The Price of Magic (IrishWolf & bubby)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: IrishWolf on 15-09-2013, 01:42:44</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Price of Magic (IrishWolf &amp; bubby)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>IrishWolf</strong> on <strong>15-09-2013, 01:42:44</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://i142.photobucket.com/albums/r94/anIrishlad/Cloud_to_cloud_lightning_strike_zpse36e7936.jpg)</div><br>Dark clouds roiled across the twilight sky, heavy with the promise of rain, as lances of lightning crackled between masses of cloud above the jagged Sky Dagger mountains. The farming folk of King's Pass turned their eyes skyward, smiling at the break in the slight drought they had been experiencing, as they hurried back to their round houses. Whispers hummed as this the locals slipped into blankets, excitedly predicting the new prospects for the harvest. Had they but known that it was not a natural storm but one being gathered by the will of one individual, the women would be weeping and the men would be hurrying out to the caves above the valley, with shovels and pitchforks in their hands, for there was a wizard nearby.<br><br>Wizards were rare and bad news as far as the common folk were concerned. Able to tap into unknown energies and weld strange magicks, this men and women paid for such abilities. Until they possessed an object of power, like a a collection of rings or a staff from ages past, the magicks they touch would either wear way the mind, until the wizard dropped into madness or would slowly consume body. The very thought of a madman with unearthly abilities was terrifying. However, even after they found such an object or collection of them and could safely weld their powers, those very objects and powers drew monsters and evil races to them, like moths to a flame. Just having one near to King's Pass would bring down the trolls from the peaks and the goblin tribes from their deep holes.<br><br>And then there was the minor matter of what he was doing up in those caves. Just a demonic summoning, nothing to get upset over. All he was attempting after all, was to open a portal into the Seven Hells and call forth a being of untold powers and evil at it's very core. Nothing that the villages might have to be worried about., if he was able to control whatever being he called forth. If he made a mistake in his wards or accidentally got a much stronger demon than the one he was trying to summon, well such a creature could easily rampage across the countryside until some force of holy men and their church knights or another wizard appeared, to banish the thing back to the tormented plains of the underworlds.&nbsp; <br><br>Elros Urthadar ran a hand across his brow, wiping away the beads of sweat gathered there, as he carefully poured the last of the mixture of oils, powers and other ingredients, into the summon circle he had spent weeks creating. The cave he had taken over was littered with papers, covered in thin runic scrip or diagrams, he had painstakingly copied from his old master's library. In the middle of the cave, he had smoothed a great patch, until it could have passed for the finest glass and then etched thin channels into the stone, making the basic structure of his circle. Wards and runes were placed over the physical marks, hidden from the eyes of those without magic in their blood&nbsp; and covering several layers of a trap he had built into the circle. Candles and special incense burned at critical locations.<br><br>The young man let out a breath, as he stepped back from circle and set the pot of the mixture down. Finally, after years of training under his master and spending nearly every hour he could spare researching and and developing his rather crazed scheme, he was nearly ready to set in motion, the plan to save his own life. He loved the rush of filling himself and unleashing the forces of magicks, gloried in how vivid the world became and dreaded how dull everything seemed without magic but feared what his gifts was doing to him. It left his mind alone, thank the Gods in their Five Heavens but slowly, each time he used his magicks, the powers of universe ate away at his body. He had been able to slow the effects by eating enough that his was able to recover most of the mass he lost but it would always be a losing battle, until he got his hands on an object of power. <br><br>And to do that, he would need help. To go against a living wizard would have been foolish and a good way to make enemies of his peers. No, he would have to first find the location of an abandoned tower of a dead wizard and claim it as his own. Of course such a place would be filled with traps and still loyal minions of the former owner or overrun by monsters, so a powerful ally or allies would be needed to pass through alive. Before all of that though, he would have to have this ally and then find the Oracle, to locate an abandoned tower. <br><br>Elros gathered up the papers scattered around and carried them back to the alcove he was using for a living space. It was crude, at least when compared with the accommodations he was used to. A bowl of stone set into the wall, with a couple of blankets for comfort. A leather pack rested on the floor besides the alcove, next to a basin of clean water and a satchel holding the provisions he had bought earlier down in King's Pass. Stuffing the papers into the pack, he reached into the satchel and pulled out half a loaf of bread, along with an apple. Finishing both as thunder boomed outside, he rose from the blankets and pulled off the crude tunic he had been wearing, to keep from drawing too much notice down in the village. <br><br>Despite the amount he ate, the young wizard's body was lean, looking underfed and malnourished. His skin, pale from years spent in study, was stretched tight over bones, barely covered with muscle. There was no softness to him, unlike most scholars, although he did have nearly permanent ink stains under his nails. Clean shaven, his face was angular, with prominent cheekbones and a strong nose but what really was the focus, was his eyes. Ice blue in color, his eyes had strange pupils, instead of black, they were silver, with tiny flecks of dark purple. <br><br>He plunged his long fingered hands into the basin and splashed water over his face, scrubbing away dirt and sweat, before running his hands through shoulder length hair, a rich dark brown in color. Pulling most of his hair into a simple ponytail, he tied a thin piece of leather around the base, to hold it in place. The only hair not in the tail, was a thick strand hanging off his right temple. Nimble fingers quickly twisted the strand into a tight braid. Finished with his hair, he pulled out fine clothes from the pack. A loose fitting shirt of white silk, form fitting black trousers, calf high black leather boots and a tight fitting vest, dark blue with silver embroidered runes along the hem.<br><br>Not that a demon would be impressed with human finery but it did help sooth Elros's nerves. Dressed, he walked back to the circle and placed in the middle, a shallow golden bowl and poured into it a vial of his own blood. The demon he was planning on summon was supposedly vampiric&nbsp; in nature. Stepping back, outside of the circle and standing at his full height, nearly six feet, he filled himself with power. His master had never seen another wizard, who could hold as much pure, raw power of he could. A deep, almost orgamic groan escaped him, as the magic seemed to sing in his veins and bones. Focusing, he poured his power into the circle and whispered a single word, a name into the gateway he was opening.<br><br>"Hematess"
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Price of Magic (IrishWolf &amp; bubby)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>bubby</strong> on <strong>23-09-2013, 22:01:53</strong>
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				Her rule was absolute on her little corner of Hell. All of her minions bowed and scraped, seeking to please her in any way she wished. She sat her throne (http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn237/iamrhaza1734/Comics/Independents/Purgatori-2.jpg) with nary a single thought of anyone or thing seeking to oust her, let alone holding the strength to pull such a feat. She fed upon any she wished, most willing, some not so much. Those that fought were the sweetest. <br><br>Hematess was Queen in her Realm, and yet, it still was not enough. She had become bored in her rule, everything given to her freely, worshiped as she was. And though it was her right, and she basked in the adoration fawned upon her, she wanted, needed more. She needed battle, wanted to feed upon something... <em>more</em>. Hematess gained Power from those she fed upon, and for so long now, that vitae had been severely lacking. <br><br>And so it was, as she sat brooding in her kingdom, crimson rivulets dripping thickly from her lips to settle upon the rise of breasts bound tight within black leather from her latest offering, Hematess felt that first tug upon her being. Her body would stiffen, a hiss forced past gleaming fangs, talons curling to claws as a Power from far away pulled at her. <br><br>…..<em>Hematesssss...ssss....sss</em><br><br>Her true name echoed through her chamber, flowed about her body, seeped within her with a Power she could not thwart. Thrusting herself to her booted feet, almondesque eyes would flare brightly with anger, her shriek of rage screaming out through her domain as her statuesque body bowed back. That scream was swallowed up momentarily as the Magic that called her took her complete, and deposited her within the circle made by a certain wizard. Throwing her head back, Hematess would howl in fury (http://img.phombo.com/img1/photocombo/2851/cache/purgatori_wp_549_display.jpg), immediately settling those glowing orbs upon the sight of the man before her. With a snarl promising violence her wings would snap out, launching herself toward him in a frenzy, only to be slammed back as she met the Circle he had made. <br><br>Finally she would settle enough to sweep her eyes about her surroundings, seeing the runes, seeing the wards, and eventually truly seeing the male that stood before her. Her moonlit orbs would narrow slightly as her wings settled against her back, chin lifting, that murderous anger shown just moments before seeming to wash away. Tilting her head as she allowed her gaze to drink in the sight before her, her tongue would slide over her lower lip slowly as she began to chuckle low. <br><br>“ Mmmmmm... and just what sort of mortal man stands before me? A man of magic? Are you aware of what you have truly trapped little human?” Her timbre was sultry, the sound alone holding a Power he would not be able to deny as he felt every nuance in her speech upon is person. A caress of his flesh, ghostly fingers sliding across his neck, teasing at the apex of his thighs. 
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