Catskills Roleplayer's Circle

This is the complete History of Clive and will be added as It is written
**Below contains adult content**


Master
The boy shacked in his very leggings, as he stood at the bottom of a large hill, looking up it, yellow trees growing along its slop, and stares leading upwards in a spiral, those stares that seemed to be maid of glass themselves. A tall figure stood behind the boy, wearing black armor, face stern and middle aged.

"We are her Young Master Dauthi, this is were i leave you, you start your new life, make your House proud." The boy nodded looking back only once, at his old guardian. He nodded and started the long , long, steps to the top of the hill. His eyes were wide as he watched smaller spirit beings float around the air, living in the yellow trees.
His eyes, were a natural light purple, his hair a soft blueish color, not uncommon for his Lourien blood. He was only 14 (in human years), and his body was that of one.
He breathed faster as he reached the top of the hill, witch formed a large Plato. A single creek ran around it, the watter was clear as glass, showing the bottom to be paved with green stones.
Beyond the Creek was a large house, more like a shrine then a home, large domes on both sides, each one holding a stature of one of the Two Noir.. His new home for the next 8 to 16 years of his immortal life.
And the he saw her. She walked out of the purple glass doors, her body that of a woman the age of 20, though he knew she had to be some were in her early 300's
He eyes were a metallic green, shining in the late 3ed sun, her hair the color as his cut to her elbows.
She smirked softly walking to the boy in front of her, he bowed softly to her,
"Master" that was the only words that could leave his mouth.
She nodded " Yes, I am your new master, My name is Eva Ittlon, though I will decided the day when you are worthy of addressing me as such" Her voice was not harsh, but yet still stern.
"Yes Master" Was all he said, witch to his dismay maid her frown.
The Next few weeks were hard on him, Eva's training was tough. The mornings were spent ruining down and up the great hill, and running laps around the Plato in the waste high creek. The mid day spent on fighting skills, witch left him bruised and tired, the nights spent in deep studies of politics, manners, history, and tactics.
Eva, though, was always there for the boy, always watching, as if guarding him. One day while the boy rested from his run, a greater Spirit being had tried to kill him, but to the spirits dismay, she had been in the tree above him at all time.
The weeks after that became more normal for him, his training tougher, but more easy to adapt into. After all he Was a Lourien.
This was not the only thing that was changing for the young Lourien Nobel, he being with his Master 24/7 was starting to fill the Pull of the Noir. The lust that marked there kind. He could not help in there meals for his eyes to fall on her. To make it worse he was forced to sleep in the same room as her, in a small pallet at the foot of her bed.
He was learning well, his speed was improving daily, he now could run threw water as if it was land, and was beginning his lesson to run on the water itself. His swordsmen ship was fast, his understanding of Tactics and politics keen.
"You do well my student" Eva would say to him her voice steady but unmoving.
These words alone were enough for the boy, these words of encouragement from his master, who he found out latter was famous for her skills.
But that was all, there conversations after that were bleak, they trained, ate, slept, and trained more with each other, The boy becoming like her shadow, picking up her habits and her coldness, but at the same time her understanding.
It was about a year later when she taught him the Pull of the Noir, She had been eating across from him, and she must have noticed his blush, for her clothes had been loose, reveling more then this boy had even seen. She at first only seemed to smirk, she had forgotten he was a Lourien, she was as well though, but the effects of the Pull had not came into her mind, but she now remembered her young days, when it first touched her, and now it sunk into her as well.
He remembered her smile, as she spoke as casual as a normal person, explaining to him the Pull, how when the Noir maid them they had placed there lust into there bodies, and how it was natural, and she had the same Pull as well, then as if it were nothing, she allowed him to spend the night in her bed, teaching him a whole new era of Lourien customs.
There first battle was in the fall, a necromancer had risen a force in the west, and she had been called by her Superior officer. The boy off course was inclined ed to come with her.
The battle was long, hard, and for the boy scary, his first sight of real death, images of the undead rushing him and his master, and there fellow troops. the weight of a spear in his hand, the sight of his master cutting threw dead flesh as if it were nothing but air.
At the end he sit at her feet, his young eyes looking over the field, he had killed, or re-killed, his first battle.
He blinked in surprise as his master ran a hand in his hair "Not bad Clive, not bad at all, now lets head home, and return to our training"
Clive smiled, this was the first time she had spoken his name, and not the more formal "Dauthi", not even while she taught him how to make love had she used his for-name. Clive nodded, his heart now joyful as he started to gather there bags.
"Yes Master"

New Life
Yes Master?" He asked in the cold night of the summer air. The room, was open to the outside, two moons light it casting a blue glow in the room, making both of there hair seem to blend into the air itself. A single bed lay in the room, a low riding one at that. On it they laid, She above him, pining him down, like a cat that had caught its pray, a single blue silk sheet coving them from the daggers of the cold night air.
"Master?" he repeated softly looking up to his Master,Eva Ittlon. She smiled, a sight that warmed him in the cool air. Her hair hung down her face only inches away from his as she looked into his eyes, her eyes....they seemed to glow to him, the metallic green dancing the moonlight across his face.
"Clive, my pupil," she said softly, her voice strong but sweet,"Tomorrow you leave for your new life, this will be our last night together."
The words fell to him, like old sad memories, they both smiled softly, a thine, fake smile. It had been 8 years they had lived with each other, and 7 as lovers. Student and Master yes, but lovers still.
"Yes Master, I know, I will try to do you honor." he said softly, his words trying to sound brave, in there moments of weakness. She smiled at him, If the Lourine could fill "True Love" , witch still is debatable, Clive wondered if this was it, or just another effect of the "Pull" to there calling of lust.
His thoughts though, were interrupted, he smiled closing his eyes as he felt her hair touch his face as they embraced, for one last night of teaching, of Student and Master, and as lovers........
The next day seemed to come to quick, even for Clive who had been use to waking at dawn. He softly said his goodbye to his beloved teacher, and left, down the same strange hill that had been his home for the last 8 years.
His destination was the Fort Town of Bennett, a high ranking base for the Soldats, and a good ways a way. His calling there was for reasons unknown, though Clive knew it had to been his House wanting him to give them a even better name, by preforming some great task. Never the less he went, the route that a human would take took roughly around 3 weeks, waving around mountains and lakes, and total avoiding one certain valley, but this was not the route we would take. Over the Mountain, threw the lakes and rivers, by methods of running on the water, and for the Valley, he trusted his skills would keep him alive. He traveled with smile of face, purple eyes filled with youth and excitement. The mountains braved fresh into him, and the waters cleaned his soul. The Valley came and went, the "undead spirits" that lived they giving him no heed.
It took 6 days in all, traveling straight line, well for the most part, the worlds reality was fickle at times, days lasting months, left becoming right, at some places a wind could change the land scape from a mountain to a tropical Paradise, to a hell hole of demons, but little of that mattered to Clive has he ran the final hill.
And then he was there, Bennett, the place he was called. He gasped at it, its magnitude, The city was hung, spanning at least 35 miles, running all the way to the edge of the woods. The city was mostly painted in a bronze and gray, large towers like trees in random location, a Large building with great walls a little to the east, that would be his destination, the base of Bennett Fort.
As he reached the city, he saw many, many, people, selling, trading, shopping. within the first 10 paces into the wall he saw at least 8 different races, some he had only seen in book, shopping and trading in communion, this was the Soldat way, this was why they prospered, while other countries that didn't allow races to intermix, failed.
He smiled all the way, hearing the occasional shout at him for a sell, and trying to avoid the busy shoppers. Though he was the only Lourien, he did fill like he was with his own people.
He finally got to the Base door, were he was halted by two large soldiers, one a golem of limestone, the other a human. They looked at him the human finally asking "Name and reason for being here." his voice was rough.
Clive smiled softly speaking proudly, "I am Clive of The Dauthi House, here to see General Mobius."
The man smirked, "A new Lourien for us, Jolly good." He patted the boys back roughly like a old father would his child. "Welcome to the Military son." He nodded into the gates and Clive smiled and walked in.
The base was huge as well, dozens of soldiers, few Lourien, many other races ran about. The statue of the Noir in the middle of it all, and behind the large building in black paint, with silver lining,
Clive walked the 2ed sun shining a slight green on the land as he entered the building. The clerk, a wood elf, smiled softly pointing to the door at the end of the hall.
It was not hard for them to know who he was, Lourien were rare, there ability to procreate limited, another mystery the Noir implanted into there design.
He dodged messengers finally going into the large room, full of maps, charts, and papers, mounds and mounds of papers.
And in the center of it all was a desk, one maid of blue diamond, not uncommon in this part of the world. At the desk set one figure, a large man, muscles bulging, a firm cut hair, and mustache. At first glance he seemed like a human, but after a few moment it seemed he was more of a Dwarf, over-sized, but Dwarf none the less.
The man smiled "Young Dauthi, I would expect one of The Great Eva's pupils to make such time." this of course maid Clive smile.
"I am a man of business, and I am strict, but I think you will do fine young en." He chuckled softly, a deep deep chuckle.
"Follow me solider." he said bluntly standing up, the ground shaking at his bulk, and leading Clive out the building without another word.
The walk was fast, for a man his size he was fast, and Clive was forced to keep his eyes on the General and not let them search the grounds, though he did wave to all the Soldiers that waved and shouted remarks to there Commander and there new rookie. They finally stopped at a smaller building, it was blue, and it wore the Dauthi crest, a complex rune, and was lined in purple glass.
"You are going to be put over the Outreach Devision Two." The General said, his voice half with mockery. Clive stopped dead in his tracks his mouth hanging, a thousand thoughts hitting like arrows.
"Bu..Bu..But I just got here!" he proclaimed, then blushed softly adding "Sir". The general Laughed heartily, "I know I know, this wasn't the plane, you were to work under your brother, Aoit Dauthi, but he has been called away by the Council, so you got the job son."
At that he laughed and pushed Clive towards the door. " don't worry solider, This devision don't see much action anyways, not this far west." The general laughed and turned and started his walk away.
"But sir..." Clive said, almost in fear of the door before him now, a looming shadow in his mind.
"Don't worry Solider, the best way to learn is to jump head in." And with that he was gone..
Clive opened the door slowly, The Outreach Devision...Yes now he remembered, The Soldats had a main army, but it was mostly for defense of the Noir and Council, The Outreach Devisions were in a way Mercenaries, these devisions have worked for numerous reasons, tacking care of rival tribes for waring nations, assassinations.
In fact it was just another source of Income for the Soldats, sell there services for the cause of the Noir, of course they never sold if it meant harm to there ways.
Clive gulped, him, the leader of a Mercenary force, the thought was disturbing, he had never been over ANYONE in his whole life.
But then again they were far west in Soldat territory, and there were many Devisions, maybe he would be lucky and not get anything he cant handle.
He put his smile on his face, straightened his clothes, gave his best, I'm a Lourien Nobel, look and entered.
What he found was a office full of yelling people, in total chaos, papers being passed faster then he could keep up, and complaints of the 2ed sun heat.
Clive sighed as he closed the door, entering his new life as Head of the Outreach Devision Two.

First Kill
“Look into the eyes, Then let your blade find target.”

The night air ran into his chambers, softly blowing the silken sheets around the young boys body. Clive opened one eye, then two his eyes dancing in the moonlight, purple on the wall. He smiled softly as he sat up, his soft blue hair falling to his ears. He looked around his dark room, it was bare, save the bed, a oak desk, and a chest for his clothes. These were the nights Clive loved, as did his much missed Master.
He sat up and got dressed silently, though None slept in the building at night but he, he wished not to disturb the solace.
The Night air was so fresh on his face, he smiled his heart with joy as he sat in the large court yard, it was a beautiful place, a vast garden, and a circle of blue northen diamond pavement at its center. Clive sat on the bench looking at the Diamond glisten in the light of the two moons.
Today Was going to be a big day, the day of his oath into the Soldat Order. The Oath that bound those to the Will of the Soldat Council.
He sat there many hours, watching the moons, then he left, to go to the temple of the Noir. It was his choice of when he wished to have this rite done, he chose now, in this beautiful moment of darkness.

The Temple was quite, He opened the large gold doors and entered looking down the vast white hall way, held by giant columns of Silver and Green. His Voice breaking the silence.
“I Clive Of the Dauthi House, have come to have my rite of Oath to the Glory of the Soldat Order and to the service of The Beloved Noir!”

It was silent, then Clive looked forward, something was coming, it was hard to make out. But then to clear to him, it was the temples High Prestress of the Noir. Her Name came to him from memory, Lady Solace Entei, A half Elf, half Lourien.
She Was beautiful to Clive, Her hight that of a inch above his own, Her hair golden, and long, her eyes a deep blue, her skin that of pearl, her lips a lush red that formed a smile. She nodded to him as she stood before him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke in there native toung. It rang like a song threw out the halls as she watched him, in common it simple stated.

“On the Will of the Soldats, and Tot he Glory of our Beloved Noir, I Accept you into our Arms.”

He gulped, he knew what came next, the end of the ancient service, the kiss. Though he had never heard of the full last service in the tradition, he did no a kiss was involved.
She leaned over. She was upon him and he looked up to her, the white silk touching Clive’s face, the golden hair like many veins of fire running in the white silk. Their lips touched, Clive closed his eyes as her arms reaching around him to pull him closer to her, and then as soon as it had began it was over. She smiled at him and lowered her head, turning away and walking into the depths of the temple.

He Now Was A Soldat......

Three days passed from that eve, Clive was starting to fill what the Old Soliders called, the “West Curse” witch was there way of saying, the Main Army killed any threat this far West, leaving them sitting on there hands.
“Some General I will be, the one known to do paper work instead of sword practice.” he would mumbled as he walked the courtyard, this only maid his peers and men laugh more at him, calling him a “Rush Youth”

But he did get his chance, and one that he indeed would remember, It was a hot day, The kind of day meant for staying indoors or at a lake side, and since no lake was in order, indoors it was.
Clive had just finished his stack of papers when he heard a crash from the hall and a yelp.

Clive jumped out of his office, his sword already on sword hilt his eyes glaring a war ready purple. Before him he saw one of his clerks holding another, strangling, no keeping her from yelling, but at what. The Clerks soon moved into another room leaving Clive along to face what had come.

It stood Tall, a good foot and a half above him, Clive could already smell the raw smell of magic flowing around its body. He looked at it, Its skin was a Dark Black, it stood as a man, but its face was that of a wolf twisted with bat. Though its body had no hair as a dog, it bulged with many muscle. In adorn only pants, leaving its upper body to glaze in its brilliance of muscle. It did however hold a large staff in its hand with diamond tip, showing it to be some form of Wizard or Priest.

It was a Sulc being , A Spirit of some forum, there was so many, giving each race its own name had long been pointless. This one was the deadliest of the Sulc variety, one that had a body of flesh, a well tuned one at that, and the magic surg of the spirit kind.

It Spoke loudly, as if commanding, though it kept its words short and simple, as most do.
“We Pay You, Lourien, To Kill For us, We give you rights to the Ore Mines of the Shifting Sand Mountain”

Clive nodded slowly, then spoke his best calm authority he could.
“I Clive of the Dauthi house will agree to that claim, but first ask what We Kill”

“You Kill Beslk Uyi.” it spoke loudly.

Clive took this slowly, a undead elf hord, a rare , rare sight. This would indeed be a honor to him, for all elvan kind hate the undead, as do the Sulc, and it is a dishonor to be among there ranks. Also the though of undead sickened Clive.

“I Agree”
..............................................
The Road to the Forest the Sulc had showed him on map was a less traveled one, but this gave him time enough to meet his men and woman in his service. To his surprise many were battle expressed. This comforted him, his force was only a 110 strong, the better trained the troops the better. And they liked him as well, they thought it funny at first to see a young man lead, but soon honored him as they saw his delight to lead them. They also respected he refused to eat in a private general tent, but ate meals with the rest of his men and woman. For the First time in along time, he felt at home, here with his troops.

He reached the Forest of the Shifting Sands in one week of good traveling. As the Name Stated it was just that, A massive forest, Trees A good hundred yards high in places. In its background was a large yellow mountain, the Mountain of Shifting Sand, the prize he would claim. The one that thing gave both there names was the sand, There was no dirt here, for some odd magic mishap it was all sand, The Trees grew right out from the sand as if dirt, along with flowers, and bushes, the montan was covered in sand, and each time the wind belw it would sweep around the tree tops.

Clive sat camp at the forest edge, As he looked over it, the sand blowing around him. The Sulc had meet them a little earlier and hand pointed to the area the undead was said to be at. Clive simply nodded as he left, the paper work and transfer of land would be handled by his clerks, now he only thought of the battle of undead elvan flesh.

The Next day they marched, him and 80 hand picked men and woman. The marched threw the wonder of the Shifting Sand Forest, pointing out the snake and groundhog holes in the sand as if it were dirt.
They meet the first of the undead around noon, a elvan boy, who had long since been dead, it was huddled over a body of a wolf, eating at its flesh with bear hands, Clive personally served its head.

It was a hundred paces more when the hord came, in a rush. Dozens upon Dozens of mindless zombies, flesh decaying from there bones, blood long since spoiled. To make it worst being of elvan kind they were fast for undead beings. The first charged straight for Clive, its jaw wide open drooling for his flesh. Clive stood stolid, at the last moment he reached down and drew his blade, in the drawing cut he cut the zombie in half vertically, then turning again to cut another down.

Clive looked up, they were above as well, in the trees, Noir only knows how they got there, they fell to him, Clive positioned sword, but stopped, a hand of rock smashed two of them to pieces in mid air before they got to him.
Clive looked to the side to see a full battle geared Golem, one of his more trained solder, in witch name was to hard to say, and was replaced with “Thump” for the noise he maid when walking.

“Cant Let Me New Boss be Eaten on first Job can I Sir?” He spoke in his rough deep voice as he smiled his rock smile.

Clive smiled and nodded as he turned back to the battle at hand. The Battle at hand was going well, Undead were easy to kill when they were of lesser kind. But this was not the only thing here.

Clive strained his eyes. Yes there was something there, in the mid of the hord was standing a hooded figure glowing a deep purple. A swarm of undead at his sides. This would be the Necromancer to blame for this evil doing.

Anger filled Clive as he rushed forward, ignoring he yell from Thump. A Cut to the left, A Stab to the Left, Dunk, Tune blade, Cut, A crescent Slice to his Right.. Stop, Spin, Cut again. And so on and so on till he was in reach.

He yelled in pain as cold hit him in the form of a purple wave of energy. But that didn’t stop his mad dash, Clive jumped into the air sword ready, eyes blazing a brilliant purple.

A Crescent Cut to the Left. This took the Necro down to a knee. Clive turned to cut another undead servant, but soon returned his gaze to the Twisted Mage. The hood was now down. And to Clive’s dismay it was a young man, as he, one of his age, but human. His eyes were mad with hate and black, his hair unkept and dirty, he smelled of decay and death. His mind already warped by the power he had found in some text or teacher. A hopeless soul.

Clive hesitated, unlike the others he had slain, this was a living, breathing boy, one not yet of death. But..It was his duty to the Noir and the Soldats and himself. He could not let a boy who could not control his power of Necromancy live. And he would not.

“I am Clive of the Dauthi house,” he began, “You have lived with the undead, now I return you to them”

The boy hissed his mouth full of dirt and decay, he had been eating the flesh of dead to live. The boy grabbed a knife at his side and lunged. Clive would never forget those mindless eyes.

“Look into the eyes, Then let your blade find target.”....

Clive looked at the boys body, to his relief the boy in his last moments was smiling, his curse of knowledge of undeath finally lifted.
Clive tuned and Looked at his troops, and nodded, they were done here, now all that was left was to go home and rest, till the next time they were called to kill for there Order.

Clive looked one last time behind him at the mound of the nameless boy, and the Montan that was now his.

Lust
First Chapter in the DemonTale of Clive

Clive awoke from his slumber, sitting up instantly smiling at the filling of silk sheets fall from his chest. His purple eyes searched the dark room, the moonlight was brilliant on the elven furnish. He needed not to look at clock, for it had to be after midnight for the 3ed moon to show in its aqua beauty.
“Something..is..moving..” he said to himself, before he even thought of it. He blinked twice, “What did I Just say?” he asked the night air around him, after a moment he laughed at his foolishness. It was a lovely night.
He got out of bed, he shivered only once, the cold air running over his bare form, already the missing of silk covering him as he placed on his robe. He opened the door to the hallway, such cold hall way it was.
“Home sweet home..” he whispered as he walked down, his destination not known to himself.
The hall seemed out of the gods themselfs that night, he ever thought he heard song in the delicate air. Song..? there was singing. He stopped instantly in front of a wooden door. The one of many Clerks offices. “That voice..” he whispered, it ran threw him, the melody like passion fire in his vains, the beauty like the cloths on his body.
He thought not to nock, not to ask he opened the door, it was his building was it not, why should he bother with such.
The elf girl leaned over a pile of paper trying to reach for the ink pin, her hair was dyed green, lourien style, and cut short to her ears, her eyes were perfect green to match. She wore casual cloathing, a short tight skirt, the type succunbi sell at the markets, and a elven shirt. Her name ran to him out of the air. Mul’ni Briskton, a clerk of his.
The instant the door opened she had looked over in shock almost falling her ears sticking up in fear. They stood there without words, till Clive finally realized he had been staring at her body.
“This..longing...” he thought as he stepped back saying softly, “I am sorry I didnt know you were still here this late Ms. Briskton” he wondered why he used Ms. She would not be any older then 16 at best in body, true age of course hard to tell with immortals.
She instantly blushed and stood bowing, a action that only drew Clive’s eyes to her haning loose shirt, “I am sorry Master Dauthi, I ment not to wake you, late work is all, I am sorry.
It sounded more shy then meaningful, many dared not enter a Lourien’s chambers at night, for reasons of there own.
He walked to her, “what am I doing,” he thought “my body moves on its..” before he could think he stood before her, it was at this moment he controlled himself enough to lean over and pick up a fallen piece of paper.
“Your paper Mul’ni,” he said offering it to her, the shock in her ears confused him, either she was concerned of his actions, or surprised he remembered a mear clerks name.
He watched her, the filling inside of him growing, his eyes not helping to watch her stomach move as she breathed, her chest raise and fall in life, her curves in the moonlight of the room.
“The Pull of Noir,” he thought to himself, “A curse and blessing, the sin of lust, and the blessing of lust, one burden and joy I and my brothers and sisters, will always have.”
He knew not what was next, but when his mind came back he was closer to her, her eyes wide, but not in fright in expatiation.
She knew what it ment to enter a Lourien lair at the midnight hour. He wished for her, his mind only thinking of her, the pull , indeed as named pulling him into her sent, her vision, her being.
He wanted her, and he would have her. His hands wrapping around her. There lips meeting, there young bodies clutching, there toungs dancing to a unknown song.
He took her to his chambers, no words needed to be passed. He needed not to undress her, she was willing, he watched as a animal watches its pray, as she undressed piece by piece of cloathing, the fire inside of him burring hotter each moment.
Finally she was done with the task, and he was with his robe as well. That night they took each other, all of each other, two that bearly knew each others, taking the others body in the most precious and loving of ways. Each on a urge for fulfilment, riding the waves of lust and passion till they came to there end of pleasure release.
Later she lay under him, as he slept on her chest softly, for lourien bodies are very light things.
Nether of theme saw the blue eyes that watched them, the evil shadow over the window, neither did the demonic suturing wake Clive. When he awoke his lover was gone...
Charnadis
They all sat around the large hexagonal stone table. General Mobius, the hefty dwarf in charge of the city, sat at the top, Clive to one side, the leader of the Defense division at his other, and the head of intelligence at the end.
The head of intelligence coughed as he started his report.
“The Clerk Ms .Briskton is still missing, but he have several creditable witness, that said they saw here the eve of her disappearance near the temple district, the temple guards are currently looking for her.”
The men looked at each other and nodded, Clive sighed, he was the last true person to see her, he should have protected her, she is his clerk, his to look after.
The report went on, “ We Also have reports of mass Ward failure threw out the entire city sir.” he needed not say more.
Mobius coughed, “This all started the same night the clerk went missing, wards, the thing that make us better then the savages, now fail without cause, striped of there power and clasping in on them selves...but how?”
“A ward master?” said the head of defense.
“A free magic being?” said Clive.
“No, a ward master to do this would have to be to well know to get around us, and we have not had a free magic elemental go rogue in ages...,” he coughed , “I want this figured out A.S.A.P.”

A Hour later, the meeting ends and Clive is walking down the Street of the temple district.
He stops in front of the Noir’s Temple, the loveliest building in the city, trimmed with cold and silver, high column , and arches line its frame. Clive sighed, “The Noir,” he whispered, “I wonder what there like..”
A soft voice rose behind him, “Just see them as lovely and it will do, Sir. Dauthi. “
Clive tunred and smiled, It was the Priestess of the Temple, the half elf half Lourien, Lady Solace Entei.
He bowed, “My lady what do I owe the hono...”He stopped as she grabbed his hand and started to pull him. He didn’t get a moment to think till the temple doors were shut.
“Come,” she whispered. Clive only nodded as they walked down the hall of the Temple.
As they did Clive looked at the ceiling, he could not help but notice, the Wards here, were weaker then normal, the mystery must be strong enough to effect them as well, he thought.
He looked back to Solace, it was not uncommon for Priestess to take men, but he had not thought her so ..bold.. And he couldn’t shake the filling that something of her was..different.
Soon though they were in her chamber, and she already undressed, awaiting him like a goddess her self on her bed of silk, Clive though took his time to undress, the filling of unease still abought him.
The love making was great, he needed the lust, the filling of completion. Though he did notice that across her chest was written in black ink a word he could not see, for her womanly parts were in the way. It was not till that morning, when she was still asleep he saw what it said.
In dark ink between her breast was the word.. “ Charnadis”, Clive tilted his head, he had never heard of such a thing, or person, thought it didn’t matter, He was caught reading the message, and soon was to busy with other things to think beyond it....


To Kill a Lover

Last Chapter in Clive's DemonTale

Clive’s breath quickened, as he and Solace united, it was not like the others, not like his master, Entei. Solace seemed not to be making love with him for the pleasure or unity, but for some other reason. Something in her eyes, her movements, seemed deeper, and it unsettled Clive. And he saw that word on her chest that seemed to burn, the name....
Charnadis.....
He awoke much later, still groggy from their unity; he looked over, his light purple eyes adjusting to the temple’s dim light. She was gone.... His hair, a shade of blue-green, stood on end, something was wrong, there was a ill air, an unforeseen presence that weighed upon him.
He rose, putting on his pants and walked down the halls of the temple, following his mind’s urgings, trying to find what was not right.
He walked for what seemed ages, down the hallways, hardly noticing that he had taken a few flights of stairs already, and that the usual decorative walls had given way to unclean, moldy stones.
He stopped before a corner. It was dark here, no light. But from beyond the turn he saw the light of torches. And he heard something familiar, a hissing noise -- the sound of active Wards that were being worked too hard.
He reached for his sword, to find it not there, and he cursed as he examined the wall.
The other room was simply a rectangle; nothing lined the wall but stone and torches. In its center was a stone table, but it was too far out of torchlight for his eyes to see clearly.
He saw Solace, standing nude before a hovering black ball of light.
“But My Dark Lord, Why?” she asked, “Why use this wench, Why not ME my Lord why not ME?”
Her voice was frantic and needy, Clive frowned. It was not a common tone for Lourien.
A voice did reply, a deep voice, clearly demonic from the sphere.
“My dear, dear servant, you have served me well, but you will not be my host, some sorcery I have never encountered before keeps me from you, some power. But it is of little matter -- the girl will do nicely, she will be my arch to this new world I have never seen, all you need do is work this strange alien magic to help me...”
Clive stopped listening as they continued to talk, his gaze lowering to the floor to see the wards above the sphere. There were many but he knew what they were for, and he felt his face going pale.
A Ward Circle for Communication of Demon, a outlawed Ward Circle only usable with high clearance from the Council...
He looked to the table, something had light a touch nearby to uncover its view to him, On it lay the clerk Briskton. She lay nude and he saw clearly written on her neck the name of the demon.
Clive stepped back, unable to believe his eyes, how could this be? Why? Why was his lover in communication with a demon, why was his clerk lover here, the name...what did it mean...
He did not seem to notice as the sphere faded, and the wards below his clerk glowed, he knew they were wards intended to open a gate to a demon realm.
He looked away as the body rose, her eyes glowing golden, The voice of his former clerk and lover speaking, but he knew it was not her, he could smell, and feel it, the demon inside.
“I..” he whispered, tears ran from his eyes, this was his fault, she was his charge...
The rage, rage against the priestess and the demon. Rage that consumed him.
He stepped around the corner to face them, to face those he would kill.
He had no weapon, but his claws sprang forth from his hands.
The Priestess looked at him in horror, her voice filled with terror,
“Clive...what..what are you doing...here..”
She backed up and fell to her knees as the demon stepped in front of her to face him.
“Do not fight me, Clive,” the demon spoke through his clerk. “Accept my gifts. Join me.” Brikston opened her arms to him, her eyes filled with unholy light.

Clive said nothing, but he lifted his hand and ran, ran as fast as he could at the demon. It was a decided battle, the body of the clerk was fragile and weak.
Clive closed his eyes as he felt his claws punch through the chest of the body, ripping through the heart to burst out of her back in bloody glory. The body twitched as he let electric current run into it, for good measure.
Charnadis laugh echoed from her lips. “Fool, to reject the power and pleasure that might be yours. And do not think me dead,” the demon whispered with the clerk’s last breath. “We will meet again.”
The body fell over, Clive wasted no time with it. He walked to the table and ran a bloody claw across it, ripping the wards apart and closing the gate with it.
He looked over to the priestess, her eyes red with tears, kneeling before him.
“Clive..I...I..Ohh Clive!” she grabbed his legs and wept.
He knew what would come, she had to die, by law she had broken too many laws to live. He lifted his hand, his claws pointing downwards to form a type of blade. It was a killing technique he had never wished to use, the killing blow from a lourien to a lourien. He didn’t seem to notice the ghostly figures of two women behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder as he slammed his claws into the back of her neck, slicing down her neck then to burst into her heart.
She died without a word, clinging to his legs as her body slumped to the floor to join the clerks....
Clive said nothing, he didn’t seem to notice the trail of tears running down his face, all he saw was the name......Charnadis, the one who had forced him to kill to lovers...the one that had broke his souls.....
“Ill find you again....” he whispered as he fell to his knees in tears...
“I swear it!”