3. Mystic River

Mystic River


  • ROOM # 5

    Our group made its way back from the crypts exhausted. It seemed like we had spent an eternity or more down there, so we decided a stop at the Inn would be in order. Much to my regret, Ael’Que, the smelly dwarf Mud, and a new face to me, Xilo, chose to leave us when we passed the gate. Since we had the good fortune of a successful venture without carrying back any casualties, we resolved to celebrate over dinner and a few drinks.

    At the Inn, my guard Somali joined us at the table. While it was regrettable that he wasn’t along with us, I was glad to see him none the less. I presented him with a gift I had acquired for him: a belt that I thought would suit his needs, nothing but the best for my guard. It brought me great joy to see the silly grin that crossed his face. Now, while there are many things that can be said about the half orc, his devotion and eagerness to please have exceeded my most fervent expectations. He will, in time, become the best shield a mage could ever hope for.

    The conversation at the party was lively and enjoyable. Good company is a boon even in the best of times, better still when the food is agreeable and the wine flows steadily. One of the guests for the evening piqued my interest. He is well behaved, and always generous.

    In the midst of my savouring a well prepared chicken and imbibing in the modest pleasure of cheap wine, the man gets up from the table and excuses himself. He has decided to retire for the evening. Much to my amusement, he quickly makes sure everyone knows that if he’s needed for any reason, he can be found in room number five.

    “Sleep well and sweet dreams,” I say.

    “I will dream of celestials tonight,” he returns with a flourish.

    My thoughts were elsewhere for the rest of dinner. I carry my sister’s curse of being too curious, despite knowing full well how that can end. We’ve all felt the consequences, in one way or another.

    As I leave the table for the evening, I can’t help whispering to Buurbie, “ I wonder what’s behind door number five.”

    I slip the Athame into my hand, whispers softly a few words, and fall into the shadows, travelling with them up the stairs.

    "He can dream of celestials all he wants, I certainly don’t mind."


  • COLD STONE

    The massive iron bound door groans as it opens in front of me, the dust gathered on it falling away in hazy cloud as it tries to keep up with the motion. A few mildly interested guards look me over as I pass by them.

    Dimly glowing lights flicker lifelessly as I pass through the hallway, dust devils swirling at my feet as I walk. I pause briefly at the entrance, considering what awaits me in the chamber.

    I call out, but the only answer is my own echo, twisted into a voice that sounds unlike mine. Hollow, cold… hungry. Only four other people even hear it, some half sleeping guards and a woman being consumed by a bookshelf. No matter. They are not the reason I’m here.

    I turn to my right and head for the altar I see there. A brief tingle runs the length of my body as I approach, lingering slightly in a way that makes me gasp. The stone top is a bit cracked and gives the impression that it’s been a long time since used. I caress the surface, feeling the coolness that seems to intensify near it’s imperfections. I close my eyes and I can feel desire wash over me. I expect to feel a touch on my shoulders, a whisper in my ear, giving way to… In my anticipation, I’ve leaned forward, my cheek coming gently to rest on the altar. My arms have encircled it without my even being aware. I feel drawn in, and yet I wait in silence for something that doesn’t happen. The stone is cold, dead, and emotionless.

    I slowly raise myself to standing, withdrawing Athame from its sheath, my senses aquiver as it comes free. I grip the blade in my left hand, the flat edge against my fingers. I can feel the danger of the razor edge against my palm. A burning sharpness, unfulfilled. Would it feel much different against a throat? With a swift pull I slash my palm, blood flowing between my fingers even before the blade clears my flesh. Grimacing at the pain, I form my savaged hand into a fist, holding it over the surface of the altar, watching my blood drench its surface. To my amazement, it forms into rivulets and streams to the crack before being sucked down into the thirsty stone, leaving the exterior clean. I feel spent, and my body goes limp. For a moment I forget my bleeding hand and a small puddle of blood forms at my feet. I quickly sheath my dagger, and then pull a cloth from my pack, wrapping it around my injured palm.

    I back cautiously away from the altar and on the way out I turn to one of the wide eyed guard frozen along the wall, casually appraising him for a moment.

    “I’ll come back … ”

    I cast a few protective spells and head back out the corridor..


  • ENTERTAINMENT

    Judging by the steady stream of toughs walking through the door, the Pissing Goat ale hall was hosting a party for a local gang boss. Although it wasn’t my usual hang out, I had heard a few whispers about the soirée while passing through the docks earlier, and my boredom lead me to it.

    From my position at the bar, I could see who came in and out, and catch just enough of a glimpse of the back room to watch the festivities. Casual observation led me to believe most of the regular patrons had found someplace else to imbibe for the evening, which held the promise of the party being loud and raucous. Gods know, the service was awful, due to most of the bar maids tending to the debaucherous mob in the back room.

    I barely had time to cover my ears before a thunderstone exploded with a sharp crack. A group of serving wenches came running in, curious at the loud bang. Unable to find anything aside from a rising ring of smoke, they returned to their duties at the loud calls for more ale from the back room.

    Trays covered with crusty bread and large bowls of steamy stew headed into the back in perfect timing with the pitchers of beer. I found myself setting my own drink on the bar. The trouble started a few moments later.

    A loud voice bellowed from the back room. “What in the hells!” The unmistakable sound or retching swiftly followed. It started a wholesale round of more vomiting.

    There was a sizzle in the air, followed by a soft thump. The back hall was lost in a rolling ball of acrid black smoke… A rapid series of pops that sounded like tangle foot bags, followed by breaking glass and wheezing coughs and the jingling noise of caltrops hitting the floor… Screams of anger and pain… More so when the goblin grenades went off...

    I decided it was time for me to leave myself, before anyone came looking for witnesses. I made a hasty exit escaping the fire and mayhem


  • The tranquil sound of gurgling emanates from the fountain as she lies back on the cushions worn soft by years of use. It is close enough that she can feel coolness as the falling water pushes the faintest of breezes past her, stirring her golden locks as her eyes follow the great stone columns as they stretch to the ceiling, arching into a vaulted dome of intricate and clever construction.

    Turning to her stomach, she makes a few playful splashes, listening as the echoes cavort around the chamber. She whispers the incantation quietly and swiftly, drawing seamless glyphs that appear to burn in the air. The light mote instantly formed, hovering above the water, twitching ever so slightly in glaringly bright anticipation of it’s master’s command. With a sudden flick of her wrist, the glowing orb plunges into the depths of the fountain, casting brilliant bands of dancing colour about the walls, book stacks, and dusty corners of the library, as if the fountain has become a giant shifting prism. She laughs as it amuses her.

    She pushes herself from the comfort of the cushions, flashing her long bare legs as she strides towards the door, the staccato reports of her heels on smooth stone floor breaking the quiet revere of the library. Her long heavy locks bounce in the air.

    “I’m bored!” she whispers

    As she leaves complete darkness descends in the hall, choking out the prismatic lights.


  • “Have you missed me?”

    I’m feeling playful, but the sullen guards at Peltarch south gate are in a something less then a stellar mood. I get nothing more then a low grumble in return. It makes me laugh as I continue on my way. I don’t make it past the stable when a voice calls my name.

    “Miss River.”

    It is the Traveler, and it looks like he‘s waiting for me. I brush the golden locks from my face and flash him an inviting smile. He is not unaffected.

    “Hello!”

    “I am sorry I have been away, I had wished to speak to you.”

    So formal. I’m both puzzled and amused as I close the distance between us. He has information I want, and just maybe if I play along with him a little, I can get it out of him. I feign ignorance.

    “Oh?”

    “Yes, please if you can, I’ll walk with you, or better yet, perhaps we can find our way to the Inn.”

    No sooner does he get the words out then the mage Maria passes by. He greets her formally and informs her that her scroll is done and payment is due in accordance to their agreement. It has the look of a long conversation, so I edge my way towards the Inn. I can hear the hint of irritation in his voice as he moves his conversation to a close. Maria mounts her horse and heads south and he hurries to catch up with me.

    We walk to the back of the inn. I head for the couch while he takes a moment to stop at the bar. I fold my cloak and purposely set it on the edge of the couch, then sit towards the other side, leaving barely enough room for him to sit between it and myself. I pull my legs up casually and wait.

    He returns with an open bottle and two long stemmed glasses.

    “Wine perhaps?”

    I nod and pat the seat next to me. He pours the wine, holding the glasses in one hand, then offering one to me before asking, “Is it all right if I sit with you?”

    An inviting smile is all the permission I need to give him, as he squeezes in next to me. He asks me if I have the dagger with me, and I giggle softly to myself as I tactically lean across him to retrieve my cloak and the dagger hidden within it, so close my hair brushes against his face. I linger long enough that he can’t help but take a deep breath….

    I show him the hidden pocket in my cloak as I withdraw the dagger from it’s concealed velvet wrapped sheath. My finger plays along the edge of the hilt, tracing the ornate dragon crest cunningly worked into it. He suddenly grabs my wrist and turns it as if to show me something. I can see him close his eyes, as if feeling some exotic sensation from the blade.

    He whispers. “Have you used it recently?” His eyes open suddenly, staring straight into mine.

    “I’ve had a chance to channel with it, but I do not fully understand it yet.”

    “It should be ready to use it at all times, not hidden away.”

    “I can’t carry around a tool of this power without knowing how to use it completely. It would be unwise and even dangerous to do so.” I sheathe it and wrap it back in it’s velvet covering before returning it to the hidden pocket.

    Our conversation continues. He asks about my past, the work I’d done with Wrastlyn, and what use I will put my skills to. I’m not sure what he’s after, so I answer his questions without revealing too much. He persists, and finally I tell him that if he wants to learn more, perhaps he should speak with Pherdur, Iathouz, or my sister. I know my bluff carries some risk with it, but my friends and my sister are bright enough to be careful what they say, after all they are not completely free from sins themselves, except maybe Pherdur. He is a blessed soul after all.

    I can tell he doesn’t approve of my history. He calls my apprenticeship under a wizard an “abuse.” I don’t explain the whole situation to him, but I let him understand that at the time, there was no one else that could have provided me with more. I excelled then. There was no time for self-fulfillment or journey within. Those were times of war, and any and all of the energies I could mold were given to the benefit of winning that war.

    He wanted to show me an illusion he used at a creative session in the arcane school, but I mocked him for having an excess of time to explore his talents at entertainment. Mine has always been a more practical, if not formal, line of study. He needs to learn that I’m not some wet behind the ears apprentice. I might have lost my powers, I might be struggling to get them back, but I still have years of experience behind me.

    There were so many questions. In a bold moment, he asked me about a current relationship. Honestly, that surprised me.


  • It took time. Time and determination. The dagger draws my energies to it, enhances them, feeds them back to me. I can feel it. I don’t always understand my powers, and at times they can surprise me. They come from the core of my being. My emotion, my desire, my consciousness, all woven together in a complex tapestry. My energies are an extension of myself, and when I realized that, I was able to extend myself into the blade. The runes took shape for me, forming into words that before I couldn’t possibly have read. It was so simple…

    To see the Truth being revealed

    … but what did they mean?

    More time with the Dark Mage. He continues to care for me, be it by answering my myriad of questions, or by providing the gold to keep me entertained with the things that I fancy. He does not expect any services in return. He does not wish it, or perhaps he has the discipline to resist. One expects such things from a determined scholar. I have, up until now, been an amusing distraction to him, but I think he’s started to realize there is something deeper. I find it odd that he’s never asked me any questions until today.

    After a walk from the spider woods, we took a our rest in the commons, watching people about their business pass by as one normally does while chatting. I felt a sudden twinge at my side that caused me to shift awkwardly to avoid it. I had the sensation of slipping from my body and the world lost its color, distorting to blacks and whites and all shades of grey.

    At first it was just a movement out of the corner of my eye. The kind of thing one can only see when not looking directly at something. As my vision settled I could see them. Dark shadows moving on their own, close to a chatting couple, drifting along behind a passing merchant, hiding amongst the tree branches.

    To see the Truth

    “Do you see it?” I whispered to the Dark Mage. He only stared at me with a puzzled look on his face.

    “What?” I wonder if he pretends not to see them to avoid telling me. Perhaps he sees nothing at all.

    “Oh… Nevermind.”

    Something tugs at the edge of my memory. A lesson long ago from Wrastlyn, one I barely recall. I was more interested in other things at the time…

    It was about the planes of existence, Inner and Outer. We exist on the Prime Material he had said. Our plane is touched at opposite ends by two others, the Positive Material, the source of light, and the Negative Material, the source of darkness. The interaction of the two creates the plane of shadows, which co-exists with the Prime Material. It had seemed like such nonsense at the time, but now…

    Another twinge, stronger this time. I know the dagger is speaking to me, but I wish it wouldn’t. I don’t want to reveal it to him. Not yet.

    The Dark mage leaned in closer to me, almost as his way of protecting me. His eyes turned black and I knew he could see them now. More seemed to be gathering. He was not afraid, only cautious, and intrigued. The people in the commons went about their business, completely unaware of what lies within their midst. Perhaps it was better that they didn’t.

    The twinge took on an urgency, and as quickly and stealthily as I could, I reached for the dagger hidden in a concealed pocket on the inside of my cloak. The shadows sudden stopped their wandering, turning their attention to me. I could sense they have a hunger. A chill ran down my spine as the rest of the runes took on new meaning.

    To see Truth, being revealed

    I understand now. I can see things as they are, but in doing so, they can also see me.

    The Dark Mage wasn’t frightened by the shadow’s sudden attention. He is too clever to act rash. He was watching them, and me. The shadows moved closer, weaving between the people in the commons, almost as if mocking them in a theatrical way, drawn in by the dagger and my sudden appearance to them. They wanted something from me. I glanced at the Dark Mage and found him now focused intently on the dagger. I could see the desire for it burning in his eyes.

    I instinctively hissed the words I don’t understand, that suddenly came into my head as I stroked the dragon crest and runes on the dagger. A sudden jolt ran through me and the shadows vanished. Vibrant color returned to the world.

    The Mage pushed himself up from the bench casually, then took my hand. “I want to show you something.” He lead me down to the docks. I smiled to myself, I was once again going to see one of his skills and I was thrilled.


  • The silver blade took on the dull reddish hue of the glowing embers of the fire at the Inn as I held it in front of me looking at the arcane symbols that had been pattern welded into it during it’s forging. I could feel a coolness about the dagger, and it seemed to draw my energies to it, enhancing them in a subtle way I could only guess at. I turned it over in my hand, marveling at the ornate dragon crest that was worked into the hilt in a subtle and modest manner.

    The traveler who passed me the blade stood close to me. Close enough I could feel the heat of him . He speaks, but I don’t hear it with my ears. The voice in my head is in a language that I don’t fully understand, but is familiar to me in a strange and almost intimate sort of way. It is a soft hiss, punctuated by deep warbling growls and sudden piercing shrieks. I know it, and yet I don’t. I can feel it’s meaning. I haven’t heard it in years, not since the Isle. Draconic.

    He wishes to guide me. Discover the powers contained in the silver trinket. Learn that which is inside me that my passions command. I whisper softly in his ear, questioning why, but we are interrupted in our repose by the arrival of another…


  • Again I find myself with him. The dark mage who reminds me so much of Wrastlyn. He is powerful, very powerful, and I can see the elation he gets from demonstrating it to me. I find it alluring myself, like those old days with Wrastlyn. He could almost take his place. Maybe.

    I follow him to the kobolds because I’m bored and it intrigues me. A great axe rests on his shoulder, so heavy it makes him wobble as he walks. As he closes for battle, a transformation takes hold of him, almost as if he is evolving into something more than human, a beast, a juggernaut of destruction, unstoppable. He laughs, full of potency, vigor, and domination.

    Something stirs inside of me. Something primal. Something wanton.


  • (OOC the above 2nd post was not a Pally I have got some questions about that 'grins', how bizarre wouldnt that be 😃 Below a response to Iathouz journal)

    The end of another day I felt like taking a walk in the fading sunlight of the late afternoon, and while going no place particular, my feet took me to the quiet little park just off the Peltarch commons. It looked like it’s was going to be a pleasant evening. The sky had just starting to change from azure to crimson, when I discovered a comfortable little spot under one of the trees where I could watch the sun set.

    I hadn’t heard his approach. The elf has always been light on his feet, too light sometimes. I find myself wondering if he followed me here, or if he just happened to be taking a walk in the park by himself tonight. There were several people I would have liked to see walk up the path, but he is low on my list. Still, I didn’t mind the chance of a little company on what I was sure would turn into a chilly evening.

    “Iathouz, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you or Pherdur.” I gestured for him to take the space along side of me. “Come sit with me.”

    “Hello Mystic”

    He unslings his heavy blade and leans it against the tree before sitting down a respectful distance away. I don’t want distance tonight. I give him one of my stern looks, but he’s not looking at me.

    “I haven’t seen Pherdur in a while either” He continues to prattle on about some encounter with the knight of Torm. I‘m surprised really. Usually he would have mentioned my sister by now. Perhaps the rumors about him that I’ve been hearing lately are true.

    I pat the ground next to me again, wondering why he can’t take a hint either. “Closer” It’s a command, not a request.

    He obeys like a good little elf. He is far to easy to tease, so I reach out and take his hand because I know it bothers him when I get this friendly. Perhaps he’s worried he can’t control himself when I’m around.

    “So what is this all about?” I don’t need to ask. He’s all too predictable. It’ll be about her no doubt. It’s always about her.

    “Moon and I had an argument about something.”

    Right on schedule. I restrained some but not all of my laughter. I’ve made no secret of it over the years; I’ve never approved of their relationship.

    “Don’t you always?”

    “Not like this. It… didn’t end well this time.”

    Didn’t end well this time? He says that now? When has it ever ended well? He once tried to kill Pherdur right in front of me. That didn’t end well. He ran afoul of a Guild of Shadows assassin who left him for dead locked in storage room at an inn. That didn’t end well. Prison, a trial for murder and treason. That ended better for him then I thought, but still nothing one would consider well. The war he fought in on the losing side… What happened to my sister. None of it ended well… and here he is back in our lives again.

    “Oh? Now how is that?”

    “We broke up over it.” He says it in a way that’s strangely lacking in emotion. I’ve heard rumors about him turning back to his dark goddess. Frankly, I doubt he ever turned away to begin with.

    I can’t control my laughter this time. “Now Iathouz, broke up? I never pictured you two together. You knew it couldn’t last.”

    “Why is that Mystic?” How dumb can he really be? The biggest problem should be obvious to even him by now.

    “You’re an elf and she’s human. When you’re done with her, you’ll discard her and move on to the next one. It isn’t fair to her. She gave up her best years to you, and for what? She isn’t young anymore. You’ll outlive her by centuries. Will you even remember her when it’s all done? She’s my sister, she deserves better.”

    His response is pure elven mysticism and folk lore. Bonded souls. Ha! What is it about this elf that drives my sister’s passion? What could be so special about him? She could have her choice of any man out there. She’s never lacked for suitors. This one seems to thinks she’s worth giving up most of his life for. I just don’t get it.

    “Spare me.”

    Nobody is as devoted as the elf likes to claim he is. I know his act. I can prove it.

    “Tell me Iathouz, how do you show her you love her?”

    I watched as the color drained from his face. No answer. I waited, watching the stricken look in his eyes. He knows I have him figured out. A part of me is disappointed. I’m not sure why.

    “I thought so. What about the rumors I hear about you returning to your dark mistress?”

    “I don’t have a Mistress.” The denial is firm, but in a way lacking.

    I can see the tension flood him. It just screams guilty. I lean in close to him and whisper seductively in his ear.

    “Of course you do… I know you do. I find it…intriguing…”

    What has he been offered for his return? Knowledge? Power? He’s gaining something, and if I can work him right, I might just get something out of it as well. He can be used.

    “You just hope I do.”

    I’ll break him. “I know you. I’ve watched you for years.”

    He shifted uncomfortably, I could see this was a road he didn’t want to go down. I knew about him long before anyone else. I traveled to the Enclave where the Forge was located. His disguises weren’t enough to fool me. I saw what he was up to, that my sister was nothing more then a piece in his chess game. I only needed a little evidence, then I would have leverage on him to get what I wanted, except he confessed to Moon himself first. All part of his plan.

    “We’ve been over this so many times Iathouz, even back then. Do you think you were the only one hiding in the shadows?

    He turns his head away. I catch the slightest glint of red in his eyes, a reflection of the lamps now lighting the early evening. I missed seeing the sun set, not that I cared.

    “Do you think I spent all my time in the Inn brushing my golden locks?”

    “I know better.” He turned back to look at me, staring into my eyes for the first time.

    “Do you?”

    “You think I don’t know about the time you spent with Santrix’s pet mage?”

    How in the hells did he know that? Wrastlyn was one of the founding members of the alliance of Banites and Knights of Tiamat known as The Black Rose. His immense talent was the true power behind the scenes. He was also my first act of rebellion. What is it about a man who is feared that is so alluring? I needed to gain mastery over my own skills, and his ability to bring them out in me was intoxicating. It’s my heart and passions that bring out my strength as a sorceress. He had an insatiable lust for power and other things, and I had a burning desire to advance myself. He was all the teacher a woman could want. I went through great lengths to hide what I was up to. He was the reason I had taken to traveling the underdark to begin with. Wrastlyn was… he was none of the elf’s damn business, that‘s what he was.

    I slid closer to Iathouz and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I was only observing.”

    The elf gently removed my arms. We both know this is just a game between us, although there have been a few times I’ve thought he might give in. What’s one more dark secret?

    “What are you trying to accomplish here, Mystic?”

    “I’m trying to set things right for once.”

    “Are you?…”

    “I believe I can.” I’ll just turn it back to him. He’s the guilty one.

    “…or is it something else? Jealousy?”

    Doesn’t he wish! Maybe if I was jealous then he’d look at me the way he looks at her. Wouldn‘t he like that. Swoop in and sweep poor little Mystic off her feet. The ego he must have. He thinks he has a hard time with Moon. I’d ruin him.

    “You think highly of yourself Iathouz.”

    “Not for me, but of Moon.”

    I could run the little bastard through myself right now. He can just stop, but he doesn’t.

    “She attracts a lot of attention, far more then you think she should. …It’s like you’re standing in her shadow. Why not you Mystic? You’re attractive enough. Capable too. Just like she is.”

    How little he really understands. I learned at an early age that I can get away with a lot more if Moon thinks I’m jealous of her. It’s been my act for years. The poor innocent little sister that everyone takes pity on. My powers have grown stronger. I love my sister, but even she is going to change the way she looks at me. I’ll play the game again today, let him think he’s knows me. Let him think he’s come out of this ahead. It takes a lot to hide my amusement.

    “I do not want anything.” I lie.

    “You expect me to believe that?”

    I get up and walk away because it plays well. He has one great fear, and I’ll leave him alone with it.

    “I just want what’s best for my sister, and you’re not it.


  • Another evening leaves me wandering around Norwick looking for something that catches my interest. It seems a casual stroll down to the south gate is in order. Perhaps the evening might not be as quiet as it appears.

    A lone man waits near the gate, standing like a solitary sentry against the night. The moonlight gives him a pale ghostly look, while the frostiness that hangs in the air sharpens my awareness. He sees me approaching.

    “Lady Mystic? How have things been?” His voice is bright cheerful and inviting. I flash him a quick smile.

    “All is well.” I return.

    “Are you injured at all?”

    I look at him with questionable eyes. His inquiry is oddly out of place. “As you can see I am in perfectly good health.” I wonder what he’s after. Well, I have a pretty good idea really.

    He blinks slightly. “Ah… I have been working quite a long shift” He lets out a mighty yawn as if for emphasis. “I pray you never fly the night, or Lathander himself might envy your radiance.”

    It is silly, sweet talk, but it pushes back the chill in the air. “Ah, you have your way with words it makes me jealous.”

    “Jealous milady?”

    I feign a shy giggle. “I wish I could express myself the way you do it would be all to my favor a deadly combination… well not deadly but…” I let the words hang in the air, giving him a good chance to be charming.

    “I would probably concede and fall to your feet. Good thing I have a good balance…” He does a little jig. I can’t help but laugh at his prancing. “Care to do something at all?”

    I make a show of looking around, despite knowing we are completely alone. “You mentioned you were tired I don’t suggest we do anything with that heavy yawn. I could almost see what you had to dinner.”

    “I have gone days without sleep really, perhaps some rest would be in order.” He delivers a charming smile, before continuing none too shyly, “Care to tuck me in?”

    Of course I knew it would come to this. My eyes sparkle brightly in the moonlight. This could be interesting, so I play along, offering him a timid but encouraging smile. “I would love to, but you should be careful what you wish for.”

    “Some rewards are worth taking risk for.” He responds, his voice hushed in an intimate way.

    “Now that reward isn’t that risky.” This is all too easy.

    “Oh what reward were you planning?”

    “To tuck you in?” I make it sound so innocent.

    “Sounds fun” He removes one of his gauntlets and takes my hand.

    “I can read you a bed time story too.” I say to him as we casually stroll towards the Inn.

    “I am quite fond of stories. I am curious of what you have to tell me…”

    I gazed into his eyes, a seductive grin lighting my face. “I haven’t decided yet.”

    I have never been to the Norwick Inn and I am pleasantly surprised by its simple comfort and war, cozy atmosphere. The rooms are so much better than in Peltarch. I hop up on a dresser, with the air of nonchalance.

    “I have never been here. This is very nice.”

    He leans against the bureau and smiles at me fondly. “Well I am a bit of a neat freak as you may have noticed. It’s a bit messy with the cushions on that bed though.” He removes his armor and moves closer. Stepping forward, he relocates his hand to the small of my back and draws me in closer. I giggle for him, like he’s expecting.

    “Careful now, or I zap you with my charm…”

    “To late for that. You cast your spell upon me a good while back. Besides, you’re much brighter than that.” He’s getting over confident.

    I wrap my legs around him as his eyes look at me intimately. He leans in kisses me while his hands runs up and down my back. I arch in response and laugh to myself, closing my eyes as my dark inner thoughts quicken… He has little idea that I am not thinking about swooning him with a seductive smile… I break way and as our lips part. He continues to gaze dreamily into my eyes.

    “After that, a tuck in doesn’t sound bad at all.”

    I tilt my head casually to the side, breaking his stare. The tone of my voice shifts dangerously away from intimacy. “It is certainly not my intention to act like a harlot” I suddenly hop down from the chest of drawers. The dreamy look vanishes from his face, replaced by a hint of sudden panic.

    “A harlot lacks of sophistication milady. You are a woman with magnificent presence and it is my greatest fear that this would just be some dream and I wake up I would be all alone.”

    A nice try, but I have to bite my lip to control my laughter. I say nothing and he fills the void.

    “There is no need to rush, the nectar of your lips was…”

    I place a lone finger on his lips, silencing him. “You need to learn when to stop talking.” I throw a playful smile at him. “Why don’t you take your much needed rest..”

    His arms are still around me despite the sound of defeat in his voice. “Fair enough then… You play a fanciful game.” He breaks away and returns to the bed.

    “I always do.” I reply, smiling to myself as I walk out the door.

    I hear him shout at me as I descend the stairs. “You promised to tuck me in. This is unforgivable!”

    "Men" .. and I laugh