Subjugation

Eversong was never as beautiful as it was in the months preceding what would later come to be known as The Burning Crusade. The crisp breeze and faint scents of citrus and roses. The lingering delights of Fel upon the very air… The Sin’dorei people were reunified with the reconstruction of their capital nearly complete. For Anetho however it marked a period of unemployment, an empty stomache, and a burning desire for power that he could not understand anymore than he might satiate it.

This marked his particularly well suited in finding creative ways of fueling his addictions and making his ends meet. He could ‘feel’ his way around the perpetual autumn wood. Chasing at the faintest echoes of ritualistic magicks enacted in the deepest reaches of the forest. They called out in ways most of his kin could not hear, but to him they may as well have been screams of lust and murder. He prowled through a thicket, but a few meters away from the source of these malignant and intoxicating energies.

An older man, well into his “Golden Years” stood within a sickly green ritual circle forged of his own arcana. Various reagents scattered about at the five corners of a pentagram. “…blood of innocence, ripped from a virgin, Soul of sin shared of amythyst..” The older male was engaging in the summoning of demons in secret. A dangerous and taxing art to be certain. Anetho drew his dagger silently from his belt and observed in both marvel and an undescribable intoxication. There was the faintest sensation of fear. What form of abberation would he draw into this world? What if he were discovered? His mind race with the imagination of one versed only in fairy-tale descriptions of creature far off, conjuring all manner of hellish images.

“Xoroth zielk ein zervok!” The old man shoutted, as a flash of blinding green light emenated from the very center of the circle. Anetho shielded his eyes with his hands. Another powerful source of mana joined the first within the immediate flows of ley. When he could at last see again, he could determine a female of lithe and healthy frame had joined him. His heart beat sped up. The mental pictures he’d painted nothing like this sillohette. Wings spread afar as if stretching as she became fully visible. Her bust wasn’t overly large, more proportionate to her build of 6’1″ looking fit with an exposed midsection sporting a washboard tone. A barbed lash sat idy along her belt. Cloved feet announced her every step as she wandered nearer the old man. Her horns were pronounced but not overly so, a golden ring with emeralds lining it accentuated them. Her tail flicking idly as she spoke in a voice beffitting an angel in it’s demure and sensual tone.

“You may save your words… The mere thought of me is enough to bring my form to manifest..” She gave a haughty flip of her hair, staring the dumbfounded old man down as if she might make love to him just as soon as kill him. “…But what have you to offer me?” She purred. “I knew the ritual wouldn’t be enough…” He grumbled, reaching within his robes and displaying a small jar. A little heart sat within it. “I offer the heart of a child, barely months old.” The succubus folded her arms, clearly she wanted more. “…Sacred gems…” he said almost pleadingly, indicating his rings. All the while he bartered Anetho prowled closer.

“Everything I have I lay before your feet.” He finally said in a defeated tone, exhausted from the intensity of the spell he’d worked moments ago. It finally caught up to him. The hellish woman pursed her lips taking note of another Elf approaching from behind the elderly one. She couldn’t help but smile. He was certainly more appealling, and so much younger. “You’ll have it all.” He whispered, reaching out to her that he might induldge his base desires. He scarcely had time to register someone had slipped behind him and slit his throat before he was upon the ground gagging for air.

“…I give to you everything he would and offer both his body and soul to sweeten the deal.” The woman looked all at once delighted. “Master.” She called to him, taking a mock bow before moving to straddle the elderly man and feast upon his suffering. Drawing his soul through the lips when he’d finally expired. “…I believe we’ll get along wonderfully..” Anetho quipped, sliding the bloody blade back from whence he’d drawn it. The demonic seductress wrapping him in a warm embrace; hellish magicks forging their pact.

She whispered in his ear. “Your desire?” His hands looped instinctively around her waist. “…Revenge..” He replied sensually, nipping at the nape of her neck. She sighed against him, pleased with his bold nature. “…When we’ve finished… I will have your soul as well…” She giggled as the flows of fel bound them in an ancient pact. She was much his as he was hers.

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~ by anethodawnpride on May 7, 2013.

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