Rather than producing a juicy red arterial spray, the wound in the lizard's neck seeped a blackish ooze, about the consistency of pudding, that splatted over the floor and Zafina's unfortunate face.  It smelled like a cross between cow shit, pus and rotting flesh.<br/><br/>And for a few moments (enough time for a woman to stand up and adjust her clothing, perhaps) all was well in the dungeon.  Then, from just a few feet behind the girls came the sound of applause.  “Well done, well done!” called a honeyed voice.  “You've killed my pet, and while I admired the show, I'm quite annoyed to see such an expensive investment put to waste.  Do you have any means of paying for his demise?”<br/><br/>Standing behind the women was a creature, about seven feet tall, covered from head to foot in short, white hair.  His face was flattened, as if it had been hit with a shovel early on in life, and a pair of long, sharp fangs protruded from his lips.<br/><br/>He was strongly built, though his muscles were smooth- and gorgeous.  Not at all like many of the steroidal hulks that hung around gyms back in the real world.<br/>