PART NINE: TYING UP LOOSE ENDS

     Marasmus stepped through the portal, immediately raising his shield of magic. He didn’t put it past the girl to let loose Diablo himself. But as he peered about him, he saw the walls to the Demon Lord’s prison were still intact.
     He discerned no noise as he approached the third room. Boldly teleporting in, he again heard no conflict. He walked warily, seeking the Blood Knight.
     There! In the corner where it had originally been petrified, it stood again! Stupid creature, a mindless servant to its own dark thirsts. He Stoned it, and a single Fireball blew it to shards before it could even move.
     By the light of the spell’s explosion he saw in an adjacent corner what appeared to be a pile of crumpled rags. As he came closer, he saw it was the body of the girl. Blood smeared her side, her back, her shoulder, and her disheveled and blood-matted hair nearly obscured her faced. Ugh, he thought, just what did I see in this one? Still, the heart of a lion, if the brains of a gnat.
     He teleported back out, and magicked himself to the place on the floor he faithfully had laid out Hell’s spoils. He carefully gathered them in his backpack, pausing significantly on the Town Portal scroll he fingered. Such a simple item, he thought. Such a simple, modest, spell. Yet for its want, you could bargain a person’s entire destiny. He shook his head. So sad. What a waste.
     Was that everything? He was preparing to cast Town Portal and leave when he stopped himself. Wait! One last item! He chuckled at his own carelessness.
     Teleporting back into the third room, he cast about, searching. What had that wench done with that Ring? The Ring of Corruption that had taken him so long to find. The “worthless” ring that held the Fates of so many unwary in its power.
     Unable to locate it in the surrounds, he finally strode back to the body of the girl. He bent closer, and saw she held one fist tightly clenched. Ah, so she got it back. And now, even in death, she seeks to delay me one last time.
     He set aside his staff and squatted.
     “B!tch” he muttered.
     As he reached for the hand, quick as a snake it seized his wrist. It had been empty. Just as quickly the rogue spat his cursed ring into her own hand. She then jammed the item onto a free finger of his hand!
     “Hello, Marasmus” she said, looking up.
     She swiftly bent the finger with the cursed ring on it backwards, breaking it.
     The wizard screamed.
     “Been expecting you.”

PART TEN: PAYING THE PIPER, SECOND VERSE

     “You know that thing about ‘the greatest pleasure and great pain’; I’ll just take your word on
that,” she spoke, rising.
     Marasmus tried to pull the ring off, but the knuckle and finger had already swollen, and the pain was just too great. He shouted in both agony and frustration.
     “YOU INSOLENT B!TCH! YOU STUPID SLUT! I’LL INCINERATE YOU! YOU
WON’T EVEN BE ASHES! I’LL . . . ”
     The great wizard raised his hands to cast Fireball. . . .
     And nothing happened.
     Marasmus blinked.
     Well, almost nothing happened. What did occur was that he stood there gaping, arms upraised, as the rogue swung with the weight of her entire body what looked to be a broken Hunter’s B . . .

PART ELEVEN: A SLIGHT CHANGE OF PLANS

     Sitting awkwardly, Marasmus groaned. His head ached like a melon split in two. He tasted blood in his mouth, and his left eye seemed to be swollen shut. He tried to lift a hand to feel the wound, but found both of them bound behind him. As he stirred, he found both feet were also tied. Then he saw the girl, pawing through his belongings.
     “Get your filthy hands off my stuff,” he slurred.
     In answer, she deftly backhanded him. He fell backwards on his broken finger, and screamed anew.
     “You’d best be choosing your words more carefully. It went something like that, didn’t it?” the girl asked.
     Marasmus struggled back to a sitting position. “When I get free of this, I’ll . . .”
     She backhanded him again. The scenario repeated itself.
     When he was finally sitting again, he rasped, “What do you want?”
     Little-Mouse looked up from taking inventory. “Ah, not so fast. Impetuous youth, deferred rewards, and all that.” She paused, thinking. “To begin with, you can tell me the entire layout of this level of Hell. And don’t omit anything. Not a single room or occupant, not a single lever, doorway, corral, whatever.”
     “And if I refuse?” the wizard sneared.
     The rouge ran the broken end of the Hunter’s Bow against a cheek of the mage, who arched his head to the side to avoid it. “Right now you have matching scars, which still may look handsome on a man. Is there a specific number at which they merely become disfiguring? Would you care to find out?”
     The mage spoke in great detail.
     Having listened intently, Little-Mouse rearranged the wizard’s backpack, pulling free a staff strapped across it and storing his primary weapon in its place. This other staff intriqued her. With all jewelry off, its purpose was an enigma. But with the rings and amulet on, she understood that it allowed her to transport her body short distances at will! Even solid walls would prove no impediment to her progress! She could hardly wait to try it out.
     Packing finished, she grasped the staff and stood.
     “Don’t go anywhere”. She smiled, and disappeared.

PART TWELVE: UNFINISHED BUSINESS

     Little-Mouse walked the depths of Hell alone. She could have teleported, but as one used to privation, felt that it would be wasting resources if she did. Instead, she carefully paced the dimensions of the sixteenth level. Ever wary, ears straining for the slightest suspicious noise, she stalked the surrounds. When she located the stairs up where the mage had said they were, she took them cautiously.
     At their top, it was as she suspected -- deserted. Although overall the dungeon teamed with Evil, the creatures within -- in order to encourage the unwary to travel deeper? --seemed to give the staircases wide berth. Though more incredible in appearance, this staircase was no different respect
than the ones she had taken in the Church.
     The rogue slid the heavy backpack to the ground. For her next act, she knew she needed to travel lightly. Rummaging within it, she removed a Town Portal scroll and a worn dagger -- a last remnant of her old belongings. She cast the portal near these stairs, then placed the knife in her belt. Leaving the backpack on the ground, she paused, took a deep breath, and took the stairs back down
to deepest Hell.

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