was still holding onto a lit joint. Waving it around, a looming burn threat.
  The Chosen grabbed his wrist and forcibly stole it. As soon as his hand was free, Ornstein used it to work on Smough's pants, rolling on top of him.
  The Chosen looked at the joint and even though she was trying to ground herself, decided to continue smoking in her sanctuary under the couch. Might as well. Can't let this go to waste.
  So while they continued necking and rubbing and stroking frantically, she slowly melted into the floor.
<img src="images/highd.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  Yeah, fine. Might as well make a party out of it.
  She reached into his lap and gave him a squeeze. He sighed appreciatively and leaned back, a dreamy look on his dumb face.
  He held up the joint for her and she took a hit, kissing his fingers as she did.
  "Cut it out with that smug look." She slid her hand down into his pants and her hand was instantly filled. "Oh." She began stroking him, slow and hard. "This is what you were aiming for, wasn't it? When you invited me back here."
  "It was, but I didn't expect you to be such a dirty girl."
  "Come here."
  Her fingers sped up as his tongue entered her mouth.
  They were a mess of limbs as she attempted the keep stroking him while he struggled to keep the lit joint from accidentally burning them. The moss haze made figuring out a sensible position more difficult than it had to be.
  As she was switching arms to get a better angle, she noticed Smough watching them with the casual look of a museum patron considering an art installation.
  When he got close, Ornstein grabbed her hand and guided it, mutually bringing him to the edge. Then he finished without much warning, spraying her thigh.
  "Oh shit."
  "Was that good?"
  "Yeah."
  "You made a mess."
  "Sorry. Let me get you something to clean up with." He stuffed himself back in his pants and staggered out of the room, sucking on the ruined joint that he'd crushed at some point mid-handjob.
  She sat in the mess, blood still pumping.
  It would have been nice if he'd reciprocated before beginning the cleanup process.
  Not that she couldn't deal with all this pent up energy herself.
  She met eyes with Smough, still stroking himself.
  This was far beyond the point of any sort of shame. No room for bashfulness here.
  It wouldn't matter one bit if she started masturbating right in front of him.
  Or...
[[Let him watch.]]
[[Embody the spirit of giving.]]
  If he's going to watch then he was going to get a show.
  She held eye contact as she slipped off her underwear. Any embarassment could be saved for later when she wasn't blitzed out of her brain.
  As she exposed herself he began to stroke faster. They could feel waves of body heat travelling like a tide between them as they mutually cranked it.
  They were both right on the verge when Ornstein kicked in the door with an armful of towels and a basket of food. "Who wants snacks?"
  The Chosen came, eyes screwed shut, frantically whispering "fuck fuck fuck".
  "Is that a yes?" He deposited a towel on her leg. "Clean up first."
  Smough was grunting and approaching his own orgasm and Ornstein calmly draped a towel over his lap as he was finishing to contain the mess.
  "Wow, he must like you. He usually keeps that up for another hour at least."
  After mopping up their illicit deeds they sat in a circle, munching on a charcuterie board while trying to clear their heads of the brain fog the moss had left them.
  "What kind of meat is this?"
  "Giant boar."
  She paused, not sure if that should bother her. "Oh, I guess that's food."
  "Yeah, gotta crack 'em like a lobster. A big, stinky lobster."
  She could have done without that descriptor. "Huh. I don't suppose you have anything else?"
  "Nope. Only boar. Freshly cracked. But make sure you chew slowly in case of metal bits."
<img src="images/appetite.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She heaved herself up and crossed over to where Smough was sitting.
  "Do you want some help with that?"
  There hadn't been much of a plan when she had walked over here, probably just another handjob for fairness sake. But as she pushed his legs apart, something tugged at her and she knelt down, pushed him back against the couch, and took him in her mouth.
  This was much more forward than she would have even thought herself capable, especially considering she'd still never even properly introduced herself to this strange, large man.
  Probably safe to blame this on the moss.
  Oh well.
  Stroking and sucking, listening to the changes in his breathing.
  So focused on the task, she hardly even noticed when Ornstein returned.
  "Oh, cool." Ornstein seemed unfazed as he put a towel down next to her and sat at the remains of their supply of blooming purple moss.
  While he waited for them to finish, he picked out a rolling paper and got to work.
  When he came, she felt Smough's mass moving under her.
  She spit into the towel and then wiped up the remains of the drying muck on her leg.
  They met eyes again and he bent down to give her a kiss, tongues touching briefly.
  She put her ear to his stomach, listening to him breathe, savoring the intense warmth coming off of him.
  "Hey, you two want another go around?" Ornstein already had a fresh joint to offer them. Not nearly as professional looking as the ones Smough had made, but decent.
  The Chosen shifted. Her legs had fallen asleep. "You want to keep smoking? Is that a good idea?"
  "Nope."
  "All right then."
  A couple tokes each and they all passed out together in a heap on the floor, surrounded by a constellation of scorch marks.
<img src="images/stop.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  No, today was a day for wild abandon. Fuck absolutely everything.
  She pointed at the canister of forbidden grass. "That's a good start, but it's not good enough. Where's the really hard stuff? I don't want to be able to remember my name in the morning."
  "How do you know this isn't the hard stuff?"
  "I can smell it from here. You think I've never done moon grass before? I've smoked bigger guys than you under the table." She paused to cross her legs. "I also mean that sexually."
  Smough and Ornstein exchanged a glance.
  "In that case, we do have something we've been saving for a special occasion."
  "Perfect, because this is the most special of occasions. At least, that's what I've decided just now."
  Smough went to fetch the secret stash. When he opened the canister, a spectral mist seeped out.
  "Wow. Scary. Roll it up."
  While Smough was rolling the first joint, meticulously, she got up and began removing her stockings, folding them and setting them aside.
  "If we're going to be getting up to serious shenanigans, I'm not going to let you mess these up."
  Ornstein took the ceremonial first hit. As soon as he exhaled, his eyes glossed over, and after a brief silence he punched himself in the chest. "Wow. Fuck." He handed over the joint. "Careful with that. It hits pretty hard."
  "I'm sure it does." The sorcerer took a long, deep suck and all the light in the world changed hue. "Oh. It does."
  As she passed it off to Smough, she could feel lava-hot sludge filling up her bones. "This feels kind of crazy."
  "Yeah, I know."
  "Doesn't quite have a bite, though."
  "Bite?"
  Smough took a hit and a localized earthquake moved through his body, top to bottom.
  He passed it back to Ornstein who looked at it doubtfully. "I should probably pace myself."
  "Ha. More for me." The sorcerer plucked it out of his hand and brought it to her lips.
  "Wow, you are hardcore."
  "No, I just don't have impulse control." With the next burst of chemicals her blood began scorching from within. "Speaking of which, is anyone as horny as I am right now?"
  Ornstein and Smough met eyes and silently communicated. At least she thought it was silent. It was entirely possible that the grass had shut off her hearing.
  Ornstein nudged her leg. "If you want, we could go up to the east tower. I've got some of the really hard stuff stashed away up there."
  "Harder than this?"
  "Maybe not harder, but different."
  "You mean something with bite?"
  "Oh yeah. You could definitely say that."
  Sounds like a fun adventure with no serious consequences.
  But she caught sight of Smough, whose face had shifted to a look of concern at the mention of this excursion.
  Was he concerned, or simply having a bad trip?
  It would be nice to stay here, debauchery all around, and get cozy. But that 'bite' was tempting.
[[Seek out the 'bite'.]]
[[Stay here and get messy.]]
  "Fuck it, let's get blitzed. Discretion is for cowards. Time to get fucked up."
  Ornstein nodded and pointed at Smough. "You heard her. Give us the giggle gunk."
  The three of them sat in a circle on the floor, the sorcerer and Ornstein eating snacks and watching as Smough worked his magic, crafting the mysterious canister of grass into a smokable form.
  The sorcerer pulled her hair back. "This is great. It's like a sleepover."
  "Did your sleepovers involve getting insanely high?"
  "Only once... the last one."
  "Oh." He took a cracker and a chunk of cheese and popped them into his mouth. "Is there a story behind that, or..."
  "Not one that I remember."
  "Okay. Cool."
  "How did you get this stuff anyway?"
  "The crackers?"
  "No, the grass."
  "It's imported."
  "Okay. That doesn't really answer my question."
  Ornstein shrugged. "Some guy."
  "Huh? Are you trying to make me nervous about the source?"
  "No. It's probably fine."
  "What do you mean probably? Have you two smoked this before?"
  "This specific kind, maybe not."
  "You don't know?"
  "There were, like, six different kinds?"
  Smough offered them his expertly fashioned joint, an intense look on his face.
  "Hell yeah." Ornstein shoved aside the tray of crackers and cheese. "Don't worry about it. I'll go first. If this goes wrong, just make sure I don't swallow my tongue. Or leave. Don't let me leave."
  He lit up while the sorcerer and Smough watched intently. Held the smoke in entirely too long and coughed it out.
  "Huh. That feels weird. Maybe-"
  The sorcerer had already snatched it from his fingers and taken a hit.
  "Hmm. This is... Oh."
  "Right?"
  Different parts of her body were expanding and contracting. "This ain't half bad." She passed it to Smough.
  The smoke had planted a snaking warmth in her body that was swimming through her veins like an excited trout.
  As it moved it left behind an electricity that she felt like she had to put to use. Way better than certain other things she had smoked that had instantly turned her into a goopy puddle on the floor of whatever storage shed she had snuck into.
  Another round of hits and she was positively buzzing, head full of warm haze. This was about to turn into more than a simple smoke break, she could already tell.
  The more she thought about it, the more she realized this get-together did have a sleepover feel. And no sleepover of hers would be complete without some ill advised making out.
  Damn it, this was prime boy kissing time.
[[Make out with Ornstein.]]
[[Make out with Smough.]]
[[Tell Ornstein and Smough to kiss.]]
  As much as she hated to admit it, she's been hitting a few too many extremes lately. Last time she'd gotten into a party mode she'd blacked out and woken up in a sewer labyrinth with one hell of a hollowed hangover.
  "It is a bit early in the day. Let's not get too crazy."
  "No worries. We'll stick with the light stuff."
  Smough dejectedly recapped the canister of full moon grass. Some other day.
  Now that she had put that thought out there, getting blitzed looked less and less of a good idea. She had a tendency to overindulge. One puff might lead to her saying 'fuck it' and blasting her brain out the back of her head with chemicals. It had happened plenty of times before.
  Maybe she shouldn't even smoke anything at all to prevent her from going down one of her drug spirals.
  Then again...
  Smough finished and it became clear that as far as 'the light stuff' was concerned, there was only enough for two proper joints. She could share with one of them and let whatever happens happen.
[[Share with Smough.]]
[[Share with Ornstein.]]
[[Forget it, abstain and chat with them.]]
  Well, she *wanted* to do something illicit, but she was having a bit of trouble maintaining her sense of self at the moment. But damn it, somebody was going to smooch.
  "Hey. You two should kiss." She hit her fists together to illustrate. "That is a thing I would like to see."
  Ornstein blinked slowly. "You want us both to kiss you? At the same time, or..."
  "No, you goof. Kiss your friend. Have you two ever done it? You must have, right? You've both got that vibe."
  He looked as Smough and immediately broke eye contact. "What? Haha, no." He took an unconvincingly casual hit off the joint. "Not that there's-"
  Smough cut him off by grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him in close.
  Ornstein's brief objection quickly evaporated and he began waving his hand in an effort to blindly pass off the joint as the embrace rapidly escalated.
  The sorcerer had to grab his hand to steady it so she could pluck it from his fingers. And as soon as she had, they fell together to the floor, sucking each other's mouths.
  She took in another hit and felt herself expand. "Wow. You two have a real intensity I wasn't expecting." This must not be an unusual occurrence for them after all.
  Smough pressed him down, working a hand across his chest, roaming toward his waist.
  The sorcerer sat and watched intently as she smoked, getting wobblier as the two of them got even more heated.
[[Join in.]]
[[Let them go at it.]]
  "I've got an idea. How about you come over here and kiss me?"
  Ornstein passed to Smough. "Who me?"
  "Yes, you. You're one of the three most attractive people in this room. Now get over here, mouth first."
  The grass had made her feel like she was going to evaporate where she sat, but every time she sucked his tongue or bit his neck or tugged on his hair, she felt grounded. There was a strange thrill in balancing between two physical states, but this was probably a sign that this grass was a scourge. A fun scourge, though.
  After slipping momentarily into a vaporous state, she brought herself back by biting on his tongue. Then she noticed that he had his hand up her skirt, trying to pull off her underwear.
  "What are you doing? You're not going to fuck me on the floor."
  "Does that mean we're going to fuck?"
  "Hmm."
  "I know a spot. Comfy bed. Good lighting."
  She brought her knee up and nudged his crotch. "Sounds like a plan."
  "Hey, buddy. Can you roll us one for the road."
  Smough had been entranced by his own hand and snapped awake. He blinked a few times and then got to work.
  As they got up to leave, freshly lit joint at the ready, Smough had curled up into a tight ball on the couch.
  "Is he okay?"
  Without even looking, Ornstein led her out the door. "He'll be fine."
[[Onward.]]
  She looked back and forth between them, brain delightfully scrambled.
  Her eyes settled on Smough and she felt a sudden hard tug from her guts.
  She pointed at him, arm wobbling slightly. "Large one. Get your mouth in my mouth right now."
  Smough blew a smoke cloud and passed the joint to Ornstein. As soon as it left his fingers, the sorcerer slammed into him and knocked him to the floor.
  As she mounted him, she missed his mouth and bit his chin before connecting into a proper kiss. Guiding his big, meaty hands down to her ass.
  This was far more aggressive than she had planned to be. But this grass was making everything move faster.
  As she grinded against him and pulled at his tongue, she felt on the cusp of spontaneously turning to gas and dissipating. So she dug her fingers into his shoulders for an anchor. That would probably help.
  She broke the kiss to make sure neither of them was turning into gas, but all seemed as it should be. They were still two distinct piles of meat.
  What a relief.
  To celebrate she guided his hand up her thigh.
  "I am still here, you know."
  "Whuh?"
  The sorcerer stopped and blinked. Ornstein was still two feet away, nursing the joint with a cross look on his face.
  Wow, she had forgotten about him *quick*.
  "Gimme." She took the joint away from him to share with Smough, their bodies still pressed together.
  Smough's face had been taken over by a dreamy contentment.
  "Are you feeling as crazy as I am?"
  Ornstein cleared his throat. "You know, you don't have to spend all day getting nasty with him on the floor." He gestured vaguely at himself.
  Hmm.
[[He has a point.]]
  "Fuck it. Let's go try your stash. Destroy me."
  "Hell yeah. That's the spirit." Ornstein jumped to his feet and instantly fell down on his face.
  "Are you okay?"
  "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go." He managed to get to the door with a four-legged trot.
  "Huh. Some people really have trouble maintaining their-" Her face hit the floor in the exact same spot he had landed. She flopped her limbs around until Smough sighed and scooped her up off the floor, carrying her out.
  Ornstein led them on a field trip to a secluded tower with one cramped storage room containing a locked cabinet. The burst of fresh air she received on the way did wonders to clear her head and by the time they arrived, she was able to walk on her own.
  Ornstein fiddled with the lock, punching it loose when it jammed. "I have to hide it or those nasty chicken bone goblins will get into it."
  With a proud flourish, he presented her with a brown envelope packed full of a bright gold powder that shimmered, even in the dim light. It had a fierce stench of sulfur and approaching rainstorm.
  She stared at it for a moment before she recognized the powder. "Is that...pine resin?"
  "Yes. Do you want the first hit?"
  "You snort that stuff?"
  "You want to try?"
  "Uh..."
  She caught Smough's gaze and he quickly shook his head no as a warning.
  "Uh, maybe..."
  Smough shook his head no, more insistently this time.
  "Nah, I'll pass."
  "Cool, more for me." Ornstein took a deep snort, and there was a sudden electrical pop. "AH! Fuck!" He twitched and tumbled to the ground, shivering and grinding his teeth.
  They both stood over him, Smough looking very tired.
  "Does he do this stuff often?"
  Ornstein exploded up from the floor, eyes blazing. "Yes! I am the thunder god! Let's go fuck shit up. I demand shenanigans."
  "Huh?"
  "We should go smash something! Ah! I've got so many good ideas now! Let's eat the sky!" He motioned toward the door frantically and began jogging in place.
  Smough, on the other hand, was a statue. He clearly did not want to go along with this, but likely would if forced into it.
  As for the sorcerer...
[[Engage with the shenanigans.]]
[[Don't encourage this behaviour.]]
  "If you had asked me earlier, I would have loved to go wandering but right now I've already put down roots. I would fall down the first set of stairs we came to."
  Ornstein brought the joint to his mouth and missed the first attempt. "Yeah, you're probably right."
  "You'll just have to fuck me here."
  "After we smoke all of this? Or during?"
  "After. This stuff is completely bonkers." She pointed at Smough. "You get a turn too. Don't go anywhere."
  The room around them had turned to a vague slurry by the time she'd yanked off Ornstein's shirt to suck on his neck.
  As she mounted and rode him, she tried to express the transcendent trip she was on in this moment. But most of it came out as mumbling about how high she was.
  She'd tried to pull off her shirt, but it had gotten stuck around her neck and there it would stay.
  Mid-fuck, she completely blanked out, and on the other side of the mini blackout, time had passed.
  After the lights came back on she was still riding a cock. But when she looked down, it was Smough underneath her. And he was half-comatose with a bloody nose. Ornstein was nowhere to be found.
  Wow. What had she missed?
  Briefly wondering what had happened was as far as she was going to pursue that, because this felt too good.
  As she came, a wave of dizziness hit her and she dipped away again.
  She rose up out of this blackout feeling very heavy. This time she was slumped against the couch, her legs tingly. The walls seemed solid which hopefully meant she was sobering up. At some point during the blackout, she'd managed to get her shirt off as well.
  Not remembering any of the debauchery kind of defeated the point, though.
  Then she noticed the other woman in the room, but was too groggy to be startled.
  She had no idea who this woman was, lounging casually with a half-empty bottle in her hand.
  As soon as she saw the bottle, the sorcerer realized how incredibly dry her mouth had become.
  She sat up and cleared her throat. "Could I possibly get a sip of that?"
  The woman shrugged and handed it over.
  She took a greedy gulp and it felt like ambrosia on her throat. She nursed a few wonderful sips as she studied the woman. Could this be one of those painting guardians she'd seen on the way in? She wasn't wearing much to give her any kind of clue.
  She also could have been another chosen undead. A lot of them around these days. Though they usually looked more spectral than this.
  "You have pretty eyes." The sorcerer wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Can I go down on you?"
  In response the woman took the bottle back and had another sip. "Okay."
[[Whoops, here comes another blackout-]]
  She didn't come this far to back out now. No matter how intensely inadvisable this was.
  "Yeah, what the hell. Let's go."
  "I knew you'd be cool." He offered her the resin again. "Some for the road?"
  For the sake of the spirit of adventure, and before she could consider it, she took a tiny bump and snorted it.
  Instantly, her skull lit up and demanded violence.
  "Son of a bitch!" She punched Ornstein in the face. "We need to go right now and fuck all the everything up."
  If that tiny amount had done this, what would have happened if she'd taken the same amount that Ornstein had slurped down.
  They charged off on a mission, Smough trailing behind.
  The first step of that mission was to smash kick their way through a room full of furniture while shrieking animal calls.
  "Blood and thunder!"
  "I'm going to bite your dick off and you're going to like it!"
  "Hell yeah!"
  After they got done suplexing dressers, they moved on to throwing rocks at an archer until it chased them away with a hundred dragonslayer arrows.
  After escaping to a side hall, they stopped to catch their breath. That was in vain due to the fact that their hearts refused to stop beating at full blast.
  "We could use a top up." Ornstein pulled out the crumpled envelope of resin, but it was deflated.
  The sorcerer definitely remembered there being more of that left. He must have snorted the last of it when she wasn't looking, or when she was drop kicking a stack of paintings.
  "We need more."
  "More?"
  "You know who probably has good drugs? Gwyndolyn."
  "I feel like my chest is exploding. Maybe we should wait until-"
  "No time! Let's go fuck up their place."
  Ornstein charged off, and the sorcerer sighed, shivered, and followed.
  Their plan to pillage hit a huge roadblock when they reached the staircase tower and they were collectively too high to figure out the simple lever system.
  Ornstein attacked the lever, but couldn't budge it, no matter how much he thrashed and screamed at it. "Contraption does not move!"
  Before she could tell him to push the other direction, he reared back and kicked it as hard as he could. Then he lost his footing and tumbled backwards down the stairs.
  "Oh no." She looked down the stairway and decided she didn't trust herself enough to attempt to walk down these steps. "I guess he's gone forever."
  Her heart was still beating hard, but the frantic violence was fading away.
  She turned and saw Smough standing there, patiently waiting.
  "Oh. You're still here."
  Down below, Ornstein gave out a sharp cry as he finally landed at the base of the stairs with a crunch.
  Smough looked down but made no movement to go fetch Ornstein.
  When it was clear he wasn't coming back, she turned to Smough. "Well, now you have to fuck me."
  A minute later she was bent over a railing, guiding his cock inside and then pushing back to match his thrusts. The cool breeze met the sweat trickling down her chest and gave her a welcome chill.
  She didn't care how visible she was. Let all the damnable abominations watch for all she cared.
  The loud moans of orgasm were matched from below by the dull thwak of a brain fried Ornstein punching a gargoyle in the skull.
<img src="images/shen.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  A million years later she woke up, curled up in a piece of Smough's empty armor like a hermit crab.
  "What the fuck?" The room was only lit by a single ill-advised candle and even that was too much light. It sent a pinprick of nuclear heat through her skull.
  "This was a mistake."
  Slowly she checked her faculties. Each limb in turn. Eyes hurt, but still worked, but nothing to look at for now. Clothing was mostly gone, but whatever she was still wearing appeared to be on backwards.
  No sign of the woman she'd seen, nor any evidence she'd actually existed aside from the intense soreness in the sorcerer's jaw.
  She felt a stirring on the floor near her as Ornstein groaned and sat up, wrapped in a mangled blanket. "Oh, hey. How's it going?"
  "I feel like shit."
  "Yeah. Me too." He pulled the cloth tighter around him and as he did she noticed that it wasn't a blanket, it was the set of curtains ripped free from the window, but mercifully no light was coming in from the night sky.
  "Well at least it's dark out. That's one good thing at least."
  Ornstein squinted and looked at the window. "Dark? It's never supposed to be- Oh shit."
  "What?"
  He jumped to his feet, groaned in pain, and wrapped his curtain cape tighter around his otherwise naked body. "Smough! Wake up, we're in trouble."
  "What's wrong?"
  "I gotta handle this. Everything's fine. Everything's absolutely fine." He stumbled out into the hall in search of Smough.
  "I'll just hang out here, I guess."
  It was still much too early to start moving around, so she crawled back inside Smough's armor in case the light came back.
<img src="images/hangover.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  Ah hell, a little fun wasn't going to kill her. But truthfully she wanted to see what fun she could have with the big boy.
  She stood up and went to Smough's couch. "May I?"
  There was the barest hint of a pleased smile as he motioned to the seat next to him and lit the joint for them to share.
  As she sat down, Ornstein was clearly perturbed but didn't say anything.
  Smough handed it to her and she took the first hit of the mysterious grass. She felt the heat pulse through her, from the lungs out.
  Wow. If this was the light stuff, imagine what the heavy stuff must be like. Just inhaling a solid boot kick.
  As she passed it back to Smough, she took every opportunity to touch him. Their fingers as they passed it, her hand rubbing his shoulder, leaning into him.
  Meanwhile Ornstein was smoking his joint alone, absolutely sucking it down, leaning forward in his seat as he watched them. But the more agitated and needy he got, the more she leaned into Smough.
  He cleared his throat. "This stuff kind of dries you out, huh. Maybe we should get some drinks."
  "You have drinks? You should have brought that up sooner."
  "Yeah, well." He coughed into his hand and waved the smoke away. "Smough knows where they are. Wanna go grab them?"
  Smough narrowed his eyes.
  "He can't. He's indisposed." The sorcerer lifted her legs, turned in her seat, and draped them across Smough's lap. "You'll have to go."
  Smough shrugged at him.
  Ornstein sighed and stamped out his joint. "Yeah, okay. Fine. I get it."
  With a dignified resignation he made his way to the door, then walked headfirst into it because the crescent moon grass had already done a number on him.
  Three tries later he made his way out into the hall.
[[Finally.]]
  Once he was gone Smough and the sorcerer made eyes. They passed back and forth, each taking a long inhale.
  She blew out an elegant set of smoke rings into the air. As the final one dissipated, he finally moved his hand onto her leg.
  She blew one last blast of smoke into his face. "Well? Go on, take it." Her legs parted.
  He shifted and his hand went up her inner thigh.
  She laid back on the couch, smoking and descending into a pleasant haze while he went to work on her, putting those big hands to good use.
  Thank goodness she hadn't decided to show actual restraint. If she had, she'd have missed out on some excellent grass and a deft finger fuck.
  "You're good at this."
  Each time he shifted to get a better angle, she'd feel his erection graze her. If he kept up this pace, she'd have to return the favor later, but for now she was going to let him continue treating her like a queen.
  She became aware of a change in the room by the slowing of his rhythm and she briefly returned to her senses enough to see that Ornstein had returned.
  He had an armful of drinks in sweaty blue bottles. And he looked very cross.
  "Do you mind?" She tapped Smough with her foot to urge him on. Had to keep him focused at least until she finished.
  He shrugged. "Yes I do mind."
  "Don't be like that. Can you-" She took a sudden deep breath as Smough's fingers found a particularly sensitive spot. Then she waved at the other couch. "Just have a seat or something and stop being weird."
  Ornstein grumbled and sat down. "Yeah, fine. Whatever."
  Then he uncapped all three of the drinks and began drinking them all at once as part of some ineffectual tantrum.
  She didn't even notice because Smough found the spot again and soon enough she was twisted up with her skirt around her waist, riding competing chemical and endorphin highs.
  By the time they were done, Ornstein had vanished. And the drinks had vanished with him.
  The sorcerer rearranged herself, brushing off the bits of ash that had gotten all over her clothing.
  "Is he always like that? Being...you know."
  Smough gave her a noncommittal shrug that seemed to say, 'sort of'.
  The sorcerer didn't find him until she took a walk to clear her head, and stumbled on the arena.
  Ornstein was there, sitting in full armor, wobbling. A pile of empty bottles next to him.
  "What are you doing in here?"
  Ornstein started and looked at her, and she could tell that the lion helmet was on crooked.
  "What? Nothing."
  "Are you sulking?"
  "NO. I'm a lion. I'm roaring. I'm always roaring." He started to stand up, dropped his spear, and slumped back to the floor. Slouching as much as his armor would allow.
  "Wow. This is sad."
<img src="images/drink.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She leaned in closer to Ornstein, resigned to her fate.
  "Alright, light up. Let's all take a trip to the mistakes zone."
  When Ornstein took the first hit, she stole the grass away before he'd even exhaled.
  The grass didn't affect her at first, which made her worry that their idea of 'light' was an almost nonexistent high. Which would have meant these guys were complete lightweights. And it was no fun being the only one in a room with any teeth. So far this grass was only an excuse to get all cozy with the tall lion boy.
  Then the grass hit her and punched her soul into the next room.
  "Oh. Well, this will do."
  "Pretty good, huh?"
  Smough laid down and was halfway dozing as he smoked, spewing vapor like a fountain.
  Ornstein and the sorcerer passed the joint back and forth between them, getting closer and cozier as they filled the room with smoke. So close that soon she was draped over his lap. Whenever she wanted a hit, she'd pull him by the collar and pluck it from his mouth.
  As she readjusted in her seat, her hand brushed up against the hardening bulge in his pants.
  "Oh. You're excited."
  "Can't help it." He passed the joint back to her and readjusted in his seat. The movement made his bulge graze her fingers.
  "Is that a side effect of the grass, or are you just excited to have my company?"
  "A little of both." He cleared his throat. "Do you think you could...do something about it?"
  He gestured vaguely at her mouth.
[[Be an exceptionally good guest.]]
[[No, make him be a better host.]]
  She blew smoke in his face and gave him a rough tug on his waistband. "Hurry up then."
  She hoped that he appreciated her dedication to being a good guest. Because she was going to consider this payment for consuming all of their grass and then some. Then she'd take some for the road. And all their food and valuables.
  She made a show of tying back her hair, eyes locked with his. As soon as he had freed himself from his pants, she moved into his lap, grabbing it and working him with her tongue.
  She'd fellate him for a bit, then stop to take a few hits off the joint that she still held in her off hand.
  Mid suck, she felt his hand on the back of her head and she swatted it away. Afterwards his hand drifted down to the middle of her back.
  It was a way to judge how he was responding to the blowjob by how that hand was rubbing and gripping her, creeping back up to her neck.
  She readjusted and redoubled her efforts, head bobbing in his lap.
  This was taking awhile. Hopefully he wasn't one of these guys that got high and then it was impossible for them to cum. There was a limit to her generosity.
  She took a break in order to catch her breath and take another hit, but when she did, she noticed that there was much less of the joint than there should have been. Then she saw the pinhole burns dotted all over his belly and thighs.
  "Oh my god. Did I burn you?"
  Ornstein was gritting his teeth. "Yeah, a little."
  "Not a little. A lot. Why didn't you say anything?"
  "I didn't want you to stop."
  "You're a lunatic."
  "You're not going to stop now, are you?"
  "Seriously?" She sighed. "No, I guess not."
  She handed him the joint for safe keeping. "Hold that. But don't get any in my hair."
  Finishing him off with a proper blowjob was the least she could do to make up for smoking all his grass and leaving him with a constellation of second-degree burns.
  By the time she'd cleaned up, there was so much smoke in the room her head was getting light and her eyes were burning. Absently wiping her mouth, she retreated out to the hallway to get some air.
  And as soon as she stepped out of the room, she ran into a six-eyed channeler who had been crouched by the door.
  "What the fuck are you doing out here? Were you spying on us?"
  The channeler was silent. Then he began dancing, kicking his feet in the air.
  "Get out of here you nasty little freak." She kicked at him but failed to connect as he scampered away down the hall. She began to chase him but was stopped immediately by a fierce coughing fit.
<img src="images/show.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  "Nah, I've got a better idea." In an attempt to recline seductively, she fell backwards like a sack, legs spread. "How about I allow you to go down on me instead?"
  "Yeah. Okay."
  He got a hungry look in his eye and yanked her by the legs, while she focused on not dropping the joint. Taking a deep hit while he stripped off her underwear.
  How nice that he was so agreeable. She was sending off smoke rings into the air while he worked his tongue against her clit.
  Eventually the decadence of smoking while being eaten out wore off, and it became too much multitasking for her grass-addled brain. She reached out blindly to stamp out the joint, but didn't realize until she'd burnt their end table that there was no ashtray anywhere near.
  Oh well.
  Reclining, legs up on his shoulders, languishing while the chemicals worked their way through her system.
  "Get your fingers in there."
  But instead, he slowed down, and then stopped entirely.
  "What are you doing?"
  He wiped his mouth and looked around, confused and blinking. "Do you hear that?"
  As a matter of fact she did hear something. "Is that a bell? Is it dinner time?"
  "Ah shit." He pushed up and tripped over his own legs and hit the floor scrambling. "Smough, wake up. We've gotta go fight."
  He gave Smough one kick in the side to rouse him and gathered an armful of his armor.
  Smough heaved himself up, took one look at her, and trudged out the door in slow motion.
  "Hey, you're not done yet!" This was no way to treat a guest, leaving her half-satisfied while they go murder whatever dope wandered in. "Do your murdering later."
  But they were already gone. How rude.
  Then again, they left all their exotic grass and assorted implements. At this point it would be criminal *not* to consume all of it.
  So much for taking it easy.
  As she lit up, naked from the waist down, she could feel the vibration through the floor of distant hammer hits.
  If she still had her faculties when they returned, she'd hit him between the eyes with a soul spear.
<img src="images/frustration.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  Eh. Maybe it was best to err on the side of discretion.
  When Ornstein offered her the joint she sighed. "Sorry, I'm going to pass this time. I'll hang out, but I should keep my head clear for once."
  His disappointment was clear. "Are you sure?"
  "Yeah. You can still smoke. I won't stop you."
  "Okay. Are you sure that won't bother you?" He was already reaching for the fire butterfly to light it, no matter what she said.
  "Yeah, yeah. I'm good."
  Ornstein and Smough started smoking in earnest while the sorcerer stretched out on the couch, idly chatting with them as they generated a fog of foreign grass.
  The smoke didn't bother her. It had a slightly sweet, rich scent to it. In fact, the comfortable warmth of the room and this couch and the pleasant company, she could have very easily napped.
  As some point in between long blinks she must have dozed, because when she opened her eyes there was much more smoke and Ornstein and Smough were deep in a very serious discussion about time. Or at least, Ornstein was talking, half-slurring and louder than usual to Smough who was nodding along seriously.
  Whatever conversational thread led to this point, she was entering it halfway.
  "You know what's the most fucked up thing about time. Clocks. Have you ever looked at a clock? Fucked up, man."
  The sorcerer sat up and waved the smoke from her face. The joints in their hands were clearly not the same ones they had started with. Without her steering the events, they had quickly veered into the hard stuff.
  "What are you going on about?"
  "You know what's really crazy? Have you ever really thought about *clocks*?"
  "No?"
  Ornstein took another hit and coughed through it. "Who even decided clocks should look like that? All round and shit."
  Smough nodded solemnly.
  "Right? Am I right?" Ornstein turned to her expectantly.
[["The fuck are you talking about?"]]
[["I am absolutely willing to go with you on this line of thought. I am intrigued."]]
  Her blood was boiling today. No time for foreplay.
  She spun and kicked the wall, leg up and blocking his path. "Change of plan."
  "Oh?"
  "How quickly can you get out of that tin can?"
  In response, he grabbed his chest piece with both hands and ripped it apart, separating it into segments that fell off him. As he did, something inside ripped and broke. She could see on his face that he had made a mistake and broken some crucial component, but didn't say anything.
  She unfastened her robes so they slipped off one shoulder. "You got someplace discreet? Or should we fuck in the hallway like animals?"
  "Here, this way." Holding his armor together, he kicked open a side door, revealing a stairwell down into darkness. "Uh, not that way. This one." He kicked open the opposite door to a humble bedroom bathed in faint blue light.
  "Ooh, a bed. You must think highly of me."
  She had to get out of her clothes before he had a chance to tear them apart. After pulling off her shirt, she slapped the bed and was surprised when there wasn't a cloud of dust. But the rest of this room looked like an abandoned attic.
  The pyromancer kicked out of her boots. "Tell me. Are you always derelict of your duties so you can fuck and get high with every agreeable lady who strolls through here?"
  "Not *all* the time. ...We fight a lot."
  "I bet you do." She grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down to the bed.
  Biting his lips as she worked out of the last of their clothes.
  While he was struggling to kick out of his pants, his enthusiasm got the better of him and he squeezed her breasts, far too hard.
  "Ow. You're getting grabby. Do I have to tie you down?" She paused, then bit her lip. "I'm going to tie you down."
  She knocked him over and fetched some cords for just this purpose she kept attached to her belt.
  When Ornstein tried to sit up, she placed her foot on his chest and pushed him back down into the bed. "Not so fast. Arms up."
  It was quick work to bind him. She'd had plenty of practice.
  Ornstein tugged at the bonds on his wrists. "This is... interesting."
  "Yes. This situation has changed. You are now a conquest." She climbed back on top of the bed, mounting him. "Congrats. All I expect of you is to remain hard."
  "Okay, I can do that."
  "Good." She wrapped her hand around him and gave a squeeze.
  She took her time, grinding up against him. So close to slipping inside her, it was driving Ornstein crazy, but he couldn't shift his hips enough to take over.
  "I really want to fuck you."
  "That's nice. I didn't say you could talk."
  "But-"
  She pinched and twisted his nipple.
  He learned his lesson and held his tongue while she finally lined up and speared herself on his cock.
  Hands planted on his chest as she rode him, bed creaking. Starting slow, gradually speeding up. Occasional pinches and scratches across his chest.
  Eventually she was slamming her whole weight down on him, bottoming out.
  Ornstein groaned, flexing his hands and pulling at his bonds. "Could you maybe let me get on top?"
  "Ha, no thanks." She flipped her hair out of her face. "Let me finish and I might consider it."
  She braced herself on his shoulders, a line of fresh sweat running down her chest.
  When her arms got tired, she leaned back, still bouncing as she rubbed her clit.
  "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
  She spasmed and grabbed him by the neck to keep from tumbling off the bed as the aftershocks worked through her body.
  She rocked slowly on his cock as she recovered. Breath coming out hot enough to scorch. "Okay, that was pretty good."
[[Time for a smoke break.]]
  No. Libations first. Then debauchery.
  She pinched herself on the arm to force herself to remember to maintain a single milliliter of restraint.
  As soon as she walked into the lounge, she caught a brief whiff of a faint, flowery scent. Was that something they'd used to cover up a past misdeed, or was it traces of the last girl that had been invited here.
  The pyromancer plopped down on one of the plush couches and watched Ornstein as he stripped out of his armor, piling the pieces of it haphazardly in the corner next to a painting that had been hung upside down.
  "I hope I'm not keeping you from any important work."
  "Not at all. We kinda make our own hours." He strolled over to the couch. "But, uh, don't tell anyone I said that if anybody asks."
  The door swung open and Smough stood there, out of his armor, carrying an armful of bottles.
  "Ey, there he is."
  Smough stayed silent as he joined them, setting up the bottles and wiping the condensation from his hands.
  Ornstein cracked open the first one and handed it to her.
  Now this was hospitality. Capra Demon hadn't even offered her a drink.
  She didn't wait for a toast and took a deep gulp. She could feel a tingling heat trail down her body.
  Surprisingly she felt a tug of inebriation from the very first sip. This stuff was strong.
  Today seemed promising.
[[Have a smoke and relax.]]
[[Solicit them for the 'good stuff'.]]
  The pyromancer took a long pull from the bottle and sunk into the couch.
  She pulled out a tightly rolled joint she'd been keeping tucked away in her robes in case of special occasion. "May I?"
  Ornstein wiped his mouth. "Yeah sure. We're cool. Everybody's cool."
  "Good." If she'd known this was how this day would go, she would have made sure to bring extra supplies. "Be really nice to me and maybe I'll share."
  The pyromancy flame appeared in her hand and she lit it with a snap of her fingers.
  The first hit of the rime-blue moss sent a deep warmth into her chest. She chased it down with another gulp of booze.
  "Is this what you two do when you're not fighting? Getting blitzed?"
  Ornstein and Smough exchanged a look. "Not *all* the time."
  "And how often do you take ladies with poor impulse control back here for a tumble?"
  Ornstein looked away and shrugged. "Once or twice."
  "What is this? Are you afraid I'm going to be judgy?" She nudged Smough with her foot. "Would you describe your carnal conquests as 'often'?"
  Smough nodded.
  "There. Thank you for your honesty." As reward she passed over the joint and he took a hit, holding it in for an eternity before exhaling.
  Thanks to being in such a good mood, she was feeling incredibly gracious and passed over the joint to Ornstein.
  "Don't slurp that whole thing down."
[[Unwind.]]
  As they all started in on the first round of drinks, a greedy thought nagged at the pyromancer.
  They'd been quick to serve up these drinks, but what else did they have? Common sense would be that you don't offer the premium chemicals to whatever random trollop demands a good time. Not at first.
  But damn it, she was a top class trollop.
  "Question."
  "Hmm?" Ornstein wiped his mouth. "What's up?"
  "When are you going to break out the good stuff?"
  He looked at his bottle. "This is pretty good stuff."
  "No, I mean-" She mimed smoking, swallowing a pill, and having an existential crisis borne out of a total destruction of self, then rubbed her belly satisfied.
  "Ah, I see. You mean party treats." He scratched his chin. "I don't know..."
  "What's the problem? Isn't it crucial to be a good host." She draped one leg up over his lap. "If you're a good host, I can be a very appreciative guest."
  "Well, there is something..."
  Smough gave him a stern look.
  "What? You don't even know what I was going to suggest."
  The pyromancer slid her leg in between his thighs. "What's on the menu?"
  "Let's go see."
  Ornstein pulled a hinged glass container from the drawer and brought it back to Smough and the pyromancer who were sharing a drink.
  "Don't tell anybody we have these."
  He opened the glass jar and the smell hit her right away.
  "Whoa. That is rank. Do you eat those, or..."
  "You stick em in your cheek and suck on them."
  She plucked one out and held it up to the light. It was a bright red lozenge that looked close to amber when it caught the light. "Good. I am particular about what I shove up in me."
  Ornstein popped one into his mouth, then thought about it and took another. "We've only tried this once. These will send you."
  "They'd better." The smell was not great, but the taste had an odd allure to it. Like a candy mistake. "Where did you get these?"
  "Bought them off the onion man."
  "Who?"
  "Some guy."
  Smough took one and sat on the floor, cross legged in a stance that looked like he was meditating.
  The pyromancer took a long sip, and rolled the lozenge on her tongue. "Should we be mixing these?"
  Ornstein looked at his now empty bottle. "Didn't think of that. Oh well."
  It wasn't until the buzzing, fluttering feeling was rising in her chest that she realized she should have asked if these were uppers or downers.
  Then she noticed that she was up and pacing around the room, her blood bubbling.
  After a few laps, she flopped down on the couch, sprawling across Ornstein's lap. "Is this hitting you like it is me?"
  He puckered his lips and took a deep breath. "I think I can hear the moon moving."
  "You too?"
  As she crunched down on the withered lozenge, she felt the deep need to Mouth.
  She grabbed Ornstein by the neck and pulled him into a deep kiss, translucent dissolving shards still on her tongue. Sliding her hand under his shirt.
  Kissing him until her mouth felt raw. Gave his tongue a soft bite as she broke contact.
  "I could do more." She pointed at Smough. "Your turn, big guy." She stepped across the table, knocking over a bottle as she grabbed Smough by the shoulders and pulled him in, driving her tongue deep as she straddled him.
  After she pulled away, she licked her lips. "Hey, did I-" She tapped his face and felt the bump of two lozenges stuck in his cheek. "Give me that back."
  She kissed him again, tongue diving and sucking to pull back her lost troche. When she pulled back, she had both of them.
  "Ha, more for me."
  A dizzy spell hit her so she slumped into the seat next to him, leaning into his bulk.
  As the wave of dizzyness passed, her thighs started rubbing together of their own accord. This energy was going to have to go somewhere.
[[Time for Fuck.]]
[[Not yet. More drugs.]]
  It was time to fuck. For sure.
  She leaned in to stage whisper. "Would you two be interested in something a little more physical?" She attempted to cross her legs elegantly but smacked the side of the table with her foot.
  Ornstein was giving her an odd look. She followed his gaze down and discovered her hand had already worked its way into Smough's pants, and she was stroking him.
  "Oh." She was more fucked up than she thought on these wacky cough drops. "Well, anyway, who wants to fuck me first?"
  As a side effect of the drugs, the bacchanal was a mad, genital-first fever dream. Moments after stripping off her shirt, she hit a blank spot in her memory and all that she could recall later was a series of flashes and the sensation of fucking like planets colliding in space.
  When the mad fuck-haze finally abated, she sat with Smough, jerking him off while the buzzing in her brain finally settled. Her head clearing was a sign that she needed to take a break for more drugs. But she'd have to finish here before getting refreshments.
  "What even happened?" She looked down at his erection. "Are you close?"
  Smough groaned, shivered and a hot load shot out and hit her chest.
  "Oh. You were *very* close." She flexed her sore hand and shook it out. "How many was that?"
  He held up three fingers.
  "Really? Take a breather." She wiped away the fresh sheen of sweat from her forehead. She reached back in her memory. "What did I get to? Four or five? Something like that?" The way her thighs were shaking, it felt like a four or five day.
  Smough nodded, then crawled his way to the window to try and let out the swampy humidity that had filled the room.
  As she was mopping up the mess, she noticed Ornstein collapsed on a pile of pillows. She crawled over to where he was sitting and gently grabbed his cock. He was still rock hard.
  "Hey. How many times did you finish? Professional curiosity."
  "I didn't." He shrugged. "It's these troches. They mess with me."
  "Huh?"
  "Same thing happened the first time we tried them. I can't finish when I'm on these things."
  "Seriously?"
  She deeply considered this development.
[[Take care of him, no matter what.]]
[[This calls for a marathon fuck.]]
  "You're going to finish. I'll see to it."
  "What?"
  "How do you want it? Want to be on top? Get on top."
  "How about we just let it be and-"
  "How about you shut up and get fucking? I demand satisfaction. Yours." She captured him in a leg lock around his waist and pulled him down.
  "Yeah. Okay."
  Spurned on by purpose, she found her second wind.
  Aggressive, hard bucking until they'd worked up a fresh layer of sweat. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much he seemed to be enjoying it, Ornstein still wasn't finishing.
  The longer this went on, the harder it was for her to push through and focus on her mission.
  At one point, mid-pounding she looked over and noticed Smough sitting by himself, drinking from a golden bottle that looked much fancier than the drinks they'd been partaking of earlier. He must have cracked into the secret stash.
  Ornstein had slowed down so she was safe to take a break. She pulled his hands away from her breasts, planted her feet on him, and shoved him away so she could go bother Smough for a drink.
  "You'd better share that."
  After splitting the bottle with Smough, recovering her strength, and reaffirming her buzz, she returned to where Ornstein sat. Completely wiped out by the look of him.
  Still hard as a rock, though.
  Ornstein groaned and leaned back against the couch. "This isn't happening."
  "The fuck it isn't. I'm no quitter."
  She could say that all she wanted, but even she had limits. Her pussy was too sore to keep this up. Right now even standing was painful. She'd need some other tactic.
[[Try dirty talk.]]
[[Let Smough have a try.]]
  This was interesting information and it would be a waste to not capitalize on this opportunity.
  She pressed him down to the floor and mounted him. "If you're not going to cum, then I'll have to do double to make up for it." She ran her hand along his chest, giving him small scratches with her thumbnail. "Think you can handle me... let's say ten more times? Give or take."
  "That seems a bit much."
  She guided him in and inserted his cock, taking in a sharp breath as she did. "Too bad. You shouldn't have gotten me high if you weren't prepared to fuck me until we're both bloody smears on the floor."
  He gulped, but still moved his hands to her hips to guide her.
  Smough had reached his limit and sat calmly watching from the sidelines as they bucked and slammed into each other in a chemical induced fury.
  At one point, while she was catching her breath, Smough sat next to them and handed her a drink.
  She gulped it down. "How many was that? Six?" She chucked the bottle over her shoulder, smashing it against a bookcase, and wrapped her quivering legs around Ornstein. "Give me seven."
  Many positions later, she finally hit her physical limit.
  The final orgasm was not nearly as explosive as the ones before, and when it ran its course, she collapsed on top of Ornstein who had long since given up trying to match her pace.
  As for the pyromancer, no amount of drugs was going to keep her going through this stage of physical exhaustion. Well, a certain amount probably would, but this was not the occasion. It wasn't even a holiday.
  She gave him a pat on his shoulder, right on top of a cluster of bite marks. "Good hustle. That'll do for now."
  Ornstein, at the very least, was relieved it was over. He still hadn't finished, and certainly wouldn't in this state, now that he was rubbed raw and still painfully hard. His lower half was a throbbing curse on the rest of his body.
  He'd collapsed in a dead heap, so the pyromancer raised her arms to Smough. "Hey, big guy. Can you take me to a real bed? I'm destroyed."
  Smough bent down and picked her up like a sack of laundry and carried her out, leaving Ornstein alone with his eternal erection, softly groaning in pain.
  Smough took her to a dim room, bathed in soft blue, and slid her into the covers of a four poster bed.
  Normally she'd prefer to take a bath before crashing for the night, but that was out of the question. Unconsciousness was rushing up to meet her.
  She pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders. "Were you counting? I think I got to fourteen. Is that right?"
  Smough shrugged, then nodded.
  "Okay. That's a good number." She groaned. "I can't feel my legs. Can you rub them?"
  Smough pulled up the other end of the bedding and moments into the leg massage, she drifted off to sleep, instantly snoring.
<img src="images/impulse.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  "I have a better idea, though."
  "Oh?"
  She stood up in front of him and kicked his legs open. "Get it out. Let's see it."
  Smoking, looking down on him, urging him on with her eyes as he pulled out his cock.
  "Stroke it. Let me see you work it."
  He held eye contact with her as he began masturbating in front of her. The domineering, hateful look in her eye was doing more for him than he would have expected.
  "Are you going to...?"
  "What? Suck you off? Absolutely not."
  "No?"
  "Why would I do that for someone like you?" She extended her middle finger, pressed it to his lips, then forced it inside. "You do the sucking."
  He suckled obediently, jerking his cock faster.
  "Did you really expect me to wander in here and do whatever you want? Roll over so you can inject me with your nasty seed?" She pulled back her finger, moist with spit, and flicked him in the nose.
  "Well when you say it like that, it sounds bad."
  "Shut up." She put her foot up on his thigh. "Do you feel good?"
  "Yeah, I do."
  "Well you better not feel too good because you're not allowed to cum."
  "Huh?"
  "Don't you fucking dare. If you cum without permission, I'll rip your balls off."
  "Would you have responded better if I'd asked for butt stuff?"
  "Shut up."
  She looked over her shoulder at Smough who was watching the show, nonplussed.
  "Here's how this is going to go. Your big friend is going to fuck me and you're going to watch and keep cranking that cock until I tell you otherwise. Understood?"
  Ornstein was too drunk and horny to object.
  She went to Smough and offered him what was left of her joint. "Are you okay with being a prop for me to humiliate and taunt him with?"
  Smough took a hit and shrugged, not bothered.
  "Great. Now bend me over and go bananas on my ass."
  She made sure they were set up close, but out of his reach in case Ornstein lost his manners and tried to get a handful. If he got too out of control she could always pyromancy him into a puddle of lava.
  Smough mounted her and took her from behind. It started slow but very quickly turned into a loud, frantic presentation.
  She didn't actually have any faith in Ornstein following orders, but that was fine because the punishment could also be quite entertaining.
  "Oh, this is so good. Keep fucking me. You can come whenever you want." Then she pointed at Ornstein, her tone darkening. "But you absolutely cannot, you fuck. Understand?" She reached over and slapped his leg.
  Ornstein groaned and slowed his pace. It was getting more and more difficult to maintain composure.
  Eventually the pyromancer got distracted from her performance, because his dick was hitting her just right, pushing her closer to a climax.
  So overcome by the feeling, she couldn't focus enough to give Ornstein orders, or to notice that he was getting closer to her, and closer the finishing.
  She didn't even know he was there until she was reminded by the fluid hitting her face, hot and steaming. A hot slap across one cheek and down her neck, and she froze. Eyes snapped open.
  "What the fuck?"
  Ornstein, panting and grinning sheepishly, scooted back to his seat, dick still hard in his hand.
  The pyromancer kicked at Smough who was still pounding her from behind. "Cut it out, I have to deal with this." She stood up, legs still wobbly. "You motherfucker. Did you come on my face?"
  "Oops?"
  "I told you not to cum at all."
  He shrugged weakly. He wasn't even bothering to make up a flattering excuse.
  He had to pay for this.
[[Death! Now!]]
[[Make him HURT.]]
  She wasn't done yet.
  "Apropos of nothing, where's your friend?"
  "Smough? Probably waiting for us in the lounge."
  "And where is that?"
  He side-eyed her. "Down the hall from here. Why?"
  "Okay. Sit tight. I'll be back eventually."
  "What?" He tugged at the cords around his wrists. "What about me?"
  "What *about* you? I can't stay here all day. I've got a heap of consuming and destroying to get to." She heaved herself up off his body and scooped up her clothing. "Stay here and think about all your good fortune so far."
  She gave his cock one last parting slap, then strolled out, throwing on a minimum of clothing as she went.
  The pyromancer kicked in three doors before she found the promised lounge, with Smough sitting inside. He was nursing a drink and reclining on a couch in casual wear, his freakish armor nowhere in sight.
  She was taken aback by his handsome bulk and felt an electric thrill kick up in her belly.
  In all honesty she'd left Ornstein tied up to that bed for fun. But seeing his friend here, she realized how insatiable she really was.
  She sat down across from him. "Were you waiting long?"
  He shrugged and took another drink.
  "May I?"
  He handed over the bottle and she took a quick swig. It went down smooth and burning, just the way she liked. "That's pretty good." She passed the bottle back. "I fucked your friend."
  He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and took a sip. Not much of a talker, which was fine by her.
  "If that doesn't bother you, then how would you feel about being my second."
  This time his eyes roamed over her and he passed the bottle back to her. Their fingers touched.
  She downed half the bottle in one long gulp and wiped her mouth. "I'll take that as a yes."
  She stepped over the table and sat on his lap, straddling him while looping her arms over his shoulders. "Do you and your buddy often share like this?"
  His hands slid up to her thighs.
  "I tied him up, but..." She moved his hands down to her ass. "I think I'll let you stay loose for now." Then she pulled him into a greedy kiss.
  This encounter was an entirely different beast. Tongue sucking, grabbing and squeezing, scratching. Working at removing his clothes in between kisses.
  She even let him press her down into the couch.
  "Fuck me, you big weird pile of meat."
  Being held down and dominated was sending her over the edge. Her versatility was definitely one of her strong suits. Number one positive quality listed on her resume.
  He lifted one her legs up to get a better angle, and it hit her right.
  She nipped at his ear. "Take them both."
  He grunted and readjusted, and then both legs were up in the air as he pounded her.
  They slammed into each other so hard, she thought for sure this couch was going to buckle and break.
  She came while biting his neck, both of them covered in sweat.
  Later, after the festivities had winded down, they were curled up together sharing a drink. She was idly squeezing his cock, considering another go when the door swung open.
  Ornstein stumbled in the door, splintered bedposts still strapped to his arms and legs. "Hey, were you coming back?"
  "Oh my god. I was done with you."
  Ornstein took in the sight of the two of them entangled, naked. Smough much less tied up than he'd been.
  Smough stared back, deadpan.
  "Huh. Fine, I'll just sit here until you're done." He shuffled over to the couch, wooden pieces clunking and clattering with each step. "Don't mind me or anything."
  He picked up an untouched bottle that had gone room temperature, his bedpost bracelets knocking over several empties in the process. "Cheers."
<img src="images/twice.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  This could still work, but bumping meat together until total obliteration wasn't the way. This would take a different tactic.
  There was one thing she knew for sure: where the meat failed, words could succeed. Any words, so long as they were spoken in an intimate whisper.
  She sat down with him and began stroking, leaning in to purr in his ear. "You're still so hard."
  He grunted and leaned back to give her access.
  Soft strokes while she gave him gentle encouragement, building an experience.
  "You want me to be dirty?"
  "Hmmm...."
  "You want to put that big cock in my tight little pussy?"
  "It's ...already been in there a lot."
  "What are you- You're not helping this along."
  "I'm really tired."
  "Stop with that quitter attitude and get nasty. Visualize. You cumming. Where are you going to cum? Tell me."
  His breathing deepened. "Yeah, I'll cum in that pussy."
  "There you go. Is that what you want?"
  "Well..."
  "No 'well'. Say it. Where do you want to cum?"
  He shifted and let out a soft moan. "I wanna... cum in your hair."
  "I- Uh..." That was not the turn she expected. "That's cool."
  "Cool?"
  "Uh..." If he actually tried that, she'd smack him across the chin with a food tray. But for the sake of this exercise she should lean into it. "Yeah. All in my hair, you nasty boy. I'll be cleaning it out for weeks."
  She could feel him slipping away. "That's kind of a gross thought."
  "What? It was your thing."
  "Maybe I'll just cum on your tits."
  "This isn't a negotiation. It's dirty talk. It doesn't have to be real for fuck's sake."
  "But-"
  "The whole point is within the confines of this talk, you just go all out to nasty town." As she spoke she was speeding up her stroking, oblivious to the dull pain this was causing him. "Fuck it. Cum everywhere. Cum in a big ol' crater and I'll dive in and live there like a fucking semen hydra."
  "Can you stop that? It's starting to burn."
  She caught herself yanking on him and eased up. "Sorry. Okay, how about we do this nicer."
  She guided him along with a string of dirty scenarios and hypothetical sex acts, and he seemed responsive, but he wasn't really engaging with her. Instead he mostly sat there while she cranked him and washed over him with a river of sexy whispers.
  But she could only keep that up for so long. And when she ran out of ammunition, she panicked and then started listing foods.
  He didn't even seem to notice that she'd begun saying things like 'roast turkey', so long as it was said in that same sultry voice. So she continued running down an imaginary menu.
  Hitting every consonant with a hot wet breath.
  "Mmm, fresh baked bread." She dipped her tongue into his ear. "And a small dollop of melting butter."
  At the word 'butter', he had a very strong reaction.
  Was it the tongue, or the word 'butter'?
  "Freshly churned butter, nice and melty. All over a piece of toast." In response he groaned and thrust himself into her hand.
  She continued and every iteration seemed to be getting him closer.
  "Butter all over me, hot and drippy." She nipped at his ear. "Butter in my hair."
  He exploded. Body spasming. Inhuman grunts coming from deep in his throat.
  What actually came out was a meager dribble, but it still counted.
  "Finally! My arm is killing me."
  As she left the butter freak in a heap on the floor, shaking the soreness from her shoulder, it hit her how incredibly wiped out she was. Not just her arm. Her entire being.
  She nudged Smough, who was on the verge of dozing off. "Hey, you got a room I can take over for the night? I don't want to sleep on the floor."
  Down a half dozen side halls, he showed her to a cramped room taken up mostly by a bed that was the image of perfection by virtue of it being a bed.
  Would have been nicer to have a bath before retiring, but the mere thought of standing up any more was the most tiring endeavor she could have conceived of.
  So she promptly crashed face first into the bed and passed out.
<img src="images/did.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She was at her limit. At a certain point she was going to have to admit that she could only do so much by herself. Luckily there was someone else she could tag in.
  She waved Smough over. "Hey, I need someone with a different touch over here."
  "But-"
  "Quiet you."
  Smough walked over, slapping his cheeks to focus through the booze.
  She gestured at Ornstein's predicament, and Smough did not hesitate. He pressed him down to the floor, kissing him hard and stroking him in a very particular way.
  "Interesting." The pyromancer picked up another of the troches and popped it into her mouth as she watched, enthralled by his manhandling. "You have good technique."
  Whatever he was doing it was working. Still took long enough for the pyromancer to suck the lozenge down to a scrap.
  Ornstein moaned and flopped like a fish, hitting a slow, rumbling orgasm.
  He finally finished, spilling seed on his own belly, barely a dribble.
  "Still counts." She clapped her hands and sat up. "Now how do you feel."
  Smough leaned back to give him room as Ornstein blinked through the drug-soaked haze of exhaustion. "My dick hurts."
  "Oh."
  "A lot."
  "That'll happen."
  "Can I go to sleep now?"
  "Yes. I for one, feel accomplished."
  A flutter of movement caught her eye and she turned to see a trio of pale, winged imps that had crept through the now open window and were poking at the collection of bottles.
  "Hey, we're drinking those."
  The goblin's hissed at her and gathered up the bottles. The three of them fled for the window.
  "Hey!" Ornstein tried to stand and then groaned, his lower body too sore to move. "Oh, my loins. Smough, attack!"
  Smough heaved himself up, but the goblins were already scrabbling out the window. They'd be gone too soon to charge them.
  Smough looked around, then reached back and picked up Ornstein and in one motion hurled him through the air.
  Ornstein was not happy about this, screaming and swearing as he struck one of the chicken goblins and tumbled out the window with it, screaming all the way down.
  The rest of the goblins scattered with their pilfered goods.
  Smough and the pyromancer stood staring out the window.
  "Hmm, well..." She picked up her clothes from the floor. "I know this isn't the time for this, but does this mean I won the boss fight?"
<img src="images/victory.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She mopped off the spunk from her neck. "You need punishment for this transgression."
  "Oh? What sort of punishment?"
  That dumb face. He didn't even realize the gravity of this situation.
  "You like jerking it so much, you're going to do it again. Now. Until you finish."
  "Huh. I can do that." He let out a sigh of relief as his hand moved to his crotch, working himself up.
  "But. One condition." She extended her arm to him. "You have to use my hand to do it."
  A brief spectrum of reactions flashed through his face. Momentary excitement quickly replaced by a wary look. "Ooookay."
  She waited until he'd taken her hand in his before she snapped her fingers and summoned the pyromancy flame. A sputtering fire in her palm.
  He froze, face lit up orange. "Uh."
  She smiled and nodded. "Yeah. We're doing this, you fuck."
  He froze with her hand in his. The heat of the flame pulling out the sweat from his brow.
  "If you don't do it, I will. And I won't be nice about it."
  With a deep, resigned breath, he clamped his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and pressed her hand against his cock. The heat made him hiss, but he didn't pull away, even as he burned.
  "Does that hurt?"
  "Yes."
  "Good."
  Using her hand, groaning and moaning with every stroke.
  The biggest surprise was that he actually finished. She'd expected him to say uncle and beg for mercy, but to his credit he powered through and came, a pitiful spurt of semen spilling out on her hand and sputtering away in the heat.
  With one last squeeze, she released him and he collapsed on the floor, moaning and fanning his burned crotch.
  "Punishment fulfilled, I suppose."
  Smough was still lounging on the floor, seemingly unfazed by what he'd witnessed, nursing a bottle.
  "Hey. You want to go somewhere private? It smells like burnt meat in here."
  Smough nodded and heaved himself up.
  "Carry me somewhere nice." She hopped into his arms and together they exited, leaving Ornstein in a seared pile.
<img src="images/punishment.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  More drinking, more smoking, although the pyromancer got very stingy with the smoking.
  By the time they were down to their last round of drinks, they were wobbly, strewn across the couches. The room around them was on hinges.
  The pyromancer could hold her booze, but the blue moss was sending her body temperature into critical levels.
  It took three tries to pull off her robes and throw them over the back of the couch. "So what's next?" The remains of her joint was still perched in her lips.
  "We could get some more drinks, or..." Ornstein scooted up next to her. "We could get more comfortable."
  "I'm plenty comfortable." She kicked out of her pants. "See? Look how comfortable I am."
  "Yeah, but maybe..."
  "What are you getting at?" She pinched him on the thigh. "How about instead of being vague, you just tell me what you want. Stop making me guess."
  He tried to dig out the words from his drink soaked mind, but all he managed was gesturing at his lap.
  "No. Say it."
  "Well, your mouth is very...good."
  Smough looked on from the opposite couch, rolling his eyes.
  "And?"
  "And...could I maybe, possibly, if it's not too much trouble, get a blowjob?"
  "There you go. Finally." She puffed on her joint and blew smoke in his face.
[[Fulfill his request.]]
[[Ask Smough to do it instead.]]
[[Assert dominance.]]
  "Now was that so hard?" She took one last toke and passed her joint to Smough. "Don't let that go to waste."
  "Are you really-"
  "You asked so nicely, how could I refuse?" She tied her hair back and grabbed a pillow to kneel on. "But just know that I'm going to bite it off."
  Ornstein laughed nervously.
  "I'm serious. Chomp chomp." She bared her teeth and mimed chomping down on him as she knelt in front of him and undid his pants.
  "Haha, right." He was clearly worried but still leaned back to give her access.
  She reached in and wrapped her hand around his cock. It was already hard at her touch. "Wow. You're excited. You trust me enough to not sink my teeth in for kicks?"
  His dick twitched in her hand, hardened by the idea of peril, but Ornstein said nothing as he watched her lips.
  "Okay, then. Here we go. Bloody ruin." She flashed her teeth as she descended, taking him in her mouth.
  Ornstein grabbed handfuls of the couch seat as she worked him over. Tongue circling, hand pumping.
  He sighed in relief as her head bobbed in his lap non-violently, but he tensed up every time her teeth grazed him.
  When his hand roamed to her ponytail, she swatted him away and pressed his hands down at his sides.
  Maybe now it was time to...
[[Let Smough join in.]]
[[Bite the hell out of him.]]
  She gave Ornstein a tight squeeze. "Hold up."
  Smough was still watching from his couch, the joint burnt down to a nub.
  "You want to get involved?" She pulled down her underwear and slapped her ass. "Get over here and wreck me."
  Smough blinked twice, then shoved the coffee table aside, bottles clinking and scattering when it smashed into the side wall.
  As he mounted her from behind, she was leaning on Ornstein so she could rub herself and get ready for him.
  She took a sudden sharp breath as he grabbed her hips and pressed inside.
  Once Smough had established a steady rhythm, she resumed blowing Ornstein.
  Every time it seemed like Ornstein was about to finish, she'd give him a tight squeeze. "You don't get to finish until we do."
  Then she had to swat him away when he tried to finish himself off.
  He was getting more and more insistent as she got closer to the edge. Finally she grabbed his hands and pressed them around her neck. Striking him with her gaze.
  "Choke me and I'll let you cum."
  Ornstein gulped. "Holy shit." His hands pressed down on her and she backed hard into Smough's thrusts.
  Her entire body felt like it was expanding as she lost control.
  When Smough pulled out and released her she took her place in front of Ornstein, intent of keeping to her word.
  "Okay, now you can finish. But you'd better make it quick." Then she resumed the blowjob, faster and more vigorous.
  It only took moments for Ornstein to tense up, belting out a string of expletives as he blasted into her mouth.
  She continued slow stroking and suckling on the head until the aftershocks of the orgasm had worked their way through his body.
  When he settled down, she raised her head, mouth still full of spunk, and gestured for him to come closer.
  When he hesitated, she grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him in.
  As his lips met hers, she forced him to taste the salty traces on her tongue.
  "Wow. You're all kinds of freaky."
  "Damn right I am. Don't you forget it. But right now..."
[[Time to go to sleep.]]
[[Kill! Murder! Kill!]]
  She exhaled a plume of smoke into the air. "I appreciate your candor."
  "Does that mean you're gonna-"
  "Ha. No. I'm not that high yet."
  "Oh."
  She hooked a thumb back at Smough. "How about your friend?"
  Ornstein and Smough shared sudden startled eye contact, which they held for far too long. Considering.
  Smough took one last drink, finishing off his bottle, and then began crawling toward him.
  "Whoa, wait. Hang on." Ornstein put up a hint of resistance, but it was all theatrics. In the end he did nothing to stop Smough from yanking open the fly of his pants and dipping his head into Ornstein's lap.
  The pyromancer coughed and waved away the smoke. "Wow, I did not have to ask twice."
  She could have left to give them some privacy, but she was captivated by his technique. The aggressive tongue work, the particular way he stroked him.
  She leaned in, watching intently. Biting down on her joint as she took a long pull.
  The joint had become a stub by the time Ornstein started to lose control.
  Just as he was moaning and arching his back, Ornstein slid off the couch and hit the floor, Smough still holding on tight.
  They were too far along to correct, and so he came while slapping the floor.
  Both of them breathing heavily, Smough wiping his mouth.
  The pyromancer stamped out her joint, which was threatening to burn her fingers.
  That technique was intriguing. She could learn something from him.
[[Make Ornstein reciprocate.]]
[[Take over and thank Smough for his service.]]
  They drifted down the hall, passing the fresh joint back and forth.
  After leaving behind a trail of smoke, they stumbled into a well furnished, imposing bedroom. Tiny strands of light were peeking in through the massive curtains.
  "Is this where we were headed?"
  "Maybe?" Ornstein blew out a plume of smoke. "To be honest, I can't keep anything straight right now."
  He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. They fell together, kissing and smoking.
  He handed the joint to her so he could pull off his shirt, almost falling off the bed in the process.
  She took one last pull and regretted it when her brain bubbled. "Okay, that's seriously enough. You're going to be scraping me off the ceiling if I smoke any more of this."
  "Too true." He took it back and made a big show of hurling the still lit snub off into the corner of the room.
  She hooked him in with her legs and yanked him down to the bed so she could feel him, the weight of him.
  As they made out, he slowly stripped her clothes away. They only broke the kiss so he could pull off her top and expose her chest to the warm air.
  He leaned back to admire her. "Very nice."
  "I hope you're not just saying that because we're both high out of our minds." She grabbed his hand and moved it to her breast.
  "You look so good by firelight."
  Firelight?
  Huh. She hadn't noticed before but there was a flickering orange glow that wasn't here when they arrived. "Did you start a- oh shit."
  That's when she finally noticed the fire. Licks of flame were creeping up a set of heavy curtains. As she watched, the wall ignited. It was already far too large to stamp out. "This whole room is going to go up."
  "Oh." Ornstein blinked. His dick was still hard against her leg. "We'd better hurry up before that happens." Then he moved to kiss her.
  "Wait, what the fuck? It's a fire!"
  "That's hardly a fire. We've got time." He leaned forward and she could feel him pressing against her.
  Damn it. Maybe it was the grass completely changing the arrangement of her critical mental faculties, but she really wanted to ignore the fire.
  Then again...
[[Hurry up and fuck.]]
[[No, this is dumb. Flee!]]
  She took one last long pull on the joint and held it until she coughed it out, then stamped it out. It was her turn to take part in the festivities.
  She crawled over to them, wobbling, and picking her way through the tangle of their legs.
  "Got any room for me?"
  They didn't seem to hear her and continued trying to swallow each other's faces.
  As high as she was, this wasn't enough to dissuade her. And Ornstein's crotch was right there so she gave it a feel and was frankly surprised by how hard he was. Smough as well. They were both bursting.
  They still weren't stopping her, so as they continued making out she worked her hands into their pants to stroke them.
  It became a real struggle to find a position where she could fit in between them and continue her double handjob while they were kissing and biting one another.
  No matter how she sat, her arms were getting incredibly sore.
  For all the effort she was putting in, they weren't paying her any attention. It was starting to become apparent that she wasn't needed here.
  But judging by how wet they were and how they were moving their hips, they must have been close. And it would just be rude for her to stop now.
  "You know, if either of you wanted to fuck me, that would be totally fine."
  Right before they came, Smough reached down and guided her hand while Ornstein began humping at her faster.
  They came within seconds of each other and she eeked as they slimed her in stereo.
They still seemed oblivious to her as she removed herself from the flesh mass to grab a towel to clean off with.
  It wasn't until she was wiping her hands off that Ornstein noticed her there, seemingly for the first time. "Oh, hey. You're still here." Lounging casually next to Smough, pants undone, bleary eyed.
  "Yeah I'm still here. What the fuck?"
  Smough patted the spot next to him, offering her to join them.
  Not like she had any better idea for where to pass out and sober up, so she crawled up next to him, curling up against his warm bulk.
  She set her head on a pillow from the couch and before she'd fully gotten comfortable, Ornstein scooted in, trapping her between them.
  Gradually, the rhythm of their breathing settled her and she savored the comfy warmth of their bodies.
  Eventually they all drifted off, curled up on the floor like a pile of dogs.
<img src="images/help.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  They seemed like they had things handled.
  She took one last pull from the joint, held it in while small explosions of color went off behind her eyelids, like distant stars going supernova.
  Wow. This stuff was really weird. Possibly too intense for a casual, friendly smoke.
  Although how could she know for sure unless she smoked the entire rest of this herself. For research's sake.
  Smough's foot bumped her as he slid a leg up between Ornstein's thighs.
  Ornstein and Smough's heavy petting was getting heavier, and there was a good chance she would get rolled into while their antics intensified. So she dragged herself to the window sill and pulled back the curtains so she could sit in the sun and smoke in peace.
  There was a faint current of air seeping in from the window, that gave her a pleasant chill.
  She alternated between watching the illusory lights that danced with every toke, and watching Ornstein and Smough who were now half undressed.
  Smough had mounted Ornstein, pressing him into the floor. Fucking him with surprising gentleness. With his size she would have expected him to only be capable of a violent rhino fuck. But they were moving together quite pleasantly.
  As she stamped out the joint, she was buzzing with weird horny energy, but also couldn't seem to figure out how to leave the window sill. No matter which way she moved, she seemed to always end up pressing up against the glass. Unusual. This should have been the easiest thing in the world, but any attempt to just slide down to the floor ended with her sucking on the glass, unmoved.
  Unable to exit, she ended up masturbating there in a horny panic while Ornstein and Smough settled into a post-coital nap.
<img src="images/sill.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She would let that slide this time, but only because he was so handsome and stupid.
  But she gave him one more nipple twist as a warning. "Hurry up and fuck me before I change my mind."
  Damn this moss they'd been smoking had made her so *warm*.
  Slow, measured thrusts. The taste of him. But even so, there was something nagging at her.
  "You're lucky I'm letting you do this. You don't know how much danger you're in."
  "Is that so?"
  She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him tight. "Yeah. I put all my points into strength. I could crush you between these thighs."
  "I'd like to see that."
  "Is that a dare?"
  He was too wrapped up in the sexual act to realize he was inviting disaster. When he didn't answer her, she took that as a final challenge and slammed her thighs together and he stopped mid-thrust.
  "Hurrghk."
  "See? I told you. ...Are you all right?"
  His arms weren't holding him up properly and he slumped down on top of her. "Yeah. Fine. Just need a minute."
  "Did I actually hurt you?"
  "No. I'm fine." He pulled out and sat up, cradling his midsection. "One second." He winced and then tumbled head first off the bed, cracking his skull on the floor.
  "What the fuck?"
  She shook him but he had curled into the fetal position, groaning.
  When it became clear that he wasn't going to get up she fell back in the bed. What a disappointment.
  Oh well.
  While he recovered from his pulverized torso, the Chosen laid in bed, riding the purple moss high and masturbating.
<img src="images/victory.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  This will not stand.
  No more sex times. Only battle.
  With a screaming warcry, she locked her arms around him and in a smooth motion, lifted him into the air and power bombed him into the nearest bookcase.
  It cracked in half and Ornstein was immediately buried in a mound of splintered wood and old tomes.
  She stood up on the bed, flexing and screaming in victory. "Hell yeah! Strength build, motherfucker!"
  The pile of books shifted and it looked like he was getting up so she took the opportunity the pick up the bed and smash that over his head as well.
<img src="images/victory.jpg">
  "Oh shit."
  The pile of books and broken bed were still. He was not getting up. Oops.
  After a long awkward silence, she quietly redressed and made her way out into the hall nonchalantly. Probably best to not make a big deal of this.
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She pushed off of him and disengaged from his cock. Ornstein groaned, humping at the air.
  "Oh come on, I was almost there."
  "Not my fault you were too slow. I need a smoke."
  Buried in her clothing was a pouch with a certain herbal mix, rolled into a joint that she'd been saving.
  After sitting back down on top of Ornstein, mounting him, she snapped her fingers to light it and took a slow pull. She held it to her lips with one hand and with the other, lined up his cock and reinserted it.
  One long inhale as she savored the dual sensation of the chemicals entering her lungs and the cock buried inside her.
  Ornstein shifted. "Could you maybe... start rocking faster?"
  "No. If you wanted to dictate the encounter, you shouldn't have let me tie you down. Amateur move."
  Ornstein jiggled his bound hands. "Could I get a hit of that at least?"
  "Nah. This is all I've got."
  A bit of ash fell and landed on his belly. She rubbed it into his skin with her pinky. "Well now what do I do with you?"
[[Leave him and go tussle with Smough.]]
[[End him.]]
  Attack! Always be attacking.
  She moved to meet his face with her sword and realized she still had her bow equipped.
  Ah shit, only half a second to-
  His spear entered her chest, skewering her. A small flicker of electricity spat out as it plunged through her.
  She managed to bonk him on the head with her bow once before slumping over dead.
<img src="images/died.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She rolled cleanly away, switching to her greatsword as soon as she was back on her feet.
  But the big hammer man was already charging her, winding up for a big swing.
  Okay, time to-
[[Roll toward him and strike.]]
[[Dodge Roll Away.]]
  Rolling had worked so far. And it would continue to work forever.
  She met every attack with a rapid fire series of rolls and tumbles. She couldn't hear above the sound of her armor rattling and clanking like a sack of cookware being thrown down the stairs.
  Dizzy and disoriented, she was forced to stop for a brief moment to catch her breath. Dodge rolling was tiring work.
  Barely a second later a huge shadow enveloped her and she looked up to see the massive form of Smough leaping into the air, blotting out the sky.
  He was surprisingly agile.
  One last roll wasn't enough to save her from being flattened so hard the walls shook.
<img src="images/died.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  "What the fuck are you even talking about?"
  Ornstein gestured at the room. "You know. Time."
  "Oh my god I knew this was a bad idea."
  "All I'm saying is why does a clock have to look like a clock."
  She rubbed her eyes. "What does that mean? Why does anything have to look like anything?"
  "Exactly."
  "Don't 'exactly' me." She sighed and shook her head. She really shouldn't engage with someone this far gone. "What's your problem with clocks? Specifically."
  Ornstein clamped the joint in his mouth so he could more effectively gesture wildly with his arms. "I'm just making a point about structure. Why does a clock have to be flat and round and... hands. All the hands. Think about it."
  The strangest thing to her about this diatribe was that he was so suddenly focused on the concept of clocks. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen an actual timepiece. Why worry about clock design and not time itself, which was incredibly screwy as a concept, especially around here. The way it folded in on itself. Who even knew what time actually was when- Oh no, now she was doing it too.
  Must be all this smoke. She shook her head and refocused.
  "Okay smart guy. Do you think you could design a better clock?"
  "Hell yeah I could. I'd design the fuck out of it. Right?"
  Smough gave him a supportive slap on the leg.
  "Mmm hmm. Okay. Let's see you do it."
  After some searching through the many drawers and cabinets, she procured a pen and paper and offered it to Ornstein.
  "You want me to put this genius out in the world. It might blow your contrarian mind."
  "Humor me."
  "Sure. But I gotta remember to mail this to myself later."
  For the next several minutes he attacked the assignment, scribbling and scratching ink onto paper. Smoking with his free hand, pockmarking the paper with pinhole burns.
  When he finished the drawing, he couldn't stand so he scooted himself across the floor to hand it over.
  "Now this is a clock. Take that...clock...people."
  She held the page up to the light, then rotated it several times.
  "This is an owl. What you have drawn is an owl."
  She looked to him for an explanation and he'd already passed out in Smough's lap.
  Smough shrugged and offered the remains of his joint.
  "Might as well get on your level."
<img src="images/clock.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She took a long moment of contemplation, but in the end couldn't come up with a solid rebuttal.
  Clocks *were* kind of weird.
  "You could be onto something."
  "Right?" He offered her his joint and she took it without thinking. Whatever this was instantly changed her entire sense of self.
  Of course he was right to question clocks. Spinning. Ticking. Fuck, she'd forgotten about ticking.
  She took another hit and passed it back. "We gotta do something about these clocks."
  "I know, right?"
  She'd promised herself to take it easy, but this weird grass was giving her so many good ideas. "So the design is fucked up, I get you. Like how all the numbers are... around it."
  "Yeah, exactly."
  "But what are you going to do about it? You think you could make a better clock?"
  He and Smough met eyes. "I think we could. That would be easy. Like, instead of a circle it could be... a sphere?"
  "That would be such a good clock." She took a hit off Smough's joint, turning half of it to ash. "I bet I could build it right now."
  "Yeah?"
  "Yeah. I'm smart as shit. You got any tools?"
  "We could probably find some. Let's fucking do this."
  They all stood up, then had to lean on her for help as she was the only one of them that still had control of her legs.
  "Bet we could find some stuff to use downstairs. And while we're down there, we'll grab some drinks."
  "You've had drinks this whole time? Why aren't we drinking?"
  Some amount of time later, it was impossible to tell how much, the sorcerer came to in a room she didn't recognize.
  Ornstein and Smough were collapsed on the floor, each one on top of the remains of a different piece of destroyed furniture.
  In the center of the room was the result of their handiwork.
  "What the fuck?"
  The "clock" was an amalgamation of gears, pottery, kitchen flatware, some poor carpentry attempts, and a handful of broken glass. And oil. There was oil everywhere.
  She looked down and her hands were coated in it as well.
  She gave it a kick and surprisingly it moved. Only a single chug and crank of the gears, and then whatever mechanism was buried in there died.
  Gonna have to write this one off as a rough draft.
<img src="images/mess.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  The pyromancer handed Ornstein a drink. "How are you feeling? Good?"
  He took a sip. "Yeah. I'm great."
  "Good. Now return the favor." She swiped the bottle away from him and turned to Smough. "How bout it? Do you want to fuck him?"
  Smough put his hands on Ornstein's back and he allowed himself to be moved into position.
  "Yeah, yeah." He backed into Smough. "What about you? Are you going to join in or just watch the whole time?"
  "I thought about it but I do my best work as a facilitator."
  As Smough was mounting him, the door crashed open.
  A pantsless blue-skinned lunatic in a Mask of the Father came tearing into the room, rolling through all the furniture.
  "Who the hell is this joker?"
  He rolled repeatedly into three of the corners of the room, then barreled straight for them.
  With the booze still dampening her reaction time, the pyromancer couldn't jump out of the way in time and the intruder slammed into her. They both smashed into Ornstein and Smough.
  The mass of bodies slid up against a strange bit of geometry and the whole crowd of them slipped out of bounds, plummeting into a grey void.
  They screamed on their way down, the underside of Anor Londo drifting away above them.
  Ornstein latched onto her leg, tight enough to bruise. "Use a homeward bone, quick!"
  "We're all bare-assed naked. Do I look like I have any bones on me?"
  The interloper hit and bounced off of some invisible platform and bounded away, leaving the three of them to continue falling.
  "What a fucker."
  There was one thing she could do to rectify this. It wasn't ideal but she didn't have much of a choice. "This is going to suck."
  She pressed her fingers against the circular mark on her chest and jabbed until she could feel the unholy heat rising up from within her bones.
  When the world faded back in, she and Ornstein and Smough were all piled next to a bonfire on a small balcony surrounded by mangled metal spikes.
  "Oh, hey. You fixed it."
  The pyromancer curled into a ball on the floor, clutching her aching chest. "That hurt so much. I've never had to actually use it. Why is that a thing I can do?"
  Smough sat up and looked around at their surroundings, not pleased by what he was seeing.
  "What's wrong?" Ornstein looked up at the sky just in time for the entire structure to be rattled and shaken by a massive explosion up above. "Where in the fuck?"
  The pyromancer pulled herself to her feet. "We're back in Sen's Fortress."
  "Huh? How? Was this seriously the last place you rested?"
  She shrugged. "Yeah, what of it? I got places to be."
  "Oh for the love of..." He hung his head and took a deep breath. "Welp, who wants to help me kill a snakeman and turn it into pants. I refuse to bum a ride off those chicken bone goblins while I'm naked and covered in juices."
<img src="images/setback.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  "Out of the way, my turn." She shoved Ornstein aside and stood before Smough, gesturing at his pants. "May I?"
  He sighed and leaned back to give her access. She knelt down in front of him, intent on putting his lesson to use.
  While she went to town on Smough, Ornstein pulled up his pants and reassembled himself.
  The boozed up desperate need had been yanked out of him, replaced by a satisfied calm.
  Briefly he thought he should get involved with their current act, but it was clear he wasn't needed. She was attacking him with a laser focus and he'd only distract her.
  The best thing he could do in this situation would be to go find the good towels.
  To the background tune of moaning and slurping, Ornstein went rummaging through the chests and cabinets against the far wall.
  "They gotta be here somewhere."
  As he reached into a wooden chest, he looked back over his shoulder at the blowjob in progress. Her aggressive hand and mouth work, combined with a certain pose gave him a needy twinge, even as spent as he was.
  Then he felt teeth. Clamping down on his arm.
  It hurt terribly, but it took a long moment of consideration to realize what was happening. And what was happening was that he was shoulder deep in the mouth of a mimic.
  Pulling away only made it clamp down harder, and now this was a struggle.
  Ornstein's shrill scream startled the pyromancer so bad she swallowed and almost coughed herself to death. "What the fuck?"
  She and Smough looked over to see Ornstein stuck in a punch fight with a chest shaped creature.
  After staring at the scene, blinking slowly, Smough stood up, full of determined purpose. Then he marched out the door, holding his pants up with one hand.
  Ornstein's arm was lodged in the mimic, punching it as hard as he could with his free hand.
  "Quick, where are the genitals on a treasure chest?"
  The pyromancer took one look at the struggle, then down at her discarded clothing and decided to get dressed before doing anything drastic.
  The door reopened and Smough had returned, now in full armor. A huge mass of ornate gold. So huge that he couldn't fit through the doorway.
  After trying to shoulder check his way through, he gave up and stuck his hammer through and jiggled it around. For him to be effective, Ornstein would have had to pick up the mimic and bring it to him, but he was far too busy grunting and punching.
  The pyromancer refastened her robes and scooped up her belongings. "You seem like you've got this under control. I'm going to head out." She considered the stamped out fragment of a joint, and scooped the remains into her pocket.
  Smough was still blocking the door so she made her way to the window and climbed onto the outer ledge to make her escape. "Thanks for the drinks. And good luck, I guess." And with that she was gone.
<img src="images/fine.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  "You're right." She turned back to Smough, face right up next to his. "We should get up on the couch." She poked Smough in the chest. "And then you should fuck me."
  Ornstein let out a frustrated grunt, but neither of them noticed.
  And as they crawled up on the couch to continue the proceedings, they also failed to notice Ornstein trying to make himself conspicuous.
  "Well don't mind me, I guess."
  He grabbed a handful of crackers and crunched them as loudly as he could, but they were too deep in each other's mouths to care about him.
  When they began stripping away their clothing, tossing it aside, Ornstein was stomping around the room, smoking like a chimney and bumping loudly into every piece of furniture.
  "Oh sorry, am I bothering you?"
  The sorcerer moaned and wrapped her legs around Smough. "Put it in."
  Ornstein had demolished his joint and sat down at Smough's tray of implements. "I guess I'll just smoke all of the rest of this myself. I was the one who acquired it after all."
  Still no response from them as they began bucking into one another.
  "Okay. Fine."
  He attempted to roll the remains of the full moon grass but failed to realize that he was unsuited to mimicking Smough's practiced artistry. And, for that matter, his brain was several planets away from his body, which would have made any manual task next to impossible.
  So of course the completed joint was less something that could be smoked, and more of a pile of leaves crumpled into a handful of rolling papers which Ornstein slid into his mouth and began chewing.
  When next he looked over at them, their mad, frantic fucking looked to him like two abstract shapes slapping together into an impossible fractal.
  "Huh. I'm freaking out, aren't I?"
  While they approached a mind-blowing orgasmic explosion, Ornstein slithered out of the room, trailing behind him a scattering of half-chewed imported grass.
<img src="images/hear.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  A stillness settled over her and when she exhaled, the smoke came out ice cold.
  The sudden lust rising in her had only been a symptom of the true need inside her.
  She reached down to where her robes were and found the weapon hidden inside, in a secret inner pocket where it waited for her to succumb to the blood hunger.
  "What have you got the-"
  She raised the dagger to the sky and screamed. "Conquer Fuck!"
  Ornstein could only shriek in fear as she unleashed a rain of stabs upon his defenseless body.
  After the final stab she held still until she had caught her breath, and the steady calm had resettled through her.
  With a grunt she heaved herself up off the bed and walked to the window. She needed to clean her instrument and the heavy curtains were the only visible cloth that wasn't already covered in fresh viscera.
  This whole endeavor would be much easier if she could sleep her way through every encounter, like this one.
  She'd had some luck recently, though. The last escapade had given her this handsome dagger. Priscilla had been fun.
  As she was mopping up the blood from her chest, the door opened behind her. What could only be Smough was standing there, looking very cross.
  "Oh, hello."
  This could not look any more incriminating.
  For lack of any viable excuse, she shrugged theatrically. "Whoopsie!"
  Then she shouldered her way out the window and escaped by way of the narrow ledge on the outside of the building, still stark naked and blood spattered.
  She'd have to circle back later for the rest of her belongings.
<img src="images/almost.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  "The punishment for this infraction is death."
  "What?"
  She stamped her foot. "Smough! Murder and Death!"
  Her very loud demand came with such authority that Smough wasted not a second before jumping to his feet, grabbing Ornstein, and body-slamming him through six pieces of furniture and into a wall.
  His body laid there under a fresh pile of rubble.
  "Holy shit. You actually did it."
  Smough stood still, and moments later his body burst and swelled with a crackling electricity.
  "Oh. That's neat."
  But now that an actual murder had occurred, it had definitely put a damper on the festivities. She'd done a lot of freaky things in her life, but a corpse in the room was too much. "This was fun and all but I guess I should go."
  Smough nodded once and sat down to have a drink, electricity arcing off the bottle.
  He didn't even look at her as she redressed and gathered her belongings.
  Did this count as winning a boss fight? Or was this going to be trouble later?
  Oh well. No sense worrying about it now.
  She let herself out.
<img src="images/victory.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  Now was the time to fulfill her promise. It's his fault if he didn't realize she was serious.
  She bobbed her head faster, moaning as she did. Sending glimpses of eye contact up at him.
  "Oh fuck." He bucked, trying to drive it deeper into her throat, and just as he was about to finish, she let the bloodlust take over.
  Her teeth sunk into his meat, destroying him. There was a long wind-up pause between the bite and when the signal hit his brain to start screaming.
  Surprisingly he was close enough that he still managed to finish, despite the shark attack occurring on his genitals.
  A mix of blood and cum rushed into her mouth at once.
  She finally released him to spit, his dick having been turned into a punctured, mangled slab.
  The chemicals and endorphins running through him turned him into a docile pile. Ornstein collapsed sideways on the couch, cradling himself. "This is so rude."
  "I told you I'd fucking do it, you shit." She jumped to her feet and almost fell over. She was still quite drunk, but the bloodlust was struggling to sober her up in a hurry. She required more blood.
  Meanwhile, Smough sat silently watching, the joint burned down to a stub. And he continued to watch as the pyromancer picked up a bottle, screamed "Blood and Thunder", and smashed it over his head, glass spraying everywhere.
  He went down like a rock and the pyromancer grabbed her belongings to flee.
  On her way out she noticed Ornstein's armor piled in the corner.
  He wouldn't be able to wear this for a while. It would be criminal for her *not* to steal it.
  Slowly through the fog door, a hopeful knight emerged into the arena. He stepped inside, only to be stopped by an imposing figure in ill-fitting golden armor.
  "Hey, what's up? You here for the boss fight?"
  "Well, actually I was-"
  "10 bucks to skip the boss fight. This is the only time I'm offering this."
  "Actually I was looking for the blacksmith."
  "I can smith. 10 bucks."
  "Uhh..."
  "Also, do you have something to eat? I need to get this taste out of my mouth."
<img src="images/business.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  She peeled herself away from the brain fog that had settled over them. They were physically drained and susceptible.
  Now was the time.
  "Hey, I've got an idea."
  She jumped to her feet and they looked up in time to see her snap her fingers and summon a pyromancy flame. "Surprise, motherfuckers. Chaos Storm!"
  An instant later the room was flooded by rising columns of roaring fire, knocking furniture and naked bodies up into the air as she turned the lounge into a charred pile of wreckage.
  After the blast and the roaring heat died down, everything around the pyromancer was silent, all but the crackle of charred wood.
  She stood up triumphantly amid the smoking piles of debris. "Hell yeah. Now that's how you win a boss fight."
  She stepped around a burning couch leg, surveying the rubble for any sign of her clothing. Probably should have secured her underwear before unleashing hell.
  When she did find them, they were singed but not unusable. But as she was stepping into them, she heard a groan from behind her.
  Ornstein and Smough were both alive, equally singed as her clothing.
  "Oh. Hi."
  Ornstein kicked away the remains of a smoldering couch. "Ow. What the fuck was that? I thought you were cool."
  "I'll explain everything, just as soon as I..." Snapping her fingers frantically, trying to get it to light.
  "What are you doing? Are you going to cast it again?"
  "No." She fumbled with the flame until it finally ignited, lighting up her face in the dark. "I mean yes. Chaos Storm!"
  Although the columns of fire were not as impressive as her first cast, they still managed to knock Ornstein and Smough around, along with the remains of the furniture.
  And they were still alive.
  "Oh come on." She struggled to think of what other pyromancies she had chambered that would be able to finish them off.
  Before she could get a Chaos Fire Whip going, Smough rose from the wreckage and hurled a charred coffee table at the pyromancer, narrowly missing her and exploding against the wall to her left.
  She shrieked and ran for the door, abandoning her ambush.
<img src="images/tried.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  No time to enjoy the feeling. Must have more.
  "This feels great and all, but you know what would feel even better? Six times as much of this."
  Ornstein fumbled with the container. "Oh. Do you want another of-"
  She cut him off by grabbing a handful and shoving all of it directly into her mouth.
  "I don't think that's safe. These take a while to kick-"
  "Don't be a pussy." Mumbling through her stuffed cheeks. "Follow me to hell!"
  Ornstein and Smough looked at each other, shrugged, and split the remaining lozenges between them.
  The drugs were making her buzz and vibrate. She had to get up and stomp around the perimeter of the room to keep from burrowing straight through the floor. Slurping up the ocean of spit filling her mouth.
  The other two were having equally frantic reactions. Ornstein took it upon himself to turn every piece of furniture in the room ninety degrees, while Smough was busy rolling around on the floor.
  They were mid-freakout when a stranger walked in on them. Another chosen or a silver knight? There was no way to know as by this point their vision had blurred to a hazy smear. All they knew was that this was an interloper.
  The pyromancer screamed through a mouth that had gone completely raw. "Ah! The Fuzz!"
  Smough jumped to his feet in a panic and grabbed Ornstein by the ankles. He picked him up and swung him like a bat, connecting with the interloper. Skull on skull, causing a clunking sound that rang through the halls.
  The pyromancer rubbed her eyes. The interloper was gone, and now she couldn't be sure they'd ever been there. But Ornstein was on the ground, bleeding from the head.
  Smough, a job well done, went back to his corner to sit silently.
  Ornstein crawled to where the pyromancer was sitting, a fresh line of blood running into his eyes. "I'm wounded. I need medicine. I'd better take more of those lozenges."
  "[what happened to the ones you had before?]" Cheeks still full, her words all came out in a slobbering drawl.
  "I swallowed them."
  "[Well you can't have mine!]" A spray of goo escaped her lips, misting into the air.
  Ornstein wiped the blood from his eyes and turned to Smough. "Hey, buddy, give me some of yours. I need medicine."
  Smough sat still, wide eyed. As they watched, his mouth crept open in slow motion, no lozenges to be seen.
  They leaned in, rapt, in case he finally broke his silence.
  Then he let out the loudest frog croak they'd ever heard and fell over, ribbitting.
  "Huh." Ornstein looked back at the pyromancer. "Let me suck em out of your mouth."
  "[Fuck you!]" She started crunching and swallowing them as a precaution.
  This was an excellent idea.
  Smough continued his frog noises. Ornstein's rearranging of the furniture turned into kicking holes in every seat in turn. And the pyromancer began sprinting out into the hall, then running back terrified at the first sight of any wall smudge that she mistook for a person.
  At some point, while helping Ornstein dropkick a coffee table, she blacked out. When she came to she was sprawled across the bottom three steps of a spiral staircase.
  "Did I fall down these?"
  There was no telling how much time had passed.
  She tried to get up when a piercing lightning bolt of pain traveled through her body, directly into her brain.
  "Okay, guess I'll just lie here for a bit."
  A silver knight stomped past and she gave him a thumbs up from the floor, but he paid her no mind.
<img src="images/hangover.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
  A hint of bloodlust passed over her like the shadow of a bird overhead.
  Huh. Strange.
  Then it was gone and quickly replaced by a much more urgent need to take a long nap.
  "I think that's enough for now."
  It was still oppressively warm in the room so she took over one of the couches and laid there naked, letting the breeze from the open window wash over her. All while Smough moved through the room, straightening up the mess he had caused.
  What a pleasant day.
  Good thing she hadn't succumbed to any sudden murder urges.
  Huh. What a weird thought to have. Oh well.
<img src="images/nothing.jpg">
[[Restart|Begin]]
<center><img src="images/titlesmog.jpg"></center>
[[Begin]]
[[Credits and Warnings and Concerns|Warnings]]
What follows is a fan-made work, a parody in legal terms.
It is important that you realize that my understanding of the lore of Dark Souls is incredibly surface level. Please forgive any perceived inconsistencies, but this story is meant to be all in good fun.
Please do not message me about how I didn't read the item description of *Vile King Brogmir's Ladder Helmet*.
Cover illustration by Callie G (Chuuurls)
Find her at: twitter.com/chuuurls
If you want to find me, don't. But if you insist: ["http://www.twitter.com/crab_meats"]
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