The Commonlands were typical for the season that year, dried remnants of last year's crops tangling in the blades of the farmer's horses as they scurried about the pastures crowded around the river edge, attempting to turn over the soil in preparation of the next harvest. The tell-tale undercurrent of rain clung like a lingering promise in the air, sending a sweet aroma of charged copper and wet earth to the men's noses, spurring their actions into a quicker pace, wanting to be inside their small cabins with their wives and children before the heavy downpour began. The skies were still clear, but for anyone having hailed from the Commonlands knew that looks could be decieving. The winds changed in the Commonlands as fast as Lucan's enemies. As was with their Overloard, the tumutlus storms came in quick bursts with barely perceptible prediction and devestating effects. A few of the men called out to their companions, signaling at the sky and rounding up the livestock, intending to head back towards the barns in the distant corner of the field.

Adam Barinswig grunted loudly in frustration and suprise as his blade ran into a well-hidden root of the tree they had uprooted last year, driving the plow deep into a rut that his beast could not tug itself out of. Cursing loudly in thick dervish brogue, he knelt down and loosened the leather straps binding the ox to the machinery. A local neighbor trotted over to him, leaning down to inspect the mess with a loud tsking noise in the base of his throat. He shook his head as he removed his cap and scratched at his hair, slapping dust out of his face by swatting his cap on his knee and wiping at his face with his gloved hand. By the look of things, it didn't bode very well for Adam.

"Dinnae look like 'tis managable, Adam. Jus' leave'be an' we'll worry 'bout it in th'morn. Storm's comin', if'n ye're wise ye'll git inside wit' yer wife 'n kit, ride it out," his friend offered in a defeated tone, shrugging his shoulders as he grabbed the leather straps attached to the animal's harness, tugging on them roughly to bring the beast around to follow behind him. "C'mon, I'll take Gester t'th' stables, an' ye can head home."

"Y'sure, Ian?" As his friend nodded, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck wearily and turned, starting to walk home. He frowned as his arms tingled for a moment, casting an eye across the distant dry land, hovering his sight around the area of the strange lions the villages had begun to avoid, spooked into believing they were more than animals - perhaps even puppets of the darker Gods. He chuckled lightly as he rubbed his arms, shaking his head and trudging through the fields towards the canopied homes in the distance, wanting to settle himself in front of his hearth and perhaps talk his wife into a little more than simple warmth by the fire. Soon, the rain came as they expected, heavy and thick, drowning out all sound and sight like a curtain of water cocooning him in a little bubble out in the middle of the fields. Again, that strange surge made his spine and arms tingle, causing him to pause has he shivered, wiping roughly at his form with the palms of his hands. Dismissing it as the cold of the storm, Adam began to step forward again just as a shrill animalistic scream of pain blared from behind him. He heard the sharp shout of his friend and the howl of the ox he'd used, then silence.

Panting, he sprinted back to where he heard the noise, hollaring at the top of his lungs as he looked about wildly, wiping at his eyes and forehead to clear the rain out of his eyes. There was no blood, but he could see the struggle; shredded bits of leather harness and human clothing scattered in a large wide ring around the plow. The tingling sensation on the back of his neck triggered again and he tilted his head towards the area the strange lions seemed to come from. Why would they have ventured this far, if they had? He trembled, looking around feebly through squinted eyes, attempting to locate a trail in the sluicing rain covering the sloped field. He felt a sob choke in the back of his throat as he leaned down and picked up a scrap of Ian's shirt, noting the blood. He began to panic, dropping the piece of fabric and whirling around to find the impression of footprints. Spotting them, Adam surged to his feet and stomped forward in a half-run, attempting to manuver in the mud in search of his friend.

"Ian! Ian, wher're ye?! IAN!!" He screamed, continuing to plow through the thick plot of pliable mud gathering around his ankles and calves, making his boots heavy and difficult. He squinted as he shielded his eyes from the blinding rain, struggling forward as he heard the animal scream and a loud shrill shout in the distance. His spine stiffened at the noise, fear propelling his pulse to a deafening roar in his ears. He felt weak and sick, but he hurried on, hoping to be able to save Ian from whatever it was that had attacked him.

"IAN! IAN! IAN!" He continued, his heart palipatating in his chest, narrowly dodging trees and scrambling down the slippery banks of the western river until he spotted something in the distance, sliding to a stop as his vision cleared in front of him. He trembled violently, a strangled scream lodging in his throat as his muscles locked from the sight.

Two nightblood creatures stood tall against the bank, their darkened forms huge against the stormy skies. Their eyes glowed orange as they shifted slowly, rolling their spines as they attempted to contain their hunger. Adam trembled, puzzled by the odd behavior, glancing to the bank again as he noted Ian stripped to the skin and crying, scrambling against the sloppy mud of the riverbank, attempting to slip free of their grasp. Adamn's yell lodged in his throat as he began to rise, his muscles tensed as he readied to leap to his friend's side. He paused at the last moment as the two twisted forward and gripped the man by the throat, jerking him up off the riverbank and staring unisonly down into his eyes. They growled lowly, black smoke-like tendrils of power hissing off their hides, making the rain evaporate as it hit their skin. They comunicated to each other in a tongue that made Adam want to clutch at his ears, it was so painful to listen to. They continued on for a time, seemingly communicating between themselves, between something Adam could not see or determine. He shivered, creeping along the shore as they continued to deliberate, searching for anything to distract the monsters and recapture his friend.

The ox screamed again as a tree crashed from one of the nightbloods tails striking it's side, crushing the legs of the animal. The two beasts turned, screaming loudly in that chaotic tongue, reaching for it as they continued to grip Ian, striking it harshly with their claws. Eventually, the beasts cast Ian off again at the banks of the river, screaming and clawing as their forms seemed to distend and then return to normal, the black smoke-like substance shimmering as it rolled off them, trailing the muddied bank as it reached for Ian. The two nightbloods seemed pleased, fully turning their attention to the slaughter and food prospect of the ox. Ian struggled and screamed as the substance seemed to flow around his legs, kicking and screaming as the air seemed to shimmer and sparkle a moment around him, emmiting a blue glow. Adam trembled, too afraid to move as he watched the black substance roll over the blue ethreal glow, distinguishing it as it covered his friend's form. Adam heard a loud crackle as Ian seemed to fade, his form turnish a pallid white as the light in his eyes faded. As the last of the blue glow faded into the black mist covering his form, there was a burst of energy that seemed to center from Ian as the substance let out a strange shriek and slammed into Ian's form. With one swift plunge, the black substance merged with Ian, his scream piercing Adams ears as he seized to move, the faint blue glow completely gone, dissolved by whatever had hovered and slipped inside Ian. Soon, the nightbloods finished their meal, turning to the man as they paused, pawing at the riverbank. They seemed to communicate in that strange painful tongue for a few more moments, then the air around them hissed and crackled before a loud flash of energy seemed to cause them to burst into a thousand pieces of ash. As the rain continued to come, the ashes quickly seeped into the muddied banks of the river, dissolving into the dirt.

Shaking and trembling, Adam made his way down the bank to his friend, his sobs loud in the back of his throat. He knelt beside the man's naked form, trembling as he turned Ian on his side and attempted to check and see if the man was still alive. Feeling a pulse, Adam shivered and closed his eyes, cradling the man in his arms as he looked around slowly, still frightened and half in shock. Almost immediately, a sharp jabbing pain crushed his larynx. Choking loudly and falling over, he tried to register what was happening as his head was ripped upwards by the hair. He was staring into Ian's face, paling at what he saw. The man merely peered at him forgeinly for a moment, his eyes unreflective pools of black. He opened his mouth and there was nothing but schreeching sounds of chaos, impossible for a mere man to make. Adam screamed and clawed at his friend, twisting in his grip as Ian continued to stare down at him with the blank expression and black eyes. Soon, Adam lost all ability to hear except for the noises Ian projected, even after he had closed his mouth. He didn't know if he had truely lost his hearing, or if he'd simply gone insane. The man continued to stare at him for several moments, then his face contorted into that of a demon. Adam felt his form numb, as his sensations left him one by one, replaced with a sweet balming sensation of shock. As Ian tightened his hold on his neck and swooped towards his face with sharp unnatural fangs, Adam went black and rememberd nothing, felt nothing, heard nothing. He wondered if this was heaven as he seemed to fade, realizing slowly that Ian was eating him like the substance had eaten him. He was too tired, to saddened to understand what was happening. He simply stopped existing.


(Posted to RM, SC, JoN, and Aiaru Forums)

(The Divisions are per post count. Enjoy!)



Part One: The Meeting


Countess Leuna Do'Lorien - from the moment he had seen her the Teir'dal had wanted her. Desire was not an uncommon thing for him, usually easily remedied with a few well-placed words and the sudden appearance of coin, but the sharp gnawing flare of determined lust when he caught sight of her was. He mused this strange occurance silently as he observed her, shifting lightly in his seat at the sudden discomfort in his clothes. A sharp bite of hunger crept up his spine as he studied her throat, his body demanding one simple answer as he continued to lightly graze his eyes over her features: Mine. He frowned lightly at the instantaneous demand of his psyche, sliding downwards in his seat as a polished boot balanced easily on one of his knees, a small pack shifting against his right calf where he stored his usual procure of fine wine samples. Briskly running a few fingers over the smooth surface of his jaw, he lowered the thick tome he had been reading into his lap, lightly drumming his fingertips across the worn surface of the table as he assessed the small tier'dal woman with a calculating eye.

She wore finery he had not seen the likes of in quite some time, causing his ire to grow as he continued to study her, watching her ease gently into the doorway and glance around at the scattered patrons in the lofty room. She was clearly a woman of rich upbringing as his eyes gaged the cost of her dress and the subtle stamp of cultered manners as she moved into the room. His lips pressed into a tight dark line of annoyance as he silently uttered a string of violent curses inside is head, staring at her as she continued to move. He gripped the edge of his book stiffly, about to force his head to turn and purposefully dismiss her from his mind, but - ah yes, there! - she paused in front of one of the fireplaces, outlining her form through the thin material of her dress. He lifted a hand to his lips as she turned from side to side searching for a chair, trailing them thoughtfully along his jaw as he glanced over her petite form, enjoying the small upthrusts of her breasts against the tight corset of her gown and the light touch of white against her shoulders from the long sweeping gown. Her hips and thighs were small, but perfectly proportioned. His eyes darkened dangerously as his mind flooded with fleeting fantasies, further burrowing his fingers into the soft leather binding of the book in his lap. His anger continuing to rise, he leaned forward, preparing to reach for his packs and head for the outdoors when she stopped, finally finding a seat, fortunately far enough away from him he did not reach out and draw her to the spare chair at his side. He let out a slow breath he had not realized he had been holding, his jaw ticking aimlessly as he continued to study her, his fingertips itching slightly as he turned and flagged a server from the bar for another store of brandy for his thirst, though it was not liquor on his mind now.

Had she not been so beautiful, or so finely tailed, he would have followed her outside and killed her once she was safely out of the Raven's grasp - after he had finished with her body. His jaw continued to flicker softly as he fantasized about the idea for a moment, but dismissed it once he took another brief assessment of her clothing. She was finely attired, for all he knew she had a rich husband who would pay well to find the man that had soiled and murdered his wife. Instantly, he saw red and dropped the book noislessly onto the table, rubbing his brows with a tired hand as he scowled slightly. What the hell was wrong with him? Who the vith cared if she had a husband? But it mattered to him, and that pissed him off even more. he cast another slanted look in her direction, almost angrily watching her innocently order a cup of warm tea, wondering if the little witch had any idea what she was doing with herself, the damned slut. No, he shook his head slowly, gritting his teeth as he continued to stare. She wouldn't have a flipping clue what she was doing, which made irony hold an even more morose sense of humor in his eyes.

She was one of those beautys that drove a man into madness, making him angered at his reaction to her all the more. He could ignore the need, but as he took the drink handed to him by the server, the instantaneous reaction of absolute possession when he thought of her made up his mind for him. No matter what, he was going to have her, preferably beneath him, in a multitude of postions, crying and begging for the touch of him. The sooner the better, so he could return to his contracts. He was a professional, nothing interfered with his work, most assuredily not a mere woman. In this case, both her beauty and her innocence called to something inside of him, but he was certain it would not last for long. While uncommon, it had happened before, the answer was always simple enough: He would take her, drug her, have her, then be done with her. He had done it before, when these urges for one woman or another got the best of him. A few days of hard, rough sex would expell her from his mind, and her memories could be wiped easily with a few well-placed coin in the right coercer's hands. He sighed irritabily as he decided he would do best not to kill her, though he hated leaving the slightest trace of his signature on anything. Perhaps he would find a mind mage that would be easily suseptible to poison. He chuckled as he continued to plot, leaning back in his seat and propping his boot up lightly on one of the spare chairs, amused at his own imaginings of the woman.

At that very moment, she glanced over at him, offering him a pleasant smile. "Good eve," she murmured in his direction, raising her glass in salutations.

He merely grinned back, raising his own glass in response to hers. "Greetings, beautiful lady. It seems fate has brought a slight change of plans into my path tonight."

She cocked her head naievely to the side, her brow wrinkling as she tried to translate the hidden meaning behind his words. "I beg your pardon?"

He smiled darkly, swallowing a long pull from his glass, enjoying the burning sensation trailing down his throat and into his gut. "Don't worry, you'll understand soon enough."


__________________

Earlier that day....

"What is this disgusting thing I've been hearing whispered about amongst the nobles that you're disgracing your heritage joining alliegances with those Gevaudan fools? Do you think that's really going to matter in the end? Do you think the Queen's going to ignore that you remain unmarried and unbred?"

Instantly, she recognized the voice. He'd been pestering her for weeks at the daily mingling of the court. Disgraceful! her mind shrieked with outrage. How dare you talk to a superior station with such a tongue! Turning, she gave him a well-practiced blank stare. Not once in all her years at court had she ever compromised her social standing and she wasn't about to be baited into such a thing with a new member of the court. Instead, she kept her stare calm and mentally ran over the facts she knew about him: Baron Donivan T'Zirret, heir to an admittedly old family line nearly as long-lived as the Queen's, conviently believed to have vanished during the Faydwer War. He had been introduced to the Queen's Court a mere few weeks ago, sponsored by one of the stronger houses in Neriak. Despite the heavy ally, she thought it unusual that his family branch was so bare, given the nature of her people and their firm beliefs in maintaining a pure bloodline. She had still been leaning pressure on her contacts to discover what the true reasoning behind his sudden appearance in the Nerian Court, but so far all investigations had been unsuccessful except for trailing rumors involving the Thexian camps due north in Darklight Wood. Still, there was not enough facts to act.

"Whatever do you mean, Lord T'Zirret?" She asked cooly, raising a single silvery brow at his biting words. Raising her skirts slightly from the ground, she continued forward at a sedate pace towards the social gathering the Princess had called her to, curtseying lightly to the saluting elite guards standing outside the throne room. Biting the inside of her cheek as her emotions continued to riot beneath the surface of her skin, she continued towards the staircases, heading into the upper flooring of the palace, feeling the warmth of his form beside her. Knowing he was standing too close for proper social guidelines, she never-the-less ignored the discomfort and continued on her way, hoping he would drop the baiting at seeing her disinterest in the discussion. As she continued, a hand brushed against the small of her back. Again, her emotions exploded beneath her skin, the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck rising as the earthen elements in the stone around her sensed her discord, tickling at her face in a silent cry. She ignored their silent beckoning, clamping down the urge to pull their energy into her and simply become wolf and end him. Deciding to distract herself, she amused her fantasies by imaging driving the tips of her teeth into the soft flesh of his neck as wolf and watching the lively glow in his eyes fade into a dull shade of death.

"Are you daft as well as ignorant, woman? You know exactly what I mean, Countess. Really, what absurd part of your woman's mind hatched this idea? Your Overseer has been released from this life. You are of age. You WILL be bred, mark my words." He leaned towards her as they topped the stairs, staring into the gathered circle of other nobility in the center of the room. "Mark my words, you're not going to last The Season."

Offering him a brittle smile, she lowered her lashes momentarily, coyly delivering her next response in a low cultered voice. "If you try and marry me off, I will hunt you down like the little lying bastard you are. You're no noble, and we both know it. Pester me again and I'll make sure you die very, very painfully. I will find your lovers, your children, your real family, and I will rape them from this world until I'm so drunk on their cries of death that my bloodlust shall be sated for as long as I last on this side of Hatred's Realm. Mark my words, Baron T'Zirret."

His face darked immeasurably as he glowered at her, obviously wanting to strangle the life from her neck. She could see it, in the way he hunched forward and twisted the scarred fingers of his hands against his brais. Still, she had succeeded in buying herself time. She could see it in his eyes as he nodded, releasing the tension in his shoulders and immediately turning away from her, bringing a cultered smile to his lips and greeting one of the members of the house that had sponsored him into court.

Schooling her features into the perfect Countess, she lifted her skirts brushed past the guards at the door and made her way into the large oval courtroom, greeting those that had come both out of curiosity and business, paying special attention to any information she could gather, as was always customary at court - a mere game of cloak and dagger with the finesse of coin and well-bred discretion and manners. I do hope Sire Setsuko is interested in my offer, she worried to herself as she continued to keep her face slack and empty of tell-tale signs of worry. Still, the stones beckoned to her. She could never truely hide her feelings from them.

When she returned home that evening, she noticed a small envelope slid underneath the entry doors of her manor. It read: Your request was decided to be accepted. Welcome to our home, mortal. You are a guardian. Seek Braylen or Grimm out for further details and we shall speak at length, allowing you to meet the other members of the house.

She swayed slightly, letting out a soft pent up breath as the tension in her shoulders slackened. She smiled, gathering her cloak about her shoulders as she called to the servants, fully intending to venture outside of Neriak's walls and enjoy her small victory, knowing full well Baron T'Zirret would stand no chance at submitting an inquiry into her actions now. Tension drained out of her shoulders as she envisioned the Seraphim's pleased expression, culturing her into a better spy for The Church. She could play the game a little longer, with the help of the vampires.

Unfortunately for her, she had no idea how wrong she was.

--To Be Continued...
_________________

Part Two: The Plan


Gevaudan Estate, Death Grotto, Neriak

“Come in, Countess.”

Leuna gasped, tensing and turning sharply at the source of the voice, the full length of her skirts rustling lightly against the flooring of the Gevaudan house estate as she slipped in quietly through the door. She had been cautious with the invitation she had received, telling her servants to keep a close eye for visitors to her manor, extremely anxious to set about the groundwork for her alliance and induction into the Gevaudan fold since her recent run in with Baron Z’Tirret. She had waited for days at home after recieving the indescript note on her door, concluding her absence at court to her inquirers that she’d taken ill and needed rest and relaxation to restore her. Finally, after a week’s worth of wait, a small child had somehow slipped into the manor as she was changing for bed. She hadn’t had the time to scream before the child thrust a note into her hand and ran from the room, the only evidence of his presence being the small pitter patter of little feet hitting the stoned floor as he rapidly made his way out of the house. Now, she found herself standing inside the Gevaudan Estate, just as the child-like letters had described, staring at the handsome face of Grimm Del’Mortis.

Swallowing softly, Leuna straightened her stance as she closed the heavy doors, curling her fingertips gently into the fabric of her skirts as she stared at the Tier’Dal male in front of her, trying to imagine him as simply being one of the hardened warriors of the Queen’s guard. He seemed normal enough, wearing the well-used platemail of a seasoned warrior, the edges of his armored dressing still faintly crusted with the blood of his victims. His face was dangerously handsome, her feminine side easily responding to him as she slanted her eyes over the strong cut of his jaw and the light ridge of his nose. His hair was well-kept, black locks shorn off at an angle that lined his jaw, allowing a slight modification for both style and practicality in the field. His eyes were soft, though they held the strange glint of a predator as he assessed her, his smile tugging his lips across sharp incisors that pressed gently into the lower lip of his mouth, deeming him one of the undead. She curtseyed lightly as she glanced around slowly, spying a few others in the corner of the large gathering room, in various states of disrobement, small moans escaping the mass of bodies. Her nostrils flared slightly in shock, but she turned, centering her gaze on him as he continued to study her, slight amusement shining in the depths of his eyes.

“Are you Grimm Del’Mortis that Sire Sesuko Gevaudan told me about?”

He nodded slowly, slipping away from the wall as he walked towards her, his movements eerily quiet. She trembled slowly as he assessed her again, refusing to look afraid in his presence. Her iron-like mentality must have amused him in some fashion because he let out a soft laugh as he continued to trace his gaze over her form, motioning her out of the gathering room, into the lower depths of the estate to begin her debriefing.

“This way, Countess. I hear you’re joining our House for political reasons, mm? I must say that is a first within our walls. I’ll need to be thorough with you in what you can and cannot do, but from the spitfire spirit I see in your eyes, I have a feeling that’ll not be a problem for a little hellion like you. Come now, I won’t bite…unless you ask, of course.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Seraphim’s Presence, Innoruukian Spires


“Is it done?” The Ayr’Dal asked softly, lightly tapping her nails against the glowing twin swords strapped to her hips as she sat at her throne, staring deeply into Leuna’s eyes as she knelt before her, clenching her fingers into the fabric of her skirts as she swallowed lightly and nodded.

“Yes, Seraphim. It is complete. The House accepted my alliance and the merge is nearly complete. I proposed an offer towards Setsuko’s kin to support her within Christanos’ court. Their forces are strong, as are their kindred and protectors. I shall be allowed to remain unwed, for there is no one within Nerian Borders that could endure the pressure their kind could extert, should I be chosen by one Christanos’ vultures during my investigation.”

The ageless Ayr’Dal nodded slowly, glancing over the long tips of her nails as she scraped them gently along the intricate patterns of the chainmail dressing cut tightly to her frame. Her voice was soft and pleased as she continued to talk, but hidden within those soft chords of noise was the dark cultured voice of The Father.

“Perfect. I am pleased with you, Disciple. Christanos Thex has become a greedy Queen, allowing His Church to fall into such a state of disrespect. Her will is a double-edged sword. She is such a perfect product of Him, filled with His Gift, and yet she wishes to claim that the gifts He gave her has earned her His place. She has grown into her being well, something the King failed in. However, her methods are not acceptable. This…raises my ire, Leuna Do’Lorien. You, my dearest Countess, are going to help me solve this little problem.”

Though a slight ripple of fear channeled up her spine at the hidden warning dripping from the ayr’dal, Leuna flushed with pleasure as the wash of approval she imagined He would feel at her services to The Church. Smiling slowly, Leuna nodded and bowed forward, lightly pressing her forehead into the ground before the revered woman.

“As you wish, Seraphim.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Maiden’s Fancy, Death Grotto, Neriak


Leuna was surprised at the cheerful attitude of the servers sashaying through the large rooms of the nightclub known as The Maiden’s Fancy, stepping quietly into the gathering hallway of the posh housing unit beside the Opera House a few days after her secret meeting with the Seraphim. She curtseyed lightly as she passed a few patrons, pausing at the archway of one of the doors, watching an exquisite-looking ayr’dal dancing vivdly onstage with the help of colored scarves. She settled neatly into one of the corners of the room, intending to simply watch the acts and afford herself a few cups of sweet wine at her recent victory.

She smiled softly, clapping at the woman’s movements when she felt a presence at her side. Turning her head slightly, she paused as she noticed the man she had seen the other night in the Raven Mythic. She swallowed nervously as she caught the depth of his stare, calming her nerves by reminding herself that he had introduced himself as a simple wine merchant, not one of Christanos’ spies. Still, the look in his eyes disturbed her. If she had not known any better, she would have considered him a threat to her alliance with House Gevaudan. Chuckling lightly underneath her breath, she smiled and lightly lowered her gaze as she responded to his leisurely grin. He settled into a chair beside her, one hand carrying the drink she already associated with as his favorite: aged brandy. She was irritated at her instantaneous response to him, her gown feeling oppressive and damp as she evaluated his sharply-chisled features and his refined clothing. Goddess, he was an eye piece to enjoy.

“Mister De`Krite, what a pleasure it is to meet your acquaintance again. What brings you to The Fancy?”

He continued to simply stare at her with that all-encompassing grin for several moments, making her shift nervously in her seat and wonder if he had even heard her statement at all above the catcalls of the other patrons as the ayr’dal continued to dance risquely onstage. Opening her mouth slightly, about to reissue her question, he immediately leaned forward, studying the lace lining of her bodice.

“You,” he drawled out, making her wonder for a moment if that was his response. “You, are a lovely sight tonight, if I must say so myself. A better question than my response would be is - what are you doing in a place like this? Don’t you have more important things to be doing with your time?”

She tensed carefully, studying his features behind a mask of flirtatious intention, her insides stilling at his words. Did he know of her arrangement with the Seraphim? Christanos had used similar tactics before when the Seraphim had become close to turning the ears of her most revered advisors. She was brutal, ruthless, and calculating. She would use whatever means nessecary to ensure her place at the throne. Didn’t the Faydwer War attest to as much?

“I simply wanted an outing,” she managed vaguely, smiling towards him before glancing back at the ayr’dal onstage, watching the woman draw her dancing to a close, a dark-haired human male nearby, readying himself as the next entertainer. “I have yet to find out who owned the vineyards you were so interested in selling for that you mentioned at the tavern the other eve. Given a few more days time, I am sure my eyes and ears will be able to come to a conclusion on their whereabouts.”

“Ahh yes, the wine. Of course, the wine. I am most grateful to your kindness, Miss Do’Lorien. I’ll await your answer with utter delight. Until then, may your wits keep you safe until I see you again.”

Grasping her hand gently between his thumb and forefinger, he paused to dip down and press a light kiss to her hand. She smiled softly, curling her fingers against her chest as he nodded, setting his brandy beside her on the table and exiting the halls. Staring at the glass, she felt more chilled than she had in ages.

If she had been wise, she would have seen that as a sign of warning.
___________


Several weeks passed before he saw the woman again, and the whole time she had distracted his thoughts with fantasies and illusions of desire trapped between her thighs. His lust for her was becoming a problem, the rough stab of emotion still evident in his blood even after he would work himself into exhaustion into one of the many whores between Neriak and Freeport, hoping to clear his head for even a night’s worth of peace. He was beginning to realize the women were only a temporary fix to his problem and he was going to have to move soon before his work got sloppy. She would be the only acceptable answer for his desire, but that in itself presented a problem. He knew all about her title, her status within the courts of Queen Christanos, her problem with Baron T’Zirret, even her little secreted meeting with the Seraphim against Queen Thex’s wishes. He smiled slightly as he pictured how well the man’s corpse would be on display when they discovered him in the morning, dead from stab wounds slicing through his chest cavity. Anyone posing a threat to his claiming of Countess Do’Lorien was a problem, one easily remedied with a late night visit and a slip of a wrist in the right direction, especially when his ranking had been ill-thought out in it’s forgary. She, however, was not so easily remedied. She was too well known, too prominent to simply disappear after he tired of her, which he was sure would happen once he’d rutted fully between her legs for several days. While she might not be one of the Queen’s advisors, she was always visible to the citizens of Neriak and within the courts, and her disappearance would be investigated. He had no taste for the wrath of Christanos Thex. She might not be important to the Queen now, but she was a perfect reason to issue an Ebon Mask Operative after him. He could not take the risk of the Queen’s investigators finding him linked to her if something unfortunate were to happen to the Countess.

There was, however, another option. She was rich, her name carried status and uuper-caste class, and most importantly – her family’s reputation carried the power of influence. Countess Do’Lorien was perfect for his operations, so he had begun to plan accordingly. She was high enough in the casting system ranking to garner and hold attention, without being scrutinized closely like the first caste nobles. She would make a perfect political trophy wife, the coveted prize of the Nerian Court, bringing him wealth and social status and costing him nothing in return. She was smart, for she had already realized her vulnerability in such matters, acquiring an alliance with a strong vampiric house called The House of the Gevaudan. Fortunately for him, he already knew the sharp-witted instincts of the woman’s mind, having made it his priority to learn how she thought in the weeks since their last meeting.

He would seduce the Countess with lies and charm, making her his wife while acquiring her worth – seeing how she could become lucrative to his plans. In the past, he had always viewed a wife as burdeon to his ambitions, but he was amused in his change of fate. Surely, with enough force and carefully calculated seduction he could eventually control her, break her will and leave her at home for when he had need of her body, continuing his endeavors and taking his pleasure elsewhere as he wished.

A Countess, much less any noble, would never marry a simple wine merchant. He would have to be meticulous and careful in his planning and precautionary actions, but already a plan had begun to form. He bided his time while planning, simply approaching her on a business basis, as a fairly unknown wine merchant that traveled easily between the two cities of Neriak and Freeport, bringing both profit for the noble that brokered them and the merchant himself. Such dealings were commonplace within Nerian society and would not raise an eyebrow to even the most preducidal of faces.

Between his times at the Raven at her side and his research, Selvinn managed many things. He easily caught her at a weak point after a run-in with a crazed vampire being brought into the safety of the Gevaudan household, managing to understand just how deep her claws had sunk into his resolve. He took her maidenhead that evening, and with it all the force of his lust became solely focused on acquiring her as his wife. His mind and body refused anything less than absolute possession.

With nothing less than absolute obsession, he proceeded to the next stage of his plans.

Neriak

For the next several weeks, Selvinn began in motion what would eventually become his greatest masterpiece to date. His temper frayed tediously with the work required to set all his plans into place, but patience turned out to be a virtue he did not know he had. He was becoming hell-bent on achieving what his mind had crafted, exercising caution in every small step of his plan, easing the transition slowly into the well-crafted goal he craved for. He knew that the game he was about to start would take all of his cunning and calculation, leaving no room for error. He could not afford to make the slightest mistake in his scheme, if he fully intended to have the Countess just as he wanted. After that one evening in the Raven baths, where he had finally managed to garner a taste of what it would be like to posess her, the Countess had been avoiding him. It angered him greatly at her cold shoulder towards him in their few brief moments together since then, but he could be paitent when patience was needed. He had taken her maidenhead, and soon he would have everything else. She knew what she had given him, he made sure of such every time their eyes collided with one another. Until the last pieces of his plan were set into place and ready to act on, he would content himself with the brief interludes at the Raven where he might catch her eye.

He began his work innocently enough, circling the common trade markets within Neriak between contracts to keep his pockets lined with coin should he need it. Distinguishing himself as a simple wine merchant aided by disguise, he moved like a phantom amongst the tradesfolk of Neriak, never lingering too long in his business arrangements to allow anyone to remember his face. Using both coin and eyes alike to gather intelligence, he eventually slipped his way into the courts as a page, connecting faces with family heritage, diagramming them well with the prolific tomes found within Library K’Lorn. In a way, he owed the richly elegant city his own heritage, one he fully intended to exploit and take given the proper knowledge and skill. Tirelessly, he continued his charade for weeks within the courts, working at social gatherings as the serving staff, listening for any small fact that could lead him into learning more about the tangled web of family trees Christanos Thex had produced during her reign. Finally, as his patience was about to fail, he found his answer in one name: Xaenar S. Do`Krathe.

The simplicity of the plan almost left him in laughter at the end of the evening as he researched and documented the man’s history. His full name was Duke Xaenar Salvon Do`Krathe, a high ranking member of royal blood, second only to that of the Queen and her late unfortunate husband, Naythox. The Duke’s line had been born early from the spawning of Innoruuk’s children, being fathered directly from one of the Queen’s first children produced by her King. He had become disenchanted with Christanos’ need for power, urging the King to keep a leash on the woman. In her attempts to gain control, the Duke laid plans to move into Freeport, shortly after Lucan’s overtaking of the once kindly-ran city. It was there that he had stayed, quickly making himself a useful tool in Lucan’s voracious thirst for conquering all of Norrath. Within Nerian walls, he was seen as an outcast and traitor by some, a potential intelligence source by others, but most of all he was feared for his ties to Lucan – even if he had not been seen in Neriak in nearly one hundred years. Lucan’s grip on Norrath was well known, even to Christanos. Such was evident in the general allowance of outsider passage within her realm, because even the Queen knew she could not withstand an attack from D’Lere. As Selvinn continued to work, he began to mold the man’s history into a workable prey for the next stage of his plans.

The man had enough power and status to outrank a mere Countess with no immediate family to ally with. While the man was powerful in his own right in the city of Freeport, he was reclusive and sporratic in his appearances at Lucan’s gatherings. No one seemed to know what the man looked like, one piece of information he would be able to use easily to his advantage.

After all his weeks of sifting through mountains of information, he had a name. One closely resembling his own, one that could easily be persuaded to believe was documented wrong, especially as he would slip into the role with relish, enjoying the power the man had at his disposal and apparently wasted. Now, the fun was to begin.

He would become a Duke.
_______________

Freeport

After slowly withdrawing his presence in Neriak and seeing that he had fully covered all his tracts, Selvinn searched relentlessly for the placement of this man. After a few days search, he found what he was looking for. The estate was a large, a well-kept and indescript housing block lining the scenic docks of North Freeport, within walking range of the Temple of War. He was pleased with the location, knowing the patterns of the guards generally kept this place well secluded at night. He dressed himself as a beggar, resting lightly in a corner of the docks near shore, contriving sketches with soft charcoal of the serving staff the Duke kept within his household, as well as the faces of any errand boys the man might dispatch. Occasionally, the Duke would go on outings, where he would follow, observing ever nuance and mannerism the man possessed. He spent countless hours perfecting his movements and speech patterns, eventually gaining the unique word patterns the Duke used. When Selvinn finally felt secure in his ability to mimic the count completely, he finally began the final stages of his plans.

As he sat inside a rented room that night near the Jade Tiger, he glanced over at the sleeping form of the whore in his bed. He smiled slightly as he remembered the madame’s chuckle at his specific requirements of the hooker, paying well for what would surely damage the girl’s spirit. She was almost as perfect as the Countess would be in body, but her vulgarity with words made him gag her as he used her. She would survive and be functional to the woman’s needs, and that was all the woman had cared about. Most men didn’t want the argument that came with physical acts, especially when they were paying. Oddly enough, he missed that about Leuna. He enjoyed her spirit and cutting words, enjoyed that she made him think with both the force of his lust and wit. She would have no less of him.

Polishing a knife easily with a dress rag, he contemplated the best way to absorb the Duke’s identity. He knew that the transition would have to be perfect in it’s execution, and he knew he would have to kill the man in order to do that. Studying his reflection in the polished edge of the blade, he continued to debate his next move.

It would have to be a fire, after he had hired several mages to sear all memories out of the surface of the walls and flooring. He did not want any of D’Lere’s men to be able to pull any information from an easily manipulated servant, nor did he want the act to seem purposeful. Of course, he would kill the mages easily after the work was done, but he had to be sure that the walls were bare before the arson would take place. There would be no lingering traces of his household and staff, no memories to feed off of, no traces to link his plot to the man he once was. It would give him a fine reason to finally return to Christanos’ city, and he knew well enough that D’Lere would pay handsomely to have an ear so close to the Queen. Treachery was a fine business these days, one that would bring in immeasurable amounts of power applied in the right circles.

He would need documents claiming his position and identity, money, and someone who knew the noble well to validify his statements. He took a keen interest in studying the man’s servants, wagering which one would be most easily swayed to go along with his plans. After a few days of research, he drew his conclusion on the butler. The man was impeccable in his duties, but he lacked the foresight of a truly perfect servant. Though loyal to his Master, Do`Krathe's manservant was also a family man with a wife and child on the way.

All he had to do was ensure the man’s cooperation, and what better leverage to use than a human’s breeding mate? With a late night visit to the manservant’s house, he collected his valuable package and left a kindly note to the man to find when he awoke. Almost immediately his loyalties changed, which worked splendidly for Selvinn. The Butler, whom called himself Lvos, began to gather the nessecary documents with the corrected spelling to match Selvinn’s name, fooling the Militia into making them think an error was in place. With each step the Butler took in assuming his identity was in place, Selvinn went behind him in shadow, overchecking the man’s work and silencing those that might have known the man personally. His transition was nearly complete.

Though the Countess continued to avoid him, suprising him occasionally with her thinking, there were moments when his lust was too out of control to allow him to stop. She never denied him, though the hatred shining in her eyes as she begged for him made his need for her even greater. She would be his, she had little choice. The couplings they shared grew more violent and frenzied with each act, and part of him wondered if she realized the threat he was to her plans.

Imagination or not, it drove his lust into a fixation that he could not stop wanting. His countance grew darker as he worked tirelessly to achieve the Duke’s place, but he could not afford to let the woman devise a way to rid herself of him. He was too far involved to stop now, and he feared if she fought him too much in his claiming he would kill her versus allow another man to claim her. He was consumed with her, and nothing would dissolve the maddening of his body until he had her.
It took a combination of several potions, mixed together delicately to allow no aftertaste in the foods it was introduced to, along with a bribe to her cook to insure they were always present in what she ate to give him the leverage he needed on her to ease his worries. The potion fed into her fears of their coupling, simulating the changes a woman's body when encountering the first stages of breeding. It caused a slow weight gain, a slow change of mood swings, slight sickness and, if triggered, would even give off a faint spark of life if she attempted to detect life within herself.

Still, despite all his measurements to ensure the process would run smoothly and she would be his, his patience was beginning to wane. He had to act soon.
_________

The morning of the fire had arrived. Everything was in place as it should be and all the servants were working, allowing to him to turn all this man’s past into ash. He would arise from the chaos a Duke, and then the little Countess would be his. As always, Selvinn felt the thrill that always ran through him before a job, however this time was different. As he double checked his work, he smoothed out the ruffles in his attire, allowing his professional mask to slide into place, his features going blank and calm. He used that rush of excitement, channeling it down into his veins, saving it for when it would be needed. He would have to keep everyone from escaping the estate, slipping a drug into the nearby guard’s drink to keep him in a stupor and unable to respond to the blaze in time.

He made good use of Lvos as he went about his task, slipping into the estate easily and finding him polishing some silver glasses into a shine. The man jumped, barely covering a shocked dry before forcing his worried features to attention, listening as Selvinn spoke.

"Good evening, Lvos. What a pleasure it is running into you again. I wanted to have a brief moment to remind you of your obligations towards me, so that nothing will happen to that pretty little wife of yours. She is doing well, I had a healer check on the child last night. You are to have a son. You do wish to see your son born into this world, don’t you?” He smiled slowly as the man began to weep, patting his shoulder gently as he continued. “Good, that makes well for my plans. You are a good servant, Lvos. Now, be gone, serve your Master well, for what little remains of his life.”

And so it was done. The fire was magnificent, leaving no trace to the lingering old man that had been the Duke before him. He had made sure to be close by, forcing welts on his hands and chest from the fire’s roaring flames. Soot marred his features until he was nearly unrecognizable in the flames. Coughing, he laid in the mess for hours, until he heard the familiar call of Lvos through the thick mass of smoke still wafting off the charred remnants of the house as the Militia investigated the arson.

“Master? Master, where are you? Are you alive? We cannot see you, Master De`Krite! Please, let us know you are still with us!”

He smiled slowly, though the action hurt to do so. With a weak cough, he tried to stand, waving his hand in the air.

“I am over here.”

________________________________________________________________

After hours of intense interrogation, Lvos and him were released from custody and provided suitable clothing to wear in the streets until reasonable housing could be found for them. The man trembled as they walked the streets aimlessly, casting an eye towards Selvinn as he tried to beg for his wife’s whereabouts.

“I-It is done, M-Master. Please, I beg of you, may I see my wife? You shant need me anymore now, everything is laid in place. Please, let us go...”

He stared at the scared countance of the man beside him, smiling slowly as he shook his head
“Not just yet, my dearest Lvos, for I still have use of you.” Before the man could protest, though the look entered his eyes, he linked an arm over his shoulders and continued his words as they strolled along the streets of West Freeport. “I need you to confirm who I am in Neriak, and perhaps then we shall talk about releasing you from my services. I promise, with just a few more tasks, you shall see that sweet wife of yours again. Now go, gather us the nessecary supplies and outfits fit to meet a Queen.”

The man swallowed, knowing full well he would never be free of Selvinn De`Krite’s grasp. Perhaps though, if he continued to do as his Master bade him, he would be allowed to keep his wife. He nodded, bowing slowly at the man as he took the coin Selvinn handed him, intending on doing the tasks asked of him.

“As you wish, Master De`Krite.”
_________

She was already running late that morning, cursing loudly as she snapped angrily at her serving girl, smoothing her fingers over the full length of her skirts and snatching the ends of her white cloak out of the girl's hands. She stared at her reflection as she hastily tied the cloak into place, crushing the summoning she had recieved against her breast, trembling lightly as she frowned darkly at the pitiful picture she was painting.

"Snap out of it, Leuna." She whispered fiercely to herself, making a disgusted noise in the back of her throat as she wrapped her fingers in soft white gloves, heading for the entry doors of her manor. The servants scrambled before her, opening the doors quickly as she quickly picked up her pace, heading towards the palace in a hurry. A slight trickle of fear slid down her spine as she reminesced the words of the summoning in her head, over and over:

Countess Do'Lorien;

Your presence is required in front of Queen Christanos Thex post haste. Please report to the throne room as soon as you recieve this summoning.

- Galvadron, High Palace Guard

Curtseying lightly to the guards as she passed them, she bowed lowly as soon as she caught sight of the throne room, lowering her gaze subserviantly as the doors were cast open by two flanking royal guards. Did she know of her meeting with the Seraphim? Had she realized her scheme with House Gevaudan? She could have sworn her own heartbeat was blotting out all the noise in the palace, but the Queen's voice rang out dark and true as she continued to kneel.

"Leuna, come forward. I am summoning you to me this morning to introduce you to your future soul-bound."

Leuna froze, her heart tensing and feeling like it was going to explode in her chest. Her head ripped upwards as fear and anger froze the blood in her veins, staring firstly at the queen, then at the leering handsome face of the man standing beside her.

No.....

The Queen smiled slowly, gesturing over to the man beside her with a pleased expression in her eyes. Leuna simply stared at them both, her face expressionless, though her insides churned violently in panic and anger and fear, her thoughts a jumbled mess of chaos and confusion.

"May I introduce you to Duke Selvinn De`Krite."

--To Be Continued....

Post One:

As Zorgin stepped slowly onto the docks of the Thunderring Steppes, a soft feminine voice spoke quietly near his side, in the direction of the port bells.

“You know, you really could put your talents to so much better use. I can tell, you’re so gifted, geniusly so if I may be bold. You have a wonderful gift for…certain things, if you’d only use them. It’s a pitiful thing to watch in ways. Depressing, honestly. Such a waste.”

The Tier’Dal woman was perched lightly against one of the many crates resting against the edge of the dock, waiting shipment towards destinations unknown by the Far Seas Trading Company. She wore a set of polished leathers cut tightly to her frame, the smooth animal skins looking meticulously perfect, indicating she had both wealth and a good eye for clean-cut efficient hunting gear. Her ivory hair was pinned up elegantly into a simple-styled bun at the nape of her neck, soft silver eyes holding a light inner fire as cold as Vellious herself. The woman smiled slowly, slipping off one of the crates and extending a small hand towards him, the nails long, polished, and perfect.

“Tell me, are you interested in a game?”

_________

Post Two:

The woman chuckled softly in amusement, lowering her eyes from his face as she watched his hand pause and remain hovered indesively beside the swords strapped to either side of his hips. She noticed the tears along his robe, glancing up into his face as she quietly walked towards him, pausing once she reached his side to brush one of her fingers casually against the wounds, murmuring a small spell beneath her breath. Her face was expressionless as she continued to study his lacerations, withdrawing her fingers away in time before he could open his mouth to protest. She seemed careless about his cautious judgement, curling her hand into a small fist as it fell to her side, watching the area fog and snap with static electricity as the earthen elementals of the air fluttered to life beside the cut, glowing a faint blue as they burrowed through his skin, sealing the wounds with a small amount of pain. She smiled as the process was completed, glancing up slowly into his face as the small beings continued to work, knowing the wound would throb dully with cold for a few moments until the elementals left his body.

"There now, isn't that better? Those wounds could fester you know, if they were left in that condition. Griffon talons have a tedious amount of filth in them, you see. They act like cat claws in some ways. It is usually not the cut that kills, but the filth that teems within the weapons."

Brushing a stray strand of white hair out of her face with her hand, she offered her hand once more, though her eyes seemed to glow again with that faint sense of dark humor, like a hidden joke that only she had the answer to. Again, her eyes lowered, glancing towards her fingers as she held up her hand, summoning the elementals into her palm again as she spoke, watching the air coalesce into a hazy-shaped flower, the outline flickering momentarily before a red rose bloomed brightly into her upturned palm, the lush petals dark and soft, magnificent.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It's amazing, the simplicity of nature. For all the Gods, with all their words - one simply has to look to nature to see the truth. So pretty, and yet..." her words trailed off as she plucked the flower out of her palm with two fingers, stabbing her thumb deeply into one of the thorns against the stem, the scent of her blood reaching his nostrils as she handed him the rose, tucking it against his collar as she continued, seemingly talking to herself for a moment, "...all nature has within it the duality of life. No matter how hard She tries, she must recognize that He is, and always will be, part of Her. Denial is just another form of hypocrisy. At least with Him, there is nothing but truth. He does not deny who He is."

Smiling softly as she tilted her head to the side, she inspected her handiwork a moment before she let her eyes raise, meeting his gaze again. She continued to inspect him for several moments, as if sizing him up for a time, contemplating his integrity before continuing in a low murmur.

"You may call me Leuna. You look tired, my friend. Are you sure you wish to play?"

________

Post Three:

The Tier'Dal woman chuckled softly, her mouth curling upwards into a strangled smile as Zorgin continued to stare at her in that oddly wary fashion. Her head tilted to the side as she opened her mouth to say something but her voiced paused in her throat as her eyes unfocused for a moment, her mouth parted slightly as she seemed to communicate silently with someone. She blinked slowly then began to laugh again, raising her eyes as they refocused and met his, an amused glimmer softening the hawkish predatorial gaze she rested on him. She smiled slowly, showing small white flashes of her teeth as she scanned his form again, nodding her head. Her eyes suggested she understood the strange look in his eyes and the thoughts he was voicing in his head. She knew he thought her crazy and that amused her. It would make her job easier if he lost that sharp edge of observation, believing her mad versus a very capable - and very determined logical woman.

He was perfect.

She'd watched him in the fields cloaked under the disguise of a lioness, enjoying the energy and abundance of life he had within him. His features were just tight enough to signal he was loosing his momentum, about ready to head home. Her partner would know what to do as soon as she signaled him on the docks. She stepped forward slowly, all traces of amusement gone from her eyes as the stared quietly into his, silently communicating to him what exactly was in store for him.

Almost immediately, strange black tendrils began to whisp into his field of vision, striking him mute, and immobile. The force of the spell sent him staggering slightly, his fingers loosing control as they numbly twitched at his sides, wanting to reach for his sword. She chuckled, grasping his wrists as she stepped fully forward and brushed against him, holding his weight momentarily before he staggared to the ground. Her nails bit tightly into the insides of his wrists as she stared boldly into his eyes, her own glittering like shards of ice as she reached up silently and stroked his cheek. His breathing was audible, wheezingly noisily through his mouth and nose as he struggled to breathe, the light of the sky overhead the docks dimming as the strange black substance continued to feather inwards and slowly obliterate his sight. If his mind had focused sharply enough, he would realize that the woman was the same one that had been haunting his dreams. Finally, he crashed to the docks, bright sharks of light cascading over his vision before he saw a man step out from behind one of the coastal rocks the docks had been built around. The blonde-haired Ayr'Dal man leaned down, bright blue eyes staring into Zorgin's unblinking ones as he grinned slightly and winked, reaching outwards and using his gloved fingers to twist his head this way and that. He nodded, satisfied and patting the man's cheek before standing turning to glance at Leuna who had knelt by his side during his inspection.

"I'll come with you to ensure delivery, but it will cost you extra. The spell should hold, but for a cute little thing like you, I'd say it'd be a bad idea to take it on chance."

Leuna nodded slowly, staring into Zorgin's eyes as his breath continued to wheeze noisily between his teeth, anger and shock shining deeply within the dulled-center of his eyes. Inside, she knew what he would be doing - screaming in his invisible prison, not able to talk or move, only having the window of his eyes and ears to observe what was happening to him. "That is fine. She will want him coherent soon, but I am afraid if he was too aware of himself, he would make it rather difficult for transportaion. I appreciate your services, Sire. You came highly recommended in the courts....for an Ayr'Dal. Please, send him into delerium for the remainder of our journey. We can't have the little pale-skin understanding our tracks, can we?"

The man's sharp bark of laughter reached Zorgin's ears from somewhere behind him as his body was carelessly tossed over the man's shoulder, the man's hands grasping the thick roots of his hair, tilting his head so that the man could stare easily into his own. "As you wish, Lady." His smile seemed to expand as Zorgin helplessly continued to stare into the man's gaze, sharp tears of light blotting out Zorgin's vision in rapid spurts, making his lungs expand even more fiercely as the man's magics knotted into the secret places of his mind, creating a burning sensation deep within his skull. If he had had the voice to do so, he would have screamed shrilly in pain. Finally, the black tendrils submerged his sight and hearing, leaving him locked inside the silent prison of this unknown coercer's creation, void of all sensation. .

"Well, well. I don't even have to be creative for you. It seems, my dear little pet, that you've got an abundance of nightmares right....here.." the man's voice whispered into the void where Zorgin was kept, locked inside his mind. Immediately, a rustle churned from behind him, but every way Zorgin turned there was nothing. Again, the voice spoke. "Aha! There it is. Come out, come out, where ever you are..."

In one blinding moment, all the dreams Zorgin's subconsious had been exposed to in the dream world become a startling reality. His screams echoed silently in the void of his prision as the two grinned at each other on the docks, nodding and heading towards their destination.

_________________________________________________________

Seraphim's Presence, Innoruukian Spires, Neriak

Red arches of light glittered against the stone walls and the woman's countance as the Ayr'Dal glanced between the two standing before her, resting her chin against the curled fingers of her propped-up fist, silently inspecting the black shapeless sack sprawled before her. Her fingers tapped softly against the stone arms of her throne, her armor making no noise as she curled her legs fluidly. She glanced sideways, motioning carelessly at one of her many Disciples to unwrap the offering, glancing again at Leuna as she spoke, the touch of her words washing coldly over the Tier'Dal's skin.

"An offering for your disappointing endeavors in court? Do you think this will make up for your negligant behavior today? My spies told me you lust after the male Christanos paired you with. He is not one of us, he does not seem to outwardly claim The Father, but he is convincingly one of Christanos' hounds. Why would you so foolishly allow yourself to be bound to one so caught up in Christanos' scheme to rule as a God? Should I remind you how He treats traitors within His realm?"

Leuna's cheekbones scalded with color as her eyes met the Seraphim's boldly, her voice sharp and dark with anger as she stepped forward, moving the Disciple aside angrily as she ripped open the sack, grasping Zorgin's hair and twisting his head up into the Seraphim's view.

"I am still devote, Seraphim. I will always serve Him. I will still continue to spy for you, as you wish it. Duke De`Krite can be cultured in time to understand the true source of Nerian power. He is not a traitor to Him. I offer you...this...in condolences for my mistakes. Surely, such a gift will prove my sincerity?"

The Disciple moved to her side swiftly, back handing her as she grunted, sprawling into a kneeling position before the woman as Zorgin's head hit the ground with a light thud. The man's fingers grasped her hair, causing her to grasp as he tugged painfully on the roots of her hair, making her meet the Seraphim's gaze. The Ayr'Dal's lips lifted in a momentary smile, though warmth and amusement was not the source for the expression. She flicked her fingers, motioning for the Disciple to return to his studies. The man nodded, shoving Leuna's head into the stone flooring before returning to his studies in the corner. Leuna lifted herself carefully into a kneeling position, wiping the remnants of blood off her lips. She watched the Seraphim as she glanced towards her companion, studying him a moment.

"What is your name?"

The male coercer stiffened slightly, standing straighter as he bowed to the woman, crossing an arm over his chest. "Ismal Delvina of Freeport."

The Seraphim nodded slowly, returning her gaze to Leuna, her words directed towards Ismal. "Collect your money and leave." The man nodded, bowing, then exited the halls quietly.

The Ayr'Dal stood carefully, walking silently down the steps of her throne to stare at the unconsious man before her. Finally, she grinned.
________

Post Four:
The Seraphim knelt down onto the ground close to where Leuna still sat, staring into the blind open eyes of the man in front of her as she lightly pulled away the coarse sack that his body had been wrapped in for the journey. Her long nails scraped lightly against everything they touched as they explored, tainted black with the hatred that poured so easily from her soul, pausing to reach up and touch his shoulder. Faint dull marks of gray spotted onto his skin where the woman continued to inspect him, sliding her gaze over his face. She reached down, scooping his head into her lap as she leaned downwards, lightly pressing a kiss against his lips, murmuring softly to the man.

"Awake to me."

Leuna shivered as she watched the proceedings, feeling the brittle coldness of the woman's aura against her skin as the Seraphim dissolved the spell holding the man's vision and consiousness within limbo, watching as the man's eyes focused on his captor. His eyes seemed to flicker momentarily in confusion and chaos before they fully registered his surroundings. She could tell by the way his eyes widened he struggled to move, but the Seraphim still nurtured that part of the spell to stay locked over him. Her swords glittered erratically at her side, seeming to sense his fear and confusion as the Seraphim patted his cheek softly. All around the building, people fell silent as they watched the woman, knelt like a Madonna before her child, slowly polluting his body to the vortex of hatred and fear that made up the core of her. Leuna swallowed nervously as the Ayr'Dal's eyes looked up, focusing on hers a moment. For a blinding second, the woman smiled and her vision crossed, showing two blurred twin images overlapping the other. One, was the woman's face. The other, was Him.

"You bring Me a wonderful gift. I am pleased to have such an offer in My name. Take My sword and cut My palm so we can proceed."

Leuna instantly felt tears reach her eyes, humbled to be in the projected presence of her Father. She nodded, leaning over Zorgin's body to unsheath one of the woman's swords, the light red fire flickering between the two women, tantalyzingly close to Zorgin's body.

"He that will not apply new remedies must expect new evils; for time is the greatest innovator." - Francis Bacon

"Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly." - Langston Hughes

OOC Date: 7/4/06
In-Game Date: Unknown

I am finding the urge to write my findings down again, though the Gods know given a few weeks these concerns will either be gone and long since forgotten, or boiled into something worse. But, I suppose to a human musings like this keep me immortal in a sense. It's the one thing left behind after I am gone, and if I ever have children, they will probably laugh over their mother's antics. Or follow in my footsteps.

Time seems to be creeping past me at inopportune moments, fading out of my grasp just as things seem to be tilting the right way for once. I'm not unhappy, I would want no one thinking that. I'm just very unsettled. I've been away from the House, away from my friends, away from lovers, so that the few times I peek back and visit familiar places or stop by the homes of friends I find myself oddly out of place. Not that being alone has ever bothered me, but I feel a sad ache in my chest when I realize all that I miss when I take a leap of faith in solitude and dissapear for a few days on end. Society moves so fast that one moment left in shadow and you feel as if you've missed the return of the Gods. Am I the only that feels this way?

I suppose you wonder what keeps me away from the pull of social times, friend. I have been under the tutilage of Master Vhalon D'Fyre and his Lady Wife, Nikeeta D'Fyre, of Chromis Draconis.

This is why I have been away. I wish to become...better. More. Something beyond what I am now. With their guidance, I know I will be something worthy in others eyes one day. Mayhap even mine.

With my teaching going well, it is no spurise that they have been testing every part of me, including my inner way of thought and my feelings about myself and my place in life.

It is rare that I meet one Master of my craft, but I am flabbergasted to be taken in by two. His Lady Wife is kind and wise, and could be deadly if given the right motive. She does not express much, no inflictions can even be picked up in the woman's voice, but her aura is like a hot blade against your skin. It singes in it's power. Vhalon is easier to read, but no less taken for a weakling. Both have taught me the meaning of Three: Body, Mind, and Spirit. I should not wish to be a bruiser, I should become one in every way.

Our last meeting took us deeply into the wilds, a place I ordinarily would not have ventured. There was risk involved, but I believe they only test me in seeing how much I really want their guidance.

I will not dissappoint.

Since returning to the House and the Raven, I'm filled with a bitter nostalgia that I did not know I could experience. I missed it more than I thought. I have not seen much of my dear Emeraven, or Karner, or lady Zeverai or Alustrus. I've seen Tae off and on, but he is snagged a lot by his other women, of whom I feel he needs his own time with.

I'm even promised to see a few this weekend that I have had the sad timing of missing on a regular basis and only hope that things return to normal soon. I need to shake this gloom of mind and become my regular self. I only sense an impending darkness that will either change me, make me stronger, or better everyone in the end.

Until then, I am just a stone in the ocean. I hope the winds calm soon.