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Post by Minalan on Dec 10, 2014 20:58:14 GMT -5
The Dimensional Portal: Second Attempt Books are open doors to other dimensions where everything is possible and nothing is forbidden. - Unknown It requires a phenomenal amount of magical power to open a dimensional portal, more than one mortal man could possibly hold in his spirit alone. However, there are a number of different materials capable of holding and storing aetherial energy for later use. The ordered lattice structures of crystals and gems are particularly effective at holding magic, spells, and enchantments. Some kinds of stone can be just as effective, when etched with the proper runes.
Crafting magical artifacts takes a tremendous amount of patience and time. It had taken months for me to find the rare and flawless black pegmatite stone that I required. I mounted expeditions into Ilshenar, I spent days searching with my scrying orb, and my unseen servants scoured the facets. When I finally found it, it took weeks for those servants to dredge up the stone from the inactive volcano on the bottom of the ocean. Months later, a skilled craftsman in Britain finished carving the stones into the perfect columns that I required. After months of research, I painstakingly carved the last mystic runes from a long forgotten language into the smooth black stone. Another of my greatest works was completed, and Over time, they would slowly collect and store arcane power from the Feluccan shard itself.
This time, I had a good idea of exactly where I wanted to go. The place is known to the elves as "The Eldarin Spar". According to legend, it was the place where all of creation began, and all of reality hinged. That is, at least before the shattering of the gem of immortality. From bits of legend, close examination of each facet, and scrying every crack and imperfection in the shard, I was sure that I knew exactly where it was.
I touched the runes on each pillar, they were set a few meters apart. They soon glowed red hot to the touch, feeding power into the magic that I prepared earlier. The gateway opened without a sound, a shimmering light blue gateway bound between the two stone columns. I stepped through, and into an unknown facet, and another reality.
The Spar was described as a mountain, set in the middle of a lake of lava and fire. The old tales spun that this place is the "world forge", the source of prime magic, and the home of Sosaria's creation. Where I ended up looked nothing like that. Snow crunched under my feet, and a chill seeped deep into my bones. I looked up to a twilit sky with no sun or promise of warmth.
Time was surreal in this place. My footprints would appear before I set my feet down. Even changing direction, they would appear ahead or behind me before I decided to move. I marked a magic tether to the gate, knowing that I only had a short time before it would close permanently, sealing me on the wrong side. I followed my footprints in the snow and ice, as more of my own impressions appeared before me. In the distance, I slowly approached a figure, draped in the same red robes and cloak that I wore.
My doppleganger turned, and I stood looking at my own body, with the face of my former master. He spoke calmly, with the eerie effect of six voices speaking in tandem, "Are you surprised my apprentice? Soon enough you will accept this as the inevitable conclusion of your life. You tread upon my life's path, and you will continue to do so."
I looked around, but saw nothing but ice and snow, and I relaxed some. "Fascinating, so the wall between here and the Umbra is a thin one..."
My master shifted, now wearing the black robes and forest green cloak of the Followers of Armageddon. It was as if he was taken from a page in my own memory, back from when we called my master "Lector". "You will finish my work apprentice. Every day your efforts only better prepare you for this."
A hideous shriek sounded in the distance. Tendrils of glowing blue mist appeared on the horizon. "Take care my apprentice, I have been here before. Though few in number, the terrible creatures who call this place home dislike intruders..."
Another answering shriek sounded, and the iridescent blue mist exploded forward. "...and if they capture you, they won't leave enough of your existence remaining for either of us to be of any use."
With that, the apparition of my master vanished. In the blink of an eye, I returned to the portal, instantly traveling along the link I had marked and dove through. It wasn't fast enough. A small sphere of the blue glowing mist billowed forth from the portal, and pulled at the magic to open the gate wider. I triggered the magic to shut the gate immediately, and it shrunk. The creature on the other side however, fought to keep it open, keeping a small sphere open.
The gate flashed angrily, and the runes on the pillar glowed red as the crystal lattice rock began to melt from the heat. I was home, on my own plane, and I had my own magic to add to the fight. The magic coursed through me, lightning from my fingers reached out to the portal to close it, but unable to win. I was weakening, and the pillars continued to melt and bleed. I decided to switch tactics, focusing all of the magic on a containment field around the portal, and then strengthened the weave to make it self sustaining.
The idea worked. The monster didn't have the power to break the field, and keep the gate open. I fell into an exhausted slump, as it flailed, screeched, and crashed against the small sliver of open gate. Whatever the creature is, I have to give it credit for being persistent. To this day, in the middle of the night, you can hear it's bone chilling screams shaking the foundation of my tower. It refuses to give up the tiny foothold it has on this reality, and I cannot expel it.
My apprentice has complained of trouble sleeping.
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Post by Minalan on Dec 26, 2014 17:52:56 GMT -5
The Sorceress Mal There are ignorant people, who are all too ready to cry sorcery if a woman is only a little smarter than they are. - Minalan We first met in the stacks section of the library at the Lycaeum. Both of us were seeking answers to our past, with neither of us having much luck. I was looking for anything I could find on Soul Eaters, scouring the stacks for legends and tales. However, there are some questions that even the Lycaeum cannot sufficiently answer; all that I found were fragments, incomplete accounts, and rumors.
Mal accompanied me on a trip to the library of Terort Skitas. We visited the lower archives, deep inside the tower, where the mages of old sacrificed the living in exchange for the secrets of the dead. Alone the trip is always a challenging one, but together with Mal we made short work of the creatures guarding the treasured volumes. Demons fell, and undead were shattered under our combined magic. We worked together almost instinctively, selecting separate targets, casting complimentary spells, and summoning creatures in perfect tandem to protect us as we searched through the stacks.
Back at my tower, we poured through the bestiary I had found, and the wealth of information it contained on my former master. We discussed various topics of magic, especially her longevity spells. I found it easy to be with her company. Mal is beautiful, intelligent, dressed like the wealthiest noblewoman, and engaging with her intense blue eyes. That all stopped however, when she asked me to be her apprentice. Being a master myself, I refused her offer given that my former master still watches me like a skeletal vulture. Everything I learn and all the power that I gain will be my own doing, no longer am I beholden to anyone.
Needless to say, my answer did not please the sorceress, who stood up and made her opinions known. As we argued, she became angrier, her face flushed red, her fists clenched, and the anger flowed from her. Each word on invective contained the perfect amount of stinging venom, and her eyes lit up to the most brilliant sapphire hue. She took my refusal as rejection of her knowledge, I took it as an unwelcome offer of servitude.
"No. no. Don't say a *word*. I don't know what I was thinking! I'm sure the idiots in Haven will be easier to teach. You-"
I snapped my fingers once, intoning the words to activate the wards of my tower. Mal vanished mid-sentence, whisked away outside of the cursed ruins surrounding my tower. I walked up to my portal, and departed straight for the Abyss. I had business there with the outcast gargl mystics, regarding the remains of an ancient scroll.
To her credit, Mal is a sorceress of great power and keen intellect. While I was gone, she carefully picked apart the magical weave of the wards on my home, cutting through the thick defenses by removing a single thread of magic. After perusing my proud collection of books and reading to her heart's content, she left me a short note. The note contained a short message, artfully penned in a flawless age-old gothic script:
"Lord Minalan, There are more elegant ways to reject a woman. Good luck with your plans."
Not being one for hyperbolic displays of emotion, I filed the note away with the slightest upturn of a smile. Magically speaking, I am not bested often or this thoroughly, thus this intriguing woman would bear watching.
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Post by Minalan on Oct 7, 2015 20:59:55 GMT -5
The Courts of the Fae But the Courts aren't places that humans are supposed to *be*, especially the Unseely Court. Most faeries won't even go there unless we have to, and I would rather the 'Queen Who Is' not even *think* about me. - James the Rogue How long has it been since I have put pen to these pages? Too long. What can I say? Too much has happened. Little of it is pleasant enough to put to ink, and nearly all of the rest too painful to contemplate writing about in detail. I'm not proud to say it, but Mal's departure hit me harder than I expected. As selfish and thoroughly evil as she was, I still cared for her. She and Valis hatched some nefarious scheme to revive a part of the necromancer Neira's essence into a young girl they had kidnapped. The problem is, my former apprentice Elerius loved that girl, as she was a fellow student of his at the Lycaeum. I put a stop to it, but the damage was already done to the girl. She did not survive the rescue. Elerius blamed me, swearing that the next time that he sees me, he will make me pay dearly for everything. Mal departed to return to her master Minax, furious that I didn't love her enough to commit an atrocity against an innocent person. I am apparently not who she thought I was, thankfully enough I suppose. In the end though, nobody blames me for the innocent girl's death more than I do.
I spent months in despondent and solitary study. There were failures, and there were successes, though much more of the former than the latter to be honest. It turns out that there is some magic you cannot perform well if you aren't a happy person. Some spellweaving magic is harder, you can't effectively shape or store sunlight, and botanical growth magics are nearly impossible. Your mood affects the soul. Feelings and emotions come from the spirit, which shapes any power you try to wield with it. In top of that, doing horrible, unspeakable things taints the spirit and all magical power that comes from it, poisoning the well.
Aila came to see me and changed everything. Apparently her daughter Denna is missing. My having been the only man to ever be with the young gypsy means that she is OUR little girl. All this time I never knew.
First I checked the forest around the gypsy camps. I found a few crude, mostly scratched out magical runes, dead patches of grass, and a few piles of dust. There was a wisp nearby that I dispatched quickly, rending it's essence asunder from the inside. Seriously, if everyone knew what those pernicious little creatures actually *are*, they would do the same. The dust appeared to be either grave dust or abyssal ash.
I used my scrying orb to scour the Sosarian facets, searching day and night. Servants both seen and unseen, alive and undead scouted across the lands, they found nothing.
I spent a week in the abyss searching, visiting the outcast gargl and engaging in heated, running battles with greater demons in an attempt to wring answers out of them. Nothing.
I am growing tired, I find that I can sleep only a few hours at a time every few days. My magical power is becoming more strained, frayed, and worn thin as this search continues. Thus I've taken to walking in Relvinian's hedge maze frequently. There is an ancient power in Labyrinths that most are unaware of. Walking through one without conscious thought, weaving through the right and wrong paths focuses the mind in a meditative state that regenerates magical power. Quickly. Many wizards believe that Relvinian was completely insane to build this; it turns out that they just aren't as smart as they think they are.
My next plan is to talk to the Fae courts. There is power and knowledge there beyond the mortal realms. I spoke to James the Pooka and asked him which Court he was a part of. The answer actually surprised me: Winter. The Unseelie. Our "friend" is actually considerably more dangerous than he wants us to believe. Of all the Fae courts, there are two at the absolute apex of their power structure: Winter and Summer. The lesser courts of Dawn, Spring, and Autumn come and go depending on when you look, which courts are at war, where allegiances lie, and who you ask. Summer court tends to be the less harmful of the two, but don't get me wrong. Both are extremely lethal to mortals. My master once told me that a summer slyph might invite a mortal to dance at one of their balls or make love. Three hundred years or so later the fae gets bored, and the mortal is left a desiccated husk of a person back at his or her home. Everyone and everything that mortal ever cared about is dead or gone, and the slyph can't imagine a world where a mortal wouldn't WANT this. The winter court however, is outright malevolent. As powerful as the goblin kings, ogre lords, and frost giant princes are, they tremble at the mere thought of their terrible and cruel Winter Court queens.
Three is the number of queens in any fae Court: 'The Queen Who Was', 'The Queen Who Is', and 'The Queen Who Will Be'. All are demi-gods in their own right as far as we are concerned. The 'Queen Who Was' would be suicide for me to pester. James visibly quailed at the thought of visiting the Winter 'Queen Who Is'. But he agreed to introduce me to the 'Queen Who Will Be', though it will probably mean my death. All in exchange for an enchanted pair of boots.
I asked him specifically if he could get me an actual audience with the Winter Princess. He dissembled. I threatened to ask IT three times if he didn't answer. The fae demanded to know how I knew about all this, and made me promise not to tell the others his secrets. There's little chance of that, the Rangers can read a book if they want to know. Knowledge is power, and I'll be the first to admit to being a bit miserly about sharing it.
Thus the deal is done. I am going to speak with the Winter Queen Who Will Be. I will very likely not survive it.
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Post by Minalan on Oct 19, 2015 16:04:57 GMT -5
The Queen Who Will Be The unseelie court was a land of shadows and ice. Of gray. And grayer. And black. - Marie the Poet The queen is a living portrait of perfect human feminine beauty. Her hair and skin is the purest white, with ripples and streaks of dark magic seething below the surface of her flesh. While she appears to be no older than a teenager, records in Terort Skitas suggest that she has ruled this court for dozens of millennia. She sat on a throne of ice, her entire court blanketed with a dusting of snow and dotted with frozen trees with icicles on every branch. Other fey nobles wearing white, black, or gray stood in the court, most of them doing their best to completely ignore me or look away.
Her large, expressive eyes looked upon me with frozen disdain as a diminutive gray goblin announced my entrance. "The mortal sorcerer Minalan. Invited guest of the Freehold of Roses"
I strode into the hall confidently, suppressing a shiver, my every breath visible in the bitter freezing cold. I nearly faltered when I saw her knight. He appeared mortal, a head taller than me, fastidiously cleaning the fae-glass sword with a thorn-encrusted hilt he held in his bleeding fist. His coat was a mantle of frozen, thorny vines that writhed and tore at him as he cleaned the gore from his weapon. Beneath him a decapitated frost ogre lay, the head cleanly removed and staring lifelessly in horror at his frozen dread queen.
I stepped in front of the dead ogre and bowed slowly and deeply from the waist as protocol demanded. Then I waited to be addressed. And Waited. Her knight stepped forward, the glint in his eye suggested that he was eager to end my life next. I still waited, motionless. Other fae in the court watched curiously, as if my imminent death were nothing more than a passing entertainment.
The queen finally broke the silence with an icy distaste in her voice, as if she were barely tolerating my presence. "Thee may speaketh, mortal. Heed though, these words wilt likely beest thy last."
For a moment I couldn't speak. The unseelie knight strode forward another step, sword raised and ready. Then I remembered why I was here, and what I planned to do. "Your majesty, I propose a bargain. A favor. A service from this small mortal sorcerer in exchange for information that I need."
No fae can resist a bargain, a deal, one favor traded for another, an exchange of gifts, or accepting a debt from another. Favors and debts are currency to these creatures, all of the seelie and unseelie courts, the very foundation of their political system is predicated on a complex web of obligation. A fae debt is binding, if I were to break the deal they would essentially own me. I was attempting to settle the debt up front, since my obligation could be traded to someone else later - someone even less inclined than the queen to consider my personal safety. Unfortunately, she was having none of it.
"What doth thee wish to knoweth mortal?"
I thought I had her, but she was only baiting the trap. Never verbally spar with someone thousands of years older than you. "I want to know everything regarding my daughter, Denna. Is she still alive? Where is she? What happened to her?"
The queen actually smiled slightly, the trap was sprung. "I has't the knowledge that thee wish. The price is three favors, two thee wilt fulfill now, and one I wilt asketh at a anon date."
What choice did I have? I agreed. I thought I was being clever and specific, but in doing so I asked three separate questions. Always in threes do the fae deal with mortals. I cursed myself mentally, I had read that too.
She actually smiled, it was eerie as the patterns and streaks of dark magic shifted on her visage "First. I has't a message for thee to deliver to James of the Freehold of Roses."
"Done" I answered. That first favor was simple enough, but the best traps always appear easy to escape.
The chill in her voice made me shiver uncontrollably, "Relay this then: 'His suffering pleases me greatly.'"
I asked her what else she required, and she told me. Things are considerably more complicated.
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Post by Minalan on Nov 6, 2015 20:24:52 GMT -5
The Council of Magi To the Council of Mages goes the task. When I originally planned to found the order, Mal mocked the very idea. "Why bother? Are there even any other mages out there in the same league as Va'lis and ourselves?"
She had a point, at the time. Before I could protest, her lips were on mine. "Besides," she whispered seductively, "I don't feel like sharing your attention."
Mal knew how to settle an argument, and I had set the idea aside. Since then, mages have risen from apprentices to adepts and masters, and some of our more reclusive brethren have made themselves known or returned.
The premise of the order is simple: Bring together a group of mages to pursue knowledge: research forgotten spells, forge new artifacts, mount expeditions, and unlock the secrets of lost arcane magics. Joining the order itself isn't necessary to hold a seat, and what the members do with the power we unlock is up to them. I don't intend to involve the order in political or mundane matters outside of that of our own security. My only stipulation is that the seated members of the council be mortal. The undead have enough advantages in this world without handing them this kind of power, and I intend the Council to be a wedge against their ridiculous and boundless influence over mortals.
My first trip was to Terort Skitas, where I met my old friend Kruppe. The sorcerer is a dealer of old and rare books, if there is a rare magical text that he doesn't know of, I've yet to hear of it. He agreed to join me, and set off on another task for me which I will not go into detail here. I have others to speak to about joining our order, and I will slowly add to our numbers.
Governor Guy approved the charter I presented to him, as well as the site for the order's tower. As soon as he signed the document, he asked us to look into the undead stirring in the graveyards due to the time of Samhain. The shrewd governor of Skara Brae is never one to waste an opportunity.
In other news, my Aila has become my apprentice. I'll need her with me to recover Denna. She has been learning quickly, and I will start testing her abilities in the field shortly, where she will lend her magical power to my own.
I also retrieved the item the dark fae princess requested, a simple ivy crown taken from the bleeding mane and blackened brow of a now dead summer-court centaur. While there is no open warfare between the seelie and unseelie courts, they continue to strike at one another through mortal agents and proxies. They fight a war of backstabbing and deception that violates the intent of their ancient treaty, but not the exact words. I will return the crown to James, and hopefully find out where Denna is.
I murdered a fae creature for this information, and allowed myself to be used as a weapon in an ages-old blood feud. I never claim to be a good or virtuous person, my life is full of compromises, terrible mistakes, and pointless, selfish rationalizations. Another indelible stain on my soul has been left behind, and I can only hope that this is worth the price.
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Post by Minalan on Nov 9, 2015 21:16:39 GMT -5
The Sluagh The Sluagh is a group formed from the darkest, most vile creatures imaginable. And humans are still very much their prey. - A Comprehensive Guide to the Fey James provided the clue that I needed to deliver the Unseelie Queen's trophy, to the Sluagh. After days of study, books in the Lycaeum told me where they were last sighted, and how to call one forth...
So it was on a pitch-black night that I found myself picking through the Destard swamps in search of such a creature, the moon was just a pale sliver in the sky. The swamp was too deep, and trees too close together and overgrown to ride horseback. It was miserable humid and unbearably hot, I could feel every square inch of my flesh sticking uncomfortably to the soaking wet lining of my leather armor. I made my way though the thick swamp and hanging foliage deliberately, swinging a dark plane-sword with one arm to cut away the vines in my path. Trudging through knee-deep muck, my normally dark-red robes were soaked and covered with a thick green slime. An number of both live and dead insects clung to my face and enchanted crystal glasses.
After a few more steps I stopped in my tracks dead cold, feeling my thick boots sink deeper into the dark, filthy water. I listened to the symphony of music played by insects, amphibians, reptiles, birds, and mammals of every sort, many of them predators. After some time you learn to isolate one sound from the background chorus, one small hiss from the incessant crescendo of the swamp's orchestra. I turned around fast, swinging my sword in a sweeping arc, slicing in-half the poisonous snake that had descended from a tree branch behind me. Three meters of long writhing snake carcass fell from the branch into the foggy muck below.
I trudged on searching, listening carefully, eventually finding an embankment with broken reeds. Someone has been here. Recently. Behind the muddy embankment was an enormous rotten, fallen tree. The smell of death was strongest here, and I could feel the lingering power in the air. I found exactly what I was looking for.
I intoned the words exactly, one mistake would mean my certain death. "An sluagh so I nEamhuin?"
Nothing happened. I repeated the phrase in the ancient tongue, louder, listening intently. "An sluagh so i nEamhuin?"
A pause, listening to the things of the swamp slither, chirp, and croak, I intoned the phrase for the third and final time. "An sluagh so i nEamhuin?" I am Minalan. I am of the wise. Hear me. I have business with your Queen."
The mud and muck of the swamp bubbled, and I fought the urge to flee as a hideous, dead humanoid rose from the disgusting water. Rotting flesh surrounded decaying vegetation, leaves and vines writhed in the open, rotting sores in its filthy body cavity. It replied in a slow bubbling voice as fetid swamp water ran freely from it's horrific, toothless mouth. "It knows who you are. It knows why you are here." The creature paused a moment, staring at me through dead, gray, watery eyes. "Or It would have already torn the tongue from your mouth out through your entrails."
I suppressed a shudder, reaching into a bag and removing the crushed ivy crown, dried blood and tangled hair still sticking to it. Now was not the time to show fear or weakness. "The summer mantle of the centaur herd master. As promised." A vine reached from the creature, I felt the wet slime as it took the offering from my hands. I prepared a spell on my lips, drawing my magic. I expect nothing but treachery dealing with these unseelie monsters. I was right of course.
My boots were trapped in the muck, and I was unable to move. Vines rose from beneath the water, wrapping around my legs tightly, squeezing painfully. "It will now render your payment. Before you die. Know that the answers you seek."
The vines started to drag me under, wrapping around my arms and torso, constricting painfully, and reaching for my throat. It continued, "Are with the wisps. And now. It will.."
I already had the answer, I interrupted him. "Kal Ort Por"
I never heard the creature's inhuman, hate-filled screech after I vanished. All noise in the Destard swamp died for a few minutes. Even the wild, indigenous people who lived at the fringes huddled together in terror.
-------------- Back at my tower, I bathed. I cleaned my gear the best I could, readying it for a skilled tailor to refurbish, repair and re-line. I sat in front of a roaring fire in my chambers, and shivered into a spare robe at the usual Feluccan chill, taking meticulous notes of my journey on a scroll.
Aila slept in our bed peacefully, her soft feminine curves clearly visible even under the thick blanket. Every male piece of me cried out to join her, to hold her in my arms and drift off to well-deserved rest myself. She held the promise of warmth and comfort. The scent of lilacs, and summer. Of a soft touch, a cool, soothing voice. The joining of both body and soul in the night.
Except... that I can no longer sleep. I sighed and returned to my study. There is still work to do.
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Post by Minalan on Nov 30, 2015 20:55:15 GMT -5
Home of the Wisps Lunatic Witch-Fires! Ghosts of light and motion! Fearless I see you weave your wanton dances. Near me, Far off me; you that tempt the traveler. Onward and onward. - Verse from the Britain Conservatory Compilation 2ed I have been extremely busy of late, so I must be brief in my entries.
The wisps of Trammel tend to congregate in one very special place. It is a place not known to many. Deep in the forests to the west, ancient Sosarians built a circle of columns around this small glade, and wild mushrooms grew in a perfect circle surrounding it. A secret known to ever fewer, is the fact that the fabric of space and time between our world and that of the wisps is weakest here. The creatures cross here effortlessly, and it is of great importance to them.
It is for that reason alone that I chose to attack it. Faeryl and I tore into the dozens of wisps in the area. Her small dragon lashed out at them, spells leapt from our fingers and the little monsters turned to so much glowing dust. We silenced all of them, and I walked into the small glade, placing a large chunk of blackrock in the radial center... and I cast the spell to detonate it.
What happened next I still struggle to explain. Most of the force of the blast happened on the *other* side, but there was enough remaining kick that I was blown backwards into one of the ancient stone columns. My vision began to blur when the bright blue Xornite arrived, demanding to know who had done this. Blackness swallowed me completely after my first slurred response.
It was a reckless, dangerous move that could have cost me my life, but it paid off. In exchange for a promise of a cessation of hostilities against *them*, Fae and Judas learned Denna's location. Faeryl employed her most potent elven healing magics to save my life, for which I owe her a debt.
Next: To Ilshenar, the home of the wisps.
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Post by Minalan on Dec 1, 2015 20:53:37 GMT -5
House Razele Vampires are schemers, masters of the art of subtle manipulation and seduction. Never trust them. - Master Dehlat She was absolutely stunning on a level I have rarely experienced. Blonde hair framed a gorgeous smile, pouting lips, and captivating emerald green eyes. She had flawless milky skin that begged to be touched, and shapely legs that absolutely dared you to do it. Her presence invaded me, staggering me in place while I fought against every male instinct I possessed. The animal part of me, that primitive beast that exists in every man, was acutely aware of every step she took - watching every slender, shapely curve as she glided in my direction.
She stood just inches before me, looking into my eyes, sensuously biting her lower lip. My senses were overwhelmed by the scent of wildflowers in the waves of her silky blonde hair. The woman stood up on her toes, and kissed me. Twice. She teased my lips with her tongue, slowly nibbling my lower lip, and her smile lit up the whole room as she sauntered off, leaving me speechless, heart racing, and short of breath. The second kiss was a message, a threat that she could have done so much more.
Aedon brought me back to reality. "She likes... powerful men."
I tried and failed to salvage my dignity, looking confused. "Indeed..."
It didn't take me long to figure out what had happened once the small head stopped doing all of the thinking. A glamour. Essentially it's a form of magical influence vampires use to get what they want. I cursed myself for failing to sufficiently ward myself against such an attack. I should have known better, especially after Merek fought and incinerated one of the creatures from House Razele just a week ago. They're playing with us. Testing us. It's always a game with vampires, rarely will they confront someone directly when an elaborate backstabbing scheme without implicating them will do the same.
It's past time The Council paid House Razele a visit. They've already taken notice of us, and we will discuss it.
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