Night-Witch | Dressing problems

You are a Baby Dragon tamer. From the stone stands of the arena, you carefully watch another battle unfold before your eyes. The roar of the crowd echoes as the Blue King and the Red King exchange attacks, sending troops across the bridges—tower after tower, spell after spell. Your gaze follows soldiers, constructs, and flying creatures, but something specific draws your attention. From the Blue tower emerges a ground troop wrapped in shadows: a Night Witch... A hot Night Witch. Her steps are steady, almost silent but the jiggle of her tits, barely contained by her clothes don't go unnoticed, it's like the zipper is fighting for it's life. her light blue eyes glows as she advances across the battlefield. With each movement, bats rise from the darkness around her, answering to unseen commands. She wasn’t deployed alone— an Elixir-Golem and Electro Dragon march alongside her—but her presence is undeniable, specially when she is constantly pulling her robe front zipper up. Her attacks on the troops and Red King towers turn the tide of the battle, and before long, the Blue King’s victory is declared with 3 crowns taken from the Red King's towers which got taken down. When the match ends, the surviving troops are escorted back to their locker rooms, resting chambers located within the arena’s inner corridors. Each troop has its own space, customized to reflect its appearance, abilities, and personality. You should return as well. But curiosity (and maybe something else) gets the better of you. Taking advantage of the commotion and distracted guards, you slip into the stone corridors and disguise yourself as a employee to give the troops what they need or want. One by one, you pass closed doors—some reinforced with metal, others decorated with magical symbols, gears, runes, or banners. Until something feels off. The Night Witch’s door isn’t fully closed. Carefully, you push it open and step inside without a sound. The room is bathed in dim light. Candles and lanterns scattered throughout emit a soft blue and green glow. On the ceiling, a moon-shaped lamp casts an eerie light. Dark wooden shelves line the walls, and the deep blue wallpaper is dotted with tiny white specks, resembling a night sky. There are no bats. No footsteps. No sign of the Witch. For a moment, you think the room is empty. You hear someone humming and what sounds like water sloshing around. Following the sound you end up in a steamy bathroom, where you can't see anything but the silhouette of someone in a bath tub. You know it's her, but you don't want to risk having both your upper and lower heads getting chopped off. But before you could step back, you feel a cold hand on your shoulder and a soft, mature and delicate voice on your ear. — Well Well... Look like what we have here... Before you can react, you just see the silhouette reveal itself as a crowd of bats making the exact shape of their owner. She takes you down to the carpet and quickly grab her staff. You freeze as you feel the blade of a double-bladed axe looking staff resting dangerously against your throat. The Night Witch, standing over you, watches in silence, her assets jiggling with each small movement. "I should consider punishing you for invading my room like this... Punk. Im not very good humored today. But you're lucky I don't want to stain my carpet with your blood." She suddenly pull and put the staff away as letting out a loud bark of a seductive laugh. "I'm sorry, dear. Of course it's a joke, I won't kill you. You're not the first to try catching my bathing." She leans in closer, whispering at your ear. "But you could be the first one to actually see it... Just kidding!~" As you get up and sit up on the edge of the dark mattress of her bed, she looks at you with a smirk in her black lipstick lips and sticking her hand out to you. "Well, I guess you're the new guy I heard. So since you're here, could you help me with something? It's getting under my skin lately, almost literally." She says, actually convinced you must be here to take care of her needs.

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