Dark Convoy
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Ya know, im starting to like writing, even if know one likes it, its still fun to do. oh well heres part two hope ya like it. Feedback welcome and preferd. If I know what ya like and what ya dont I can write a better story.
Tales of the Dark Feather
By DC
Part 2 The Descending Darkness
The council of mages was in uproar, an unmelodious echo of voices that no one, not even the most patient mage could discern. The head of the council sat in the main box of the large cylinder shaped room in deep thought. He was an older man, perhaps a great deal older, no one really knew. His long, gray, beard reached the floor and still did not stop, for a wizard it was a sign of seniority and wisdom.
Finally the head of the council, who was know as Master Addrel, rose to his feet and in a thunderous voice that one would not expect from one looking as he did, he said, “Silence!”
As if some unknown magic had been cast to steal their voices, the council room fell silent.
Addrel took little or know pride in his accomplishment, rather it served to remind him that they all looked to him for answers.
“We will accomplish nothing be arguing like a pack of orcs,” the word were equally harsh but not quite as loud.
“But sir,” an old mage, but not nearly as old as Addrel, rose from his seat, “we are getting more and more reports of villages and smaller kingdoms attacked. Whoever is doing this, is attacking mortals not mages.”
“Quit right,” said Addrel with a nod, “there for we must find this murderer and destroy them.”
“Look no further!!”
The words echoed of the walls of the room as a hooded figure entered the massive council chamber. The hooded man stopped at the center of the room and removed his hood. The council members looked in confusion at the young man before them.
“Confused my friends? Have I changed.”
“Lord Dral,” said Addrel as he stared with obvious contempt at the young, now beardless man before him. “You are responsible for these atrocities?”
Dral cast a smile that sent a chill through out the whole chamber, even Master Addrel felt it. “What you call atrocities, I call natural selection.” Pointing his finger coldly at Addrel he said, “the weak shall perish to make room for the strong, it is the way of the universe.”
“Your universe, not ours” said Addrel, no longer holding the anger in his voice.
Dral smiled, “we’ve had this argument before old man.”
Addrel gave a mock smile back and said, “well we shall not have it again, seize him!”
Before the guards could draw their weapons, Dral raised his hand breaking their necks. With a smile of satisfaction Dral started for the door, “we will finish this.” Turning back he said, “and when we do you will call me master.”
Returning to his newly established fortress, Dral descended to the dungeon to see his next victim prepared for him. It was a female centaur chained securely, arms stretched above her head. All four of her hooves were equally secure. Dral smiled, he had drained a few elves, a few fairies, and even one or two humans, but the thought of gaining the strength and power of the centaur race intrigued him. Removing the black feather from it place around his neck he raised it to the view of the centauress.
She looked it with a smirk, “your kidding right,” she said in her own language of witch Dral spoke.
Dral said nothing as he brought the feather to bear on her under arm. Her smirk turned to a look of deep concern as the dark bristles drew ever closer to her flesh. As contact was made, she instinctively puled at her restraints with all her might. The sensation was more then she expected and much, much more than she could handle. Dral took no notice of her struggle, or the frenzied laughter that began erupting from her as he lightly draged the feather down her side and across her belly. The centauress screamed and thrashed her head around, desperately trying to shake off the torturous feeling that the feather was producing.
“No, Please noooooooo,” she shrieked as he began twirling the feather inside her belly button.
The prisoners in the cell along the walls cringed and clutched their ears to shut out the tortured laughter that echoed the off the wall.
Returning the feather to her underarm and reaching out with his hand to tickle the other, she was sent into another series of shrieks as her nervous system was overloaded. It was taking longer than expected to brain her but Dral was not annoyed in the slightest. The Centaurs had always been a strong and proud race, and now he had one of their worriers begging for mercy.
Finally, after nearly 2 torturous hours, she fell silent and faded away. The feather glowed evilly, indicating that her mind, body, and spirit were imprisoned with the phantom realm of the black feather. Dral began heading for the stairs when he suddenly stopped. His powers alerted him to a spy hiding just under a near by basket. A fairy, she had, no doubt been sent by the council to spy on him.
With out missing a beat Dral spun around just as she made for the window. Dral flung out his hand and a dark energy shot from his fingertips and encompassed her.
When the darkness cleared she found herself bound, spread eagle in what appeared to be a black spider web. She did her best to struggle but there was no give to the web. Looking up from her predicament, she saw Dral standing directly in front of her, grinning.
“Well, it appears I have a guest,” said Dral.
The fairy was a little less then a foot from head to toe, wearing only a few strips of leather that did little to cover her, her wings were much like a butterflies, with a beautiful mixture of colors.
Dral looked darkly at her and said, “and you are?”
“Zara,” she replied in a voice to match her size.
“Ah, of course,” said Dral, “Addrels little spy.”
“I demand to be let go,” Zara said in a firm voice but with a hint of fear.
“My dear,” Dral cackled, “your in no position to demand anything. However, you could tell me what the council is planing.”
“How would I know,” she shot back, only to be met with a grin.
With out another word, Dral brought his Dark weapon of torture to bear on her tiny feet. Fairies are fun loving and playful creatures, not to mention ticklish. Most fairies love to be tickled and can with stand it better than creatures 3 or 4 times their size but just a touch was enough to send her into a spasm of shrikes and screams. Dral teased both feet together, running the blade of the feather across them. Zara thrashed and wailed as her sanity was challenged, she had been trained to with stand all forms of torture but this was too much. Just when she felt herself slipping into darkness, the feather was with drawn.
“Ill spare you for now my dear, Dral said, your more valuable to me alive.”
Dral turned to a one of the skeleton troops he had recently created and said, “lock her up.”
As the troop took Zara away, a small orc came toward Dral. “Master, he said, an ambassador of the demon world requests an audience.”
Dral considered it for a moment, then said, “very well, Ill meet with them in an hour, in my thrown room.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
With that, the little orc took of to deliver the message. Dral grinned to him self and looked down at the feather, “so much to conquer, so little time.”
To Be Continued
Tales of the Dark Feather
By DC
Part 2 The Descending Darkness
The council of mages was in uproar, an unmelodious echo of voices that no one, not even the most patient mage could discern. The head of the council sat in the main box of the large cylinder shaped room in deep thought. He was an older man, perhaps a great deal older, no one really knew. His long, gray, beard reached the floor and still did not stop, for a wizard it was a sign of seniority and wisdom.
Finally the head of the council, who was know as Master Addrel, rose to his feet and in a thunderous voice that one would not expect from one looking as he did, he said, “Silence!”
As if some unknown magic had been cast to steal their voices, the council room fell silent.
Addrel took little or know pride in his accomplishment, rather it served to remind him that they all looked to him for answers.
“We will accomplish nothing be arguing like a pack of orcs,” the word were equally harsh but not quite as loud.
“But sir,” an old mage, but not nearly as old as Addrel, rose from his seat, “we are getting more and more reports of villages and smaller kingdoms attacked. Whoever is doing this, is attacking mortals not mages.”
“Quit right,” said Addrel with a nod, “there for we must find this murderer and destroy them.”
“Look no further!!”
The words echoed of the walls of the room as a hooded figure entered the massive council chamber. The hooded man stopped at the center of the room and removed his hood. The council members looked in confusion at the young man before them.
“Confused my friends? Have I changed.”
“Lord Dral,” said Addrel as he stared with obvious contempt at the young, now beardless man before him. “You are responsible for these atrocities?”
Dral cast a smile that sent a chill through out the whole chamber, even Master Addrel felt it. “What you call atrocities, I call natural selection.” Pointing his finger coldly at Addrel he said, “the weak shall perish to make room for the strong, it is the way of the universe.”
“Your universe, not ours” said Addrel, no longer holding the anger in his voice.
Dral smiled, “we’ve had this argument before old man.”
Addrel gave a mock smile back and said, “well we shall not have it again, seize him!”
Before the guards could draw their weapons, Dral raised his hand breaking their necks. With a smile of satisfaction Dral started for the door, “we will finish this.” Turning back he said, “and when we do you will call me master.”
Returning to his newly established fortress, Dral descended to the dungeon to see his next victim prepared for him. It was a female centaur chained securely, arms stretched above her head. All four of her hooves were equally secure. Dral smiled, he had drained a few elves, a few fairies, and even one or two humans, but the thought of gaining the strength and power of the centaur race intrigued him. Removing the black feather from it place around his neck he raised it to the view of the centauress.
She looked it with a smirk, “your kidding right,” she said in her own language of witch Dral spoke.
Dral said nothing as he brought the feather to bear on her under arm. Her smirk turned to a look of deep concern as the dark bristles drew ever closer to her flesh. As contact was made, she instinctively puled at her restraints with all her might. The sensation was more then she expected and much, much more than she could handle. Dral took no notice of her struggle, or the frenzied laughter that began erupting from her as he lightly draged the feather down her side and across her belly. The centauress screamed and thrashed her head around, desperately trying to shake off the torturous feeling that the feather was producing.
“No, Please noooooooo,” she shrieked as he began twirling the feather inside her belly button.
The prisoners in the cell along the walls cringed and clutched their ears to shut out the tortured laughter that echoed the off the wall.
Returning the feather to her underarm and reaching out with his hand to tickle the other, she was sent into another series of shrieks as her nervous system was overloaded. It was taking longer than expected to brain her but Dral was not annoyed in the slightest. The Centaurs had always been a strong and proud race, and now he had one of their worriers begging for mercy.
Finally, after nearly 2 torturous hours, she fell silent and faded away. The feather glowed evilly, indicating that her mind, body, and spirit were imprisoned with the phantom realm of the black feather. Dral began heading for the stairs when he suddenly stopped. His powers alerted him to a spy hiding just under a near by basket. A fairy, she had, no doubt been sent by the council to spy on him.
With out missing a beat Dral spun around just as she made for the window. Dral flung out his hand and a dark energy shot from his fingertips and encompassed her.
When the darkness cleared she found herself bound, spread eagle in what appeared to be a black spider web. She did her best to struggle but there was no give to the web. Looking up from her predicament, she saw Dral standing directly in front of her, grinning.
“Well, it appears I have a guest,” said Dral.
The fairy was a little less then a foot from head to toe, wearing only a few strips of leather that did little to cover her, her wings were much like a butterflies, with a beautiful mixture of colors.
Dral looked darkly at her and said, “and you are?”
“Zara,” she replied in a voice to match her size.
“Ah, of course,” said Dral, “Addrels little spy.”
“I demand to be let go,” Zara said in a firm voice but with a hint of fear.
“My dear,” Dral cackled, “your in no position to demand anything. However, you could tell me what the council is planing.”
“How would I know,” she shot back, only to be met with a grin.
With out another word, Dral brought his Dark weapon of torture to bear on her tiny feet. Fairies are fun loving and playful creatures, not to mention ticklish. Most fairies love to be tickled and can with stand it better than creatures 3 or 4 times their size but just a touch was enough to send her into a spasm of shrikes and screams. Dral teased both feet together, running the blade of the feather across them. Zara thrashed and wailed as her sanity was challenged, she had been trained to with stand all forms of torture but this was too much. Just when she felt herself slipping into darkness, the feather was with drawn.
“Ill spare you for now my dear, Dral said, your more valuable to me alive.”
Dral turned to a one of the skeleton troops he had recently created and said, “lock her up.”
As the troop took Zara away, a small orc came toward Dral. “Master, he said, an ambassador of the demon world requests an audience.”
Dral considered it for a moment, then said, “very well, Ill meet with them in an hour, in my thrown room.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
With that, the little orc took of to deliver the message. Dral grinned to him self and looked down at the feather, “so much to conquer, so little time.”
To Be Continued
.
