The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Ajoxer on 10-10-2008, 04:07:54</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>10-10-2008, 04:07:54</strong>
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				The Solar known as Left-Footed Sal was perhaps not the single greatest threat to the Realm. He did not show an immediate desire to destroy the Realm, and all it stood for. He did not traffic with dark demons and set them loose in the Satraps of the realm, he didn't even try to gather a cult around him. No, what the Anathema who goes by the less-than-intimidating moniker of Left-Footed Sal did was almost as bad. He interfered with the Guild's profit margin. The Solar has been spending the last three months gathering a band of various bandits from throughout the East, and gathered them here, in the Forest of Bones. A former Wyld area that had been calmed, but the effects of the chaos that once writhed there are still existent, each of the bamboo stalks that raise high into the air made of gleaming, bleached bone. Despite the ominous nature of these stalks, however, it's a vibrant, lush forest, otherwise, and in the center lies the large building that serves as the headquarters of the bandits.<br><br>You were dispatched by the Realm, as a favor to the Guild. You've travelled for a while. It's rare that a single Dragon-Blooded is dispatched to try to kill an Anathema, but you're noted for your studies of the Immaculate Martial Arts, and they have every confidence that you'll succeed in your task. You've been approaching the building carefully, and tonight, you've prepared to strike. You stand on the roof of the keep, looking down into the courtyard, as the Anathema finishes the evening exercises. The sun has set a few minutes ago, the gentle twilight letting you blend in better with your surrounding, the torches of the inner courtyard not yet set afire.<br><br>The man you've been sent to kill is hardly what you'd expect of a Demon. He's neither monstrous, nor surreally beautiful, like the Fair Folk whom you've occasionally had to deal with. His skin is the light tan of a Southeastern man, his hair the color of spilled ink, a short mane around his head.&nbsp; He's a man, an unusually handsome man, but a normal enough one, most of the time. Perhaps taller than most in this age, but nothing about him seems like it should be off. But you've seen him, when training his men, the way that mark glows into life on his forehead, and the way the men improve, the way they fight like tigers.<br><br>You see him enter the keep. He stops at the doorway, eyes moving up towards you- But they keep moving, to gaze at the stars on this moonless night. He turns again, entering the building. In a few minutes, you see the light inside one of the four towers at its corners flicker on, the place where he spends his nights. You've spent your time watching him fight, if you get the drop on him, you believe yourself quite capable of defeating him. Now, however, is the best time for you to try.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>10-10-2008, 05:08:46</strong>
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				Basilla pressed her form against the wall, seeking to further meld herself with the shadows as the pair of guards passed her.&nbsp; The slim beauty held her breath for several long moments before letting it out in a long sigh.<br><br><em>Fifth patrol I’ve seen.&nbsp; Must be getting close –</em> she thought as the men disappeared around the corner.<br><br>Stepping back into the faint torchlight Basilla listened carefully for any more wandering guards before creeping her way further along.&nbsp; Her hips swayed with much of their sultry grace as she continued forward in a crouching run, her bare feet slapping softly against the stone floor.&nbsp; The simple leather armor she wore creaked softly as she darted a glance around a corner before continuing her stealthy ascent through the keep.<br><br>She’d had to down a guard on the outside when he'd almost literally stumbled over her crawling form.&nbsp; Her expert blow had rendered him unconscious before he could speak but it was only a matter of time before someone found him.&nbsp; Sweat beading on her forehead beneath her silky black hair she kept her pale blue eyes roving for signs of any enemy, knowing her time was short.<br><br>The sweat continued to trickle down her smooth face, having unfortunately little to do with the heat of the jungle, it’s salty beats sliding down her slim neck and into the valley of her full breasts, held in check by her V shaped top.&nbsp; Her skin itched under the rough leather, but it sure as hell beat being naked.&nbsp; Her fingers played with the curved daggers on her belt as she reached her target’s room at last, the door slightly open and a faint light glimmering from within.&nbsp; Pushing the door slowly inward, wincing with each soft creak, she opened it just far enough to slip herself inside with her, a dagger clutched in each hand as she entered the lair of her enemy.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>10-10-2008, 18:46:46</strong>
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				The guards are alert, but are merely human, their senses no match for the Elemental essence that disguises you in shadow, and the natural talent and skill that have helped you become the skilled assassin you are today. They pass by, never noticing you as you keep your breath held. The leather armor is not as strong a defense as something alloyed with Jade, but for stealth, and staying unnoticed, it's the far more discreet choice. You slip past the patrols. Hopefully, the place you left the guard will conceal him, but knowing the dedication these guards show, they'll likely realize he's missing before too long passes.<br><br>The room isn't notably more opulent than most- The Anathema clearly likes to keep himself a bit humble. The door opens smoothly, freshly oiled, and inside, your prey stands with his back to you, looking out the window, not yet appearing to have noticed you as he looks up at the stars, your daggers finding their ways to your hand.<br><br>He's dressed as though he's prepared to sleep, wearing a pair of trousers and nothing else. If you want to finish your mission, now would appear to be the perfect time.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>10-10-2008, 22:35:17</strong>
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				Years of training and her . . . <em>unusual </em>heritage combined in her smooth creeping approach; a jungle cat licking her lips to finally be in sight of her prey.&nbsp; She noted the smooth flow of his muscles beneath his tanned skin, the relatively few scars criss crossing his back for a fighting man.&nbsp; An almost palatable, smoking aura radiated from her unaware target; the scent of a pack leader, an alpha wolf, filling her nostrils.&nbsp; Whatever the man’s appearance, her instincts screamed this man was a viper.<br><br><em>Just as well he’s about to die.&nbsp; He’s the kind of man some would follow straight to the grave . . . or send others there. –</em> she thought with a brief glimmer of heartfelt if morbid admiration.<br><br>But all that mattered very little.&nbsp; The room was spartan and she covered the remaining few feet between them in two smooth strides.&nbsp; She launched forward, the dagger in her right hand flashing around his side to draw itself across his throat as the other flew forward to strike just below his fifth rib.&nbsp; Either strike would kill him, but the pair of them would leave him gurgling on his own blood, unable to scream for help as the life flowed out of him.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>11-10-2008, 07:47:31</strong>
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				Left-Footed Sal has been called many things in his life. A demon, a fool, a bandit, a monster, but he's never been called unaware. As you dash towards him, he turns almost imperceptibly, head moving around, catching you. You, like any fine fighter, already know where your blows are going to land, but suddenly, they're no longer penetrating his oh-so-frail body. No normal person could've had time to react to your attack, let alone to dodge the way he did, but you would not have been required were he ordinary. He's on his feet before you recover from the strikes, his fists balled. Strangely, he grins. 'I knew I saw someone skulking around the grounds...' With a quick movement, he's on you, flipping forward in an acrobatic style, striking brutally as he seems to effortlessly avoid your attacks, almost taunting you as he grins, flowing like blood around your blows.<br><br>' So, the Guild finally got pissed enough to send an assassin, did they?' he asks, his feet sweeping at your ankles, in an attempt to knock you off your balance. He's yet to call for guards, though, and seems to be taking a certain enjoyment in this fight that you'd hardly expect from someone fighting for his life. His caste-mark has flickered into life, a glimmering golden starburst on his brow, and he grins as he goes for your weapons, seizing your wrists in an attempt to force you to drop them. You're an excellent fighter, but he's able to make this into a battle of attrition, and it's clear that you're not going to outlast him, his skin not even marred by perspiration.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>11-10-2008, 08:10:34</strong>
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				Basilla let the blades drop as his impossibly fast hands wrapped around her wrists, twisting and seeking the holds that would disable her.&nbsp; Her side was afire where his rock hard fist had struck and she felt numbness spreading from what in all likelihood had been a nerve strike.<br><br><em>A woman is only as dangerous as the heart and hands</em> behind <em>the blades.</em> - her old teacher used to say each morning before he thumped the living daylights out of her.<br><br>He was larger, stronger, and most likely with help on the way.&nbsp; It had to end, and it had to end <em>fast</em>.&nbsp; She flowed, her body twisting in his grip as she used the momentum of her sweeping slash to twist in his grasp.&nbsp; Her own fingers wrapped around his for leverage as she flipped, her foot slamming into his chin as her other bare foot wrapped it's toes around one of the falling knives and slashed upward.&nbsp; It wouldn't hurt him too badly if it hit, but it'd surprise him and throw him off balance.&nbsp; And that was worth more than any blood she might draw at the moment.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>11-10-2008, 12:48:38</strong>
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				There's a brief look of triumph on his face as the blades drop from your hands, which is replaced by surprise as you twist. Your foot impacts the chin like it would impact a stone wall, the man barely even thrown off his balance by the rough kick, but he is surprised enough by your omnidexterity that he releases you for a moment, avoiding the knife attempting to slice at him, backing away. 'Don't worry, I don't intend to call the guards. You're a Dragon-Blooded... I wouldn't throw their lives away on something like that.' He smirks. 'But if you'd rather run and be hunted down, the window's still open...'<br><br>As he finishes his words, he dashes again, blows raining down on you like the blows of a sledgehammer, hammering through defenses relentlessly as he tries to force you against the wall, to leave you vulnerable to a hold as he moves in close- It's still a risky maneuver, but unless you have another secret hidden up your sleeves, the Anathema will have little trouble using his greater size and strength to force you unconscious, and you have no idea what may follow if he succeeds in that... There have been stories of the things that Anathema do to those they take prisoner. Cannibalism, rape, and worse things- taking over their minds, forcing their prisoners to love them with unnatural charm, and turning friends against one another.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>11-10-2008, 23:29:50</strong>
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				Basilla snarled, a low growl rising in her throat at his flippancy, His casual disregard for her abilities.&nbsp; She fended his attacks off with the grace and long practice of her years of training, twisting and doding with expert skill where she could, and riding out the blows to rob them of their force when she couldn't.&nbsp; To the untrained eye she and Sal seemed to be engaged in a twirling, expertly choreographed dance instead of doing their best to hammer each other into submission.<br><br>She was losing.&nbsp; He was slowly gaining ground, crowding her, forcing her back towards the wall with his relentless attacks.&nbsp; With her back to stone much of her mobility, and <em>all</em> of her chances of winning would disapear like so much smoke.&nbsp; She saw the small smirk play on the Anathema's lips as he forced her further and further back.<br><br><em>A fighter is at her most vulnerable point when she thinks she has control over the situation</em> - she remembered, another harshly learned lesson from her master.<br><br>And so she allowed him to herd her, allowed several of those hammer blows to strike her yeilding flesh as she retreated, allowed her guard to grow slack under the barrage, her knife still weaving a complex defensive pattern in the air between them.&nbsp; Allowed him to become confident, certain that the fight was nearly over.&nbsp; Her chance came as his open hand struck her foot, slapping her dagger to spin away on the stone floor.<br><br>They stood a pace from each other, her breath quick and low and his slow and unlabored, her slim back pressing against the hard wall as she finally ran out of room, her hand lightly resting on her aching ribs.&nbsp; Then he attacked, his arms sweeping wide to wrap her up in a hold, one coming in low to keep her from rolling away.&nbsp; In that brief silver of time, he was concentrated solely on the attack; his opponent unarmed and her fists, while painful, unable to inflict any real damage.<br><br>Her hand slipped behind her back, fingers wrapping around the last ditch dagger hidden in the smooth leather just below her spine.&nbsp; The straight blade slid free of it's sheath and with one smooth movement she plunged the surprise weapon through his guard, the point seeking to slip between his ribs and plunge into his heart.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 20:46:06</strong>
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				The Anathema is, without a doubt, highly confident, as his fists seem to break through your guard, landing like iron on your flesh, leaving your movements slowed and bruised as he continues moving in- Though it is making him less confident, allowing the blows to get through your guard is leaving you less capable as he strikes in, his hands feeling more like bludgeons as they leave muscle bruised. <br><br>As your dagger flies away, he grins. 'There's no shame in losing here, Assassin. I certainly don't intend to kill you in kind...' he says, and then lunges forward, and in the moment before you strike, it's like bands of iron beginning to fasten around your body, skin being tightened, breath getting crushed out of your lungs, before your blade slips between the ribs, plunging into his chest.<br><br>He releases you in shock, backing away slowly, looking at the blade that protrudes from his chest, deep enough that it must have pierced his heart. He reaches up, wrapping his fingers around the hilt, pulling out the blade slowly, and grinning in a way that makes your heart sink. 'I certainly hope that wasn't the only knife you have.' There's a blur of gold, and his fist meets your stomach, striking you roughly, the stone wall behind you cracking from the merciless blow, and the light fades out of your vision as you feel yourself collapsing on the floor.<br><br>An unknown amount of time passes, and you find yourself waking up slowly. You're in an extremely secure looking stone room, with a small window approximately as wide as your fist, and barred thickly, casting sunlight into the room, and a solid oak door, that is very thoroughly locked. You've been dressed in a rather drab white dress, anything else you kept hidden on your body gone. Your ribs are bandaged, and when you try to move, you feel the strong ache of knitting bones. You've been badly injured, but you're an Exalted- you'll heal, as good as new, given some time. The bed you lie on is fairly soft, a feathered bed, and the room, while somewhat spartan, is comfortable enough, a chair sitting by the bed. The door opens after a few minutes, and Left-Footed Sal stands there.<br><br>" I hope you appreciate my mercy. I have to admit, you interest me." The door closes behind him, leaving him standing there, fully clothed this time. You can't tell whether he's healed from the wound you inflicted on him yet. "You didn't kill that guard who found you, and that's something that inclines me to be merciful- An assassin who's that careful is rather unusual." He opens a slot in the door, taking a plate through it, handing it to you- It's a warm porridge and a cup of some sort of fruit juice. "There you are. You'll be on soft foods until you've healed up rather better." He sits down in the chair beside you. " So, my noble assassin, tell me, what is your name?" he asks, leaning back in his chair.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 04:58:59</strong>
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				Basilla shifted angrily on the bed, wincing as fire lanced along her broken but quickly healing ribs, as she prepared to defend herself.&nbsp; None of her aches and bruises matched those that she would have recieved from a rape, but that might only mean that the Anathema preferred his victims awake as he violated them.<br><br>She wasn't in any kind of condition to stop him, whatever he decided to do to her, but that didn't mean she wouldn't go down kicking, clawing, and screaming.&nbsp; Despite herself Basilla felt a shudder wrack her body at that thought.&nbsp; She wasn't one of the Guild's fanatics.&nbsp; She truly didn't want to die and would have preferred to be able to live life never ending another's life.&nbsp; But that wasn't the way the universe worked, and it seemed to delight in making her one of the most effective assassins in recent memory.&nbsp; She'd never enjoyed the way the life had left their eyes, their bowels voiding themselves as their muscles relaxed, but had always made herself watch.&nbsp; Had made certain that she understood <em>truly</em> what she did every time her blades sunk into flesh.&nbsp; As he spoke in that soft, almost gentle, voice Basilla found herself wondering if the Anathema had every experienced doubt or pain over the many men he'd doubtlessly murdered.<br><br>" - An assassin who's that careful is rather unusual." he continued as her mind finally tuned to his words.<br><br>She experienced a brief moment of confusion before she realized he spoke of the guard, and she felt an angry swirl of rage grow at her core.&nbsp; As he said, she was an <em>assassin</em> not some calloused murderer or a street thug.&nbsp; Sal had been her target, and Sal was the only one her blades would bite.&nbsp; Her hands flexed, seeking to grasp the handles of her absent weapons as she longed to throw herself onto her target.<br><br>He placed a plate before her, porridge and a cup of dark red liquid with that infuriating smile "There you are. You'll be on soft foods until you've healed up rather better."<br><br>Hunger burned in her belly but she remained still, her eyes never leaving the Anathema's as he slowly sat down in the only chair in the room.&nbsp; It was part of the breaking process, to get her to accept his hospitality, that he was in control of her, that she lived by his will and his grace.&nbsp; She'd have to eat, but she'd do it at <em>her</em> time.&nbsp; Her bruised and nearly broken body would need a great deal of it and she felt another small surge of petty anger as he sank smoothly into the chair, obviously unhurt by any wounds <em>she</em> had managed to inflict over the course of their short fight.<br><br>" So, my noble assassin, tell me, what is your name?" he asked with a smile as she watched him.<br><br>She didn't answer him, her lips pressed firmly together as fire continued to burn in her eyes, her neck unbent as she radiated silent defiance.&nbsp; He repeated the question and still she didn't answer him, turning her head away to contemplate the wall before her with the stately grace of a warrior princess, unwilling to acknowledge the barbarian before her.&nbsp; Another handfull of breaths passed and he asked once more, patiently, a hand lightly reaching out to brush against her now loose hair.<br><br>She moved, biting back a scream of agony as aching muscles responded to her commands.&nbsp; Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and her other hand came up in a flash to slam her fingers home in his throat, hoping to crush it with a single well placed blow.&nbsp; And if not, that he would instead crush the life from <em>her</em>, saving her from the bitter shame of her defeat.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 07:13:22</strong>
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				He smells of something, light, but pleasant. It doesn't have the thick cloying nature of perfume, perhaps just a trick of your mind, but he smells faintly of orange blossoms, a faint smell, one that recalls memories of sun and better days.<br><br>Left Footed Sal would be frankly bemused by your thoughts. He is, at heart, an uncomplicated man. Breaking you is not on his agenda- 'I'd much rather she were whole.' would be his answer if anyone were to ask. Doubt, pain? Perhaps. He had the certain level of fanaticism that is only found in those who truly know they're doing what's right, what has to be done, to keep many more from dying, but that doesn't keep him from hating to see people die when they don't have to, he's not a butcher, certainly.<br><br>The idea of an assassin being averse to killing just anyone might seem a bit odd, but only at first glance. Certainly, though, he wouldn't have met many assassins in his life of your caliber, or he would be a rather more paranoid human being. What would come net shows that.<br><br>The food, at least for him, is a way of helping you become healthier. It's not a dominance play, or an attempt to instill fear in you, from his point of view- But then, again, he is an uncomplicated man. It's simply a way of helping you to heal, a hope that your talents, your unusual beliefs, might end up being an asset to him... And there is a certain elegance to your movements, something about that grace with which you slid the blade into him, merciless but almost kind... Nobody ever said that attraction was going to be healthy.<br><br>He responds to your silence with a certain level of patience, watching quietly, waiting to see if you'll change your mind- He's willing to wait, sitting in an uncomfortably comfortable silence as he watches you, before repeating the question after minutes pass, moving a hand forward to tease a stray wisp of hair out of your eyes, moving it back, not expecting the coiled spring of your action.<br><br>His eyes widen as you strike, taking his hand out of play, your other hand diving forward with desperate speed, striking his throat... and buckling as the force recoils, fingers reaching the trachea, and instead of finding an elastic structure, strike it like a stone wall, an unpleasant crack coming from one finger. He withdraws his hand from your grip effortlessly. 'I'm afraid that you may not yet be in the mood to talk. Enjoy your meal, I'll be back at midday with another one. Please don't try to use the tray to fashion weapons, they will be no more effective, and I've served you using the good china. I found it on one of those slave caravans that your masters enjoy sending to the Fair Folk- I understand that they pay very well for the dreams and minds.' he says, opening the door, stepping out smoothly and closing it behind him, leaving you in the room alone.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 08:58:01</strong>
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				Basilla cradled her broken finger, finally allowing a soft whimper to escape her lips only after she was certain Sal was gone.&nbsp; With a low grunt of anguish she snapped the dislocated bone back into place.&nbsp; It would be several days at least before she could use it properly again but it would heal.<br><br>Her stomach grumbled again and only with the briefest of hesitations she snatched up the bowl and drank the porridge greedily, barely even pausing for breath before the warm thick fluid disappeared down her throat.&nbsp; Her most basic need sated, Basilla padded softly around the cell, wincing with each step but as she paced her cell her stride became surer and surer as she forced the pain from her mind.<br><br>The cell was truly a superb construct, and Basilla felt a momentary flicker of pleasure at the backhanded compliment.&nbsp; A regular cell would almost have been an insult to her abilities, a cage made of straw attempting to hold a tigress.&nbsp; But the walls showed few if any weak points, the door tough enough to withstand any attack her weakened body could dish out, and the window far too small even if she could break the thick frame.<br><br>No, she was stuck here, at the mercy of that Anathema.&nbsp; Her lip curled at the thought of him, though uncertainty warred with her hate deep within her.&nbsp; He was . . . .<em>different</em>.&nbsp; He carried very little of the arrogance she had witnessed and struck down in so many of her opponents, though his unconcern about anything <em>she</em> could do to him was infuriating.&nbsp; The fact that she truly couldn't was even worse.<br><br>She'd never felt so powerless in her life, and it was all she could do not to wring her hands in helpless frustration as she paced the cell.&nbsp; She halted, gritting her teeth as she brought her emotions back under the steely control that had served her so well for so long.&nbsp; She couldn't beat him physically, it galled her but it was true.&nbsp; But there were other ways to kill, ways as sure as any blade or poison.<br><br>Basilla smiled for the first time since she'd awoken, and it was not a pleasant one.&nbsp; When he returned, the Anathema would find her still hostile but markedly more docile . . .even apologetic for her attack.&nbsp; It would take time, but she would <em>not</em> fail in her task.&nbsp; She would conquer Left Footed Sal . . .<strong>whatever </strong>it took.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>14-10-2008, 06:22:33</strong>
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				If one were to ask Sal if he thought of himself as Anathema, he'd be, perhaps not insulted, but certainly incredulous. He's never been demonic, except perhaps when he's had a touch too much to drink. But he thinks that what he is doing is for the best- He fights the Guild and frees those who they enslave, offers them a new place to live, and a new cause to fight for. He does what he feels is best. Certainly, many tyrants have started with those dangerous words, but just as many great heroes have done the same.<br><br>A few hours pass before he returns, carrying another tray, smiling. 'Hope that your finger isn't too badly hurt.' he says, picking up the old tray, and setting down the new, with similar food as last time- Plain, simple fair, but nourishing, and easy on your stomach. This time, however, he's added something else- There's a book sitting by your meal. " I thought you could use some entertainment, so I've been finding a few books for you. I'm afraid I don't know much about your taste in reading material, it's a book of poetry. It seemed well-suited to you." He doesn't know it, not having looked over it too intensively, but it's also, specifically, poems of love, romance, that sort of thing- The Blossoms of the East, the title reads. Fairly well known by most, apparently not by him.<br><br>' I want to ask you your name again. I hope that this time it won't end with you injuring yourself.' he says, an eyebrow raised. He doesn't say it in a cruel way, or a mocking way- He almost seems concerned for your safety, that you might do yourself grievous harm in an attempt to hurt him. Somewhat laughable, coming from someone who you're supposed to kill, but in it's own way... compassionate. ' And I'd also like to know, how exactly someone like you, apparently compassionate, found herself becoming an assassin.' he says, leaning forward in the chair, chin supported on the back of his hand.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>14-10-2008, 19:40:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				It takes more self control than Bella though to not slam her fist into that not quite <em>smug</em> face, her fingers curling and uncurling at her side as she sips from the porridge with the other hand.&nbsp; Besides, the last thing she needed right now was <strong>more</strong> broken bones.<br><br>"Basilla" she said simply, her eyes still flashing with suppressed anger at his 'compassionate' dig "And I didn't kill your guard because he wasn't my target, wasn't anything except in the wrong place." a cold curl of her lip as she regards Sal "<em>Some</em> of us, Anathema, do not kill capriciously.&nbsp; I only kill those that are a threat, a danger to others."<br><br>Suddenly, and very inappropriately, Basilla felt the urge to open to him, to tell him about her endless hours of self doubt. Of how after her first kill she'd locked herself in her room, entire body trembling at the sick memory of the corrupt merchant's pawing gasps past the dagger plunged into his throat, had voided the contents of her own stomach as she'd made her way back from his sumptuous mansion.&nbsp; How Three-Strike Pan, her long time mentor, had taken the trembling girl, held her close and whispered soft reassurances to her, had cradled her like his own child until she had passed on to blissful sleep.<br><br>But she couldn't tell him that.&nbsp; A monster like him could never empathize with such doubt, such pain at the death of another, could never deal with it as Pan had taught her.&nbsp; Still, a small corner of her mind whispered that perhaps <em>this</em> one could, that he would understand.&nbsp; Lightly fingering the book that he had placed before her she chose her next words with care.<br><br>"I had a good master.&nbsp; He taught me the meaning of the warrior's code, not just the words.&nbsp; I kill only in the defense of others, only to save innocents pain." another smile, this one almost with a trace of humor "I take out the trash."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>14-10-2008, 20:26:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sal watches you quietly as you speak. 'That alone would mark you apart from most assassins. He could've woken up earlier than you expected. Raised the alarm, ruined your chance. Only a very confident, and a very compassionate, assassin would take a risk like that for the sake of a mortal's life. I must say, that's an admirable thing.' He says compassionate, not as a flaw, but as the virtue he sees it as.<br><br>The man watches quietly, and you could almost swear that he sees that secret doubt, the pain inside, and he finds it not a weakness to be ground out, but a flaw to make perfection approachable. As you speak about the killing in the defense of others, he stands up, features clouding with darkness. " Do you know why I do what I do? Why I take the lives that I do, why I send my men into fights they may not return from, why I kill?" He looks over his shoulder. " What do you know of the Fair Folk?"<br><br>He turns quietly. " They're predators. They rise from the chaos that surrounds the world, they give themselves shape from our imaginations and stories, inhuman and disturbing perfection. And they create marvels. Marvels that the Guild would give anything for. Of course, with such marvels, they're not interested in the petty drugs, weapons, gold and silver, that the Guild can offer. But the Guild does have one thing that the Fair Folk enjoy... People. People, with minds, imaginations, that the Fair Folk can glut themselves on. Leave them broken husks, like a gutted cow, minds shattered."<br><br>" That man you knocked out? One of the first people who I helped to free from one of their slave Caravans. He was part of a yearly offering to them. Everyone here had their lives taken from them, everyone here lives on borrowed time, myself included. That's why I kill, and why I send these men into battle."<br><br>He sits quietly, the rage disappearing like a storm suddenly broken. " If you are so noble a person as you say you are, I find it hard to believe that you would try to kill me for trying to save people from a fate worse than death."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>14-10-2008, 23:23:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla slowly and carefully placed her bowl back onto the tray, meeting his gaze with a flinty stare of her own as rage boiled within her " I do not know what you may <em>think</em> you know of me, Anathema, but I do not serve the Guild.&nbsp; I am here not because of the threat you pose to <em>them</em> but because of the threat you pose to us all." a short, curt nod at the barred window "The Fair Folk lurk in the shadows, as do you.&nbsp; They twist and corrupt, as do you.&nbsp; And they feed off weakness, gnawing at the vitals of Creation, as <em>do YOU.</em>" she almost snarls the last few words.<br><br>She very calmly hands Sal the tray, the book of poetry placed on neatly on it "I'm not hungry anymore.&nbsp; If you truly are the kind soul that you claim . .. then <em>leave</em>."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>15-10-2008, 00:18:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				" I am not a demon. I am one of those who was meant to fight demons, to fight the Fair Folk, to fight the things that would corrupt, and destroy, and rip apart all of Creation for the crime of being as it is! I am one of the Chosen of the sun itself, and the only threat I pose are to those who have corrupted the world so badly, including your Dynasty!" he says, standing slowly, the caste mark on his brow flaring, a golden sunburst, and as he reaches the end of his sentence, golden light coruscates off of his skin, forming a maelstrom around him for a few terrifying, awe-inspiring seconds before it dies down, his breath releasing slowly. 'Very well. I will see you again this evening. I hope I can find a book more to your interest.' he says, taking the tray from your still outstretched hands, leaving the room quietly, that violent, almost terrifying rage disappearing beneath the surface again.<br><br>You're left to ponder your thoughts again, in the quiet... And you notice that the wood has become paler than it was before, bleached as though it had spent years in the sun, your skin feeling slightly warm from the rays, like the heat of the desert sun pounding down on you relentlessly. Whatever else he says, you do know that there are very few among the demons and dead who particularly enjoy the touch of the sun. It is enough to inspire doubt, a chink in the armor of dogma that the Solar will spread, if he continues to spend his time around you, with those honeyed words.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>15-10-2008, 06:14:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla paced again, her steps already more sure, and she took the time to do several simple stretches, gritting her teeth against the dull ache of her limbs as she did so.<br><br>The Anathema had planted a nagging seed of confusion in her heart.&nbsp; The words she had used had been meant to inflame, and they had.&nbsp; But she hadn't counted on the steely control that had clamped down over the rage.&nbsp; She had seen displays of power, seen a single man level a village with a whispered word, but a part of her whispered that she had seen but a fraction of what <em>this</em> one could do.&nbsp; And he'd fought it down, made him <em>it's</em> master instead of the other way around.&nbsp; And that only made him all the more dangerous<br><br><em>He's Anathema, girl</em> - her mind whispered - <em>If he</em> didn't <em>have awe inspiring powers, they wouldn't have sent</em> you <em>after him, now would they?</em><br><br><em>They should have! - </em>she replied tartly, rubbing her arms softly as she paced in the deepening gloom of evening -<em>By the Empress, I couldn't even HURT him!&nbsp; It's like trying to get a mountain to crumble with a splash of water!</em><br><br><em>Ahhh, my sweet, but you </em>can <em>wear down a mountain with a stream.&nbsp; It only takes time.</em> - her alter-ego soothed.<br><br>Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the sounds of his approach.&nbsp; Slipping back into the bed she lay with her eyes tightly shut and her back presented to the cell door, rubbing her arms softly as a not entirely physical chill ran up and down her spine in the colder evening air.&nbsp; She couldn't face him, not right now.&nbsp; She had to have time, time to collect herself, to steel her mind and her traitorous fluttering heart against those eyes, that soft smile, those . . .<br><br><em>STOP that!</em> - she demanded of herself, growling irritably at her wandering mind - <em>But he's cute.&nbsp; Especially that tight little . . .I said stop!</em><br><br>And so she waited, the cold knot in her belly a stark contrast to her almost racing breath as he entered the room.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>15-10-2008, 15:40:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He enters the room quietly, carrying another bowl. There's another book sitting on the tray this time- You recognize it as one of the Heretical Texts. ' Somewhat overblown, but a truer account of history than any you've been shown in the Realm.' the Solar says as he sits, the tray placed on his lap. 'Wake up, Basilla, I don't want you not getting enough food, those injuries are going to need help to be repaired.' he says lightly. 'I apologize for losing my temper earlier.'<br><br>He waits for you to take the tray, one leg crossed over the other, holding the tray on his lap as he watches you quietly. It's an almost... peaceful feeling, a feeling of safety that you haven't felt in a long time, being watched over by the silent Solar... A safety that the inner mind may find a tad disturbing. He softly reaches out a hand, and runs it over your shoulder gently, rubbing your skin in a way that feels careful, but... almost loving, it would seem.<br><br>' You said you thought me the same as one of the Fair Folk, as a demon, nothing more than a corruptor lurking in the shadows. Do you truly believe this?' he asks, leaning his head on one hand again as he waits for your response.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 02:04:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She stayed still for another moment, her shoulder still warm from his touch before responding "No, I don't."<br><br>She rolled over, her eyes meeting his as her hair cascaded down her back " The Fair Folk seek to destroy.&nbsp; Yes, they twist and bend, but everything they touch sooner or later descends into Chaos.&nbsp; For all their guile, for all their strength, they are not nearly as dangerous as <em>you</em>."<br><br>She propped herself up on one elbow "You Solars are revered as Gods among men, as Lords of Creation.&nbsp; And you are." she admitted without rancor but with a slight hardening of her gaze "But you bend Creation to you.&nbsp; You turn men against their families, calling them to blindly follow you."<br><br>Sitting up fully she pressed herself against the wall, her eyes still never leaving his "So, you <em>are </em>quite different.&nbsp; The Fair Folk may be the blade held to our throat, but you are the dagger nestled against our ribs.&nbsp; We can't let such a threat remain.&nbsp; Even if you <em>may</em>" she stressed the word " be good now, sooner or later you will fall, Solar.&nbsp; We're simply limiting the damage."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 02:36:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Solar watches you silently as you say this, and shakes his head. 'Limiting the damage? I've heard that, so many times, from so many people. I won't deny, we became power-mad in the last Age. There was great risk in trying to reform us, compared to simply killing us and taking over. But look at our world. The Great Contagion killed nine out of every ten, Mortal and Dragon-Blood. The Fair Folk tore a gaping hole out of creation, leaving the twisting chaos there. You only managed to restore some semblance of order by using one of our oldest and greatest weapons- And then, you let the entirety of Creation bend to your whims as you played your games of thrones.'<br><br>He stands. 'We may fall sooner or later, but for now, we are exactly what Creation needs- heroes. Heroes who can turn back the tides of darkness that our absence have let flow. The Fair Folk are preparing for another crusade, greater than the one before. The dead are boiling out of shadowlands to pull everything down into the darkness. The demons are finally prepared to take advantage of the mistake you made and pull all of Creation down to their madness- And you're trying to assassinate the ones who they fear, the ones who can turn back the tides that are going to overwhelm us all.'<br><br>He stands in front of you, radiating quiet power. ' The Dragon-Blooded are not the ones at fault. You are powerful, but you would rather be kings of ruins, than Princes of Earth.'<br><br>He looks into your eyes, and for a moment, it feels like he sees through it all. Through the uncertainty, through your petty humanity, to the soul inside. And it hurts, because he sees all the flaws. And it feels amazing, because he holds out a hand. 'You can be More.' he whispers. There's no coruscating gold, no shining essence around him, no attempts to control your mind- Merely the charm and majesty inborn in the Solar greatness.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 23:27:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“We’ll survive.” She growled low in her throat “We did so without your kind for generations, and we still do.&nbsp; So far as being ‘princes of ruins’, ” she almost spat “ . . . we’d prefer for there to <em>be </em>ruins to live in.&nbsp; Your war would lay waste to Creation.”<br><br>She slid off the bed to stand before him proudly, her eyes meeting his as she stretched to her full height.&nbsp; In another, it might have been comical, a Dragon Blooded staring down a Solar that had <em>proven </em>that he could take her apart with one hand.&nbsp; But there was very little comical in Basilla’s cold stare as she regarded him with all the scant favor of a particularly disgusting rat.<br><br>“I do not hate you, Anathema” she stresses the title with a slight hiss “You are simply another target, another <em>creature </em>that my Empress has decreed must die for the safety of us all.&nbsp; And I <em>will </em>kill you.&nbsp; If not me, then another.&nbsp; But you will fall, Solar.”<br><br>Her words come out fast, almost rolling over each other as she fought to not avoid that stare.&nbsp; To duck away from those piercing eyes seeming to stare into her depths, that seem to truly see <em>her</em>.&nbsp; To see the lonely girl, abandoned and outcast by her family.&nbsp; That eeked out a miserable existence in alley ways and abandoned buildings as a child.&nbsp; That had resorted to petty theft, clawing and fighting simply to stay alive.&nbsp; That was only alive now when that same system that he insulted, that he called <em>petty</em>, had found her.&nbsp; Had taught her that she was special, that with her brothers and sisters she could change the world.&nbsp; Had trained her, had turned her into the enforcer of her absent Empress’s will.<br><br>And this man dared to tell her that she was incomplete?&nbsp; That she somehow needed more?&nbsp; His words burned like acid but hurt all the worse as a small corner of her mind wondered if perhaps he was right.&nbsp; Perhaps there could be more than her lifetime of duty, of sacrifice for the greater good.&nbsp; A part of her that was still that little girl, still that sobbing and lonely wretch, wanted to reach out, to take that hand and become a part of him.<br><br>With a soft snarl she slapped his hand away, tears of both anger and shame welling in her deep eyes “Get out.” She half shouted and half sobbed “GET OUT!” she screamed, trying vainly to shove him towards the door.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>17-10-2008, 00:11:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				" You've survived so long, but you've been giving ground with every generation. When we died, the Dragon-Blooded host numbered a million, and Creation was nearly as grand as under our control. But you can't sustain it- The Great Contagion cut your numbers and left Creation in tatters. You're not going to be able to hold out against the next one. Would you be so proud as to let Creation burn rather than trust us again?' He stands as you say this, and as you try to dehumanize him, his eyes piercing you, and you can see that he's hurt, but your words, no matter how poisonous, can't dissuade him. 'Very well.' he says, taking his hand away from you- But not with the disappointment or anger of someone scorned, but with the calm of a monk who must meditate for another day before receiving enlightenment. <br><br>The attempts to push him are as futile as striking a mountain, but nonetheless, he leaves, leaving with that same quiet poise and coolness, closing the door behind him- But before he does, with the door open just a sliver, he looks over his shoulder. 'I hope you will sleep well.' he says softly, head bowed before he closes the door completely, leaving you with your food.<br><br>He's... more hurt than you would expect by the rejection. He knows that it's not wise for him to feel the way he does about you, but you are, essentially, everything he could admire in an Exalted, and at the very least, he's not going to be willing to give up any time soon. The sun sets, the sounds of the night filling the air. You've been through a rather intense day, and sleep comes to you sooner than you might want, but eventually, you find yourself waking up to the knock of the door. 'Good morning.' Sal stands before you once again, a smile on his face.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>17-10-2008, 06:15:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As she stirred to the knock, Basilla felt a warm flush grace her cheeks and hurriedly pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.&nbsp; In her life as an urchin she had many times gone for weeks or even months without bathing, or even being able to change out of her rags.&nbsp; It had left her skin crawling with lice as well as made her nights a horrible ordeal, the rough and filthy clothes always rubbing against her as she tossed and turned.<br><br>For that reason she slept in the nude, the simple white dress that Sal had provided neatly folded and lying on the ground next to the bed.&nbsp; Her face burned hotter than the noon day sun as Sal strode into the small cell, and she forced a fiery glint into her eyes as they met his welcoming smile.<br><br>"What do you want?" she demanded.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>17-10-2008, 11:16:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He sets the tray down on your lap. 'Well, I've come to offer you two things: Your breakfast, and a bath. You seem to be healing quickly enough, so you're being upgraded to solid foods. I hope you enjoy.' There's some porridge still, and a cup of fruit juice, but there's also a few slices of what looks to be bacon. 'Should help you to recover a bit quicker, to have some meat back in your diet.' he says, relaxing by your chair. He doesn't seem particularly offput by your nudity.<br><br>He smiles cheerfully. 'Would you prefer me to turn around so that you can get yourself dressed before you get a bath? It's nothing that I didn't see when I was getting you out of your armor and bandaging you up, you realize.' he says, an eyebrow raised. He has to admit, what he saw was certainly appealing, but he behaved like a perfect gentleman all the same.<br><br>The morning air is crisp, the sunlight streaming in across the wall, and he seems fresh, all signs of the anger and hurt of yesterday gone once again. You can't even see any sign of where he was injured, the wound already sealed. He's dressed simply once again, a simple white shirt and blue pair of trousers.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>19-10-2008, 08:37:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Almost defiantly Basilla allowed the thin blanket to flutter down to her lap.&nbsp; Sliding herself out of bed she stood her full proud height, and fought down her blush as she stared at the Solar for a moment.&nbsp; She felt naked in more than the obvious way under his eyes, but she refused to allow him to throw her off balance, despite the flutter deep in her belly at feeling his gaze drink her in.<br><br>In another time and another age her physique would have been described as 'Amazon'; supple curves emphasized rather than contrasted by the smooth flow of her muscular frame.&nbsp; In this age, a prowling jungle cat came most often to mind, sleek and lethal and undeniably feminine.<br><br>She knelt down slowly to pick up the dress, holding it in front of her as she arose again with only the faintest pink of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.&nbsp; Sex and men were nothing new to her, both trained in the use of it to further her mission and having experienced it's pleasures at her own discretion on occasion.&nbsp; But the calm, almost sweet gaze of the Solar did far more to unnerve her than any leer from one of her fellow Dragon-Blooded or her targets.<br><br>She made herself speak in smooth, measured tones as she pulled the dress over her head "I think breakfast can wait.&nbsp; I really would like that bath." an arched eyebrow "Or was there something else you wanted first?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>19-10-2008, 09:02:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He lets his eyes wander for a moment, sliding along your frame, almost like a caress moving down the curves of your body, running over those places where you're still bandaged from the rough beating you took, taking it in in a moment before you stand once again, smiling as you dress- in the clothes that he provides. 'Not at all. Come.' He stands, and opens the door, letting you leave. He doesn't even bother to handcuff you. He knows fully well that he's faster, stronger, and more dangerous than you, and your injuries only take away what uncertainty still might remain.<br><br>Barring painfully doomed escape attempts, he leads you through the complex, standing only a half step in front of you as he walks down, towards the basement areas of the fort. 'We have a hot springs nearby, it allows us to pipe in hot water. A fortunate luxury.' He leads you into a small room. A stone tub sits, carved out of a single piece of rock. It's been ground smooth, the interior surprisingly comfortable, and full of fresh, hot water, being piped in from the side, and pouring down into a drain again. 'It's rather complicated as a system, but it gives us an unlimited source of clean, warm water.' He helps you to sink into the bath, water just at the edge of comfort, hot and refreshing, sitting down by the side of the tub. And quite without warning, he produces a bar of some sort of soap, inset with tiny grains of rock, making it rough, but surprisingly pleasant as he runs it over your back, scrubbing away the dead skin, the dirt, leaving you feeling wonderfully cleansed as he slowly works over your back. 'You're injured.' he responds, if you make any complaint. 'I don't want you pushing your joints at such a time, you might hurt yourself.' It's hard to say if he's telling the truth or not, but... it is very pleasant, certainly.<br><br>' Tell me, how did you Exalt?' he asks, by way of conversation.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>21-10-2008, 02:08:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla tried with all of her strength not to purr as the Solar’s hands drifted up and down her back, rubbing the hard soap along her smooth back with a strange gentleness.&nbsp; She was successful for the most part, though a suspicious rumbling did sound deep in her chest.&nbsp; <br><br>She fought to keep her wits about her <em>–He’s an Anathema!&nbsp; A monster, a destroyer of worlds, girl! –</em> she shouted mentally at the slow tingling of arousal her traitor body insisted on experiencing –<em>Yeah, but he sure knows how to rub a girl down . . . oohhhhh . . .a little to the left.-</em><br><br>Almost gritting her teeth, Basilla was shocked by his question.&nbsp; Her eyes closed in pain equal to the pleasure she had just been reveling in as the images flashed before her.<br><br>&nbsp;A narrow alley, one that would live forever in her memory, no matter how hard she tried to strike it’s filthiness from it.&nbsp; A small group of thugs, barely past childhood themselves, the leader having almost shaved black hair and a leering grin.&nbsp; They ‘taxed’ the urchins daring to live in their blocks of the slums, taking out in beatings what any of their 'tenant's' couldn't pay out in coin.&nbsp; She'd managed to avoid them for a time, finally finding herself cornered in that sick pit of hell as the starry night sky shone majestically above the city.&nbsp; Had felt their fists fall on her, their kicks curl her slim body into a crying ball.&nbsp; Felt their eager hands tear at the rags covering her slim form, eager to take their <em>payment</em>.<br><br>And then . . . .rage.&nbsp; Terrible and deep rage unlike anything she had ever experienced before.&nbsp; The watch had found her with the first rays of dawn, still beating the ravaged corpses further and further into pulps, her banshee warcry chilling their souls as they fought to subdue her.&nbsp; She'd expected to be executed, had almost welcomed it as she lay curled on the cold floor of her cell.&nbsp; She hadn't expected the large man with the gentle eyes to walk slowly into the cell.&nbsp; Hadn't imagined her future master, Three-Strike Pan, gently scooping up the sobbing girl in his arms to carry her from that dark place.<br><br>Shaking her thoughts free of the past she was aware of the silence as the Solar awaited her answer.&nbsp; Blushing she shook her head as she looked over her shoulder at him, a brief flash of vulnerability in her eyes before it disappeared again behind the mask.<br><br>“I . . .I don't remember.&nbsp; How did you, Ana . . . .Solar?” she murmured, blushing even more furiously at her own self correction.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>21-10-2008, 05:34:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He watches you, and a hand moves forward to your shoulder, holding you gently as he sees the pain run through your eyes, letting you ride it out as he sees you pull back into your shell again. 'If you say so.' is the only thing he says, but he softly squeezes your shoulder, continuing to rub his hands over your back, lifting one arm and beginning to scrub it.<br><br>" Me? Surprise surprise... It happened when the Fair Folk attacked. I was just a young man. Their leader slaughtered everyone in the village, and then stood before me. He told me that he wanted a hero to fight, so he naturally had to kill everyone in the village, to make sure that I'd be motivated enough." Killed. Butchered. The hobgoblins racing through buildings, setting fires, cutting anyone who ran out to ribbons, laughing hysterically as they murdered wantonly. They lived their lives by stories. The hobgoblins merely played the part of the invading army, pillaging, devouring the minds of those who didn't die soon enough, <br><br>" He stood before me, and threw a cold iron sword to the ground, and told me that when I was older and more skilled with a blade, I should come to find him once again." The snide smirk on the Fair Folk's face, throwing the blade into the ground, full of contempt for humans. He fancied himself the dark villain of this story, the one who came to the hero early, and left him with nothing but a desire for vengeance. To make him an investment in future entertainment, another champion who he could defeat to spread his glory and legend further, to make himself more powerful. <br><br>" He seemed very surprised when I killed him where he stood. I was rather surprised too." He shrugs. " Exaltation works in mysterious ways. Thank you for calling me Solar, by the way." The look on the Fair Folk's face, as the golden light shone forth. He said two words before he died. 'That's cheating.' Sal hadn't particularly cared.<br><br>" Tell me, Basilla, do you really believe that I will end up becoming a tyrant?" he asks, voice soft. If you turn your head to look in his eyes, you see a sadness there, as though the idea of being so corrupted by power saddens him. Of the idea that you would believe him so easy to corrupt.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>21-10-2008, 06:17:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla bit her lip as his hands worked along her sides.&nbsp; Whither intentionally or not, they'd brushed against the sides of her breasts and Basilla felt an almost electric shiver flow through her at his touch.&nbsp; She almost sighed in relief as he moved to her arms, her free flowing hair thankfully hiding her embarrassed smile.&nbsp; Empress!&nbsp; She was acting like an addled school-girl, not the trained warrior that her life had carved into her soul.<br><br>She listened to his story, willing herself not to feel a connection, a link, to him.&nbsp; To not sympathize with his pain, the life altering agony of being forever separated from his family.<br><br><em>At least his family died before they could tell him they hated him.&nbsp; That they would kill him if they ever saw him again-</em> she thought with a vague sense of bitterness as she tried to enjoy the touch of his gentle hands.<br><br>" . . . do you really believe that I wind end up becoming a tyrant?" his soft almost whisper sent another, much less pleasant shiver up and down her spine.<br><br>She looked over her shoulder, meeting his eyes with a surprisingly soft gaze of her own "You are unique, Solar, or nearly so.&nbsp; We Dragon-Blooded number in the thousands, and when we work together we <em>can</em> shape the course of Creation.&nbsp; A single one of you can do the same thing with little more than a thought.&nbsp; So, you tell <em>me</em> Solar, who watches the godlings?&nbsp; If we were allow you to live, what could any of us do against you if we disagreed with what you thought was 'best'?&nbsp; It is too much power to trust to a single man, no matter how good he <em>may</em> be at the moment."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>21-10-2008, 15:20:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He's silent for a long time, as you ask this, his hands running along your body slowly as he caresses you. " Perhaps we would need to police ourselves. Perhaps we'd need people to tell us the truth about our plans. People who could be trusted to be honest with us, to be willing to stand up to a Chosen of the Sun." He moves closer to you, adjusting the chair and running the soap over your stomach, the rough surface slowly running across your skin as he looks into your eyes. " Someone like you." he says softly.<br><br>He lets that stand in the silence for a long few minutes, lifting one of your legs, to slowly run the soap along your skin. 'Creation won't stand for much longer. You numbered a hundred times what you did, with all the resources of the Shogunate before you, but the Fair Folk very nearly destroyed Creation. They would have, if not for the Empress, and now, she's disappeared. You have your pick of devils, now- You can let the Fair Folk rip Creation into shreds, and return it to the primal chaos. You can let the dead pull all of us down, into the darkness with them. You can let the demons corrupt our world, take it back as vengeance for our rebellion. Or... you can trust me.' he says, setting your leg down, putting the soap aside quietly, taking your head and gently leaning you back in the tub, soaking your hair there for a moment before lifting you out again.<br><br>" Sir! We've got reports of a Wyld Hunt. They're headed here, they'll arrive in two days." a frantic voice comes from outside, and Sal curses as he stands up. " Well, perhaps the choice isn't in your hands at all, this time..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>22-10-2008, 10:50:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla felt his hands wander over her body, fighting the pleasant tingle such touches brought her even as a darker war waged in her heart.&nbsp; She wanted to believe.&nbsp; Wanted to believe the soft words he whispered to her, the lingering promise of his fingers as they caressed her with all the tender care of a lover.&nbsp; Wanted to believe that perhaps there was <em>one</em> person in all of Creation that truly wanted <em>her</em>, not the lethal Dragon but the tender flower that lurked beneath it.&nbsp; But she couldn't.&nbsp; Couldn't trust the silvery tongue of an Anathema.<br><br><em>- He'll use us.&nbsp; Twist us against our friends, make us betray all that we have ever loved and then cast us aside -</em> the cold logic of reason insisted.<br><br><em>No! -</em> screamed the young girl at her core <em>- He cares for us, he . . . </em><br><br>Both of the arguing voices were cut off by the voice at the door, and it's words chilled her to the bone.&nbsp; A Wyld Hunt, an incursion of the horrific armies of Chaos into Creation, an attack that could threaten thousands of lives.<br><br>Basilla stood, heedless of modesty as she turned to face Sal, her eyes pleading "You must let me go.&nbsp; I can move swifter than any of your scouts and I can warn the outlying villages, give them time to evacuate." her hand lightly rested on his shoulder "I may even be able to return with Imperial troops to cover them."<br><br>The thought that he might lie to her, might arrange such an alarm to test her, didn't even occur to her feverishly turning mind.&nbsp; Sal had been honest with her up to this point, and it was only fair that she return the favor.<br><br>"If . . .<em>when</em> I return I will do my best to kill you, but for now we have greater concerns than the life of a Dragon Blooded or even a Solar."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>22-10-2008, 17:29:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He doesn't even hesitate. " Go." He opens the door, standing in the way. " After Basilla dresses, return her armor to her, and give her what she may request." He looks over his shoulder. " I believe you. Get the innocents free." His face lights up with a fierce grin. " We'll make sure that they don't take a step further." He walks out of the door quickly, headed towards the private armory. You can see the entire fort is abuzz with activity, men arming and armoring themselves, the bandits becoming soldiers with a practiced ease- It's no wonder this place was the scourge of the Guild.<br><br>You're lead quickly to the armory, your armor and weapons returned to you. You're lead further to the entrance to the fort, the man with you giving you instructions to the nearest villages and offering you the use of one of their fastest horses, setting you off to warn the villages as the fort prepares to march.<br><br>The villages you find all react quickly- They seem to have been trained for just such a possibility, taking you at your word and preparing small bundles to carry with them, just enough to survive. Yet none of them seem to be particularly worried, certainly nowhere near as worried as you'd expect people to react to a Fair Folk incursion, and if you ask them, the answer is always the same.<br><br>" Sal will stop them."<br><br>The villages are evacuated, eventually- Unfortunately, the nearest Imperial garrison wouldn't be able to make it before the Fair Folk run into Sal's army, but if things do go wrong, they might be able to stop whatever of the force survives. You also still have time to make it back, though the battle has most likely been joined by now.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>22-10-2008, 21:50:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla had her slim fingers buried in the captain's perfectly tailored uniform, lifting the pudgy man off the ground by his collar.&nbsp; Her eyes glinted with a cold, hard light as she shoved him against the wall, ignoring the three guards that had already drawn their weapons.&nbsp; A single sweeping glare stilled them all as she turned her attention back to the gasping Imperial.<br><br>"Now, . ." she said levely, almost sweetly " . . explain to me exactly <em>why</em> this garrison isn't moving to help against the Hunt.&nbsp; And make it quick." she hissed.<br><br>"We . . . we don't have independent reports of activity." the buerecract managed to say in a choking gasp as her steely fingers choked off much of his air "We only have the brigand's report that you brought us.&nbsp; We can't risk being pulled out of position by this lying Ana . . " his words cut of in a gurgling murmur as she tightened her grip.<br><br>"<em>I'm</em> telling you.&nbsp; While I was warning the outlying villages <em>I</em> saw the leading waves.&nbsp; If you organize your company right <em>now</em> we can halt this force before it lays waste to an entire section of the Empire." she growled before releasing him, letting him fall in a trembling and coughing heap on the ground.<br><br>"We&nbsp; . . we can't . . .not without authorization." he managed.<br><br>"You can and you <em>will</em>." Basilla said as one of her daggers slid from it's sheath, the blade glinting in the low light of the evening.&nbsp; The Fey would reach Sal's men in the morning, and she had to leave soon if she wanted to have a hope of returning in time.&nbsp; The horse she'd been given had collapsed almost ten miles back and she'd made the rest of the way on foot.<br><br>"You don't have authority over us, assassin." the man managed as he slowly rose to his feet, anger mixing with his shame as he glared at the Dragon-Blooded "Without approval this garrison doesn't move."<br><br>With a flash Basilla's dagger was at his throat, pressing into the soft flesh as he gasped in surprise and pain "If it would make <em>any</em> difference, I would kill you where you stand, <em>Captain</em>, for your dereliction to your Empress and her people." she slid the dagger back into it's place on her belt "But I simply don't have the time.&nbsp; If you don't do your duty, you can be certain that one night you'll go to sleep . . . and you won't wake up again."<br><br>With that she strode from the office, shouldering her way past men as she made her way out of the garrison.&nbsp; It would be a hard ride and she felt the exhaustion of the last two sleepless days sapping her strength, dulling her senses as she made her way to the stables.&nbsp; Taking the best horse she could find she slipped into the saddle, clicking her tongue as she forced it into a fast trot.&nbsp; She'd work her way to the east of the advancing Fey, see what she could do to pick off some of the scouts, even possibly a leader or two before the dawn came and the battle was joined.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>23-10-2008, 05:16:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sal has been leading attacks for the last three days, in the mean time. Baiting out their leaders, appealing to their senses of story, killing them in duels, but so far, he's only found lieutenants. His men harry the hobgoblin troops through the forests, killing them off, picking off their numbers, slowing them, but still the tide comes on. It is the morning of the third day, and the leaders, the true leaders, those who hold this entire force together, stands on the field of battle.<br><br>Their very present twists their surroundings in strange ways. The Fair Folk cataphractoi stand proudly in gleaming armor of gossamer, the quality of a butterfly's wings, the strength of jade. The three of them represent a triumvirate of sorts, a man, a female, and one who seems somewhere between, androgynous in it's appearance. All of them have hints of their elemental nature, vines instead of hair, skin a soft green. They are beautiful, certainly, but it is the beauty of a painting- Not natural.<br><br>The battle has already been joined by the time you arrive, the fighters that Sal has trained fighting like tigers, showing the terrifying prowess that a Solar can teach men, fighting the hobgoblins on equal footing, striking down the monsters, but you can see that they will still be overwhelmed if something is not done.<br><br>That something is on Sal's mind as well, as he strikes his way through the Hobgoblins. You can see him challenging them. The male goes first, full of blustering pride, as you reach the&nbsp; battlefield, their battle is one of orichalcum against gossamer, blade striking brutally, blood flying. The battle is over quickly, the corpse standing before him, Orichalcum blade.<br><br>As you reach the edge of the battlefield, the female goes second. The woman's attack is different. She's speaking to him, and he watches silently, as she speaks endlessly, and you can see the hobgoblins and tiger warriors around them slow, their blades seeming to move like through a thick syrup, their eyes clouding. It goes on for long, too long, and you could swear you almost see Sal close his eyes, but then she lies on the ground, bloody.<br><br>But the third one, clearly, has taken advantage of the momentary distraction. Unlike the others, he does not advance, he simply appears behind Sal even as the Solar strikes, and as you watch, stabs a gossamer blade through his back, and out his belly, the Solar's eyes going wide as he staggers, backhanding violently, the androgynous fae avoiding the weakened blow. A howl rises from the tiger warriors, and they begin striking harder- The hobgoblins, seeing two of their three leaders drop, are beginning to shrink back. And the fae has left its back open, not expecting another to be able to raise a hand against it, even as the Solar slowly falls to his knees.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>24-10-2008, 10:26:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla didn't think, didn't even consider the situation for a moment before she moved.&nbsp; Didn't think about her exhausted muscles, screaming after three days of constant exertion as she bolted forward with all the speed and grace of a cheetah.&nbsp; Didn't think about the fact that she would have fullfilled her mission simply by doing nothing but stand by while the 'Fair Folk' tore the Anathema apart.&nbsp; That <em>all</em> she had to do was nothing.<br><br>It was almost a hundred yards to the fighting pair.&nbsp; She crossed it in just under six seconds.&nbsp; She flew forward, the tips of her fingers lightly scraping along the trodden ground as her legs propelled her forward.&nbsp; Her knives flashed, and three hobgoblins who simply had the bad luck to be in her path went down, screaming as they were neatly hamstrung.&nbsp; But even their cry was nothing to her banshee howl as it tore across the clearing.&nbsp; Another five died beneath the arcing blade, the slim assassin leaping off the sliced open back of the last.<br><br>Time seemed to freeze as she flew forward,&nbsp; the final Fair Folk turning slowly, oh so <em>slowly</em>, as it heard her cry.&nbsp; Those pale, disturbingly beautiful eyes widening as it saw it's death bearing down on it with swift wings.&nbsp; It tried to pull it's blade from the Solar's chest, to defend itself against the jungle animal before it, but it was already far too late.&nbsp; The first blade bit into its chest, slipping perfectly between the ribs to plunge deep.&nbsp; A hair's breath later she tore it out, slicing clean through half of its chest in a spray of blood.&nbsp; The second pierced one of those beautiful eyes and slammed through the brain beneath with all the force the Dragon-Blooded could put into it.&nbsp; It's head snapped back, the life almost instantly fading as it's victorious grin changed to a brief flash of pure terror.<br><br>She bore him to the ground, two follow up strikes with her free blade tearing at the dead creature before they touched the muddy earth.&nbsp; She crouched over it, her beautiful face splattered with the Fair One's blood, for several long moments as the cries of victory of the hobgoblins slowly faded and ceased.&nbsp; Yanking the killing dagger from the monster's skull she grabbed it's hair with the other and with another animal howl decapitated it with one clean stroke.&nbsp; She rose to her feet, not daring to allow her eyes to glance at the Solar slowly bleeding out on the ground behind her as she faced down the remaining hobgoblins.<br><br>She held the grisly trophy high over her head, her blood and mud splattered face impassive as her fierce eyes swept over the creatures of the Wyld.&nbsp; With a flick of her wrist she cast it to the ground, the head bouncing several times to rest at the feet of the encircling hobgoblins.<br><br>The daggers spun easily in her hands as she fell into an easy crouch, a small smile playing on her lips that only made the rage in her eyes all the more pronounced "Alright, you <em>bastards </em>. . ." she whispered, the words loud in the ringing silence " . .who wants to die first?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>24-10-2008, 14:52:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The hobgoblins break and flee from this madwoman. Their leaders dead, they scurry away towards the borders of creation again, screeching in fear, being harried by Tiger Warriors arrows. They turn towards you, but Sal holds up a hand, slowly pulling himself to his feet. The Solar is bleeding badly, and the exertion of standing makes the blood flow quicker, staining the golden armor as he smiles. 'Well... That should be the last of them. With the leaders of their little hunt dead, they'll at least be licking their wounds for a while.' <br><br>' Return to the fort, men. You've done good today.' he says, voice raised to carry across the battlefield, as the men carry the dead and wounded off of the battlefield, and occasionally execute a hobgoblin that's still moving. They don't even question him as they leave the field of battle, leaving the two of you there, blood covering the field, more of it than could be healthy staining the grass beneath Sal.<br><br>' I suppose that this all works out for the best... I save Creation... And you get the opportunity to kill me before I become a tyrant.' he says, smiling softly, a drip of blood running down his lips. The wounds are grievous, even for a Solar, but there's a chance he might still live, if he gets help immediately. He doesn't seem to expect you to be giving that help, however, considering the words you parted on.<br><br>' Basilla... I'm glad I met you, all the same.' he says, smiling as he closes his eyes, waiting for the final blow to come with a serenity that you've rarely seen in your targets, arms loose, but legs staying strong, determined to be able to say that he died on his feet.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>25-10-2008, 05:59:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla looked at him for several long moments before she spoke "Sal . . " she whispered his name softly for the first time before her eyes hardened " . . shut up."<br><br>Sliding the daggers back into their sheaths she lifted his arm, wrapping it around her neck as she took his weight onto her slim shoulders without a murmur of protest.&nbsp; Her own muscles ached and burned, desperately wanting nothing more than to collapse onto the soft muddy ground in exhaustion.&nbsp; But she walked slowly forward, carrying his impressive weight, a cold glare quelling any of his soldiers that tried to interfere with their slow march.<br><br>As they approached the edge of the clearing she whispered "One day, you <em>will </em>turn, Sal.&nbsp; And on that day, I will kill you." tears streaked down her eyes as she helped him up into one of the soldier's wagons, kneeling beside his prone form "But that day is not today." she leaned down, her tears falling softly on his cheeks as she kissed his forehead before nodding to the driver "Rest." she whispered before darkness claimed him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>25-10-2008, 06:53:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The tears run down his face as you carry him, his arm slung over you, darkness hovering on the edge of his vision. '... Thank you.' he whispers softly, and his lips meet your cheek for a moment before he's lifted onto the wagon, a soft touch. ' Please... Come with us.' he says, reaching out his hand, like a child in a night full of nightmares, reaching for the comfort that only someone they love can provide.<br><br>The men usher you into the wagon, letting you rest undisturbed as they move back towards the fort. The trust, formerly given only grudgingly, and with a great deal of misgivings, has been earned with your willingness to preserve his life. His hand never leaves yours as he's returned to the fort, the two of you entering the spartan, quiet room, where he sleeps peacefully through the night. One of the men comes to you that evening with a bowl, filled with a hot soup after the long, exhausting nights<br><br>' Thank you.' he says once, before returning into the night, leaving you to rest, Sal's eyes shut, the wound no longer bleeding so profusely, hands slowly resting in yours as the darkness surrounds him. He'll live, but only because you were there. His life will always be in your hands, in a way, knowing of this day, when his life depended on you. Perhaps, the day when he's tempted to turn, it'll be enough to turn him back.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>26-10-2008, 10:56:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla sat besides the simple cot in Sal's tower, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as the sun rose yet again,&nbsp; it's faint rays illuminating the spartan furnishings.&nbsp; She felt a small smile play on her lips as her gaze swept over it.&nbsp; Most bandit lords would have surrounded themselves with the finest of everything they could lay their hands on, seeking to drown out the cries of their victims with the soft comforts of their spoils.&nbsp; Sal had not, his start living arrangements a statement that he would not hesitate to face himself, not seek comfortable illusions.<br><br>Her hand lightly drifted over his broad chest, feeling for herself the steadiness of his breath with a faint smile.&nbsp; He'd been changed, his wounds bandaged under the careful hands of the doctors of his 'band'.&nbsp; She pulled the simple blanket a bit further up, watching as he shifted slightly in his sleep.&nbsp; She remained in the same clothes, still splattered with the mud and blood of the day before.&nbsp; She had stayed with him, her eyes never leaving his face, as the doctors had worked on him.&nbsp; She'd ignored their soft pleas that she herself get rest, had simply sat there as still as the stone that surrounded them until they had left.<br><br>She'd cried them, buffeted by a sense of horrible loss and pain that she had never imagined possible, the tears washing away the grime as they flowed freely.&nbsp; She'd barely noticed later when one of the soldiers had brought her a meal, the soup now as cold as the dawn's air as it's gentle breeze washed over them.&nbsp; She continued her silent vigil, waiting for the Solar to awaken.&nbsp; She was uncertain which would terrify her more; if he did not awaken and simply remained forever in his endless sleep . . . or if he did and she was forced to face the turmoil that threatened to tear the slim assassin apart.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>27-10-2008, 14:54:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It takes him time. But you can see his body knit itself back together, the blood ceasing to flow quickly, the bandages removed, his body made whole once again by the surging essence that suffuses it. And on the third morning since the battle, as the first sunlight slowly rises, falling on him, his eyes flicker open. 'Basilla...' he says, and in a moment he's sitting up, body seeming to react almost violently to the idea of staying so still for so long. " You're... a bit of a mess." He reaches out, embracing you softly, arms wrapping around you, pulling you close, ignoring the grime, the encrusted blood, the smell of armor worn for far too long as the Solar softly wraps his arms around you. 'How long have I been asleep... And how long have you been awake?'<br><br>He seems to have noticed your exhaustion. Even Exalted, you've been going for longer than your body can easily take, and you can already feel the sweet bliss of unconsciousness rushing up to cradle you, to keep you from having to worry about what you're going to do, for at least a little bit longer. You can fight it off for perhaps a short time longer, but you'll sleep soon, collapsing into his arms.<br><br>You wake to find yourself changed out of the armor, lying again in the simple white dress, cleaned of some of the muck and debris of the last week, and lying in Sal's bed. The sun has just set, the soft blue suffusing the night, and the Solar sits by your side, his eyes closed, a single hand resting on yours, holding your delicate, beautiful hand softly, the rough fingers clasped around them. You feel... very, very hungry, by now.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>28-10-2008, 09:53:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla woke slowly.&nbsp; That in of itself was unusual as the long years of training and life as an assassin had left her a light sleeper, able to shift instantly from slumber to consciousness at the first sign of danger.&nbsp; Perhaps it was that, the warm comfort of his hand lightly caressing her own, the proof of his presence that made her half awake moments so long.<br><br>Then again, it might have been the fact that she'd stayed awake for almost five days straight, running for most of those hours before facing down a Fair Folk in personal combat.<br><br>Despite herself Basilla chuckled softly, almost a dry rasping cough in her parched throat.&nbsp; Her stomach grumbled as well, angry with the now awakened Dragon Blooded for its casual abuse.&nbsp; She felt the rough cloth of the dress on her skin, as well as the residual feel of the cloth that had scrubbed her clean.&nbsp; She felt . . . . <em>alive</em>, in a way she wouldn’t have believed possible only a few days before.<br><br>Her eyes slowly opened, her head turning in the soft embrace of the pillow, her hair spread out in a silken wave over her shoulder and the top of the bed.&nbsp; Her eyes twinkled with gentle amusement as she saw Sal in much the same position that she had been in not long before.&nbsp; She stirred, slowly pushing herself up to her elbows as she watched his slow and steady breathing.&nbsp; She sat there for she never knew how long, her own fingers wrapping around his in a tight grip.&nbsp; It was forbidden, it was against everything she’d ever been taught and a crime against her Empress.<br><br>To love a Solar was a death sentence, a weakness that could not be tolerated in one of the Chosen.&nbsp; And at the moment, she didn’t give much of a damn.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>29-10-2008, 06:23:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His eyes slowly open as he feels the pressure. 'You're awake... Good.' He smiles. All of the sudden, the rich aroma of a warm soup rushes to your senses, and you notice the bowl of soup. Your stomach growls hungrily, and he offers you a soft hand to bring yourself up to sitting again. He's dressed in a clean white shirt and trousers, and he rests one hand on yours, the other sliding under your back, rubbing it slowly, feeling incredibly pleasant against the knotted muscles from the intense work. " You've been asleep for a day and a half... I was starting to worry we'd both be sleeping in shifts like this, and never get a chance to talk." He smiles softly.<br><br>The bowl of soup, when you feel ready, is set in his hand, and he feeds you, and tells you what has happened. 'The Fair Folk raid returned to the Wyld after they lost their leaders. Apparently, they were no mere monsters, we seem to have managed to defeat some very dangerous enemies.' He looks into your eyes. 'If it weren't for you, Basilla, I would be dead right now, and who knows how many more. I want to thank you. If you wish to leave, I've instructed my men not to stop you.' He waits for a moment, and then says. 'But... I want you to stay here, Basilla. I want you to be by my side, to be the person I know will always keep me on the straight and narrow. The one who won't hesitate to keep me from going down that dark path.'<br><br>He holds your delicate hands in his, clasping them together around yours. 'Basilla... Please, I want you to stay with me. I want us to be together for as long as we live.' he says softly, looking into your eyes. The love there, that earnest, unafraid love, not arrogant, not terrified, pure, it's something that you haven't seen for a long, long time. The words the Solar speaks aren't enchanted, he works no magics, but the sheer force of his passion is almost as magical as any Charm.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>30-10-2008, 07:20:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Basilla watched him, her eyes clinging to his as he fed her and spoke of the last few days before she pressed her finger to his lips as he began to wind down.&nbsp; She held it there, cutting him off as she continued to stare deep into those piercing eyes of his, her own gaze seeming to peer deep into <em>his</em> soul this time.&nbsp; She pushed herself up onto her elbows, allowing her finger to slide away to be replaced with her soft lips.&nbsp; &nbsp;The kiss lasted a long time, her eyes half closing as she moaned softly as her fingers slid around his neck, pulling him against her.&nbsp; She broke it, a smile gracing her lips as her eyes twinkled with gentle amusement.<br><br>"Sal." she made the name a holy relic that she caressed gently with her tongue "You have one fatal flaw." her fingers curled in his white shirt "You talk too much."<br><br>With that she pulled him down on top of her, their lips meeting again hungrily as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her thighs gripping him with all her strength.&nbsp; Her hands slid beneath his tunic, running up and down his broad chest before slipping down to begin to untie his trousers, slipping inside to caress his hardening length.&nbsp; She wanted him, wanted not only his perfect body, but him, <em>all</em> of him down to his very soul.&nbsp; And she wanted him to receive the same of her.<br><br>"Mmmmm, Sal . . ." she whispered softly.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dragon Whom The Sun Loved. (Ajoxer and mdazfrench)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ajoxer</strong> on <strong>30-10-2008, 17:44:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He smiles. No more words, then. He meets your kiss intensively, lips pressed to yours, eyes closed as he squeezes you gently, those hands, so strong, showing such delicacy as they run along your sides tenderly. He smiles as you tease him, and moves with you, sliding atop you in the bed, a hand sliding under your hips to stroke along your warm ass. He slowly kisses you, again, holding himself above you as you press against him so eagerly. His body, that strong body that you've seen, that not so long ago was locked in a far less pleasant way with yours, now so gentle, his hands running across your side, sliding up beneath the white dress to expose your firm body. His tanned skin is warm as you touch him, his hands slowly running across your warm, full breasts, stroking them tenderly as he kisses along your collarbone, slowly running his hands over you, to excite you. He's not the most skilled lover, but he's easily the most passionate for you, his movements heated and hungry for you as his tongue runs along your neck.<br><br>You can feel his shaft between your fingers, hardening quickly as he presses against your body, caressing your cat-like form, fingers running over the strong muscles, as he slowly slides your dress off of you, revealing your body, leaving you nude, exposed before him, his eyes taking in every curve, devouring the sight of you like a parched man at an oasis, as he slowly slides one hand down your side, to rest it gently on your hips.<br><br>" Basilla." he whispers softly into your ear, breath running across your neck like a warm breeze through the jungle, caressing your hair as delicately as he would himself, his hands running over your body, stroking you lovingly, letting you take the initiative in whatever way you choose.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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