Welcome to the third story of Charity a cat-girl who is seeking to find her place in life, and fine a long sought love as well. In this story we see the growing relationship of her and the Chancellor of the academy who is known as Storm Dragon, and a powerful wizard in his own right, plus challenges as an old foe shows up to cause chaos in their lives.
So come and join us now, as Charity is invited to a formal Academy Ball, while she has other ideas of a dance in mind. I hope you enjoy this.
Please leave some comments so I can improve the story line better.
They say in the tales of old that the eyes are a window unto the soul; while a mirror is supposedly the revealer of all that is hidden away, showing to all who bother to look and understand the reality of what IS, not hidden away from us by preconceived perceptions and desires.
So it is today that the very same mirror shows one image unto many in the little dress shop; the image of one who hopes to find a special gown that hangs just right on her frame for the Academies Ball. Moving on the little foot high stoop before it, she looks from as many angles as possible, to the left and right, side and back. To have hands poised on hips, then back and hip arched just so (a quick smile and wink to a passerby caused him to pass out and his girlfriend look on in jealous resignation).
Caught up in the moment of joy and discovery, the poses become a series of faces made, impish smirks, and whimsical giggling as she twirls in a circle once, twice then the third time kicking a leg high as would a dancer of the erotic stage. Each twirl is done in the moves of heavenly poetry made manifest on the earth; though she did not hear the conversation shifting in another direction with her companion.
The sheer fabric of the gown slides along her upper thigh, leg hooking inward and drawing knees close to her chest; hands clasped into a pyramid shape, she rises up on the other foot to balance perfectly on tippy toes. Many are those who clamor to the sight all on the street behold, her leg shifting inward and then curving out to the side, then around to the front.
Eyes follow every perfect curve of her form, covered by shadows that conceal just enough, tantalize and tease in one; even the ladies watching stand in amazement – many of them dancers in their own right – at the fluid grace of her, the raw sexuality and wildness under control by one who has chosen to show off.
“Charity come back to earth will you, I asked how it feels…snug, pinches anywhere, too loose?”
She eased herself forward into a half bow at the waist, over crossed arms in the imitation of a formal court bow before visiting dignitaries. Gasps brought her eyes up to the shops window where men were running up, faces planted to the glass while grins expanded like those of a big, happy and well fed wolf.
Her gown – strapless at the shoulders, is indeed too loose as the tops shifted away as well, heading south on the body of a lovely cat-girl.
Standing back up again she sees clearly in the mirror her now bared upper chest from where the ‘shifting of the gown’ occurred. Hair long and silken hair hung down loosely (today it is as white as the virgin snows in the high mountains); flowing just so to encompass rather than conceal both breasts enticingly highlighted between the ink-brush pattern (in a ‘W’ shape) and her nipples tingling with excitement from the crisp air.
She looks at the men and simply waves one finger in a “no-no-no” side to side motion with her smile - impish and promising to capture hearts with pleasures unheard of or doom one in a torrent of eternal despair.
A moment later the guys howled in delight as the show continued, for her body began to visibly respond to the set of gentle and unseen hands caressing her upper thigh, eliciting a shudder first so slight as they find her one place of greatest pleasure with a feather gentle caress…then more follow as their movements flow into a pattern of the alphabet of A, B, D, X, H and on, changing in speed and flow.
Her legs part slightly and knees bend ever so much, as she pits her willpower against this irresistible attention on display before all. Breathing becomes hard for her to take in a steady rhythm as the fires of desire once again are beginning to build; signals from the depths of her body screaming to the mind like lightning and thunder of sensations one could liken to the heady scents of meadow flowers, an eagles delight as it climbs for the air, and the loving experience of a newlyweds first blissful kiss on their honeymoon bed.
Those watching see her hands go behind her neck, head easing back and to the side, eyes fluttering rapidly while her lips (of iridescent magenta today) pucker and twitch at the corners in time to her bodies natural dance. Her teeth nibble reflexively upon the lower lip, followed by them parting now and then to gasp audibly for air in a rapturous bliss as she heads for Nirvana.
All who observe see a clear and stellar series of shudders wrack her body, bliss showing on her shining skin as her body’s moment has come. Breathing hard she wraps arms under her breasts, ears lowered in a clear sign of delight slowly winding down again to earth.
The shows’ ending is of course, accompanied by the appropriate howls, hoots, wolf calls and applause. Five of the dancers call out job offers if she is interested, and one even inquired about some private lessons – in her own bed.
Now her blush is full bodied and the embarrassment for her moment of voyeurism comes home absolute. Yet she does not move to cover her bosom up with arms or gown, just still showing off in girlish innocence.
“PATCHES I am so going to get you for this prank.”
Patches warbles out a little “got you” to her. He is a longtime friend and companion of the road with her, a small dragon about the length of a person’s arm, able to command magic as she does and one whose mood is displayed by a shifting pattern and coloration of his body.
And right now in the face of her “you are in the dog house” glare, innocent though she pretends it to be, his body swirls with soft greens, mother-of-pearl streaks and sapphire blues – reveals the intense contentment from a prank well played.
Oh how many tales he could tell of their adventures together, and of the many pranks he has pulled…
Drifting off on memories of a lifetime he curls up on a nearby bundle of scrap cloth and off to sleep; his body shifting to match the patters of cloth and background – a perfect camouflage pattern.
Hanna’s light laughter broke the mood building in her, contagious enough there was no avoiding her own clear and bubbling laughter merging in as well.
“Dear girl…I know the coming ball is important, yet you act like a schoolgirl going on her first big date; that is in addition to the floorshow provided…” hand indicated the now dispersing crowd of watchers.
She continues while covering up Charity with the gown once again, “I have never seen you acting this way, a formal gown, frilly lacing and stockings made just so – little hearts and kisses on then as well? Oh and that one garter you wish to have – all this is not like you at all.”
In response to the blushing and sheepish look on her face, Hannah presses on. “Oh ho, that’s it then, good old shirt and britches are not good enough now? It sounds like someone has caught your fancy after all, or more like you have caught his…hmm…could it be the old Storm Dragon himself? People are saying you and him have been spending time together lately…”
She was reluctant to say anything, as the fact of the matter is yes, someone has caught her heart; completely by surprise and to her delight, she is once again to dare to hope and dream for the future, one in where she is not at the mercy of fate or events beyond her control. For the first time in ages she is allowing herself to take a chance on love.
To cover up some and have a bit of fun, she begins spinning a tale woven of dreams, hopes and rumors of the Chancellor; letting Hanna know with her little tittering laughs that it is told to amuse, not to cover a truth. So it goes, of a mysterious letter delivered by an army of soldiers guarding a box delivered by a servant of a prince from a flying castle in the sky; the box containing an invitation to the Academy ball signed by “He is too cute to give a name for.”
Their shared laughter of the utter ridiculousness of the tale – though Hannah wonders briefly given the sheer wild luck surrounding Charity – draws the curious from the street, shaking heads in disbelief at Hannah, and in disgust at Charity for just being a cat-girl.
“All I know in truth Hannah,” she stated, “is that the Chancellor bid me to meet him here, since I need a gown anyhow, and that he will ‘deliver the invitation in a most special way.’ “
“Oh dear,” Charity looks down at Hannah, who is adjusting the gowns hem, “the last time he delivered anything in that way the entire Crown Hill estate disappeared…and yes dear it is where we now have Crown Hill lake just a mile or so outside of town. His spell ‘backfired’ as he stated and incinerated estate, hill and a quarter mile of area around it.”
Twin eyes glowing red as embers of a slumbering fire listen via a mirror as magician does a crystal ball; once again he wonders how fickle fate can be at times, a revenge too long delayed against Charity has been handed to him. In addition, he can use her interest in the Chancellor to do some real damage to the Academy.
“Come the Academy ball many shall fall; and I shall control it all.”
For the next two hours she tries on each and every combination of hats, gloves, vests, sashes and stoles about her form. Each time she also used a small amount of magic she knows to change the coloration of her hair from the snow white to different shades of black, amber, and red, while wearing the same gown first selected.
Hannah also notices the gradual flowing in of customers that her staff is assisting; despite the fact most are the young and unattached men in the area who have come to gaze at Charity. Though many also have private hope for a second show as happened earlier; and the story of that event has spread like wildfire on the gossip groups, scandalous details added with each recounting until the simple truth is turned into a hedonistic orgy of her with hundreds of men and women in one encounter until all of them perished of exhaustion.
Despite windows and door being closed a gentle breeze started flapping about the inside of the store, causing many to look about and wonder curiously what is going on.
Charity however – long a veteran of many spell battles – takes a different tact; grabbing hold of Hannah and diving for the floor. With a shout of a word of magical power a shimmering field of magical force comes into being as a sphere around the two.
With the breeze growing to a gale, people shout and run for any exit that can be found, knowing once again that trouble has arrived wherever Charity is at.
“Perfect,” the watcher declares, “now I am rid of this stripling of a girl. Then will I have my shot at the big prize as well” he lifts up a glass of red wine in salute “…to the end of the Chancellor.”
Winds now howling greater than the severest of hurricanes and howls louder than an banshee fling furniture and clothing – intact and shredded – about bruising and banging into the few people who refused to flee. They try to find any cover they can, flung helpless about with each movement. Clouds dark as night and illuminated by the shrouds of lightning within build, the fury being felt by all, as forces of primordial devastation gather waiting to be unleashed.
One advantage Charity has over others who are skilled in the ways of magic is she is a practitioner of a second and far rarer form of abilities – one drawn from the strength and living energy of the mind, called Psionic’s by their users. This ability, one portion of is the usage of telepathy to sense other intelligent life nearby, tells that in the gathering storm IS a intelligence, a life hungry and inhuman preparing to lash out with savagery and eager to kill.
A dozen pairs of eyes take form, glowing blue as the lightning they are made of shimmers white hot with power and fire. Manifesting finally as dragon shapes, they unleash a combined roar of a dozen thunderbolts shaking the area for blocks in all directions; such is the force items of ceramic and windows of glass vibrate and shatter completely. Chaos comes as panic sweeps the street – questioning if an earthquake or great storm has come or some other yet undetermined trouble?
Lightning rakes the spell shield – its intense glow building to stop and dissipate each bolt, then settling back down a bit weaker again. She knows it will not hold out for much longer and plays one of her most powerful moves in her bag of tricks; if it does not work, her friend Hannah will be killed.
She reaches out first to the sentience of the dragon-shaped lightning; telepathic contact established, her will pushes to restrain and control them, to bend their will to her own desires. At the same time she wields a quick spell to make a link between them and the bare ground – seeking to ground their electrical forms to the very earth itself.
Slowly, one by one, they stop sending their lightning at her spell shield; silent confusion clear upon their faces as in turn their will becomes dominated by her own in turn. Each one feels the magic calling to them, to go into the ground and dissipate, to rest and return home, to be free of the one who sent them after Charity.
Before the terror filled eyes of all who remain in the shop, they see first one, then two, three and unto all twelve of the dragon shaped hover, lowering their nose to her hand in clear and total submission. In turn they dissipate into rainbow glitters of light, as schools of dragonflies and sparks of a flame disperse, flowing down into the earth and the depths beneath.
“Impossible. That is utterly impossible.”
His shock made abundantly clear from his face, eyes wide and mouth hanging agape from the experience. Then comes anger – cold and calculated anger, fists clenched and jaw set again, while the eyes dance with flames of the underworld itself. Never has this spell been defeated, never.
Defeated - none save the sender and maybe one other of the Academy, the Chancellor could have done so, should have been able to do so! Yet the proof is dissipating before vision sent on the winds of magic to observe. Clearly defined plans now need to be revised; she has turned out to be much stronger than he figured another mistake he will not repeat.
“Oh blast and be bothered already,” said an irritated voice from within the dissipating clouds about the shop, “can I not find even one good way to deliver a message in person without something going wrong.”
Most within earshot recognize the voice, and shudder with fear that the mayhem is about to escalate unto a new level of devastation. Standing there now in the clear, helping both of the women protected by the now dissipated spell shield, is none other than the Chancellor Storm Dragon. They see him looking about at the devastation of Hannah’s shop, and tells her that he will make up for any and all damages as his spell of teleportation seems to have messed up.
“Send me all the bills and they will be taken care of dear lady.”
Turning back to face Charity and expecting all Hades to break loose now, he motions with one gloved hand to belay the firestorm coming until he is done speaking.
“Miss Charity, I have come to bring you a formal invitation to the coming Academy ball, assuming we manage to get the plans finished in time; so if you will permit me to do so –“ he searches first one pocket, then another in his vest, then several in his cloak and a pouch on his belt – “I wish to hand it to you in person…”
Shifting to his feathered hat, he reaches into an area crafted to hold many times its volume of goods in a space of extra-dimensional measurement. “Hmm…it has to be here somewhere…” out of it he pulls several sacks that clink with coins, sets of jewelry, five bottles of wine and one keg of rum, more clothing than ten men would wear in a year, plus more stuff that join the growing pile until it stands taller than him.
“I seem to have misplaced it Charity, may I bring it to where you stay at and entertain you to dinner this evening after some business I need to finish.” The last part he mentions with a clear look of disgust on his face, directed at whomever he has business with.
“Please say yes or no before you unleash the storm at me for destroying this shop, which was not my intention” to Hannah he speaks “Miss Hannah all this is yours to sell or use as desired, just still send any and all bills to me as I stated earlier.”
“So Charity what shall the answer be?”
“As to dinner fine, you know where I live,” she playfully dishevels his hair with one teasing hand, sending his heart racing with desire. He hears the street venders commence to give odds on his survival, what she will do or say to him, and other sundry combination of events; many a fortune will be won or lost shortly. Such is the way of life in the community.
“Hannah, will the funds I gave be enough to cover the purchase?” He hears Charity speak to the shop owner.
“Yes…yes my dear. More than enough, but what of…”
She quieted up as Charity twirled to face Storm Dragon, the skirt of the gown flowing like living silk and wind about her form. Those green and blue eyes lock unto his, danger and fury mixing in equal measure. He stood up to it though, prepared to face the music and accept the responsibility – not to mention the fact he does enjoy to a degree seeing her fiery passions unleashed, wondering what it would be like to caress her there, and there, as well as THERE…huh?
He felt her body pressing against his, one leg entwining his between the thighs. Her arms encompassed his neck and her hot cheeks pressed to his. All could see the stand he made, body as unmoving and unyielding as if one was made of granite and carved into a statue. Yet if they knew how his mind was racing around the room as a dog chases its own tail, smoke threatened to come out of his eyes and the electrical sensations gathering near her legs activities had nothing to do with the storms he so easily commands.
When her lips peck ever so gently and softly on his earlobe, on the way to Nirvana does he so soar. Teasing are her little nips with those teeth, one set of fingers caressing just behind the same ear as well; he knows exactly what she is doing, and for once in such a long time just does not care.
Her each and every move reminds him of the same game played by Felicity so long ago…one gulp becomes two and then three as she continues the sensuous movement about him. Even the voices of desire, commentary and lust filled critique are silenced when she whispers so utterly quiet, words meant alone for him.
“You owe me a dance...”
Doing as most men do of common sense and desire to avoid the annihilating fires of her anger when not paid close attention to, he simply fell back on the old escape of most men – when not sure of what the lady said, fake it.
Head nodding in acceptance, and a courtly bow following done with as much relish as possible; along with the impish grin of a master rascal and lover extraordinaire that has won so many women over – and meant for one today alone.
Gown and all she sauntered on out the door.
Patches looked at the Chancellor from atop a still standing (though battered) mannequin. He just warbled a bit of a “huh?” To which even the Storm Dragon never could find an answer for such a reaction. As he watched the little dragon companion of Charity fly off in pursuit of her, it never occurred to him that his magic did not cause the damage instead of someone else.
The inn, recently renamed the “Heavenly Hearth and Home” (note – the innkeeper is noted for being good at what he does, not for originality of names) tonight is packed with guests and towns folks from across the planes. All manner of species, from the normal humanity, to the bazaar and of all genders – some of which no one really can describe let alone figure out if they are male, female, both, or in one case multiples of all the above?
Orders for drinks and the clanking of mugs interweave with the others of loud conversations and boasting; of tales told about monsters, treasures, loves lost and found; a veritable cornucopia of noise flowing with the scent of stale ale and sweat, pipe smoke and strong drink.
The serving girls move swiftly about with the honed grace of a skilled ballerina. Dodging hands seeking a rump here or a bared breast there – unless duly compensated for the time and “services” so rendered. Bouncers, each a 8 ft tall half ogre, massive muscles promising mayhem and looks that could curdle milk or water at a glance keep the constant problem of chaos in check.
If the sheer number and intimidation value of these walls of primal brutality are not deterrence enough, then a glance at a hole in the wall to the street – through which a trouble maker exited after a flying trip across the room – serves as an additional reminder.
Tonight especially they are needed, and extra attentive, for the yearly game known as the “Senates’ Services” is held. In it each player (single, couple or group) pay for their name to be drawn from one container, as a second is pulled out from another. Custom holds that whoever is matched carry forth with the resulting union regardless of social status, class, gender and so forth…needless to say, many consider this to be one of the most hedonistic of games held and do love to play.
O’ how happy the innkeeper is tonight, profit flowing in as fast as the drinks, making him even more than a year of normal sales and rented rooms. Happy days are here indeed. The more money he makes the more happy he becomes, and for one night nothing can go wrong – definitely nothing can or will go wrong.
So it lasted until he saw a trio of toughs throw their mugs (of about a half gallon each) across the room and shatter over the door as they impact a mounted skull of a large dragon. Cheers rise up from them and across the room’s patrons at their success. Until they hear and see what has happened with all the wine falling down to the floor – and upon a woman standing there completely soaked.
The voice now filled with feminine rage is clear to all, and the eyes now glowing like the souls of the damned turn fully on the toughs who are approaching to have some fun with her.
Much to their soon-to-be realized regret, for even if they outnumbered her twenty or thirty to one the outcome cannot be changed, they still lose.
The Chancellor just paced himself while heading down the street – fuming about the last meeting with those of the Academies leadership…”So many things yet to do, mysteries to untangle, and they cannot even manage one item as simple as the grand ball coming up. Maybe a quick transformation of a few into birds or such will improve their dispositions. What is this universe coming to anymore?”
“Ah, here we are,” he declares to no one in particular. Another look of bemusement crosses his face at the sheer thought of Charity dwelling here. Poor girl – I have lived at the Academy for such a long time I forget that most people do not have it as fortunate as me. Business I have with her now, so lets be on with it.
Suddenly he heard the shouting inside the structure, loud and raunchiest of voices above all laying wagers on a matter commencing inside. Along with several ear shattering screams indicating their users are facing some form of nightmare – maybe an irate woman or mother-in-law?
His keen senses, sharper than most mortal mages could ever hope to achieve caught the subtle flow of a creature being summoned to the inside of the inn – followed by three loud roars matched with one massive roar shaking the ground and chilling people to the core of the bone with impending doom.
Flying out of door or window ran a trio of toughs, men used to being the leader of a pack of bullies and having their way always – now fleeing in stark terror. Howls fill the street as they move in flight like a deer sought by a pack of wolves….not quite a wolf, more like a big bundle of fur….
Briefly watching they gain the supposed security of a sharply taken corner and a high vault over a fence, he looked back at the rather large cat, a Dire Tiger of some 16 feet in length, 7 ft high to the shoulder and paws the size of a wrestler’s fully muscled chest. Twelve inch incisors revealed as it looked at him, looking with eyes alight with white of molten steel, the low growls emanating from the throat and lungs subliminal and terrifying to most.
“Miss Tiger,” he stated with casual aplomb of diplomacy and courtesy, “I do believe they went over that fence and should be nearby.”
Sighting the fence he indicated with his cane, the tiger put head to the sky and ROARED!!! Off in a shot and clearing the fence with hardly a thought or exertion of energy. So fast did it move that most wondered if it was in fact an apparition – an illusion formed by the substance of dreams given life for a short time by magic.
The cacophony of noise and press of bodies that followed was almost as impressive.
First was a formal bet maker, four toughs carrying his table on which lay the iron box holding funds; one each on the corner legs held at shoulder height. His chair carried as well, on the same level, by two more. Wagers did he take as they disappeared down the street pursued by a mob of sportsmen, betters, and ones who loved to be there when mayhem broke out.
A quartet of loan sharks and their bully blade brainless guards (the “all muscle, no brains” kind of thugs) were the next to continue; howling for the people who borrowed money on this event to stay put until they catch up and ‘make sure you can pay as expected.’
Two more roars, though slightly fainter each from the distance marked the passing of time, ringing with the loud and deep laughter of his. Never in so long of a time has he found such amusement as these last few weeks whenever…”Somehow I wonder if this little show is from a certain young lady I will dine with tonight…”
Ascending the stairs into the inn, he laughs aloud, voice echoing and terrifying all about him who wonder if he brings more devastation this night; for as the greatest of dragons he is named after – the legendary Storm Dragons who can command wind, lightning, hail and rain, and said to have power over all in air and water – he carries the fiercest of reputations.
Few things can irritate and infuriate her worse than getting soaked by cold rain, even though the cold does not bother her at all, nor the hottest of water she loves to soak in – a gift of her heritage only Patches she has shared this knowledge of. One of these things though is getting soaked by alcohol, which offends her nose more than few other things – such as the living dead, a garbage heap…
Readjusting the towel about her form as she descends down to the bathing pool – actually a large hot spring in which patrons and resident guests commonly use for trysts at all hours – most of the stink is gone after dousing herself with some water.
To loose that new gown so soon, and for such a stupid reason as some idiots having some ‘fun.’
“This day is getting weirder and weirder, what else is going to happen?”
Three scullery maids and one bouncer escorting them up the stairs look at her in shock after hearing those words, knowing how when she makes a statement like that chaos will come soon.
Right now for her all that matters is a hot soak down in the pool, followed by some mischief.
The sounds of thunder and objects slamming one into another, plus the half-ogre bouncers screaming in pain and fear clearly alerts her that the soak may not happen for some time.
Sixteen of the bouncers lay sprawled on the floor, insensate and battered all but blue and black from forces few do ever imagine or command. Once again the wagers are carried out in the one-sided fight, though with quieted whispers and almost no noise or cheers. Few dare to breath in the least at the sight before them.
Gasping for breath as it remains four or more feet off the ground on the end of the man’s cane; it looks upon a set of eyes dancing with power and strength equal to a mountain. Even the continuous annoyance (to the man) of two other slamming chairs across his body to no effect; the bouncer hanging off the ground is yet, for the third time questioned.
“What happened” – his free hand flicks backwards in casual disregard of movement and both bouncers catapult back across the room as white hot lightning rakes their forms – “to Charity, tell me know as I am losing what little bit of patience I have left.”
Crushing echoes of stone smashing to pieces are heard by all as the two make impact with the furthest wall.
He motions to the tattered remnants of her gown lying on the table nearby, covered with what he takes to be her blood. If need be, he will tear this structure apart brick by brick and work outwards down the block until she is found safe and hale.
Multiple flashes of light interrupted the gurgled reply it made as several of the Academy journeyman and the Masters Aden, Sheo, and Tael appeared. Quickly a defensive circle facing outward was assumed by the younger members of the group, alert and at the ready if the need arose. Each of the masters bowed formally to their own leader standing before them.
Master Aden steps forward, dressed in his usual black suit of immaculate tailoring for his tall and lanky frame, eyes dancing with pools of iridescent black; so dark are they that light itself is absorbed to never emerge.
“Chancellor, some of our students here summoned us stating there was a ‘matter involving the imminent and most dramatic demise of many in which the Chancellor of the school is involved.’ ”
Looking upon them all, he simply snorted at the sheer idiocy of such a message full of melodrama. “As you can see, I am conducting a minor interrogation regarding the lady Charity; who may be in some trouble and these brutes” – free hand indicates the various half-ogres – “will not let me know what if anything has happened.”
Suddenly the weight on the end of his cane shifts, and all observe the half-ogre moving on unseen hands in the air and to the foyer of the stairwell. Another of the still standing bouncers helps it to move away, anger directed at the Chancellor clear to behold.
And closer still to him stands the objective of his search – Charity.
“If you had bothered to LOOK at the gown first” – most got the idea she figured now that is well beyond his ability, rank and position – “you would see it was only wine that stained it, and it tore as I got out of it from being soaked…AGAIN!”
“Journeymen,” called out Master Sheo, “attend and observe in silence. Learn well the lessons about to begin for all of our edification. This will be one that falls in the events of a male’s life between the ‘angry wife who has mother and father coming over’ and ‘Hells Society of Scorned Women and Daughters.’ ”
“Learn well and remember, for each nuance and detail will be graded heavily upon the term paper for this one encounter due upon my desk first hour of the day, ten days from now. Remember not to use the flame creating inks; the devastation of the last such fiasco is still being cleaned up.”
Chancellor Storm Dragon just sighed in his thoughts, prepared to face the storm yet again; fully knowing that this time he will not be spared her wrath as it was at Hanna’s. It will be neither the first or last he shall suffer, as the last cat-girl he loved so much was as fiery and passionate in a rage.
Upon further consideration - as she poked him in the chest and declared to him matters of his lineage, chemistry of blood, brain size and consistency (both the one above and below), companions and consorts, particular studies of esoteric erotica best left to the imagination; in addition to a very well rounded command of insults mixed in at least ten languages recognize by him – she is quite cute in such a utter rage of feline feminine fury.
Her snow white hair dances about her body and face flush with heat from the torrent of words and motion directed at him. Even the well sculpted form of her arm securing her towel in place is perfection in beauty. No doubt to it, once again he finds a lady in his life, and is getting swept away.
“Enough of this you walking excuse for a fur bound rug,” declared Master Tael as he grabbed her arm with a firm and solid grip. “You may be some kind of self important, uppity acting whore for the Chancellor but show due respect for him…”
Master Tael the parrot, late of the Academy and the newest member of the avian world squawked wildly as he flew out the door in a cloud of clinging smoke and brimstone.
Charity looked at each of the Masters and Journeymen. “Is there anyone else among you all who wish to be belligerent, insulting, discourteous and stupid mixed into one?”
The others shook their heads and vanished in the same flashes of light that signaled their arrival shortly before.
“Now,” – she firmly commanded the Chancellor – “you will compensate each person you hurt along with the innkeeper; to disrupt the peace of a inn, you know the customs as well as I; now then, I want to hear why you sought me out in the first place – AS I TAKE MY BATH!”
This night to the growing legends of Charity is added a new title – Tamer of the dragon.
Weightlessness, the water holding her in its hands, massaging her body as she slowly moves around with just the faintest of moves from hands and feet. Heated by forces from deep within the earth and brought forth for her and other guests to enjoy, muscles unwind and calm become her for a time; allowing a special kind of bliss she loves so much to encompass her very being.
Eyes closed and inhaling deeply the air laden with steam and moisture; a heady blend of scented soaps, candles, minerals nearly beyond count with bathing salts, used towels and stale sweat. Her ears lower and raise, twitch and twirl left and right as new sounds come into attention – the lapping of water on the edge of the pool, a small ripple from her movement returning and echoing ever so faint against the upper arm, drops of water condensing and falling from the ceiling.
She lets her heightened senses of the mind – the Art called Psionic’s, by will alone she commands the waters to move her just so – slightly to the right on her one leg, move the forearm to here and then there. Each time it also generates a tickling sensation – the softest of natures caresses sending rapturous bliss up her body. Shudders of delight, of passion and wonder again commences as she is more and more into the moment.
Invisible hands caress along her stomach, while a set of lips give fine little kisses from the naval and gradually moving up. One builds on top of the other, done as by a master lover seeking to encompass his lady love; to join in her spirit of passion now awakening within. Then a moment’s pause between her breasts, her nipples erect and swelled from delight of the heat – inside and without; softly the kisses become two, simultaneously encompassing each one and bringing about a blissful intake of breath to her being.
Eyes are seen to flutter and shudder beneath their closed lids, and ears move down to encompass the sides of her face while lips quiver and purse in harmony to the rhythm of her body. Next is a sensation from below, of a loving embrace tenderly teasing, pleasing and blissful in one. Upon that one spot for pleasure alone shared by all women it focuses completely. Fiery bliss runs up her body and into the core of her mind – nay her very being of the soul.
Back arches along with her neck as thighs seek to encompass the giver of such eternal bliss. For a minute and then two it continues, driving her wild as few ever could in her long life. Mutterings without meaning pass those lips and into the air about; and finally gasp and squeal ever so faintly as her peak is hit and release of the spirit of bliss occurs.
Looking at the one nearby, perched on his knees and feet attached to the wall over her, she sees her smile returned twice in measure. “Thank you, that was” – electric like thrills run over her again, encompassing each point of her being from head to feet and back again many times over in a second of time – “amazing.”
A look of poignant denial crosses his face, hand pointing to him as in saying silently “do you mean me?”
Of course the wild laughter and delight in his eyes, visible to her even among the wraith like wisps of steam confirms the welcome and delight he provided. Easing herself closer to his location she suddenly disappears under the waters surface…only to return leaping most of the way bodily out of the water, planting a quick peck of a kiss on his cheek before sliding back down again.
Their eyes settle on one another with the unspoken question; each waiting for the other to broach first.
Watching through the servants eyes, a beast of unique abilities brought forth from a world most never hear of let alone survive, he now knows the time to strike is perfect. Plans adjusted, no witnesses as all others are up at the game commencing, and both have their guards lowered completely as lust builds to the culmination of their desired union.
He savors the emotions in the same manor as the glass of wine in one hand, refined pallet delighting in the fine and effete sensations. Chaos, sensuality, sex, desire and confusion, anticipation, and of course – mayhem mixed with murder.
“Oh how I so love it when a good plan works out well…”
He just gazes down from his perch upon her face. No longer is there any more doubt about it, while he has not “fallen into love from the crushing altitude of the start and sun” as most songs would have it; he is definitely into the part of wanting to know more of this most fascinating of felines.
Head and eyes moved the flowing motion of beauty below in the water. Doing a slow and graceful backstroke, she moves in a state of utter grace and control. He catches a complete view of her face, neck, arms, hour glass figure, perky breasts and abdomen shifting water about them with each sweeping movement. A quick move of her legs pulling to her chest leads to a series of twirls – tight, solid are those leg and calf muscles.
Yet such each move under HER control and dictate, that she shows fully only what she chooses; as shadows are kept tantalizing over portions of the anatomical terrain. Just enough to give a tantalizing glimmer, of what the mind says has to be there and yet not sure if it really is – wisps of a dream and shadows, light and dark, played in the ecstatic euphoria of erotica in action.
Time flows by unnoticed by the couple; observer and observed the dance continues. And it suddenly becomes clear to the Chancellor that IT IS A DANCE, or akin to one she is doing in the water.
He could feel the building flow of desire building within – cheeks flushing and blood flowing faster with each beat of his heart. A casual and quick adjustment of britches and vest cover the growing distraction from view – at least he assumed until hearing the bubbling brook like laughter of her. Not one of shame or shock, nor one of mockery; it is one of genuine delight and discovery. The acknowledgement her desires are being made known loud and clear.
Her eyes glimmer with wild passions of lust, desire, affection, laughter, and impish potential. Emerald greens mix with sapphire blues, and wisdom beyond years of count lay there – clear the signs of life long and rough, one he knows counts more than two or three centuries despite the youth she carries so well.
Looking down he sees her right below him, relatively speaking as he is held to the wall by magical forces under his control. “Charity, do you want to come up here or me to come down there…for me to…explain what I came here to see you about?”
Hands extended skyward she submerges and leaps high like a porpoise coming out of the water, so smooth and gracefully is it accomplished. Her arms wrap about his neck as he pulls her into his lap; water runs off of her like the tributaries of a river while thoroughly soaking him.
When she pressed her lips to his, no casual peck or such nonsense, a full course mouth to mouth planting to rival any of history (as far as he is concerned); he felt as if the entire universe imploded and then exploded.
“Took you long enough to get around to asking…”
In an instant sensations overwhelming crashed into his brain; of her muscles locking and jerking in pain beyond any description then his own, a assault on the very aspects of his brain that support life – a will seeking to burn up the neural paths controlling his lungs, his heart, his very fiber of muscles and bones.
Next he knows in what remains of his consciousness they are both falling to the water, seeing a mass of slick, sickly gray writhing tentacles reaching for him and her, and then the flair of illuminating light…
His arm slaps the padded rest of the chair with relish, threatening to smash the very wood itself from the forces involved.
Through the mutual links sent forth by his own Art – one with his servant in the pool, and clairvoyance via eyes in the area as well, he sees the short and one sided battle. Emotions flow back from his servant, enjoyment most delectable for his refined pallet of pure evil.
Oh how each emotion carried forth…
Of satisfaction upon stalking and striking the intended prey.
Of superiority as these two are caught in such ease.
Of the life of the prey slowly fading, life force shifting and flowing into the ether.
Of abrupt confusion as the unexpected occurs.
Of sudden shock as the hunter perceives danger.
Of realization that is terror experienced by a being for the first time.
Flee or fight…flee or fight…what it must do…what must it…
(Pain, savage, relentless, anger ancient beyond count)
Then night flows – eternity –
Eyes dilated and bulging in terror experienced and perceived; in manners so alien as to defy anything else the mortal world could encompass. The final sight of his servant conveyed, matching with the scene he beholds in the room observed, brings forth terror beyond anything ever experienced in his life.
Flashes of light about the room where the two are indicate others have arrived.
Severing the link to his observation of the room, he understands more than ever how badly he has erred. To assume HE of all beings of the universe could dare to stand against the Chancellor. I must leave quickly, the sight of that glowing eye, narrow slit looking back as if into his very soul chilling to the bones of his body.
Indeed this round I have lost, yet the game will continue onward; for in the end I have always won.
Now onto the next community for a time, to await others he has summoned and hired; and to add the cat-girl to his list of obstacles needing to be eliminated. Cloak and coat closed against the coming weather, hood pulled up with the harness bag over his shoulder he heads out the door.
Now first step is to find those idiotic toughs at the inn…
Reality comes crashing home at the sight of a Dire Tiger, its massive frame pulsing in power and control waiting to be unleashed. Those eyes speaking of intelligence beyond a mere animal; the eyes of a hunter who know the prey has run out of room and time.
“Charity charged me with the task of finding who led this hunt” – crouching down for the spring, ready to play and chase as one does with a mouse – “and so I have; now you may run or die where you are, either way this is the end.”
He understands now in full hopeless comprehension how bad he underestimated them BOTH – Charity and the Chancellor; for while he dealt with his creature, she sent this beast after him…having sensed his watching in the mirror upon them both…one mistake…just one…
Masters Aden and Sheo, along with a dozen of the most skilled Journeyman mages of the Academy stood watch in silence of the scene before them. Justin remains silently in one corner by the entryway, hoping against hope to avoid being discovered and then obliterated.
A lone female standing poised, back arched with arms upward, flexing muscles in preparation to jump into the water off of her perch.
Keenly do eyes follow the graceful leap of Charity as she goes through a 360 degree turn and double twist unto entering the water with nay a ripple to be found. The submerged figure of hers, reflection on the surface of the pool rippling and distorting as if in a unpolished mirror, flows to their edge.
Climbing out and enwrapping a towel about her body, she looks at all of the mages in turn, as if she discerns the thoughts and intentions of each.
Enrapturing as her appearance is, the sight behind her holds more menace and captive wonderment of a legend now reality. What many have longed to see, to behold and dread the wrath of turned against them is there in all the wondrous glory – and from who’s head she just leaped a moment before - a STORM DRAGON!
Small by the standards of its species – this one being only the size of ten houses laid end to end – curled up on itself twice over, eyes shifting in coloration from white unto red and then settling into amethyst hues. Shifting ever so slightly ripples of coloration – flowing and shifting sapphire blues, emerald greens, onyx black, along with many others blending – dance across its length. Teeth the size of a sword blade visible in those great jaws, along with one claw that has the talons poised to strike if anyone dares to advance on Charity.
With a grace belying its vast size, not clunky or slow, more like a ballerina in a play so natural is the flow of movement, those teeth take hold of her towel and yank it away – spinning her around while revealing her bared form for all to see. Once again her temper detonates and lashes out at the dragon…the watching mages have to wonder now about her sanity…at least until they see the smile on her face.
For then they understand, this is none other than the Chancellor who assumed the form of his namesake, the Storm Dragon.
At a nod from the Masters, all disappear in a series of flashing lights.
Justin manages to sneak off soon afterwards; waiting as the Chancellor (back in his usual guise) and Charity also disappear in a flash of light – teleporting to somewhere else, most likely her bedroom upstairs – confused, awestruck, and fearful about saying anything of what happened.
In her room upstairs indeed is where the two went; she is in his arms laughing and giggling hysterically with wonder as he whips around in circles. Sitting down on the bed, he feels briefly like a tree being climbed all over as she straddles him face to face while locking legs strong as iron about his waist. Her arms draw him unto her and the kisses to his cheeks, head and neck begin driving him wild.
Hands begin their exploration of her body, well knowing just where and how to get her purring up a storm.
Touching the shallow curve of her lower back sends visible spasms of delight and a abrupt, deep and audible intake of breath. Moving in circles on her skin, she stretches upward with her head arched back. His smile at her delight equaled the sensations experienced by her.
Eyes flickered and rolled, mouth quivering and cheeks lustrous with the flush rich and exquisite. Moving along the road of her back, each hand stopped in specific spots that are tickled or teased as they approach past those strong arms and shoulders, up the neck and to her ears.
Already knowing what to expect, he is not surprised when his stroking actions cause her to lock her legs tighter and pull closer to him. Body to body, his clothed form did little to protect him from the sensation of a woman in the flow of delight and desire, arms crushing tighter about his neck while her cheek rested upon his pushing in hard and rubbing as well. Her exhalation smelled of fine jasmine mint and must, the scents given off by her body and hair work to drive him wild, especially of the winter- mint he so loves.
Her vibrations and thrusting pelvis against his lap indicated suddenly he has brought her along too quickly and sees the climax of delight, desire, lust and the embodiment of enraptured erotica fulfilled.
Looking upon him with joy, excitement, completion and major satisfaction, her kiss covers any perceived failure on his part – to the contrary he understands, she is happy beyond measure.
“Okay Charity now that the warming up is done, would you like to go for the next round…”
Looking down at her cuddled, slumbering form upon his shoulder, he gently lowers her down and places the covers over her form. Taking a relaxing and cross legged stance next to, and trying not to awaken, her he seeks to examine the mystery of this most wonderful of creatures.
“This I have to admit is a first in a long time…normally women fall asleep from my talking, not when they are so aroused…poor girl must be exhausted. And yes Patches, I will stay and watch tonight incase someone else is irritating enough to try and strike at her.”
Content, the little dragon settles back among the papers on the desk; his coloration shifting to blend in so totally with the background he cannot be spotted by mortal eyes.
He looks about the small room she calls home – seeking anything that will tell him more of this most wonderful of ladies now in his life.
The small shelves lined with books, titles long familiar to him and some of them so esoteric in lore that few are able to comprehend; minor items of magical ability around the area; and an open locket on the stand by the bed catching his attention.
Inside is a portrait of two people – almost identical to the one he has of him in his youth and Felicity his lost love. The difference here clearly is that the cat-girl is Charity and not of his first cat-girl Felicity; the other is… of…him…!
His universe has just gotten a lot more complicated.
After cleaning up the remains of the game, the couples and groups long since departing for the consummations of their selected partners, Justin went to his quarters. Upon it lay a simple package of oiled skins, proof against most weather.
Within is a pair of leather armbands, embodied with rings of mithral and gold.
A letter reads…
“Justine, these are a gift from me, the Chancellor; they protect the wearer from harm due to assault from fists or arms. Use them well and with honor, for they may save your life or another who will be dear to you in the future. The choice of telling the tale of what you seen tonight I leave to you to make, no repercussions will come from me. Peace be with you, for your journey in life will be long and exciting.“And while I am thinking on the matter – congratulations, the little gathering you had with the Manx twins will bring twins for each mother to be this spring. Best wishes and recall their mother is also a werewolf. From what Charity says she is ‘a true man-eater.’ ”