Together, everyone leaves the trap-filled relaxation room and move into the next room. We all see a golden corridor with paintings on both sides of the wall, six in total. At the end of this familiar passage lies a t-shaped split leading to three doors. The magical spotlights flicker on and off, all pointing straight at the giant door to the east.
This door is easily more imnse than the mini-boss room’s door that ca before it, and it’s a wondrous sight to behold as far as artisan skill is concerned. Carved into the door is an intricate mural of Sir Pimpington facing down a mirrored version of his knightly past-self, each man impaling the other in the heart with the sa rapier. At the point of impact on each man’s heart is a large lock with an empty and awaiting keyhole.
I believe it’s evident to everyone that behind this symbolic door is the man himself. More specifically, it’s his boss room. Many dungeons have their boss monsters behind locked doors, so it’s not a surprise to anyone to see this. I assu the doors leading to the north and south will contain the keys we need to open the path to Pimpington.
First things first, the girls stop to check the various paintings hung on the illustrious golden walls of the hallway.
“While we’re here, we might as well...” I sigh, giving my express permission to go ahead and get this ham-fisted dungeon exposition over with.
Sam, ri, and Zutiria all excitedly begin to look through the artwork depicting our enemy’s inner psyche... or however this works, I’m still not totally sure.
It seems these paintings tell a story in three sequential parts on each row.
Starting with the left-hand wall, we have a painting of the Guild receptionist discussing sothing with an unknown older man. Judging by his attire and deanor, he seems to be a high-ranking mber of the Association. My first guess is that perhaps he’s the Guild Master of Imperalis’s Adventurer’s Guild. This man is checking over paperwork that the woman just handed him.
What’s most unsettling is that there’s almost sickening grin on his face, like he was rembering a secret joke that makes sense only to him. The woman is laughing at sothing, too, though she seems a bit more conflicted.
Neither mber of the conversation is aware that Sir Chasteworthe is listening in from another room. Whatever they’re talking about, it twists his countenance with horror and shock. The man looks like his sense of reality was devastated before his eyes. Almost like from this point on, nothing in his life will ever make sense again.
It’s hard not to feel a small bit of pity for the future pimp when looking at a face like that...
“Oh dang, she was cheating on him!” Sam whistles inappropriately as she states her assumption.
‘We don’t know that for sure, Sammy. These paintings tell a very vague story. Not to ntion they’re all from Pimpington’s point of view. There might be a bias at work.’ Zutiria tilts her head and thinks aloud to herself.
In the second painting, we see the knight brutally stab the old man a disturbing number of tis with his sword. Blood erupts from the many wounds like fountains of blood and the receptionist watches this terrifying display in terror. Even despite her screaming protests, Chasteworthe doesn’t stop his brutality. His eyes are overtaken by a creeping, sunken apathy.
“Woah! Nice, dude!” Sam inappropriately gapes at the violence, seeming more than pleased for whatever reason.
For the last of this row, Chasteworthe is being led away from the cri scene by city guards with his head hung low. His arrest seems voluntary. Despite his brutal murder, he isn’t putting up any struggle.
Chasteworthe’s countless admirers look upon him with sadness and disbelief, including a devastated Lemira and Rhaelyn depicted in the foreground. Lemira looks a good deal younger, but Rhaelyn is an Elf so she looks more or less the sa. Neither are wearing micro-bikinis and are instead wearing matching leather armor. The two future henchwon cry out and extend their hands towards him, but the disgraced knight ignores them and chooses to stare at the floor.
“H-He killed that man...!” ri bites her lip as her empathy kicks into overdrive. “I-I guess that woman really WAS cheating on him! Oh, Gods...!”
‘That seems to be the simplest answer- which would fit the running the of this dungeon.’ Zutiria remarks while adjusting the rim of her large, round glasses. She inspects the oil paintings’ intricate details, trying to unravel every last mystery they have to solve.
“I an, yeah, it kinda sucks, but if he didn’t wanna get cucked, then the dude shoulda had better taste in won!” Sam laughs vacantly, staring at the victim riddled with holes like it was hilarious. She looks rather creepy while doing this, and I’m not the only one who thinks so...
I don’t say anything in response, rely continuing to observing the artwork on display. Snow taps my shoulder, drawing my attention to her oncoming question. “You’re not convinced by any of this, are you? Just because the puzzles in the Pimpfort have all had easy solutions doesn’t necessarily an that everything should be taken exactly at face value, nyaa...”
All I can do is sigh and repeat myself. “Again, I don’t see why that would matter. All this is irrelevant to defeating Pimpington, but while we have the ti, we might as well indulge in what the dungeon seems so desperate to show us.” It’s not that I’m uninterested, per se. I’m just more anxious about the party battling him than anything else.
Peri has a different take on the situation, saying, “He’s shady, nyaa. Gotta make sure to learn all we can, never know what might help defeat him.”
“Sure, but Myaster’s got a point, too. You don’t gotta know soone’s life story to kick them in the balls.” Cherry crosses her arms in annoyance.
“That’s true. Still, I suppose I just admittedly find myself interested in what would corrupt soone who seed to be a shining paragon of chivalry, nyaa...” Snow nods her head, and together we turn our attention to the second row of paintings. Without a doubt, it’s for sure a direct continuation of the events from the last row.
The first artwork displays Chasteworthe walking away defeated from a large mansion. The background clearly depicts the many keeps and castles of Imperalis, with Castle Lundrea itself towering over them all in the far-off distance. Watching him go from the mansion’s gate is a collection of over-dressed nobles vaguely resembling Chasteworthe, sharing his sa sharp face and luxuriously curled black hair. He’s wearing extrely simple clothes, like that of a peasant. All the man has to his na is his rose rapier and a small, asly bag of gold strapped to his unimpressive belt.
‘His family disowned him. It must have been quite a scandal at the ti. Ring any bells, Sammy?’ Zutiria cos to the sa conclusion that I did.
“Nope! Why, should it?” Sam predictably has no idea what’s going on, judging by her ‘nobody’s ho’ smile and her dilated pupils.
“O-Oh, dear. This next painting is, um...” ri blushes and covers her mouth, drawing all of our attention to the next piece of art.
Sir Chasteworthe sits naked on a bed in a seedy, run-down brothel, surrounded by four beautiful won. Each one performs sexual favors on him, and his face is peaceful, happy, yet distant. The disgraced knight feels false happiness from his false pleasures. Interestingly, the one currently riding him has her tongue sticking out, and on top of it is an uneaten cherry.
“Look, it’s you,” Peri purrs, pointing at the screen as Cherry rolls her eyes. Sothing tells this isn’t the first ti Peri has tried this joke.
“That just leaves one last painting, then...” Snow rubs her chin, and I can see she’s more into this than she originally was. I guess knowing that her tribe sisters are safe until further notice has given the older maid sufficient ti to properly appreciate pimp lore.
Finally, we all inspect the last painting in the second row.
The man that was Sir Chasteworthe has died, and depicted in this final illustration is the birth of a pimp. The man leaves the four prostitutes behind him in a sex coma, and from the coathanger outside the door, he steals a shabby-looking pimp coat and pulls his first pimp hat over his head. This stolen outfit is a far cry from the standard outfit we’ve seen him wearing in the modern-day, being much less gaudy in comparison.
I suppose everyone has to start sowhere.
‘And thus, a pimp was born. Like a degenerate phoenix rising from the ashes.’ Zutiria declares with mock enthusiasm. ‘Is this the part where we all puzzle out the exact tiline of events and make our definitive guess as to what exactly happened in this sad, pathetic man’s life story?’
“No. It’s ti to get ready to collect the boss keys from the two remaining rooms. We’re almost to the end, and you all have to stay alert. There’s no telling what dangers are left in this dungeon.”
“Daddy is too cool for pimplore,” Sam teases, sticking her tongue out at through the display. Everyone has a good chuckle at her words, causing to sigh.
“We’re going to be tying him up and capturing him, so we can ask him ourselves later. Would that make you all happy?”
“W-Wait is that our plan...? I was kinda wondering about that.” ri tilts her head and raises her hand. “It’s not like the city guards will put him in jail if we hand him over, r-right? The Duke is in control and wouldn’t let that happen...”
‘They’d put him right back on the streets within minutes. I suppose now is as good a ti as any to figure out what will be the actual course of action we’ll take.’
“Adventurers aren’t assassins,” Sam mimics my words like a parrot. “We gotta do this right, or Daddy will get mad at us and not in a good way!”
“Yes, Sam. I would certainly not feel like spanking you if you murdered a man in cold blood.” She giggles as I chide her with sarcasm, not getting the joke.
“I’m still considering our options,” I admit. There’s not much we can do with a captured pawn of the Duke, after all. Even if I was ok with just killing Pimpington on the spot, which I’m not, we’d risk intel we could gain through interrogating him.
Worst case scenario, I’ll have Zutiria warp to Dawnstead tomorrow so she can bring Opal ho early, and then we’ll see if Lord Gloomcrest would take the criminal into custody.
I explain all these thoughts to the girls, and I face no objections. Snow ends up offering one more suggestion, but it’s one I’m not too keen on. “If there are no other options, the breeding tribe can take him into custody as a prisoner. We deal with the Royal Family itself and could take him to the King’s Court-
“That’s my asshole real dad!” Sam gasps like a child hearing a naughty word.
“Yes, yes, Mistress,” Snow continues on as if the Princess never interjected. “I would prefer if you had a better alternative, as we’d be making an open target of ourselves on the road, nyaa.”
“Well, I think we have more than enough to consider for the mont. For now, let’s hunker down and get going. We’re almost there, girls. Two rooms and two keys. You ready for this?”
“Heck yeah!” Sam smiles a vacant smile, dashing off towards the door to the north.
‘Looks like we have our door,’ Zutiria shrugs while following after the Princess.
ri joins them as well, yawning, “Don’t worry, girls... we’re almost here... we’ll save you...”
The northern door opens as soon as Sam hits the button, and the final stretch of the Pimpfort begins.
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