It turned out that eastward was, indeed, the destination the princess had been ferried towards. Her captors had wound their way across a diverse landscape before winding up in a rocky, treacherous area known only as “Ore Chasm”. Said chasm was a long, suggestively-carved impression in the rock sheet, and situated in the chasm was a large, multi-tiered building that rose tall and narrow, with a flared base and fairly narrow apex.
Inside the garish and grandiose building, a retinue of goons, clad entirely in dark colors and with obscuring masks, had custody of a gold-plated metal cage, a cage that housed none other than the princess of Volo, currently making quite the commotion protesting against the injustices she was presently being subjected to.
She was not an impressive figure at all, a fairly frumpy and plain-looking maiden with flat, matte brown hair, hazel eyes, and a perpetually disgruntled look that read as incredibly disagreeable and quarrelsome. Her attire was also strikingly plain, with her royal dress a surprisingly modest and neutral garment. The only things that suggested she might even be royalty were a glittering tiara that sat atop her head, a silver ornament set with a number of diamonds, and a simple silver necklace in the shape of the ensign of Volo.
“What is the meaning of this all?” she thundered, looking around in the dimly-lit room and trying to figure out where she was. “This is an affront to me and to my dignity, and I will have all of you executed now if you don’t let me out of this awful thing!”
She did get a response, but it was hardly one she (or anyone else in her position) would have expected. She heard some rustling in the darkness on the other end of the room, and she thought she could make out a large shadow of some kind.
“Aw, hell to tha yeah, bitches!” a voice shrieked. “Y’all done brought me a princess!”
The lights cut on, momentarily blinding the princess, and she shielded her eyes to better adjust to the change. The room revealed itself to be a lavishly-decorated hall with all sorts of red, gold, and silver accents to make as much of an impression of wealth as mere decoration could convey. Opposite her in the hall was a chaise, and a dragon sat upon it.
Said dragon was what appeared to be a gray lung, a long and serpentine dragon with four legs, pronounced whiskers and ridges along its back, a pair of red horns shaped like antlers, a white mane of fur and a matching goatee at the end of its snout, and a long and swishy tail that swished back and forth vigorously. More interesting than the dragon’s physical appearance was what the dragon wore, consisting of a luxurious-looking purple fur cape that draped down its entire back, an inordinate number of chains and necklaces dangling around its neck, and a lot of sparkling and gleaming rings on its various claws.
“Who are you, and who do you think you are, speaking like that in my presence?” she demanded. She wasn’t scared, but instead incredibly annoyed and aggrieved.
“An’ who do you think you is, running yo’ whore mouth at me like that?” the dragon replied. Its voice was easily the most annoying she had ever heard, a high drawling tone with a tendency to draw some sounds out in a particularly torturous way. Coupled with the dragon’s somewhat slurred diction and its fast cadence, she was immediately left with a terrible first impression.
“How dare you! I am the princess of Volo, Clithymenestra, and I…”
“Aw, hold up just a second there, baby! I ain’t calling you by that long-ass name, nuh-uhhhhhh! I’mma call you Clitty instead!”
“Wait…what?” She was horrified, appalled, and taken aback. “That is not my name, and you will not call me that! I am the princess Clithymenestra, and I will not stand for this injustice and affront, being referred to by such a demeaning and disgusting name from a vile creature such as yourself!”
“Man, you’s still thinking you’re back in yo’ crib, ain’t cha, girlie?” the dragon continued. “Thinkin’ that you’s in charge and can just order stuff to happen? Think again, Clitty! You’s as wrong as they get! You’s up in tha Interplanetary Pagoda of Perpetual Pleasure, the most rockin’ and bitchin’ establishment this side of the cosmos, and I is its proprietor, the interplanetary pimp known far and wide as I.M. Trogdor! Yeeeeeeeeah!”
“I.M. Trogdor?” she repeated, confused.
“That’s right, baby, and don’t cha forget it! Imperial Muthafuckin’ Trogdor is gonna be tha pimp to teach yo’ ass! Trust and believe, okcurrrrrrrrrrrr!” He added a tongue pop for emphasis, and the dragon’s tail swished in a way meant to drive this particular point home.
“What are you going on about? Where am I? Where are my servants? Where are my maids? And what’s a pimp?” The princess’s sanctimony had started to give way to legitimate distress, the severity of the situation dawning on her.
“A’ight, boys, get her outta here fo’ now! I’mma need to do some high-quality ruminating up in here! I is a draco-genius, after all, but my genius can’t be rushed! We need to figure out what we gonna do with this primo princess we done got, aw hell yeah!”
The black-clad men wheeled the princess Clithymenestra, still reeling from this appalling exchange with the vile fiend, out from whence she came, and the self-proclaimed pimp dragon continued to swish its tail animatedly and show signs of excitement. She didn’t like what was happening, and she was left hoping that all of this was some terrible nightmare she’d soon awaken from.
COLLAPSE 
