Evil Quill Weave - Part 2

Author’s note: Images blatantly and obviously edited from Kazerad’s original Evil Quill-Weave posts. I don’t think he’ll mind. I really like this one. And it’s almost not lewd! (almost). Thanks to the discord folks on UPD5 for providing me with the worst imaginable names for Evil Quill-Weave by the way!



“You need a name if you’re going to be an arch-villain you know,” said the
Faceless Mook. “You can’t just be some nameless mystery villain.”

Quill-Weave sat back on her new throne of skulls. Well, it was painted like
skulls anyway. “I know, I know. But it’s so hard to come up with a good name.
Got any ideas?”

“How about Quill-Reave?”

Quill wrinkled her face in disgust.
“No. Lady something. Or maybe Mistress something.”

“Lady Quill-Reave?”

“Too close to my real name too. No, it needs to bear some reflection on me
though. Something unique.”

“Baddy Two-Tits?”

The wine spurted from her nose. “Cute.”

“Mistress Cannonball Rack?”

“If possible, see if you can take your mind out of my cleavage and think!
Maybe something random…”

“Lady Kazerad”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What kind of name is Kazerad?”

“A shitty one.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that makes sense.”

“Um… Kill-Weave?”

Quill sighed. “I told you, it’s hard! Let’s go with that for now. But I retain
the option to change it later! For now, Mistress Kill-Weave will do.”

“And I suppose I’m just supposed to call you Mistress?”

“Of course! Like all good minions do.”

Faceless Mook stood up from the ebony (colored) table and stretched, “Well,
Mistress, I’m going to call it a day. The wife said I have to be home early
today to help clean up the hovel.”

“You don’t tell her where you go every day do you?

"Of course I do. Quill…”

“Mistress!”

“Sorry - Mistress, she’s my wife. I tell her everything I do.”

“What do you tell her?”

“I tell her I’m going back to that crazy Argonian’s tower.”

“And… she doesn’t mind?”

“Not when I bring back money every day.”

“What if we were having an affair? What about that?” Quill asked, rather insulted.

“If I was bringing back money every day, she’d call me a gigolo. And then take
the money.”

“You don’t tell her where my secret lair is, do you?”

“Quill…”

“MISTRESS!”

“Mistress, everyone in the village knows where your secret lair is.”

“They do?”

“They do.”

“Do they cower in fear?”

“Not… precisely. But the carpenter did say nice things about you after you bought
that chair from him.”

“Throne.”

“Sorry, ‘Throne’”

“Throne of Skulls.”

“Throne of Carved Skulls. Carved, painted skulls.”

“Well dammit, where am I supposed to get real skulls at anyway?”

“There’s always the graveyard.”

“EWWW! That’s just gross!”

“Sorry Mistress. But I gotta be going.”

“Alright, but I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Noon.”

“Bright and early tomorrow at noon then.”

“Goodnight Quill.”

“MISTRESS!!!”

“Goodnight Mistress,” said the Faceless Mook, as he removed his Mook outfit and
put on his regular clothes and walked out the door, taking care to jiggle the
handle so it latched properly.



“Well, every villain has to start with what she has available,” the Mistress of
Evil thought to herself. “Now, I need to start thinking about the future. I have
to do something Evil. What canI do that’s Evil tonight? Hmmm…”

She rose from her throne and began the ascent to her bedroom. As she rounded the
circular stairs to the top of the tower, she looked out the small arched window.

“No, you peed out the window last night. Besides, then I’d just have to clean it
up again in the morning. Something even more Evil than that…”

Eventually she gave up, removed her Evil garb, and continued her writing. She found
that her writing was inspired by these monthly trips to her lair at least. It wasn’t
till she had climbed into bed that she finally got an idea. Suddenly she was wide
awake. Those stupid villagers. They were probably talking about the crazy Argonian
lady even now. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all! She had to inspire fear,
and if she couldn’t even get those rubes to fear her, what was the point?

But now she had a plan. It would have to wait until they were all asleep, but then
she would strike!

She heard the bats flying in and out of the attic above her. Mooky had wanted to clear
them out, but she knew better. They were atmosphere. The dungeon was even better.
The manacles were a bit pricey, and they hadn’t a speck of nice authentic rust on them
yet, but they were necessary. She’d considered buying a rack, but those things were
damnably expensive! The carpenter could make a fake one she guessed.

Finally the candle had burned low and she estimated it must be after midnight. She
smiled a toothy grin that would have made an alligator proud and donned her villain
outfit again. She only got her tail stuck once this time and felt she was getting
better at it. Then she took the remains of her candle and crept down the stairs, pausing
momentarily to get what she needed.

Then she slunk out into the cool night air. Before she’d gotten halfway to the village,
she realized it was too cool. A breeze was coming up as a storm approached. Suddenly a
bolt of lightning flashed in the distance and the slow rolling rumble of thunder
swelled.

“That’s more like it,” she thought. “This is a night for Evil. Tonight, Mistress
Kill-Weave will strike fear into the hearts of those who would mock her! Crazy Argonian
indeed! I’ll show them crazy!”

The moonlight disappeared as the racing clouds covered it just as she neared the outskirts
of the village. Just as she’d hoped, the lights were all out and not a sound was heard,
but for a dog yapping from some far-away hut.

Suddenly she realized something.

“What if they have a dog?”

As she approached the door of the nearest hut she looked around her for signs of any pet.
Her worries were dispelled when she saw the yellow eyes of a black cat watching her. “No,
no dogs here!” she realized.

As if in assurance, the cat padded over to her and stroked itself against her
leg. For a moment she wondered if cats could breathe underwater, but banished
the thought as irrelevant and unproductive. Instead, she slid from shadow to
shadow until she was at the door. She tried the latch.

“Unlocked. Of course. The innocent peons,” she laughed to herself. Soon they would
lock their doors and bolt their windows every night now that Mistress Kill-Weave
was near! The door opened directly into the kitchen, and was as silent as she was.
It took only a little time to find what she was looking for.

When she emerged, the storm was growing stronger and threatening to unleash it’s
fury any minute as flash after flash of lightning guided her back to her lair. It was
as if her own dark lord’s will was at play. The howl of the wind was now growing
and she laughed out loud, knowing the scene of chaos that would present itself
in the morning. The laugh, lost on the wind, was the perfect cackle of an Evil Overlord.

Still, she thought, damn but these leggings are thin. The wind raced
right up her dress and sent a shiver over her that was at once thrilling and
damned embarrassing. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn the Evil Outfit after all.

Suddenly something slapped her hard in the face as the wind caught hold of her dress
in earnest and blew the front of it smack into her snout. She pushed it away, and used
her tail to hold down the back side.

And then the rain started. It went from dry to monsoon in less than a second. As she
staggered towards the tower through the woods, she realized her high-heels were no
longer appropriate in the rain. She would definitely need to get boots. She removed
her shoes, then remembered that she would ruin her leggings if she tried walking in
them. Those things weren’t cheap either. She wondered momentarily if leather was okay to
get wet, but decided it was pointless now. She did what was necessary and removed
the leggings and tucked them under one arm as her other tried in vain to keep the
front of her dress down with her free hand.

She was no longer feeling a thrill at having a breeze blow up her dress. Now she just
felt cold, wet, and naked. Miserable. She recalled Mae’s admonition, “Be that
woman.” Well, that woman wouldn’t be in this mess. But she saw the tower
just ahead and at least she was almost safe within its walls where she could dry off
and try and salvage some dignity. At least no one had seen her.

But something had seen her. Suddenly she saw two glowing yellow eyes. The cat. It
was hissing as it bounded towards her. She tried to avoid it before she stepped on
it, but it let out a yowl as she tripped over it and she fell headlong into the mud
just in front of the tower door. The leggings were buried in mud. Slime and muck
dripped from her forehead as she raised her head to look at the door she’d almost
reached, and some of the water that flowed down her cheeks was not rain.

She staggered up again, now filthy as well as wet and reached the door. The latch
wouldn’t budge. She pounded on the door, but the latch diligently did its duty and
stayed latched. She slid down and cried.

Only a merciful God could explain why the door gave way when she was at her most
wretched, but open it did and she crawled in.

Eventually her tears dried up. She peeled herself out of the wet leather dress, found
a towel, and dried herself off. Then she half-walked and half crawled up the stairs
to her room and wriggled into bed. A few tears found their way out that apparently
she’d saved up when she thought of the beautiful outfit she’d surely ruined.

When she awoke, an afternoon sun was shining through the window. A fresh set of clothes
was waiting on the nearby table that she stared at uncomprehendingly for a while. Then
she realized she was laying across the bed in her normal posture upon awakening, her
upper body slung over the edge. She felt oddly breezy too.

Then she remembered the night’s disaster and realized she was still naked. Somebody had
been in here and put those clothes out for her. She closed her eyes and fought to make
circumstances different by sheer willpower. It didn’t work. She got out of bed and put
on the clothes and went downstairs.

“Good afternoon, Mistress!” the Faceless Mook said in greeting.

She wasn’t sure if the man could see the blush on her face. “Good afternoon Mooky. I
suppose that was you who left the clothes?”

“Sure was Miss Nipless! I saw your outfit by the door when I came in too. Took 'em to my
wife. Look here. Good as new!”

Suddenly Quill-Weave’s attitude brightened considerably. She took the proffered
clothes and held them up. They were as advertised. Even the leggings showed no sign
of the previous night’s disaster.

“Oh, Mooky! THANK YOU!” Quill said, tears of joy running down her cheeks as she gave him
a hug fit for another Argonian.

“Aww, wasn’t nothing. My wife did most of the work. She’s a wizard with laundry. You
should meet her sometime.”

“I will! I will!”

“We figured you got stuck out in that storm last night. It was an awful storm. You must
have been soaked.”

“Oh I was. But I made it back. Eventually.”

"Well, all’s well that ends well. Now, come and sit down. The wife made you something
special for your troubles.”

The cake on the table looked like it was made by an angel. Quill walked over to it, her
eyes wide and sparkling.

“For me?”

“Of course it’s for you! Here, I’ve cut you a slice already. Say, what were you doing out
there last night anyway?”

“I… well… I was doing something… evil.”

“Oh! What did you do? Kill some innocent animal or something?”

“No. I started thinking about what you said. About the villagers. That business about the
crazy Argonian lady. I took my revenge!”

Suddenly the face on the Faceless Mook became worried.

“Really? You’re first real Evil Deed? What did you do?”

“Mooky, I did the most evil thing imaginable. I sneaked into someone’s house and…”

“Yes? What did you DO Mistress?!”

“I… replaced their sugar with… SALT!” she said with an evil grin as she stuffed a big
bite of cake into her mouth.

After two full glasses of water, she was able to talk again. But she didn’t say anything.
She just sat on her skull throne, sobbing miserably. She didn’t even see Faceless Mook
take the cake away and throw it into the trash bin. He left quietly after that, deciding
that she probably wanted to be left alone.