#Lore24 – Entry #316 – Fantasy Month IV #11 – The Heroes of Vindinium and the Journey to the Ruins

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

As it happened, I was back in Vindinium when the heroes returned, sampling some of the local cooking and chatting with one of the town’s hunters about the geography around the town when the call came from one of the watchtowers that the adventuring party had been spotted coming along the road.  I hastily finished my lunch and the conversation and headed toward the westward gate which connected to the road leading deeper into the Wildlands to await their arrival.  I hoped that I wasn’t fidgeting too much, for the cage, plug, piercings had been particularly active today, and my changed anatomy was particularly sensitive and engorged inside its tiny enclosure.  How Lady Armenia expected me to perform in my expected role in surveying these ruins with these distractions remained a mystery.

The party rode through the gates without much in the way of fanfare, rather a series of friendly greetings and waves from friendly villagers and the handful of soldiers on watch duty.  They made their way quickly toward the town’s tavern, the Drunken Hog, without even pausing to clear off the dust from the road.  They had the look of seasoned adventurers about them, their gear worn but well-cared for, sporting a handful of scrapes and bruises that hadn’t yet been healed by their healer, friendly banter between themselves, that sort of thing.  I decided to give them a little time to settled down from their trip before I introduced myself.

After about half an hour, I made my way into the tavern, drawing their eyes immediately as I came inside.  The drakonae with them leaned in, whispering something to the dusk elf arcanist, who nodded affirmatively and whispered something back, and made some quick movements with his fingers, to which the purple-haired dawn elf nodded, flashing a rather hungry grin by way.  As I would come to learn, the drakonae was their scout, going by the name Shassk Darkscale, certainly an apt name given his pitch black scales.  The arcanist was Ellisar Chaeynor, dressed in common explorer’s clothes, his stark white hair tied back in a short tail, bore several charms about his person, along with a pair of wands upon his belt, as well as his staff, which, to my chagrin, was a Staff of Many Bindings.  The dawn elf, a remarkably beautiful man, whom I very nearly assumed a woman at first, had long purple hair, a lascivious smirk, and wore pants so tight that could only marvel at how he fit into them at all given the roundness of his rear and wideness of his hips (a most remarkable feature of his, I must admit); I knew at once he could be trouble, for he was not shy about his attraction toward me.  This was Korvalis Nightrunner.

The two women amongst the party were no less remarkable.  The first had given me a start when I’d first witnessed her riding into town, for she was very nearly the exact opposite of Lady Armenia.  She was a mazoku, named Gresilda Nazaria and bearing the holy symbol of Erisaya, her skin a deep blue color, hair of gold, her horns curling around the sides of her head, her eyes bright amber shade, and upon seeing her out of her armor, she tended to wear white and other brighter colors, if not so fine as what Lady Armenia wore.  The other woman came in a moment later, nearly having to duck to enter from the rear entrance from the stables, for she was well over six-feet tall and possessed of a huge, muscular build and a wild mane of fiery red hair, her tattoos indicating that she was of the barbaric tribes that roamed the northern reaches on the edges of the Empire, though she bore herself as much more civilized than her initial appearance would indicate, her speech decidedly that of a lifelong citizen of the Empire.  This was Risai Morningstar.

I introduced myself and began telling them of my reason for approaching, and they bid me to sit at their table, and we spoke for some time while they enjoyed drink and food, though I did not press them too hard on the details of the ruins they had found.  That we would save for that evening, after they had had time to rest and recover, for they had been invited to dine with Commander Asselin and Lady Armenia to discuss the coming exploration.  They seemed a little suspicious of me, understandably so, for I was indeed an outside among them, but friendly enough, though Shassk and Risai weren’t the most conversational amongst us.

I would have plenty of time to get to know them better on our journey to the ruins.  Following our discussions at dinner that night, they would resupply the following day and set out in the early morning the day after, with myself traveling with them this time.  Thankfully the night before we set out, Lady Armenia removed the accursed plug from me, even if she didn’t remove the other pieces of my “protection”.  She did give me the dildo I had both practiced my oral abilities upon and had used upon me, though, “just in case food is scarce” she said.  I was no less frustrated than I had been, of course, and would be greatly more so once I had experienced riding on horseback with my new anatomy; how men manage to do this at all is beyond me.

With my gear and equipment ready, I joined the party and we set off; the journey to the ruins would take about four days, assuming we didn’t run into any trouble.  In spite of their work so far, there were still plenty of tribals out there looking for blood, as well as a multitude of bandit groups who were still out roaming out there, many disaffected former citizens of the Empire, some supposedly former soldiers who had once fought in the Res’Taringal rebellion and went into exile, others from the elvish-held lands beyond the Wildlands and beyond.  I would learn that there were signs of cult activity in the area as well, for they had encountered at least one instance of a ritual sacrifice in the wilderness, and several people had gone missing from Vindinium.  Worse, perhaps, there was at least one party of adventurers who had come into the region and turned bandit and may be interested in the ruins as well.  No shortage of dangers to be wary of, certainly.

We would encounter a perhaps two dozen orcs, an armed raiding party, during our travels, which, thanks to Shassk’s expertise, we were able to ambush, leaving only the three or four who ran off alive.  There were other dangers along the way as well, for we encountered a pack of rather ravenous wolves, came dangerously close to some giant spiders that had found their way out of a section of woods to hunt, and even a rare fire-breathing drake that had attacked us from the skies, looking for food.  I held my own during these encounters, and though I was hardly as attuned to the surroundings as the rest of the party, I would quickly learn their ways and work with them as we went. 

A severe thunderstorm struck late on the third day, delaying our travel by a day while we waited for it to pass, but soon enough we would arrive at the site of the ruins, and my work would begin.

#Lore24 – Entry #315 – Fantasy Month IV #10 – Nights of Torment

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

My wish that Lady Armenia would see fit to grant me a proper release that night was not to be.  Following our dinner with Commander Asselin, she had indeed brought me to her room, bidding me to strip down to my “armor”.  Hopeful, I eagerly complied, noting the recent addition of several iron rings set into the wooden framing of the room.  It would not take her long to make use of these, for I was soon spreadeagled in the center of the room, my wrist and ankle cuffs secured with ropes to the rings, my eyes covered by a leather mask, and a ball gag harness secured about my head. 

She removed the chastity gear then, though the infernal cage around my cock still remained, leaving my chest free for her to grope, which she most eagerly did, tugging at my nipple rings several times while she teased and squeezed my testes, which felt swollen with my pent-up frustrations, making the cage feel all the tighter.  Once I was even more worked up than I somehow was already, she began something new, moving more to the painful practices her religion is more known for.  She swiftly bound my breasts with rough twine, causing them to swell rather painfully in a matter of minutes, then began adding weight to the nipple rings to add a constant, somewhat painful pressure.  She likewise bound my new anatomy with small leather thongs, stretching the testes rather painfully before she added weights to those as well.

My torment was far from over, for everything that remained continued vibrating, keeping me at consistent edge of climax, my cock dripping constantly.  It was then that she began using a flogger upon me, the sting of the knotted leather thongs making me yelp and struggle against the ropes, causing the hanging weights to swing and bounce, increasing my torment drastically.  Each strike was as if several bees had stung me, the worst of the pain fading quickly to leave my skin tingling and hot, the sensations repeated over most of my body. 

At long last, when Lady Armenia removed the plug in my rear, I had hoped it was finally time for my reward.  I could hear her doing something behind me, then her hands were upon my tingling rear, spreading something cool around my anus.  Then I felt the head of a dildo pressing against it, and within moments it slid inside me.  I moaned quite loudly, and most lewdly, as it stretched me and pushed deeper and deeper.  When I felt the base of the dildo press against my cheeks, felt her hips brush mine, I squirmed eagerly.  Then she pulled backward, then pushed forward, building up to a steady thrusting of her hips as she fucked me with the dildo, her own heated moans joining my own as her claws dug into the flesh of my hips.  The cage around my cock had grown so painfully tight, a constant stream of fluid dripping from it as I continued to hit that wall that separated me from my desired pleasure.  Lady Armenia slowed her pace, giving me a few moments for the fires of lust to die down, then picked up again.

I know not how long she worked the dildo in and out of my ass, but never once did she let me climax.  Nor, notably, did she climax.  Though her cries of pleasure were quite loud, and she worked her thrusts quite forcefully, she never reached climax either.  With a final cry that sounded more frustrated than pleased, she pulled out of me, whispering that I had done well, that Yurisaya was quite pleased with our performance, and that she would free me to rest soon.  In somewhat shocked disbelief, I hung there limply, whimpering and pleading around the ball that filled my mouth for that sweet release that I had so desperately craved. 

It was not to be, for once Lady Armenia had tended to herself, she undid the various objects of torment that had remained attached to me before she replaced the butt plug and then my “armor”, which felt even tighter than ever.  At long last she unbound me, holding me too her for a time, my head against her chest, as I cried in frustration.  Once the weakness had passed, she kissed my forehead, promising that the time would come soon, before she sent me off to bed.

The following three nights were much the same, to my great frustration.  Lots of build-up, hoping against hope that I would be allowed to climax, and finding denial each and every time.  Yet, for whatever reason that she did not divulge to me, Lady Armenia never climaxed either.  I could tell she was just as aroused as I was, perhaps more so, but she never gave in, never allowed herself to succumb to the pleasure. 

Yurisaya’s ways are indeed strange.

The following mornings were perhaps worse in some ways, for not only did I wake from fitful slumber as horny as ever, cursing the chastity gear that I could not remove, I had to deal with Aishi’s smug, knowing grin when we would have breakfast with the commander, her subtle teases, little flicks of her tongue or motions with her hands to intimate carnal acts.  I am loathe to admit it, but I found myself very much considering taking her up on her offer of aid, whatever I would have to do to obtain it. 

Thankfully the Heroes of Vindinium finally returned around noon on the fourth day, and I would have something else to distract myself with.

#Lore24 – Entry #314 – Fantasy Month IV #9 – A Private Encounter with the Stellae Illustris

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

Lady Armenia had decided to rest for the rest of the day and bid me to explore about the fort and village if I wished; she wouldn’t have need of me until that night.  The constant stimulation and edging of the devices I’d been dealing with for days now had my focus severely impeded, so I decided that a walk would not be amiss, though that came with its own challenges thanks to the random nature of the vibrations that came from them. 

I took in the lay of the redoubt first, spoke with a few of the workers who were tasked with restoring the fort to proper form.  From what I’d learned, it was at least a couple centuries since it was last used, and had been remarkably well maintained all things considered, though I saw large sections of the walls that had been recently rebuilt, along with many sections of the inner structures.  New additions had been made, specifically an additional watch tower and the aforementioned gate leading up the road to the fort, with another two planned. 

Then I ventured down into Vindinium to see what facilities were available and learn what I could of the nature of the adventurers who I would be working with, and to get the lay of the town and a feel for its people.  For the most part, those I spoke to seemed rather favorable to the coming of the Imperial garrison, for the area had grown much less stable over the last few years, with raids from the tribal orcs, kobolds, and other non-human races becoming all too frequent.  For a time, trade caravans had come from the elvish lands further to the southwest, but those had mostly stopped now due to the banditry that plagued the road deeper into the Wildlands; there was a whole town, Duskgulch, a few days on that seemed overrun with thieves and criminals of all sorts, they told me, though for now I couldn’t tell if that was just the nature of villagers to be overly proud of their own town or not.

Regardless, there had been several groups of adventurers to have come through in the wake of the Imperial Legion’s reclaiming of the fort, for Commander Asselin had made the call specifically to lure them in with the promise of great wealth should they help them restore order to the area.  A shrewd decision, given the lack of manpower he’d originally been given.  All told, he had perhaps a hundred men, though perhaps only half of those were soldiers, the rest support staff and builders.  The Emperor certainly wasn’t making the task too easy for him.  Some adventurers hadn’t been seen since they had set off weeks ago, their fates unknown for the moment, while others, specifically the “Heroes of Vindinium” as they had been named, seemed well-liked.  They weren’t particularly disruptive, had brought in a few shipments of stolen goods back to the town, and additional wealth taken from a few bandit groups they’d encountered.  Plus they had cleared out some nearby tribals and monstrous creatures that had plagued the village, and had even helped construct the new palisade. 

I sampled some of the local liquor and some pastries while I was in town, not enough to spoil the coming dinner later that night and introduced myself to most of the merchants in town as I perused their wares.  Somehow, I managed to keep from embarrassing myself with a random, useless attempt to grope my breasts or adjust my “manhood”, which I might note, felt extremely confined and very uncomfortable in its unceasing attempts to remain erect, to say nothing of the plug that filled my rear.  I almost wished these devices were of a mundane, unmagical sort so that they would have to be removed regularly.

As evening approached, the shadows growing long, I returned to the fort and to my quarters, a small room near to Lady Armenia’s where my scant few possessions had been placed.  However, before I could enter, I saw Aishi approaching me with the most smug look upon her face, her eyes not glowing quite so brilliantly as they had upon our first meeting.  Though I briefly hoped she was headed elsewhere, she reached my door first and waited for me, bidding me to enter so that we could speak privately.

Already nervous around her, for even though she was a kerryn, she was also in direct service to the Emperor, this very nearly sent me into a panic right there.  Somehow, I maintained my composure, though, and invited her inside.  I let her move past me and closed the door, and the moment I turned to face her, she pushed me up against it, purring in a predatory way, her nose twitching as she took in my scent.  Her gauntleted hands went to my chest, her fingers tapping knowingly against the mythril that kept my anatomy shielded, while one knee came up between my legs and rested directly against my entrapped anatomy.  My piercings and anal plug began to vibrate at that moment, most powerfully, making me squirm even more vigorously in her grasp, hear keen ears no doubt hearing everything.

I won’t repeat everything she said to me here, for it was quite lewd and embarrassing, and hardly accurate to my true nature, though my constant state of arousal and inability to find relief had certainly done little to prove anything to the contrary.  She had known the moment she had first laid eyes upon me that I was quite well entrapped by Lady Armenia, had spotted the arcane signatures of not only my chastity gear, but of the transformation spell she had performed upon me, though she admitted it only took a keep enough nose to pick up on most of that.  I smelled “like a randy whore” she had said at one point. 

Aishi had pressed herself against me then, replacing her knee with a strong hand, while her tongue licked at my cheeks, her lips finding mine.  My brain told me to protest such treatment and resist her, but I did no such thing, and in fact did quite the opposite, leaning into her and eagerly engaging the intimate contact to the limit of my ability, driven so close to a climax by my gear that I felt near completely defeated when they stopped, leaving me on the edge of that precipice.  Aishi seemed to enjoy my desperation as she pulled away.  She told me that she could help with my predicament if I but begged her to do so.  I was too flustered to reply in the moment, but she excused herself, delivering a sharp slap to my ass before she left, telling me to remember her when I had reached the end of my endurance and just had to sate the fire inside me.

For once I found myself hoping that tonight would be the night that Lady Armenia would give me what I so desperately needed, simply so that I would not be driven to even consider Aishi’s offer. 

#Lore24 – Entry #313 – Fantasy Month IV #8 – A Village and a Fort, a Commander and a Shadow

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

I was expecting to be dressed once more into the hobbling dress the following morning, but instead I was allowed back into the riding dress; Lady Armenia said that we would be leaving the Imperial border once we were into the mountains, and even she wouldn’t take a chance on leaving me defenseless through potentially hostile terrain.  In fact, she even returned my scimitar and bookish bulwark, even had me make sure that my new “armor” wasn’t a hindrance after breakfast.  Aside from some rather unwelcome pressure and pinching between my legs for what must be quite obvious reasons now, I was quite capable of going through my practice routines.

Of course, that didn’t stop her from continuing my “training” along the way.  She was assured we would have ample warning in case of an attack, for her drakonae scouts were unrivaled guardians, so she told me.  Travel was slow once we had entered the mountains, the road recently shored up to some extent, but still rough and windy.  So, it was practicing some things that did not involve improving my ability to take large phallic objects into my throat, including more worship of her feet and more endless edging in my case, while practicing various new positions in which I found myself restrained.  I was rather impressed by the number of anchor points hidden away behind the panel work of the carriage, and the variety of restraints Lady Armenia had packed for the journey.

Further oral practice with the dildo would wait until we made camp that evening, in the privacy of her tent.  I was quite a horny mess by then, and would remain so for the foreseeable future, as she seemed to have no intention of allowing me to remove my chastity gear, nor the plug in my rear, the enchantments upon the items seeing to it that my bodily functions were taken care of.  She had promised a surprise if I performed my oral exercise satisfactorily the first night, and indeed, after some time with my lips and tongue working the dildo as she held it between her legs, I experienced a most intense ejaculation of salty, white fluid from the device, nearly choking me and then spraying upon my face.  The flavor was most familiar, being the same mixture that was produced by the feeder gag, though never before had I experienced it in such volume nor in such an embarrassing manner.

I daresay the journey through the mountains was rather mundane compared to the first couple of nights, but with good reason.  We were indeed attacked in the mountains no less than three times, once by a rather large group of bandits who appeared quite desperate, and then again by two separate orc tribes.  In each case, our injuries were relatively minor, and I did not become engaged in the combat, as I was officially on guard duty for the Lady Armenia.  Though having seen the soldiers and drakonae in action, I daresay I would have made a poor final line of defense, not that a priestess such as herself couldn’t defend herself. 

After the long journey through the mountains, we descended into something of a large valley basin, and I could see the fort that was our destination from some distance away, standing high upon a rocky plateau, overlooking a village.  These were the Dawnsummit Redoubt and Vindinium, respectively, the Baydwell River running along out of the mountains near the village.  As we came to the village, I could see that it had recently been enhanced with a stout wooden palisade, complete with a quartet of small, recently built watch towers.  We followed the road through the village, the people there seeming to look upon us favorably as we passed.

Beyond the village, it was a short trip to the road leading up to the overlooking ridge and the redoubt, a series of spiked wooden barricades having been constructed to slow any advancing force, with an additional stone gatehouse currently under construction closer to the top of the plateau.  The roadway led right to the fort’s walls and gatehouse, both of which having been recently repaired to Imperial Legion standards and were even now being further reinforced by a mix of dwarven and drakonae craftsmen.  I counted what seemed a rather small amount of soldiers on patrol and guard about the fort and village, though, a curious detail.  I thought perhaps they had gathered inside the walls of the fort for some reason, but as the carriage passed through into the courtyard and grounds, I saw only a fraction of what I had expected. 

In short order, our large group had come to a stop and Lady Armenia and I left the carriage.  The commander of the soldiers sent to guard her was already barking orders to some of his men to see about reinforcing the current garrison troops, and a notable pair approached us from the direction of the commander’s quarters.  The garrison commander seemed familiar to me, walking with a pronounced limp and making use of a crutch, his left leg obviously having received a wound that had not properly healed.  He was an older human, dark hair graying from his temples, wearing a neatly trimmed beard with his hair cut short, still seeming to be in rather good shape overall aside from the leg.  He wore one of the Legion’s broadswords at his side, garbed in the tunic of a general.  He introduced himself as Lexaundre Asselin, and I certainly remembered the name then, for that name held only slightly less infamy than that of Res’Taringal for which the notable rebellion had been named.  He and his house had spoken in support of the Res’Taringals but had notably not committed any significant resources to the ill-fated operation, which is likely why he was alive now, and almost certainly why he had been sent into the Wildlands with such a small force with orders to tame it.

The second person to join us kept her distance, remaining back about ten feet from us, seemingly not interested in our discussions, though I doubted she was ignoring us.  It was a kerryn, golden hair loose about her shoulders, with red-tinged fur upon her ears and tail, brilliant blue-green eyes that faintly glowed, marking her clearly as a Stellae Illustris, even if the armor and cloak, bearing the red, black, and gold colors of the Emperor, and her collar stamped with the insignia of the order, had not marked her as such.  She was armed with a longer, narrower bladed sword than that of Asselin, which she kept one hand upon, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.  This was Aishi, as Asselin told us, his second shadow.  She offered us a smile then, playful, no, predatory, though she refused to bow as would other kerryn.  I had heard the Stella Illustris were quite proud of their positions, and would only bow to the Emperor himself, perhaps a handful of others, and seeing this behavior, perhaps that was indeed true.  She certainly came off as quite smug, the more I regarded her. 

Once our introductions were complete, Commander Asselin gave us the tour of Dawnsummit Redoubt, highlighting the impressive work they’d managed to complete so far in restoring the fort to its long-lost glory days, some centuries ago, and with such a small force.  Aishi remained behind us, but within a few strides should danger come, though I suspected her reason for being there was rather obvious, to ensure that Asselin did nothing to step out of line, to make sure that his support of the Emperor was genuine.  As I watched her out of the corner of my eye, I got the sense that she was quite dangerous, very much a great hunting cat stalking fresh pray as she tried to get a sense of what Lady Armenia and I were about.

Then we retired to the commander’s offices, where he showed us a map of the large region he had been tasked with civilizing, spread over the top of a table, the map itself a copy of one much older judging by the style of the drawings and relative newness of the parchment, lacking much in the way of details about the region besides major landmarks.  There were new additions however, drawn directly upon the map, showing several significant discoveries made by the adventurers who had come into the area seeking wealth and glory, including a few ruins and ancient ritual sites, lairs and territories of various hostile tribes of orcs, kobolds, gnolls, and even lizardmen in the area, and of course, the ruins that had recently been discovered marking what was thought to be an ancient temple of some sort, bearing draconic iconography.  With permission, I began making notes and copying the map for myself.

The adventurers had been gone for several days now but were expected to return within the week to resupply from their further attempts to secure the area around the ruins, and upon their return, we would have proper introductions, for I would be working closely with them going forward.  In the meantime, Dawnsummit and Vindinium were open to us.  There would be a feast later that night in honor of Lady Armenia, and she would retire to the quarters that had been prepared for her (and I, for now).  I would remain here, making my notes and studying the notes left by the adventurers, as well as the handful of artifacts they had recovered from the site.  I felt the eyes of Aishi lingering upon me for a few moments more as the others left, and I sensed that I would be having my own encounter with her before long.  There was something about her that made me nervous.

#Lore24 – Entry #123 – Muckenmyre Month #2 – Awakening Upon an Unfamiliar Bed

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

I have vague impressions of the times following the storms.  The seas were peaceful once more, perhaps within minutes following the sinking of our fleet.  I can recall the sunset as I lay upon the piece of shattered wreckage, too incoherent to attempt to free myself from the rigging.  I could tell I had many broken bones, that I still bled.  Pain is a constant companion for one such as I, and though I can deal with it far better than most, even I can become overwhelmed if it is great enough.

My next memory is perhaps of the following morning, or perhaps it was a day or more later; regardless, it is of the ship approaching, turning alongside the wreckage.  Ghostly images then, of the sailors cutting me free, hauling my shattered body aboard their ship.  I cannot remember their colors, only vague images.  I think I had began to hallucinate, perhaps I even had a fever as my body stubbornly refused to submit.

As they cared for me the best they could, perhaps only in the hopes of giving such a pitiful creature as merciful ending as they could, I dreamed.  Strange visions, likely caused by the fever that ravaged me, or perhaps it was the souls of those who were lost alongside me, coming back to try and draw me into the void alongside them. 

Perhaps the tormented screams I heard were my own; I had not screamed from inflicted physical pain in decades, so perhaps this was purely my own internal suffering given voice by the fever?  I have a vague remembrance of one sailor’s face, pale and terrified as he backed away from me.  What demons did I release during my lapse in control?  Perhaps I will never know.

It was sometime after this that I awoke on land, in an unfamiliar bed, in a strange room.  It was the morning sun beaming through the window that awoke me, the sound of distant thunder filling my ears, normal thunder, not that of the Dragons’ Fury.  Beneath the heavy aroma of healing poultices, I could smell odd scents, people I didn’t know, a land I had never been to before, the thick, sickening odor of the swamps.  Beyond the small room, I could hear the din of a busy town, the chatter of its people as they went about their lives.

For a wonder, I was not restrained, and I had survived the fever, though some of the visions within my mind will forever remain burned into my memory.  For a wonder, I was not bound, aside from the bandages that were wrapped around my various wounds.  I could immediately feel the pain in my bones, knew immediately that some had begun to knit crookedly. 

I then realized that I was naked.  Not for lack of clothes, for I had been covered in a simple linen smock that smelled faintly of dust and age.  No, someone had removed my collar and cuffs, the spiked steel that marked me as not only a slave but a trainer of slaves, the metal that had been sealed upon my body for over a century, perhaps never to be removed.  As I breathed faster and became more aware of the place I found myself, I realized that I could not feel their reassuring weight, could not feel the internal spikes that constantly pricked and pinched at my flesh, their reassuring touch that signified that I was property of the Inquisition, of the Emperor’s most loyal Stellae Illustris.  Perhaps in another few decades I may have even earned the privilege of wearing a mythril version of them, that I would have become a full-fledged slave knight as a reward for my loyalty. 

To my horror, as I forced myself to rise from the bed, my body protesting with fresh pain that sharpened my senses, though I made not a sound, I saw my cuffs and my collar sitting on the nightstand by the bed, the metal ravaged by rust and sea salt, their once welded clasps broken and newly melted in order to remove them.  Panic filled me, for it was not allowed that a slave of my position ever allow their collar and other adornments to show such lack of care.  I reached simultaneously for my collar and my neck, wincing as the broken arm I extended to the collar refused to move as I had intended it to, the fingers of my other hand finding my throat, bare but for the bandages. 

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed then, gritting my teeth against the pain of a shattered femur and broken ribs and picked up the spiked collar once I could finally reach it.  My tail twitched anxiously as I stared at the broken, rusted steel, my mind struggling to come up with some way that I could fix it, some way that I could atone for the offense of going uncollared, that I would dare disrespect my Emperor in such a way.

That was when I heard the sound of heels crossing the wooden floor, then that door opened, revealing a human woman, wearing a most curious smile upon her face.  It would be some time before I understood what her smile indicated.  At that moment, I was simply too distraught over the loss of my adornments to process matters.

I may have even had tears in my eyes.

#Lore24 – Entry #122 – Muckenmyre Month #1 – Shipwrecked off the Dragon Isles

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

I have little memory of the Dragon Isles; we really weren’t there that long, just a few foggy images of rocky islands in the distance.  I was there to assist the Emperor’s Inquisition as they tracked the remnants of a group tied to the Res’Teringal rebellion, the last of those who would dare oppose his rightful rule, driven from their hiding place after several months of searching.  The remnant rebels had taken up with a pirate fleet, hoping to flee the emperor’s grasp, perhaps to live long enough to mount another attempt to buck the control of the Empire.  Once our chase fleet had caught up with them, they made straight for the Dragon Isles.  We knew they were bound for Cypress Isle at the tip of the island chain, but they were desperate. 

They turned toward the inner islands. 

They brought the storms…the Dragons’ Fury.

These storms were…like nothing I had ever witnessed in my life.  No storm within the many regions of the Empire that I have traversed in my two centuries of life were anything close to the fury that came from those islands, rolling down from the skies to the north like a gray and black wall of roiling death.  Our fleet was doomed the moment Inquisitor Dama decided to follow the pirates closer in.  I don’t know if they made it out; we lost sight of them within moments as the seas began to surge, lightning struck all about, and hail slammed into us.  The thunder…it really was like the roar of dragons.  That is the only way I can describe it…what else could sound so terrifying, even to someone like me, than a roar from a legendary dragon?

We tried to turn away, but it was far too late for us.  Our decision to follow the rebels toward the inner islands had sealed our doom.  Our ships were shattered in minutes.  I had already made my peace with my death, to whatever fate my soul would face.  My life had been nothing but suffering, either inflicted upon me, or with myself inflicting it upon others.  It was all for the Emperor of course, may He live forever, and I certainly would change nothing that I had done in his name…but to die so quickly…I certainly could never have imagined such a…merciful end.  It was not an ending for someone who had been responsible for causing so much pain to others, especially those of my own kind.  Most of my brother and sister slaves certainly did not deserve what I did to them, but I am a loyal slave to my great Emperor, and it is his will that I channeled; I was his vessel, his voice to those who could not understand it.

I felt the cold of the virulent sea, felt the electric charge in the air and water from the lightning as I was tossed around, felt my bones break from the impact of the hailstones, from my body slamming into the broken hull as it was tossed from one massive wave to the next.  Somehow I became entangled with the rigging or some netting, became stuck fast to a portion of one of the broken ships.  In my last moments of consciousness, I was certain that I would be sinking below the waves, would become one with the sweet, cold, void that lay below.

My expectations were perhaps too high.

My hopes for death were premature.

For I am still here.

#Lore24 – Entry #67 – Fantasy Month #7 – The Res’Taringal Rebellion

 

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos:

 

A broad topic, conspiracy, but I suppose I should give my thoughts on the most recent, most prominent example of such a thing.  I’m hardly an investigator, and I’m certainly not one for gossip, but there have been dozens passing through town and the library who have spoken of this, and when the Emperor’s officials are putting out decrees about the official version of events that run counter to what has come through whispered tales, then it certainly seems that a conspiracy is afoot.  Or perhaps, was, in this case.

Though the Emperor has decreed that none shall utter the name, for the entirety of the offending house has been…dissolved…and the matter settled, never to be spoken of again, the Library has already recorded many statements on what could be called the “Res’Taringal Rebellion”, several by my own hand.  All is not well within the Empire, it seems, and the fact that a powerful house was able to garner enough support to actually launch a serious rebellion speaks volumes unto itself. 

Though the truest nature of the Res’Taringal Rebellion has already become distorted through Imperial propaganda and faulty memories of those who heard the story second hand (at best), some details can be safely assumed to be true, based on historical precedent:

  • Located within the province of Hadria Augustus (which, due to its geography and available resources, made an excellent place to launch such a rebellion), House Res’Taringal had the clout to offer some opposition to the Emperor.  Well respected within the Senate, established through centuries of dedication to the Empire, trained in both military operations and political intrigues, and keenly aware of the rumblings of discontent, Victor and Vanessa Res’Taringal were perhaps the most suited to such a task.
  • In spite of the various groups supporting them, the Rebellion as a whole remained mostly an underground movement, as none would dare to oppose the Emperor openly, at least not in a way such as this. Disagreements over policy and debate on various topics are expected, but nothing on this scale.  One could rather safely assume that this Rebellion, though well planned, struck before the proper foundations had settled.  Were the Res’Taringals too ambitious, or did other factors force them to move too soon?
  • Fought in the name of Kerryn independence, and with great ambitions for a renewed and stronger, more compassionate Empire, the Rebellion, in my opinion, was doomed to fail from the start. The Emperor and his line have not maintained their grip on power for so long without good reason.  His resources are basically impossible tot match, and he has a firm grip on not only the general populace, but also several outlying powers, most prominently the orcs of the Badaxe clan.  Furthermore, the Res’Taringals failed to stir up the kerryns themselves; though they may have perhaps meant well, the kerryns must want to be free, and until that desire is sparked within them, it simply will not happen.  What would the point be, and how would the kerryns possibly understand how to even live with freedom when they have not done so for over two millennia now?  It will take a unifying figure, I think, from within the kerryn population itself, strong of will and personality, with great power, to break the chains binding their spirits. 

I imagine that it will be some time before another rebellion of this scale is tried, perhaps centuries.  The Res’Taringal name has been stricken from all records, their holdings dissolved amongst the loyal followers of the Emperor, and their line removed from existence, the leaders executed within the capital prisons.  Perhaps Felaria will live to see it, but I suspect I’ll have long been gone by then, the gods willing I live to see a ripe old age.