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Quiquan enters the laboratory after a long day doing menial nonsense for the tower master. The small blue kobold carries her books, lights the candles, and takes a deep breath as she stands before the smooth stone floor. Producing from her breast pocket a piece of chalk, the kobold sets off the work, drawing the intricate patterns of the circle. Many months of practice under Tik Tik's "teachings" have prepared her for this, even if Tik Tik had suggested she not pursue summoning.

"What does she know?" Quiquan says, huffing as she draws the final line. She double-checks the circle. Every stroke is where it should be. Every mark is made with the precise direction and pressure as necessary. Assured of her skill, Quiquan lowers herself before the circle, sitting on her knees, laying out the various implements of magical summoning and binding before her.

First, she lights a candle, placing it before her. Then, she closes her eyes, visualizing the type of spirit she wishes to bring forth to the world. While her ultimate goal would be cleaning up the last of Tik Tik's great messes, such an attempt would be foolish. Therefore, her mind goes smaller, through the bestiary of demonkind, down the list from the greatest of horrific monstrosities down to what she learned were the weakest of the creatures of the Pit.

Lifting her arms up high, the kobold chants the eldritch invocation, calling forth the name of the spirit she wished to summon. She proposes an offering by taking a knife and, with the very smallest of pricks, taking a drop of blood from her finger. It is all that is needed for such a lowly soul.

The air around the kobold swirls and howls. There is no window, nor is there a hole in the chamber. This breeze is nothing short of magic moving from one place to another. Its warmth tells her that it comes from the direction she seeks.

When she opens her eyes, the chamber is still dark, and the circle is still intact. She frowns and pulls the book out, pouring over the pages, seeing what she might have missed. In her mind comes the mocking tone of Tik Tik's voice, teasing her for working too fast and never checking for the proper order of things.

"Blast it all!" the blue kobold snarls, slamming her book shut. She slams her fist upon the floor, tossing the book aside. Her body trembles and her eyes quiver in tears. Her mind screams at her, and her throat hurts from her outburst.

Within her mind streak many thoughts—each calling her inadequate and a failure, telling her that everything that she does will amount to nothing. She blames herself and the others of her tribe for how she is—unable to get anything right when it really matters.

And Tik Tik, oh, Tik Tik can do everything so quickly. Magic trapping and gaining fame—she left everyone in the tribe behind.

It's all unfair! It's never fair!

But she wouldn't say any of this. Instead, she sobs, her voice echoing through the dark room. She leans forward, her nose pressing against the ground, grabbing the back of her head, trying to hide from the world and herself, but she can never run.

She can never do anything correctly.

The room's silence is enough to let her mind take her whirling and dropping down to a darker and darker place than this darkened summoning chamber.

A knock on the door breaks her concentration.

"Leave me alone!" she screams much louder than anticipated, and she immediately regrets her shout.

But the response isn't a hushed "sorry" or an angered reprimand of her outburst.

Instead, it is another knock.

Quiquan blinks and lifts her head. She sniffles, rubs her snout, and turns toward the doorway. "Who's there?"

The only response is another series of knocks.

The wizard adjusts her robes and approaches the doorway. She places her palm on the surface, reading back at the warmth.

There is a name in her throat, one that she had been afraid of saying and one that she feared even more to say.

"M'goreh?"

The hot wind that had come with the summoning sears her scales, sending her stumbling back. The kobold holds her hands up to block the blow to her face, but a force holds onto her, grabbing her wrists and lifting them, spreading them apart.

For a moment, she stands frozen, her breath caught in her throat. She can only hear the thumping of her heart, but she cannot move—she dared not move.

But there's nothing else she can do.

She cracks an eye open, staring at the darkness, and then her eyes open much more expansively.

Standing before her at about her height is a stocky, muscled thing with a broad chest and muscular arms. Its char-gray flesh on most of its form is contrasted with the flame-red patterns on its arms and legs. Its eyes are crimson, glowing all over, and its mouth is twisted in a crooked, tattered smile.

The two stand there, unmoving, for what seems like an eternity. When she finally draws in a breath, wild cackling laughter fills the chamber, a voice of many voices laughing in various rueful intonations. She stumbles back, falls into the circle, and stands at the thing before her.

And with its hands on its hips, it squats before her, tilting its horned head and rolling out a long, forked tongue.

"You called my name," the echoing voice says. "Now, ready for my game?"

Quiquan lies still, staring at the impish creature before her. Its dark energies reverberate through her very being, simultaneously giving her the sensations of burning and freezing. "Your… game?"

"You called me to this plane, and so we shall play my game," the demon says, touching Quiquan's cheeks.

She slaps the hands away, scrambling to her feet. "I don't have to play any game for you! After all, you're bound to me through the rites I recited."

"Bound," the demon says, tilting its head one way, "but not tied down." It says this, drawing a toe over the line of the circle.

Quiquan sniffs and rubs her nose. Staring at her palm, she gulps. On it is the residue of the summoning circle: what was left of her work, left half-assed and rushed.

"You cannot harm me," The kobold says.

"I won't dream of it," the demon replies, turning its head the other way. "I cannot conceive of it."

"What can you conceive…?" The kobold asks.

The demon's smile widens, and soon it is upon the kobold, grabbing her by the shoulders, its height no taller than hers. It opens its maw, its tongue rolling out, sliding along her mouth, coaxing it open.

Was it more of a gasp or more of an invitation? Quiquan doesn't know exactly why her mouth opened for the demon, nor does she particularly care after his tongue pushes within her mouth. It dances around inside, her muscles having difficulty dancing with the demons.

Quiquan pulls away from him, his grip firm but not strong enough to keep her from escaping. She wipes her mouth, spitting on the ground.

"Is something the matter?" the demon asks. "You do not wish to play, is that so?"

"It is not! I mean, it is! I mean I am not like Tik Tik. I do not go about willy-nilly and use my body in frivolous activities!"

His hands clasp to her shoulders from behind, and she yelps, turning around to find him standing beside her. He says, "You wish to have power and to wield eroarcana better than she."

She doesn't answer him.

"It is not for your self-gratification but for knowledge's sake.

She shuffles her feet.

"There is no one here to judge you, Quiquan. You can do whatever it is you desire."

Quiquan closes her eyes, shuddering as she hears those words echoing. Different tones and voices work together to convince her.

"Yes…" she hisses.

"Then, let's play."

She spins around, breaking free of the demon's grasp. "Very well, M'goreh," she begins. "Grab me… by the throat."

The demon chuckles and grasps her, both hands clutching her tight. "A foolish mistake, mortal. For soon, I shall be free!"

Quiquan steps back. When she does, his fingers give way, letting her free, unharmed.

Quiquan coos. "How foolish is it to know that you are free of your physical bonds but not free of your magical ones?"

The demon dangles his arms down by his sides, his stare intense upon her. "What now, then?" he asks.

Quiquan taps her cheek. "There are many things I can do with you," she says. "But first, I think I shall acquire more research."

Quiquan steps slowly around the demon, whose body twitches as he stands still. His head turns to watch her, but his body does not move from the spot as she does her physical examination.

"Yes, I see; Tik Tik would surely have loved to summon a specimen like you. Tell me, my servant, what atrocities are to your name?"

"I am the spirit of all those who give into their basest desires—to take on their wants and needs and use them without conceptualizing the consequence."

"Ah, so you're the demon of indecent exposure, public masturbation, and being unable to keep it in one's pants."

M'Goreh snaps. I am so much more than such trifles!"

"I'm sure you are," Quiquan says, poking him in the chest. "Yes, I think this is a good enough sight to behold, but let's see how you fare, shall we? When a demon of your caliber is barred from doing anything he desires."

"You cannot hold me," M'Goreh says. "The circle is broken."

"Then when I say you cannot touch me, you surely aren't prevented." She steps forward.

M'Goreh steps back.

"And when I say you cannot stimulate yourself, you won't be able to do so?"

M'Goreh growls. "I'll find someone!" He shouts.

"Not until I say you can," Quiquan says.

M'Goreh twitches and shakes and turns away from her. "You are cruel!"

"Cruel? No, I don't think so. You're a naughty little imp, and I'm just putting your powers to good use."

He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping a foot. "Yeah, well, what good are you putting me to because all I see here is you being a big doo head."

"Tut tut," Says Quiquan, waggling her finger. "You sit down and think bout what you've done. I need to figure out what exactly to do with you." She scoots over, grabbing her book on demonology and flipping through some of the pages.

"How much longer?" M'Goreh whines, kicking with his heels striking the ground as he leans back, his hands supporting him.

"Not too much longer, now," Quiquan says, brushing her finger over the page. As she reads through the text, new ideas brush through her. She slams the book shut, stands up, and scampers toward M'Goreh, narrowing her gaze.

He blinks and sits up, eyes wide. "W-what is it?"

"I know exactly what you are to me," the kobold says, opening the book and pointing to the passage. "A creature of a pact that can grant powers to the spellcaster. I can't believe I didn't see this before, but you, M'Goreh, are my familiar!"

A familiar spirit is one of those things that spellcasters can have to make their journey into magic much more expedient. Some spend decades studying with no prevail, and others are born with the natural talent to do it. But for the rest, acquiring power is the culmination of a bargain between two things, one of the mortal world and one from without.

M'Goreh tilts his head when he hears Quiquan's words, his smile shifting, altering in intention and direction but not losing the general joviality of the situation. "Do you wish to sign this deal with me?" he asks.

"Seems to me that you're already bound," says Quiquan, turning her snout toward the imp and resting her arms akimbo.

"Perhaps," the demon responds, stepping around the summoner. His feet never touch nor cross the circle, keeping himself at the outside.

Quiquan's gaze reaches past her nose, watching him. "I wish to have power beyond Tik Tik," the kobold says. "Can you grant that for me?"

The demon's eyes widen at those words, rubbing his chin with one hand and his elbow with the other. "Oh, the great Tik Tik—bane of demon kind?"

"If you help me surpass her," says Quiquan," that would undoubtedly be a boon to you back home, would it not? To help someone best the one who bested Zelbia?"

Uttering the name of the self-proclaimed goddess of Lust chilled the room and Quiquan's summoned spirit to a level she had not experienced before, and her eyes drooped slightly.

There is a lethargy that kobolds have when they venture upward in their cavern and tunnel-filled homes. The further they get from the warm belly of the earth, the more their muscles ache and the more their minds slow. The lack of the Dragon's warmth makes it so strange to them. It isn't until they reach the opening of the earth and the n only during the warm times and the day that the warmth breaks through the slowness and sleepiness.

This is why Tik Tik's tower is warm. It stimulates kobold senses while incentivizing those who prefer colder climates to shed their extra layers, providing Tik Tik with the eye candy she desperately wants.

Of all of them, why did it have to be her to inherit such a boon?

"It is dangerous to speak her name," says the imp. "To speak a demon's name is to summon them to your side."

Quiquan steps back, away from the tiny fiend. "I wasn't aware she yet had power," the kobold admitted. "I thought she was soundly defeated during the Tournament of Pleasure."

The kobold continues her retreat toward the door, but M'Goreh stays behind, watching, waiting. But waiting for what? For his demonic mistress to erupt into the chamber and claim what she believes is rightfully hers? After all, Tik Tik's quick adoption of a spellbook led her to her indenture to the most unholy creatures.

Was Quiquan herself also falling for a similar trap here?

She stops at the doorway, seeing his frozen form. She takes a deep breath and speaks. "Do you wish to have a stake in mortal affairs—a partnership? I shall provide you access to this realm, and you shall provide me with the magical energies needed to please my Queen."

M'Goreh snickers, stepping forward and extending a hand to her. "Oh, if it's access to the world you offer, I can do that. Now, why don't we go find this Queen of yours so you can show her all you learn."

Quiquan frowns, but she clasps the demon's hand and shakes it. "But I haven't learned anything from you yet," she says.

"There's plenty of time on our journey."

A clatter and a yip break Quiquan's concentration, and the kobold turns to glance at the owner.

In the hall beyond the chamber, Asuka, the eastern kobold, has fallen back, having dropped a tea set tray. She scoots back, her canine eyes focused on the demonic creature before her.

M'Goreh, now before Asuka, steps forward, chuckling heartily. "Well, well, you were holding out on me, spell caster," the imp says, running a hand over a horn. "This is a real beauty you have here. Let me show you how the magic works."

He holds his hand out before Asuka, and with his eyes glowing a deep blue, he mutters a dark incantation swiftly and insistently.

Quiquan freezes as he utters the spell, falling to her knees and clutching down at her lower belly. "Wuh… what is this?" she gasps.

Asuka's eyes burn blue, and she closes them, panting, her tongue rolling out. She whimpers, rolling to her stomach and writhing on the floor.

"A simple spell, really. Though you must draw from your reserves to cast it," M'Goreh says. "I must admit, my magi, your latent horniness is quite the power indeed."

"Huh… how dare you!" Quiquan chirps. "I am not some… some floozy like Tik Tik.

He turns his palm upward, forms a fist, and then extends his middle and index fingers. Curling, he slowly strokes the air.

Asuka yelps and sighs, scooting to get on her knees and to lift her legs. "Oh yeah? Then what's all this power?" the imp says. "A demon could get used to this, oh yes."

Quiquan bites her lip, scooting closer, though the cold she feels spreads along her lower abdomen. "Stop… M'Goreh… I command you to halt!"

M'Goreh tuts and opens his palms.

Immediately, Asuka collapses, her eyes wide, her body shivering. "Wuh… what have you… have you done?" she asks, whimpering as she looks to Quiquan.

M'Goreh returns beside the blue kobold, hooking his arm around her shoulder and giving her a nice little playful punch on the arm. "Something extraordinary, of course. And this is just the beginning!

It was just the beginning, indeed. When the kobold watched as her fellow servant writhed on the floor, panting heavily, arching her back, and begging for release, she realized something new and most intriguing was happening.

"Stop it," she commands.

"As you wish," M'Goreh responds, floating beside his kobold companion.

And Asuka stops, her breaths quick, her eyes staring at nothing in particular as tears and drool run down her face.

Quiquan kneels beside the canine kobold, holding out a hand. "Asuka, are you alright?"

Asuka swallows, glancing over toward Quiquan and then retreating from her. She pulls her legs close to herself and whimpers.

"What dark powers are these?" asks Quiquan, "that I would make her cower."

"Give it a minute, boss," M'Goreh says, floating beside her, crossing one leg over the other, resting his head in his hands, whistling through a mouthless voice.

Asuka finally gasps and pulls herself to her feet, shaking herself off as if bathed in a torrential downpour. She plays at her robs and keeps her head low. "I don't know what happened to me—a feeling of great, yet terrible, delight."

"Is that what this power is?" Quiquan says. "I'm nothing more than one who can make people indulge in their base desires through such brute means? What power is this? It is a parlor trick! Nothing more!"

M'Goreh floats in front of the kobold, clicking and clucking, wagging his finger disapprovingly. "Oh, boss, boss! You think it's too low. Come on and concentrate. Think outside the box, why don't ya? What are you gonna do, pretend that your mistress Tik Tik has all the answers when it comes to erotic magic?"

"No. I can have answers, too!" Quiquan barks.

"Then, you need to embrace what it means to be an eromancer, wouldn't you say?"

Quiquan grips her head. "But the impropriety of it?"

"Doesn't exist in your culture anymore."

"My queen wished me to be a great wizard."

"Your queen desires an eromancer of amazing skill."

"I don't care much for sex."

"Then, you can leave it to me," M'Goreh says, placing a glowing ethereal lead in her hands. He trails its existence to his neck, where he traces the form of a collar around himself. You get to point me in the right direction."

She grips the lead tightly. "I'm under the impression that you're supposed to get something out of this arrangement as well."

"A little fun here, a little influence there. Just listen to me and let me have my way, and you can be the most powerful mage that can rival Tik Tik!"

"Vuh-very well…"

This whole time, Asuka frowns, watching the kobold speaking to her familiar. She takes a deep breath and barks out. "Quiquan—whatever you are doing, I insist you stop and speak with the mistress about these matters! Either you will inform her, or I shall warn her myself."

M'Goreh shakes his head. "Are you going to let her spill the beans early?"

Quiquan loosens her grip on the lead. Enough slack is given so that M'Goreh can chuckle deeply and resonantly.

The room around Asuka goes dark—darker than a moonless night in the Great Wastes, but one force remains burning before her—those crimson eyes staring into her soul, stepping up to her.

"Hey, baby," the imp says, a growl in his voice. "Wanna see how we do things in the underworld?"

In response, Asuka pulls out hidden blades under her voluminous robes. "I will not indulge unless my mistress wills it!"

"Oh, I get it, I get it," the imp chuckles, stepping slowly around her. "You care what your mommy Tik Tik has to say. Well, I'll have you know that if she and I were to meet, she'd be begging to suck some imp cock right about now."

"You do not make for a compelling argument," the doggie kobold growls.

"And yet, you aren't saying 'no,' are you?"

She bites her lip.

"Come on, good girl, I know what turns you on. I know the secrets in your life that keep you from exploring yourself. What do you have to fear here? Authority? Ha! Your mistress has no authority over me, and no one here has authority over you."

Asuka whines, her hands trembling, her blades falling to the ground at her paws.

"That's a good girl," he coos behind her, hands on her shoulders. Somehow, he has her robes off, pulling them down to expose those shoulders and her arms, just shy of getting to her breasts.

And the canine kobold's tongue rolls out, her panting that of desperate desire, her legs giving out, and finding herself collapsing against his body.

And Quiquan stands there, watching as she falls to her knees—on her knees before Quiquan.

"See, what did I tell ya? Easy-peasy," the imp says, returning the lead to the kobold.

Quiquan takes the ethereal thing, stroking it tenderly. "I don't understand. You aren't going to fuck her?"

"I'm an imp of horniness," M'Goreh says, snickering. "Whatever floats someone's boat is what I make happen. For her, it's being praised, funnily enough. Some people need to be told they're worthwhile. Others want a rub-n-tug."

Quiquan gulps, turning and pulling on the lead. This gags the imp and forces him to follow her.

"Gack, warn me next time, boss!"

"Need I do so?" Quiquan asks, looking over her shoulders and looking at him with a half-hooded glare and a smirk that speaks volumes.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about. Where to next?"

"We're doing to discover what turns other people on," she says.

As Quiquan struts away, the imp rubs his hands together, muttering under his breath. "Already got you figured out."

"The best place to discover the desires within peoples' hearts is to go to a place where hearts are worn upon their sleeves," Quiquan says, sitting in the cart she hired.

"Sounds like that's too easy, miss," M'Goreh says, sitting on the opposite side, crossing one leg over the other. "You gotta think deeper, more repressed. You gotta mess with people who aren't expecting it."

Quiquan sighs, slipping out of her seat. She opens the door and scurries along the coach's top, sitting among the scantily-packed luggage section. M'Goreh floats up through the ceiling, floating beside her, sitting back, crossing one leg over the other, resting his head in his hands.

"Driver," speaks up the kobold, standing up, hands behind her back.

The driver stops, turning around to face her. The older gentleman is robust, balding, and has a fantastic mustache. An orc, if Quiquan wasn't mistaken.

"What's the matter, miss? Whatcha doin' outside yer seat? Somethin' wrong?"

"Oh, there's nothing wrong," Quiquan says, scratching her snout. She glances over to M'Goreh, who chuckles a chest-filling laugh. "I was just wondering if you could let me into the city without the guards finding out about me."

"Wot? That's a breach of the carriage and coach rider's union!" the driver protests. "I can't possibly do that."

Quiquan flicks a finger forward.

M'Goreh snickers and lands on all fours before her, his eyes glowing. "Ooh, how fun," he says, licking his lips.

The driver yelps, pulling on the reigns and gripping his whip tightly. "Cooor, what is that thing!"

"And here I thought you made yourself invisible," says Quiquan.

"Only when it is convenient," says the demon. He stands up but changes as he does. His arms and legs elongate, and his slightly stocky build becomes thin, gently curvy, accented at the hips and the chest. Crimson hair grows wild down over his shoulders and covers his eyes. When he's done, while he still has his horns, M'Goreh has transformed into a much more submissive-looking creature, whimpering, crying out, and falling off the coach, curling up in the ground.

The driver shudders, gulping and stepping closer. "Pardon me, muh-miss," he says, "but what is going on here?"

I'm figuring out your dream of helping a distressed individual. One that is pretty." She says this, sitting on the edge of the coach, crossing a leg over the other.

"It's a trick then?"

"It's an opportunity—one to play out the desires of your dreams. Isn't that lovely?"

The orc gulps. "And if I indulge…?"

"Then you've made an accord with me.

"Oooh, someone please help me," says M'Goreh, his voice the same but tinged with so much pain. "Wouldn't a big, strong man nurse me back to health?"

"It won't take my soul, will it?" the driver says, scrambling toward M'Goreh.

"No. I won't let it, even if it wanted to. We want to fulfill your fantasy. The price is what I've already asked for."

"The gate. I can hide ya well enough.

"Good, it shall be well worth it."

The demon pulls his hair up over his eye, the red thing glowing. "The pact is sealed. Hide my mistress first, and then we can play out your fantasy.

"No," says Quiquan, uncrossing her leg. "I think I shall enjoy watching this."

She sits on the edge of the coach, gripping onto the railings, watching as the driver approaches the demon, the fake damsel in distress. He scoops up the creature in his arms, holding him close.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"Now that you're here," responds M'Goreh, draping his arms over the driver, leaning in, pressing his soft chest against the fully clothed barrel, and kissing his cheek.

Quiquan watches, smiling at the sight.

The driver disrobes himself and returns the kisses of the one he had rescued.

What a curious sight it is. Tik Tik has written about the physical interactions between people as they fornicate. Her desires are full of lurid displays—discussions of fluids, sounds, and actions. But what Quiquan notices is the feelings on display—the weakness, the letting down of the guard, and the sinister gleam that M'Goreh supplies to both his partner and to her.

With this power, Quiquan can do anything.

When she first summoned the demon, Quiquan was afraid that he would take her, destroy her, and consign her soul to hell. But now, with the fact that they have made, she realizes that this is not the end but the beginning of some great trip that will take her beyond simple wizardry. One day, perhaps one day very soon, she can face Tik Tik. When this day comes, maybe that wizard will finally realize that Quiquan isn't a complete and total waste of time and a failure of a kobold.

No, Quiquan is a master of a demon, and with that power comes the ability to reshape the Dragon's Heir beyond anything she had ever imagined.

After all, does not the queen harbor a demonic child within her egg?