Lords of Itaea

[Babette_____]

She remained quiet as Pravus and the woman spoke. She'd never seen the woman before, only heard rumors of how she chose to decorate the deepest recesses of her kingdom. She licked her lips in apprehension, then cast a glance toward the others that had accompanied the lady warrior. One was obviously a guard, or a commander of some sort; the other was more reserved. She studied him, openly staring and trying to gage if he was the magician that Pravus had spoken of. Tilting her head she slanted her eyes and tried to read his mind, though she really couldn't, she was gifted, but not that gifted.

Her horse shied slightly forcing her to return to the matter at hand, namely keeping the gentle giant under her, under control. She snickered softly then gasped quietly as she heard the mocking tones of both Lord and Lady.

Her face paled when Pravus mentioned the joining of the two forces in matrimony instead of what the female leader Morgaina had offered. A small sigh of what she could comprehend as only relief left her lips when Morgaina laughed at the offer. The relief was short lived as Pravus offered it up again.

Jealousy?

She wondered at the small pang of somethingness that lingered and rolled in her gut. She recalled the feel of the Lord, how gentle he was, caring and soothing in the taking of her innocence. Yet. . .she just as quickly recalled the swift justice he'd passed on the man, she'd killed.

Pravus was a confusing Lord, one she found she wanted to learn more about, but also one she knew she should fear. However, she told herself. . .she'd seen the gentle side of him, the loving side; surely he was not all evil? Hadn't he made love to her, Tharalon, the nobody?

 

[Tseranc]

He had not foreseen this, and felt like a failure. Yet something in Pravus kept the wizards spirits up; that man was unpredictable. As changing as the wind, or a hawk upon it. Still, he sat, attempting to remain still, and listen to the bits he could catch on the conversation between the two warlords.

Olam's mind wandered, exploring all the hazards of such an arrangement. Of course, he too, saw the benefits of it. It was one of those things that actually looked good. Too good. He knew Pravus and Morgaina would never reach truly friendly terms. She was too different, or so he had to believe. She was hard, but forged from pain, and suffering at her fathers hands, then under the pressure of her inheritance. Pravus was never a victim in his life; that much you could read in his eyes. Those icy orbs only looked for the next weakness to exploit, never the slightest caution one developed only after suffering a crushing blow. He had never lost, Olam would bet on that.

At that thought, he wished he could do something, anything to strike the man down here and now. He knew, of course, that would only bring ruin on them all, but he could wish for it none the less. Pravus would be too bold, right up until the end; and the magician did not wish to see Morgaina brought down with him.

But another caugth his attention, and only because she, int turn had focused on Olam. The woman, a very pretty thing, that his Mistress had referred to as dressed up help. His head tilted to the side, as he silently took in her sight. He reached out, with his subtle power, to explore her more. As the invisible, intangible, arm of his will neared, his eyes went wide, and he stopped everything The help indeed! He would have to warn Lady Winter of this new threat. The woman that sat observing him was a powerful witch! He wondered if she, too, had reached out to discover what power he had. But she sat with a more curious expression, and not one of surprise, as he now wore.

He quickly composed himself, hoping none, or at least none but the witch, had seen his shock. If she had examined him in a like manner, she knew to what she was reaching in the first place. But he also felt a pain within her. It was deep and ill defined. He let himself hope, from her age, and this internal suffering, that she had not yet fully conquered her gifts. To face against an experienced witch of her power was not an idea he wanted to entertain.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

The air surrounding her was damp, moldy even and Lisheeda tried to not breath deep its humid fragrance. She glanced around, feeling her way down a long thin hall, one that she was sure was not traveled through often. Her gaze tried to lock in as much light that was possible to flitter into the cave like area. It did little to aid her, but her companion Bellatonia’s soft glow aided her and she found strength in the ghostly image.

Voices echoed down the corridor and she froze, pressed her body to the wall and tried to breathe even less than before. The men passed by and a sigh of relief left her parted lips. She shivered against the dampness that had seeped into her skin.

“Youngling... this way,” the voice whispered.

Lisheeda blinked and moved toward Bellatonia. She felt confident in allowing the ghost to lead her. How wonderful it was to finally have someone to show her the way.

Bellatonia moved; Lisheeda followed. Soon the sex slave emerged into a more lit room, one where several beds of various states of disrepair rested. A lone girl sat in a corner, busily mending a worn blouse or dress, Lisheeda could not tell which.

“You,” the girl suddenly said; her eyes taking in the other woman’s appearance.

Lisheeda looked around in confusion. Who was the girl seeing? It took her a moment to realize it was herself she was seeing. “Kill her,” Bellatonia whispered, and nodded toward a clay jar that rested on the edge of a table.

Lisheeda felt the pull to do as her companion desired and moved to lift the jar. She walked forward; the girl tried to move away, but could not; this caused Lisheeda to pause. “She is a cripple.”

“So, she is the enemy. Kill her, before it is too late.”

Again Lisheeda felt the ghostly image beckon her to act in a manner that was becoming far to easy... claiming one’s life. She stepped closer; a look of utter madness appeared on her face as she raised the pot high.

The young girl screamed, lifted her arms and tried to block the blow she knew would soon descend on her. In her heart she prayed for a savior to rescue her, or a witch to grant her the power to walk, a gift long ago stolen from her by the former Dark Lord when she’d attempted to flee from his “loving” touch.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Her gaze flickered an emotion that she knew Pravus could easily read... hatred and yet underneath the building rage, she began to plot and plan. She would join with him, wed him, allow him to be King and then when she was sure it was time to rid herself of him, she would do so. Afterall, hadn't she rid herself of the two men that had been closest to her all her life; father, and brother.

She eased her horse over to his, passing a look to Olam, one that she hoped he understood.

Once she reached Pravus's side she leaned over, waited for him to bend slightly toward her and whispered, “I only need your seed... I need no King. Remember that when you sleep.”

She then turned her horse back to Olam's, took her place beside him and angled her head in a faux submissive manner.

“My Lord Pravus, it would be a pleasure to wed you and fornicate behind locked doors, fill the world with our children and rule the lands of Itaea with you at my side.”

Her eyes gleamed with mockery as she fluttered her lashes in a manner that was anything but fitting for a woman of her stature. After a few seconds she composed herself, tossed her hair back and looked at the woman next to the man.

“Your help... can continue to service your more basic needs after I am with child. I will not have you littering the world with bastard daughters and sons that could lay claim over my lands because they happen to sprout from a whore's thighs before my own.”

“Your men will pledge loyalty to me as mine will yours. Though... neither of us will go into this blindly. I will still keep my own advisors, for I don't believe once a child is born from our union, you'll hesitate in attempting to do me in.”

“When should we partake in this wonderful and joyous union of two souls merging as one ... for the good of all.”

Her laughter threatened to bubble out, yet if it did, it would certainly show how nervous, frightened, and even terrified of the joining she truly was. She wanted to surrender to only one man and now she had to remain impassive to him, for if Pravus knew the depth of her desire to Olam, all would be lost, for he would not stay his hand in harming him, or so she thought.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Pravus looked back at the 'help' she had referred to, and chuckled. Little dis she know that this union would give him access to her own wizard, which should benefit his witch's skills considerably. And if rumors were to be believed, Olam was too soft, and should take pity - even willingly aid his pet witch out of some altruistic need.

“I've taken care to ensure no unintended spawn of mine has come into the world. One would hate to see some tragic fight for power once we are gone, or worse – some upstart trying to put a dagger in their parents...” He smiled at the reference to how she came to power.

“The next new moon, as tradition demands. That gives us three days to make preparations. See to those as you like, though more practical planning should immediately be made as to how to defend the united lands, and readying our forces to attack the Dark forces.”

He backed away, slightly, his grin still shining toward his enemy, and future wife. “Though maybe you should prepare yourself, and leave the planning to me. It will not be some broken man who fears their skin will adorn your walls that you will find in your bed chambers.” He laughed and nodded at Olam. “I mean really, have you nothing younger and more spirited then and old wizard? Perhaps you will enjoy someone more vigorous for a change.”

He pulled his horse around and led the animal away. “I will set a pavilion two miles south of here, and muster the bulk of the army there. I suggest you and your generals meet me there tonight or tomorrow, so planning can begin.”

He looked back over his shoulder, grinning at Morgaina, “Until then my queen,” he said, almost mockingly.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgaina watched his retreating back. The entire time her eyes blazed with hate. She remained still, not speaking or moving until he was gone and only then did she signal for the others to follow her.

They returned to camp and she quickly gave orders for the camp to move, no real explanation was given to anyone. She knew that the warrior that had accompanied her and Olam to the meeting place would fill everyone in.

She said nothing to her mage, her mind too occupied with the events that would transpire in a few days. She would rather kill herself than to carry the bastard Pravus's child in her belly. The thought of mating with him sent her stomach rolling and soon she was on her knees in the corner of her tent vomiting up what little breakfast she'd eaten that morning.

Eventually her stomach was empty and dry heaves followed, before she was able to gain control of herself and sit down on the dirt floor. She pushed the pal of stench from her side and lowered her face in her hands.

The sound of another entering her tent made her wince, and she prayed it was someone she could trust and would not speak of the weakness they'd come upon.

“Say anything of this and I'll slit your throat,” she muttered, before looking up at the invading person.

Her gaze held onto those of the one man she trusted and she closed her eyes in shame.

“Perhaps it is better if I just end this charade now. Give him what he wants and slit my own throat.”

 

[ZuesTheGod]

The tunnels of Mochan's keep were thick with moisture. He ran his fingers over grooves and crevices, showing Deveron which ones were the correct ones to open a hidden passage. He did not show him all the secrets, but he knew that the keep would be safe if some of the treasured hiding spots and passages were shown to the man. Mochan was not a fool, he knew to keep all of ones secrets to themselves could bring harm to the entire kingdom. This he was not willing to do. Trust the man completely, he would not do either. Itaea was a ruthless world and its leaders just as ruthless, so why would their followers be immune to such callings?

“I must admit Sire, that all of this,” Deveron swept his hand across one of the larger hidden passageways, “is not a surprise. We all knew there were hidden paths and rooms inside the mountain, but to see them... I am honored.”

“To keep my top man in the dark, so to speak, would be an error on my part. There may come a time when one of us, or many of us need to hide here. I am not so young as to think that I am invincible. We are at war. We will soon have to fight the Red Hand and the White Ice Bitch. If we fail, then hiding here will be...for the most part undetectable to our enemies.”

They continued down another corridor, this one ran deeper into the mountain, and in a downward direction. “Behind this wall there is a room. It is large, larger than any you have seen before. I want you to pick two men, two men you trust but you have no qualms in slaying. Together over the next few days I want it stocked to the rafters. Leave only enough room for ten men to reside here. The two who aid you...” he eyed Deveron, “do what needs to be done to insure their silence. No matter how good they are on the field, they will not be joining us here after they have learned of this place.”

Deveron nodded. The two men made their way back through the tunnels. Mochan paused and watched Deveron disappear, then heard the knowing sound of the man leaving the hidden passageways. He then moved again, turning left, then right, eventually ending up behind another wall. He grinned, knowing what lay behind the thick stone. His fingers dug into a small hole, one he'd used several hundred times in his youth as well as his early years as a man. Did his brother ever know that the sex slaves had serviced him many times both before and after he'd used them? The hidden door slipped easily open and Mochan stepped into the room.

He frowned when at first he saw it was empty, then he heard the sound of wailing coming from a dark corner. His fingers wrapped tight around hilt of his weapon. He stepped forward and stopped when he saw the woman before him. A sneer of both admiration for her body as well as her obvious intent on the slave girl rose from his lips. He made no move to stop her actions. His loins stirred as he pictured the crippled girl lying in a pool of her own blood. The sex slave, he quickly realized would be a wonderful addition to his new kingdom.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam was appalled as he came into the tent, not at the threat on his life, but the one to her own that followed. “Never Mistress. He is a dangerous foe, but as you pointed out, we would not be without some small advantage. And how many might suffer needlessly were he to conquer without you around to stay his hand?”

The wizard knelt down beside, her, feeling bold around her, as if in her moment of weakness it could be someone like him to give her strength. “You have both been cruel leaders in your own ways, but I know why you act. You have always sought stability in a cruel world. He has always sought another conquest. If you do not keep him in check, then he will only use up our resources to wage war after war. We've all heard the rumors of lands across the sea, or north of the great deserts. Would he next enslave us all in pursuit of these rumors?”

His eyes locked with hers, “As a humble servant, I beg you not to abandon us.” He knew his place, and stuck to it. He was her wizard, and occasional play thing. Recently, he might dare to hope, something more had grown, but he would never rely on that; never take it for granted.

He stood, and gathered a few herbs, crushing them in his hands as he sprinkled them over the former contents of her stomach, while quietly chanting; the mess dissolving into the earth. There would be nothing for her men to find and question the health of their leader.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

“Do it!”

Lisheeda heard the demand seconds before the clay jar was brought down solidly on the crippled girl's head. It smashed into large chucks, pieces of it wedged into the girl's scalp and blood splatted across Lisheeda's face. A chuckle from Bellatonia echoed in her head as Lisheeda brought what shards remained in her hand down again onto the still figure. Several times she lifted and dropped the jar, eventually no pieces of its craftsmanship remained in her palms. She blinked several times, shook her head and stared at the dead girl. “What happened?” she whispered, as if coming awake from a fog.

She swayed slightly, fell to her knees and touched the crimson fluid that flowed into the cracks of the ground. She'd done this, she told herself, a tear fell from her eye. She wiped at it, smearing the red ink across her face.

Her hands came up, and she buried her face into their trembling palms. “You are weak,” Bellatonia chastised.

“Go away!” Lisheeda screamed, “I don't need you!”

“Yes, you do. Where would you be if not for me?! I am everything you need to be in order to survive.” Laughter rang through Lisheeda's mind. She clutched her head and rocked back and forth, praying for Bellatonia to disappear, to take a rest so that she could too.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

“So I bed him and birth his child!?” she hissed, her voice full of anger and disgust.

She rose from the floor and moved to stand facing a canvas wall. Her shoulders ached from the weight of all that had happened since venturing down this path of bringing down the Dark Lord. She felt as if she were failing, yet her magician and spoken to her as if she were still the strong woman he seemed to believe she was.

“I do this only because it is the wisest thing to do. Two armies will defeat one, especially now that it is in a state of confusion. The transition from a powerful, evil overlord to one with no experience will be a weakness that we will both benefit from.”

She thought further on the matter, slowly pacing about the private tent.

“If we merge, then we both will be waiting for the knife in the back,” she eyed Olam, “it's coming. I can feel it. I'll have a few of his brats, then he'll be done with me.”

“And bedding him!”

Morgaina shuddered from the thought. Her face showed the hate that the idea spawned.

“I've bedded many men,” she admitted, “since the death of my father and my brother however, the men I have been with... I have chosen! To be ruled by a man again.”

She closed her eyes and then opened them again to stare into Olam's.

“I worked hard to not live under a man's thumb. I did things that ...”

Her words died in her throat.

“His child Olam... His child.”

The very thought made her pale.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Pravus, pleased with himself rejoined his generals and Tharalon. “Gather the army, ride two miles south, where the river is wide, and will defend our flanks. Set camp, and ready a meeting pavilion, though it may have to be used for a wedding chapel as well!” He laughed at the irony of it all. Though he could not deny that he looked forward to bedding the bitch, and showing her what a real man felt like between her legs. The twit might fall in love – a thought that entertained him.

He looked to Tharalon, who seemed somewhat uncertain about things. He edged his horse near to heres, but was not quiet when be spoke. “Fear not, I shall always desire you, my witch.” His hand reached out to possessively caress her chin. “You will always be welcome in my bed, no marriage will change that, or anything about me,” he promised.

He moved off and let his mean assemble, eager to get started while his generals fetched the rest of the army. They rode off, Pravus eager to begin a new page in his small, island nation's history – led by him of course. Soon all the land would be under his control. He'd dispose of Morgania if he had to, or keep her around to breed more of his heirs, if she could be trusted to live.

He and his escort arrived, and his men began to clear the area in preparation for the large army to come rolling in that evening. The pavilion was erected, and his personal tent set up. He did not bother having one set for Tharalon, she would remain with him – if for no other reason then appearances. Besides, he did not bring any slaves with him on this trip away from the fortress.

The lord of the Red Hand looked forward to celebrating his upcoming marriage by fucking his little witch.

 

[ZuesTheGod]

The girl sat there, trembling and crying. Mochan eyed her with a hooded expression. She was mad. It was obvious to him. She spoke to the air around her. She'd not seen him, or heard him. He knew there was no other but they in the room. How could he use this to his advantage he thought? It was one thing to pound into a sex slave, to lose ones seed into a girl that would birth future leaders, yet it was an entirely different story to fuck a mad woman whose mind was clearly not there.

But how mad was mad? After all, was this not the woman that had fought his brother? Was she not the one that rumors had quickly spread through the keep ... she'd killed several men, trained men and with what, a simple blade. Surely there was something in her that was worth salvaging, something besides the delectable body that he found himself wanting to quickly sample.

He stepped forward, this time making noises that would be easily heard. His footsteps echoed around him and he grinned as he watched her react. He reached her before she could move to protect herself. Strong arms wrapped around her chest and brought her back into his own. “My beautiful slave. It seems only I will reap the rewards of having captured you.”

His mouth descended onto her shoulder and he bit hard, drawing blood and swallowing the hot liquid down his throat. He tore at the flesh, making sure to leave a mark that would heal... in time, but always a scar would bare her skin.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

.....

 

[Tseranc]

He listened, never once letting her heartfelt rant diminishing the amount of confidence in her that showed on his face...even when she mentioned bedding other men or 'doing things' to avoid being controlled. Never let his faith in her waiver.

“Mistress, if I may be so bold,” He hoped like hell that his skin would not soon be used as a tent flap, “But I see the advantage as yours.” He paused a moment, and took a deep breath before continuing with a very touchy subject.

“You, my Mistress, have had the misfortune of...dealing...with vile, powerful men. One cannot be certain, but everything from his attitude suggests that Lord Pravus has never met near so powerful, and strong willed woman; if another in all the realms exists, as yourself. In his bed has been countless slaves; women who were controlled by fear, and perhaps earlier on in his life, by profit. Mistress...he'll never see you coming.”

Sweat beaded on his brow as he stared at her, hoping that his answer was not displeasing, or his references to her past.

He pressed on, hoping to answer all her concerns. “And as for the bedding of him, it would need happen only once. I can create a potion that ensures your next mating will take root. Its similar to the one taken to ensure no child comes from a mating, taken my a man or a woman.” He was of course referring to the one that all her play things took regularly, himself included.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Fear shot through Lisheeda as swiftly as the steel she'd used to slice through her victims. She cried out in horror and pain as the bite that ripped at her skin forced her to rear back in agony. Another scream came as she struggled within the strong grasp of the stranger. Her back arched. Her head slammed back. She tried to find a way out of the prison she was in. Lisheeda bucked and scratched, angled her body so she could try and bite, or claw her way free, yet she could not. The man who held her seemed to be an anchor on her back that would not be budged.

“Still yourself!”

Lisheeda immediately did as Bellatonia's ghostly image commanded. She stopped fighting and went limp. Her gaze shifted from the man to the woman who had returned to comfort and command her. Tears fell silently from her eyes as she stared at the corner well Bellatonia stood.

“Think of all you've done. All the men that have fallen to you... in time so will this one. Ease yourself. I need to think.”

“Think faster!” she hissed back, then glanced at the man, “I will kill you,” she told him. Her eyes were wide with determination as she snarled and pulled her lips back to reveal teeth that she hoped looked frightening.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgaina pondered what her lover and trusted mage told her. She had listened to him, hanging on every word, in hopes that what he said would make sense to her.

He did well, stroking her ego. She was powerful and though in a moment of feminine weakness she'd dared to show how powerless, she felt, she'd done so in front of a man she knew would not betray her.

“You are right,” she finally told him, “he underestimates me because I am a woman.”

She paced the floor, thinking about all that Olam had told her.

“I do not wish to bed him, nor bare his child. But if... you can guarantee that I can become pregnant with just one joining then make this potion.”

“But it will not be his child I carry...”

Her gaze fell on Olam's face. She said nothing else as silence hung between them.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam stood, dumbfounded by her admission. He understood the plot she had revealed to him, and knew the part she had not asked, but was sure she meant him to play. Finally he swallowed hard, not daring to removed his eyes from hers. “I can have the potion ready by nightfall Mistress,” the words came out forced.

He knew life had just gotten a good deal more dangerous for them both. He doubted Pravus was a man who would be happy to learn that his wife had deceived him, much less on a matter so critical. She meant to undermine the very core of the alliance the warlord had proposed. He wondered if she ever meant to reveal the true father of her heir, to mock Pravus so publicly, or if she would smile to herself at her clever deception.

A deception that would not go unnoticed forever. Olam knew that Pravus looked like no man in all of Entaca, and while the first few years they might be able to hide this fact, it would eventually become evident that the child was not his. New wars would break out then, and ones fought with more passion the mere conquest of lands.

The whole plan unnerved the wizard, but he said nothing, just held the gaze of his Mistress, and remained silent...just as he would for as long as this plot played out.

 

[Babette_____]

She rode quietly to the camp, keeping her thoughts to herself and barely acknowledging the fact that they were moving along at a good speed that would under normal circumstances frighten her. Tharalon had too much to think about.

She'd been in front of a powerful magician. She sensed it and a part of her was eager to seek him out again. Also she had bare witness to a woman of equal power that she could tell matched her current Lord and now she was going to have to serve under both of them. A veil of worry descended down on her shoulders as they approached camp. There were too many varibles to comprehend and the last thing she wanted to do was show her fear.

When Pravus announced she'd still be a welcomed sight in her bed, a different fear shot through her. The look of the woman who had sat astride her war horse had been threatening. She knew that to be bedded by Pravus and give birth to his child would bring her great hardship, not from Pravus, but from the Queen Morgaina.

Nervously Tharalon chewed on her lip as she imagined how she could keep her desires for Pravus hidden from all, including him. Yet as she watched her belongings being moved into his tent, she knew she would fail on the latter attempt.

She walked toward her temporary home, a soft curse left her lips as she thought of whom she would be pressed against and how tricky it would be to ease her way from his side, in order to complete her desired course. She would have to return to their prior camp, there was a man that needed to be awakened.

As she entered their makeshift home, her shoulders sagged under the pressure of all that seemed to be rapidly consuming her.

“Just a few more hours,” she whispered to herself as she moved to the bed that she knew she was expected to share with her Lord. A shiver of desire rushed through her, but Tharalon pushed it back as she imagined Morgaina in her place. The woman had been exquisite, something Tharalon knew she was far from.

As Tharalon slipped free of her dress, leaving only a thin chemise as her covering she tried to come to terms with all the different emotions and tangles that were suddenly circling her once simple life.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

There was no doubt in her mind that Olam would do as she'd instructed, nor did she fool herself by ignoring the danger she was placing them both in. Morgaina did not want anything to happen to her friend, and most trusted lover, but she also could not allow those fears to deter her from her plan.

She would bare Olam's child and then in time rid herself of her husband. After that, she would work to ensure her army, which would include her deceased spouse's as well, would remain loyal to her and the child she would bare.

“Seek whatever you need to make this potion and take whomever you trust to gather the correct materials. I want this done as soon as possible, yet as close to the time I have to bed the bug-infested bastard.”

She watched Olam leave and then turned away to ponder all that would happen in the upcoming hours, week, and months. She refused to contemplate years, for she saw only Pravus's death by that time of her life.

A brief thought of her mother ran through her mind and she frowned. She would have to order her men to return the fragile minded woman back to the wooded cottage. The one person who she held dear to her next to Olam needed to be safe and it seemed that within the walls of Morgaina's keep was no longer going to be as safe as she'd hoped.

 

[ZuesTheGod]

The look in the slave woman's eyes bore into Mochan's. For a brief moment he feared she would be the one to slay him, but as her limp body pressed against his hard one, those fears melted and the growth of desire rose up with the hardening of his cock. He grinned lopsidedly and tightened his hold. “You may be the one, my pretty thing, but for now... I will make you feel as if you have died and gone to the heavens.”

He lifted the girl up and carried her without much fan fair to one of the beds where the slaves slept. He threw her down and grabbed a length of cord that hung from the post of the old bed. With skill and speed he tossed the woman onto her stomach, lept onto the bed and grabbed both her arms, pulled them back and secured her slim wrists with the soft rope. No amount of struggling could match his strength.

Mochan pulled the rope tight, scooted down her length and then tied the rope to her ankles, leaving her back arched back and her secured as if she were nothing more than a boar that was about to be skewered. He grinned at his latest prize, then rolled her so she lay on her side.

“Where to begin,” he whispered to himself as he moved a finger across her unaroused sex.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam bowed at her instructions and silent as a a snake through grass, departed the tent; the flaps of her door seemingly opened by the wind to allow the wizard out without effort. He was lost in thought, and his powers seemed to just see to the small details around him at times like this. Times that were fortunately rare, but now one had come.

He took no men, knowing now that she could not question his loyalty; he needed none to gather his herbs nor did she need to ensure he did not run back to the woods he loved so much more then the cold stone walls of her keep, or the many fires of her army on the march.

He wandered for a bit, letting his feet guide him where ever they willed, as his mind ran through the issues at hand. Swirling images of the dangers they would face each and every moment after the child was born played out for his horror, distracting him further and further from the task he was sent on.

Then he tripped; his foot catching a root only partially covered by the thin layer of snow. He yelped, but managed to catch himself, only his palms and knees impacting the ground. This left him in a position much resembling prayer to some long forgotten deity, and indeed when he looked up and around him, he knew he was in a scared place.

How he knew, he could not describe, just something in his very core knew it, as if it were more obvious then fire is hot or the sky is blue. He stood up with great caution, alert to everything around him, how perfect, and untouched the setting was – nature in perfect balance. He walked in awe of this small, but massively important grove, turning around randomly to examine yet another splendor.

And then a flash of pain exploded in his head, sending him back to his knees. When Olam blinking through the pain, he had the impression of having had a conversation. A conversation about this very grove. Another blinding burst inside his skull left him with his hands again embracing the earth, this time he thought of a warning, a promise of some sort. The next burst left him unconscious.

Be it an hour, or day, later, Olam awake, having dreamed of a woman of unspeakable beauty, who told him his child would usher in a new age, one heralded by the return of the Gods themselves. The magnificent woman/goddess charged him to make the child and his future kingdom ready to receive them.

Olam walked back out of the woods, only a short distance from his mistresses camp, knowing he could never find that grove again if he tried. Matters where not easier, but indeed more complicated. Now he was a pawn of either insanity, or the gods, as well as the mortal warlords that now fought for power.

Mysteriously, he also had every reagent needed for his potions, and a new confidence in his abilities, as if creating the complicated elixirs were a trivial matter.

Olam had never felt so alone in the world. Who could he turn to for advice on how to prepare the world for the return the Gods? Who could he admit his burden to?

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Hours passed as the camp made ready for their potential departure. Morgiana spent most of her time alone, contemplating the decision she'd made to decieve her enemy in a way that would surely not only get herself killed, but her mage and eventually her son or daughter.

The very idea of birthing a child had always brought a foul taste to Morgaina's mouth, yet now as she sat quietly musing over what she was about to do, she desired only to birth Olam's child and see it rise to glory.

She rose to pour herself a drink when a sharp pain ripped through her body. It skated outwards, darting up her spine while at the same time shooting through her legs. She screamed, doubled over and fell in a heap to the ground of her tent.

Guards came running, but she lifted her arms, ordering them to leave her. The pain continued to consume her. Tears sprang from her eyes as the rippling effect of what she assumed to be a part of her soul was torn from her being.

Darkness descended over her and her eyes rolled back into their sockets. When she awoke, she still lay on the ground. Her body felt chilled. She crawled to her bed and under the covers.

She felt empty, lost, scared, and more alone than she had since she was a small child being first tormented by her father and then later her brother. A piece of her was gone. Her protector. Her companion. Her life. Morgaina realized as the tears fell and her blankets did little to warm her, that Olam was no longer hers and she was very much that abandoned child from so long ago.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Lord Pravus met his his generals, and those of lesser rank charged with setting camp, ensuring there was space allowed, and good space at that, for Morgaina's army once they arrived. But planning only got you so far, he knew that well enough. Most of what really happened was due to properly reacting to new information – such as his latest plot, his upcoming marriage.

He laughed again at the thought, and left his men to the rest of the planning, making his way toward his large personal tent, situated on a slight hill, and surrounded by the camp of the Red Hand. He entered, and smiled at the sight of his witches' form under the covers of his bed. “How good to see you my lovely witch.” He greeted, and started to disrobed himself. “I was hoping you'd choose to join me tonight.” He managed to hold back a laugh. She had no tent, no where else to be.

Once he was nude, he made his way to a basin of water, kept hot over a fire, and proceeded to wash himself off, not at all shy or reserved by his lack of clothing, still retaining the air of power and authority. “What an interesting day we had, didn't we my Tharalon?” He dried himself and went to stand over the bed, looking down at the girl who resided in it.

“Might I assume you'd like another lesson here tonight my dear?” He smiled, recalling the last time he had her. She was still new to sex, but he enjoyed her innocent excitement, and honest effort more then his well trained slaves. That and her body was simply too delicious not to enjoy – her tiny frame, pale skin and crimson hair only added to the idea of innocence – something he knew, and reveled in, taking from her.

“Aren't I the fortunate one? While I have a young, delightful witch so share my night with, my bride to be only has that stuffy old wizard to try and warm the Lady Winter!” He laughed, and pulled pack the covers, exposing Tharalon and chemise she wore. He was disappointed to find her wearing anything, but this simple garment could be easily disposed of.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

She glared hotly at the man who had made her a captive once again. Who was he? She wondered to herself, even asking the image in her mind to tell her. Bellatonia however gave no answer. Once more Lisheeda was alone in her mind and the ghostly image of her protector was no where to be found. She licked her lips and tried to ignore the vulnerable state she was in. Instead she worked on concentrating on what Bella had told her...she had killed many and she would do so again. It was just a matter of time.

So she lay there, thinking of how to fillet the man before her. His finger moved across her sex and she winced. It was still sore from the abuse the other man... the Dark Lord had inflicted her with. Would this man be just as disturbed? Would he rip her apart? Threaten her? Devour her as if she were nothing more than another woman to be used and then discarded?

Lisheeda prayed it was so. She did not want to couple with the man, but she knew the quicker he was finished with her the sooner she and Bellatonia could plot her escape.

 

[Tseranc]

His confidence did not fail him, creating the potions came with an ease that nearly disturbed him. He did not even feel nearly as tired after expending his own energies into them. In fact he felt he could craft many more – not that any more would be needed any time soon, as his Mistress would soon be with child....his child.....a future leader of a new era....

Those thoughts disturbed him the most. While he'd often wondered what fatherhood would be like, he never expected to be faced with it, and certainly not under these conditions. He thought of Morgiana, and how he must see to her safety while also trying to show her a kinder way, a way that would suit her for the role of motherhood, and raising a leader all the world would know.

He made his way back to her tent, announcing himself before entering, but what shocked at what he found. His mistress laying in bed curled up, and had obviously been crying. He set his creations down and knelt down beside her, “What troubles you my Lady? Are you well?" He felt more bold then usual, even after the past few days, and put his hand on her shoulder, then checked her forehead for fever, but found none. Indeed, on closer inspection, she just looked sad, not ill.

“What is wrong Mistress? What can I do for you?”