Shaw trod through what looked like a fantastical depiction of Hell itself, or perhaps a ripoff of Mordor. Scorched ground beneath his feet devoid of any scrap of grass, jagged rock formations from which small unnatural goblins peeped out at him. He heard them chattering to each other, and he had no doubt that they were playing a little game of “Telephone” that was going to end at their mistress’s ear, informing her of his arrival.
Good. If she knew that he was walking into her realm with no attempt to conceal his presence, then she would know that he wasn’t trying to sneak in, that this wasn’t an assault---it was a visit.
An entreaty.
Normally, Shaw would send an envoy for such a thing. But even the ones with super-powers or specialized armor who ventured into this realm tended to come back. . .chewed.
If they came back at all.
He’d then hired a sorceror to try to contact her via scrying and other magical methods, but it seemed uncertain if they were getting through.
So it fell to him to go himself, and do this face to face.
Shaw had wanted very much to avoid that, and it was for reasons that ran much deeper than safety concerns. Madelyne. . .had hurt him. In a way he hadn’t thought he could be hurt. A way he didn’t want to be reminded of ever again.
He hoped he could keep that personal bitterness at bay and behave himself in this meeting, because he needed her aid.
The presence of larger demons would probably help.
Speaking of larger demons, there were a pair at the bone-and-iron gates he was coming up upon. He ordered them aside, stating he had business with their Queen. They laughed, acidic slobber dripping from their alligator-like maws. A glob landed on his suit, sizzling a hole right through his sleeve and singing the hair on his arm.
That was going to leave a rash, ouch.
And when those maws got closer, Shaw grabbed the brutes each by the throat and hurled them in opposite directions. He prepared to rip the gates apart as well, but they parted for him instead.
“Thank you,” he told them curtly as he passed through, in case they were sentient.
He made his way over the drawbridge, careful never to look down---he had a feeling whatever was in the moat wasn’t mere water---and into her magnficient stronghold.
Magnificient. Mighty. Beautiful. Foreboding.
Just like her.
He made it through the stone halls and into the throne room without any further opposition---well, not any significant opposition, anyway---and upon that throne there she was, beautiful as the first and last time he saw her.
“Madelyne,” he said in a detached but respectful tone,
“Or do you prefer Queen Pryor these days? Goblyn Queen? Your Majesty?”
He reached into his pocket, and when he withdrew his hand, a gold necklace set with three large rubies in the center dangled from his index finger. It was the kind of jewelry that historical wars were fought over.
“In any case, I come bearing gifts in exchange for safe passage out of your kingdom, regardless of what you reply to my offer. Will you accept this trade?”
Because while Shaw probably COULD fight his way out of a demon horde, he didn’t want to go through the trouble. . .and even if he could best the demons, he doubted he could stand up against the arcane arts of their mistress. Shaw’s mutant abilities included that he could absorb magical energies, but Maddie---Madelyne---was also a powerful psychic. If she decided to keep him here---or kill him---she probably could.
He could only hope that keeping her word meant as much to her as it did to him. It was one of the very, very few ways that Shaw was an honorable man.
@ghoulsgoblins
