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Description
Continuation of Paladin

"Blenke," the Sergeant says. "Report to the Marshall-General on the double!"
"I didn't do it!" I insist. "Whatever it is you think I did."
"You did do it," she tells me. "You took down the Citadel dragon. Your star is on the rise, Blenke. She has a new mission for you."
"Refueling?" I ask.
"You are not going to be wasted as a fuel tech," the Seregant laughs. "Though your accident rate of under 24 percent is legendary. No, she wants you as a harvest agent."
"Harvest... " I mutter, uncertainly.
"I know how you feel about it, but it will end this war sooner and establish Goblin dominance." She pats me on the backside, her hand lingering a little longer than necessary. "Don't keep the Marshall-General waiting."
Which means, like she said, double time. And I run to the Tor, start to explain that a lowly corporal has been summoned by the Marshall-General herself. Laughing, they admit me, making comments on my -
Well, you know, soldiers.
Never has any group of goblins been more sex starved. Though gobs are the unchallenged masters in that arena. And that's not even taking the breeders into account.
Approaching the throne and it's... empty.
She may have stepped out for a snack or something.
Been all my feet all day. I wouldn't mind a snack.
Or a drink.
Or a place to sit to rest my weary feet.
And I see the perfect place to sit.
Looking around, one, twice, four times, thrice -
Just to make sure.
I ascend the stairs past the glowing and pulsing vacuum tubes.
Pulsing with harvested energy.
I'm liking this less and less.
Just let me do easier things.
Like killing dragons.
Sighing, I plop my weary tushie on the throne.
The vacuum tubes glow brighter and -
hum....?
And the hoses throb
And the light sources above the throne swirl
And I hear -
The voices of anguish.
My heart is moved for the harvested.
We already will have victory. We don't need to do this.
As a burst of power rushes into my body.
I don't feel tired.
I feel strong.
With stolen power.
"I'm sorry," I say, running for the exit.

Also another daily challenge deviation using Throne

Description
Continuation of Paladin

"Blenke," the Sergeant says. "Report to the Marshall-General on the double!"
"I didn't do it!" I insist. "Whatever it is you think I did."
"You did do it," she tells me. "You took down the Citadel dragon. Your star is on the rise, Blenke. She has a new mission for you."
"Refueling?" I ask.
"You are not going to be wasted as a fuel tech," the Seregant laughs. "Though your accident rate of under 24 percent is legendary. No, she wants you as a harvest agent."
"Harvest... " I mutter, uncertainly.
"I know how you feel about it, but it will end this war sooner and establish Goblin dominance." She pats me on the backside, her hand lingering a little longer than necessary. "Don't keep the Marshall-General waiting."
Which means, like she said, double time. And I run to the Tor, start to explain that a lowly corporal has been summoned by the Marshall-General herself. Laughing, they admit me, making comments on my -
Well, you know, soldiers.
Never has any group of goblins been more sex starved. Though gobs are the unchallenged masters in that arena. And that's not even taking the breeders into account.
Approaching the throne and it's... empty.
She may have stepped out for a snack or something.
Been all my feet all day. I wouldn't mind a snack.
Or a drink.
Or a place to sit to rest my weary feet.
And I see the perfect place to sit.
Looking around, one, twice, four times, thrice -
Just to make sure.
I ascend the stairs past the glowing and pulsing vacuum tubes.
Pulsing with harvested energy.
I'm liking this less and less.
Just let me do easier things.
Like killing dragons.
Sighing, I plop my weary tushie on the throne.
The vacuum tubes glow brighter and -
hum....?
And the hoses throb
And the light sources above the throne swirl
And I hear -
The voices of anguish.
My heart is moved for the harvested.
We already will have victory. We don't need to do this.
As a burst of power rushes into my body.
I don't feel tired.
I feel strong.
With stolen power.
"I'm sorry," I say, running for the exit.

Also another daily challenge deviation using Throne