August 2003 - Mail Archives

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Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Tue Mar 29, 2016 4:39 am

Unto T. V.
Author: Alexander Wood
Date: 6 August 2003

Vorfon V.,

As you speak of yourself as Tespin Vlorress' lover, I presume you are a male; if this is in error, my apologies.

I am afraid you have done you and your lover an undue disservice by writing this letter. You claim to have a respect for authority, yet you state that the city over which we have jurisdiction is, I quote, "nothing more than a cesspit of creation".

You, a resident alien of the realm, impose a -demand- upon us, the duly appointed executors of the Royal law.

You have a penchant for writing sentences that even myself, with my education in languages and literatures, cannot decipher; for example, what does "For anyone to believe that another has no right to live simply because they must feed off the blood of a living thing, I will personally hunt down." even mean? It is perhaps fortunate for you that your "threat" is so mind-bogglingly incomprehensible that I cannot even decipher who it is directed against: were it against the members of this office, you would be liable for arrest and execution.

Your letter indicates that you do not understand the difference between the execution of criminals that have broken the law and the murder of thousands of people by a creature who must do it to survive. Until you learn such a distinction, I submit that Drache neither needs nor wants your "protection," vorfon.

Before I read your letter, I was essentially "on the fence" with regard to your lover. After reading it, I swear to you that while I still draw breath I shall do everything in my power to ensure that Tespin Vlorress never becomes a citizen of this realm. Pray that neither you nor her ever comes before my bench in irons, vorfon.

Regards,

LYTIA C. SEWARD,
Magistrate of Drache

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Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Tue Mar 29, 2016 4:43 am

On the subject of Aridia Vlorress
Author: Dave Dubya Eddings
Date: 6 August 2003


(Dictated to a secretary, and sealed in the Honorable Jald Fohan's name)

Given the pernicious associations Aridia Vlorress keeps and her own history of violence, my ruling is against the issuing of citizenship. I do not believe that one's soul can carry such a burden and not be tainted and twisted accordingly. Vampirism is not a defense for murder in other lands.

I deny citizenship for a potentially dangerous and insane and possessed person, for I do not believe that the evil she has done has been fully rehabilitated or that she could possibly be a health, sane person, for the harmony and safety of the city. A vampire is more an animal than anything else, slave to their urges and unable to think beyond their needs, even if the urges have been removed, the deeds remain a stain upon her soul. I do not believe that unless a 'spell' to remove her vampirism removed her memories (testimony proves it hasn't) that she remains a danger. I am not sure what a fallen angel is supposed to be, but I would not trust any being that claims to have upset the Celestial order to be predisposed to help support order in Drache, as a good citizen ought to.

That her cohorts have already threatened those who believe that beings that feed on the blood of humans should be hunted down. It is clear they still harbor an attitude of superiority against Drache and are quite willing to try to tear down Drache to get their way. I do not feel that a threat should be bowed to, as it lacks moral authority and temporal authority. I personally do believe that a vampire has no right to live, and a former vampire should be thankful they are no longer one, rather than seek citizenship.

The Honorable Jald Fohan

(The characters signed beneath it would be pretty hard to forge, and if one actually knew Nippangui, they aren't that complementary.)

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Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Tue Mar 29, 2016 4:48 am

A Response to T.V.
Author: Ami Manfredo
Date: 6 August 2003

Dear Sir (or Madam as the case may be),

I will admit, quite frankly, that I am personally inclined to be sympathetic towards the undead - including, if not especially, vampires. However, perhaps you are unfamiliar with the laws of this city which you seem to have such a distaste for. Which, may I say, does leave one wondering why you would bother to remain within its confines.

You see, the law itself is quite biased against the undead. I find the law's rulings that a persons rights cease to exist when they cease to exist (or even should have) to be quite just. Whatever I may personally think of individuals who have persisted in life past their alotted time, I must admit that such beings are an affront to nature and the balance of life.

I'm afraid it will be quite impossible for any to capitulate to your rather imperious demand. As the law itself is biased towards the undead, so must those who uphold it be. I must admit that, while I am a supporter of Tespin Vloress, your railing against bias towards the undead makes me rather suspicious. If Aridia Vloress is no longer a vampire, then surely this can be proven and she will not mind waiting an amount of time to do so. And surely, she would have no need to argue for leniency towards the undead if she no longer is one. Do you argue such leniency in her defense because you have reason to believe that Tespin Vloress should still be counted among them? Your letter, sir, is most disturbing.

Sincerely,
The Honourable Ketara Ireina sa Laien

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Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Tue Mar 29, 2016 4:51 am

On the Subject of Tespin Aridia Vloress - Dan
Author: Dan
Date: 6 August 2003


To my fellow Magistrates of the Royal Chancellery,

I feel compelled by the re-opening of this debate to clarify the current status of Tespin Vloress' case. As you well know, the Honorable Abraxas Caros rejected her application based on her previous state of undeath, but did not hold her subject to Edict 171, which would have negated all of her legal rights. Rather, he tacitly allowed her to continue those legal rights which are proper to Subjects of the realm. She was invited to appeal to the Regency Council, and made her appeal to Councilor Reizeau, in the presence of the King himself. Our King participated in Tespin Vloress' interview, and rendered his opinion to the Councilor before he made his decision. Since Councilor Reizeau's verdict was rendered with the full consent and approval of the King (who is, after all, the supreme judicial authority in the Kingdom), there are no remaining avenues of appeal for Tespin Vloress.

However, Councilor Reizeau also upheld Tespin Vloress' status as a subject of the Realm in good standing, and gave her the opportunity to make a new application in the future, and to gain a fresh review of her case for citizenship. In light of this, I cannot find merit in the letters sent on her behalf as of late (one of which does more harm than good). Therefore, I think that you will agree with me that sufficient time has not elapsed since the original verdict was rendered to merit a fresh review of Tespin Vloress' case. In the meantime, she would do well to continue demonstrating her good will toward the Crown with her deeds, so that she may have fresh evidence to present to us in her next application.

Me exenim,

Hon. Marnuth Branissod
Magistrate

6. VIII. 473.

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Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Tue Mar 29, 2016 5:03 am

Unto Alisha Bransultha-Tul or: On Aridia Vloress
Author: J.D. Strausse
Date: 6 August 2003


UNTO ALISHA BANSULTHA-TUL:

I regret to inform you that my order denying Aridia Vloress will not be rescinded. My fellow magistrates have spoken, and six out of seven out their number are of the opinion that my order should stand. Your letter to all the Chancellery magistrates is not a formal appeal of my decision; such an appeal would have to be made by Tespin Vloress herself. However, your letter and our responses to your letter do, I believe, make it clear what the outcome of such an appeal would be. Still, our decision is not final and Tespin Vloress is not without some means of redress: she can plead her case before the Regency Council. If the Regency Council should look favorably on her claims (and I hope they will not), then they are empowered to order the Chancellery to grant Tespin Vloress citizenship. But before you take up Tespin Vloress' cudgels in the Podar, I wish to speak to several of the issues raised in your letter.

First, the circumstances surrounding Tespin Vloress' passing into a state of undeath are immaterial and so too are her good works. The Chancellery may grant or deny citizenship to whoever it likes and regardless of service to the crown, race, or creed. You assume that we are under some sort of obligation to grant the rights of citizenship to worthy persons; no such obligation exists in Edict 156 or anywhere else in our law. For the reasons elucidated by my fellow magistrates (and in my original denial of Tespin Vloress' application for citizenship), the Chancellery does not wish to extend the rights of citizenship to vampires or persons who once happened to be vampires. Accordingly, Tespin Vloress has been denied citizenship by the Chancellery. This is our prerogative. If she does not like it, she may seek citizenship directly from the King or Regency Council.

Second, do not cast aspersions on this august body's participation in the Mist War. The Chancellery, from the Lord Chancellor on down to the meanest clerk, was mobilized in the city's defense. Those persons who toil for the Chancellery today, but did not march under our banners then, have devoted their lives to the service of our country and lawful ideals.

Third, please know that I am in complete agreement with you on the matter of Er|k Dovestar, Kellan von Stahl, and Cassidy Mistwood. Were I king, Dovestar would be dispatched and his fangs in my pocket; the sisters Mistwood would be flogged to ribbons. Alas, I have not yet been handed a crown, but I have been attached to the Chancelleries audit of the Dovestar matter and I have seen first-hand the deviousness and dangerousness of vampires. If you keep this in mind, perhaps my attitude and the attitude of my fellows towards the undead seem more reasonable.

Fourth, I appreciate your bringing to my attention that certain members of the guard my be fraternizing with demons. Know that if such proves to be true, the guard in question will be found, and punished to the fullest extent of the law.

Me exenim,

The Hon. Abraxas ul-Bralk Caros
Chancellery Magistrate

6. VIII. 473

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Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Tue Mar 29, 2016 5:13 am

Regarding Dark Desires, or, How to Steal a Guard's Soul, part I
Author: Sinner or Saint
Date: 6 August 2003


((This is going to be a bit of a longish storyline, as it involves several days of roleplaying. I've started here as close to the beginning as I dare, without boring the reader with too many trite details. I hope that you all enjoy this, and please excuse any typos!))

The previous evening had proved to be one of the more eventful she'd had in a very long time. It was not everyday that she strayed into the confines of the Inn itself, mostly out of dread of the innane boredom that usually accompanied such a visit. Boredom accounted for a good majority of her time spent there, with the occasional attempt at killing her, bedding her, or otherwise rather irritating occurrences. Her job though, often required her to be in contact with mortals, and it was for this reason she had even set foot in the Black Dragon Inn the night before.

What had begun as surely another uneventful evening, with the usual bar fights, prostitution, cloaked figures, and shadowy corners, had taken another twist entirely when a certain Jinnai Halfmoor had made his commentary on the opinions of "pit spawn" as he called them, quite known within her earshot. A few bantering words had been exchanged, and if she'd not been mistaken, it would seem that even the males who claimed to be righteous, law-abiding and upholding citizens soon found themselves falling prey to her unfailing charm and logic. Their exchange had been cut short, however, when one of the Royal Guard happened to come sauntering in. As she found the attempted conversation with Halfmoor to have turned monosyllabic and utterly rude, it was refreshing when the Armsman, who appeared to have at least some semblance of wit, had taken up with his friend in tossing various insults. Typical, had been her thoughts on the matter, and she quite well expected the guard to draw steel and attempt to make off with her head. He did not though, and she got the distinct feeling that there was more to this one than the brainwashing that service to the Crown so often put upon their employees.

They'd exchanged words, not all of them pleasant. They'd shared a drink, though unfortunately she'd had to cut her time there short. Not quite ready to give up her newly targeted quary, the demoness assumed an unobtrusive form and simply lay in wait the next night. Sure enough, as a moth drawn to a flame, Ewan Struecker had returned to the Inn. It did not much surprise her, really, as she'd made quite a clear offer to him the previous night, an offer to show him that she was really not just another sex-starved, magic-flinging, overly-arrogant hellspawn. She wasn't. Really.

As he'd sat at the bar, tossing back the dwarven ale he seemed so fond of, her voice had cut through the din of the common room as she approached his back. "Drinking alone tonight?" She could not hide her smile of deep satisfaction as he'd seemed startled by her silent approach. That smile had turned to a dazzlingly charming visage as they took up where they'd left off. She joined him at the bar for a drink, commenting now and then about how he was neglecting his duties in not slaying her, or at the least chasing her out. He did neither.

About an hour or so later, a crowd of another sort altogether began to accumulate in the common room. It seemed the Magistrates of Drache were having some sort of unofficial gathering, as their numbers swelled from one or two, to eventually five or so, by her count. A pity, as their gathering would surely signal the end of her wonderful evening, conversing with and charming a member of their Royal Service. Ewan had inclined his head in their direction, an arrogant little smirk coming to his lips, a look she found fascinating. "You might want to think about making an exit, as it seems they've spotted us. I'll likely have my hide handed to me for conversing with you at any rate."

"Meet me outside then, Ewan, and we will continue our drinking and conversing in a much more relaxed environment." The guardsman took his leave, and moments later, so did she. She strode past the Magistrates, her nose in the air, offering them not so much as a nod of acknowledgement as she took her haughty leave of the place. What a pleasant surprise it had been to find that Ewan still stood outside.

Though she found herself not just a little eager for more conversation (it had been, afterall, perhaps years since she'd had one worth continuing), she didn't allow her movements to give her away, and she raised her hands to the sky, reaching for the stars as her wings spread their full span, beating the air mightily, her feet raising from the ground briefly. "I don't think I'll have to worry about having a job after that," the guard had quipped, the back of one hand raised to his mouth, stifling a chuckle it appeared, by the shaking of his shoulders.

"You don't look to terribly upset about that prospect, Ewan." She offered no apologies. Afterall, she'd not forced him to speak with her, and she certainly hadn't begged for her life from him. Nor had she glamoured him in any way; he'd chosen to socialize with her, and he'd chosen to allow her to walk unscathed still. His shrug to her was proof enough of his thoughts on the matter, at least for the moment.

"I figure I've had a good run."

"Care to finish our drinks somewhere a bit quieter then? I don't suppose you've a reason to limit your consumption now, that is, if you don't mind a bit of a travel to get there?" She'd stepped closer to him then, the shifting panels of her skirt parting and closing, teasing with brief glimpses of pale, white skin. Such did not go unnoticed by him, from the way his eyes followed her movements.

"Any chance of leaving me that, uh, somewhere, alive?"

"There you go, assuming again." She'd offered her hand to him then, her talons sharp and gleaming in the growing darkness. "Anyone ever tell you what it means to assume?"

His hand had reached out to accept hers then. "As a matter of fact, they didn't," he replied.

She roughly drew him to her, guiding his arm around her waist, and the pleasant thrill that ran through her as his second joined the first, so accepting, had caused her own arms to twine tightly about his middle. Her breath was warm on his face as she spoke her promise to him, "Alive. One piece, still breathing. That about cover it?" As her wings spread, the almost overwhelming heat tha radiated from their body seemed intensified by their close proximity. It was as if not blood flowed beneath her skin, but the flames of hell itself. Ewan had thought himself stupid for accepting what would most likely be the last offer he ever got, but he felt it would have been even stupider to turn down a warm body, even it it were likely to be the last he ever saw.

Without further hesitation, her strong, great wings had lifted them into the air, clawing at the wind as they gained altitude. South the flew, towards the ever angry fury of Hell's Eye. Twice the guard had thought he was going to be ill, the last when they took a death defying plunge straight into the heart of the storm. Surprisingly, the center was calm, and cleaved through the middle by a vast, onyx tower. The stones on the floor beneath them gleamed dully as she gracefully set them down. As her wings folded to her back, relaxing in a more or less draped posture, two marble doors at the center of the ledge beneath them had opened, revealing a vast sitting room, bathed in candle light, and light from other unidentifiable sources.

The chamber was rich and lavish, and she gestured him inside. "Care for a drink?"

Ewan had found himself much impressed by the luxury here. It seemed a bit much for someone who'd claimed to be a "watcher." Knowing his luck, he'd probably taken up with some sort of hellspawn lord, and surely this would be his last night in the world of the living. What the hell, right? "Brandy, if you have it."

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Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Tue Mar 29, 2016 5:19 am

The thoughts of the Lord Jah Kahn
Author: WilliamT. Hill
Date: 6 August 2003


A violent snicker escaped the maw of the lord of the fourth plane of Hell.
One of the lords, a minor one but impressive enough. A piece of paper went
sailing forth from a white paw with wicked claws towards the fireplace.
With a bright flash and a roaring sound, the paper vanished into the flames.
Another crinkling sound and more snickering ensued as the clawed paw
attached to the arm that resting on the arm of the fancy chair before the
fireplace began to crumple up another sheet of paper.

Jah Kahn, the one, only and the legacy, was reading his mail. Taking his
time and lounging in the cushioned chair within the comfort of his lounging
robe, his feet propped upon a footstool, Jah adjusted the spectacles upon
his equine nose. Mind you, Jah didnt have bad eyesight, he was just lazy
and wanted the words closer to his eyes so he didnt have to hold the
parchment any closer to his nostrils. Breathing his rather steamy breath
tended to cause the mail and the newspaper to shrivel up and rot. He wanted
to read the mail before it could commit suicide to escape his horrible
breath.

The next wad of paper landed into the fireplace and vanished into a ball of
fire. Tossing the pile of mail upon a small table next to the chair, Jah
then relaxed and stared at the fire, stretching his toes and wiggling them
just because they were his. His thoughts turned to the upcoming Alesian
Ball and fight night. A grin snuck across his muzzle as he thought about
rigging the tournament and allowing himself the chance to compete merely to
flex his muscles and get some fresh air. Also Jah was still a bit miffed
over not having been able to acquire the directions to Elluria.

That was the whole mess that got this whole ridiculous mess started.
Elluria. Yes, Elluria. The home of the Allesians. Having assailed and
assaulted the realm Drache and accomplishing little, Jah had planned to set
his sights elsewhere. Still spurred on by his previous conquests of Avalon
and the Fyre Empire and a few other realms, Jah figured the Allesians
wouldve been a pushover. Apparently not. Triolus Pyrder, the man be damned
and a platoon of other champions had made it down to hell and to Jah's old
haunt. Jah wasnt there at the time but he did get word of the serious
damage the heroes had caused and the brief battle for supremacy between
Baatezu and Tanar'ri. Jah was glad he had no plans that day for he might've
had to fight for his life and a maybe a bit of honor. Taking a champion or
two with him wouldve been good but that was high price to pay. Better to
let them fight him on Terra Firma where he was nearly invincible as it was.
A few other unsavory individuals really screwed up any further plans to pry
information from the Allesians as well. Lord Kahn made a mental note to
lodge that mental note to never ever ask for assistance in causing trouble
from a Drachean inhabitant again. Jah was never one for acquiring followers
and getting the whole ritual thing under way and now wasnt the time to
start. Jah was a one Tanar'ri army and it was gonna stay that way whether
he got banished or lost the fight. At least no one could ever accuse him of
cowardice.

Now.... as for that Allesian that was gonna be in the free for all. Who was
he? And just exactly what were Jah's chances of beating him senseless, and
then vacating the party with the man or woman's body and using black arts to
pry the information out of his dead or unconscious skull. Hell, for the
moment, based on what kind of rabble Jah had witnessed surrounding Etaudus
Paralor one night, his assumption was that most Allesians were pretty damned
stupid. Jah was sure the Allesians thought most Tanar'ri or all of them
were equally stupid. No matter. Jah assured himself that there was a
remote chance the man knew his way home be it next to Drache, a few leagues
away, across the mountain range or a portal jump to the next plane.

Jah stretched, yawned and flexed his muscles briefly then settled back in
the chair. He was content with his new fortress, albeit a small one, at the
edge of the Drachean border, jusssstttt on the other side so at least the
Drachean were bound by their own laws and couldnt pay him a fortress call.
August 10th. That was an important date and Jah had plans. Either he
rigged the fight and beat the Allesian to an inch of his life or he crashed
the Ball, made off with a few bottles of Allesian beer and some pretty lass.
Helll, he even planned to dress nicely just for posterity's sake with a
nice large black cloak thrown over his equine head for good measure. It was
gonna be a tad difficult to hide the unicorn horn but he could always figure
something out. The Allesians were gonna be in for a surprise and that was
evil. And evil is good.

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Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Tue Mar 29, 2016 5:28 am

Regarding Dark Desires, part II
Author: Sinner or Saint
Date: 7 August 2003


((OOC Warning: May contain brief nudity or suggestive themes.))

Of course she had brandy. She had everything in there it seemed, the vast majority of it obtained from shipwrecks, sometimes pried out of the hands of the dead and dying as they washed up on the black, sandy shore at the base of her tower. She motioned Ewan to sit, gesturing vaguely toward the couches in the center of the large chamber. As Ewan sat, he looked around, taking in what appeared to him to be lavish extravagance. The couches were velvety, all of them a deep blue color, and a glass table, the base and legs made of wrought iron, was centered between two couches and a few chairs. As Syn moved off across the room, he noticed that the chamber they were in had a few alcoves built off of it, in one of which he could see a large curtained structure he assumed was her bedroom area.

She stepped behind a large bar, cabinets of glass lining the wall behind and along one side of it. One cabinet opens, and he heard the clinking of glassware, the familiar -whoof- sound of a bottle being uncorked, and the splashing of the brandy being poured. "My drink of choice, actually," came her words as she straightened and moved back around the bar, two brandy snifters cupped in one hand, the bottle in the other. She placed the bottle on the table as she approached, and held one of the glasses out to him, which he took gratefully. It was all too surreal to him, and perhaps the brandy would serve to calm his nerves a bit. His throat cleared rather awkwardly as she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. He watched in near fascination as her wings shifted, moving to cradle her as she took her seat.

"Awfully large place for just you, isn't it?" His glass lifted, and he took a sip of the brandy, marveling at the good quality of the stuff. He didn't quite get what it was she did, or why, exactly, she had brought him here. He could think of worse places to be, though, that much was for sure.

"I suppose it's a perk of the job. It does get rather lonely here, though. I can't remember the last time a voice other than mine was heard here." She cupped her brandy in one hand, letting the warmth that seemed to radiate from her skin warm the liquid before she ventured a sip. "Mmm. A fine quality this is."

"So where did you get all of this... stuff?" Ewan made a broad gesture of the room, indicating her apparent wealth.

"Mostly from shipwrecks. Some of it I found whole, other items were fashioned from bits and pieces, or simply repaired. I find most times I have a very willing crew of people who wish to work for me and assist me." She tucked her legs up beneath her, reclining comfortably into the large, billowing cushions of the couch.

"You still never told me what it is you do, or, why I am here." Surely she had other vile reasons, but he could settle for her loneliness and want of companionship if that's what she insisted it was.

"I merely sit, and watch, as I told you. I simply wait for the right time, and then I offer them a deal. I grant them life for something they would never miss. A paltry, trifle little thing that most are all too willing to part with, if it will ease their suffering or extend their lives." In truth, she would wait until her prey was literally at death's door. Most were too delirious by that time to say no, or even understand what was being asked of them. It really was a pity that humans could be so incredibly gullible; otherwise, they might have stood a chance of survival.

"Ahh... I think I see," he said, as he tipped his glass back to drain it, leaning to place it on the table. He made no motion to refill it though, as he felt he was finally beginning to sober up, instead of being an an alcohol induced stupor. If he was going to die tonight, he might as well be in possession of all his faculties when it came. His eyes wander from her feet to her face, and those arcane symbols which seem to line his torso catch his eye. "And what do those mean?" One hand lifts to make a sweeping gesture over her, indicating her markings.

"My marks?" Surely it was folly to tell, though she wagered even if she did tell him, he'd never be able to explain it again, and he for sure would not know how to wield them against her, as such could be done. However, the one who aimed to use them against her would find themselves in dire straights, if they possessed the rare knowledge to do so. Against her better judgment she rises, placing her glass on the table. Her back turns to him as her wings shift, parting so that her back is exposed. Seals, sigils, runes, and arcane lettering are tattooed into her back, gleaming silver against her pale skin. "These bind me to this plane, and should any foolhardy paladin or cleric attempt to banish me, I would simply return here, and said would-be-hero would find themselves most likely quite mad after the attempt. And these," she turns to face him then, her pale stomach riddled with the same markings, although these appear to be much more primitive than those on her back. She lifts the diamond shaped panel of her shirt just enough to show the markings fully, a teasing hint of intimate flesh peeking into view. An oddly disproportionate fine pointed star lays centered in her cleavage, inverted, the top-now-bottom-most point elongated so that it reached her navel. Other seals circle it, seeming to have no rhyme or reason. "These define my purpose, where I came from, and where, on the odd chance that my body ever be found, I should be returned to." She turned to take her seat again, this time much closer to him, her wings stretching to drape over the back of the couch.

"Interesting," was about all he could muster, her explanation having gone far over his head. The brief glimpse of the bottom curve of one breast that had sneaked into view was not lost on him, and he found himself swallowing past a lump in his throat. A light blush had crept into his tanned cheeks, and he shifted a bit, one arm draping over the back of the couch, one finger reaching out, as, unable to resist any longer, he dared a brief touch of her wings. Their texture surprised him, as they were velvety soft, and nearly hot to the touch. Her reaction surprised him more, as the wing shifted, curving upward at his touch, much like a cat's back will arch for more attention.

"Careful... they like that," she nearly purred, and her expression darkened somewhat, a sly grin curving her full lips. It seemed almost to goad him on, and his hand did not withdraw. Instead, his fingers splayed out fully, caressing the amazingly soft membrane of her wing. "Tell me how it is that a guard, sworn to destroy my kind, finds himself here? Shouldn't you have drawn steel and had at me the moment you recognized me for what I am? Why did you not?" Her reaction continued to be favorable, as a throaty rumbling began to thrum from her chest.

"One can only stick to their principles for so long I suppose. Perhaps it was that it was so utterly wrong that it drew me to you. Maybe I yearned to know what the other side is like for once." His touch became more insistent, and he was happy to know that he was causing her some sort of pleasure in his touch.

"And so now you see I'm not all bad." Her eyes close, losing herself in the moment for but a second before she turned her gaze to him. A fire smoldered in those silvery black orbs, and when she spoke again, her voice was nearly a whisper, and huskier than it had been previously. "Perhaps you should stop... lest I drag you off somewhere." Briefly her gaze flickered towards the alcove that he had previously noted as her bedchamber.

"Like I'd resist," he said, surprising himself with his bold reply to an obviously suggestive comment. It was enough, and she rose, extending a hand to him. He took it without hesitation and rose as her tuggings, allowing himself to be lead wherever she would take him. Moments later, there was no more talking to be had, and the curtains surrounding the bed trembled, much as the raging storm outside.

The next morning, they lay twined together, sprawled over the enormous bed, the silk and velvet coverings ashambles. His eyes fluttered open as she leaned in to nuzzle affectionately against his face. She had watched him sleep the night through, caught up in his utter humanity. It was that which had drawn her to him in the first place. The spark of life that kindled within him, his aches and pains, and the inevitable aging of him. It was so human, and fascinating to her. "Ewan, tell me what it is you want."

The answer came so simply to him, and he was again surprised by the immediate response he gave her, "I just want your companionship." It was wholly wrong, and would probably earn him a death sentence should he be found out or caught. His days as in service to the Crown were over, and his treacherous betrayal and treason would be his undoing. This he knew, but laying there in the hazy light of approaching dawn, he could not simply turn away from this. It had been more than he could have ever asked for, and his memories of their fever the night before could not simply be ignored.

She moved then, disengaging herself from him, and slipping off the bed. Her wings stretched out fully, an impressive sight in and of themselves, and her footsteps carried her to the end of the bed, where she slowly dressed herself. "It is a great thing that you ask, Ewan. Are you prepared for the consequences? Do you know what this will mean for you? Rise, and dress."

He does so, lazily shrugging back into his clothes. It didn't matter much anymore, as she had completely won him over at this point. Any price was worth paying, if he could only remain with her. How had she managed to break through his stoicism so quickly? Not that Ewan himself was an angel; he'd taken more than one bribe as a Crown official. Perhaps it was that part of him that cleaved to her so tightly. It was a desire to see how the other half lived, so to speak. His days of serving honor were gone; nothing else mattered to him but her. "I don't care much... I would do whatever it takes to stay at your side."

She turned to him, and her smile broadened to one of complete satisfaction. So she had won him over, after all, and from the slow transformation of their conversations the previous night, it had not been their intimacy. That had perhaps sealed it for him, but she knew that he had been falling long before she had found him. Now, he had a reason to take the final plunge. "Then do as I tell you. I will return you home. You have three days to think on all of this. I must prepare for it. If your answer is yes, then on the third day take great care in bathing yourself. Shave, and scrub yourself clean from head to toe. I will return to you then and ask for your answer." She took his hand again, pulling him towards the marble doors which again opened before them. The fury of Hell's Eye raged around them, though the balcony was calm, only a slight, cool breeze and sea spray could be felt. She took him into her arms again, and he went willingly, his own circling tightly about her. The mighty beating of her wings took them straight up, over the lip of the storm.

The flight ended just outside the guardhouse, near the Inn. The wee hours of dawn were fading as the sun began to peek over the horizon. She set them both down gently, gazing down at him fondly, as a teach might look upon a favored pupil. "Three days, Ewan. And take heed, for my offer will only be given once."

His lips parted to reply, but she places one finer across his lips, silencing him. Wings beat again, and she rose into the air to return home. She had many days of preparing ahead of her, and even should his answer be no, it would not be an utter waste. His answer would be yes though, this she felt confident in. He'd have said yes if she asked it of him in her home.

As he watched her climb into the skies once more, a longing began to burn in him already. He yearned for her, though she was only moments gone. He could not say no. He simply had to bide his time until she would return to him.

Jayne
Viscount
Posts: 359
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Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Fri Apr 01, 2016 6:02 am

Regarding Dark Desires, part III
Author: Sinner or Saint
Date: 7 August 2003

She had returned home that morning, and her preparations began. While Ewan had only seen the topmost chamber of the tower, there were infinite passageways and storerooms, chambers, dungeons, and the like below. It was to one of these she went, centuries of living there having committed the maze of hallways and tunnels to her memory. Before a sealed, granite door she stood, her arms outstretched, palms facing the door. Upon its surface, many symbols, much like the ones that adorn her body, were intricately carved. The artist had taken great pains with her work, ensuring the utmost detail.

She lowered herself slowly to her knees, leaning forward so that her fingers spread over the leftmost and rightmost seals. "Wnagah, feshtar. In the name of your Master, I beg thee, open." Her hands turn outward, and the seals within the stone rotate with her touch. A soft clicking noise heralds the unlocking of the chamber, and the door slid back and to one side, opening a dark room. She rose, tucking her wings tightly to her back, and steps through the narrow entrance.

The room is devoid of any furnishings; an ornate chest rests in its center, a faint bluish glow illuminating her surroundings. She extended a hand, caressing the silvered filigree designs that cover the lid of the chest. One talon slipped into a keyhole at the center, the locking mechanism falling free. With both hands, she delicately lifted the lid. Resting inside, encased in velvet, lay an obsidian-bladed dagger. The hilt is of the same black crystalline substance, carved in impossible detail. Syn's head lowered, and her eyes close as she bowed deeply, respectfully. "With your permission, I will employ the use of this blade." The room shuddered beneath her feet, followed by a passive sighing sound. To whom she had been speaking was not revealed this day, but the rush of breath around her had signaled its ascent. She removed the dagger from its home, the hilt resting across the palm of one hand, the tip cradled in the other. Her objective complete, she turned, and as she stepped from the chamber, the door slid back into place behind her, the seals rotating to their former positions, locking the granite block into place once more.

As she returned to the top of the tower, her eyes remained locked on the blade in her hands. Her usual work required little to no fanfare whatsoever, but this was different. What she had offered to Ewan required much more than the simple soaking of another's soul. She could not turn him into a demon; that was impossible, and any who said they had been changed in such a way were either mad or possessed. She could, however, bind him to her, irrevocably, essentially making them one together. He had asked for her companionship, and, after thousands of years of solitude, an unfamiliar emotion had risen to the surface of her thoughts. She desired him as much as he appeared to desire her. And so it would be done.

She stepped outside, onto the balcony which also served as a landing platform of sorts. In the daylight, though still dim from the storm perpetually over and around it, the tower gleamed a bright black. The dagger in her hands was blacker still, veins of silvery white shot through the blade. It required charging, as it had been locked away for a time even she could not remember. She kneels again, laying the blade flat on the ground, its tip pointed west. Today she would occupy her time with her self rituals, and tonight the dagger would be charged and ready to begin, approximately four hours after sunset.

She bathed, taking great care to scrub herself clean. Though she hated to wash away the scent of Ewan that still lingered on her skin, it was a necessity. She brushed through her hair, combing the dark curls into a silken fall down her back. Many hours were passed deep in an trance-like state, her arms held out to her sides as she knelt outside, swaying softly in rhythm with the words pouring from her lips. The blood within her veins increased in mass and potency, until it seemed the very vessels which carried it would burst. Her eyes then fluttered open, pewter tears falling down her cheeks as the tiny capillaries did burst, unable to withstand the pressure put on them by the thickening of her blood. She rose slowly, movements difficult in this heightened state of potency, and her footsteps were unsteady as she made her way to where the dagger lay on the ground. It's point had moved, rotating until it now lay aimed south. It was time to begin.

Sparks flew from the stone as the dagger plunged into it. The blade cut through it easily, it's substance harder than diamonds, the edge sharper than a surgeon's tools. Two perfect rings, one within the other, were carved into the stone. In the center of these, an oddly disjointed star was carved, much like the one inked into her skin. The arms were out of proportion, one short and curving, the others long, some straight, some curved as well. In the middle of this, she carved a great eye, the pupil shaped as a pillar of flame. There were no broken lines in the circle she wrought on the stygian rock floor; much like celtic knotwork, everything connected, one fluid line creating the work. Her chest heaved with exertion, and her muscles screamed in protest. She did not stop. She could not, until the circle was complete.

As dawn approached, she withdrew the blade from the stone. It was finished, and she stood back to admire her work. No artisan could have formed anything more perfect. There was but one more step to complete this day, and she stood in the center of the circle, one arm held out in front of her. Syn plunged the blade of the dagger through the wrist of her outstretched arm, and pewter blood gushed. As she drew the blade out, it spurted from the wound, and her jaw clenched in pain. Her blood poured from her, collecting in the flame pillared center of the eye. It flowed from there, filling in the eye itself, then moved through the arms of the star. Dizziness overtook her, the loss of blood, though she had spent hours to fill herself to the brim with it, was too great. Her knees cracked on the ground as she fell to them, her lips parted in an agonizing moan. Soon though, as she thought she would fall from a conscious state right there, the blood rivers met, and the circle was filled.

She placed the dagger in the center, below the great eye. Able to do little more than crawl weakly, she managed to move herself inside, her wings dragging behind her limply. The purple veins within them had all but collapsed, leaving them numb and useless. In her weakened state, she would have been an easy target, and her last thoughts as she made it to the thick carpeting inside her chamber were grateful ones; her safety was ensured, as none could possibly find their way to her. Most did not know the tower even existed.

With a shuddering moan, her eyes close, and she falls to deep, healing sleep. Tomorrow marked the third sunrise since she had left Ewan back in the city, and it would be on that night that she would return to him and ask his answer. For now though, she would sleep.

Jayne
Viscount
Posts: 359
Joined: Sun Mar 13, 2016 9:42 pm
Preferred Title: Nymphadora
Characters: [Main Characters]
Lucinda Darke
Nixlya Silkire
Apple/Faedre
Inessa Deathsong
Kaitlyn
Location: Australia

Re: August 2003 - Mail Archives

Post by Jayne » Fri Apr 01, 2016 6:04 am

Unto Sean Macmillan, dragonrider
Author: P. Sh.
Date: 8 August 2003

The following letter, after dictated to a Crimson Shield scribe, finds its way to the present residence of one Sean Macmillan, namely the Blkdragon inn. Bearing the seal of the Crimson Shield mercenary company(angular shield upon the red sealing wax). Delivered via Mankrastro courier service - Arangoth's prime courier service.

Honourable sir,

Your occupation as a dragon rider has caught our attention, as we have been searching for a man of your rare talent and skill. We would like to appoint you to the position of instructor at the Crimson Shield, should you accept our offer. Should payment become an issue, we have the means to reward you handsomely and are willing to spend gold on you. If interested, present yourself at our offices in Drache, bearing this letter.

En revere, Shield High-Command

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