<span style="font-size: 12px"><div style="text-align: center"><b>THE BLACK BARON PRESENTS</b>: <br/>
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<i>“Tamaska and the Court of Deceptions - Part 2”</i>​</div></span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i>"A closed ERP"<br/>
  Any thoughts or constructive criticism on writing? Please don't hesitate to PM me with your impressions.</i>​</div><br/><i><div style="text-align: center">Part 1 of this roleplay can be found here:<br/>
<a class="internalLink" href="http://forums.darknestfantasy.com/showthread.php?2172-THE-BLACK-BARON-PRESENTS-%E2%80%9CTamaska-and-the-Court-of-Deceptions%E2%80%9D-%28%28Closed-ERP%29%29"><br/>
THE BLACK BARON PRESENTS: “Tamaska and the Court of Deceptions” Part 1</a>​</div></i><br/><i><div style="text-align: center">A joint preface leading up to this RP can be found at the link here:<br/>
<a class="internalLink" href="http://forums.darknestfantasy.com/showthread.php?560-The-Underbelly-%28Open-ERP-WoW-setting%29"><br/>
  The Underbelly (Open ERP, WoW setting)</a> - Page 20 - 28​</div></i><br/><br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">---​</div><br/><br/>The Shepherd allowed an expression of surprise cross his face.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: DarkSlateGray"><b>Pleasing? Oh, I wouldn’t know, I’m just a mere henchman. You won’t have to worry pleasing me in any particularly demanding fashion.. No, the Baron, on the other hand..</b></span>”<br/><br/>The Shepherd made a mockery of a serious expression before broadening a bearded smile and let a couple of gentle pats fall against her shoulder:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: DarkSlateGray"><b>Rest assured, though – nubile as you are, I think the Baron might have bitten onto more than he can chew.</b></span>”<br/><br/>The capacious gentleman took her hand and graced it with a platonic peck on its back, following up with his introduction:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: DarkSlateGray"><b>Welcome to Castle Bruutheim, your new home – I’m The Shepherd, but to you, I go by the name of “Lord” or “M’lord”. Unless the old geezer up front objects, I have the say-so in this humble abode. If I ask you do dance, you dance, to clean, you clean, to get out of my way, then hop along like the little rabbit you are.</b></span>”<br/><br/>The procession of people entered a massive, well-lit vestibule of polished wood: its center was embellished by a fist/shape cut carpet in black and grays while paintings, armoires and various well-tended plants were against either wall. Above them, a mighty chandelier spilled out bright warm down onto them below.<br/><br/>Two expansive, curving and lavish staircases at the end of the humongous carpet led up to two doors on the first floor – an early guess might be to some of the Barons more private corners, but it was anyone’s guess.<br/><br/>At the opposite end, the parade closed on two extravagant oaken doors – the Shepherd, who sided with Tamaska still, whispered aloud:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: DarkSlateGray"><b>And this’s his Royal Highness’ home – the Bruutheim Throne Room: Don’t worry about keeping a low profile..</b></span>” the bearded man, carrying a distinct scent of some underplayed cologne said with a grin.<br/><br/>As the large doors swung aside aided by two servants, Tamaska came to understand his better: keeping a low profile was the easiest thing to do in what could best be described as a<b><a class="externalLink" href="http://grooveshark.com/#/s/Pango+Pango/21P0IZ?src=5" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">veritable circus spreading before her eyes</a></b>:<br/><br/>The Throne Room was essentially a huge hall with thick, immovable wooden beams growing into the ceiling symmetrically; and around these beams you could find innumerable cushions and hundreds of recliners, chairs and stools – and on those chairs and stools, flattening on those recliners, scores of high society crowds lazed it out. And swarming around those crowds, a distressingly colorful array of servants mingled:<br/><br/>Courtesans of almost all races wearing risqué colored corsets, frilly stockings, sleek evening gloves and masquerade masks, and boots with attitude – some, or most, of them in various states of undress, already entertaining their mostly male clientele in lustful manners.<br/><br/>Cicisbeos, the male counterpart, in top-opened sailor shirts, mighty traveler boots with ruggedly handsome features and hands freely exploring the mostly womanly bodies with expert and deft skill that sent lustful chills up Tamaskas spine just by looking.<br/><br/>But lusty moans and perverted sighs were almost drowned out in the scores of performers, tricksters, street magicians and illusionists who peddled their trade in a sinisterly colorful fashion; tongues of flames from firebreathers bathed this orgy of the hedonists in dangerous orange and red colors as jesters flip-flopped and cartwheeled with menacing cackles to the wasteful applause of the high society audiences; belly dancers, sometimes only wearing the actual skirt, drew out raspy encouraging shouts and hoots while the more somberly clad waitresses and servants raced about to provide the Barons’ guests with wet-ware and fodder.<br/><br/>This sea of self-indulgence spread like water before the procession that made its way through, but at the same time seemed to join its momentum, fire breathers coyly aiming their tongues of flame high across the heads of Tamaska and her fellowship, jesters spouting childish gibberish while dancing nimbly along its sides, belly dancers timing their steps to that of the marching convoy.<br/>Whenever the Baron came within earshot of his servants, they hailed him like a messiah, sporadic “Long live Bruutheim!” and “Long Live the Baron!” cutting through the cacophony.<br/><br/>This parade began slowly to dissolve as Baron Blackhand, Bahiyya, Emberspike, the Shepherd and Tamaska began ascending a large stone dais in the middle of the hall sporting a tall-backed throne and two decadently wood-cut, cushion covered seats on either side, each seat flanked by a golden lampstand.<br/><br/>A tall, sleek window fit for a cathedral cast a stark white backlight, swathing the Baron in harsh shadows as he took his seat. Bahiyya slid down on his left, Emberspike took the spot on his right, the golden chain coersing Tamaska to follow him over. With a simple gesture, the goblin in question demanded her to kneel by his knee – to probably little surprise did Tamaska realize she knelt on an exquisitely soft, white-furred carpet.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: DarkSlateGray"><b>SERVANTS OF BRUUTHEIM..!</b></span>”, the Shepherd, remaining a few steps down the dais, boomed:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: DarkSlateGray"><b>YOUR REGENT HAS RETURNED! ALL HAIL, BARON SCHWARTZHAND THE SECOND!</b></span>”<br/><br/>The room exploded in cheers – earnest and polite all the same: The Shepherd grinned at the audience – most had the respect to abandon their sexual conquests, but here an<br/>d there you’d see a woman kneeling or a man lavishly massaging a patch of bare skin.<br/><br/>“<b>The court is in session.</b>” The baron said with a voice that needed not be shouted; the shepherd was given an official scroll containing todays, calling forth the first patron to appeal his case.<br/><br/>Tamaska, on the other hand, found her attempt to follow the proceedings distracted as Emberspike forced her hand to coil around his engorged prick through the fabric of his clothes. He grinned, a cigar poking out between his teeth as he muttered:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><b>Before you’s spelled away, my blue-skinned bitch, I ain’t lettin’ you go without work: Your little showcase back in them carriage left me with a longin’ – how’s about you give me a oozin’ly slow suck to make up fer that? And remember to strut that ass to the audience – they need somethin’ to look at while they wait, don’tcha’ agree?</b></span>”<br/><br/>Even in his goblinoid shape, Emberspike’s manhood seemed a tad too large for his illusionary race, she could feel and see. A pair of burning eyes drilled into her, underlying his “question” really wasn’t up for discussion or contemplation.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>