Drulissa's Domain

He never wanted to wake up. His wife smiled at him, sitting outside with his children, motioning for him to join them for their evening feast. His wife, a rugged beauty named Yevna, wore the dress he made her for their anniversary of blood-bonding. Grakdar's heart ached. He hadn't seen his children in so long. His oldest son, named Grog, was already grown. His wife held their youngest, a daughter named Torga, and their third child, a boy named Grak, was chasing the family's pet dire wolf pup around the table. "Grak," she called. "Come and eat." He was about to step towards her when he felt a searing pain. He looked down and saw a deep gash and fresh blood. His armor was gone, and the wound was bleeding badly. His wife frowned. "Husband, come and eat. You must have strength. You are hurt." He was about to speak, but suddenly, a roar filled the air. The dragon flew overhead and landed, unleashing a torrent of fire on his home. ...

 Have you ever stood in the darkness, alone, waiting for the touch of a lover? Have you felt the thrill as he pressed his lips upon your own? Have you felt the flood of passion rushing through your veins at that first meeting and parting? I stand alone in my bedroom, waiting for his touch. I know he is coming to me; but how shall I meet him? Shall I be all white like a bride or all red with love? In my heart, there beats a fierce fire that will consume me unless satisfied. His embrace has been long awaited — too long anticipated. I am burning up within and would have his caresses now! And yet, my heart beats in silence, awaiting the only one I know could ever love me. I sigh for the caress of his fingers and his lips’ pressure. Oh, let me feel them on my own! How cold is this night! How lonely! And yet, what is loneliness? That I may not die of it, I must think of others. Thousands upon thousands suffer more than I at present can imagine. They mourn — they weep — they wail al...

 I lay in the moonlight, my fingers slowly tracing along the elegant curves of my body, stroking between my breasts, every sense heightened and feeling alive. I let my mind wander back to the day when I had first met with this exquisite pleasure. It was a summer's morning, one hour after sunrise; and as yet the sun itself, although its light filtered through the high treetops, had not thoroughly awakened from its slumbers within the sky. The air, too, still breathed with an unquiet dreaminess that seemed to set each tree and flower motionless, while their shadows upon the damp earth stood erect and rigid as though caught by the spell of some phantom dance wind. The man in my dreams was with me again, if only in the recesses of my mind. His lips — that most wonderful part of his being — had caressed me in all the sweetest of ways. His arms, oh! What would they not have done to my soul? And we were alone together forevermore, lost in the wild regions of passion, with no fear or pai...

 The carriage lay on its side, and she could hear the sounds of battle around them. She pulled on the arm of her sister and shook her awake. "We have to go. We have to run!" "What's happening?" she said, rubbing her head. "Orcs! We have to run. It is too dangerous to stay." Her elven sister's name was Laira, and she was a young spring flower in elf years. Her name meant spring because she was the youngest daughter, and the elder seers prophesized that she would bring a new age for their people, the High Elves. Her name was Hope, and the two sisters were princesses of the Elven realm of Highwind. Hope pulled on Laira's dress, helping her stand in the carriage, and she peeked out of the door above her. The orcs were not attacking; they were running past. She saw them as little more than flashes of grey-green as they moved quickly down the road, fleeing the battle. She wondered why they were running away if they were fighting someone else,...