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Knightfall's World of Kulan: Tales of the Companions Story Hour (Final Update: Sep 20, 2014)
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<blockquote data-quote="Knightfall" data-source="post: 349995" data-attributes="member: 2012"><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><strong>Interlude #3</strong></span></p><p></p><p><em><strong>Location Unknown:</strong></em></p><p>The hallway was dead quiet, as the tall elven woman walked towards the large ornate double doors at the far end. She walked with an air of nobility and confidence, yet she would appear frightening to those that saw her. She wore the trappings of a powerful arcanist with several adornments that confirmed her specialty in the Forbidden Arts. A large humanoid skull covered in feathers was her helmet and her arms and chest were covered in shaped bone, her armor, its power based more on fear and magic than on physical protection. Her robes were made of fine silk dyed pitch black and covered with magical sigils. Her legs and hips swayed in the loose material silently, while her booted feet ran out on the flagstone floor.</p><p></p><p>One who did not know her would have thought her physically appealing.</p><p></p><p>The elven necromancer pushed open the double doors without waiting or ceremony. She knew that he wouldn’t object, as they had known each other for as long as the man had been alive. She knelt before her friend and master, however, as some things were expected.</p><p></p><p>“Father, you summoned for me and here I am.” She spoke.</p><p></p><p>“How go the preparations in the west?” A man shrouded in darkness spoke from behind an ornate desk made of wood and bone. His voice was full of gravel.</p><p></p><p>“Everything is going as planned. Out forces will be ready to lay siege to Onaway at the designated time.” The woman remained Knelt until he motioned for her to rise. “How goes the war in the east, Father?”</p><p></p><p>“As to be expected,” The man known on as The Father stepped out from the darkness offering the elven woman a spot next to him on a low divan and a cup of fine feral wine. “The fools continue to believe that they can win this conflict, but we have guile and ruthlessness on our side.”</p><p></p><p>“What of the betrayal near the city of Fruen?” The necromancer took the drink and sat next to The Father. “The girl must be punished for her treachery.”</p><p></p><p>“Agreed.” The Father reclined into the cushions of the divan, drinking deeply from his own cup. “But death would be too easy and I don’t think she would be tractable as an undead slave. Better to strike out at those she believes lover her.”</p><p></p><p>“Hmm, perhaps the emotional trauma could bring her back into the fold, although she would still have to pay a heavy penance for her actions.” The necromancer removed her helmet, unbound her long hair, and began loosening her armor.</p><p></p><p>“Possibly,” The Father looked her up and down. “This new body of yours is quite appealing. Much like your original form, all those years ago, when we first met.”</p><p></p><p>“You noticed,” her smile was almost predatory in the darkness. “It has been forever since we last re-consummated our agreement. I figured that you would be more willing if my form was familiar.”</p><p></p><p>The elven woman removed the last vestiges of her unholy armor and unclasped her robe. It slid to the ground revealing her borrowed body. Firelight gleamed off her pale skin, as she drank down her cup of feral wine.</p><p></p><p>“Indeed.” The Father set aside his own cup and grabbed her arm. “Come to me, my pet.”</p><p></p><p>She did so, while a pair of infernal eyes watched them closely, guarding its compacted master for any sign of betrayal from the elven necromancer known as the Foulsoul.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Knightfall, post: 349995, member: 2012"] [COLOR=DarkOrange][B]Interlude #3[/B][/COLOR] [I][B]Location Unknown:[/B][/I] The hallway was dead quiet, as the tall elven woman walked towards the large ornate double doors at the far end. She walked with an air of nobility and confidence, yet she would appear frightening to those that saw her. She wore the trappings of a powerful arcanist with several adornments that confirmed her specialty in the Forbidden Arts. A large humanoid skull covered in feathers was her helmet and her arms and chest were covered in shaped bone, her armor, its power based more on fear and magic than on physical protection. Her robes were made of fine silk dyed pitch black and covered with magical sigils. Her legs and hips swayed in the loose material silently, while her booted feet ran out on the flagstone floor. One who did not know her would have thought her physically appealing. The elven necromancer pushed open the double doors without waiting or ceremony. She knew that he wouldn’t object, as they had known each other for as long as the man had been alive. She knelt before her friend and master, however, as some things were expected. “Father, you summoned for me and here I am.” She spoke. “How go the preparations in the west?” A man shrouded in darkness spoke from behind an ornate desk made of wood and bone. His voice was full of gravel. “Everything is going as planned. Out forces will be ready to lay siege to Onaway at the designated time.” The woman remained Knelt until he motioned for her to rise. “How goes the war in the east, Father?” “As to be expected,” The man known on as The Father stepped out from the darkness offering the elven woman a spot next to him on a low divan and a cup of fine feral wine. “The fools continue to believe that they can win this conflict, but we have guile and ruthlessness on our side.” “What of the betrayal near the city of Fruen?” The necromancer took the drink and sat next to The Father. “The girl must be punished for her treachery.” “Agreed.” The Father reclined into the cushions of the divan, drinking deeply from his own cup. “But death would be too easy and I don’t think she would be tractable as an undead slave. Better to strike out at those she believes lover her.” “Hmm, perhaps the emotional trauma could bring her back into the fold, although she would still have to pay a heavy penance for her actions.” The necromancer removed her helmet, unbound her long hair, and began loosening her armor. “Possibly,” The Father looked her up and down. “This new body of yours is quite appealing. Much like your original form, all those years ago, when we first met.” “You noticed,” her smile was almost predatory in the darkness. “It has been forever since we last re-consummated our agreement. I figured that you would be more willing if my form was familiar.” The elven woman removed the last vestiges of her unholy armor and unclasped her robe. It slid to the ground revealing her borrowed body. Firelight gleamed off her pale skin, as she drank down her cup of feral wine. “Indeed.” The Father set aside his own cup and grabbed her arm. “Come to me, my pet.” She did so, while a pair of infernal eyes watched them closely, guarding its compacted master for any sign of betrayal from the elven necromancer known as the Foulsoul. [/QUOTE]
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