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Unread 1st of September, 2004, 05:45
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Vampire Lord [Epic Admin]

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Join Date: Jan 2002
Member: #10
Location: Castle Greyskull
Posts: 13,740 (2.18 per day)
Dawn comes as the sun awakes and casts it’s light over the land. The shadows of the night are driven before the brilliant light, taking with it the fears, doubts and secrets created by darkness. On a mountain top citadel, buried in the wastelands, life starts to stir when the first stars begin to fade. Men and woman of the arcane arts rise to begin the mundane tasks all large communities must perform, the cleaning, washing, cooking, and administrating duties.

In the guest quarters of the citadel, a bedraggled and blurry eyed man awakes after the sun has long hung in the sky, and all trace of the night’s gentleness has been pushed away. Pulling a blanket from his head, Nicos lets out an audible groan as the sunlight assaults his tender eyes. Burying his face in the pillow for several long moments, the bard looks about once his eyes had adjusted to the daylight. The first thing his sight rests upon is his companion of the night before, already composed, wearing a short night-robe, and reading a book at the near-by desk. Letting out an oath in a voice horse from a night’s abuse, he proclaims: "Fiol woman, don’t you ever sleep?"

Looking back at her companion, Gemoud assembles her face into a look of contemplation before answering with even tone and serious face. "No."

Letting out another groan, Nicos drops prone on the bed. "I think I’m dieing. I regret nothing!"

Closing her book and fastening it shut, Gemoud rises and makes her way to the bed, planting a finger on the back of the bard’s head. "Don’t you complain to me, if you can’t handle your drink.”

“Can’t handle my drink?” He replies in indignation. “I’ll have you know that I can take it with the best of them. What was that stuff?”

Giving a smile that can only be called evil, the sorceress settles on the bed and firmly rubs the shoulders of the indisposed man. “It’s called Tarisan wine. One of my friends here created it, it possesses all the flavour of quality wine, but has a punch that would knock a dragon out cold.”

“Oh you evil creature, that’s just not playing fair.” Grimacing and attempting to move, the bard gives up the endeavour for the moment. “It seems to have worked, I feel like I’ve been beaten by a dragon.”

Ignoring Gemoud’s good natured laughter, Nicos heaves himself out of bed with what seems a heroic effort. Going to the wash basin on stumbling feet, the bard misses the calculating look in Gemoud’s eyes as she tracks his movement across the room. Similarly, Nicos is oblivious to the softly spoken words and quick gestures made as he plunges his head into the cold water.

Turning around when his face is clean, now more awake, composed, and looking much better for it, Gemoud is once more sitting cross-legged on the bed, observing the bard with an intrigued look. “I didn’t notice it last night in the dark, but you have a lot of scars for a man your age.”

Looking down at his bare chest, and touching one of the many marks, Nicos gives a nonchalant shrug. “There have been an abnormal number of angry fathers, brothers and husbands in my life. It’s the curse of being as devastatingly handsome as I am.”

Letting herself be gathered into the bard’s arm, Gemoud ignores the joke. “I wasn’t necessarily talking about physical scars.”

Looking into the woman’s brilliant blue eyes, Nicos feels a twinge of emotion deep within him. Angrily pushing the feeling aside, Nicos ignores both it and Gemoud’s comment, instead pinning her beneath him and kissing his way down her body. Making his way down one arm, the bard softly kisses the inside of her wrist, frowning at something, kissing once more then pulling away.

“Tease,” Gemoud pouts, as the man moves up to rest beside her.

“After you fed me that poison last night, you’re should consider yourself lucky that I’m still capable of teasing,” Nicos retorts. “Are you doing anything today?”

“I hardly forced you to drink it,” Gemoud says, snuggling close to her Bardic companion.

“Alright, I’ll accept partial responsibility, but I maintain my innocence of how strong it was.” He frowned once more. “And quit changing the subject, are you doing anything today?”

“Yes,” she says, making a face, squirming out of Nicos’ grasp and out of bed. “I have a day’s worth of meetings right after breakfast, and on top of that some study to catch up on from yesterday.”

Grinning, Nicos stretches out on the bed. “Meetings; the bane of any large organisation. Now me, I’m free to lie here for hours yet if I want.”

Leaning down to give the bard a quick kiss, the woman once more smiles evilly. “You might be able to lie there for hours still, but only if you are prepared to miss breakfast.”

Giving the sorceress a mock glare, Nicos once more pulls himself out of bed and starts to search for his clothing. “You and your evil empire win this round.”

The next several minutes were spent dressing and freshening, with Nicos casually humming a tune. Seemingly almost mid-note, the bard breaks out into a semi-song, turning to face Gemoud as he does.

‘On behalf of her love, she no longer sleeps’

Looking startled, the redhead hesitantly replies. ‘Life no longer had meaning. Nothing to make her stay.’

‘She sold her soul away,’ the one armed man finishes, frowning deep furrows into his brow. “So you’re a Mooner then?”

Still looking startled, the woman just nods. After a pregnant pause she asks, “How did you know?”

“I saw the mark,” Nicos says simple, still not letting up the frown, holding forth his arm, palm outwards. On his inner wrist rest a small scar, obviously made by a fine blade, and very carefully. It depicts a crescent moon surrounding a small 5 rayed star. “I didn’t know there were any members who weren’t bards.”

“I – I’ve got to go or I’ll be late,” Gemoud says, looking away from the man and picking up her book. “I’ll talk to you tonight, okay.”

Not waiting for a reply, the woman hurriedly leaves the room, leaving the perplexed bard behind her. Still frowning, Nicos watches her retreating back until she steps out of sight, unable to see the satisfied smile that replacing the feigned look of uncertainty.
@}-`-- Coffee + Hate = itches

Last edited by itches; 1st of September, 2004 at 07:15.