Cherry Knights in a Dark One’s keep(CLOSED)

[Lovelynice]

Cherry Knights in a Dark One’s keep

CLOSED THREAD, for Silvergirl, Sylph54, Lovelynice, and cgraven (as the evil sorcerer)



There is a very, very, very old story about a time of the far long ago…
The World was yet very young, almost new born, and the plants, the trees, the flowers, the grass, the birds of the sky, the fish of the many waters, and all the creatures of the land were filled with magic. Nothing on the land, in the sea, or in the air was mundane.
All was magical, and magical creatures abounded everywhere on the face of this World.
There was in this far long ago time no men, nor elves, nor dwarves, nor hobbits, nor even dragons. Yet all the creatures of this world could talk, and many could do wonderful things that very few can do today.
They were innocent of all evil, and there was no taint of evil in the entirety of the World.
All the creatures of this World lived in harmony, and no animal fought nor ate any other animal.
But…
…the greatness of the magic of this World was like a beacon in the night that could be seen far beyond even the stars of the sky….
Some say that among the very first to answer that beacon’s call were the elves; coming in their great cloudships to settle the lands of Middle Earth, but some few ventured further over many millennia. Those who came to the vast lands of the Neverwhere failed to return to Middle Earth, but were instead lost, disappeared it seemed, and thus the Neverwhere was named. It is said by the most ancient and wisest of the elves that the elves eventually made it a law among them that none of the elves could ever go to Neverwhere, as far too many had never returned; dead or lost, nobody knew…
…and for a very long time, the great land of Neverwhere remained a mystery…
Long ages of the World passed, and many things happened. The elves themselves changed over time, and some hills grew into mountains, while other mountains became worn and old or fell down into becoming only hills themselves. Some elves discovered the eternal Land of the West and many elves left Middle Earth to travel there, and later returned to be known as the High Elves. Other elves began to live in the sea, or the forests, and they changed. Then the dwarves came, digging into the rock of the World, searching for precious metals and gems under the mountains. Then came men, but not in search of anything but sanctuary, and the elves accepted these bands of newcomers who were always bedraggled and fearful when they first arrived on their small ships and boats, but it was a long time before the elves learnt of their story…
…of why these men and women came begging for sanctuary, and spoke so little of their origin across the seas.
The men began slowly to tell tales of the land from whence they came, a land of terror, of horror, a land ruled by fear. The men spoke of the Neverwhere, a land that was to the elves of Middle Earth a deep and fearful mystery, for as it was said, no elf had ever returned from any journey there. The men also told the elves of the evil creatures that ruled the land of Neverwhere; demons who had come from deep and distant places while the World had been very young, summoned by the same beacon call of the magic of the young World perhaps even before the arrival of the first elves. The demons varied in all sizes and shapes, but great were their perverted lusts and greed and hunger. The men spoke also of an even greater horror, of sad creatures that may have once been elves, kept captive in crystal prisons, their magic drained slowly and torturously from them, as they screamed every night and day but never died. The demon kings used this twisted magic to do even more terrible things, to fight amongst themselves in constant wars, and to wreak havoc upon the land.
Hearing of this great evil being committed upon their own kind, and the evils committed against the people of the land of the Neverwhere, the entirety of the Elven race was filled with fury at such injustice and horror. Hearing also of this horror were the dwarves, and they were always good friends and allies of the elves in those long ago days (for no war or misunderstanding had yet come between them), and so the dwarves too were filled with a fury and anger at the evils of the demon kings who ruled the land of the Neverwhere. The elves realized quickly that the demon kings would ignore all their demands, and so a great army was formed by all the elven tribes and they were freely given metal weapons and armour by the dwarves who would fight along side them.
A great fleet was constructed to carry the Elven army across the seas to the land of the Neverwhere, and the war that was fought to free the people of the Neverwhere was a long and desperate campaign for the demon kings were mighty, and their hordes of lesser demons and demon-beasts were vast and uncountable. The Elven army had not expected such a powerful enemy, yet their hearts were set on their goal, and their souls screamed for vengeance for their enslaved and fallen comrades who had been taken by the demons long before. Eventually, after many great and terrible battles the Elven army freed the land of the Neverwhere, and the demons were forced to flee and hide in the deep places of the World, and uncountable numbers of the demon kind were vanquished as the Elves allowed none of the demons to remain in existence where ever they discovered them. Their ancient Elven comrades were freed, but all of them had gone mad and soon were finally given the mercy of being allowed to die.
All except one that refused to die and nor did he beg for mercy. Some say that this one was not even of Elven kind at all, but none could be sure. Perhaps his soul had become twisted by the evils committed upon him by the demons. He was found alone, the only survivor in the greatest fortress of the demons, a place filled with only the bodies of the dead and vanquished demons. Yet, the dead and vanquished had not been touched by any Elven or Dwarvish weapon. They had been burnt by a terrible fire, the heat of which was enough to melt the very stones inside the walls of the fortress. His name was Arawn, and he later became known among the elves and all peoples of the World as “The Dark One”, for none would speak his name except in the darkest of whispers lest his attention befall upon them…

(to be continued)




The intrepid adventurers arrive…

Across the length and breadth of Neverwhere their little band of adventurers had travelled. They searched for the source of a mystery at first, but as they found more burnt-out villages, more desolated towns, more places that had been attacked by horror during the night, their quest began to change. In the devastated places where people had once lived, increasingly the band found strange clues….

The Dead City
The fire-blackened foundations and ash-covered bones were all that remained, with here and there scattered grasses and other weeds were growing thickly. The ruins covered the hillside, and the plain in front. The once mighty stone walls of an extensive castle had been smashed to rubble. The huge castle keep was the only building stood at the very top of the hill. Around the hill, once plentiful fields and orchards had become wilderness barely showing the signs of previous cultivation and farming. A city that once was the residence of ten-thousand men, women, and children, was now as empty and desolate as many others that the adventurers had seen.

Amaran the Wizard shook his head sadly and slowly, then said aloud to the others, “This is all that remains of Stratfenhold, a city that had been famous for it’s beautiful houses and skilful carpenters. I have a chair in my study that was made here, the most comfortable and well-made that I have ever had.”

Erik Slayfoe merely grunted, his eyes watchful as they carefully walked through the ruins. His great axe shone in the occasionally bright sunlight through the broken cloud-cover. The ground was moist and muddy from recent rain, but apart from their footsteps there was no noise of anything moving. Not even the flapping of bird wings or the stir of a rodent.

Hairy-footed little Bernard, the hobbit, scouted ahead with Ivorwen the Elven maiden following close behind him, while keeping her bow and an arrow in hand just in case some potential attacker still lurked among the black ruins. So it was they who reached the massive, but darkened castle keep. The great iron-bound doors were only rusting and half-melted remnants hanging from their heavy hinges, but beyond it was worse than anyone had expected. What Bernard and Ivorwen saw was worse than they had expected, and they had seen many awful things during this quest already.

Inside the halls of the keep, the bones of the dead were as fragile as ash, some skeletons were in metal armour that had melted…and in many places the stonework of the walls had a charred and half-melted look as if greater heat than any blacksmith’s furnace had assailed them. The main hall was cratered, but of what kind of weapon that did such a thing, neither of them knew.
When the others reached the keep, even Erik’s usually hard countenance was shocked and pale. Busty Abigail, her blonde hair waving freely in the ash-laden wind from within the keep, looked as if she would be ill when she saw within the halls. Arien said nothing, but though she tried to hide her feelings with a grim determination, the sight of melted armour worn by distorted skeletons that once were men filled her with fear and revulsion.

Amaran’s expression was almost unreadable; a mixture of thoughtfulness, fear, surprise, and horror. He said nothing but only wandered the halls, not daring to touch anything.

Arien whispered as they all followed Amaran’s wandering, “This reminds me of something from a story that I’m sure that I heard once…”

“Shh…”, said Bernard, “Our wizened old one is thinking.”

Erik, finally unable to hold back his curiosity suddenly asked aloud, “Amaran? What manner of magic could’ve done this? It is like nothing we have found before!”

Amaran shook his head at first, but then stopped and looked back at them. His eyes stared at each of them, but his mind seemed also far away in other places and other times. For a moment there was a flicker in his ancient eyes, the tiniest flicker of fear, but now his face was grim and determined like a man facing death but refusing to back down. Even Erik stepped back unsteadily from that stare.

“I will not say his name”, Amaran’s old voice was deep and fatherly, “There has not been anything like this for longer than my order has existed. I have only old legends that could explain who did this. You may have heard his name as children and grown to disbelieve in such tales that are nowadays used only to frighten children. You may have noticed that in all the towns and villages that we have found that were destroyed in the night that there were not as many bodies as there should’ve been. Like you, I had originally thought that many of the people had been taken away as captives to be enslaved. But, there were things that didn’t fit that assumption quite as well as they should. I began to realize that the attackers were very specific in who they had taken with them. Young women and teenage girls I have guessed. Now I see these signs of ancient legend…”

Amaran stopped to breathe deeply before going on, “…we are not far from his old residence either. Although it has been said that he is long dead, I was always suspicious that he still lived. He has lived perhaps longer than mankind has been on this World, so I saw no reason to believe that a mere few millennia would bother him overmuch.”

Frustrated by Amaran’s hints, but not understanding them at all, Erik asked grumpily, “Who is this HE, that you keep talking about?”

Thus interrupted, Amaran looked at Erik in surprise and answered, “The Dark One”

“The dark one?”, Bernard echoed in confusion, “Which dark one?”

“THE Dark One”, replied Amaran in a fluster.

“But which one is THE dark one?”, questioned Bernard, “Is he rather shadowy and evil, or only darkly dressed, or what?”

Amaran finally said, “No, THE DARK ONE!...as in ARAWN!”

“Oh, that DARK one!”, said Bernard thereafter going very quiet.

Erik gave him a glare.

Arien whispered, “Let’s hope it’s just a myth then and that he didn’t really notice.”

Erik looked around in confusion, “Who didn’t really notice?”

Amaran simply gave him a stunned look.

 

[Lovelynice]

The intrepid adventurers

Ivorwen ________ Sylph54 (DROPPED OUT - no explanation)
- granddaughter of Cirdan of the Grey-Havens. Full-blooded elfmaiden raised by a group of male dwarves who moved far north after being driven out of Moria.

Ivorwen had been found huddled under the skin of a bear amidst the bodies of her parents. The dwarves, in remembrance of the long years of friendship between the elves and dwarves during the halcyon days of Moria, took in the elfchild and raised her as best they could.

The group of dwarves that raised Ivorwen were all male. Ivorwen had had no contact with any elves or females of any race until she left the dwarves to seek her own kind. She had pressed the dwarves to tell her of her people, and upon hearing of Cirdan the shipwright at Grey Havens, had a premonition that Cirdan was the key to her future.

Upon arriving at Grey Havens, however, she found that all the high elves had taken ships to the West.

At this point, Ivorwen began her lifelong quest for knowledge of her kind. Alone, unseen by others she visited the empty halls of Rivendell and the eerie woods of Lothlorien. She learned much of her people's history from the Ents. Both Ents and Ivorwen felt a kinship in their parallel quests -- Ivorwen for her people and the Ents for the Entwives. She was given hope in her quest by the Ents as they told her that there was still remnants of her people living in out-of-the-way places in the land.

Her visit to the area of the Shire brought her to talk to the first mortal since she had left the dwarves, Samwise Gamgee. Sam introduced her to Tom Bombadil, and from Goldberry, his wife, she acquired knowledge of her fair sex.

154 years old, yet a virgin, but her dwarvish foster fathers had equipped her as best they could. Knowing that she would never be able to comfortably wield the axe, their weapon of choice, they provided her with training in the use of the bow and short-sword. They gave her, too, a sense of duty and practicality in the face of long, even impossible, odds.

What they did not prepare her for was a life among people with emotions, fire, and imagination.

Nor did they prepare her for a life among men. Sadly, nor could Goldberry provide her with even the rudiments of knowledge that she would need, particularly knowledge of her own emotional and physical needs, long dormant during a life among the dour dwarves.


Arien Annárë ________ Lovelynice
19 year-old Arien of the Annárë Islands is like the rest of her people black haired, and fair of skin. She appears part-Elven although human in other ways, and it is well-known that the Annárë Islands folk have long traded with the Sea Elves and thus are half-Elven in a long blended ancestry. Long ago, it is said, the Annárë were the subjugated slaves of a Demon King and his rapacious horde. The Demon King was said to have pleasured himself among all the young women of the islands, and many whisper that at least a little of the demon blood still runs in the veins of the Annárë; explaining both their hot passionate natures and reactionary puritanical hatred of all things evil & demonic.
Arien herself has been raised since she was a child as a knight-maiden of the White Order, sworn to uphold truth & justice wherever she travels. She is also a virgin.
Her breasts are small, although she is far from flat-chested, she has always been disappointed with their size. She is beautiful, long-legged, athletic, and her purple-silvered eyes, Elven-slanted as they are, and her softly pointed ears emphasize her exotic beauty. Since she must behave chastely according to the rules of the White Order that she has been raised to live by, Arien habitually dresses to down-play her beauty. Few would know it, but Arien has only soft, fine pubic hair and little elsewhere – even so, she would be very embarrassed if she had none at all (she’d never be able to go to a public bath again; people would stare!). She once had to shave-off all her body hair in order to more safely infiltrate the harem of an evil grand vizier, and Arien has vowed that she’d never go through such humiliation again.
Arien is very acrobatic, and skilled with a long narrow 1 & ½ handed sword of ancient make with strange curved script along the hilt and both sides of the blade. It may be magical, she doesn’t know, and the old wizard, Amaran hasn’t been able to identify the script either.
It is a part of her heritage that Arien has a natural talent with magic (but she is untrained and knows only a few spells), and that she is also gifted with very rapid healing and heightened senses.


Abigail of High Peaks ______ Silvergirl
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Description: She is 5’8” tall, slender with a very fit appearance but also larger breasted than most. Her hair is blonde, cut short for practicality (much to the horror of her parents). Her eyes are a light blue. Abigail wears leather most of the time, but it does little to hide her bust and figure, as she’s a flirt on occasion too. Especially when in a town.
Background: Abigail comes from the High Peaks mountain ranges to the south, a region where women are famously big busted. By the standards of her homelands, she is on the small size in that way. When her brother died while adventuring in far off lands, her family fell into hard times. Her father, seeing no heir to his small landholding chose to have Abigail married to a much older man, but Abigail refused and ran away instead. She took up a life of petty banditry using her skill with a slingshot and stave, eventually though she got herself in a lot of trouble with some real bandits who had other plans for her. By a stroke of sheer luck Abigail was rescued from the bandit gang by knight-maiden of the White Order, “Arien” and was later introduced to Arien’s rough-looking but apparently honorable friends. Abigail has chosen to go with them for now, and has begun to become friends with these new allies.



NON-PLAYER CHARACTERS

Erik Slayfoe
Erik is a hugely over-muscled man, with long blonde hair and a wild blonde beard. His ferocious appearance is recognized by many as his deeds as a warrior and a killer have become legendary across the Neverwhere. He habitually wears only minimal armour, but carries an assortment of weapons, his favourite being a great two-handed axe engraved with the magical runic script of the ancient Hyborians.

Amaran the Wizard
Elderly, but yet spritely, the wizened & white-bearded Amaran has long researched the mysteries of the universe and knows many things. A native of the Far Kathay, he has travelled the length and breadth of the Neverwhere during his centuries-long life, but has chosen to aid the party of Erik Slayfoe in their recent adventures. Amaran is capable of speaking the languages of many bizarre creatures, and many races.

Bernard Fleetfoot
A swordsman & thief skilled in evading traps and picking locks, Bernard is a small hobbit with a debonair manner and stylish hair cut. He prefers to maintain an image of urbane civility even in the midst of the roughest brawls, or crossing the worst of swamps. He despises being called, “Bernie”, but doesn’t mind short jokes at all.

 

[sylph54]

Ivorwen

While traveling the deeps of the world with my foster parents, the dwarves of the North, we had often run into places in the caverns where a party of dwarves or men long ago had run into misadventure, so the sight of skeletons didn't faze me.

The melting of the armor, though, was something that shocked me to the marrow. I had grown up among the greatest armorers of the land, and I knew the heat that it took to melt armor in the manner of what we found here. As I looked closer at the stonework, I noticed that it was not only blasted by heat, but that in places it, too, had melted as butter. Only in the depths of volcanoes had I ever heard of such a thing.

"If Amaran is correct, I would hope never to hear that name uttered again. The dwarves will not speak his name, nor will they even hint at it with other names such as you have given, for they believe that to do so brings his attention. Instead of speaking of him, they simply point downward and all know of what is meant. No one would ever tell me the story, but the disappearance of the female dwarves of the north is laid at his door, as well."

 

[cgraven]

ARAWN

In the mist of time long sense past, in the days when the world lay in innocent peace and the mystical magical beast lived in contentment, when the pure essence of magic pervaded the world, there was an ancient people possessed of magic, The Tan-A-Dan-Nue-Wee. They where the first of the races, that would lead to men, more ancient then the elves themselves, their very existence, their very nature lost in the mist of time long before the arrival of the Sylvain race of elves.

Their life was one of innocent frolic, kin to the mystical beastuary, they could assume any shape of any creature, they could speak to them, be one with them, as they could the form of the Tan-A-Dan-Nue-Wee. Magic that seductive beacon that would call the elves and later the dwarves called first the scourge of all living things of peace and grace the demon hordes. They came from the darkest dreams of the living the scent of magic drawing them from the gloom of night, from the living stone that was their prison bound their by the maker Dagda.

Their coming at first was almost unnoticed and in stealth, they came, sewing seeds of jealousy, envy, mistrust, and greed. They came to feast on innocents to consume the living magic of creation. WAR, BLOODY WAR erupted, friend turned against friend, and blood flowed through out the land. Those that could fled, the magical beast to the furthest corners of the land, the Tan-A-Dan-Nue-Wee, those that could fled to the shining lands to the west across the great sea, passing from the memory of creation. Others not so wise stayed and fought, driven under the Shee’s to live hidden from the sight of beast and demon alike. Under the hills and mountains they dwelt yet the very magic that was their essence called to the hungering demons. One by one the hidden enclaves feel, the magic cruelly drained from the Tan-A-Dan-Nue-Wee in crystal prisons. Most died a horrendous death in unimaginable suffering as their magical essence was torn from them leavening hollow empty husks.

Some survived pale shadows of their former selves and they where kept to serve the demon hordes, the Banshee with their innocent bodies, the leprechauns as menial slaves, and they slowly became the race of man kept like cattle by the demons.

A child of light, fair of countenance, possessed of the highest degree of magic, would not yield, ARAWN. He led the Tan-A-Dan-Nue-Wee in revolt and with sword, and spear he slew the demons by the score, yet his magic was unknown to him in those days. He was the LORD of Death to the demon horde until betrayed by his love, a creature half demon, half Tan-A-Dan-Nue-Wee

Imprisoned in crystal the demons delighted in torturing the child of light twisting his living spirit, they tried to sup on his magic yet could not for some force even beyond their comprehension protected him. So he became a think unrecognizable as Tan-A-Dan-Nue-Wee, elf, or man slowly he learned of magic, the ways to control it, and in his suffering called for help. The first of the elves came in answer to that call and soon through their pride feel victim to the demons and the elves cursed him.

How long he suffered he did not know, a week a year , a millennium, time was a meaningless thing in his endless suffering. When at last he was freed ARAWN could not accept the mercy of the elves his spirit was dark and wounded. No longer fair of countenance, he was dark brooding and he would shift uncontrollably from fair Tan-A-Dan-Nue-Wee, to dragon, to man and he was shunned, called the dark one, his name not even spoken, as if he did not exist. Left without solace or friend till he hated all that was innocent and pure. His spirit twisted from millenniums torture…….He turned his living anger to destruction, or perversion of all that was innocent. How long ago that was even he had forgotten. Then out of the dark mist he heard it.

ARAWN

He could feel the feeble use of magic, his attention turned to the sound of his name and he caught the sweet smell of femine innocents and a cruel smile creased his ageless face. The innocence’s of a Halfling, human innocents, and something else and innocence so sweet that he yearns for it, he can taste it. Ah yes Elvin innocence

His hands hover over the crystal sphere and he sees the intrepid little band at Stratfenhold, proud Stratfenhold, which would not yield its daughters to him.

He reaches out and lets the anguished cry of a tortured elf reach her mind a lure to draw her to his dark keep with her little band.

He smiled in anticipation of the trials he would put them through before granting them the mercy of death,............that was for all but the three innocent maidens …for them he had other more delightful plans.

 

[sylph54]

The mood of our expedition was now much more solemn and alert. Even ebullious Bernard now saw the necessity of stealth and care.

As we left the skeleton-filled ruins, again Bernard and I were sent on point. He would have led us further north into the city, but something, almost a compulsion, made me insist on turning to the east.

There seemed to be something in the air, a feeling I couldn't quite pinpoint. Somewhat like just before lightning would strike in the mountains. The hairs on my arms were standing up; the back of my neck felt as if someone were gently blowing on it.

It made me feel uncomfortable as sensations I was unused to brought my nipples to attention, sent shivers across my skin, and stirred something deep within me.

I glanced at Bernard, but he looked as oblivious to the world as ever, although a bit peeved at being overruled regarding direction. I motioned to him to stop, and as I came up to him, I said "Let's wait for the others to catch up. I feel something, and I need to know if any of the others are sensing something odd at the moment."

We found a niche between a couple closely-set buildings and hunkered down to await the rest of our group.

 

[cgraven]

The hazy images in the shimmering crystal clear and I see the eleven maiden, the cunning hobbit, who first caused my name to be spoken by the old fool who should have known better. They had wakened me and call my attention to their little group, He and they would pay dearly for that laps in judgment

They scout for signs of what had rought such utter disaster to this once proud city. I leave tantalizing sings of my passing signs that lead the intrepid scouts to the east, east to the fens, east to my lonely obsidian keep, east to meet their fate.

I reach out my palm holding the crystal high. I purse my lips and blow ever so softly, the merest hint of a breeze stirs the stray wisps of hair at the nape of the elf maiden’s neck.

”Come my chaste warrior and all your questions will be answered.”

I send the thought to the inner most depth of her innocently unguarded mind tempting the young maid with what her heart most longs for.

 

[Silvergirl]

Abigail of High Peaks

As the band moved through the dead city, Abigail recalled the horror of the castle ruins and the burned halls within. It was the stuff of nightmares, and she felt as if she'd been walking through a nightmare while they'd searched inside the keep for a clue to raiders and the source of these mysterious attacks. Seeing what had happened to the defenders of the castle, and hearing the hints from the others of tales of women being taken away, Abigail began to question the wisdom of continuing to travel with these adventurers.

Although by her clan's honour code, she owed Arien and Arien's friends a life debt for rescuing her from those bandits that had intended to rape her and kill her, Abigail feared that if they kept looking for trouble like this, that she'd be in an even worse fate.

They were quite sure that it was magic that killed all those man in the castle, but Abigail still found that difficult to believe. Before she was introduced to Amaran, it had seemed to her that magic was a minor thing of not much use at all. She'd only ever seen conjurer's tricks and the fortune tellers of the market place, and never any signs of real magic. So, Abigail was sceptical. Could magic of some kind be truly responsible for the deaths of so many people? Was there such powerful magic? Honestly?

She'd been introduced to Amaran and told that he was a great wizard, apparently an extremely powerful and legendary wizard, but Abigail had not yet seen the old man use any magic at all. Not even a simple conjurer's trick. He did seem to be very knowledgeable though.

She followed along with the others, thankful when they left the castle and headed northward across the dead city. Soon they'd be leaving it. Abigail watched and admired Erik's muscular backside for awhile and looked at his huge muscular biceps and thighs. He was an amazingly strong looking man, but that wild unkempt beard of his was getting matted in places and needed brushing.

She noticed how Arien and Erik seemed to be incredibly alert here, and that made Abigail a little scared. They were only alert like that when they expected trouble. Feeling tense, Abigail held her stave a little tighter as she tried not to look foolish or scared in front of the others. Far ahead, Ivorwen and the little hobbit stopped.

What an odd group they were, Abigail thought, none of my friends back home would ever believe if told them that I had met an actual real live elf maiden, a hobbit, a wizard, and a legendary warrior like Erik Slayfoe. Oh, and Arien, who was a bit hard to describe. Sort of warrior-woman and nun or something from a religious order that Abigail had never heard of before.

 

[Lovelynice]

Arien Annárë
The shocking sight of burnt skeletons in often melted armour was the sort of thing that would give people nightmares. Arien was at first too shocked by it to think about what could’ve done such a thing. Then as she thought about the agony that all those men in the keep must've suffered as they died. The image was too horrible to contemplate. Arien pushed the thoughts away and merely followed the others as they wandered through the keep. She tried very hard to ignore the ashen smell and the thought that a lot of the dust that they breathed came from the incinerated bodies of human beings. Sometimes it got to her, and she coughed.

It should’ve been a relief to leave the castle ruins, but the quiet stillness of the long dead city was unnerving. It was too quiet….

Surely some animals would be living among the rubble, Arien thought, So where are their signs?

It was eerie.

From experience and long training, Arien concentrated on being as alert as possible; such a lack of animal noises usually meant that the animals had all been scared away by some danger lurking nearby. Expecting an ambush, she listened for the slightest sound of movement…but there was only the sighing of the wind in the distant trees, the soft footfalls of her companions, but nothing else. The rubble could’ve hid a dozen attackers in hundreds of places along their path, although little Bernard and tall Ivorwen led the band along a path that generally avoided the most likely hiding spots.

At first Bernard and Ivorwen led the band northward, but then the elf-maiden began taking the lead and they started heading more eastward. Arien wondered why and tried to hear or see what it was that had attracted the others attention. Suddenly Arien heard a distant sound, very faint, like a scream (?) carried on the wind.

It was either extremely distant or perhaps the sound was only a figment of her imagination, so faint it was. Had it come from the east, or did she not really hear anything at all?

Arien glanced at Erik to see if he’d noticed anything, and she saw him pause for a moment. He hand-signed for everyone to stop, but otherwise said nothing. With eyes locking with hers for a moment, Erik signalled with his eyes and facial expression that Arien, Amaran, and Abigail should wait. Other than that, Erik made no sound. The signals were subtle, but Arien could always pick-up on them. Amaran rarely could however and so he kept walking forward until Arien stopped him with a firm hand on the elderly wizard’s chest.

Erik began slowly to move, but it wasn’t too long before he reached Bernard and Ivorwen. The little hobbit and the elf-maiden had apparently been in a dispute about something, as Arien could tell from Bernard’s angry expression and Ivorwen’s very determined one.

Erik was very wary and watched all around as he asked them, “What is it?” in a deep but soft voice.

 

[cgraven]

Ummmmmmmmm the sensual taste of fear and pride comes wafting to me from the blonde warrior maiden. I savor the sweet taste of that fear, the tang of her pride that drives her on despite her better judgment.

Yet there is another scent on the air, a sent not know for many millenniums. I almost missed it, it is subtle disguised by the eleven and human aromas with in The dark harried, fair hafling, the scent of demon blood. Gazing more deeply into the crystal I am intrigued as she wears the symbols of the “White Order” renowned for their pity and virtue.

A wave of my hand and the subtitle anguished cry of a tortured elf reach becomes more firm in her mind.


A dark glowing mist full of enegry now begains to form between my outstrched hands.

 

[sylph54]

Ivorwen

"Do you feel something? I can't explain it. My face is flushed, I'm warm. I feel all tingly. I ... I can't tell you all, but I feel somehow ... energized, excited, but ... it's not something I've ever felt before."

Erik looked at me with a strange look and then his eyes rested on my chest. Through my light hunting shirt, my nipples were visibly erect, and I knew he was looking at them.

"Why, it must be me that you're feeling, little elf-lady!"

I blushed, crossed my arms, and looked to the other women for help.

 

[Lovelynice]

Arien Annárë

While she was watching the discussion between Erik and Ivorwen, there was a change in the wind. A warm humid breeze began from the east, and it carried an audible cry that was unintelligible but sounded like a desperately painful cry for help. Something about that cry sent a shiver of sensation through her that wasn’t quite what she would’ve expected. Feeling vaguely guilty and embarrassed, Arien pushed the feeling down and tried to forget it.

“Amaran? Abigail?”, Arien whispered, “Did you hear that?”

The elderly wizard glanced at Arien and stroked his white bushy beard.

“What did you hear?”, he asked.

“I thought that I heard a cry for help”, Arien answered, but she could see that neither of the other two had heard it. Their expressions were too blank when she’d mentioned it.

“Did you hear it?”, Arien asked.

Amaran shook his head, his beard swinging, while Abigail only appeared curious.

Then Arien heard the faint cry again, this time a little louder, but also more filled with pain. It was a very sad, lonely, and pleading cry. But it wasn’t only her eyes that grew wet from hearing it. Arien felt other sensations too, deep inside, as if something within her wanted to jump with joy at the sound. She put the excited feeling down to the expectation of combat, but her cheeks flushed all the same.

Arien grabbed tight on the hilt of her long sword, and said, “I just heard it again…from the East, definitely.”

She bit her lip, not wanting to allow any of her other feelings to show themselves.

 

[cgraven]

That sweet anguished cry of a tortured elf reaches Arien Annárë, becomes more firm in her mind. I feel the stirring of something deep in side this pure maiden of the White Order, a stirring I had not felt in years, and I relished the pain it caused in her soul as her demon blood rippled in response to that Elvin cry of agony.


The dark glowing mist full of energy now begins to take form between my out stretched hands. Slowly I mold the living force, shape it to my desires, and shape it to my purpose. I feel the living magic beat through its very essence, the pulse of anger at the agony it has suffered as I call it back to life back to a world no despoiled by demon. And it is filled with rage a rage that becomes a blood lust.

Its obsidian black scales shimmer in there dark beauty, His wings unfold like a butterfly newly emerged from the cocoon.

His nostrils flare and he looks to the west, west to the steward little band huddles in the shattered dead city, and takes wing.

The great shadow of the black dragon falls over Arien Annárë and her band. A harbinger to speed her and her sisters to their fate, to test their companions with claw, fang and corrosive death.

 

[Silvergirl]

Abigail of High Peaks

When Erik and Arien signalled the stop, then headed off to chat with the elf and the hobbit that were on point, Abigail became very nervous. There had to be a problem, and in this city of the dead, it could be a very dangerous one. It didn't help Abigail's feelings when Arien said that she'd heard a cry for help, because that meant trouble could be close by as well.

Then Abigail saw a shadow in the sky far to the south and very high up. It liked a bird, black and large for it was very high. There was a strangeness in the way it moved, not quite like a bird despite flapping it's wings. Something sinous and serpentine, as if it had a long tail. It kept going until lost behind a cloud.

Too late, Abigail asked out loud to nobody in particular, "What kind of bird has a long tail?"

The others looked at her, but Amaran's eyes widened and his mouth seemed thin and tense as he asked, "What kind of tail?"

 

[sylph54]

Ivorwen

The heat I was feeling, the strange boiling in my blood was gone in an instant as I looked to the skies.

"It's not a bird. It's a dragon, or the tales the dwarves tell of Smaug and his kin are fanciful imagination ... and the last thing the dwarves are is fanciful!"

"We need to find some cover, as fast as possible, as deep in the earth as possible and behind as much stone as possible. Fire is part of his arsenal, and protection against fire is not part of ours, that I know of."

"Look around, quickly, and find a building that has some sort of cellar, and as deep a one as possible!"

 

[cgraven]

The great back shaped wheeled through the sky, its movement graceful, and its wings almost gossamer in appearance. It was a dark sinister beauty, a deadly beauty, its very grace of form and movement a seductive mesmerizing call to the unwary. The great yellow-green serpentine silted eye taking in all the vast country below, searching endlessly searching for its pry.

I was one with the great beast, our minds one, as was the magic that was our very essence. The trill of flight, the dark chaotic glee that filled his spirit as he spotted his pry was mine as well. The thrill of the hunt, the anticipated thrill of the kill where mine as well.

Hush my beauty I whispered into its very soul.

Harm not the maidens

I feel its hunger for their innocent flesh.

All others are yours.

Those great eyes, as old as time itself narrow in on his pry, a hugely over-muscled man, with long blonde hair and a wild blonde beard. His ferocious appearance is, minimal is his amour, barbaric in origin, a great two-handed axe. There is magic bound to that ax, the stench of mystical runic script, the stench of ancient Hibernians, lays about it and him.

The Black Dragon’s great fanged, gob of death opens, as he exhales the corrosive acid that will eat a living creature to the bone leaving only a gruesome puddle of what once was a living breathing creature.

Gee fills our hearts as the little hobbit scurries for shelter the barbarian in heroic fashion stands to defend the Eleven maiden. His breathe envelops the little barbarian hero, and his clawed foot effortlessly pluck the eleven maiden, Ivorwen from the ground. She is held firm in the great beast of legend’s claws as he wings east over the fins towards the back tower.

The bait seized, the trap set, for Arien Annárë & Abigail of High Peaks

 

[sylph54]

I looked frantically about for a bolt-hole and noticed what looked like an entrance to a cellar in the ruined building near where we stood.

I would have made it if ... the dragon hadn't singled me out. I stopped, hoping that the others who had seen my hidey-hole would be left alone, turned and faced the dragon, and readied my short sword.

I forgot the second rule about dragons -- never look into their eyes. I was transfixed by the swirling depths, dropped the sword and relaxed all muscles while my mind raced with terror. I expected to be torn to shreds, yet the dragon only closed his claws around my body, stopping short of pinching me in two, yet cutting off my breath.

I hope the others are safe.

I can only think that I really missed the boat when my father set sail for the Western Lands while I was lost with the dwarves. I'll never see them; I'll probably never see another day.

The claw is too tight ...

Blackness

 

[cgraven]

Ivorwen held tightly in the great black beast talented claw, her supple body warm to his touch, as the little elfin maiden struggles for the breath of life. Her virginal innocence fills the horned beast nostrils his jaws drip with lust to consume that innocents yet our minds are one.

Patience my friend this one will bring the others bring here for our pleasure, relax for the elf is not as we strong but weak and fragile…. Patience and your rewards will be great.

Slowly his grip loosens on the fragile maiden, the breath of life filling her lungs as the black shadow soared ever higher circling its chilling scream of victory echoes through the dead city instilling the little group of adventures with rage. A rage I could taste and savor, a rage that would lead them deep into the fens to my black tower where they would be tested.

Soon very soon little one your questions will be answer

The great beast presented me the elfin maiden her beauty so pale and delicate, there was fear in her eyes as she beheld my dark countenance a dark beauty so seductive. A wave of my hand and she screams.

****************************

When Ivorwen awakes she is alone on the edge of the Fens the dead city on the horizon a iron collar around her neck and chained to a great rock her terrified scream echoes in the mind of Arien Annárë

 

[Lovelynice]

Arien Annárë

Arien and the others looked desperately for some place to hide from the black-scaled dragon, but the devastated ruins had very few places nearby to hide in away from an aerial attack.

They were too scattered at that present moment to even fight together effectively, as if they could seriously affect a dragon (which was very unlikely). As the dragon dived down with surprising speed, Arien and Amaran both ducked to the ground, and she heard a scream as the dragon swooped low over the ground right over Erik and grabbed the elf-maiden, Ivorwen, with ease. Erik could only wave his great axe in frustration. Amaran the wizard readied a spell, but it was obvious to all that Ivorwen was lost... at least for the moment.

Again, Arien heard the sound of another distant scream to the East, and it occurred to that was where the dragon was going to take the elf-maiden. She didn't know why she knew this, but she just knew. The dragon however wasn't going away yet...

It returned with another dive, it's jaws opening to spray it's corrosive venom...

Amaran changed his incantations to create a protective spell instead.
...but what of Erik and Bernard, Arien wondered, could Amaran's wizardry protect them?

"Erik! Bernard! Run!!!", Arien screamed in horror as the huge black wings of the dragon swept back in it's rapid dive. The roar of the wind and the fearful beating of her heart dulled her ears...
The great shadow of the dragon swept closer, but it wasn't going for Erik or the hobbit....

It was coming straight at her and Amaran as if utterly fearless of the great wizard's power....

 

[cgraven]

Again the great back shadow wheeled through the sky its serpentine eye fixing on its prey. ARAWN saw as the beast saw her sent filled his nostrils as it filled the nostrils of the great wined beast the magic that was their very essence flowed threw him as it id did through the black dragon binding them as one

The great unblinking eye held Arien Annárë its gaze and all the young beauty feared was reveled to her in his gaze her own feeble efforts to save the barbarian thorted as she saw his agonizing death in the beasts memory. The great beasts gaze was hypnotizing and yet something in that gaze called to the proud daughter of the White order, something dark hidden deep with in her. Slowly the great clawed foot opened to embrace her as tender as a lover it closed around the young beauty.

 

[Lovelynice]

Arien Annárë

Those huge dark eyes of the ebony-black dragon seemed to shine with a dreamy play of shadow light as if Arien was looking into the very depths of the places where the dead go. For a fleeting moment she saw a beautiful face revealed within those black eyes, then even as the wings of the dragon obscured the sky, and it opened a great clawed hand to take her, Arien felt a strange compulsion to put away her silvery sword into it's scabbard. She sighed as the clawed hand closed upon her lithe & athletic form, while within she felt a hot need flash through her.

A tiny voice within cried out in futile resistance, no.....!
... but was too late as she was already being lifted high above the trees that blurred past beneath her feet. It seemed the dragon's great coal-black wings almost brushed the very tops of the trees as it swooped around and spat acidic fire over the ruins of lost Stratfenhold. Whether any of her companions survived, Arien was unaware, as it was like a dream, a nightmare, that she could not escape. She glanced to her left and saw the elf-maiden clasped in the dragon's right claw, and then a powerful drowning sensation swamped her mind.

Noooooooo...............

 

[cgraven]

ARAWN

Noooooooo...............

The scream of the lithe maiden echoed in the mind of her ebony captor. ARAWN savored the hopelessness of Arien’s plea, the feel of her lush athletic form in the great dragon’s grasp, the subtitle firm curve of her breasts, the smooth curve of her torso, and the full ripeness of her hips. Her subtle fragrance filled the great beast nostrils and ARAWN feasted on it.

The great ebony dragon soared high in to the gathering gloom bearing his virginal captive across the dismal haunted swamp to the lonely foreboding obsidian keep where Arien’s trials would begin in earnest as ARAWN would take his revenge and savor the young beauty’s charms. His diabolical laughter filled the horrid keep as he remembered the young champion of the White Order when she had beheld his dark countenance and his dark beauty, so seductive, in the Black dragon’s eye.

Now Arien Annárë was alone in the depth of his keep, separated from her steward companions. Alone to face the demons that haunted her soul and the Dark Wzard that could assume any form he desired, to tempt, and torment the young virgin. The young maiden was alone in the twisted maze that made up the catacombs of the Keep. Dark misty passages, passages haunted by monsters, demons, and creatures that lurked just out of sight born of mankind’s worst nightmares. Creatures that the Dark wizard could bond with, could become to torment Arien Annárë, to enjoy the sweet charms of her innocent body to claim her innocence and virginity.

 

[Lovelynice]

Arien Annárë

She shivered with the chill while sleeping, in the midst of a darkly erotic nightmare…
A nightmare in which she ran through endless corridors of stone, a great thing of fire sometimes pursuing her, a fire that warmed her in places that she was frightened of being warmer in. She didn’t want to face that feeling, but the fire seemed to touch her inside, even as it terrified Arien that maybe she really wanted to be burnt by the beast of fire. She screamed, and then other creatures pursued her, their male parts shadowy but somehow Arien knew they were bigger than any man’s and their motivation in hunting her was even more terrifying to the warrior-nun than the beasts sharp teeth and claws. Then the fire thing would come after her again, burning the clothing from her body, heating her inside, doing things to her that Arien couldn’t really understand or imagine.
Suddenly she had a strange vision of herself, her breasts huge, her form exaggerated, wearing very little, she was walking through a town that she recognized, but all the townspeople saw was a whore. Arien looked down, and saw that she had no hair down-there, and it took her a little while to realize that if she could see this, then others could too…she had thought that she was wearing clothing, but all she wore was some kind of corselet; her breasts and her smooth girl-slit were bare to all the world. The townspeople glared at her as Arien began to cry for the shame was too much…...a curse of some kind had been inflicted on her, and the need inside was a constant torture…

Arien awoke with tears in her eyes, shaking her head, and trying to understand the dark meaning of the wisps of rapidly fading dream. The stone that she lay upon was cold, but smooth as polished marble. She wiped her eyes, sobbing a little still, but became fast awake as she found herself alone in large stone-walled chamber with a high vaulted ceiling. Burning braziers were the only light and much of the chamber was in gloomy darkness. Arien shivered again, feeling cold, and realized that she was entirely nude, bereft of all her clothing and her weapons. Frightened by this echo of the nightmare that she’d just then awoken from, Arien glanced down, but discovered with relief that her soft fine hairs still covered that place between her shapely thighs. The nightmare hadn’t come true afterall, but where was this place?

Then she remembered the attack of the black dragon, and being carried away in the darkening sky. A chill that had nothing at all to do with cold ran up her spine, and fear settled uncomfortably in her gut. In odd contradiction however, there was a strangely pleasurable tingle and warmth from deep within as well. Her nipples hardened even more so in the frosty air.

She stood up, swaying a little, somehow Arien felt slightly different and unbalanced as she stood on the balls of her feet. She tried to relax, to place her heels firmly downward, but her calf muscles began to cramp with the effort. Arien assumed that it must be simply a symptom of fatigue and hunger, for she was very hungry. She began to search around the room, but was very wary, as she felt especially exposed without the slightest bit of cloth covering her skin.

The polished stone altar that she had been laying on while asleep had attached at it’s lower four corners, four chains with heavy links made of a dark-red metal. It appeared to a be sacrificial altar, but there were no grooves for the catching of blood. Arien was reticent to leave the altar, but being determined as she was trained since she was a young girl, she walked softly around the large chamber. On the walls were disturbing scenes, carved from the stone, of many women, apparently all youthful, with exaggerated forms akin to the one in her nightmare, and these young women (girls? Many may have been only barely old enough to marry) were crowded together, their limbs intertwined, and doing things to each other…obscene things….

Arien turned away, feeling very peculiar. There was something very frightening about the images though, and they were on every wall, and as Arien glanced up to the vaulted ceiling in the darkness she could see hints that the same scenes were continued everywhere. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the carven obscene imagery, but even with her eyelids shut, the memory of the women’s bodies and what they were doing to each other was insistently repeating itself; too clear, in every detail. Their heavily breasted, narrow-waisted, and leggy youthfulness filled with a lustful sensuality that appeared to be so extreme as to be painful, yet joyful. Their complete lack of any signs of body hair from their neck downwards, particularly the obscene details of their hairlessness “down-there” reminding too much of the dream.

She recalled what was said by the elf-maiden and the old wizard; of missing women and peculiar disappearances of girls even among the dwarves of the North.

I will not become like them, Arien told herself, I’ll fight whatever it is and not become like that…

But her determination felt hollow, and Arien felt a soft melting interest in seeing more of this, of becoming as they were. She prayed for strength, and that the dreams were warnings, not prophecy…

Arien no longer felt the coolness of the air; she now felt a little too warm.

 

[cgraven]

ARAWN study the virgin knight-maiden of the White Order as she lay exhausted, weary, and oh so alone in the dark recesses of his Keep. Slowly the Dark One's fingers began to move, a soft, haunting chant murmured, unseen tendrils of power began to form slowly wrapping their ghostly fingers around the young maiden's mind and will. A dark vission took shape in her innocent unguarded mind. ARAWN easing the unsuspecting beauty deeper into a dark trance. Slowly carefully he devilled into the hidden recesses of Arien of the Annárë mind, her deepest fears reveled to him as he entered her dream as a dark dragon. Visions of pursuit by the great beast that had captured her, he feasted on her fear, her humiliation, as her darkest secrets came to life.

A shadowy being slowly took shape its features neither male nor female and yet in some way both and possessed of a dark sensual beauty. The vision’s skin copper bronze, finely muscled, athletic, with dark piercing eyes, powerful yet delicate hands and feature, and golden hair. It stooped gathering the young unconscious beauty into its arms bearing her to a secret chamber. It laid Arien on the stone altar as smooth and flawless as the girls pale skin. Almost lovingly the being began stripping the warrior maiden of all vestiges of the outside world till Arien of the Annárë was naked as the day she was born. ARAWN Gazed upon the youthful beauty through the eyes of the shadow beast drinking in her beauty, the pale flawless skin in such contrast to her dark hair, her small firm breasts, crowned by taunt raspberry nipples, Arien’s narrow waist, the dark fleece that hide her virgin’s treasure and her purple-silvered eyes that reflected her true innocence. Slowly their hands caressed the young girl’s nipples, fingers gently tracing the contours of her firm breasts, and then trailing down across the flat plain of Arien’s abdomen tracing random little patterns on her silken skin. A soft moan escaped the Knight- Maidens full moist lips. The beast’s fingers seductively moved lower to tease the silken perfection of Arien’s inner thighs, its warm moist breath stirring the dark fleece of the girl’s Venus Mound. Slowly the Shadow beast drew back into the shadows as Arien slowly regained consciousness.

It studied the young beauty as she took in the lewd carvings of the chamber. ARAWN through the shadow beast sensed the growing revolution in Arien and yet some how a deep dark forbidden longing that some how tempted the Knight-maiden nun also. The shadow beasts unseen in the dark recesses of the chamber was slowly enveloped in a dark mist its body changing, rearranging itself into a golden haired maiden. Its body lithe, supple, heavy breasted, yet trim of waist, its skin copper bronze. Its golden beauty seductively contrasted with Arien’s dark hair and pale skin. Suddenly it raced into Arien’s arms, its supple nude body pressed to the young Knight’s, its nipples digging into the virgins warm flesh, tears flowing from its shimmering midnight blue eyes.

“I have been so lonely here.”

It sobbed.

“Who are you?”

It whispered, even as its embraced slowly became tender, subtly more intimate, as if seeking solace in Arien’s arms. Kisses bathed the young warrior maiden’s cheeks, and then slowly the shadow beast brought its lips tenderly to the girl’s full, ripe, moist, lips and kissing Arien’s mouth, its tongue gliding across the young beauty’s lips. That kiss was so softly inviting, shyly seductive, and at the same time bold and sensual. It spoke of forbidden pleasures, it called to the demon blood that flowed through her supple body, in its subtle intimacy if only Arien surrendered to it, to embrace that forbidden pleaser, and the warmth that was slowly, seductively growing in her.

ARAWN The Dark One relished the inner struggle of the young virgin as he and the shadow best eased her slowly to the cold stone floor as that kissed deepened, even as her demon blood screamed for more of lewd sensations wanting more.

 

[cgraven]

A senusal little bump

 

[cgraven]

Waiting for my sexy Miss