Featured Items: PIERO+Indian skirt, Bauhaus Movement – YeaH! Fashion Necklace, OXIDE Farai Armband, & #187# Tribal Ring (TFC)
The beat was driving, and it moved through their bodies like a call from a higher power. It was the spirits of the ancestors perhaps, encouraging the movements, encouraging the motion, and inviting them all to dance. The stars glittered overhead, and the moon shone brilliant and pale.
The bonfire was burning, its smoke laced with the leaves of the canillaberry shrubs. This, combined with the euphoria of the victory from earlier that day, was even better. The People and their spirits were up, and they celebrated – for they had a prisoner.
It wasn’t often that The People got to celebrate, as they had the last few months. After years of persecution, and relentless attacks, they had won victory after victory against the Elven aggressors. The Gruganarchs (as the forest elves called themselves) of the ancient and vast Wayne’er Forest, had been relentless, cunning, and cruel the last few years, breaking many Summers of peace and prosperity. It was like the elves had gone mad. And their onslaught had been horrible in the cost of lives and homes.
But the People, the human tribes of the plains, had made alliances with the Dwarves of the Ashbourne Mountains, and the odd giant earth-folk, the Grogiernols, who lived in the meadows and hills that bordered the plains near the Wayne’er Forest, they had slowly but surely turned the tide, and defeated the previously unstoppable armies of those mad elves.
Cloud Dancer, the Shaman and wizard for the tribe, danced now, at the head of a troupe of dancers, as they supported the spell he was weaving around the captive. The Prisoner was tied to the twin Brellwood trees, near the bonfire. It’s silver and bronze leaves sparkled in the firelight, as the lithe and beautiful shaman wove the patterns of the ritual spell in the air.
Their captive, a tall, lean black-maned elf, stripped bare but for a tattered loin cloth, and covered in bruises, scratches, mud, and blood was stretched out by his arms between the two trees, stout leather thongs binding his wrists. His tattoos and body piercings were not well seen in his current state of disrepair. His long mane of purple-streaked black hair was hanging limp and blood clotted in places. He was awake, though one eye was half swollen, and his lips, once full and expressive, were split in one place, and bloodied. His body ached, and he was so tired and hungry. Still, his eyes were on the one called Cloud Dancer. He couldn’t stop from watching the young shaman.
The pale skinned spell-weaver twirled and wove his sensual pattern, his arms and legs lean and strong, his chest bare and shimmering in the firelight, the talisman on his chest fueling the spell. He had coated himself with sacred oil, and it made the dancer feel even more alive, powerful, and sensual, as he swayed his hips through a slitted skirt that slithered and swept around him, and gave tantalizing views of his legs. His hair was braided into dreadlocks, tied back with beads in a bun, with stray strands that swayed and slithered over his shoulders, chest and stomach.
He narrowed his dark eyes at the captive, and swept around in elaborate curves and motions, his fingertips making complex motions as he wove his spell around the prisoner.
The captive was called Rynn, and he began to feel the effects of the spell’s power, surging around him, even as he could not help himself to watch the Shaman and appreciate his skill in casting the magics.
Rynn was not, in fact, one of the Gruganarchs. He was an ambassador of the Grey Elves of Star Haven, trying to broker a peace. But he’d been captured in the surprise attack; when he’d been knocked unconscious and taken captive. They’d bound him and carried him away like a spoil of war, and he’d been roughly handled, but not cruelly. He couldn’t blame them for that, if they thought him a forest elf.
And now, the dazzling shaman was weaving some charm spell around him. Didn’t he know that such spells wouldn’t work on him? An elf? But, whatever. Rynn could admire the beauty of the dancer, and he couldn’t help himself but think of what it would be like to have a kiss from him.
Cloud Dancer’s hips swayed, his body conducting the magical net around the elf, tightening it ever more, his fingers caressing the air, as magic and power gathered, suffusing his pale skin. He danced right up to the captive, his breath hot on Rynn’s sensitive pointed ears as he brushed against the captive. The elf could almost hear the Shaman’s heartbeat, over the pounding tribal drums. There were shouts and hoots and cries from the tribe around, encouraging Cloud.
Cloud Dancer’s hand shot out and the Hornet’s Needle on his right index finger jabbed Rynn’s chest, right above his left nipple, drawing a bead of blood, and injecting the final ingredient into the elf’s body. The spell exploded in a shower of light, as Cloud shouted out to the heavens and released the energy, and it snapped around the elf like a leash and collar, yoking the elf to him.
The shaman grinned at Rynn, and leaned in and licked the captive’s lips, before whispering in his ear, “From now, until the moon sets 3 nights hence, you are mine, elfboy, “ he growled, as he lifted his chin, eyes shining in triumph. And the crowd’s collective voice rose up in a war-shout of victory, feeding the Shaman’s power.
Rynn’s sight seemed to grow dark for a moment, and then he could only see Cloud Dancer, as if through a fog. And his heart nearly stopped. He didn’t know what the Shaman had done to him, but at that moment, smelling his scent, and feeling the heat of his body, and that brief taste of the shaman’s mouth … so close, he gulped and didn’t know if he could control himself. All he wanted to do was fall at the Shaman’s feet and please him.
Cloud Dancer could see in the elf’s eyes that the spell had taken hold, and he drew out the ritual knife, and slashed the leather thongs, and the elf tumbled to the ground before him.
“Before this night is through, elf – you’ll know why they call me Cloud Dancer.”
Skirt- PIERO+Indian skirt \ White RARE (TFC)
Necklace- Bauhaus Movement – YeaH! Fashion Necklace (TFC)
Arm bands- OXIDE Farai Armband (TFC)
Leather band- ::GB::Leather Wind Bracelet (Whimsical)
Ring- #187# Tribal Ring (TFC)
Eyeshadow- Zibska ~ Arabel Eyemakeup (Store)
Ghost’Ink FGC :: Orpheus Tattoo :: Black RARE (Store)