A Harrowing Fivesome
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Dariusfallenstar on 19-05-2014, 06:55:17</h2>
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				Title: <strong>A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>19-05-2014, 06:55:17</strong>
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				<strong>Players: </strong>Darius Fallenstar as Dean Shadow, Arkhos as Donovan , Lithium as Sae'Ka Arkeniryn, LimeGreen as Aza<br><br><strong>Setting:</strong> A Harrowing Foursome takes place in a mid-to-high fantasy setting (meaning magic is pervasive, not that everyone is an uber spellcasting god). More specifically, the world is based on standard Dungeons and Dragons tropes with some twists. We’re going to slant some things in an appropriately erotic way.&nbsp; <br><br>The initial story begins in the Great Chaos Desert; a desert punctuated with bubbles of mutating chaos (who could have guessed, right?). The nature of the chaos is essentially mutagenic (to living organisms only); some monsters come out, some powerful heroic-figures, mostly in between. Most people ignore the chaos bubbles (extremely visible spheres of ichor-oily substance), but a few fanatics seek it out. These have given rise to the Chaos Mutants, a group of cannibalistic freaks that are just *dying* to meet outsiders. And then eat parts of them while raping them to death. <br><br>Within the dangerous space, centered around oases&nbsp; and vast, mineral-rich deposits of goods particularly useful for the magical crafts, have arisen cities ruled by vile merchant-princes (the sort that would be appropriate in Conan or Arabian Knights). Our foursome begins in the city of Kulratha, ruled by Zazim, a particularly lecherous man fond of collecting exotic beings from around the world – specifically the ones that are, ahem, physically appealing or otherworldly. Zazim’s chief warlock, a woman named Zozo, is world-renown for her “magic breaking” abilities – it is said she can break *any* enchantment and that the key to her power lies within magical gemstones she keeps with her, near her spellbook, at all times.<br><br><strong>Pacing:</strong> This story will be more-or-less free form. People can pair off and do their own thing and flow back into the regular story as needed. Post order will be more-or-less contiguous, but we may skip people who have nothing to do or are AFK for an extended period of time (and write their characters into a coma or absence or whatever). <br><br><strong>Fetishes Included: </strong>We’ll be kinky, but this will be plot driven. Expect no Man-On-Man action (despite some of the story elements – the balls will not touch, nor will the penises kiss). There will also be no exploration of mutilation, scat, or cacti implantation. That’s just uncomfortable. <br><br><div align="center"><strong>Location Introduction</strong></div><br>The Great Spire of Kulratha stretched like some great, twisted phallus over the circular city. Even in the late evening, the bazaars of the wealthy mercantile location teamed with life – men, women, children, animals, and exotic creatures and monsters alike were awake and alive. The brothels welcomed in customers, turned out beds, and the various magic users and lowly craftsmen peddled dubious wares “guaranteed” to perform a variety of truly delicious acts, including “the invisible hand” for “discerning young men.” (Those actually work, by the way)<br><br>The Vizier of the city, Zazim, ruled from a building adjacent to the tower, a magnificent mansion with wings that encompassed a great, lush garden attended by water-wizards, druids, and working men and women at all hours to ensure the great variety of life (much of it dangerous) kept within remained satisfied. Within that mansion an untold harem awaited the corpulent man’s touch, and a small army of permanently indentured eunuch warriors awaited his summons. <br><br>Despite how resplendent his mansion was, however, the Spire was of chief interest, for within it resided Zozo, the enchantress. It was to her that all newly captive slaves went – to be purified of diseases if needed, healed if needed, and searched for any wayward enchantments or magic to be suppressed or broken. More than once Zozo had ended compulsion spells on slaves sent to kill her master, or so it was said.<br><br>It was also within that tower that the focus of the night would come to rest, as events were most certainly afoot…<br><br>(http://i1036.photobucket.com/albums/a442/TNETTOC/PersianConcept.jpg)<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>21-05-2014, 00:40:46</strong>
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				Swallowing against the sandpaper in his mouth, Dean Shadow watched as the guards in their heavy armor shifted. That the tower was protected with more than just wards was testament to just how powerful Zozo had become, how far she’d risen politically. It also gave Dean hope for the mission. If she had what they needed, it would be the end of an interminable period of frustration. <br><br>Glancing back, Dean wished that the plan didn’t call for such ostentatious risk, but he hadn’t seen another way to get into the tower without magic. The windows were enchanted, and the balconies too high for him to easily repel. Dagger-climbing (or any other method) had struck him as foolish. There was no way his “friend” was going to give Dean enough power to assail that reach. Not that Dean blamed him.<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i945.photobucket.com/albums/ad295/Dariusfallenstar/Male%20Rp%20Characters/tumblr_mu9vgynDAQ1sxazu4o1_400_zps14380f1e.jpg)</div>Thus, the front door. Wearing the red and white livery of an eunuch slave, Dean stepped forward, silver plate on his outstretched palm evenly balanced. He felt odd, moving into the light, wielding none of his standard guise. Who the guards saw now was just…Dean. Lean, hard features, dashing goatee and mustache, enchanting eyes, a body that moved as if made for all manner of decadent pleasures…<br><br>“Hey, you, dickless. Are you going to saunter all night?” One of the guards broke into a chuckle at the speaker, who’d gestured with his spear at Dean.<br><br>Mentally scoffing at the man’s lack of respect, Dean picked up his pace, arriving at the arched double doors with their inlay of gemstones and whirling patterns a few seconds later. “Special spices for the kitchen,” he said, fighting the urge to use his *real* voice. The gravely deep baritone that had never failed. He reassured himself that these men wouldn’t have appreciated it anyway, and spoke in a higher octave than any man had a right to.<br><br>“Eh, okay,” the guard said, not even bothering to check the tray. Stepping aside, the guard opened the door. “You know the drill. If the enchantments pick up anything on you, you’ll die in a horrible burst of fire, immolated where you stand.”<br><br>Now *this* was the tricky part. Technically, Dean was a creature of enchantment, a magical construct. However, his kind were rare, fairly unique. It was unlikely that Zozo had adjusted her wards to prepare for his brand of power. Still, what was the worst that could happen? He could die, and dying sucked, but what could you do? You couldn’t live a life in fear.<br><br>Dean stepped through the doorway gracefully, ignoring the vague tingle that ran down his spine as he passed the wards. Nothing happened. He’d brought no poison, no weapons – so those defenses didn’t go off either. Stepping with new confidence, Dean allowed a smile to grace his almost too-generous mouth and began down one of the corridors.<br><br>“Hey,” called the guard behind, stopping him in his tracks. “You must be really new. Two lefts. Down a flight of stairs. Kitchen. Don’t get lost. There are dangers in this place.”<br><br>Grunting his thanks (well, squeaking it, but Dean wouldn’t acknowledge that he could even produce such a sound), Dean followed the instructions and passed into the spacious kitchen. The servants ignored him as he moved toward the garbage chute in the back. It was the only unprotected entrance he’d been able to locate; however, there was a trick: you could only open the chute and gain access to the interior from *within* the interior thanks to a clever trap door. <br><br>Glancing around, making sure no one was watching, Dean pulled the lever that would unlatch the opening to the disgusting pit. Turning his thoughts inward, to the connection he shared with his other half, Dean sent an emotional pulse: impatience. <br><br>Impatience for his weapons and tools – which his ally carried. Impatience for access to his rudimentary powers – which he couldn’t activate until they were both deeper in the tower. And, just maybe, impatience for his friend to show his face. No matter how much he disliked his other half from time to time, they *were* connected and it would be impossible for Dean to exist without him. Which was saying something.<br><br>The world would truly suck without Dean Shadow to make it a more interesting place. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>21-05-2014, 09:18:10</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i945.photobucket.com/albums/ad295/Dariusfallenstar/Male%20Rp%20Characters/tumblr_mu0l5jTYe61rdbcfio1_500_zpse95f35c2.jpg)</div>Donovan waited at the agreed-upon location, at the agreed-upon time. He wasn't completely crazy about this idea - breaking into one of the most dangerous places in the realm, under the nose of a powerful warlock who just so happened to be the right-hand of the grand Vizier? If they were caught, 'death' would be the least of their concerns... and that was if the two of them didn't die in some horrible fashion as a result of the Warlock's considerable powers.<br><br>It was said that her powers were as terrible as she was beautiful - and word had it that she was the most beautiful woman in the realm. If that were true, then perhaps their little burglary was doomed from the start.<br><br>However, Donovan and Dean had run out of options. The two of them were intricately bound to one another - and both of them were ready to put an end to that. Dean was the 'darker' part of Donovan's personality, while Donovan was the suitably moral side of the combination. Neither was absolute, of course - Donovan could still have dark moments, and yes, even Dean was capable of good deeds originating from the heart, as it were. But each had their own personalities and predilection to act in a certain way, usually predictably. <br><br>Like now. Dean was the sneaky shadow, the deceiver, the liar and thief. He was using those abilities now in order to get past the guards around front.<br><br>Meanwhile, Donovan had the more... distasteful part of the plan. He was knee-deep in sewage beneath the tower, waiting for the other man to open the access hatch to let him inside. <br><br>Donovan had no idea how he let Dean talk him into this. Had they truly grown this desperate? And the longer he stood here, his leather and chain covered up to his knees in piss, shit, and who knew what else, the more Donovan began to wonder if Dean was simply taking his sweet time so that Donovan could 'enjoy' his hiding place just a little bit longer. <br><br>Donovan gritted his teeth and waited patiently.<br><br>Eventually, there was a slight grating sound - metal on stone - on the other side of the hatch. Donovan tensed - a knife drawn and ready to plunge into the eye-socket of anyone else who wasn't Dean - but it was indeed Dean's face that appeared behind the space where the hatch door was just after it quietly slid to the side. For a moment, Donovan had the urge to lunge the knife forward anyway.<br><br>"It's about fucking time," Donovan hissed, quickly sheathing his knife and then offering the bundle of gear up to Dean where he stood. The bundle was Dean's gear that he had lovingly wrapped and handed over to Donovan for safe-keeping. There was no way he would have been able to get past the wards with these items, so they had to find another way around - and so far, they had.<br><br>Donovan then pulled himself up and through the opening, as quietly as he could, glancing around quickly to find the two of them in a small room complete with buckets, mops, brooms and the like. This was a refuse closet, and this late at night, it likely wouldn't see use until morning.<br><br>Donovan reached over, then, and quietly slid the hatch closed. Yes, he still had some of the gunk stuck to his boots, but it wasn't near as bad as smelling the entire sewer itself. Reaching for a few rags piled off to the side, he began to wipe the foul-smelling stuff from his boots. <br><br>"You're buying me a new pair of boots, Dean," he hissed, though it didn't sound as mean as he wanted it to. His own emotions were dominated by caution and awareness. They were in the mouth of the beast, now. One wrong move, and they could be in very, very deep trouble.<br><br>"Shall we get this show on the road?" he whispered to his 'friend', and nodded towards the door.
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>22-05-2014, 05:28:43</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/4zL89GJ.jpg)</div><br>About the only thing that Aza had learned over the past several months was that the title of malevolent dictator was just an unending burden. She guessed that maybe the marauding and conquering part could be lively and enjoyable, but the ruling bit was only repetitious and arduous, except of course for when it was really fucking <em>boring</em>. So many <em>meetings.</em> Conferences and councils. Debates and deliberations. Assemblies and arguments. For hour after awful hour Aza had been expected to sit patiently beside or behind the sorceress while the woman and the Vizier blathered on to generals or petitioners or stewards or emissaries, making various decrees and city-ruling decisions upon which no one ever seemed to agree. It was unbearable. Finally, during one long session about how an autumn dust storm had driven a goat herd into a chaos bubble (resulting in an entire caravan being devoured by mutant shepherds with hooves, ruining the yearly goat market and upsetting the mansion's kitchen budgeting), Aza had quietly chewed almost to bits the leg of the antique settee upon which the sorceress sat to make her judgments. Since that, Aza'd been permitted to skip the meetings that didn't require Zozo's active spellcasting.<br><br>And that meant Aza had lots more time for good things like naps and practicing her own small magics and making demands of the other, more lowly ranked servants. This night's forum or whatever was about building new slave barracks for the latest importers out of the East or something and had stretched on well past dinner, keeping the fox's mistress occupied elsewhere in the compound. Aza had taken a leisurely meal of sauced sand-quail on the balcony off the sorceress's private quarters at the top of the Spire, changed her fur to a very attractive shade of deep scarlet, then had one of the slaves trim her tiny claws and polish her heavy, gold, gem-studded collar.<br><br>Then she amused herself by stalking and pouncing some of the swift little green lizards that had infested the Spire (ever since being introduced to the Water Gardens to eat the red beetles that were in turn eating the lilies), then chewing off the lizards' pointy heads and hiding the bodies for the maids to find before the sorceress did. Earning the slaves' startled shrieks was a game of which Aza had not yet tired.<br><br>By then it was probably bedtime. She extinguished all the oil lanterns with a dash of magic, leaving only a few candles flickering in their colored glass bowls at the edges of the round room, and climbed onto her miniature velvet couch that sat beside the ornate podium that held Zozo's massive magical tome. It was said that all the spells of the known world had been collected between that book's leather covers, but Aza wasn't so sure about that; she'd glanced through it once or twice, and some of the pages were empty, and some of the spells looked mostly like scribbles to her anyway. It wasn't exciting.<br><br>She turned a few circles on the cushion before curling comfortably into a fluffy burgundy ball, slender nose tucked between her forepaws. The night air was warm and incensed, and this far above the streets it was quiet. It had been a fine day. Tomorrow should be too. Aza planned to sleep in.
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>22-05-2014, 07:15:21</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/7pVHr7r.jpg)</div><br>It had only been a few weeks since Sae'Ka had escaped from her former life, but she was already learning that surviving out on her own wasn't nearly as easy as she'd anticipated. She'd been managing to sustain herself by taking on some small jobs posted on the market boards, but it wasn't really helping her get anywhere, and she felt like she was wasting her time.<br><br>Of course, there were countless orders and associations that would happily take somebody with her skills if she wanted to join, but she'd lived under her mother's firm rule her entire life, so she was stubbornly unwilling to take anymore orders from anyone. Sae'Ka told herself that she'd rather die trying to make it on her own, but for that, she needed more power in order to build a reputation for herself by taking on more high profile contracts.<br><br>Which is precisely what had led her to Kulratha. Mostly through sheer coincidence and luck, Sae'Ka had learned that the Vizier's right hand, an enchantress by the name of Zozo, had acquired a pet that was incredibly rare and sought after. Thanks to her family being some of the most prominent slave traders specializing in exotics throughout the entire continent, Sae'Ka knew exactly what Zozo's pet was and what it was capable of just by the vague descriptions in the rumors.<br><br>The first part of her plan was attempting to rob a jeweler. <em>Attempting</em>, because she planned on intentionally allowing herself to be captured, right after showing off enough of her magic to ensure that the city guards would pass her off to the Vizier's eunuchs, who would then bring her to the spire for Zozo to do fuck knows what to her. Of course, Sae'Ka hadn't expected the eunuchs to strip her naked, force her into a small cage and parade her through the city. Not the proudest moment of her life, but at least she'd accounted for the most important thing, which was the magic inhibiting collar they'd locked around her neck.<br><br>When she was confident that she wasn't being watched, Sae'Ka spat out the tiny vial that she'd kept hidden under her tongue until then, catching it in her hands. Uncorking the vial, she poured the extremely potent acid contained within over the front of her collar, careful not to burn herself. They hadn't reached the tower yet, so the enchantments wouldn't have anything left to pick up by the time that they did. Even after they'd entered the tower without incident, Sae'Ka bided her time, waiting until it seemed like they were in a fairly deserted area without any more guards nearby to make her move.<br><br>When it seemed like the right time, she cracked her collar with her bare hands where the acid had eaten through it and immediately sent out a powerful pulse of energy in every direction. The wooden cage shattered and splintered violently, the four eunuchs carrying it let go and were blown away to the side and Sae'Ka braced herself for the short fall. Recovering and getting up before her gaolers, it was a trivial affair to dispatch them after using telekinesis to retrieve her sword which one of them had been carrying. <br><br>Putting her armor back on quickly - though most probably wouldn't really consider it armor - Sae'Ka left the bloodbath that she'd just created behind her and ventured deeper into the tower, looking for the quickest way up.
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>22-05-2014, 08:47:08</strong>
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				Dean looked at Donovan with the sort of expression one might compare to glass: it would shatter at the slightest touch. At least he managed to keep the façade up rather than burst into laughter at his companion’s state. <br><br>“At least we didn’t choose to come at the hottest part of the day, eh?” Dean asked, taking the offered gear and pulling it on. The intricate leather armor, all black with silvered buckles, synched tight across his body. An idiotic number of daggers, some hidden in places one would never expect, followed, along with two short swords, a compound hand crossbow normally favored by the Drow, and a quiver with specialized quarrels in the event that he needed to shoot…pretty much anything. <br><br>Geared up, Dean’s visage quirked into a predatory smile. No longer needing to conceal himself, he inhaled and allowed his proximity to Donovan to enhance his size, his gear shifting with him. It was only a few inches; without Donovan actively opening the floodgates to their shared power, he couldn’t do much. But five foot eight was ridiculous. All real men were at least six foot something, which was right where he managed to expand to with the resources available to him.<br><br>Voice deepening to a gut-shaking baritone (it had already been deep before, but everything about Dean grew exaggerated when he was around Donovan), Dean murmured, “Let’s go. We’ve got maybe an hour before she finishes whatever meeting she’s in and returns.” The idea was to find the gems and use them to ease their bondage to one another, if not break it entirely, a prospect that made Dean positively salivate. <br><br>Turning, Dean began leading the way deeper into the tower. He’d memorized the basic layout from a guard the duo had bribed/drank with a few nights before and was able to use his slightly enhanced senses to lead them to the stairwell that led up, toward Zozo's private chambers. <br><br>A few feet into the climb, however, and a new presence – palpable to Dean, arose within his awareness. Turning to his companion, Dean made the most important hand gesture he knew: pretty was coming. And fast.<br><br>Yes, the man thought that he had the ability to sense “pretty.” More than likely it was his sense of smell, but whatever. No use in ruining the man’s illusions. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>23-05-2014, 01:29:05</strong>
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				Donovan heard Dean's making light of the situation, explaining that they hadn't come during the hottest part of the day - things could easily have been worse. Donovan gave Dean a look that showed he was not amused as Dean donned his armor and weapons. Dean's armor was flashier than Donovan's was - where Dean's looked cool and impressive, Donovan's was a more rugged mix of chainmail and solid dark-metal plates. Dean was far more agile than Donovan was, which explained the lighter armor that would afford him the ability to move about a battlefield more easily, though perhaps without the ability to shrug off blows that Donovan was equipped to mostly ignore.<br><br>Dean's weapon choice, as well, was curious. More daggers than a 'dagger store' would have in stock secreted about his body, a pair of short swords, a hand-crossbow that was famous for use amongst the dark-elves.. it was an odd mix of weapons, and as was often the case, Donovan felt rather 'weapon light' with his own pair of short-swords at his hips, and a dagger tucked into his boot for emergencies. Often Donovan would sport a sword and shield instead, but not when trying to be stealthy - like now.<br><br>Donovan watched as Dean willed his body to change. Donovan shook his head at Dean's epic vanity, but this wasn't the place to give him a difficult time about it now. Dean's next comment, about their timeline being limited to less than an hour reinforced Donovan's wish to get in and out, as quickly as possible. Donovan simply nodded, and Dean turned, leading the way. Donovan simply hoped that their 'source of information' had been accurate. The guard -had- been drunk, after all.<br><br>They found the stairs and were just about to move up them when Dean suddenly stopped, his first foot on the second step from the ground floor. He gave Donovan a quiet sign with his hand, and Donovan nodded quickly, moving without a word to stand just inside the doorway that housed the stairwell. Donovan nodded sharply to the other side, assuming Dean would press himself into the corner opposite him, the the wall of the ground-floor landing concealing them both from anyone approaching from the hallway. Donovan took easy breaths, lowering his hands to the handles of his blades, but not yet drawing them. Perhaps whoever it was closing in would simply pass on by, not destined for the stairs at all. Or if they did enter through the doorway to reach the stairs, maybe they wouldn't see the two men...
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>23-05-2014, 06:53:29</strong>
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				It was while she wandered aimlessly through the lower level of the tower that Sae'Ka realized how she hadn't exactly thought her plan out all the way through. Having even a general sense of the tower's layout or where she should be going would have been fantastic. Maybe she could take the next servant that she came across hostage and force them to guide her the rest of the way up.<br><br>For now, though, the only people that she'd encountered were a group of three patrolling guards which she'd managed to avoid. Sae'Ka's sensitive ears had picked up the heavy footsteps and clinking of metal from quite far around a corner, so she'd hidden in some sort of small storeroom until they'd passed.<br><br>After that, she swiftly made her way down several more empty corridors until finally coming across a staircase leading up. The coast seemed clear, so she stepped through the arch of the doorway slowly, peeking further up the stairs to make sure that they were deserted. Happy to finally be on the right path, Sae'Ka was ready to keep going, but just then she picked up a foul smell that made her nose wrinkle.<br><br>Stopping in her tracks, she took a quick breath and pivoted rapidly with her sword drawn, already catching a glimpse of two large, well armed and armored men in the corner of her eye as she turned. For half a second, Sae'Ka actually froze in surprise, awe, and even an inkling of fear. They looked almost like gods - albeit one of them a god who'd stepped in some shit. <br><br>Snapping out of her shock and stupid wide-eyed stare, Sae'Ka waved her free hand from side to side in front of her, snarling menacingly as she unleashed a short blast of otherworldly blue flames in front of her. She didn't really expect it to do lethal damage by any means, but she wanted at to at least create a diversion for herself so that she could run up the stairs. <br><br>As confident as Sae'Ka may have been in her abilities, she still wasn't dumb enough to try tangling with a pair of very sturdy looking warriors in such close quarters. If they pursued, then she'd have a much better chance in one of the more wide open halls or rooms.
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>23-05-2014, 20:33:38</strong>
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				The reaction to a spell attack was instantaneous. Dean shifted his stance and slipped forward, literally blocking Donovan from harm (as contrary to character as that might sound). Bringing his forearm up, Dean reached inward and pulled at the power he expected his ally to offer. <br><br>It came in a trickle, but it came.<br><br>Donovan’s Glory lightened his skin and eyes, made the world around him seem brighter, filled with hope. The Shadowed Glory within Dean reacted the opposite; the man *deepened* and the shadows around him gained magnificent, rich depth. His once statuesque body became more sharply angled and his eyes a slate grey. When the woman’s admittedly weak spell brushed across his skin, Dean’s innate resistance to Spellcraft kicked in, acting as a shield that deflected the energy into a corona around him and the man behind him. <br><br>Despite their differences and arguments, Dean’s protection of his Knight was utter and absolute, his eyes turning as cold and hard as agates as he stared at the woman across the hall from them. When he spoke, his voice was edged with a threat every bit as palpable as his natural lust, “I’ll kill you where you stand, pretty. Kill you in a heartbeat. We just came for the jewels. I don’t know why you’re here early, or why you look like a drow, but believe me I can do it.”<br><br>If this was, indeed, Zozo, Dean was *not* sure he could kill her, even if Donovan loosed the full power of the being within him. Still, Dean was an excellent bluffer. Plus, the drow crossbow he had aimed at those magnificent breasts might have helped punctuate the point. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>23-05-2014, 21:59:59</strong>
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				The woman who walked through the arch towards the first few lower steps was definitely NOT who or what Donovan had expected. She was a lithe woman of elven kind, dark skinned with white hair. A dark elf, for certain, which surprised him somewhat. As Dean had indicated, she was indeed 'pretty', but these simple observations were -all- that the two men knew about her.<br><br>She must have sensed their presence as she froze in place for a moment, then suddenly pivoted to face them, her sword drawn. She seemed to stare at them for half a heartbeat, surprised? Shocked? Donovan did not know, but then she snarled menacingly and waved her hand, a short gout of blue flames fanning in front of her impressively. In an instant, Dean interposed himself between Donovan and the woman, almost as if he had been standing there the entire time. The blue flames washed over Dean, his body shielding Donovan from them in the process. Still, Donovan had the impression that the drow had used that attack as a sort of 'warning', more than an outright assault.<br><br>"Wait," Donovan whispered, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder in an effort to keep him still for a moment. "I don't think she is Sozo. If she was, she wouldn't bother with 'warnings' or weak attacks. And we'd already hear the guards coming," he said, though his eyes never left the white-haired woman.<br><br>Dean's words had already told the drow why the two men were here - but the way this woman reacted, Donovan had a pretty good idea she wasn't supposed to be here, -either-.<br><br>"If you've come here to rob the place - so be it, but as my comrade mentioned - we're here for the jewels and nothing more. Perhaps.... we might pool our resources," he offered, though he could still feel the tension in Dean's shoulders, and the whisper of a few spells was already on the tip of Donovan's tongue, in case the strange woman did not seem too keen on 'teaming up' with the two men.
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>24-05-2014, 07:10:17</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Before she could even turn to run, Sae'Ka saw the warrior in the finely crafted dark leather armor step forward and all but shrug off her spell, shielding his ally who presumably didn't possess the same capabilities. Her golden eyes momentarily dipped down to the crossbow pistol hanging from Dean's belt, and she knew that if she still tried to run now after her diversion had been nullified, he could put a bolt through her before she made it halfway up the steps.<br><br>Taking a step back and bending her knees slightly, her sword held out to the side with one hand, Sae'Ka prepared herself for a fight while the man in the dark armor bellowed a threat that left her somewhat confused, but still made even her dark elven blood run cold as he seemed quite intent on killing her.<br><br>She was about to make the first move before giving him the chance when the second, more heavily armored warrior suddenly cut in. Unlike his comrade, this one didn't seem so intent on trying to kill her, which only made Sae'Ka all the most suspicious and defensive. Betrayal and deceit were both integral aspect of Drow society, so trust was never something that she'd actually learned or experienced.<br><br>"Of course I'm not Zozo, you idiots, stellar observation," Sae'Ka spat back at them, retreating into the cold shell of hostility that had become her armor whenever she was scared. "And I don't care about shiny trinkets, either, what I'm after is far more valuable." She bit her bottom lip instinctively, realizing that that was an incredibly stupid thing to reveal. Sae'Ka thought about it a little while longer. "Fine, truce," she conceded, giving into the second man's request. "But if your boyfriend threatens me again," she added, glancing frigidly at Dead, "It will be the last time."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>24-05-2014, 07:19:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In an instant Dean’s eyes went from steely to an absent, yawning black. His body shuddered, a subtle but quite visible thing and his finger tightened around the haft of his drow-made hand crossbow. “Woman, I’ll have you know that he and I are not lovers. Not even close. Never, ever, suggest such an abomination again, and you’ll be opening all the doors in the world to your future.”<br><br>Dean’s smile was positively grotesque. The woman’s words had clearly caught him off guard, tripped a trigger that even he was unaware of. Such was his fury that it was all too obvious that even a slight provocation, no matter how subtle, might send the man into a mad flurry of limitless rage. <br><br>Then, as if the moment hadn’t happened, he shrugged and lowered his arms, glancing over at Donovan. “Huh. She’s hot. I dig that. And you know I love drow. As long as they aren’t poisoning my food or killing my dogs. Let’s go.” His voice was light again, eyes clear, as he gestured up the stairs, smiling a little impishly. Either he was really worried about being stabbed in the back, or he was hoping for a view of sculpted ass. <br><br>Deep down, despite his nonchalance, Dean felt a wave of confusion pass through him. He was a Shadow and had no memories of the time before he’d died but *something* had just risen up, taken him over. And he did not like that. It wasn’t that he’d been out of control, rather that the emotions he’d felt had been so overwhelming that he’d had no choice except to react as he had. The handsome man frowned, his full lips creasing in consternation as he considered, eyes twitching back to Donovan, wondering if his Knight might be keeping vital information from him. Was there a deeper past than Dean knew? He found the idea unlikely, given Donovan’s kindly, honest disposition. <br><br>But who ever really knew anyone else? <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>24-05-2014, 08:11:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The drow claimed to be someone other than Zozo, which made sense. Even if it -was- the powerful warlock, surely she'd deny it anyway in preparation for some sort of treachery. Which, being a dark elf, this woman might still pursue regardless. Her attitude quickly matched that of most drow Donovan had met, so it came as no surprise: harsh, impatient, insulting and rude. At least she was consistent with her own kind. Dean didn't seem bothered by it at all, though. Likely, the shadow was staring at the woman's breasts and nothing else.<br><br>Donovan heard the shift in Dean's voice as he responded to the drow, and even Donovan's face registered surprise. Hearing the way Dean's voice changed, and the change in his demeanor and body - no, that was -quite- new and different. But a moment later, it was as if nothing had happened, and Dean was his old self once more.<br><br>"As my comrade says... ladies first," Donovan nodded once toward the steps. So she was here for something 'valuable' as well. Hopefully it wasn't the jewels - or at least the ones the two men were seeking, or there would be some blood shed that evening for certain.<br><br>She agreed to a truce, and that either meant she saw benefit in allying herself with the two men (for now), or she knew she'd fall if she squared off against them at that moment. Closed-in space, not truly enough room for flashy spells without risking herself... yes, perhaps with a bit more area to work with, she might consider a fight. But for now, she seemed amenable to working side by side... at least until it suited her not to do so any longer.<br><br>Seeing Dean staring so hard at the drow - who was indeed quite fetching to the eye - Donovan chucked him in the shoulder to get his attention. "Focus," Donovan said... which, of course, was exactly what Dean was doing anyway. "...on the mission," Donovan added, to clarify before Dean had a chance to claim he was -already- quite focused.<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>24-05-2014, 15:36:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She hadn't been trying to, but apparently Sae'Ka hit a rather sensitive nerve with her [/i]boyfriend[/i] comment, causing the warrior in the leather armor to nearly transform into a far more menacing reflection of himself. Snarling at him again, she was ready to defend herself, figuring that he was going to come after her, but then his rage thankfully subsided and she chose not to press the issue. She even looked past the fact that he'd called her <em>woman</em>, just this once.<br><br>Scoffing at the two of them making her go first when, unlike them, she didn't have a partner to watch her back, Sae'Ka's impatience got the better of her and she complied. Turning her back on the men while still listening carefully for any hint of treachery, she started trotting lightly up the spiraling steps, having to split her attention towards the front as well. The climb ended up being uneventful, but still moderately long, which probably wasn't as hard on Sae'Ka or Dean as it was on Donovan, burdened by his heavier armor.<br><br>Finally, panting lightly from the effort, she made it to what seemed like the top floor at the end of the staircase, her temporary allies not far behind. It seemed to be yet another maze of curving corridors and doors, which gave Sae'Ka no further clue or where she was supposed to go, and on top of that there were sounds of movement audible in several different directions.<br><br>"So, any idea which way towards these precious jewels of yours?" she asked the other two once they'd joined her, hoping that they'd come better prepared than her. Sae'Ka figured that if Zozo kept all of her most precious possessions in one place, which most people did, then they'd find the jewels and her own objective in the same room.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>24-05-2014, 20:49:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean’s disappointment was palpable through the connection that he and Donovan shared. The staircase was a *spiral* and he never got a good look at the Drow’s posterior. It was a downright shame! A horrible outrage! The carousing man even flitted a gaze to his friend/partner/whatever they were as if to share his feeling of woefully injured anticipation. The woman wore little, but it seemed to the statuesque man that she just didn’t know how to show off in it *at all.* <br><br>What a crime against humanity!<br><br>Donovan, of course, seemed entirely nonplused by it all. Not that Dean’s Knight was typical for his kind. Dean had an idea of how things had come about between them, knew enough of the story to understand that their partnership was atypical. This meant that Dean was probably a bit nicer and less raunchy than most Shadows and Donovan was a little shadier than most Knights. Still, Donovan’s pure disregard for a potentially sculpted ass, sheathed in tight leather, disgusted the man.<br><br>In some parts of the world it was said that drow females had eyes in the backs of their head, so as he went up the stairs, whenever he came into clear view of the drow, Dean made sure to stand tall, square his shoulders and show off the chiseled masculinity of his (admittedly enhanced) physique. Beneath his armor he felt *certain* that the rippling hills and valleys of his abdomen were positively glistening! A shame that he wore so much protective armor.<br><br>No doubt Donovan got some interesting mental images a second later: Dean considering just what sort of cutouts he could make into his armor to show off more of his outstanding physique.<br><br>“What?” Dean shot Donovan a glare, before turning his attention to the task at hand. “To the left, second door,” Dean said absently, still considering his new conundrum. Maybe a tummy window cut in his armor, with some sort of spell cast over, so he could flex…. No, wait, what about his chest? Gah. He needed a full-body enchantment that would protect his skin while revealing his majesty to the world. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>25-05-2014, 10:27:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The drow woman nearly floated up the stairs, making nary a sound as Dean followed as quickly as he could behind her. Donovan had a good idea it wasn't for practical reasons Dean followed the woman so closely, but because of the -view-. Donovan didn't blame Dean for being openly attracted to the beautiful dark-skinned beauty... on second thought, yes he -did- blame Dean for being -distracted- from the reason for their mission here. If his attentions were focused more on the drow woman's ass, breasts, and lips, then he'd be less likely to see incoming threats. With a sigh, Donovan followed behind Dean, not at all envious of Dean's position behind the drow female... at least not envious very -much-.<br><br>Donovan felt a deep curiosity ebbing from Dean - images more than words, really - concerning 'alterations' that he might make to his armor to... look more 'appealing' to those gazing upon him? Donovan shook his head as he easily kept pace. Dean's thoughts were sometimes ridiculous, and often they had one simply goal in mind. Sometimes that goal was food. Sometimes coin. Other times, it was the pursuit of autonomy, and sometimes it was the pursuit of getting laid. Dean's thoughts now, as far as Donovan could tell, were awash with ideas of the later.<br><br>Finally, after what fel like a lengthy climb, they reached the top of the stairs. The dark elf paused and called back over her shoulder to them about directions. Dean provided them, and Donovan - sweating slightly but otherwise not at all winded - waited quietly for the woman to lead the way as she had been so far. Donovan could make out the sounds of movement elsewhere in the surrounding area. Guards, perhaps - or something else, he was not sure.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>25-05-2014, 11:40:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sae'Ka found the rogue's nonchalant attitude quite obnoxious considering the grave peril that they were all in - though she was mainly concerned about the peril that <em>she</em> was in - but at least he seemed confident on which way to go. Listening for a few more second before proceeding forward, her left ear suddenly twitched slightly when she heard a distinct metallic click coming from the first door to the left, just twenty or so feet away from where they were all standing.<br><br>Sheathing her blade swiftly but silently, Sae'Ka spun around and hurriedly shoved Dead into the nearby corner with both hands while the glance that she shot at Donovan clearly suggested that he follow too. "Shh!" she whispered, squeezing into the corner with them, the wall of the doorway that they were hiding behind barely being wide enough to conceal them. Feeling both of the impressive warriors tightly pressed against her, she had to try pretty hard not to allow herself to be distracted by the undeniable tension in the air.<br><br>They head a door open and close, followed by some light, dragging footsteps headed right towards them. Sae'Ka held her breath as a figure clad in a dark jade robe stepped through the doorway leading down the stairs that she and her new companions had just climbed. She was ready to kill if she needed to, and she had no doubt that her two warriors were as well, but luckily for them it turned out to be unnecessary since the robed figure had a hook pulled over his head, blocking his peripheral vision.<br><br>She waited for the footsteps to fade down the stairs before finally marching down the hallway, stopping at the second door on the left. Gingerly so as not to make any noise, Sae'Ka tried the handle, which was predictably locked. "You seem like you know how to pick a lock," she gave Dean a look while backing away from the door and extending her hand towards it, inviting him to go ahead. "Just make it quick, we're not alone up here."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>25-05-2014, 11:50:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean quivered, his back against the wall and the feeling of a woman pressed against him and his Knight. He’d never been particularly fond of Donovan in a romantic light, but with the drow female between the two of them perhaps he could…<br><br>The threat of movement jerked Dean from his amorous thoughts as cleanly as an arrow leaving its nock. One instant he was thinking with his cock, the next with his dagger. Had their new “friend” shown even the slightest inclination to commit violence, Dean would have eagerly followed. Then again, Dean was all dark passions: murder, lust, hunger. Those needs drove him in almost every waking thought, with few exceptions and pulling on his powers, the abilities ‘lent’ him by Donovan only made him worse.<br><br>When the coast was finally clear, Dean moved in front of the door and went down into a graceful crouch, leanly powerful legs holding him steady effortlessly as his nimble fingers flew to one of his pouches, lifting the neat rods and picks he’d use for this particular job. Waving them in the air, he murmured a few words (ironically enough they were in Undercommon and basically translated into “pierce the magical veil”). The picks glowed faintly as he brought them into alignment with the lock. They’d been specifically designed to bypass – and not trigger – such wards. In truth, those picks were the specific reason he and Donovan had spent time with the drow – the crossbow had been a parting gift. <br><br>A few seconds and neat flicks of wrist later and the door unlocked. His job done, Dean stepped aside and looked back at the drow and Donovan, waiting for either of them to take the lead into the room beyond, a slight smirk of self-satisfaction on Dean’s face the entire time. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>25-05-2014, 12:11:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan watched the drow move. Yes, she was attractive and he understood Dean's obvious infatuation with her, but Donovan's eyes mostly judged her movements. While Dean looked at her with fantasies of her capabilities in bed, Donvoan was gauging her capabilities on the battlefield. Her footing, her pace, her spacing, her stance, the way her body turned, pivoted, the movement of her hips... his mind wandered only a split second before he forced his thoughts back on track... the way her blade was quickly, silently sheathed, the way she spun, pressing he and his companion up against the wall in the corner.<br><br>Clearly she had heard something or someone coming closer. Elven ears were often far more sensitive than human ones, so he had been told.<br><br>But the presence of her pressed against the two men... the brief flicker of thought flew through Donovan's mind - when WAS the last time the two men had each been with a woman? For Donovan... a couple months? For Dean... perhaps an hour before they approached the tower that very day? He clenched his teeth, cursing himself for his lack of focus... with perhaps a dash of envy.<br><br>A moment later, the 'intruder' passed by harmlessly, and the three seemed to let go their held breaths almost simultaneously.<br><br>A few soft, silent steps later, the trio were standing before the intended door. The drow indicated it was locked - as they had expected - and Dean stepped forward, drawing forth the picks that had been specially prepared for this moment. Dean did so with a flourish - fucking -showoff-, Donovan thought, and lowered his hands to the handles of his blades. As Dean worked the lock with the skill he'd work his latest lover, Donovan silently drew both of his blades from their scabbards, normally silvered blades that gleamed in the light were both coated with some thick, black coal-like powder to dull their shine. Donovan did not have the luxury of shadow-play that Dean did.<br><br>As soon as Dean stepped aside, Donovan wasted no time. Perhaps it was a distrust for the drow herself, his concern that she might spot the jewels they were looking for and try to take them for herself - or, more likely, perhaps it was because his ingrained conscious told him to defend the lady, Donovan moved quickly through the door first, body lowered into an offensive stance, both blades crossed in front of him, prepared to block an incoming attack, arrow, or even spell. He simply assumed that Dean would have his back - especially if the drow had any sort of treachery in mind...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>26-05-2014, 04:39:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Though the doorway to Zozo's chambers had not been dissimilar from any number of doors they'd passed on their climb, the rooms beyond were every bit as richly appointed as one might assume the ruling sorceress of the land would command. The first space into which they so cautiously emerged was merely an entryway; smooth stone floors and columns resembling weathered desert rock, as if created from the living stone of the Spire. Beyond that, moonlight fell through the honeycomb lattice carved into the ceiling, sparkling off shallow pools and live trees and night-blooming flowers, a tiny version of the gardens at the tower's base. The falling sound of the water covered any misstep or whisper as the trio moved deeper, passing hallways that led back down to the sorceress's personal servants' quarters directly beneath them. There was a room meant for receiving guests and one for taking meals, a few barred ones obviously intended for less willing visitors, and one that fellow magic users would recognize as intended for safely practicing and performing potentially dangerous spells. Each was a little higher than the last, spiraling further up the tower.<br><br>And each empty. No guards, no alarms, no flashes of magical fire. Perhaps the Spire relied too heavily on its initial soldiers and wards, believing that they could never be breached. Or that no one would ever be so foolish as to try.<br><br>The last room, then, had to be where the sorceress slept. If anywhere had additional protection, magic or otherwise, surely it would be that place, where she would be most defenseless, and keep the things most precious near to her.<br><br>The huge book sat closed on its stand at the foot of the canopied bed, and it was easy to overlook the small creature slumbering on the floor beside it. As the heavy drapes across the archway were brushed aside, Aza tilted a big ear and sighed a little. When was she going to have her own room? Then she wouldn't be annoyed by sorceresses coming to bed too late. As she stretched her forelegs and gave a sleepy murmur, it was her nose that told her that the dark shape in the door was not Zozo. Neither were the two shapes behind that.<br><br>Her head came up, the candlelight winking from the stones in the wide band of gold that circled her neck like a decorative piece of armor, and she and the intruder looked at each other across the thick woven carpets. If this was what the sorceress left to defend her belongings, it didn't seem like much: maybe twentyfive pounds of leggy, fluffy-tailed crimson-colored canine, with an expression that was more quizzical than defensive or fearful.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>26-05-2014, 21:19:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Even though Sae'Ka certainly hadn't come for the view or the decor, it was difficult not to feel at least somewhat impressed when walking into a lavish garden built into the top of a tower in a wasteland! There was something enchanting about the sound of the water combined with the flowery scent in the air and the way that the moonlight kissed her exposed flesh through the cut-out ceiling. It almost made her want to lay down and rest for a while, maybe take off her armor and go for a dip in one of the pools...<br><br>The dark elf slowed to a halt, only to be bumped into from behind by one of the two men. Stumbling forwards, she was conveniently snapped out her trance, not that it stopped her from tossing a dark glance over her shoulder at the man as if it were his fault for not paying attention rather than hers for stopping randomly.<br><br>The rest of the enchantress' quarters were more or less what would be expected, right up until the final room, the bedchamber. Sae'Ka sensed the object of her desires even before laying eyes upon her, the flow of magic within her body being guided and pulled towards the peculiarly colored fox like water trying to find the easiest path down a mountainside.<br><br>Leaving the two warriors to look for whatever trinkets they were after, Sae'Ka lowered herself down on one knee in front of Aza and scratched her beneath the chin with one finger. "Did you miss me?" she whispered, her eyes lighting up while her dark lips curled into a satisfied smile.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>26-05-2014, 23:18:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean took in the place with an almost bored expression. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the lavishness of it all, he did. But without something to interact with, something to do with it all, he had no sense of excitement. Halfway into the chambers, he muttered, “So boring,” just loudly enough that a waiting guard might be tipped off. Just for the chance to do something fun. Of course, deep down, Dean had a sense of the area (not supernaturally, mind you), and felt confident that no one was hiding around a corner and that no servants were plodding about.<br><br>So it was a half-hearted attempt, at best.<br><br>When they finally arrived in the main chamber, he looked down at the dog-thing and scrunched his nose. “Is that a pet? And what does it have around its neck?” He arched a dark brow and glanced at Donovan, shrugging his muscular shoulders in a wry gesture that managed to communicate the fact that he wasn’t going to mess with a drow and her pet. In Dean’s experience, drow killed dogs, but what did he know? Poor Fifi.<br><br>Nodding toward the closed book, Dean muttered, “Huh? Spellbook. Could be fun to burn, unless cheeky here wants it,” he indicated the besmitten drow with a nod.&nbsp; Gods, he thought inwardly, how anticlimactic!&nbsp; Just a few hours ago he’d been elsewhere, doing something far more fun. Admittedly, this heist was the work of years of preparation – one did not simply storm the tower of a powerful sorceress without such – and Dean was pleased that it had all paid off, but really? Why hadn’t Zozo been naked on her bed, waiting to be ravished by at least one of the two of them? <br><br>Some women. All bite. No sauce. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>27-05-2014, 00:01:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the three of them entered, Donovan was ready for the worst. If there was one place in all the building that would be the most heavily guarded, this would be it...<br><br>Or not.<br><br>Zozo's personal chambers were certainly lavish enough. Donovan glanced around quickly - first, for any sign of potential threat - but then to simply get a feel for the place where the most powerful warlock in the realm resided. A single candle sconce or one small decoration was worth more than that dozens of the locals could earn in a year, he wagered. Zozo lacked for nothing, by appearances, and as Donovan's eye caught sight of the warlock's bed, he did his best not to imagine all the hedonistic activities that she partook in on a regular basis.<br><br>Well, maybe just a little.<br><br>But then his eye caught sight of something -moving-, and as he focused on it, it appeared to be a dog of some kind. A guard-dog? A single animal left behind to defend and warn the occupants of the tower when trespassers came knocking? Donovan was just about to call out a warning to Sae'Ka when he saw the drow approach - and actually show affection to the animal, lowering herself down to one knee. Donovan had never seen a drow show affection to a creature 'beneath' it before, but he did not rule out that it was possible. Just not something he had ever witnessed with his own eyes before.<br><br>Seeing the drow occupied, his eyes scanned the area - and saw a small wooden box on a shelf not far away. Dean also found something of note - apparently a spellbook of some sort. Donovan nodded - if it was the Warlock's chief spellbook, it would be quite a blow to her to destroy it. But finding it left here on the table, unattended, in plain sight... something niggled at the back of Donovan's mind. Still, his legs moved and he made is way to the small wooden chest, and gently reached forth a gloved hand and slowly lifted the lid.<br><br>Inside were two gems, finely cut, each about the size of a walnut. One was black as night, dark and almost oppressive looking. The other was clear as glass, or nearly so - brilliant and smooth. Before anyone could call out any sort of warning to him, Donovan reached in and scooped out the two gems, turning to face Dean with a smile on his face.<br><br>Had it really been -that- easy?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>27-05-2014, 02:32:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The little fox permitted the drow to touch her chin, though her ears flicked back, and she snuffled her damp nose into the woman's palm. It was unusual for the sorceress to have guests this far up the Spire -- especially so that they should be unaccompanied by the sorceress herself -- but the nonchalance with which the strangers had strolled into the chamber suggested they had permission, and it was impossible to wander into the tower uninvited, so...<br><br>Miss the dark elf? Aza's bluish eyes narrowed as if to say <em>no, not really, should I have?</em> And then the woman's scent snagged a time and a place from the depths of the fox's memories, and she blinked, pushing herself up into a 'sit.' Well. The girl had grown. But then, so had Aza. The fox looked over the drow's shoulder at the two men that had begun to rifle through the sorceress's belongings, the tilt of her head saying <em>And who are your friends?</em> Bodyguards, perhaps? As Aza seemed to recall, drow did not tend to bother with human accessories, often being quite lethal themselves. But Sae'Ka had the access and the resources to acquire such things. Maybe she meant to sell the men to the sorceress. Maybe the sorceress wanted a private display of their abilities first. It would not have been the most remarkable thing Aza had witnessed in this chamber -- she could confirm a few of Donovan's suspicions about that, should he ask -- but it was about to disrupt her beauty sleep.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>27-05-2014, 03:58:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sae'Ka's brow furrowed slightly when she detected the confusion in Aza's eyes. Was that a tinge of...<em>pain</em> at the werefox not remembering her? She scolded herself for such a silly moment of weakness, and at the same time noticed the change in the fox's demeanor as well as a spark in her eyes. So she did remember!<br><br>Understanding Aza's question, the drow simply glanced over her shoulder at the two men who were poking around the bedchamber and shrugged. "Just some strays I picked up along the way, they might prove useful while getting out. Speaking of which, take whatever you need, we're leaving." Her tone clearly brooked no argument, though at the same time it wasn't entirely cold either.<br><br>Sae'Ka briefly petted the crimson fox on the chest before standing and turning towards Dean and Donovan. "Find what you came for? This isn't the place we want to be lingering..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>27-05-2014, 08:25:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Seeing the gemstones that Donovan held out, Dean smiled – a little earnest emotion showing through. This could be it, right? Their ticket out of the tower. And, the best part was that so far no one had to deal with any sort of horrible assault. No fly-engorged stomachs to pump, no venom sacs to milk for antidotes. Just in and out. Slick and clean as a whistle. <br><br>Truly uneventful on all ends. The drow had her pet dog and would, no doubt, go her own way. The duo would have the separation clause for their unwilling marriage – happily ever after. A shame about the drow though. She looked like she should have a rockin’ body. <br><br>Ah, well. Striding over, Dean looked down at the stones and prodded one with his fingertip. He immediately felt a small jolt, a jerking, an easing of the connection that bonded he and Donovan. Not a breaking, as he had anticipated – but then again, it was only a caress. Perhaps both of them holding one was the key? Regardless, they could figure all of that out once they were free and clear.<br><br>“Alright, let’s go. Unless you want to really piss her off and toss her trapped book too?” Clearly, it was a trap. But maybe…one last kick of the snake’s nest? <br><br>Ah. No. Probably not. Being slaves to one another for years had taken the never-quite-pleasant thrill out of deliberately making their lives horrible in the worst way he knew how. Now, Dean was eager to start his own life. Free and clear.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>27-05-2014, 16:00:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan nodded to both Sae'Ka and Dean. "We all got what we came here for. Let's take only that and get the hells-..."<br><br>Something tipped Donovan off - a scent, a tiny sound, perhaps the faintest change in the air around them, but Donovan's heightened combat senses told him -we are no longer alone-. At the speed of thought, Donovan summoned a barrier, the quickest and oldest cantrip he knew - just as the faint sounds of wood clicking against wood could be heard near the entrance to the spacious chamber. <br><br>Just as quickly, six men appeared as if out of nowhere, standing in a ragged line between the intruders and the doorway. They had been cloaked with invisibility, by spell, potion, or scroll, Donovan did not know, but their cloak had vanished the moment they attacked. Each of the six held a crossbow up to their shoulders, and by the time Donovan's eyes settled on them, they had already fired. But thankfully, thought was quicker than the flight of a crossbow bolt, and as the six shots neared the intruders - two headed for Donovan, two for Dean, and two intended for Sae'Ka, the bolts struck some sort of invisible 'wall' just in front of them (none were targeting the fox, of course), slowing the bolts down so drastically that they fell harmlessly to the floor of the chamber.<br><br>The six guards looked rather stunned, the element of surprise lost with the ineffectual surprise attack, but they quickly recovered, tossing their weapons to the side in order to reach for blades at their hips. Perhaps they had been in the room the entire time, simply waiting for them. Or perhaps they had filed in after the three of them had entered the room, under the effects of a silence and invisibility spell. Or perhaps they had been portaled in somehow while the three were distracted, the treasures they sought in sight. It didn't really matter. All that mattered was that they were now obstacles to the three of them making good their escape.<br><br>"Dean -<em> do what you do!</em>" Donovan hissed as he strode forward, the small box tucked lovingly beneath one arm, his other arm holding one of his blades in position as he assumed an offensive stance and strode forward. And as he did so, a single thought ushered a surge of power in the space separating him and Dean, a transfer that took only an instant, as if a damn across a river had suddenly been breached. The missile barrier was gone now - it would be useless against swords anyway - but in its place Donovan 'fed' Dean a smorgasboard of energy, enough to allow Dean to become the offensive weapon that they knew he could be. If Donovan was the defensive-minded one between them, Dean was quite the opposite.<br><br>As for Sae'Ka and her pet - Donovan had faith that the woman would know what to do. She was a drow - which meant she was likely trained from birth for such things. Of course, depending on how important the pet was to her, the drow woman might take a defensive posture to protect the animal instead of joining them in facing off against the six guards. Then again, if these six guards knew they were here, it was quite possible the entire -tower- knew they were here, and if that was the case - Zozo herself could be about, perhaps even watching them at that very moment.<br><br>Yes, Donovan realized - it had been -<em>entirely</em>- too easy....
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>27-05-2014, 16:53:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Leaving? Aza uttered a small coughing bark that roughly translated to <em>Pardon me?</em> and rose to all four feet, her unnaturally red fur ruffled. Leaving where? This room? This suite of rooms? This tower? What the hell did "getting out" mean, and why must they? She shook her head, a weirdly humanlike gesture, but the drow's attention had already moved back to her companions, one of whom had almost just trod upon a green lizard body.<br><br>The fox sprung up to the bed, where she wouldn't have to crane her neck for a better view of the drow or her sticky-fingered friends, and assumed a pose that could easily be read as obstinate. <em>Not leaving,</em> she declared by flattening her ears. <em>Take your beasts and go. One of them smells awful, anyway.</em> Though each was a fine piece of manflesh, Aza had to concede; if Sae'Ka had been attempting to barter with them, there'd be no lack of interested buyers. Especially a matched set like that. Those were difficult to collect.&nbsp;<br><br>Then, likely unnoticed by the rest of the room, the largest of the gems on the fox's neckpiece began to gleam, the egg-sized jewels throwing a faint rainbow over her paws and the bedspread, and Aza cocked an ear just before Donovan looked to the doorway and everything went wrong.<br><br>Wrong for Sae'Ka and her boys, anyway. Aza had no taste for combat and no wish to become an incidental casualty, so even as the crossbow bolts were dropping to the carpets, the fox was a red streak right the fuck out of the way, streaming multicolored sparkles in her wake. The light surrounding her flared brightly as she passed through the remnants of whatever spell had concealed the soldiers, and again as Donovan began to push energy Dean's way... "No!" yelped one of the guards as she scrambled over his boots, and he turned to lunge for the little animal, probably opening himself for a strike.&nbsp; She easily evaded the soldier nearest to the door as well, who actually spun to pursue her into the next room, also helping the would-be thieves' odds. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>28-05-2014, 00:36:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Luckily for Aza, Sae'Ka hadn't noticed her little show of stubborn defiance until it was too late and the chaos of battle had already filled the enchantress' lavish bedchamber. As soon as the fox bolted, however, the drow immediately felt it as the flow of arcane energies coursing through her body seemed to tug insistently in Aza's direction.<br><br>Spotting the crossbows and hearing their firing mechanisms go off, Sae'Ka instinctively raised a hand to shield herself from the bolts only to find that her warrior companion had already taken the liberty of shielding the entire party. How noble of him. <br><br>She charged ahead into the tower guards, slashing down at the fool who'd clumsily lunged after Aza and ending him instantly. Seeing a second guard pursue her prize into the next room, Sae'Ka didn't even give Dean or Donovan a second thought before leaving them to deal with the four remaining soldiers. <br><br>Crossing into the next room, she plucked out three strands of long, silvery hair from her own head and let them fall to the ground where they transformed into a trio of long white snakes with eyes as black and dead as onyx. Sae'Ka felt the all too familiar tingling between her legs upon casting her latest spell, which had a relatively high magical cost, but it was certainly worth it as she watched her summoned monsters converge upon the terrified guard and pounce on him simultaneously. <br><br>The man had no chance, being brought to the floor before having his helmet knocked off and his face and throat ripped out by the drow's summoned pets. The guard was only a minor inconvenience, however, the snakes' main purpose was to catch that slippery werefox. With a simple mental command, Sae'Ka sent them slithering away from the still warm but lifeless corpse so that they could find and constrict Aza for her, without harming the little fox of course. <br><br>Hopefully the pair of strays that she'd brought along would be able to handle the guards in the other room, that would save Sae'Ka the trouble of doing it herself. She'd surely have plenty more of them to deal with on the way out, anyways.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>28-05-2014, 01:15:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It came into him in a rush, and suddenly Dean was alive. The Shadowed Glory unveiled his senses, sent the world into a spiral of greys – not obscuring black and white – but depth-revealing shades that showed him *everything*. Every concealing nook, every pulse-point, every vulnerable spot. Whereas Donovan was the healer and protector, able to save three lives with a gesture, Dean was an utter weapon. And with the floodgates of their power opened, he might have been considered worse. <br><br>He *streaked* into a blurry shadow of motion, moving too fast to follow. Two daggers appeared in throats, both thrown from a single gesture, as Dean flashed forward, hissing, “Not at my Knight. You don’t shoot at my fucking knight,” and then he was in the air, knees out, impacting with a third man, crushing him to the ground. His vision tunneling, punching daggers materializing out of nowhere, Dean slammed his fist down into the man’s face and again, and again. Hissing with glee and rage, he seemed to forget everything but the rush of violence, the thrill of carnage.<br><br>The snakes had taken out a fourth man. Which left two others. One, apparently cognizant enough to not simply stand there and watch, drew back and kicked Dean in the side. He must have worn enchanted armor, as it threw Dean across the room and against the wall, where he impacted with surprisingly lightness. Still, he winced as his hand fell to his ribs.<br><br>“Silly me. Too focused on that one. Donovan?” Dean muttered, looking at the remaining men, and then over at Donovan with a rueful glee. The blood from the guard he’d butchered made the look into a psychopathic leer, but hey, who cared as long as the guy was happy? <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>28-05-2014, 01:57:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The drow's pet fox suddenly darted across the room, a furry blur of motion that caught the eye of just about everyone in the room. It would be a shame for the drow's pet to be killed after the dark elf's efforts to find it, and Donovan found himself silently hoping the creature would escape - which it did. Donovan didn't have a chance to let out a sigh of relief as the rest of the room erupted into motion, as well.<br><br>The drow woman moved quickly, as her race was wont to do, giving chase to her escaped pet. As she moved, she slashed one of the guards, leaving him flailing to the ground in pain as she set off after a second guard who had, in turn, set off after the fox. What was so special about the canine that brought it here in the first place, Donovan wondered for a fragment of a second as the drow and the other guard disappeared into the next room.<br><br>The four remaining men, of course - had to deal with Dean - and that wasn't pretty. Dean was a shadow, and he moved quickly, using blades and body in an effort to end the remaining soldiers. Donovan didn't believe for a second that there were -only- six guards in the entire tower, but these were the immediate threat, and therefore demanded their attention. Dean gave them his -full- attention, turning himself into the epitome of raging darkness. It was a horrific thing to see, and a horrific way for these men to die - but they had chosen their path, and were now paying for that decision.<br><br>One guard remained as he kicked out with his foot, so shook-up he didn't even think to use his weapon to lay into Dean's flank. The kick was far more powerful than a normal man would kick, which meant the guard had some sort of enchantment going. Donovan -thought- he heard bones break as Dean flew across the room, crashing into the wall and falling to the ground. Dean muttered Donovan's name, and the knight strode forward, sheathing his weapon. Donvoan wondered if Dean would be as confused about that as the guard appeared to be, simply blinking at him as he approached. <br><br>With a growl, the guard raising his sword, and brought it down towards Donovan who simply raised his hand - and caught the blade in his palm, the sharp sound of metal hitting -something-... stone, perhaps? - echoing about the room for a moment. The blade hadn't even nicked Donovan's skin. The guard, eyes widening in shock, looked back and forth between Donovan's face and the blade he now held in his grip. <br><br>Donovan simply pulled the blade towards himself sharply - which brought the guard forward off-balance, still clinging to the handle of his weapon - which allowed Donovan's forehead to meet the man's face with an audible -CRACK!-. Bone broke, the man's nose nearly imploding as blood gushed from his nostrils in a sudden flurry. The guard buckled, releasing his blade, collapsing to the floor unconscious.<br><br>Donovan didn't kill for fun, and if it wasn't necessary, he avoided it. But crippling, maiming, and yes - breaking noses was well within his comfort zone. The guard heaped before him would wake up sometime later with a newly-arranged face, but at least he'd still be alive.<br><br>"Get up, lazy," Donovan commanded, turning his eyes towards Dean. With a glance, Dean would feel his ribs beginning to knit together, blood reversing flow, arteries and veins healing at warp speed. He could heal his Shadow at a distance - at least a short distance - but healing others required a touch, usually. After a brief moment exerting his power, he turned back towards the door, the precious box with the two gems still safely tucked under his arm. <br><br>They still had a lot of tower to descend, and his power was definitely not infinite...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>28-05-2014, 05:49:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Snakes. Snakes were just big lizards. Their heads came off too. By the time Sae'Ka caught up to her constructs, Aza was busily attempting to drown one of them in the topmost tier of a fountain, a process that involved a great deal of hissing and screeching and splashing. The jewels in the fox's neckpiece flashed every time she made contact with the magical snake, creating bursts of light that dazzled off the flying water. A second snake managed the wet climb and began to wrap up one of her hind legs, making Aza spin and grab the thing in her sharp little teeth, then whip it out into the gardens with a fling of her head and a shower of sparkles. <br><br>The collar, besides being ostentatious, must have carried protections of some kind, allowing the fox to continue stomping the first snake beneath the water while the third slithered up towards her. <em>YOU</em>, said Aza's cutely murderous glare at the drow below. This was to be a kidnapping attempt, then? Aza was <em>done </em>with those. She pinned the first snake with both front paws, plunged her muzzle under the water, bit down, and yanked. The body was still writhing when it hit the floor in front of Sae'Ka's boots, along with a fresh wave of fountain water.<br><br>For looking like a dog, Aza climbed like a cat; she was clambering her way up one of the palm trees towards the cutouts in the stone ceiling when the bloodspattered boys came trotting through. <em>Accomplices</em>, she snarled at them, her light surging in intensity as they drew near. It was their first opportunity to notice some of what the drow probably hoped they wouldn't. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>28-05-2014, 21:10:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sae'Ka wasn't sure if she was more pleasantly or unpleasantly surprised when she caught up to the werefox and saw her doing a rather decent job of fighting off the snakes. On one hand, it was already making catching Aza more difficult and long than she would have liked, since time was absolutely of the essence, but on the other it also meant that the girl would be more useful once she had her.<br><br>Ignoring the snake that had been thrown at her feet - which was already disintegrating into a fine silver dust - Sae'Ka kept her eyes riveted on her prize, dashing over to the tree that Aza had bolted to and started climbing. She just barely missed one of the fox's hind legs when she made a swipe to catch her, but that just pissed her off and made her all the more determined to succeed.<br><br>Holding her hand out towards the palm tree, Sae'Ka closed her fist and the tree crumpled like an accordion, bark splintering all over the place until it was no more than two feet tall and the leaves were tickling the drow's legs. She snatched the fox right out of the air, holding her up by the scruff of her neck so that they were face to face. <br><br>"You're being a little bitch," Sae'Ka stated flatly, her eyes narrowing as she grabbed the coiled leash hanging from her waist and fixed it around Aza's collar. It was nothing too special, just a solid length of leather enchanted to be more resistant in general, particularly against magic.<br><br>Dropping the werefox to the floor from a couple of feet up, Sae'Ka wrapped one end of the leash around her left hand, meanwhile noticing that her two warriors were still alive and not looking too much worse for wear. The rogue was covered in blood, but it didn't seem to be his own. "Fabulous work, boys," she told them, drawing her sword again as she retraced their earlier steps towards the main corridor, dragging Aza along if necessary.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>29-05-2014, 08:27:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean smirked as Donovan worked his own particular brand of magic; the opposite side of the coin to Dean’s own. Light and healing where his was all dark and poison. It was majestic to behold, of course: Donovan was beautiful at what he did, but Dean wouldn’t let the other man know even an iota of that appreciation. <br><br>When the magic washed over him, repairing his ribs, Dean snarled, “I was already on the mend.” In truth, the Shadow healed rapidly, but the broken ribs would have hindered him for a few hours without Donovan’s aid. Still, pride. This *was* Dean, after all.<br><br>Moving out with Donovan, Dean saw the scene of carnage further down the tower, the smashed tree and the little dog. Frankly, Dean was rather fed up with this whole thing: he’d slaked his thirst for violence and murder, and was now ready for a peaceful night at an inn with some fetching bar maids. The kind with true décolletage.<br><br>Heh. Dean smiled broadly to himself, replying to the drow’s pronouncement with,&nbsp; “Décolletage!” and then turned to make his way further toward the exit. Then he paused, thought a moment, realized that those six guards were the tip of the spear, and gestured graciously for Sae’Ka to proceed. Mages had magic to deal with large masses of enemies, a trait that neither he nor Donovan were particularly equipped for, unless they were *very* specialized enemies. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>29-05-2014, 08:39:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				By the time Donovan reached the room where the fox and drow had fled to, the little canine was leashed and being pulled - willingly or not - towards the floor's exit. For a moment, Donovan almost felt badly for the fox - what kind of master would a drow make, after all? It was said the drow knew nothing of 'love', and as such, their 'affection' for pets would be minimal, at most. Then again, it was possible that the fox didn't belong to the drow at all, but to someone else entirely. The drow could have been sent merely to retrieve the beast, stolen or kidnapped by the warlock for some nefarious purpose. It mattered little at the moment, a small yet interesting mystery that he knew he might never find the answer to.<br><br>But what he -did- know was that they had to depart the tower - immediately. If the drow had some means of transporting herself and the fox away by magic, she hadn't used it yet, which told him either she didn't - or Zozo had wards in place to prevent such a thing. Donovan's senses were telling him that the tower was mobilizing - from the ground up, seeking to corner the intruders efficiently, and with overwhelming force. No single warrior in the building could cause the three of them harm, most likely - but -dozens- could sure ruin their day before they would be overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers.<br><br>Donovan thought for a moment as the drow strode confidently past him, tossing out a quip about the brothers' "work" in defeating the guards.<br><br>"The sewers," he said, his voice almost full of dread. "We had access to the sewers. They'll likely be securing the exits from the tower, no doubt waiting for us, and while we enjoy a challenge as much as anyone - if it can be easily avoided...," he trailed off, shrugging. "Not to mention, if Zozo herself is downstairs, that could make things -more- than interesting. But the sewers are unguarded. And, I can confirm...," he said, sighing. "It's only knee-deep."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>29-05-2014, 16:02:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The fox seemed to express more nonverbal outrage at being labelled a 'bitch' than she did at being leashed like an animal, and, as soon as the drow dropped her, shook her soaked coat with as much emphasis as she could muster. Then Sae'Ka was dripping, too. <em>Harlot</em>, said the fox's narrowed stare.<br><br>She tried to ignore the men and their plotting, looking wet and sulky, until Donovan voiced the idea of the sewer escape. She nearly ripped the skin off the drow's palm with how hard she hit the end of the leash, claws scrabbling loudly against the stone floor as she pulled back in the direction of the bedroom. <em>No no no no NOOOOOO</em>, everyone gathered could clearly 'hear,' though the fox didn't actually speak. The sewer? Aza would rather the three idiot intruders died horrible slow bloody deaths on the steps of the Spire than even have to glance into the sewers. She wanted to run back to her velvet-cushioned bed. All her clothes, all her jewelry, gold plates and roasted quail and silk curtains and servants and lizards to chase... <br><br>The gold neckpiece lit the room like the midday desert sun. Even if they did manage to blunder their way back into the tunnels beneath the tower, it would hardly be a stealthy trip dragging the equivalent of ten sparkly lanterns behind them, echoing howls the whole way.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>30-05-2014, 03:56:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sae'Ka's entire body stiffened and turned her head to the side as her newly captured fox sprayed her with cold water in another act of childish defiance, the expression on the drow's face giving away more than a hint of annoyance. Then when Donovan mentioned the sewers, Aza tugged so violently and suddenly against her leash that the leather cut into Sae'Ka's skin and nearly sent her stumbling forwards, which was when she'd had just about enough.<br><br>Yanking back hard with her superior strength, she drew the werefox close before shooting her almost point blank with a weak black of arcane energy. The attack wasn't nearly potent enough to do any permanent harm, but it would at least knock the feisty critter out cold for a short while, preventing her from being a pest throughout the entire escape attempt and killing the bright display of light emanating from her collar. Casting the spell sent another small jolt of lust through her, reminding the drow sorceress that each spell had its cost, but she was able to mostly shrug it off for now.<br><br>"You're out of your tiny little human mind if you think I'm stepping foot into any sort of sewers," Sae'Ka snapped back at Donovan with an accusatory glare, seeming to blame him for upsetting her new pet. Scooping the unconscious Aza off of the floor, she tossed the fox up on to her shoulder before moving to the exit, rolling her eyes at Dean as she brushed by him. "Seriously?" she asked, referring to the fact that he wanted her to go first yet again.<br><br>Sae'Ka scoffed at him almost with disgust and walked out, finding the hallway back towards the spiraling staircase to be suspiciously empty and silent, all of the small noises from the nearby rooms that she'd heard earlier now gone. It wasn't really a question of whether or not there was a trap coming at that point, only when and what it would turn out to be.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>30-05-2014, 09:46:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean watched it all with a bland look of utter boredom. He’d probably have killed the creature, in truth: dogs that bit humans had to be put down. It was just that cut and dry and to a Shadow – a man who wasn’t a whole person – such logic made perfect sense. However, given that it was the drow dealing with it, he just stood there and waited impatiently. When she finally shouldered the animal and came walking by, he replied, “Spy and assassin, honey. Not a front-line anything.”<br><br>Then he turned and saw what awaited them on the other side of the door and swallowed. To his supernatural senses, magical traps were abnormally easy to spot and having just been filled with his Shadow Glory, he still bore the strength it lent him. <br><br>“Second,” he said, voice hard as he reached into a pouch and withdrew some black powder. He flung the powder out, into the hall, and the dust drew into patterns&nbsp; - lines that stretched down the length of the next hall, ones that might be quite difficult to navigate. <br><br>“Looks like curses or attack wards to me,” Dean said wryly, looking over at the drow sorceress for confirmation. Dean was good at detecting and avoiding magical traps, not identifying the specific details – by the time he knew what was being thrown at him, it was usually too late.<br><br>Glancing over at Donovan, Dean gestured to a nearby wall – one facing the outside world, on the outer curve of the tower. “Why not just go straight through the wall? The fall wouldn’t be too bad. Plus, who breaks through walls? No one will be prepared. Not even us.” He smirked at that, but was happy to follow the other two in this. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>31-05-2014, 22:15:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan listened to the drow refuse to consider the sewers - even if it would be the safest way out. Her insult of course rolled off of him like rainwater - if she HADN'T insulted him and his companion, then he would have been worried.<br><br>"Alright then, sounds like a straight-off exit it is, then," he said, knowing that they'd likely face stiff resistance trying to exit from the tower in the most direct and obvious route. Then Dean spoke up, especially after demonstrating that the hallways and floors would be trapped - alllll the way back down. Perhaps the alarm being raised activated them, or perhaps they had been there all along? Donovan wasn't sure, nor too worried about them at that point.<br><br>Dean suggested, then, perhaps going through the -walls-. Donovan looked doubtful, "I'd assume a warlock would have the outer shell of the tower protected against attacks, magical or otherwise," he said, then he raised a hand to scratch at his chin for a moment, "But... that would be to protect against attacks from -outside-, coming in. We're doing the reverse, of course..." He gave a slight nod to Dean before turning to the wall next to the three of them (and the subdued canine), and laid his hand flat across the stone.<br><br>"Here," he said, "This is the outer wall... perhaps a foot or so thick, I imagine... Stone, not reinforced by steel or anything harder... this should be doable," he said. Then he glanced to the drow.<br><br>"You can continue on, into the mouth of the tower's defenses, traps, and perhaps Zozo herself, if you'd like. I think Dean and I are going to make a 'new exit' from this place... you're welcome to join us," he offered as he sheathed his one sword, and handed the precious small box over to Dean to hold onto. Then, he turned his attention to the wall, laying both of his big hands flat against it. Closing his eyes, he focused for a moment. He knew this was going to drain a lot of his stamina, but it seemed a far safer bet than the alternatives.<br><br>Pulling his hands slowly back toward his chest, balling them into fists, he took a deep breath - and then his fists, side by side, launched toward the stone wall. The impact was thunderously loud, reverberating through the wall and even the floor beneath them. He repeated the gesture again... and again... working on a large crack in the stone that had appeared from the first blow. It widened, it lengthened, bits of rock and dirt crumbled from it - slowly at first, but subsequently blows widened the crack substantially.<br><br>After a dozen such blows, Donovan stopped, his knuckles bleeding and battered - but there was now a hole-crack before them just large enough for any of them to slide through. Donovan's head whipped to the side, as he heard the sound of clanking metal, the bark of commands... Zozo was apparently sending some men to investigate the origin of the sounds he had caused, and it sounded like a LOT more than just six men this time.<br><br>"Well, the escape hole is made," Donovan said, then he turned his eyes between Sae'Ka and Dean, "But I sure as hell don't know how to fly, and we're what... seventy feet up? Either of you have something to make the descent a little less... bump?" he asked.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>01-06-2014, 09:53:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sae'Ka huffed slightly with annoyance when Dean told her to wait, feeling like they needed to hurry up and not waste time, but luckily for all of them an especially for herself, she complied and stopped to see what he wanted. When the man revealed the traps that lay ahead of them with his powder, it was rather embarrassing to her that she hadn't spotted them first, so she tried to play it off as if she had.<br><br>"Obviously," the drow replied condescendingly, "I would have disabled them as we went, nothing to get your tits in a twist over."<br><br>As for the alternative method that Dean suggested for getting out of the tower, Sae'Ka wouldn't have thought of something quite so blunt and unrefined herself...but it didn't seem like that horrible of an idea. It would have been quite straining on her magic, had she needed to knock the wall down herself, but still well worth circumventing everything and everyone inside the tower that would undoubtedly be after her head. And she didn't even need to do that, since the warrior or paladin or whatever he was took it upon himself to rearrange the wall with his fists instead. Finally one of those two did <em>something</em> useful!<br><br>Hearing Donovan's question, she stepped in front of the newly created breach in the wall, facing towards the two men. "Do you trust me?" Sae'Ka asked with a wry smile before casually letting herself fall backwards off the ledge, inviting them to follow if they dared.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>02-06-2014, 23:55:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Ah, drow,” Dean murmured as he grabbed Donovan’s shoulder and thrust him through the hole, not trusting the man to follow quickly enough now that he’d depleted his stamina making the hole. The last thing Dean would consider allowing was Donovan’s self-sacrificial nature to threaten all they’d worked on this night.<br><br>Hand still on Donovan’s arm, Dean fell through as well. Although Dean *did* have a method that could soften the fall for the two of them, it wasn’t the most efficient. Besides, he was eager to see whether or not this drow was trustworthy. There were many factors in his calculating mind now: a drow that made good on her debts rather than betraying the duo (as most would do at this point, creating a distraction to save her own skin), could be an ally in the long-term. And despite Dean’s desire to have some freedoms away from Donovan, that didn’t mean he ultimately wanted total separation: the two were too effective together for him to simply shirk that bond. <br><br>Now, with a drow as part of the mix, who knew what could be accomplished? Especially with Donovan’s moral qualms gently assuaged with a little massaging…or drowing? Oddly enough, Dean found himself grinning as he fell through the air, seeing both Donovan and the drow on the way down and finding his heart surprisingly light. Well, sort of. Heart-thing, anyway. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>04-06-2014, 11:00:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The hole completed, Donovan -almost- felt a little light-headed. He wasn't completely tapped yet - but he was getting there. Hopefully the escape would be concluded soon. If he could just have a bit of water, he'd be fine, but there was no time for what at the moment. <br><br>Instead, his head turned to the sound of the drow's voice, asking if the two men trusted her.<br><br>Hell -no- they didn't trust her. Or at least, Donovan didn't. First, she was a drow. Second, she was a woman. Third... she was a fucking -drow-. Had Donovan ever met one he trusted? No. Even the one he had bedded had taken off with his -entire- coin purse, rather than just the agreed upon amount. That was a long time ago, but had never been forgotten. Not that Sae-Ka was a woman of the night by any means, and Donovan had the distinct impression that asking her if she was would result in her demonstration of how angry and pissed-off she could be.<br><br>The woman fell back through the slight gash in the wall he had created, and before he could answer her question - or pose one of his own - he felt Dean's hand on him, pulling him along as well.<br><br>So it appeared that Dean, at least, trusted the woman. More like, Dean trusted the woman to have the proper plumbing that -he- desired to investigate thoroughly and up close. If it had been a drow male, Donovan was convinced that the two men would have remained in the tower to fight their way back to the sewer entrance. Yes, even as they fell towards the earth as it rapidly approached, Donovan was convinced that Dean had leaped out of the building - and pulled Donovan with him - in an attempt to demonstrate that he trusted the drow in order to get in her pants.<br><br>The shadow was -so- predictable.<br><br>But, it was too late to protest now. His body limp, he -had- to believe that the woman would somehow slow their fall - or Dean would exercise his ability at the last instance to keep them from splattering against the ground below. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>04-06-2014, 18:00:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Maybe Sae'Ka had exercised a little too much caution in striking the fox unconscious, wary of damaging the merchandise. Maybe Aza's defenses had grown more capable over the last few years, or maybe the collar was assisting her recovery. Or maybe it was just the fresh night air suddenly whistling through her fur that brought her around.<br><br>She went from unresponsive free-falling weight to shrieking maroon hysteria in an instant, thrashing to plant her clawed hind feet against the drow's shoulder and shove off into space, still tethered to the woman by the length of leash. At the same moment, the neckpiece exploded back into streams of light, turning their trajectory into that of a falling multicolored comet, almost too bright to make out the forms of the drow and fox at its center.<br><br>And with the light came a surging flow of energy, strong enough to wash a palpable wave of warmth over the tumbling quartet, and of a quality all three human shapes could recognize and then utilize... assuming at least one of them had enough of his or her wits to draw upon the raw stuff for whatever plan had been concocted between the top of the Spire and the hard stone at its base. It was enough energy radiating outwards to fuel any survival spell and negate the expenditures of the fight they'd fled, with some to spare for whatever came next. Someone ought to use it, because the fox herself was merely windmilling little feet wildly at the air like she could climb it, lashing Sae'Ka in the face with her damp poofy tail, and screaming.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>06-06-2014, 12:53:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It wasn't particularly easy to do while free-falling through the air, but Sae'Ka needed to concentrate. The spell that she had planned to save herself and her temporary partners from the fall was one of the most difficult to cast from her arsenal, and any sort of slip up could mean them crashing to the ground and their bodies being broken...or worse. <br><br>The drow let out a pained hiss as she felt Aza's small sharp claws suddenly tearing into her unprotected shoulder, leaving several scratches in their wake, but it was now or never and she had no choice other than to unleash her spell anyways. The unexpected distraction combined with the even more unexpected burst of power that Sae'Ka received from the werefox regaining consciousness made for a slightly imperfect result.<br><br>The idea had been to summon a powerful implosion field - essentially a tiny black hole - in the air above herself and the two humans when they were closer to the ground so that the pull would halt their momentum temporarily, resulting in only a very short fall after the field was unsummoned. <br><br>Unfortunately, the spell came out <em>much</em> stronger than Sae'Ka had wanted, to the point where it not only stopped all of them in mid-air but actually began to pull them back up towards the void of nothingness. Along with them, furniture from within the hallway was ripped out through the wall, as was other random stuff from down below, and most of all there was a ton of sand flying up past them and disappearing into the crackling dark portal.<br><br>Panicking, Sae'Ka released the spell only to realize that they were still too far up, at which point she had to improvise and flash several more implosion fields in and out, freezing their fall for half a second each time until finally they were only a few feet off the ground, close enough to not die or break their bones on the way down.<br><br>Landing on her back, the drow let out a long moan, but it wasn't from the pain, which was hardly that bad. Casting such a powerful and complex spell so many times in rapid succession had taken a real toll on her, one that she could no longer ignore so easily, leaving her not only quite drained but also horny as a succubus out of hell. As for the werefox, Sae'Ka still had the end of the leash wrapped around her left hand, but she wasn't actively holding on to it or even thinking about Aza right at that moment.<br><br>Debris briefly crashed all around her, but luckily not <em>on</em> her, although the sand raining down on her face and in her eyes did make her turn over on to her side. Before she knew it, Sae'Ka's right hand had almost slipped down between her legs with a mind of its own, but she caught herself at the very last instant, instead groaning as she squeezed her thighs together and dug her fingers into one of them hard to keep from touching herself.<br><br>"Fuuuck..." she grumbled, remembering that they were still at the foot of Zozo's tower, presumably with an army of pursuers coming after them not only from within the tower but the city as well after that not-so-subtle escape. Spitting some sand out of her mouth, Sae'Ka pushed herself up to her feet with considerably less speed or grace than usual, having to fight very hard to hold the lust burning up inside of her at bay. She glanced expectantly at the two humans who were also picking themselves up, hoping that they had some sort of hideout or secret way out of the city - preferably one that didn't involve any goddamn sewers.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>06-06-2014, 21:05:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><strong>Meta-Conjecture</strong></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Allow me, my dear friends, a moment to comment on the nature of Dean and Donovan’s bond. You see, Donovan is the key: Glory, white hot and noble, fills the man’s generous and utterly selfless spirit (okay, maybe not totally selfless). It is the *shadow* thrown by that Glory that empowers Dean (hence the term “Shadow”). Now, in all sorts of “normal” circumstances, the Glory loop is closed. The only power that gets added or subtracted comes from one of the duo; the magical devices they acquired could, for example, affect the bond between the duo only by working *through* that connection. <br><br>Because of the nature of their “closed” loop, Donovan acts as the control valve; he opens the Glory and fuels himself and Dean alike. Donovan’s brightness to Dean’s midnight. This essentially means that Dean’s active, normal state is that of a wide-open receptacle to power – if it’s available for him to use, he uses it, otherwise Donovan might shut the power down before he has a chance to. We’ll ignore the small “leakage” that gets through to sustain them both at abnormal levels most of the time other than to say it exists. <br><br>Follow the logic here: falling through the air, Dean – a wide open factory for transforming one type of power into another – suddenly surrounded by a pocket of energy sufficient enough to fuel the creation of not one, but multiple *BLACK HOLES.* Yeah. Consequences. </div></div><br>A football field of space around the falling group suddenly bunched up, the shadows deepening into a supernatural presence every bit as palpable as fog. Dean’s body, the extension of his ego, simmered like a pot on the boil, and the Shadow’s exuberant cry of pleasure and power was a silent, non-sound thing that pealed through the air like a struck bell, felt more than heard. The jerking stop-and-go motions of the Drow’s power didn’t seem to phase the man, whose handsome face had taken on an expression of intense focus. For the first time *ever* he could sense the power that fueled him outmatching the power that fueled Donovan, could sense the normally one-way flow pushing the opposite direction.<br><br>Then they landed, Dean coming to an effortless crouch, his body limned in licking shadows that highlighted and enhanced his virile masculinity. The arrogant creature was a solid seven feet tall now, his gear somehow swelling to match his exaggerated proportions. Yet with that height and with that power came a gravitas, an alluring *pull* all too similar to the power the drow had used – only raw and physical. When he moved, it was with a boneless lithe sensuality that seemed utterly divorced from anything resembling a normal human man. <br><br>Yet, oddly enough, as empowered as he was, bright blue pinpricks of light interrupted Dean’s otherwise obsidian eyes. His voice, deep, but gentle, came out in oddly optimistic tones entirely lacking the lust he normally conveyed. “Donovan. I feel a little…odd.” Indeed, although the power granted by the dog-thing was leaking out through his very pours, Dean did feel odd – like somehow the nature of the Glory that bound him and his Knight was trying to rebalance the equation. <br><br>Looking at Donovan, Dean murmured, “Guards and Zozo. I can feel her awareness nearby. Scrying. We will need to run.” If he was put-out or worried, it didn’t show on his too-handsome face. In fact, he seemed calmer than he had the entire night. He didn’t even look for cleavage. <br>&nbsp;<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>08-06-2014, 10:49:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan knew something was wrong with just one look over at Dean's face: they were falling to what would likely be their deaths, but Dean seemed not only at ease with it - but almost gloriously pleased with himself for some reason. Then Donovan noticed the changes, visible changes that unsettled his stomach even moreso than the seven-story fall did. -Something- had caused a rush of power to surge into Dean - and it hadn't come from Donovan.<br><br>The fall itself at once felt as if it had taken half the afternoon - as well as a few scant seconds. There had been a sudden wash of warmth through him, followed by the herky-jerky push and pull against their bodies, as if two invisible entities were playing tug-of-war with them, trying at once to pull them back up into the sky - or down to the cold, hard earth to smash them to bits. In the end, each of them landed in some form or fashion on the ground. Glancing over at Dean, Donovan's suspicions were confirmed: someone had used some sort of magic which Dean had not only absorbed, but -feasted- on with which to grow more powerful - at least for now. Dean towered about the rest of them as Donovan slowly made his way to his feet.<br><br>Dean confessed to feeling odd, and Donovan could only nod, easily as confused as his companion was. But when Dean mentioned the guards and Zozo, and scrying for them, it didn't take a second suggestion from Dean for Donovan to begin putting one foot in front of the other.<br><br>"Dean - to the harbor sanctuary. A body of water will help recharge me quicker, as well as hide our trail from her," he said. Donovan knew that Dean would understand what he meant. With that said, Donovan turned his head to gaze at the drow.<br><br>"Feel free to come with us if you wish - we can offer you safety," he said, fully expecting the drow to spit a curse at him and go her own way. Still, he made the offer anyway, turned his attention back to the path ahead, and set off in that direction. Dean had said they would need to run. Moments later, Donovan's slow footsteps began to speed up to something resembling a jog.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>09-06-2014, 18:01:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza was sprawled on her back in the dirt, her paws continuing to swim weakly at the air. Her thick red fur had been wet; now it was caked with sand, too. Whimpering pathetically, she opened her eyes to squint upside-down at one of the men who had landed nearby. He looked just fine, like he fell out of towers through malfunctioning spellfields every day. In fact, he maybe looked <em>better</em> than he had a moment ago. Obviously uninjured. And taller? Maybe it just seemed that way from down here. She had no way of knowing who utilized the energy flowing from her, or for what. All she could tell was things had gotten bright and then dark and just generally fucked up, and now she felt like she'd been volleyed like a ball and dropped on her head from a half story height.<br><br>The drow beside her made a funny noise and cursed, and Aza fell over onto her side, hoping the woman was close enough to bite. She was not. The leash was slack, so the fox hauled herself to her feet and began to stagger through the rubble, the collar tossing off the occasional flash but without any accompanying energy leak. The other man -- who seemed to have fared better than the drow, though not as fortunately as his too-tall partner -- was saying something about the harbor. <em>No, no, no,</em> Aza thought loudly again, before sneezing a cloud of dust so forcefully she nearly tipped over. Harbors meant ships, which meant cages in dark smelly holds and rolling stomachs and only fish to eat. She tried to howl, to let the guards who were surely coming know she was there and still alive and so were these three uncouth thieves, but her throat was dry and scratched with sand and she only sneezed again, wheezing.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>10-06-2014, 08:06:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sae'Ka did a double-take when she glanced at Dean, certainly not remembering him as being <em>that</em> tall or <em>that</em> handsome and magnetic. The warm and very much obnoxious tingle that she felt below her skin seemed to worsen while she kept her amber eyes fixated on his almost impossibly large and wiry form, saliva building up in her mouth as she seemed unable to tear her gaze away. <br><br>Donovan's voice finally snapped the drow out of her trance, giving her something else to focus on as she finally swallowed, although he certainly wasn't looking bad either. <em>It's just the fucking magic!</em> she tried to tell herself as she felt her nipples stiffening beneath her armor, making Sae'Ka wish that she could just tear it off right then and there.<br><br>"If by <em>offer</em> you mean you can repay me for saving your sorry asses," Sae'Ka snapped back irritably, the tight leather of her lower armor rubbing her in all the wrong (or right) places as she took off into a light run to keep up with the two humans. She didn't have the time or patience to deal with Aza's protests or tantrums, dragging the little werefox along behind her whether Aza liked it or not.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>10-06-2014, 22:28:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean slowed to keep pace between both Donovan and their new drow companion. Although the tidal wave of energy he’d imbibed was seeping out far more rapidly than he’d have anticipated (one could point out to Dean that Sae’Ka’s black holes had lasted fractions of a second), he was still far more primed than he’d experienced…well, ever. He made the lope seem easy, his body all liquid grace. And still, he bore about him a mantle of innocence, of a type of morality that was at utter contrast with the man he’d been mere seconds before. <br><br>And then they were running through buildings, weaving through alley ways. Dean trusted the drow to keep up, to see where they were going, and Donovan too – but he was always near to help, always wary for his newfound friends. And yes, Dean did consider them friends at the moment. <br><br>By the time they burst through the buildings and appeared on the long wooden planks of the docks, the calls of pursuit had picked up. Rallying cries around the city were filtering through the buildings, threatening to foil their escapes. Docked ships, many with large wagons laden with goods, bobbed gently in the harbor and, thanks to the hour, the still-working merchants and sailors spared the group not a single glance; affairs of the city mattered little to them. <br><br>Turning around, Dean exhaled softly, muttering in Sae’Ka and Donovan’s general direction, “Sorry about this, but I think I’ll be going back to my normal self rather soon.” Looking directly at Sae’Ka, he asked, “Lovely woman, would you mind sending off a distraction – a flare, or flurry of light, to the north of the town, away from us?” <br><br>So saying, Dean crouched, eyes narrowed in concentration. The shadows around them deepened, then began writhing, coalescing. A few moments later, two groups of shadowy-figures that roughly resembled the foursome stepped free and began running away – one to the south and one directly back the way they’d come. They moved like their real counterparts, only much faster. No doubt they’d be slippery little fucks to catch.<br><br>Immediately, Dean’s great height and mass descended to a far more manageable six and a half feet or so, and the gravitonic pull decreased; while he was still deliriously handsome, he no longer produced an alluring aura. Turning dark, slightly exhausted eyes to the group, Dean leered over at Sae’Ka and whispered, voice a low, predatory thrum. “Someone smells delicious tonight.”<br><br>And then he grinned, all sardonic sarcasm, and looked to see how his Knight was faring. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>11-06-2014, 02:15:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The trio plus the fox jogged at a steady pace through the streets. Donovan took them down alleys and side-streets wherever possible in order to avoid being seen as much as possible. Zoza would have many eyes and ears in the city, but the docks were the farthest place from her tower, and the sailors there did not care for the inner-politics of the great Warlock, or even the authorities of this place. They cared about their pay, their women, their grog, and their freedom.<br><br>Donovan and Dean had a few different 'refuges' they could use at any given time, and Donovan had figured the one on those docks would be the safest. It would give them at least some respite before deciding their next move - or maybe it would just be Dean and himself. He wasn't sure what the drow would do, now that she had the 'pet' she had come for. Likely she would catch her breath and then leave without a word - or perhaps she might turn them in for some kind of reward, or maybe do something to use the two men as a distraction while she made good her escape. Donovan wasn't for certain what she would do, but he knew whatever it was likely wouldn't be in favor of the two men.<br><br>Pausing a moment to get his bearings, Donovan nodded towards the drow. "Yes, indeed, to -repay- you for saving our asses, we can offer you safety and refreshment. We can't -force- you to accept, though," he said, turning his eyes to Dean... his shadow was already shrinking, growing smaller, the surge of strange energy seemed to be dissipating. But a second later, Dean conjured figures that somewhat resembled the three of them (plus the dog), and sent them running off. Donovan smiled.<br><br>"Good show, Dean," he said with a genuine nod of appreciation. "The house is just up the walk a bit. We're almost there."<br><br>Donovan led them down the wood-plank street, where the only attention they really garnered was from a few vendors hawking their wares of 'rat on a stick', or berths on various ships leaving town that very day.<br><br>Perhaps that would be worth considering. Donovan decided he'd bring it up once they were safe.<br><br>Reaching one of the ramshackle buildings much farther down the row, Donovan stopped, stepped up to a wooden door and placed his hand flat upon its surface. A faint glow emanated from the worn wood for only a moment - and then the door creaked open. Donovan pushed it open with one arm, stepping to the side and motioning for the others to enter. Meanwhile, his sharp eyes glanced down the road in either direction, looking for signs of anyone interested in them. Seeing no one, he simply waited for the three to enter, then came in last, himself, shut the door - and leaned back against it with a deep sigh.<br><br>"Safe at last."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>11-06-2014, 21:00:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza was immediately, hopelessly lost. She knew every level of the Spire and every path of the Gardens, but a left and a right and another left away from those two places was already unfamiliar territory to her. A few times she'd ridden in Zozo's palanquin about the city when a certain spell couldn't be cast from a distance, but that conveyance had cushions and curtains. And grapes. <br><br>It quickly became apparent that letting the drow literally drag her was not the best choice, and she struggled back to her feet and tried to keep up. The streets were <em>filthy</em>. Everyone else had boots. She pulled at the leather cord and barked at a few passerby, but at this time of night and in this neighborhood, no one seemed to appreciate her plight. Then the leash jerked around an unexpected corner, and Aza stumbled straight through a puddle of something unidentifiable and awful. With a strangled hiss, she flung herself at Sae'Ka's legs, forcing the drow to either pause and untangle them or probably tip over. The fox took the opportunity to attach herself to one of the woman's arms, making it easier to just be carried the rest of the way, shivering with her muddy muzzle shoved under the drow's chin. <br><br>With her eyes scrunched shut, she only had her nose to tell her that they neared the water... and that the drow was reacting strangely to what Aza considered to be a rather traumatizing event. Sae'Ka was <em>enjoying </em>this, very much too much, in the fox's opinion. Did it have something to do with the intrigue that too-tall up there was emitting? Aza looked like a fox, but that didn't mean she was immune to the masculine glamour he was almost obnoxiously projecting. It was obviously buoyed by magic, somehow, and to some magics, Aza did have certain resistances... and weaknesses. So when the drow consented to Dean's request to cast yet another spell, Aza growled softly, pushing her head a little more firmly against Sae'Ka's neck.<br><br>Once the other man latched the door behind them, Aza cracked an eye open, fully prepared to be underwhelmed by wherever her kidnappers considered 'safe.' She doubted it had grapes.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>12-06-2014, 21:50:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sae'Ka caught the werefox when she jumped up on to one of her arms, not really having much of a choice if she wanted to keep up with the others. Getting Aza's wet, cold and dirty fur on her may have bothered her under more normal circumstances, but right now she had enough other issues keeping her preoccupied that she didn't think about it.<br><br>Saying that Sae'Ka was hot and bothered by the time the group reached the docks and took a brief pause would have been an understatement. She clearly seemed too out of breath and sweaty for how fit she was after only a relatively short run, though the two humans were most likely too preoccupied with evading the Zozo's disciples and the city's guards to notice - hopefully, anyways. Dean received an annoyed look from her when he asked her to use even more of her magic, all in that stupid, smug and oblivious tone of his.<br><br>"Fucking hells..." she muttered, but flung a small fireball spiraling from her hand towards the northern sky anyways, where it eventually exploded with a loud boom and a huge shower of sparks. Immediately, Sae'Ka felt the heat in her body and the tension in her lady parts spike even higher, making her nearly double over. She noticed the shadows taking off in different directions from their location and understood the plan, so at least it seemed kind of worth it if they didn't get caught and executed (or worse).<br><br>The drow treated Donovan to an even icier look then the one Dean got when the warrior decided to open his mouth again. <em>Obviously</em>, they couldn't force her to do anything, she was superior to them, and she didn't need anyone to tell her that. When they reached the supposedly safe hideout a few minutes later, Sae'Ka couldn't control herself any longer. She dropped Aza to the ground carelessly, did the same with her sword, and finally gave in to her overwhelming need to pounce on somebody, which in this case turned out to be Donovan since he was the closest. <br><br>Letting out a primal growl, Sae'Ka threw herself at him with full force like a predator aiming to close out a hunt. The sudden impact was enough to make the heavier man stumble and fall on to his back with the drow on top of him, straddling and squeezing him <em>very</em> tightly between her legs. Putting a hand on Donovan's throat, she leaned in over him until their faces were less than two inches apart, breathing heavily through her nose and releasing another low growl. <br><br>With the fiery expression in her eyes, it probably looked like Sae'Ka wanted to kill him, which of course was quite far from the case.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>13-06-2014, 01:48:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The safe houses that the duo had prepared were usually identified by Dean and then modified by Donovan, whose powers and knowledge went beyond killing people and screwing. Thus, although the house was in a seedy part of the docks, the interior was almost militarily neat. Dean’s thieving, magpie nature was evidenced in the large central room, where walls of empty bookshelves were laden with a variety of gewgaws, baubles, and trinkets that were probably worthless but looked *really* neat (at least to him.)<br><br>Other than a dining table and makeshift meeting area, with standing basin with hot and cold running water that the two no doubt stole from the city municipal department (hey, high fantasy – and romans had running water!), there were few comforts. A cot on either side of the floor, a stairwell leading up to a second story and down into a basement level that smelled of brine – a private jetty in case the two needed to escape by water, perhaps. <br><br>Once inside the room, Dean exhaled and smiled. And then turned to the odd sounds the drow was making. Seeing her discard her sword and *then* jump Donovan told Dean that the woman’s pouncing maneuver was probably not about killing him. Dominance games, maybe? Drow females were infamous for taking males on their terms. Dean considered intervening, but given how little time Donovan spent wrestling with the “gentler” sex, decided to opt out. If only he had some popped corn around…<br><br>Glancing around, he saw the little dog ad frowned. “Great. Goody two-shoes gets the luscious, feral drow and I’m stuck with a muddy, disgusting dog-thing. I guess I might as well play with those stones. Hey, Donovan, do you mind me playing with those while you grind on the hottie? Oh yeah, remember: drow women consider barbecued dick a delicacy back in the under dark. Don’t let her stay near your naughty hottie bits for too long with her teeth.” It went without saying that letting her near them with a knife would be REALLY a bad idea.<br><br>Baring his white teeth in a wicked grin that he seemed to have no one to share it with, Dean shrugged and ambled to the sink to begin washing up, entirely oblivious to Donovan’s “plight.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>13-06-2014, 09:04:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan's keen eyes moved about the room, making sure that all was clear, that nothing had been tampered with since their last visit here, which hadn't been terribly long ago. As such, any little thing out of place or amiss would have caught his attention, but everything seemed alright. Only then did he begin to relax. <br><br>"Ok, I think we're-...."<br><br>The only warning he had was a faint growl - not a tiny, high-pitched one like the little dog that they brought along would make, but a deeper one... like one of the full-sized humanoids would make. He spun quickly, his hand reaching for the handle of one of his blades. Donovan had expected treachery at -some- point, but he was still somewhat surprised. He wasn't able to get his blade out from his scabbard, though, before the dark elf plowed into him.<br><br>The impact and impetus pushed him back, bowled him over to land on his back with a muffled, awkward crash. Sae'Ka straddled his hips, her legs tight against either side to better hold him in place. Her hand shot up to his throat, gripping tightly as her face lowered down to pause just inches from his own. Her amber eyes bored into his, and for a brief moment he was sure he'd feel the surge of magic anytime now. She likely thought her weapon would be useless against his powers, which likely explained why she had tossed it away. <br><br>Donovan summoned what little power he had to strengthen his neck - just in case. But when he felt the subtle grind of her crotch against his own, he blinked for a moment - realization slowly settling in...<br><br>Her lips slammed against his, causing him to grunt as she herself nearly -snarled-. He felt her teeth graze his lips, her tongue demanding that his mouth obey her - and for the moment, it did. His lips parted, his teeth - her tongue pouring forth, seeking his own as if his were some hated foe she sought to subjugate. It was lewd, wet, sloppy, and entirely primal. He wondered briefly if it was -wrong- to *like* this...<br><br><em>"...drow women consider barbecued dick a delicacy back in the under dark. Don’t let her stay near your naughty hottie bits for too long with her teeth.”</em><br><br>Donovan finally registered that Dean was speaking to him, at first his shadow's words sounded as if they were coming from far away, but those last words definitely made it through the fog of his own rising desire, and suddenly he roughly pulled away from the drow's kiss as his head whipped to the side, staring over at Dean with wide eyes.<br><br>"WHAT??!?!?" Donovan blurted out, the shock on his face obvious and unhidden.<br><br>"AHHH fuck!" he growled as Sae'Ka - not having given him -permission- to break the kiss - grabbed a fist full of his hair at the back of his head and pulled, twisting his head back so that his face looked up at her - at which point her lips slammed back against his.<br><br>Donovan's hands reached out to either side of him, reaching for-... well, he didn't know. He only knew that the drow was stoking the flames of his own -need- with each subtle grind against him, and each moment that their kiss deepened. He moved his hands up, elbows bent, as if to slide his hands between them and gently push her away. Instead, he only ended up inadvertently groping her breasts. <br><br>"Mmmmpphhhh," he murmured against her lips - an unintelligible apology lost in the kiss. But finding his hands there on her firm body, his struggles and panic ebbed away, his hands sliding around to her back, pulling her body hard against his own. He gave in wholly to her kiss, now, and moved his hands to her back - one sliding up into her hair to grab a fistful of it, while the other slid downward toward her rump, fingertips curling to claw roughly against her small of her back. <br><br>The idea that he was being watched by Dean - and a dog - blurred through his mind for a moment. It was unsettling - but not disturbing enough to force him to stop. Besides, at the moment... he had the distinct impression that he wasn't entirely in control....
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>13-06-2014, 15:48:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza found herself unceremoniously dumped on her tail on the floor, and treated to a solid thump by the stupid hilt of the stupid drow's stupid dropped sword right after. Sae'Ka had already taken one of the stupid men down, and Aza wondered if she had missed some sort of signal to attack... Oh. No, that wasn't fighting they were doing. Well.<br><br>She crept on her tummy out of the way of flailing hands and feet. Other-guy said something mocking, called her a <em>dog-thing</em> -- a dog-thing! -- and turned away, leaving the cherry-colored fox wet and dirty and dropped and ignored. Aza looked from the wrestling pair to Dean's back to the rest of the room, bewildered. She could make a break for it, out the door or up the steps, but where would she go after that? To the docks? Back into the messy maze of a city? Aza had lived on the streets before, briefly, and she wouldn't do it again. The streets were not a safe or comfortable place for something so adorable and small.<br><br>Feeling entirely unappreciated and then angry, she switched her blue glare between all the human shapes again, then <em>reached</em> for the other-side, where all the energy of all the overlapping worlds pooled and writhed. With a hiss, she drew and then <em>pushed,</em> sending another soundless pulse outwards, consumable energy that transferred yet another light show through the collar's gems and set the contents of the nearest shelves rattling. It wasn't nearly so much as the first outside the Spire but its origins were noticeable, and a few of the smaller stones on the collar cracked and fell from their settings, looking dull. Aza didn't seem to care, ears flat and tail switching, looking back and forth to see who needed another reminder she was still there.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>17-06-2014, 06:11:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The fire that already seemed to be flowing through Sae'Ka's veins flared up even higher and hotter as she practically assaulted Donovan's mouth with her own, her body attempting to take what it needed. Her tongue performed as well as the most heavily reinforced battering ram, parting the human's lips within an instant so that she could get to the warm, wet reward that was his own tongue. There was nothing remotely delicate or romantic about it, just the drow practically molesting him...though he didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight.<br><br>The kiss spiked Sae'Ka's arousal even further, and not just due to the act itself. Nearly her entire life had been spent on her family's estate where her mother governed everything about it, including the way that her unnatural urges were handled. Sae'Ka would have pleasure slaves sent to her to satiate her needs, but always only girls since her mother didn't deem any male slave worthy of touching her daughter. Being a man, Donovan represented the forbidden fruit to her - even more so since he was a human, the race deemed by her mother as the lowest of the low. And Sae'Ka greatly resented the bitch who'd given birth to her, so what better way to get back at her?<br><br>Not that she would have had the self-control to stop herself, regardless. She growled almost menacingly into Donovan's mouth when his large hands covered and groped her breasts which were already mostly exposed by her armor, perhaps giving him an additional reason to take Dean's absurd comment seriously, but the way that she kept grinding against him in an even more frantic manner would certainly give away the fact that she was enjoying it.<br><br>Sae'Ka growled again when one of Donovan's hands to clutch a fistful of her silvery white hair, almost giving out a small roar, in fact. Instinctively trying to assert her dominance, she did the same by roughly grabbing some of Donovan's much shorter hair and pulling <em>much</em> hard than he did, enough to make him gasp from the sudden pain. When he did, the drow took the opportunity to sloppily lick all over his lips and he surrounding parts of his face, almost like she was marking him before trapping his tongue between her own lips and sucking on it shamelessly. <br><br>Even the skimpy leather armor that the drow wore was beginning to feel like a hellish prison as her temperature continued to rise, so she reached behind her back blindly with her free hand, frantically trying to undo the strings keeping it fastened to her. Sae'Ka had just about succeeded when an unexpected magical pulse hit her in the side with an unseen thud, her sensitivity to magic meaning that the werefox's little trick affected her considerably harder than it did the other mundane objects throughout the house. Most notably of all, the nature of Aza's energy only seemed to feed the supernatural lust raging within her to even more unbearable levels.<br><br>The drow's not inconsiderable breasts spilled out of the now loosened top of her armor when she landed on her back with her legs spread apart next to Donovan, moaning yearningly and bucking her hips up against the unsatisfying emptiness. "Ffffucking hells!" Sae'Ka hissed through her teeth, pressing her head back against the hard wooden floor as she writhed and clawed desperately at her tight one piece armor, trying to shove it down her hips to free herself from the infernal itching.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>19-06-2014, 05:18:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As before, when the new pulse of energy filled the room, Dean felt his core values – his moral spectrum and his goals – abruptly shift as the connection between himself and Donovan attempted to right itself. Dean grew in size and magnitude, his allure impossible to ascribe to anything less than the supernatural, but his eyes took on that blue hue and lost their darkening guile. <br><br>Glancing around the room, Dean considered the couple on the floor and shook his head with a rueful smile on his face, almost like a parent seeing two children wrestling in the mud. “Oh, you two rascals. You just need to vent a little of that tension and we’ll be right as rain,” he said, voice light hearted, a chirp of cheer on the edge. Without places to put his power – other than his instinctive push to make his physique more imposing – Dean didn’t seem to be losing his energy as quickly; basically, the do-gooder version of the man might be here to stay for a while.<br><br>Apparently uninterested in the “rascals,” he looked over at the barking dog and smiled, murmuring – in an even *higher* pitched voice, “Does little doggy woggy want a bathy wathy? Oh yes! Oh yes you do! You’re so adorable! Your such a scamp, you!” And, so saying, Dean – a Shadow, a man defined by lust and vice and wanton killing, practically *pranced* to Aza and lifted her up, his already unnatural dexterity gone to its upper limit thanks to the power he’d instinctively consumed so he avoided nips and clawing motions. “Who’s the naughty little doggy gonna get a bath? Who is?” <br><br>And up the stairs he took her, to the shallow basin that the brothers took turns in night after night. “I think I have some soap here! Oh yes I do! Soap and clean, warm water! Aren’t we excited?”<br><br>In a house filled with moans and mating calls, the almost flamboyant feminism goody-two-shoesness of Dean just *might* have tipped the scales from the “hawt” and into the absurd. Maybe. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>20-06-2014, 02:32:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				To say that Donovan felt a -bit- awkward at the moment would be an understatement. A beautiful drow was trying to maul his face, hump him, and dominate him while Dean and the hound looked on. It was... weird, to him, even though his body was rapidly responding to the primal urges Sae'Ka was provoking. <br><br>For her part, Sae'Ka was giving as good as she got. When he gripped a handful of her hair - she returned the favor, gripping his, and doing it tighter. Her tongue was like a wet, hot stampede in his mouth, and even when he responded with his own, hers redoubled its effort to pin his, to force his tongue to submit to her, but he was -not- going to give up that easy. Her groin rubbed back and forth, more urgently with each passing second, having found the lump of his own arousal, she seemed to focus on that, pleasuring herself through the fabric of their leather breeches. Perhaps she knew that motion was only spiking his own breath, blood, and arousal, but Donovan was willing to bet that she simply didn't -care- if it did or not.<br><br>She growled like an animal, nearly roared when he pulled her hair, her eyes wild almost with some primal need. Suddenly, her head tilted back when he pulled her hair, her head lunged once more forward to allow her tongue to lather itself across his lips, perhaps to lap at the tiny prick of blood that her earlier bite had caused.<br><br>The pulse of energy from the fox made Donovan blink. It wasn't the first one he had felt, and this seemed to almost 'recharge' him even more than before. He knew he should have been exhausted, having expended as much energy as he did while allowing Dean to use his power as well. But at the moment, he was feeling quite good - rested, even, which surprised him greatly. But he didn't allow that to occupy his thoughts for along. Glancing to the side, he noticed that Sae'Ka had flung herself off of him and onto her back on the floor next to him. He could hear what sounded like a growled, hissed curse, and she began to struggle with her armor, her breasts already free and drawing his eye for a long moment. <br><br>Glancing to the side, he noticed Dean collecting up the Fox, talking to it sweetly, and heading upstairs with it. That simple action gave Donovan great relief, for though he wasn't a shy man truly, the awkwardness had been real, though it was likely caused only by the sudden nature of Sae'Ka's 'assault' on his person. Glancing at her though, seeing her hips rise skyward, eager for contact, he knew what he had to do.<br><br>He moved quickly, up to his knees, then moved the short distance to force himself between her knees. He leaned forward, his hands reaching for the edge of her 'armor'... and his hands began to pull -<em>hard</em>-, helping her hands ease her tight-fighting leather down her lithe body. With his assistance, her leather seemed to almost -leap- down her body, the curve of her hips only providing a brief respite from their combined hands pushing and pulling the material away. Once it slid past those curves - lifting her ass up to slip past it as well - it was smooth sailing, pulling the waded-up leather down her slender thighs, calves, then feet, just to have him yank it off her body and toss it to the side. <br><br>Standing on his knees, turning his gaze back to her naked body, his hands immediately went to work on his own armor, quickly unclasping and untying the steel piece he wore on his chest, pulling it up frantically over his head, taking the linen undershirt along with it. He tossed it aside without care, his hands moving down quickly to his belt. Unbuckling it and nearly tearing it from around his waist, his hands urgent worked the buttons of his own breeches. As he did this, Sae'Ka extended her hands, her nails suddenly digging -hard- against the hardened muscle of his pecs, drawing red welts behind her nails where they moved.<br><br>Donovan growled in pain... and pleasure... as she did this, moving his hands quicker, eager to stop her claws, eager to feel her, eager to punish her for causing him such pain. He barely got his leathers down to mid-thigh before his hands reached up, grabbed her wrists tightly and pulling her nails away from his skin. His erect cock flopped forward from its confines, and in one smooth motion, he pushed her hands upward, leaned over her, dipped his hips - and found the sweet spot in one single, swift, powerful thrust. <br><br>He groaned loudly as he forced his sizable girth into her, his hands shoving her wrists hard against the floor to either side of her head - his grip on her wrists likely to leave bruises with the intensity of his grip. <br><br>"FUCK!" he hissed, his eyes rolling back as he hilted inside her, pausing there for a moment, his powerful hips pinning her ass to the floor beneath them. He breathed in a sharp breath, steel-like manhood throbbing inside her, gathering his senses as his eyes slowly opened.<br><br>"Is -<em>this</em>- what you wanted, drow?" he hissed sharply at her, his eyes focused on hers. He could feel the burning on his chest where her nails had started to dig into his skin. He could feel the supreme wetness in her soaked tunnel which had welcomed him as if he had always belonged there. He could feel the intensity of her -need-, and in that moment he knew that her need wasn't for 'him', but rather, for the act itself.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>20-06-2014, 04:51:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				That hadn't accomplished what Aza had hoped. At all. The drow tipped over, but the other male didn't even blink; they were on each other again like those broadwinged carrion birds that followed the caravans waiting for something to drop behind, so they could fall on it and rip the still-living meat to bits, screaming. Obviously, the fox was not in a romantic mood. <br><br>She took in another breath, her little nose scrunched up in preparation to yap, but the sound of her indignation turned to a startled "mrph" when too-tall traipsed up behind her and scooped her from the floor, holding her out and cooing at her like she was a puppy. <em>...What?</em> her big eyes and ears clearly asked him, twisting around to watch the two on the floor begin to hasten free of their clothing as Dean went for the steps. It wasn't that Aza <em>liked </em>Sae'Ka or anything, but the woman was the only thing for miles with which Aza had any familiarity at all, and she was fairly sure the drow hadn't stolen her to skin her for her pelt or something equally mortal. With Dean, Aza had no such confidence, despite how sappily he was grinning at her as they vanished upstairs.<br><br>He did smell good, though. Better than she remembered from when they'd first appeared in the sorceress's bedchamber. Much better. She blinked up at him as he set her neatly in the tub and turned the spigot. The water wasn't nearly nice and hot as what ran in the Spire, of course, but it wasn't <em>cold </em>either, and it <em>would </em>be nice to be free of sand and the grime of the streets, so... she shut her eyes and sighed, yielding as his long fingers began to work a lather into her thick fur. After a moment she put her front feet up on the edge of the basin, leaning into him and his capable hands so he could reach that spot above her shoulderblades that was so hard to scratch, especially with the wide metal collar covering from the top of her chest to nearly the base of her skull. She pushed her head into his chest, breathing in the enticingly masculine scent of him beneath the harsher smell of the soap. The splash of the water almost covered the carrion-bird noises from downstairs, too.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>21-06-2014, 01:47:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean had the dexterous, capable fingers of a professional – they were those long, strong, slightly knobbly type that were somewhere between delicately slender and clearly perfect for a truly masculine man (nails tastefully smooth but fairly short on all but two fingers). He skritched with his long nails, scrubbed with his short, massaged with all – getting under fur, around tense muscles, just as if he were giving a human a rub down. Of course, all of this was under the pall of the power he’d absorbed.<br><br>Leaning over the wash basin and the Aza, Dean was a shadowy, mysterious figure practically bursting with amorous power. His very aura could be considered a type of aphrodisiac at this point, his body sculpted to fit his thoughts rather than any *real* proportions that a man should have. Thankfully, his subconscious wasn’t in control now, or he’d have been downstairs, joining the pair below.<br><br>Privately, Dean hoped that Donovan gave as good as he got – the drow looked quite formidable, with the sort of springsteel body that could milk a whole herd of suitors dry without even clenching. Part of him, a vertical slice that included the new innocence that controlled his actions, wanted to watch out of curiosity, to cheer (or jeer) as things progressed. <br><br>But Donovan would want privacy, at least for now, and the poor animal was all dirty and had looked quite taken aback before he’d scooped her up. “Ah, but now you enjoy it, don’t you girl?” Dean said in his smoky, enchanting voice as his hands slid up her neck. “Now, this is just getting in the way of me giving you a proper scrubbing. I’m sure your former mistress won’t mind.” Forearms bunching with effort as Dean struggled to find the clasp – found it – disengaged, drawing the collar away from the little creature, one hand already sliding up her newly bared neck to work the scruff. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>22-06-2014, 05:12:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Now that Dean had ceased gushing over her, his voice had lowered to an charming baritone. There was a distinctive, desirable resonance to him as a whole, one that was obviously otherworldly to anyone versed in the subject, but Aza had already suffered <em>enough </em>tonight without wanting to ponder over the implications of that. She <em>deserved </em>such favorable treatment, especially from such an attractive attendant. She particularly enjoyed his ministrations behind her ears, if her half-closed eyes and lolling tongue were any indication, smearing him with soapy froth as she shamelessly pushed up against him. Wet fox didn't actually smell that bad either, sort of earthy and spicy, like crushed rosemary.<br><br>The collar wasn't meant to simply pop open and off, but Dean was on a mission and the pins holding the two halves together bent and then sheared, the impression of his fingertips left deep in the hammered metal. A shimmer ran through the remaining gems as he set the curved pieces aside, and Aza heaved another great sigh. <em>Finally</em>, she 'said,' the sentiment registering perfectly clearly in Dean's magic-sodden brain. The fox was weirdly expressive for being a fox and all, almost like she was projecting her words right into the thoughts around her. And foxes couldn't do that. <br><br>Something like a shapeshifter might be able to, though. A shiver rippled over the furry little body under his palms, and suddenly it was neither furry nor so little. The nose almost pressed to his went from pointy and damp to pale and adorably snub, though the eyes fixed on his stayed the same blue hue. She tilted her head, hair the same sanguine shade as her fur had been, tumbling wetly all the way down to where the curve of her lower back became the curves of her very bare ass. She was quite curvy, in fact, and all covered in soft creamy skin. And bubbles. <br><br>The same energy was exuded from her human form -- her young, supple, unclothed human form -- but as little more than a trickle, still fueling whatever imbalance within Dean that made him simultaneously so fiendishly handsome and worryingly altruistic.<br><br><em>I'm sure your former mistress won't mind</em>, he'd said. "But what is the mind of my present master?" she asked breathily, in heavily-accented but common tongue, leaning over the edge of the basin into his burly arms.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lithium</strong> on <strong>24-06-2014, 08:28:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				With all of her self-control having been devoured by the supernatural lust that was overcoming her, the aggressive nature of Sae'Ka's race was fully unrestrained. She thrashed and fought even as Donovan helped her remove her armor, which she actually <em>wanted</em> removed, before viciously raking her nails across his muscular and perfectly defined chest while he worked at stripping himself.<br><br>She couldn't help herself. Sae'Ka wanted him to hurry up. She wanted to touch him, she wanted blood, she wanted to drive him as mad as she felt and to suffer the consequences. Above all else, she desperately wanted that thick slab of meat between his legs which she caught a glimpse of as Donovan managed to get his breeches down low enough for it to pop out like some sort of mythical creature emerging from its hiding place.<br><br>Her first impulse was to reach for it, but she found her wrists being intercepted instead. Judging by how tightly Donovan was crushing her wrists and how roughly he pinned her down, he might have assumed that Sae'Ka wanted to give his manhood the same treatment as his chest!<br><br>The drow gave off a beast-like snarl that conveyed just as much indignation as it did carnal arousal, but it was soon stifled by a heady moan when Donovan suddenly thrust into her without warning. The relief as his cock stretched out her opening and provided her with an incredible sense of fullness that she'd never felt before was exquisite but fleeting, lasting only for a brief moment before her lust was set ablaze again, this time several times stronger than before.<br><br>As he pinned her ass down against the floor, Sae'Ka struggled hard to free her hands, pulled her knees back somewhat and thrust her chest up as high as she could, but his was far too strong. She snapped her teeth up towards his throat like a rabid animal and snarled viciously, finding herself just a couple of inches short of reaching the vulnerable flesh. What had the drow so enraged wasn't Donovan's seemingly dominant position over her, or the almost gloating question (though both of those things did play some part), but the fact that he'd already stopped after only the first thrust.<br><br>"Are you going to <em>fuck</em> me or just lay on top of me?!" Sae'Ka growled angrily, almost hatefully, thought that didn't stop her from bucking her hips up against Donovan as aggressively as she could manage while having most of his weight over her. It was her very first time with a man, and part of her was hesitant, but she was too proud to let that show...and besides, the larger part of her wanted <em>all</em> of him - everything that this human could give, Sae'Ka knew that she'd be able to take it and more. "Come on...come on you fucking <em>dog</em>! Show me what you're made of!!" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>24-06-2014, 16:05:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan merely smirked down at her as Sae'ka as she growled up at him, asking him if he was going to do the deed or simply lay there. Part of his was tempted to just -lay there- for awhile. Donovan was the more patient of the two men, and if she desired -impatience-, she had likely chosen the wrong man. The temptation to give her exactly the opposite of what she wished - simply to punish her for her rudeness - was quite strong. But the tight, soaked grip she had upon his member was impossibly enticing, and he secretly knew he wouldn't be able to 'lay there' for long.<br><br>She egged him on, even calling him a dog - which wasn't all that terrible, considering the things he might expect her to have called him instead. She wanted to see what he was made of, challenging him to use her tight elven trap, which he could already tell would barely, -just barely- contain him. Squeezing her wrists painfully, his hips suddenly lurched back, only to see him thrust forward again - hard - sliding her ass a few inches across the rough floor with the power of the thrust as 'punishment' for her harsh words.<br><br>Yes - her ass - his knees - were very likely to be raw quite quickly, but that didn't seem to bother either of them at the moment.<br><br>"You surprise me, woman," Donovan hissed down at her with a cocky half-grin. "I expected you to be as loose as a common whore, but instead... I find you to be near virginal. Or do all drow males simply have tiny cocks?" he asked, punctuating his words with yet another hard, fully impaling thrust. She did feel deliriously wonderful, her slick sleeve wrapped around his entire rod in what might otherwise be considered quite the loving embrace. He truly did expect her to be 'well used', given the notorious nature of the dark elves themselves, and if Sae'Ka's eagerness was related to her use of magic, then he assumed she found herself in this situation quite regularly.<br><br>He lowered his face towards hers - which invited another attempt by her to lash her mouth up in an attempt to bite him. He retreated quickly enough - and drove into her again. When her eyes nearly rolled back from it, he saw his opening and lowered his head, his mouth finding her bare neck where he nipped her flesh and tasted her skin for the first time. His head beside hers, he began to thrust quicker, hoping to distract her from attempting to bite him again, his hands still holding hers firmly in place.<br><br>The defined muscle of his back, his chest, his ass flexed and tensed as he curled his hips quicker and quicker, no longer giving her precious seconds to recover from each driving thrust. He used her for their mutual pleasure, suckling along her neck as his mouth moved occasionally to find a new spot to kiss, to bite, to taste. Her dark skin was enchanting, curiously exotic to him, but the overwhelming pleasure he was receiving between her thighs distracted him from truly enjoying the exploration with his mouth.<br><br>The dog... the special collar it wore... somehow it had sent some sort of energy burst through them, and all he knew was that a large portion of his energy had returned. He tapped that reserve of energy now, fucking Sae'Ka with slowly increasing speed and vigor. He wished he could tie her down, perhaps even gag her, and use his hands to explore her. Donovan truly admired the contrast of her skin against his, and it made him quite curious. But he had no doubt her body could be bent to his will, but in her current state, such pleasurable pursuits would likely end up bloody - for both of them. She wasn't interested in such pursuits. Right now she was interested in only one thing: deep, constant friction.<br><br>Forgotten was Dean, the dog, even Zoza and the tower from which they had recently escaped. His attention was now focused on Sae'Ka, and giving her what she so desperately craved. It did not take long for him to build a fine sheen of swear on his shoulders and back as he hammered away at her relentlessly.<br><br>"Fuck...," he hissed, pulling his head away from her, well out of reach of her dangerous teeth. His back arched, he continued to deliver long, powerful strokes, but it was beginning to feel -far- too pleasurable. If he kept up this pace - he knew he wouldn't last much longer. His eyes slowly closed, the sweet temptation of her body drawing him in, his grip on her wrists growing weaker as he kept up the pace.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>25-06-2014, 05:58:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean blinked, nonplused, as if the transformation had been utterly expected. Shifting in his seat, clearly uneasy with the beauty of the young lady before him, and the title she’d bestowed, he considered. *Regular* Dean would have pillaged and plundered like a pirate, but *moral* Dean wouldn’t; his ID and Superego were swapped now, with his subconscious impacting his body and his conscious driving his actions and decisions. <br><br>Can we say awkward?<br><br>“Well, you’ve got such lovely hair,” Dean began, thinking furiously about what he truly desired in the moment. “And mine is just so long and unkempt. I’m thinking..” And then he stood and in a single motion shirked his clothes and leaned to turn on the proper bath tub, rather than the sink. Naked, the man looked like one might expect – rippling valleys and peaks, taut, tanned skin all as flawless as a sun baked pottery – and hung to the point of being comical (although not quite *impossibly* so. <br><br>Putting his fists on his hips, under the lip of muscle some really lean men have, he announced, “We shall do each other’s hair. Braids, I think.” He nodded sharply, sending the hair flying about his chiseled features in a ungainly mess – clearly ignoring the fact that his power would allow him to just “re-do” the hair at a whim if he was willing to give up a little of it (perhaps enough to make him do horrible things to this vulnerable girl?).<br><br>Sounds below reached them and Dean flushed, shaking his head. “Damn, that sounds like fun too. Hair first, and then we can wrestle and see who cries ‘Uncle’ first?” Because, well, it did sort of sound like that, even if Dean knew the truth, the girl before him looked quite innocent!<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>29-06-2014, 05:05:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The girl regarded Dean dubiously after he leaned back to open the space between them, and tilted her wet red head with a ruminative pout to her full lips. Had she misconstrued the nature of the relationship between this man and the one downstairs? Probably not, given the activity in which Donovan was currently engaged. And it <em>did</em> sound like an active engagement.<br><br>Aza was a pretty good judge of the expansive gradient that was human sexuality, having spent most a lifetime experiencing its colorfully sliding scale, and she didn't think she'd labeled Dean wrongly. For him, that'd been an unnatural reaction to her reveal. Was he blushing? On the occasions her human shape had been needed, she happened to enjoy flouncing around the Spire's guards and pages, predicting who would become flustered or worse by her scarcely-dressed flirtations. Her guesses were rarely wrong, but Dean's appearance and very aura did not at all match his demeanor. Maybe he was bespelled, or some sort of celibate warrior monk, denying himself. Or just insane. Whichever it was, Aza absolutely adored hair, and Dean was entirely right that hers was lovely. And it was a perfect distraction from what she might have otherwise considered an unlikely rejection.<br><br>Her narrowed stare became appraising, sitting back to swing her feet to the floor and stand, then pushing his much taller, much harder figure towards the tub as if she was actually capable of physically displacing him without him being willing. "Hair first," she agreed readily, grabbing up another cake of soap, breaking off a corner, and tossing it into the running water to form yet more bubbles. Then she performed a quick rummage of the room's remaining contents to assemble an ivory comb and a few strips of leather, sighing as she thought of her own opulent bathing chambers and its collection of grooming tools and cosmetics and servants left behind. Nothing about this place suggested either man did much more than scarcely glance in the polished metal mirror, and then probably not even every day. Such oblivious creatures. At least the drow had something resembling a style, even if it was hopelessly militant and dry. All that ridiculous armor certainly made visible an awesomely athletic body, but did little to <em>display</em> it. Aza had never liked the drow aesthetic. Their architecture was discomforting and their decor was worse.<br><br><em>Anyway.</em> She set her thoughts back to Dean, having chased him into the tub. She perched on its lip, legs crossed at the knee, and leaned down to take his chin in one small hand for a better assessment of his sharp features and what would best emphasize them. That also happened to lend him his own fabulous assessment of her breasts, which, for her slender frame, were ample. "With your skin," she remarked, fingertips raking back through his dark, unruly strands, "you could go warmer. Black is stark, lifeless. More an umber, or mahogany, to bring color to the eyes..." She paused, the comb in one hand. "What is 'uncle?'" From that accent, the common tongue was not her first. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>01-07-2014, 02:21:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean sat down in the tub, the cloudy water obscuring his oversized physique from view – all but the almost comical bobbing tip of his manhood, like a shark leaving a wake in the water. A cock shark. Glancing at the girl out of the corner of his eye, Dean considered. The power infusing him was waning gradually – as Donovan gave into desire, and as Dean gave into anything but – the Glory that connected the two naturally began to re-balance, to find its natural state. A close look might reveal flickering nuances of what was happening, bits of black in those blue orbs.<br><br>But now was not the time. Not yet anyway. <br><br>“Umber or mahogany?” He asked, voice slower, as rich and deep as chocolate. A second’s worth of effort and the richly empowered Shadow’s hair flicked to a rich, woodsy mahogany shade. “Is this better?” Tilting his head to the side, eyes flicking from surprising breasts to impish face, Dean arched a matching brow. Now, the dark specks were far more obvious, so dark that it looked as if the absolute infinite of the night were bleeding through the sky. <br><br>“And crying uncle is a turn of phrase. It’s usually appropriate for competition between people. When one loses – either due to a lack of strength, stamina, or whatever, one cries ‘uncle’ to end the match. Wrestling is common. And sex is rather like wrestling, especially when it comes to Drow. Do you see?” His explanation was slow, methodical, the hypnotic rhythms of his voice like the lapping of a wave on the shore.<br><br>Dangerous to a regular woman, no doubt. But not this one. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>15-07-2014, 23:41:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The girl gave an appreciative little murmur as she gazed over the tub, but perhaps disappointingly for Dean, it was meant for his new hair color. "Beard too," she reminded him, tilting his head up and tapping the pad of her thumb against his bottom lip, like she saw magic mutably-colored hair every day. Which, of course, she did. <br><br>She listened to him define "uncle" with another doubtful expression, briskly but carefully using the end of the comb to straighten the few strands their headlong rush from the Spire had caused to tangle. "Drow, pfft," she commented with a foxish snort. "They do no thing right. Sex is not competition. Sex is..." she paused, considering the word. "Complicity? Together, two people. Or three," she amended with a shrug of one slim shoulder. "Look straight," she then instructed him sternly, not to remove his gaze from her bared body, but that so she could accurately draw the part of his hair down the center. Aza was totally unfazed by nudity, since no magic had been invented that would shift garments between fox and human shapes and consequently she was often left clothesless. And with a human figure such as hers, round and soft just where it should be and trimly lean everywhere else, she had nothing that ought be kept hidden anyway. <br><br>"You are no human, hm?" she continued as a casual observation, already having nimbly gathered a section of his combed hair and begun to braid. It seemed quite apparent to her he was not precisely mortal, though she did not recall ever having encountered a similar being in the Spire's collection of exotics or in her travels between markets. The changes he wrought to his appearance were not illusions, nor was he a werecreature like she. Those things she would sense. Yet he had the ability to make of himself a face and body that were unrealistically ideal, and he smelled <em>too</em> good, magically good, in a way that made her nose and the inside of her head pleasantly tingly. But Aza was not swayed only by symmetrical faces and toned bodies; her life was an almost unending parade of such things, and while appearances were admittedly of great import, more appealing was that a pretty thing should also be useful. Useful to<em> her, </em>specifically.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>18-07-2014, 03:19:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean turned to allow the naked girl to ply her fingers to his hair. As she did, he swept his change down into his beard and mustache as well, feeling even more of that overwhelming power leaking out. Donovan must have been performing quite the bout of acrobatics below for his head to be clearing *this* fast. Maybe the drow was abusing his body enough for him to draw on his power?<br>As the fey girl reached out and ran her fingers through his silken hair, Dean shrugged slightly – it was one of those distracting things, his flesh all fitted together *just so*, moving in a perfect harmony, as if tectonic plates were hiding just from view.<br><br>“I am a Shadow,” he said simply. “This body was a corpse, and they filled it with life from a Glory. They told me in the Citadel that we’re a little bit like Golems – our spirits a construct of magic and the remnants of what was left behind in the flesh. It lets us change our bodies and do things regular people can’t do.” He left off that he couldn’t actually change into a different body or type of being; the power was a manifestation of will and ego in Dean, not selflessness or altruism, as it was in Donovan. She didn’t need a lesson in his abilities.<br><br>“And you? What are you? Are you more fox or woman?” Tilting his eyes down to catch a glimpse of thigh, Donovan’s eyes seemed darker than they had a moment before, more appreciative of the slopes and valleys that Aza had on display. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>18-07-2014, 20:56:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				None of that made the slightest sense to Aza, who dealt with it as she did most things she did not understand: move on and try to forget it. "Fox? I thought I was <em>dog-thing</em>," she said with an exaggerated sigh, giving his hair a tug that was perhaps a little firmer than necessary to secure it before sliding around the edge of the tub to start at his other temple. "But why must I be one or other? I am both, fox and female. But not bird, or cat, or rat. Fox."<br><br>She gave the cracked-open collar a narrowed glance. "Though I can be kept in one shape. The sorceress had a spell, I could not entangle." She paused. "<em>Un</em>tangle. Other than that, a good mistress. With much larger chambers for bathing." With the same efficiency, the girl began to plait both sides of his hair together at the nape of his neck, her thoughts briefly turning back to grapes. The huge purplish ones, without the seeds, already peeled.<br><br>Something sounded like crashing downstairs, and she tipped her head in a noticeably canine-like listening pose. "Your brother? Friend? Should be more careful. Drow only take, and leave little." With a bit of a flourish, she wove the length of leather cord into the last few inches of Dean's wrist-thick braid and knotted it, leaving him neat and maintenance-free, at least until he decided to fall off a tower again. "And," she mused about Sae'Ka, settling her small hands on his wide shoulders and stroking lightly up the sides of his neck, "I always thought that one liked other girls only." She leaned in and nipped the shell of his ear, in a gesture another dog-thing would probably interpret as friendly. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>22-07-2014, 04:30:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean considered Aza’s words with a settling psyche. Although he was, in essence, a sort of incubus, he was an assassiney incubus, which made information tantamount to oral sex in his book. He took in what she said, cataloguing it away, only a modest portion of his mind latching on to the mental image of a drow who ‘take and leave little’. He had this odd image of Donovan spent to the point that he became a frail old man, with too-little lubrication left on his rubbed-raw manhood. <br><br>The idea made Dean grin, and this one wasn’t so altruistic. “Donovan is my Knight, shapeshifter,” he said calmly. “He is neither brother nor friend, but something in between, and not. You would need to add the word ‘opposite’ in the mix to get an accurate mental image of the space.” With his hair neatly tucked behind his neck, Dean turned a bit, taking the nipping girl in. “Fox or human? What manner or thing are you? Kitsune, bound with the spirit of a fox, or perhaps a fox bitten by a cursed human at a young age? I’m sure it’s rare for humans to curse animals, but quite possible.”<br><br>Dean had a small encyclopedia of knowledge about hexes and curses tucked away. Although he was not, at his core, a spellcaster, both he and Donovan had trained deeply enough in the arts to recognize most known dangers and how to counter them. With enough power, Dean could manage some rather cunning hexes, particularly if they dealt with darkness or lust. Likewise, Donovan had quite a few tricks up his sleeve. The duo were balanced, if not entirely happy with it. <br><br>Reaching back and to the side, Dean’s fingers traced the shell of the girl’s petite little ear, tugging playfully at the lobe. “Careful, little one. Donovan is the nice one. I’m positively *addictive.*” And his grin was all old Dean now, salacious, tempting, and playful.<br><br>Donovan must have spent enough of that desire to let come back to himself, although it sounded like the gymnastics were still going on below. Perhaps the fox-shapeshifter was correct; the drow did take and leave little.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>23-07-2014, 21:20:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza crouched, folding her arms on the edge of the tub and setting her chin upon them, gazing up from beside Dean's elbow. "Bitten? Cursed? I was<em> born.</em> From a mother, with a sister," she told him with a blink, as if she found his speculation on the origin of fox-shifters to be amusingly preposterous. When he reached for her ear she tilted her cheek to his hand obligingly, eyes half-closed.<br><br>"Donovan," she repeated, each syllable carefully enunciated. "Donovan has done no thing <em> nice</em>," she disagreed. "Helping to steal a happy fox from her lofty home, not nice. Bringing her here to this place, less nice. What 'nice' things Donovan might do next, I fear to think. And you are worse, you claim?" She stretched out an arm to drift her knuckles across his chest, studying the difference in the tones of their flesh before looking back up at his black-again eyes. Like his coloring and the quality of his smile, his scent varied. It was always pleasing, but to Aza's keen animal senses, it was of an entirely different person than had begun this little expedition. Again, whatever changed about him was not illusory but very physical. No, <em>elemental.</em> Her hand dipped into the water, taking up bubbles to let lazily drip down her fingers, and as she watched the droplets bead and run over his rugged body, he could probably tell that, should he reply, she was no longer listening. <br><br>She was up and into the tub with hardly a splash, straddling his thighs with her hands splayed along the hard ridges of his abdomen, and she leaned up, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against the rough line of his jaw until her soft lips met his throat. For being something supposedly once dead, his pulse was strong beneath her open mouth, and his warm breath raised gooseflesh as it fell upon her exposed skin. Her teeth were on him, small and sharp and no longer exactly<em> friendly</em>, and as her wet fingertips slid over his smoothed hair and reached beyond him, her spine arched to press her breasts to the solidity of his heavily muscled torso. "I want you..."<br><br>She sank back to sit over his knees, dropping the comb from the nearby table onto his chest. "To brush me," she concluded. One simply could not braid hair of her length whilst it was mussed. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>24-07-2014, 14:08:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean considered the girl; she was a tempest, lightning in a bottle – mood shifting like sand more than the tide most men attributed to women. And he found himself liking it. When she moved into the tub, straddling him, pressing those full, firm breasts against his broadly powerful chest, he simply relaxed. Not knowing what she was about to do, but sensing some twist before she was done.<br><br>When she sank back over his knees, the unearthly handsome man smirked wryly, reached out to encircle her waist with his sprawling hands, and guided her to turn around. “Show me your back,” he commented, voice like chocolate now. Put a vampire lord in the same room with Dean in that moment and they’d have been echoes of each other – he simply exuded confidence, command, and authority as if he’d been born to it. Instead of the accompanying arrogance, however, there was an almost gentle interplay, a softening that was – no doubt – part of the Knight downstairs. <br><br>Manhandling the girl until she was facing away, Dean pulled her back high enough on his muscular thighs that the tip of his maleness – not quite intimidatingly large but just shy of it – brushed across her ass cheeks, spreading warmth and smooth temptation. Lifting the brush from where she’d placed it, Dean extended his free hand and began petting, smoothing, soothing her hair, followed by slow, neigh erotic caresses with the brush. Parting, organizing, preparing the lovely young girl’s body to accept the weave of his nimble, dangerous fingers.<br><br>“I suspect that my Knight and myself,” Dean said as he worked, voice still filled with sonorous bass, “hunger for a mechanism to separate our bodies. We are linked, cannot travel far from one another. Anything to ease that is quite a balm. Freedom would be,” he paused, shuddering as if in raw pleasure, his need dipping, moving between Aza’s cheeks, teasing at intimacies…..and then back up, “amazing. Oh, the things I would do. The people I would conquer. Such delicious fun.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>31-07-2014, 06:33:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><strong>Player Rotation Commence!</strong></div><br>It was late at night, just after the tenth bell, and the wicked sorceress Xoxo’s soldiers had expanded their search. Intrigued with the opportunity to hunt some potentially challenging prey, the Vizier had ordered his men out to join in. He had not, however, been particularly worried about Xoxo’s loss of her favorite pet fox and had decided that overseeing events personally or calling upon a Djinn to aid in matters would have been overkill. <br><br>Soldiers flooded the streets of the sprawling harbor town, knocking on doors, visiting every tavern, leaving no flagstone undisturbed. Thanks to the efforts of Dean and Sae'Ka, the drow sorceress, most of that searching was located to the east – in the desert-facing portion of the city, and not near the docks, which was where the fleeing group actually was. <br><br>Dean, Donovan, the fox, and the drow had all ducked inside one of the two men’s hideouts; a two-story house nestled between a nearly endless row of similar buildings. Like many other buildings in the world, this one had indoor plumbing and a few other accoutrements to make it “civilized” but lacked any of the soft comforts of a true home. <br><br>Dean and Donovan had many such houses; the duo had spent several years adventuring around the world, gathering information. Their ultimate goal was to find a way to reduce or break the curse that linked the two of them. Though how they’d been cursed and their deeper story had yet to be revealed, both men had made it clear that they would be uncomfortable traveling more than a few hundred feet away from each other, despite the fact that their personalities often clashed.<br><br>Donovan, the knight, was a man of consummate kindness and grace. His healing abilities and skill in combat were significant. Dean, his shadowy opposite, was a lusty assassin, given to hedonistic indulgence. Their powers were a mystery; a rarity in this corner of the world. Despite that, they seemed to have stumbled on the very thing they thought in the fox: her necklace might hold the spellbreaking power that could end the duo’s infernal linkage, though they had not yet had the opportunity to explore that possibility.<br><br>Donovan was too busy getting it on with the drow downstairs. And Dean and the fox, apparently also a human girl, were too busy braiding each other’s’ hair upstairs.<br><br>Despite the fact that things seemed to be progressing nicely, with an aura of lust permeating the building, all was not well. The passion-blinded drow, her body nearly spent on Donovan’s ravaging body (claw marks still gloriously red), seemed to become aware of something too subtle or, perhaps, too magical for others in the house to sense. Jerking off of her conquest, she tugged her armor on, clearly about to leave….<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>02-08-2014, 07:01:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/218/f/f/blood_and_steel_by_wraithdt-d5a3htl.jpg)</div></div><br>It'd been a quiet night for the most part. Supper was particularly flavorful, closer to the type of cooking Methuseld had been used to - sweet, tangy, with plenty of fruits and sauce-drenched meats. Then she sat in her office, writing some orders to be enacted tomorrow morning - mostly small changes in protocols. A few men knocked on the heavy wooden slab of a door that barred unwelcome visitors entry and requested her direction on certain other minor matters. Her tasks for the evening done, Methuseld retired to her bed chamber, where she stripped off her armor, under armor, and undergarments and settled into the hot bath that had been prepared by the slaves a few minutes earlier. <br><br>Steam was still rising off of the water when a loud knocking sounded. "What is it?" Came the annoyed, gruff, accented voice of the general. It was husky, with just the faintest hints of a feminine melodiousness that flared up particularly when certain vowels were stretched out for too long, or certain consonants made softer. The rolled R's were particularly noticeable for those who hadn't gotten used to the foreign general's speech, though most people had been around enough slaves from foreign lands that no one were too taken aback. <br><br>"General - thieves have broken into the sorceress's chambers and stolen something! The Vizier wants to see you-" <br><br>"Tell him I'll be there shortly." Methuseld sat up, her pale damp locks falling limply to her creamy-fair skinned shoulders. Just the tops of her substantial breasts peaked out of the water, but although the guard was not in the room, she did not expose herself just yet. When she heard receding armored footsteps, she stood up, powerful body glistening as rivulets of hot water dripped down and dried herself off and re-dressed. <br><br>Securing her sword at her side, the heavily armored woman made way to the Vizier. He was a vile man, and she was loathe to even look at him, unable to forget all the things he'd made her do all these years. A devious sparkle blinked in his eyes whenever he laid eyes on his enslaved Lady warrior, standing before him in shining plate-metal armor that reflected even the dimmest candles in the room. He'd forced her to commit countless unspeakable acts in his name, to share his bed and the bed of any guest he wished to entertain, and to kill anyone who displeased him. A monster of a man that she'd come here all those years ago to kill. <br><br>"A fine evening, Lady von Ellegarde. Please, I bid you look at me..." Resentful eyes, gray like the clouds before a storm, cold like freshly-quenched iron, raked across the floor until they met his. "I trust you have been appraised of the situation? Xoxo wants her pet back. But what <em>I</em> want is to find whoever did this. I want to bring them here, break them (as I did you, my pet) and sell them. I'm sure anyone who broke in must be quite the specimen, fetch a high price." Those beady eyes glimmered greedily. "So what do you think, General, will you do this? Personally?"<br><br>The Vizier liked a bit of fight in his general, apparently, because despite what he said he'd never actually broken her. There was no need, when he could simply command her to do whatever he wanted. He also knew that she'd never talk to him unless commanded to. <br><br>Sighing, he waved his hands in the air in a gesture of helplessness and resignation before approaching her. He was shorter than her but nevertheless felt dominant in their encounters, and he was. "I bid thee find these men and bring them to me. And bring Xoxo's fox back unharmed, or I shall not hear the end of it. Do you understand, pet?"<br><br>A twitch at the corner of her mouth told him all he needed to know about how much she was trying to resist the order, even after all these years. "Yes, Vizier," she said, a hand over her heart as she bowed in the traditional form of respect from her country. She maintained the servile gesture as she stepped back, out of the room. Turning on her heel then, the silvery-golden-haired warrior was quickly barking orders to the men in her retinue who'd accompanied her to the Vizier's chambers. Most of the orders were standard procedure - lock down the Spire, lock down the city gates, search any ships leaving the harbor. Most thieves fleeing the city tried to take their chances in the desert, so naturally most soldiers would be searching there first. As long as no ships left harbor, they would have time to make their way down the city towards the docks.<br><br>For her part, Methuseld von Ellegarde took a group of about twenty soldiers and began working from the docks. It was a dark, ruddy, unpleasant night. The air smelled of piss and sweat and other things all to pungently. She hated this city, hated the poverty and the stench and the culture. The filth, the mud-covered streets with nary a cobblestone in sight, the slaves with scarred backs scurrying like rats. This city stripped one of dignity the moment it grabbed on with its dirty claws.<br><br>Astride her powerful desert horse, all grays and white splotches of color, Methuseld watched with cool detachment as her men pounded on doors and rushed inside to search for anyone suspicious. A lantern hung at her side, casting a surreal yellow tint onto everything in view. <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Foursome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>02-08-2014, 10:31:31</strong>
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				The two of them lay there quietly for some time, backs against the hard wood floor, eyes focused on the ceiling above them. Donovan could hear the rapid breaths of the drow woman next to him - spent of her desire and need, her body driven to exhaustion by his stamina. His own body ached all over, it would be impossible to count the number of welt-marks he now possessed on his arms, legs, and especially his back. They were like bright red trophies, and only in a few places had they broken the skin. Such harsh reminders of their shared passion were a simple thing for him to heal - a mere thought, really, and the slightest expenditure of his will caused the worst of the welts to slowly mend as they lay next to each other, each of them catching their breaths.<br><br>"That was... delightful," Donovan said politely - and it had been. She was... physical, if he had to put a word to it, and though she was somewhat smaller than the usual woman he might bed, she took everything he offered her, and she used it well. She used -him- well, and he loved every minute of it.<br><br>"Mmmhmmm," she purred softly. "You were not bad yourself... for a human," she replied. He smiled, his eyes never wavering from the point they focused on the ceiling above them. Sae'ka was certainly not his 'type', but they sure did seem quite compatible in matters of carnal enjoyment. His attention focused upward, he did not notice Sae'ka's sudden change in demeanor, how her body tensed as her magically-attuned senses caught the scent of something... wrong... approaching the building in which they were hidden. Whatever it was, was not good. <br><br>Donovan sensed and heard Sae'ka suddenly roll away from him. He turned his head to regard her as she rose to her feet, slipping her leathers back onto her body as if she were simply sliding her hand into the warm embrace of a well-worn glove. Donovan smirked.<br><br>"Where are you going? Maybe our frolic wasn't so great afterall?" he asked with a playful smirk, rising up on one elbow as he focused his gaze upon her.<br><br>Moments later she smirked at him, pulling her belt around her shapely hips, buckling it tightly and quickly, weapons in place. She had all she needed, or rather, -almost- everything she needed. Now, she just needed a distraction.<br><br>"I'm really sorry about this," she said. "This is nothing personal."<br><br>Donovan's brows furrowed for a moment. "What do you mean this is-...."<br><br>-THWACK!-<br><br>Little specks of light exploded in his vision, blinding him temporarily as he fell back hard to the floor, his hands rushing up to his nose as blood gushed freely from both nostrils."SHIIIIIT!!!" Donovan roared, completely caught off-guard as Sae'ka's boot lashed out, kicking him squarely in the face. His eyes watered quickly as he writhed to his left. He could hear the sounds of wood sliding on wood - the heavy wood slats that blocked the door - and then the sound of the door itself opening. <br><br>Sae'ka was bailing. And if she was doing that -without- going upstairs to retrieve the fox, then something was terribly wrong... other than the fact that Donovan's nose was broken.<br><br>The drow said nothing as the door slammed shut. She was simply gone, disappearing into the night, moving away from the oncoming magic seekers as quickly as possible. On alert now, Donovan again used a longer burst of his will to ease the pain of his nose, even mending it slightly, growling loudly as the faint sound of crunching bone foretold the act of the pieces of his nose sliding back into place. The blood he could do nothing about for now. No, for now - he had to get dressed, and quickly. Something was definitely not right. <br><br>He shook his head, finally able to see through blurry tears that filled his vision. He retrieved his small-clothes, pulled them on quickly as he regained his balance. Then, he suddenly froze.<br><br>Donovan could just make out the sounds from outside, the faint but loud shouts of someone announcing themselves, though he was certain he heard the term 'vizier' at least once... followed by the sound of doors being kicked in. Donovan's eyes widened, and not only did he redouble his efforts to don his gear, but he did it twice as fast. Forgotten was the treacherous drow. Forgotten was the quickly ebbing pain of his now-mostly-healed nose. Now all the could focus on was escape and avoiding detection. Neither he nor Dean had predicted that they would conduct a door-to-door search through the entire fucking city!<br><br>"DEAN!!!!" he shouted loudly as he strapped on his weapon belt. "HOUSE TO HOUSE SEARCH!!!! THEY WILL BE HERE ANY MOMENT, JUST A FEW DOORS AWAY! MOVE IT!" he shouted.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>03-08-2014, 22:47:51</strong>
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				Aza was certainly receptive to touch. She settled back into the water and his lap with a series of wriggles that suggested that, in regards to how provocative their new positions and lack of clothing were, she was either totally oblivious or knew precisely what she did. "Mm," she sighed blithely as his large hands traced her, affectionately stroking the sleek lines of her wet skin and hair. When he spoke, his executive tone was far more interesting than its content, and she tipped her head back to sort-of pay attention. "Freedom," she said dreamily, snuggling her round backside up against his abdomen as he drew the comb through her waist-length magenta locks. "Freedom is not comfortable. Always a struggle. Too stressful."<br><br>There hadn't been a crash or a bird-sound from below for a couple minutes by then, though Aza was too preoccupied with Dean's brushing to give that a thought. It was long after she was meant to be asleep, after all, and her day had been just as exciting as she'd wished it to be <em>before </em>she'd been accosted and hauled across a dirty city. It was time for pets and cuddling and sleep, and if took sex to get those things, that was fine too.<br><br>And then Donovan was cursing, and in a manner that sounded quite unlike his previous zestful declarations, followed by the scrape of the unbarred door. Donovan yelled to Dean -- Dean was a somewhat more sensible word for a name, in Aza's opinion -- and Aza saw her chances for a cuddlenap vanish yet again. <em>They</em>, Donovan said. Which <em>they</em>? <em>They </em>from the Spire?<br><br>She swiftly slid over the side of the tub to the floor, left small wet footprints to the window, and pushed open the shutter to look down at the street. The men forcing their way into the building a few away did indeed wear the colored sashes of the Spire's high guard, and when the woman astride the horse turned so that the lantern lit her stern face, Aza blinked. "The Vizier's pet commander," she said, glancing back. "Trouble has come for you, <em>Dean</em>..." <br><br>Trouble for the boys, but a rescue for her. Would the General recognize Aza as a human girl? During the many hours of military meetings and consultation, Aza had always been a bored little fox, and the fearsome Methuseld had sat far down the long table...<br><br>Aza's gaze flicked past Dean to the bejeweled collar just behind him. Might be time to grab it and go home.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>07-08-2014, 06:02:12</strong>
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				With Donovan’s completely expended lust, Dean eased back to himself, the balanced energy that had temporarily made him a moral man easing free. The sensation of dark settling back where it belonged, shadows climbing the interior of his chest and thoughts was a welcome one. It was horribly unnatural to have strange inclinations and memories bouncing around his mind. <br><br>Hand holding the comb freezing, Dean felt Donovan’s flickers of power use, felt his own power surge. Although the balance between the two had been restored, the tremendous surplus from earlier was not entirely gone, though it was diminished. Slipping from beneath Aza, Dean stepped over to the girl’s collar, taking possession of it. He had no clue how it worked, other than the fact that the gemstones on it somehow interacted with Aza’s mysterious power. Glancing over at the fox-woman, he considered his options. If he gave the collar back to her or put it around her neck, what would stop her from becoming a fox again? Then again, she seemed to value the collar greatly.<br><br>“I’m keeping this until we figure out how you work, rascally fox-woman,” Dean said, flashing her a white smile before vanishing out the door and running downstairs to Donovan. As he went, Dean’s belongings – the scant few he had – vanished into black smoke, reappearing around his body as he burned the slight excess of power that Donovan’s healing had lent him. Moving objects that had been on his person for a few weeks was a relatively simple thing for the Shadow.<br><br>“Take this,” Dean said, tossing the collar to Donovan and moving to the door to listen, extending his power to sense the movement outside. They were rapidly running out of time. Damn sexcapades distracting them from the inevitable hunt. But who knew they’d be doing door to door searches. <br><br>Turning back to Donovan, eyes as black as pitch, Dean asked softly, “Do you want me to distract or cause carnage, my knight?” In this matter, Donovan did not truly hold the leash, not with Dean so empowered by Aza’s earlier release, but it would not do to irk Donovan. Not in the long run, not until they’d figured out how to slip their chains. <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>09-08-2014, 04:03:20</strong>
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				It took one. It only ever took one. One weak link in the chain, one mistake in battle, one misstep during a treacherous climb. And one man to tell a guard a secret. An old man, fearing for his life, or perhaps not comprehending the meaning of his words, or perhaps looking for a gold coin tossed his way. Cool blue eyes, glimmering like a snake's in the lantern light, met the guard's. "Give him what he wants," came the husky accented voice, it's H's hissed out, it's I's too much like E's, it's W's like V's, and it's A's like O's. An entirely unnatural accent for these parts with a voice that gave every townsperson chills. A voice that dripped doom like an oil-slicked arrow waiting to be lit. Even in this part of the docks, with the eyes of scoundrels and scum leering at them from alleys and houses and trash-filled carts, the voice and its owner had some weight. That beautiful woman, shining a cold dead gold in the lantern light.<br><br>A few silver coins blinked through the air, not thrown to him so much as at him. He scrambled to catch them as the troops turned toward a building he'd indicated. Every single guard conducting the search had been given the description of the thieves. Or at least, as much of a description as dying men could give. This way, they could interrogate townspeople about the thieves' location. Two large men, a dark woman, and a dog. Eventually, they would happen upon someone who'd seen and was willing to share. And now, it appeared they had. Perhaps Methuseld's men had gotten lucky... Perhaps it was a trap, as had happened before. Or perhaps, as was more often than not, it was merely a dead end. Either way, it bore further investigation. The man had pointed to a two-story house, more often abandoned than not from the looks of it. If there were any inhabitants inside looking out, they would see the men quietly surround the building. Surprisingly stealthy in their metal armor, each had at least two comrades visible to him at a time such that no escape could go undetected. Five men formed a semi-circle in front of the front door. Behind them, a dispassionate metal statue astride a horse waited, peering down like a goddess onto mortals. <br><br>"In the name of the Vizier, open this door!" A heavy gauntlet pounded on the thick wooden door as the voice boomed. "Grand General Methuseld von Ellegarde of the Spire demands words with the inhabitants of this dwelling. I say again, open this door! There shall be no second warning before we enter!"
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElvenKitten</strong> on <strong>10-08-2014, 02:48:51</strong>
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				<div style="text-align: left;">(http://i1345.photobucket.com/albums/p662/Elvenkitten/blood_elf_by_marcoribbe_de-d5mcqfw_zps15f41237.jpg)</div>Luana hated this city, it stank and was simply teeming with filth. She was being escorted by two large unpleasant men. She could have killed both in the blink of an eye but it wouldn't be a good idea to displease their employer. She was led to an alleyway behind a butchers, the smell was less than pleasant. They opened a door and she stepped through and game to another room guarded by bearded man who seemed to be wearing an outfit made from leather and knives.<br><br>He waved her through and she stepped into a small office in fairly opulent decor in comparison to the rest of the building. A rich mahogany desk sat a seemingly woman in her late teens to early twenties with strawberry blonde hair and a playful glint in her green eyes. She looked about as threatening as a newborn kitten but Luanna could smell the magic coming off her, like the air before a thunderstorm. She knew she had been brought before Demon Devi, only a nickname but she was one of the most dangerous crime lords in the city. Devi smiled wolfishly “They said you were pretty but I hadn't expected you to live up to my standards.” There was a playful edge to her voice that was somewhat unsettling. <br><br>Devi stood up and sauntered over to Luana, appraising her like she were a fighting dog or prize show horse. She moved behind Luanna and ran a finger up her exposed stomach. "I have a job for you,&nbsp; the Vizier's has been stolen and I want her." Luana felt a delicate hand slip between&nbsp; her legs under her armour&nbsp; and she let out a gasp.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Luana was flanked again by two of Devi’s men this time they were following her as she headed toward the location she had managed to scry, where she had gotten the materials for the spell were a mystery to Luana but Devi was obviously connected than she initially thought. She saw the house the spell had indicated and saw the guard had already gotten there...this could be interesting... <br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>12-08-2014, 09:06:57</strong>
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				"Take this," Dean's voice sounded, and Donovan turned his head just in time to see the fox's collar being tossed his way. Reflexively, Donovan caught it, looked at it quizzically for a moment and then pocketed it. Having strapped on his breeches and sword-belt, he grabbed his breastplate and quickly pulled it over his head. He wouldn't have time to secure it as much as he'd like, but it would have to do - the vizier's goons outside weren't going to sit back and take a break while those inside the house prepared themselves for confrontation. Donovan wasn't too sure what Dean was doing with the fox's collar, but right now was probably not the best time to go into it.<br><br>In response to Dean's question, voicing the options of distraction or carnage, the sound of a man's voice calling to them outside the door reached their ears as a heavy gauntleted fist pounded the door several times to emphasize just who the owner of the voice was addressing. Donovan grit his teeth, stepping to the side and leaning up on his toes just high enough to peek through a small gap between two wooden boards that criss-crossed the window next to the door. He glanced around until he saw the woman on the horse, an imposing figure if there ever was one, and Donovoan's eyes widened.<br><br>"Shit... it's -her-," Donovan gasped, stepping back from the window and and growling towards Dean. "The dork outside the door isn't lying. Methuseld is here in the flesh, and they have men ringed around the entire building," he said, then he hefted his shield and took up a position next to the door before turning his head to give Dean a stern look.<br><br>"<em>Carnage</em>," the warrior said, nodding in Dean's direction solemnly, knowing that this -could- very well be their last fight. If Methuseld was here, then as the urchins in the lower districts liked to say, <em>'The shit just got real'.</em> There very well might not be any mercy shown, for despite the woman's beauty, the rumors were that she killed without discrimination, and perhaps -enjoyed- it a little too much. Donovan had heard many tales about her - but had never met her or seen her fight personally, though that looked as though it would be rectified tonight.<br><br>A breath later - the door blasted inward from the boot of the man at the door. That surprised neither himself nor Dean, as the wood was old and nearly rotted. They hadn't taken the time to replace it, because then it would not have blended in with the age and wear of the surrounding buildings - not as if that would help them now. The war cries of a trio of men filled the night air as they charged through the door....<br><br><em>Outside</em>, the soldiers that formed a loose circle around the build and Methuseld herself would be able to hear the sounds of combat - steel on steel, grunts, and sudden shrieks of lives being ended. It grew silent again a mere pair of breaths later, and from the dark opening of the doorway that lead into the house, three heads came bouncing wetly along the ground out of the darkness - all the heads of the first three soldiers that had dared to enter the building....<br><br>Inside, blood stains splotched Donovan's left cheek and the front of his armor in haphazard patterns as he quickly caught his breath. "If it was just the soldiers, that would probably be enough to give them pause," Donovan whispered, making sure to stand clear of the doorway. "But with -<em>her</em>- out there... I don't know what the hell they'll do next... Be ready for anything..."<br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>14-08-2014, 03:22:16</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				After Dean nabbed the collar and bailed, Aza mumbled a few things to the small empty room. At least one of those things was definitely "fuck." And then the man-shadow's discarded clothing dissipated to rejoin him, before she could even sort through the pockets for anything valuable. Figured.<br><br>Well, Dean was right in realizing he was totally ignorant in the ways of shapeshifting fox women. She went from two- to four-footed between steps, and by the time she was at the top of the steep stair the vivid red color had leached from her foxy coat to leave her the drab tawny shade of desert dust, a layer of which covered most of this city indoors and out. It wasn't a <em>pretty</em> color, but it was a practically <em>unnoticeable</em> one, especially when it moved on such small, soft feet.<br><br>Hugging the wall, she slunk down to peer at the action below, and had a really advantageous, gruesome view of Dean slaughtering the Spire soldiers before removing and pitching their heads out into the street. She cursed again, silently this time, feeling mildly ill with the amount and immediacy of the violence. Not to mention its smell. She considered setting up a howl to inform the cavalry that there was definitely a live dog-thing trapped in there, but after witnessing Dean's little display of barbarism in response to Methuseld's offer of "words," Aza was no longer certain how much she was worth alive to these two men. And here Dean had seemed so <em>friendly </em>in the tub. <br><br>Where was the collar? The sorceress would be displeased to lose it, but Aza was not at all convinced that was <em>her</em> problem. Her sharp eyes took in the blood wetting the floor of the clearest path of escape, then darted over to Donovan. There was a round-ish shape distorting one of the pouches he wore. That was probably the neckpiece, right? Fuck it. He could have it. Zozo could afford another.<br><br>It was quiet as the house waited for Methuseld's response to the murder of her men. Aza only hoped the General's next move wasn't to set the whole damn place on fire.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>14-08-2014, 03:44:02</strong>
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				Dean was a machine of *god awful* violence when given his lead, and Donovan had given it. The first man who came through the door got a fist-full of Donovan armor, but the second found himself yanked to the side by a shadow. Dean’s enchanted dagger found the crease of the man’s neck and slipped across with enough force that it made a wet, zipper-like sound and the head came free entirely.<br><br>“Huh?” Dean said, not expecting his strength to be quite so augmented. Whipping his wonderfully braided hair around his chiseled cheeks, rolled one shoulder and tossed the head out, toward the woman on the horse. Of course he called, “Catch, pretty lady!” as he did it. <br><br>“Nifty little fox-girl-thing,” Dean muttered, sensing movement behind rather than seeing it. He’d thought that Aza might be trying to prowl out, but didn’t see her. Instead, four armored men – apparently having broken into the building from the rear exit, came rushing in. A thrown dagger to the gorget took one in a spray of blood. Then Dean was flinging himself at them, the shadows boiling around his body – making it impossible to know where phantasm ended and flesh began. Striking out at the dozens of shadowy tentacles writhing around Dean was damn near impossible, particularly while even one of his short blades was in play – bouncing here and there, striking armor, finding a leather strap, slicing it, then rebounding to hit another man with the pommel. His off-hand was likewise nightmarish, tripping and tugging, and generally misbehaving. <br><br>A few seconds later, one of the three men was down on the floor, an eye missing, Dean calling, “Hahaha! That’s why we don’t *stare* at people, fuckface!”<br><br>Clearly Dean was having a great time. And then he caught the disguised Aza trying to prowl her way out. “Oh, no you fucking do not.” A shadow, thick and muscular, shot from the man’s feet to wrap around the little fox, tugging her in his direction. Right into the middle of combat.<br><br>Say one thing for Dean. But don’t say he’s a thinker. <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>19-08-2014, 02:14:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The door crumpled under the weight of dozens of pounds of steel-bound muscle. The men knew the procedure fairly well - knew what was expected of them. Methuseld was a phenomenal tactician - she knew that, generally, sending three men into the unknown was a great way to get them killed. But she knew that it was also a decent way to gauge what was inside with minimal risk to the rest of the men, and most importantly she knew that so long as she had a single ounce of strength left in her limbs, she would show the Vizier that she was not following his orders because she loved being his pet. So, on a routine basis, the lives of three men of his best men could be chalked up to the skill of whatever awaited them inside whatever building they were searching.<br><br>Judging by the sounds, and judging by the silent hand-signals from one of the men in front of the door but outside the building, trying to peer inside, Methuseld had a fairly good idea of the skill level of the men inside. No Drow, it appeared, which was good. Just these apparently excellent fighters, and a dog. That dog, she knew, was likely the Sorceress's pet fox. A few heads came tumbling out of the building toward her, to the sound of "catch pretty lady!" Methuseld cocked her head to the side in one smooth, controlled motion, letting the head sail harmlessly past her. The sight of the fresh blood on the men's throats caught her eye, even in the dim torch and lantern light. That red, that wonderful crimson red. Methuseld's upper lip twitched a little as her steel-gray eyes watched a few errant drips of the salty stuff fall. She knew what was coming over her. Like a buzz after a few ales, she felt different - just a little, just a whisper of a shadow. But still loud enough to hear. "Kill."<br><br>The pale golden woman dismounted, a slight flush in her cheek as if she really had been drinking. This would take a special touch - her direct involvement. She secured the heavy halberd she'd been holding to her horse - no room inside to swing it. "You know the drill," she said to her men as she approached the building. They got into position, lit torches. One ran off to notify the rest of the guard of what was happening. For her part, she removed the lantern hanging at her side and put a relaxed hand on the hilt of her sword, hanging at her waist. Still calmly walking, almost strolling, towards the entrance, woman's cool gaze locked on, unwavering, to the darkness inside. To whatever horrors awaited. Then, with one smooth motion, she tossed the lantern inside, instantly illuminating everything as it burst open on the hard floor and sent some oil splattering. At the same time, her men broke open the windows and tossed in torches. <br><br>The building wouldn't burn. At least not initially. If there hadn't been some prized goods inside she would have just set it ablaze and waited for the occupants to come to her or die inside. But this had to be handled personally. As soon as the inside was fully visible, a dozen soldiers burst in through windows and doors, the remainder waiting outside to spot any runners. In the lead was Methuseld, hand still calmly resting on the hilt of her sword as she took a surprisingly fast gauntleted swing at Dean, the nearest one to her. All the while her cool eyes watched while that flush on her cheeks, barely noticeable at first, began to imperceptibly spread to her face. The curse was alive - it hungered for blood. "Kill," it whispered, caressing its host. "Kill," it whispered, augmenting her already impressive abilities. "Kill!" it whispered a little louder, and shifted its gaze to the first target.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>22-08-2014, 09:23:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The response from outside was about what Donovan had expected. He knew they weren't going to see three of their men killed, no matter how quickly, and suddenly decide, 'Oh well, nothing for us to see here, might as well return to the vizier as failures!'. No, Donovan was sure that those outside would still rush in, one way or another, only now they would know they were dealing with dangerous people instead of simple lower-class peasants.<br><br>The fire, too, he had expected, since it would have been the most convenient way to get them to leave the safety and cover of the old house. A doorway was a perfect funnel for Donovan and Dean to work their terrible warcraft, together they could turn that area into a charnel pit of the vizier's soldiers. But the woman leading them outside knew that as well, and sought to remove that advantage from those inside the building.<br><br>What Donovan didn't count on, even as torches were pushed through the slots between wooden planks that boarded up the windows, was the notion that they would set the place on fire AND charge in. To him, that seemed completely counter-intuitive... but then again, it was just the kind of risky ploy that might throw the building's occupants (meaning, the two men and the fox-lady) into disarray. A lantern also came twirling end over end through the front door, smashing to bits on the floor in a long, oil-laden streak on the hardwood floor. Thankfully neither himself nor Dean were standing in the way. <br><br>Donovan glanced over at Dean as they heard the onrush of men. They were surrounded, each direction blocked or covered by the vizier's men. With an silent nod, Donovan's face illuminated by the flickering flames around them that started small but promised to quickly grow larger, the big warrior's eyes fluttered for a moment as she gave Dean as much free 'leash' as he ever had before. It was no loss of pride in Donovan's eyes to realize that Dean was the far more violent of the pair, and if they had any hopes of surviving this, Dean needed to have as much autonomy as Donovan could muster. Right up to the edge he took it, just a hair's breadth short of giving Dean complete and utter free rein. Any more, and Donovan was sure he'd see Dean slaying children and drinking blood before it was all over.<br><br>Immediately, when the nearest solider appeared through a nearby window - Donovan's blade was a blur. The man screamed, his face cleaved nearly in twain as he fell back awkwardly through the window in which he had half-climbed through, only to have a solider shoulder through the window next to it. Donovan focused on his half of the massive empty living area, the four windows suddenly filled with soldiers with one goal on their minds: the death or capture of those within.<br><br>Something caught his eye from the side, and Donovan cast a quick glance towards the door. Methuseld herself lead the men who came through the main opening, and her eyes set immediately on Dean. She had a wild look about her - of course, ALL of the combatants did. Many would die tonight - perhaps even himself. All he could do was fight to take as many of them with him as he could, his blade blurring in motion again towards the nearest soldier, cleaving through the man's armor and collarbone and deeply into his chest with a fine spray of crimson. Donovan raised his shield, feeling two blows strike against it as he wrenched his blade free from his latest victim.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>22-08-2014, 16:21:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As more soldiers shouldered in and the flames reached the walls and began to lick, Aza decided that, you know, sewers probably weren't <em>so</em> awful, at least not in comparison to a burning hovel filled with butchered and dying men. Her fur was streaked with red again thanks to all of Dean's throat slashing, and she could hardly breathe from the reek of spilled oil and the shadowy grip that dragged her relentlessly into the midst of the action. She thrashed and snapped at Dean’s tenebrous tendrils, but accomplished exactly nothing; they had a constricting grip on her, but her little teeth and claws somehow closed and scratched on empty air. Someone's sword sang past her closely enough to shave a few hairs from her puffed up tail, directly after which someone else's armored elbow caught her in the side of the head. By then she was yelping loudly, the high-pitched sound contributing nicely to the general hysteria, and Methuseld herself had joined the party. Aza liked the look on the blonde's face about as little as she liked anything else in all this madness. <br><br>And Donovan might be prepared to die in this unglorious hole, but Aza most certainly wasn't. Unfortunately, in her terror, there was no energy at all seeping from her; she wouldn't have the mental concentration or fortitude to use it for herself anyway, even if any of her tricks were at all suited for a clusterfuck like this one. <em>LET GO LET GO LET GO</em> she screamed at Dean’s mind, not knowing if he was even capable of receiving or processing such a message in his seemingly beserk state. Donovan and Methuseld would probably hear it too, but neither of them had the fox swathed in his or her murky grasp. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>23-08-2014, 22:01:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Fire wasn’t really that much of a problem for Dean, in a sort of tangential way; fire meant more shadows for him to work with. Then again, given that it was the middle of the night, it was kind of his element anyway, so the fire was mostly a damn distraction. Cloaking himself in shadows, he lost track of Aza as a woman’s fist nearly crumpled his goddamn cheek in – his flinching turn, supernaturally quick – was all that turned it into a graze. <br><br>“Eh? So you wanna do It that way?” Dean muttered, hands blurring as he spoke. Pouches on the assassin’s vest slipped open and handfuls of poison-coated caltrops flew into the air, the fusillade of them literally covering the entrance. A few bounced off of Donovan’s armor. That was deliberate. Donovan was familiar with Dean’s merciless tactics and his frequent use of Nightshade mixed with alchemical toxins in situations like this. <br><br>Sliding his feet, nudging caltrops out of the way, Dean propelled himself into a rapid backflip – he’d tossed the caltrops forward, after all, and came up with a hand extended. His shadow tendrils obediently delivered Aza to his waiting grasp and Dean said, “Behave, little bitch. Otherwise how are we going to get out of here alive?”<br><br>More caltrops flew from Dean’s free hand, directly in the warrior-woman’s path. They were made of reinforced iron, the tips just a little dull – moving slowly, sweeping the feet – was about the best way to deal with them and not get cut, which could be a death sentence. Poison wasn’t a very honorable medium in combat, but Dean really didn’t give a flying fuck. <br><br>Then Donovan opened the Glory and the shadows filling the room deepened, redoubled, deepened again. Those without night vision suddenly found themselves in a world of stark, color-shifted contrasts; orange and red fire became purple and shadows became pits of absolute black. A side-effect of empowering the Shadow, and probably not a happy event for the Vizier’s home team.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>24-08-2014, 23:08:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld covered her face with a metal-plated arm as caltrops flew towards her, some flying past and some bouncing harmlessly off of her steel plate armor. She figured these weren't just a distraction - assassins liked to coat them in poison and wait for an unsuspecting guard. She'd seen it plenty of times in her role as pet bitch of the Vizier. "<em>Watch your footing!</em>" She bellowed out, her extraordinarily commanding voice cutting through the din of battle, the roar of flames, and the grunts and screams of men. Every man in that room, no matter what he was doing, heard his commander's warning. Steel eyes affixed themselves onto Dean. "That all you got, thief!?" In a crouching run, the woman scooped up caltrops with both armored hands and threw them back at him, simultaneously clearing the way for her to get closer and distracting him.<br><br>Apparently it didn't work well enough, though. Soon the entire room... <em>shifted</em>... in a way she hadn't seen before, ever. Fear welled inside her... might have surfaced, too, had the curse not had other plans - she felt nothing but the urge to kill. Demon magics... illusions... She hated the blasted things. But they would only delay his fate, not change it. Around her, she heard the men uttering gasps of fear, confusion, shock. "<em>Stay focused, men! Their tricks and illusions won't save them! FIGHT ON!</em>" Again, like a battle-horn, the fierce shout cut through the battle. Every single man heard her, every single man felt compelled to obey. Not through magic, not through fear. Only through sheer prestige, utter and unquestionable authority, total mastery. The men redoubled their efforts despite their fear, surrounding the occupants of the house and attacking together. One-on-one, they were far outmatched against the two powerhouses - the armored man and his shadow. But fighting together, despite their losses, these men were formidable in their own right. Not mere fodder, not just fish in a barrel. Even as they died their companions redoubled their efforts, attempted to exploit weaknesses and openings, attempted to kill or maim or stop in any way possible these thieves.<br><br>And their deaths were sweet succor for the Curse. It devoured the sight of blood, of pain, of killing; poured all that energy and hate and pain into Methuseld's body, filling her with nothing but an intense rage, an all-pervasive fury that blinded her to any other needs or cares and made her want to attack, attack, attack. No dumb rage was this, but Methuseld unleashed, free of all other desires, all pain and suffering, all worries and fears of what may come. She was blindingly fast now, astoundingly strong. The blush, too, spread across her body. The dual nature of the curse, the Djinn's little game. The already beautiful woman, moving fast as lightning and hard as a tidal wave, was becoming more and more irresistible. And should a man's flesh somehow manage to taste her, he wouldn't be able to stop, much as she was unable to stop killing. <br><br>A blade sang in the darkness, freed from its sheath at long last. Cold, dead metal aimed itself at Dean, eyes poised. "<em>Kill...</em>" Whispered the Curse.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>27-08-2014, 08:24:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				At first, the conflict looked like it would go their way. They had a defensible position, both Donovan and Dean were exceptionally skilled warriors, the building wasn't cooperating at first and was slow to catch fire, and the two defenders were able to back each other up and attack the enemy at their weakest - as they came blindly in through the main door, or climbed through windows putting themselves in a vulnerable position for a few moments - and a few moments was all Donovan needed.<br><br>He was like a whirlwind, swinging and slashing at the exposed parts of his enemies as they climbed through windows, and upon hearing their screams, he would bounce to another window to repeat. Meanwhile, Dean seemed to have things well in-hand at the main doorway. He was literally a shadow, sowing confusion and attacking his targets from different angles and from the darkness of his own body. <br><br>But, their initial advantage dwindled slowly away. There were just -too many- windows, and as for Dean, despite his caltrop-trick that usually worked wonders, he was not faced with Methuseld herself, her skin reddened from the flames that now burned, as if the building itself had finally decided to surrender to the attackers, flames licking up the walls near where the torches and lanterns had fallen. Methuseld was a leader, which was obvious when Donovan heard her voice. Hell, he was half tempted to follow the same orders she was giving her own men! But he held fast, dealing with his own struggles as finally some of the men made it through the windows, stepped quickly past the corpses of their comrades, and rushed Donovan, hoping to keep him busy long enough so that more of their number could pour through the window. <br><br>There were just too many of them... and Methuseld herself was fighting like a demon possessed. <br><br>Around them, the flames spread and the wood of the old building groaned, as if irritated by the heat licking at its innards. Sweat glowed on Donovan's skin as he raised his shield to deflect another assault, his blade parrying yet another. The enemy were regrouping, forming a semi-circle in front of him that he knew would soon be organized enough to rush him all at once. These men weren't green, and they weren't inept. Under the voice of their leader, they were disciplined - and they would eventually win.<br><br>Donovan could feel the heat -above- them now, as the flames spread across the ceiling in several directions, moving more quickly now as if the fire itself could sense the building's demise, as if the flames were hungry beasts looking to devour its prey. Desperately, Donovan blocked another blow - but felt a simultaneous one slide between the joints of his armor just above the elbow, cutting him deeply. He grit his teeth against the pain - his hand clutching to his shield for dear life. That attack had been meant to disarm his shield, which would have left him near defenseless against the five men quickly organizing before him. Blocking another blow, he put his next plan into motion - not even sure how it would play out.<br><br>Two of the men attacked at once, and Donovan - expecting it - blocked one with his shield, batted the other lunge to the side with his blade - then suddenly kicked out towards the nearest - catching the man in the chest, breaking ribs, and sending him flying back into two of the other men. This gave him the briefest of respites that he needed to turn...<br><br>...and dash about ten paces to the massive wooden beam that stood from floor to ceiling. He caught only a glimpse of Dean's battle with Methuseld, and had the two been sparring or practicing somewhere, Donovan would have eagerly stopped to watch - but there was no time for that now.<br><br>Donovan collided with the beam, his shoulder ramming it hard enough to send a deep -THRUM!!!- through the floor and ceiling above. Like as not the battling warriors wouldn't notice it, and that was fine with him. Shoulder against the solid wood, he grit his teeth - and channeled his power. Had he been able to focus solely on the beam, it would have been much easier. But as it was, he knew at least a couple of the attackers would be hot on his heels - and he wouldn't be able to defend against them now. He simply couldn't - his plan wouldn't allow it.<br><br>Focusing, Donovan grit his teeth and planted his feet - and <em>*pushed*</em>. His strength began to increase, and his skin quickly shifted in consistency to something much harder, much closer to stone than to flesh. He felt the wood floorboards buckle beneath his feet as the pressure against the beam increased, and then he felt the sharp sting of two blades hacking into his shoulders: two of the guards had reached him seconds after he darted away. If not for his ability, both of his arms would be mangled right now. Still, the blows -did- cut, but they were akin to thin lines closer resembling scratches than anything else - at least for the moment.<br><br>"Come... on... you... sonofa... BITCH!" he growled, surging with the last word, the sound of a sharp -CRACK!- filling the room followed by the chorus of splintering wood as the beam began to bend and then snap where his shoulder was planted, and once it started, it only seemed to gather speed as a breath later, a louder crack echoed through the room - and the beam gave way.<br><br>Between the old, dilapidated wood, the flames, and the removal of the single most important support post in the entire building, it didn't take much for the ceiling above them all to start its slow death-rumble as it began to collapse.<br><br>Donovan turned to see the two men on him now looking upward, wide-eyed and terrified even as plaster, dust, and debris began to fall. Donovan surged forward with the beam finally gave away, sprawling onto the floor from the momentum his strength had given him, and he only had a quick second to glance about. He wasn't worried for Dean - not really, not when Dean could become a shadow and simply slither -through- the falling debris like water slipping through a sieve. Donovan saw the fox, but believed the creatures dextrous speed would see it safely away in time to avoid the collapse. <br><br>That left Methuseld, her men... and Donovan to catch the brunt of the collapse as the groans and cracking of breaking wood only grew louder, the ceiling above them crashing downward with increasing speed and force. At the last second, Donovan focused all of his mental power towards one goal - making his body as tough as he could, imagining in his mind that his skin was made of steel, which he knew would be his best hope of surviving as the building collapsed on them all.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>30-08-2014, 18:51:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza had balled up into the smallest shape she could, short pointy muzzle shoved between her back feet, and resorted to just praying to whatever fox-god foxes had that she wouldn't get run through or smashed or incinerated. Dean's words were not at all comforting, and it was the second time tonight someone had called her a bitch. What the hell had<em> she</em> done? <em>None</em> of this had been her idea.<br><br>And then Donovan had the idiot idea of literally bringing the house down, in what seemed to Aza like the least well-thought-out murder/suicide ever. Her shadowy bonds loosened, maybe as Dean was also forced to contemplate how the entire ceiling sagged and split over their heads, and her opportunity was not wasted. She wormed free of the tendrils and fell to the floor, struggled to her feet in a puddle of hot (and growing hotter) blood, and began a headlong scramble through the weirdly-colored miasma of flames towards the blonde General, because behind Methuseld was the hole that had once been the door and would shortly be flaming rubble. Just like the rest of the place and everyone in it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>31-08-2014, 20:50:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Caltrops came flying at his face and Dean ducked, dove, and otherwise wove his way around the flying things, using the shadowy tendrils of his power to snatch a few that would have struck away and into the bodies of a few men who were coming for him. The concentration required to do so was not insignificant, however; the one holding Aza loosed and he could see the fox wriggling away, fleeing into the distance.<br><br><em>*Ah, well, fuck her. She was adorable, but her attitude isn’t very conducive to this sort of thing. Plus, we have the collar*</em> Dean thought to himself, absently considering throwing a blade at the retreating hind quarters of the fox just because she was a useless coward. That was his dark side, of course; it owned him now. <br><br>When the female knight came forward, all impossible strength and glorious desire, Dean met her gaze just before her first strike, quirked a smirk and happily used three of his forearm-thick shadow tentacles to draw one of her own men between the two of them. Of course she adjusted and didn’t hit her own man. That didn’t keep Dean from stabbing a dagger into the struggling fellow’s kidneys and shoving him at her, however. Dean knew that he couldn’t face a skilled swordsman (or woman) in a straight up brawl – not a fair one anyway. He was an assassin, a purveyor of death from the shadows and stealth. Still, with so much power at his disposal, there wasn’t much to keep him in check. <br><br>Now, normally – say in a bustling city like this one – Dean would have resulted to using some pretty fucked up methods to win. Shit, once he’d skinned a man alive in order to enrage the guy’s fellow soldiers enough that they charged into an ambush. Donovan hadn’t liked that, not one bit – in fact, Dean hadn’t been allowed to use *any* of his powers for a month after – but let’s not tarry on the dark times. Unfortunately, Dean really didn’t have much to work with here – just soldiers who were now moving to avoid the fight between him and their leader. <br><br>Which left him with two shadow-cloaked short swords to parry the graceful onslaught of the woman in plate armor who just happened to look drop-dead gorgeous as she came at him. Fuck, her pupils were dilated like she was going to climax right here and now! Realization nearly startled Dean out of his defensive pattern; one of his shadowy tendrils barely managed to deflect the blow that would have taken his head off to his shoulder. Even then, Methuseld’s blade sliced a few inches of skin free. <br><br>“That sucks,” Dean said conversationally, not feeling the pain. He was a shadow, after all. Death was part of his nature, as was pain.<br><br>Then, grinning, Dean once again locked eyes with Methuseld and loosed his other power. Immediately, the tendrils lashing about went limp, vanished, as an explosion of raw desire swept through the immediate area – say fifteen feet. This was Dean’s incubus ability, one he’d never thought to use in combat before, but a natural part of his corruptive nature. Every line of the man’s handsome, oversized body suddenly came into stark display, the shifting of his thighs a distracting promise of animalistic, insatiable pleasure…<br><br>And then the motherfucking roof caved in.<br><br>Damn that Donovan. Damn him to heck.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>04-09-2014, 04:52:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He was monstrous, seemingly in every sense of the word as shadowy tendrils under his control deflected some of the poisoned caltrops she'd flung towards him at some of her men. A few he'd gotten, but one he hadn't. As she swung at him again his tendrils flung the survivor towards her, causing her to stay her strike to avoid killing her own man, although she very nearly cut him down out of pure rage at the shadow man behind him. Dean had done the honors himself, gutting the man with a dagger and shoving his flailing, dying body towards her. Their eyes met, the general and her subordinate, and although the man was in a state of absolute terror at the prospect of death, the horrors he saw in Methuseld von Ellegarde's eyes came in a close second. With an animalistic roar she shoved the man out of the way, barely breaking stride as she charged Dean. <em>This bastard. Why won't he just DIE!?!</em> <br><br>Swinging again and again at him and consistently missing, she found herself almost completely forgetting about her goal of wresting Zozo's fox from the thief's hands; alive. Until said fox somehow managed to pry herself loose from his grip and fling herself into Methuseld's arms. So enraged was the general that she almost slashed the fox in two - pure and utter luck saved both Aza's hide and Methuseld's own (if Zozo somehow found out who'd killed her precious fox); somehow the general was able to muster up enough willpower to grab the furry creature instead of kill it. Uncomfortably held up by her armpits in the general's uncaring grasp, Aza had no choice now but to watch the duel from the other perspective, dangling hind quarters swinging to and fro with each powerful twist of the golden warrior's hard body. <br><br>Methuseld roared again and again, swinging faster and faster with each passing second. Their duel had created a circle around them, with none of her men willing to interfere or get themselves killed trying to help. Their weapons, his two shadow-cloaked short sorts and her own plain metal longsword, were utter blurs in the flames of the burning building. Methuseld should have stopped, should have gotten out with the fox, but she wanted blood. His blood. The <em>Curse</em> wanted it even worse. And even as it hungered for death, it laughed artfully as it made that cold, unloving general ever so slowly more irresistible to anyone in the room at all capable of finding a woman attractive. Djinns - are, as we all know, ever so fond of the little jokes they play on mortals. <br><br>She finally scored a hit on him, however slight. It only egged her on further, only motivated her to seek more. But suddenly something happened. His tendrils disappeared, replaced by a powerful wave of... Something... A sensation Methuseld hadn't felt in a long, long time. She locked eyes with Dean, confused even as she raised her sword (slightly slower than before) for another strike at him. For once, she wasn't sure if she wanted to attack. She was feeling something else besides rage - Dean's magic fighting with the Djinn's, no doubt. A flush flashed across her cheeks - her own arousal this time, not a blush meant to arouse others. And then it all came crashing down. Literally.<br><br>A collapsing beam hit Methuseld on the side. She might have jumped at Dean or jumped on him - who knew - but now she was flung sideways, hit against the wall. Another beam came crashing down toward her, but, protected as she was in full plate, she had enough consciousness left in her to dodge it. Aza still safe in the powerful grasp of her non-sword-arm, it was all the general could do to make for the nearest window, leaping out... or trying to... before the world went dark.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>04-09-2014, 08:46:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The blows from Methuseld's men suddenly halted as the ceiling above them all started to give way. Dust and dirt began to fall as most of the men stood paralyzed, not sure what to do. Some of them looked to Methuseld for guidance, while a few of the smarter ones turned and headed toward the windows in through which they entered - but now those were covered in flames and did not make inviting escape routes. <br><br>The splintering of wood began as a single definable sound that seemed to generate echoes, more sounds of splitting wood, the volume of it all increasing rapidly. It was like an avalanche, starting small then rapidly escalating into something far more deadly than a simple snowball. The sound of wood cracking and tearing mingled with the cries of men, and off to the side Donovan was sure that Methuseld and Dean were going to fight on even as the building around them collapsed. Donovan wasn't too worried about Dean - he was a shadow, afterall. As for the fox, if it was quick and wise, it would escape-...<br><br>Right into Methuseld's clutches. Poor thing. It was so cute, too...<br><br>Donovan closed his eyes, focusing, turning his body into a pillar of fleshy steel. Wood and debris stuck him and bounced off as if he were made of steel, and within a handful of seconds - the entire second floor had collapsed upon the first, bringing walls and rooftop down along with it.<br><br>Donovan opened his eyes to see himself partially buried beneath the debris. He blinked, glancing around to see the utter destruction. One part of the outer wall still stood - the side facing the building to the west, but even it was leaning at a precarious angle, as if resisting the urge to follow its three fellows down to the ground where Donovan stood. Donovan quickly dusted himself off and glanced around, surveying the scene.<br><br>Dean was nowhere to be seen - but Donovan could feel his presence, knowing that he was nearby. Glancing to where he had last seen his shadow fighting the vizier's general, Donovan was surprised to see an unconscious Methuseld mostly covered in debris. And miracle or miracles, the fox had taken refuge beneath the big warrior-woman, able to avoid serious damage. But Methuseld herself was not so lucky. She had suffered several cuts, and a particularly nasty gash along the side of her neck that was pumping blood rather freely. <br><br>It took an entire building to stop her, but she had been stopped, thank the gods.<br><br>Donovan stepped through the debris, hearing a few random moans from a couple of nearby vizier's men that had survived the collapse. None of them were really moving, so Donovan didn't pay them much attention. Instead, he moved over to Methuseld and began removing the debris to free the fox who was almost completely covered in dust - making her look even more adorable: fluffy AND dusty.<br><br>Donovan saw that Methuseld was still breathing, and with a brief pause, he drew one of his short blades and clasped it in both hands, raising it up above his head. He'd put the woman out of her misery -AND- send the vizier a message at the same time: leave him and Dean alone.<br><br>But as he gazed down at Methuseld - the woman now in a calm state given her unconsciousness, he couldn't help but admire her. His hands tightened on the handle of his blade though, yet he still couldn't bring himself to lower it. His mind quickly began to make up excuses to allow her to live... what better hostage would there be, than her? Her men - however many of them would come for them next - wouldn't DARE risk endangering her life if he and Dean had her as a hostage, would they? What a bargaining chip she'd make.<br><br>"Fuck," he groaned softly, and lowered a hand to her bare forehead, laying his palm gently across it. His eyes closed and he breathed out through his nose, and that's how quick it was, the soft blue glow around his hand igniting like a candle, then quickly intensifying. He allowed the power to flow from him and into her - just enough to heal her, not enough to give her consciousness, as her wounds began to seal and shut. They'd be pink and a little itchy for a few days, but that would be far better than the alternative. <br><br>Taking a deep breath and blinking from all the power he had used during the fight - and during the healing of their enemy, Donovan glanced around. He smirked a bit when he saw the fox still there. "Come on, little one. Let's get you out of here. Dean would be quite upset if his pup got hurt on my account," he said, reaching forth to pick up the Fox and carry her out of the rubble. If the Fox darted away before he could grab her, Donovan would only chuckle a bit. <br><br>"Dean, come on. Quit acting all melodramatic. I know you're fine," Donovan called out, rising to his feet and quickly dusting himself off. There was dirt and debris all in his hair, too. damn it. "Grab your sparring partner and bring her along with us. Probably isn't any better hostage we could ask for in all the realms," the big man said as he began to carefully pick his way towards the -back- of the ruined house. He knew that out front, a few onlookers were gawking and trying to see what was going on, so they didn't want to go that way. Most of the fires had been snuffed out from the collapse, but a couple were still going, albeit weakly.<br><br>They needed to get out of there, and they needed to get moving fast.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>04-09-2014, 20:01:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza was pretty sure she was concussed. Her whiskers were singed. She tasted blood that was almost certainly her own. The rest of it slicking her feet and sides wasn't, but it was definitely Methuseld's that was dribbling onto her head now, sticking in the plaster dust and sand that pervaded her fur. She hadn't exactly intended to blunder straight into the woman's grasp, but at least it had kept Aza from dying for one more minute, even if Methuseld herself hadn't fared so well. Aza's ticket home was bleeding out beneath the remnants of a bookcase.<br><br>She blinked at her own clawed paws, trying to focus, as Donovan began to shift the wreckage atop them. There was no darting. She had only drug herself a few feet in the time it took him to bitch out and decide to spare and heal the General, and she only sneezed a feeble protest when he lifted her up... and called her a<em> pup.</em> She sighed, which made her ribs hurt more, and shut her blue-grey eyes, draped limply over Donovan’s arm. She didn't even have the heart to think something insulting at him, which was probably just as well, if he and Dean proved to be the winning side. That was the side on which the werefox wanted to be. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>05-09-2014, 04:00:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In case you were wondering: Dean wasn’t a real boy, nor was he a real man. The body he wore *was* very real though, and currently nearly broken in half thanks to a splintering board driven through his guts. Interestingly enough, the house’s subbasement – the one leading to their private dock and their tertiary escape route – was where he’d gone when the roof had collapsed, somehow *shoved* through the floor, along with a few of Methuseld’s soldiers. Most of them were unconscious, though one looked to be in rather sharp shape. Not that dusty either.<br><br>Dean’s rapidly darkening eyes – as in about to die, and not getting angry – took in Mr. Clean Soldier and he laughed harshly as he spat up about a gallon of black blood. “Fuck, she thought of that too? You were watching the docks the whole time?”<br><br>The man, a rat-faced guy with a slight build, nodded somewhat wryly. “Sure did, dead man,” he said, moving forward and beginning to clear the debris for his fellow men. <br><br>Seeing him work, Dean considered. Above, he could *feel* Donovan pulse as he tapped into his power, sense his Knight’s summons. Not that Dean could do shit about it. Dean didn’t have the ability to harden his skin or take on the strength of half a dozen men. He was a being of shadows, of illusion, and of death…<br><br>“Do me a favor?” Dean rasped, one lung having just collapsed. “Don’t take my gold when I die. It belongs to my mother.” He did his best to make it sound just as pitiful as he could.<br><br>Predictably, the rat faced man perked up. “You’ve got gold on you? Well, I’ll be fucked sideways from Tuesday. Sure. Sure. I won’t take it from you when you die, killer. I’ll jus do it right now.” So saying, the soldier ambled forward and reached out to tug at Dean’s armored, bloody body.<br><br>Then the man froze in place, limbs locked as if paralyzed and Dean gave a wicked, evil smile. As he did, he thought to Donovan, sent him a pulse of sensation so the Knight would know he was alive. Shifting one mostly-intact hand to his side, Dean allowed one of the gems that the duo had captured from Zozo’s place into his hand and squeezed, willing the power to function. The gem flashed once, bright amethyst, and then went dark. Immediately, Dean felt the bond that tied him to his Knight ease. It didn’t vanish, sadly enough, but it did ease. A lot.<br><br><em>Go</em>, Dean sent Donovan. <em>I’ll catch up</em>.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>06-09-2014, 02:37:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan heard Dean's thought clearly. Glancing around, Donovan didn't see his shadow anywhere - he could be out front, out back, down below, or hell, even in one of the nearby buildings. Donovan sighed, thinking that the shadow part of himself had slipped into hiding in the neighbor's house, found one of their daughters alone and wanting and... well... he wouldn't put it past Dean to make himself useful in other ways while their hideout was coming down around Donovan's head. Of course, Donovan could really only blame himself. No one had -asked- him to bring this party to an end.<br><br>~The docks... I'll try to make it to 'The Stoneskipper' and with luck we can cast off and get the hell away from here before another batch of the Vizier's men come looking for us AND their general,~ Donovan thought back to Dean. He referred, of course, to the galley that he and Dean had used before, on loan from a merchant in far-off Cavanagh. No, that wasn't entirely true either... Dean had -stolen- the boat, telling Donovan he had borrowed it and not confessing the actual truth until they were days out of port. Well, that was one place they likely would never be able to return. Even so, the ship was small, not really a 'galley', more like a 'schooner'. But it floated, it sailed, and it moved quickly across the waves, which was exactly what they could really use right now.<br><br>"Whaddya say... ready to go sailing?" Donovan asked the 'pup' laying nearly limp over his arm. Donovan thought about expending a bit of power to heal the fox, but he figured he'd save it, just in case they met more men eager to end them.<br><br>Glancing down at Methuseld laying unconscious, he realized he'd have to carry her, as well. "Dammit Dean. Getting out of all the work again," Donovan muttered to no one in particular as he squatted down, slipped arm arm beneath Mehtuseld's unconscious but healed form, and hefted her up as gently as he could onto his shoulder. She was a woman - smaller than him, lighter, and the fox also didn't weigh much, either. Carefully, Donovan picked his way through the rubble towards the back of the house, carefully stepped out into the alleyway, and began to walk. He'd stick to the alleys for now, staying out of sight of as many people as possible. Even though the fox and the general did not weigh overly much, he still might draw some attention carrying a woman over one shoulder and a fox over his other arm. Reaching down with his hand at the end of the arm holding the fox, he retrieved Methuseld's sword.<br><br>Thankfully, there was a lot of attention out -front- of the house. The fire, the rubble, the entire incident had drawn a crowd, and curious bystanders were eagerly watching and looking for any signs of activity. This only helped Donovan's escape, and quickly he made his way down the alley quite a distance before he had to cut north, towards the harbor. Down another alley, sticking to the darker nooks and crannies, he expected Dean to pop out of the shadows any moment. But no, Donovan figured now that Dean would wait and appear AFTER he reached the boat, so that Dean wouldn't have to help carry anyone or anything.<br><br>Reaching the boat was much easier than expected. This late at night, the few people he met were well into their cups, and didn't really think much of a man lugging a woman back to his bunk for a tumble. Of course, seeing the addition of a fox in the mix made a FEW passersby raise a brow or two. One drunk laughed at him. "A woman AND a dog? Heh! Whatever floats yer boat, matey!" Donovan scoffed at the man but said nothing, continuing on, fearful of meeting more of the Vizier's men anytime now. <br><br>Upon reaching the boat, Donovan was mostly relieved that the boat was still there. He boarded quickly and took his two 'passengers' below decks. There were only a few small rooms there, with hammocks for beds and little in the way of comforts. He gently set the fox down on the wood floor in a corner, and then moved to the nearest hammock and eased the general off his shoulder and into the rope-bed. Glancing about, he saw a small coil of rope and retrieved it, then began to bind the general's hands behind her back, as well as binding her ankles together. It wouldn't do well to have their hostage awaken and then escape so easily.&nbsp; <br><br>He quickly then searched Methuseld for any other possible weapons on her person, and his curiosity about her only grew. He had felt the... fascination? Infatuation? Whatever it was, she had tried to use some sort of power on them, but thankfully Donovan hadn't been very close to her before the collapse. Dean, however, had been -very- close to her. Perhaps he might know more.<br><br>Feeling better now that Methuseld was secure, and her person searched of hidden weapons, he reached forward and gently patted her cheeks in order to wake her. He had questions, important questions that need answered, ones that only she could help them with.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>06-09-2014, 03:33:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				People knocked unconscious don't dream. If ever there was an expert on this subject matter, it was Methuseld. She was an excellent fighter, but everyone makes mistakes. Especially when they're just learning. She'd had her fair share of bumps, cuts, bruises, and long lapses of unconsciousness in her time. Under the control of the Vizier, though... It was different. The Curse didn't let her do what experience said was best. It had a one-track mind: Kill, then kill again. It didn't matter who or how; if she got so much as even a whiff of death, she'd feel a little jolt of excitement (for lack of a better word). Like the 'buzz' from alcohol. But actually killing a man was euphoric now - a drug that constantly beckoned, egged her on, promised more than she could possibly comprehend. Except that the promises kept coming but were never filled - instead, a surge of strength, a quickening of the reflexes, a spark of grace and speed. It never stopped - a vicious, vicious cycle that she couldn't hope to get out of, no matter who fell under her sword...<br><br>For all intents and purposes, Methuseld, the normal human female full of memories and experiences of laughs shared and tears shed, had checked out during that battle. She'd been replaced by a being with a singular purpose, and that purpose was <em>not</em> to retreat or withdraw. Until it was too late, of course. Normal Methuseld would have recognized, at some point during the battle, that the building was becoming unstable - the clash had dragged on too long. Hell, normal Methuseld might not have even tried to storm the building while simultaneously setting it ablaze. The Vizier usually didn't send her on assignments. After the first few times she'd slaughtered his men for lack of anyone else to slaughter, falling into unconsciousness (again) after succumbing to her wounds, he'd taken the hint. Now, Methuseld always led from the rear, and frequently had to take it in the rear too. Such was the way of slavery, even for ladies of distant kingdoms and even for generals.<br><br>The gentle swaying, that distinctive rocking. Somewhere in the darkness, Methuseld knew it meant something. She seized on it. It was significant. The air, too - it spoke of hope. Of such promise and opportunity. It always had, at least for her. What was it, again? A riddle a djinn might ask, about a gentle rocking and promise. A newborn, one would answer mistakenly. A tiny hint of sweat, of fear, of mold, of spoiled food. Something slapped her face just as she came to the answer. A ship! Water! Eyelids unsheathed too-lucid steel-gray eyes. The dark pits within them took a split-second to focus, but then Donovan and his hand, inches from her cheek, came into focus. Methuseld hadn't dreamed at all. People who get knocked unconscious don't, you know. One minute, she was escaping from a collapsing building with the last shreds of consciousness she had, and then next she was in a hammock on a ship. She felt the Curse flood her limbs, compel her to obey the last order she'd received from the Vizier. <br><br>"UNNGH!" Her body jerked towards him but his knots held strong, locking her arms and legs in place. Even a woman of her strength couldn't get loose that easily; furthermore, the Bloodlust had waned with her consciousness - no enhanced strength to aid her. "Really? You took me prisoner?!" Testily she waited for a response, still somehow managing to sound like a disappointed father, full of authority and power, despite her current predicament. She had to admit that taking her prisoner was one of the best things they could have done. Her predecessor, now second in command, was a complete imbecile (in his defense, no one in the city could match her leadership and battlefield genius) - with him leading the men, the Vizier's chances of finding the group were reduced to those afforded by sheer dumb luck. Furthermore, should they be found, her men would be cautious about possibly hurting Methuseld while attempting to capture these thieves. Barring some sort of attempt by her second in command to re-assume command of the city's garrison by killing his successor, of course. <br><br>Steel eyes, inspecting their surroundings, moved on a pale ivory face as hard as it was curvaceous and beautiful. The fox in the corner, the two humans surrounded by more hammocks. The sleeping quarters, no doubt. Then the eyes moved back to him - cold, calculating, dangerous. "Well?!" She asked, although nary a second had passed. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>08-09-2014, 20:09:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza noticed about halfway into the trip to the boat that Dean wasn't following and Donovan didn't seem to care. Hadn't Dean suggested that the two men were more than just associates? That they were somehow linked? She tried to recall his exact words when in the bathtub, but everything inside her skull felt as fuzzy as the outside of it. Still, the two thieves must be somehow communicating their status and whereabouts to the other. <br><br>But, she realized as Donovan set her on the cabin's floorboards and turned away to secure the other woman, Dean apparently hadn't mentioned Aza during whatever sort of magical conversation they'd shared. If Dean had, Donovan probably wouldn't be acting like he didn't expect Aza to be able to open a door. Or smash him on the back of the head with an empty barrel,<em> then</em> open a door. And then run. <br><br>Except her original problem of being lost and alone still remained. Even if her ears weren't ringing and she could think straight, she didn't like her chances of surviving a wandering trip through the city. Methuseld was still alive -- and now awake and smarmy -- and if she was half the general she was supposed to be, there was still the possibility of rescue. And a small, quiet fox would be much more likely to come out of that rescue intact.<br><br>So she sat down in the corner where Donovan had left her, and attempted to act foxlike. They had better not be on this stupid fucking ship for very long. She needed another bath. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>09-09-2014, 07:18:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean contemplated his nature as he reached out, extending one broken, mangled hand to brush the soldier’s wrist. Donovan was the light: stalwart healing. And he was everything in the opposite direction; shadows, death, stealth. And also, perhaps to the least and greatest degree simultaneously, he was necromancy. Thus, Dean could not heal himself in the conventional sense, not without Donovan’s aid. Shadows were never intended as defensive creations. They were weapons. Thus it was now, touching the would-be thief. <br><br>Borrowing on the man’s fear, drawing on the power that Donovan had freely lent him and the freedom of the gem he’d just used, Dean performed a small Mimicking. One moment he was a broken shell of a man, barely clinging to life. The next, he was a pale-skinned, red lipped creature of nightmare, mouth full of fangs. Conscious despite his paralysis, the soldier tried to scream as his nightmare was made manifest.<br><br>Looking into the man’s eyes, feeling the power of the new form, Dean murmured in a thick, awkward accent, “Come to me, child.” It sounded more like ‘Vum do me, thild’ but whatever – what was important was that the soldier felt it, knew what he was saying on a subconscious level. Fueled by his own terror, the soldier leaned close. Rolling his eyes at the drama of it all, Dean bit down on the man’s neck. Veins of black shot through the soldier, black that spread like a horrible arcane disease. Simultaneously, Dean’s body went limp, his flesh emptying out like a sack of wine sliced in half by a sword. <br><br>It was over quickly. Dean consumed the soldier’s life essence and poured his shadowy essence into the man’s corpse-body, remaking it with the instinctive skill of all shadows. Unlikely that other shadows would have had the freedoms and power of Dean, of course, particularly in this moment. But Dean wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. A few minutes after the man had unwisely approached, Dean stood where the soldier had been, immaculate and handsome and whole. The thing caught in the beams wasn’t even recognizable as human – it was just a sack of rotting meat and bones. <br><br>“Now, that’s better,” Dean said, no longer fanged. The feast had him thinking though. He could detect Donovan’s gentle tug in the far distance, pin-point him with a little concentration. No doubt Donovan would be casting off soon, which would precipitate Dean needing to leave this place as quickly as possible. On the other hand, Dean was feeling quite malevolent. Something about inhabiting the psychic space of a greater vampire just…set him off and made him want to do bad things. <br><em><br>-How long do I have, my Knight?</em>- Dean sent, his mental voice redolent with his wicked intent. Dean’s power was mostly spent after that body exchange – which meant he was feeling particularly….virulent. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>10-09-2014, 07:18:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan didn't flinch when Methuseld suddenly lunged forward. The thick ropes stopped her in her tracks, keeping any part of her body from reaching him. Even with her body pushing fully against the ropes, she was still held a few inches from him. He could see the alertness return to her eyes, a glimmer of intelligence as she took in her situation - very likely *not* like what she had anticipated. He listened quietly as she 'interrogated' him, demanding answers for his actions. When she inquired again with a deep, powerful, "Well?!?", he finally froze and raised his eyes to meet hers.<br><br>"You're welcome," he answered her, completely ignoring her curiosity. "The building was coming down, the fire was spreading, and you were unconscious and pinned beneath the rubble. For -some- reason I decided to pull you from it... perhaps that reason was for assurance that the Vizier won't come after us so eagerly now, afraid to wound his pet," Donovan said, his lips curling into a hint of a sneer. "Or perhaps I brought you along as a prisoner so that my friend and I won't have to face you again anytime soon," he said, then he leaned forward slightly, his face inches from hers. "Or perhaps I dragged you along as a 'toy' for my buddy... the one you were dueling with before the building collapsed. That is, IF you piss me off, or if I catch you lying to me..."<br><br>At that moment, he could 'hear' Dean's query. Dean was fine, of course, and asking how much time he had. Donovan visibly rolled his eyes, and then concentrated for a moment to respond to his shadow. <em>~Thirty minutes, perhaps? Come when you can, to the boat. I'll make preparations... I have the warrioress as a hostage, and I made sure to retrieve the pup, as well...~</em> Donovan finished, turning his attention back to Methuseld, focusing on her again. She had the face of an angel, yet in battle, that face had contorted into something truly horrific, made more so by the shocking contrast between the sweet, beautiful look her face held now versus the grim countenance of war she had worn during the battle.<br><br>"How long will the Vizier wait to send more after us?" Donovan asked. "Who is the second in charge? What will their next move be? If you're THE general that we've heard so many stories about, you'll know these things. If you cooperate... I'll see to it that you survive this ordeal, and you'll eventually be released," he said. "But you aren't taking us in," he added, then glanced at the fox in the corner for a moment, then back to Methuseld. "None of us."<br><br>He had to force his eyes away from her face - she was amazingly attractive, which surprised him even more that he hadn't seen it before. Here, now, with her demeanor much more calm than the berserker-like rage she demonstrated during the fight, she looked more like a woman and less like a crazed killer. Instead, his eyes moved down her body, his hands making sure that various knots and ties were firm and tight. He didn't need her escaping and attracting the watch before Dean could get to the boat. That would -seriously- screw up their escape. Donovan had no real wish to harm Methuseld, but he knew he would if he had to, if she gave him no other choice.<br><br>"Your wounds are tended, as well. You're welcome for that, too," he added. He didn't feel completely drained yet, but the evening's festivities had left him tired. He glanced over at the fox again. "How bout you, pup? Hurt anywhere?" he asked, as if the animal would understand what he was asking. His eyes didn't see any obvious wounds on the animal, but she did have a good hunk of fur that could be hiding bruises or other injuries that he wouldn't be able to see with his eyes.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>10-09-2014, 18:28:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Listening to Donovan’s assessment of the situation still didn't make Aza feel any better about it. <em>Of course the building was coming down, and whose fault was that, you thieving moron?</em> she thought, but only to herself. Then her ears dipped at his mention of becoming a<em> toy</em> for Dean. He only meant Methuseld, right? It was probably an empty threat, meant for bargaining... Right?<br><br>She didn't like Donovan's claim that cooperation meant they'd live, either. Aza was no tactician, but letting Methuseld eventually walk seemed unwise, and Aza didn't trust this temporary display of mercy, not a bit. The men must've been intending to abandon the city and the Vizier's territory, then. Leaving these lands and Methuseld's reach was the only way they wouldn't be hunted down like dog-things.<br><br>In an attempt to soothe her nerves, she shook herself and sat back down in the resulting pile of dust, then carefully licked at the worst of the sticky, drying blood painting her flanks. It tasted even worse than she'd feared, and she was in the midst of a grimace of obvious disgust, muzzle wrinkled and pink tongue out, when Donovan addressed her. She froze, then shut her mouth and tried to look unassuming. Was it too late to pretend to be a tamed fox and little else? Hopefully he assumed any magical happenings from earlier in the night, like her color-changing fur and the weird energy detonations, to originate from the collar alone. And was he offering to heal her? Didn't seem safe. She didn't know how his abilities worked. He might notice too much. She had a headache and a few scrapes, but her own energies from the other side would slowly correct those, once those energies started to flow again. And the sooner they were free from here, the sooner that would happen.<br><br>Maybe she could lure Donovan away, give Methuseld a chance to slip her ropes. Being Aza, her first plan was always seduction. Get him somewhere quiet, then shift and keep him pleasantly occupied until Methuseld could get her sword back. The general would come for Aza, wouldn't she? Stab Donovan in the face and get herself and the fox off the boat? Except Donovan had already been dumb enough to fuck a Drow tonight, and look where that had gotten everyone. He might be too circumspect to fall for the overly-willing stranger trick again. Aza was utterly certain of her use of her feminine wiles when in bedchambers and parlors and other such civilized venues, entertaining princes and diplomats and sorceresses, but she also had just enough brains in her head to realize charm and nakedness might not work out here.<br><br>Too risky. She went back to reluctantly licking a foot, like she hadn't heard what Donovan said.<em> Hurry up, you armored harridan,</em> she thought quietly of Methuseld. She would've stripped off all that silver plate from the woman first, if she was Donovan. It looked expensive.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>12-09-2014, 03:22:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld raised an eyebrow. So, he'd healed her after she'd gotten trapped beneath the rubble. She listened with growing anger as he explained his reasoning, pale eyebrows knitting above her less-than-amused glare. She'd caught the strange turn of phrase he used. 'For <em>some</em> reason he decided to pull her from the rubble...' It almost sounded as if he was trying to justify it to himself, perhaps subconsciously. To justify why he'd just saved the general of the man who wanted them captured or killed. He could have let her die - at least he and his friend wouldn't have to face her anytime soon, like he said. Plus - any benefit of the Vizier's men being a little more timid could be outweighed by her efforts to escape or let them onto the thieves' tracks. No - he was giving reasons, but they sounded like afterthoughts. Or perhaps he didn't want to say the real reason? Methuseld's gut was leading the charge on this suspicion, no doubt. But she believed it. She believed this guy saved her because he didn't want to watch her die. Maybe she was imagining it, but it looked like it was all over his face. The man, perhaps a knight of some sort, wasn't a killer. "You think threats will scare me? You think your shadow friend <em>raping</em> me scares me? <em>Please</em>. The Vizier's pet" - a subconscious hint of disgust with that phrase - "isn't afraid of threats like that, empty or otherwise. Just try and rape me - see what happens," she said, scoffing in an astoundingly arrogant way. This was not a woman you could have a great conversation with at a pub over a pint of ale. She seemed dead, void of all joy, passion, and tenderness. A hunk of metal, cold and gray as those eyes of hers, pale and dull like her "golden" hair, which lacked any of the joyous aspects of a normal blonde's hair - blonde in name only.<br><br>That is, assuming he caught any of it through the filter of the male gaze. Methuseld sensed his eyes drinking her in. She knew she was beautiful - once, she'd been happy she was so beautiful, because it had brought her wonderful husband to her door. Now he was dead, and all her beauty brought her was shame, sadness, despair. So she'd become a marble statue - masterfully crafted yet cold, hard, unfeeling all the same. Perhaps he sensed it, perhaps he didn't, but it mattered not. Methuseld's heart was dead after what she'd been through, and she wasn't sure it could ever be revived.<br><br>"Yes, let's allow my years of martial training betray me momentarily so that I may lapse into revealing all of the Vizier's plans to you. I have been commanded to capture you, <em>thief</em>, and that is exactly what I will do. One way or another. These bonds will not hold me for long. Now <em>that</em> is a threat you should take seriously. And if you expect a thank you for healing me, you'll get none. It was your wanton disregard for the laws of Kulratha, and Zazim the Vizier, and Zozo the Sorceress, that caused my unfortunate situation. You have just begun to right your wrongs, and the task will only be completed once you return what is Zozo's and spend the rest of your short, pathetic life in a dark, cramped, damp little cell. Or the Vizier might take pity on you, for reasons I'll never understand, and break you and sell you off to the first fat whore that sees you. Won't that be <em>nice</em>."<br><br>Pursed pink lips, a steely-eyed glare, and flared nostrils told him that she considered the discussion over yet was fully willing to dish out more tough talk if necessary. For all that she lacked in the field of "nice" emotions, she made up for with an utter mirth at cruelty. It might have made it hard to imagine a Methuseld that wasn't always like this - that was in fact the polar opposite of this woman. Pale-golden hair and ivory skin angelic, not cold. Eyes like silver-and-onyx pendants, a wealth of emotion and richness of character within, instead of cruel and cold and dead like sword-steel. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElvenKitten</strong> on <strong>12-09-2014, 06:59:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Luana had the group watched at every step by the people Devi had put at her disposal and had set up a base of operations in a nearby house. The owner of the house objected very little to his house being used in this way. He objected more to Luana wanting to take his pretty daughter to bed. She held the naked beauty in her arms coiling a strand of red hair around her finger, she had been most eager to please and Luana saw she was rewarded. A terrified lloking female footpad stormed in nervously trying not to look a Luana's naked form "M'lady, the men say they are in position and awaiting your order." Luana smiled while toying with one of the girls nipples delighting in the sweet sounds. She reluctantly left the bed and a moment later was dressed in her armor and a dark robe. "You can keep little Emily here warm if you like, she's paid up till tomorrow and I saw you making eyes at her." The footpad wasted no time in undressing and joining little Emily on the bed. <br><br>She aproached the target and looked over at the black clad mercenary next to her "I want you to hit me as hard as you can" the mercenary looked confused but complied without argument nearly knocking her off her feet with a backhand. Her face was starting to bruise already and she had a cut on her lip. She staggared off toward the boat with a mastefully false limp. She reached the boat and aproached with caution, she had torn her cloak in a number of places and used some soot to dirty her face and armour. She looked more like a scared girl than a powerful mage though she hoped she hadn't gone too far. "Please don't hurt me, Devi sent me... she wants to make a deal...but the Vizier's people know where you are." She was inwardly enjoying playing the meek little mage girl and humans were terrible at guessing the age of her kind and she took any opportunity to use that to her advantage. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>14-09-2014, 19:38:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Thirty minutes? </em>Thirty minutes was *<strong>perfect</strong>!* They were right near where Dean wanted to visit anyway. A quick sprint, aided by the shadows that propelled him along as a streaking pace, took him to the wide building and past its unaware guards in a matter of a minute. He was inside and among the people not long after. When he saw the young woman swaddled in robes, body covered with a foot of thick woolen covers, Dean smiled a cherubic smile. Unlike the other rooms in this place – better than steel cells with small slats for the movement of waste and food at the base of the doors – this one was lavish, with silk curtains over the barred windows and ornate wooden furnishings. <br><br>It was the room of a prisoner princess. <br><br>He approached, no longer making effort to keep silent. When she saw him, eyes gummy and sleep-starved, her mouth opened in an O of fright. “Are you death, come to take me away?” she asked, voice cracking.<br><br>Dean paused, canted his head to the side and considered. “I can, if you’d like,” and then slid forward again, pressing both hands against her mouth, collecting a little line of spittle that had pooled on the girl’s dimpled chin. He rubbed both of his hands together then, like he was trying to wash the girl’s saliva into his skin.<br><br>“I’d like that,” the girl rasped, eyes closing. “I want to visit my parents again.”<br><br>Dean considered the girl’s request, how it wasn’t in his nature to give anyone anything. But his knight had given him quite an allowance and the girl’s gift to him was worth significantly more than a little snicker-snack. So, feeling generous, he did it. Knife into the brain. Instant death.<br><br>Never say that Dean does not have a generous soul. <br><br>Walking out of the building, Dean let his hands flicker out, caressing the two guards. They didn’t notice the touch, or the lines of black that flowed from the caress. Moving down the darkened road, Dean found several soldiers huddled about, talking over recent events. Dean moved close and lunged among them, singing a tune off-key, letting his hands caress faces and limbs.<br><br>“Sod off!” one of the soldiers said, kicking Dean in the ribs and shoving him down the street. Obligingly, Dean tripped forward and stumbled back up the way he’d come, toward the docks. Once he was out of sight of the guards, he went erect again and checked his hands. All gone. Ah, well. He’d probably done enough damage. Behind him, the two men standing outside of the plague sanitarium coughed. <br><br>Turns out that Shadows, being dead, are immune to almost all manner of diseases and plagues. That ability, unfortunately, does not negate the toxins that they deliberately pick up. Add that to Dean’s mildly enhanced abilities and how far he was from his Knight and…. <br><br>Well, needless to say, the Vizier would have a lot more on his plate in the morning. If those soldiers spread it to the rest, the shit was going to get real bad, real quick. The thought made Dean titter and wish he had more of the stuff to spread around. So pleased was the man that he wasn’t really paying much attention as he walked boldly down the street, headed toward the docks – easy prey for someone looking for him. Not that Dean was ever easy prey, mind you.<br><br>10 minutes left. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>18-09-2014, 08:25:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan didn't flinch as Mehtuseld began to spit her venom. Her words - harsh, as he had expected - were even sharper than what he imagined they would be. Of course she responded as he knew she would: she touted how tough she was, how she would bear any indignity - including rape. She threatened him, warned him, ridiculed and insulted him. Yep - the usual list of responses from a person who was mighty miffed at being trussed-up like a bird meant for the stove. For the first part of her response, his hands checked and double-checked the various knots and double-knots he had made with the sturdy rope that kept her in place. She could not straighten her legs, and her arms were pinned firmly behind her where she could not see. Once he was confident she wasn't going anywhere, he then leaned back from her and turned his gaze to meet hers, folding his arms slowly across her chest.<br><br>When she finally went silent, he raised his brows. "You done?" he asked sarcastically. "Because this is about the time I clue you in on a few things. First off - ain't no way I'll be raping you. Sorry if that offends you - or disappoints you - but raping isn't up my alley - if you'll excuse the pun," he said, giving her a faint smirk. "Yeah, you're a good looking woman, beautiful even, and you know it. But that alone ain't enough to send me into some fit of arousal I can't control. But, my -friend-, on the other hand," he said, shaking his head. "Sure, he might do it if the mood strikes him, but I promise you - it isn't just your -body- that he'll take. With him, it's an entire buffet of sensation - body, mind, and soul. When he's done with you, you'll be eating your own words, and maybe even wishing you were a bit more polite," he said.<br><br>He pulled out a long strip of leather from his belt, and held it in his hands as he looked back up at her.<br><br>"As for your Master... if we were afraid of him or his various pets, we wouldn't have done the deed," he said. "It's that simple. You aren't dealing with two drunks who thought to take a sneak peek into the harem room so we could have a good toss-off later in the nearest brothel. Dean and I know what we're doing, we're equipped for it, and we're experts," he said confidently. "I mean... we captured you, didn't we? Dean even scored a trophy," he said, nodding over towards the fox. "Though if it were up to me, I'd let the animal loose, rather than keep her in captivity," he added.<br><br>"I healed you because you'll be useful - whether you're cooperative or not. Cooperating is rewarded with better treatment, and a higher likelihood that you'll live through this ordeal. Being a little cunt, though... well... Dean -does- enjoy consuming souls," he said with a slight shrug. He didn't care if Methuseld believed him or not. All he was doing was stalling, really, until Dean returned and they could get underway and get the -fuck- out of town.<br><br>"But don't you worry, this will all be over soon - one way or the other. If you're right - you can wallow in your righteousness and the blessings of your Master. If you're wrong... well, hopefully you'll still be back at your Master's side - and Dean and I will be far away from here," he said. "My money is on the later. Like I said: we're experts. No one is going to find-...."<br><br>A sudden knock at the galley door had Donovan spinning and drawing his weapon in one smooth, rapid movement. Dean wouldn't bother knocking. When nothing happened for a moment, he quickly turned, retrieved the piece of leather he dropped, and raised it up to her lips. He raised a brow, expecting her to open her mouth so he could gag her. If she refused, a simple pinch to the nose would eventually force her to part her lips to breathe, and he'd slide the hard leather between them forcefully if he had to, until the gag was in place, and he was tying it at the back of her head quite firmly. <br><br>Donovan rose to his feet and quietly moved toward the galley door that led out to the ship's main deck. He glanced at the fox in the corner, licking its little paw. Donovan raised a finger to his lips in a 'Shhhh,' gesture - not that the animal would understand him anyway, he thought. When he reached the door, weapon and shield in hand, he glanced through a slit in the wood and saw a single figure standing outside, slender, short, limping or leaning to one side. He set down his shield quietly then opened the door with his free hand.<br><br>He took in the sight of the wounded elf with deep suspicion. She spoke then, invoking the name of Demi - a well-known crimelord in the city, and the woman also claimed that the vizier's men knew where he was. Donovan clenched his teeth: this random stranger was unwanted and just going to draw attention unless he could get rid of her.<br><br>Where the fuck was -Dean-? In a split second, Donovan focused and sent Dean a quick mental message. ~Company. A single elf, at least all I can see. She's from Demi. Hands full. Come quick...~<br><br>"A deal for -what-?" Donovan hissed, wondering what Demi would want with them. It wasn't like he and Dean had stolen a chest of artifacts or magic books or scrolls. The item they had stolen had intense personal value to them - and wasn't for sale. Could the elf-girl have been referring to the -pup-? No... or could she? Right now, Donovan just wanted to get rid of the woman. Instead of arguing with her on the deck of their ship and drawing attention, instead he cracked the door open enough that she could slip inside, and if she entered, he'd close the door behind her - his sword still in his hand. He was prepared for anything at this point - this could be one of Methuseld's closest lieutenants for all he knew. If she didn't enter, he'd tell her to sod off, and close the door again, ending the conversation. The choice was hers.<br><br>"So what's the deal then?" he asked, keeping his eyes closely on the strange newcomer.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElvenKitten</strong> on <strong>27-09-2014, 11:53:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Luana disliked Donovan's tone and would have set him on fire in other circumstances. She bit back her anger and kept her timid façade up acting as if Donovan frightened her. She knew they had captured Mehtuseld and decided to use that to get attention from her true goal "You currently have Mehtuseld in your custody...Devi has some questions and a bit of a score to settle with her" She looked at Donovan as if she were afraid he would hit her. <br><br>She leaned on her staff "payment is negotiable and I was sent erm...offer comfort and aid" She let her robe drop, her magic armour showing a lot of skin, which suited her fine. "I'm excellent at illusion magic, I can get us out of here unseen." She had added the part about comfort to sweeten the deal and servicing this man wasn't gong to be a huge chore if it came to that, she might even enjoy it.&nbsp; &nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>27-09-2014, 17:31:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean was sauntering down the street, as happy as a fly around a pile of dung when he heard his Knight’s call. Part of him considered resisting, testing out the limits of his newfound freedom. There was nothing he wanted more than to hide somewhere in the city and watch the plague he’d spread take root. His black, black soul craved the satisfaction of such a thing. But somewhere inside of him, a place that he denied as fervently as a virgin lust, Dean knew that he could not abandon Donovan. Not under any circumstances. The man was….what? <br><br>Furrowing his brow even as he leaned into a spring, Dean contemplated the loyalty he felt toward Donovan, the years that they’d been together. Where did the feelings come from? Warmth toward the other man was one of the few emotions that Dean could feel, other than the usual – lust, anger, dark joy, etc. etc. Was it the Glory that bound the two together? That tether of supernatural energy? Perhaps. But Dean suspected it was more than that. <br><br>Dean arrived at the docks not too long after – maybe within five minutes, moving at nearly subsonic speeds (okay, not really) and was able to launch himself onto the small boat like a shadowy dart. He saw the person talking with Donovan but didn’t bother waiting. He slipped the knots tying the boat to the dock and shoved off. His powers did not lend themselves to strength or moving boats, but that didn’t matter much – the tide was in their favor.<br><br>Turning to Donovan, Dean called out casually, “Good time to be going. There’s one hell of a storm coming to this city. Also: who’s the cutie? She looks good enough to bite.” And Dean flashed his theatrically enhanced canines. He *had* mimicked a vampire recently, after all. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>28-09-2014, 12:16:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The fact that the injured woman at his door knew about Methuseld being held prisoner just a dozen yards behind him came as a bit of a surprise. Of course, if this girl had -seen- him carrying her on the way here, then that would explain it. And, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that the urchin standing before him might know who Methuseld. Most of the pets of the vizier were spoken of in bars and taverns all over - though usually with hushed voices.<br><br>"Well, Devi's going to have to wait her turn," he said, not bothering to deny the woman's claims. The girl spoke about payment, and about how she had been sent to offer... comfort and aid. The girl's robe dropped - and Donovan couldn't help but take a good, long look at her. She said something about illusion magic, and that made more sense. She even claimed that she could get them out of here unseen.<br><br>"Already got that covered, lady," he answered, as he felt the boat shift slightly beneath his feet - someone had cut them free of the dock. "We can talk more about a 'trade' later... right now, you've got just a minute or so to decide if you're coming... or going," he said, nodding towards the railing at the side of the ship, noticing how the gap between the boat and the dock was slowly getting wider. "Unless your illusion magic allows you to fly, you either need to jump ship now... or you'll be stuck with us."<br><br>To emphasize his point, he nodded and looked past her, over her shoulder - to where Dean was now standing. Dean would obviously feel a wave of relief emanate from Donovan. Nothing was really going to plan, though they had been successful - so far. <br><br>"Hear that, Dean? She's here to aid and 'comfort' us...," Donovan said, pushing the door open wide. "She's from Demi. Wants to make a deal for the General... who is kinda tied up at the moment..."<br><br>Donovan half-turned to go back down the stairs below decks, but stopped and glanced back at Luana.<br><br>"Coming?" he asked. He knew Dean would be, but this newcomer... if she was who she said she was, Donovan knew she might want to see Methuseld.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>30-09-2014, 05:27:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				While Methuseld and Donovan tried to out-snark the other, the fox waited quietly against the far wall. Mostly quietly, anyway; at one point Aza accidentally swallowed some blood and made an inadvertent little retching bark, just as Donovan was explaining how his 'friend' enjoyed raping not only bodies but <em>minds </em>and <em>souls</em>. This just kept getting better, huh? Dean knew what Aza was, and after sex, he allegedly liked to eat souls. Donovan went on to mention setting Aza free, and then she had to wonder if the <em>chance </em>of being assaulted in an alleyway was more appealing than the <em>near certainty</em> of being assaulted on a boat.<br><br><em>Someone's here</em>, she realized, just before the knock above deck. Donovan shushed her, which was strangely humiliating along with everything else the night had brought her, and she just stared at him as he hastened up to the door.<br><br>Was this her chance? To do what? She sidled after Donovan to eavesdrop, casting a glance at the trussed and gagged general as she passed. Ears sharp as a real fox's tipped towards the conversation above. <br><br>Aza didn't like what she heard up there: a trembling female voice, sweet and timid, pitched perfectly to elicit sympathy and mercy. And then quickly -- too quickly -- came the implication of sex into the bargain. Before the offer of magical talents, even! The blonde girl, if a girl she was, was lying. If anyone knew anything about sex and lying and illusions, it was Aza. And there was only room for one magical sexy liar on <em>this </em>boat.<br><br>She was about to interrupt, buff-colored hackles raised and a low growl already forming in her throat, when Soul-Raping Dean landed on the deck. Before anyone else might speak, or perhaps bite some trollopy elf on the leg, he unmoored the vessel and set them into the current. <br><br>She really didn't like Dean anymore.<br><br>Maybe there was somewhere on this horrible boat to hide.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>03-10-2014, 01:13:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Every single muscle was tightly coiled in barely-contained rage as the general listened to the knight speak. He seemed to enjoy having the last word, and arguing with him like an old married couple wasn't exactly her idea of fun. The further away he was from her, the more time and freedom she had to attempt an escape. Incensed as she was by his assertion that she might be <em>offended</em> that he wouldn't rape her, she kept her mouth shut, going so far as to bite her lip to prevent any more venom from escaping unbidden. But whereas both captive and captor seemed aware that there would be no rape between them, from what she saw of the man's darkly magical accomplice... Well, best not anger that one too much while unarmed. She didn't get a good feeling about him.<br><br>Donovan soon vacated the room at the sound of a seemingly unexpected knock, leaving behind an absolutely bristling Methuseld. She wasn't easy to rile up, and she never let it affect her judgment (not could she, to a large extent) but the word 'master' in reference to the Vizier's control over her... Well, it was far too accurate. Hit far too close to home. Trying to think of something else, anything that would ease the simmering anger just beneath the surface, she thought of the knock, and who it might be.<br><br>A guard, perhaps? Though one guard would likely end up much as the other twenty who'd died that night - skewered by the warrior or his shadowy, nightmarish friend. The general shifted in the hammock uncomfortably, arms pinned beneath her heavily armored body. She was sure she was losing blood flow in her arms, although perhaps the man knew what he was doing and she wouldn't for a while. That didn't ease the twisting of her shoulders, ligaments torquing from being bent up against a thick plate of armor that twisted them further back than human anatomy generally allowed. If Methuseld could have done anything right now, it would be to slip these knots and at least relieve that pain. She twisted her pretty head around, eyes taking in the dark sleeping quarters - the fox cowering in the corner, the barren room save for a few hammocks similar to her own, the general spartan state of the place with little in the way of comforts. Dark, moist, stinky, salty. A criminal's ship. And no sign of her sword - whatever in the blazes had he done with it?<br><br>There was only one thing to do right now, she realized. She had an accomplice - an accomplice that wanted to go home and that seemed far more intelligent than your average animal, even a dog. This plan was almost definitely one of her stupidest, but it was worth a shot. The fox had, she now recalled, jumped into her arms in the midst of her battle with the shadow man. It recognized her, recognized what she represented. "Aza," she whispered quietly, thick exotic accent still coming through in the hushed tones. "Come to me. Come to me, little fox." Beckoning the small animal, the general strained to sit up a little to get a better view of the door and the fox near it, grunting a little with the pain. "Do you want to go home? I need your help..." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>04-10-2014, 21:48:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Aza,</em> the General whispered, and the fox's ears flicked back in mild surprise. The woman knew her name, or at least, what Zozo called her. Aza looked back, then out the cracked door again, where the two kidnapping killers and the suspiciously easy elf were silhouetted against passing torchfire from the bank. Dean was still the tallest. <br><br>She silently cursed one more time, then moved lightly down to Methuseld's hammock, wondering what absurd thing the woman would want to try. Aza couldn't see any way out of this newest predicament, but maybe that was why Methuseld commanded armies and Aza slept with them. She set her front paws on the edge of the canvas, trying to steady its sway as the bound woman wriggled.<br><br><em>What? Be quick,</em> she 'said' to Methuseld, not precisely in words, but through an inquisitive tilt of her head and an anxious mental touch. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>04-10-2014, 22:56:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza the fox, Zozo's little pet, obviously knew her name, the general decided. She responded to the woman's calls, padding over quietly to the hammock and standing up on her hind legs. The blonde woman, so foreign to these dusty desert lands, was about to turn her bound arms over to the fox and try and her it to bite at the ropes when she heard <em>something</em> in her head.<br><br><em>What? Be quick!</em> The woman's eyes flicked around the room, muscles on her immaculate face motionless and barely revealing any of the confusion she felt inside. It felt like the voice had come from inside her head, but it was certainly not her voice. There was only one conclusion, and the steely commander came to it with the matter-of-fact acceptance of someone used to surprises on the battlefield. She'd always known the pet was special to Zozo, but had never known why. This had to be part of the reason, if not all of it. The fucking fox was telepathic! Likely even intelligent. There'd be time to ponder the significance of this later, once she escaped. For now, Methuseld kept her eyes on the prize - this would greatly simplify getting out of here.<br><br><em>"Can you work the bindings on my arms loose with your mouth?"</em> She whispered. <em>"Be quick about it..."</em> On her side now, her bound arms facing away from the door in case the men came in, the general felt the pounding of her heart intensify. The plan was to lie on her back once they came in to hide the fact that her arms were free. Then she could wait for the right moment to unbind her feet and strike. Perhaps once she knew where her sword was, or perhaps once she could get a different weapon. That is, assuming this fox could do what she'd asked.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>06-10-2014, 05:48:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After casting another wary glance towards the deck, Aza gave the ropes a scrutinizing stare and then a sniff. Donovan had done a fine job of restraining the blonde woman, but Aza didn't sense anything to it beyond simple knotwork. No spells or traps. Hopefully.<br><br>Methuseld got herself a frosty blue glare for reminding the fox to move hastily, like maybe in the past few seconds Aza had forgotten how much of a life-threatening disaster all this was for both of them. In a somewhat uncommon display of practicality, though, Aza decided not to retort, only stretching forward enough to slip one little canine tooth beneath the heavy twine at Methuseld's wrists and give an experimental tug. Fox jaws weren't intended for this, but what the hell else was there to do? Even if she wanted to gamble with shifting, slender well-manicured human fingers wouldn't be of much use against the tightly drawn ropes either, not in the limited time they surely had.<br><br>She carefully bit down, and started to pull.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>08-10-2014, 04:26:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean watched Donovan and the blonde newcomer with a thoughtful expression on his haughty, arrogant features. The oversized, exaggerated Adonis of a Shadow frowned as he made a mental calculation about their circumstances and exchanged a look with Donovan. Dean *would* have quite happily murdered the woman on a whim, but doing so where his Knight could see and disapprove seemed unwise. Despite the clear loosening of the tethers that bound the dup, Dean could sense that Donovan still had a commanding hold over him. Being punished was a humiliation that the Shadow had learned the hard way – learned and hated it to his wicked core.<br><br>“Two women. Two men,” Dean said softly, after a second, his slippery silken voice laden with his unique form of insipid magic, “that’s enough. A new one, mysterious and with an unknown agenda, illusory magic and too-big breasts is a bit much of a risk, I’m afraid.” And with that Dean effortlessly wound his arms around the woman and tossed her over the bow of the boat and ten feet down into the roiling waters below.<br><br>“Beware the guards,” Dean called out, loud enough to be overheard below. “I understand that a rather rare and mystical plague has begun infecting the city.” He paused, clearly considering. “Ah, yes. I’d say that within an hour or two, most of the citizens will be quite ill. A shame, really. One would hate for you to die of that particularly withering rot. Though, I hear it comes from a sorcerer of some skill – not Zozo though – so perhaps she will cure it before it spreads too far?”<br><br>Dean’s wicked, leering smirk was audible as he turned back to his Knight and made a small, smarmy smile. Then, without much ado, looked around for the captive woman. Not knowing Donovan’s threats to the women, the wicked Shadow might very well have some…creative ideas of his own. “Below, eh?” Dean asked. “You better not have put them both down there. The fox is a shapeshifter. A cunning little wench. I swear if they try to escape, I’ll plague them both and laugh while they rot from their cunts outward.” Dean paused, then added, “But if they’ve both been good, I don’t see why I can’t be a total gentleman. So sweet and tender. Like a virgin boy. Mhm. Goodness. Either gives me the shivers.” <br><br>And something in Dean’s attitude suggested forbidden knowledge, or suspicions. Like a haunted nightmare, he would be coming for both women soon.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElvenKitten</strong> on <strong>09-10-2014, 09:55:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Luana used a feather spell to avoid hitting the water below and used a fire spell to rocket herself back onto the boat with murder in her eyes. "Try that again...I dare you!" her voice had an inhuman quality to it and the timid little elf girl disguise was completely discarded. Luana was always amused when humans underestimated her, a human mage couldn't have done what she had but her mind was quicker. She had four or five spells she could use on Dean but decided to let him try something first.<br><br>She wondered if Dean was gong to try to throw her overboard again and readied a few unpleasant spells. She stepped forward her wizard staff glowing with power. "Are my breasts really too big?" She scowled a little, her plan depended on her staying with them and f she delivered the fox, the knight and Dean to Devi she would be richly rewarded. "Seems we got off on the wrong foot, I'm Luana" She smiled glad the whole thing wasn't going to be too easy.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>13-10-2014, 01:03:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"That's it, little fox, keep going!" Methuseld figured the magical creature would have a difficult time, what with those long canines, but serendipitously she started to feel the bindings get looser and looser. Soon she could feel the ropes slide on her wrists - it wasn't much, but it meant there was slack. "Go on, we've almost got it!" Head turned back to look at the fox's determined little tugging muzzle, the general whispered more words of encouragement until there was enough slack that, with just a bit of effort, she could slide one hand out of the loop. Quickly sliding the other out, she took but a breif moment to stretch with a relieved sigh before twisting onto her back again, arms in their appropriate and extremely uncomfortable positions and hands slipped back into the slightly loosened rope bindings once more. There would be time to be comfortable when she'd completed the mission. Right now, the longer they went without checking her bindings, the better the chance she had of catching them off-guard. She had to know where they were to do that, and right now all she knew was that they weren't in the room. "Hurry back to your corner before they return," the general whispered with a smile that teetered on the edge of friendly and mischievous. <br><br>The hammock swayed slightly from all the movement, but now its motions began to dissipate. All Methuseld could do was wait for the armored man or perhaps his fiendish accomplice to return, hoping all the while that the latter was not as much a raper as she'd been led to believe. She strained her ears to hear something, anything, outside the sleeping quarters, but the groaning of old wooden ship and the creaking of hammock ropes straining to bear a fully-armored warrior dominated any sounds that could have wound their way down to the two captured females. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>14-10-2014, 03:00:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza's hearing was better than the woman's, and so the fox was more aware of the commotion above their heads. She couldn't make out Dean's exact words, but his tone was suitably ghoulish and dreadful. And it provoked some sort of huffy response from the elf, too. Aza got more rope between her teeth and yanked.<br><br>Perhaps there was time to free Methuseld entirely. Perhaps this had the barest chance of success. Aza couldn't quite muster the General's rousing cheer, but... perhaps. She was just proceeding to nose about the ropes restricting the woman's legs when the boards over them scraped with footfalls, sending the fox back to the floor and scurrying to her own corner, where she hunkered down and tried to be nothing more than glinting little eyes in the shadows. <em>Three</em>, she told Methuseld, projecting two manly shapes and a feminine one at the other woman's mind. <em>Unfriends</em>.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>16-10-2014, 09:17:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean just -had- to go and say something about the newcomer's breasts. Donovan's eyes lowered for a moment - silently agreed with Dean's appraisal - then cursed himself for falling for that trick so easily. The elf asked if her boobs were too big, and Donovan had to bite his tongue to keep from actually -answering- her. She introduced herself as Luana. Dean didn't seem too impressed, seeming to prefer two women and two men. Donovan counted in his head... with Luana, it would be two women, two men... and a fox.<br><br>Dean's warning made Donovan sigh. A plauge? Really? Well, that might keep the guard and the regular citizenry busy for awhile, which would only help them with their movements away from the place. Donovan didn't ask any questions about it, because he simply didn't want to know. But then Dean dropped the real bomb on him - the fox was a -shapeshifter-, and Donovan's eyes snapped to meet Dean's, wide and suddenly very worried.<br><br>"Shit," Donovan said, and turned and dashed back around and through the door into the hold of the ship. "Bring her! But let's go!" Donovan -thought- back to his companion, as he made his way back to the room where he found the fox sitting in the corner where he had left it, and Methuself laying on the hammock where he had left her, as well. Donovan's eyes narrowed... both the fox AND the woman-warrior looked -far- to innocent for their own good. He'd re-check Methuseld's bindings soon enough, but his eyes turned and leveled towards Aza.<br><br>"So... you're a shapeshifter, and I was the only one who didn't know," he said. "You understand everything we've been saying, and you might -look- like a fox, but you're a LOT smarter than that, aren't you girl?" he said. NOW it made sense, why the little fox seemed to be so important to the vizier. Shapeshifters weren't exactly a common commodity, and having one with that sort of ability could be really handy. "That's why he sent -you-," Donovan said, turning his gaze back to Methuseld. He sighed deeply, moving to rest his hands on his hips. "Well, if you both play along nice, we'll set you both free soon enough, and you can run back to your guys' master as quick as you like... but not until we're safely away from the city. Now doesn't that sound fair?" he asked, turning his head back and forth from Methuseld and Aza, as if either of them would answer him. <br><br>"We've got another passenger, too...," Donovan said, glancing behind him, expecting Dean and Luana to be coming in about anytime now. "But this should be an easy trip, and then you guys can go home. Deal?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>19-10-2014, 04:08:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean paused in whatever it was he’d been about to do long enough to watch the wizard plop back over the side of the boat. Fuck, he thought with more than a hint of sadness, she isn’t drenched. Moisture tended to do such *amazing* things to clothes. Not that this newcomer was leaving much to the imagining with her posturing. Rather than attempt to throw her over the boat again, Dean paused to scruff his chin thoughtfully.<br><br>“You know, I normally avoid the overt types. No real effort or struggle in it. Then again, there’s something to be said about real enthusiasm.” He wiggled his brows at her and extended his tongue – and damn if the thing didn’t fork a bit at the tip when he waggled it! “Alright then, if you would, please walk first down below. We need to make sure we’ve got this all settled and no one doing anything nasty….” He paused, trailing off, watching the dock vanish – foot by foot, the tide was carrying them away. Back, on the dock, he could sense the magical flavors of the plague he’d deliberately loosed taking hold.<br><br>Dean had known about the sick little girl for some time. Scouting out this mission had revealed quite a bit of the city’s dirty secrets to the Shadow, and she was far from the worst of them. Still, something felt substantially less satisfying murdering so many people without being there to sup on the accursed fruits of his labors. Shaking his head, clearing the odd emotions away, the Shadow moved sinuously back toward the wizard woman and gestured again, the dagger at his side still sheathed. “Come on lassy, down you go. We’ll talk, get all friendly, and make sure this journey doesn’t call for further violence, shall we?”<br><br>As he waited for the woman to comply, Dean couldn’t help but wonder what shenanigans might be going on below. The teenage boy part of his mind hoped for an orgy. The killer, on the other hand, was looking for something more like a blood bath. Plus an orgy. Because, well, orgies. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>24-10-2014, 03:42:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Well, hell. Aza tried not to look dismayed when Donovan rightfully accused her of being not <em>just </em>a fox, but it was too hard to conceal emotions with those mobile little ears, which had immediately gone flat. She snuck a look past him at Methuseld, wondering how the General would take the shapeshifting news.<br><br>Donovan went on, making more promises about 'free' and 'easy' and 'home.' Methuseld didn't seem nearly as pleased with the prospect of being returned to any master, Aza noticed, but then again Aza wasn't sure <em>anything</em> pleased the blonde warrior. At that point, the foxgirl didn't care. She was bruised and dirty and exhausted, and all this anxiety suppressed the natural flow of the energy that she would otherwise almost constantly exude. That in turn created a slowly mounting pressure like unshed tears that made the backs of her eyes feel tired and scratchy, and for at least the third time that night she wanted to bite something. Instead she ducked her head and rubbed her face against the inside of a foreleg, making a tiny, grumbling noise. It didn't help much, and probably looked as if she was rejecting Donovan’s bargain of nice-playing. What good were his terms, anyway, unless his partner or whatever-he-was was willing to follow them too?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElvenKitten</strong> on <strong>25-10-2014, 01:32:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Luana let her glare drop and smiled at Dean, she knew her rage was not going to get anywhere by killing him if she even could. “Maybe we should bury the hatchet? I doubt a fight will do this...boat any good." If things did turn nasty again she did have a teleport prepared, she always did and could do some damage.<br><br>She headed for the lower deck still holding a fire spell ready to let fly if necessary and saw the fox and Methuseld and smiled “Evening Methuseld, you and I are going to be the best of friends.“ She turned to Donovan “Lets all be friends, or at least not enemies.” Maybe she could still pull this off without violence 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>25-10-2014, 18:45:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld watched, essentially seething, as Donovan walked in. She knew these next few moments were key if she were to escape, fox in hand. But then Donovan said something that completely took her by surprise. The fox was a shapeshifter? She looked at the creature, barely masking her surprise. And yet now it made more sense than ever: why the fox could communicate telepathically, why it seemed to behave so intelligently and think so coherently. That it was a shapeshifter now seemed almost more believable.<br><br>Donovan said something about her being able to return to her "master" that snapped Methuseld out of her thoughts. She turned away from the two, but the brief look of disgust on her face was as noticeable as a black cat in the snow. She couldn't help picture a groveling slave returning to do the Vizier's bidding, and it sickened her. She was not his slave. She was not broken. Just... powerless. At the moment. Until she figured out how to undo the blasted djinn's curse.<br><br>Glowering gaze shifted to the busty Elf who came in with the shadow man she'd fought in the building. Just seeing him again made her blood boil, but acting on petty desires for vengeance did not suit her well. The Elf seemed to know her, as anyone with half a brain did. "Piss off, Elf," she spat out and turned away. The sooner she got the fox back to the Vizier, the better... Something she never thought she'd say.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>28-10-2014, 09:13:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan definitely -did- notice that Methuseld didn't take kindly to his notion that she'd be returning to her 'master' soon. So, the mighty general didn't have the best of relationships with the vizier, did she? The sour look on her face reminded him of a time he had taken a bite out of an apple that was well past its prime, filled with a couple worms to give it that 'added flavor'. Donovan had spit it out instantly, while Dean had simply joked about it being, 'meat to go with his fruit'.<br><br>"Seems as if someone isn't real -thrilled- with the idea of going back to the vizier," Donovan noted out loud, not really lording it over her, but his voice sounding more curious than demeaning. "I bet there's a story in that, if the good general would be willing to share. We should be sailing through the night and the better part of tomorrow, so we have plenty of time for such tales."<br><br>When Methuseld's gaze turned to the newcomer elf, Donovan glanced her way as well as Methuseld told her quite directly to 'piss off'. <br><br>"That does bring up an interesting point," he said, latching on at the end of Methuseld's words. "What exactly -are- you doing here? You've come from someone important, so what exactly do they want?" he asked. Donovan only cared about one thing - the same thing that Dean cared about, but if this situation could be used to their advantage, Donovan didn't doubt that Dean would do it, and so would he, all things considered. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 16:15:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Normally Dean would have found the situation quite enticing: three females in a room with him and Donovan – whom Dean saw as an extension of himself in many ways, and thus not a competitor for attention. This was far from normal times, however. The warrior-woman was a rancid, razor-shaped cunt. The fox was a mischievous magic-demon. And, more mysteriously than all of it, was the curvy elf. Dean had no fucking clue about her. She seemed powerful, was clearly a spellcaster, yet she wasn’t trying to lord it over the rest of them or overtly manipulate the situation. Dean would, of course, have noted any mind or shadow magics and was quite effective at penetrating most enchantments – if only for the purpose of killing spellcasters. <br><br>All this added up to a mixture of resentment, guarded anticipation, and confusion – none of which were emotions that the Shadow particularly cared for. Put his cock in a mouth and he’d be as settled as a stroked cat. Put him in a room with three unknown variables and…well. Fuck.<br><br>So he leaned against the hull of the ship, two throwing daggers in one hand, the edges glistening with green ichor and shadowy power – ready to throw either at whoever showed the first sign of violence. As he watched the group converse, he quite casually reached into a pocket and withdrew a vial of some horrible toxin and began tapping it against one of the blades, as if considering whether or not to apply a new coating. <br><br>“Friends is good,” he said at last to the elf, giving her a leering, overtly sexualized look followed by a pretty solid A- eye-fucking. The man had an image to maintain.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElvenKitten</strong> on <strong>06-11-2014, 00:19:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Luana had expected the reaction from Methuseld and simply smiled warmly as if they were the best of friends. She saw the lascivious glare from Dean and gave him a little smile. "Friiiiends is very good" she was actually able to purr like a cat with a few illusion magic tricks and it sometimes had an interesting effect on men. <br><br>She tried to size up the two men and wasn't sure she could get a good read on them. Why did they take the little shape-shifter in the first place if they were so eager to give her back? This situation was getting very very messy as a job from Demon Devi tended to. She had heard so many rumours about the crime boss and all of them fell short of the truth. <br><br>She stepped forward, trying to give the impression of good will and openness. She had a feeling that she would have to bed one or both men at some point during the journey and had mixed feelings especially concerning Dean.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>06-11-2014, 05:24:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				An arrow-like glare shot through the air towards Donovan, undisguised in the least, as he loudly and correctly wondered about why she didn't seem thrilled to return to the Vizier. She'd foolishly let too much slip, not that she had much choice about it, and now they knew that much more about her. Knowledge was everything. Well, time to follow her own advice. Sharp eyebrows, like daggers, thrust upward as the captive commander helplessly listened to the conversation. She couldn't avoid it even if she wanted to, but for now this was proving to be very interesting. The Elf was <em>not</em> one of the thieves, as she'd first assumed. Did that mean there was still a Dark Elven accomplice out there somewhere? At first she'd thought the reports had been wrong - it was dark, everyone was likely dressed to conceal their identities, it'd be easy to see a light elf at night and assume Dark. Those little light-gold daggers, barely visible against the general's ivory-white skin, furrowed further as the woman listened and tried to piece together the puzzle. This Elf had 'come from someone important', but they did not know what she wanted. Yet still they let her on board. Why? Why all the trouble? Were they stupid? Or had Methuseld misunderstood and they <em>had</em> known the employer? No, that couldn't be. Otherwise they'd likely know what she wanted, right?<br><br>Briefly 'struggling' against her bonds, the general's tall, feminine, yet powerful form lay in the hammock like a deer trussed up after the kill. She resented this, resented capture. She'd never been captured by the enemy in her life - both when she fought alongside her late Lord and later when she fought without him, she'd always been too good. Either more powerful, more skilled, or just plain smarter than her opponent. But accidents happened, especially when she was... under the influence, so to speak. She hated that about herself. Hated how it made her lose control and therefore weakened her. Not just control of her mind, though that was bad enough, but also control of her body, of her desires, of everything she held dear. <br><br>She was not Methuseld after this curse. And she wondered if she ever would be again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>07-11-2014, 07:49:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan caught Methuseld's glare. So his words had struck home. It didn't take a magic spell to tell him that the woman was obviously -not- very eager to return to the vizier. Perhaps she grew tired of being the vizier's pet? Perhaps the vizier took his liberties with her too often for her liking? Or perhaps the vizier took liberties with his harem in front of her, and THAT was what Methuseld hated about the man? It was hard to tell, but Donovan didn't need to be a mind-reader to know that he wasn't going to convince Methuseld to open up to him and spill the beans about her distaste for the most powerful man in the city. It was enough to know that she simply did not want to return.<br><br>Dean didn't speak much, but the shadow-man watched the rest of the gathering intently. Donovan felt more at ease now that Dean had returned. Dean often saw things that Donovan did not, and together they were perceptive and worked very well together. Right now, though, they were sitting still and needed to be -moving-, preferably away from the city at least until things settled down. But if he and Dean were taking off with the vizier's jewels, his werefox, AND his general, Donovan had a feeling they would be chased for a very, very long time. And Luna, of course, was a wild card. IF she worked for Demi, there was a chance the two men could possibly off-load the werefox and the general for some much-needed coin. Let Demi worry about a ransom for the vizier's two 'pets': Donovan and Dean had more than enough to worry about already.<br><br>He noticed Methuseld 'struggling against her bonds', though he of course did not know her hands were actually free. "Hey you, knock that off," he warned her with a look, his deep voice commanding her to be still. "I am going to go up top and get us the hell out of this dock. They'll probably be shutting down the port within the hour, so the longer we sit, the more chance we get caught. Dean - keep an eye on them, will you? Including your new 'friend'," Donovan said, casting a wary glance towards Luna. <br><br>"I'll be just on deck, so if you need anything - I'll be here in a heartbeat." He turned his attention to Luna. "One we're safely away, THEN we can talk business, alright? I am sure we can come to some sort of arrangement that will benefit you, us, your boss... everyone." Donovan wasn't blind to the elf's curves - of course, she -planned- it that way when dealing with men, he was sure. Distraction could give her all the advantage she needed if things turned ugly. A flash of skin here or there might make a man pause for a moment - long enough to lose his head or other sensitive body parts if he wasn't careful. <br><br>Then Donovan turned his gaze towards the werefox sitting in the corner, trying its best to look completely innocent. "And you," he said, pointing at the fox. "Now we're on to you, little pup. You be good, and you'll be back home safe and sound, soon enough," he said, and lastly turned his gaze to Methuseld.<br><br>"I don't see a need for violence, if you simply cooperate. Dean, however... well, he often enjoys a bit of violence. Remember what I said," he nodded once, slowly, towarsd Methuseld as his eyes did notice how certain parts of her body seemed almost accented and emphasized by the way the ropes clung to her. She'd be beautiful, in a way, if she wasn't spittin' vinegar and covered in armor. Not for the first time he wondered to himself what she'd look like -beneath- that metal shell, but he knew he wasn't going to find out, most likely.<br><br>"I'll be back shortly," Donovan said, then nodding to Dean and turning to head back up to the main deck so he could get the little boat underway. Time was of the essence, and Donovan could easily augment his strength to push the boat off, hoist a sail, and steer or even row by himself if need be....<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>08-11-2014, 17:57:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean considered Donovan’s words, the plan of action and was vaguely pleased that the Knight trusted him along with three women. Dean’s leering grin practically looked like it had been painted across his face as he turned to take in Aza. The little wolf pup had been fun before, when she was a real girl, but her cowardly side – not to mention fleeing for the arms of the enemy whenever she got a chance – was not very fun. In fact…<br><br>“You know, I’ve never considered the implications of a shapeshifter from a sexual perspective. Would fucking a fox be bestiality, or just really tight fun?” Waving a hand over at Luana, he mused aloud, “She’s a wicked little bitch, and you seem the sort of girl who enjoys being along for a good ride. While Donovan gets us running, how about we mix business and pleasure?” The deep shadows of the ship roiled near the little fox, menacing and vaguely phallic, tentacular swirls sprouting horrific, shark-toothed faces to leer at her as Dean watched Luana.<br><br>He was a man comfortable multi-tasking. Without looking over his shoulder, he called out, “I got this,” to both Donovan and, perhaps, the bound girl on the floor. She was certain to have a good show from all this playtime. Maybe it would bring out the lusty succubus-thing he’d seen before, back at their hideout? <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>09-11-2014, 04:58:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				When Donovan decided to head topside, Aza rose and took a step forward as if to reluctantly say <em>no don't go </em>or maybe <em>take me with you.</em> Dean, of course, immediately cemented her affright by candidly suggesting he fuck her fox form, possibly with the elf's willing or otherwise participation. He didn't mention consuming her soul during or after the fucking, but it was definitely implied, and he hadn't put the dagger away either. She retreated the same step as Dean's shadows formed and returned to circle her, making her flinch away from their swooping, fanged grins before spinning to frantically snap at one that came too close. <em>Stay AWAY,</em> she wordlessly screamed at the next one, and simultaneously, the little room in the ship's hold went magically manic.<br><br>Dean and Donovan had already experienced the fox's occasional and mostly unintended outbursts, so there was likely little doubt where the rolling energy originated this time. It was potent enough to also manifest as an unseen but very physical, heated wave that caused the entire boat to list, and the hammocks swayed and the ship's timbers groaned as it righted again, sounding much like the so-called safehouse that had so recently collapsed over their heads. The collar Donovan had stored on his person lit up, every jewel aglow, and the temperature below decks was suddenly balmy. <br><br>Even as the effects reverberated like a struck cymbal inside every nearby mind, Aza had no interest in hanging around to see the results or if they differed from the last time. She made another scurrying run for the doorway, paws slipping on the wet, tilting boards. Dean could think of her as a coward all he liked. Large men with knives and inhuman powers had the luxury of being <em>brave</em>; small foxgirls with cutesy magics had to be more concerned with self-preservation and avoiding mixed-species sex.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElvenKitten</strong> on <strong>13-11-2014, 01:10:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Luana was very much looking forward to mixing business and pleasure with Dean. She smiled at him seductively "I'd like that" she watched as the shadows headed for the little fox and then the ship shook and she found herself on the ground her staff clattering away. She got to her feet thanks to her elven agility and the staff flew back into her hand. "I don't think the fox wants to play Dean ." She knew there was nowhere for the little fox to run and it seemed a little silly to give chase. <br><br>She looked at Dean and shrugged "At least you've not scared me off, I was just pondering the many implications of a man who can multitask like you." she grinned as she removed what could scarcely be called armour the spellwrought leather actually providing more protection than full plate. “Like what you see?” She grinned at him “Maybe we could have some fun with her?” She pointed to Methuseld with a grin. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>13-11-2014, 08:00:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The captured general struggled a bit more once commanded to stop but eventually ceased. Her ears perked up when the man headed up to cast off - honestly she was surprised it took them this long. Amateurs? Waiting for the Elf? No, she'd already established that the blonde beauty and the rest were not affiliated. But she was not eager to find out what sort of "beneficial arrangement" the three would come up with regarding herself and Aza. Or maybe understanding everyone's angle in this would be useful.<br><br>"Oh, violence will be kept to a minimum, I assure you. And we <em>will</em> be back home soon enough. With you two in tow. No... three; I'm sure the Vizier would love a magical little slave such as yourself!" She did not care for the Elf's flirtatious attitude - she herself had not bothered with such behavior for years now, and would not. She was trapped by the Vizier, a slave to a curse and thereby to his will, and flirting and seduction were not on her list of top priorities. Especially when the Vizier saw fit to partake of what few charms his general had left to offer, curse be damned (too many times his men had had to pry him off). <br><br>She also did not care for the shadow man's clearly vile thoughts and actions. She got the distinct sense that he wanted to try his luck at her, and bound up as she was she didn't know whether she could (or should, since she'd partially slipped free) stop him from trying. And if he'd succeeded? Perhaps there would be no stopping him whatsoever. Wouldn't that be a terrible end for her... These thoughts crossed her mind just as Dean directed his attention towards the fox, asking her various suggestive and inappropriate (according to Methuseld) questions. The fox seemed terrified by this, or... no, the fox was terrified of something else entirely. Shadows began licking at the poor creature, swirling and rolling like vile ocean waves covered in leering fanged faces and tentacle-like shapes. Methuseld recoiled, turning her face away from the unpleasant image just as the ship suddenly lurched - hard.<br><br>One moment, everything had been as calm as they could be with evil shadows suggestively surrounding a helpless shapeshifter. The next, movement and heat and everything in between - an hour-long couple of seconds that shook the hammocks so hard that the bound general spilled out pathetically, landing on her armor-clad stomach but banging her chin and face on the hard wooden floor. Stunned and unable to apply pressure to keep her hands appearing bound, the natural tension of being pressed up against armor and bent in ways they shouldn't be caused them to slip out of the bindings and onto her sides while their owner attempted to recover. Somewhere in her mind, she heard the Elf ask Dean if he liked what he saw. Suggested they could have some fun with Methuseld. But she wasn't really processing it.<br><br>Groaning, she tried to get up, and that was when the second shock hit.<br><br>To everyone else on the ship - nothing had happened, there was only one magical shock wave. But suddenly the general rolled over, eyes half-lidded, back arched as she twitched and grunted as if she was having a seizure. To the golden-haired ivory-skinned foreigner, it was as if another wave of energy rocked the boat, its invisible hand seizing her and trying to pry her from the mortal realm up to the stars. She fought, truly she did, mentally holding on to any little thing she could - any memory, any principle, anything at all to ground herself in the land of the living. And then she saw that it was not her that was being pried away, but the djinn that had cursed her. Or something that resembled the djinn - like a reflection in a mirror, both separate yet inseparable from the original. And she let him go instantly, he who had caused her so much heartache and suffering - may he never come back.<br><br>In the real world, after a battle that lasted minutes the general now lied on the ground, exhausted but now still. Her face red and drenched in sweat from exertion whose cause would have befuddled any but the most gifted wizards, Methuseld von Ellegarde slowly opened her gray eyes and looked around. And felt... Free? Tight rope bindings still held together two metal-clad feet, but she no longer felt a pull. <em>The</em> pull. The need to obey the Vizier's command, like a constant twitch in the back of her mind that threatened to drive her mad unless she obeyed. The curse wasn't lifted entirely; she could tell other aspects of it were still there. And perhaps this was only a momentary lift. But still... it was something. It was freedom. And like any slave recently freed, von Ellegarde had no idea what to do with that freedom or what to think. She was too perplexed and too unused to it to even sigh or be happy. Too used to the helplessness of having one's free will stripped away to know how to re-assume control of herself. She looked at the Fox, then at Dean and the now nude elf. An almost blank, emotionless stare. <br><br>The tumble out of the hammock had given her a cut on the chin from the old wooden deck, and blood was seeping between her lips from a bitten tongue. But she didn't seem to mind all that. "Just ignore me - go back to what you two were doing. I'm going to lie here... And..." Accented voice trailed off. A most un-Methuseld thing to do.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>14-11-2014, 09:44:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan welcomed the fresh air, once he left the cabin behind him. It was an odd collection of women they had on board - a werefox who could apparently shift into human form and back at will, and possessed some magical power. A strange, mysterious elf-woman who worked for an even more mysterious employer, and who seemed to try to play the seductive angle - which would probably work on Dean, but not on Donovan, he knew. And then there was Methuseld, who had hate and murder in her eyes, and if given the chance, Donovan knew that woman would geld him AND Dean, and wear their testicles as a trophy necklace around her neck.<br><br>No, as Donovan pushed off the board from the pier, it would be better for all of them to get this business done with as soon as possible. The three ladies could return to their lives, and Dean and Donovan could move on with theirs. No one needed to be hurt, no one needed to be-...<br><br>"AHHHHHH shiiii-----..."<br><br>The boat sudden lurched sideways, throwing Donovan harshly against the railing several feet away - ALMOST throwing him overboard. He crashed against the wood, having willed his skin to the hardness of stone -just- before impact, or he likely would have broken bones. Instead, the wood of the railing was splintered, but thankfully had held. He quickly rose to his feet, glanced around to see that the boat was barely twenty feet or so from the pier. How ironic it would be to get just a few feet away from the pier, only to sink right there and then? Embarrassing, rather than ironic.<br><br>Immediately his mind sought out Dean's, querying what the hell was going on! The surge of a clashing sound in his mind was similar to something he'd heard before... something that the magical fox had caused, and an alarm went off in Donovan's head (which he couldn't hear over the sound of the ringing in his mind, regardless). This could be an escape attempt, he knew. But as he turned and dashed for the doorway that would lead back into the cabin with Dean and the three passengers, Donovan wasn't truly concerned about the Fox - she hadn't seemed violent or harmful... yet. He also wasn't concerned about Methuseld - she was bound securely, AND her weapon was well-hidden. <br><br>But the elf... she was the wild-card, and Donovan knew that she might be trouble.<br><br>He reached for the door, not really knowing what to expect....
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>15-11-2014, 20:54:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				This elf, Dean thought to himself, is cut from a wonderful cloth. Ripe, indulgent, and clearly insatiable. She’d been totally comfortable with a nice little four-way involving the pair of them, his tentacular servants, and the were-fox. In fox form. A truly wonderful woman to have on the ship for their trip! Dean’s leering grin was positively disgusting when the fox’s magic went off. This time, instead of surging through him and reinforcing his power (or clearing his mind), the power seemed to smack the ship like a giant’s hand, warming every surface.<br><br>“What the shit?” Dean muttered, gracefully maintaining his footing even as he watched the elf’s breasts bounce and sway in the disturbance. Alright, now *that* made it a solid seventy-percent better, Dean decided as he watched the taut curves that only elves could manage respond to the rocking.<br><br>Then the warrior woman was writhing as though in a seizure, body racked with spasms that looked too painful to be anything good. Still, Dean thought as his gaze shifted to her roiling body, if she’d been wearing a bit less, it might have been a show on par with what the elf had just given him.<br><br>“Fucking clothes,” Dean muttered, only becoming aware that the fox had fled when he felt Donovan’s mental nudge. Responding, Dean gave Donovan a quick mental image of the hold, along with what the fox had done.<br><br>*Apparently she can release a variety of magical emanations, Knight. The first two empowered those around her. This one released raw energy and sent the warrior-woman into a seizure. She’s headed your way, or hiding somewhere between here and the deck. No doubt once we’re further from the dock she’ll come out. There’s no way she’s going to swim back home once we’re at sea.”<br><br>Dean didn’t want the fox to go – she was critical to unraveling the mystery of his and Donovan’s unique bond. Or, at worst, a way to ease the prison a bit. Trusting Donovan to handle his side of things, Dean practically danced over to the downed warrior-woman.<br><br>“Oh, look. She’s gotten her hands free. This isn’t any good. Now she’ll want to fight, with no joining in the fun as we’d planned.” He spoke over his shoulder to the elf, his tone flirtatious in a darkly sadistic way. “I’m thinking we tie her over a bulwark so she can’t get free. Then explore…” He paused, frowning as the words Methy had spoken registered. “Do what? Are you feeling alright? Are you sure you don’t want to kill the world and bite all the dicks?”<br><br>Curiosity, one of Dean’s many flaws, seemed to have stalled his lust, if only briefly. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>18-11-2014, 03:34:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza shouldered full speed into the bottom of the door just as Donovan arrived on its other side, resulting in a solid <em>thunk </em>for one or probably both of them. It was slightly less embarrassing than the time she'd pounced a lizard face-first into a glass window, but it hurt about the same. She recovered admirably and resumed her hustle, abandoning that scene and scuttling past Donovan on her way up to the deck.<br><br>As soon as she emerged into the night air she began to yip, figuring that whatever attention the commotion might attract couldn't possibly be worse than what was already after her. Dean and Donovan hadn't killed <em>every </em>soldier; surely some of Methuseld's men remained on the hunt for the sorceress's fox and now the Vizier's general too. She skidded to stop against the ship's rail, realizing they'd already drifted too far for any hope of a hop back to the pier, and uttered a few more incautious chirping barks to whoever might be on shore and within earshot.<br><br>The shadows moved, and she almost fell over herself backing away from them, fearing they intended to bite. Donovan would be coming after her, if Dean wasn't. She shut up and went for a pile of loose crates in the aft of the boat. As she dove for that concealment her fur bled from khaki-colored to a mottled slate and deep inky blue, meant to make her just another unnoticed scrap of darkness amidst the jumbled cargo. There was no possibility such camouflage would keep her from being found, she was sure, but maybe Methuseld would finish tearing herself loose and go on her murder spree first. Or, perhaps, the elf would successfully initiate an orgy. Probably give them all the pox too. They deserved it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>19-11-2014, 02:49:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan opened the door - only to have a dark, furry shape go darting past his feet, ankles and shins. He knew of course exactly what it was - the little fox, making a break for it. Donovan didn't hear the sounds of combat or sense Dean being in any danger, so he shut the door, then turned - intent on gathering up the sneaky fox and carrying her back to the hold.<br><br>She reached the railing, leaning up against it with her front paws, making her soft muffled fox-barking sounds as if crying for help. Donovan chuckled - it almost looked -cute-, the way she leaned up there trying to howl for aid, but there was no one else on the dock now, or if there was, they weren't paying attention to what sounded like a yowling of a dog.<br><br>"Little fox... you don't want to make a jump for it," Donovan said as he began to stalk towards her. They were -really- far from the pier now, and Donovan was pretty sure the little fox wouldn't be able to make that long a jump. "If anyone hears you, they are just going to think you're a wharf-hound, barking at a cat or a mouse or something," he said, as he slowly got closer to her. His voice was gentle, as was his approach. He had no desire to harm her, and perhaps a more calm, gentle approach would calm her down a bit. Maybe.<br><br>She suddenly jerked backward, as if recoiling from something... the shadows, perhaps? Or maybe she saw something in the water? They were safe on the boat, as far as Donovan was concerned, but she darted away, out of sight amongst a small pile of crates further down the ship's small deck. She was hiding - from him, from the world, he wasn't entirely sure.<br><br>Donovan was mindful of his connection with Dean... if there was any issues below, Donovan would be able to respond quickly. But at the moment, all else seemed fine except the runaway fox. Donovan approached the pile of crates.<br><br>"Come on, little fox. There's no place to run - and you know I am not going to hurt you," he said. "If I was, I already had plenty of chances to do so, but I didn't. Come on out," he invited her as he very gently, very quietly and very slowly began to move crates away one by one, removing the various hiding places she might find, bit by bit....
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>19-11-2014, 18:29:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Wharf-hound. Was<em> that </em>better than dog-thing? <br><br>Staring out from behind the slats of an empty crate, she watched Donovan stroll across the deck and begin to lift the boxes away from her makeshift refuge. The neckpiece still glimmered from between the stiches of the pouch into which he'd tucked it, casting back a minute sparkle from her blue-grey eyes. <em>No place to run.</em> That was true. <em>You know I'm not going to hurt you. </em>That was less so. <br><br>She sighed, and considered madly cavorting all over the ship with Donovan in close pursuit until the sun rose over the harbor. What use was there in prolonging the chase? He was much larger than she, and in these quarters probably just as quick, and his magics were obviously of a more useful caliber as well. He didn't seem nearly as sleepy either, maybe because he'd planned ahead for a full night of wrongdoings and misconduct. Aza would've taken a much longer nap had she known. <br><br>So when Donovan got down to sliding the last and largest crate aside, it was to reveal a human girl sitting resignedly on his deck, one bare arm hugging her bare knees to her bare chest. In the dim, passing light, and beneath the smears of dried blood and the dust, her skin was radiantly pale; the long hair falling down her back the same midnight blue and stormy grey her fur had most recently been. She seemed exceptionally small, looking up at him, but as her eyes narrowed the collar's glow strengthened. "You said I could be free. Find for me now an escort to the Spire, and I will forget this, all," she informed him, an imperious lilt to her accented tone, so different from the General's. "Nothing will I say, or ever <em>think</em>, of you again." She meant it, too. Once she was clean and curled upon her own bed, Donovan and his partner and their stupid fishy ship would cease to exist to the little werefox pet entirely. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>19-11-2014, 18:54:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan was getting down to the last crate or two, and he -knew- the little fox had to be hiding behind one of them. But when he moved the last one away and saw not a fox, but a woman... he nearly fell back and tripped, surprise evident both in his movements and on his face.<br><br>Hmph. Imagine that. Dean -wasn't- exaggerating. There was no fox, but instead a rather sheepish, almost vulnerable looking woman sitting there - apparently nude or nearly so, if not for her long hair and her arms concealing parts of her from his eyes. Donovan blinked for a moment - he hadn't had a lot of experience with shapeshifters, and most stories he'd heard of them he always believed to be fairy-tales. He knew some mages who could magically alter their shape, but only for brief periods of time, and when they reverted back to themselves, they certainly weren't naked.<br><br>She had porcelain skin that looked so soft and smooth that he feared it might actually break if he touched her. Instead, he kept his distance, his hands settling on his hips as he stared down at her. A glance or two about showed that he was still looking around for the fox - as if he still didn't -quite- believe it was the same creature sitting before him. He hadn't -seen- the transformation, after all... this could be some sort of trick....<br><br>When she spoke, a wry smile crossed his lips. Slowly then, he lowered himself to squat down to the ship's deck - not getting any closer, but lowering himself down so that he didn't tower over her, either.<br><br>"Well, little fox... there's a problem or two with your demands," he said, still half-smiling at her. "First... we're going -away- from land, not closer to it - at least not for awhile. So finding you an escort home isn't likely, at least not in the immediate future," he said. "Secondly... you need not act so shy. You aren't equipped with anything I ain't never seen before," he said. "And thirdly... I mentioned before that I won't hurt you - and I won't. But Dean... the shadow...," he shrugged slightly. "I can't speak for him. So I suggest - and it is only a suggestion - that you cooperate. Don't cause any trouble. Do that, and I -promise-... you will get home safely."<br><br>Slowly he rose to his feet - and then took a slow step forward - offering his hand down towards her.<br><br>"Now... would you like some clothes to put over your skin? The night is going to get chilly out on the water..."<br><br>He wasn't looking to scare her or intimidate her, and his words about Dean were... well... partially true. Dean -would- hurt her, if she pissed him off, but Donovan secretly hoped that Dean wouldn't harm a woman so easily, or without good cause. It was a reason why Donovan felt fairly safe with Dean in the belly of the ship with the dangerous Methuseld - and the enigmatic elf. Since there were yet to be any explosions, screams, or the ripping and tearing of wood, Donovan could only assume that the three of them were getting along splendidly...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>20-11-2014, 05:26:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The young woman's expression darkened further, chin down, gaze up. "Your promises, no meaning," she asserted, with a flash of white and maybe sharp teeth. "Your intentions and his, the same. Steal together, house together, sail together."<br><br>She took equal umbrage at being labeled <em>shy</em>. Her cool-colored glare flicked down to his outstretched offer of help, then back up to his handsome face and his guileless little smile. "And you have <em>never </em>seen what I am, before," she told him. That seemed like a fair guess as much as a boast; she hadn't missed his startlement at finding her transformed.<br><br>And then despite that vehemence, Aza dropped her hand into his and smoothly pulled herself to her feet. It <em>was </em>somewhat brisk above decks. And she was definitely nude. "So bring to me these clothes."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>20-11-2014, 07:13:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan shook his head slowly at her accusations. "Fine. My promises have no meaning - but I'll prove it to you when we get you back home," he said. "And yes, Dean and I steal together, house together... and sometimes sail together. But we're alike in some ways... and very different in others. It would be like me accusing you and the general of being the same, as well... you both serve the vizier..."<br><br>Donovan shrugged slightly when she asserted he hadn't seen anything like her before. "Well, you're right on that account," he agreed. But I meant you... covering yourself. Hiding your... your goods. I've seen them before, aplenty, just not on you," he added, realizing how awkward that all sounded. "I know of some shapeshifters, but never heard of a fox before. I guess I shouldn't be surprised."<br><br>To his surprise, though, she put her hand in his and let him help her to her feet. She -commanded- him to bring her to the clothes he referred to, and as he released her hand - or did she yank it away? - he bowed low to her. "Your majesty," he said in a deep, breathy voice - obviously playful. "Right this way..." <br><br>He led her across the deck - or at least, he headed in that direction, assuming she would accompany him if she didn't want her tender-bits to be getting a bit chilled. Near the fore of the boat was a door that led to what would normally be the captain's quarters, which would normally be the most comfortable room on the ship. It was... a room, for certain, and it was indeed where Donovan or Dean might rest if they needed to. The interior was sparse, lit only by a small lamp that Donovan took a moment to ignite as he stepped in. There was a bed in a cubby of sorts in the corner, as well as a single dresser, a desk, and some shelves that were currently empty. <br><br>"In the chest of drawers there, you'll find various clothing bits. Most likely they'll all be a bit big... my size, or Dean's size, even though Dean doesn't -really- have a size that-...," he paused, not really sure how to explain it. Donovan was as much a man as the next one, but Dean was something else entirely, able to morph and change and shift and alter himself in numerous ways.<br><br>"Anyway, even a little big, it should help a bit. There should be a belt or two in there that you can use to tighten a shirt to you or a pair of pants. Whatever you need to us - go ahead," he said. <br><br>"I will go check on the others while you dress... unless you have any other 'commands' you wish to give me, your highness?" he asked in a playfully sarcastic tone. She -did- seem rather... uppity, much like Methuseld... as if serving the vizier made his attitude rub off on them.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>20-11-2014, 23:07:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Donovan spoke, going on about Dean and then Aza's 'goods,' the tilt to her blue head was tiny but very loudly said <em>are you done rambling yet? </em> Her attentions were obviously more taken with the clothes. Much like hair, Aza liked clothes. "Yes, Dean is the nondead, corpse filled with the shadows, rapes souls, all that," she said dismissively, already pawing through the contents of the dresser. Towards the bottom she discovered a sleeveless tunic that was thankfully made of a finer fabric than burlap and was a palatable dark gray that would compliment her current coloring nicely. Holding it up for a quick inspection, she nodded and promptly set to work tearing it. "Commands? Yes, many. Are you accepting them, now?"<br><br>Donovan got a last glimpse of petite, shapely werefox body as she wriggled the tunic down over her head. Short as she was, the hem fell to just above her knee, with the slits she'd ripped opening up nearly to her hip. "Am I to be trade, then?" she asked almost conversationally as she pulled a length of braided cord free from a pair of pants, ignoring his comment about leaving to check the others. "The drow came for me, I know why." She glanced pointedly over at him, like<em> the drow you fucked on the floor before you burnt the place down, remember her? </em>"But you would give me back... I don't know why." She wound the cord just beneath her breasts and over one slim shoulder, then neatly knotted the ends between her shoulderblades and swept her hair free. It was mildly disappointing there was no mirror to admire the asymmetrical little number she'd just created. It probably needed more cleavage -- most outfits did -- so she popped free a few more threads at the front of the neckline, tugging and tucking the material into flattering places. "What is it you want, that you think a fox can get you?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>21-11-2014, 08:07:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan got the feeling she was ignoring a lot of what he said - but he said it anyway. If it came back to bite her in the ass later - well, that'd be on her for not paying attention. He got the act from her, the 'mightier than thou' or the 'more important than you' vibe rather quickly - and he was fine with that. It was something he was used to, with so many people in the city thinking they were better than everyone else. Outside the city - it didn't matter anyway. A man was a man, a woman was a woman, and animals were animals. Of course, being a werefox, Donovan wasn't really sure which category Aza fit into. Maybe both.<br><br>She sure seemed to dismiss the mention of Dean with a casual wave of her hand. Dean, the one that had scared her so easily. Would she be so dismissive the next time Donovan's shadow-self came calling? Part of him wanted to see, to find out, just to see if Aza would swallow some of that pride. But Donovan knew that was an unkind thought, and quickly sought to quell it.<br><br>She was rooting through the clothing drawers, almost as if looking for something in particular. With her back to him, Donovan couldn't help but enjoy the view. Shapely, young, supple and firm... He wondered for a brief moment if all werefox women were built that way, but then her voice broke his chain of thought.<br><br>Aza asked if he was 'accepting commands', and Donovan smirked at her, folding his arms across his chest. "I suppose that depends on what they -are-, your highness," he responded, the same gentle hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Ask for something reasonable, and you just might get it. Ask for something unreasonable and, well... you won't." <br><br>He did get a nice glimpse of her body as she wiggled - quite enticingly, in Donovan's eyes - into the clothes she had selected. He rolled his eyes as she ripped the sides of the shirt - maybe it was one of Dean's? No... of course not. It was one of Donovan's. Oh well, it would be easily replaced at some point. And really, it had been a small price to pay for the generous look he had gotten of her nudity. There were some men in the city who have paid a lot of silvers for such a view.<br><br>Then she began with her questions, starting with her fear of being traded as she reached in to find something to use as a belt of sorts. He let her finish with her list of questions, patiently waiting for her to catch her breath so he could speak. When he she finally stopped speaking, ending with her questioning him what he thought the fox could get him, he just shook his head.<br><br>"I have no intentions of 'trading' you at all - unless the vizier's men catch up to us and have us cornered - at which time I would trade you for our lives," he said. "But if all goes as planned, we'll be safely out of town soon enough - and I'll have you sent back to your master - since that is where you want to go so badly. No trade required."<br><br>The way she had arranged the cord, around her upper body like some sort of clothing-puzzle, accentuated her curves in a very distracting way.<br><br>"The drow was not with us to start. I have no idea what she had planned for you, but knowing drow... you were likely headed for some rich drow's dinner table," he said, cracking the faint hint of a smile. Drow ate most any kind of meat - or so the stories went.<br><br>"We would give you back because... we aren't in the business of kidnapping for ransom - unless that ransom buys our lives, of course," he admitted. "If we don't have to do that, you'll go free, so you can run back home to curl at your master's feet."<br><br>She began to 'alter' her outfit again, about her breasts, making them look even more... distracting.<br><br>"Umm... what is it that we want?" he echoed for a moment, trying to gather his senses.<br><br>~To slide my cock between your breasts?~ was what the darker side of his mind replied silently, urging him to say it out loud - which of course he did not... and for a moment, he wondered if that was Dean, fucking with him again.<br><br>"Ummm... we just want to go free. We got the gems we were looking for, and don't need anything else. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and the drow thought you would be a great treasure to steal... so... what can you get us? How about a bit of cooperation? Basically, if you help us out, we'll help you out, and you'll be home before you know it," he offered, forcing his eyes up to focus on her eyes, as well.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>22-11-2014, 03:48:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				While Donovan spoke, she'd flipped her head upside down and was raking fingers through her thick cobalt mane, shaking free more sand and separating the strands stuck with dry blood. She was listening, though. Donovan took her behavior for <em>arrogance</em>, but Aza would tell him it was pure <em>pragmatism </em>-- if she knew the word. The future was always uncertainty and the past had already passed, so Aza only ever considered the present. And presently, Dean and his rape-y shadow friends were downstairs, and it was the oddly conciliatory Donovan standing before her now. Standing and stammering just a bit as he explained the situation to her, apparently believing he had any idea of what was actually going on or why.<br><br>Upright again, she tucked some fluffed hair behind one tiny ear and eyed him until he pulled his gaze almost guiltily up to hers, as if he should be ashamed for examining what she had just made obvious effort to exhibit. "You are very attractive," she decided, sidling the few steps across the small room to him, and reaching up to brush lightly at a patch of soot at the neck of his leathers, just alongside his tanned skin. "And you are very wrong."<br><br>The collar in his pouch still gently shone, each remaining jewel faintly sparkling. "Is to sleep 'cooperation'? If yes, I wish to cooperate with you," she continued. Whatever the rest of them did to each other in the hold, they would hopefully go about it with a minimum of screaming.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>22-11-2014, 05:16:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan continued to wonder if she was even -listening- to him answer her questions. Maybe she was, or maybe she wasn't. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to repeat himself later when she started asking the same things again. A spoiled vizier's lap-dog, that's what she was!<br><br>He continued speaking no matter whether she paid attention or not. She stood upright and tucker her hair behind her ear. Out of the blue she complimented him AND told him he was wrong, all in one sentence.<br><br>"Well, that's mighty nice of-... hey, wait a minute," he said, looking confused for a moment as she stepped up to him. He looked down at her as she explained that she wanted to cooperate - if it meant being able to sleep. "Well.. if you need sleep, the bunk over there is all yours," he said, nodding over to where the captain's bed was, though it did not look overly more comfortable than a hammock. "But please... you can tear up my shirt, but... don't tear up the bed, ok?" he asked. <br><br>He wasn't worried about her trying to make a run for it, jumping off the side of the ship or something like that. They were farther and farther away from shore with each passing minute, and if she hadn't made a jump for it before, chances were she wasn't going to.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElvenKitten</strong> on <strong>22-11-2014, 15:25:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She was a little confused at the warrior woman's reaction being reminded of her cousin after too much of her 'magical' herbs. She giggled a little at Dean's comment looked down at the woman. She figured her magical protection had stopped the worst of the attack from the shapeshifter and she finally understood why Devi wanted the fox so badly.<br><br>The warrior woman was prettier than Luana expected, most women with martial skill she knew had been bullish creatures with exception of the elven warrior women. She would certainly enjoy spending some time with this armoured beauty. <br><br>She looked to Dean and smiled at him "So what do we do about her? Tie her up again, or have some fun with her?" she had a feeling she was going to enjoy this trip. Luana was still formulating a plan and figured a sleep spell could work but now was not the time.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>24-11-2014, 04:28:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan seemed bemused, which the kittenish fox found quite compelling despite her jeopardous circumstances. She should be nodding and retreating to the corner and making herself as small of a liability she could, hoping Dean kept occupied with the general and the harlot until Donovan could fulfill his promise and ship Aza back to the Spire. But he only blinked down at her and made a weak attempt at bargaining for the safe state of his blankets, after she'd somewhat teasingly proposed sleeping with him by way of <em>cooperating</em>. It was sort of adorable.<br><br>So she didn't move back, but brought her other hand up to flick away another bit of burnt safehouse from his shoulder, letting her palms settle over his chest after. He wasn't acting quite so obtuse as Dean had over the hair brushing, but he was still awfully uneffusive for a guy that had recently, as everyone knew, fucked a drow on the floor and then burnt the... <br><br>Wait. Aza paused, staring at a scorched spot on his leather armor, as some connection was unexpectedly made in her pretty little head. Dean had acted like a blushing virgin while Donovan had been downstairs with that drow, but now <em>Dean </em>was downstairs and all violently sexual, and here <em>Donovan </em>was trying hard to not glance down the front of what had once been his shirt. Dean'd said the two men were <em>opposite</em>, but <em>linked</em>, and... Well, it meant <em>something</em>, she was almost sure of it.&nbsp; <br><br>"But your hair is too short to braid," she observed, with a sly tilt to her head. Her hands slid down over his ribs to his hips and she pressed forward, to see if he would yield a step or let her further invade his personal space. "What else to do to you, then?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>24-11-2014, 04:39:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her words, or the way she had phrased them about 'cooperating' if it meant 'sleeping with him' weren't lost on the big guy. He simply believed that she had -misspoken-. Her speech pattern was a bit different than what he was used to, so likely, he thought, she had simply meant she wanted to get some rest after all the excitement of the day. <br><br>But then she was still standing before him, her hands reaching up to brush dust or some sort of debris off his armor. He knew he could use a shower, and his armor definitely could use a through cleaning as well, but then her palms were resting against his chest, her face angled to look up at his, and he simply looked down into her eyes, wondering what was -really- going on inside her head.<br><br>She mentioned something about his hair and braiding it, and he blinked at her with confusion. What??? Was that some secret question, wondering what else she should 'do' to him? It sure did sound suggestive, and the first thought that came to mind was that she was going to try to seduce her way off the ship... which, of course, to him did not make a lick of sense. He had -already- promised her save passage, and all she had to do was sit down, shut-up and enjoy the trip without causing trouble. Could she have doubted his word, expecting him to lie, and thought that perhaps.. another method of 'insurance' might be purchased? Or, more likely, was she simply trying to get him off balance so that she could then somehow -deal- with him?<br><br>Her hands slid to his hips, and he raised his hands up as if in surrender. "Look, foxy... you don't have to play the seductive temptress with me," he said, even though he could likely convince himself to like it. "I already promised you a safe trip back to your master. You don't have to -trade- anything for that," he offered, hoping she would understand what he was saying. But she pressed forward - causing him to take a step back. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>25-11-2014, 03:58:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld was <em>trying</em> to relax. She was <em>trying</em> to enjoy the first couple of minutes of a freedom she hadn't known in years. She was <em>trying</em> not to listen to the conversation, as she wanted nothing to do with the demon or the Elf. But that was hard, especially because more than once, words drifted into her ear that did not make her feel the least bit comfortable. It'd been years since she'd had sex for pleasure and of her own volition; not coincidentally, it had been years since she'd been in love and had wanted to have sex with anyone.<br><br>The last time, it had been after a large battle with some lord of a neighboring city-state. How many men had she killed that battle? She could feel the eyes of her troops on every curve of her body, however sharp, hard, and metal. She could feel them flush with desire, tearing her armor off in their minds, picturing what their beautiful cold general looked like beneath her impenetrable outer shell. Not unlike Dean. Thinking with anything but their minds, it was a wonder they managed to all march back to the Spire without one of the men getting stabbed by an angry general incensed by an attempt at her. A credit to their devotion to the woman. But the Vizier... He felt it too, and he had something none of the others had. And it had taken five men to pry him off, a full half-day later...<br><br>The hard leather palm of a gauntlet wiped away some sweat from her face. With her seizing of a few moments earlier, she'd somehow managed to loosen the bonds on her feet as well - not inhuman strength, just a result of lots of pain and adrenaline. She slipped the ropes off her feet and spread her legs to stretch them, sounding a relieved groan. "Don't touch me..." Accent combined with cut tongue made the words difficult to make out, but not their tone. Not a demand, but a request. The "please" was silent but not gone. Shakily, like a buckling column, the woman sat up, suddenly aware of the weight of her armor. With tired legs she kicked herself back against a wall, slowly. And then began to remove her armor.<br><br>Strip after strip of hard leather strap was unbuckled, untied, undone. First gauntlets, slipped off with grunts of exertion. Then bracers, elbow guards, epaulets. A mix of mail shirt, pale blue quilted doublet and soft white undertunic could now be seen. A glance at the two by the door, a hint of a grin. The warrior spat out to her side - a large glob of her own blood, which was now dripping down her chin onto her armor. A pale hand, rough and calloused from years of hard work and killing, wiped the blood away leaving a pink smudge on an otherwise ivory-white chin. "This is not for your benefit - don't get ideas." Soft gray eyes turning their attention to the armor once more, she shifted uncomfortably and twisted one arm, then the other, to get at straps of her cuirass hidden from view to prevent accidental doffing of the most vital piece of protection. Two loud thuds with a slight metallic tint to them announced the removal of the front and back plates of armor as they fell away next to her, revealing even more of the padded blue doublet. Unfortunately for the two future lovers in front of her, although it was closer-fitting it still left much to the imagination. Finally came the heavy spiked sabatons and cuisses, the former with another loud grunt as they were pulled off. Finally, a relieved sigh. Surrounded by her molted shell, she sat in her padded blue doublet, heavy padded pants, and soft leather boots that, in function, were closer to socks than actual boots. Oh, and a mail shirt, which was quickly shucked off as well.<br><br>"Could you two... ehm... do that elsewhere? I've no intention of joining, and I'm clearly not going anywhere without my very good and very <em>expensive</em> armor... But if I see anyone about to tie me up, I shall endeavor to bite off <em>anything</em> I deem necessary..." That last line punctuated by a rather pointed look at Dean's crotch accompanied by a very loud clack of teeth, followed by an amused if predatory grin. <br><br>Methuseld had no idea what to do now. For the first time in years. She wasn't going back to the spire. And she was staying the hell away from djinns if she could help it. To go with the thieves? She wasn't worried about them killing her, not yet at least. If what the more pleasant man had said was true, so long as she cooperated they wouldn't try to hurt or rape her. But... It was a stretch from not being killed to making friends. She'd have to think, come up with a plan, decide what she would do. Where she could go. Sighing, she leaned her weary head back against the wall, loose strands of cherubic golden hair falling to her cheeks as if her hair was just as weary.&nbsp; The fact that she was even asking herself these questions was a welcome change. Her mind was her own again - at least for now. Her body, too, by extension. She moved a hand, touched it to her cheek, felt its warmth, its tiredness. When was the last time she'd done that? When was the last time she'd just... reveled in how she felt? It was likely years too. Did she have gray hairs? She didn't remember any, but then again she didn't remember the last time she'd looked at a mirror. Every action, every moment, every day... dictated solely by the Vizier. By the last order he'd given. By the damned demand to obey unquestioningly. Boy, was that bastard in for a surprise....
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>25-11-2014, 17:42:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan's attempt to evade was for naught; she moved with him like she'd anticipated it, so that his back was just that much closer to literally being up against a wall. Or a bunk. "No playing. No trade," she agreed with a nod, except her hands were still on him. One of them had already somehow slipped beneath his topmost layer of leather, and her touch was warm even through the fabric still between their skin.<br><br>"Don is the<em> nice </em>one, says Dean," she mentioned, switching subjects again without preamble. "Yes? The responsible one, you are. The able one. The one who thinks, and decides, and leads." Her other hand rose, the ball of her thumb grazing over his smudged cheekbone. Beneath the smoke and bloodstains, he <em>was</em> quite becoming, with the strong but more refined features Aza associated with the nobility from the north and east, where viziers were kings and sorceresses were mages.<br><br>"But with leading, comes worrying," Aza went on, brows arched with what was probably concern. "And so little appreciation." She sighed, even as she edged forward into him again, and the bunk was much closer than it had seemed a moment ago. Her fingertips dropped down the side of his face to his shoulder, following the edge of his armor to its straps, and with a quick tug there the plate was half free. "A sympathetic partner, Dean is not. How weary you must be of sharing..."<br><br>Aza was equally adroit at disrobing as she was dressing, already setting his first layer of defense aside. Taking armor off was a hell of a lot easier than putting it all on anyway. Methuseld was probably thinking the same at that moment, though Aza was oblivious to that. She rarely had any idea what her energies did or could do; that was always someone else's enterprise. Or, occasionally, problem. <br><br>"You must be aware for Dean. Then who is aware for you?" she wondered, gazing up at him attentively even as her fingers nimbly worked his leather laces free. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>26-11-2014, 07:03:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan was very much put off by her sudden... amorous attitude. To him, that spelled 'trap'. Not only that, but just a few minutes ago she was a -fox-. It made him wonder if she was a human who could turn into an animal, or an animal that could turn into human... or both? Shit, maybe -neither-, for all he knew. He slowly backed away from her, still wary why she had suddenly turned friendly on him. Her fingers roamed over the leather of his armor with a light touch, slipping beneath some of the slats until he could almost feel her fingers on his skin. The thin linen shirt he wore beneath the armor felt like it almost wasn't there, her fingers were so warm to the touch.<br><br>His brow furrowed. "Dean said that?" he asked, when she mentioned Dean saying Don was the 'nice one'. The sudden subject-change was also curious - the spoke oddly, and changed subjects as if her attention was... like a fox's perhaps? She continued to point out the differences she surmised between him and Dean, and he listened. She raised a hand, brushing his cheek, her voice almost mesmerizing in its tone. He didn't -sense- any magic at play, but he knew his senses weren't perfect, either.<br><br>Then her hands were working the buckles of his armor free, were words still caressing his ears. She was trying to 'sympathize' with him, and he knew it... but he still didn't know to what -gain-. She had went from angry at being a hostage, to insolent and spoiled, to... what? Hungry, horny teenager? <br><br>This was -certainly- more Dean's territory than Donovan's, he thought. <br><br>"Look, I don't know...," -click-... another buckle undone, a tie loosened. He could feel the shoulder-straps of his armor go slack... "...What you're on about, Foxy. But this...," -pop-, another buckle free, and the boiled-leather shoulder pauldrons reinforced with thin, fine chain mesh came free and slid down his back, falling to the floor with a satisfying -crunch-. His chest still bore the multi-slatted leather guard, as did his arms, but his shoulders and a good portion of his back were only protected by the worn linen shirt that he wore beneath... "...is really not necessary," he said, assuring her that she had no reason (that he knew of) to do this. <br><br>If her hope was to turn him against Dean, as her words might have suggested... well... that wasn't going to happen, even if he had the notion to do so. Dean -was- a part of him, as sure as anyone's soul was apart of their very being. Without the aid of the gems, he and Dean were bound together forever, inseparable...<br><br>..The stones. -That- was what she was after?.... <br><br>He reached a hand downward, wrapping his palm and fingers around the small pouch that contained the stones firmly in his grasp.<br><br>"Or maybe you're just trying to be the tricky little fox, distracting me with...," he paused, looking down at the ample body that she seemed to almost be offering to him, "...If that's the extent of your plan, it's just not going to work...."<br><br>He thought to call to Dean for aid... He thought of Methuseld still contained in the hold, along with the unknown elf... He and Dean were outnumbered, and now they were split-up... this could have been part of the women's plan all along... a suspicious feeling in the back of his mind splintered and began to grow.<br><br>"If you're not tired, we should go rejoin the others... safety in numbers, afterall...," he said, doing his best to quell the rush of blood to body parts below the belt...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>26-11-2014, 19:38:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza paused, fingertips drumming lightly on his still-leather-clad pectoral, when he accused her of being tricky. "No playing, no trade," she reminded him, like <em>weren't you listening?</em> "Am I not right, that you are the selfless one? Oh, <em>chivalrous,"</em> she said, as if delighted to have remembered the appropriate word. Maybe she wasn't making a purposeful effort to beguile him. Maybe flirtatiously was just how the werefox did <em>everything. </em>And maybe seduction would have amounted to something had Donovan been truly desperate, but after his drow excursion and subsequent strenuous escape, Aza somewhat doubted he possessed the readiness for another round anyway. She debated telling him so, just for the look on his fetching face.<br><br>Then she realized he'd moved a hand to the bag at his side as if to guard it, and snorted a laugh. "From Zozo, that is what you took, in there? What need does a fox have for empty glass rocks? Can't even wear them." She was back to efficiently stripping him down to the linen by then, since he still wasn't physically opposing her, just blustering. "The collar, at least, might be melted and sold..."<br><br>She pushed up one of his slashed sleeves, rubbing to flake off the blood that had dried along his forearm and seeing that there was no corresponding wound beneath. Since he'd already spoken of healing talents, that seemed unremarkable. "Of course I am tired. Does your magic keep you from sleep as well? Not all have that fortune, to be tall and a warrior and a sorcerer too." Supposing that his knuckles that had been split in the battle would also have already neatly closed, her hands went to one of his, lifting it so dainty fingers could lightly trace the length of his much larger ones. <br><br>Sure, he could call for Dean. Let Dean know that, for Donovan’s stature and all his gifts, he wasn't certain of his own ability to handle a girl -- a <em>lap-dog,</em> according to his own thoughts -- less than half his weight, whose head didn't reach his shoulder and who was only half dressed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>26-11-2014, 22:00:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The fox-woman's fingers lightly drummed on his chest as if she were bored. Again she complimented him - or perhaps she was simply listing the facts as she saw them in her mind. Him, the selfless one? Chivalrous? He wasn't so sure about that, but he didn't dispute her words, either. <br><br>She caught sight of his hand protecting his jewels (not HIS jewels, but his 'jewels') and she laughed. "They might be useless to you, but I can imagine that you'd be happy to return them to your master - maybe get a nice treat from him for being so... loyal," he said. He wanted to use the word 'subservient' or 'slave-like', but he didn't. In this context, 'loyal' was far more gentle a word choice to use. But even as they talked, her hands were eagerly stripping his armor pieces away, as if she were quite familiar with the routine herself. <br><br>"I don't care about the collar," he pointed out. "It wasn't why we went there. If -that- is why you are doing this...," he looked at her hands for a moment, reaching for one of his vambraces, "Then you need not worry. You can have the collar back when we set you free."<br><br>He was certain she was up to something, but he couldn't really help the fact that he enjoyed her attention, as fake as it was. She queried him about his magic, and he shrugged slightly. "If you are tired - you should sleep," he said. "I am fine." He was, for the most part... he had dozed a bit, recovered some of his energy, much of what he had expended during his and Dean's trip through the vizier's estate, and then the subsequent escape. Still, he had exerted some amount of effort during the -second- escape from their safe-house... he could certainly use another rest, but she didn't have to know that.<br><br>Her fingers moving along his, though, sent a chill down his spine, and a tingle to places that reacted quite quickly. He swallowed, going silent as he froze in place, appreciating the light touch she used, his index finger slowly rising slightly as if seeking to meet her own. -Now- she was getting to be dangerous. His armor had protected him from arrows and blades and spells, but it had also protected him from her touch. Not so much now, anymore.<br><br>"What is it that you really want?" he asked her point-blank, tired of the games and the subterfuge. The drow had vanished, and the mysterious elf was in the hold probably attempting to do the same thing to Dean that Aza was doing to Donovan... and the big warrior just hoped that Aza would be plain with him.... so that he could quickly get a cold bath in order to douse the fire she had started.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>27-11-2014, 02:22:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"No master of mine," she disagreed absently, studying her hand against his. "The ill-tempered blonde, she takes orders from a master. I call the <em>sorceress </em>mistress, so I am thought a pet, as Zozo prefers. But she does not presume to order me." Aza's fingers slipped to hold his wrist, and she turned his palm up and spread her other hand over it, just to compare their differing sizes. That was obviously of more interest to her than whatever they were talking about, which was... what, again? Jewels or something. His fingertips rasped against hers, his roughened by callus and use, her own as softly delicate as only an indoor fox's could be.<br><br>"The collar," she remembered, and half shrugged. "Almost used up anyway. Pretty is all it will be, then, and broken, because Dean. There will be others. No matter." Her attention seemed to be drifting again, still staring at how their fingers overlapped. "Are these your hands, always? Not like Dean's." She inhaled, which turned into a yawn, and then as he wondered what she really wanted she sighed and ducked forward into his chest, nuzzling against his shirt, leaden eyes shut. "Tired," she repeated, hardly more than a murmur. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>01-12-2014, 23:27:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The lack of action from the decadent elf nearby was quite suspicious to the necessarily deadly Dean, whose eyes flicked from one woman to the other. Methuseld’s new persona was clearly not an act – as clearly as the elf woman’s overt sexuality was, at least partially, for her benefit. On the one hand, Dean was quite open to the suggestions of the elf – some nice, raw rutting would be good for the Shadow. On the other, being stabbed in the back and manipulated weren’t so appealing. Her continued silence only made his suspicions worse, to the point that he had several defenses readied and shifted away from the generously curved woman just to be safe.<br><br>Turning his attention back to Methuseld and her disrobing, Dean felt a mixture of pity and loathing roil through him. The way she acted told him that she’d been cursed or somehow altered by magic and he could not ignore the parallels between her and himself. Shadow and Knight. Shadow and knight. And how relieved and happy she seemed, now that she was free of her curse! Dean hated the thought that being free of his Knight might bring him the same – hated that she had attained a freedom that he could never know and, by definition of what he was, could not survive. Then again, she had not known what he’d known through his bond with Donovan – the rewards of being tethered, through Glory, to a Knight. Thus, he felt a form of pity. Pity that was only amplified by the fact that all of her lusty, passionate nature seemed to have vanished.<br><br>This broken, defeated woman before him was not a subject worthy of lust. And thus, even the vile Shadow, a creature who had happily unleashed a horrific plague upon a city, did not raise a hand against the girl.<br><br>“The individual is always more difficult to contend with than the aggregate,” Dean murmured disgustedly. Glancing again at the still and silent elf, Dean shrugged.<br><br>“Sleep, woman,” he said. “There will be no fun had in this chamber, no pleasures explored.” So saying, he extended a tanned hand and drew a simple mark across he wall near Methuseld – the shadow staining the wood, then vanishing before it could be easily inspected. <br><br>Turning away from the wretched creature he pitied and the statuesque manipulator, Dean began ambling up the stairs in search of his Knight and the Fox – certain that more enjoyable matters would be had there, if only in the capricious nature of the fox girl. He’d left his Seal behind and he trusted the mark to handle the elf’s magics, if and when she awoke. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>02-12-2014, 01:51:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan stood there before the much smaller Aza-in-human form, looking down at her almost mesmerized as she spoke. Her accent, her voice... he began to suspect it had magical properties, but he did nothing to stop it, he simply continued to listen even as she opened his palm - and smoothly laid hers against it. His hands looked simply enormous compared to her smaller ones, and immediately he remembered something Dean had told him one time about women with smaller hands...., <em>"They sure do make your cock look -enormous- when they stroke it..."</em><br><br>Donovan cleared his throat - and his thoughts.<br><br>Her skin slid slowly, smoothly against his, her fingertips - smooth and gentle like someone's who had never worked a day of hard labor in their life - brushed against the fleshy part of his palm, sending shivers down his spine.<br><br>Then Aza shared some interesting information about the collar, and that broke him out of his malaise a bit. Interesting bits of information to file away for later remembrance...<br><br>Then he nodded in response to her question. "My hands, always," he said, "Though I can make them as hard as stone, if necessary. But no, I can not 'shape' them like Dean can..."<br><br>And then she yawned in his face.<br><br>And then she leaned her head forward and tucked her head sideways against his chest, nuzzling his shirt, muttering the barely audible declaration that she was tired. Donovan stood there a moment feeling quite awkward before he finally decided what to do.<br><br>He leaned over slightly, and slipped his hands beneath her, swooping her up into his arms in one smooth motion. A few strides, and he was at the edge of the bed. Leaning over one more time, he gently settled her upon the bed's surface. "Sleep," he commanded, not knowing that Dean had given that very same command moments ago in the hold. Donovan pulled his arms out from under her, pulled the corner of the single blanket up and over her, then turned to leave.<br><br>He felt Dean approaching, and quickly made his way through the door so that he could meet his Shadow on the ship's deck where they could speak, hopefully, without -any- of the women overhearing....<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>03-12-2014, 15:03:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean made it up to the top of the deck and looked about. It was dark out, with lapping waves crashing against the hull of the ship. Moon and starlight shone down, providing enough illumination to see – well, for his eyes – and in the far distance the lights of the city shone oddly amber.<br><br>“Fire,” Dean mused to himself, wondering whether or not the Vizier had set the cleansing flame free or if some peasant had revolted in the wake of the supernatural disease. Who knew? And, to be fair, Dean did not much care.<br><br>Moving to the rails, he began adjusting the ship’s course, aiming her across the massive lake, toward the civilization on the other side. Dean’s movements, lithe and liquid grace combined, suggested that he knew what he was doing. He didn’t. There were instincts, buried ones that surfaced from time to time, telling him what he needed to do. This was one such time. <br><br>Course corrected, the tall (though not quite as tall as before), Shadow turned to see his Knight approach, sensing disquiet in the other man and saying nothing. It was their first moment of quiet in a long time and it presented an opportunity to simply enjoy the contrast of their presences, their abilities, and their past together. As much as the Shadow was a creature of darkness, this last day had shown them both that they weren’t quite as simple as they might have though. There were nuances, no matter how binary they could seem.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>03-12-2014, 15:51:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan strode quietly from the captain's quarters of the ship and onto the deck. He saw Dean standing at the rudder, and made his way over to stand near him, looking around them in all directions. Nothing but the darkness of the lake itself surrounded them though he could see the hazy light of the city they had just left. It was a dim, amber color, which made Donovan think of fire, as well. Part of Donovan hoped for the best for the city's citizens, they were right on the edge of the lake afterall.<br><br>"Beautiful night," he said, taking in a breath. Finally, some silence, peace and quiet for a moment, just the two of them without treacherous drow, curious fox-women, enigmatic elves or angry vizier generals in their midst casting threats upon them. "Aza is sleeping in the captain's bunk," Donovan said casually. "She is... interesting. That's the most I've ever talked to a shifter before. She was tired, and I might have 'encouraged' her with a bit of sleep-spell, but she seemed exhausted all on her own."<br><br>Donovan walked over to the nearest railing, looking over the edge down into the inky blackness below. "I told her we'd let her go after we were safely away. Keeping her around as insurance. I imagine the same is true of Methuseld," he said. "As for the elf... she's obviously up to something, and I don't think she's here -just- to get in your pants." <br><br>"If she really is from Demi, she probably wants something... probably Aza, or Methuseld, or maybe both... something to ransom back to Zozo, to turn a profit. Maybe she'll offer us something low-ball, then demand a mint from their masters," he went on. After a moment of silence, he turned to Dean.<br><br>"Methuseld -really- seems to hate us for some reason... do you recall ever crossing paths with her before? Did we slay her lover or something? Did we kick her puppy? I think I'd remember if we'd ever crossed swords with -her-," he added, turning back to look out the direction they were headed. It obviously bothered him, the things Methuseld had said. Not out of fear - no, Donovan truly feared nothing. But something about the -distaste- in which Methuseld had spoken to him had obviously struck a nerve. <br><br>"Is the elf still with the general? Do you think she'd try to free her?" he asked, suddenly realizing that the elf and general were likely alone in the hold....
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>05-12-2014, 18:03:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean stood there, his skin flushed to match the darkness of the night, yet now gleaming with hints of obsidian – like some sort of eldritch drow. Looking up into the night sky, the Shadow seemed to yearn for something, as if the vast empty reaches of the universe were the only balm to his uneasy, restless spirit. Cursed to be the Shadow of a man whose glory knew only light, the amoral assassin could not help but embrace the solace of a world ruled by cold and distance – yet infected with light and warmth. Instead of the other way around.<br><br>“Aza is quite entertaining,” Dean said, voice sonorous yet barely carrying. “And the warrior has changed quite a bit – her personality has shifted, suggesting she was somehow cursed or manipulated. Which would explain her behaviors, at least in part. We can investigate more, once she, too, wakes from her rest. As for the elf…” Dean’s words trailed off as his eyes took in the sky, crossing from star to star, darkness to darkness. “I suspect she will not be with us much longer. No matter who she works for, no matter what her powers are – she will find our combined might able to overcome her spells and will grow bored with her games.” Another brief pause, met with a wry smile, “Hopefully after I’ve had all the fun her flesh can handle, of course.”<br><br>The man might have been calmer in the dark, outside, away from all temptation. But he was still what he was. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>08-12-2014, 16:06:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan had long ago become accustomed to Dean's various appearances. If this had been the first time he'd met the 'man', Donovan would feel a bit intimidated, a bit worried. But it was Dean, the Dean he knew, and ultimately, Dean was a part of him, a reflection of himself to some degree.<br><br>Donovan snorted at Dean's short description of the were-fox. "Indeed she is. She has an odd way about her, for certain. She seems to enjoy touching... and cuddling," he said, shaking his head a bit. "And sleeping."<br><br>Donovan's attention was drawn as Dean mentioned Methuseld's personality&nbsp; having changed. Could his words have had some effect on the woman after all? Somehow he doubted it. Perhaps Dean had put the fear of the gods in her? No, somehow Donovan doubted that as well. "Somehow cursed and manipulated, but now free? That's rather interesting...," he said, nodding to his darker counterpart.<br><br>Donovan chuckled the most though at Dean's assessment of the elf. "I see. She seemed rather... interested... in exploring such possibilities. I hope that you enjoy her fully - but are -careful- about it," Donovan urged. "She might bear strong magics, and she works for a crimelord of no small power," he said. "If you've put them to sleep, I shall check on the general in the morn. I will leave the elf in your capable hands. And the fox...," he shook his head. "I have a feeling she's going to do whatever she wants to do..."<br><br>Donovan glanced up at the small single sail that billowed out slightly, the weak wind moving the craft, but not all that fast. "At this rate, it'll be late tomorrow evening before we arrive, so we have ample time to relax and recover, and prepare our guests for their return to their masters that they both seem to so eagerly desire," he said.<br><br>"Then we will be free, and can begin our work with the stones."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>12-12-2014, 08:18:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The tan man clearly did not take her joke about biting off his genitals too well. That, or something else bothered him, but he approached, drew some sort of shadow mark on the wall, and then stalked off upstairs like a grumpy child. Looking to the Elf and shrugging, Methuseld breathed out a sigh. "Don't you dare try and make a move on me, Elf. I'm going to go out for a bit, get some fresh air. I trust you won't make off with three-stones worth of armor?"<br><br>With that, the lithe body rose from the ground, wiping a bloody mouth on the soft blue doublet, and glided through the doorway, unencumbered by whatever spell Dean had set for whatever purpose he had set it. Looking around, the pale woman did not immediately go up for her fresh air, but decided to explore the ship a bit and perhaps find her sword. She really did not like to be without it. She felt naked. Well, that was the lack of armor, too. The last time anyone but the Vizier had seen her without armor... it'd been a while. <br><br>Soft leather boots padded on the creaking wooden floor of the small vessel that sailed out onto the massive lake, where relative freedom from the Spire awaited. Rain-cloud-grey eyes explored every nook and cranny, watching for both captors and sword. This was not an escape - it was a rescue. She hoped they hadn't thrown it overboard yet!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>13-12-2014, 23:42:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean nodded at Donovan’s assertions. “I have a feeling that the elf is hiding a rather suspicious…” And then he stopped speaking, mouth left open as his eyes flooded with black. This was a relatively familiar thing for him: Dean had access to a few spell-like runes that were useful in his “line of work” – remove viewing was, at times (Shadows being fickle and all that), one of them. <br><br>“Eh, odd,” Dean said a moment later. “The Knight got up and walked out of the room, then the elf simply vanished. No word, no…anything. Perhaps she was summoned home by her master. Regardless, my Ward detected no foul play.” Eyes clearing, Dean frowned deeply, considering that one ample source of potential pleasure was gone, no doubt, then announced, “I am going to see about summoning a Deep Shadow from the waters to mask our travels.” <br><br>Now, that was new. As a Shadow, a living embodiment of the opposite of the Glory within Donovan, Dean was a creature of instinct – his abilities could vary. One moment Donovan could ask for a remote-viewing rune and Dean would provide it. The next, he’d swear he had no idea how to manage such a task. His powers fluctuated, unlike (to a larger degree), the Knight’s. It gave Dean the versatility to help in a variety of situations at the expense of predictability. <br><br>“No, I have no clue what that means,” Dean said, not quite snapping the words out. Something had rattled the Shadow. Perhaps it had been the experiences earlier the day, the way he’d Brightened, become less…himself. Or perhaps it was his ill-ease with Methuseld’s changing behavior, or perhaps the elf’s disappearance. Regardless, he seemed off. Making his way to one side of the boat, Dean lifted his hands in an odd, elegant gesture and began making ‘come hither’ motions into the deep, black waters. <br><br>Yeah, there was absolutely no way this could go wrong. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>14-12-2014, 00:14:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan listened as Dean began to share his thoughts, then he went pensive a bit as Dean stopped talking mid-sentence. Dean's explanation startled Donovan as well... The Elf had simply disappeared? Out here, in the middle of the water? Where the fuck would she go? Unless it was a transportation spell... Donovan had the same idea Dean did, the Elf might have been summoned... or perhaps she was traveling back to her master to 'report in'. It mattered little now that she was gone, of course - too late to do anything about it. And the boat, of course, was not sitting still. By the time the Elf was done doing whatever it was she was doing, the light and the shadow would be somewhere else, hopefully far out of reach.<br><br>Dean's words that the general had taken up walking around below deck gave him a bit of a worry, as well. "She's probably searching for her blade," Donovan said, glancing over at the door that led below decks as if expecting Methuseld to come walking through any second. Of course, she didn't. Donovan turned his eyes back to Dean. "It's what I would be doing, if I were in her shoes."<br><br>Donovan nodded at Dean's words, though, the idea to summon a shadow to mask their trip was a solid idea. It always struck Donovan how sometimes Dean would have the stupidest ideas that would make him cringe, but at other times, Dean would whip up some bit of genius that Donovan knew was beyond even himself. Dean had always said that bit of unpredictability was well-liked by the ladies. Donovan had never bothered checking to see if that was true.<br><br>But there was something odd in Dean's demeanor just then. It could have been the elf's sudden disappearance. It could have been any number of things. They were safe, for now, and Donovan believed that the words was behind them. Maybe Dean was just 'nervous' about the upcoming effort to split him from Donovan. They had the stones now. Now all they needed was a few other minor components, and a safe place to enact a ritual that would take some time to complete. They had to be careful, exact, and focused. One small misstep could spell doom for one or both of them.<br><br>"I'll go make sure the general isn't getting herself into trouble," Donovan said, "I have her blade - but she ain't gonna find it without my help," he said, grinning mischievously. "And I have to admit, I dunno if I am keen on letting her have it. She's pretty damned wicked with it. I don't feel like losing any of my important parts," he said, then turned and headed for the door that led below decks, intent on searching for an unarmed - and apparently unarmored Methuseld.<br><br>"In case I didn't mention it, the... fox-woman... is in the captain's bed, sleepin'. I don't think she much likes the water," he said, and then he disappeared through the door and down the steps into the ship's hold to begin his search for the general.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>18-12-2014, 00:28:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Damn. Damn damn damn. Where in the infinite hells could it be?! There are a finite amount of places onboard a ship in which a person can store a sword. Methuseld could have sworn she'd searched every single one of them. Left hand clenched and unclenched; she missed the reassuring weight of a weapon in her side (or two, or three). She was an excellent warrior - quite able to hold her own with a longsword, two-hander, and even on horseback with a lance. In fact, the number of men she'd lanced clean-through likely exceeded the number she'd killed on foot. Ardorian lances were amazingly light, astoundingly long and sturdy. It was an easy weapon to learn to use, an easy weapon with a lot of reach. A decent Ardorian warhorse (or one purchased from any number of other kingdoms by clever Ardorian merchants) galloped fast enough in a charge to do most of the work, while the horseman sat back with the weapon couched and tried to hold on for dear life as it pierced metal, flesh, bone. And once the charge was done? Circle back around, regroup, and do it all again. A favorite tactic of House Ellegarde, that. She'd figured out all the specifics with... well... No matter. If a general had done his homework, the opposing army had no pikemen or archers available (or alive) to oppose such brutal charges. It did leave the arm quite sore, though... Ah, how she missed it. Perhaps she'd buy herself a decent warhorse and a nice Ardorian lance, once she got free of this ship... And had a good bit of money on her belt.<br><br>Getting frustrated, she started to make way back to the room where she'd been held captive. Which reminded her of how much her joints ached, especially her hips and her shoulders - the things most bent into unnatural positions by that damned rope. She'd need to stretch... limber up before she tried to do any fighting, or she could hurt herself. 35 wasn't exactly young for most warriors. "Did you see where the bastards put my sword?" She asked as she stepped inside, before realizing to her confusion that no one was in. Where had the Elf gone? Instantly the naturally-suspicious woman looked all around her to make sure no one was sneaking up on her. "Elf? Busty Elf? You there?" Sucking her teeth, the would-be sword-sleuth turned to walk out of the room and re-search everything when she came face to face with Donovan.<br><br>"Uhm..." High off of freedom, her mind her own, Methuseld peered at him for a moment as her mind searched for a reasonable way to not get tied up again. She wasn't really a natural at persuasion, nor that impressive at figuring out where swords could be hidden. The two ranked pretty far down on her list of talents. "Look... I've been free for a while now and I haven't killed anyone, nor cut off anyone's genitals," she said, referencing Dean's comments from earlier despite Donovan not having been there, not knowing that Donovan had made that same joke just moments earlier. Men seemed to think their genitals were unsafe around Methuseld, and they were - just not in the way they thought. "I just want the sword back. I feel naked without it. I took off my armor - if you wanted you could stab me right now. You can hold it somewhere on the ship in exchange for the sword -&nbsp; I'm far more vulnerable without it in a fight against you two, yes? Erm... Until I leave, that is. Then I want it back..." Seeing a look on Donovan's face that she wasn't sure how to interpret, she continued, further revealing any cards she had up her doublet-sleeve. "I'm not going to fight you, unless you start it," she added. "I don't want to have anything to do with you two anymore. You can keep the fox, keep anything else you stole. Just not me. I'm going to get as far away from the Spire as I can once I get off this boat. How does that sound?"<br><br>Inquisitive gray eyes searched his, trying to figure out what in the hells he was thinking. Had he understood her? Sometimes her accent flared up worse than other times - sometimes when she spoke, she got the feeling people didn't quite catch everything she said. That's why she got into the habit of having men repeat orders back to her. It had definitely earned quite a few of them some very severe punishment back in the Spire.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>20-12-2014, 02:48:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				...which was precisely how Dean, Shadow of daunting power, went from creating a plague to torment an entire city, to being alone on the edge of a boat over a massive body of water. And, consequently, why he raised his hands and was able to tap into his power sufficiently enough to wrap chains of will around the submerged creature that waited in the deep, deep, basin of the lake.<br><br>Turns out, the great lake hadn’t been one a thousand years ago. A wizard or Djinn had made it as a prison for a thing. That thing, consequently, was called a Great Shadow. A Great Shadow was a lot like a standard, run of the mill, Regular Shadow – elemental from the plane of shadow, master of illusions, capable of manipulating dark (but not absolutely black) thoughts and minds, draining strength and will from living things, and so forth. Only bigger, better, smarter-er, and with some nifty powers that came from being absolutely ancient. Which was probably how it was able to reach out and exercise a little influence over poor, vulnerable, Dean. The Shadow *did* exist to engage in mischief, after all. You see where I’m going with this right?<br><br>There weren’t any symptoms of what Dean was up to, not in the first few seconds anyway. Then, as his power made the tiniest crack in the Greater Shadow’s prison, that *thing* reached out, wrapped its power around and through Dean – and *expanded.* <br><br>For an instant, reality just *fucking broke* in the immediate vicinity. Dean’s ability to influence *actual* reality combined with the Greater Shadow’s ability to make *anything* happen (albeit in an illusory way) turned the world upside down.<br><br>Dean's potent dreams became reality. The boat grew, became a three-masted monstrosity carved out of absolute horrific (but somehow deliciously sexy) nightmare. The fish in the sea became lobstrocities the size of buildings. Unattended belongings on the boat likewise shifted – changing to fit the personality that came attached to all these changes. Ahem. Someone’s armor *may* have gained some really cool magical properties. And simultaneously become ludicrously sexy. And maybe a little cursed so the wielder couldn’t escape it. Or somesuch.<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Look, I’m just writing about what Dean did. This was all *his* fault, alright?</div></div><br><br>Freed of its prison, the Greater Shadow laughed, and its laughter was the stuff of raw nightmare. Enraged at being imprisoned for so long, the thing reached out and touched the skies, transforming flocks of birds into dragons, transforming dragons into abominations, and so on. <br><br>And all that happened within the first ten seconds. Which was how long it took Dean to realize that *maybe* things were getting a little out of hand. <br><br>“Ah,” Dean said, mental voice projecting throughout the now massive ship, “Could use a little help. Maybe those gemstones?” Yeah. His instincts told him they might work to contain the Shadow. But at what cost to them? And how fast could Donovan find him – their bond aside – now that the ship had become something entirely different, and potentially dangerous to navigate? <br><br>It was a reflection of Dean, after all. All twisted and…(somehow) sexy and stuff. <br><br>When that thought bubbled up to Dean, when he realized some of what had just happened, he couldn’t help but chuckle in horror. “Ah, fuck. What have I done this time?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>20-12-2014, 08:03:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan headed down into the hold where the Elf had been with Dean and the general - where Donovan had secured the general, but now was walking about the ship, no doubt seeking her weapon as well as a way off of it. Like Aza, Donovan would be happy to explain to her that they would not be harmed - as long as they didn't start any trouble until they reached shore. There, they would be freed, as long as Dean and Donovan were not walking into some sort of trap set-up by their beloved Vizier.<br><br>As he approached the main hold, he could hear Methuseld's voice calling out...<br><br>"Did you see where the bastards put my sword?" Donovan smirked, knowing precisely which 'bastards' she was referring to. "Elf? Busty Elf? You there?"<br><br>Dean had mentioned the Elf had 'disappeared', but that didn't mean the wench wasn't sneakin' about under the cover of magic - or hadn't magically whisked herself away to get some 'friends' to come back and do who knew what to him, Dean, and the ship. And their two remaining hostages.<br><br>He turned a corner - and there she was - stripped out of her armor, wearing only the padding one might wear beneath plate. She looked... smaller, more vulnerable, even delicate... but he knew if he made mention of it, she might very well draw a filet knife from some hidden location and make a go at his genitals. What was with all the talk of severing genitals, anyway?<br><br>She looked up at him, a little surprised for a moment before she began spouting off about her sword. She rambled a bit, even offering her armor in exchange for the blade - even though she still wanted the armor BACK by the time they parted ways. She rambled on a bit more, until she expressed just how badly she wanted to be away from him and Dean, her stormy-gray eyes searching his for some sign that he had understood her words through the long rant, as accented as her voice was.<br><br>"Now wait a minute, I promised you that once we got to shore, you'd go free if-...," and then he paused, registering her words. "Wait a second... You're going to get as far <em>-away-</em> from the Spire as you can? I thought you wanted to go<em> -to- </em>the Spire as quickly as you could?" he asked, his eyes narrowed a bit as he looked at her.<br><br>"As for your sword... yes... I still have it. Yes, I can give it to you. But... I want something in exchange," he said, pausing for a moment, working up the courage to make his pitch. "I want you-...."<br><br>CRRRRRRRRRRREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKK.....<br><br>The wood flooring beneath them groaned, shifted, nearly knocking them to the floor, and began to -expand-....<br><br>"What the....," Donovan said, arms spread out to keep his balance, head whipping around as she saw the floor expanding, lengthening, widening, growing thicker and thinner at the same time. This... wasn't good. Who among them had the power to modify reality, bending it to their will? Aza was asleep, and Methuseld was standing here talking to him, and he to her, so it wasn't either of them. That left Dean... or the Elf girl run amok. Either way, they needed to get to Dean and rule him out as the cause of this - or confirm that it was indeed his doing.<br><br>"Come on!" he growled at the warrior-woman, and turned to head to the stairs leading up to the main deck.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>22-12-2014, 20:58:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The magically amplified voice of the Shadow rippled through Aza’s serene, Don-imposed slumber. With a incoherent but thoroughly annoyed mumble, she curled into a smaller ball and dragged the silk sheets up over her head, eyes still scrunched shut as she snuggled firmly into the overstuffed pillow. Wow, did she hate Dean.<br><br>Even beneath the blanket, the scent of incense was cloying, enough to make her sniffle and then shake her head and sneeze, which was an absolutely adorable little sound that no one was around to appreciate. Frowning, she opened one bluish eye and then the other, staring at the sheet draped over her. It was a bright fuchsia color, and its thread count was way too high. The cushions beneath her were too soft, and her dress felt way too tight...<br><br>She sat up and surveyed what the cramped cabin had become. Everything was hung in red and purple silk. The floor was piled rugs. Pillar candles burned everywhere, scented smoke wafting from a golden brazier shaped like a pissed-off looking dragon. And when she moved, it was to the sound of a hundred tiny chimes, because the scraps of gossamer currently clinging to her curvy body were sewn with a cascade of little glittering metal discs. It was the sort of outfit typical to the dancing pleasure slaves shipped in from the south, found at any number of brothels throughout the sordid city. Pretty pricey brothels, at least, Aza reflected. This place was not decorated for cheap dates.<br><br>The most natural assumption to make was that she was dreaming, not that the ship around her had been transformed into some lurid whorehouse as she slept. But Aza's deal was illusions, so she was fairly certain none of it was<em> real</em> real. This was way, way beyond her own abilities, but still. Can't fake a faker.<br><br>She slipped towards the edge of the bunk, which was now a canopied affair that could sleep half a dozen, not that its occupants were likely meant to sleep. Its posts were carved with scenes of little figures engaging in all sorts of vices, many of which Aza couldn't even be paid to do, like the one involving a camel and a wine carafe. She imagined it might comprise a fairly tame weekend for Dean, though. Assuming he could find a camel that liked him. <br><br>Dean. Ugh. This had that asshole's signature all over it. The shadows cast by the flickering candles seemed to slink, and the drapes moved in an unfelt draft, making a soft and somehow unsettling whisper like faroff voices. The bed also had rings set into the head and foot, the sort that were usually meant for silk ropes or... yep, sure enough, a silver cuff wrought like a dragon's head circled one of her slender ankles, a matching chain snaking to one of the bed's rings. She gave the links a half-hearted tug, figuring that for all they weren't real, they would still hold. They did.&nbsp; <br><br>The foxgirl settled back into the pillows with a yawn that ended with another cute sneeze. She should probably be nervous, but fuck it, she was still <em>tired,</em> and it was hardly the first time she'd woken up leashed to something. And maybe it was Donovan that would come back for her, anyway. She could deal with Don. She wondered what became of Methuseld, but not for very long. The blonde could handle herself. Best of luck to her. <br><br>Aza burrowed into a nice puffy cushion and shut her eyes. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>22-12-2014, 21:26:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Greater Shadow flung power into Dean, poured itself into him. Almost too late, Dean realized what it was attempting. Full-fledged possession. Dean was a Shadow – a hollow vessel empowered by the Glory that illuminated his Knight (Donovan). He was a spiritual, intelligent being, but hollow – with plenty of room for a Shadow to find a permanent residence. Dean considered the ramifications of such a union, of all the power he’d gain – of the potential independence that the Greater Shadow might grant him. At the cost of losing his connection to Donovan and replacing it with this being.<br><br>“Fuck that,” Dean muttered. If he was going to be bonded with *anything or anyone,* it was going to be Donovan. Dean couldn’t have explained precisely why that was, only it *was.* Responding with pure instinct, Dean expended both his and the Shadow’s energies, poured them out into the world to distract or prevent this unholy, unwelcome union from forming. A few things happened simultaneously as a consequence. <br><br>First and foremost: the lake around them flooded with such ambient magical energies that the half-dozen or so mages and witches currently tracking the evens went *fucking crazy as shit* and most of them probably would never wake up. So much for people tracking the group. Plus one, right?<br><br>Next: Reality bubbles appeared along the lake near most of its living inhabitants. Some creatures entered those bubbles and emerged entirely different – a lobstrosity might enter and come out a tentacular sea dragon, for example – one poor boy currently fishing on that ocean went into a bubble and emerged a man. But with a cool sword. Others were not so lucky; returning as nightmares, or never returning at all. <br><br>On the mammoth ship – a ship that seemed to be evolving and changing as Dean poured more power into it, the bubbles manifest differently. One appeared before Aza – a dancing, blinking, kaleidoscope of enticing light. Within that light could be seen all manner of distractions and pleasures, indulgences and delightful respites.<br><br>Others formed in the corridor immediately before Donovan and Methuseld as well, presenting opportunities…and distractions.<br><br><div align="center"><strong>Bubble Intentions</strong></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Consider this an opportunity to be creative. Ignore them if you want, or enjoy having a psychedelic episode of indulgence, terror, or…opportunity to alter/change your character in some way. Anything goes. </div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>28-12-2014, 03:51:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld raised her eyebrows, bemused by his confusion. Yes, that made sense; to him she'd been a singleminded crazed warrior. She kept silent while he worked through it a bit, milking as much out of the moment as she could. "Yes. I want away from the Spire, and away from the Vizier. You could say I had a change of heart; I no longer wish to be his chained lapdog." But in exchange for her sword, he told her he wanted something from her. The warrior frowned, watching him with icy gray, suspicious eyes. Usually when men asked for favors, nothing good came of it. If she had to, she'd fight him for the sword and escape from this blasted ship, but she hoped it wouldn't come to that.<br><br>In fact, it came to something else entirely. And the blasted ship suddenly became a whole <em>other</em> blasted ship. The corridor stretched out between them, putting dozens of feet between the two warriors who scrambled for footing as the magic threatened to through them off balance. "Blast! What in all the hells?!" Time slowed down as adrenaline took over. Faced with such a bizarre situation as a ship suddenly beginning to transform, fear permeated her every fiber. She glanced at her armor in the other room, saw it engulfed in unnatural terrifying shadow. No! Those hunks of metal were expensive. Donovan called to her, and for a second she was torn. Save her armor out of the shadows and try to make a run for it, perhaps with Donovan, or leave the armor to its fate (hope it was left unchanged by the shadows, which seemed unlikely) and run with Donovan to try to put a stop to this. groaning, she sprinted for the other warrior, crossing the elongated corridor in a few seconds. Bizarre paintings popped into view lining the hallway as she reached him. Lewd acts in some, displayed with little regard for propriety; gorey battles with demons in others, with all manner of horrible acts portrayed; yet still other art in others.<br><br>Methuseld did her best to ignore this. Some things were beyond the average human's understanding. She was just that, her martial skills notwithstanding. Perhaps she could begin to comprehend what was happening if given a month of reading or lectures, but for the moment enlightenment was beyond her. And so she concentrated merely on what was in front of her, what was two or three or four feet away. And nothing else. Right now, that was Donovan, and wherever he led her to do whatever he wanted to do to end this. As they tried to make their way to the deck of the ship, they crossed weird rooms that led to places that were distinctly NOT a part of the ship they'd been in but a few moments earlier. In one room she saw herself, being made love to, rather vigorously, by Dean and Donovan. Red flushed Methuseld's cheeks and she quickly turned away. In another she saw demons wearing the armor of her homeland, running towards her, weapons drawn. Confusion, nervousness, and sheet blinding terror swirled around her like a powerful whirlpool, threatening to suck her down to her death. She fought it as hard as she could, concentrating on her footsteps following Donovan. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>28-12-2014, 10:53:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld's tune had -indeed- changed, and Donovan found that immediately fishy. She had went from threatening him and Dean and wanting to return to her beloved Vizier's side, to wanting to get as far away from him as possible. Maybe she just didn't know -what- the hell she really wanted (except the damned sword she kept going on about), and perhaps this had been her first real chance to analyze such things. If the stories were true, Methuseld WAS the vizier's pet, and was rarely far from his side. This might very well have been the longest she'd been away from the Vizier's control, for all he knew.<br><br>The ship's sudden change had caught both of them off guard for a moment, and for the briefest of moments Donovan thought it might be some trick brought upon him by Methuseld herself, but she seemed just as taken aback as he was. Donovan wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he had a pretty good idea who likely would, and quickly he turned and darted for the stairs going up to the top deck... stairs that seemed to stretch further and further away the harder he tried to reach them. The short hallway that should have allowed them to reach the first step seemed to stretch on forever as he dashed down it, sensing and feeling Methuseld behind him.<br><br>She caught up with him easily enough, but it seemed as if they ran for many minutes without making real headway. Glancing to the side, Donovan noticed as Methuseld did that various images and paintings lined the walls. Some of those images -moved-, as if they had captured a scene from the past - or the future. The 'artwork' ranged from gory demonic battles to odd pictures of flowers and reindeer. <br><br>Then they burst into another -room-, a room that did not exist on the boat that Donovan and Dean owned, and this room was filled with children... Donovan recognized it immediately, and for a moment he almost hesitated, seeing himself across the room, hiding in a corner... eight years old. A woman was approaching him, smiling warmly, trying to lure him out of the corner... <br><br><em>Mother...</em><br><br>Donovan forced himself onward, reminding himself this was just a trick, a false image, and he plunged into the next room, glancing back only a moment to see Methuseld close on his heels.... and the next room was even more... interesting.<br><br>Off to the side, Methuseld lay on a bed, and copies of Dean and Donovan were thoroughly enjoying her in various carnal ways, seemingly shifting and moving to take her two-at-a-time in a variety of ways. Donovan's hand fisted in her hair, guiding her head back and forth, up and down his thick shaft, while Dean took her from behind, two shadow-cocks filling both orifices with ease, six shadow hands groping her breasts, her ass, her hips....<br><br><em>-Fucking show-off-</em>, the 'fake' Donovan growled at the 'fake' Dean, but both men were smiling, obviously enjoying the general quite thoroughly. This image -<em>did</em>- cause Donovan to almost -trip-, catching himself only at the last second, the act of almost face-planting on the warped wooden planks of the floor giving him a quick wake-up, allowing him to press on and to refocus... <br><br>Perhaps these images were simply meant to slow them down, to lure them into a web of transformative magic that would spell their doom... Or perhaps these images were simply a manifestation of various deeply-held desires... which caused him to wonder just what -else- the sweet general might be thinking...<br><br>There! The door up ahead... it looked as though it would empty the two of them out onto the ship's main deck. Donovan was almost disappointed when it did, as he skidded to a halt as he passed through it, standing on the ships main deck which was -massive- at this point. His eyes searched and he found Dean, and Donovan's eyes widened. Where was Aza? Was she ok? And Dean... <em>Gods above..</em>..<br><br>"DEAN!" Donovan shouted. "STOP! You have to stop! Resist, you crazy bastard! RESIST!!!!!!"<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>29-12-2014, 23:15:22</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean wrestled with the power attempting to migrate into his flesh. Sheer dogged stubbornness and an oily personality were all that kept him sliding past the Shadow’s efforts. Had Dean not managed to pour the creature’s energies out, into the world, it would have been over long ago – a good thirty seconds. But then he heard Donovan’s voice, felt his proximity. <br><br>How close the two were had always been a factor in their abilities and this was no exception. Dean muttered and growled, twisting where he stood on the bow of the ship – his body firmly lodged before a cruel (and vaguely dildo-shaped) ship’s wheel. His hands were up, pale as the moon, his muscular body corded with evident effort – eyes narrowed into slits – as shadows cavorted wildly around him, some manifesting as real, tangible things, others becoming ethereal nightmares (or dreams, depending on how one looked at them). All in all, Dean did not seem to be having a very good time, despite the fact that he was apparently “in command” of the renovated vessel. <br><br>Jerking one hand down and out, he extended his hand toward Donovan and managed, “Little help. Could use a little help.” Now, if only he could remember where he’d last seen those damn gemstones. It was getting so very hard to think….<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Woot for short posts! :P</div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>04-01-2015, 18:36:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				If she had the mental presence, the sharp-featured beauty might have wondered what the source of these illusions was. Were they manifestations of the whims of one or both of her captors? Or was the source external to the group - someone or something else that was causing this? And obviously she'd never consider herself as the source of the fuel for these decadent dreams. Suspect number one was always Dean, as he was the only one whose magic she couldn't quite understand. With sorcerers (as they called them in her homeland), it was fairly straightforward - don't get burned alive or turned into an icicle. But what she'd seen inside that burning house... that hadn't been normal magic. At least not any she'd seen before.<br><br>At least Donovan seemed as confused and possibly terrified as her. Stormy eyes kept fast on the man's booted feet, she powered after him as hard as she could in her present state of dress, which was not exactly conducive to sprints or battles, should it come to that. No doubt the mighty general looked silly in her blue doublet and soft leather booties (unpadded - she was basically running barefoot, something her feet would no doubt remind her of the next morning if they survived this), but anyone with enough experience would see hints and clues as to the powerful slender body beneath the outfit, the predatory grace with which she moved, and her easy speed in keeping up with the taller, slightly younger, far more muscled man in front of her. Tall for a woman from her homeland, she carried her strength in her luxuriously long-legged lower body and elegantly long torso, while muscled arms focused more on speed and precision. Those long legs bounded after her captor now, a mad dash to the main deck of the ship.<br><br>Spilling out of the door and into the outdoors, Methuseld stared with brief wonder and the newly "renovated" exterior of the ship, which seemed to stretch on for forever (at least relative to the old one). Otherworldly magic rocked the ship with gales and waves that made her dizzy, while a sudden downpour of rain pounded thunderously on the deck, the sails, and the persons. Within seconds Methuseld was wiping sticky-wet locks of drenched gold out of her face, furrowing her brows as she searched for Dean and found him manning the vaguely phallic wheel of the ship. All around him were enough sights as to comprise the nightmares of all the world's little children for a decade to come. Oddly tangible shadows danced around him, leering or growling or roaring out into the stormy night like mad hounds; others were far less real yet no less terrifying, popping in and out of sight - one minute here, the next there, the next right beside her - as lightning flashed off in the distance.<br><br>Jumping away in silent terror, closer to the only one of the pair that had a weapon, Methuseld couldn't help but feel a strong resentment towards Donovan for keeping her unarmed. But she couldn't focus on that for long - Dean was looking at them now, seemingly barely in control of himself (though why, she could not possibly comprehend), and shouting for Donovan to help him. The only help Methuseld could fathom was putting him out of his misery, and <em>quickly</em>. Which she let Donovan know immediately, with little thought or care as to the life of the shadow-man. "End this now!" She shouted through the overwhelming beating of rain on the new ship's fine wooden deck. "Put him out of his misery! Or I will!!!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>06-01-2015, 02:02:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan caught sight of Dean, and for the first time ever he was -worried-, truly worried for his shadow-self. Dean did -not- look pleased, or comfortable, or very happy. Usually it was -Dean- making -others- look not so pleased, comfortable, or very happy. But in this case, the strange, twisted magic seemed to be affecting Dean to some degree, which told Donovan just how powerful this dark magic was.<br><br>Donovan recognized right away that if not for Dean's resistance, then everything - and everyone - on the ship would have already been morphed or warped in some way. Glancing around, Donovan instantly understood - the transmorgraphic magic was trying to change, modify, and/or inhabit -Dean- which, if successful... would likely be the end of the world. <br><br>Or, in a less-dramatic fashion, it would at least be the end of Dean AND Donovan. And while that might have been just fine with Methuseld and Asa, Dean and Donovan both would probably prefer to avoid that.<br><br>Donovan heard Dean's plea... Dean needing 'a little help' was something Donovan had rarely heard, perhaps never. That added to the anxiety of the situation drastically. It was a very rare thing to hear Dean in such distress, and it unnerved Donovan greatly. Immediately following that Donovan heard Methuseld's voice above the din of warping wood and metal, demanding that they end this now - that he put Dean out of his misery...<br><br>Donovan could think of only one way that might help. This wicked magic around them was far beyond his ken, and his mind, as usual, took a more protective approach, rather than actually considering putting 'Dean' out of his misery! "Come on!" he shouted at Methuseld, and made his way towards the bow of the ship where Dean stood. Coming within arm's reach, Donovan glanced from Dean to Methuseld and back again. That made his decision either.<br><br>Donovan turned his gaze to Methuseld. "I need a catalyst....," he said - and that was the only warning she received.<br><br>Donovan's hand shot up and around to the back of Methuseld's head - pulled her head roughly toward him - and planted his lips hard and furious against hers. <br><br>As far as kisses went - this one was... well... pretty tame, all things considered. No tongue action. No moaning. No groping - except for Donovan clamping a fistful of Methuseld's hair in his hand. The warrior could almost -feel- her confusion, could almost taste her shock and surprise which seemed to last several seconds. Just before she was about to -freak-, Donovan pulled away with a faint, bewildered smile on his lips - his eyes solid white as if he had no irises, no corneas, no pupils at all. Instantly, a shock-wave blasted out from him a dozen feet and formed a faintly glowing bluish 'ball' encompassing Dean, Donovan, and Methuseld. Asa was not too far away, in the captain's quarters beneath them, and Donovan hoped that his sphere would reach her too. The energy he exerted was from his very own lifeforce - pure, solid, and incorruptible. It was his desperate hope that doing this would protect the four of them as long as they remained within the sphere, long enough until the dark-magic faded or chose to move on.<br><br>"Ah... passion...," Donovan whispered aloud. "Interesting...," he muttered, his sightless eyes staring at Methuseld for a moment with a whimsical smile on his lips....<br><br>...And then he fell over backward like a board, crashing unceremoniously to the deck near Dean's feet, unconscious.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>06-01-2015, 23:49:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It seemed to take forever for Dean to remember that he’d pocketed a couple of the gemstones from Aza’s collar. Why he couldn’t recall was beyond him, but by the time he’d remembered, Donovan was there with the female knight. And they were….kissing? Do what? That was patently unfair. All logic aside, Donovan was quite literally getting *all* the action. So much for being Mr. Mysterious-Handsome-Rapey-Shadow-Dude. <br><br>*I can give you enough power to elevate you above this concern. Give you enough power to take over cities filled with nubile women. Remake the old into young – yet experienced – virgins for your pleasure.*<br><br>Yeah right. If there was one thing Dean knew, it was the temptation game. He played that often enough – it was one of the more prominent tricks in his oft-shuffled deck of abilities. <br><br>“You don’t fuck with the dude who becomes other dude’s worst nightmares,” Dean growled out, even as Donovan poured himself into his Glory-fueled life pulse. “Ah, fuck you Knight,” he added at the end, feeling vaguely disappointed. “You don’t get to screw and kiss all the girls, then go unconscious like some sort of martyr. That’s just not fair!” <br><br>Then Dean, using the momentary reprieve his Knight had given him, and pulling on the gemstones his searching fingers had just stumbled across, simultaneously peeled the Greater Shadow away from his psyche and poured all of the excess energy, all darkness and sensuousness and tainted with Dean’s sexual urges, into the only receptacle he could think of.<br><br>Aza’s collar.<br><br>And then he, too, fell onto the deck, leaving the massive ship sitting in a rapidly dwindling maelstrom of lights, colors, and monsters – the latter of which were fleeing the scene, presumably to go do what evil monsters do. Cavort and wreak havoc. Which, under normal circumstances, Dean would probably have been okay with. If they all hadn’t been, in some way, his children. That realization was the last he had as the fading Shadow fell blissfully into silence and slumber. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>07-01-2015, 03:39:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				At the "come on", Methuseld figured she'd gotten to him. Figured he'd be driving a sword through the shadow man before he threatened everyone and everything either of them had ever known. She followed him without delay, hoping they weren't out of time yet. The ship was huge, but the two desperate warriors reached the man battling with literal inner demons faster than anyone could have expected. Something to do with adrenaline, most likely. Then Donovan started talking about a catalyst, and Methuseld sensed something was going wrong. He wasn't behaving like someone who was about to solve a problem with a sword - he was behaving like someone looking for a way out with another solution. She dreaded what that solution might be, or just how long he figured it would take to arrive at this alternate solution. "What are you talking about?! What catalyst!? Just <em>KILL THE DAMN F--</em>mmmph!?" <br><br>In a swift movement, Donovan turned on her and grabbed her by the back of the head. The blonde went rigid as her warrior's body prepared to defend itself from the new threat... except that the threat was directed at her lips! As anyone who has ever been surprise-kissed by an unexpected person will attest, doing anything about it for the first couple of seconds is simply impossible. The mind is known to shut off during certain events - shock, orgasm, trauma,... surprise kisses. Especially passionate surprise kisses. Her body softened for just a few seconds. Just for a little while, it was hard to think, hard to be anything really. Even repulsed. Slowly coming to her senses, she started to tense up, and would have pushed him right off had he not broken the kiss himself. Wiping her mouth, Methuseld's lips parted to ask why in the hell he'd just done that given they were about to die, and whether he was thinking with anything besides his cock at the moment.<br><br>And then things happened fast. Really fast. A blue field of energy burst out of him, knocking Methuseld away and, after a clumsy staggering attempt to forestall the inevitable, onto her rear. The fall also whipped-lashed her head a little, such that for a moment she had to close her eyes to compose herself. When she opened them, though... Dean was falling down to the deck. Something had happened - she'd goddamn missed it, but something serious had happened in her brief moment of confusion. She vaguely recalled hearing Dean say something - the sound of him speaking was clear in her mind, but not the words themselves. And then he'd fallen to the ground, just as Donovan had. Dead? Grunting, the general got up to check both their pulses. No. Not dead, neither one of them.... What to do? Tie them up? Try and escape?<br><br>A brief ray of moonlight caressed the deck. It happened in Methuseld's peripheral vision. Still on edge, her head snapped to the side to check for the source of what she'd barely-almost-kind-of seen. Nothing. Then another ray right next to it, that widened. That all-consuming darkness, that solid tangible curtain of blackness that had enveloped the ship in its maelstrom of rain, lightning, and shadow... It was somehow fading. Growing thinner, more ethereal, as it released the night it had latched on to and revealed the world as Methuseld was used to seeing it - stars, a moon, clouds... The sound of waves lapping at the pristine bow of the now massive sailship, the likes of which the plain little lake had never seen before. "Well well... looks like whatever it is you two did worked... So what if it took an unwanted advance on a woman to do it, right?" She asked, giving Donovan a casual medium-strength kick in the hip. Straightening now, Methuseld felt the stress drain out of her just as the blackness had drained out of the world, leaving it filled with the darkness everyone knew and felt at ease with. She stared out across the ship towards the shore - it was approaching, ever so slowly yet inevitably. In the meantime, she'd have to come up with a plan.<br><br>Aza was who knows where, but the fox did not concern her at the moment. First, she was going to take matters, and power, into her hands - snatch it out of her captors'. Disarming the two of them (hands roving in places they probably would have appreciated a little too much), she made a neat pile of all of their more dangerous belongings (the ones her thorough search had revealed, anyways). Then, one by one, she dragged them down to the hold where she'd been kept, and found some ropes to tie them up just as she'd been tied up. She was never one to waste an opportunity for some irony, and never one to let a potential advantage go to waste. It had been what had once made her such a great general. Such a great tactician. Whether she still had those abilities, after so long spent bowing to a greedy old despot, remained to be seen. But nonetheless, things would be done on her terms now.<br><br>With the two unconscious men tied up in the much more spacious confines of the "new" ship, Methuseld glanced at her armor. It didn't look any different, she thought with relief, and went to go put it on. After about half an hour, that matter was attended to as she secured the remaining straps and... collapsed on the floor in excruciating pain! Instantly reminded of just hours earlier, when she'd been rid of part of the curse by Aza's powers, the writhing general could do nothing but wait for the pain to end, begging her gods to be kind to her and make it quick. After what seemed like an eternity, the pain subsided again, leaving behind an exhausted, sweat-drained husk of a woman who, at least for the moment, could do nothing but lay on the ground in the fetal position she'd somehow put herself in despite her armor.<br><br>For ten minutes, she lay like that. Afraid to stand, afraid to take a full breath of air instead of her shallow ones, afraid to make any movement whatsoever. The pain might return, after all... When the terror had subsided (and when she was sure she had a few gray hairs from the ordeal), slowly the general gave a quiet defeated groan and sat up gingerly. The cool night air flowed down into the ship, caressing wet skin and wicking away the sweat. "Ugh... it's worth it, but the pain..." she muttered, getting up as she noted the feeling of complete normalcy dawn upon her body. Something she hadn't felt in decades. True, utter, uncursed human-ness. Free forever. Because the armor had saved her. How had it done that? It had to do something with the ship, with what had been happening here. But why her armor, and why this seemingly beneficial effect? She'd ask the shadow man when he woke. <br><br>But first...<br><br>Regaining some of her strength (or pushing herself despite the lack of it), the general walked briskly up the stairs. This ship had to be steered before she ran aground. Methuseld knew little of the intricacies involved, but she'd grown up in a merchant kingdom. She knew the basics, and those would be enough to stop a massive ship from running aground in a lake on a (now) relatively calm night. She took the wheel in her hands and steered towards the city on the other side of the large lake - she knew that the Vizier of that city would pay handsomely for this ship, ever the rival of Vizier Zazim. Her identity she'd try to keep secret, but if pressed to, she would defend herself with a blade and with the argument that without his general Zazim was still quite weak. <br><br>-<br><br>On the rigging now, Methuseld balanced quite gingerly. She had quite a few cuts on her otherwise flawless ivory skin where even the armor didn't cover her. This ship business wasn't exactly second nature to her, but she wasn't an idiot. It was time to fold up the mast as she neared the docks. Hopefully they could get some boats to tow the ship safely to a dock. As she did, though, she caught a glimpse of a rope that wasn't supposed to be there. It was hanging off the side, tied to the wooden railing of the ship. Why? What was it's purpose. Scanning the rest of the railings, Methuseld observed no other rope like it. It wasn't an anchor or anything like that. Then, suddenly, it dawned on her. She'd searched every bit of the ship's interior. Prior to its transformation, at least. If her sword wasn't inside anywhere, and if it was still somewhere on the ship, then it must have been outside. Finishing with the mast, Methuseld tried to temper her excitement with caution as the heavily-armored woman scaled down the ropes. Running over to the mystery-rope, she peered over the side, and-YES! There it was! Excitedly the woman pulled up handfuls of rope until finally her armored hands gripped the familiar hilt of her favorite sword. A big smile on her face, she swung it a few times, trying to remind her body of the familiar motions after the ordeals it had been through recently, and secured it to her person.<br><br>The docks were approaching now, as was the dawn. The ship was slowing down as the water sapped away its momentum. Time to pay a visit to her two captives. But first... there was a room in the ship she hadn't been in before. The captain's quarters. She did not truly know what she expected to find, just that she expected to find <em>something</em>. Perhaps somewhere deep in the back of her mind was the thought that throughout this whole ordeal, she hadn't seen the Sorceress's pet fox at all. But because of that very reason, she hadn't really thought about her since before the craziness. Unsheathing the sword again, she walked around the main deck towards the large and impressive doors that signaled the captain's quarters. Opening one, she peered inside, sword-point first. <br><br>It was dark out, so her eyes did not need much time to adjust to the room; inside she saw a surprisingly large area, adorned by exotic furs, large silk banners, silver and gold candelabras with unlit candles, other shining metallic accouterments, and furniture of the finest wood and craftsmanship she'd seen in years. And a bed the size of four normal ones, with... <em>something</em> chained to it. Steel armor's soft dings progressed across the room towards the bed until steely-gray eyes at last identified their target. Asleep?! Throughout this???<br><br>"Aza!" Came the stern commander's voice, like an angry father's rebuke.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>09-01-2015, 04:12:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/F4zgszH.jpg?1)</div>Dean was luckier than he was smart. There was virtually no chance he knew what he was doing when he diverted the Greater Shadow into the half-circles of metal that had been Aza's neckpiece, but it was probably one of the only methods that ensured the success for which he was hoping and, just coincidentally, their survival.<br><br>A few of the little charms Zozo had set upon the collar ceased to function once it'd been pried from Aza's neck, but by and large the foxgirl and the collar were still in magical accord, which was why it'd continued to shine even when carried upon Donovan's person. It'd mainly been constructed as a sort of magical storage-slash-amplification device, meant to catch and contain the energies that almost constantly moved through the finicky little fox. <em>Through</em> was the operative term there; Aza was not the source, merely the path. A cute but captious gateway to the infinite gulf of elemental force that lain between the levels of all the worlds. Or wherever. <br><br>It served to reason that if energy came <em>from</em> that side <em>to</em> this one through her, energy could also flow back the other way. But it'd never been tried, because who in the hell ever had precious, hard-won magic in such grand overabundance that they needed to <em>throw it away...?</em><br><br>Dean's impulsive, harebrained scheme worked, anyway. Aza had been so determined to nap, and sweet slumber in a cloud of silk and sandalwood incense was finally upon her... when the whole damn world went berserk, again. There was Don's radiant, pristine swell of protection, immediately followed by a seemingly endless outpouring of... well, the opposite. Dean.<br><br>Time got a little wonky for the fox at that point. Maybe if Dean had tried to pass off the Greater Shadow directly to Aza and therefore into the void, all that unchaste calignosity would have been harmlessly swallowed up with no noticeable aftereffects. The power of a Greater Shadow was infinitesimal compared to what simmered on the other side, after all. But Dean went for the collar, which still had those few working magics of its own, and it was probably the amplifier properties that did it... <br><br>Aza wasn't quite asleep when Methuseld stalked in, footfalls muffled by the many carpets, and barked her name like the girl'd been caught daydreaming at her lessons. Aza's head turned, and when her eyes opened the irises reflected back a burnished silver gleam. "General," she said, her sweet voice husky, and let the sheets slip away as she rose up. Her loose tumble of long hair -- now a pale, almost wintry blue, not that Aza had ever suffered a winter -- covered far more of her than the skimpy slave-girl getup, which was either quite meager or incredibly generous, depending on one's point of view. "You live," she noted, shiny gaze flickering over the other, much taller woman, who was not just alive but somehow looking remarkably less irascible. <br><br>She slunk in a crawl to the edge of the bed, accompanied by the metallic tinkling of all the little slave-bells, as the General approached. "We ssshould ssscelebrate," proclaimed Aza, hissing softly on the sibilants through a tiny fanged grin as she came up on her knees and reached for the blonde. Fingertips skirted down the other woman's breastplate to its bottom edge, hooking there and dragging Methuseld forward another step right up against the side of the bed, with more strength than something so small ought to have. Unless that small thing was currently possessed by the residual influence of one Dean-endorsed, voraciously lusty Greater Shadow, of course. Donovan had managed to evade the girl's everyday charms; with all the shadowy stuff at play, Methuseld might not be so fortunate...<br><br>The General did have on all that stupid armor, though. That much metal knew how to really kill a mood. "Pleasssse...?" Aza murmured, not letting go, leaning up and into Methuseld to press plenty of warm, nearly naked flesh against cold, polished enamel, head tilted to put glossy lips practically upon the blonde's elegant, less-protected throat. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>09-01-2015, 08:01:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan slowly roused, eventually. feeling aches and pains in every corner of his body even before he opened his eyes. With a soft groan, his eye lids fluttered open, and even -that- had felt painful. His mind was blank for the moment, as if he had simply been 'shut off' and 'restarted' somehow. Gazing ahead, he saw where he was, and it all came rushing back to him.<br><br>They were in the hold of their ship, and he was bound up with rope - the same rope, in the same location where he had bound Methuseld before. Irony of ironies, there was no sign of the general or the fox. Perhaps the two women had finally made good their escape after all. <br><br>Next to him, Donovan could feel his shadow-self. He didn't even need to turn and look, but he did anyway - regretting it almost instantly. Dean was unconscious as well, sitting there as if he were sleeping. That didn't make sense to Donovan because Dean never slept, at least as far as he knew, and Donovan couldn't remember a time when Dean had been knocked 'unconscious'. In fact, Donovan almost suspected Dean of faking it for some reason.<br><br>"Well... shit," Donovan said, taking a deep breath - which, of course, sent pain through his chest cavity as if a giant had punched him in the solar plexus. "Dean... wake up," Donovan said with a growl. "I have no idea what the hell is going on," he said, looking down at the hastily tied ropes. "I'll just get us out of these real quick," he said, and closed his eyes and began to focus his power, summoning his strength in order to simply tear through the rope.<br><br>It should have been a simple matter - a thought, a small bit of concentration and use of his glory, and -pop- broken rope. But right now... nothing was happening. In a&nbsp; bit of a panic, he strained and pushed against the ropes anyway, not feeling -any- of the usual rush he would feel when enhancing his body. Nothing. Nada. It was as if he had been completely drained...<br><br>Ah, yes... the sphere of protection he had summoned to protect himself, Dean, Methuseld and Aza. That was the last thing he -really- remembered before blacking out. Had it worked then? Well, he was pretty sure it had since he and Dean looked to still be alive - and one of the girls must have tied them up - any other critter from the darkness would have simply slain them where they were, he figured. So... the protection it offered had been powerful enough, and he had pushed hard enough to make the shell as resistant and as large as he could so as to include the fox on the deck below them, that it had simply 'burnt out' his power. At least, that's what he -hoped-...<br><br>Or.... his patron had simply decided to deny him his gifts today. Now. For how long, he wouldn't know. Perhaps it was -permanent-, and a cold chill went up his spine if that was the case. Such a revocation of power was not unheard of, but it was the harshest form of punished for... acting against the tenets of his patron. He had been careful, though. He hadn't slaughtered needlessly. He hadn't taken advantage of EITHER woman even though he had a chance to do so with both. He hadn't abused his power, as far as he could tell...<br><br>But he had -stolen-. The gems. That couldn't have been it, could it?<br><br>He took a deep breath again, and said Dean's name louder, hoping his shadow-self could help them out of these ropes so that they could find out just what sort of trouble the women were up to, if they were even still on the boat...<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>11-01-2015, 18:22:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean dreamed and his dreams were a motley collection of sensations mixed with images. He saw a young man, pale and fat standing near a young-looking Donovan. Saw an expression on the fat boy’s face that could only have been adoration, if not more. Felt disgust at what he saw. Yet in his dream Dean could not look away. When shadows coalesced around the boys and the scene shifted, he saw them both inside a strange castle. Now *that* was familiar to Dean. They were both moving through the place, the fat one in the lead, gesturing for young-Donovan to be quiet. <br><br>Events sped up. Dean couldn’t follow them. Couldn’t understand what happened next. All he saw was the fat boy’s copse on an altar, beneath a glowing sphere of yellow-white light and Donovan’s face. Tears streaking down his cheeks… <br><br>Fuck this. Dean didn’t know where he got the strength from, but he turned away from the vision, willed himself elsewhere. Crying over some fat fool’s death was stupid. Donovan was far too emotional for Dean’s tastes. <br><br>He was inside the ship. He didn’t know how he go there, but Dean could *feel* the ship around him, the pulse and pull of the beams, the sensation of arms and legs in his rigging, the weight of a body in his bed. He exhaled and the ship sped up, drew a breath and it slowed down. He was also the ornate tapestries along the walls, including the moving murals – one of which depicted a rather lurid orgy. At his thought, the tapestry animated, the bodies copulating deliciously. Like a child directing his own fantasies, Dean indulged for a little while, simply playing with the paint. <br><br>Then, just as he saw the knight enter the captain’s quarters, he heard Donovan’s voice. Drawn from his slumber, Dean half-awoke. A portion of his mind remained within the ship, distracted, while the rest focused on his companion.<br><br>“Donovan, you’ve always been too loud. Wouldn’t you shut up? If I’m lucky, this will make up for you getting all the girls lately.” Dean’s voice was low, cracking even to his ears. Wait, why was that? Still keeping his mind in the room, he tried to move. <br><br>Nope.<br><br>“Ah, fuck me. What happened?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>15-01-2015, 17:32:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Immediately Methuseld sensed something was off. She didn't know Aza all that well, and the revelation from a few hours ago that she was a shapeshifter didn't help, but... <br><br>She gazed upon the woman, changed somehow by the Greater Shadow's magic (although she did not know that), as the other slowly slunk towards the edge of the bed. The general's eyes furrowed. She might have shut the girl down, likely harsher than Donovan had earlier, but... something... was making it hard to do that. Normally the hard blonde felt nothing towards other women, but the flush in her cheeks indicated otherwise in this particular situation. That, and her damned inability to back away as the shapeshifter pulled her right to the edge of the bed - any more and she'd have fallen in. Methuseld told herself it was just her trying to understand why Aza was acting so strangely, but in truth she was not that sure. She breathed in the other woman's scent - spicy, enticing, exotic. It was hard not to feel a pull, which was very likely the idea.<br><br>And then the shifter leaned up against her, pressing her nearly nude, warm flesh fully against the general's armor. She couldn't feel it, but the knowledge that the body was there, all soft, feminine, and obviously very eager, was enough. Full glossy lips reached up, brushed against the blonde's throat. A tender gesture, yet also one that the general couldn't help but be wary of - suspicion and paranoia had their place in martial matters. But the kiss practically sealed her fate - if not because of the shapeshifter's altered state, then because of Methuseld's own (not that she was aware of that <em>either</em>). <br><br>Shadows passed along her armor, like black fish swimming beneath the silvery surface of the water. Not many, but even seeing that once is enough to let someone know something is off. And if anyone had cared to look (which neither of them likely did), her hair saw flecks of black just <em>appear</em> in it. No dye, no tricks - as if it had always been there, hiding beneath the blonde like a crocodile poised to lunge out of the water. The general felt a warm glow deep within her, a yearning she hadn't felt in a while and wasn't sure she could sate with anything, merely ameliorate temporarily. She exhaled a long-pent up breath - it was all she could do as the flush crept along her cheeks and that glow, that now-burning glow, threatened to wrest control of every fiber of her body.<br><br>And then it did - temporarily. Coupled with Aza's Shadow-induced powers of seduction, that new unknown power withing Methuseld stole her will too soon after she'd earned it back. A strong hand gripped Aza's chin firmly, positioning her mouth so that Methuseld might kiss it better. It was a hot, fiery, lusty kiss wholly lacking romance or love. It was Methuseld's need, a need she hadn't had before for a woman she hadn't been attracted to before, that took control of the general. In charge of so many others, Methuseld found herself in charge of this situation as well (or at least trying to take control), and after a few passionate, wet moments, attempted to push the beautiful shapeshifter onto her back on the bed, climbing in after and onto her to continue the heated embrace of their lips.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>21-01-2015, 14:09:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Well, that was easy. Aza made no attempt to hinder or avoid the sudden and noticeably vicious kiss, emitting a soft purr-y growl as her mouth opened obediently for the blonde's, their tongues clashing as if Methuseld meant to consume the other woman. Neither knew of the changes that had been wrought to the other after their recent parting down in the hold, so it was entirely possible there was some serious underestimation happening. Aza was unawares of the likely very deep well of frustrated lust (and maybe, a certain sexual resentment towards males and an unfortunately rape-packed past?) that had just been tapped and loosed within Methuseld. And the General wouldn't realize that the foxgirl's sumptuous form now harbored the remnants of a supernaturally sinful being that had exactly two hobbies: fucking things, and fucking up things.<br><br>Methuseld pushed the smaller girl down onto the deep, silk-swaddled mattress. She was treating the encounter in what might have been the only way she knew how: like a fight. But this was the wrong battleground to take<em> that</em> stance. Bedchambers and open-mouthed kisses were Aza's territory. And the fox meant to defend it.<br><br>As they fell backwards, Aza slung one leg around Methuseld's at the crook of her knee and kept rolling, taking their momentum right over. The blonde would find herself on her back in all the pillows, one small sky-blue-haired fox propped on her chest. Black shimmers scampered over the surface of the armor beneath Aza's splayed hands, not that she cared about such strangeness. It was time for the damned stuff to come off again. There was skin somewhere beneath it, soft slopes and rises of flesh needing to be caressed and licked. Maybe bitten. Mostly nicely.<br><br>Whatever magical differences had been imposed on Methuseld's metal dressings didn't hamper the fox's efforts to remove the offending stuff and toss it aside. She fastened her mouth back over the General's even as her nimble fingers began to work. Her kiss was committed but much less demanding than the one the blonde had initiated, encouraging her to <em>savor</em> rather than <em>devour,</em> tongue promisingly dipping against hers. And once the largest pieces of armor -- Aza had no idea what any of them were called, nor any desire to learn; there were too fucking many of them -- and the mail had swiftly been discarded, leaving only fabric between their torsos, the girl nipped at the other woman's bottom lip before running more kisses along her jawline. "Touch me," she murmured lowly, and bit the lobe of her ear. "I want you to... and to touch you, I want..."<br><br>The fox's hands were already roaming, in fact, one smoothing the curve of Methuseld's hip to her ribs and then up beneath her doublet, palming the well-rounded shape of one breast, thumb stroking over the hardened nub at its tip. "Sssshare with me," she told the blonde, hips moving down against hers, one naked thigh drawing up between the armored angles of Methuseld's. "Pleasure, enough for both..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>22-01-2015, 09:19:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan ignored Dean's 'request' for him to shut-up. Now was not the time to be quiet and sit by idly while who-knows-what was happening on deck, or to the waters and lands around them. But his eyes widened when Dean accused him of 'getting all the girls lately'. <br><br>"What?!?" Donovan nearly bellowed, forgetting about the ship and the other terrible things that had happened over the past hour. "I've gotten ONE girl, for the record. The dark elf... and that fucking -hurt-," he growled. "And I am -pretty sure- she gave me crotch-rot, though the itch is mostly gone. I -hardly- call that 'getting all the girls'," he insisted. "But that's beside the point now... as you can see, we've had the tables turned on us... and I've tried summoning strength to break the bonds... and I can't," he admitted, slowly calming a bit from Dean's accusation.<br><br>"I am not entirely sure what happened, but it involved you and the ship being warped like out of some fairy-tale. Weird shit has been happening around us.. and -to- us. I found Methuseld unbound, and he fled the hold to come searching for you. We found you on deck, and all this weird warping stuff was still going on around us - and you looked distressed... which I found to be quite unsettling," he said. <br><br>"So I got the general and myself close to you, and I assumed Aza was still in the captain's quarters below where you were standing... and I summoned the largest sphere of protection that I could manage, larger than any before, so I could fit all four of us within," he said. "Then... I blacked out." Donovan decided to leave the part out about kissing the general. It wouldn't make any difference to their situation anyway.<br><br>"And now I just woke up... and it seems the general saw it as her opportunity for a little payback," he said, lifting his bound hands up so that Dean could see. "I can't summon any energy yet, so I am stuck. But... can you do your shadowy thing? We need to get out of her and find the other two... and get off this twisted ship."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>25-01-2015, 21:41:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Let’s be honest here: if Dean had access to his powers, there’d have been a wonderful wave of tentacles inside the room with the two women, and not just his piecemeal awareness. Dean wasn’t much of a watcher, per se, but he’d have to take what he could while both he and Donovan were more-or-less powerless.<br><br>“Big shield eh?” Dean murmured absently. “Serves you right. Probably a good call though. I was gonna be infested, devoured even. Maybe nothing left after that. Sad times, Knight, sad times.” He nodded, dark hair moving to frame those chiseled features of his, his pupils constricted to pin-points in the dark as his attention was captivated by sights he hadn’t enjoyed for quite a while. At least a few days. <br><br>“You know,” Dean continued a few minutes later, “This ship has both of us in it. The Greater Shadow was basically intelligent fuel, at least until it realized what I was doing. I might have funneled more effort into making the ship what it is than you – consciously – but it’s still got bits of you in it. We’re the same person, in some ways. Well, twin souls linked by your Glory. It would make sense if your projected power got…well, eaten a bit by the ship. As fuel. Since, you know, I was using my power that way and the ship was shaped by how I was guiding that nightmare. If that’s the case, I’d think you might be able to…reach out and kind of withdraw some of that back into you. Possibly all of it, though I doubt it. It’s a hungry ship. You might just have to wait for it to naturally regenerate though. In which case, who knows how long we’re stuck here. My powers are limited by yours, after all.” It went without saying that if Dean were still alive, Donovan’s Glory wasn’t entirely gone. Just exhausted. <br><br>“Now, shut up and let me watch this!” To his credit, Dean did try – just a little – to get his wrists free. He was a shapeshifter, so he should have been able to alter his bones and size with a little effort. But even that ability was currently unavailable, presumably melded with the ship for the time being. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>28-01-2015, 23:45:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld uttered a surprised gasp as the tables of dominance were suddenly turned on her, leaving the aroused raven-haired blonde (?!) on her back with a blue-haired fox working her armor away at the same time their lips met once more. Wetness, eager unbridled passion, and some form of the demonic connected the two females; as Methuseld's mouth slowly relented to Aza's more expert kisses, savoring the feeling of tongue sliding slippery-wet against tongue, Methuseld's body was still tense, as if contemplating resistance yet not knowing how to proceed. It was in her blood to take charge, and though Aza was the undisputed queen in these situations... old habits die hard.<br><br>Except that as Aza worked the heavy metal shell off of her new lover, Methuseld once more underwent a small change, returning to her pale-golden-haired ways and feeling that domineering fight leaving her body, seemingly content to be seduced and led by Aza's magic-fueled feminine ways and experience. Her mind in a haze, every word that left Aza's mouth occupied the blonde's full attention, and even as the fox's little hand slipped beneath the thick doublet to visit her attention upon Methuseld's neglected body, the blonde was already beginning to inexpertly return the favor. <br><br>One hand's rough calloused fingers gently cupped one of the intoxicating mounds that drew so many stares, while the other gently traced a line on the smaller woman's smooth bare thighs, sensual and voluptuous in a way Methuseld's body could only hope to be (although Methuseld had the potential to attract others in her own uniquely erotic, sexy way). Motions long since forgotten began to come back to her, but years spent pleasing no one except under magical command had dulled her skills as a lover. What was the first thing to come back? Why, moaning, of course. At Aza's skillful ministration, the general moaned quietly, shyly even, into the wet passionate kiss the two shared. Eyelashes fluttered softly as a gentle wave of pleasure washed over a woman that had known nothing but abuse at the hands of selfish, monstrous men for years. And though the blonde preferred men almost exclusively... well, that seemed to matter less and less as the seconds went by.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>01-02-2015, 19:22:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza was also accomplished with females who thought themselves to be sexually arrow-straight, and intimately familiar with demonstrating to many of them just how incorrect that notion could be. The fox didn't have much of a gender preference herself; there was really no replicating a few male traits, but girls smelled better and were uniformly more considerate kissers, too. Really, having one of each gender at once made for the most pleasurable, all-around affair. Too bad both the ship's other occupants were currently inconvenienced.<br><br>Methuseld seemed to submit all too readily to Aza's endeavors, drawing a triumphant little sound from the foxgirl's throat as their kiss lengthened. Soon, though, the doublet had to come off, and whatever undershirt and probably under-undershirt that existed beneath because some overly complicated bit of armor required it. Sitting back over the blonde's thighs, the fox pulled her up from the pillows to drag all the fabric over her head and toss it carelessly off the edge of the bed. With Aza straddling the taller general's lap, the two were just about nose-to-nose. She plunged her fingers into the Methuseld's hair above her braid, drawing the other woman's head back, while her other hand followed the graceful line of Methuseld's neck and collarbone, then down again to the soft shape of one exposed breast.<br><br>As she was fondling that yielding flesh, nibbling and licking at Methuseld's throat and neck, Aza gradually became aware of another... presence. Another shadowy one. Maybe it was her own temporary shadowishness that recognized him, her silver-blue gaze flicking suspiciously around the bedchamber without lifting her mouth from Methuseld. It would be to the surprise of no one that Dean liked to watch. <em>Enjoy the view, prick</em>, Aza thought with another small growl, and wetly swept her pink tongue across the blonde's rosy nipple, hoping to elicit another, louder moan. She slowly edged back over Methused's knees and then nudged herself between them, her black-lacquered fingertips walking down the other's finely muscled abdomen, her teeny fangs glinting in the torchlight as she looked up to Methuseld's face. "Orders, do you ssstill wish to give?" she inquired, <em>ever </em>so sweetly, already searching out the next set of buckles or laces or whatever other annoyance that was preventing the blonde's long legs from being naked when they wrapped around her. "Tell me, that I might make you sssscream..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>02-02-2015, 08:40:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan gave Dean a hefty smirk when his shadow suggested that Donovan had received what he deserved. He most certainly had -not-. He had -saved- the General, had saved them -all-, and in return, he had gotten tied up by the traitorous woman AND had been dissed by his shadow! What the hell!<br><br>"Yes, I -know- it was a good call - especially with you about to be... how did you put it?... Infested? Devoured? You're welcome." Part of Donovan had a sneaky suspicion that Dean would have -enjoyed- it, at least for awhile. But for the moment, Donovan went quiet, feeling quite powerless... and quite unappreciated. He still struggled, though, trying to use his natural strength to pull his hands free of the ropes Methuseld had bound them with, but the general appeared to have been quite thorough. Meanwhile, Dean didn't seem to be struggling much at all, much to Donovan's dismay.<br><br>When Dean started to talk again a few minutes later, he began by extolling the idea that the ship was shaping and forming itself based on the conscious of Dean, but also on the subconscious of Donovan. That could explain -some- of what he had seen on the way to the deck, especially the parts involved certain people...<br><br>"Bullshit," Donovan groused, straining again. "It was all darkness. If it had formed based off of any of -my- being, there would have been rainbows and unicorns in there somewhere, and I sure as shit didn't see either," he said sarcastically. "I get what you're saying, though, and I suppose...," he paused, straining again for a moment, "I suppose it could be true to some extent. Shit! I almost had it... I feel some of my power returning, the longer I'm awake..."<br><br>In truth, he had done exactly what Dean had suggested. Donovan had consciously 'reached out' to the area around them, seeking strands of light that he knew were there, but couldn't see. With a focus of will, some of those strands had reached him, infusing him slowly but surely.... which was fine with him, all he'd need was a little, just a bit to summon enough strength to break through the bonds.<br><br>Dean urged Donovan to shut up, and Donovan did just that, so he could focus the thimble-full of power he had collected as they talked, and with a surge that sapped all of it away - the ropes around his and Dean's hands strained and squeaked in protest - and then -popped- as they burst apart. Gasping, Donovan slouched over again groggily. <br><br>"Go...," Donovan urged. "Make sure they are.... safe...."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>02-02-2015, 23:04:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jarred from his contemplations by Donovan’s popping of things, Dean frowned at the man. “Fuck. You.” He said quite clearly and concisely. “We both know what would happen if I went alone. And then you’d be bitching for *weeks* about what a martyr you are, despite getting all the lady bits recently.”<br><br>Rolling to his feet in a sinuous, effortless motion, Dean casually extended his fingers – now tipped with sharp claws – and sawed at the bonds around their ankles, snicking through them in a few seconds. Then the man, now able – thanks to Donovan’s use of his power – to manifest his own a bit, Dean hoisted the man up onto his muscular shoulder and began tromping through the ship.<br><br>“You can feel her too, can’t you?” Dean asked as he walked. “She’s part of us now. You, her spirit. Me, her impulsive desires. It’s like we gave birth, you and I. Me the mother, you the sperm donor. Er. Father. Ah yes. She’s all around us. Whispering. Hungry. I wonder if she wants to consume sharks, or maybe other ships?” Dean paused, eyes going wide, “Oooo, I know, maybe she wants souls! Yeah, souls!”<br><br>Showing that he had a clear knack for navigating the massive boat, Dean took one turn, then another – completely different and seemingly indirect turns from those the others had taken earlier. “Okay,” Dean continued, “Maybe not souls. Neither I nor the Shadow consume souls. Nor, for that matter, do you. Maybe something else. Something more….fun.” Dean seemed positively excited by this new idea, even as he rounded yet another corner and somehow brought the two of them right before the Captain’s Cabin.<br><br>“Like the tangled web of my heart,” Dean announced in a stage whisper, “So is the daughter of my flesh.” And then, with a gentle pressure of his fingertips against the locked door, Dean caused the door to glide open, revealing the events of the room beyond to both Shadow and Knight. <br><br>Because Dean was a fair sport. Or, more likely, just so Donovan wouldn’t earn any more points. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>07-02-2015, 02:52:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Quiet moans escaped the generals' throat unbidden as Aza's expert mouth and fingers played with her flesh, toyed with it, spoke to it in ways even Methuseld herself could not. They had their own language, the fox and the general's body, and her mind was not privy to its secrets. She continued her own inexpert attempts to mimic her lover, the silken skin contrasting strongly with her own rough hands, full of callouses, old scars, and mended bones.<br><br>The bewitching female left a cool trail of wetness along Methuseld's soft flesh, her erect pink nipple bearing the brunt of the sickeningly skilled attention and drawing goosebumps all over her skin as shudders broke against the golden-haired woman. Eyes closed, she was content to merely enjoy the moment passively - lover's pleasure be damned. It had been so long since anyone had taken such good care of her, Methuseld wanted to be greedy although her sudden, magicked attraction to the other woman demanded she explore her lover fully.<br><br>She was just about to answer with her next set of 'orders' (though Aza was fully in charge here) when Dean burst in, Donovan behind him. The most immediately obvious feature of the room would have been the massive bed in the center of it, in it an unsurprisingly clothed Aza and a surprisingly unclothed Methuseld, breasts revealed and quilted pants down to her ankles, showing two luxuriously long, shapely legs whose joining at the hips was unfortunately hidden by a flimsy loincloth. The shock on Methuseld's face was palpable; never had the general looked so terrified and embarrassed. Except perhaps merely hours earlier, when Donovan had kissed her to stop Dean. Face totally red now, Methuseld struggled to find the words even as part of her, still totally bewitched by whatever resided within Aza, wanted to give the boys a show.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>08-02-2015, 15:08:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				This was going swimmingly. Methuseld had totally relented to the promise of gratification from self-indulgence for the first time since, what, ever? And Aza was all sorts of indulgent. The smaller woman snuggled up between the blonde's bare thighs, making an appreciative murmur as Methuseld's otherwise so-competent hands stroked the shapeshifter's soft figure. Naturally, Aza loved to be petted. Her warm mouth lingered over the blonde's breasts, leaving blushed lip prints on pale skin, and encouraging more of that gooseflesh to ripple over her. One small hand began to explore the edges of that loincloth. There was no reason to rush beneath it, not until Methuseld was ready. <em>More </em>than ready. Ready to start <em>begging </em>for... The general's body tensed, in a manner Aza had not meant to evoke. It was too early for tension; these moments were for preparation, for ebbing, before the building tide of pleasures would surge. Thickly lashed eyes half-lidded, she glanced up from Methuseld's stomach, tongue just about to slink across her navel on its way further south, then followed the other woman's stare to the now-opened door. <br><br>Two. Two men were at least one too many. Aza's palms moved to the bed on either side of Methuseld's hips, and she brought up her head with a growl that was far more assertive than sensual. The fox was pretty sick of interruptions. First a kidnapping, then an attack and and arson, then stupid elves and magic sleep... actually, the sleep had been nice, but still. Post-coital cuddles first would have been nicer. And all of it was the fault of these two, wasn't it? Maybe like eighty percent their faults. Well over half, anyway. Aza didn't do math.<br><br>Donovan did not quite look his dapper self, propped up on Dean, who looked exactly like the handsome jerk he was. Dean was where her blue stare remained, as the shadowy contamination within her stirred and rose, not certain whether to welcome the degenerate as kin... or face it as competition. With the depletion of Donovan's powers, Aza might be just a little more Shadow than Dean was, for a very brief moment in time...<br><br>All the candles guttered and then blazed, illumination leaping crazily across the room, making the real shadows waver. Her growl deepened, beyond what such a slender throat ought to be able to produce, and she laid a clawed hand on Methuseld's naked chest, like <em>stay put, I got this.</em> "Fuck off," she decided, directing it mostly towards Dean, who of course was the less likely of the pair to listen. "Or I shall <em>make </em>you..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>10-02-2015, 08:16:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan sighed when, once again, Dean referred to him getting 'all the lady bits' recently.<br><br>"One woman. A drow. By the gods, Dean, I was basically a living, breathing -dildo- for her. Some of the claw marks took -several- attempts to heal, for fuck's sake," he groused. There was truth in his words, too - the encounter with the drow had confirmed to Donovan that their kind knew only two speeds when it came to fucking: Stop, and No-holds-barred-try-to-injure-the-other-party-as-much-as-possible. But, maybe that's why Dean was still resentful over it - maybe that sort of thing would have been right up his alley.<br><br>Donovan DEFINITELY screwed up his face in disgust when Dean described himself as a 'mother', and Donovan as a 'sperm donor'. "For fuck's sake, Dean... stop trying to make me vomit," he growled. "We haven't 'given birth' to anything. This is just Chaos magic gone awry - as it ALWAYS does. Probably thanks to you, mostly, from what Methuseld and I saw on deck..."<br><br>But there had been -some- logic in Dean's words. If the formation of the ship had been left -solely- to Dean's deepest personality, Donovan doubted that any of them would be alive right now.<br><br>Donovan followed Dean, as his shadow seemed to act confident that he knew his way about - which didn't surprise the knight at all. Dean spoke of the 'sustenance' the ship desired, and mentioned followed by summarily ruling out 'souls'. Well, that was -some- relief, at least. As they neared the Captain's quarters, where Donovan last remembered seeing Aza, the knight took a breath, feeling for his powers. They were slim. He needed -real- rest, and not aboard this Ship of Chaos. Dean, though, almost seemed at home here, and not for the first time, Donovan felt uncomfortable putting his trust and faith in his darker self.<br><br>And with a movement of his hand, Dean opened the door, revealing the sight before him.<br><br>The two women were in a state of... well... foreplay? Bodies partially exposed, it was clear they had the intent to continue and progress, so yes, perhaps that was where Dean and Donovan had so rudely interrupted. For her part, Methuseld looked absolutely embarrassed and stunned. She also looked -hot-, which was mildly distracting, but what caught his attention most was Aza's sudden aggressiveness, the assertiveness in her voice, her demand for the two of them to -fuck off-... before she -made them-.<br><br>Donovan began to chuckle.<br><br>"Well, it seems they've been... I dunno... contaminated?" Donovan muttered. "But I suppose she's forgotten that this is -our- home turf? So... how do you propose we free them from the grips of this chaos?" Donovan asked, his eyes still focused on the pair on the bed, of course, lest they try something... unwise.<br><br>"I believe this darkness stuff is your specialty, my shadow?" Donovan muttered to Dean beside him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>16-02-2015, 00:19:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean took in the events as they unfolded with a certain (for him) degree of Zen acceptance. Everything was beautiful, from Aza to the General. Even Donovan had his place, all ignoble and mildly resentful and intrigued – like a teenage boy led to his first orgy by a helping hand. The only thing that felt off was the energy inside Aza; that roiling miasma of darkness, that buttery decadent smoothness – it was familiar. It was Dean. But it wasn’t, too. The expulsion that Dean had channeled through Aza’s collar had been informed by Dean’s Shadow nature, true, but it had been propelled by something ancient and mischievous. It seemed that the girl had taken some of that mixture into herself, become influenced by it.<br><br>The too-handsome Shadow wasn’t certain whether to be attracted in an almost incestuous way, or ignoble. He was the only Shadow here, damn it! Not this foxy upstart. <br>But then she had the gall to mouth off at him. There she was, perched between beautiful thighs, on the cusp of a distant horizon filled with pleasure, and she told *him* to fuck off?<br><br>Donovan vanished, as did the General (well, maybe not so much her), as Dean’s eyes narrowed, making a dangerous expression in those lean features of his. That too-generous, sensual mouth pursed, then peeled back, revealing sharp white teeth as the Shadow streaked forward, leaping, lunging, flying into a meteoric tumble aimed directly at Aza.<br><br>“It’s on bitch!” he snarled as he flew, lithe body rippling into an arc that somehow expressed both his frustration and his bemusement at her words. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>17-02-2015, 22:49:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan hadn't even finished speaking before Dean apparently decided <em>challenge accepted </em>and was airborne. Aza reared up, still straddling Methuseld, her fangs showing and arms open as if to receive the hit... then she neatly ducked and flattened again the general, letting the man sail over top of both women and tumble freely onto the wide expanse of mattress. Face against the blonde's neck, she gave the other woman one last warm lick before spinning away and throwing herself after Dean, intent on catching him before he rolled to the floor.<br><br>Back in the safehouse's tub, Dean had suggested a wrestling match; maybe this wasn't how he'd envisioned it, but he'd gotten one. With a howl that sounded more like a charge of a hundred vengeful wolves than a single annoyed fox, her teeth went straight for Dean's throat. Simultaneously, a knee went right for his balls. Did anyone expect a Shadow to fight cleanly?<br><br>The darkness seemed to follow and coalesce about the new pair, enveloping them like trailing smoke and perhaps concealing from the observers what exactly was happening within the catfight. Aza wasn't totally sure herself, mostly trusting her shadowy rage to wreak all the&nbsp; havoc necessary, all the little slave-bells chiming sweetly as she attempted to choke the unlife out of Dean using the chain that still leashed her to the bedpost. "YOU are the bitch," she rejoined snappily, smooth legs locked about his narrow hips, claws tangled in the hair she had so nicely braided for him. Was Dean's perfect body even capable of bleeding? Her pointy canine teeth were determined to discover. "Ssssubmit," she hissed authoritatively, around a mouthful of his ear.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>21-02-2015, 18:02:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sex-addled Methuseld's only indication that the fight had started was Dean tumbling against the mattress, missing his initial strike. A quiet moan escaped her lips at Aza's farewell lick, but soon there was fighting in <em>very</em> close proximity of the blonde and she didn't want to become collateral damage in this literal shadow war. The seduction spell broken now, at least temporarily, Methuseld quickly but dizzily rolled off the bed and with a few long bounds was over in the relative safety of Donovan's presence, pale curves rolling this way and that along her tall, lithe frame. Still nude, save only for the relatively flimsy piece of fabric passed between two smooth, powerful, bare thighs to by synched off at her lower back to cover a fraction of her rear as well as her womanhood. And the warrior was painfully aware of just how naked (and vulnerable) she was, covering two of her 'cute' apple-sized breasts with a forearm pressed firmly against them. <br><br>All arousal erased, Methuseld gaped in part wonder and part grim consideration as the two shadow creatures, Aza and Dean, wrestled, nipped, and hit each other in a wispy cloud of shadow that almost totally obscured the two, sparing the two observers from seeing the majority of the violence. Methuseld hated magic; she had been compelled to serve the Vizier by a curse, and now she felt all the more foolish for having fallen for it, somewhat of her own free will, with Aza. Seduced by this... This shadow creature that now fought Dean for dominance.<br><br>She wanted her armor and her sword, but both lay in a pile at the foot of the vast bed, and there was no way she'd risk coming that close to the fighting again. "Can't you put a stop to this?" She snapped, annoyed, at Donovan, mostly out of a sense of helplessness and frustration with herself.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>22-02-2015, 22:12:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan watched with keen interest as Dean suddenly blasted forward - and Aza, like some dark disciple - prepared to receive him. In the space of a heartbeat the -two- shadows set to one another, each fighting for dominance and more. Donovan of course was 'rooting' for his dark half... it was the 'devil' he knew, after all, and Donovan had no idea what drove Aza, or what sort of personality she bore other than what he had witness in the past sixty seconds. But he knew Dean, and he knew if Dean won out, Donovan would at least know what to expect. <br><br>Donovan's attention was pulled to the side as Methuseld came dashing toward his position, her near-nudity grabbing his attention quite handily. He blinked, eyes glued to her as she moved over to his general area, though not -too- close, of course. He could imagine her fear of him, afraid he would grab her and try to have his way with her. The thought then -did- cross his mind, but was summarily dismissed. Rape wasn't Donovan's way.<br><br>He snorted when she 'covered' herself modestly. Perhaps that meant that the general was 'back' now, rather than being controlled by her lusts. It was interesting to note that the woman -had- any, but perhaps now it made more sense. Perhaps her desires were aimed only toward women. Donovan had no issue with that, despite the deep sense of disappointment he felt at the idea, his eyes taking in her curves one more time. What a pity.<br><br>"Can I -stop- this?" he repeated to the general, "You seemed to be enjoying yourself rather... deeply, general. I figured you would want it to -go on-," he called out to her, teasing a bit. Then his head turned back to face the swirling darkness around and above the bed. "But no... I can't. I've been... depleted, for the most part," he warned. <br><br>"I'm afraid this is just going to have to play itself out to the bitter end..."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>25-02-2015, 05:11:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yeah, Dean was laughing. It was a lusty, eager laugh, one that filled the shadowy air eerily, echoing and ricocheting throughout the room in a manner that would probably be fitting in some vampire lord’s vaulted tomb. Missing Aza, falling, caught, pulled into a dangerous tumble, he moved with a lithe dexterity that belied his muscularity and overall size. One thigh shifted inward, narrowing the passage to his balls, deflecting her attack to his inner thigh, his jaw dropped to limit the damage her sharp teeth could do to his neck.<br><br>Two attacks blunted, but not entirely avoided: Aza was fast and strong, fueled by a power that the Shadow knew all too well. It was him. The burning, motivating passion that filled her body was as part of him – or had been – as surely as the vitality that pulsed through his veins. In that, he could anticipate her (albeit, to a limited extent). In that, he could find a likeness, a purity of intent that he’d never known. <br><br>Shifting, rolling, sill laughing, he jerked one leg down and to the side, hooking an ankle around hers, using leverage and muscle more than Shadow power to pull her legs wide, shoving his torso between her thighs – daring her to attempt to crush him – as one of his hands found purchase in her hair and he began slamming her head back, into the pillows. Okay, that wasn’t the most effective idea. <br><br>And she was squirming and clawing and cursing him, more hate and dominance than lust. How odd to be on the receiving end of such a contest. Then Dean was cursing back at her, “Fucking lithesome whore,” he cursed, drawing on his Shadowy power to reshape his form, heightening his flexibility to compensate. However, as Donovan had said, Dean was somewhat limited in what he could do at the moment. <br><br>At least, in what he could do directly….<br><br>Hard body, all sculpted, honeyed muscularity pressed against Aza’s, Dean grinned his wolfish grin and fought back, biting at her mouth, licking at her lips, arching and grinding against her pelvis, letting that impressive length slide across her entrance, teasing at unimaginable pleasure. Two fiends of lust and dark desires feeding one another’s need for lust and violence – it might be even better than having braided hair. Who knew?<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>28-02-2015, 15:25:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza had no idea what 'lithesome' meant, but in context, between 'fucking' and 'whore,' it didn't sound respectful. When did Dean start<em> dis</em>liking whores, anyway? "Tawdry fucking hustler," she answered as a growl. It was fifty-fifty whether or not Don and Methuseld could even hear the exchange through the darkness still cocooning the fight. That darkness was ominously beginning to spread, shadows unnaturally drifting and rolling off the bed, creeping over the floor and curling up into the air like fingers of black fog.&nbsp;<br><br>Once Dean had managed to mostly fend off the fox's initial salvo, she found herself on her back with him working determinedly to pin her. There was a great deal of hair yanking by both parties, which Dean seemed to think paired nicely with wriggling his hips up against hers and imitating kisses. This probably wasn't much different from his usual method of lovemaking, actually, complete with a questionable level of consent. Like Methuseld, maybe he thought he enjoyed a battle, because that was what he was accustomed to initiating and winning... since he just happened to be bigger, and stronger, and just much better at all this shadow stuff.<br><br>Well, then, time to redefine the conflict, to terms more of Aza's liking. The next time his lips came near hers she tipped her chin up and caught them with her own for a real kiss, just as her body went supple and slack beneath his taut one. Her arms wound loosely about his neck rather than attempting a headlock, her legs cradling his hips. And she purred, tongue touching his, one of her palms at his cheek. "No fight," she murmured between more soft little kisses, her other hand cupping the nape of his neck and gently squeezing. His hips moved between her spread thighs again, and she sighed a breathy moan. "Truce, yes? And then, what I might <em>give</em> to you... is more than if you should <em>take</em> it..."<br><br>She nuzzled the corner of his jaw below his ear, placing a tender lick over where a moment ago she'd bitten him. Her teeth were still rather fanged and foxlike, though her tone was faultlessly dulcet. "Unchain me... Please? Dean? For you," she whispered, her eyes wide and sparkly silver, her hardly-covered breasts rising against his chest as she gave a slow writhe between his greater weight and the deep pillows. See if <em>that</em> amused him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>08-03-2015, 03:46:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld glared at the Knight - the comment about her enjoying herself was <em>not</em> appreciated, and she fumbled at a reply before turning away angrily.... And then turning back once she thought of it. "I was under her <em>spell</em>! It wasn't me, I wouldn't have done that if I'd been myself. As you can <em>clearly</em> see, Aza has been somehow changed... likely by the same thing that changed the ship. Now..." the blonde warrior looked around, eyes searching for a wardrobe so she didn't have to walk around nearly naked while Donovan's eyes, and perhaps even Dean's, occasionally flickered her way. <br><br>Padding over to a large oak wardrobe sufficiently far from the fighting, its wood stained dark, she heaved open a heavy door and picked out a soft linen shirt twice her size, clearly a man's, and some baggy pants that she synched up at the waist. Looking a little silly in her over-sized clothing, nipples gently poking at the fabric of her shirt, Methuseld padded back to Donovan to resume. "We're really just going to stand here and wait? Perhaps we should be doing something useful? Like steering the ship? We must be getting close to the docks..."<br><br>Steel-gray eyes tried to pierce through the smoke of the fighting; she thought she heard talking, but between the creaking of the mattress and the residual sounds of conflict, it was hard to be sure. She tried to think of why she'd been so compelled, so aroused... She couldn't think of a reason. She just knew she'd feel a lot better, a lot safer, a lot more prepared for what came her way, if she had her armor back...<br><br>Well, as soon as the two dark, lust-filled creatures called off this little spat, she'd dare come near enough to get her gear back. Until then, she'd have to make do with these silly men's clothes.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>09-03-2015, 22:59:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan watched the activities before him with a close eye. If Dean began to seem as if he was losing out, Donovan figured he and Methuseld would have a decent headstart to get the hell out of the ship, if possible. Of course, the knight wasn't even sure Methuseld would want to -leave-... But if Dean appeared to be winning, then Donovan would be confident that things would turn out fine - even if that meant Dean doing terrible but delicious things to Aza. <br><br>He could feel Methuseld's glare as if he were standing next to a roaring bonfire. He turned his head to look at her, and she looked pretty angry... though she didn't -deny- his accusation, at least not immediately. HA. Truth was there someplace, he knew.<br><br>Then, of course, she quickly turned away from him (it was easier to deny and lie that way, of course) and claimed that she was just under a 'spell'. She tried to explain it away, blaming the ship-of-chaos for her woes. Donovan snorted.<br><br>"Likely excuse. Let's say I forced myself on you right now... but later, I just said, 'oh no, I was just under a -spell-.' Would you believe such a thing?" he asked. Part of him knew why he asked... because he had considered that very course of action...<br><br>He blinked as he stood there looking at her, realizing those thoughts weren't his own. Not... entirely. Not the -dark- parts, no... the parts about having her, about plowing into the blonde woman, about testing just how strong those thighs were and how luscious she tasted, THOSE were his thoughts.....<br><br>NO, wait, THOSE weren't his thoughts EITHER! No... not entirely... She was beautiful, yes, attractive and strong, sure. She'd -at least- be able to keep up with him for awhile, wouldn't she? But how -limber- was she? Would her legs be able to wrap fully around his neck while he-...<br><br>"DAMN IT. Stop that!" he growled to no one in particular, shaking his head, and then focusing on the blonde warrioress once more. He watched as she padded over to a large wardrobe and pulled out a shirt... one of HIS shirts... what the fuck was it with women wearing HIS clothes? When she came back, his eyes, of course, could not avoid focusing on the faint shadows of her nipples, wondering to himself why he hadn't taken a better look at them earlier...<br><br>"Stand here and wait... Steer the ship? Do you really think we can?" he asked, and it was not a rhetorical question. "If either of them," he said, nodding towards the two, "Are still in control of the ship, I don't think we're going to be able to steer the ship anywhere," he admitted. "But if it would make you feel better, then come on, let's go to the helm and see if we can change its course..."<br><br>Donovan turned and headed for the doorway that would lead outside these quarters. As they approached the door, he glanced back to Methuseld, almost as if remembering something he had nearly forgotten.<br><br>"Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>10-03-2015, 01:04:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Now, Dean knew the score: clearly he had the devilish girl outmatched – between his handsomeness, his smooth talking skills, and his generous manmeat, he’d clearly woven the sort of poetry that had finally melted her core and made her his. Conquest was Dean’s middle name – he lighted the fight, liked even more when he won and the spoils were worth the effort. Having successfully wrestled and outmaneuvered Aza with his superior awesomeness, he couldn’t help but flash her a white, white smile and murmur against her lips, “Of course, my darling.”<br><br>“I must say,” he said, arching his hips against her supple softness, then sliding down her body as supple as an eel, “I’ve never played with myself in this way before. It’s an amazing experience.” As he made his way across her velvet, shadow-imbued flesh, the man left a trail of feather light kisses – tongue peeking past his lips more and more with each motion, the slight stubble on his chin contrasting with his delicate, superbly timed ministrations. Then, at last, he came to her pelvis.<br><br>Now his breath was a hot coil of living dragon’s breath, his teeth and tongue and lips a majestic couplet, a serenade to Aza’s womanhood, nuzzling around her core as if he intended to take forever, as if devouring her might be the most fulfilling experience of his life. Yet Dean knew all too well that the power inside Aza *probably* wouldn’t last forever. Being him cost energy, energy that he drew from Donovan. Now, he certainly *did* know that his power could create real and permanent effects – but he doubted that Aza would be transformed permanently and forever. Perhaps adjusted? Perhaps given some new abilities? He couldn’t know.<br><br>Regardless, he wasn’t about to take *too* much time working her up when he needed both of her legs free to truly enjoy what might happen betwixt them. Thus, he let his attention and hands wander lower, found the clasp that held her ankle against the bedpost and, instead of removing the cuff – simply reached down and tugged at the post itself. The wood flexed and bent, flowed like melting wax and, eventually – after maybe three beats – gave way, releasing the other end of the cuff. <br><br>“An elegant solution, I’d say,” he said, so very proud of himself, so certain and eager of the delights to come. And, as normal, never thinking once of Donovan or the General, except perhaps to wonder what might happen if the duo joined in. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>13-03-2015, 03:21:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld's glare did not diminish. If anything, that bonfire roared to life anew, heat licking at Donovan with renewed hate. "I'd say if you forced yourself on me, there would be no Knight left for me to believe <em>or</em> disbelieve." That icy tone from before returned, her posture straightening and firming up. Clearly the "normal" Methuseld, whatever that was, was back, free from any effects of Aza's or her armor's (though she was not yet aware of the latter, and wouldn't be unless fate or Aza informed her). The two snakes now coiled in what was certainly to be an invigorating exercise, though Dean was more wrapped up in Aza than vice versa from the looks of it, Methuseld turned to leave. "I think we should let them have their fun, if it... returns them back to normal. You can come with me to try and steer this ship away from the Vizier, or not; I leave it to you." The accented voice was firm in its nonchalance as the barely-clothed warrior turned to leave, only to have Donovan once more do something bizarre as they neared the intricately crafted heavy oak door.<br><br>Her eyes? What was he on about. Methuseld turned to him, saw a weird look in his eyes. As if he'd been somewhere far off, remembering something, and had been doused with a bucket of ice water to come back. Or somesuch. "Wh-what are you talking about? I shall answer no such question; we barely know each other. Are you "under a spell"? Because I'd believe it! Now stop and let's go make sure we're not about to run aground, shall we???" Methuseld was tensed, her voice lashing out like a whip against any attempt at intimacy. The truth was... yes. Someone had said it. Long ago, he'd said it often. But he was no longer there, the Vizier - a shoddy replacement at best, and between then and now lay a gulf of misery, hatred, and fear so wide that Methuseld, with her new-found freedom, scarcely believed she'd ever feel normal again. There was no going back for her, no crossing that gulf. And forward? Who knew what lay ahead - just mountains, fog, darkness obscuring the rest of her life.<br><br>Not giving Donovan a chance to respond right now, Methuseld briskly walked out of a room, a little ridiculous from the juxtaposition of powerful presence and oversized clothes, and gave Donovan no chance to respond until she was at the helm of the ship. The finely-sanded wood tickled her calloused palms as she twirled the wheel around to slightly correct course. There was no wind on the lake, but dawn was approaching, and in the distant dock of the city opposing her home for the past decade or so, she thought she saw a crowd forming to witness the bizarrely larger ship that seemed to have appeared on the lake for little to no reason.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>13-03-2015, 04:44:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In the span of a heartbeat, Methuseld returned to the chill Ice-Queen she had demonstrated herself to be from the onset. Ever since she had inserted herself into his and Dean's lives, she'd shown one moment of humanity... and that had been in the arms of Aza. Perhaps her anger now wasn't directed completely at Donovan - perhaps she was simply jealous that Dean had taken her place in bed with Aza. Or, based on his experience so far - perhaps Methuseld simply hated knights of any kind, the good ones - or the not-so-good ones.<br><br>Even his compliment had been like throwing oil on a flame. She didn't take it well at all, and perhaps she didn't take compliments well at all from anyone - or perhaps just from him. It was hard to tell. He possessed no powers to read minds. But a moment later, she was marching away, offering no chance for discussion, showing no signs of being interested in hearing another word from him. Shrugging slightly to himself, he followed.<br><br>A short time later, they found themselves at the helm. Donovan glanced around the massive deck, not seeing any immediate dangers, and then let his eyes scan the horizons. Dawn was indeed coming, and Donovan stood by the railing of the ship to get a better look around. Methuseld seemed to have the wheel under control, and Donovan silently hoped that whatever Dean was doing below, he'd finish up before they reached the dock... if they reached the dock at all.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>24-03-2015, 07:58:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Time distorted inside that shadowy bubble; a minute became half an hour or more. The bond between Dean and Donovan was a complex thing, transmitting some information, barring other – in the distorted confusion, there was a sense of wickedness and wonder, of amazement and discovery – followed quickly by a streak of such stubborn determination that eventually, reluctantly, gave way to….something else. <br><br>An hour later (outside the bubble) later, Dean emerged. He was…short. Barely five feet tall, muscular but on the skinny side; a little dorky looking, to be honest. Through the bond, he felt drained, utterly spent – the darkness in him gone in an incomprehensible way, as if he’d been sucked free of the power inside of him, or spent it all. This was the first time in their relationship that Dean had ever appeared this way, not without some dire conflict to force both Donovan and Dean to spend themselves, as they had earlier. <br><br>“Don’t say a word. Not a damn word,” Dean said when he appeared on deck, voice tinny and a little high pitched, looking away from both Donovan and the general. Naked, the man was pretty…plain, no more rock hard abs, no more huge cock. Just a teenaged boy. And he looked utterly embarrassed. <br><br>Interestingly, the throbbing, pulsating presence of the ship around them had taken on a whole new sense, a thrumming timbre of musical energy that felt oddly playful. And curious. Through the remaining link between Donovan and Dean, there was a new presence, a feeling that someone…or two someones…were somehow intruding on their bond. On the positive side, that intrusion made the link between Donovan and Dean feel a little less strict, far more flexible than it had been before. Dean, powerless and weak, seemed to be entirely unaware of the changes. But at least capturing Aza had finally done something to benefit the two of them, without breaking the bond entirely.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>01-04-2015, 01:27:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld soon realized they weren't getting anywhere near the dock anytime soon. They were at full mast, but... there was barely any wind at all, least of all enough to move such a massive ship at any reasonable speed towards its destination. If there was a current, they'd probably be drifting with it. Aaaand.... that was about the extent of Methuseld's knowledge. Any Lord from her homeland had to know a fair amount about ships and trade, as most of their wealth stemmed from the maritime sort, but the amount one can pick up from osmosis is often limited. Their best bet was to search the deck (or below deck) for a boat, and row to the dock on that. No doubt the townsfolk would want an explanation, but perhaps they'd be able to sell off the damn thing to some old fool (the town's vizier?) who wanted to rival Vizier Zazim's might. What one did with an ocean-faring ship on a large lake was beyond Methuseld's expertise, but perhaps a more creative individual could be found.<br><br>Sighing, the woman released her hold on the massive wheel and turned around, leaning on it in a standoff-ish manner. Between the folded arms and the vague scowl (which she wore quite easily and naturally), she might as well have had thorns for how much human contact she wanted at the moment. However, about ten minutes of awkward silence later, she decided to peak out of her shell.... to make a declaration. "It appears we must wait for the wind to pick up. Or perhaps, if or when the two others emerge from... whatever it is they are up to... we can discuss lowering a boat and rowing to shore. I'm going to have a look about the deck." With that, she walked down the solid wooden steps that lead up to the helm. "Oh, and one more thing..." Ponderously she turned back to the Knight. "To me, you are still my kidnapper. You saved my life so that I may function as a hostage, or for barter with that thrice-cursed man, Zazim. Do not think a kind comment or two will put you in my good graces. I can tell you think you are a good man, but know you this - I am a woman of action, and words unaccompanied by action will do little to sway me. So for now, you are a kidnapper who wants to be friendly, and not much more."<br><br>With that, she turned around and walked back, pulling a few stray locks of silver-blonde hair away from her forehead and tucking them behind her ear. She did not know whether her words would have any effect on the man. He'd at times threatened to get his friend to rape her, and at others been quite kind - he confused her, and with seemingly all her curses being broken she had a lot else on her plate to deal with at the moment.<br><br>Minutes slipped by, with Methuseld readying a boat for the four of them, until out of the corner of her eye she saw someone walk out onto the deck. At first, she did not recognize the man. Or... boy, rather. She approached, almost hailed him as 'hey boy, what are you doing on this ship and where did you come from', when the boy turned to her and she noticed familiar features. Scrunching up her face, the blonde beauty stared at him until finally the realization of his identity caused a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Musical, carefree, relatively unteasing laughter sounded from her throat as the gorgeous blonde doubled over, roaring waves of hilarity issuing from her throat just as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She laughed for perhaps a couple of minutes, until finally... she tried to make an effort to stop. To no effect, of course. Face turning red, Methuseld fell on the deck, laughing at Dean's new appearance but even moreso now at her inability to stop. Damn, it had been a while since that had happened to her.<br><br>A good three minutes later she settled down, and between sobbing chuckles that served as aftershocks the red-faced woman managed to gasp out a couple of words. "What?" and "how?" and "why???"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>06-04-2015, 08:14:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan stared off towards the port town in the distance. Unless it was his imagination, it didn't look any closer than it did five minutes ago... or ten... or an hour. He had privately come to the same conclusion that Methuseld did - that they were barely moving, if they were moving at all. At this speed, reaching the port could take a day... or two... or more. It was difficult to say. Donovan knew just enough about boat-sailing to be dangerous, or at least just enough to operate their -PREVIOUS- ship. This ship, however... was something else entirely.<br><br>He'd been focused on the port so intently that he wasn't paying attention to the general standing at the wheel. She wanted to be alone - he'd leave her alone. That was a simple enough thing to do. But eventually he heard her voice, and that snapped him out of his reverie as he turned to look in her direction as she said her piece. She had indeed noticed the same thing about their movement - or lack thereof - that he had noticed. She also had the idea to get into a smaller boat and manually make their way to the dock, which of course was a reasonable enough idea. She declared she was going to have a look around the deck, and he nodded silently and was about to turned back around when she spoke again. <br><br>This time, her words were more personal. Donovan remained silent until she seemed finished, and then he immediately responded, hoping to catch her before she marched off. Again. If she did simply walk away - he would simply raise his voice to make sure she would hear him anyway.<br><br>"And to me, you're the general that was sent to capture myself and Dean, dead or alive. A puppet of the vizier. If you think I saved your life to simply play the role of hostage... believe what you will," he said. "But -you- should know -this-," he continued, "To me, you and that... that... fox-creature... aren't hostages. You're kinks in a plan that had been going just fine until you -put yourself- in the middle of our business. Having you as hostages hasn't -done- anything for us, and as I promised you both - as soon as we're safe on land... you're free to go back to your master... or wherever," he finished with a wave of his hand.<br><br>Then the turned back to the railing he had been standing at, and focused his gaze back on the town in the distance, muttering to no one in particular. "I keep my promises."<br><br>Minutes later, after enjoying the silence once more, Donovan's thoughts were interrupted with... laughter. Turning his head to the far side of the deck, he noticed Methuseld apparently caught in a gale of laughter as she stood before someone... someone who was not immediately recognizable. Brow furrowed, Donovan lowered his hand down to the hilt of one of his swords as he began to walk forward... and within a few steps it became apparent who the tiny-man was.<br><br>Standing off to the side, Donovan simply watched as Methuseld fought to control herself, falling on the deck in her laughter. The big man didn't think it was -that- funny, but perhaps Methuseld lived a sheltered life away from humor, and the smallest thing to her might cause the reaction she was experiencing now.<br><br>All Donovan could think of, as Dean seemed pretty perterbed by the whole 'shrinking shadow' thing, was how -glad- he was that he didn't let things go any further between himself and Aza... or this could be -him- standing there on the deck of the chaos-ship, looking like a shriveled husk of his former self. It did strike him as odd that he hadn't felt Dean's presence sooner, like usual, but now... the presence seemed... distant, and in its place, he could -feel- the presences of Aza and Methuseld...<br><br>And then he became -very- worried...<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>30-04-2015, 01:25:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean shot Methuseld a withering glare (well, as withering as he could manage given his diminished stature and state). “You’re incorrigible.” Turning his attention back to Donovan, he continued, “Things happened. Some fun.” He seemed about to go on, but instead exhaled through his lips in a huff. All that anger and gusto he’d seemed so possessive over just went out of him, along with the ever-present darkness.<br><br>Moving toward the edge of the ship and the docks, Dean shook his head. “She doesn’t want to go any further. She doesn’t like the stink of the place. Danger in the air, or something.” He lifted one hand up, then down on the smooth, obsidian-glimmering finish of the guard rail. “We’ll need to leave her here and let her sleep, I think. Otherwise, we’ll just be in for a long wait.”<br><br>So saying, Dean turned his attention to the boat Methuseld had been at work on, aiding her with a sense of practiced impatience. As he worked, he piped up – almost quite literally in his higher pitched voice – “You two realize that the Vizier’s agents will be looking for us. All of us. And that his enemies will too. Powerful enchantments were rested from the man, and his witch will have her own agents and agencies. If we split apart, they’ll just take us all down sooner rather than later. I suggest we agree to travel together, at least until we can find a stronghold fit enough to keep the Djinn and Genies and witches of the world from prying in.” <br><br>There weren’t a lot of places like that. Theoretical utopias abounded, but an oasis of peace rarely came without cost. Dean’s honey-brown eyes flicked to Donovan, thinking of the order of Knights that Donovan should have been a proper part of. They’d have words for the duo if they returned. Words that might include rather severe punishments, so that left them out. There were other, riskier groups that they might seek out; enclaves beneath the earth, dark places where men rarely tread, yet civilization languished all the same.<br><br>Pursing his lips, Dean hesitated, the boat now made well ready, the casting lines taut and what cargo they had to unload (spare food, water, and other supplies), stowed. “I can think of a few options,” he said at last, “but we can wait for the girl to emerge from her stupor to discuss them all.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>01-05-2015, 18:58:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>'The girl,' </em>Dean said, and a pale blue fox wearing what appeared to be a variety of silver-and-opal jewellery strolled out of the shadows with a snort. It glanced over the loaded boat and the preparations that had been made, seeming unimpressed with the work, then looked between Donovan and Methuseld as if to emphasize how much it was -not- looking at the nerdy teenage version of Dean. Then, with a flick of its tail, it leaped lightly up and straight into Methuseld's chest, apparently quite certain that she would react appropriately by catching and holding, not fumbling or dropping. The little animal seemed no worse for whatever had happened below decks with Dean, just as fluffily adorable as ever; if anything, it looked bored with this next set of escape plans. It confirmed that by yawning and setting its muzzle on the General's shoulder.<br><br><em>The girl</em> that padded out onto the deck next did not seem equally complacent. "We are here still. Why?" this human-shaped Aza impertinently wanted to know, also addressing everyone who was not Dean. Then, looking at the fox snuggled in Methuseld's arms, she made a sound of exasperation and stormed over, pulling one of the necklaces over its head. "Not yours, I told you," she informed fox-Aza, whose fur color perfectly matched her hair. Person-Aza was in a short, skin-fitting black dress that presumably came from wherever the jewellery had, somewhere within the massive magical maze the ship had become. She was still dressed better for an early evening wine tasting at the Vizier's tower than a boat ride to shore, but at least she had a cloak along now. <br><br>The fox huffed and glared, which Aza did right back, making the fox sigh and make a show of cuddling into the General's neck. Aza's skyblue eyes narrowed even further, until she switched her gaze to Donovan and it got all wide and cutely serious. "Leave now?" she inquired. "When they arrive, the ship, they cannot harm. Not so, for..." She was about to say 'for me.' "For us," she concluded, making the concession that they were a group, at least temporarily. That meant that technically she agreed with Dean. Luckily, she didn't know that. Or what 'stupor' meant, for that matter.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>02-05-2015, 23:42:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld raised a quizzical pale eyebrow at Dean. Yes, obviously some fun. And some things. Things which left him looking a little.... drained. Not at all as threatening as his former self, for which she was glad. It looked like she'd get no more out of him for the time being, and the general gave a quiet huff of confusion before settling back to finish the preparations she'd been working on before she was interrupted by her own unexpected fit of mirth. Her face hurt; she would do it good to not look at the demon-boy for the time being.<br><br>Calloused, muscled hands worked over snake-like rough ropes, pulling, hauling, tightening; a few more minutes went past with Dean working alongside her, the sun rising against the dark gray-blue desert sands while they discussed plans. "Perhaps they are after <em>you</em>, but I should remind you both that they still expect to find me either dead or a prisoner, and likely the latter. Not that I wish to be returned to the Vizier's, except for vengeance. If indeed agents scour the lands looking for us, it might be wise to maintain some semblance of my capture... For show, of course," she added quickly and rather threateningly; the thought of being chained up again, <em>ever</em>, was as repulsive to her as any of Dean's demonic summonings from last night. But what was absent from the general was any form of disagreement over traveling together. For the time being, it made quite a bit of sense. If she were alone and discovered, she may be expected to come back to the Vizier, and if she fought back, she would likely succumb to their numbers eventually. Not to mention his Sorceress may wish to know how the Vizier's pet escaped her magical shackles and attempt to capture her for study. What a lovely that <em>that</em> was...<br><br>"I agree, we must stay together for now. Once the girl emerges we shall..." Methuseld noticed a small, sky-colored fox emerge from the shadows, and before she could protest there was a furry projectile launching itself at her. Arms came out quickly and caught the thing somewhat harshly, though they instantly softened the moment Methuseld sensed a yearning desire to be snuggled and petted. She was not one for such things generally, but she did her best, pulling the magical fox-woman against doublet-clad bosom and running a hand over fur gently. "Back to the fox, are we, girl?" She asked awkwardly, the memory of what had taken place between them just earlier that day still fresh in her mind, taking root and unsettling her. She didn't know why she'd been so overcome by lust - had no idea that her own armor had had a part to play.<br><br>Pulled from the confusing remembrances, Methuseld noticed woman-Aza emerge as well. Nearly dropping the fox in confusion, she stared accusingly for a good couple of seconds - had this always been the case? Some sort of illusion to make her think there was only ever one being? Or did they split? Or something else entirely? Bah, magic! Curse it all. "I see Dean is not the only one to come away from the captain's quarters transformed..." The two did not seem to be that chummy, huffing at each other and generally treating the other as one might an annoying sibling (something Methuseld remembered all too well). But the brief scrap ended with the pale-furred creature once more curling up against her to return to the serious matter of cuddling, the blonde awkwardly attempting to return the favor without seeming too enamored by the softness of the warm furry thing against her. It was hard to take herself seriously while petting a fox, though she made a valiant effort.<br><br>"If we leave now, we will need to know where we are going. We will need food, supplies..." Methuseld left out the part about wanting to purchase a horse, though horses for all of them would make the travels to wherever-land easier, even in the surrounding deserts.<br><br>&nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>07-05-2015, 15:57:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan was both alarmed and amused by Dean's seemingly sudden 'lack of stature'. He could have cracked jokes, if they were traveling in better times. Apparently the fox-woman had 'drained' Dean fairly thoroughly, for his -physical- stature to have diminished so. Donovan had no clue if Aza was simply that -good-, or if Dean had simply gone too long without. In either case, Donovan silently hoped Dean would eventually return to 'normal', whatever 'normal' was for a shadow.<br><br>Donovan nodded in agreement with Dean's suggestion that the four of them stay together. Strength and safety in numbers, and all that, he imagined. But it would also allow the knight to keep an eye on the two women, knowing that either of them might try something... questionable. In a strange way, but Aza and Methuseld had been -prisoners- of the Vizier. The general apparently held in his sway by arcane means, and Aza apparently held in a gilded cage lined with lace, but surrounded by bars nonetheless.<br><br>Dean seemed taken by them both, which didn't surprise the knight much. Two beautiful women, both with vastly different - but still enticing - personalities? Yeah, big surprise there. But either of them could bring ruin on the pair, if they got it in their heads to do so. Donovan himself had felt the allure from each of them, but he knew it hadn't been intentional. It had merely be the effect of the Chaos... 'entity'?... that had stowed away on their ship as they made their escape.<br><br>Donovan listened to Methuseld's take on her 'appearance'. It made sense, to move under the pretext that she was a 'prisoner', just for 'show', of course. He had no objection to the idea.<br><br>Dean mentioned a few 'options', that could be discussed once the girl was on deck. As if summoned by name, the fox emerged from the captain's quarters and made its way towards Methuseld - leaping up into the general's arms. But then a moment later, -the girl-, Aza, came strolling out of the same doorway, looking confused and asking why they were still where they were. Donovan's eyes glanced back and forth between fox and girl, utterly surprised and more than a bit confused. Person-Aza spoke, her words hinting that they were, indeed, a group, and Donovan couldn't help but wonder if they had truly grown in size, but then couldn't believe what had actually happened... Aza had fucked Dean into something resembling something closer to a midget rather than the ominous, terrifying shadow that he always had been, and in turn, Dean had fucked Aza... in two?<br><br>Donovan shook his head... they needed to get off this ship -soon-. To that end, he moved over to where the preparations were being made, all too happy to help make that prospect come to pass MUCH quicker before something else truly mystifying took place.<br><br>"There are many destinations... some very far away," Donovan said as he helped with preparations however he could. "To the south lies Danara, many days travel by horseback - so we would need horses, of course. That would be my recommendation - head there, the city is large enough that we can blend in with all the other visitors to that place. It is known for its wine markets, and slave markets, so we would fit right in, even if we don't all have dark skin like the locals," he commented. "Once there we can reassess where to go. There are many further destinations from there, but one thing is for sure - the farther we get away from the vizier's seat of power, the less likely we are to run afoul of it," he said. "I recommend moving now, putting as much distance between us and them as we can... and deciding our true fates later."<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>11-05-2015, 01:14:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean, seeing no objections to Donovan’s suggestions, and having helped to prepare a skiff for their departure, shrugged. Pointedly ignoring the fox and the woman who had once been attached to the little creature (no matter how adorable and bitey), he moved onto the skiff, barely managing to do it without stumbling. His new stature did not seem to afford him the same grace and leverage as the old, so his body-management techniques had to be revised. Or, at least, considered thoroughly while this new state persisted. <br><br>Wordless, his feelings on the matter clearly voiced, the lean young-looking man just glared out at the horizon and did his best not to look as irate as he really was and only managing to glower all the worse for it. Teenage angst, oh my.<br><br>***Elsewhere***<br><br>Back in Kulratha, Zozo and her master, the Vizier, stood together in the palatial space that was the Vizier’s audience chamber. Velvet pillows and sweet scents filled the space, and water flowed in neat little rivers around trays laden with gemstones, gold, and magical trinkets. Wealth and indulgence on proud display. Yet there were no women, nor were there any of the eunuchs who would attend the Vizier’s harem. This day, only Zozo, the Vizier, and one other were in attendance.<br><br>“A great shadow has been cast upon their traverse,” a raspy voice announced, the shimmering shape of a Shade-Djinn (a rather nasty sort of creature one would never want to make a wish with without preparing a suitable sacrifice). “They have crossed water – that is all I know.”<br><br>The Vizier glanced at Zozo and arched a brow. “There are three ports easily accessible on that ocean and a near-infinite number of places for them to crash. Given the size of the ship they stole, I think it is reasonable to assume that they either crashed or went somewhere close.”<br><br>Zozo, looking perturbed and sleek in her rather a-sexual wardrobe of tightly-wrapped robes and curled slippers, nodded curtly. “Yes, yes. I have spirits searching the shores and have found no crash landings as of yet. The chaos storm could have destroyed them, but I doubt it. I still sense my handiwork out there…somewhere.” Zozo’s dark amethyst eyes reflected a troubled state. She’d never known her most powerful spells or servants to fail, especially not at a task so apparently simple as to find her Aza and the charms around her neck. <br><br>“The solution is simple then,” the Vizier announced. “We shall send word to my allies and agents in each port and offer a sizeable reward for the capture of the runaways.”<br><br>“Capture, my lord?” Zozo asked, clearly confused.<br><br>Waving a hand toward a wide window, panes of gemstone magically imbued with transparency and durability glistening to reveal the smoking city beyond, the Vizier growled, “Alive. So I can torture them.” With nearly a quarter of his population laid low by the plague – a rather significant portion of them guards and elite servants – the Vizier now found himself in a unique position. He had wealth and power, but needed to go on a rather frenetic recruiting spree lest his lesser rivals take advantage of the situation. Of course, capturing and making an example of the escapees would help as well. <br><br>Zozo, grasping the situation, nodded, bowed politely, and said, “As you wish. I will see that the missives are sent to our agents and counting houses around the rim of the sea.” So saying, the stark sorceress turned on heel and stalked out of the room.<br><br>A few minutes later and the word was out, along with the sort of bounty to make a thousand mercenaries sharpen their swords. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>14-05-2015, 05:54:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Inland?" Aza said, as everyone else seemed to tacitly accept Donovan's plan of acquiring horses by some unspecified means and striking south. Dean was climbing into the smaller boat without any comment at all -- wasn't *that* unusual -- and Aza finally was forced to glance his way. "The ship cannot follow, inland. Abandon her? To hide, and wait, forever?" She seemed to be asking, or accusing, Dean specifically. The fox seemed mildly intrigued by whatever Dean's answer would be to this newfound concern for their latest transportation, peering out from beneath Methuseld's chin. The little blue animal very obviously understood how challenging it was for even the most stalwart of dispositions to resist fluffy snuggles, gently kneading its tiny paws on the General's arm like a happy cat as it too watched Dean sulking. <br><br>Still beside Donovan, girl-Aza reached for the knight's side and snatched the bent halves of her old collar from the pouch hung there. "This, now... Useless." Indeed, the once-shiny gems looked dull in their settings, a few more of them cracked and crumbling. It hadn't taken Dean's shadowy assault well at all. "And no sorceress's storerooms to replenish it, this time." Not that Aza totally minded; with it mostly destroyed, there was no chance of her being stuck to one shape, unless someone came up with a new charmed collar. And the thing being so warped from having all those energies dumped through it was almost certainly what kept Zozo from seeing it from afar. It was a shame something pretty had to suffer, though. Aza tossed it back at Donovan without a heads up, not caring if he caught it or not.<br><br>"And these..." She held up the strands of silver necklace she'd pulled from the fox. "Illusions the ship made. Without me, without the ship... nothing but string. Glass." She went ahead and dropped it over her head anyway, neatly arranging it within the plunging cut of her dress. Illusion or not, it did match her hair and cloak. "Your boat, your sails, your casks..." With a flip of a hand, she indicated the smaller craft they'd packed. "Maybe all illusion too."<br><br>The fox sniffed and butted its head lightly against Methuseld's cheek. The girl gave the fox another slit-eyed stare and sidled still a little closer to Don. "You need me," she informed the other two humans. Well, that certainly didn't sound sinister.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>21-05-2015, 07:44:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld gave a huff. The woman did not like indecision and resolved to make herself useful, the boat now packed and ready to disembark towards the harbor of Kulratha's sister city as the lake behind them opened its maw in vain to latch on and pull the ship all the way back to Kulratha, where an angry Vizier and an angry sorceress plotted together atop a high tower. In this city, they would hopefully find the supplies, the horses, the direction they were looking for. "I shall return in a moment, and by then I hope you are all ready to get underway. I'm assuming we are following the plan of our two brave kidnappers?" She walked towards the captain's quarters, leather boots soft on the rich sturdy wood of the deck, and after a moment of consideration placed the fox down at the entrance to the quarters (who knew how much privacy she'd have if the small furry thing was inside with her) before heading inside and sealing herself in.<br><br>The inside of the quarters might as well have been a painting titled "Remnants of Lust", a room sacked by two passionate lovers possessed of energies no normal being had. Methuseld gingerly made her way across a floor littered with clothing, sheets, and furniture, all strewn about like they mattered nothing and weighed even less, until she reached the side of the massive bed, where a pile of hard steel lay just where she'd left it... more or less. And more or less unsoiled, as well, which brought a sigh of relief from two blade-thin lips. Calloused hands removed the weighty bulk of sword-belt and sword placed them carefully in a somewhat clean spot on the bed, and lifted large plates of hard metal, scratched, gouged, even fire-blackened in some place. Straps tightened, fit checked... everything felt good. Until she straightened from fitting on the very last piece of armor, a pointed sabaton.<br><br>And then she felt different. Not for very long, but long enough to fall to one knee with a dull metal clang. Nothing hurt. But she suddenly felt odd, like she'd been staring at some words for so long that their letters had lost all meaning. Except that the words were "Methuseld von Ellegarde." And that scared her... instantly she knew it was magic. <em>More</em> magic, she thought with an inward groan. She hadn't noticed before, but now wisps of familiarity were coming back - a familiar presence as when she'd been seduced by Aza. Someone was here with her... someone or something. In the armor, she realized with dread. "What are you? What do you want??" She asked, standing up straight in a symbolic gesture of defiance.<br><br><em>To be given what is mine. I am the skin you sloughed so eagerly, the gift you were given but which you cast away at the earliest possible opportunity, the part of you you never wanted but that</em> always <em> wanted you. I am alive, not inside you, but inside your armor. I shall be your armor evermore... but you must give me what is mine. Give me yourself willingly, and I will not take more than my fair share.</em> Methuseld listened with growing dread. She felt herself again - the presence was foreign, alien... it was the armor. "I will give you <em>nothing</em>," hissed the general, simmering just below the surface. Laughter was all she got in response. <em>'Fight all you like, but know that you'll never be rid of me. You can take the armor off, and I'll slink into your doublet. Take that off, I'll slither ever deeper... Until my </em> proper <em>home is returned to me - your armor. Now... run along... and be sure to kill something </em>soon. Laughter faded, leaving behind a flustered, anxious golden-haired woman in silver armor. A few moments she stood there, frozen solid by the chilling voice and cold soul which now inhabited her... or her armor... Or both. <em>Magic again</em> she thought angrily, ripping the sword from the bed and tying the belt on in a few easy movements as she marched out of the room in her signature icy demeanor. <br><br>"Now then - have we a plan?" She asked, voice far less relaxed than it had been earlier. To the others, the old Methuseld may as well have been back, though there were subtle changes. Less resigned, more desperate. Less unfeeling, more angry.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>25-05-2015, 11:22:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan found himself in uncharted waters - figuratively speaking. Dean wasn't talking much - and obviously wasn't his 'usual self'. That worried Donovan a little, but what worried him more was Dean's attitude and actions. He wasn't acting like the 'good 'ole evil Dean' that Donovan was used to. Shit. Of all times for Dean to take a break from being the violent one, and having a plan for everything...<br><br>Aza's hand darted out while Donovan was distracted, whipping the dog-collar from his belt. She explained how it was mostly useless now - yet when she tossed it back toward him, he caught it in his hand with ease - and glanced at each of the gems. Most of them had crumbled, but one or two of them were still whole, and might offer them some trade value. They'd need at least four horses, perhaps a fifth for supplies and such for a long ride. <br><br>"No - the ship can not hide, or follow us - and good riddance to it," Donovan declared. "Whatever wicked manifestation has occurred, we'd be lucky to leave it behind."<br><br>Aza's declaration, though, was indeed a little bit on the creepy side. They 'needed' her? Donovan did not necessarily agree, though as continued leverage should the Vizier's men catch-up with them? Perhaps. But in Donovan's eyes, they needed each other, as he had already voiced. He saw no reason to repeat himself now.<br><br>Methuseld excused herself to the Captain's quarters. Donovan figured she had to relieve herself or make herself more 'presentable', or both. He continued to help with preparing the smaller boat for departure when the general exited some minutes later. Donovan turned his head to regard her, hearing the door open on its hinges, and saw the general walk out, decked out in her silvered armor. It looked even more impressive than before, he was sure of it, and he simply hoped against hope that it was indeed simple armor and nothing more, especially after the time spent on this very... odd... ship.<br><br>When Methuseld approached and asked if they had a plan, she sounded even more strained than before, as if gaining her armor had done the opposite of reassure her or make her feel safe. There was a hint of anger in her voice - just as there had been earlier when Donovan had tried to speak with her on more than one occasion. So she continued to be stressed, and he had no reason to doubt that it was anything other than that.<br><br>"Yes, we will find horses and continue to head away from the Vizier's influence, until we reach a place where his reach does not extend. Only then will we be able to continue without looking over our backs. As we've discussed - safety in numbers. It does not pay to split up now. But once we are free of the Vizier's influence... you and the fox will be welcome to go on your way wherever you wish," he said, assuring them that they weren't prisoners.<br><br>"If we are somehow prevented from that course, the fallback plan is simple - you will appear to be our prisoner, so that if we are overwhelmed, perhaps you two women will be spared whatever fate awaits Dean and myself," Donovan said.<br><br>"Now, let us be off... the longer we are on this ship, the more I feel my sanity is trying to slip away...," he said as he made his move, his belongings all with him, to board the smaller boat that they would use to sail the rest of the way to port...<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>30-05-2015, 00:19:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean stood in the boat, waiting patiently for everyone to make it aboard. Whenever they finally made the decision to leave, the young-looking man helped lower the vessel down into the water. Perhaps fifteen feet long, with a single small mast, the boat had oars and plenty of room for all of them and the small assortment of gear that he’d packed – just enough to get them started and to prevent them from starving, that is.<br><br>As soon as they had all disembarked, the massive ship behind them shuddered. Shadow power roiled through the vessel and it seemed to fly away – no, not flying away - *shrinking* in place. It went lightning fast, appearing as nothing more than a speck of darkness against the sky in an instant, the vanishing from view. Dean watched as it went, the first, small hint of a smile he’d shown since his encounter with Aza on his face. <br><br>He could still feel the vessel, or what it represented, and did not expect it to vanish entirely anytime soon. Though how it might reappear or interfere was anyone’s guess. Turning his attention from the empty waters, he took up a pair of oars and began helping toward the distant city. <br><br>***<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://th06.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2014/224/4/3/female_ninja_gaiden_by_bigwhitebazooka-d7uv8so.jpg)</div>The killer’s name was Mylin. She was a sleek little lady with olive-colored skin and a slinking, sensuous walk that belied just how deadly she was. Garbed all in form fitting, heavily enchanted, leathers, her arms were bare – though the revealed flesh was decorated with an assortment of tattoos, each relating to a weapon or charm that she could summon at a moment’s notice. An extremely experienced killer and the leader of the local assassin’s guild, she’d taken personal interest in the Vizier’s call. The ten thousand gold bounty on this group’s heads (well, captured heads) would have bought ten missions from her, personally. It was enough to hire the entire guild twice over.<br><br>Thus she perched on a roof near the bay and watched the oily, roiling darkness out in the bay. Her guild – called the Eagle’s Talon – weren’t usual. Most of the members were former adventurers and several had quite unique powers and abilities. One such member, Staniel, sat next to her on the roof. The young man with the pale skin looked her way and smirked at her flicked gaze.<br><br>“They will be here. Trust me. Fortune favors us,” he announced. “We just need to make sure we make our play at the correct time, with the right agents, before we reveal ourselves.”<br><br>Hired thugs. He was talking about hired thugs. The guild used them from time to time, mainly for missions that required little in the way of skill or unique ability. They’d wear the party down, or so Staniel had advised. He was a master of probability and chance; even without seeing the players, he could guess at their maneuvers and choices. The best odds, he’d asserted less than an hour ago, were for them to send a gang of bruisers after the landing party.<br><br>Mylin had agreed, pending confirmation of their arrival. Now, they just had to wait and see if that little speck on the horizon was, as she suspected, a small row boat carrying their prey. If so, the group was in for a rather nasty surprise. And she was in for a ten thousand gold bounty. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>31-05-2015, 03:58:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan declared the ship a <em>good riddance</em> and <em>unlucky</em>, and Aza's blue eyes widened, apparently affronted. Worse yet, Dean made no attempt to refute Don's judgment, only standing there in the boat like an idiot. An idiot that seemed to be impervious to Aza's most minacious stare. So she snorted and turned to the boat with a dramatic swirl of long cape, and proceeded to make herself the most comfortable place possible to sit in the small craft's bow. It was a nice seat from which to watch the men finish packing. And not located anywhere near any oars.<br><br>Methuseld, meanwhile, had made her way back down into the ship, then proceeded to ditch the fox-Aza right outside the very shadow-drenched den that had spawned it. Somewhat annoyed at having its paws back on the rough boards, the fox also snorted as it went to follow at the general's heels... and then blinked as Methuseld shut the door almost on its nose. It yipped once, something that was probably a Foxish insult about Methuseld's mother or maybe her weight, then spun to march back to the deck and breeze past Don and Dean on its way to girl-Aza's lap.<br><br>The two Azas snuggled and seemed to quietly converse until Methuseld returned, neither listening to whatever Donovan went on to say after that. He was probably just repeating himself anyway. He was more than fine to look at -- especially so, presently lacking any competition from his shadowy half -- but he still talked too much. <br><br><em>Goodbye, ship,</em> the fox 'said,' looking out from under a fold of the girl's cloak as the ship made its own departure from the noticeable realm. Aza sighed, setting her chin on the fox's head and glancing at Dean, then turning her attentions out to the water and the nearing city spread across its shore. "Ahead, a fight," she remarked, just conversationally.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>09-06-2015, 03:29:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld gathered up some remaining cargo and careful lowered herself onto the boat, which was rather well equipped compared to others of its class. However, considering the excesses of the ship they'd just disembarked from, that shouldn't come as much of a surprise. The woman found herself a seat next to an oar and prepared to row before something disappeared from her peripheral vision. Something quite large and ship-like was no longer there, and Methuseld was acutely aware of its absence as one might be acutely aware of the absence of one's friend were that friend to accidentally fall off a cliff. Or in this case, an enemy.<br><br>She turned in utter confusion and surprise - the last thing she'd seen was the ship fading away, growing ever smaller and smaller. At first she wasn't sure whether that was because of distance from the group or true size, but... Oh hell, how was she supposed to know? She still wasn't sure! She turned to the rest of the group. "You all saw that, yes???" Then, grumpily, "fucking magic."<br><br>With that, the armored woman began to row, helping Dean get them to the distant city. It was hard work, especially as the sun rose higher in the sky, scorching them with its ever-hotter rays, but they grew closer and closer with each inevitable minute.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>10-06-2015, 08:27:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan was content to be the last to board the small boat, after making sure the others were safe aboard. He let slip the last rope that held the much smaller craft tethered to the larger one, and slowly their new boat began to drift away from the larger. It wasn't much longer before the larger ship began to look smaller in the 'distance'... which was odd, given that the larger ship was still only a few yards away. It continued to 'shrink', as if out of some fantastical tale, and eventually it simply disappeared from sight. Either it was too far away to see now, too small to perceive, or simply 'gone', like wood 'disappears' when it is burned, only, there was no ash left behind.<br><br>The giant chaos ship was no more, and Donovan let out a faint sight of satisfaction... and relief.<br><br>"Yes, I saw it," he confirmed with a nod towards Methuseld when she voiced her shock and surprise. Her complaint against magic was well-noted, for Donovan - if he was to speak of magic in that moment - would likely have shared words along the same lines.<br><br>He was fairly certain no one had listened to him, or at least, not much. Each of the others seemed lost in their own thoughts, concerns, plans and fears. Each of them seemed a little 'different' than they were when they boarded the boat back at the previous dock. Now that they were approaching shore once more, each of them had... changed, similarly to how the boat itself had changed, though perhaps not to such a degree.<br><br>Donovan turned his attention back around to the boat in front of him, as he sat on the aft plant next to the tiller. He reached a hand out to grasp the wooden handle, and held it fast, guiding the nose of their craft towards the port in the distance. Their single small sail providing enough push to aid Dean and Methuseld who had taken up oars. Aza, of course, sat at the fore, like some pampered princess who felt that she was above physical labor.<br><br>The sun rose, bringing more light to the day, and the distant port town grew larger. Aza seemed bored by this time, and it was with a boring tone that she casually mentioned that there would be a fight ahead.<br><br>Of -course- there was. Nothing was going to be easy until they were -far away- from this part of the world. The Vizier was powerful, and his reach was long.<br><br>As they neared the docks, though, the place seemed to be bustling like any other port would be this early in the morning. Many other ships - larger, cargo-carrying ones as well as medium and smaller schooners and barges - were loading goods, or off-loading, and doing the typical things that ships like these did. Farther down the pier were a few fishing vessels just getting underway, as well, and the dock area seemed to be full of life.<br><br>Donovan's eyes scanned for possible foes... but as of yet, saw none. No one seemed to be paying them much mind as they approached the dock, an empty spot on the side of one of the piers looking quite inviting for their ship. Donovan faithfully steered their craft that way, so very grateful that he and his companions would finally be back on solid land in a handful of minutes...<br><br>Yet Aza's warning was not lost upon him. His weapons were at his hips, and he was prepared....<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>11-06-2015, 01:56:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The bustling city sprawled before the group, a metropolis of wonders and accents. Despite how early it was, dozens – if not hundreds – of people of various shapes and sizes moved about, attending boats tither and hither, their efficient motions complimenting the monumental works they set themselves to. There, in one of the docks, a smaller version of their Chaos Ship appeared to be set to; all black wood, veined in red, tendrils of alien flesh extending from the wood to literally pluck stuffed cargo crates up from the nearby docks, then ingesting them through sphincter-like holes that irised open and closed along its sides. <br><br>A truly magnificent, if unnerving sight. <br><br>Dean watched, awed. He and his Knight had traveled long and far, but new cities always evoked a sense of curiosity and passion in the man. He wanted to know the city in the same way that he wanted (when he was in his normal form) to know a woman. From her cleanest, most decadent boudoir, all the way to her most debauched charnel house. He wanted to meet the whore mistresses and the assassins alike, know them by name – ingest them for his pleasure. And then, when his dark spirit rose – when his Knight tapped into the Glory and his spite rose up in him – use that information against them all. <br><br>Delicious, being him. Only, he wasn’t.<br><br>He was vulnerable, human now. Just a boy, with a boy’s grace and a boy’s strength. Sure, he retained his training and knowledge, and those accounted for a fairly significant amount, but they knowledge did not come close to balancing the powers at his disposal when his Darkling Glory was at his behest. <br><br>Glancing at Donovan, Dean wondered how his Knight fared. He suspected the other man was recovering at a vastly quicker pace than Dean was. Normally, a single nights’ rest would have seen Dean back on his feet. What he and Aza had done, however, had sapped him impossibly. What they’d accomplished – however fun – had carved out a chunk of the man that might never regenerate. It was a valid concern.<br>Looking toward the dock, Dean’s sharp eyes flitted across rooftops, spying shapes crowded close to obstructing objects – chimneys and the like. “Assassins or sweepers, one of the two,” he murmured, indicating the shapes with a tiny, subtle gesture. “I have heard rumors of some of the guilds that work across the ocean – we’ve skirted more than a few in our journey, but I won’t be able to provide any certain information through my usual methods while I am so…drained.” He turned his head toward Aza, as if to ask if she – or the wolf she bore – could conduct a subtle inquiry, then stopped himself from voicing the question.<br><br>Why would a princess want to risk her neck to find out details? The ‘bad guys’ would come when they would, right?<br><br>Shaking his head, all lean-featured and pale now, Dean nodded his chin toward a slowly shrinking pile of boxes near where they’d pulled in. A dozen or more big men stood there, looking as if they were trying to find work, yet ignoring all calls for their attentions. An obvious trap.<br><br>“Cat’s paw?” he murmured. “Avoid or attack?” Despite himself, Dean found himself preferring to avoid confrontation right now, in broad daylight, when the local constabulary might be called to deal with them and complicate things. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>12-06-2015, 05:19:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Girl-Aza sat and hugged the fox and only yawned once or twice while the others labored at the oars. She watched Dean and Donovan sneak glances at the other, no doubt wishing they could speak privately within their partnership, without womanly or foxy ears so near. The first question asked would probably be "what the fuck?" <br><br>Methuseld didn't even attempt conversation, just rowed and looked particularly crabby. Apparently, after their brief near-sex interlude, Aza and the general didn't have much in common anymore. Well, whatever. Aza had her other fox-self for now, with whom she got along just excellently. <em>Hmm</em>, said that fox, its sky-colored gaze thoughtfully cast on how the strengthening sun glinted pink off Methuseld's metal plating. Something was up with that stuff.<br><br>"Hmm," Aza agreed, then turned to watch the nearing docks. Civilization. Aza liked that. Civilization meant comforts. Baths and beds and, away from the shore, foods that weren't fish. She was already scouting the lake view of the largest inn among the waterside storefronts when Dean had to bring the mood back down by pointing out all the people already waiting there to kill them. She gave him another sidelong stare at his additional complaint of being 'drained.' And he was suggesting that was her fault? Like hell. Maybe next time he'd know when to quit.<br><br><em>Next time,</em> the fox echoed, its tiny pearly sharply-pointed teeth showing in a grin. Aza hmph'd again and drew her hood up against the sun and her view of Dean, looking instead at the ships moored along the long piers. "Avoid <em>and </em>attack," she murmured. <em><strong>Fox's</strong> paw</em>, the fox chimed in, standing on the girl's knee to place both wickedly clawed, little front feet on the side of the boat, ready to be the first to hop to the dock.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>17-06-2015, 17:14:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The hustle and bustle of the awakening city began to distract Methuseld from her melancholy, if only briefly. Many folk began their days early - before the sun was even up - and so by this point in the morning it was hard to imagine how the throng could swell in size any more than it already had. Such places made Methuseld uncomfortable by habit. So many strangers crossing paths, brushing up, walking with... any one of them could be an assassin. It was something she'd always relied on bodyguards for, for the task was thankless, nerve-wracking, and neigh-impossible to perform perfectly. Now, without a security detail save for three partners of dubious loyalty and skill, she would have to take on the menial task of guarding bodies, her own especially. Leaving little room for thinking about the big picture - the kind of art she excelled at painting.<br><br>It was likely this unfamiliarity with her new role that led to Dean spotting the threat first; applying principles, even well-known ones, could take time. Silver eyes tracked to their targets, one by one, as General von Ellegarde contemplated action but quickly came to a conclusion. Between the nebulous yet all too sinister threat living inside her armor, the mob of innocent by-standers who would likely fetch the city guard, and the difficulty of navigating such bustling human terrain with any great speed, it seemed a daunting task (to say the least) to engage the men, avoid whatever magic plagued her, prevent them from getting away, and avoid an engagement with the city guard that led to either death or, even worse, imprisonment. The dungeon was the last place she wanted to be - she would not trade a magical cage for a physical one.<br><br>"No. No attack here. Somewhere less busy, more favorable."<br><br>She didn't mention anything about her armor. How could she? Likely, she needed these people to survive, at least for the time being. It seemed doubtful they'd let her stay if they knew that at any point, something lurking just out of reach could... do something? She didn't even know what. 'Give me yourself willingly, and I will not take more than my fair share', it had said. And then parted with the words 'be sure to kill something soon.' Presumably it wanted her to do just that - kill something. But why? What would it do once she had? And what did it mean for her to give herself willingly? Goose bumps ran up and down her skin, a shiver despite the rising sun's warmth. She would try to avoid killing, so she could avoid finding out what lay beneath.<br><br>Avoiding killing when there were assassins after them. The irony was so thick she could take a big bite and spit it out with disgust.<br><br><em>Thunk.</em> The boat hit the side of the dock softly, both Azas hopping off without skipping a beat. Methuseld secured the craft, thick old wet rope abused by the armored hands that tied it, and began piling what bags they'd brought onto land. It was just enough for them to carry, though horses would make for easier travel. Then when she finished, she hopped off the boat herself, making sure her sword belt and armor were secure.<br><br>"Well?" She shouted, above the din of tradesmen, fishermen, children, animals, and all the other joys that a harbor had to offer.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>22-06-2015, 08:06:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dean and Methuseld's comments about the coming conflict registered with Donovan quickly. He pushed the handle of the tiller sharply away from himself, sending the rear of the boat sliding in that direction. It also just so happened to be in the direction the wind was blowing - their little sail suddenly snapped more taut and full, and their speed increased appropriately. This zipped them away from where Donovan had intended to park their craft, and instead, they zipped across the openings of several other piers, headed for the last one at the very end. The one that would provide the most 'privacy'.<br><br>Donovan always hated this part. The moments before combat. Not because he feared it, but because he had no real wish to kill, crush, or maim men and women he didn't even know. They were following orders... or looking for a bounty... or any number of other reasons that put them in this place, this time, but the end result would be the same. Donovan didn't enjoy the killing and crippling... but he wasn't so sure about Dean.<br><br>Dean, however, wasn't exactly himself. Donovan couldn't believe that the fox-girl had fucked him -that hard-... Dean had seen his fair share of pleasures, but never had one taken so much from him. Donovan didn't know whether to be impressed... or terrified. All he -did- know was that there would be no 'fox sex' for him. If Dean was drained by it as badly as he was, Donovan could only imagine what would happen if he, himself, had fallen victim to her whims. Now, Donovan could only silently hope that Dean would revert back to normal - and soon.<br><br>They passed the last pier, and Donovan pulled the tiller sharply back toward him, turning their craft to starboard. It was funny, too, casting the occasional glance back at the pier they had -originally- been heading for... seeing the 'dock workers' suddenly tripping over themselves, running back to the main part of the port, when dashing as quickly as they could through the crowds to reach the pier where Donovan was now angling their little boat towards. If it hadn't been clear before, it was now, a group of about a dozen men were coming to give them a 'warm welcome'.<br><br>Donovan knew the others would see them. It was hard to miss, the small group pushing through the crowd, knocking some people to the ground in their haste. As the boat coasted the last few yards towards the solid wood pier, Donovan reached forward, pulled on a few ropes - and the sail dropped suddenly, falling to the base of the mast in a heap. The loss of wind and propulsion was immediately felt, just a few seconds before the edge of the boat slapped into the wood planking of the pier.<br><br>Aza and her pet fox bounced off as if they couldn't stand to be in the boat one more minute. Methuseld secured the boat. Donovan gave Dean one more worried glance, then pulled himself up onto the pier. At the far end, where the pier met land, the 'welcome part' rounded the corner and began to dash down the wood dock toward them, drawing clubs and truncheons, or sabre or rapier. <br><br>"Wouldn't be surprised if all they are meant to do is get us in trouble with the law - so that our -real- enemies could come fetch us at their leisure from the city dungeon," Donovan said as he started walking toward the onrushing men. "We need to get into the city and lost in the crowd - fast-," he said. "I'll take care of these guys... but someone needs to watch the rooftops..."<br><br>The nearest onrushing foe was a dozen yards away when Donovan leaned down to pick up a nearby boat oar. As he straightened once more, he summoned the Glory within - his body hardening - his strength increasing. The surge was always welcome, always... enticing and vigorous... He couldn't help but smile as the first few men neared him - his arms already swinging the oar like a club. <br><br>-CRACK!-.... the sound of wood splinter - and bones breaking - could be heard as the oar slapped into the bodies of the three nearest foes - their bodies lifted and hurled off to Donovan's left - off the pier and into the water. The oar had cracked - but still held together so that - still smiling - Donovan swung the oar in the other direction. The next three men - wide-eyed at having seen what had just happened to their companions - did their best to skid to a halt and reverse direction.... But it was too late....<br><br>-CRACKKKKK!-.... These there men cried out in pain and surprise, more bones breaking, the oar finally snapping half-way down its sturdy length, the wide paddle-end flying into the water on the -other- side of the pier along with the three wounded men.<br><br>The last six, being far enough behind, were able to come to a halt - and spread out as Donovan continued to approach with nothing but a small, broken section of wood in his hand, which the remaining men were eying fearfully. Donovan raised a brow - and dropped it. As if that were some sort of signal, the remaining men rushed the unarmed warrior, letting out a battle cry of unintelligible words. They would never realize their mistake until it was too late - and they had each joined their other companions in the water.<br><br>Weapons blows rained down on Donovan, yet where his armor did not protect him - the weapons that struck his skin made a sound as if they had struck solid stone. One blade shattered from the impact, sending a sharp jolt of pain up the man's arm who fell to the wood planks clutching it in a fetal position. <br><br>Then, it was simply a matter of Donovan pushing, shoving, or lifting and heaving each remaining man from the pier and into the water. Lucky for them, they weren't wearing armor, so they'd have a fairly good chance of swimming to safety - if their arms and legs cooperated. By then, of course, Donovan figured he and his companions would be long gone.<br><br>Looking towards the crowds around the dock, some were looking and watching what was happening. Others seemed oblivious. Donovan did not yet see any sign of militia or local law enforcement... but he knew that wasn't going to remain so forever.<br><br>"Come on!" he called out, turning to look back at Methuseld, Dean, whoever was still behind him. He had just cleared the way, and now it seemed reaching the safety of the city's crowded streets was more likely than ever....<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>25-06-2015, 01:53:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The only truly applicable metaphor for what Dean felt as Donovan engaged the tough would be: a slight strengthening of his cock. Crude, but apt in this case. A trickle of power, so tiny as to be a stream against what had once been a river, flowed back into his emptied form, returning with it a hint of the man’s former stature. Muscles filled – a bit. He grew an inch of two and his brown eyes became shadowy pits, once more reflecting confidence and a vague, hungry, madness. Yet for all that apparent restoration, Dean was still a spent Shadow. It would take time, or significantly more brazen efforts of power from Donovan, to jump start the Darkling Glory within him.<br><br>Stepping off the boat and onto the pier, Dean looked as Donovan worked, biting his bottom lip. Some of the old vices, the ambitions, the needs, lurked in him again – but they did not drowned out his agonizing need to protect his friend. His <em>friend</em>? No. Shaking his head, long black hair curling against high, pale cheekbones oddly damp with tears, Dean denied his own thoughts. Clarified them. <br><br>His <em>Knight</em>. Not his friend. Donovan was his anchor. A stone to his ankles. The only reason his Knight merited protection was because if Donovan died, Dean would too. This time in truth. No true loyalty or honor bound the two!<br><br><em>My friend.</em> The whispered voice, young and innocent, came again. A clarion lancing through the regenerating wickedness in his shadowy heart. <br><br>The struggle of his emotions froze Dean in place, even as both Aza’s slipped off the boat. Even as the female warrior struggled with her own doubts. And in the space of that hesitation, more toughs had time to appear from a nearby ally. No sign of the constabulary yet: no doubt whoever was arranging this wanted the group thoroughly trounced beforehand. Then again, Dean wasn’t precisely watching the rooftops either. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>26-06-2015, 05:59:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The girl had to grab the fox back from the bow when Donovan abruptly veered the small craft back away from the dock, sending them off on an unexpected course. <em>But...!</em> the fox said, stretching its forelegs out over Aza's arm in the direction it had meant to jump, disappointed despite how it had just been saved from a certain dunk in the lake. <br><br>The reshuffling of various groups on the shore proved Dean correct; the foursome's arrival had been anticipated. <em><strong>Five</strong>some</em>, reminded the fox. "I don't know that you are counted," mused Aza, as they slid through the wakes of the other maritime traffic towards the last pier. <em>If the ship should count, extra foxes count,</em> the fox decided. "If they must," conceded the girl, lifting the little animal up so it could leap to the wet boards of the dock as soon as they neared and Don dropped the sail with a lurch.<br><br>The fox shook itself, and with tail puffed and ears flat back, began to skulk down the dock to meet their erstwhile attackers, its morning shadow trailing long from its paws and seeming to blackly lurk. <em>Yessss, come to play,</em> it hissed, just as it managed to catch the leader's eye with its own glittering blue gaze... only to have Donovan march right past and, brandishing an oar like a broadsword, send bodies tumbling and crashing to the water with an efficient series of sweeping blows. He easily fielded the few that managed to come within stabbing reach, and, within moments, had the pier newly bloodspattered but cleared. The fox blinked, looking down at the men now thrashing in the shallow surf, then glanced back to the General -- who (or whose armor) was probably also feeling cheated of a fight -- and Dean -- who was obviously having some sort of self-referential meta-crisis back in the boat.<br><br>Then girl-Aza scooped the fox up in the crook of one arm mid-stride and pulled her cloak around them both as she went forward, sidestepping Don and chunks of broken oar on their way to solid land. Land, and the confusion of the crowd... where one very petite, very hooded figure would have a much more evasively simpler time than one tall armored man, one equally tall armored woman, and Dean. Assuming he recovered enough from his sentimental malaise to make it to shore.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>03-07-2015, 00:17:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld was content to watch their armored, magicked knight smash his way through hired muscle with as much effort as a rhino needed to smash through some curtains. The men fell away off the dock, some picking themselves up and running, some favoring the water, and others for whom the choice was already made. One particularly determined-looking fellow managed to climb up the slimy wet support of the dock, but could only show his head before a swift armored boot to the head from Methuseld sent him back from whence he came.<br><br><em>"Yessssss..."</em> Came a familiar hiss. <em>"Do more...You know what I want - succumb and it'll be easier for both of us."</em> A chill went up Methuseld's spine, then back down again. For a moment the warrior shuddered as a sliver of darkness slicked its way over the back of her armor, locks of hair turning shades of black. But in a flicker, it was gone. The shudder gone, the voice gone, the weird light display, of which Methuseld was still ignorant, gone as well. Maybe Dean, maybe the others, had seen it, but it could also have been construed as a trick of the light, the shadow of a cloud or bird overhead. <em>I shall silence you soon, monster...</em> She responded, belatedly, to the hibernating darkness shielding her body.<br><br>The fighting now over, Methuseld heaved the massive rucksack of goods she'd looted from the ship and took a few steps towards the crowd just as she noticed more toughs emerging from a nearby alley. She quickened her pace, trying to catch up to the (other) armored tower and the foxy ladies before the thugs converged upon her and she had to... employ more force. Merging into the crowd, she could see one of the taller ones tracking her with determined, ruthless eyes as she shoved hard past normal every-day folks who were going about their business. A few muttered curses, some louder protests, but no one was stupid enough to challenge someone wearing so much armor when they had such a mean look on their face.<br><br>For the moment, her thoughts led her to only three goals - survive, survive long enough to disenchant her armor, survive long enough to disenchant her armor without killing anyone. All of these required Donovan's presence and perhaps the Dean's and the Fox's magical knowledge, though how and when exactly to let them know about the uninvited guest was a wholly different story. Silver eyes traced a path to Donovan, tall enough that almost everyone could see him through the crowd, let alone the woman stalking him, who was a little shorter but still noticeably taller than the average townsperson. She didn't look back to see if diminutive Dean had followed her or not. Due to her lack of magical understanding regarding his current situation, she had no doubt that he could disappear from sight at a moment's notice with his magic should this be required. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>07-07-2015, 23:00:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan's breathing had barely increased by the time all resistance was dealt with. A few men, injured with broken bones most likely, cried pitifully from the water where they floated. So far, though, with the rest of the noise of the busy dock, no one had come to answer those cries for help. Donovan turned just in time to see Methuseld put her iron-shod boot to the head of one of the men who had been eager enough to try to climb back up onto the dock, sending him right back into the water. Donovan had to give that man a little credit for not giving up, but then couldn't feel too badly for the man for being so dim-witted as to try. Glancing at Methuseld for a moment, Donovan's gaze thought he caught a flicker of darkness along her back somehow, and he took it as simply a morning shadow or a trick of light as it was gone a single breath later.<br><br>No sooner had the group began to move towards the nearest road into the town than a few more toughs emerged from a nearby alley, glancing this way and that, looking for signs of those who had just come off the boat.<br><br>Damn, that was a -lot- of manpower, Donovan mused to himself. The price on their heads must be pretty high. He glanced forward to see his companions merging into the crowd, Methuseld in particular forcing her way forward. Though some protested with words, none dared stand in her way for long.<br><br>Maintaining his strength and skin-armor was slowly draining him. It wasn't to crucial levels yet, but it was noticeable to him. He couldn't keep both going forever. Still, they were in danger, and with Dean being in the shape he was in, and with Aza being... well... to prim and proper for actual combat, that left himself and Methuseld to fend off the enemy... as far as he knew. Glancing back behind him as he walked, he caught sight of a few toughs struggling through the crowd about a half a block from their current position, trying to follow them by tracking Methuseld's hair. Turning around for a moment, walking forward some more, Donovan reached up and snatched a dark pair of bloomers from an overhead clothesline, and then simply stood still for a moment, letting the press of the crow go on around him as Methuseld and the others reached his position.<br><br>"Pretty hair. But easily followed," Donovan said, and swept the dark bloomers around Methuseld's shoulders like a cape, and pulled the cloth up and over to completely conceal her hair. "Hunch down a bit, too. Take the next right, Dean!" Donovan called out to Dean who wasn't far away. If they could get down a side alley and to another street, they'd lose the toughs that were following...<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>13-07-2015, 04:31:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Too much. It was too much, too confusing. Dean shot back, “I’ll be with you shortly. Go on.” His higher-than-normal voice was pitched to carry to his Knight’s ears. Then the slender, too-youthful figure was dodging forward and to the side, between two buildings with a gap too narrow for any of the big toughs on their heels. If Dean was worried about his connection to Donovan, it didn’t show. Their bond was still there, but dramatically relaxed; the Shadow felt confident that he could manage several hundred yards without feeling the draining effects of their bond.<br><br>Though he was far less than he had been, Dean still managed to climb over crates, barrels, and effluvia – all obstacles apparently tossed into the narrow way – without too much effort. As he went, he remembered to look up. Shadows flicked along the rooftops, suggesting any number of things: clotheslines or watchers. Probably both. He’d heard of dangerous, powered, organizations around the ring of the sea and it wouldn’t have surprised the canny assassin to discover they’d been employed by the vizier and his witch.<br><br>Emerging at a fork in the alleys, Dean started up one building, climbing with substantial effort despite how relatively easy the sea-chewed wood should have been. His fingers trembled, nails broke. Some slight, ephemeral blood, flowed, but the lithe young man continued on. Then he was near the top and a face appeared out of nowhere. She was beautiful, with slanted eyes and a rosebud mouth, her Eastern features quirked with a hint of amusement. <br><br>“You, I’m told, are not wanted alive, I’m afraid,” she said, and proceeded to stab Dean in the eye with a dagger. His corpse fell, the woman turning away from her work before the shadow-substance that made up the man’s body had a chance to vanish. She didn’t know what Dean was, though perhaps that did not matter for the time being. He was, in truth, dead. <br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Dean will be out of it for a few hours (up to a day or so). I can narrate the assassins, toughs, or city government. Alternatively, continue posting until the group gets to a safe spot. Donovan will know that the more he uses his Glory, the faster Dean will potentially return, though time will allow it to happen regardless.&nbsp; Of course, the Knight will feel his Shadow die.&nbsp; &nbsp;</div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>15-07-2015, 04:38:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza was off and gone within moments, slipping nimbly through the crush of people like, well, a shadow, her dark cloak pulled around her armful of fox. Civilization, yes. And civilization also meant commerce, lots of it. Just a street away from the shore was a mile's worth of marketplace, tables and booths spread with goods both necessary and luxury. And foxgirls have short attention spans. Never mind that the remainder of her party was hurtling in the opposite direction, attempting to escape with their lives. They weren't a fun party anyway.<br><br>A few assassin-types did break from the rest in an attempt to shove after her, but their pursuit was futile. Perhaps others had a magical means of tracking her, but no one'd caught up by the time she was a few blocks down, behind the drape of one of the tented stalls and arguing heatedly with a vendor over the price of a fancily tooled leather pouch with a padded shoulder strap.<br><br>She could be convincing. A minute later she was snapping three silver links off her necklace -- which was only one more than her original lowball offer -- and trading them for the bag, then tucking the fox securely inside. The fox was just suggesting that its ride would benefit from a cushion too, maybe made from real rabbit fur like at the next stall down, when Dean, who had struck out on his own, got himself stabbed. Right in the fucking head. <br><br>Aza sunk to her knees from the unexpected pain that seemed to lance blindingly into her brain, the fox yelping at the same time. The sensation passed just as quickly as it'd arrived, leaving the two of them staring at each other with astonishment in their identically-hued blue eyes.<br><br>"He died, I think," Aza said after hesitation, her brows drawn.<br><br><em>I can die?! </em>wailed the fox.<br><br>"Are you alive?" Aza asked, not rhetorically. All this shadow stuff was tricky.<br><br><em>...Maybe, </em>the fox decided. They looked out into the still-growing throng of passerby, perhaps addressing for the first time the very real dangers that surrounded them. What exactly was their plan? Find a new, decent owner? That could take days or more, and nothing in this city could possibly compete with what she'd left behind anyway. Head back to the docks and try to ply passage home? Find their ship, maybe, and have it take them back across the lake... assuming the ship agreed to go, without Dean.<br><br>Without Dean. Without Dean cluttering up part of her head, she was suddenly and distractingly more aware of... Don. Who was still moving further away, as far as Aza could tell, and for reasons she wasn't sure she understood, she didn't like that. It kind of hurt. Maybe following Donovan and Methuseld was better. Yes. That had been the original idea, hadn't it? <br><br>She settled the bag of fox comfortably on her slender hip, pulled her hood back up over her pale blue hair, and set off after the shining beacon in her head that was Don.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>19-07-2015, 17:39:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld continued following Donovan, trying to lose the thugs in the crowd. But it wasn't working. They could see her, her specifically, and she could see their deadly eyes fixated on her with the obsession of blood-crazed hounds. The stress of the situation, of being hunted, flooded her body with adrenaline. She wasn't used to not being able to fight, to tackle her problems head-on. She'd never been so desperate, so unprepared for circumstances that she'd ever wind up in a situation like this. Dozens of thugs - her world, right now - closing in on her. No help in sight. <br><br>Yet suddenly there was a hand on her. She tensed, prepared to attack, but it was Donovan, who'd doubled back while she walked with her head over her shoulder. Something on her head... he hid her hair in it, then told her to hunch down. The oppressive tension of the prey in flight was blown out like a candle by Donovan, his advice a breath of fresh air. Why hadn't she thought of it?! She berated herself inwardly as double-timed it to a nearby alley. <br><br>"What's our plan?" She turned her head over her shoulder, shouting back to Donovan. "We need to lose these bastards before they converge and we're fighting 30 of them." In the same movement she scanned the crowd. Still thugs. But confused, angry, heading in her direction but with less focus because they didn't have a target to hone in on. <br><br>But also... no Aza. Azas? The girl was small, and although beautiful, she would no doubt difficult to find in the sea of heads. Grumbling, Methuseld turned back and hurried on, unaware Aza shouldn't have been her prime concern at the moment.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>19-07-2015, 20:49:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Nothing ever seemed to go right... when <em>women</em> were involved. <br><br>Ever since the beginning of Donovan's relationship with his Shadow, any sort of dealings with the fairer sex - involving EITHER of them - seemed to blow up in their faces. Oh sure, fun could be had, or a quiet private meeting turning heated could be enjoyed, but in the end, -something- wicked always seemed to result from it. Donovan didn't have time to reminisce too much, or focus on just how true those thoughts were, and right now, that streak continued. He didn't answer Methuseld's shouter query - not yet - but the first order of business was getting out of sight of the locals.<br><br>Donovan pulled Methuseld along with him and then swerved to the side suddenly, darting into a darker side-alley. There was refuse and other debris scattered about, but he took her with him a dozen feet or so and then swung around and down to the dirt ground, hidden behind a large, half-rotted barrel that would hide them from the sight of anyone walking by the mouth of the alley. He knelt beside her, peeking through a slender crack in the old, worn and damaged barrel - watching a couple of the men who had been following them race past the mouth of the alley - one or two threw a glance down their direction, but continued on anyway, not having much chance to see the two of them hidden as they were.<br><br>It was hot. Too fucking hot, and all Donovan wanted to do was dive into the water of the bay for a cool swim. Donovan trusted Dean to be able to escape - no one could stop a -shadow-, especially in a sunny day. Most likely Dean would slip inside one of the businesses and simply embrace the shadows within and no one would ever find him. <br><br>But then that left the Fox girl.<br><br>"Fuck!", he growled to himself.<br><br>Nope. Nothing seemed to go right where women were involved. Wasn't Aza following them? Hadn't she been right behind Methuseld? That damned woman, maybe she had gotten caught and neither of them had heard it? Well, that would serve her right! Good fucking riddance! Spoiled little wench, if she couldn't follow simple directions to follow and keep close, then she could deal with the consequences herself.<br><br>"Shit shit shit!" he cursed in soft hisses. Donovan knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left Aza out to dry. He leaned over, his head near Methuseld's as he harshly whispered to her.<br><br>"Ok, here's the plan. You stay here. I'm going to find Aza real quick. Dean can find his own way, trust me, and he can find me easily. We're going to follow this alley as far as it goes, then-...."<br><br>Donovan blinked... then his eyes rolled upward in their sockets as he suddenly slumped to the side against the building, his body going limp for a moment as if his limbs were suddenly made of jelly. Pain exploded just behind both of his eyes, sharp and fierce, his breath caught in his lungs. He knew what had happened, but he simply hadn't been prepared for it, nor did he think it would even be possible, not from a band of street-thugs, of all things!<br><br>Donovan's weight carried him against the wall, then forward, his upper body suddenly colliding with Methuseld where she knelt on the ground behind the barrel. There wasn't any real 'force' behind it, so his weight would be leaned against her for just a moment - or she was free to push him away. Either way, a few seconds later his eyes rolled back into place and focused, and he grunted, giving a sudden, sharp intake of breath.<br><br>With the use of his own ability on the dock, his own reserves of energy draining away slowly, this was a -terrible- time for Dean to go and get himself jacked up. That only made Donovan more nervous - something or someone was out there who could kill Dean? THAT was -bad news-.<br><br>Donovan shook his head, and cleared his throat. "Ok... ok...," he said, gathering himself quickly. "Ok... I'll go get Aza.... and we'll get the fuck out of town. That's... that's the plan," he said, slowly, rising to his feet, preparing to head back out into the crowd in search of the elusive fox-girl.... and quietly hoping that Dean would reform sooner rather than later...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>25-07-2015, 22:05:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Summary of the Eagle’s Talon</strong><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Key Members:<br>Mylin: Owner, assassin. Beautiful and deadly, with a number of supernatural abilities that make her easily on par with the foursome.<br>Staniel: Minor prophet, able to detect probabilities and outcomes well enough to win most bets.<br>Chasen: Shapeshifting muscle, capable of troll-like regeneration and able to survive all but the most devastating of attacks. He’s also resistant to magic and fire, which make him doubly effective.<br>Larsony: A female capable of manipulating minds with any of her facilities – voice, appearance, etc. She also has the ability to commune with animals and insects, making her an ideal spy. </div></div><br>Mylin turned from the rooftops with a small smirk on her delicate features. She wasn’t worried about the loss of that one, nor was she worried about what the fleeing survivors would do, or where they would go. Larsony would be able to follow them and Chasen wouldn’t be too far behind, not once they were truly vulnerable. <br><br>“That was…unwise, mistress,” Staniel said, taking her from her thoughts of celebration.<br><br>Sharp, emerald gaze flicking to Staniel, she snapped, “Whatever for? The bounty claimed that he could be killed. There is no risk in reducing their number…”<br><br>Staniel shook his head, delicate, almost effeminate features silencing his guild mistress as effective as a shout from anyone else. “Probability shifted the moment he died. I cannot imagine why, but things are less certain than they were before.”<br><br>That brought Mylin back a step or two. The certainty of their triumph tasted a little bitter in her mouth. Staniel’s predictions had made their guild the top one in the city, if not the entire Western coast of the circle sea, and she knew better than to disregard them.<br><br>“I will call Chasen back. Inform the mercenaries that they are to press the group relentlessly. No rest for them. I don’t care how the odds might have changed; we won’t give them the advantage by hesitating too much. Or overcommitting.” Her call felt sound: if odds were shifting, it was probably because the fleeing group had some way to defeat Chasen. That would more directly even the odds. Though the Eagle’s Talon did have a number of other members who she could activate if needed, Chasen was her best bet, martial skill versus martial skill. <br><br>Staniel nodded, making no comment as to whether or not her command changed the odds. He saw much, but not everything.<br><br>A few seconds later and the rooftop was empty, more mercenaries thrown into the fray to chase the foursome (including the fox) through the city streets. By now the constabulary had gotten wind – or, more likely, decided they couldn’t ignore the happenings any longer – and were engaged, too, however. In minutes, the docks and surrounding area were transformed into a maelstrom of pressing flesh, shouts, and violence. None of it aimed properly at the foursome. <br><br>* * *<br>In death, the Shadow dreamed. Dreams of plague, of murder, of rape: wrapped in a cocoon of pure malevolence, Dean’s confused spirit had no respite from the nature of the Shaded Glory and its corrupt hungers. Only this time, there was something else in the nothing. A shape that “looked” or rather, felt, a bit like a small ship… <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>29-07-2015, 01:54:47</strong>
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				<em>I think</em>, the fox said,<em> we are being followed.</em><br><br>"Then head down, and there it stays," Aza suggested, helpfully putting a palm over the fox's face and shoving it back into the recesses of the bag.<br><br><em>But it's hot,</em> complained the fox, immediately peeking back over the edge, keeping its ears flat as it scanned the streets around them.<br><br>"So walk," the girl sighed, knowing that it was better to be too hot but carried than a more comfortable temperature but on one's own feet, and that the fox would choose to stay off the ground. Aza sure as hell wouldn't be walking -- well, jogging, almost scrambling -- if there had been any other option.<br><br><em>Hmph</em>, opined the fox. It was right about the heat, though; the sun had risen swiftly, and outside of the shade, their cloak was very warm indeed. Or was it just because everything about the shadows seemed more appealing as of recently? It would probably be a quicker trip if they were both fox-shaped, able to slink through people and structures alike, but Aza wasn't quite ready to abandon what remained of her worldly possessions. Some of the items were only manifest shadow and would probably reform, but a few, like the bag, would have to be left for good.<br><br><em>Getting closer,</em> the fox announced.<br><br>"They are, or we?"<br><br><em>Both</em>.<br><br>Aza hmph'd too, and made a hard left. The streets were narrowing, becoming twistier and more difficult to navigate towards what she was sure was Donovan, but every step nearer to him felt a little more certain, because she could feel <em>him</em>. And he felt distressed. Because of her?<br><br><em>Yes, partly,</em> mused the fox, and Aza was annoyed. If anything was troubling Don, it felt like it should probably be her -- and her alone. Especially since there was no Dean around to do it.<br><br><em>Almost there... Hurry.<br></em><br>"Am I <em>not </em>hurrying?" Aza snapped at her little companion, slipping down the spiral of a brick stairway and listening for any footfalls that followed. A quick cut through a walled garden and across another alleyway or two, and...
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>29-07-2015, 02:04:20</strong>
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				The cluster of men, ten in total, seemed to burst into view in front of the two Azas. Six of the men appeared to be street toughs, bulky and armed to the teeth. Four wore the armor of the local constabulary and seemed to be getting their asses handed to them – black eyes and blood flowing freely from numerous visible injuries. <br><br>Immediately after appearing, one of the toughs called out, “There the dirty bitch is! Let’s finish these pad-foots off and get em!” A rousing chorus of growls met the speaker’s cries and the barbarous mercenaries redoubled their efforts, immediately taking one of the three city officials out with a brutal clip from a club before circling in around the remaining three. Time for Aza to avoid this confrontation was certainly running out. <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>01-08-2015, 18:14:52</strong>
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				Donovan was rattling off a plan. It made Methuseld... envious? Ashamed? He was still thinking on his feet, still coming up with plans, and she'd almost managed to get herself caught as if it was her first day out in the world by herself. Though... really, it almost was. Last night she'd been a pawn, moved about the board by a magical hand. The last time she'd had the freedom to get herself in street chases was years ago, and even then she'd been a noblewoman. But that was all excuses. <br><br>She'd commanded legions of men, and if she could lead others to the pit of hell and safely out the other side, she could do it to herself. She listened to Donovan's plan, shaking her head as he spoke. She didn't like it. But she didn't have much time to say so - he seized, slumping against the sun-dried earthen alley wall, then fell onto her. She rose, caught him, slowly lowered him down to the ground so he wouldn't hurt himself. Gloved fingers checked his eyes, still rolled up in their sockets. "Awaken! Snap out of it!" A couple of gentle slaps across the cheek, as gentle as steel-clad slaps could be, and soon he was up. She breathed a sigh, opened her mouth to speak, but not missing a beat, he was already coming up with the plan for them to get out of town. On foot? No, that wouldn't work. He was up, running off. Bundle of energy, that one was. Methuseld glared at him as he ran off, then sighed annoyedly and shouted after him before he disappeared behind a corner. "I'll have four horses ready at the stables, meet me there!"<br><br>Pulling the dark bloomers off to reveal the precious golden silk that grew atop her head, Methuseld searched around. Alleyways were often good places to dry ones clothes - not too much foot traffic resulted in fewer clothes being stolen and put on blondes' heads to hide them from thugs. As she'd noticed at Kulratha, blondes weren't exactly a common sight among the natives of the Chaos Desert; she guessed the other side of the Circle Sea was no different. She found a cloak - dark brown, heavy, far too long for her despite her stature, but she grabbed it anyways. Still a little damp, too, but she'd make do. The sun would take care of it soon enough.<br><br>The hood pulled down across her face to her most of her features from view, the rest of the cloak wrapped around her armor to hide its glinting surface from the sun's revealing rays, she looked every bit a desert dweller. Through the cloak's heaviness and the strange lumpiness of the person it concealed, nearly anyone with a discerning eye could guess that armor and sword awaited unfriendly strangers beneath the thick garment. That did not trouble Methuseld in the least - the more people stayed away from her, the longer she could delay what now seemed inevitable to her: that whatever lurked in her armor would soon find its way out.<br><br>Her disguise now complete, the woman strode confidently out of the alley. Stopping an old woman with her commanding presence, Methuseld did her best to fake a Kulrathi accent. "Stables - where are they?" The woman pointed - over the tops of the crowds' heads, the warrior could just barely make out the tips of a structure. The city gate, perhaps? No doubt the stables would be near there - she didn't see many horses here that hadn't come from or were going to a ship. Making up her mind, she strode off, preoccupied mind not bothering to offer a thank you to the aging hag. Making sure to occasionally check her peripheral vision as best she could and to contort her perfect posture to lower her height as Donovan had advised, she headed off toward the gate, pushing, shoving, slipping between throngs of people who did much the same. <br><br>Four horses - an expensive proposition. On her back was still the heavy bag of supplies packed for a long desert trip - but none of those could be traded or else their journey through the desert would end quite a bit sooner than expected. She thought about trading her armor, but before the dark spirit even had a chance to respond, she figured she wouldn't be able to get rid of it anyways. And she certainly wouldn't want to dump it on someone else, even if she could. Not to mention, armor of this quality was probably worth ten horses - inlaid gold didn't come cheap. Well... so long as the constabulary was chasing them, she might as well steal the damn horses. To hell with this city, and Kulratha, and assassins. Damn them all, Methuseld would live through this.<br><br>Unless she got spotted by thugs, and surrounded, and attacked, on the way to the stables. Then, who knew what would happen. But that's what disguises were for, right??
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>04-08-2015, 23:31:35</strong>
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				Well shit. Aza quickly turned off the paved stone road and backtracked through an archway into the walled garden, but the shouts behind her indicated her maneuver had not been sufficiently evasive. <em>Dirty?</em> the fox repeated, sounding offended. "Dusty, maybe," said Aza as they hopped a hedge and forded a fountain. She remembered battling the Drow warrior's magic-snake-kidnappers in a fountain, back in the Vizier's tower. Had that been yesterday? Seemed like a year and two months ago.<br><br>She pulled up short because someone was approaching from the other doorway now, and she knew it wasn't Donovan. Methuseld, maybe? Nope, not even. Not that the other two could be so stupid as to split up in an unfamiliar city with assailants closing in from every direction anyway, right?<br><br>Aza had been in a situation like this one once or twice before, but her life and safety had always been the pursuers' prize. The angry men behind her currently reducing the city guard to something pulpy did not seem to share that particular aim. And even if they did have orders to take her alive, such goals could all too easily be forgotten in the rage of hand-to-hand violence, only remembered when damage was already done. Men in groups were somewhat notorious for behaving in a thoughtlessly savage manner, after all. Also men singly, actually. They were sort of terrible creatures. All of them.<br><br>How had these particular brutes even found her, anyway? Located one stealthy little thing among a city of a million?<br><br><em>Much is at work,</em> the fox noted.<br><br>Aza eyed the next story's balcony and considered scaling the nearest vine-wrapped trellis. <em>What, and get sap in our fur?</em> the fox snorted.<br><br>"If not sap, then blood," Aza pointed out, as the remaining unlucky city guardsman came tumbling through the decorative palm trees, scimitar-wielding thugs right after.<br><br><em>Blood it is! </em>the fox declared loudly, and the leading thug paused in the act of hacking up the guard, wondering if the dog in the bag had really just said something. It was the last thing he ever wondered, because the fox launched itself out from under Aza's arm and, snarling and in a single bound, clamped its maw over the man's face and tore it clean off.<br><br>Well, 'clean' wasn't the right descriptor, maybe. The thug screamed wetly and fell backwards into the grass, giving the fox the opportunity to rip away another jawful of face and throat while it slashed with its hind feet, slicing through and strewing cloth and flesh and innards alike. Streams of shadow were lifting off its furry little form like black vapor, and when another thug stepped up to take a swing at the beast, those shadows rose up in the vague shapes of more fanged foxes and...<br><br>Aza decided not to watch, pulling her hood down and her cloak close to shield her from the view and the spray of gore.<br><br>The yelling and howling didn't last long. After several seconds of silence, save for the gentle splash of the fountain, she cautiously pushed a fold of her hood aside.<br><br>Shadows hugged every shape, lying thickly black beneath trees that now looked blighted and dead. The grass and flowers had withered to a crumbling ash, all but a small green circle about where the girl had hunkered. There was little recognizable left about the garden but the stone fountain, and what had been men were now palm-sized chunks and lengths of cracked bone, evenly distributed across the wasted ground. Aza hadn't witnessed -- or smelled -- something so viciously horrible since... since Dean's killing spree in the safehouse. <br><br>The shadows drifted. Aza called out something soft in foxspeak, and all the blackness moved and rolled towards her, reforming into a single fox as it did.<br><br><em>Treasure! </em>it said proudly, a wisp of darkness uncurling from it and divulging a shower of coins and rings and bracelets and small knives at Aza's feet. The stuff was, of course, all dripping with still-warm blood. Not a bad haul, acknowledged Aza's practical nature, though there was nothing with which to clean the dead men's possessions except her cloak. The garment was already splattered, though, and there was enough booty here to buy a new one, so... she quickly but gingerly began to wipe the items clean with her hem and scoop them into her bag.<br><br><em>Leave room, </em>said the fox. <em>I'm sleepy now.</em> And it yawned.<br><br>Aza only nodded, trying not to look any further than about a foot away from her task. Trading a few of these baubles for a new clean outfit and a bottle or two of wine would go a long way in forgetting about all of this.<br><br><em>Our Knight is here,</em> the fox mumbled, just as Aza became likewise aware that Donovan was finally within earshot. "In here, are we," she said rather needlessly, since Don could probably sense them just the same, and there was a trail of carnage smeared up the stairs and into the street for him to follow anyway.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>06-08-2015, 16:08:58</strong>
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				Donovan hunkered low as he stepped away from Methuseld. If he walked hunched over -just right-, he was no bigger or taller than the average native man, and with dark hair and&nbsp; features, he blended in rather well - with his cloak wrapped about him to obstruct easy view of his weapons and armor. He blinked, still feeling as though someone had just kicked him in the head. He knew Dean was either dead... or pretty close to it, could sense it, the departure providing a feeling like having a body-sized scab ripped free from every inch of his skin before it was time to heal all on its own. If something out there could kill Dean... <br><br>A -weaker- Dean, Donovan reminded himself as he merged into the mass of people moving this way and that on a busy morning. Dean's portrayal of a thirteen year old boy told Donovan that he had a lost a goodly amount of his power and was slowly regenerating. How had he lost so much of his darkness? Aza was the answer, and Donovan wasn't sure he really wanted to know how she had done it. It either involved sex... or lots of killing, and since there hadn't been anyone else on their ship that he was aware of, Donovan wagered that it was the later. <br><br>Donovan shivered, remembering Aza's not-so-gentle come-on to him. What would have happened to -him- had Donovan succumbed? Part of him almost felt guilty, as if doing so would have somehow protected Dean from becoming her... 'victim'? It had been tempting, he reminded himself... -very- tempting. Sexual activity was one way to more quickly 'recharge' glory... but it had felt like such bad timing... <br><br>Donovan sighed, and then blinked, and then froze in place for a second, being jostled by others trying to pass by him. Slowly he turned in place, until he faced a certain direction. It was... odd... feeling Dean in -that- direction, when he knew that he shouldn't be sensing Dean at all. Only, it wasn't -Dean-, truly, but rather a 'ghost' of an image of him... Whatever the fuck it was, though, was enough to have Donovan moving that direction. He had heard Methuseld call out something about the stables as he left the alleyway, and he wanted to call back, 'Good idea'!, but that might have just attracted attention. Donovan would simply have faith that after he grabbed Aza, by the time she and he got to the stables Methuseld would have four horses ready to go. Dean would catch up with them... in time.<br><br>The knight followed his senses and began walking. Smaller, lighter men were pushed unceremoniously out of the way, though few complained. This busy sort of mass of humanity seemed like the normal thing for this type of day, and though it was a hindrance, it had been a boon so far to the travelers as well. The farther he walked, the stronger the 'feeling' got, and the draw of something 'Dean-like' pulled him through a large archway, at which time he stopped, feeling the ground grow slick beneath his feet. Looking down, he saw the dark, crimson-black signs of carnage. <br><br>Donovan couldn't help but smirk.<br><br>He heard Aza's voice calling out, now, confirming that he was in the right place. When he reached the courtyard, though, he looked around to see that little remained of the enemy, and the place was seemingly quiet. His eyes were drawn quickly to where Aza stood, blood splattered on her cloak but otherwise apparently unharmed. That -sense-, too, led him directly to her like a beacon, and for a moment, a brief flicker of time - he wondered if this was Dean just fucking with him. But as he approached, he realized it really was her.<br><br>"Come on!" he half-whispered, half-shouted. "Methuseld is getting horses ready. Dean... will join us later," he assured her. Even as he took her hand, there was something so Dean-like about her, but he didn't have time to analyze it. They were being hunted, after all. He would have simply scooped her up and carried her, but THAT would have looked odd out on the streets and would have drawn attention that they didn't need. Donovan glanced around and saw another exit - different than the one he had come in. Pulling on her hand, holding it tightly, he led the way without further explanation. At worst, he figured he'd act as a shield for her if they were attacked. Surely she'd be ok with that, he figured.<br><br>Out into the crowd they moved, and Donovan's hand tightened on Aza's to make sure the link would not be broken. He wasn't hurting her, of course, but his grip was firm. Not long after they set into the crowd, almost like tossing themselves onto the waves of an ocean, they heard a scream behind them back from whence they had come. Aza's 'artful display' of human remains had been discovered apparently, and not a moment too soon. That might even help them, he figured, drawing the attention of any nearby thugs, perhaps, and he was right. <br><br>Donovan guided them through the crowd, occasionally raising his head up to get a bearing on their location, setting a 'course' through the crowd in a straight line for where the stables should be. Relief at seeing the stables nearby was suddenly blotted out by the appearance of a thug with a scowl on his face, pushing through a few members of the crowd with a large knife leveled toward Donovan. The man's growl could not really be heard above the din of the crowd, but those nearby could see the glint of steel and struggled to get out of the way. Donovan's free hand shot down at the last second, grabbed the man's wrist in a crushing grip, and instead of pushing him away, Donovan simply pulled hard, drawing the man toward Donovan at an increased speed... until he was suddenly stopped by the front of Donovan's forehead smashing into the man's face. <br><br>No one but Donovan and maybe Aza could hear the muffled sound of the man's nose shattering, or the man's gurgled scream of pain and surprise as he crumpled to the ground. Donovan released the man's hand and continued on, stepping over him and making sure not to trip as he proceeded onward. Several random passersby panicked, and soon a small circle of space opened up around the fallen man bleeding profusely from his face. But by then, Donovan and Aza were already far away.<br><br>Donovan let out a sigh of relief as he saw the stables just ahead, hoping in his mind over and over again that Methuseld had made it there. "Almost there!" Donovan looked back at Aza, his grip still firmly on her hand. If they could just get to some horses and get the hell out of town....<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>10-08-2015, 02:24:23</strong>
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				Summary of the Eagle’s Talon<br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Key Members:<br>Mylin: Owner, assassin. Beautiful and deadly, with a number of supernatural abilities that make her easily on par with the foursome.<br>Staniel: Minor prophet, able to detect probabilities and outcomes well enough to win most bets.<br>Chasen: Shapeshifting muscle, capable of troll-like regeneration and able to survive all but the most devastating of attacks. He’s also resistant to magic and fire, which make him doubly effective.<br>Larsony: A female capable of manipulating minds with any of her facilities – voice, appearance, etc. She also has the ability to commune with animals and insects, making her an ideal spy. </div></div><br><br>There came a lull in activity around the fleeing group; near the massacre of fox, the efficient manhandling of Knight, and the careful subtlety of former General. The city remained in chaos, people milling about the streets all throughout the docks and nearby domains. Some fights continued to break out and mercenary groups, acting on orders, continued to sift through the madness in order to find their quarry. The passage of time was not on their side though; the more organized the city’s resistance became, the more of their numbers that were caught, killed, or otherwise detained, the less of a hold the mercenaries would have on their own in the aftermath. This little military action, although energetic, would have a lingering cost on Kulratha. <br><br>Mylin turned to Chasen, his bulk currently barely over eight feet, hide so thick that it looked like his skin was made of armor. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”<br><br>Chasen grunted expressively.<br><br>“They are going to escape without much effort at this rate,” Staniel murmured from nearby, to which Larsony nodded agreement. <br><br>The primary members of Eagle’s Talon stood in one of their private safe holds, a darkened room at the end of an alley near which Methuseld was about to pass on her way to the stable. They’d arrived with lightning speed that was part training, part familiarity with the city, and part supernatural assistance in one shape or another. <br><br>“You’ll need to fix that then, won’t you,” Mylin said, addressing Larsony with an arched brow, as if to suggest the woman had been sleeping through everything that had been happening thus far.<br><br>Larsony, a beautiful, petite woman with the sorts of curves that magic *probably* had a hand in, dimpled and shrugged distractingly, her expansive breasts producing an almost elastic wobble. “As you wish,” she said, voice smoky. <br><br>As she ran, a single small insect – a cricket – jumped upon Methuseld’s cloak and began producing a rather odd melody. There was something sensuous in that tone, something sinful and delicious and insightful. But beneath that was something more…bloody. Mercenaries were coming. People were coming to stop her, to weigh her down, to keep her from obtaining her objectives. How dare they? The infectious tone was accompanied by the sound of approaching footsteps. A quartet of men sliding into view in front of the stable, their heads all shaven bald, strange-looking insects (massive cockroaches) twitching on their shoulders. Lacking the normal marks of mercenaries, these men had the quiet, calm appearance of monk-assassins and moved in lock-step, their eyes vaguely glazed as the sounds of the commanding bugs controlled them. <br><br>Simultaneously, a chorus of croaking cicadas woke near Donovan and Aza. The songs they wove were three fold: sleep for the drowsy shadow, a spike of arousal for the thoughtful knight, and greed for the flighty Aza. Like a blanket, one layer of the song settled across Shadow-Aza’s ears, whispering for her to relax, to take her fill, to sate herself in shadows. For the Knight came images of Aza’s luscious body, hints of what she might do to him, if she’d been so good at working with his Shadow. And for Aza, hints of what baubles and trinkets might await around each corner, lurk within the nearby buildings – or, better yet, rest in the care of the men and women coming to detain and kill them. Why not murder and steal their way through the city, growing wealthy and neat as they went?<br><br>More of the bald men – another 3 – stepped into view near Aza and Donovan, their graceful steps enhanced by the glowing fire around the center-most one’s shoulders. This was a monk who had mastered fire and would, no doubt, wield it in his punches and kicks. There were no visible cockroaches on these, though the timbre and tone of the cicada song seemed to alter as they approached, potentially suggesting that there might be similar insects inside the mens’ robes. <br><br>None of these songs was perfect, of course; not divided so many ways. Yet this was surely a sign of true power: a mind split in dozens of directions, simultaneously spying and directing those within its control. Such was the power of the Eagle’s Talon. <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>13-08-2015, 01:59:12</strong>
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				Methuseld was walking quickly, preoccupied with the task at hand while still making sure to disguise herself as best she could. She would have to make sure the stablemaster did not make an attempt to call for help as she waited with four tacked horses, who knew for how long, for the others to arrive. That meant an unpleasant amount of forcefulness against a man who was an innocent bystander. Methuseld had killed many men, but she was not one for wanton violence - it all seemed so simple back at the alley, but as the task drew nearer she grew more uneasy about it. So preoccupied was she, in fact, that she'd just noticed the four men who'd stepped in front of the stables, searching the crowds and immediately finding her.<br><br>They were bald, their robe-swathed bodies moving in perfect unison, and had something dark on each of their shoulders. Only as they neared her did she see what it was. A bug - a large cockroach or something similar, sat easily on each bare, powerful, combat-ready shoulder. Antennae swaying slightly, each bug seemed perfectly calm aside from the usual buggy movements - a slightly unnatural twitch every once in a while. Thoroughly disgusted, Methuseld made a face that belied her lack of understanding and total displeasure with the situation. Yet it was hard not to be intrigued, just a little bit. Who were these men? Clearly monks of some sort judging by the garments, yet she'd never heard of an order that kept cockroaches as pets. Especially such large ones. And their movements - so precise, so well-coordinated... She'd never seen such impeccable training. <br><br>Yet immediately the general knew, with a thought that came like a clear whistle above the din, the buzz, the musical cacophony of the city, that they were here to take her away. Perhaps to enslave, perhaps to break, perhaps to kill. They were coming for her precious newborn freedom. And like a any mother, she would give her life rather than surrender it.<br><br>With naught but the briefest of thoughts given to what lay inside her armor, Methuseld accelerated her step towards them. They, likewise, did the same, fanning out. Street-wise citizens immediately made a circle to move out of the way, cluing in the less-so to follow suit. Like two unstoppable forces, the five individuals approached each other, tension hanging in the air like a curtain of chainmail. Closer... Closer... Inexorably the enemies approached each other. Just a dozen steps away... Less than ten now... A sword gleaming hungrily in the morning sun, singing as it cleared its sheath beneath the heavy cloak its owner had wrapped herself in to order to avoid this exact situation. The four men did not smile, did not grimace, did not exchange words. All five of them knew, as if directed by an outside force, what the purpose of the meeting was.<br><br>Sword met palm, was parried by years of training. A kick from a heavy steel boot, a quiet hiss of steel slicing air... Methuseld was a dervish of death, holding all four of the monks at bay with strikes of deadly precision as they, like wolves, waited for the perfect time to strike. Probing, testing, attempting to pry open her defenses. Spinning with perfect balance, perfect footwork, perfect slashes, perfect aim, she chased each attacker away as he attempted to guide her into a trap of three others. More than wolves. More coordinated than she'd ever seen before. No one could do what they were doing. How? Magic?? <br><br>Time ticked on... no one had made any progress in slaying the other. Seconds flowed into minutes like gentle streams into gushing rivers. That meant Methuseld was losing, because she did not have the endurance of four highly trained warriors - just one highly trained one. For the first time in the few short hours since she'd earned her freedom, she wished she'd had the curse back. She was sweating, golden hair sticking ungracefully to glistening ivory skin. Panting with each break, she knew that this fight was drawing to a close. "Bastards!" She shouted, chain curtain closing in, wrapping itself around her neck, closing tighter and tighter and tighter. Running out of time, running out of breath, running out of options, running out of life to live. Eyes desperate, she couldn't believe that the end was upon her already. How?! How could it be? At the end of the day, the great general, Methuseld von Ellegarde... a mere mortal woman, like any other... Staring death in the face, inches away from its tender kiss, and just as afraid as anyone?<br><br>A man got inside her defenses - a powerful fist crashed against steal armor, sending the warrior sprawling back as the now bloodied fist returned for a second onslaught. She regained her balance, lashed out with her blade, tried to hack off the offending limb but missed, swinging wide. Too tired, too weak. Not enough, against these men. So coordinated, so powerful. Too many of them. How was this possible??? <br><br>Another punch sent her to the ground. All four men were upon her now, fists, kicks, powerful fingers trying to rip off pieces of her face, tear her from limb to limb, choke her, end her. Just as the screams of pain sounded, however.... they stopped.<br><br>"Shhhh, child... Rest a while." <br><br>And resumed - another's voice. A man's. A monk took a few steps back, stomach spilling his innards onto the ground in front of him. In a few seconds, the rest of the men were flung away as well. The person crouched on the ground was not the same one they had descended upon. Could never have been. Her raven hair, her black armor, her ebony sword... All otherworldly, almost nightmarish in appearance - like the branches of dead trees in a forest that never saw the light of day, spikes twisted this way and that from her, threatening to impale any unlucky individual that dared venture too close. The tattered cloak hanging around her was the only thing that had linked her to the silver-and-gold warrior who’d lost the fight moments ago. <br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7528/16260954496_400690db22_b.jpg)</div></div><br><br>This one rose, walked towards the nearest monk. Her stride was serpentine, graceful, sensual; too-red lips formed a sultry, cocky smile as the piercing pits of her eyes bored directly into him. Blood dripped from her lips down her chin, onto her nearly-bare breasts. Where Methuseld’s armor covered her from head to toe, this new black armor covered almost none of the woman. If the monks were ordinary they might have looked, but the toned stomach, soft feminine thighs, large cleavage of two milky-white breasts… all were lost on them. A murmur passed in the crowd of onlookers, confused yet relieved. Her charms were not lost on the men in the crowd, terrified though they were of her.<br><br>Once more, the fighters converged. This time, she let them get close to her – two attacked her from behind, striking with deadly fists as she fell upon the third one, sword ripping limb from limb with nary a thought as to how the two other monks planned to stop her. Then a powerful burst of energy sent them flying back, and she turned to them after a final stab into their friend. Her ivory skin was covered in blood, yet she seemed to relish it. A moan of brief satisfaction. “Oh how I have longed for this moment. And yet you are not normal, are you? You do not scream enough as you are killed." She frowned, disappointed a tinge of annoyance. "Sad. I shall have to wait a while before relinquishing this lovely tool left in my possession. Yes, I think I shall stay a while.”<br><br><em>Ah, no response? Good. Rest a while longer. I will take good care of us.</em><br><br>The monks attacked the slightly disinterested woman again, and by chance her sword managed to cut clean through one of the cockroaches as she defended herself. That seemed to strike a nerve with the bug’s owner, who collapsed upon the ground screaming, writhing in agony. The second man, now on his own with his buggy friend, took a step back, blinking. “Tis the first time I’ve seen you two do something different than the other… It makes one curious, and anxious to test a small theory.” Eyes grew wide with excitement as the warrior attacked again, rushing forward, ducking under the rushed attack, and wrapping a hand around the bug to pull it off him. The magical being felt something try to surge within her – yet she was not exactly human, and managed to resist long enough to crush the creature with her bare hand. <br><br>The second monk collapsed as well, screaming, writhing in agony. The fight was over, for all intents and purposes. Attacking her was now the furthest thing from the two monk-assassins’ minds. But the black warrior wasn’t interested in excuses. She ended them slowly, slicing limb from limb again and again and again, like a small boy picking apart some animal-shaped pastry. Then, when she was done, she rolled her eyes with a certain amount of ennui. “Like an interrupted orgasm, your deaths. Thoroughly disappointing. So little fear, so few tears, and not enough pain.” Stepping away, she turned her eyes to the stables. But everyone around had fled by then - even the stablemaster. Well.... at least it wasn't stealing if they were abandoned, right?<br><br>The woman approached the stables, then looked around. What was that noise? That music. It was always in her ear, like an annoying child that would not leave alone unless it was struck. Hard. Across the rump! The darker Methuseld knew when magic was afoot - she was 10% magical (the other 90% was drop-dead sexiness [emphasis on the drop-dead], which was magical in its own right). Aaaaaaanyways. Something was afoot. Or ashoulder. With a flick of the arm, a small cricket was now held tightly in a gloved hand, its little cricket face turned to face a very annoyed human one. "I don't know who you are. I don't know if you're just a thoroughly <em>annoying</em> little cricket, or if there's something or some<em>one</em> more to you. But if there is...-" a wild-eyed, maniacal grin, "-... I shall fiiiiiiind <em>youuuuu</em>. And I'll chop off whatever private parts you possess while I drink blood from your still-beating heart. Won't that be <em><strong>FUN!?</strong></em>-" SQUISH. "Ohh... bye bye, for now."<br><br>A hissed sigh of relief, followed by a shiver, like a chill, as the music finally faded. "Well, that feels much better. I have threatened either a now-dead cricket, or whatever blasted buggers are trying to kill us. Either way," she twitched slightly as the after-effects of the magic dissipated, "it'll be much more fun to kill without that annoying song now. Blah blah freedom, chains, getting raped, blah blah."<br><br>The horse whinnied as she approached it, but it was so beautiful - a sorrel or red dun, who cared. "So bloody-red you are, so lovely... You are mine, I know it. We shall be fast friends, I think. Why, do not be afraid, shhhhh... There there. I am not so bad, am I? <em>Not a scary old witch</em>, eh?!" She wiped some blood off her face, smeared it on the horse's forehead, where it barely stood apart from creature's rust-colored fur. "There, blood siblings we are, now. Up and at 'em, friend." <br><br>A while later four (very uneasy) horses were tacked, waiting by the gate. A guard stared, and the woman stared back, half sultry smile, half demented grin. Licked her lips. Give him both chills and an erection. <br><br><em>Ugh, where ARE they?! Am I supposed to toy around with guards FOREVER???</em>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>14-08-2015, 20:45:27</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan strolled into the human remains as if doing so was commonplace, which didn't exactly imply a lot of great things about the life he led these days. Aza didn't move to meet him, but she didn't seek to avoid him taking up her hand, either. The fox was already nestled in the bag, amidst all the rewards of its murder. <em>Self-defense,</em> it said sleepily, eyes mostly shut. It looked a little thinner and smaller than it had before. Less fluffy.<br><br>Don assured them that Methuseld was off doing something useful, and followed that up with how Dean would rejoin them at some unspecified place and time. That got him a dubious blue glance from both Azas. "But, he... was not Dean killed? I felt so," the girl said, stepping gingerly over somebody's ribcage and trying to not let her cloak snag on the jagged ends of bone or drag through the bloody mud. It was definitely time for new shoes, too. The thought of that was uplifting. Curiously, so was the thought of Dean actually having survived. The fox poked its small black nose out the top of the bag, likewise interested in Don's explanation for this one.<br><br>The three of them abandoned that gruesome scene and rejoined the commuting crowd, and to her credit, Aza made a noticeable effort to keep close to Donovan and not be separated or stray. But the sense of security that the big man's presence offered was somewhat offset by the shadowy little doppelganger in her purse. It'd seemed like Don held some measure of control over Dean, though; surely the Knight could handle a single small, shady fox. The animal probably only held a fraction of Dean's darkness. Probably.<br><br><em>Dean brought this upon himself,</em> the fox reminded her with another yawn, having squirmed over into its back to hold and examine one of the gold coins between its tiny front feet. "And now, it is upon me," Aza pointed out, pressing close to Don as he navigated them around a camel-drawn cart in the center of the street. She didn't know that Donovan was attributing Dean's state to the foxgirl herself, or at least, to some action on foxgirl's part. Aza would be more than delighted to tell him it all started when Dean called in that Greater Shadow and then didn't know what the fuck to do with it. Aza was a bystander. The most innocent of ones. Like a lamb. Sinless.<br><br>With her hood down and only trying to keep pace with the much taller Knight, she didn't see their latest attacker until Don had rearranged his face and was pulling her over the man's prone form. The sight of yet more blood streaming between the foe's fingers sort of made her want to throw up. Wasn't there a limit to one day? She remembered sitting beneath a canopy on a cushion beside the sorceress, overlooking the city arena where slaves and beasts battled to the death for the entertainment of the onlookers. Naturally, Aza had never felt anything like sympathy for those being butchered down below, but she had never taken pleasure in witnessing the sport, either. Gratuitous wealth and food and sex were all fine, but she had no stomach for violence.<br><br>'Almost there,' said Donovan as they came into sight of the stables, and at the same moment, the drone of insects rose up in a sinister chorus.<br><br>For the first time, Aza hung back a step, making Don have to tug at her slender wrist. "I do not ride, alone on horseback," she warned him. Aza and horses held a mutual disdain. To them, she was small, but smelled like a predator; to her, they were very large, and smelled like horses. And they always disagreed about what the other should be doing. The group would have to double up once they met with Methuseld, then. Maybe one ride with Aza, the other carry the fox...<br><br>Don had slowed and then stopped, the three of them standing at the edge of the large open square that laid just inside the huge city gates. Across the square, in the shadow of the walls, waited the stable (alongside which, just out of view, Methuseld was currently besieged). The cicadas hummed, louder.<br><br>"What is it?" Aza asked him, glancing up from his elbow, lifting her free hand to push the fall of her pale blue hair back from her cheek. From inside the shoulder bag, the fox was snoring. "Why do you look at me like..."<br><br>She trailed off, looking by Donovan at a palanquin being toted past, the conveyance heavily draped and tassled and the servants carrying it better dressed and bejeweled than any commoner. <em>That</em> was the way to travel, not being dragged around by some half-talented thief. If she had <em>that</em>... and she <em>could</em> have it, it wouldn't be hard at all to ask the shadows to come and go <em>get</em> it...<br><br>She gave a little shake of her blue head, as if to rid her ears of the oddly-timed, disorienting cricket noise. Donovan's grip on her hand felt too tight so she tried to shake that off too, her gaze following the sunlight glinting off the palanquin's golden inlays, and taking absolutely no note of the new men marching ominously their way. In its sleep, the fox growled.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>17-08-2015, 09:34:41</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan, of course, was oblivious to the transformation that Methuseld had endured not too far away. He also wasn't aware of the fox in Aza's satchel, or its importance or what it represented. Oh, he had questions aplenty, but those questions would not be answered while they were running for their lives.<br><br>And then there was Dean, or rather, Dean's disappearance. The big warrior was still in disbelief that Dean had been... dispatched... and that worried him. Of course, he reminded himself quickly that Dean had somehow... deteriorated somehow during his time aboard the chaos ship. And that, too, was a bit freaky in the knight's eyes. But all that mattered now was getting to safety, which meant getting the fuck out of this town.<br><br>Moments later, he heard a scream from behind them – probably back around that courtyard where he had found Aza. The mess that had been left there... it had reminded him of Dean, even though he knew it couldn't be. He -felt- Dean perish... for now. The pain of it still echoed in his arms and legs, making Donovan wish even more that they could simply relax... just for a few minutes, but he knew that was not possible.<br><br>Sweating, feeling his energy slowly being depleted with no immediate relief in sight, he trudged on, and no one they came across posed any sort of true obstacle as the bigger man, clad in bits and pieces of armor beneath his cloak, pushed through the crowd relentlessly, heading toward the agreed-upon meeting location with Methuseld. <br><br>After warning Aza that they were almost there, she resisted, for the first time, causing him to stop and turn to face her. She refused to ride alone on horseback, and the big knight sighed.<br><br>“Fine, you can ride with me or Methuseld, but come on, or there won't be anything left of us to make the ride at all,” he urged, then turned and continued, pulling her studiously along behind him. Fucking -women-! They were running for their -lives-, and she was worried about riding a horse? Seriously? Aza was in -definite- need of discipline... a spanking, or perhaps many spankings – something to help her attitude adjust to one that was a little more attuned with the plight they found themselves in.<br><br>~She took care of those mooks in the courtyard with no one else's help...~ he reminded himself, quickly realizing that he might have underestimated her.<br><br>When the stables finally came into view, Donovan paused, stepping to the side, eying the structure to see if it was burning down or if city guards were hauling away a dead or wounded Methuseld. Everything looked fine. The cicada's song was louder her, and that gave him hope that they weren't far from the city walls – and freedom. <br><br>He turned his head to regard Aza as she raised a hand to brush aside some of her beautiful locks. Here in the light, away from that chaos ship, she was -beautiful-. So small, fragile... he could understand why Dean had wanted to do terrible things to her (mostly good). But he also reminded himself what had happened AFTER... Dean had been turned into a child, which Donovan had attributed to the Chaos ship's powers. But now... could it have been a result of being fucked into submission by Aza?<br><br>Donovan nearly gasped – forgetting about their plight, forgetting about the danger. That HAD to explain what had happened! Dean had fucked her, and she had used some witchcraft to steal some of his... energy, or whatever. Donovan remembered how Aza had tried to seduce -him-, too, and he had refused... just barely! Would that fate have also befell him, if he had given-in at that time?<br><br>She looked up at him, full lips parting to speak – full lips -made- to wrap around the crown of a man's cock, he was certain... and why not -his-? She had a slender waist, and he was sure his big hands, when used together, could almost encircle it completely fingertip to fingertip. And her breasts... far too large for a woman of her small stature... made for palming while riding atop her, beneath her... or plowing from behind. He felt the tightening in his breeches, the pain of too much confinement struggling against the pain of Dean's passing.<br><br>Aza turned her head, distracted by something, and Donovan likewise turned his. While she was gazing a new method of transportation befitting a princess, Donovan's eyes settled on the approaching monks. The center of them was the leader, quite obviously, and likely the most dangerous. Why did they have to show up now, when he was -just- about to enjoy Aza's pleasures? If she could give them to Dean, why wouldn't she give them to -him-? All they'd need to do was slip around an alley, just out of sight...<br><br>Donovan blinked as the first one, the one on the left, took a swing. The knight hadn't even drawn his weapons, distracted by the siren's song that the cicada's played for his ears alone, apparently. The monk's fist cracked across his face, nearly breaking his nose, blood sprouting from both nostrils, but he didn't have time to examine further as the one on the other side attacked almost simultaneously.<br><br>In an instant, Donovan called upon the Glory, his skin hardening, his strength increasing again. The second monk's punch crashed into the side of Donovan's head – and while the knight didn't feel it, the monk did, pulling back his appendage with a shout of surprise and pain, as if he had just solidly punched a stone wall. <br><br>Then the leader struck, fists clenched together, the impact sounding like a shot from a canon. The force of it sent Donovan flying -through the air-, a dozen yards back, above the heads of people – and into the wall of a nearby store. The crowd around screamed and scattered, which ended up giving Donovan time to collect himself as he caved in a good portion of the sandstone wall, but the blow had certainly knocked the wind from him, and he raised his eyes to see the two monks approaching, and even the third, arm broken or not, cradling it still, walked forward now with a look of resolve on his face.<br><br>Staggering... swaying a bit... Donovan – covered in dusty and looking almost ghost-like-, stepped out of the rubble. At least the three monks seemed to have their attention on him, and not Aza.<br><br>-His- Aza! And when he was done here, he was going to-...<br><br>Donovan's survival instincts kicked in as the three rushed him as one, his hands moving down to draw forth his blades. They were shorter and quicker than Methuseld's, but didn't have the reach that her blade did. But these men -wanted- in close, and Donovan was more than happy to oblige.<br><br>What took place then was a breathtaking display of matched movements – blurs of skin, armor, shining blades, and fiery fists. Parry, block, thrust, parry, dodge, block... Every blow he threw their way, the three monks countered. In return, Donovan also countered theirs.... mostly. A stray one here or there would collide with his armor, with his body, but he was focused on stopping the smoldering punches of their leader, too.<br><br>Donovan had to change his tactics. He had to trust in his magical armor, and he knew this would either work wonderfully... or fail spectacularly. He focused -all- of his attention on the monk with the broken wrist. Thrust, thrust, swing, feint.... -success-.....<br><br>His blade slid between the monk's ribs, the point emerging from the man's back. The monk's eyes widened as he looked down – just in time to see Donovan pull his blade free, having suffered several blows from the other two.<br><br>Donovan quickly, without breaking stride, repeated the process on the -other- lesser monk. Block, block, block, footsweep, double-blades forward in scissor maneuver... success. The second monk underling staggered back, half of his throat missing, blood gushing like a swift flowing brook from where his windpipe used to be. Wide-eyed, he staggered back and fell.<br><br>The monk leader stepped back, hands whirling in a defensive display to put room between himself and Donovan. Something -hurt- in his ribs... the leader's punches were -brutal-, even with his skin-spell, and he was sure a rib or two had been cracked – something he could worry about -later-... AFTER fucking Aza completely senseless, of course.<br><br>“Looks like it's just you and me, pal. Head on out, if you want. No need for you to die today.”<br><br>The monk's hands smoldered, and he hesitated. But the bug on his shoulder, which Donovan just now noticed, screamed out his cry, and the monk scowled and charged forward. <br><br>Another spectacular display ensued, two arms blocked by blades or armor, two blades mostly whishing harmlessly through the air where the monk had been just a split-second earlier. The two men fought, and Donovan -knew- his time was just about up. He hadn't had time to recharge yet... he needed to regain his power. Soon, he would run out, and become just a normal man until he could recover...<br><br>And sex was an incredible way to do just that.<br><br>And idea struck him, and he set it up quickly. He let his weariness start to show, and the Monk's brow crinkled just enough to tell Donovan that he saw it. Donovan let the man get a blow in... and another, and then finally he left himself open, for a split second, across his chest. He knew the monk would see it, but would he take the bait?<br><br>He did.<br><br>In a blur of movement, the monk lined up his fists together again and brought them forth like a lighting strike...<br><br>Right onto the pair of diamond-like spikes that Donovan had willed to extend straight out from his chest. <br><br>The monk literally impaled both fists and arms along the length of those spokes. The tip pieced the monk's hands between the second and third knuckles, shattered bones and split right between the radius and ulna of each forearm. The tips of those spikes pierced right out of the monk's elbows, blood spraying down the front of his robes. <br><br>Eyes wide with shock, the monk struggled to catch his breath, breathing in deeply in order to scream in pain.<br><br>Donovan's arms both circled and whirled, and he retracted those spikes back into his body just as both of his blades came down across each of the man's forearms, severing each of them neatly in a shower of blood. <br><br>The man did scream, then – for a heartbeat, before Donovan neatly removed his head from his shoulders.<br><br>The body tumbled to the ground and Donovan leaned over, gasping for breath, feeling weak and exhausted. Was Methuseld dead? Did Aza flee, or did other denizens grab her while he was fighting for his life? When he looked up, he blinked sweat from his eyes as he saw Aza -sitting- in the palanquin, watching the spectacle from there. Where the previous occupant was, he had no idea. <br><br>His lust for her began to receed as the cry of the cicada's seemed to fade somewhat, at least enough to allow him to think more clearly. With a growl, gritting his teeth against the pain, he rushed to the palanquin, grabbed Aza's wrist even if she tried to avoid him, and pulled her out.<br><br>“We need to go NOW. And riding in THAT is not going to work!” he said, then turned and headed toward the agreed-upon meeting location where he simply -prayed- that Mehtuseld would be waiting. But there was one good thing about the commotion that he had just been apart of.<br><br>The street was clear. For now.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dariusfallenstar</strong> on <strong>20-08-2015, 01:57:52</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Larsony screamed, her voice high and loud, body contorting with pain as her mind snapped back into her body. Controlling that fire monk had been difficult, but controlling him in addition to his acolytes while simultaneously keeping track of each party member – that had been pushing the very limits of her abilities. Dropping to her knees in a maneuver that was probably a bit too practiced (ahem), she loosed a howl of pain before flopping over, passed out, blood oozing from her mouth and nostrils. <br><br>“Well, I guess that’s that,” Staniel said, looking over at Mylin, his expression placid. He’d expected the group to escape, after all. <br><br>“Too bad you didn’t foresee that,” Mylin snapped back at the youthful profit, gesturing towards Larsony’s collapsed body.<br><br>Staniel shrugged, a delicate motion for the handsome man. “My vision is not unlimited. Some outcomes cannot be easily predicted. This was one. A mere side-result though. Nothing to worry about.”<br><br>“Not nothing to worry about,” Mylin said with a sigh, anger evaporating. “We’ll need to get the guild together and prepare a proper group, not just mercenaries and Larsony. This little threesome is going to require real risk for us to net any profit, especially after this.”<br><br>Chasen stepped forward, doughy flesh shifting into that of a tall, lean, dark skinned man. “Shall I retrieve our investment in the mercenaries, Mylin?”<br><br>Mylin considered a moment, nostrils flaring as she weighed whether or not it was worth the risk of recouping their funds or rushing pursuit of the group. Eventually, prudence and greed reigned over battle lust. “Go. And when you return, attend Larsony. No doubt her pride will require massaging.” Turning to Staniel, she waved a hand in a different direction. “Summon the guild. Everyone you foresee as being useful to us. Acquire a teleportation scroll or two while you’re at it.” She paused, looking in the direction of the stables, then continues, “They might have a day or two, but we’ll be on their asses soon enough.”<br><br>“As you wish,” Staniel said, all humility now, as he wandered off to obey his leader’s wishes.<br><br>Turning back to study Larsony’s unconscious body, Mylin briefly considered having a little fun at the attractive woman’s expense, then decided that this wasn’t a good time for being perverse or childish. There were more important matters to attend for now. Like keeping anyone else from reaching the trio before she and her guild could. From the sheer amount of the bounty offered, she knew she’d have her hands full right up to the point that she acquired them. With a heavy sigh, Mylin activated the shadowy gemstone on one of her bracers. Instantly, her body became as smoke, a shadow billowing on the wind in the direction of the harbor. Which was where, coincidentally, another group of skilled mercenaries was just about to debark. Too bad they’d never find the trio’s trail – not with Mylin distracting them. <br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">I'd like Dean's absence to be fairly significant; the risk for his death shouldn't feel meaningless, so it'll be at least a night before he returns. During the next day or so the guild will be pretty occupied, so feel free to post rotations until you've gone through the night. Arky, you lucky bastard...</div></div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>21-08-2015, 06:43:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza had already slipped away by the time Donovan was receiving his first of many punches to the face. While he was getting hurled through walls and surrounded by swords, she -- and a small attending army of fox-shaped shadows -- were busily (and bloodlessly, thank you) commandeering the palanquin and all its attendants. Half the crowd in the square had fled; the other half hung back to watch the production starring Don and his opponents, one of whom was literally on fire. From the docks to the stables to all this out here, it was a pretty exciting day for this city. And it wasn't even noon.<br><br>"And that," Aza said, motioning at the feathered headpiece adorning one of the servants. The man shrugged and pulled it off to hand it up to her, readily giving up his old master's bauble rather than argue with the toothy black shades that hovered all around their little group. Aza pulled a few of the long colored feathers from the headpiece's gold settings and used them to poke at the nose of the actual fox, who snapped and batted at them from its snuggled-in nest of the shoulder bag. The fox still looked a bit bedraggled, but maybe Donovan extending what was left of his Glory had given it enough energy to wake up and sleepily help collect anything of value they could find. Indeed, the bag was now stuffed to the brim, with shiny things and fox.<br><br>A sort-of cheer went up, and Aza glanced over through the parted curtains to see that Don had finally managed to dispatch one of the bug-led monks. The crowd had apparently decided the Knight was the good guy, or at least their rooting interest. She supposed she hoped he won.<br><br>"Perhaps we should move on, mistress?" one of the other servants inquired hesitantly, watching the fight get bloodier. Much like Aza herself, most of her new entourage was happy to serve whoever showed up and wasn't going to whip them too badly. After the shadows had swooped on and swallowed up the corpulent merchant that had previously ridden in the palanquin, its bearers and guard turned to the pretty little foxgirl with no complaint or even much comment. She'd be a lot lighter to tote around anyway.<br><br>Aza reached for a provided silver bowl for some grapes, and tossed a piece of fruit at the fox's head. "This fat man, had he a palace?" she asked first. What else beyond a palanquin might she just have inherited? This could be good.<br><br>"In Kulratha. Here, he was lodged at the Grand Hotel for the next fortnight," the servant answered, watching and applauding with the others as Donovan took the throat out of his second adversary.<br><br>"Hm," said Aza, and bit down on another grape. A fortnight sounded pretty long. She could fit a lot of relaxation into a fortnight on some dead merchant's golden dime. <br><br>"First," she decided, "we see how this is to end." 'This' being Donovan's confrontation, which shortly and grotesquely did. Don didn't even take a moment to celebrate over what was left of the monks, just staggered a little and then came storming over, looking like he'd just escaped death three or more times. The shadow-foxes scattered, like they didn't like the expression on his face.<br><br>"Congratulations," she told him pleasantly, which was a lot of syllables for her, but he only nabbed her by the jeweled wrist and pulled her from the padded platform, insisting that they had to leave, and immediately.<br><br>"But!" she said, frantically trying to grab something velvet or gold to hang on to.<br><br><em>The grapes!</em> whimpered the fox, from the bag still over the girl's shoulder.<br><br>Aza fought as he dragged her off towards the stables, until he was forced to pin her under an arm and half carry her. If she'd known the song the cicadas were singing to him, she might not have squirmed against him so much. Nah, she probably would've wiggled even more. And made sure her dress slipped much further off one slender shoulder than it did.<br><br><em>Um, who's that?</em> the fox asked, as Don hauled them through the big double doors and into the stalls. <br><br>Aza, half wrapped around one of Donovan's arms in an attempt to nip him somewhere unarmored, looked up to see the tall, spiky woman standing in front of four bridled and saddled horses. It took more than a wardrobe and hair change to throw off the foxgirl, though. "With her, I'll ride," Aza announced, abruptly letting go of the Knight to let her feet lightly drop to the floor, then shove the heavy fox-and-trinket-filled bag at him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>24-08-2015, 08:47:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan was in no mood for games, and he had a feeling Aza was. As he approached her, all these little 'shadow foxes' when scurrying away. Shadows... darkness... as if Aza had stolen pieces of Dean, which would confirm Donovan's suspicions that his dark-side's dalliance with Aza in the bedroom on the chaos ship had cost Dean far more than a bit of time.<br><br>She congratulated him, sounding even pleasant about it. Donovan barely shook his head. “There is nothing to be congratulated for,” he barked as he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her from her new instrument of locomotion. Aza began to protest, but Donovan wasn't having any of it. He was running low on juice, and if they fucked around long enough, he had a feeling there would be even -more- Monks on fire trying to stop them, and next time, he might not be able to save anyone, including himself.<br><br>One thing was for certain: he couldn't depend on the fox-girl. If she had had her way, she'd be lounging in someone's mansion right now, having left Donovan and the others behind.<br><br>In order to expedite things, Donovan half-hefted her up under his arm, lifting her off her feet so that they could kick back and forth through the air, as if she were trying to run. His... -urges-... towards her were receding, thank the gods... knowing, or at least heavily suspecting what Aza's foxy little snatch had done to Dean, Donovan was in -no- hurry to find out how it would affect -him-... even if a small part of him really -did- wanna know.<br><br>Donovan didn't see Methuseld upon approaching the stables, and his jaw clenched tightly. Couldn't -anyone- be depended on? The warrior-woman had agreed to a very simple task.... or, perhaps in her attempts to complete it, she had met her demise, been caught or worse. The little muscles on the sides of his jaws twitched and tensed, but after a moment, Donovan heard the sound of a horse whinny from nearby, toward the gates.<br><br>It -had- to be Methuseld. By Goram's hairy balls, it -had- to be her....<br><br>When they hauled around the corner of the stables and approached the nearby gate that led from the city (and freedom, Donovan hoped), it wasn't just Aza who looked wide-eyed in shock and surprise. <br><br>Before them with four hours stood the warrior-woman Methuseld, only, it -wasn't- Methuseld. Yes, there were hints of her appearance that gave Donovan the distinct impression that it was her, indeed, but she looked drastically different than she had looked less than a quarter hour ago when he had seen her last. <br><br>For a moment, Donovan wondered if he had been hit one too many times. <br><br>Aza, meanwhile, had obviously been quite impressed with the sight before her, and decided that riding with Methuseld The Dark would be far safer than being anywhere near Donovan. Aza nipped at him, which had no effect, but her squirming caused one of her elbows to strike the soft flank of his armor just beneath his left armpit, jabbing him right against his cracked ribs.<br><br>He bit his tongue hard, drawing blood, but did not let out a sound as he released the girl, who went darting towards Methuseld as if she were her own mother. <br><br>“Yeah... good... sounds good,” Donovan nodded, gasping and leaning over for just a moment to take a breath... lungs inflating... ribs protesting further. He managed to grab Aza's bag with his -other- hand just before she dropped it and darted away. Even now, he felt more like a bagman at an inn than anything else.<br><br>Steeling himself, he slowly rose upright and approached one of the untaken horses. “Nicely done,” he said to her swiftly, doing his best to breathe shallow. He could make a big deal of Methuseld's change, but he was still too stunned by it, truthfully. Had Dean somehow infected her, as well? Had the two of them been intimate at some point that Donovan hadn't known? <br><br>~Dean, Dean, Dean. Haven't I told you time and again you gotta be careful where you stick your dick?~<br><br>Donovan pulled himself up onto a saddle, and turned his horse for the gate. The guard – who had been frozen in place fantasizing about Methuseld the Dark, blinked when he saw Donovan and Aza join her, both of them splattered with blood. Thankfully, he didn't like the look of his odds against all three of them, and he sortta stepped aside... wisely... as the three headed for the gate, spurring their horses forward.<br><br>“Nice boots,” Donovan called over to Methuseld as they passed out of the bleeding city, heading away from it as quickly as they could, heading away to freedom... they hoped.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>25-08-2015, 01:19:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The shadow-kissed woman heard footfalls, turned to regard their source. "Took you long enough." Giving Donovan a grinning smile not dissimilar to a wolf attempting to earn one's trust, she grabbed Aza as the smaller woman happily shrugged off the armored man, pulling her up onto her horse with one hand on a slender forearm and the other offering support to the woman's rear. Not at all out of necessity. "Glad to meet you in person finally - our last encounter was <em>far</em> too brief."<br><br>Giving a soft word of encouragement to her horse, she led the other equines around to allow Donovan easy access to whichever he wished to ride. While Donovan secured his packs and mounted, Methuseld untied his horse from hers, allowing him free reign. The other two would stay secured for now - although Aza seemed to enjoy riding with someone, it never hurt to have a fresh horse. With Dean riding the third, the fourth could carry their things - since each horse carried less weight they could ride for longer. Speaking of Dean...<br><br>"Where's the shadow?" She looked from Aza to Donovan. Slowly, it dawned on her. "Really?" She waited for an explanation, then shrugged, shaking her head. "Very surprising. Though he was rather... puny... last I remember him. Maybe not <em>that</em> surprising then. Hyah!" She kicked her horse's flanks, and off they rode - her friend the gate guard was given only a sarcastic pout as his parting gift.<br><br>The city's blood-soaked streets grew more and more distant, its imposing gates less threatening by the second. They were riding at a comfortable - no need to tire out the horses - and so rode next to each other along the spacious road, flanked on either side by tent-speckled desert. In the opposite direction rode merchants on camels, caravans with imposing guards on horseback, and other weary travelers eager for a bath and comfortable night's rest. Donovan spoke up, complimenting her on her boots. She laughed, picking up easily on his obvious confusion, which (to be fair) he'd made no attempt to hide.<br><br>"Like what I've done with the place?" She asked, casually gesturing to herself with a delicate wave of the hand. Now of almost even height with her two companions, it was hard not to take stock of the dark woman's luscious smooth thighs spread against the saddle, naught but a black leather thong hiding her womanhood from the world, while the muscles in her abdomen coiled in intoxicating rhythm with the movement of the red horse beneath her. As she spoke, two things became obvious. The first was that Methuseld's accent with its trademark "z"s and rolling "r"s, acquired long ago in her homeland of Ardore, was totally gone. In its place was something more familiar to the three - a sort of mimic of a more upper-class Kulrathi. As refined and elegant as Methuseld's speech had been, yet alien nonetheless. The second was that each word coming from her beautiful lips was said with perfect enunciation, perfect pitch and intonation - it sounded oddly surreal given that it was only a woman speaking. That's all it was, right? <br><br>"Methuseld asked me for a little help. She's tired now, so she's taking a nap. A long one. We don't want her coming back before she's fully rested and ready, do we? So in the mean time, I'll be keeping her safe, comfortable, and close. But don't worry. I know you think she's sour, dour, boring as flour - I, on the other hand, am <em>far</em> more interesting, and much more fun as well. Oh - and <em>way</em> more powerful. I'm what she wishes she was. Which is why I'm here, in charge of this <em>lovely</em> body, and she's indisposed but very much alive and in one piece...-ish. Which is all to say we'll be having plenty of fun, the three of us, and you have nothing to worry about, Donovan." Giving an annoyed tsk, the black-clad warrior glanced up at the hot, rising sun, and wrapped her pale flesh in the tattered black cloak hanging from her back. Perhaps a hint as to her nature, perhaps not... Yet whatever skill or magic she'd used to stay alive, clearly she was not immune from the elements. That much was obvious.<br><br>Remembering the conversation, she extended a hand, touching Donovan's in a familiar manner. "Oh, by the way, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Methuseld's told me a lot about you, you handsome devil. No, I suppose that's not quite true - Dean was the devil, wasn't he? You may call me... ahh... hmmmm... I was going to reverse the letters in Methuseld's name to take as my own, but now that the sound was about to leave my lips I no longer like it. No matter, we'll figure it out. For now you may call me "Sexy", "Gorgeous", "Beautiful", or "Ravishing". Oohh, preferably the latter - ravishing sounds fun. And that goes for you too, little one," she said, leaning back into Aza a little. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>25-08-2015, 03:10:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				This new, nubilous version of Methuseld was not exactly dressed like a featherbed, but Aza settled in against the curve of her back and made do. The woman was currently much more good-humored than Donovan, anyway, and now prone to breezy speeches. As they began the latest leg of their sojourn out into the desert, Aza let her hands lightly rest on the General's hips and just listened. The tonality, the phrasing, the propensity for self-complimenting... that all sounded a teensy bit familiar, yes, like someone Aza had so recently met.<br><br>Aza glanced sidelong at the other horse's rider, then down to its baggage. The fox had popped back up from the bag, now free (as they all seemed to be) from the influence of cicada-song, and was obviously totally immersed in what Methuseld had to say. It nodded its little head in agreement with it all: 'plenty of fun,' 'nothing to worry about,' 'ravishing,' the whole bit. <em>I'm Zaz,</em> it introduced itself in return, showing all its gleaming white teeth in what was probably supposed to be a friendly grin.<em> I think we're related!</em><br><br>The girl blinked, and looked back up at Don. "Dean goes where, when he is not... here?" she inquired, in about as mild a voice as either of them had heard from her, as she lightly traced a fingertip along one of the ebon skewers that protruded from Methuseld's sleek black getup. The ship, the fox, the shadows... Methuseld, her armor... Aza's own behavior... She tried to remember the exact sequence of events on that ship, after Donovan had tucked her into the bunk to sleep. There had been light, and then there had been darkness...<br><br><em>There is no light without the darkness,</em> the fox reminded her, still with that rapacious smile.<br><br>"In my head, I do not want you," she told it, refusing to look back. <br><br>It shrugged, which was a weird gesture for a fox, and slithered up out of its bag of booty to the horse's back, then tried to push around under Donovan's arm to his lap. <em>Why do we need Dean?</em> it asked as it crawled over, mostly addressing Don. <em>I like Ravishing better anyway.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>28-08-2015, 08:35:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan made regular, frequent glances around them as they rode. The city grew smaller and smaller behind them, and in the light of the sun he could not see anyone following them. That was a good sign, at least, and they were due for some good luck. He felt exhausted, but wasn't about to show that to his companions - especially the Dark Methuseld. There was no telling what -she- would do, if she felt she had the upper-hand against him and Aza. <br><br>Aza... shit... that wench was just as likely to side -with- Dark Methuseld, than be frightened of her. The way she leaned against Dark Methuseld's back told Donovan all that he needed to know: Aza had found a new best-friend, and Dark Methuseld seemed completely fine with that.<br><br>What the fuck, -Dean-... Donovan wanted to rage against his darker half, but Dean was nowhere to be found.<br><br>Dark Methuseld and Aza both seemed more interested in talking rather than fleeing. Perhaps they figured that with the extent of damage and carnage they had left behind them, they'd be safe for awhile. If anyone seeing the messes they left behind decided to chase after them - wouldn't that be somewhat -suicidal-? That's what Donovan -hoped- their enemies thought. Perhaps their foes were simply hooligans and ruffians based in town, and now that the three of them were -outside- of town, their foes would not follow since the three of them were no longer on anyone's turf. Donovan silently hoped that was true, as well, though he wasn't going to assume anything, taking another glance back behind him.<br><br>"This has only happened once before...," Donovan said, turning his attention towards Aza and her question. "He is... just gone. To the nether...," he said, turning his head and nodding toward a tall, slender desert plant with long, sharp spikes. "See that? When the sun is high... where does its shadow go?" he asked. "Wherever that is... that is where Dean is right now... recovering, I suppose, is the closest way to describe it."<br><br>~He -better- be recovering...,~ Donovan thought to himself. For all of Dean's odd ways, Donovan missed him when he wasn't near, in some odd way. He'd never admit it, of course. And having Dean nearby in times of trouble... Like -now-... had always been invaluable. Donovan inhaled slowly, causing as little stress - and pain - to his ribs as possible. Then he turned his gaze to Dark Methuseld.<br><br>She was a terrifyingly beautiful creature... -whatever- she was. But there was no denying her current form was made to cause a man's blood to run swift and hot... and Donovan was certainly a man. His eyes had more than once glanced over her, noting the bare skin, noting the slender, smooth thighs that he knew would feel heavenly wrapped around his waist... or shoulders. He knew that tiny black thong hid a treasure unlike any other one would find in the greatest vaults, but Donovan also realized that such a treasure might only be had with the highest and most terrible price. The entry fee might even be a soul.<br><br>Donovan licked his lips, already dry from the warmth of the sun, the arid land around them, and the lurid thoughts lazily swimming through his mind as he spoke. "I would hope you would have a care for the -real- Methuseld," he pointed out calmly. "She is valuable to us, and not so sour as you would claim," he added, not really sure how else to explain it. Despite Methuseld's distrust and disdain for Dean and Donovan, there had been a sort of... honor... about her, that at least gave Donovan some hint as to her disposition and agenda. He felt he at least knew where he stood concerning the real Methuseld.<br><br>THIS woman - Dark Methuseld - was a complete unknown to him. Yet, being a creature he suspected was born of darkness, Donovan knew that she would likely be far more unpredictable than the real Methuseld would be. Already he wished the real one was back, because then at least he would expect some harsh word or insult from the woman's lips, where -this- woman riding near him would be an absolute wild card. Her voice was different, her words pronounced differently as if she were a completely different woman, but Donovan could see traces of the -real- Methuseld, and he wondered if this dark creature would ever allow the real Methuseld to return.<br><br>Despite Dark Methuseld's assurances, Donovan did not believe for a moment that this creature was completely benign, and he was certain he had -plenty- to be fearful of.<br><br>And then she reached out to him, resting her hand on the top of his own. His head snapped in her direction, as if he was surprised, and his dark eyes locked with hers as she 'introduced' herself. She claimed Methuseld - the real one - had told her Dark self about Donovan - which made Donovan snort and turn his gaze away from her.<br><br>"I am sure what she had to say was not good," he replied. "And we can call you whatever you desire. But you are still Methuseld to me. You're simply... borrowing her body," he added, turning his gaze back to her as their horses still ambled forward. "-Borrowing-," he repeated, stressing the word. How could they believe that this creature wasn't -forcing- itself over Methuseld's true self? It -claimed- that it had appeared in response to an invitation, to a plea for help... how did Donovan know -any- of that was true? The -real- Methuseld could be inside this creature, screaming and pleading to be set free. But there was no way to tell what was true and what was not. Harming this creature would be the same as harming Methuseld, since it was really her body still that would receive the brunt of the violence.<br><br>If only -Dean- were here, surely he would have an answer.<br><br>Donovan did not know precisely how to feel at the moment. Worried for Methuseld and Dean, resentful to both for leaving them, suspicious of Dark Methuseld... yet he could not deny the heavy stiffness stuffed away beneath the layer of his leather breeches. Of -course- any agent of evil could appear as beautiful as an angel... but Donovan had had his share of run-ins with such women, and they were never to be fully trusted.<br><br>Ever.<br><br>"Come. We should be going. We're still close to the city, and anyone could easily give chase until we are a few more miles away," he urged, his mind burying the image of slipping aside the thin strip of cloth covering her sex... and nestling his thickness their to sample just how dark she was inside...<br><br>Donovan heeled his horse, causing it to enter a slow, lazy trot, pulling him out of arm's reach of Dark Methuseld... though it would have been so easy to simply let her keep her hand on his, and he realized it had taken some effort to move along...<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>10-09-2015, 05:48:11</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				She could tell she was having an effect. A sly, predatory grin formed. She always knew, whether through experience, intuition, or magic.. She always knew when she was having an effect on them. Methuseld wouldn’t have, but it’s been years since that one had tried to seduce anyone! If anything, this was good for her. Get out into the world, have a little fun, live a little, no strings attached. Everyone knew she was “possessed” in a manner of speaking. Dark Methuseld scoffed at Donovan’s suggestion she might not care about the ‘real’ Methuseld and, honestly, it made the more emotional woman bristle a little. Yes, she liked to come outside and play. Yes, her definition of playtime may not agree with most. Yes, she liked to fuck. But this was a consensual agreement, by the gods! She <em>asked</em> for it! Like literally!<br><br>The Fox in the baggage looked at her, speaking into Dark Methuseld’s mind. It gave her ticklish little shivers down her back and she giggled. Unsure of whether it could hear her thoughts or not, she thought she might as well try anyways. 'We <em>might indeed</em> be related! I think I’m more tangible than you though. Well…. Both her,' she said, pointing to her body, '<em>and</em> me. I used to be someone, y’know. My own body n’ everything. But that was ages ago, I won’t bore you!'<br><br>Dark Methuseld urged the ladies’ horse forward to maintain the spacing with Donovan. He wouldn’t get away from her that easy and she had some honor to defend. “Look, I know I may not have been around all too long, and gods know I’ve been with Methuseld for less than a day. But I know her well enough to know that when I tell you this, you’ll listen. My presence here was requested. She asked me to come.” She gave him a scornful gaze. “Yeah, that’s right. She asked. She said, ‘oh pretty please, you sexy dark minx, come and use my body to your heart’s content! Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to come out unless she killed. Notice how, ever since you left the boat, she made an effort not to fight? Who was holding off all the thugs on the dock? You. Why not her? Yeah – that’s right. She was scared to fight because it might have resulted in having to take a life.”<br><br>Dark Methusel paused for that to sink in. “So believe me when I ask, <em>RHETORICALLY</em>, why would the stoic Methuseld have let me in, unless something REALLY bad was going to happen? She was in a pretty tight spot when I came, and I saved that cute little ass of ours from a <em>really <strong>fucking GRIZLY</strong></em> death. And you don’t just recover from coming that close to something that unpleasant. Not to mention there was some weird shit going on with bugs that I can’t even begin to understand. So yeah, she’s cooling off. She's fine."<br><br>"But I’m only going away when I’m good and ready, because by Kr’lak I’ve been away too damn long to be cooped up so soon after tasting freedom. And then she’ll be back, all normal and healthy, and maybe she’ll have learned something about being a normal person, too. Won’t that be fucking nice. So stop being such a suspicious dick to me and let’s relax on this grand little adventure….” <br><br>In the awkward silence that followed, Dark Methuseld took a breath, looking around sheepishly, realizing she’d gone on quite the rant. “Sorry.... I sometimes get a bit emotional…”<br><br><br>But inwardly she smiled, hoping that trying to pull the “you’re being a dick to a woman and it’s a lot more complicated than you think” card (long name for a card, isn’t it) would make him relax just enough for everyone to benefit from it. <em>Benefit</em>. As in with sex.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>17-09-2015, 23:19:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				'Gone to the nether,' Don claimed of Dean. Aza gave him a skeptical glance from her perch behind who-was-once-the-General, but said nothing to him in return. Just looked away, at the sparse shadows of the few tall plants that dotted the otherwise blank, bleak landscape. Those shadows -- and their own -- were the only ones to exist as the sun slipped up in the likewise featureless sky.&nbsp;<br><br>But Donovan added that Dean, off in the netherwhatever, was 'recovering.' And 'recovering' wasn't 'dead.'<br><br>She tipped back the edge of her hood, squinting up into the blaze of that sunlight. Ship, fox, Dean. There were always things happening around Aza that were either entirely uninteresting or that she really didn't understand -- or, often, both -- and usually she got along just fine regardless. Now, though, she was stuck on a horse heading deeper into the chaos desert, with companions who maybe didn't want or need her. Don had said he'd return her to what had been her most recent home, but now they were heading still further away... and lacking not only Dean but the more honorable version of Methuseld, not to mention yet pursued by assassins, Don was surrounded by more potential enemies than friends. How was he supposed to follow through on that promise?<br><br>The Knight and Ravishing were having a long conversation about just what had become of the somewhat sour blonde General. More than once the raven-haired woman became quite adamantly animated upon some point she felt held importance, making Aza have to shy away from a flung gesture that included a dangerous amount of sharp slicey pseudo-armor. The girl's petite hands occasionally brushed the woman's soft bare skin, which recalled the sheer amount of padding and plate that had been previously required to pry off Methuseld when Aza had had her on the almost absurdly huge bed down in the hold. Actually, what the other woman wore now looked like it'd been found in that slightly surreal, dreamily nightmarish brothel setting. A warrioress's string bikini, straight out of some darkly skewed imagination. Or some<em>one's.</em><br><br>Ravishing was accusing Don of being a suspicious dick, and Aza actually wondered if he might not be right to be one, this time. Maybe the daylight was dispelling the shadow that had clung like a scent to the foxgirl. Or maybe the magic effects were just wearing thin with time or use. The cicadas were quiet and the shadows were few, and she was beginning to feel more clearly aware of her predicament. And also that she was hungry, and tired again, and still lightly splattered in blood.<br><br>"For Dean to recover," Aza broke in, "how long? When?"<br><br>The fox, perched on the front of Don's saddle with its forepaws on the horse's neck, turned to look at her. <em>Dean, </em>it said with a snort, causing the horse to turn back an uneasy ear. <em>Unnecessary.</em> And it turned its attentions back towards Ravishing, ears cocked as if to say 'go on.'<br><br>"But if he were... missing a piece, what then?" Aza persisted, staring at Don, trying to sound nonchalant but too tired to totally conceal the apprehension in her big blue eyes.<br><br><em>He's fine,</em> said the fox, eyes slitted. <em>Forget about him too. We're good, just the three of us.</em><br><br>"...Which three?" Aza asked it, hesitantly.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>22-09-2015, 08:53:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dark Methuseld didn't wait long to respond to what Donovan had said. It surprised him that he was worried for Methuseld - the REAL Methuseld - at all, especially since she had originally intended on either capturing him and Dean - or worse. As far as he knew, she was still the Vizier's puppet, and if push came to shove, he had a pretty good idea Methuseld would turn him AND Dean over to the Vizier for a simple pat on the back, if she had the chance. Maybe.<br><br>Dark Methuseld was an altogether different ball of yarn. She admitted she might not have been around all that long, and only with Methuseld for a single -day-, but she claimed that the -real- Methuseld had 'requested' this darker version to appear, as if summoning her out of thin air. In a way, it almost reminded him of himself and Dean - who was, figuratively speaking, a mirror-image of himself. Only, he and Dean could co-exist at the same time, and it didn't require 'possession'... or whatever the hell was going on with the woman riding near him.<br><br>But the dark one's explanation about Methuseld and not wanting to fight also made sense, as if Methuseld had wanted to -avoid- summoning this darker part of herself. That's why she hadn't been quick to crack some heads alongside him, when he had thought that perhaps she might enjoy such a thing. But apparently, at some point as they moved through the city - Methuseld hadn't been able to hold back and... well...<br><br>Dark Methuseld.<br><br>The dark one even reassured him that the 'real' Methuseld was fine, just 'cooling off' as she put it. Donovan was curious about that - how long would the real Methuseld need to 'cool off'? Hours? Days? Weeks? They weren't in any imminent danger now, yet there she was, dark and wicked and beautiful. And crass.<br><br>Now he was a 'suspicious dick', which caused him to cast a raised eyebrow her way. An awkward silence followed as Donovan's horse trudged forward, but his own gaze locked on the woman who, eventually apologized and explained that she could be too emotional sometimes.<br><br>Donovan shrugged. "Call me whatever you like, but being suspicious has saved my ass far more times than I can count. I hope you'll forgive the curiosity and suspicion, since it's not everyday someone I know is literally possessed. And we had just started to like Methuseld," he said with a slight shrug. The bright sun somehow made him feel more comfortable around her... but if 'dark Methuseld' was still around come nightfall... he had no idea what sort of wickedness she could get up to. And his concern for Dean was buried deeply, and now more than ever he wished he was here.<br><br>Behind Methuseld, Aza pulled her hood back a bit and squinted up at the sun. Donovan flicked his gaze toward her curiously. She asked a question, then, about Dean, and that didn't surprise him at all.<br><br>Donovan let out a breath. "I don't know, truly," he said. "Perhaps this evening. Perhaps tomorrow night. Perhaps... next week. This... isn't a -common- thing, by any stretch. Dean usually... well... he's usually the one doing the murdering... not the other way around," Donovan said, shrugging helplessly. Was it concern in Aza's voice, concern that she held for the dark man himself? Or was she simply curious? In front of him, the fox-creature stood with its tiny paws on both the saddle and the horse's neck, glancing about.<br><br>Aza followed that answer with another question - curious what the difference would be if Dean were missing a 'piece' of himself. Her big blue eyes betrayed her concern, now... and for a moment he briefly wondered just what all she and Dean -had- shared down in the hold of that cursed ship...<br><br>"I... am not sure. I would guess his recovery might... take longer?" he suggested. Afraid that he might see tears in those big blue eyes, Donovan continued immediately. "But I can tell you he's not gone forever. I know that much. I can still... feel him. He's still there... he's just...," Donovan paused, turning his eyes back toward Dark Methuseld.<br><br>"He's just... cooling off."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>26-09-2015, 00:23:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After that conversation, the rest of the 'journey', or more appropriately - escape, had passed in relative silence. The number of little hamlets and passersby eventually dwindled until all that remained on the road was the sand, silence, and heat. Unbearable heat. Heat that mercilessly beat down on Dark Methuseld, aka Ravishing, aka The Dark Sexy Nameless One, as if with a club. Yes, yes, unsurprisingly the sexy armor wasn't very practical: the skin it didn't cover, which was almost all of it, was milky white and offered little resistance against the senseless onslaught of nature's fiery ball of annoyance. Dark Methuseld had covered herself as best she could, but by sunset she was the Pink Sexy Nameless One. And a grumpy One at that.<br><br>They went off the beaten path to make their camp - the further away they camped the less likely it was that they'd be found by whoever pursued them. Making sure not to stray so far that they couldn't make their way back to the road in the morning, they found an outcrop of rocks among the dunes, one of quite a few in the surrounding area, that would provide decent cover. If their pursuers were smart, they would know that anyone wanting to be hidden would find the outcrop attractive... but that's why they would take turns standing guard.<br><br>The sand was a roiling sheet of red cloth against the setting sun, at once serene and dangerous. To Donovan, that was likely quite symbolic of the current state of his companions. For Methuseld's darker half, however.... it was just sand. Red and beautiful like her horse, which she'd just finished tacking. The horse, which she'd internally and uncreatively named Crimson, snorted in relief. "Oh hush, I'm not <em>that</em> fat!" <br><br>She removed the saddlebags, filled to the brim with food, supplies, and as much else as they could haul off the ship, and dropped them on the floor. "Dinner's readyyyy," she remarked in a sing-song, motherly sort of tone.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>29-09-2015, 21:47:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Don admitted that Dean was much more likely to be the murderer than the murdered, and Aza bit her lip and looked at the fox and thought of the courtyard's bloody aftermath. Don also assured her that Dean wasn't <em>gone</em>-gone, that he could still 'feel' him. <em>But what if,</em> she wanted to ask, <em>it's not <strong>him</strong> you're feeling?</em><br><br>Well, maybe she was wrong. It wasn't a possibility she often entertained, but occasionally she maybe might be. <em>Maybe</em> Donovan knew what he was talking about. Maybe the shadowy murderfox would just fade away as Dean regained or redeveloped himself, or whatever. Then they'd just be back to normal. Except for Methuseld, of course. Aza had no idea how to explain the situation with Methuseld, except that it was probably Dean's fault too.<br><br>Aza still had her nice but bloodied cloak, and she huddled up beneath it and tried to ignore everyone for awhile. She didn't mind the heat so much, and at least she was out of the sun's direct rays, unlike the slowly frying Ravishing. Whatever dark forces held sway over the general protected her from magic monks but not sunburn, apparently. The fox didn't seem negatively affected by the day, just draped itself over the front of Don's saddle and appeared to nap once everyone else went quiet. <br><br>At their makeshift camp, the foxgirl gingerly slid down from the horse after Ravishing did, wincing and sighing at the protestations of muscles forced to run and ride all day. Aza was not an athlete. She made a muffled coughing noise when Ravishing insisted to their horse that she wasn't 'that fat,' but that was probably just desert dust in caught in the girl's throat.<br><br>The fox whined at Don until he set it on the ground, then went on a busily sniffing exploration of the rock pile, pausing to lift its leg in more than one spot. Aza found a nice cool swath of shadow and gave a long lithe stretch and yawn, and kept at least one wary eye on the little animal as it circled about, until Ravishing dropped a pack nearly on top of her while declaring it dinnertime.<br><br>"The desert, how far?" she asked Don, figuring him to be the most likely source of answers. "Until a city again?" She scooped a waterskin from the goods Ravishing had dumped, helpfully toting it over and holding it out to him, like maybe being friendly would somehow shorten the miles of desert they still had to traverse.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>01-10-2015, 09:42:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				They rode through the sun's hot rays for the remainder of the day, heading steadily away from the 'slaughter town' they had fled from, leaving it farther and farther behind them. Donovan took frequent glances behind them, looking for any sign of pursuers. Either there weren't any, or they were hiding very, very well. Donovan figured with all the chaos, maybe they wouldn't pursue at all – or perhaps they had pursued a certain distance and gave up. Or perhaps their pursuers had simply went in the wrong direction. Whatever the case might be, Donovan was simply glad for the respite as they trudged steadily along.<br><br>As the day wore on, Dark Methuseld looked more and more uncomfortable in the sun. At one point he pulled his cloak from his backpack and offered it to her, to help cover her nearly-naked body somewhat. He wanted to believe that his offer was genuinely generous – but deep down, he knew it would give him an excuse to be close to her for a few moments, where he could -look- at her for a few moments.<br><br>The fox at the front of his saddle somehow found a comfortable way to lay down and rest. Aza didn't seem much pout out by the heat and sun, either. They rode for quite some time in silence, each within their own thoughts. Soon enough, the sun began to dip toward the horizon, and the shadows began to grow long. They decided to find a spot off the 'path' they were following, a place they could rest for the night, and then coming to a stop they each dismounted and stretched.<br><br>Dark Methuseld spoke to her horse about not being 'that fat', while the fox went and marked its 'territory'. Aza found a patch with more shadows than the rest, and stretched, apparently ready to lay down. Then, Dark Methuseld removed the saddlebag from her horse and approached the center of their makeshift camp and dropped them to the ground, announcing that dinner was 'ready'. <br><br>Donovan didn't move at first, more than content to let Aza and Dark Methuseld eat first. As he waited his turn, Aza asked how much farther they had to go until they reached another city. Donovan sighed gently before answering. “A couple days, I think... it has been a long time since I've looked at a map of this area. No more than three days, if I remember right. And there was a speck of a village or two between here and there,” he said, trying to make it sound not -so- terrible.<br><br>“I'll take first watch,” Donovan said, ready to let the ladies rest for awhile first before he did. He still felt pretty wired, from the escape and the ride afterward – he doubted he could sleep right then, even if one of the others had insisted on taking first watch, regardless. <br><br>“Are you doing alright?” he asked, turning his gaze toward Dark Methuseld, his tone gentle. “I have some healing powers... if you've been burnt, I can make it go away,” he offered. When the two women were done rummaging through the food pack (if they chose to), Donovan would retrieve something for himself, as well.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>03-10-2015, 16:56:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Methuseld dug herself out a large piece of dried salted meat, stared at it hungrily, and walked over to turn a large boulder into her makeshift chair. Tearing at dinner like a predator after a gruesome hunt, she made round-ish piece of meat as large as her face disappear in no more than a minute, tops, which was impressive given how much jaw strength was actually required to chew one of the things. The being, part woman and part something-else-vaguely-related-to-Dean-in-some-way, had a serious bite.<br><br>Aza asked about how long they'd have to go, and Ravishing felt something inside her pipe up. It was Methuseld, no doubt. She searched the possessed woman's knowledge of the region before realizing she shouldn't have even felt Methuseld at all, so soon! But the feeling was weak, like fire attempting to catch on wet wood.The woman definitely wasn't ready to take back control yet, and Ravishing would be damned if she let it go so quickly. She hadn't even gotten laid yet! Let alone murdered more people. <em>No, you stay put for now!</em><br><br>Back to the matter at hand now. "Yes, he's right," Ravishing piped up, having salvaged Methuseld the General's thorough studies of the maps of the region. "Two and a half days, give or take, depending on the time we make. The are two towns, little hamlets, that have wells for us to replenish our water. We'll get to the first one tomorrow night, so we won't have to do... this," she ended, with a note of disgust as she glanced around. She seemed to have a bit of Aza's spoiled side in her as well. After all, what harm did it do to enjoy the finer things in life??<br><br>She noticed Donovan hadn't eaten, and after his proclamation that he'd sit first watch, she rolled her eyes. <em>What a gentleman; what a noble soul!</em> She thought with a not insignificant amount of sarcasm. People like that actually existed? Why??? Either he had a dark side or she had no idea how he survived for as long as he did. Oh wait... he <em>did</em> have a dark side. Ha! That explains it. Dark Methuseld or Ravishing stretched out on her boulder with a contented sigh, sleek feline body draped luxuriously on the flat hard surface. She gave a thought to removing her armor, since after all she needed to sleep somehow, but that could come later.<br><br>That, or pure coincidence, seemed to earn her the attention of the knight in shining armor once again. He offered to heal her sunburn. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow from her redoubt on the boulder, and sighed. She couldn't deny that the burn was bothersome, and she also couldn't deny that she was very attracted to both of her companions. Anything she could do to get closer to them physically was worth it, in her book. "Do your worst," she let out with faux resignation to her fate, and sprawled out on the slab of rock like a slab of meat, dark hair pooled around her like rolling midnight hills of silk. Her body, slightly pink though it was, beckoned with effortless strength. Muscle and soft skin married in utmost harmony, both form and function directed by a hidden genius of a conductor. "I'm dangerous," it seemed to say, "but may not for you - maybe you're welcome any time," it whispered, to anyone that would look. <br><br>"Well, what are you waiting for?"<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>05-10-2015, 08:28:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dark Methuseld and Aza both seemed to find something in the bag that suited them as they each retreated. Dark Methuseld moved over to a large boulder and set herseld down upon it as she delved into the hunk of jerked meat that she had retrieved from the pack. The way she bit into it was almost... disturbing, as well as the quickness she used to devour bit after bit of the hardened, dried slab of meat. And while it might have been a bit disturbing, it had most certainly not been -normal-. Even Donovan doubted that he could have downed that much of the tough meat, that quickly.<br><br>As they spoke about distances and directions and destinations, Donovan gave his best guess, and was surprised when Dark Methuseld confirmed his estimations. Had this dark part of Methuseld been to this part of the world before? Did the darker version possess all the knowledge of the -real- Methuseld, and that's what she was using now? The vizier's reach was indeed mighty and far-reaching. Perhaps Methuseld had even been this way before. More than anything, during her confirmation of his guesses, Dark Methuseld made it clear that she was not keen on 'camping under the stars'. This made Donovan smile thinly – not mocking her, but simply amused that the woman was actually much like Aza in that spoiled sort of way.<br><br>Donovan did catch her apparent look of exasperation when he offered to take first watch. Did she think he might 'try' something? He found that rather... amusing. The thought of 'trying' something with her had crossed his mind more than once, but it had been fleeting. <br><br>Dark Methuseld then spread herself out on the boulder, as if she were making herself comfortable on some imagined massive bed back at the vizier's palace. Donovan had expected her to laugh in his face when he offered to heal her sunburn, but instead, a little sigh seemed to tell him that it -was- annoying her, whether she admitted it or not. The way she lay there before him seemed almost inviting... -too- inviting, and his body responded as if it had a mind of its own, urging him to accept the silent invite.<br><br>His will was stronger, though, and he removed his leather gloves and set them aside, revealing his bare hands. They were big, rugged, caloused from physical labor of some kind, and he rubbed the palms of those hands together for a moment and nodded in response to her challenge to do his worst. The ride had helped him to recharge his Glory quite a bit, but not anywhere near full. Still, he had enough reserves for some minor healing, with ease.<br><br>The look of her body was indeed quite dangerous. Her curves and soft-looking flesh – most of it bare to him – was like some exotic road-map: those sights he could see seemed innocent enough, though he knew they weren't – and those few interesting and mysterious sights that were hidden from his view were likely fraught with peril. There was so little material covering that which was still out of sight, and it wouldn't take much effort or strength at all to remove it... if she allowed such a thing.<br><br>Donovan forced himself to focus, and closed his eyes for just a few moments to steady himself. He then opened his eyes once more, and moved his hands to the bare skin of her collarbone and the bare, pink flesh below it, just above her breasts. Both of his hands lay side by side, flat against her supple skin with a touch so gentle it might seem impossible coming from such a big man. His eyes looked at hers, whether she looked back or not, and he didn't make a sound, didn't mutter any sort of 'prayer' like one might expect. He simply focused, exerted his will... and she felt it.<br><br>The soft caress of thousands of tiny hands massaging her skin tingled through the areas his skin touched. Thought her skin was pink and likely annoyingly painful, the feeling from his hands was anything but. Instead, it was -soothing-, relaxing... and if someone might have thought to enjoy such a feeling against more... sensitive... parts of their body, it very well might indeed provide intense pleasure, if used in such a way.<br><br>It didn't take but half a minute for it to finish, and he slowly pulled his hands away and moved them upward, each of his palms moving to gently cup each of her cheeks in his hand, like a lover might do his mate before giving her a kiss. Again, like before, his hands held her with the gentleness he might use to hold a child or some exquisitely expensive bauble, and as his eyes focused on hers, she'd feel that same sensation once again, each of his thumbs resting gently against either side of her nose, his palms and fingers covered most of the area of pink skin around her face.<br><br>He said nothing, and gave no hint that he was quickly growing fully aroused, though it was hidden away in his leather breeches. He knew her abdomen would be next, and her flesh was bare down near to her pelvic bone, and the urge to touch her -there- was mighty strong. He focused – keeping his breathing normal, ignoring the dull thud of his own heartbeat as it pounded blood into his inflated member, urging him on, urging him to follow those thoughts he had otherwise been able to keep at bay for the moment.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>13-10-2015, 20:13:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Two palms, almost as rough as the rock she lay on, came to rest along her upper chest and collar. Impossibly gentle yet textured so roughly. Eyes closed, the dark fair-skinned woman chuckled... a chuckle that turned into a soft gasp and melted into a quiet moan of satisfaction. The sarcastic, dangerous woman was for once speechless - did not utter a single glib remark, just lay there appreciating the feeling. It was like she'd been covered in coarse sand and he'd just washed it off. No, no, like she'd just come in from the cold and his hands were a roaring fire she wanted to sit next to <em>forever</em>. No, wait, it was more like - oh, dammit, it just felt GOOD. <br><br>She opened her eyes. They met his, shied away for a moment... "You're quite useful, did you know that? I wonder if it would feel as good... Mmmhhh... nevermind, later.." Eyes closed again, concentrating on the soothing, relaxing sensation that had now made its way to her cheeks. It was warm, gentle, but Methuseld noted the strength beneath it. Something about that combination was quite arousing - she wondered if staring at her mostly-bare torso and touching that soft skin had made him equally aroused?<br><br>Donovan seemed like that suspicious, grim sort of honorable man that many found utterly unpleasant to deal with. Always judging, always remaining aloof. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. But from how he'd treated her on the ride up, she figured he wouldn't take kindly to her more... aggressive... tactics. So she might as well go the more subtle route. Well, as subtle as a being like Dark Methuseld could manage.<br><br>Since her thighs were sunburnt as well, she decided she might as well give him a little more room to work with down there. The leg closest to him spread away from its fellow, just a bit. Just enough to softly touch up against Donovan's... leg, most likely (her eyes were closed after all). The flush of electricity at the point of contact was understated yet nonetheless intoxicating. Hopefully Donovan found it equally so. Maybe he could use that magic touch on other, less sunburnt parts of her. Maybe instead of quiet sighs of contentment, he could hear loud, euphoric moans. And maybe Aza would join them. Wouldn't that be a lovely threesome. <br><br>Oh well, a girl can hope.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>15-10-2015, 08:49:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The dark woman before him closed her eyes and laughed softly, then gasped, then moaned. It sounded... -satisfied-, and Donovan couldn't help but wonder if she would moan the same way after he pleasured her. He had expected some snide comment, such as, 'You'll use any excuse to get your hands on a woman, won't you?', or some such. But instead, much to his surprise – Dark Methuseld remained quiet and simply accepted his attentions.<br><br>The power he used to heal her was minimal, and thankfully that was all that was needed. She was sunburnt – not even bleeding – and as such, the healing was fairly minor, but Donovan was quite aware just how annoying – and painful – harsh sunburn could potentially be. When Dark Methuseld opened her eyes, though, they me his gaze for just a moment before looking away, almost... shyly? Surely she was being dramatic. Surely -this- creature before him was not bashful about anything.<br><br>She spoke about him being 'useful', and begin to say something about how she wondered if it would feel as good.... -something-. She didn't finish her thought, at least not out loud as she closed her eyes once more. Of course, closing her eyes like that allowed him the opportunity to more closely examine her, and his eyes roamed freely. She was truly beautiful to behold, just as her 'less dark' version was as well. Only now, less of his imagination was required, thanks to the brevity of her 'armor'. <br><br>It was the gentle nudge of her knee against the side of his leg that made him blink and bring his attention back to the present reality. Thinking that she meant to part his legs as she sat on the rock so that he could stand between her knees as he tended to her, he silently leaned back just slightly, and when her knees parted slightly as well, he gently eased himself between them, gently urging her legs apart further. It was possible he had misread her intentions, but he was rather certain that if he had... Dark Methuseld would not hesitate to inform him of his error.<br><br>Of course, her legs drew his attention when he first felt the bump against his own person, and glancing down, he saw the tell-tale hint of rid all along her supple thigh. She had beautiful, strong legs, lean and long, the kind any man could probably spend ample time just -staring- at as his imagination soared. His eyes roamed the surface of both, but each time, his gaze drifted toward the apex of her thighs, to where that scant bit of material valiantly hid her feminine treasures from his eyes.<br><br>Gently, then, he moved his hands to come to a gentle rest against the top of each of her thighs: left hand on her right, right hand on her left. His palms lay flat against her skin, long fingers gently following the curve of each solid muscle. The size of his hands might make her thighs feel... -small-... but once again, he touched her with a gentleness that few might suppose he possessed.<br><br>With the simple exertion of his will – the gentle, pleasing tingle began again, but this time where his hands touched her thighs. Slowly, his palms slid upward along the long, smooth surface of her skin that wasn't hidden away by leather. As his magic worked, his imagination also worked, sending thoughts of doing plenty of other things between her thighs while he was at it. <br><br>As his hands neared where her thighs met her hips, his fingers spread wide, the thumbs of both fingers sliding down along her inner-thighs, where her skin was most likely not burnt at all. But now, those thumbs were only -inches- from her sex, and he felt his arousal peak fully and firmly, and quite uncomfortably packed away in his breeches. If he could just hook the tip of his thumb beneath that delicate fabric at her crotch, and gently pull it aside... He knew the tingling sensation of his magic would be felt just inches from her sex, as well, but he had no idea if it would have any sort of effect on her.<br><br>She was, afterall... not -herself-. She might not even be -human- any more, at least not in the sense he was used to.<br><br>"You'll need to remove this," he said softly, perhaps his voice was a little too thick, a little too sultry as he extended the tip of one thumb to lightly brush along the leather protecting her privates with one single stroke of his finger, but hard enough that she would most certainly -feel- it where it counted, "If you want me to make sure all is well, and to get every spot," he offered. Suggestive, yes. But if she took offense, he could certainly attribute it to his healing powers, he figured....<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>21-10-2015, 23:26:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Well well, that had worked a lot better than she'd expected! The large, powerful man moved between her legs somewhat gingerly, or perhaps he was having trouble moving around with what she imagined was a massive erection packed away in his loincloth. She made no motion to stop him, instead letting a subtle smile play on blood-red lips. She felt large, powerful palms on her thighs again, each calloused inch pressing against her, feeling the smoothness of her leg and the power that lurked just beneath the surface like a shark. Exerting himself, he let the pleasant sensation of his healing magic emanate outward into her... She made a noise - not a moan, not a sigh, something in between... magic that felt like a hot fire after a blizzard, without all the desperation that came with. It was an obliging feeling that came unconditionally (except that it required a sunburn to receive).<br><br>Soon his hands finished with another part of her body and he moved to her inner thighs. No burn there, and yet he continued healing... and it felt good. Really good. This time, it all seemed to flow to her groin as if seeking it out.. All that pleasure, slinking up her thighs like an army of little tingly ants on a very carnal mission. The Dark Woman gave a moan, a throaty, husky, unapologetically licentious noise. Oh, that clever scoundrel of a knight! He knew what this was going to do to her, he'd wanted to do it. And that meant he was hers! Well, not as much of a chase as she'd expected, but she was game to reap her reward anyways.<br><br>The knight spoke, breaking the silence that ensued after her noise, his seductive tone cutting through the cool night air and creating a microcosm of intense heat solely around them. Oh, it was a silly remark he'd made, still trying to pretend to be the goody-goody when she knew now that what he'd really wanted was to ravage her, take her right here in their camp on a hard, rough boulder. She wanted to laugh, but suppressed it - still in control, Dark Methuseld knew it might put him off and had no intention of allowing that to happen. No doubt he was erect for her now, so utterly unable to think about anything besides plunging into her to discover how warm, how wet for him she was.<br><br>Very.<br><br>"That's a good idea," she answered him, voice sweet and golden like honey. "You may remove it to make sure all is well..." Inwardly she smiled, opening her eyes to behold how exactly he'd look removing her clothes. A large buckle awaited him, an obstacle that attached her heavy belt to her hips and hid the clasp that secured the leather he so badly wanted to remove. Once it was out of the way, she'd shift to her side slightly, revealing a delightful curve of round derriere, as well as the clasp that secured the leather to that part of her he'd been unable to stop thinking about since the ride this afternoon.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>22-10-2015, 23:08:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It had all the makings of a trap.<br><br>No, not the silken-vise that she no doubt possessed between her thighs, but rather the simple notion that he was attracted to her in the least. It was as if she had mentally plucked one of the various weaknesses from Donovan's mind with some power he had not felt or seen. Yes, he had been attracted to Methuseld before this 'transformation' took place, and now that it had, was it simply coincidence that this darkly angelic version of Methuseld reminded him of her in so many ways?<br><br>Donovan tried to convince himself that he was thinking nonsense. Yes, she had transformed into an insanely enticing woman, but what man in his right mind -wouldn't- be enticed by her? Perhaps a man with more willpower, or a more pious man would be able to resist... and perhaps Donovan didn't fit either of those descriptions. Some would argue that such a notion would make Donovan very much 'un-knight-like', but as he had learned through the years, there were many different kinds of 'knights' in this world.<br><br>He was prepared for her rejection at any moment, whether by being truly insulted by his meager advances, or simply being uninterested, there were likely more reasons for her to refuse him than to accept him. Donovan assumed she was toying with him, possibly leading him right to the edge of pleasure with plans to cease and deny him - some women got a kick out of such antics. Donovan briefly recalled a time a harlot tried such a thing on Dean... Donovan had been too late to save her, and even to this day the knight wondered if that woman was yet able to walk normal again. A woman's body simply wasn't meant to -take- something of those dimensions...<br><br>His thoughts were interrupted by her throaty, husky moan. She was enjoying the feel of his magic at work, which he assumed she might like. Donovan figured at worst it would make her feel good, and perhaps warm her up for Aza's attentions, if that's where the dark woman's preferences truly lay, based on what he saw back on the chaos ship.<br><br>Dark Methuseld confirmed his idea - just to be safe, of course. He was so full of good ideas nowadays, it seemed, and he could almost picture Dean leaning against a rock in the nearby shadows as the sun faded, smirking at Donovan for his cheesy parlor tricks - and bad pick-up lines. Dean was the suave one when it came to women, after all. Donovan liked to think of himself as more... -practical-, even if he was much less experienced.<br><br>Her sweet voice gave him permission to remove the blocking garment so that he could continue his 'treatment' of her. Donovan didn't hesitate much, either. For all his practicality, if a beautiful woman gave him permission to remove her clothing - who was he to argue? He was certainly no church-boy, no matter how often Dean had teased him of such.<br><br>Big, careful hands moved smoothly, giving the needed attention to the big buckle at her groin. His eyes rose to meet hers, as if challenging her to stop him while his hands worked, and a heartbeat or two later, the buckle came undone. He hefted the belt to the side, her wicked looking blade scabbarded to it, setting it aside carefully so that it leaned against the rock upon which she sat. As he did so, she shifted to the side, the move showing off and accentuating the curve of her rump, and it took some amount of will to resist simply reaching for it. There, where the buckle had been moments ago, lay a small clasp - the last line of defense that kept what little clothing that she had left secured to her lower body. <br><br>Eyes rising back up to meet hers again, once more his hands moved, finding the clasp - and undoing it with the greatest efficiency. As his eyes remained on hers, the sudden thought came back to his mind not for the first time... was the -real- Methuseld -in there-? Could she -see- what was happening? And, more curiously... would she -feel- it, he wondered? <br><br>"Almost there," he whispered softly, tearing his eyes away from her for just a moment to cast a glance over at Aza, who seemed completely uninterested in them at the moment. His returned to her as his hand gently moved to pull away the last garment in his path. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>23-10-2015, 23:12:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Somewhere deep inside, she felt a stirring. Like a rumbling of the tummy if her spirit or soul had a digestive tract. She knew exactly what it was, or rather who, and she suppressed it. Not now, damnit. Not yet. There were three things in life Dark Methuseld enjoyed most of all – feasting, fucking, and slaughtering, and she was well on her way to checking off a second box on the list. There was no way in all the hells that she’d let the blonde one take over now. She’d just fuck it up anyways – she was as awkward as Donovan and far less experienced, no doubt. Besides, Methuseld wasn’t strong enough to come out yet. She was weakened, like a traveler returned from the desert… bedridden, for all intents and purposes. And the prescription was ’stay the fuck out of my way’. <br><br><em>Aww, how cute…</em> she thought with her characteristic mild sarcasm, watching him unbuckle her belt with slow, gentle movements, like a new owner might unwrap an expensive gift. Their eyes met, his asking whether it was okay to proceed and hers remaining somewhat inscrutable. If Dark Methuseld had her way, they’d already be fucking now. But again, as pleasantly surprised as she was by the apparent ease of the seduction, she still got the sense he might scamper off if she came at him too hard. It was tough for her to restrain herself, unfamiliar territory to a being used to living vicariously, spontaneously, and lustily. All she wanted was to sit up, close the distance, snap a hand on his stupid face to bring it closer to hers, and let her other explore how easy it was to get into his loincloth. <br><br>As her belt fell to her sides, Dark Methuseld lifted her hips into the air and closer to him, giving him a more ‘head-on’ view of the present he was about to unwrap. He pulled the belt out from under her, setting her sword against the boulder with an annoying amount of care, and went to her clasp as she presented it to him. <br><br>Setting herself back on the rock, the dark woman waited as patiently as she could for him to finish, though truthfully all she wanted in the whole world right now was to rub her yearning crotch against something, anything, to pleasure herself. Damn that magic of his that had made her so damn horny. If she’d thought about it a little, she might have wondered if a being such as her was more susceptible to his sort of magic, but the out to lunch sign was showing and her critical thinking was nowhere to be found.<br><br>After what seemed like an eternity (in which she’d already contemplated the pros and cons of masturbating herself against a wide variety of objects in their vicinity), she felt the clasp of her leather loincloth undone, felt the garment go limp against her hips. She watched him peel it away, watched his eyes as he beheld her womanhood for the first time. <br><br>The milky-white skin of her pubis, utterly smooth and laid impossibly bare, guided his eyes lower and lower until he beheld a small, pink, neigh-on-impossibly innocent-looking flower that ought to have belonged to a princess on the night of her wedding, not a 30-something warrior demon-woman.<br><br>“Like what you see?” Asked a sultry, thick, honeyed voice. A hand clad in the black-spiked, blood-soaked metal gauntlet of Dark Methuseld snaked its way down her navel, down ever lower until it reached that flower, and with two fingers opened her pink petals to him, showing silken depths of gentle rose. “How does it look? Perhaps you can inspect further… make sure all is well…”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>24-10-2015, 11:25:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan moved with the careful slowness that portrayed a smooth patience, when in fact he was just being wary. He wouldn't be surprised if, at any moment, she reached up and slapped him across the face for being so bold – but until that happened (or some other warning was issed), he was going to proceed. <br><br>Certain parts of his body -demanded- it.<br><br>He had a sense, though, that this dark creature was somehow holding back, as if part of her wanted to leap at him, while the other part was content to sit back and see what he did. <br><br>With the belt gone, her body put on a display that made it clear what she was wanting. Her hips rose, lifting her ass up off the rock beneath her, her core moving toward him as if to put herself with easier reach of his hands. Setting the belt and her sword aside, his eyes never leaving her, his hands returned and began to unlock the last barrier.<br><br>She lowered her ass back down to the boulder's rough surface and a few moments later, he felt the clasp give way. Finally his gaze moved, sliding down her body, eager to see if her snatch was human – or something else entirely.<br><br>She was bare, her mound a smooth ramp of soft skin that looked almost -too- perfect. Just below that, his eyes settled on the prize, a small, intimately pink flower that looked like perfection. Instantly his mouth salivated, the urge to lower himself and gently lick each of her petals filled every corner of his being, but she was already showing signs of impatience. And in truth, he could certainly relate to that.<br><br>Her voice almost startled him, his eyes pulling away reluctantly to meet hers again as she asked if he liked what he saw.<br><br>He nodded silently. Complimenting her would mean nothing. She knew she was enticing, she knew he wanted her – she likely -expected every man- to want her, and, hell, he knew Aza wanted her, as well. His eyes caught the movement of her own hand as it slid down her lithe body, and his eyes followed it, his attention focused on what she was doing as she skilfully used two fingers to part her folds, covered in what one might consider 'dew'. She spoke again, asking how things looked, urging him to inspect further...<br><br>And he didn't need to be told twice.<br><br>His hands moved to his own belt, unbuckling it quicker than he had undid hers. He made quick work of it, setting it and his weapons aside, then began to work on the smaller belt and buttons of his leather breeches. With the sword belt gone, the dark outline of his straining member was far more visible now, confirmation that he was, indeed, eager for what hopefully awaited.<br><br>“Good idea,” he replied softly as the buttons popped free one by one. “But I'll need a different sort of instrument, one with far greater reached than fingers or tongue,” he explained. <br><br>“<em>Much</em> greater reach...”<br><br>His leathers and the thin linen garment he wore beneath them were carefully pushed down his hips, then his thighs. His cock sprang free, as if making its escape from some prison that had held it confined for far too long. He was well-endowed – far from being freakishly huge, but generous enough that no one would label him 'average'. His sack hung beneath, his stones of generous size just as his length was. His tool curved slightly upward, the bulbous tip plump and ruddy red in color, engorged as it was. <br><br>He moved slightly forward, hips maneuvering with ease, until the warm spongy tip of his glans lightly grazed along the back of her hand and down between her fingers – so achingly close to her entrance now as his hands next moved to rest on either of her thighs – gently prying them apart even further, as if anticipating that he would need to spread them as wide as they might go...<br><br>Donovan's eyes remained on hers, now, watching for every reaction, every hint of emotion he could read, prepared to stop if she demanded it... but silently praying that she wouldn't.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>31-10-2015, 00:26:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Two red lips pursed as she watched him work, offering him a purr of approval as soon as she could make out the outline of turgid thickness <em>quite a few</em> layers later. Slowly, Dark Methuseld, whatever creature that referred to, was surrendering to her instincts. She watched him work off his clothes, picturing the length of his member, how smooth it would feel, how hot. With a mental smirk she realized she was about to be caught between a rock and a hard place – not as bad as people made it out to be! She suppressed the thought – she knew how to not kill moods, or at the very least threaten their deaths.<br><br>He spoke, confirming what both of them long knew – he was going to stuff himself inside of her, impale her as deeply as he could, mount her on his pole. But damn if he wasn’t a little cheesy while he was doing it! “Get that big instrument out here, then!” Slightly more impatient than she’d wanted to sound, but if anything he deserved it! Using that damned magic on her… why were healing and fucking so synonyms to whatever-the-heck outfit of Knights he belonged to? She was sure it had made her absolutely wild with passion… like a starved woman seeing noble’s dinner, it was taking all her effort to hold back. Soon, she knew soon she could fuck him with abandon and he wouldn’t protest, wouldn’t mind, ignore any and all alarms that went off in his head. But there wouldn’t be an alarm, of course… she was just a harmless little sex-starved kitten (the sex-starved fox was elsewhere), and all she wanted was to play with the new toy… <br><br>All the toys!<br><br>Soon his leathers and linens were down around his thighs. A black armored boot pulled them lower, to his ankles, with expert litheness reminiscent of a little monkey, using all limbs with equal dexterity. A dark-gloved hand reached down to his groin, first gently tracing a path along a powerful tan thigh… a slight tickling sensation accompanying… And then down to his sack, gentle as could be, fingertips teasing and tracing, soft yet confident and competent. Then the probing extremity slithered its way up to his engorged shaft, giving it a few good pumps, smoothly worn black leather gliding with just the right amount of friction against his bare, sensitive skin. Then she formed a ring with her thumb and middle finger, wrapping them as fully around him as they would go, squeezing against the hardness of his meat. Slightly rough, just the barest hint of pain, but also a hint at just how hard she’d be willing to get it, since she seemed okay giving it.<br><br>“Come on, Knight, show me what you’re made of, have your way with me…” <br><br>Maybe it was some sort of sexy black magic, but there was no way normal Methuseld was that flexible… As he pried her thighs apart, she moved them even further and further out for him - body now shaped a little like an anchor. It was easy to believe that if he wanted to, he could push her legs all the way back so her knees touched her shoulders, using her body for leverage even more effectively. Soon the tip of his sword was up against her warm, inviting entrance – the perfect scabbard for him. She felt the warmth, the softness, the pressure of inches and inches of rock-hard length just behind it… And the dark woman wrapped her legs around him as best she could (mostly just her feet), applying her own pressure on him with those powerful, toned, ivory legs. Begging him, beckoning him, demanding that he slip himself inside her soaked little flower, tight and hot like a kiln, like being deepthroated by a damned dragon. <br><br>“Come on, <em>claim</em> it!”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>02-11-2015, 01:20:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Boy, was she -eager-. <br><br>Donovan kept telling himself, reminding himself that this wasn't really Methuseld herself talking. This was some dark creature who had inhabited her body, even -changed- it, and as long as he kept telling himself that, he'd be able to manage whatever guilt that might be summoned from his fucking a woman whom he wasn't sure even -tolerated- him. If he thought of this darker version of the General as another woman entirely, the entire ordeal would actually quite possibly be very enjoyable...<br><br>She demanded, though, that he produce his tool for her to admire, touch, use and abuse, he reckoned. She was impatient, feeling a sort of need that he, himself, was also experiencing. Apparently this manifestation of the General did not appreciate foreplay, but rather simply wanted to get down to business – the busienss of carnal stroking and plunging.<br><br>She moved her foot expertly, and he expected to feel the harsh cut of her then elevated heel cut into his flesh – but it didn't. She moved with smooth precision, pushing his breeches down further as her hand moved forward to glide gloved fingertips along his skin, then down and under to cradle his sack. He tensed, expecting a terrifying squeeze or some other painful gesture – yet she surprised him again with a light touch that tore a soft moan from his throat, whether he wanted to or not. That single touch from her, so soft – encouraging – caused a surge of hot warmth down his length, swelling him to fullness and firmness now, like the mold of a blade being poured. <br><br>Her hand stroked upward, her movements slow yet confident as her leather-covered fingers and palm caressed and glided across his turgid flesh. She gave him a few long, slow pumps of her hand, her fingers wrapped around his cock like the handle of a mace or club – yet too thick for her thumb and fingertips to touch. He surely felt like solid steel in her grasp, even when she squeezed, as if testing him to make sure he would suit her needs. The faint hint of pain, the slightest suggestion of roughness was like a permissive gesture, silent yet something they both understood – she was challenging him -not- to go easy on her... because it was quite likely she wouldn't go easy on him.<br><br>Dark Methuseld's voice issued its sultry challenge, demanding that he show her what he was made of. She adjusted herself and he followed her lead, moving as she did, positioning himself perfectly. He, too, felt the brush of his cockhead agaisnt her waiting, welcoming petals, as if daring him to make the plunge. The tip brushed agaisnt moistened flesh, and he knew without a doubt she was prepared for him. Well... she was prepared for -this-. The fact that it was -him-, in particular, was of little consequence, he was aware.<br><br>Donovan aimed not to disappoint, though, as he suddenly surged his hips forward, forcing her flower to part for the invasion of his girth. Her tunnel widened and stretched as the curve of his glans forced itself into her, spreading and parting, gliding across wet, silken flesh until he had embedded half of his length inside her. There, as the pushing became more resistant, he paused. <br><br>“Perhaps you do not deserve -all- of it... you dark -bitch-,” he growled softly, referring only to the half of his generous length that he had spitted her with so far. His hands blurred into motion, reaching for her wrists and roughly pinning them to the rock to either side of her head. The urge to tease her was not a strong one, though, not when his own need might very well have equaled her own. As much as he tried to pretend this wasn't Methuseld's body he was enjoying, part of him knew it was still her, to some degree. Part of him hoped that she would forgive him for this – likely the only way he would ever get to enjoy the General's body in such a way.<br><br>And part of him hoped that she would be able to feel every single stroke.<br><br>His hips eased back – and rushed forward again, accompanied with a faint grunt as he plowed into her a second time. This time, nothing stopped him from hilting, pressing her ass back against the stone beneath her, giving her body no room to absorb the impact, no way to lessen the penetration. Her body was simply forced to take it all, filling her with a full, firm thrust that might have made lesser women cry out in pain.<br><br>His body tensed, muscles in his chest, flanks, and hips tight, his cut abs contracting as he then set into motion, withdrawing back and plunging forth, steadily picking up speed. His hands around her wrists tightened even more, his big arms as strong as corded steel-made-flesh. He pounded into her relentlessly, the soft sound of the skin on the front of his thighs and hips smacking into the flesh on the back of her legs and ass growing louder as the intensity increased. Only after the sixth or seventh plunge did he allow himself to breathe again, letting out a long, low groan of pleasure. His sack slapped against the curves of her ass cheeks, too, each time he filled her cunt with his cock. Balls heavy with seed eager to be delivered and dispersed, eager to rush forth with the bliss that it brought. <br><br>But not yet... Not quite yet....
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>11-11-2015, 21:58:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dark Methuseld grinned, watching his eyes as growing resolve to show her what he was made of slowly enveloped his mind, filling him with single-minded purpose to bend her body to his will, to use her for his own pleasure first and foremost. He ploughed into her, fast but controlled, until he was roughly halfway in. A feral moan escaped her lips as the woman craned her neck to watch the action, seeing a fat rod lewdly impaling her hugged tightly by two rosy lips. Her silken depths were tight around him, milking every inch of the smooth rock-hard flesh inside her. <br><br>Soon he was the one teasing her, hinting he might now give her all of his manhood. A disappointed purr later, and her arms were pinned up beside her head. She could have resisted, despite his strength, and made him work for it. But she wanted some instant gratification first, so after a few pathetic struggles, she settled down. “Please… give me all of it… I deserve you teaching me a lesson with your thick hot sword…” She knew she was telling the knight exactly what he wanted to hear – she could feel the yearning in him to slake his thirst, the urge to release pent up stress and desire. Desire for the real Methuseld, perhaps, but desire nonetheless. <br><br>His hips eased back, and suddenly he pushed all the way into her as hard as he could, burying himself so deep there wasn’t much room left in her. Her round, grab-able ass flattened against the rock with little to cushion the force of the large man’s thrust, his pubic mound slapping hard against her clit while the girth nearly splitting her in two pressed hard against her most sensitive inner area. He pulled out almost immediately, leaving her lips parted slightly, and then thrust back in. A full, throaty, loud groan escaped her two thin lips, which curled into a snarl of barely suppressed pain mixed with slightly masochistic pleasure. Dark Methuseld loved this feeling. The feeling of being pierced, penetrated so utterly she might as well have been a part of him, claimed by his powerful cock. <br><br>Again he pulled out, dragging his cock out from between her eager, hungry, slick flesh. Again he shoved it back in, the friction, the heat, the unbearable pressure all building to an almost bewilderingly euphoric level. The stinging of his firm body slapping against her clit and the back of her legs, the tickling of his sack slapping at her ass, the feeling of fullness every time he filled her, and of emptiness every time he left… How she’d missed this! How could she let Methuseld back in when she wouldn’t take advantage of the carnal pleasures this world had to offer!? It was a sin to let herself go without this. And she was sure Donovan agreed now, feeding him loud, lusty moans to spur him on.<br><br>“Come on, harder… faster… claim me… take me…”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>18-11-2015, 15:45:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It didn't take much encouragement from her to increase his vigorous nature. Desire, especially what he felt in that moment, had a funny way of blinding him to certain aspects of the situation, no longer so worried about 'who' the woman was beneath him. He was cognizant of who she was, but any such concerns were feeble now compared to his need, and her words simply spurred him on even further. <br><br>The rock beneath her was no soft bed, and provided no respite from his power. The intensity continued to increase, especially after she voiced her desire to have it given to her harder... faster... to be claimed. Upon her demand that he take her, one of his hands moved up to palm one of her breasts, squeezing greedily - while his other hand moved up to clasp the front of her throat, squeezing -just- hard enough to convey his burning lust for her, not yet hard enough to cause any real pain or cut off her breathing.<br><br>But his hips 'spoke' the loudest, ramming her now with full force, the loud 'slap slap slap' audible even to Aza sitting where she was. The well-oiled length of his cock impaled her over and over again, the rock beneath her offering no give as she simply had to take every inch he had to offer, each thrust full, long, and delving deep within her, the thick bulbous tip filling the deepest recesses of her glistening, slick channel.<br><br>Donovan could feel his power growing, regenerating in the quickest, most direct way possible. Sleep worked very well, too, but it was slower. This physical bliss was by far the quickest way to recharge his internal Glory. Self-pleasure did nothing for him in that regard, but the warm, wet, welcoming embrace of a willing woman was something else entirely.<br><br>Her lusty moans spurred him on, his own moans punctuated with grunts of effort as he fucked her mercilessly. His eyes drank in the sight of her, often roaming up to look at her face, to lock gazes with her - and only then did he have a faint reminder that this wasn't -really- Methuseld. But that didn't seem to matter much to him anymore, not now. As he took her body - no, as he claimed her for his own, even if only for this short time upon the rock beneath her, it didn't really matter to him -who- she was anymore, only that she provided him with the pleasure he sought, and endured the pleasure he gave to her in return.<br><br>His hand squeezed her breast and pushed upward slightly, testing its firmness, his thumb rudely tweaking her nipple, left, right, small hard circles. But when he eventually felt the first hints of his impending eruption, his hand released it, instead sliding down the front of her body, downward to where their bodies were joined. Over her bare, soft mound his fingers roamed, and at the next withdrawal his fingers lipped over the curve of her mons and down, finding her clit with ease. There, his finger began a rapid side-to-side, back and forth motion, stroking her pearl with a quick, rough motion that echoed the battering-ram movement of his cock inside her. <br><br>Donovan's other hand remained fast on her throat, making sure she was pinned and unmoving. He wouldn't put it past this dark bitch to try to cheat him of his reward now that he was so close, and that simply wasn't going to happen. She was going to take what he had to give her, and frankly... she brought it on herself.<br><br>His grunts of desire and heat morphed to moans of impending climax, drawing much closer now with every thrust, his hand still whipping the flat of his finger over her clit in quick, flicking motions. Donovan knew he might still cum first, and that notion didn't -truly- bother him, but pushing her over the edge first would at least prevent her from claiming he hadn't pleasured her, or had left her wanting after the fact. But he was new to her body and had no idea what it would take... he only knew that he would try...<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>24-11-2015, 05:52:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Donovan, gallant as ever, volunteered to take the first watch. Aza, indolent as ever, intended to make the most of that. After nibbling at her portion of what passed for supper, she swept herself a shallow depression into the top layer of sand, right up against the cooler side of the biggest boulder, and prepared to at least doze. Sleeping outdoors was generally unacceptable to her. She felt like some sort of feral animal.<br><br>The fox managed to smirk, still gnawing on a hunk of dried meat. <em>You aren't human,</em> it reminded her.<br><br>"Or you," she snapped at it. "Or... them." She made a vague gesture towards weird glory-knight Don and possibly demon-possessed Ravishing, whose hands-on healing session was at that very moment devolving into, well, ravishing.<br><br><em>That <strong>is </strong>rather animalistic behavior,</em> the fox admitted, staring openly at the scene. <em>Downright pornographic, really.</em><br><br>Aza, who had earlier in their adventure already been witness to Donovan's sexual indiscretions, sighed and yanked her hood down before closing her eyes. She'd been on the receiving end of a lot of adrenaline-fueled survivor lust before, but even to her this seemed neither the time nor place to indulge. Don obviously had a type, and it was for women who were likely to either kill him or get him killed. Whatever currently had hold of Methuseld's body was a scorpion: pretty and pointy and poisonous. And Don was letting it sit in his hand. Metaphorically. <br><br><em>It's the duality of his nature,</em> was the fox's opinion, its 'voice' dropping as it sidled over to her. <em>Remember?</em> And it reached out to draw the heavy material back from her face.<br><br>"Remember, yes," she replied with a snort. "That he..."<br><br>She blinked, realizing it was not a fox that was crouching over her. "You are <em>not </em>Dean," she protested weakly, gazing up at what definitely <em>looked </em>like Dean. Tall, broad-shouldered, fiendishly handsome and wickedly smiling, long-haired and dark-eyed Dean, the version from the ship. And from the giant four-poster bed.<br><br>"Not a fox either," he agreed, and his rich, low tone sure <em>sounded </em>like Dean too. Aza bit her bottom lip, trying to peer around him at the others, but Dean's hunkering form filled her view as effectively as it also trapped her against the curve of the rock. Besides, from the loud throaty sounds of it, Rav's and Don's attentions were still firmly fixed elsewhere, on something about 'claiming' and 'bitches' and 'thick swords.'<br><br>"Eh, I've heard better," faux-Dean said, reaching out to the foxgirl's chin. "Remember, on the ship? When you told that poor Shadow you were going to... what was it..."<br><br>The Dean-shape blurred, flashing into three smaller shapes that were all identical Azas.<br><br><em>"'Make you come so hard you never will again without thinking of me as you do it,'"</em> the foxgirls quoted in chorus, in the voices of an accurately accented and exceptionally sultry Aza. <br><br>"Um," said the real Aza, as her shadowy copies surrounded her. "Yes, but..."<br><br>"Well," said one of the other Azas. "We helped with that," said the second. "Didn't we?" finished the third.<br><br>"I think," said the original Aza, "Your 'help' anymore, I do not need." And she shoved the middle her aside, enough to push between the other girls as she rose. With her head up like she wasn't rattled, she strode away from all the dopplegangers and the copulation, dragging her cloak along through the sand behind her.<br><br>It was a single fox again that caught up to her as she circled to the backside of the boulder, the desert stretching out in twilight silence before them. <em>Don't think you can ignore me,</em> the animal warned her, its ears back and its tail puffed, blue eyes glinting and narrowed. <em>I am here now, and I will... oh hell, what's <strong>that?</strong></em><br><br>Aza stopped too, staring off at the flat, darkening line of the horizon and the clouds that smudged it. Faroff, something rumbled. The fox gave a little bark and pivoted just as Aza spun in a swish of pale blue hair, both taking off in a scramble back towards the campsite.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>avt2</strong> on <strong>29-11-2015, 03:42:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dark eyes met his, face contorted by a host of sensations and emotions, heightened by the intensity of the day, the cool night air, the healing tingles that lingered all over her smooth alabaster-white skin. One of his hands came up, pressing firmly down on her throat as if to make sure she knew he meant business. Soon, her face was a lighter shade of pink as air struggled to make its way down to her lungs. The slight feeling of dizziness only heightened all the other sensations she felt. His other hand moved down to play with her clitoris, teasing the little nub with deft, expert motions. She couldn't really make too much noise what with the being choked slightly, but quiet moans still escaped the woman's lips, giving Donovan further impetus to continue. <br><br>Desperately, Dark Methuseld bucked against him as best she could, the rock scraping her back and ass slightly as she lifted up her hips to meet him, meeting his hips with the backs of her legs and spearing herself with his length. The slapping of flesh against flesh intensified along with the sensation of being filled so perfectly by his thick shaft. She could tell he was getting close to orgasming, but she wasn't done with him yet. She'd milk him for all he was worth tonight, desert and tiny camp be damned.<br><br>Her lips curled in a smug grin; she knew what she was doing to him - filling him with unbearable desire, challenging him to go even faster, to push himself to the limit and over the edge even as he tried to pull her down with him. His fingertip, covered in the hard skin of a lifelong warrior, brushed against the sensitive little bud of the flower again and again and again, relentlessly assaulting her womanhood on two fronts. Slowly, she felt something begin to creep up on her, heightening in intensity, emanating first from her groin and then from the rest of her, as if every fiber of her body yearned for nothing more than this. She was aware of it only faintly as her face grew even redder from lack of air, but knew it would make the eventual death all the sweeter. <br><br>Soon her dark eyes were the epitome of desperation - he had her where he wanted her, begging for the orgasm only he could give. She felt herself clenching around his length, tightening her hold on that wonderful spear as she felt its tip grow slightly, ready to erupt and claim what was his. <br><br>And suddenly Methuseld felt a rumbling, caught an Aza-shaped form running toward camp out the corner of her eye, felt that impending release fading. In the lapse of concentration, she was briefly aware that her lover must have just orgasmed, but her focus was too divided to appreciate it... Until it returned, a second later, leaving her feeling cheated of an orgasm and yet unable to fully deal with that situation in light of possible danger on the horizon. "<em>FUCKING HELL</em>" she shouted as the feeling faded, an unfulfilled promise of bliss replaced instead by a frustrated, simmering rage not unlike normal Methuseld's. "What's going on, fox?! What'd you do? What's coming?!" Sure as hell not her.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>arkhos</strong> on <strong>01-12-2015, 16:11:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was nothing subtle about the powerful build-up between the two. Donovan could sense it easily, as well as the way both of them were trying to hold-off, trying to make sure the other 'lost it' first. It might have been a competition of sorts, but it was the kinda that Donovan was more than happy to 'lose', if it came down to it. What he wasn't willing to accept was complaints or claims that he hadn't bothered with attempting to pleasure her at all. That just wasn't his 'style'. <br><br>But... there was only so much a guy could take.<br><br>They set into a smooth, steady rhythm that allowed his mind to wander, to focus on each and every sensation, to feel Methuseld's body gripping and caressing his hardened length like a mix of silk and velvet. Her body was made for this, whether she realized it or not, and the way she tried to lift herself to meet his every thrust was quite intoxicating. She wanted it as much as he did, maybe even more on some level, and he was more than happy to oblige. <br><br>The grip on her neck was firm, but not enough to cut off breathing completely. His thumb even lightly caressed her skin, following the curve of her windpipe, her slender, elegant neck a contrast to the hardened warrior's body that she possessed. She was beautiful, even if the real Methuseld didn't really try to bother with such things, and for a brief flash of a moment Donovan wondered what it would be like to kiss the real 'her'.<br><br>Such thoughts disappeared as he felt the impending end coming. His finger swirled around her clit even faster in a faint show of urgency - if he had his druthers, he'd rather deposit his load into a clenching, spasming cunt that was going through the throes of her own climax, but he knew as well as anyone that he'd soon reach a point where none of that would matter. He clenched his teeth, he growled softly, he clenched his eyes tightly, he even thought of sitting through one of Father Mayhew's lectures: anything to stave off the inevitable. She felt so warm, so slick... her body clearly inviting him to do precisely what it was racing forward to do.<br><br>He was no aware that Dark Methuseld's enjoyment was already waning, nor was he aware of her distraction. His back to whatever it was that had caught her attention, Donovan rode out the waves of delight even as Dark Methuseld was focusing her attention elsewhere. His hands moved, pulling away from throat and clit alike, snapping down to grip her hips as he groaned loudly, throwing his head back when he finally crossed that deliriously beautiful line - and pulled her body sharply against him as he imploded inside her. The first pump of his seed inside her was strong, generous, accompanied by a deep, guttural groan, and then the next ones were accompanied by Methuseld's shouted complaint, ~<em>Fucking Hell!</em>~ indeed.<br><br>Maybe she was angry that he hadn't pulled out, or maybe she was dissatisfied that he had lost it before she could enjoy her own climax. But... sometimes the spider got the fly... and sometimes it didn't.<br><br>Only when Donovan's eyes blinked open, the last few jets of his warmth filling Methuseld's tight tract did he glance around and register the words of Methuseld, accusing Aza of being up to something. Quickly, reality came back into being, his focus returned. He withdrew his 'sword' from the woman's body, drawing a long line of cum dripping from her slick orifice as he moved to quickly redress himself, turning his head in the direction Methuseld's attention was drawn.<br><br>What the -fuck-? Donovan had been sure that they had left storms and chaos behind them, but instead, it seemed to be racing toward them. Whether it was more of the same madness that assaulted them on the water, or just a random, honest desert sandstorm remained to be seen.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Harrowing Fivesome</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>limegreen</strong> on <strong>07-12-2015, 05:15:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aza and the fox had barely hustled back into camp and Ravishing was already yelling, and it wasn't, apparently, a shout of satisfaction. The fox shot through the legs of the tethered horses, who half-reared and made nervous horsey noises, already staring off into the ominous distance with their ears pricked. <br><br>"Nothing I did," Aza retorted as she gasped for breath, offended by the other woman's allegation that the injurious little foxgirl might somehow bear any of the responsibility for this full-scale fiasco.<br><br><em>Wasn't me,</em> the fox was quick to assure everyone, watching Donovan roll off Ravishing and yank his pants back up. Neither of the other two appeared to be suffused in the enchanted glow following a successfully shared pleasuring.<br><br>The low sky smeared across the horizon flashed, greenish lightning leaping in sheets towards them. A gritty breeze had picked up, making Aza squint and shrug her cloak back on, still happy she had the thing. Nothing about the armor Ravishing currently wasn't sporting would protect against windblown dust. All that nice skin that Don had fixed from the sun, and now it was probably going to get sanded off. <br><br><em>There's more,</em> the fox pointed out, having crawled up onto another boulder to survey this latest trouble, its fur being ruffled by the hot wind. The shadow-creature was right; something besides clouds had appeared in the distance, kicking up more sand as it rode or ran or did whatever, dark shapes barreling straight for them. If this was the only decent campsite around, whatever else that managed to not yet die in this hellish desert was probably intending on using the place too. Maybe it was the best place for everyone to hunker down and survive a storm. Or maybe whatever was coming would be unhappy to find them there and murder them all. Maybe it'd be better to chance the horses outracing the approaching danger.<br><br>"Go or stay?" Aza asked worriedly, glancing between what passed for the responsible adults around here.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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