Game 3Game 3 Outline| Game 3 |
Game 3 Outline |
With a resigned sigh, you flop onto the king-size bed and sink into the wonderfully soft mattress. For a moment or two you allow yourself to forget your dire predicament, and you revel in the sensual pleasures of warmth and softness. But then a grim thought occurs to you, and a knot forms in your stomach. The witch is not providing these first-class accommodations out of the goodness of her heart. No doubt she expects something from you in return. Besides, no matter how beautiful your room may be, the fact remains that it’s a dungeon cell.
You sit up and gaze into a conveniently-placed mirror. A modern-day minotaur stares back at you, impressively big and brawny, but also graceless and dull-witted. What could the witch possibly expect from one such as you? A bodyguard? A warrior? An enforcer, perhaps?
As if in answer to your unspoken question, there is a brusk knock at your chamber door. Opening the door, you see that the werewolf has returned. If anything, he appears even more irritated than when he left you just minutes before.
“Well, come on, already,” the wolf snaps at you. “What do you think this is, a country club?”
“Sorry, I...,” you begin sincerely, but the werewolf has already turned away and started back down the dank corridor. You trot to catch up with him, then settle into a walk at his side. For several minutes the only sounds that can be heard are the clack of your hooves on the stone floor and the wolf’s heavy breathing. You can’t help notice that the wolf’s black lips are pulled back in a snarl, exposing his gleaming white fangs. Against your better judgment, you venture to ask, “Is... something wrong?”
“Is something WRONG?!” the wolf spits at you, his hackles rising. “Of COURSE something’s wrong! Here I am, the witch’s favorite for... for... hell, I don’t remember how long, and then YOU come waltzing in, a total newbie, you insult her to her face, for crying out loud, and what happens? A little abracadabra and hocus-pocus, and POOF! Now YOU’RE her favorite. And me? Me she’s got running errands like a houseboy. Is that wrong enough for you?”
“Me?” you gasp in disbelief. “The witch’s favorite? But I just got here. Why would she...?”
“Who knows?” the wolf interrupts, shrugging his shoulders dramatically. “Maybe she’s tired of me. Maybe she has a ‘thing’ for bovines. Maybe I screwed up one job too many. All I know is that it’s time for your first assignment. Just remember, Mr. Rump Roast, the witch can toss you aside any time she likes, just like she tossed me. So watch yourself.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. I will. Thanks,” you mumble in reply.
With a contemptuous snort, the werwolf turns aside and continues down the corridor. A minute later the two of you reach the door to the witch’s audience chamber. The werewolf, still glaring, opens the door and motions you inside.
Written by Funny Animal
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