Shantae; Scuttle Noir Chapter 1 (rough)
“The caves are no place for a person like me.”
Indeed, it was dank and dark. But what they didn’t tell her was that it was also smelly and slimy. Every other corridor, some unknown sludge would belch out a pipe above her, forcing her to frantically dodge away or just let her ponytail take the punishment. Once, she sidestepped an unusually large gurgle of black, only to step into an oil spill, spinning dangerously close to the sewer stream.
“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to live down here,” Shantae said to herself. She wiped the tip of her hair with her fingerless gloves before resuming her trek of torment.
At last reaching the solid metal door, she breathed a sigh of relief. But upon pushing it, nothing happened. She stepped back for a roundhouse kick; ended up with a sore foot. Shantae crossed her arms, breathing steam out of her nostrils. “Long are the days of the elephant…” she muttered. Slowly, she picked the ooey gooey oil from her hair and swung it towards the keyhole. It was tedious work, but eventually her magical ponytail discovered something about the lock: It wasn’t locked. So she fingered the door cracks until she could get a good grasp and finally managed to pull it open.
There before her was what she was searching for. A long room led down to a shrine, where a single blue flame burned dimly on a pedestal. As she walked to it, a chorus of screeches echoed all around her. ‘Cacklebats!’ She ran over to the shrine and turned her back to it, crouched down low and ready. Sure enough, a swarm of dark purple bats came looming right at her. She whipped the first few with her slick hair, then kicked another. One came at her from behind, but before she could get to it, the blue flicker sharpened and glowed at it, turning the cacklebat into ashes mid-screech.
In the end, a few did bite her shoulders, but the flame really helped watch her back. Before her was corpses, quickly decomposing, and the shrine, back to as it has been. Recalling what she was told, Shantae composed herself and began a little dance, first slowly and ominously, but picking up speed as she went. At her climax, she yelled “O, Genie of the Shrine, I resurrect you!” and stopped. The flame turned red, flickered and died. Soon after, the whole room rumbled like a stampede of elephants. A lavender skinned serpent lady erupted from the hole where the flame was.
“Quickly!” the Serpent Genie cried. “You have awoken me and they come to get you. Dance with me!” And with that, she leaped up into the air and slithered down Shantae’s throat.
Next thing Shantae knew, she was dancing against her will in a style very foreign to her own. The powers sparked within her and she felt herself growing longer, yet shorter. After the initial dizzying effects, she looked around her, which was easier than before. The metal door had busted down on the ground and behind her was more Cacklebats but much worse, Nagas and Golems by the trove, with a stoic figure in the midst of them that she couldn’t quite make out. Shantae’s tail rattled impatiently and she began getting used to her new slithery form. ‘Been a while since I’ve shape shifted. I’m a little russty,’ she told herself, desperately looking for any means out.
Along the wall was an unused pipe that was just her size. Narrowly dodging a few of the Nagas’ sonic shrapnels, she slipped down it.















