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--pride of the Charali, with a saddle about his middle, a bit in his teeth, and a nude well-bred Lithmorran woman upon his back. It was not his finest moment, but she had flashed a bit of calf, a hint of shoulder, which was far more than he had seen in this cold land of stone tents. Not even his horse was satisfying, and none of the local women would do more than turn up their noses at his most ardent efforts. So when one offered what he thirsted for, he had jumped at it like a stallion for a mare in heat--and now she wore the spurs that she dug into his belly when he slowed, coming perilously close to his dangling manhood, whose excitement has waned into dragging sadness--
all southsiders know of a lady quite bold who gasped at inappropriate times at tales of other climes. so well known/she was quite ignored by the upstanding nobles and courtly guards, that upon the descent of flaming death the court fled to a man and the gasping lady fell on her can. beneath her skirts so round was a midget of a man hairy, gnarled, and brown. in his hands he held a stick that was surmounted by the most impressive wooden dick that shone and gleamed with the lady's gasping needs. at the sky he stared, then both pithy and crude he cast aside the wooden prick and announced to the empty court: 'for twenty years i've fucked that bitch with many a wooden dick from farin to charali (and his horse) to tubor and back but now it seems my comeuppance in the sky gleams! now it is mine she will taste, and at last she'll know the prick that has rammed her with a wooden dick!' and his trou he did drop, his pride sprung forth and he plowed those well tilled fields. and when the court was reclaimed his lady had succumbed, and with his dying breath exclaimed, 'twas a well fought battle, my lords, but i have at last sated the gasping lady and never more shall a wooden prick be carved to mock your horses or your pride!'
--never join you! You will burn for this heresy!" she declared, straining against the ropes.
"They have to catch me first," he crooned, his gloved hand cupping her cheek. "But you will tell them nothing. You will join me...one way, or another. I give you one last chance. Will you serve me freely, in any way that I might need?"
"Very well. An unwilling servant still serves. Arise!" Around her, the graves pushed upwards, the soil straining to contain what the foul bloodmagics had awoken, but to no avail. Seven corpses rose, of which she recognized two.
"You monster! That was my sister, and her husband!"
"Yes, they chose as you did. I should not be surprised. Now you will join them. Feast, my creations!" He laughed, watching as his shambling beasts fell upon the screaming maid, and devoured the fire of life within her. He gestured them back, and they silently obeyed. "You are still...mostly unspoiled," he crooned to the still bound corpse, cupping a cooling cheek. "Perhaps you can serve my needs, before you...soften too much, my dear. A man has many needs, and not every servant can meet them." He laughed again, and the dark sound--
"The water looks warm, though no one is here to tend it. Come, let us warm each other. It would shame me to return you to your family missing a toe!"
"But...it is unseemly," the first admitted with a blush.
"You are young, I know, but this is the way to warmth. I have found this place before in the storms; it is safe, though I know not who tends it. I have looked, and never found. See? The water is safe."
"But the Order--!"
"The Order would have you live! And to live, you must be warm."
The first lad watched hesitantly, eyes comparing what he saw to what he knew. His companion was...so much larger! He did not know that was what a man would grow to become.
"Come," his companion said again. "If it makes you feel safer, you may sit upon my lap, and we shall warm ourselves in the water."
"...have you spoken with a priest?"
"I have; there is no sin in staying alive to serve Dav and his conquest of Daravi."
"Then...I suppose I must," the lad said, and shed his coat and wrappings to descend upon the water, innocent, yet--
--I say, madam, your insistence is unbecoming of a lady! If you desire to meet with the Regent, you must follow protocol--"
The lady smiled, her bodice sliding down as her hands fluttered uselessly to prevent it, her buttons 'carelessly' rent upon the door frame.
"Oh, but surely you can help me? 'Twould be a shame for us to be caught as such..." She leaned forward, the hapless steward's eyes drawn to her snowkissed pasturage.
"I...I...well, perhaps I could listen for a moment..." he conceded, his codpiece strangely too tight. Such a feeling he could not remember, not since his long past youth, but there had never been a lady that had caught his eye or his heart.
"Oh dear, you look so troubled; are you bound and trapped?" she cooed, her hands shifting his family jewels to the side and releasing the pen she sought for her petition--