Dark Convoy
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Iv had this idea in the back of my head for a while now and I finaly got it written. The tickling part is at the end if thats all your interested it. weather it is continued or not depends on the intrest of the readers so let me know what ya think.
Tales of the Dark Feather
By DC
Part 1 Creation of Evil
Eons ago, before recorded time, there was an age of legend. An age when dragons, unicorns, elves, and other strange and wondrous creatures roamed are world. In this age there were also powerful wizards, with magic unimaginable in are time. Like are world of today there was the capacity for good and for evil. When the mage wars broke out, weapons of unimaginable destructive power were created, some large, some small, and some very small. As the war raged across the land the forces of light did what they could to see that the mortal races were kept out of the battle. However the forces of darkness saw the mortals, or weaker races as they called them, as ammo, tools to be used as they saw fit. One dark mage conceived a horrid weapon that’s power was almost unstoppable, the Dark Feather. On the blackest night of the year, deep within the confines of a forgotten dungeon, the dark mage Lord Dral, pried the lock off of a rather large book. The book was leather, not of animal flesh but of human, the pages inside were written in a text not spoken for centuries. The lock finally gave to the hammer, that had struck it many times, and crumbled to the ground. Dral grinned, “for such a forbidden book, you’d think it would be better guarded.” Cleaning the dust off the book and removing the latch Dral opened it, the text inside was strange indeed, seeming to be there but some how not there. Dral placed the book on a small alter in the center of a star that had been chiseled out of the stone floor. Flipping franticly through the pages, Dral finally found the spell he sot. Almost laughing out loud Dral turned and headed down the stairs to the cells below. In one cell sat a young elven girl, maybe 100, 150 years old, making her 19 or 20 by human standards. Dral grinned evilly as the elf cringed in the corner of her cell watching the dark mage walk passed with panic-stricken eyes. The elf, however was not the target at the moment. In a cell a few feet away a Pegasus stood, chained at all four hooves with a muzzle around its snout. Dral opened the door to the cell and watched the creature thrash in rage. Dral took no notice of its anger, instead he reached over and plucked a feather from its wing. As he shut the door to the cell Dral looked back at the Pegasus and said, “you should feel honored, through you I will attain victory.” The Pegasus continued to buck as much as its restraints would allow, as it watch the cruel mage leave. Heading back up the stairs Dral called back to the elf, ‘your next, my dear.” “But I don’t have any feathers,” the joke did little to lighten her spirit as she watched the mage ascend the stone stair well. Returning to the altar, Dral set the feather down on a table to the left and began reading the instructions to the spell. Raising his hand to the sky Dral began reading the incantation, the language he spoke defied translation and should there be one who could translate, they would dare not repeat. In response to the words, darkness crept over the small room that even the thousands of candles lining the floor could not penetrate. The darkness culminated in one spot, directly in front of the altar. From amidst the shadow a face emerged, not a human face but that of a demon. With horns protruding from numerous places on its face, the demon spoke in another ancient tongue. Dral fell to his knees and said, “I beg you my lord, give me the power to crush all who oppose me!” The demon spoke again, its thunderous voice shook the stone walls, it then turned and shot a stream of black flame at the feather, the once white feather began to darken till it was as black as night. Dral picked up the feather and admired it with a look of obsession “thank you my lord, thank you.” The demon watched him lust over the feather, then spoke again, this time in the common tongue, “be warned, he who uses the power is bound to it, should it be destroyed, so shall he.” Dral turned to the demon, “but. I thought it was impossible to destroy?” “Hear me!! Said the demon, “when the face of death covers the moon the power is unstable and may be destroyed, should that happen, your life ends with it.” The demon face faded and the room turned back to normal, leaving Dral with a source of great power and possibly his own demise. Dral considered the words carefully the shrugged them off. Dral proceeded down the stairs to where his goblin soldiers had the elf girl chained to a star shaped rack. The goblins backed away as Dral approached the rack. The elf struggled in her bonds trying desperately to escape, if nothing ells to escape the horrid glare the Dral cast upon her. “You are the first, he said evilly, your life force will add to my power and I shall rain supreme over everything!” Dral knelt at her feet and removed her leather boots, almost to eager to start he brought the feather to bear on her helpless soul. The slightest touch caused the girl to scream and thrash. Dral grinned to himself and ran the feather from the ball of her foot to the toes, sending her into a madness of screaming. The elf girl couldn’t believe this was happening, even a flick of the feather felt maddening but also draining. Looking down she saw him slowly, almost sadistically, bringing the feather upon her foot again, “no please no,” she shrieked but no mercy was shown as the Feather glided across her toes, sending her, once again, into tortured laughter. The sensation was almost painful but at the same time arousing, but she could not discern the two, the one sensation that was unmistakable, however, was the constant feeling of being drained, as if her life was being sucked away by that feather. Dral paid no heed to her pleas as he began switching from foot to foot devilishly stroking the arches of each one in turn. Dral sot only ultimate power but even he couldn’t deny as cretin sadistic pleasure in watching her futile attempts to avoid the feathers stroke. The elf thrashed an screamed in agony, she had long ago lost all reason as well as all perception of the world around her, all there was, was a maddening electric current traveling up her leg and sucking the life from her. After almost an hour of watching the feet wriggle around they finally fell limp. Dral stood up strait and watched as the elven girl’s body faded out of existence, leaving only the empty rack. Dral suddenly felt a surge of power and the feather began to glow with a strange light. Dral turned from the rack and looked at the two goblin soldiers, raising his hand, Dral sent a stream of black lightning out and vaporized one of them. Dral smiled evilly and looked at the other, who was cowering in the corner. Dral withdrew his hand and said “on your feet, there is much to do.”
To be continued.
Tales of the Dark Feather
By DC
Part 1 Creation of Evil
Eons ago, before recorded time, there was an age of legend. An age when dragons, unicorns, elves, and other strange and wondrous creatures roamed are world. In this age there were also powerful wizards, with magic unimaginable in are time. Like are world of today there was the capacity for good and for evil. When the mage wars broke out, weapons of unimaginable destructive power were created, some large, some small, and some very small. As the war raged across the land the forces of light did what they could to see that the mortal races were kept out of the battle. However the forces of darkness saw the mortals, or weaker races as they called them, as ammo, tools to be used as they saw fit. One dark mage conceived a horrid weapon that’s power was almost unstoppable, the Dark Feather. On the blackest night of the year, deep within the confines of a forgotten dungeon, the dark mage Lord Dral, pried the lock off of a rather large book. The book was leather, not of animal flesh but of human, the pages inside were written in a text not spoken for centuries. The lock finally gave to the hammer, that had struck it many times, and crumbled to the ground. Dral grinned, “for such a forbidden book, you’d think it would be better guarded.” Cleaning the dust off the book and removing the latch Dral opened it, the text inside was strange indeed, seeming to be there but some how not there. Dral placed the book on a small alter in the center of a star that had been chiseled out of the stone floor. Flipping franticly through the pages, Dral finally found the spell he sot. Almost laughing out loud Dral turned and headed down the stairs to the cells below. In one cell sat a young elven girl, maybe 100, 150 years old, making her 19 or 20 by human standards. Dral grinned evilly as the elf cringed in the corner of her cell watching the dark mage walk passed with panic-stricken eyes. The elf, however was not the target at the moment. In a cell a few feet away a Pegasus stood, chained at all four hooves with a muzzle around its snout. Dral opened the door to the cell and watched the creature thrash in rage. Dral took no notice of its anger, instead he reached over and plucked a feather from its wing. As he shut the door to the cell Dral looked back at the Pegasus and said, “you should feel honored, through you I will attain victory.” The Pegasus continued to buck as much as its restraints would allow, as it watch the cruel mage leave. Heading back up the stairs Dral called back to the elf, ‘your next, my dear.” “But I don’t have any feathers,” the joke did little to lighten her spirit as she watched the mage ascend the stone stair well. Returning to the altar, Dral set the feather down on a table to the left and began reading the instructions to the spell. Raising his hand to the sky Dral began reading the incantation, the language he spoke defied translation and should there be one who could translate, they would dare not repeat. In response to the words, darkness crept over the small room that even the thousands of candles lining the floor could not penetrate. The darkness culminated in one spot, directly in front of the altar. From amidst the shadow a face emerged, not a human face but that of a demon. With horns protruding from numerous places on its face, the demon spoke in another ancient tongue. Dral fell to his knees and said, “I beg you my lord, give me the power to crush all who oppose me!” The demon spoke again, its thunderous voice shook the stone walls, it then turned and shot a stream of black flame at the feather, the once white feather began to darken till it was as black as night. Dral picked up the feather and admired it with a look of obsession “thank you my lord, thank you.” The demon watched him lust over the feather, then spoke again, this time in the common tongue, “be warned, he who uses the power is bound to it, should it be destroyed, so shall he.” Dral turned to the demon, “but. I thought it was impossible to destroy?” “Hear me!! Said the demon, “when the face of death covers the moon the power is unstable and may be destroyed, should that happen, your life ends with it.” The demon face faded and the room turned back to normal, leaving Dral with a source of great power and possibly his own demise. Dral considered the words carefully the shrugged them off. Dral proceeded down the stairs to where his goblin soldiers had the elf girl chained to a star shaped rack. The goblins backed away as Dral approached the rack. The elf struggled in her bonds trying desperately to escape, if nothing ells to escape the horrid glare the Dral cast upon her. “You are the first, he said evilly, your life force will add to my power and I shall rain supreme over everything!” Dral knelt at her feet and removed her leather boots, almost to eager to start he brought the feather to bear on her helpless soul. The slightest touch caused the girl to scream and thrash. Dral grinned to himself and ran the feather from the ball of her foot to the toes, sending her into a madness of screaming. The elf girl couldn’t believe this was happening, even a flick of the feather felt maddening but also draining. Looking down she saw him slowly, almost sadistically, bringing the feather upon her foot again, “no please no,” she shrieked but no mercy was shown as the Feather glided across her toes, sending her, once again, into tortured laughter. The sensation was almost painful but at the same time arousing, but she could not discern the two, the one sensation that was unmistakable, however, was the constant feeling of being drained, as if her life was being sucked away by that feather. Dral paid no heed to her pleas as he began switching from foot to foot devilishly stroking the arches of each one in turn. Dral sot only ultimate power but even he couldn’t deny as cretin sadistic pleasure in watching her futile attempts to avoid the feathers stroke. The elf thrashed an screamed in agony, she had long ago lost all reason as well as all perception of the world around her, all there was, was a maddening electric current traveling up her leg and sucking the life from her. After almost an hour of watching the feet wriggle around they finally fell limp. Dral stood up strait and watched as the elven girl’s body faded out of existence, leaving only the empty rack. Dral suddenly felt a surge of power and the feather began to glow with a strange light. Dral turned from the rack and looked at the two goblin soldiers, raising his hand, Dral sent a stream of black lightning out and vaporized one of them. Dral smiled evilly and looked at the other, who was cowering in the corner. Dral withdrew his hand and said “on your feet, there is much to do.”
To be continued.
