<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=81673.msg3602665#msg3602665">Quote from: kaz on 08-09-2010, 11:50:48</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Serrienne had not been at the castle long.  She had been captured after an assault on her father's castle.  He had once been one of the High Lords of Nordmark.  She had lived a luxury life, safe, protected.  Spoilt.  Now she was a mere slave, reduced to wearing rags and eating the scraps that could be rummaged from the floor, or left on tables after a feast.  Serrienne was a stunning looking beauty.  There was a hint of Elven blood in her veins.  Her mother was a half human half elf.  And her daughter showed many of the Elven traits.  She was graceful, elegant and had the pale, milky skin of the race.  Her ears although weren't pointed, had a slightly more prominent angle than a pure human.<br/><br/>One thing the young Serrienne had been taught to use with efficiency was the long bow.  She had been there beside her father when the Dark One's forces came.  The arrows from her bow fell upon them like deadly rain.  She was stood in front of the archers, she was their general, she loosed arrow after arrow on the enemy forces, standing proud and tall. Her capture had been had, many had died before he that day.  When the forces had been subdued, Serrienne was forced to watch the execution of her beloved father, and then was clapped in chains and taken to the castle of the Dark One himself.  She had kept herself hidden from him, she had no desire for him to see her, to remember that she had stood defiant before him.<br/><br/>This day had dawned with an air of tense apprehension.  Rumour had it that an assassination attempt had failed on the Dark One.  Cormac seemed to be watched by the forces of evil, protected for the darkness he was spreading across the land.  The slaves were forced out to stand in the courtyard,watchign as the would be assassin was strung up, awaiting the arrival of the Lord, hatred burning in many eyes, but that was soon hidden when he arrived, surrounded by his sycophants and suck ups.  Serrienne glared at him, picturing him skewed on her sword.  Her hatred was not hidden and she was aware of nudges from those around her.<br/><br/>The slaves knew the Lord was a lustful, dangerous man.  He enjoyed using, abusing, hurting the slaves.  Serrienne had never known a man's touch.  She was still a maiden.   Her virginity safely guarded.  The chastity belt still kept her pure.  None had even dared remove it, that was for the Lord, when he decided to take her.  She stood now, watching him, hatred burning brightly in her dark eyes.  She would never be broken, never fall at his feet.  Never call him Master.  He was like a rabid dog.  He needed to be put out of his misery.  And if she ever got the chance, she would be the one to land that final blow, watching as the life died from his eyes with a look of total amazement on his face.  She smirked, a cold, evil look.  She would never be his, never let him touch her.  The chastity belt was her protection, placed on her by her father when news had arrived of the attack.  The key was lost, she was sure.  It had been around her father's neck, safely hung on a golden chain.  She was sure her virginity would always remain intact.  With the key lost who would be able to remove the device she wore.  She felt that was her winning trick.  The Lord would not touch her, she was safe.<br/><br/>But she had a shock coming.  The key had been around her father's neck.  But where was it now? Had someone taken it and handed it to Cormac?  Or did another have it.  She was not as safe as she wanted to be.  Not by a long shot. Besides, all knew the Lord Cormac was a devious, evil man.  He had ways others could not fathom.  Serrienne would meet her Lord and when that day came she would be left weeping, broken.  Her life changed for ever...<br/><br/>She had forgotten the steward, surveying the crowd.  His eyes fell on her and he smirked, the golden key in his pocket.  He would present this one to the Lord.  Along with the key.  A virgin for him to enjoy.<br/><br/><br/><em>"You!" he called out, pointing to a busty, scantily-clad woman in the crowd.  "Come with me.  You are to be the personal entertainment for the Dark One this eve.  Best hurry, girl...you know he doesn't like to be kept waiting..." </em><br/><br/>Serrienne gasped, hands grabbed her and she was pulled forward, she shook her head, the self assured smugness falling away as the steward parted her ragged outfit to reveal the chastity belt.  His little piggy eyes burned bright.  “I have the key, you will entertain the Dark One this eve.” He glinted and Serrienne was dragged away, her protests ignored.  Fear shone in her eyes as she was taken through the castle.  She was not as dangerous now.  Would he remember her defiance on the battle field?  Would he remember her dark eyes as she notched the arrow, the one that had so nearly got him....<br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>Cormac had returned to his chambers, the taste of blood still on his tongue.  His bloodlust was far from spent, but with the coming forays into the battles with Volrath's forces, he would taste more of it soon enough.  His red eyes gleamed in the gloomy room, the few sparse candles the only source of illumination, and even they cast long shadows of his muscled form as he slowly moved throughout the chamber.  His arms lifted, removing his helmet, and he sat it down next to his bed of furs and hide.  Despite the opulence of parts of the castle, he preferred a minimalism that mimicked the army camps and rough wilderness sites he had known in his past.  Comfort was a weakness, and one that could be exploited.  It made men soft, turning their muscles to fat and tearing down their resolve for glory.  Cormac was not weak, and would not allow himself to know any of the comforts of lesser men.<br/><br/>Save for one.<br/><br/>The chamber door opened, and as he reclined on his bed of furs and hides, his red eyes watched as the steward led the slave girl in, a single chain attached to a collar about her neck.  The man grinned, eying his master in curiously, hoping for some sign of favor in his quick obeying of the orders he'd been given.  Cormac said nothing, merely watching as the steward led the girl before him.  Her terror was obvious, her wide eyes betraying any defiance she might have thought to put forth as a front for her own weakness.  Her body was trembling slightly, but he supposed he couldn't blame her...they all did that.<br/><br/>With one swift move that shouldn't have been possible for a man his size, Cormac moved from the bed and stood before her, one grey hand rising to cup her chin.  He grinned, his red eyes gleaming once more, and he turned to look at the cowering steward.<br/><br/>"You've done well in choosing, steward..." he said, but before the man could react, he added, "Begone."<br/><br/>The steward stared at his lord for a moment, and then turned, moving quickly from the room.  He closed the large iron door shut behind him, the sound echoing throughout the chamber.  Cormac returned his gaze to the woman before him, his eyes boring into her own, and he spoke.<br/><br/>"What are you called?" he asked, his voice quiet and calm, an uncommon trait for one his reputation.  "Speak, girl, and be at ease.  No harm will come to you unless you desire it..."<br/><br/>He chuckled, the sound a deep reverberating bass from his muscled chest, and he waited for her answer.