Ravenloft
Sweet Rogue
- Joined
- Jan 29, 2000
- Posts
- 18,844
The sun rose upon a cold mid November morning as the families of the secluded clan of Celts who lived in the shadow of Avisetreyenoreau's lair prepared their young virgin daughters for the offering and brought them before the clans chieftain, one to be picked from amongst them as tribute to the mighty, ancient beast, to avert his wrath.
What only the chieftain knew was it was all a lie. No sacrifice was ever needed to appease the Dragon, no, it was needed to keep him trapped, bound by magic, imprisoned within his lair, unable to oust the greedy chief from his rule over the clan.
The fear and hatred of the poor virginal "sacrifices" sustained the prison holding the Dragon, keeping him from bringing swift justice down upon their leader and restoring rulership to its rightful place, the clans people as a whole.
The virgin daughters were presented to Chief Garland and he circled them, appraising their blossoming beauty and the way they held themselves. One, the daughter of a farmer, caught his attention, she was lovely in her white, ceremonial gown and stood with her chin held high, seeming not the least bit worried despite her poor parents silent, anguished tears for her.
"You, what you your name, child?" The chief asked her as he stepped up to her, squaring his broad shoulders. He was a large, burly man with a thick, dark beard, bronze skin and one sharp blue eye, the other missing and covers by a thick leather patch. The flesh above and below the missing eye still bore a savage trail of scarring.
He lowered his gaze to examine the swell of her breasts and hips as he waited for her answer, wetting his thick, ruddy lips.
What only the chieftain knew was it was all a lie. No sacrifice was ever needed to appease the Dragon, no, it was needed to keep him trapped, bound by magic, imprisoned within his lair, unable to oust the greedy chief from his rule over the clan.
The fear and hatred of the poor virginal "sacrifices" sustained the prison holding the Dragon, keeping him from bringing swift justice down upon their leader and restoring rulership to its rightful place, the clans people as a whole.
The virgin daughters were presented to Chief Garland and he circled them, appraising their blossoming beauty and the way they held themselves. One, the daughter of a farmer, caught his attention, she was lovely in her white, ceremonial gown and stood with her chin held high, seeming not the least bit worried despite her poor parents silent, anguished tears for her.
"You, what you your name, child?" The chief asked her as he stepped up to her, squaring his broad shoulders. He was a large, burly man with a thick, dark beard, bronze skin and one sharp blue eye, the other missing and covers by a thick leather patch. The flesh above and below the missing eye still bore a savage trail of scarring.
He lowered his gaze to examine the swell of her breasts and hips as he waited for her answer, wetting his thick, ruddy lips.