TickleYeti
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A Ticklish Sorcerer's Origin
F/M, */M F/F Many/F
He was born to the Silverdawn family in Luskan. Though the devil blood from an ancient pact made
centuries ago in that family ran strong in his veins, it did not manifest in his appearance, but for one
slight change. He was born a fair skinned elven child with black hair, his eyes, yellow as a bar of gold,
took his parents aback. His father, Thamior, assumed that it was simply a side of effect of the magic the
child was exposed to before his birth and paid it no mind. The child was named Paelias Silverdawn and
grew up healthy and fit, being privately tutored in preparation for a wizard’s education. Though Paelias
seemed capable of grasping the concepts in his lessons, he often seemed more interested in playing
pranks and chasing fleeting whims then studying and all through his childhood strange things would
happen, seeming to share his state of mind. One day a strange little burst of green flame started on a
textbook that the young lad particularly hated. It was a tenday before a replacement could be procured.
Paelias spent the tenday shirking his lessons, running through the woods and chasing fireflies.
Another notable instance a few years later involved a young elven maiden feeling a gentle pinch on her
rump as bent forward tending a flower garden. She gasped, jumped straight and looked around but no
one seemed to be near, there were various elves going about their business in the distance, the closest
being Paelias, watching from a nearby rooftop, wearing a surprised grin with the last few traces of
amber light fading from his eyes; but she was alone in the courtyard. It seemed that Paelias’ blood was
gripped at least as much by his Fey ancestry.
Thamior, growing ever more perplexed, was there to see that occurrence as well as every occurrence
before and after, noting the seeming randomness of magic that still conveniently served Paelias so well.
He was fast coming to conclusion that his son was imbued with some strange magic he could not
account for and had never heard of, save for what he read in texts describing sorcerers.
As Paelias grew, and the strange happenings began to reflect stronger and stronger magic, a lady devil,
Nemeia, began to take note of his progress and saw potential for yet another minion to add to her
collection. She too, began to watch with increasing interest, noting everything for the day she would
make her approach to the young elf. One thing that she could not decipher was why he did not look like
a tiefling, aside from his eyes of course.
As Paelias approached his 21 st birthday, his father began attempting to teach him simple wizardly
cantrips, these Paelias could not seem to grasp consistently. Some days he would not be able to conjure
even a glimmer of light to dance, and other days he would conjure an orb so bright, that they would be
blinking purplish haze from their vision for days afterwards. The elf mage could not delude himself,
especially not in light of all the evidence. It was clear that his son was born a sorcerer. This, in itself, was
not so bad. Sorcerers can become quite powerful and there is no shame in such a gift; but in searching
for clues as to the source of his power, nothing could give a clue, nothing but his eyes. Viewed from the
context of sorcery, Thamior couldn’t help but wonder if those eyes signaled a devilish heritage. He
decided that he must confirm his son’s sorcerous nature before making assumptions about anything
else. He determined the best test to be an attempt to teach him a very basic wizardly spell that a
sorcerer cannot learn: Find Familiar.
Nemeia, watching through a scrying pool as Thamior told his son the spell he planned to teach him, saw
an opportunity to make contact with the elf lad. She called for her servants, telling them to fetch various
components and spellcasters as the plan continued to form.
The day had come for Paelias to attempt the summoning. His father had drilled him and drilled him,
making sure that he knew each inflection of each syllable perfectly. Finally he had become convinced
that his son knew every aspect of the spell perfectly and had but to pair that with the magical summons.
He told his son to head out into the forest for the summoning, knowing that it would fail if he
accompanied him. So Paelias set out, hiking deep into the forest, seeking a prime location for his
summoning. His father had not shared his suspicions with him, only telling him that wizards must always
study until they collapse from exhaustion to ensure the perfect spell. Paelias still had a headache from
the study and felt absolutely certain he would succeed.
Finding a clearing he began to set everything up but paused, looking around, having thought he heard a
giggle. He scanned the treeline, yellow eyes flicking back and forth, trying to determine if there was
something there. The sound of the laughter had set a thrill through his heart and he couldn’t help the
grin as he looked. After searching for a while and finding nothing, he stopped looking, assuming that his
imagination was simply getting the better of him. Crestfallen, he turned back to his equipment, only to
find the gem he had placed down was gone. He began casting about frantically, trying to find the most
rare and expensive focus to the spell that his father had provided. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain on the
back of his head and turned to see that the gem had been thrown at him from behind. He leaped up and
around gem clutched in his hand and felt a prick on his bottom. This time he caught a trail of sparkles
and a pair of tiny feet fading into invisibility and heard that giggle again. “I saw you that time!” He cried
as he cast about, searching for the little being. “Catch me if you can!” A tiny voice cried as a pixie faded
into view, garbed in tiny vines all about her and fluttering her purple butterfly wings. She waved the
charcoal that he needed for his spell, giggled again, and zipped off into the wood.
Laughing aloud, Paelias immediately leaped after the pixie, leaving everything behind in the clearing.
“Oh I will catch you for sure little fairy!” He jumped over roots, dodged tree trunks and swung from low
branches, all the while following the sound of the pixie’s delighted giggling. As it became clear he could
not catch her this way, he grew frustrated and desired more and more to catch her. Little did he know
that his eyes were beginning to glow, suddenly his perspective changed, a massive oak tree that he had
noticed beyond the pixie was suddenly right in front of his face. He started as he felt a thump on his
back. Whirling around, he saw the pixie falling, a wing slightly crumpled. He reached out and gently
caught her and the charcoal, apologizing for the accident and slowly lowering himself to sit on the mossy
ground, lowering his hand so that she was an easy step away from the ground. She looked up at him in
time to see the last flickers of light leaving his eyes as she faded from consciousness.
Paelias sat there at a loss as to how to help her. She seemed to be breathing normally, but her wing was
still bent. It seemed so delicate that he dare not touch it. He looked around and shouted out to any
pixies or other Fey creatures that might be around. He paused for a moment and waited but it seemed
she had ventured out alone today. He looked down at her and noticed her beauty for the first time, she
had raven dark hair, glossy and flowing. Her skin was pale and dotted with the occasional freckle.
Amongst the vines, one could just barely make out her ribcage and small abdominal muscles as she lay
there, splayed out in his palm. Her legs and feet were bare, dainty yet clearly well-muscled for one of
her size. She did not seem bursting with muscle, more the supple readiness of an athlete then the
bulging sinews of a barbarian. He resolved to find aid for her and stood up, just in time to feel another
prick in his side, he looked down and saw a tiny arrow protruding, though it seemed to warp oddly,
twisting and stretching as his vision faded to black. The last thing he did before passing out was to gently
cup the pixie, clasping her to his chest and twisting so he fell on his back to protect her. Then he knew
nothing.
Thamior did not worry after the fourth hour had passed, knowing his son to be especially free-spirited
but trusting that he would attempt the spell soon, by the sixth hour he grew concerned and on the
seventh hour, trust be damned, he prepared to scry through the gem he had given Paelias. An arcane
focus, he had told his son as he gave it to him and his son thought nothing of it. As the spell completed,
the mirror clouded over, then resolved to… nothing, just blackness on the mirror and nothing to be
heard. Unfortunately, Thamios could not be sure that it just wasn’t in a pocket, but given the delay, he
had to assume something was wrong. He immediately hired scouts and levied favors from his
compatriots in the hosttower. Rangers crept through the wood, diviners scryed, and conjurers swept
over the wood on conjured clouds, all for nothing. The fey in Neverwinter Wood had hidden from men
in the centuries since men had roved the area. It would take more than a general search to uncover
them.
Paelias awoke restrained, ropes holding his arms above his head and he legs tied together in a kneeling
position. All he had on was his loose over robe and trouser, his tunic had been removed as had his
shoes. It was not the most comfortable way to repose, but it seemed that they had not intentionally
been cruel, just uncaring. Several sprites stood guard, bows at the ready should their prisoner try to cast
a spell or call for help. Paelias was considering doing just that when a sprite caught his eye. He
noiselessly shook his head and motioned with his bow, arrow set. As Paelias glanced at the arrow, he
saw a droplet fall from the arrow and nodded once, closing his mouth tighter as he remembered how
quick that poison could take effect. He would need to be conscious for a better escape opportunity. The
sprites snapped to attention as a door opened and the pixie he had played with before walked in,
escorted by two very well armored sprites, each wielding long spears and decked in full plate armor
made from walnut shells and glimmering with enchantment. Paelias looked over the pixie again and
sighed in obvious relief to see her wing restored.
She looked up at Paelias restrained how he was and giggled, lifting into the air and lighting on his
shoulder. “Sorry you’re all tied up, the sprites think you were trying to kill me,” she widened her eyes
and placed her hands on her cheeks in mock horror, “some even say you were trying to eat me!” The
sprites in the room looked away with faces turning red. She looked at them all with a faint air of
amusement. “They can be a little overzealous and they gossip more than human grandmothers!” She
tittered into her hand. “They still refuse to let you go, apparently some elf wizard has the entire
hosttower searching all through these woods and they are afraid you will lead them back here. A
justified concern.” She looked over at Paelias sternly, “they have lived here for centuries untouched
after all.” She poked his cheek firmly, “you wouldn’t dare think of telling anyone how to get here.” She
stamped her foot on his shoulder and put her hands on her hips in a picture of outrage slightly ruined by
the mischievous smirk on her face. Paelias sighed and shook his head, “I was unconscious the entire
time, I don’t know how to get here.” She fluttered from his shoulder to float before him, lowering down
as she spoke, “you wouldn’t happen to be concentrating on any spells at the moment would you?”
Paelias shook his head and started to respond, but instead burst out into laughter as the pixie dove
under his robe, tickling up his stomach and ribs, under his arms and down his back, flitting out from
under the robe and down to his bare feet. “I swear! No spells!” Paelias gasped as he recovered from the
tickling, only to start howling even louder as the pixie danced her way over his feet before fluttering
back around to float before him yet again. She turned towards the sprites, “see, no spells,” and bowed
low toward them in midair. The sprites looked over her at the elven boy squirming and still laughing
every so often, trying to recover from the unexpected assault. They looked at each other and nodded,
themselves flitting up to untie him. He settled back when he was untied, rubbing at his wrists and smiled
at the pixie. She smiled back, then looked sad for a moment and said, “one more thing, they still need to
take you out of their realm and-“ she shrugged. Paelias sighed, “I know,” and held his arm out to one of
the bow wielding sprites who looked up at Paelias with an apologetic expression and then pricked his
hand. As before Paelias passed out very quickly.
He awoke sometime later in the same clearing where he first set up for casting the spell, it was the same
time of day as before when he first chased off after the pixie so he wondered if he had just dreamt the
whole thing. At least, he thought that for a moment until an unbearable tickling engulfed his right foot
and he fell back laughing and scraping his foot against the groud, trying to find some relief when it
stopped as suddenly as it started. He pulled off his shoe and looked at his foot to see a message:
“Paelias,
It was an absolute joy to meet you, you are very pleasant for a tiefling. I think I will find you again,
perhaps to leave you more notes!
-Ceana”
Suddenly the message faded from his foot and a small strip of parchment with the same message
appeared on the ground. Also appearing was a small ring, really a belt for a pixie. Paelias put it on and
suddenly felt the connection of the life all around him. It was all very vague, just a deeper connection to
what he knew was already there, but it was a marvelous sensation. He soaked it in for a moment but his
spirits soon fell again as he read the note. “A tiefling? Is that why my eyes are yellow?” He muttered to
himself distractedly and so didn’t notice when his father drifted down out of the sky behind him, reading
the strip of parchment.
“It sounds as though you have quite a story for us son” a deep sonorous voice rolled over Paelias. “We
were concerned for your safety, the entire hosttower was out, it will be a sleepy day as all the wizards
rest to relearn their spells,” Thamior chuckled. “Let’s get back home son.” He turned to begin the long
walk back through the verdant, green wood.
“A tiefling?” Thamior turned at his son’s subdued voice. “A tiefling!” Paelias shouted, rising from the
ground and growing angrier with each passing second. “A TIEFLING?!” Paelias bellowed into the sky,
throwing his arms wide. His eyes began to glow and he rose into the air. “How could you keep this from
me?! How could you pretend I was different?!” Paelias pierced Thamior with his gaze. “Son, I did not
know. Only your eyes would have suggested that heritage, but without the skin I could only assume it
was a random quirk of the magic we are surrounded with every day. Today was to be a test, I believe
you to be a sorcerer and a success or failure at this spell would have shown me the truth. I did not wish
to alarm you without being certain.”
“Congratulations father, I lived a life of ignorant bliss, a tiefling walking openly through the hosttower.
How many others suspected? How many others whispered behind my back??” Paelias screamed out,
“Perhaps I should just summon a devil to pact with now and be done with it!!” At that moment, the light
glowing in his eyes exploded outwards, blinding them both and throwing Paelias down.
When it faded, they both looked to see an Erinye standing atwixt them, her fiendish beauty entrancing
them both. She wore very little over her dusky red skin, smooth and supple. She stood barefoot, nails
trimmed back and clean, rather unlike the talons both the elves expected. Her slender, yet muscled legs
canted at an angle, thrusting her curvy hips to the side. She wore a sort of thin cloth that covered very
little of her fiendish garden. Their eyes couldn’t help but follow the slight “v” created where her legs join
her hips. Her stomach, smooth and taut, flowed seamlessly up to her ribs and above. Another slight
cloth wound around her breasts, covering the center and supporting them upwards, leaving her upper
chest bare aside from the beginnings of a sheer, silken robe swirling gracefully down and around her
form, continuously undulating as though stirred by a gentle breeze and framing a deceptively delicate
neck and collarbone leading up to a soft, curved and dimpled face, bearing a smile wide enough to show
the tips of two small fangs poking out of dark and pert lips. Yellow eyes with vertical pupils gleamed
devilishly under slender eyebrows, resting against a smooth forehead out of which sprouted two slim
horns. Her flowing black hair was captured by an obviously enchanted tiara made completely of
diamond. She fixed her gaze on Paelias, “how may I… service…you?” Conveying through her tone a level
of carnality that would make a succubus blush.
Paelios was completely befuddled, mouth hanging wide, completely overwhelmed by feelings he never
felt before. A stirring deep within that longed for release, a need that he never knew to be so strong
weakening his limbs and dulling his senses. All he could see were those eyes, everything else was
washed out in a torrent of red, a roaring in his ears and a fire in his core.
Thamior was similarly entranced, however he retained the presence of mind to wonder how she had
gotten here, as Paelias had in no way phrased a summons. He also noted several wands and rings on her
person, though from behind even less was covered and her pert rump resting just below a very
expressive tail and a completely bare and smooth back were giving poor Thamior some serious trouble
in staying mentally faithful.
“I am Nemeia.” She was speaking now in a lustful whisper, speaking every inflection as though
screaming ‘take me now.’ If you are…interested. I believe that you and I can…join… together in a very
pleasant partnership.” She stepped closer and he suddenly became very aware of her scent, somehow
making the charring of wood and earth, sensual. She leaned forward to whisper into his ear, sliding a
hand along his flat stomach and resting on his chest while her tail slipped into his trousers, snaking along
his inner thigh, emanating warmth all the way.
Thamior recovered first, beginning a silent chant, thinking to detect the nature of any enchantments on
her. She was aware of this but decided to let him so he could truly understand just how unprepared he
was. Thamior completed the spell and fell back, gasping. This devil was so heavily enchanted, a greater
water elemental could naught but tickle her. Still, this was his son who was truly out of his league. He
had to help somehow. Thamior began another chant, meaning to call for help. This she would not allow.
She pulled away from Paelias, who couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment.
“Quiet now beautiful.” Nemeia backed her words with magical power and Thamior found himself
silenced. “I will play with you later, for now, just wait there.” Thamior was suddenly held, there was
nothing he could do but watch as she moved back to Paelias, whispering in his ear again. “Just make a
deal with me and I can satisfy every desire you are fighting against. Right. Now.” She licked his earlobe
and Paelias nearly passed out. He began to speak, about to agree when he thought of Ceana. He saw her
face in his mind and she was crestfallen and despairing to watch him surrender and partner with such
evil. Her disappointment saddened him and, though they had only just met, he found the strength of will
to break free of the enchantment being woven around him. Suddenly he saw her not just for her
features, undeniably beautiful and alluring. He saw her for her heart, twisted and warped with evil.
Disgusted, he pushed her back, ripping her tail from his trousers and leaped back, eyes flaring with
yellow and cut loose with a wordless snarl. This sound was accompanied roots rising from the earth and
wrapping her down. Unbeknownst to them, this burst also carried with it a message that every nature
wielder in the area could hear, detailing the presence of a devil and the need for help.
Ceana looked up from teasing a sparrow in sudden concern. She was immediately on her way, calling to
any dryads she passed along the. Though they were quite distant, they were moving quickly with Dryads
carrying them through trees. Help was on the way.
Nemeia found herself fully engulfed in almost a full thicket of roots, all that Paelias could see of her was
her head, her feet, and her stomach. He could also tell that the slips of cloth had fallen away in the root
tangle and that thought almost entrapped him again, but he firmly fastened an image of Ceana in his
mind, giggling as she held up the charcoal and teased him. With a wistful smile on his face, he took a
page out of her book when he saw the devil chanting softly, his eyes flared and the roots near the devils
feet sent off sprouts along her feet and in between her toes, other roots sprouted seedlings under her
arms. Nemeia did not know she was ticklish, one is not tickled in tarterus and no mortal had previously
had the presence of mind or the inclination to tickle her. She found the sensation completely
overwhelming and lost the spell she was working on. She snarled in between snorts and giggles as roots
sprouted questing seedlings all around her body.
Paelias, convinced she was thoroughly distracted and chuckling at her plight, moved to his father trying
to figure out how to free him. Thamior desperately tried to break the enchantment, to tell him to flee
but could not subvert Nemeia’s will, even with her so oddly occupied. Thamior knew that some tickling
plants would not hold her for very long at all.
Paelias stood before Thamior, cursing his inattention during his lessons as he struggled to remember
anything about spells of holding but could not. Too often he had spent his time daydreaming with his
head in the clouds. Suddenly he felt a wave of heat crash over him and turned around. Nemeia had
finally had to resort to her dark heritage and allowed the flames of tarterus to wash through her,
incinerating the offending sprouts and charring the roots that held her. Once sufficiently weakened, she
broke free and stood atop the pile, everything burned away but her rings, wands, and tiara. However,
she was past charms and her evil aura was dampening any affect her naked and still obviously beautiful
body might have had. She fixed her baleful gaze on Paelias and suddenly he knew fear. It washed over
him even more thoroughly then the previous passion had and left him completely unable to focus on
remember how to break a hold spell. “You had the chance to experience ecstasy beyond the imaginings
of your most dexterous women” She began to step down from the pile, walking on air as she descended
towards him. “Now you shall feel more pain that that fool Ilmater himself could handle!” She picked him
up and threw him into a tree. As he crashed against it, he could feel bones cracking and cried out.
Thamior threw every ounce of his will into breaking the hold but still could not. She felt it and flashed a
wicked grin his way, showing every sharpened tooth in her mouth.
By this time, Ceana had arrived and they all hid in the woods, she watching for clues and hints of a
weakness, and the dryads mourning at the pain of the earth as the roots still smoldered. Ceana knew
that such a high ranking devil was far beyond every one of them combined and began to look for a way
to escape with the elves.
Paelias had managed to stand up and had picked up his arcane focus, having moved past his fear and
determined to inflict some pain before he died. Nemeia looked back at him, “How cute, the sorcerer has
a focus.” She grabbed it with magic and began to batter him with it, more to emphasize his weakness
than to hurt him. “I will admit, using those roots to… what is called? Tickle? I’ll admit that was clever,
and I will have to further explore that weakness of mine to eliminate it, but nothing you could have done
to me while I was trapped in that tangle would have done anything more than extend your eventual
suffering.” She picked him up again with one hand, “let’s see how you like it” with her other hand and
her tail she reached up to tickle his stomach and side. He resisted for a time, though even the
involuntary twitching sent agonizing spasms through his body. He could not resist for long, however, and
began to laugh, racking himself with even greater pain. However much she tickled, the pain was not
diminished either. Bored of her game, she slammed him down to the earth with her fist, cracking even
more bones and changing his laughter to screams.
Ceana had heard enough, she had formulated something a plan and communicated it to her allies. Then
she leaped out and fired a dart from a bow at the devil. It did little more than prick the skin, and her
fiery nature burned the poison away before it could do anything but it did get her attention. She looked
up to see Ceana making an obscene gesture among devils and snarled to chase her. As before with
Paelias, she fled, never enough to lose her pursuer until she led her between two closely spaced trees.
As Nemeia leaped over a low hanging branch, two dryads reached from each tree trunk, each grabbing
an arm and a knee and pulling them into the trees and leaving them there. Nemeia found herself
trapped yet again and set to casting immediately, suspecting what was coming next. It was not quick
enough however, as the dryad hands reach out from the trunks, sprouting twig like caps before tickling
her on her sides and causing vines to sprout and tickle everywhere else. If the sprouts from Paelias were
bad, this was worse and beings controlled vines as dexterously as she could use her tail. Nemeia could
not do anything but howl with fiendish snarling laughter, promising torturous death in between laughs.
Ceana flitted low and tickled a leg on her way past back to Paelias. Several other pixies flew to Thamior
trying to undo the hold spell but could not.... (to be continued...?)
What do ya think? Advice to improve?
F/M, */M F/F Many/F
He was born to the Silverdawn family in Luskan. Though the devil blood from an ancient pact made
centuries ago in that family ran strong in his veins, it did not manifest in his appearance, but for one
slight change. He was born a fair skinned elven child with black hair, his eyes, yellow as a bar of gold,
took his parents aback. His father, Thamior, assumed that it was simply a side of effect of the magic the
child was exposed to before his birth and paid it no mind. The child was named Paelias Silverdawn and
grew up healthy and fit, being privately tutored in preparation for a wizard’s education. Though Paelias
seemed capable of grasping the concepts in his lessons, he often seemed more interested in playing
pranks and chasing fleeting whims then studying and all through his childhood strange things would
happen, seeming to share his state of mind. One day a strange little burst of green flame started on a
textbook that the young lad particularly hated. It was a tenday before a replacement could be procured.
Paelias spent the tenday shirking his lessons, running through the woods and chasing fireflies.
Another notable instance a few years later involved a young elven maiden feeling a gentle pinch on her
rump as bent forward tending a flower garden. She gasped, jumped straight and looked around but no
one seemed to be near, there were various elves going about their business in the distance, the closest
being Paelias, watching from a nearby rooftop, wearing a surprised grin with the last few traces of
amber light fading from his eyes; but she was alone in the courtyard. It seemed that Paelias’ blood was
gripped at least as much by his Fey ancestry.
Thamior, growing ever more perplexed, was there to see that occurrence as well as every occurrence
before and after, noting the seeming randomness of magic that still conveniently served Paelias so well.
He was fast coming to conclusion that his son was imbued with some strange magic he could not
account for and had never heard of, save for what he read in texts describing sorcerers.
As Paelias grew, and the strange happenings began to reflect stronger and stronger magic, a lady devil,
Nemeia, began to take note of his progress and saw potential for yet another minion to add to her
collection. She too, began to watch with increasing interest, noting everything for the day she would
make her approach to the young elf. One thing that she could not decipher was why he did not look like
a tiefling, aside from his eyes of course.
As Paelias approached his 21 st birthday, his father began attempting to teach him simple wizardly
cantrips, these Paelias could not seem to grasp consistently. Some days he would not be able to conjure
even a glimmer of light to dance, and other days he would conjure an orb so bright, that they would be
blinking purplish haze from their vision for days afterwards. The elf mage could not delude himself,
especially not in light of all the evidence. It was clear that his son was born a sorcerer. This, in itself, was
not so bad. Sorcerers can become quite powerful and there is no shame in such a gift; but in searching
for clues as to the source of his power, nothing could give a clue, nothing but his eyes. Viewed from the
context of sorcery, Thamior couldn’t help but wonder if those eyes signaled a devilish heritage. He
decided that he must confirm his son’s sorcerous nature before making assumptions about anything
else. He determined the best test to be an attempt to teach him a very basic wizardly spell that a
sorcerer cannot learn: Find Familiar.
Nemeia, watching through a scrying pool as Thamior told his son the spell he planned to teach him, saw
an opportunity to make contact with the elf lad. She called for her servants, telling them to fetch various
components and spellcasters as the plan continued to form.
The day had come for Paelias to attempt the summoning. His father had drilled him and drilled him,
making sure that he knew each inflection of each syllable perfectly. Finally he had become convinced
that his son knew every aspect of the spell perfectly and had but to pair that with the magical summons.
He told his son to head out into the forest for the summoning, knowing that it would fail if he
accompanied him. So Paelias set out, hiking deep into the forest, seeking a prime location for his
summoning. His father had not shared his suspicions with him, only telling him that wizards must always
study until they collapse from exhaustion to ensure the perfect spell. Paelias still had a headache from
the study and felt absolutely certain he would succeed.
Finding a clearing he began to set everything up but paused, looking around, having thought he heard a
giggle. He scanned the treeline, yellow eyes flicking back and forth, trying to determine if there was
something there. The sound of the laughter had set a thrill through his heart and he couldn’t help the
grin as he looked. After searching for a while and finding nothing, he stopped looking, assuming that his
imagination was simply getting the better of him. Crestfallen, he turned back to his equipment, only to
find the gem he had placed down was gone. He began casting about frantically, trying to find the most
rare and expensive focus to the spell that his father had provided. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain on the
back of his head and turned to see that the gem had been thrown at him from behind. He leaped up and
around gem clutched in his hand and felt a prick on his bottom. This time he caught a trail of sparkles
and a pair of tiny feet fading into invisibility and heard that giggle again. “I saw you that time!” He cried
as he cast about, searching for the little being. “Catch me if you can!” A tiny voice cried as a pixie faded
into view, garbed in tiny vines all about her and fluttering her purple butterfly wings. She waved the
charcoal that he needed for his spell, giggled again, and zipped off into the wood.
Laughing aloud, Paelias immediately leaped after the pixie, leaving everything behind in the clearing.
“Oh I will catch you for sure little fairy!” He jumped over roots, dodged tree trunks and swung from low
branches, all the while following the sound of the pixie’s delighted giggling. As it became clear he could
not catch her this way, he grew frustrated and desired more and more to catch her. Little did he know
that his eyes were beginning to glow, suddenly his perspective changed, a massive oak tree that he had
noticed beyond the pixie was suddenly right in front of his face. He started as he felt a thump on his
back. Whirling around, he saw the pixie falling, a wing slightly crumpled. He reached out and gently
caught her and the charcoal, apologizing for the accident and slowly lowering himself to sit on the mossy
ground, lowering his hand so that she was an easy step away from the ground. She looked up at him in
time to see the last flickers of light leaving his eyes as she faded from consciousness.
Paelias sat there at a loss as to how to help her. She seemed to be breathing normally, but her wing was
still bent. It seemed so delicate that he dare not touch it. He looked around and shouted out to any
pixies or other Fey creatures that might be around. He paused for a moment and waited but it seemed
she had ventured out alone today. He looked down at her and noticed her beauty for the first time, she
had raven dark hair, glossy and flowing. Her skin was pale and dotted with the occasional freckle.
Amongst the vines, one could just barely make out her ribcage and small abdominal muscles as she lay
there, splayed out in his palm. Her legs and feet were bare, dainty yet clearly well-muscled for one of
her size. She did not seem bursting with muscle, more the supple readiness of an athlete then the
bulging sinews of a barbarian. He resolved to find aid for her and stood up, just in time to feel another
prick in his side, he looked down and saw a tiny arrow protruding, though it seemed to warp oddly,
twisting and stretching as his vision faded to black. The last thing he did before passing out was to gently
cup the pixie, clasping her to his chest and twisting so he fell on his back to protect her. Then he knew
nothing.
Thamior did not worry after the fourth hour had passed, knowing his son to be especially free-spirited
but trusting that he would attempt the spell soon, by the sixth hour he grew concerned and on the
seventh hour, trust be damned, he prepared to scry through the gem he had given Paelias. An arcane
focus, he had told his son as he gave it to him and his son thought nothing of it. As the spell completed,
the mirror clouded over, then resolved to… nothing, just blackness on the mirror and nothing to be
heard. Unfortunately, Thamios could not be sure that it just wasn’t in a pocket, but given the delay, he
had to assume something was wrong. He immediately hired scouts and levied favors from his
compatriots in the hosttower. Rangers crept through the wood, diviners scryed, and conjurers swept
over the wood on conjured clouds, all for nothing. The fey in Neverwinter Wood had hidden from men
in the centuries since men had roved the area. It would take more than a general search to uncover
them.
Paelias awoke restrained, ropes holding his arms above his head and he legs tied together in a kneeling
position. All he had on was his loose over robe and trouser, his tunic had been removed as had his
shoes. It was not the most comfortable way to repose, but it seemed that they had not intentionally
been cruel, just uncaring. Several sprites stood guard, bows at the ready should their prisoner try to cast
a spell or call for help. Paelias was considering doing just that when a sprite caught his eye. He
noiselessly shook his head and motioned with his bow, arrow set. As Paelias glanced at the arrow, he
saw a droplet fall from the arrow and nodded once, closing his mouth tighter as he remembered how
quick that poison could take effect. He would need to be conscious for a better escape opportunity. The
sprites snapped to attention as a door opened and the pixie he had played with before walked in,
escorted by two very well armored sprites, each wielding long spears and decked in full plate armor
made from walnut shells and glimmering with enchantment. Paelias looked over the pixie again and
sighed in obvious relief to see her wing restored.
She looked up at Paelias restrained how he was and giggled, lifting into the air and lighting on his
shoulder. “Sorry you’re all tied up, the sprites think you were trying to kill me,” she widened her eyes
and placed her hands on her cheeks in mock horror, “some even say you were trying to eat me!” The
sprites in the room looked away with faces turning red. She looked at them all with a faint air of
amusement. “They can be a little overzealous and they gossip more than human grandmothers!” She
tittered into her hand. “They still refuse to let you go, apparently some elf wizard has the entire
hosttower searching all through these woods and they are afraid you will lead them back here. A
justified concern.” She looked over at Paelias sternly, “they have lived here for centuries untouched
after all.” She poked his cheek firmly, “you wouldn’t dare think of telling anyone how to get here.” She
stamped her foot on his shoulder and put her hands on her hips in a picture of outrage slightly ruined by
the mischievous smirk on her face. Paelias sighed and shook his head, “I was unconscious the entire
time, I don’t know how to get here.” She fluttered from his shoulder to float before him, lowering down
as she spoke, “you wouldn’t happen to be concentrating on any spells at the moment would you?”
Paelias shook his head and started to respond, but instead burst out into laughter as the pixie dove
under his robe, tickling up his stomach and ribs, under his arms and down his back, flitting out from
under the robe and down to his bare feet. “I swear! No spells!” Paelias gasped as he recovered from the
tickling, only to start howling even louder as the pixie danced her way over his feet before fluttering
back around to float before him yet again. She turned towards the sprites, “see, no spells,” and bowed
low toward them in midair. The sprites looked over her at the elven boy squirming and still laughing
every so often, trying to recover from the unexpected assault. They looked at each other and nodded,
themselves flitting up to untie him. He settled back when he was untied, rubbing at his wrists and smiled
at the pixie. She smiled back, then looked sad for a moment and said, “one more thing, they still need to
take you out of their realm and-“ she shrugged. Paelias sighed, “I know,” and held his arm out to one of
the bow wielding sprites who looked up at Paelias with an apologetic expression and then pricked his
hand. As before Paelias passed out very quickly.
He awoke sometime later in the same clearing where he first set up for casting the spell, it was the same
time of day as before when he first chased off after the pixie so he wondered if he had just dreamt the
whole thing. At least, he thought that for a moment until an unbearable tickling engulfed his right foot
and he fell back laughing and scraping his foot against the groud, trying to find some relief when it
stopped as suddenly as it started. He pulled off his shoe and looked at his foot to see a message:
“Paelias,
It was an absolute joy to meet you, you are very pleasant for a tiefling. I think I will find you again,
perhaps to leave you more notes!
-Ceana”
Suddenly the message faded from his foot and a small strip of parchment with the same message
appeared on the ground. Also appearing was a small ring, really a belt for a pixie. Paelias put it on and
suddenly felt the connection of the life all around him. It was all very vague, just a deeper connection to
what he knew was already there, but it was a marvelous sensation. He soaked it in for a moment but his
spirits soon fell again as he read the note. “A tiefling? Is that why my eyes are yellow?” He muttered to
himself distractedly and so didn’t notice when his father drifted down out of the sky behind him, reading
the strip of parchment.
“It sounds as though you have quite a story for us son” a deep sonorous voice rolled over Paelias. “We
were concerned for your safety, the entire hosttower was out, it will be a sleepy day as all the wizards
rest to relearn their spells,” Thamior chuckled. “Let’s get back home son.” He turned to begin the long
walk back through the verdant, green wood.
“A tiefling?” Thamior turned at his son’s subdued voice. “A tiefling!” Paelias shouted, rising from the
ground and growing angrier with each passing second. “A TIEFLING?!” Paelias bellowed into the sky,
throwing his arms wide. His eyes began to glow and he rose into the air. “How could you keep this from
me?! How could you pretend I was different?!” Paelias pierced Thamior with his gaze. “Son, I did not
know. Only your eyes would have suggested that heritage, but without the skin I could only assume it
was a random quirk of the magic we are surrounded with every day. Today was to be a test, I believe
you to be a sorcerer and a success or failure at this spell would have shown me the truth. I did not wish
to alarm you without being certain.”
“Congratulations father, I lived a life of ignorant bliss, a tiefling walking openly through the hosttower.
How many others suspected? How many others whispered behind my back??” Paelias screamed out,
“Perhaps I should just summon a devil to pact with now and be done with it!!” At that moment, the light
glowing in his eyes exploded outwards, blinding them both and throwing Paelias down.
When it faded, they both looked to see an Erinye standing atwixt them, her fiendish beauty entrancing
them both. She wore very little over her dusky red skin, smooth and supple. She stood barefoot, nails
trimmed back and clean, rather unlike the talons both the elves expected. Her slender, yet muscled legs
canted at an angle, thrusting her curvy hips to the side. She wore a sort of thin cloth that covered very
little of her fiendish garden. Their eyes couldn’t help but follow the slight “v” created where her legs join
her hips. Her stomach, smooth and taut, flowed seamlessly up to her ribs and above. Another slight
cloth wound around her breasts, covering the center and supporting them upwards, leaving her upper
chest bare aside from the beginnings of a sheer, silken robe swirling gracefully down and around her
form, continuously undulating as though stirred by a gentle breeze and framing a deceptively delicate
neck and collarbone leading up to a soft, curved and dimpled face, bearing a smile wide enough to show
the tips of two small fangs poking out of dark and pert lips. Yellow eyes with vertical pupils gleamed
devilishly under slender eyebrows, resting against a smooth forehead out of which sprouted two slim
horns. Her flowing black hair was captured by an obviously enchanted tiara made completely of
diamond. She fixed her gaze on Paelias, “how may I… service…you?” Conveying through her tone a level
of carnality that would make a succubus blush.
Paelios was completely befuddled, mouth hanging wide, completely overwhelmed by feelings he never
felt before. A stirring deep within that longed for release, a need that he never knew to be so strong
weakening his limbs and dulling his senses. All he could see were those eyes, everything else was
washed out in a torrent of red, a roaring in his ears and a fire in his core.
Thamior was similarly entranced, however he retained the presence of mind to wonder how she had
gotten here, as Paelias had in no way phrased a summons. He also noted several wands and rings on her
person, though from behind even less was covered and her pert rump resting just below a very
expressive tail and a completely bare and smooth back were giving poor Thamior some serious trouble
in staying mentally faithful.
“I am Nemeia.” She was speaking now in a lustful whisper, speaking every inflection as though
screaming ‘take me now.’ If you are…interested. I believe that you and I can…join… together in a very
pleasant partnership.” She stepped closer and he suddenly became very aware of her scent, somehow
making the charring of wood and earth, sensual. She leaned forward to whisper into his ear, sliding a
hand along his flat stomach and resting on his chest while her tail slipped into his trousers, snaking along
his inner thigh, emanating warmth all the way.
Thamior recovered first, beginning a silent chant, thinking to detect the nature of any enchantments on
her. She was aware of this but decided to let him so he could truly understand just how unprepared he
was. Thamior completed the spell and fell back, gasping. This devil was so heavily enchanted, a greater
water elemental could naught but tickle her. Still, this was his son who was truly out of his league. He
had to help somehow. Thamior began another chant, meaning to call for help. This she would not allow.
She pulled away from Paelias, who couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment.
“Quiet now beautiful.” Nemeia backed her words with magical power and Thamior found himself
silenced. “I will play with you later, for now, just wait there.” Thamior was suddenly held, there was
nothing he could do but watch as she moved back to Paelias, whispering in his ear again. “Just make a
deal with me and I can satisfy every desire you are fighting against. Right. Now.” She licked his earlobe
and Paelias nearly passed out. He began to speak, about to agree when he thought of Ceana. He saw her
face in his mind and she was crestfallen and despairing to watch him surrender and partner with such
evil. Her disappointment saddened him and, though they had only just met, he found the strength of will
to break free of the enchantment being woven around him. Suddenly he saw her not just for her
features, undeniably beautiful and alluring. He saw her for her heart, twisted and warped with evil.
Disgusted, he pushed her back, ripping her tail from his trousers and leaped back, eyes flaring with
yellow and cut loose with a wordless snarl. This sound was accompanied roots rising from the earth and
wrapping her down. Unbeknownst to them, this burst also carried with it a message that every nature
wielder in the area could hear, detailing the presence of a devil and the need for help.
Ceana looked up from teasing a sparrow in sudden concern. She was immediately on her way, calling to
any dryads she passed along the. Though they were quite distant, they were moving quickly with Dryads
carrying them through trees. Help was on the way.
Nemeia found herself fully engulfed in almost a full thicket of roots, all that Paelias could see of her was
her head, her feet, and her stomach. He could also tell that the slips of cloth had fallen away in the root
tangle and that thought almost entrapped him again, but he firmly fastened an image of Ceana in his
mind, giggling as she held up the charcoal and teased him. With a wistful smile on his face, he took a
page out of her book when he saw the devil chanting softly, his eyes flared and the roots near the devils
feet sent off sprouts along her feet and in between her toes, other roots sprouted seedlings under her
arms. Nemeia did not know she was ticklish, one is not tickled in tarterus and no mortal had previously
had the presence of mind or the inclination to tickle her. She found the sensation completely
overwhelming and lost the spell she was working on. She snarled in between snorts and giggles as roots
sprouted questing seedlings all around her body.
Paelias, convinced she was thoroughly distracted and chuckling at her plight, moved to his father trying
to figure out how to free him. Thamior desperately tried to break the enchantment, to tell him to flee
but could not subvert Nemeia’s will, even with her so oddly occupied. Thamior knew that some tickling
plants would not hold her for very long at all.
Paelias stood before Thamior, cursing his inattention during his lessons as he struggled to remember
anything about spells of holding but could not. Too often he had spent his time daydreaming with his
head in the clouds. Suddenly he felt a wave of heat crash over him and turned around. Nemeia had
finally had to resort to her dark heritage and allowed the flames of tarterus to wash through her,
incinerating the offending sprouts and charring the roots that held her. Once sufficiently weakened, she
broke free and stood atop the pile, everything burned away but her rings, wands, and tiara. However,
she was past charms and her evil aura was dampening any affect her naked and still obviously beautiful
body might have had. She fixed her baleful gaze on Paelias and suddenly he knew fear. It washed over
him even more thoroughly then the previous passion had and left him completely unable to focus on
remember how to break a hold spell. “You had the chance to experience ecstasy beyond the imaginings
of your most dexterous women” She began to step down from the pile, walking on air as she descended
towards him. “Now you shall feel more pain that that fool Ilmater himself could handle!” She picked him
up and threw him into a tree. As he crashed against it, he could feel bones cracking and cried out.
Thamior threw every ounce of his will into breaking the hold but still could not. She felt it and flashed a
wicked grin his way, showing every sharpened tooth in her mouth.
By this time, Ceana had arrived and they all hid in the woods, she watching for clues and hints of a
weakness, and the dryads mourning at the pain of the earth as the roots still smoldered. Ceana knew
that such a high ranking devil was far beyond every one of them combined and began to look for a way
to escape with the elves.
Paelias had managed to stand up and had picked up his arcane focus, having moved past his fear and
determined to inflict some pain before he died. Nemeia looked back at him, “How cute, the sorcerer has
a focus.” She grabbed it with magic and began to batter him with it, more to emphasize his weakness
than to hurt him. “I will admit, using those roots to… what is called? Tickle? I’ll admit that was clever,
and I will have to further explore that weakness of mine to eliminate it, but nothing you could have done
to me while I was trapped in that tangle would have done anything more than extend your eventual
suffering.” She picked him up again with one hand, “let’s see how you like it” with her other hand and
her tail she reached up to tickle his stomach and side. He resisted for a time, though even the
involuntary twitching sent agonizing spasms through his body. He could not resist for long, however, and
began to laugh, racking himself with even greater pain. However much she tickled, the pain was not
diminished either. Bored of her game, she slammed him down to the earth with her fist, cracking even
more bones and changing his laughter to screams.
Ceana had heard enough, she had formulated something a plan and communicated it to her allies. Then
she leaped out and fired a dart from a bow at the devil. It did little more than prick the skin, and her
fiery nature burned the poison away before it could do anything but it did get her attention. She looked
up to see Ceana making an obscene gesture among devils and snarled to chase her. As before with
Paelias, she fled, never enough to lose her pursuer until she led her between two closely spaced trees.
As Nemeia leaped over a low hanging branch, two dryads reached from each tree trunk, each grabbing
an arm and a knee and pulling them into the trees and leaving them there. Nemeia found herself
trapped yet again and set to casting immediately, suspecting what was coming next. It was not quick
enough however, as the dryad hands reach out from the trunks, sprouting twig like caps before tickling
her on her sides and causing vines to sprout and tickle everywhere else. If the sprouts from Paelias were
bad, this was worse and beings controlled vines as dexterously as she could use her tail. Nemeia could
not do anything but howl with fiendish snarling laughter, promising torturous death in between laughs.
Ceana flitted low and tickled a leg on her way past back to Paelias. Several other pixies flew to Thamior
trying to undo the hold spell but could not.... (to be continued...?)
What do ya think? Advice to improve?
