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The glaring red eye of a sun glares down on a decidedly Arabian themed waterworks cut into sandstone. Amid pools of the bluest water of crystal clear clarity a selection of Harem girls entertains mercenaries with their dancing. Rabbits, vixens, deer and cheetahs dance in transparent veils of red and green and purple that show off their assets. While the veils can be considered nominal clothing, they nothing to the imagination, inciting the lusts of the mercenaries gathered to watch the performance. Each has come to the court of Prince Mufasa Jaffar Al-Taliban in response to his near constant need of retainers. His need for mercenaries is not truly due to dispute with fellow princes over land or riches, Prince Al-Taliban has effectively cowed most of his neighbors, but with other, more transient visitors to his lands whose presence he finds absolutely abhorrent. Namely dragons, those winged reptiles of such great power that they can fly over virtually anyone's territory unmolested.

Something about these powerfully winged reptilians greatly irks the Merchant Prince. While he has in many ways gotten wealthy off the proceeds of numerous dragon hunts the profits are only a side line to the fact that he has ended the lives of countless dragons that might have inhabited his territory. Prince Al-Taliban can be generous but only so much as to maintain the iron grip he has on his lands. All the opulent wealth of his palace is due to his obsessive hatred of all dragon kind. In his rage against any overgrown lizard that might be more powerful than him Mufasa Al-Taliban has blinded himself to the distinction between the dragons of light and the dragons of darkness.

Personally the Prince believes himself to be above the petty morality of good and evil. He is in control by divine right and his word is law. Those that he cannot control are agents of chaos and he will not brook chaos in his realms. Walking around his palace, a large bladed scimitar at his waist, Prince Mufasa smiles at the perfection of order he has brought to the chaos of the desert. Stopping occasionally he looks out on his lands and takes in the scenery with pride. Watching the dancing harem girls perform for his new crop of enforcers he nods and leans out the window to observe.

To those that are aware of it, the color of veils indicates the availability of a given fur for the use of the rest of the household. Red sashes are for general usage. Anyone in the service of the Prince may use a red veil bearer in any manner in which he pleases. Green veiled furs are more restricted in their usage. Only certain trusted individuals may have the pleasure of girls of the green sash and even then rough play is forbidden. Most restrictive are those bedecked in purple veils. The Prince reserves these girls for his personal use; although sometimes he will allow them to be used by others in the manner which he has the right to dictate when and in what positions they are to be used. . However this is the exception rather than the rule. Failure to follow the guidelines of this code is something no native dweller in these barren lands wishes to contemplate. Should the Prince find that any harem slave is used in a way that he personally does not approve of, he has the right to have the male castrated in front of him. In the case of Prince Mufasa Jaffar Al-Taliban, the master of this particular outpost, he usually carries out the execution of his displeasure personally.

One of the cheetahs, a lovely blonde haired woman in purple veils gets very close to an Arabian stallion attention that he is very appreciative of. All the girls get flirtatiously close to the male warriors who include rhinos, horses, cheetahs, hyenas and young lions. Some of the red veils endure the groping and physical abuse of the males and do so in stride. But the one cheetah femme grinds against the stallion, which arouses him further. Everyone is taken in by the dancers however only the one stallion is getting individualized attention. Some of the other males have eyed up females they personally would like to mate with but as of yet have not made their moves as the cheetah working on the stallion teases him into chasing her about the shaded plaza.

In a secluded corner, shadowy and somewhat private, he ends up chasing her. The cheetah girl falls to her knees, taking his pants with her. With practiced ease she kisses his scrotum and suckles on his balls before taking in his phallus. Preparing his shaft for use with her mouth, she does not need to work too hard to get it to the proper hardness for penetration. Straddling his waist, she impales herself along the length of his member with practiced ease. In the shadows within the trysting nook, she rides his pole with wild abandon. The stallion is in ecstasy as he half sits, half lays back and lets the cheetah work her and himself into a bit of a frenzy. Her need for this activity is great and it shows in how deft she services the stallion with her own body. Panting with passion she smiles lustily at her equine partner as she uses him to scratch an itch her master has long denied her.

Unfortunately they are observed by the ruling Prince, a black maned lion who glares in contempt at the behavior. From his vantage point there is not much that he misses. All of the dancers are his slaves and while he may not be up to using all of them at any given time he still demands that only those he designates as being free for general use be utilized in this manner. And this femme cheetah is not one of those he is allowing just anyone to enjoy. Glaring at a pair of rhino subordinates he has them both brought before him in his throne room.

"You disappoint me, Julnar, yet again." Prince Mufasa Jaffar Al-Taliban growls as he paces a circle around her.

"But master..." Julnar starts to say before the prince shuts her off with a dark glance. As she lowers her eyes in supplication he continues to growl. "I will decide who uses you and in what manner. Your father sent you to me as part of his tribute. I should not need to remind you of your station among the slaves, Julnar."

"Yes, master." Julnar says this with her head bowed and kneeling in supplication, her body displayed for all to see as she is chastised.

"And as for you, Yusef;" Prince Mufasa says with a growl with great disdain. "You of all people should know better. As a soldier of the Equinar nomad tribe, you know better than most of the rabble out there the importance of propriety in our society. Did you really think an incident such as this would not go unnoticed?"

"Forgive me, great Prince!" Yusef says from a prone position. "I meant no offense, the girl was so brazen in attending me, I thought I was being welcomed as an honored warrior to your service."

"Your ignorance is no excuse, boy." Mufasa says with rancor as he motions for a rhino to hold him down while another brings a gilded two handed scimitar. "You know the law, and what must be done."

"No!!!!" Yusef cries as his scrotum is placed and held to a chopping block. "Prince Al-Taliban, please! Have mercy!"

"You will be given the opportunity to earn them back." Mufasa says as he takes the blade and holds it over his head. "I hear the healers can work wonders with their magic." With practiced ease he brings the blade to bear in a vicious chop to the horse's scrotum, severing its connection to the rest of his body with a single blow. "Inform Madame Cruella, she has a new eunuch to train." He informs the rhinos as they take the gelded stallion away sobbing. "And as for you, Julnar," Mufasa says with a growl as well as a bloody blade in hand as she cowers before him. "Please, master, I beg you, don't kill me!" To which Mufasa laughs. "I have no intention of killing you, girl. But you do need to be punished. "

Almost as if on cue, a light gray furred wolf bitch with icy blue hair in form hugging white leather suit of armor that reveals almost as much as it conceals of her body walks in and bows to the Prince."Good day, your highness, I was hoping to discuss the next examination spectacle you are planning prior to your next dragon hunt."

"Ah, Olga, my mercenary sorceress of the Great North," Mufasa beams which worries Julnar no end as Olga's specialty is ice magic which does not bode well for the cheetah as the Prince continues. "You have come at a most fortuitous time" He says glaring at Julnar. "I need to put someone on ice for awhile. Not permanently mind you but enough to teach her a lesson."

"I can make her into an ice sculpture if you like." Olga says nonchalantly. "I can reverse the spell at any time you want."

"Will we need to keep her from the desert heat?" Prince Mufasa as Julnar gulps audibly as she knows he is sincerely considering the idea.

"That would be advisable." Olga states with all seriousness; as she makes her way over to Julnar. "By the way I heard that a mercenary from the North is on his way to take your test."

"Yes, a ranger with experience in fighting dragons." Prince Mufasa says in all seriousness. "I have two elders I want his help in killing. Locally he will help us with Thunderdoom, that old storm dragon has defied my authority for far too long." Olga nods as he continues. "The other will be my great excursion for the year. I intend to traipse up to where you originally came from to slaughter a local menace. I believe you call it, Wintergrim or some such name."

"Wintergrim!!!" Olga exclaims. "That old bitch of a dragon? Our tribe was constantly in fear of her. Her and her half-human progeny with what's left of the human nations of the north. Not to mention the strange creature she has corrupted and outright created with her magic."

"According to the resume of this Fenrys Overkiller he has skill in dealing with such threats as well" Prince Mufasa says this while looking at a scroll but Olga nearly faints. "Is there a problem, Olga?"

"Not really, your majesty, it's just that Fenrys is my betrothed. I came south to train and avoid our arranged marriage."

"Well, we shall see if he survives the challenge, I trust you will make it especially difficult for him." Mufasa ascertains as he strokes Julnar's cheek. "But for now, I would like to encase this wench in ice so I can display her without her causing too much trouble."

"How would you like her displayed?" Olga asks simply.

Mufasa roughly picks up Julnar and stands her up sans clothing. "Fully encased in ice in a state of suspended hibernation; I want others to be able to see her licentious naked body but not be able to touch her."

Olga gets straight to work, making a kind of pedestal beneath her but fully trapping her outspread legs first. The coldness sends chills up and down Julnar's spine, but she endures as she knows this is her lot in life. Moving up her crotch, Olga makes sure her sex is prominently displayed as she knows that this is something her employer truly wants. Julnar wants to shiver from the cold but can't as she does not have enough room. By the time her breasts are encased in this ice of true glass like quality, she is silently pleading with the wolf bitch to reconsider. She would vocally protest but one look at her master and she knows for sure that he is getting off on this. Doe like eyes plead for mercy as her head in encased with her arms above her head. When all is said and done the pathetic seeming cheetah femme is made almost into a work of art. Mufasa walks over to Olga to attempt to molest her but the ice witch will have none of it.

Coldly staring at the lion, Olga shakes her head: "Your contract with me is for magic and magic only, Prince Al-Taliban. Other services I have the right to refuse. At this point I would actually prefer Fenrys himself to your amorous administrations. I think I will make Julnar a prize of sorts in the Labyrinth."

"And what sort of prize would this be?" Mufasa inquires angrily. "I decide who uses my playthings and in what manner."

"Preach to me not, Taliban," Olga retorts with a growl. "I saw you getting off on my encasing Julnar in ice. Males can be quite similar regardless of species or region of origin. Besides, I have seen how you treat her, you delight in withholding sex from her as constant punishment as you are usually bored with native women such as her. Always wanting a touch of the exotic;" Olga states with a knowing smirk and a slap to her own thigh. "I think you may actually get off seeing her used as a plaything by Fenrys. And I know Overkiller, before it was decided that we were to be betrothed he pursued and for a time won the heart of a snow leopardess. I remember very clearly the sounds of their relentless rutting. Then again, from time to time I would indulge the ranger with a certain male fantasy. "

"Two females at once?" Mufasa asks with obviously lustful interest to which Olga nods licentiously. "But of course. Now how would you like such a performance before your eyes?"

Mufasa almost crumbles with voyeuristic desire. "Would he agree to a performance mating?"

"Fen has his arrogance and pride." Olga says nonchalantly. "But I do believe I will not need to ring his tail too much to get him to acquiesce to the request."

"And exiling Julnar to the bitter cold north is something I can arrange quite easily." Mufasa says with an evil grin as he strokes the bit of mane on his chin. "I like this plan of yours, Olga, I will be watching."

With those words he leaves the pair alone. Utilizing an enchantment in a circlet of silver about her head, Olga mentally contacts the sleeping mind of Julnar. The contact is slow and almost nonexistent but with effort a half-way decent conversation can be had.

"I've never performed sexually for the master before." Julnar states in her mental communication with Olga.

"Just forget that the bastard lion is even there." Olga suggests. "Have you ever assisted another female in servicing a male?"

"That will be a new experience as well." Julnar says honestly. "Is it much different? I know up north a male can have two wives."

"A male is limited in mates to as many as he can support." Olga says wryly. "Neglected mates are given to other warriors. One of us can be a tax on his attention span. Although Fen had little trouble before..."

"Big appetite, huh?" Julnar mentally giggles.

Olga laughs back: "He can be insatiable at times. But he sometimes has other concerns than just satisfying females sexually." Her mental tone darkens: "I hear his reasons for wandering is not altogether his choosing. He may not even be looking for me. If I did that snow shadow right that is..."

"What do you mean?" Julnar asks with a little bit of concern.

Olga answers: "I faked my own death, Julnar. Fenrys may think me dead. He maybe mad if he learns the truth."

With that she breaks contact and lets the cheetah sleep. Into a frozen chamber that would be impossible in the desert if were not for magic cast by the sorceress herself. A snowy owl hoots at his mistress's entrance. Icons representing the Norse pantheon form a kind of altar. Kneeling before this altar, Olga prays to the gods of her homeland. She can feel their eyes upon her, some understanding, others accusing, the icon of Loki seems to have an especially mocking smirk on his face. Her heart cries out for forgiveness and now is very willing to fulfill her part in the arranged marriage she had detested so long ago. She can feel the hand of Sif on her shoulder. Thor glares at her in a severely unforgiving manner. Olga weeps in remorse before she goes to work on making a challenging test for the warriors about to prove themselves.

Borrowing traditions she has learned in the desert she shapes dunes and stone to lead prospective mercenaries in a torture course of obstacles. Native monsters that before were brutally subdued shall now be unleashed to vent their fury on the contenders. Once inside the second half of the course, the ordeal turns cold. Walls and floors of sheer ice will daunt most warriors she knows. Those that continue on will face creatures of cold and constructs of ice. She smirks to herself as she knows just how the course should be traversed, and knowing Fenrys, he should have the necessary spells to make this part of the challenge a breeze.

Prospective new hires gather in tents in a valley of sculpted sandstone. They have gathered from all over to seek employment. Some have come for the gold promised; others for the opportunity to sample the pleasures of the great harem. Imposing at roughly halfway between six and seven feet tall, a Northern wolf with charcoal grey fur with black tiger stripes and red top fur, the mercenary known as Fenrys Overkiller sports an axe almost as tall as he is. Double bitted the axe supports a long spike between the blades. In his native lands they call it a war axe; here they just call it dangerous.

On the morning of their testing, Prince Al-Taliban addresses them:

"Salutations, brave warriors, I am Mufasa Jaffar Al-Taliban, Prince of these lands. You have been summoned here because each of you has been scouted for your abilities to take down the greatest of all monsters in the oversized flying lizards many have given the grand title of dragon. They are a plague upon my land and many of you have the skills necessary to take them down. But I am constantly concerned the sycophants that are drawn to my personage like so many flies to dung, are plotting my death at the claws of these great beasts. I must test you for myself so those that manage to actually make it into my palace through this ordeal may be assured that your mettle will have been tried enough that you are worthy of my patronage. Those that fail will forfeit your lives, but such is the fate of all pretenders, better it happen now than when I need the most to defend my self."

Olga joins him and Fenrys instantly recognizes her as Al-Taliban continues. "This Northern beauty is also waiting one of you, know this; she designed the trials you will endure and she has a message of her own to be spoken to one of you. I ask now that the Northern ranger Fenrys Overkiller steps forward."

Hefting his axe, Fenrys indeed steps forward and growls: "What is it, Olga? You abandoned your homeland and me once, what say to that now? What darkness have you touched to ensure your safety after you know full well that your father saw you die and still holds me responsible in exile from our lands?"

"Only this, husband, what I once ran from, I now accept. If you will still have me, I do what I can to repair your reputation in our tribe, even going back to my grave if it should come to that."

"No, Olga, it will not come to that. I will not allow it. If you are truly ready to repent and take your rightful place at my side I will have you back."

"Good, my contract with this lion is ending, and I want to go home."

Mufasa is speechless at this exchange. He fully expected her to renew their contract. Those observing this are greatly amused at the prospect of the master having his own ears pinned back for a change. But with a nod exchanged between them, their conference is concluded. Al-Taliban then narrows his gaze at the wolf that holds sway on the heart of the sorceress he himself wants. Fenrys feels the eyes of the other upon him and in that moment takes a measure of the other as he stands there and holds his feet far apart while placing the business end of his axe between those legs and letting its haft mock Mufasa in a crude phallic comment. Sliding his hands up and down the haft only compounds this as the sentiment Al-Taliban receives quite clearly. This riles him up even more and he does his best not to let it show. His servants pretend that he is doing a good job but neither Olga nor Fenrys are buying it. Normally he would grand stand more but with the situation the way it is Mufasa Al-Taliban gestures to the guards holding the applicants from the maze for them to open the gates. With surprising alacrity Fenrys is the first to sprint past those gates to the nightmare that lies beyond.