Vamprinny Quest [Disgaea/Hellsing]

[X]-Have Etna and Prinnies go to town attacking the traditional way-girl has plenty of issues to work out and isn't that delightful?
[X]-While they're busy, hunt down one of those Dark Durian Prinnies, and give it the honor of being your suit-yes, wear the local prinny!
[X]-Use wall phasing and gratuitous violence to get ahead of the line of battle, and check in on Maderas.

“Hellooo~” Etna carols. A busty, partly furry woman on the rampart of the dark stone keep calls back a similar greeting.

You consider the keep. Traditional gothic style, a dark blot on the otherwise pale white-blue landscape. Kept meticulously free of snow but allowing icicles to hang downwards from every available ledge. Added to the stalagmites jutting from the ground to flank the entrance like sharp teeth was perhaps a little much.

Etna kept up the conversation with an insulting lilt in her voice. “Can Maderas come out and play?”

“I can go ask!” the catgirl calls back. You have no idea if she’s playing along or is just naturally, playfully dim.

“No need,” Maderas sweeps onto the icy rampart, his annoyance – or possibly a love of drama - making his cloak swirl about like a dark, grasping cloud. “I am here. Very good, Etna. You have brought him here just as I asked.”

Betrayal? You ponder. Does this mean you should kill her? Or Maderas? Or everyone just to be on the safe side?

“Yeah yeah, hold on,” Etna calls up to the battlements. “Where’s my memories, jerk?”

“Safe,” Maderas replies, unruffled. “And there they will remain until I am safely on the throne. Girls?”

"You do realize he's not going to give them back, right Master Etna?" Antoire casually wraps her arms around the smaller succubus, leaning her prodigious chest on the back of Etna's head and shoulders.

Etna shrugs despite the added weight. "Eh, thought I'd try one last time, for old time's sake."

Succubi and the cat girls join the nosferatu on the ramparts. They start posing sexily, doing moderately interesting things to their cleavage and playing with their tails.

"Peace and love <3" One of them calls down throatily.
"Justice for all~" a cat girl hums happily.
"... What the hell are they doing, Etna?"
"I miiiight have told Maderas your secret weakness was large-breasted women and speeches about love."

"Good one," you chuckle, leaning up to pat her on the head. On the last pat, you let your flipper linger, and exert a little pressure. "But you can probably guess what I do to traitors, right?"

"Same thing that happens to everyone else?"
"Got it in one!" As far as minions go, Etna's a smart one.
"Right-o, Prince, no backstabbing!" she assures you, not contesting the grip on her skull.

Antoire is watching the exchange with interest. "So that's where you get it, Master," she muses to Etna. Then she butts her head against your flipper. She nuzzles up to Etna, cheek by cheek. She asks throatily, "Can you do me next?"

"Later," you assure her. "The 'vampire' up there comes first." You don't have high hopes, but maybe he'll give you a good fight.

"What is going on here?" Maderas finally asks darkly. "Where is the Prince?"

"What do you mean?" Etna wonders.
"That is not the Prince."
"What do you mean? He has the hair and the title and everything!"

"You must think I am very stupid," Maderas growls, the red tips of his long hair flowing faster in his agitation. He begins to float upwards, levitating just over the ground.

Etna grins, her features sharp and vulpine. "A bit, yeah."

"You must not care what happens to your precious memories," Maderas marvels with soft menace. "Or did you get the courage to betray me from this Prinny?"

"Maderas..." Etna tsks, shaking her head. "I'm not worried about my memories because I'm going to tear down this castle and beat your ass so bad you'll forget what its like to not convulsively piss your pants whenever you hear my name. Then you're going to give me my memories back, and I might let you live."

"Then come, if you dare," Maderas sneers as he retreats down into the bowels of the keep. "Castle Cruor will feast on your bones."

He's pretty good at making threats while moving away at some speed, you note. Dark prinnies and more of the lush-figured demons are pouring out of the castle, crowding the ramparts and sending a hail of bombs, knives and elemental magic down at your small army.

The heavy door creaks open theatrically and more of the same pour out. Convenient! Your peg legs rap out a staccato beat on the ice as you charge directly into the oncoming enemy. Your leap takes you into - and through - the leading monster, tearing out most of a succubus's ribcage. The prinny behind her loses the top half of its head to a chop of your flipper.

"I'll be right back," Etna assures you, sprinting away at top speed.

You can hear that mustached spear of hers berating her for fleeing from battle, which she completely ignores. You do hope she comes back. Good help is always harder to find after you’ve killed the last one. And they always seem to find out.

These are just a lower class of monster than the ones that once populated your new castle, it seems. The nekomata behind them puts up a much better fight, unleashing a barrage of punches and kicks significantly faster than your own attacks. It is merely unlucky for her that blunt force trauma has little effect on you, your bruised prinny-flesh healing under her fists.

What is also unlucky for her is the way that a second nekomata unleashes a blinding blue beam of electrical light that vaporizes both you and your opponent. You stumble briefly, the remains of yourself - roughly a third of what your body was a moment ago - that isn't burned away not properly balanced anymore.

Or possibly it's the dark durian spinning about like a ballerina, chanting "Dood! Dood, ha! Ha, Dood! Dood!" The flashing circle of light that illuminates him suggest he is using some kind of power. Just to be safe, you kill him next, your regrowing arm briefly extending far enough to strike him down before reforming into your usual flipper.

"If the rest of you don't start fighting," you speak to your own troops calmly, "I am going to kill and eat each and every one of you."

"Um, right, dood!"
"We were just, uh-"
"-Waiting for you to have your fun!"
"Here we come, dood!"

Your own prinnies throw themselves into the fight with suicidal abandon after that, blades and bombs and fish flying everywhere. The doors swing closed, trapping enemies and allies outside. With you.

You could almost thank whoever is manning that gate. And you will. In person. Soon.

"Ah, Master, I will deal with the ones above," Antoire assures you. The flax-haired succubus leaps skyward, her wings beating far less often than should be required to keep someone of her healthy figure in the air. They seem almost incidental to the whole process, much the way your police girl cut through the air with the bloody-tinged blades of darkness where her arm once was...

A massive chain of dark iron links whips around the demonic noble, summoned or created at need. When Antoire releases it, the tip of the chain glows fierce blue runes, seeking out targets like a living thing. It knocks blades and bombs out of the air, defense and offense in one. The hungry chain zig-zags from target to target before finally piercing through one of Maderas's prinnies to bury itself in the castle wall, blowing through his guard as though it did not exist. 'One hit kill', did those prinnies call her? Quite right. Antoire follows the chain by leaping down onto one of the furred demons and clamping her knees around the cat-girl's head like a vise.

You wouldn't mind continuing to watch the woman work, but you have all these toys down here clamoring for your attention, too. A teal-haired succubus attacks with a spinning kick, trying to drill her ridiculous six inch heels into your brain. Of course, its not like you keep anything vital there, so while she's busy with that you get a good grip on her supporting leg and use it as a fulcrum to swing her up and then down onto the ice hard enough to crack the ground around her in an amusing succubus-shaped outline. A wooden peg-leg crushing her spine finishes that one.

After that there's only a handful left, and you should probably leave a few for your own prinnies. Let them earn their keep. Or your graciousness in allowing them to continue living.

You phase through like the dark, foreboding door doesn’t exist.

The prinny working the mechanism on the other side of the door draws breath to spread the alarm. A flipper wedged into his open mouth halts that.

You lean into his face. “Hi,” you greet him.
“Mh?”
“I just had a great idea!” You continue meditatively. “Nobody really pays attention to prinnies, you see.”
“Muh.”
“Except me, for some reason. And as fun as this is – and it rreally is – I have an appointment with your master.”
“Uhh.”
“So I thought to myself, if I was the same color as everyone else, I could just wander around as I like! Of course, I do need some of the right color skin to make a suitable disguise. I thought I’d take yours. Speak now if you object.”
“Fuh!”
“That’s what I thought!”

Your other flipper tears open his chest along the stitch line, essentially disemboweling the other prinny. It’s far less bloody than you expect, which is something of a disappointment to you, but it certainly makes things easier. Then it’s a matter of metaphysically removing the evil soul inside, which is tricky given it only sort of exists, and is not at all a physical thing. Still, you’re persistent, and the soul makes a nice snack for when you’re done, like a reward for a job well done.

[+1 Soul!]

After that, its just a matter of squeezing inside – less easy than you make it sound – and tying up the stitches. Now, as long as no one notices the rather glassy stare of your disguise or your own face peeking out of the dark durian’s open beak, you’re good to go.

And as you wander further inside, it seems like no one is noticing. Or else they just don’t care. Monsters are running around, some forming up in a courtyard near the main gate, some heading up a set of stairs, a small pack of the durians heading down a spiral staircase into some kind of basement…

You pause for a moment at one of the small, window-less openings. Murder-holes, you believe they’re called. It seems your head minion has returned.

"Okay, okay, coming through, one side!" Etna bellows, kicking prinnies out of the way. The prinnies following her are carrying a crude battering ram, with a single prinny tied to the front.

"Come on, aren't we comrades, dood?" The tied-up prinny cries.
"You'll be remembered, dood!" one of the others carrying the ram assures him tearfully.

"Damn iiiit!" The prinny leading the charge – so to speak - wails as the battering ram picks up speed.

Things seem to be moving along now, you note, as the castle rocks with an especially large explosion.

[X] Fall in with another bunch of subordinate monsters, see where things lead.
[X] Pretend you know where you’re going, and count on the other monsters’ laziness to leave you alone.
[X] Find someone to interrogate.
[X] Get bored, start killing.
[X] Write-in

 

[X]Wander a bit. Oh! There's a bleeding monster here! No one will miss him! Nom!
-[X]This ones missing an Arm! Nom!
-[X]Etc.

 

[X] Find someone to interrogate.

Let's find out where the funnest stuff is, shall we?

 

[X] Pretend you know where you’re going, and count on the other monsters’ laziness to leave you alone.
[X] Get bored, start killing.

 

[X] Get bored, start killing.

 

No idea what I want to do, but I'm glad this is alive.

Love me some dark humor.

 

[X] Find someone to interrogate.

 

[X] Pretend you know where you’re going, and count on the other monsters’ laziness to leave you alone.

 

[X] Pretend you know where you’re going, and count on the other monsters’ laziness to leave you alone.

 

Yes Hymn, much like Alucard himself, this thread rises from the dead!

Oh, and if you want to pretend you know where you're going, pick a direction: through the courtyard, down the stairs, up the stairs, or wildcard.

 

[X] Pretend you know where you're going, and count on the other monsters' laziness to leave you alone.
-[X] Downstairs.

Even if he's a completely pathetic example of the species, a vampire will always lair in the basement.

Or that's where the random evil monster is hiding. Either way is good.

 

[x]Interrogation.

 

[X] Pretend you know where you're going, and count on the other monsters' laziness to leave you alone.
-[X] Downstairs.

 

No doubt too late to catch a voting trend, but:

[X]-Pretend to know where you're going WHILE CONSTANTLY PHASING IN AND OUT OF WALLS, FLOORS AND CEILINGS. Count on the other monster's laziness to make this hilarious as they refuse to question the curiously magical Durian in their midst.
[X]-Surprise Madaras when you find him-pop out of the floor under his feet and simulate Whack-a-mole with your face, creep out of the ceiling and stare until he notices, phase into a chair he's seated in if it's big enough-doesn't matter what, so long as you confirm whether these demon-type vampires can, in fact, have the shit scared out of them.

 

[X] Going down

You ignore the massing forces in the courtyard, working themselves up to stop your subordinates’ violently explosive entrance. You ignore the succubus forcing a line of protesting prinnies back up the stairs, ignoring their cries about whips and chains and not being into that sort of thing, dood. Presumably the ones that are, have already made their way up to the battlements.

While that’s all got the potential for fun – actually, your flippers are itching to start tearing into all those convenient enemies - you came for Maderas. And obviously, a vampire’s lair will be in the bowels of the building. Etna and Antoire will just have to manage the appetizer while you reserve the main course for yourself.

You calmly phase through the floor, a portal of red-tinged blackness granting you passage as easily as walking through a doorway. You emerge below a moment later, your peg legs firm on the surface of the dimly black-glowing ceiling, sticking out of the otherworldly portal. The basement is traditionally lit with iron braziers and torches in wall sconces, providing a good – if smoky – light source. It is particularly unpleasant being so close to the ceiling, where the smoke gathers, so you stop breathing.

A quick look shows that you’ve emerged into some sort of storeroom. There is a pack of dark durians riffling through piles of claws, fangs and tentacles backed with leather or metal. You’re not sure if they’re supposed to be weapons or if the lord of the castle is a fervent but very poor taxidermist. The pair of nekomata leading the bunch are trying on armors just slightly wrongly proportioned for their near-human forms, all under the watchful eye of a … thing. A monochrome squat snowball head with glowing coal eyes seated right on muscular shoulders, a powerfully broad chest thinning down to a trim waist that comes to a ragged end floating just over the stone floor. The treetrunk arms are sunk into the stone itself, supporting the barrel body.

“What kind of poison do you think this is, dood?” a durian is wondering, rolling a large spine between its flipper.
“I don’t know, you could try poking somebody with it and find out.” His conversational partner inclines his head slightly, indicating the third dark durian.
“Don’t even try it dood,” the third demands threateningly, brandishing what looks like a very large cat’s claw. “Unless you want to get scratched by this.”
“Hey doods! Hey doods!” The last of the bunch that was rooting through the pile, says excitedly. He turns around, and you see two large fangs sticking out of his beak. He runs a limb over the bald top of the penguin’s head, as though running a hand through hair where no hair exists. “Dead match for Lord Maderas, wouldn’t you say?”

The two nekomata completely ignore the byplay of their underlings in favor of the armor rack.

“Well, it protects okay I guess,” one says doubtfully, trying on a heavy leather coat, “but isn’t there anything that gives more, you know, freedom of movement?”

She hops from cat-like foot to foot, frowning at the way everything stays firmly pressed against her body, not letting her fluffy tail and bountiful breasts bounce about as they like.

“Try the chainmail bikini, then.” Her companion is paying more attention to choosing just the right pair of glasses that compliment her green eyes. “What do you think, the thin rectangular ones or the one with the copper frames?” she asks.

“I don’t know why you like those things,” the first cat-girl critiques, shaking her head. “What’s the point of an intelligence boost when you fight with your fists?”

“You just don’t understand fashion, Senri.”

The golem’s burning orbs slowly track up to the ceiling. “Intruder,” it says calmly.

“… Huh,” one of the durians said intelligently, following that burning gaze.

The nekomata spares one glance towards your form hanging from the ceiling like a penguin-shaped bat, visibly debates doing something about it, before laziness wins out. Turning back to her friend she picks back up the thread of conversation. “No, but seriously, who goes into a fistfight with glasses on?”

Your response?
[X] “Oh! This isn’t the way to the battle! I should keep looking.”
[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”
[X] What’s that chunk of crystal, and why does it feel familiar?
[X] They’re suspicious. Better kill them all.
[X] Write-in

 

[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”

 

[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”
- - [X] What’s that chunk of crystal, and why does it feel familiar?

 

[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”
- - [X] What’s that chunk of crystal, and why does it feel familiar?

 

[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”
- - [X] What’s that chunk of crystal, and why does it feel familiar?

 

[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”
- - [X] What’s that chunk of crystal, and why does it feel familiar?

 

[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”
- - [X] What’s that chunk of crystal, and why does it feel familiar?

 

[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”

 

[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”
- - [X] What’s that chunk of crystal, and why does it feel familiar?

 

[X] “Are one of those pairs of glasses orange-tinted?”
- - [X] What’s that chunk of crystal, and why does it feel familiar?

Well this one seems a pretty obvious choice based on previous responses.

 

[X] Bitches love glasses
“Fancy,” you approve, joining the nekomata at the armor stand. You snag a pair of glasses with square lenses, tinted orange. The arms are twisted like a zig-zagging bolt of lightning, and the lens shape is different, but they just feel right, you know? You settle them precariously on the beak of your durian flesh suit.

“Since when did we let the mooks outfit themselves with accessories?” One of the nekomata, the one with the coat, complained.

No, this just isn’t working. You slip the glasses through the open beak of your outfit to settle comfortably over your actual eyes, tinting the world reddish. Much better.

“Did you just eat an accessory? Did you seriously just eat an accessory? We feed you little bastards-”

“We don’t actually feed them, Senri.”
“Well we let them be around food all the time, how can he just-“

After some thought, you decide not to kill her. Then you’d have to kill the rest of them, and then before you know it you’re killing people to keep them from finding out you’re killing people, and the castle is in flames, and… why is this a bad plan again? Well, she does have nice tits. That’s always appreciated.

You know, if this vampire Maderas wasn’t a sad and pathetic imitation of a real vampire like yourself, you might get on all right. … A vampire like yourself? Are you? Nevermind, introspection is too much work anyway.

“Look at me you cock-eyed son of a bitch!” she shouts.
“Senri, calm down. Look, he’s just… huh.” She peers at the two pits of burning ember looking back at her from inside the cavernous darkness of the slack-jawed prinny’s mouth. “Nnnnope, let’s go.”
“Come on, let me just beat him up a little bit!”
“Nope! Nooooo way, we’re going now.”

Smart girl.

The prinnies file out after them. One of them pats you commiseratingly on the shoulder, like you care the big-titted cat-person almost tried to cave in your face. Well, the face you’re wearing. It’s not like it’s yours, ha!

[X] Crystalwhat.
Then it’s just you and the muscular white marshmallow golem down here. Its burning eyes stare into you, but otherwise does nothing.

There’s just something to this crystal thing taking pride of place in the back of the armory that piques your interest. A white crystal, opaque and smooth as smoked glass, with a fiery crimson glow deep within only hinted at on the surface. The trapezohedron floats inches above the ground, free-standing. It also gives off a vaguely predatory air, like the chunk of crystal would like nothing better than to mug and roll you just for laughs.

If Etna were a rock, she would be this rock.

And, well, you just can’t resist taking a poke at something new and potentially dangerous to see how it reacts. Your investigatory, quite literal poke does nothing you can detect. The crystal does not, in fact, leap off its little dais and attack. You are only slightly disappointed about that.

So you phase a flipper through it and touch the glowing red innards.


A debonair man in dark colors. His blood red cape floats out behind him, unnecessarily majestic. With a curling moustache and violet hair antennas even more absurd than the ones currently adorning your own head. He strikes a delicate balance between dangerously impressive and utterly absurd.

“If I die... the Netherworld will be plunged into chaos once again. Demons will come after Laharl, my son. Etna, this isn’t an order, but a promise between you and me. If I die... look after Prince Laharl for me, won’t you?”


Prince. That would be what Etna has been calling you, after she dumped the real Prince Laharl into a lake of lava. Which you’re now guessing she did for the opportunity to steal back her memories; the memories that would tell her to serve Laharl faithfully and well. That’s both so funny, and kind of sad, in a retarded sort of way.

This is actually kind of killing your boner for murder. Time to get back to it. You take one last look at the floating crystal of memory.

Do you:
[X] Devour Etna’s lost, fuzzy feelings for the late King Krichevskoy, to
-[X] Keep them safe for later.
-[X] This is kind of like the crystallized humanity of your minion Etna. Is humanity delicious?
[X] Leave ‘em be.

The boss battle approaches:
[X] Maderas surely wouldn’t suspect his loyal prinny-minion. Until it’s too late.
[X] Play with Maderas while waiting for Etna to arrive in full rampage mode.
[X] Wait for Maderas to come within a hairs breadth of seizing victory, only to deny him.
[X] Perhaps you have some pointed questions for the Nosferatu Lord? [Suggestions?]
[X] Write-in?

 

[X] Leave ‘em be.

[X] Wait for Maderas to come within a hairs breadth of seizing victory, only to deny him.

 

[X] Devour Etna’s lost, fuzzy feelings for the late King Krichevskoy, to
-[X] Keep them safe for later.
(Maybe we can find a way to give her all of the memories but that one?)
[X] Wait for Maderas to come within a hairs breadth of seizing victory, only to deny him.

 

[X] Devour Etna’s lost, fuzzy feelings for the late King Krichevskoy, to
-[X] Keep them safe for later.
[x]Meet up with Etna early and give her the memories be prepared to stoke her guilt fury into a towering unholy rage coaxing her to shift all blame to maderas and watch the fire works.