that happened, they would be incinerated to char before they even felt the heat.
It seemed to take forever to reach the top of the steps, as the shield turned a dull red and then glowed a molten cherry. Finally, White-Lion came to a stop. She pulled her staff back; the shield retreated towards her and turned to orange as cracks began to appear. Eile broke out in a cold sweat and her mouth dried up. If this doesn't work..., she thought
"Kii-yaaah!" White-Lion threw the staff forward. The shield jumped away from them and rammed the source of the flame. It shattered and dissolved, but it extinguished the fire as it threw a figure back.
"Go!!"
Eile charged around White-Lion, up the last few steps, and between two more pylons.
She lifting her broadsword and roared. "Rrraaauuugh!" The figure recovered and threw itself at her. It had a body like a cross between a velociraptor and a dragon, including sickle foot claws and a long, sinuous tail, but minus the wings. The head, however, looked like that of a milk-skinned, sable-haired woman with ice-blue eyes.
The dragon-lady got in the first blows, leaping up and raking at Eile with its claws. She parried the hands, but the sickle-claws skidded over her breastplate and the steel scales covering her belly. She danced back then sprinted forward, swinging her sword. The dragon-lady blocked the short, wide, thin blade with its arms as it raised its tail. She saw it had a spike on the end, and her opponent held it poised as it looked for an opportunity to strike.
Cripes, this is like fighting five people at once! "I don't know how long I can hold her off. Move!"
"Right!" she heard White-Lion say, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a streak of gamboge hair move around the outside of the pylons to get to the plateau behind.
Sunny Hiver paused after she clambered over the edge of the plateau and stood up. Looking back, she watched as Braveheart and the dragon-lady struck and parried, slashed and blocked, while they waited for an opening to deliver a crippling blow. Braveheart wore a furious expression of intense concentration, though the vivid fuchsia locks that framed her face made her appear comical. Her long ponytail of seal-brown hair waving like a flag didn't help either.
"Dammit, White-Lion, go, go!"
Sunny turned and jogged further onto the plateau as she searched for their quarry. It was as big as a gymnasium, and sheer granite cliffs enclosed three sides. At the far end, she spotted something, and sprinted towards it. As she got closer, it resolved into a female form, dressed in a simple gown, tied up with a bag over her head.
She broke into a run and reached the captive in seconds. Pulling her slim dagger out of her belt, she squatted and reached out to touch the woman on the arm. She jerked and cried out.
"It's okay, I'm a friend. You're safe now; Team Girl is here to rescue you!" And she cut the woman's bonds.
"What?" Her voice came muffled from under the bag.
"White-Lionnn!! Look out!"
She pivoted on the balls of her feet and looked back. The dragon-lady charged her, screaming like a banshee, while Braveheart raced after it trying to catch up.
Sunny squealed as she stood and raised her dagger to defend herself, but she knew she stood no chance against it, and she didn't have time to use magic.
Just as the dragon-lady reached her, Braveheart put on an extra burst of speed and took a flying leap. As the monster paused and made ready to kick its sickle-claws, she landed on its back and wrapped her arms and legs around its body. The dragon-lady jumped, bucked, spun, cavorted, and danced as it tried to dislodge her; somehow, she managed to hold onto her sword. The dragon-lady raised its tail and jabbed at the back of her head, but missed, and she grabbed a hold of the spike.
Sunny picked up her staff and ran towards the pair, but she slowed as she got close. She didn't know what to do. If she used magic, it would affect Braveheart as well as the monster, and if she tried to hit the latter with her staff, she might miss and hit her partner instead. But she knew she had to do something. The dragon-lady clawed at Braveheart's arms and thighs. So far, it hadn't gotten through the leather unitard, but eventually it would. It also clawed at her head, but she managed to avoid being scratched, and she bit at the fingers when they got too close.
Then Sunny saw her opening: the dragon-lady's legs were exposed. She rushed closer and whacked its knees with the staff. It stumbled, but righted itself before it fell, then turned and tried to jump to claw her with its sickle-claws, but with Braveheart on its back it couldn't get high enough, and it moved in a clumsy manner. Sunny avoided the claws and pivoted around to its side. She slid the staff between its legs, jamming the other end against the rock floor, and when the dragon-lady landed, she twisted the staff using the grounded end as a fulcrum. The monster tripped, lost its balance, and fell flat on its face. Braveheart rose up and slammed the pommel of her sword into the back of the dragon-lady's head, and it slumped unconscious.
From "A Deliberation of Morality"
A pop startled her, and when she opened her eyes and slipped her glasses back on she saw a small column of fire and smoke standing in the middle of the report she had been writing, accompanied by a deep, resonant bass organ chord. Alarmed, she half rose out of her chair when it disappeared. In its place stood a feminine anthropomorphic figure inside a ring of char. It was no more than six inches high, dressed in an erotic bodice with a cross in the cleavage lacings, a pair of belted panties, fishnet stockings, and stiletto-heeled shoes, with a garter on her left thigh, two more on her upper arms, and a spiked collar around her neck. The clothes were fiery red while the collar, belt, garters, and shoes were night-black, and the spikes, buckles, and cross coin-silver. It took her a moment to realize the tiny woman looked exactly like her, even down to the glasses, except for the two red horns sprouting from either side of her head, and the long, sinuous barbed tail that emerged from her backside.
She looked up at Differel with a sly, devilish expression as the aristocrat stood up, but as soon as she saw who it was, she jumped, a shocked look on her face.
"Good God!" Despite her size, her voice sounded normal, and identical to her own. "Whatever I did, it couldn't have been bad enough to deserve this!"
"Who, or what, the bloody hell are you!?" Differel leaned over the desk, her hands braced against the top.
Recovering quickly, the diminutive Differel gave her a look admonishing her not to be daft. "That should be obvious. I'm your shoulder devil."
"My...what?!"
The devil-doll sighed in frustration and shook her head. "Do you have a hearing problem? Shoul--der--de--vil!"
"And just what is that supposed to be, exactly?"
She threw up her hands and looked towards the ceiling. "Oh for the love of Evil! How dense can you possibly be? I'm one of the two personifications that sit on your shoulders and offer advice on moral dilemmas. In my case, I personify temptation, and appeal to your selfish motivations."
Differel felt faint for a moment and resumed sitting. "I must be dreaming," she half-whispered, leaning forward. She held her head in her hands with her elbows resting on the desktop. "Yes, of course, I've fallen asleep over my work and I'm having a guilt-ridden nightmare."
"I wish!" The devilish-Differel sounded peeved as she placed her hands on her hips and turned away. "Being assigned to you is hardly what you would call a plum assignment. In fact, it's usually reserved either as a way to haze rookie tempters, or as a form of punishment."
Differel looked up and crossed her arms over the desk. "I beg your pardon?"
She spared her an exasperated glance over her shoulder. "Being a shoulder devil is an occupation, not a vocation. It's usually a devil's first job after graduating from the tempters training academy. However, it can be assigned to retirees who wish to keep their hands in the business, or to incompetents or malcontents as a way to teach them humility and the error of their ways. Haven't you ever read C. S. Lewis? The Screwtape Letters?"
That did seem rather familiar. "Alright, I see what you're getting at."
T
he devil-doll nodded her head and turned to face her again. "Finally! Now we can get down to business. Oh, by the way, the name's Differel Diabolique, but you can call me DeeDee. I prefer informality among friends."
Differel frowned. Her attitude was getting on her nerves. "Just a moment. If what you say is true, then there should be a 'shoulder angel', correct?"
"Exactly. She personifies your conscience and appeals to your altruistic motivations."
"Shouldn't she be here as well?"
Her face split into silly grin. "Are you kidding? You don't need her, you're a bigger stiff than she is."
Differel felt her anger flare as she sat upright. "Now just a bloody minute--!"
DeeDee's own face turned fiery red as she became upset. "I meant it as a compliment! Jesus, but you have a temper. I told you, being assigned to you is considered onerous duty. Why do you suppose that is, huh? It's because you're such a straight-arrow no tempter has a chance of getting you to commit any kind of sin, no matter how insignificant. So why would you need a shoulder angel? You do her job better than she would. In fact, I hear being assigned to you is considered a rather cushy posting Upstairs. She's probably off somewhere working on her tan, the stuck-up little bitch! Me, I'll probably spend my time doing my nails. Big whoop."
Differel
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