((Warning: The
following story may contain suggestive/adult themes. It's not really
that bad but I felt I should say it anyway. :) Enjoy!))
Somewhere in the darkness water dripped endlessly, likely the runoff from a recent rainstorm making its way deep into the darkest portions of the ruins that had become known as Dire Maul. The echoing sound was one of the few that could be heard in the small stone chamber where Biara stood, her own slippered feet barely making a whisper of sound as she walked around the enclosed space, admiring her handiwork.
Without Covanin's assistance, she would have already failed. She could see that now as she studied the demonic altar and the inscriptions on the floor around her. She had been right to seek out his aid, for his vast knowledge had already prevented two significant disasters. A careful review of the wards around the demonic altar had shown that there was the bone of a large animal lying across one of the key summoning sigils. That alone would have resulted in a massive detonation once she began to empower the altar. The second point that Covanin had stated was even more vital; as he had guessed, the Satyrs who built the altar had little concern over whether or not they were bathed in Fel magic while they were casting. Without the warlock's astute advice, Biara would have been destroyed along with all her magic without the proper wards in place.
Now though, the altar had been made ready, and more importantly, safe. Amongst the demonic sigils and engraved runes on the altar and pedestal behind it there now were intermnigled a large number of arcane symbols, wards, and spellwork that Biara had painstakingly inscribed over the course of four hours. She could now empower the altar without fear of backlash or demonic possession, or so the theory went. The Magistrix gave a small smile and sighed. No time like the present.
Stepping into the middle of a small circle of power, Biara checked everything over visually one last time. All of the wards glimmered in the darkness. The entryway to the chamber was blocked with a magical wall of ice to prevent interruption. On her belt hung the blade Demonfall created by Tyavel for Biara's purposes. There was nothing left to do but begin her grand experiment. If it failed, the consequences would likely be fatal; it was the cutting edge of magical research, and the Magistrix shivered in delight as she began. Her chant started slowly at first, the words arcane phrases common to her spellcasting. As she chanted, the altar began to hum with power, the runes on the floor carved by Satyr over the course of the years began to glimmer with fel light, activating the entirety of the spell matrix around the altar. Within a few minutes, the room crackled with fel and arcane power as Biara's chanting reached its summit. She spoke the last phrases, pinning the power in place around the altar and erecting the final wards needed for the next step. She sighed and then inhaled slowly, speaking the next word perfectly clearly, without the slightest mispronunciation.
Sarathysssa
The surface of the altar flashed, and suddenly upon it stood a Highborne elf. Biara gasped in shock, her words faltering to silence as she stared at the elf. This could NOT be Sarathysssa. Biara had summoned a demon, not the spirit of some Highborne that had died long ago.
The elf blinked for a moment, looking at her surroundings in surprise and then dismay. She turned her attention to Biara, her blue eyes locking with Biara's fel green ones. Instantly Biara felt a connection to the elf, whom she began to study with more interest. The Highborne was the picture of perfection, her flawless white skin almost transluscent in the echoing dark of Dire Maul. Her long golden hair spilled down to her mid-back, with a silver circlet holding it in place. She radiated power the likes of which Biara had never known, a Highborne at the height of her existence, the magic of tens of thousands of years behind that steady gaze.
The elf smiled and said, "Well well, it seems that after all this time, someone has finally thought to come looking for me. And a mage of no small power I see. Do you know what rewards I would give to those who free me? Who end my suffering?"
Some magic flashed between the elf and Biara, and the Magistrix shivered, imagining the power that she could attain from this Highborne. The lust and desire for that power surged through her, making her body tremble. A second later, a second impulse of magic from the elf made Biara's desires become more carnal, and she looked longingly at the elf on the altar, wanting to know everything she knew, wanting to possess her, wanting to BE her. It was clear now that the tales of Sarathysssa, written so long ago, were false. This was no demon, but a creature of lovely beauty and grace that Biara could only pray she one day aspired to. Only the record of her beauty and charm was accurate, it was impossible for the rest to be true.
Sarathysssa smiled and nodded, as if able to hear Biara's very thoughts. "Am I such a foul thing, that I deserve imprisonment? The accounts of my doings were far exaggerated, I assure you. I wish only to further magic, to give my gifts to those worthy of them, who understand the service they can do with such might. Don't you wish you feel my power, my love?"
Biara nodded mutely, unable to express how happy it would make her to take such power in her own hands under the other's guidance. Tears of joy ran down her face as she stared in adoration at the Highborne. All of her wildest desires were about to come true at last. She would have power, she would rule the very essence of magic itself, she would have love. All she had to do was accept it. It was so easy.
The Highborne on the altar nodded slowly and smiled, the expression a thing of pure artistry for any who gazed upon it. "It is all that simple. Adore me, love me and I will give you everything you could ever want. Your power will be unrivaled, your city will be a jewel of the world, glimmering in un-rivaled power. Embrace me, accept me, obey me."
Biara nodded again, unable to deny the desire that coursed through her. "Yes, such power is everything I've wanted! Please, grace me with your wisdom!"
Sarathysssa smiled, spreading her arms wide. "Embrace me. Come to me mage as my servant and all that awaits will be yours. Disrobe for me. Crawl onto my altar. I will give you life and love the likes of which you will never be offered again."
Biara smiled, stepping from her protective circle, her eyes locked with the Highborne as she moved towards her. Her fingers mechanically went to the front of her dress, tearing at the lacing that held it in place. She came within two feet of the altar, her dress opening, her fingers continued to work, brushing against her flesh.
Brushing against the old wound that Hauk Fenshire had given her, when he had nearly shot her through the heart. Brushing against the focal point of the wards that graced her body, the singular pinnacle of her magical defenses. Magic flared, and for one second, Biara understood the extreme danger of what it meant to crawl naked onto a demonic altar with a summoned succubus.
That second was all she needed. Her hand darted down, snatching up Tyavel's dagger. She whipped it up, bringing her left arm before her and cruelly dashed the blade against her own forearm. The magically enchanted weapon, intended to cut through even ethereal and extra-planar creatures, sheered through Biara's clothing and skin like it was nothing. Hot pain flared through her, the feeling a focal point to concentrate on, distracting her from all other sensations. Her blood splattered across the dank stone beneath her feet.
Sensing her enchantment was fading, Sarathysssa sighed, her eyes locking with Biara's again, intent on reinforcing her ensnarement. Instead of meeting the gaze of an enchanted victim however, she met the blazing fel-green eyes of a Magistrix at the height of her power.
Biara had little knowledge of demons, but she had spent several full days studying the layout of the altar upon which Sarathysssa stood. She spat out a single word in demonic, "Shaza-kiel!"
The altar hummed with power and Sarathysssa screached as the magic bore her down to its surface, pressing her back against the cold stone. Biara circled the altar, prowling like an angry hunting cat as she glared hatred at the demon.
"Did you really think that I would allow you to enslave me bitch?" she said in a deadly cold voice. "Did you really think that everything I hoped to achieve would be thrown away for you? Do you even know what I am? The Highborne have faded from this world, and the Sin'dorei rise to replace them. Learn well the lesson this brings you in the brief time you have left alive."
Sarathysssa writhed against the binding magic, spitting and hissing. She cursed at Biara in demonic, "A-rul shach kigon!"
Calmly, almost as if she were instructing an apprentice, Biara reached down and slapped the demon. The creature became so enraged that her illusion faded, and Biara could finally see what she was really dealing with. The slender white legs were barbed, the tiny pale feet were cloven hooves. The 'elf' had been lying on her back, but was actually pressed against leathery wings, and on her head sprouted the prize Biara had been seeking; her horns.
"I learned little of your language demon," Biara said with a smirk. "I believe though the proper response to what you just said would be 'Katra zil shukil', no?"
Sarathysssa tried to spring at the Magistrix in rage, but the bindings held her firmly against the stone of the altar. "Now now, we're not done here," Biara said, walking to the head of the altar to stand above the demon's leering face. "We still have one more task to complete I'm afraid."
Ignoring the blood pouring from her wounded arm, Biara brought the enchanted dagger down sharply. As she had requested of Tyavel, the weapon was powerful enough to sheer one of the demon's horns off completely in a single stroke, it's magic cutting a clean line through the appendage. The process was repeated on the second horn, leaving the bound demon growling in outrage. Biara ignored the creature, taking the horns to the pedestal beside the altar.
"And now, the final task," Biara whispered. She reached down and placed a small golden circlet on the pedestal. The object had been previously enchanted in Biara's Conjury, and it glimmered with magic as it made contact with the stone and was linked to the altar's magical matrix. Biara ran both hands in the air over the object, her blood continuing to spatter the stones unheeded. Whispered words of power came from the Magistrix's mouth, and the circlet hummed with magic. Biara touched each of the horns to the circlet, and they bound to it.
She looked at the demon one last time, smiled and spoke a single word of magic. Instantly the demon's form began to glimmer and become transparent. With one wailing scream Sarathysssa's essence was drawn into her own horns, which in turn became invisible upon the circlet to which they were attached.
In the silence that followed, Biara turned and picked up the circlet, holding it up in the dark chamber. The power within it was more than any she had ever held in her hand, the perfect source of Fel magic to feed from and to empower her spells, all safely contained within the horns of the demon. She raised the circlet up and placed it on her head, her eyes blazing with Fel light. Upon her head, two horns appeared to sprout, although they were simply a by-product of wearing the circlet and would disappear if it were removed or if she commanded the illusion to disappear.
"At last, my experiment concludes," She murmured. "And a complete success as well." She reached down to her belt, pulling from it an ancient relic of the Highborne, a soul mirror with which she could look at herself. An image of Biara appeared next to the real person, and the Magistrix admired herself. Power radiated from her, a palpable force that few would care to contend with. Upon her brow the two perfect horns glimmered, as if they belonged there. Far from disturbing her, Biara thought them to be praise-worthy. They signified her triumph over Fel magic, and spoke of a new hope for her people.
She never noticed the fact that all of the blue was entirely gone from her eyes, or how very addictive the feeling of power was that flowed through her. She never noticed, as she walked away, how she neglected to remove the circlet for further study, as she had originally planned.
Somewhere in the darkness water dripped endlessly, likely the runoff from a recent rainstorm making its way deep into the darkest portions of the ruins that had become known as Dire Maul. The echoing sound was one of the few that could be heard in the small stone chamber where Biara stood, her own slippered feet barely making a whisper of sound as she walked around the enclosed space, admiring her handiwork.
Without Covanin's assistance, she would have already failed. She could see that now as she studied the demonic altar and the inscriptions on the floor around her. She had been right to seek out his aid, for his vast knowledge had already prevented two significant disasters. A careful review of the wards around the demonic altar had shown that there was the bone of a large animal lying across one of the key summoning sigils. That alone would have resulted in a massive detonation once she began to empower the altar. The second point that Covanin had stated was even more vital; as he had guessed, the Satyrs who built the altar had little concern over whether or not they were bathed in Fel magic while they were casting. Without the warlock's astute advice, Biara would have been destroyed along with all her magic without the proper wards in place.
Now though, the altar had been made ready, and more importantly, safe. Amongst the demonic sigils and engraved runes on the altar and pedestal behind it there now were intermnigled a large number of arcane symbols, wards, and spellwork that Biara had painstakingly inscribed over the course of four hours. She could now empower the altar without fear of backlash or demonic possession, or so the theory went. The Magistrix gave a small smile and sighed. No time like the present.
Stepping into the middle of a small circle of power, Biara checked everything over visually one last time. All of the wards glimmered in the darkness. The entryway to the chamber was blocked with a magical wall of ice to prevent interruption. On her belt hung the blade Demonfall created by Tyavel for Biara's purposes. There was nothing left to do but begin her grand experiment. If it failed, the consequences would likely be fatal; it was the cutting edge of magical research, and the Magistrix shivered in delight as she began. Her chant started slowly at first, the words arcane phrases common to her spellcasting. As she chanted, the altar began to hum with power, the runes on the floor carved by Satyr over the course of the years began to glimmer with fel light, activating the entirety of the spell matrix around the altar. Within a few minutes, the room crackled with fel and arcane power as Biara's chanting reached its summit. She spoke the last phrases, pinning the power in place around the altar and erecting the final wards needed for the next step. She sighed and then inhaled slowly, speaking the next word perfectly clearly, without the slightest mispronunciation.
Sarathysssa
The surface of the altar flashed, and suddenly upon it stood a Highborne elf. Biara gasped in shock, her words faltering to silence as she stared at the elf. This could NOT be Sarathysssa. Biara had summoned a demon, not the spirit of some Highborne that had died long ago.
The elf blinked for a moment, looking at her surroundings in surprise and then dismay. She turned her attention to Biara, her blue eyes locking with Biara's fel green ones. Instantly Biara felt a connection to the elf, whom she began to study with more interest. The Highborne was the picture of perfection, her flawless white skin almost transluscent in the echoing dark of Dire Maul. Her long golden hair spilled down to her mid-back, with a silver circlet holding it in place. She radiated power the likes of which Biara had never known, a Highborne at the height of her existence, the magic of tens of thousands of years behind that steady gaze.
The elf smiled and said, "Well well, it seems that after all this time, someone has finally thought to come looking for me. And a mage of no small power I see. Do you know what rewards I would give to those who free me? Who end my suffering?"
Some magic flashed between the elf and Biara, and the Magistrix shivered, imagining the power that she could attain from this Highborne. The lust and desire for that power surged through her, making her body tremble. A second later, a second impulse of magic from the elf made Biara's desires become more carnal, and she looked longingly at the elf on the altar, wanting to know everything she knew, wanting to possess her, wanting to BE her. It was clear now that the tales of Sarathysssa, written so long ago, were false. This was no demon, but a creature of lovely beauty and grace that Biara could only pray she one day aspired to. Only the record of her beauty and charm was accurate, it was impossible for the rest to be true.
Sarathysssa smiled and nodded, as if able to hear Biara's very thoughts. "Am I such a foul thing, that I deserve imprisonment? The accounts of my doings were far exaggerated, I assure you. I wish only to further magic, to give my gifts to those worthy of them, who understand the service they can do with such might. Don't you wish you feel my power, my love?"
Biara nodded mutely, unable to express how happy it would make her to take such power in her own hands under the other's guidance. Tears of joy ran down her face as she stared in adoration at the Highborne. All of her wildest desires were about to come true at last. She would have power, she would rule the very essence of magic itself, she would have love. All she had to do was accept it. It was so easy.
The Highborne on the altar nodded slowly and smiled, the expression a thing of pure artistry for any who gazed upon it. "It is all that simple. Adore me, love me and I will give you everything you could ever want. Your power will be unrivaled, your city will be a jewel of the world, glimmering in un-rivaled power. Embrace me, accept me, obey me."
Biara nodded again, unable to deny the desire that coursed through her. "Yes, such power is everything I've wanted! Please, grace me with your wisdom!"
Sarathysssa smiled, spreading her arms wide. "Embrace me. Come to me mage as my servant and all that awaits will be yours. Disrobe for me. Crawl onto my altar. I will give you life and love the likes of which you will never be offered again."
Biara smiled, stepping from her protective circle, her eyes locked with the Highborne as she moved towards her. Her fingers mechanically went to the front of her dress, tearing at the lacing that held it in place. She came within two feet of the altar, her dress opening, her fingers continued to work, brushing against her flesh.
Brushing against the old wound that Hauk Fenshire had given her, when he had nearly shot her through the heart. Brushing against the focal point of the wards that graced her body, the singular pinnacle of her magical defenses. Magic flared, and for one second, Biara understood the extreme danger of what it meant to crawl naked onto a demonic altar with a summoned succubus.
That second was all she needed. Her hand darted down, snatching up Tyavel's dagger. She whipped it up, bringing her left arm before her and cruelly dashed the blade against her own forearm. The magically enchanted weapon, intended to cut through even ethereal and extra-planar creatures, sheered through Biara's clothing and skin like it was nothing. Hot pain flared through her, the feeling a focal point to concentrate on, distracting her from all other sensations. Her blood splattered across the dank stone beneath her feet.
Sensing her enchantment was fading, Sarathysssa sighed, her eyes locking with Biara's again, intent on reinforcing her ensnarement. Instead of meeting the gaze of an enchanted victim however, she met the blazing fel-green eyes of a Magistrix at the height of her power.
Biara had little knowledge of demons, but she had spent several full days studying the layout of the altar upon which Sarathysssa stood. She spat out a single word in demonic, "Shaza-kiel!"
The altar hummed with power and Sarathysssa screached as the magic bore her down to its surface, pressing her back against the cold stone. Biara circled the altar, prowling like an angry hunting cat as she glared hatred at the demon.
"Did you really think that I would allow you to enslave me bitch?" she said in a deadly cold voice. "Did you really think that everything I hoped to achieve would be thrown away for you? Do you even know what I am? The Highborne have faded from this world, and the Sin'dorei rise to replace them. Learn well the lesson this brings you in the brief time you have left alive."
Sarathysssa writhed against the binding magic, spitting and hissing. She cursed at Biara in demonic, "A-rul shach kigon!"
Calmly, almost as if she were instructing an apprentice, Biara reached down and slapped the demon. The creature became so enraged that her illusion faded, and Biara could finally see what she was really dealing with. The slender white legs were barbed, the tiny pale feet were cloven hooves. The 'elf' had been lying on her back, but was actually pressed against leathery wings, and on her head sprouted the prize Biara had been seeking; her horns.
"I learned little of your language demon," Biara said with a smirk. "I believe though the proper response to what you just said would be 'Katra zil shukil', no?"
Sarathysssa tried to spring at the Magistrix in rage, but the bindings held her firmly against the stone of the altar. "Now now, we're not done here," Biara said, walking to the head of the altar to stand above the demon's leering face. "We still have one more task to complete I'm afraid."
Ignoring the blood pouring from her wounded arm, Biara brought the enchanted dagger down sharply. As she had requested of Tyavel, the weapon was powerful enough to sheer one of the demon's horns off completely in a single stroke, it's magic cutting a clean line through the appendage. The process was repeated on the second horn, leaving the bound demon growling in outrage. Biara ignored the creature, taking the horns to the pedestal beside the altar.
"And now, the final task," Biara whispered. She reached down and placed a small golden circlet on the pedestal. The object had been previously enchanted in Biara's Conjury, and it glimmered with magic as it made contact with the stone and was linked to the altar's magical matrix. Biara ran both hands in the air over the object, her blood continuing to spatter the stones unheeded. Whispered words of power came from the Magistrix's mouth, and the circlet hummed with magic. Biara touched each of the horns to the circlet, and they bound to it.
She looked at the demon one last time, smiled and spoke a single word of magic. Instantly the demon's form began to glimmer and become transparent. With one wailing scream Sarathysssa's essence was drawn into her own horns, which in turn became invisible upon the circlet to which they were attached.
In the silence that followed, Biara turned and picked up the circlet, holding it up in the dark chamber. The power within it was more than any she had ever held in her hand, the perfect source of Fel magic to feed from and to empower her spells, all safely contained within the horns of the demon. She raised the circlet up and placed it on her head, her eyes blazing with Fel light. Upon her head, two horns appeared to sprout, although they were simply a by-product of wearing the circlet and would disappear if it were removed or if she commanded the illusion to disappear.
"At last, my experiment concludes," She murmured. "And a complete success as well." She reached down to her belt, pulling from it an ancient relic of the Highborne, a soul mirror with which she could look at herself. An image of Biara appeared next to the real person, and the Magistrix admired herself. Power radiated from her, a palpable force that few would care to contend with. Upon her brow the two perfect horns glimmered, as if they belonged there. Far from disturbing her, Biara thought them to be praise-worthy. They signified her triumph over Fel magic, and spoke of a new hope for her people.
She never noticed the fact that all of the blue was entirely gone from her eyes, or how very addictive the feeling of power was that flowed through her. She never noticed, as she walked away, how she neglected to remove the circlet for further study, as she had originally planned.
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