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Carpa 3088 download Este fin de semana he concluido las ultimas correcciones y ya esta disponible para su descarga Carpa 3088. Un numero de caracter monografico dedicado a la figura de Angustias de la soledad Martinez Ribera. Como es habitual, he aqui un fragmento de su introduccion. Intro: La aparición de este numero especial, Carpa 3088, al improviso, habrá sorprendido, sin duda alguna, a las seguidoras de las publicaciones de nuestro tercer mandato editorial y de las ediciones de la redacción de fotografía antigua del mismo. De una forma somera, en Carpa 1288, se comento, un tanto de pasada, la necesidad de dedicar un volumen extraordinario a la figura de Angustias de la Soledad Martinez Ribera y su magistral obra artística, apareciendo en ese numero como una de las desconocidas influencias de Condenacion Torres Mesa y como, muy por encima, nos detuvimos en sus historias gráficas y desdichada biografía. Cuando se cerro la edición del volumen anterior, todo estaba dispuesto para concluir los monográficos dedicados a la figura de “Nene” e iniciar el trabajo en el gran proyecto editorial centrado en la historia de la fotografía planetaria tal y como anunciaba en la despedida de nuestro 1288. Todo se precipito cuando a las pocas horas de abrirse sus servidores y distribuir las ediciones físicas, fui citada por la autoridad principal de este mandato: Genoveva Dorcas de Aguirre Puertas, a requerimiento de la octava división del conocimiento. El hecho de ser convocada directamente por nuestra autoridad ya es de por si un hecho extraordinario, pero aun lo era mas que “La octava de la sabias”, como familiarmente se conoce a la división de xenobiologia, fuera quien, realmente, convocara la reunión. Llegue al piso 43 de nuestra torre acompañada por Petia y Tini por cuestiones de respaldo técnico y datos pues nuestra linea editorial no tiene y, posiblemente, nunca tendrá relación con los temas de estudio de las arzodoctas de los laboratorios de investigación extra planetaria. Poco puedo contar sobre la entrevista con Doña Genoveva, nada confidencial hubo en ella, con su encantadora amabilidad y presencia, nuestra autoridad ordeno que la redacción se preparara para recibir, en tres días, la visita de Doña Estrella del Castillo de Valdivia y Orozco arzodocta principal de la división y figura legendaria de la exploración espacial por sus investigaciones y descubrimientos sobre las distintas formas de vida extra planetarias. Ella misma nos comunicaría el porque de su visita aunque nos aseguro que sus motivos eran de carácter estrictamente privado y nada tenían que ver con lo publicado hasta entonces por la redacción Prácticamente, toda la reunión fue acaparada por Petia y, en menor medida, por Tini, Doña Genoveva, como otras tantas venerables antes de ella, estaba fascinada por nuestra redactora y sobre todo, en su caso, por su producción novelera y folletinera. Petia correspondió a dicha admiración como merecía nuestra autoridad y uno tras otro interpreto lo mas granado de su composición melódica y obsequio a Doña Genoveva con los archivos de tres producciones inéditas creadas junto a Tini y la pentarquia, para despedirse con la promesa de una bienvenida musical a la visitante que nunca podría olvidar. Al salir, animadas las tres aunque algo intrigadas, por la urgencia de la reunión y visita, decidimos que la única actitud posible seria el no poético gesto de: “Pongame a mi otras dos”, al tomar asiento donde siempre. La visita de Doña Estrella a nuestra redacción, en solitario, sin comitiva, se desarrollo sin incidentes: Se intereso por nuestro trabajo, disfruto del espectáculo musical de la pentarquia, lloro con sus folletines y merendó con nosotras como una redactora mas, pero, antes de despedirse, nos sorprendió a todas al confesar el motivo de su petición a la autoridad del mandato. La arzodocta, décadas atrás, había iniciado una colección de arte privado en la que Angustias de la Soledad Martinez Ribera era su absoluta protagonista. Una colección mantenida en secreto por, en su momento, una infantil cuestión de prestigio academico dada la temática principal de su obra, y que Carpa 1288 le había llevado a romper, hacer publica su existencia y decidido a solicitar al mandato editorial el permiso, sin problemas concedido, para que nuestra redacción realizara el monográfico que presento en este previo aunque antes quería entrevistarse con nosotras, para diseñar y dirigir su proyecto editorial, sin necesidad de recurrir a los ruegos u ordenes de nuestras superioras. Doña Estrella fue criada por su tia Enriqueta tras fallecer sus madres en un trágico accidente aeroespacial, Doña Enriqueta Dalando Urquijo era una de las pocas académicas especializada en los antiguos “linelines” o en cualquiera de sus variantes planetarias por lo que la futura xenobiologa creció con ellos y, llegada su primera juventud, quedo fascinada por la obra de Angustias de quien, una vez obtenido el reconocimiento como investigadora y la asociada estabilidad económica necesaria, inicio esa colección que comentaba un poco mas arriba. Un afán coleccionista que le llevo a descubrir desconocidas facetas de la artista y que gustosamente mostraría a esta redacción una vez iniciado el trabajo previo en este 3088 junto a todos los archivos documentales que, pacientemente, había reunido a lo largo de los años. No tuve que convocar ninguna reunión a posteriori para dar una respuesta, los ojos brillantes de mis compañeras suplicaban que aceptara el ruego de la académica. Se rompieron las ordenes de la superioridad e inmediatamente se acordó pasar una semana en la residencia de Doña Estrella del Castillo para visitar la colección y organizar los previos al inicio del real para este volumen especial. Básicamente, se decidió que toda la redacción se instalaría en la vivienda y desde allí se realizaría este Carpa 3088, que nuestras lectoras disfrutaran como hemos hecho nosotras. Como única condición dispuse que la propia Doña Estrella participaría activamente en la elaboración de la revista, como una redactora mas, dado el conocimiento sobre el personaje y, naturalmente, su posición nos abriría el acceso, sin burocráticos retrasos a según que fondos o archivos imperiales y privados. Doña Estrella del Castillo de Valdivia y Orozco, académica ilustre, al cerrar la velada y mientras Sagrario, entre lagrimas, desgranaba “ Un regalo envenenado” de Lucinda Roy, se convirtió en Doña Estrellita para Petia al aceptar un pequeño papel en una breve improvisación con la que pensaba abrir nuestras jornadas de trabajo. Google translator: This weekend I finished the final corrections and Carpa 3088 is now available for download. This special issue is dedicated to the figure of Angustias de la Soledad Martínez Ribera. As usual, here is an excerpt from its introduction. Intro: The unexpected appearance of this special issue, Carpa 3088, will undoubtedly have surprised those who follow the publications of our third editorial term and the editions from our vintage photography department. In Carpa 1288, we briefly mentioned, somewhat in passing, the need to dedicate an extraordinary volume to the figure of Angustias de la Soledad Martínez Ribera and her masterful artistic work, mentioning her in that issue as one of the unknown influences on Condenación Torres Mesa, and briefly touching upon her graphic stories and tragic biography. When the previous volume was finalized, everything was ready to complete the monographs dedicated to the figure of "Nene" and begin work on the major publishing project focused on the history of planetary photography, as announced in the closing remarks of our 1288th issue. Everything changed drastically when, just hours after launching the servers and distributing the physical copies, I was summoned by the principal authority of this administration: Genoveva Dorcas de Aguirre Puertas, at the request of the Eighth Division of Knowledge. The fact that I was summoned directly by our authority is extraordinary in itself, but it was even more so that "The Eighth of the Wise," as the xenobiology division is familiarly known, was the one who actually convened the meeting. I arrived on the 43rd floor of our tower accompanied by Petia and Tini for technical support and data, since our editorial focus has no connection, and possibly never will, with the areas of study of the archdaught scholars of the extraterrestrial research laboratories. I can say little about the interview with Doña Genoveva; there was nothing confidential about it. With her charming kindness and presence, our authority instructed the editorial staff to prepare to receive, in three days, the visit of Doña Estrella del Castillo de Valdivia y Orozco, principal archduke of the division and a legendary figure in space exploration for her research and discoveries regarding various forms of extraterrestrial life. She herself would inform us of the reason for her visit, although she assured us that her motives were strictly private and had nothing to do with what the editorial staff had published up to that point. Practically the entire meeting was dominated by Petia and, to a lesser extent, by Tini. Doña Genoveva, like so many other venerable women before her, was fascinated by our editor and, above all, in her case, by her novels and serialized novels. Petia reciprocated this admiration as befitted our authority, and one after another, she performed the finest pieces of her melodic compositions. She then presented Doña Genoveva with the recordings of three unreleased productions created with Tini and the Pentarquia, bidding farewell with the promise of a musical welcome for the visitor that she would never forget. As we left, the three of us, though somewhat intrigued by the urgency of the meeting and visit, decided that the only possible response would be the decidedly unpoetic gesture of: “Give me two more,” as we took our usual seats. Doña Estrella's visit to our newsroom, alone and without an entourage, went off without a hitch. She showed interest in our work, enjoyed the musical performance of the Pentarchy, wept over her pamphlets, and shared a snack with us like any other editor. But before leaving, she surprised us all by revealing the reason for her request to the editorial board. Decades earlier, the learned archbishop had begun a private art collection in which Angustias de la Soledad Martínez Ribera was the central figure. This collection had been kept secret, at the time due to a childish concern for academic prestige given the main theme of her work. Carpa 1288 had prompted her to break this silence, make its existence public, and request permission from the editorial board—granted without hesitation—for our editorial team to produce the special issue I am presenting here. However, she first wanted to meet with us to discuss designing and directing her editorial project, without having to resort to the pleas or orders of our superiors. Doña Estrella was raised by her aunt Enriqueta after her mothers died in a tragic aerospace accident. Doña Enriqueta Dalando Urquijo was one of the few academics specializing in the ancient "linears" or any of their planetary variations, so the future xenobiologist grew up surrounded by them. In her early adulthood, she became fascinated by the work of Angustias, and once she achieved recognition as a researcher and the necessary financial stability, she began the collection I mentioned earlier. This passion for collecting led her to discover unknown facets of the artist, which she would gladly share with this publication once she had begun the preliminary work on this issue, 3088, along with all the documentary archives she had patiently gathered over the years. I didn't have to call a meeting afterward to give an answer; the bright eyes of my colleagues begged me to accept the academic's request. The orders from our superiors were disregarded, and it was immediately agreed to spend a week at Doña Estrella del Castillo's residence to visit the collection and organize the preparations for the actual start of work on this special volume. Essentially, it was decided that the entire editorial team would be based at her house, and from there, this issue, Carpa 3088, would be produced, so that our readers could enjoy it as we have. My only condition was that Doña Estrella herself would actively participate in the magazine's production, as just another writer, given her knowledge of the subject and, naturally, her position would grant us access, without bureaucratic delays, to certain imperial and private collections and archives. Doña Estrella del Castillo de Valdivia y Orozco, an illustrious academic, as the evening drew to a close, and while Sagrario, in tears, recited Lucinda Roy's "A Poisoned Gift," became Doña Estrellita for Petia by accepting a small role in a brief improvisation with which she planned to open our work sessions. Algunas de sus paginas: Some images:

Carpa 1288 enlace para su descarga: Descargar Carpa 1288 download link: Download Carpa 1288 ya esta disponible para su descarga y como se comenta en su epilogo, cerrara la serie 1800 y los numeros de Carpa directamente relacionados con AMparo y sus compañeras. Tengo dos opciones abiertas para el siguiente Carpa, pero como tengo muchas dudas prefiero no comentar nada mas por el momento. Sera mejor que la propia redaccion nos intoduzca en este nuevo numero de Carpa: En la actualidad, resulta imposible trazar el mínimo perfil biográfico sobre el personaje. Conocemos la ubicación de la granja familiar y se conservan los habituales documentos burocráticos sobre su nacimiento o matriculación escolar básica, pero poco mas se sabe de la vida de la artista hasta el momento de su desaparición junto a las tres inseparables en el, diga lo que diga Petia (Carpa 708), desierto de Aguas calientes. Tras el fin de la guerra, Amparo, cumple con su promesa y libera a las madres de Condenacion, retorna la propiedad agrícola y, aunque, tras su desaparición, se inicia la pertinente investigación, su testimonio no aporta nada nuevo y su rastro se perderá sin remedio. A su muerte, la propiedad se subasta y años después desaparecerá bajo los nuevos planes urbanísticos de Toleta por lo que se borra cualquier recuerdo de la presencia de Condenacion y su familia. De su vida junto a Amparo solo se guarda el relato de la misma, Condenacion no escribe o comenta su obra, apenas encontraremos alguna nota manuscrita al dorso de sus obras, pero estas, en su mayoría, son meras indicaciones para trabajos o modificaciones posteriores. Afortunadamente, la capacidad de análisis de nuestras dos redactoras metálicas ha permitido identificar este auto de Condenacion, tomado ante un espejo con toda seguridad y ataviada con el chaquetón reglamentario de las oficiales superiores. Posiblemente, el arco temporal es limitado, fue realizado durante su etapa de aprendizaje como fotógrafa bajo la supervisión de su enamorada. Ya se ha comentado como Condenacion, antes de su encuentro con Amparo, solo había utilizado la camara fotográfica familiar para las consabidas sesiones de recuerdo. Quizás sea un tanto aventurado afirmarlo, pero creo que esta seria una de las primeras fotografías conscientes de la artista, adecuada introducción para este prologo a nuestro nuevo Carpa 1288. [...] En esa manipulación tipográfica que comentábamos, la artista, se adelanta de forma vertiginosa a los postulados de la llamada escuela Tolvanera, sus teorías sobre el diseño moderno marcan las actuales tendencias visuales y la propia Dorita las reconoce como propias. No caeremos en el error de exagerar la genialidad de la artista del pasado ni tampoco en el de ignorarla como fruto de la casualidad, pero si que queremos dejar constancia como la joven campesina alcanzo, con su esfuerzo y trabajo, las mismas conclusiones que las grandes teóricas de nuestro tiempo y, estoy segura, junto a Amparo acabaría desarrollándolas de una forma totalmente académica. Nuestra pagina acreditativa se basa en el indice incluido en ese numero de Cordel en la que la artista fragmenta y mutila la tipografía para convertirla en un elemento estético mas de la composición y obligar con ello, a la espectadora o lectora, a participar activamente en la construcción de su significado. Condenación utiliza la geometría del diseño para ocultar parte de la información transformando el nombre de la revista en una base arquitectónica y el número en una textura. A través de formas biomórficas, basadas en antiguos mitos sobre las “Divinas” que sugieren movimiento, y una gestión magistral del espacio negativo, la publicación se posiciona no solo como un archivo gráfico, sino como un manifiesto sobre la belleza de lo incompleto. Es, en definitiva, un ejercicio de precisión donde cada vacío y cada letra cortada tienen un propósito deliberado. [...] Google translator: Carpa 1288 is now available for download, and as mentioned in its epilogue, it will conclude the 1800 series and the Carpa issues directly related to Amparo and her companions. I have two options open for the next Carpa, but since I have many doubts, I prefer not to comment further for the moment. It would be best if the editorial team itself introduced us to this new issue of Carpa: Currently, it is impossible to draw even the most basic biographical profile of the character. We know the location of the family farm, and the usual bureaucratic documents regarding her birth and primary school enrollment have been preserved, but little else is known about the artist's life up until the moment of her disappearance, along with her three inseparable companions, in the Aguas Calientes desert, regardless of what Petia (Carpa 708) might say. After the war ended, Amparo kept her promise and freed Condenación's mothers, returning the farm property. Although an investigation was launched after her disappearance, her testimony yielded nothing new, and her trail was irretrievably lost. Upon her death, the property was auctioned off and years later disappeared under new urban development plans in Toleta, erasing any memory of Condenación and her family's presence. Only Amparo's own account of her life with Condenación remains; she didn't write or comment on her work. We find only a few handwritten notes on the backs of her pieces, and these are mostly mere indications for later work or modifications. Fortunately, the analytical skills of our two metal editors have allowed us to identify this photograph of Condenación, taken in front of a mirror, clearly wearing the regulation jacket of senior officers. The time frame is likely limited; it was probably taken during her apprenticeship as a photographer under the supervision of her lover. As has already been mentioned, Condenación, before her encounter with Amparo, had only used the family camera for the usual photo sessions. Perhaps it's a bit of a stretch to say so, but I believe this would be one of the artist's first conscious photographs, a fitting introduction to this prologue to our new Carpa 1288. [...] In that typographic manipulation we mentioned, the artist was remarkably ahead of her time in anticipating the tenets of the so-called Tolvanera school. Her theories on modern design shaped current visual trends, and Dorita herself acknowledged them as her own. We will not fall into the error of exaggerating the genius of this artist of the past, nor will we dismiss her as a mere coincidence. However, we do want to acknowledge how this young peasant woman, through her effort and work, reached the same conclusions as the great theorists of our time, and I am certain that, together with Amparo, she would eventually develop them in a fully academic manner. Our supporting documentation is based on the index included in that issue of Cordel, in which the artist fragments and mutilates typography to transform it into another aesthetic element of the composition, thereby compelling the viewer or reader to actively participate in constructing its meaning. Condemnation uses design geometry to conceal information, transforming the magazine's name into an architectural base and the issue number into a texture. Through biomorphic forms, based on ancient myths about the "Divines" that suggest movement, and a masterful use of negative space, the publication positions itself not only as a graphic archive but also as a manifesto on the beauty of incompleteness. Ultimately, it is an exercise in precision where every void and every cut-off letter has a deliberate purpose. [...] Algunas de sus paginas: Some images:

Ya he comenzado a trabajar dedicado a la obra de Condenacion como artista, el trabajo avanza con soltura y, posiblemente, publique antes de primavera. Incluyo en esta entrada grafica el prologo de dicho numero. Google translator: I've already begun working on the Condemnation project as an artist; the work is progressing smoothly, and I'll possibly publish it before spring. I've included the prologue for that issue in this post. Prologo: Para toda la redacción, quedaba claro que, Condenación, impresiona a las amantes de la fotografía antigua y el arte en general por su audaz trabajo gráfico. Aunque se conservan, de su autoria, brillantes muestras de arte fotográfico y pictórico, es en su vertiente como diseñadora gráfica donde muestra todo su potencial talento. Asombro causo a esta redacción la aparición en el baúl de Amparo de algunos de sus trabajos gráficos incluidos en la revista contenedor “Cordel”, realizada junto a Amparo (Carpa 1508), y como en los siguientes sobres grises y, sin ningún orden ni concierto, fue apareciendo ese catalogo que solo puede recibir el calificativo de maravilloso. Para la portada de este monográfico, hemos seleccionado una pequeña muestra de lo que podría ser considerado su pequeño bestiario fantástico. Una serie de representaciones, papel recortado y tintas planas, de imaginada fauna que la artista fue realizando hasta el momento en el que se deposito el baúl en los archivos del regimiento de infantería motorizada numero 88. Este trabajo incluido en “Adiós a Cordel” se convertirá en el esqueleto básico del diseño de este volumen. Dorita decidió combinar el soberbio grafismo de la artista con el suyo propio para construir este Carpa 1288. Un volumen en el que los cálidos tonos grises, codificados en los sistemas de clasificación cromática del antiguo imperio maldito y establecidos muchos años antes del nacimiento de la protagonista de nuestro estudio, constituirían, junto a una estricta y parca selección cromática, el escenario adecuado para mostrar la evolución artística de Condenacion Rodriguez Mesa. Dorita, por lo tanto, decidió aplicar el método de trabajo de Condenacion a este nuevo monográfico de Carpa racionalizando los hallazgos realizados por la artista de forma intuitiva.Ya hemos comentado como Condenación nunca seguiría estudios artísticos de ningún tipo y como, hasta su encuentro con Amparo, trabajaría en la soledad de su habitación, con sus lápices de colores, papeles recortados, algunos pocos oleos y sin contacto alguno con las revolucionarias corrientes artísticas de su reino. Desconocemos cuando comienzan sus inquietudes artísticas, pero si que estamos seguras, testimonio de Amparo, que, desde un principio, se inspiro en las diferentes publicaciones editoriales proporcionadas por la corona, que podían consultarse en la biblioteca de su pueblo, Toleta, situado en las proximidades de Badía, Carpa 708, sin la adecuada guía académica. Esa carencia pedagógica, el azar es su guía, nefasta en muchos sentidos, le proporciona a su vez la libertad necesaria para romper o ignorar cualquier orden establecido que, si bien, por una parte le puede llevar a conclusiones erróneas, por la otra, le permitirá anticipar escuelas y modernas teorías que aparecerían muchos años después de su desaparición. Un argumento fácilmente demostrado si comparamos el trabajo tipográfico actual con las manipulaciones de las mismas que incluirá Condenación en “Cordel” y a las que curiosamente, no parece dar ninguna importancia. En esa manipulación tipográfica que comentábamos, la artista, se adelanta de forma vertiginosa a los postulados de la llamada escuela Tolvanera, sus teorías sobre el diseño moderno marcan las actuales tendencias visuales y la propia Dorita las reconoce como propias. No caeremos en el error de exagerar la genialidad de la artista del pasado ni tampoco en el de ignorarla como fruto de la casualidad, pero si que queremos dejar constancia como la joven campesina alcanzo, con su esfuerzo y trabajo, las mismas conclusiones que las grandes teóricas de nuestro tiempo y, estoy segura, junto a Amparo acabaría desarrollándola de una forma totalmente académica. Nuestra pagina acreditativa se basa en el indice incluido en ese numero de Cordel en la que la artista fragmenta y mutila la tipografía para convertirla en un elemento estético mas de la composición y obligar a la espectadora o lectora a participar activamente en la construcción de su significado. Condenación utiliza la geometría del diseño para ocultar parte de la información transformando el nombre de la revista en una base arquitectónica y el número en una textura. A través de formas biomórficas, basadas en antiguos mitos sobre las “Divinas” que sugieren movimiento, y una gestión magistral del espacio negativo, la publicación se posiciona no solo como un archivo gráfico, sino como un manifiesto sobre la belleza de lo incompleto. Es, en definitiva, un ejercicio de precisión donde cada vacío y cada letra cortada tienen un propósito deliberado. En la versión original de la publicación, se incluía la misma imagen que protagoniza nuestra acreditativa, ese trabajo en papel recortado y tintas planas que presenta a una joven cabalgando lo que parece ser algún tipo de ave mecánica y con un diseño futurista basado en los “Linelines” de anticipación tan populares en su imperio, un respetado arte de gran influencia en su obra gráfica y pictórica. En Carpa 1388 mostramos como alguna de las fantasías ejecutadas en la casa de madre Alicia se basaban en antiguas leyendas que incorporaban a las “Divinas” grandes alas para sus desplazamientos planetarios. En esta ocasión, Condenación, vuelve a las antiguas narraciones y, en base a las descripciones de antiguos textos religiosos, muestra a una de las creadoras de la vida en el planeta a bordo de lo que parece ser un ave metálica. Una concepción habitual en la antigüedad y que la artista utiliza para anunciar el destino al que viajaran las lectoras de “Cordel”. Dorita ha decidido incorporarla a nuestro Carpa, pero ha considerado adecuado crear su propia disposición tipográfica para ajustarla a la linea editorial de nuestra publicación, respetando la artística mutilación de su predecesora y conseguir así transmitir la fascinación que produce a esta redacción el trabajo de Condenacion. La ilustracion, curiosamente, no iba a ser incluida en ese numero de “Cordel”, cierre de la serie, si no que la iba a protagonizar una dinámica versión de la ilustracion de Condenacion que acompaña estas lineas y que, a pesar de lo irreal de su propuesta, mantenía una estética mucho mas académica y en cuyo dorso, Amparo, reconoce la autoria de su enamorada y su error al considerarla mas adecuada que la finalmente seleccionada. A lo largo de este volumen, nuestras lectoras descubrirán como la artista combina diferentes estilos y propuestas con total libertad. Podrá crear esa maravillosa creación incluida en nuestra portada, crear académicas como la que comentamos, o realizar pequeños formatos hiperrealistas basados en las creaciones de su siglo de oro mientras comienza a construir potentes fotografías experimentales que asombraran a la propia Amparo. Es indudable que Condenación comenzaría su carrera artística copiando las obras del pasado y que, hasta que no alcanzo la perfección deseada, no comenzó a trabajar en sus creaciones mas experimentales y vanguardistas. Ese fondo técnico, suponemos, que le permitiría ganar la confianza necesaria para seguir adelante pues solo, en un principio, la copia e imitación le serviría como guía de su mejora y evolución al carecer de la evaluación de una profesora adecuada. Por eso ante la ausencia de cualquier base de datos fiables sobre la vida y obra de Condenación, he decidido que sean Petia y Tini quienes asuman toda responsabilidad de las diferentes lineas de investigación, solo ellas con sus ilimitadas capacidades de análisis serán capaces de poder presentar a nuestras lectoras un retrato coherente de la figura del amor verdadero de Amparo y dejar, así, de considerarse una figura secundaria y alcanzar el papel histórico que merece. No hay que olvidar como su encuentro con Amparo no solo marcaría a esta en lo personal, su posterior enamoramiento y relación, influiría poderosamente en la obra que se iniciaría tras la ocupación de Badía y que analizamos en Carpa 708 como cierre de edición. Como ya se ha comentado, Dorita esta a cargo del diseño del volumen, Petia y Tini de la investigación académica y el resto de la redacción solo ha intervenido en momentos puntuales pues he preferido que se concentraran en Carpa 1388, simultáneo a este monográfico, pero, finalmente, aparecido un poco antes del mismo por los pequeños problemas comentados en nuestros servidores. Prologue: For the entire editorial team, it was clear that Condenación impresses lovers of vintage photography and art in general with her bold graphic work. Although brilliant examples of her photographic and pictorial art have been preserved, it is in her work as a graphic designer that she displays her full potential. This editorial team was astonished to find some of her graphic works in Amparo's trunk, including those from the anthology magazine "Cordel," which she created with Amparo (Carpa 1508). Then, in the following gray envelopes, seemingly without any rhyme or reason, this catalog, which can only be described as marvelous, began to appear. For the cover of this special issue, we have selected a small sample of what could be considered her small, fantastical bestiary. A series of representations, cut-out paper and flat inks, of imagined fauna, which the artist created up until the moment the trunk was deposited in the archives of the 88th Motorized Infantry Regiment. This work, included in “Adiós a Cordel” (Farewell to Cordel), would become the basic framework for the design of this volume. Dorita decided to combine the artist's superb graphic style with her own to construct this Carpa 1288 (Carp 1288). A volume in which the warm gray tones, codified in the chromatic classification systems of the ancient, cursed empire and established many years before the birth of the protagonist of our study, would constitute, along with a strict and sparse chromatic selection, the appropriate setting to showcase the artistic evolution of Condenación Rodríguez Mesa. Dorita, therefore, decided to apply Condenación's working method to this new Carpa monograph, rationalizing the discoveries made intuitively by the artist. We have already mentioned how Condenación never pursued any kind of artistic studies and how, until her encounter with Amparo, she worked in the solitude of her room, with her colored pencils, cut-out papers, a few oil paints, and without any contact with the revolutionary artistic currents of her kingdom. We do not know when her artistic inclinations began, but we are certain, based on Amparo's testimony, that from the beginning she was inspired by the various publications provided by the crown, which could be consulted in the library of her village, Toleta, located near Badía, Carpa 708, without proper academic guidance. This lack of formal training, this reliance on chance as her guide—a disastrous flaw in many ways—also grants her the necessary freedom to break or ignore any established order. While this can lead her to erroneous conclusions, it also allows her to anticipate schools of thought and modern theories that would emerge many years after her death. This argument is easily demonstrated by comparing her current typographic work with the manipulations of type that Condenación will include in “Cordel,” manipulations to which, curiously, she seems to attach no importance. In this typographic manipulation, the artist anticipates the tenets of the so-called Tolvanera school by a dizzying margin. Her theories on modern design shape current visual trends, and Dorita herself acknowledges them as her own. We will not fall into the error of exaggerating the genius of this artist of the past, nor will we dismiss her as a mere coincidence. However, we do wish to acknowledge how this young peasant woman, through her effort and work, reached the same conclusions as the great theorists of our time, and I am certain that, together with Amparo, she would eventually develop them in a fully academic manner. Our supporting page is based on the index included in that issue of Cordel, in which the artist fragments and mutilates the typography to transform it into another aesthetic element of the composition, compelling the viewer or reader to actively participate in constructing its meaning. Condenación uses the geometry of design to conceal part of the information, transforming the magazine's name into an architectural base and the issue number into a texture. Through biomorphic forms, based on ancient myths about the "Divine Ones" that suggest movement, and a masterful use of negative space, the publication positions itself not only as a graphic archive but also as a manifesto on the beauty of incompleteness. It is, ultimately, an exercise in precision where every gap and every cut-out letter has a deliberate purpose. In the original version of the publication, the same image featured on our cover was included: a work in cut paper and flat colors depicting a young woman riding what appears to be some kind of mechanical bird, with a futuristic design based on the "Linelines" of anticipation so popular in his empire—a respected art form that greatly influenced his graphic and pictorial work. In Carpa 1388, we showed how some of the fantasies enacted in Mother Alicia's house were based on ancient legends that incorporated large wings for the "Divine Ones" during their planetary travels. This time, Condenación returns to ancient narratives and, based on descriptions from ancient religious texts, depicts one of the creators of life on the planet aboard what appears to be a metallic bird. This was a common concept in antiquity, and the artist uses it to announce the destination to which the readers of "Cordel" will travel. Dorita has decided to include it in our Carpa, but has deemed it appropriate to create her own typographic layout to align it with our publication's editorial line, respecting the artistic mutilation of its predecessor and thus conveying the fascination that Condenación's work evokes in this editorial team. The illustration, curiously, wasn't originally intended for that issue of "Cordel," the series finale. Instead, it was to feature a dynamic version of the Condenación illustration accompanying these lines, which, despite its surreal nature, maintained a much more academic aesthetic. On the back of the cover, Amparo acknowledges her lover's authorship and her mistake in considering it more suitable than the one ultimately selected. Throughout this volume, our readers will discover how the artist combines different styles and approaches with complete freedom. She can create that marvelous piece featured on our cover, produce academic works like the one we've discussed, or create small hyperrealistic formats based on the works of her golden age, all while beginning to develop powerful experimental photographs that would astonish even Amparo herself. It's undeniable that Condenación began her artistic career by copying works from the past and that she didn't begin working on her more experimental and avant-garde creations until she achieved the desired perfection. This technical foundation, we assume, would allow her to gain the necessary confidence to move forward, since initially, copying and imitation would only serve as a guide for her improvement and evolution, lacking the evaluation of a proper teacher. Therefore, given the absence of any reliable database on the life and work of Condenación, I have decided that Petia and Tini will assume full responsibility for the different lines of research. Only they, with their boundless analytical abilities, will be able to present our readers with a coherent portrait of Amparo's true love, thus ceasing to be considered a secondary figure and achieving the historical role she deserves. We must not forget how her encounter with Amparo would not only mark her personally, but also how their subsequent love and relationship would powerfully influence the work that began after the occupation of Badía, which we analyzed in Carpa 708 as the closing issue. As already mentioned, Dorita is in charge of the design of the volume, Petia and Tini of the academic research and the rest of the writing team only intervened at specific times because I preferred that they concentrate on Carpa 1388, simultaneous to this monograph, but, finally, appeared a little before it due to the small problems mentioned in our servers.

Carpa 1388 descarga/ download Ya he subido al servidor el nuevo numero de Carpa, Carpa 1388. Al final dividire el monografico dedicado a "Nene" en dos partes. Esta segunda parte no se cuando aparecera pues primero quiero acabar el dedicado a Condenacion. Como siempre, la revista debe leerse a doble pagina con portada. I've already uploaded the new issue of Carpa, Carpa 1388, to the server. I'll be splitting the special feature on "Nene" into two parts. I'm not sure when the second part will be released, as I want to finish the one on Condenación first. As always, the magazine should be read as a double-page spread with the cover. Antes de la correspondiente galeria grafica, añadire los textos de prologos e introducciones. Before the corresponding graphic gallery, I will add the texts of prologues and introductions. En realidad, podría considerarse que esta introducción esta de mas en este volumen. Lo escrito en nuestro Carpa 1888, en aquellos días ultimo de la serie, mantiene su validez, pero nuestras lectoras ya han comprobado que no fue su cierre y, desde entonces, ha sido publicado Carpa 708, final definitivo de los 1800, aunque yo no estoy tan segura de la validez de nuestra afirmación. El trabajo artístico de doña Carmen es fuente inagotable para infinidad de tesis y trabajos artísticos y el estudio del material depositado en el baúl aun puede enfrentarse a una de las maravillosas sorpresas que la artista oculto entre su caótico desorden y desde el que reclama, una vez mas, nuestra atención. Como se comento en aquellas paginas, este será el primer monográfico dedicado a la figura de “Nene” fuera de los círculos mas académicos y dedicado a difundir, entre el gran publico, la fascinante obra fotográfica de la artista de camara de Carmencita y su depravada corte. Una artista seducida por la fuerza del mal y que viajo desde posturas eminentemente no poéticas y vanguardistas a entregarse sin tapujos a la mas perversa oscuridad que, como nunca, amenazo a este planeta tal y como presentamos en aquella corta sección final de “1888”. No teníamos muy claro, a la hora de realizarla, si nuestra petición para desarrollar este volumen seria atendida positivamente. Los tanteos entre nuestras lectoras habían sido muy favorables y solo la rigidez, mas que censura hablaríamos de ostracismo contra esa cultura de nuestras cuestoras de mandato, nos hicieron dudar, en un primer momento, de presentar nuestra petición. Sorprendentemente, la respuesta llego mas pronto de lo habitual y esta aceptaba nuestro proyecto sin correcciones e, incluso, añadía los comentarios favorables de la corona, el gobierno y nuestro parlamento. Por lo escrito en la respuesta, nuestras instituciones llevaban largo tiempo considerando la idea de rescatar del olvido las figuras del arte, pensamiento y ciencias del antiguo reino maldito y concederles, por fin, el reconocimiento merecido por su colaboración al desarrollo del planeta, había llegado el momento de borrar la oscuridad maldita de su agónico final y restablecer su importancia en el devenir de nuestra historia. Cuando se publique este numero de Carpa, muchas de las redacciones de los diversos mandatos, ya habrán editado y presentado publicaciones similares a esta y dedicadas a otras tantas figuras de la cultura de aquel reino. En un primer momento, antes de la franca autorización de nuestro mandato, diseñamos una edición basada, casi palabra por palabra, en el esquema de aquella publicación con vistas a reforzar nuestra petición y tener preparado un esquema funcional y aprobado ya por nuestras lectoras. Tras la respuesta afirmativa, convoque una reunión de toda la redacción en nuestra terraza para discutir la posibilidad de crear un nuevo proyecto para presentar la obra de “Nene” que evitara lo ya expuesto en ese Carpa anterior. El contenido del mismo seria transferido a los servidores adjuntos a este Carpa 1388 y con facilidad podría ser consultado por nuestras lectoras. Dejando aparte el hecho que mis redactoras suelen considerar estas reuniones como una fiesta: “La terraza era una fiesta” es el lema de todas ellas, la velada fue de lo mas fructífera y según proclamo Petia para cerrarla: “a partir de ese momento rodaremos en color y será preciso construir un maravilloso escenario musical”, todo eso antes de unirse a Sagrario para interpretar una ebria versión de: “Volveré de entre la muerta esperanza” de Vilma Guas. De esa reunión surgió este numero de Carpa eminentemente visual y orientado a presentar la obra de la fotógrafa desde un punto de vista rigurosamente academico y objetivo y evitar, en todo momento, los juicios morales sobre su persona y concentrarnos en esa poderosa obra artística y no poética que influyo decisivamente en las artistas surgidas tras el fin de la guerra y de la opresión aristocrática. De ese numero anterior solo hemos incluido las pausas publicitarias que, como en aquella ocasión, correrá la selección a cargo de Petia y aunque mantendremos un recorrido biográfico desde sus primeros pasos hasta su muerte durante los combates por el puente de las pescadoras, intentaremos mantener un enfoque totalmente nuevo para esta monografía. En aquel numero fue inevitable anotar o comparar las similitudes de su obra con las de doña Carmen, pero ahora, fuera ya de la serie 1800, evitaremos estas comparaciones y nos centraremos solo en “Nene” y su mundo. Nuestras lectoras ya conocerán la incorporación de forma oficial a esta redacción de Tini A6RN y Basilia Villalobos y como negociamos en la actualidad la llegada de Luisa, la que produce felicidad, a esta redacción también de forma definitiva. Tini y Basilia han sido las encargadas de seleccionar las fotografías realizadas para los talleres de costura y comentar dichas campañas y fotografías. Luisa, por su parte y a través de los archivos de la real casa, ha sido imprescindible para identificar a las protagonistas de esas imágenes y desentrañar, para todas nosotras y nuestras lectoras, los entresijos de la aristocracia gobernante durante la vida de “Nene” y las extrañas costumbres imperantes en su rígida sociedad de clases. Por lo demas, el resto de la redacción se ha centrado en el estudio de todo el material depositado por las tres ayas en nuestros mandatos y, como siempre, Paquita y Dorita asumen el diseño de este nuevo volumen de Carpa. Debo reconocer que ha sido, este proceso de edición, una actividad de lo mas gratificante. Por una parte presentaremos la obra de una gran artista, que a pesar de todo el mal causado por sus semejantes, no merece ese olvido y por la otra, ha avanzado la comprensión por esta redacción de esa sociedad, la mas culta y avanzada del planeta en esa época y que fue capaz de cometer toda suerte de atrocidades en lapso de tiempo realmente breve para nuestra cronología. Desde su caída, infinidad de estudios han intentado comprender las causas y motivos de esa transformación global. Lo que estos análisis no han conseguido desentrañar a lo largo de todos estos años no es el objetivo de esta publicación, pero si que lo es avanzar en el análisis de una sociedad capaz de generar artistas como la protagonista de nuestro volumen monográfico. Debo cerrar ya esta breve introducción, ha llegado mi momento de brillar y asombrar a toda la redacción y a mi Consuelo, en particular, con mi interpretación de: “Fingiré que soy tu esclava” de la sin par Roció Peña para dar la bienvenida a las nuevas redactoras y este ultimo numero de Carpa. Google translator: In reality, this introduction could be considered superfluous in this volume. What was written in our Carpa 1888, in those final days of the series, remains valid, but our readers have already verified that it was not its conclusion, and since then, Carpa 708, the definitive end of the 1800s, has been published, although I am not so sure of the validity of our assertion. Doña Carmen's artistic work is an inexhaustible source for countless theses and artistic works, and the study of the material deposited in the trunk may still uncover one of the marvelous surprises that the artist concealed within her chaotic disarray, from which she once again demands our attention. As mentioned in those pages, this will be the first monograph dedicated to the figure of "Nene" outside of the most academic circles, and dedicated to disseminating, among the general public, the fascinating photographic work of the photographer of Carmencita and her depraved court. An artist seduced by the force of evil, who journeyed from decidedly non-poetic and avant-garde positions to surrender herself without reservation to the most perverse darkness, which, as never before, threatened this planet, as we presented in that short final section of “1888.” When we submitted it, we weren't entirely sure if our request to develop this volume would be granted. Feedback from our readers had been very positive, and only the rigidity—more like ostracism than censorship—of our governing bodies against this culture made us hesitate, at first, to submit our request. Surprisingly, the response arrived sooner than usual, accepting our project without revisions and even including favorable comments from the Crown, the government, and our parliament. As stated in the response, our institutions had long considered rescuing from oblivion the figures of art, thought, and science of the ancient, cursed kingdom and finally granting them the recognition they deserved for their contribution to the development of the planet. The time had come to erase the cursed darkness of their agonizing end and restore their importance in the course of our history. By the time this issue of Carpa is published, many of the editorial teams from the various administrations will have already edited and presented similar publications dedicated to other cultural figures from that kingdom. Initially, before receiving the explicit authorization from our administration, we designed an edition based almost word for word on the structure of that publication, with the aim of strengthening our request and having a functional format already approved by our readers. After the affirmative response, I convened a meeting of the entire editorial team on our terrace to discuss the possibility of creating a new project to present the work of "Nene" that would avoid what had already been presented in that previous Carpa. The content would be transferred to the servers attached to this Carpa 1388 and could easily be accessed by our readers. Leaving aside the fact that my editors usually consider these meetings a party—"The terrace was a party" is their motto—the evening was extremely productive, and as Petia proclaimed to close it: "From this moment on, we'll be filming in color, and it will be necessary to build a wonderful musical set," all this before joining Sagrario to perform a drunken version of "Volveré de entre la muerta esperanza" by Vilma Guas. From that meeting emerged this issue of Carpa, eminently visual and geared towards presenting the photographer's work from a rigorously academic and objective point of view, avoiding at all times moral judgments about her and concentrating on that powerful artistic—not poetic—work that decisively influenced the artists who emerged after the end of the war and aristocratic oppression. From the previous issue, we have only included the advertising breaks, the selection of which, as on that occasion, will be handled by Petia. Although we will maintain a biographical overview from her early days to her death during the fighting for the Fisherwomen's Bridge, we will attempt to maintain a completely new approach for this monograph. In that previous issue, it was inevitable to note or compare the similarities between her work and that of Doña Carmen, but now, outside the 1800 series, we will avoid these comparisons and focus solely on "Nene" and her world. Our readers will already know about the official addition of Tini A6RN and Basilia Villalobos to this editorial team, and how we are currently negotiating the arrival of Luisa, the one who brings joy, to this team permanently as well. Tini and Basilia have been in charge of selecting the photographs taken for the sewing workshops and commenting on these campaigns and photographs. Luisa, for her part, and through the archives of the royal household, has been essential in identifying the protagonists of these images and unraveling, for all of us and our readers, the intricacies of the ruling aristocracy during "Nene's" lifetime and the strange customs prevalent in its rigid class society. For the rest of the editorial team, we have focused on studying all the material deposited by the three governesses during our terms, and, as always, Paquita and Dorita are handling the design of this new volume of Carpa. I must admit that this editing process has been a most rewarding experience. On the one hand, we will present the work of a great artist who, despite all the harm inflicted by her fellow human beings, does not deserve to be forgotten. On the other hand, this editorial team has advanced its understanding of that society—the most cultured and advanced on the planet at that time—which was capable of committing all sorts of atrocities in a remarkably short period of time in our chronological order. Since its fall, countless studies have attempted to understand the causes and motives of that global transformation. What these analyses have failed to unravel over all these years is not the objective of this publication, but rather to further the analysis of a society capable of producing artists like the protagonist of our special issue. I must now conclude this brief introduction; my moment has arrived to shine and amaze the entire editorial team, and my Consuelo in particular, with my interpretation of "I Will Pretend I Am Your Slave" by the incomparable Rocío Peña, to welcome the new editors and this latest issue of Carpa. Galeria/ gallery

Red Sand Chapter 2 Revision.docx Hey folks, sorry about the year or so wait, had a lot of personal issues come up...But here is the revised portion of Chapter 2A, 2B will be coming along shortly. Enjoy and feel free to comment, share, etc. Above is the word document, just in case this one below has format issues. Chapter 2A: The Party The feeling of being stalked only grew more and more intense as I started to hear the panting, maybe some sort of animal must’ve slipped through the fences looking for food. The funny thing is though; I don’t see Ptra getting startled, which is strange because he usually attacks anything that frightens him. I guess I’m just imagining things. With my back turned, hands at the ready to grapple whatever is coming for me I felt a large mass knock me to the ground. I hit my head on the way down, causing me to roll over groaning, feeling something wet on my face. It was a tongue and not a human’s mind you; the tongue was followed with the smell of nasty ball breath and an incessant panting sound. I knew all too well who this assailant was; it was my most trusted ally, Leke. Somebody must have let the damn dog out of his pen and now he is running around licking people, filling my nostrils with his nasty dog breath. The big black and brown dog stood about the size of a large desert wolf, this is probably due to him being a wolf dog but one never knows these things for sure. The big lug has an almost completely lupine appearance, save for one of his ears being floppy like that of dogs. Along with this, he exhibits many dog like behaviors such as his enjoyment of fetching things. “You’re a good boy aren’t you? Even despite all your annoying quirks, aren’t you boy?” I mutter as I pet him, eliciting a content panting noise from him. However, I still get the feeling that my faithful companion was not my true assailant, this of course being confirmed by both Ptra and Leke becoming excited by some sort of presence near us. “Show yourself this instant!” I say as I turn towards the door frame cautiously, only getting a couple of muffled childlike chuckles and giggles in return. I decided to sneak up towards the source of the noise just outside of the doorway; as soon as I get out there I’m going to tackle the fiend just like I did big brother. I got right at the doorway waiting only a mere 5 seconds until I jumped out and lunged myself at the source of the noise, nothing could prepare me for the utter sense of embarrassment I would face. The thing that unnerved and almost frightened me was not some roaming beast or brigand, no; it was a pile of two dumb kids laid underneath me. My sibling rage started to boil as I knew who these hooligans were and what they wanted; the twins had always been trouble makers (even at the ages of 12) so I guess clownish behavior runs in the family. Mili and Taph were inseparable, even from birth they clung to each other like furs or linen on a cold desert night. Mili was technically the oldest of the twins (at least by a few seconds); her sandy brown skin matched her beautiful brown and green hinted eyes, whereas her messy long black hair glowed with its deep midnight hue. I did not know it at the time, but apparently she had the same “condition” that our oldest sister had; this information only being disclosed to my mother, father and Taph, outside of the midwives who delivered her. She was a feisty little scamp and in retrospect I now can see why, the anomaly often causes the people it effects to take on traits of their opposites, leading to some interesting behaviors. But none the less, I loved her and my other siblings dearly (save for the accursed one) even despite her faults. Mili can be a very rambunctious, outgoing and extroverted girl, usually behaving more like a young boy than a girl leading her to get into conflict and display unladylike behaviors publicly, whereas compared to Taph, who prefers to act in an opposite fashion to our sister. Taph was a very…..quiet child, way less outgoing and boisterous then our sister, he always would follow behind her like the weak little lamb that he was. He was even lighter than she was, which came to a surprise to us all as both our parents are dark of hue in the traditional Yoku fashion. His eyes were even stranger as they shone like topaz, a strange yellowish brown color emanating from them, giving him the impression of some sort of demon or cursed one, further leading to his shyness. Taph was always reluctant to go out anywhere because of his inborn meekness and the fact that most people saw him as some sort of freak; the fact that he was outside playing pranks on me with Mili shows that he is growing as a person, discarding his old self for something better and stronger. He too apparently was born with the “condition”, something even I cannot even comprehend to this day. “Why would the Gods permit this sort of abnormality, this mutation?” I do not know now nor did I know then. All these thoughts of mutations and the like running throughout my head did not curb their playful actions as they began to wrestle me even more, laughing hysterically, rousing Leke to jump in and start play growling at us. “Get off me you damn brats!” I said, being shaken out of my deep thought. “You Gods damned little shits keep playing pranks on me……and now this is your punishment!’’ I shouted quasi seriously causing Leke to bark in agreement. Picking both of them up under my arms, each secure under my defined musculature. Once I had the two brats, I hauled them over to the horse’s water trough (large enough to fit an adult man inside mind you) and threw them in soaking them thoroughly. “Ha! This is what you little bastards get, fucking with me!” “Didn’t you know by now? The oldest always wins!” I say triumphantly not knowing the truly impending danger I was in. While we were laughing and goofing off, I did not hear and was obvious to the heavy, thundering footsteps behind me. “Oh so does that mean I should win little brother?” I know that voice……it’s the voice of pure evil, the vile villain Kita. I could feel the gloomy aura radiate as my big dongo stood right behind me, her evil grin I’m sure, in full effect. Slowly turning I saw her form and much to my disgust, Kita (Gods damn her) had the regalia and armor of a Breton paladin, specifically a Daggerfelian style armor. Her shining adamantium chest and body armor fit nicely with her slender yet muscular form, the chest piece, pauldrons, gloves and greaves seeming as if they were just polished hours ago, unaffected by the weathering desert sands. She stood in her typical high and mighty fashion, spine straight, shoulders even and back, showcasing her vile toothy white smile to top it all off. Her hair was a strange red color; almost as if she had dyed it further making her strange purplish tinged brown eyes stand out even more. Her face was mostly pristine with minor scratches here and there furthering her meaning look. I cannot lie though…… as much as I hate my sister, (Ruptga knows I do) I must admit she is stunningly beautiful. She is even on par with the highest level of courtesans and noble women of the Republic; one might argue the most attractive woman in all of Hegathe. And this is coming from a man who has seen the many gorgeous women of Hegathe up close; she gives all the Raga women in the province a run for their monies. A classic Raga beauty like her knows she is top notch and she flaunts it, for every Jaharadin, Suten, and Navid in town. Her features were of a soft, womanly, and entrancing sort yet strong and arrogant, a deadly combination that I knew all too well. I looked at her stunning beauty with horror, as I knew this gold outer coating hid a deep and dark pile of shit underneath, the worst kind of corrupt and vile soul. She knew this and continued to smile, “How are my beloved siblings doing on this fine day?” she said in her typical fake enthusiasm. “Benu! You’re home” my younger brother and sister cheered, clamoring and chanting around her in a circle, their affection for her and their joy upon her arrival. They do not know how she truly is as they were naught but a thought in the minds of father and mother, they don’t know her like Jarad, Mene and Hakim do, even Leke and Ptra don’t like her and they’re animals! While being hugged by my two naive younger siblings, Kita looked from up above them onto Leke and I, reveling in her trickery and deceit. All she got in response was growling from Leke and the utter hatred showing in my eyes, that of which she responded to by stating in a callous tone, “Cute pooch, hopefully he doesn’t get into an accident later….”. “What do you mean big sister?” the twins say in almost a sort of unison “I thought he was a good dog?” “Oh you know me little siblings, I do love to joke” she said with her forked tongue, “I hate this bitch with a passion….. lying to our family”, I think as I look at the three of them embracing. “Why don’t you little angels run off to play somewhere else….maybe the dining hall perhaps?” she spoke in that foreign tongue, “Juji and I have some adult things to talk about”. Utter nonsense, but being dumb kids the twins bought the lie and ran at top speed towards the dining hall in the main building, a mile or two away from the stables. “You miss me juji-ki (little slave)?” she said in her low yet still venomous, melodic voice, “I know you miss our…..time together don’t you juji?” She really put some extra evil into that last one, trying to sound somewhat seductive and alluring as she fluttered her evil eyes at me. My cock was starting to get hard, almost as if my body remembers what I went through with this deadra in human flesh. “Why would I ever miss you?” “I had hoped you were dead in that last war we fought with those heathen elves!” I said with a mixture of fear, arousal, hatred and pride. “Fufufu…….juji you can’t get rid of me that easily, I will always be there for you” she said slowly and seductively, pure venom dripping from her mouth as she rubbed her hands across my toned chest. She was still about a foot taller than me and she played into our height difference by getting close, right to the point where I could smell the honey wine on her breath, looking down into my eyes, hers’ burning with her sick and twisted lustful fantasies. “Come with me juji…..” she said as she grabbed my arm, intending to lead me towards the guest house. She was met with some resistance from my enthralled being as part of me did not want to go with her. I stood firm, still strong enough to hold my own against the seasoned warrior, “I don’t want to go with you.” I said calmly. All she did was flash a look at me, her typical narrowed eyes with that wicked smile of hers, her soft yet firm hand guiding me to her plump and muscled butt, giving me a good feel of the jiggly mass. She always does this, she always plays with my feelings, manipulating me and I absolutely hate it. She knows I am attracted to her, she knows I hate her, and she knows why I hate her but still can’t resist. Her devilish charm always entranced any male that came before her, I was no exception. The urge was too strong to resist, her look flashing me back to the times when we were kids…ugh. “Fine, I’ll go” I say as I grope her plump ass through her brown pants, the words slipping begrudgingly out of my mouth. “Great, right this way” she said, taking my arm and leading me to the guest house. As we were beginning to leave the stable area Leke started to whine, probably not wanting me to go with this she devil, leading me to offer some sort of consolation to the doggo. “It’s ok boy, I’ll be alright……You stay here and hold down the fort” I said solemnly receiving a bark from Leke as he laid down on the grass, visibly riddled with worry. Kita and I walked through the least traveled part of the area, as not to arouse any suspicion of our destination nor intent, touring the fairly large expanse (for a private estate) near the beach. The guest house was far off; a ways away from the corral on the beachside, the long walk giving us a nice look at our large and ancient estate. The rolling fields gave way only to sparsely scattered palm and fruiting trees of tropical origin, with the occasional flower patch growing out of the various ponds that dotted the landscape, leaving the somewhat scattered orchard with an exotic aesthetic. The cool and gentle sea breeze kissed our windblown faces as we moved further to the home, only getting more enthralling as the various birds and beach life started moving around on their daily routines, making their usual noises. We continued to walk down the beach, enjoying the sights of the ocean for about a 10 minutes before reaching the guest house, the whole trip somewhat putting my mind at ease from the inevitable doom big sis had planned. The strange thing was though; Kita didn’t even talk to me, not one word throughout the whole trip…..odd to say the least. Walking the shoreline, we finally began climbing up the small hill, giving that murderous bitch the chance to occasionally look out of the corner of her eye at me, seemingly making sure she still had my in her clutches. Gods know this woman is the definition of crazy, her silence somewhat encouraging my assumption in some ways, something that is even more foreboding than I once thought. We had finally reached the guest house, standing quite regally near the end of the animal palisade on top of a hill overlooking the ocean, choosing to take the scenic route along the beach leading up to here. When we finally got up to the bottom most step of the place I could finally see the true quiet beauty of the place. It was built less in the traditional Yoku fashion of the Yoku in Heaghte and more like the buildings I have seen on my trips to Sentinel. The walls were painted a misty blue color, almost mirroring the ocean perfectly with the extra white trims on the house’s frame and exterior. The house was octagonal in shape and had a perimeter around it that formed the outdoor patio; it was well kept and had many straw and wicker furniture items like chairs, tables both large and small, lounge chairs, and the like. The sounds of multiple conversations in the common imperial tongue were steadily coming out of the open windows…. I thought this place was private? Apparently not, as we both saw two scraggly dressed nordic men come flying out of the easternmost window with a loud and destructive crash, probably fighting over money no doubt. Kita, upon seeing this, just laughed it off paying it little to no mind as she led me inside through the white doorway, I offered no protest. Inside it had an even more Sentinese feel to it than outside, the walls were a sky blue with waves painted on them giving them a rolling appearance. These patterns covered a main room that could fit about 30 or so people in it with the various lounge chairs and all. One of the ruffians, a redguard, saw me with her and proceeded to greet her all the while starting me down, “Oi Capitan Kit, who’s is this….boy yur travelin with?” He said looking me over suspiciously. His is accent was very strange for a fellow Redguard, even as a brigand he stood out, “This little shit is my brother, he’ll be accompanying me to the festivities” she said in a stern and plain voice. “You idiots better not break anything else, and don’t think I didn’t notice that window…..that’s minus 100 septims from the lot of you.” I see she pays them in imperial money, typical nudri lover. The brigand knew she was serious and tightened up his stance, “Yes ma’am we’ll get this here mess cleaned up right away!” he said as he shuffled off in the direction of one of the side rooms where all the commotion was coming from. “C’mon Div this is the last stop”, my sister said as she grabbed a bottle of Surlie Brothers wine, “Just up the stairs then I can show you something…” “Oh goody, a present!”, I said rolling my eyes at her rousing her ire just enough for her to give a light but still very much hard punch to the shoulder. I followed her lead, rubbing my arm up the main staircase to one of the rooms at the end of the hall on the right side of the balcony entrance on the second floor. The room had the white, ocean theme with only one difference, there was this odd symbol carved into the wood frame above the door. It looked as if someone had drawn crude rectangular, circular and triangular shapes into the wood with a sharp hunting knife. That wasn’t the only strange thing either, the carving seemed to glow a faint bluish purple deep indigo color, and certainly it must be a trick on my eyes because this shit is too weird. Anyway we heard moans coming from behind the door with the culprits being discovered soon after, the door gave way to a scene of two male pirates one a strange elf and another imperial taking a female dark elf by the throat and ass. Before I could say anything Kita yelled, “You fuckers fucking in my room again?!” “I told you idiots to stay the hell out of here!” I flinched hard at the sudden burst of outrage, and it appeared as if I was not alone because the other three miscreants fucking on her bed jumped right out off of the mattress like a grasshopper jumps leaves. “I..I..I’m sorry mistress it’s…it’s just when we came up here all the other rooms were taken, we had o go somewhere…..” the imperial said timidly urging the dark elf to get dressed. The elf just silently put on his undergarments and pants and stepped out of there avoiding Kita’s harsh gaze like a priest to a brothel, “I’ll just get outta here….” he said as the elf hurried out of the room leaving the imperial and the female elf alone with us. The imperial man was about to leave until suddenly he was halted midstride by my sister, with a strong hand on his chest, “Now this isn’t going to happen again is it? I’d hate to have to come and see your mother Cassius…” Kita said calmly. The look on this man’s face made me fear my sister even more; he looked as if he saw a wraith rape his mother to death, leading to a face of pure horror. That last bit put a fire under his ass and he ran out the door and down the stairs following the strange elf’s path. And then there were three, I thought looking at the attractive elven woman, sweat and other fluids flowing off her and out of her. It was all unbelievable, the whole situation, me following my sister like a lost puppy, these brigands fucking in my parents beach house, the fact that she brought her entire company with here to Hegathe, it was all too crazy to believe. The smacking of ass flesh woke me out of my reflection as I saw my sister slap the ass of the dunmer woman, “I’ll be calling you back next time love” she said as she winked at her before kicking her out of the room. “Finally it’s just you and me baby brother...” she said in a seductive and ominous tone as she pushed me down onto the stained filled, regal bed. Kita closed the doors to the balcony, drawing the curtains to as to get more privacy. She even closed the windows and cast some sort of spell from her hands leaving me sitting on the bed in a complete unnatural darkness. Now I was starting to get worried as horrible memories of my younger years with her started to creep back into my mind. Somehow she could sense my fear and told me to “No need to fret, I’ll take care of you”, whatever that means. I didn’t expect what happened next as she cast another spell, this one lighting up specifically placed candles with blue and purple flames, a most unnatural fire, that in conjunction with the candles, looked like some sort of daedric ritual. My fear rose even higher freezing me in my place at the edge of the bed, as the candles burned brighter emitting some sort of sweat aroma, making me tingly and hot inside. She seemed to be able to see in this dim light and poured some of the wine we had collected earlier, bringing glass in hand to me, opening mine, placing it in my hold. “Drink”, I hesitated for a second or two, feeling the strange stare of her eyes upon me as I sipped on the hot spiced wine. The moment I ingested that shit I felt it, my mind got hazy, my heart beating faster than a ritual drum and my dick became harder than the stone statue of Frandar in the city market district. The wine burnt on the way down leading me to believe she drugged me with some sort of aphrodisiac; this is why I fear her, because she always does shit like this. She took advantage of my delirium and pushed me down onto the bed, straddling me saying nothing, staring into my eyes with her traumatizing yet tantalizing gaze. I almost melted just seeing her pretty, slightly glowing enchanting eyes look at me with a warm yet cold, passionate yet distant appearance; if me phallus got any harder I would probably die. She saw this and rubbed my dick against hers……wait a minute hers? I forgot she was cursed; she could both sire and bear children, a once rare abnormality that was becoming more widespread for some unknown reason. She, still saying nothing, took my throbbing, fully erect penis out of my pants and rubbed it ever so gently against her bulge and between her fingers, sending tingles down my spine. She was trying to get me to blow my load first, but they don’t call me Divaad the Philanderer for nothing! Gritting my teeth and gripping her hips, I stay vigilant and focused on not succumbing to her touch, my hatred for her helping me focus all my energy into not falling for her tender ministrations. “Awe, you’re no fun baby brother” she said in a sarcastic pouting face, her tone dripping with blatant sarcasm and sadistic humor. “I guess I’ll have to up the stakes….wouldn’t want to let down my favorite sibling...” She didn’t have to say anything else, I knew what she was going to do…. preparing for the worst I mentally braced myself. “Gods I don’t want to die like this” I pleaded in my mind, too frozen with fear, lust and anticipation to say it. I did not expect of her what she would do next, leaving me in utter surprise as she let down her gorgeous, long, brown hair and leaned into my face just, staring at me. She was so close I could feel her breath, it smelled of a mix of expensive wine, and honey, a sweet smell that she saw I enjoyed. I couldn’t take it anymore I had to do something! I cupped her face and kissed her deeply, swirling my tongue around hers as we connected, she did not resist me one bit. When we broke the kiss, letting the strands of saliva that connected us fall onto my face, I could see the wickedest smile across hers, an omen of what was to come. “My, my little Div is a frisky little one isn’t he?” “We’ll have to teach him some manners” she said as she kissed me back this time she enlisted the help of her wet tongue, ours swirling together once more, fighting for dominance, only breaking the kiss to breathe and moan. When we broke the third passionate kiss, once again saliva formed strands around our tongues leaving it to drop down onto me, dirtying my face more with our collective “product”. I could tell I was getting to her to as the sight of this made her nipples even harder, hard enough to be visible through her shirt in the dim candlelight. She knew I could see this and just jumped up standing up on the bed leaving me to heave and puff in the dim light. She was taking her clothes off as I could feel undergarments hitting me in the face, hearing a subsequent laughter come behind said action…..silly cunt. I threw them to the side only to find her pulling my pants down all the way, fully removing both our clothes. The moment my pants practically flew off my penis shot to attention even harder than before, looking damn near like a bending a palm rod, “Wow little brother who knew you had such a……sharp, curved sword on you”, Kita said before she kissed my tip like that of a mother would her newborn. “I think we should see if you are worthy of such a prize” she said, dripping words full of seduction and lust as she lowered her practically oceanic pussy onto me. She was so wet in fact that she missed aiming herself onto me a few times; apparently not caring too much it seemed as each time we touched she shuddered and groaned even more. If I wasn’t focused on lasting through this ordeal I would have came right then and there, the volcanic heat emanating from her twat alone could drive an adult man insane, let alone a young man like myself. Nonetheless, I persevered until she finally got it in, lowering herself slowly onto my hulking, fat and veiny, ebony cock. I could feel her tense up as the first few inches slid into her vice like nani, the pressure making her quiver causing her to squeeze me even harder. By the time she had engulfed my full length she had came at least three times leaving my legs wetter than the wharf on a stormy day. The moisture even traveled up to her dick as it slapped wetly against my abdomen, flying strands of pre cum all over my body and hers as she slowly rode me. It appears as if she can control which organs she orgasms by to some degree and that is a good thing because nobody wants a face full of seed….. except a whore of course and I am not such a creature! What could I do at this onslaught but grit my teeth so hard I thought I was going to break my jaw, no lover and I mean no lover could have prepared me for this; this was the most intense intercourse I could have imagined. I gripped the sheets in one desperate attempt after another, trying to hold on and win this silly little contest. She deiced to up the ante during our sensuous tryst starting to gyrate her body left and right, back and forth as she rode me. This onslaught of passion combined with the kisses she loving planted on me was too much to handle….fuck I’m going to release soon. “Come inside of me Div, show me you are a real man and not some weak little boy!” “Make me yours!” She knew I was due to deliver as that bulge in her uterus could be seen twitching and moving, my pumps rubbing past all her most sensitive spots as I pounded her from entrance to cervix powerfully. I had never fucked so hard in my life and she loved it, the whole thing to her made her even more horny. “Let’s come together, shoot your load in me!” She screamed out as she blew her large load all over my toned ebony skin, dripping her seed onto my belly and her cunny juices onto my legs, further soaking me and the bed. I couldn’t hold back and came with such ferocity letting out a roar that could rival that of a lion, “Ah! Take it all you bitch!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as the most powerful shot after shot of seed I ever released came out of my pulsating, grape fruit sized nutsack. It was like my entire body, no, my entire being gave one combined response; I have never felt so good in my life. I can’t stop coming, every time I try and pull out her pussy keeps sucking my in and squeezing me like a serpent choking a foul. The sexual energy we both emitted was so powerful that it created an aura light effect, her bluish purple aura mixing with my red one, lighting up the room in the most beautiful colors on par with that of the beginning of sunset outside. I had come inside of her at least 20 times, her belly bloating to advanced pregnancy stages, the pressure from my massive load and her stretching skin forcing her to come even more than I did leaving me and the bed soaked in her various juices and secretions. I couldn’t pull out even if I tried and just laid there breathing heavily letting her collapse onto me, both of us forming a sweaty sticky mess. “I’m not cleaning this shit up, you know…” I said weakly due to my shortness of breath. “Don’t expect me to do it kala (fool) you literally fucked the life out of me” said Kita, breathing even harder said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a while after this” the realization causing her to laugh profusely. The feeling was contagious so I too started to laugh, especially when she does her signature snort when she finds something funny, “Idiot, it was your fault for teasing me, and having a tight ass pussy like yours”. All she could do was weakly punch my chest as she lay on it laughing and giving me her sarcastic looks, “You know you love it baby brother, no woman could do that to you, that’s why you keep coming back for more” said Kita with a chuckle. I just looked at her, smirking and the like trying to pull out but for some reason not being able to; every time I try to pull out of her I felt this burning sensation, a swelling feeling hit me. “Why can’t I pull out of you?” I started to panic; if my rod was broken I could never live with myself. “Relax crybaby, it’s just a little precaution I put for a time such as this” “What do you mean precaution? Why do I feel like I was bit by a spider on my dick?”, I say as I looked worriedly into her ominous eyes. “I put a spell on you so that I can make sure you do your job.” “What are you talking about Kit?” “Give me a Gods damned straight answer!” I was starting to get annoyed as I gathered the strength to lift her off of her comfortable position on my chest shaking her a bit, “What in the name of the Gods do you mean by spell, what manner of witchery are you up to?” She said nothing as she shook her head telling me to scoot back as I leaned my back up against the headboard, her sitting on my lap; she guided my hand to her bulging belly. “Are you smart enough to figure it out now you sand for brains?” Is this cunt serious? Does she actually mean what I think she means? No she couldn’t that is forbidden she would never….. But it can’t be anything else, the bitch! She would have our whole family destroyed over this. “You can’t be serious, do you know what you have done, what WE have done?!” She just stared at me blankly, “Yes I know what YOU have done brother or should I say lover…. husband maybe?” I instinctively jumped up out of bed leaving her to stretch out at my cum slicked cock’s sudden absence; the large knot sized swelling seems to have gone away some, although not completely as I looked down and saw almost a dog like bulge under the base of my shaft. “You’re crazy; your time with those pasty, deranged Bretons has made you soft in the head!” I’m in full panic mode now and hurriedly put on my pants and clothes headed for the door when I am stopped by a steel knife flying past my ear, landing straight into the doorframe. “Have a seat baby brother” Kita said sternly, leaving me no other option but to do just that if I want to keep my head so I sit back down on the bed. She wraps her arms around me sand kisses my neck, “No, my time with the foreigners made me realize something… no man nor woman can satisfy me.” “I do not wish to be with anyone but you little brother, no one else is worthy of me in any way….” “You are MINE and I am yours this is what I had to realize being separated from you for so long” she said in a loud and stern voice. “I did this to make sure you don’t get stupid and tell anyone about our relationship until I say so…. This child will tie us together forever, hence the need for it.” “On that note I wonder what gender it will be; I really hope it’s a boy…” she says as she looks off into the ominous flames, still cradling my neck as she daydreams. While she was trailing off into imagination I broke from her embrace, racked with fear and guilt. She had done it to me again, just like when we were kids except now it’s even worse, now I have to figure out how to hide this, and keep her at bay while raising our child…. “N...no I can’t do this!” I shout as I run towards the knife grabbing it and tackling her on the bed. We both scuffled a bit until she was on top and quietly and calmly telling me, “Go ahead and do it”, her hands holding the dagger to her chest, drawing some trickles of red blood, “Kill me and end this because if we can’t be together then I don’t want to live.”, she said calmly, yet in an obviously hurt tone. That last part moved me, suddenly I was free from the panicked violent haze that led me to attack her, my newfound clarity saw the genuine tears rolling down her face and the hurt in her voice, this woman I hated so much actually cared for me. I had thought this was just another one of her sick mind games, another trial she felt she had to impose upon me, but no, she was deadly serious. This madwoman actually cared for me, her own baby brother, these are strange days indeed. Why me? Why now? I don’t understand any of this and the confusion, mixed feelings and doubt even make me tear up, “I….I’m sorry…. I didn’t mean too….” All I could say was I’m sorry, still confused and coming into my clarity, the noticeable stutter in my voice making it all to clear to her that I was sincere; all she did was sigh and wipe her tears away, casting the knife away and moving off of me to the other side of the bed. She didn’t even face me once as she got under the covers, huddled up like a scared child during a storm, all the while making my heart sink even further. This woman is my big sis and regardless of how evil she was in the past, she is still my family and seems to have changed somewhat from her years away from home. She seems to have more compassion and kindness than she did before, not much but enough to be noticeable and as she was lying in the bed huddled up I couldn’t help but feel sorrow overtake me. “No matter what she did she still is my sister and therefore family”, I thought to myself, “We don’t abandon family, especially the ones who carry our progeny.” I reached out to her, touching her only slightly as she moves away, as if to avoid further contact, I knew I fucked up then. “Look Kita, I’m sorry it’s just that…..you overwhelmed me will all this….” “The way you treated us during our childhood combined with all that transpired today…it’s just…..confusing and I don’t know what to do…”, I said in the most somber and hurt tone I could conjure up, I knew she was playing the female game of shifting blame so maybe I can make sense of this better if I do the same. I saw her covers move down as she sat up, perky breasts jiggling and eyes still watery with tears, she sniffled before uttering sorrowfully, “I know I did some horrible things, and I can’t hope to explain it all away, but I hope that you can see my love for you is genuine, and I am eternally sorry for what I did!” she said as she starts to cry again. “On my journeys I came to realize what I was missing, why I singled you out for abuse, it was love….”, she looked up at me, leaning her head into my chest as she sniffled. Love? What is love? If it is anything like this then I don’t know if I want it, this spiral of contradictions and powerful emotions, I can’t make sense of this. I still have to comfort her though after all she has changed, and she is the future mother of my child apparently so I have to be there for her. Brushing the hair out of her face I cup her cheek, “I don’t know what it is but….I believe you, for some reason I feel the same way about you.” “I don’t know why or how but I truly care for you….as crazy as that sounds.” I felt two arms come across me as we embraced, almost squeezing the wind out of me as she held me close. Time almost stood still as she held to me, her large double d cuped breasts smashing against my chest, breathing softly behind my head, “Thank you, little brother you don’t know how much what you said means to me” she said with an ecstatic tone in between her sniffles. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me….the moment I held you as a baby I knew that we were connected.” The affection didn’t end there as she seemed to get even more touchy, seemingly breaking her longstanding character, as she began kissing my neck and humming some kind of foreign tune. I still feel weird about this, all things considering and I still think this is all a bit overwhelming but who am I to judge the minds of women… confusing creatures they certainly are. “Well since you stuck a baby on me I have to at least be nice to you big dongo” I said in a plain but calm voice, I probably shouldn’t have as this made her even more hyper. “Oh I’m so glad you’ve come around little brother, this will make everything so much better”, she said breaking the affectionate action she was previously doing. I grabbed her chin with both of my hands, directing her eyes towards mine, and starting into her deep, colorful eyes I told her how much I love her and how since we are bonded I would protect her, eliciting tears of joy that came running down her face. I guess now that we are bonded like this I have to make an effort to keep her safe, at the very least until she delivers our child. She made it abundantly clear that she wanted to continue our love making as I could feel her penis rubbing against my abdomen, her hands guiding mine to cup her plump ass and her breasts. I however needed to get some air and hopped out of bed, much to her dismay and put on my undergarments intent on heading to the balcony. By the time I got outside the sun was just beginning to set, apparently we had been fucking for a few hours making the party an even closer reality. These thoughts subsided however as the sea breeze hit me, cool yet warm at the same time, I gazed upon the waves hitting the white beach below and the various animals enjoying the weather, like the dolphins running about in the water doing their usual horseplay. My mind calmed even more so, letting me take in a deep contented breath to truly take in all that was around me. The only thing that snapped me out of this relaxing hypnosis was the familiar feeling of a certain pair of slender and lithe yet strong arms wrapping around my waist. “It’s beautiful isn’t it…” Kita said in a relaxed voice, that more familiar tone of hers that I have known for so long, “Yes it is…although not as beautiful as you my desert jewel!” I say sweeping her off her feet, somewhat awkwardly smiling, pinning her between me and the balcony, garnering a hysterical laugh. “Ha ha ha stop it Div, you big oaf!” she said as she beamed with humor and joy. “I have to say…” I say leaning in to kiss her luscious lips “This is the happiest I’ve seen you since I’d say...Hmm….about five minutes ago” I say cheekily, trying to mask my conflicting and troublesome emotions via humor. Blowing a raspberry at me, she followed up with a most appreciated response, “I guess you bring this side of me out, lover”, blocking my response with a kiss, one of the lightly most childish kisses I’ve ever experienced. “Plus that cock of yours drove me dick crazy, I lost control of myself for a bit”, she smiled, seemingly in a better mood….certainly containing to throw me for a loop. I continue to play it off, “Whoa! Do you kiss our mother with that mouth?” I say still obviously dripping with jovial humor. “No, just you love” she said with a smile and another peck at the lips. As we stood there kissing for what felt like an eternity I remembered I was supposed to go head to the family tomb and retrieve the ceremonial sword for this year’s festival. “Well big sis, as much as I would like to spend the day reshaping your orifices, we have a gathering to prepare for and I doubt they would want either of us to miss it.” I smirk as I kiss her one last time, turning to face her “Ugh not this again, I hate going to these ridiculous parties with all our stuffy aunts and uncles…..sometimes I wish I wasn’t in this family especially considering we’re related to that sniveling rat of a cousin we have.” “Which one is that? Cousin Kuma? He isn’t that bad, he’s just…..sickly I guess.” “No not Kuma, Rezean and Drifa’s son Jiwol…you know the soft one.” “I’ve never met him Kit remember, uncle Rezean and aunt Drifa were living in the Imperial City at the time I was born.” “Oh, yeah, I forgot you were a just a child back then….still are” she said in a teasing tone, “Funny, you weren’t thinking that when I was making you grip those bed sheets now where you?” I fired back smiling, my mood lightening somewhat. “Ha ha, maybe I should say this guy is the only grown one then” she made sure to highlight the seductive joke aimed at the reproductive tool she was grabbing on me, “You are packing some real weaponry here little brother, it’s a shame such a guy like yourself would have it and not someone like me.” “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean, oh exalted brood mother”, that last comment granting me a view of how far she could roll her eyes back into her head. “Ha! you wish, then you’d be my woman little bro…” she said as I felt a slap on my toned ass. “Like that shit will ever happen…. you’re dealing with a real man here Kitty I’m not some feminized Breton nudri!” I say triumphantly, chest poked out and muscles flexing. “Keep dreaming buddy, you might want to work on your technique a bit then, least you look like a green gilled fish” she said as she laughed with glee at the constant teasing, slipping her had down my garments to caress my member. “I made you howl in ecstasy did it not?” earning another eye roll and chuckle I bit back “Yeah that’s what I thought miss sexual goddess” I said in my most sarcastic and playfully vindictive tone. “But alas my sweet, sweet lady I must bid thee goodbye as I have to get ready for this party we’re having”, I say as I break away from her getting another slap on my ass from the nude woman, “Don’t forget your clothes baby brother.” She stood there, letting her large cock, balls and more womanly assets dangle, jiggle and sway in the wind as she watched me, “What a bitch….” I murmur, chuckling to myself as I head towards the dimly lit room to find my clothing. “No brother of mine will be caught dead in those rags” she said walking briskly past me, pointing at my gear, cradling flame in her hands. Wait she intends to burn my clothes! The nerve of this woman! “Stop don’t touch any of those clothes, those are priceless!” I say holding up our fore fathers garb. “I see you are just like father…holding onto the past…very well do as you wish husband” she said somewhat amused. Pulling some sort of bundle from out of her pack on the floor next to our clothes she brought out some weird amulet, “Wear just this then, think of it as a luck charm from your beloved’’ she said holding out a somewhat large necklace made of some weird metal and bone. The necklace most eye catching piece was shaped like some sort of foreign horned animal, maybe a lizard of some sort judging by the teeth carved into it. “Why give me this ugly piece of trash?” I ask quizzically, “It will protect you from violence, that’s all I will say about it, just put it on juji” she said motioning for me to accept the gift. Seeing as I am still somewhat suspicious of her and had been giving a dogs knot as some sort of curse by her, I am reluctant to keep it on me, making it hard to trust her. However, I find it still hard to resist her requests….especially when she is naked and looking at me like that, “Fine you can put this dumb thing on” I say in a groan. “Good, let me just put it around your neck...” she said taking her hand off her hip and lightly kissing me before taking it around my neck, adorning me with the amulet fasting the hooks together around me. “There was that so bad?” she says as she guides me to the mirror in the washroom, “It looks super…..stupid” I say looking at it in the mirror around my neck. Cradling my shoulders and rubbing my chest, she just kisses my cheek and smiles, “You’ll get over it you’re a big boy.” Patronizing cow…. “Well I should get going to get ready for the ceremony, I heard from Jarad that everyone is going to be there tonight.” “Well don’t let the soon to be mother of your child hold you up from your party” Kita said in a sarcastic but hurt tone. I guess she really wants me to stay with her, or maybe she is playing one of her mind games again? Whatever it is I’m going to this gathering, when I man says he’s going to do something he better do it, “Don’t be like that sis, we can meet tomorrow and keep the love going” I say as I kiss her forehead, doing some silly air thrusting, causing my large member to flop around atop my balls against the sink. She looks distantly trailing off into the direction of the balcony as if something was wrong, “Yes, tomorrow….” Well its official this female is crazy, absolutely stark raving mad…. I should keep all the weapons away from her anytime we copulate. “Well you can sit here and brood but I am going to get the Oblivion out of here and go to this function.” Before I can take one step towards the door, the naked warrior woman grabs me, “Be careful Divaad, I couldn’t bear to lose you….you always must remember that to me you are everything and…” she started to tear up trying to finish her sentence, “Hey, hey don’t cry I assure you everything will be alright and just like I said tomorrow I’ll come back to visit you” I say in a comforting tone. “Ok…” she somberly says as I wipe the tears away from her pretty face, “Besides who want to hurt me, just look at me I’m just so….handsome!” I say proudly, earning a giggle from my saddened, strange and suspect sister, “You buffoon, always making jokes…” she laughs, still maintaining her somber appearance as I lean in to kiss her one last time, moving to put on the rest of my clothes. She, watching me intently just sits on the bed, smiling…in the nude, as I finish lacing up my boots. “We’ll see you around you emotional wreck!” I say jokingly as I walk out the door only hearing a hint of sorrow in the laughter behind me. I head down the stairs to the door way only to be bumped into by a big, ugly, hairy orc “Watch where you’re going shrimp” he says spirits on his breath and anger in his voice. “I could say the same to you, you big green drunkard.” I don’t care how big he is, even if he is a few feet taller than me he can still get knocked out cold. I stare up into his eyes, matching his level of anger both of us not relenting, drawing the attention of the whole band of ruffian’s attentions. “Gromlag that’s enough, stand down!” I hear the angry voice of big sis booming from upstairs. “Back off him or else!” I hear him grumble and brush past me whispering “Watch yourself boy” as he follows his commander’s orders and sits at the bar next to the bay windows. “Get out of here you fool” Kita says to me blowing a kiss so subtly that no one noticed. I being the jester that I am caught it and laughed my way out of the building, masking my utter disdain for that whole exchange with that damn greenskin lout….Not to mention the confusing feelings I have for my sister and all the evil bullshit shes known for. “Who in the name of the Gods does he think he is telling me on my own land what to do?!” I think to myself, “The nerve of some people I swear” I think as I travel back down the hill to the beach in hopes to reach the tomb in less than an hour. I finally make it past the beach back onto the ranch lands when I feel the sudden foreboding feeling of being watched, as I make it to the corral fence line. I feel like it is coming from somewhere above the courtyard about a few paces past the end of the fence line. “Whatever, it’s probably just my imagination….”, I think to myself as I head towards the tomb, small pyramid complex on the far east side of the corral. About three quarters of the way I saw a familiar face talking with one of the guards. It was my father’s brother, uncle Mavi, wearing his Dune Dweller turban and robes. He notices me walking down the sandstone path and waves shouting, “Hey nephew come on over here!” This being my favorite uncle, I jog briskly over to him seeing somewhat, my own athletic abilities. When I finally reached where the two were standing and talking I saw clearly the visage of both the men. My uncle, being the tall and muscled man that he is, stood at least two or three feet above the brave soul that guards our property. He was an extremely dark skinned man, almost shining iridescently in the desert sun, his skin only slightly darker than his beard and dreadlocks which hung down to his shoulders and chest starting their journey from under his turban. It was obvious my uncle had just come back from one of the tribal meetings of the Dune peoples of this land, seeing as he wore his chiefly robes embroiled with various golden, red and blue animal characters representing where his tribe the Mu’twaili Dune Dwellers hail from, the Hegathe region. The Mut’waili, the other Dunesman, The Chainer’s, and the Ashaaba ethnic groups are all on very friendly terms with our clan along with most of the branch houses that live in this land (mostly due to my uncles’ works in the area), one might even consider them allies of our house as many of our relatives are married into either one or multiple tribes including my uncle. “Something the matter Jackal?” uncle Mavi said. Before I could say anything in response I was saluted by the guardsman, Jano I think his name was, “Sir” he said in a flustered voice trying to be professional after his long chat with my uncle. Jano looked to be about around my age, possibly a little bit older, as he looked a little green, “Probably one of my brother’s newer recruits” I thought to myself. He looked fresh faced and his green tinted eyes looked nervous and inexperienced. “You do not have to salute me brother, we are all family here…more or less!” I say in a somewhat loud yet dignified manner. “We are all Yoku are we not?” “This makes us kin and brothers in arms against evils like the elves.” It seems as if my last comment triggered us all as we all spit on the ground in unison on the mention of the Thalmor dogs. “If I could skin at least 100,000 Thalmor cowards I would still not be satisfied!” uncle said with a hateful booming shout. “Aye sir, those Thalmor bastards deserve every Hell in Oblivion as far as I’m concerned!” Jano said with steely resolve, changing the green look about his tanned face to one of pure hatred and malice. “Yes, their agents must be rooted out of our homeland and destroyed, like the foul beasts they are.” I say boldly, adding to the sentiment, “But, nevertheless, I am pleased to see both of you gentleman alive and well!” I say excitedly reaching to shake my uncle’s hand and give him a hug of brotherhood, intending to do the same to the young guard. “My nephew you and your brothers must visit Mu’twaililand sometime soon, we are holding a tournament that I think you lot would be interested in” my uncle said to me arm around my shoulder, “There will be lots of young maidens there, plenty for you and your brothers young hearts to swoon over, no?” Ha ha, that is my uncle a man after my own heart, pretty much an older version of me, or at least what I would want to be. No offense to my father as I care for him dearly but he is a bit of a third hump on a camel, a true stick in the mud with no sense of adventure. “Uncle you know me well, I will endeavor to make an appearance at your tourney” I say beaming with excitement. “Great lad, just make sure you don’t hog all the women and be sure to share some with the rest of us, after all there is no limit to how many wives a chief can take, ha ha!” “Why don’t you come too Jano, I’ve heard the Mu’twaili women have a soft spot for virgins!” I say jokingly laughing hysterically with my uncle drawing a bashful look from Jano “With all due respect sir, I don’t think my love life is something to be discussed!” said Jano somewhat frustrated but still understanding of the humorous nature of it all. “Relax my friend” I say as I pat him on the back, “I am sure you have bedded many an old woman in your day!” This one made us all laugh even harder than before, even Jano couldn’t contain himself! “Yeah, yeah you had your fun sir” he said rolling his eyes chuckling. In my quite grand display of humor my necklace must have slipped into view of my uncle and upset him because he immediately stopped laughing at the sight of it, “Divaad where did you get that necklace?” he said in a curious but stern tone. I knew something was wrong as my uncle is never serious about anything unless it is catastrophic in nature, “I got it from Kita uncle, why is there something wrong?” “Kita you say…hmm let me examine it a bit…” I hand over my necklace to him, “Hmm yes this is an Amulet of the Horned Serpent, something not to be trifled with” he says seriously after looking it over a bit. “You might be too young to remember but the Cult of the Horned Serpent were a bunch of deviants…. Murderers, necromancers, nudri, and criminal scum that tried to take over Hegathe backed by Thalmor gold about 10 years ago.” “They almost did so if it weren’t for the efforts of our house and a handful of other brave Yoku that stopped them.” “I got this scar from fighting one of their giant reanimated horned snakes” he said as he lifts up his robes to show a truly grizzly scar craved from his left side to his right side, the zig zag pattern showing the shape of sharp teeth. “The damned thing got me in its mouth when I tried dodging one of its other strikes.” “I would have died that day if it wasn’t for your father Divaad, he saved me by losing an ebony orichalcum arrow right into the creatures skull.”, uncle said proudly. Wow, I didn’t know the old man had it in him, I always believed him to be a paper pushing bureaucrat or business obsessed workaholic. I guess people really do change with age, I thought as I let him continue. “Your father and I were as thick as thieves, philandering, adventuring, drinking; we did all the things that young foolish men do and then some.” In fact your father taught me and your uncles how to seduce a woman, he being the oldest and most suave; he had all the women swooning over him.” “I wouldn’t be surprised if you and your siblings have more relatives out there the way he was operating! But then again the men in our family are known for their vitality to put it best.”, uncle jokes, laughing a bit and probably reminiscing on his own kids Never knew the old man had it in him, never judge a book by its cover I guess. “Tell me uncle was father also a demigod as well? Back in the day did he have beams that shot from his testicles?” I respond jokingly, “I don’t think so nephew, or at least I’m not aware of any!” “Maybe the beams are the purest of white and quite sticky hmm?!” said uncle in an even more humorous tone. Our banter back and forth was too comedically rich and led the young guardsman to cry himself with laughter; this only encouraged us to laugh even harder. “Ah ha ha…but yes jackal” uncle said, whipping some tears from his eyes still rich with the spirit of laughter, “You should inform your brothers of the tournament, I’m sure Ki’ata will be there, she has been anxious to see you.” Ki’ata was my tough roughhousing cousin; she, I and our other relatives around our age would fight and wrestle all day whenever we would visit. Last time I saw her she was almost unmistakable from that of a boy. Ki’ata being the rebellious cur that she was would always start a fight and insist on completions of athleticism, strength and combat, seeking to outdo all the boys especially me. Whether it were killing beetles, eating disgusting things, and wrestling to see who is strongest or seeing who can throw rocks the farthest, she was always trying to one up me. We were close though, I would tell her everything as she was practically one of my sisters. I told her of my first experience with a woman, she told me about her attraction to the fairer sex; we even had our first sip of the sweet Habo nectar together in our favorite spot under the palm tree near the beach….which led to an accidental kiss between us…..Ah….good times… I even told her about that time I got captured by that young neried, “Ah those were some good times I thought to myself…” a big goofy grin extremely visible on my face. While I was daydreaming about the past, the guard Jano spoke up, “Who is Ki’ata and if you don’t mind me asking why do you swoon for her so lord Divaad?” Swoon? The fool, I do not swoon, I am simply remembering good times! “Ki’ata is my middle child Jano, she is about the same age as Divaad here, although they have not seen each other in years they share a bond that reminds me of the bond I shared with his father, when they were little they were practically inseparable!” said uncle. “Ah I see, lord Divaad sure knows a lot of women…” “Are you jealous Jano?” “Are the old women not doing it for you anymore?” I wittily snap back in jest. “Ok I get it, I’m not as proficient with the female kind as you, and you don’t have to bring it up all the damn time!” I can see that Jano is beginning to get upset at all the constant verbal disemboweling we are giving him. “Ok, ok I’ll cease, it’s not my fault you are such an easy target.” I say patting Jano on the back to let him know once again that we are all friends here. “I should charge you lot extra for this abuse” Jano said jokingly, “My friend I would pay a man like you a hundred tokens of finance, my dear friend!” I say with my arm around him waving up at the sky in a sweeping motion. All uncle could do at this was sigh and shake his head, laughing all the while. “But yes don’t let us keep you from your task Divaad, your father told me that you needed to go to our forefathers graves to retrieve the Sword of Ka’no.” “Make haste young one…..and ahh oh yes I forgot, take this ring with you as a birthday present.” The ring he handed me was smooth, and jet black with greenish inlays swirling around it as if it were some sort of sand storm. The ring also had several shiny rubies set into its shiny black metal; about seven well cut circular rubies shining like the sands of the Alik’r on a hot summer day. “This ring is the Ring of Red Sand, it was given to me by one of the elders of the tribe, he had a vision of you and told me to give this item to you. The ring has the power to absorb the blood of your enemies filling the carvings and unleash it into a sandstorm the shape of which the wielders mind will have to form. Once you put the ring on it will bond with you granting you speed, perceptions beyond that of a regular man and the strength of an elephant. The ring taps into your own soul and those who are worthy may wield its power and discover their full potential, however once you put this ring on it will be bonded to you and I can’t stress this enough, you will have to train to be able to wield its power. If you are weak and do not train on how to harness the rings power while in control you will be subject to its battle lust and murderous intent turning you into a savage killer with no remorse. You will be as the sands of the desert are, harsh and unforgiving, cold and desolate. The ring will strip you of your personality, your memories and inhibitions, making you into a murderous lunatic with no distinctions between innocent or scoundrel.” Uncle looks at me stoically and seriously, “Divaad you must heed my warning and not put this ring on until absolutely necessary, also listen to me and train with the ring when you do!” “Steel yourself and focus your mind to its full potential as that is the only way to control the bloodlust the ring has!” I have never seen my uncle so serious before, it’s almost frightening. To think that this ring no bigger than a coin could have this much raw power! Amazing! “I will follow your instructions to the letter uncle; I have no intention on ending up like some of the hapless adventurers in my studies.” I say somewhat seriously, still in awe of the gift and its terrible power. “Good jackal, heed my advice and you should be fine, the elder assured me of this.” Uncle put his hand on my shoulder, “You father raised a fine young man, it’s a shame more of our youth aren’t as bright as you and young Jano here Divaad” he said as he patted both of us on the back, “If only your cousins could be more like you Divaad they wouldn’t be getting into so much trouble!” If only he knew the nonsense I have done in my short time being alive, it’s a good thing he doesn’t live here in Heidigh. “Well I must depart uncle, I have matters to attend to, fare the well Jano and kinsman!” I say in a proud, yet warm tone. “I shall see you both at the affair? Yes?” “Not this time Divaad I’m afraid myself and your cousins must depart early from the party, we will stay about an hour or two before the drinking starts as we must go back home to tend to some affairs there” Uncle said plainly. “I’m sure Jano will be on duty there, maybe he might even find himself a woman there, hmm?” Uncle said, face wide with a smirk. “I hope so uncle, I hope so…” I say walking away, bound towards the tomb leaving the two to continue conversing. Looking down at the amulet and ring I was given I pondered my life so far on the way to the tomb as I often have when visiting grandfather and the renown ancestors. I remember that time I was abducted by that young neried when I was younger, the serpent’s amulet reminding me of the way her skin felt. I was walking on the beach by the guesthouse on a hot Loredas day, doing what silly children do, trying to find an adventure out of sheer boredom. Being accidentally left behind when my family went on a trip to Sentinel to visit the Sultan and his family, I was left to my own devices with only my caregiver Big Mama Delinga to care for me. Big Mama Delinga was a kind yet stern woman, strong and wise, being my elderly maternal great grandmother she was often sleeping when she should have been watching me and my younger siblings. This was one of those times, although I remember her saying to stay away from the water before drifting to sleep on the beach house furniture specifically the old rocking chair that grandfather made for her before he passed on. She had warned me of the dangers of the sea and how our ancestors faced terrible beasts on in and around these waters, Sea Serpents, Dreugh, Krakens, Sea Dragons, Sea Elf pirates, and possibly worst of all a type of water spirit called a Neried. I never listened to her until it was too late and her being too old to keep up with me all the time, I would frequently run away and go on mini adventures in the areas surrounding our property. Even at the ripe age of 12 I was mature for my age, using reason and logic, staying away from petty or potentially dangerous things as I knew their peril. I however, could not shake that need for adventure from time to time, even now I have a hard time culling it at certain times, and it is almost like it calls to me begging me to take up some sort of investigation or quest. This was one of those times, as I felt compelled to leave my big mama and go onto the beach looking for pearls or treasures washed up on shore. I did not expect what I would find, and about thirty feet away from the house I could see a glimpse of something, glittering in the distance. It was a hot, sunny day and one could see anything for miles perfectly, the shining coming from a nearby alcove, bright clear blue waves hitting its obvious entrance. I stopped about halfway there walking along the shoreline, feeling an increasing sense of danger; I didn’t listen to my instinct as I wanted to prove my bravery in one act of foolish childish pride. I had gotten to the small cave, finding it surprisingly well light by the sunlight’s reflection in the clear blue waves. The cave was about the size of a small washroom and had one center pool of clear sea water rippling inside of it, the pool only being contained by the smooth stone that formed the walkway I was using going about six feet back into the cave forming a hook shape. The cave was cooler than the area outside of it and I decided to take a rest, bewildered by the fact that I couldn’t see my prize in it or its relatively calm waters. I noticed something strange however; the cave walls were smooth as if a mason had sanded them down (being the son of a renowned stone mason helps in your knowledge of these things), the cave almost looked like someone’s home. I also noticed some strange figures and fixtures made of coral and some sort of pearly white stone along with some other ship wreckage items like barrels and crates, all these things being placed away from a sleeping area that smelled like sea water. The mat looked to be made of seaweed and some sort of animal skin, probably a seal or something, with the coral and white stone forming a frame and the various chairs, tables, eating utensils, and figurines assembled intentionally around the small cave. Someone or something was living here, and whatever it was looked like it even carved little holes in the roof with some sort of powerful blast of…water maybe? The holes were smooth and interwoven with seaweed to form some sort of window, the smooth holes being too perfectly cut to have been able to be formed by anything else. It looked natural as did all the other fixtures in the cave I had wandered into looking for my prize that was nowhere in sight until suddenly I saw it. On the coral shelf was a shiny white pearl the size of an adult foul, glimmering in its mind boggling radiance on the strange shelf, both amplifying each other’s aesthetic beauty. I was utterly captivated by the treasure, what sort of beast could make such an enormous thing? Why would the owner of this cave have it here? Maybe if I pick it up I can see if it has a name on it, I thought with my childish mind. As I made my way over past the table to the shelf I couldn’t help the feeling that I was being rude to the individual that lived here, the feeling of guilt starting to overtake me I quickly grabbed the pearl and inspected it. The thing was smooth and warm to the touch, so shiny and clean I could see that scar I got from fighting my brother perfectly in the reflection. Holding the pear looking in the light I heard a bubbling noise coming from the pool of water a few feet away from where I was standing, feeling the jolting anxiety of fear I hid in one of the barrels near the shelf. Packing my preadolescent form into the barrel I adjusted to the point where my feet could rest at the bottom so I could cradle my knees to my chest in hopes that my wet pants didn’t give my location away. Through the holes in the barrel it looked as if the owner of the cave had returned, some sort of blue creature that wore some seaweed looking flowing robes, quite audibly making a wet slapping sound as its feet moved around the cave heading to the couch of stone, seaweed, corral and salvaged fabric it had made on the right side of the shelf I had taken the pearl from. It seemed to stop moving, resting on the couch, sitting down it seemed to collect it thoughts; even though I couldn’t see its face I could still feel the relaxation in the air. The air was calm in the cave until the moment it realized someone had taken its treasure, when the blue thing found out it’s pearl was gone it wailed in one of the most eerily yet beautiful tones I’ve ever heard. It seem severely distraught at the thought of its pearl missing and frantically began searching for it around the cave, causing me to hold my breath even more inside of the barrel. The closer it got to my area the more the pearl seemed to glow with this light blue aura, leading it to look in the direction I was hiding in ,multiple times, as it was almost as if it could feel it. The heart rending sense of dread I felt when it stopped in front of the barrel I was hiding in was terrible as I was not prepared for what happened next. It simply sniffed the air and sighed, seeming backing away then out of nowhere it lifted the barrel I was in and threw it into the pool with lighting fast speed. It seemed as if it had used some sort of magic to hold the barrel submerged in the water as I felt all the air in the barrel disappear only to be replaced with salty cool sea water. After about a minute I couldn’t hold my breath anymore and broke the lid off of the top gasping for air, my eyes closed and clothes soaked with water floating in the sunlight pool. The creature laughed then angrily said something in a foreign tongue causing me to be lifted out of the pool by the water no less! Being suspended mid air by water was amazing in itself but not as amazing as what I saw next, before me lied a truly beautiful creature that even my child mind could appreciate. Before my eyes controlling the water holding me mid air was a blue skinned, fish scaled female, about a few years older than me in appearance with seaweed, pearls and coral almost woven into her teal hair. She had fish like markings on her dark blue in color with her light blue skin matching that of the water she was using to suspend me, I could tell it was a female by the somewhat large breasts for her size being held up by the seaweed, linen cloth she had stitched together to form lose slightly revealing clothes. Being suspended in mid air with my head tilted towards her I could see her angry face, blue and angular, her teal hair falling over her deep blue-greenish pupiless eyes. She was truly beautiful yet almost cold and vicious her finlike ears seemingly poking up in anger, her clenched webbed feet and hands seemingly mimicking her ears. She seemed to be talking angrily at me in a language I didn’t understand so I responded to her fearfully in Yoku as that was the only language I knew. Her face changed from that of anger to that of confusion, she looked puzzled at my words seemingly not understanding them as well. She must have deduced that neither of us spoke each other’s language and put me down on the smooth wet cave floor, letting the pearl I was holding float out my hands mid air into hers. After she put the pearl down onto the shelf, she saw how truly in shock and scared I was, I was only a child and she could tell. She leaned down to me and looked me dead in the face her eyes not blinking, exploring my soul as I could do to her, in that moment I had the sudden urge to kiss her as was the action I take whenever I am nervous with a girl. I leaned in and did just that tasting the saltiness of her smooth cold lips. This sudden action surprised her as her eyes widened with shock at this bold young man’s sudden moves. I’ll admit I was just as shocked as she was when I did it, my eyes just as wide as hers, not knowing what fate had in store for me next. She jumped back with incredibly fast speed, landing about a good foot away from where I was, her face still perplexed and her eyes showing varying emotions ranging from surprise to attraction. Apparently I had shocked her so much she began to blush a light green hue over her smooth blue cheeks, she was so flustered she couldn’t even make noise, she just stood there staring at me holding the place on her mouth where our lips touched. I driven by some strange urge (even as a youngling I had an overactive sex drive) went over to her step by step intending to close the distance between us and repeat the actions I had just took. She did not resist when I kissed her again leaning right into her body, our eyes locking as I clumsily tried to kiss her passionately as I witness my brother do to his many “female friends”. She seemed to enjoy it this time as she guided my hands to her waist letting me gain the confidence to keep trying harder, as I started to figure out what to do step by step. It got to the point where I could feel her moaning in my mouth, whereas I could feel something I didn’t fully understand. I was getting one of those feelings again that I got whenever I liked a girl and she and I touched. I however needed to breathe and broke the kiss, with her response only being a wanting smiles. She used some sort of light spell on me; waving her hands around my temple letting me feel the cool magickal energies wash over me. After her spell was cast she seemed to shift her mood even more and decided to spontaneously lift me up off the ground with her water magic and plop me onto her seaweed and old waterlogged bed. I landed on it with a wet squelch leading some water to form droplets in the air as the salty, vegetable smell wafted into my nose. The smell was not as bad as I thought but I was distracted from this as my eyes turned to look upon her hover in midair over to the bed. She pushed me down from my seated position and told me in surprisingly well spoken classical yoku to let her handle this. I assume I got her hot and bothered as the bed wasn’t the only thing that dispersing moisture onto me, the strange aquatic woman’s whimsical garments gave way to her quivering sex. Her blue folds were glistening almost as brightly as her pearl was in the hot summer sunlight. “By the Gods lady, why are your lady parts so wet?!” I said with utter inexperienced shock and surprise, an involuntary response at the sight of an actual girl’s sexual organ. She chuckled and stated that this made her that way, resting her hands on my virgin tool. When she finally figured out how to get my pants off she saw my juvenile wily, around 6 inches (bigger than most of the other races but normal for a young yoku I might add) throbbing with a desire that my young mind could not fully understand yet. The water woman seemingly being older and more experienced than I, smiled and placed her cold wet fingers around my hot veiny, maleness. “Do you like this?” she says quizzically in her strange accent surprised at my vigor at such a young age, rubbing me up and down my shaft. I can only nod my head as the mix of feelings I felt were too much and got in the way of my words. I was in for even more of a shock as suddenly she began swallowing me whole, effectively making her gag at the sudden action. After a few minutes of her wet tongue and watery saliva enveloping me I couldn’t hold back anymore and shot something up in her mouth, down her throat in such a volume that I could see her swallow whatever it was. I would come later to learn that it was cum (get the joke?) and that she had been the first person to get an orgasm out of me. (More to come in 2B)

Hey everyone this is the first part of chapter 2, chapter two will be broken into to parts as it is intentionally long. Apologies for the wait life stuff and writing this takes some time. Feel free to comment on what can be improved and what you all would like to see. Edits will be made overtime as I see them as sometimes writing it in Word messes up the format on LL. Chapter 2: The Party The feeling of being stalked only grew more and more intense as I started to hear the panting, some sort of animal must’ve slipped through the fences and now it’s hungry. The funny thing is though, I don’t see Ptra getting startled, that’s strange he usually attacks anything that frightens him I guess I’m just imagining things. With my back turned, hands at the ready to grapple whatever is coming for me I felt a large mass knock me to the ground. I hit my head on the way down, causing me to roll over groaning, feeling something wet on my face. It was a tongue and not a human’s mind you, the tongue was followed with the smell of nasty ball breath and an incessant panting sound. I knew who this assailant was; it was my most trusted ally, Leke. Somebody let the damn dog out of the pens and now he is running around licking people with his nasty dog breath. The big black and brown dog stood about the size of a large desert wolf, probably because he is a wolf dog but one never knows these things for sure. The big lug has an almost completely wolf appearance save for one of his ears being floppy like that of a dogs and his dog like behavior, like when he starts scratching me with his paws getting me to rub him. He’s a good dog despite all his annoying quirks, I think as I pet him eliciting a content panting noise from him. However, I still get the feeling that he Leke was not my true assailant, this of course being confirmed by both Ptra and Leke becoming excited by some sort of presence near us. “Show yourself this instant!” I say as I turn towards the doorframe cautiously, only getting a couple of muffled childlike chuckles and giggles in return. I decided to sneak up towards the source of the noise just outside of the doorway; as soon as I get out there I’m going to tackle the fiend just like I did big brother. I got right at the doorway waiting only a mere 5 seconds until I jumped out and lunged myself at the source of the noise, nothing could prepare me for the utter sense of embarrassment I would face. The thing that unnerved and almost frightened me was not some roaming beast or brigand, no, it was a pile of two dumb kids laid underneath me. My sibling rage started to boil as I knew who these hooligans were and what they wanted; the twins had always been trouble makers (even at the ages of 12) so I guess clownish behavior runs in the family. Mili and Taph where inseparable, even from birth they clung to each other like furs or linen on a cold desert night. Mili was technically the oldest (at least by a few seconds); her sandy brown skin matched her beautiful brown with hints of green eyes naturally, whereas her messy long black hair glowed with its deep midnight hue. I did not know it at the time, but apparently she had the very “condition” that our oldest sister had; this information only being disclosed to my mother, father and Taph outside of the midwife who delivered her. She was a feisty little scamp and in retrospect I now can see why, the anomaly often causes the people to take on traits of their opposites, leading to some interesting behaviors. But none the less, I loved her and my other siblings dearly (save for the accursed one) even despite her faults, Gods rest her soul. All her clothes were dirty and her mannerisms were always tomboyish and unlady like, compared to Taph it was like night and day. Taph was a very…..quiet child, way less outgoing and boisterous then our sister, he always would follow behind her like the weak little lamb that he was. He was even lighter than she was, which came to a surprise to us all as both our parents are dark of hue in the traditional Yoku fashion. His eyes were even stranger as they shone like topaz, a strange yellowish brown color emanating from them, giving him the impression of some sort of demon or cursed one further leading to his shyness. Taph was always reluctant to go out anywhere because of his inborn meekness and the fact that people saw him as some sort of freak, the fact that he was outside playing pranks on my with Mili shows that he is growing as a person, discarding his old self for something better and stronger. He too apparently was born with the “condition, something even I cannot even comprehend to this day. Why would the Gods permit this sort of abnormality, this mutation? I do not know now nor did I know then. All these thoughts of mutations and the like running throughout my head did not cube them as they began to wrestle me even more, laughing hysterically, rousing Leke to jump in and start play growling at us. “Get off me you damn brats!” I said, being shaken out of my deep thought. “You Gods damned little shits keep playing pranks on me……and now this is your punishment!’’ I shouted quasi seriously causing Leke to bark in agreement. Picking both of them up under my arms, each secure under my defined musculature, I hauled them over to the horses water trough (large enough to fit an adult man inside mind you) and threw them in soaking them thoroughly. “Ha! This is what you little bastards get, fucking with me.” “Didn’t you know by now? The oldest always wins!” I say triumphantly not knowing the truly impending danger I was in. While we were laughing and goofing off, I did not hear and was obvious to the heavy, thundering footsteps behind me. “Oh so does that mean I should win little brother?” I know that voice……it is the voice of pure evil, the vile villain Kita. My big dongo was standing right behind me with her evil grin I’m sure in full effect. Slowing turning I saw her must to my disgust, Kita (Gods damn her) had the regalia and armor of a Breton paladin, specifically a Daggerfelian style armor. Her shining chest and body armor fit nicely with her slender but muscular form, the shining adamatium chest piece, pauldrons, gloves and greaves seeming as if they were just polished hours ago, unaffected by the desert sands. She stood in her typical high and mighty fashion, spine straight, shoulders even and back with her vile toothy white smile. Her hair was a strange red color, almost if she had dyed it further making her strange reddish brown eyes stand out even more. Her face was mostly pristine with minor scratches here and there furthering her meaning look. I cannot lie though, as much as I hate my sister (Ruptga knows I do) I must admit she is stunningly beautiful. She is even more on par with the highest level of courtesans and noble women of the Republic; one might argue the most attractive woman in all of Hegathe. And this is coming from a man who has seen the many gorgeous women of Hegathe up close; she gives all the Raga women in the province a run for their monies. A classic Raga beauty like her knows she is top notch and she flaunts it, for every Jaharadin, Suten, and Navid in town. Her features were of a soft, womanly, and entrancing sort yet strong and arrogant, a deadly combination that I knew all too well. I looked at her stunning beauty with horror, as I knew this gold outer coating hid a deep and dark pile of shit underneath, the worst kind of corrupt and vile soul. She knew this and continued to smile, “How are my beloved siblings doing on this fine day?” she said in her typical fake enthusiasm. “Benu! You’re home” my younger brother and sister cheered,, clamoring and chanting around her in a circle their affection for her and their joy upon her arrival. They do not know how she truly is as they were naught but a thought in the minds of father and mother, they don’t know her like Jarad, Mene and Hakim do, even Leke and Ptra don’t like her and they’re animals! While being hugged by my two naive younger siblings, Kita looked from up above them onto Leke and I, reveling in her trickery and deceit. All she got in response was growling from Leke and the utter hatred showing in my eyes, that of which she responded to by stating in a callous tone, “Cute pooch, hopefully he doesn’t get into an accident later….” “What do you mean big sister?” the twins say in almost a sort of unison “I thought he was a good dog?” “Oh you know me little siblings, I do love to joke” she said with her forked tongue, I hate this bitch with a passion lying to our family. “Why don’t you little angels run off to play somewhere else….maybe the dining hall perhaps?” she spoke in that foreign tongue, “Juji and I have some adult things to talk about. Utter nonsense, but being dumb kids the twins bought the lie and ran at top speed towards the dining hall in the main building a mile or two away from the stables. “You miss me juji-ki (little slave)?” she said in her low but still venous melodic voice. “I know you miss our…..time together don’t you juji?” She really put some extra evil into that last one, trying to sound seductive as she flutter her evil eyes at me. My cock was starting to get hard, almost as if my body remembers what I went through with this deadra in human flesh. “Why would I ever miss you?” “I had hoped you were dead in that last war we fought with those heathen elves!” I said with fear, arousal, hatred and pride. “Fufufu…….juji you can’t get rid of me that easily, I will always be there for you” she said slowly and seductively, venom dripping from her mouth as she rubbed her hands across my chest. She was still about a foot taller than me and she played into our height difference by getting close, to the point where I could smell the honey wine on her breath, looking down into my eyes, her’s burning with her sick and twisted lustful fantasies. “Come with me juji…..” she said as she grabbed my arm intending to lead me towards the guest house, she was met with resistance as I did not want to go with her. I stood firm, still strong enough to hold my own against the seasoned warrior, “I don’t want to go with you.” I said calmly. All she did was flash a look at me, her typical narrowed eyes with that wicked smile of hers. She always does this, she always plays with my feelings and I absolutely hate it. She knows I am attracted to her, she knows I hate her, and she knows why I hate her but still can’t resist. Her devilish charm always entranced any male that came before her, I was no exception. The urge was too strong to resist, her look flashing me back to the times when we were kids…ugh. “Fine, I’ll go the words slipping begrudgingly out of my mouth. “Great, right this way” she said, taking my arm and leading me to the guest house. As we were beginning to leave the stable area Leke started to whine, probably not wanting me to go with this she devil, leading me to offer some sort of consolation. “It’s ok boy I’ll be alright……You stay here and hold down the fort” I said solemnly receiving a bark from Leke as he laid down on the grass riddled with worry. Kita and I walked through the least traveled part of the area, as not to arouse any suspicion of our destination nor intent, touring the fairly large expanse (for a private estate) near the beach. The guest house was far off; a ways away from the corral on the beachside, and the long walk gave us a nice look at our estate. The rolling fields gave way only sparsely to palm trees, fruiting trees of a tropical origin and the occasional flower patch growing out of the various ponds that dotted the landscape. The cool and gentle sea breeze kissed our windblown faces, only getting more enthralling as the various birds and beach life started moving around making their usual noises. We continued to walk down the beach enjoying the sights of the ocean for about a 10 minutes before reaching the guest house, the whole trip somewhat putting my mind at ease from the inevitable. The strange thing was though, Kita didn’t even talk to me, not one word throughout the whole trip, walking the shoreline then finally climbing up the small hill, as all she did was occasionally look out of the corner of her eye to make sure she still had my in her clutches. Gods know this woman is the definition of crazy, but her being silent somewhat dissuaded that and in some ways that is even more foreboding. We had finally reached the guest house, standing quite regally near the end of the animal palisade on top of a hill overlooking the ocean. When we finally got up to the bottom most step of the place I could finally see the true quiet beauty of the place. It was built less in the traditional Yoku fashion of the Yoku in Heaghte and more like the buildings I have seen on my trips to Sentinel. The walls were painted a misty blue color, almost mirroring the ocean perfectly with the extra white trims on the house’s frame and exterior. The house was octagonal in shape and had a perimeter around it that formed the outdoor patio; it was well kept and had many straw and wicker furniture items like chairs, tables both large and small, lounge chairs, and the like. There were more than a few talking noises coming out of the open windows, I thought this place was private? Apparently not, as we both saw two scraggly dressed men come flying out of the easternmost window, fighting over money no doubt. Kita just laughed it off paying it little to no mind as she led me inside through the white doorway, I offered no protest. Inside it had a very Sentinese feel to it, the walls were a sky blue with waves painted on them giving them a rolling appearance. These patterns covered a main room that could fit about 30 or so people in it with the various lounge chairs and all. One of the ruffians saw me with her and proceeded to greet her all the while starting me down, “Oi Capitan Kit, who’s is this….boy…. yur travelin with?” His accent was very strange for a fellow Redguard, even as a brigand he stood out, “This little shit is my brother, he’ll be accompanying me to the festivities” she said in a stern and plain voice. “You idiots better not break anything else, and don’t think I didn’t notice that window…..that’s minus 100 septims from the lot of you.” I see she pays them in imperial money, typical nudri lover. The brigand knew she was serious and tightened up his stance, “Yes ma’am we’ll get this here mess cleaned up right away!” he said as he shuffled off in the direction of one of the side rooms where all the commotion was coming from. “C’mon Div this is the last stop” my sister said as she grabbed a bottle of Surlie Brothers wine, “Just up the stairs then I can show you something…” “Oh goody, a present!”, I said rolling my eyes at her rousing her ire just enough for her to give a light but still very much hard punch to the shoulder. I followed her lead rubbing my arm up the main staircase to one of the rooms at the end of the hall on the right side of the balcony entrance on the second floor. The room had the white, ocean theme with only one difference, there was this odd symbol carved into the wood frame above the door, it look as if someone had drawn crude rectangular, circular and triangular shapes into the wood with a sharp hunting knife. That wasn’t the only strange thing either, the carving seemed to glow a faint bluish purple deep indigo color, and certainly it must be a trick on my eyes because this shit is too weird. Anyway we heard moans coming from behind the door with the culprits being discovered soon after, the door gave way to a scene of two male pirates one a strange elf and another imperial taking a female dark elf by the throat and ass. Before I could say anything Kita yelled, “You fuckers fucking in my room again?!” “I told you idiots to stay the hell out of here!” I flinched hard at the sudden burst of outrage, and it appeared as if I was not alone because the other three miscreants fucking on her bed jumped right out off of the mattress as a grasshopper jumps leaves. “I..I..I’m sorry mistress it’s…it’s just when we came up here all the other rooms were taken, we had o go somewhere…..” the imperial said timidly urging the dark elf to get dressed. The elf just silently put on his undergarments and pants and stepped out of there avoiding Kita’s harsh gaze like a priest to a brothel. “I’ll just get outta here….” he said as the elf hurried out of the room leaving the imperial and the female elf alone with us. The imperial man was about to leave until suddenly he was halted midstride by my sister, with a strong hand on his chest, “Now this isn’t going to happen again is it? I’d hate to have to come and see your mother Cassius…”, Kita said calmly. The look on this man’s face made me fear my sister even more; he looked as if he saw a wraith rape his mother to death, a face of pure horror. That last bit put a fire under his ass and he ran out the door and down the stairs following the strange elf’s path. And then there were three, I thought looking at the attractive elven woman, sweat and other fluids flowing off her and out of her.

9 AM Tirdas, 26th of First Seed 198 4E Considering all that has occurred I had to ponder for a bit my next moves, should I continue to gaze at my well formed physique? Should I attempt to get dressed and try and figure out how to get Vern out of the estate undetected? Maybe I should just throw myself out the window and be done with it, crumpling every single bone in my body, a truly instantaneous death. No, no that would be too easy, I should be punished for my crimes, after all the Gods have seen it fit to punish me so far. I think I'll go join him in the showers for a bit, maybe that will ease my mind. I turn my gaze towards the shower rooms curtain, a lovely smooth white veil that flows about with even the slightest air current. I hangs about 6 feet wide with golden embroidery brushing gently at it's bottom the polished stone floor. It really fits the room the white and gold really accent the brown sandstone walls and floors, letting the sun give the place natural warmth just like the rest of the house. the curtain stands a few steps away from the full body mirror behind me and the face mirror slightly above the wash basin I am using to clean my face. I give myself one last look over, smelling my underarms only to find a horrible stench emitting from them, "I definitely should get in there before I head out". While I'm walking over to the showering room a hear a soft humming coming from underneath the water, it sounds to me like one of those foreign songs bards sing to their children. The only thing I can make out is "One stands away to sea.......lovers all alone.......until the waters deep.......a lovers life forgone", it sounds like more of a sad song now more than anything, I'd hate to be the guy being sun that in memory of. I always dreaded the idea of dying at sea, no one to hear your cries, just the dangerous marine life gnawing at your drowned bones at the sea floor, tragic. I make my way to the curtain and move it back to see the small room, the same polished stone with inlaid pictures of water flowing, rivers and people bathing in them. There are about four circular windows that look more like holes in the wall stand worked into the three walls covering the bath, one on the side with the benches, another on the side with the tub and two on the side with the showers all inlaid with typical yoku phrases. My favorite one that's on the northern most portal is "Don't drop the soap", someone should tell that to Vern hahaha. The funny thing is I never really noticed any of this stuff before, I guess I just took it for granted not paying attention to the details of even my own room. Nevertheless, I have to get washed then dressed so I continue to the tub on the left hand side of the room, all the while seeing Vern obliviously washing his hair humming his tune. I shake my head and sit in the warm sunlit waters of the tub, circular in shape while at the same time being big enough to fit two adult people; fortunately for me all the toiletries like my soap and wash tools are positioned on the wall supporting the tub either hanging on hooks or set on stone shelves. As I'm sitting in the tub feeling the sunlight pour down on me, I close my eyes contemplating upon my thoughts, " Man this bath sure feels good, the water is just right not warm and not to cold.......maybe I should turn the jet on?" "Nah, the jet might be too much, I'll just sit here and relax...........what about Vern I could kill him and burn his body with a fire spell.........nah that would be just plain evil, plus he's in enough pain already considering his bottom must be worm out from my rigorous youthful attacks." "I could just disguise him as a teacher or merchant or something, and slip out of the back entrance near the stables relatively easily.........yeah I think I should do that, and maybe I should also throw on some illusion magic too to seal the deal." All the while I am collecting my thoughts, I feel a wet heat brush up against my cock and breathing near my face, I don't even open my eyes nor tilt my head up from its position resting on the warm stone behind me. Already knowing who and what this is I let out a sigh, "Vern don't you ever take a break? Your appetites are like that of a mountain ogrim, who's 8 months pregnant" The only response I got back was a slight giggle and the sound of water splashing as I was joined by my unscrupulous boy lover. Vern had taken my shaft in hand and aligned it with his pulsating pucker, all the while hovering over me in a straddling fashion glistening from the waist up from the shower and water droplets he had accumulated on himself. The half of his body that was under the warm bath water quickly increased in size as he slowly lowered himself onto me, gasping and biting his lip in what looked to be anticipation. I felt even more blood rush down to my half awakened rod as the heat of his rectum wrapped around my ever encroaching manhood like a wet bandage on an old wound. Overcome with what one can only call extreme lust, the fuckboy decided to bring my head up from my perfectly comfortable resting position up to his where he intended to stare into my eyes for a time. Albeit this did not go as he had quite planned as I decided to turn the tables on him for his insolence, pressing my lips against his steamy, plump orifice. I, never once breaking our eye contact, rolled my tongue around in his mouth battling for dominance, tasting the honey treats he had been eating the night before on my tongue. The only thing the poor sod could do was moan into our passionate kiss as he began to ride me out even faster, moving from the once slow bouncing to vigorous grinding and slapping on his bubbly ass cheeks onto my toned legs. "This guy is going to break my dick", I thought as the motions became even more frantic and passionate, "He is worse than a Khajiit in heat while high off of skooma!" I have never before seen such vigor in him before, it was almost like he wanted to prove something to me....maybe he wanted to show me he is worth the risk of being with him. No matter what his reasons are, the one thing I know for sure is that he is a bonafide cum freak, a cum freak who happens to be in love with a young crown noble. The mere presence of this heathen barbarian in my household would mean an endless torrent of bad news for me and my family, despite the pleasure of his wet, clingy asshole I have got to get him out of here without anyone noticing. This thought permeates my mind as I am giving him what he desires, gripping his hip with one hand and his plump ass with another. Pumping harder and harder until about 30 or so minutes pass and I begin to feel my end approaching. " I need to keep this short, the servants always come around early to clean the chambers and I don't have much time before they arrive", I stand up firmly hilted inside of him still pumping in and out of him furiously, gripping his hips to make sure he doesn't fall, slowly making my way to the window where the dawn is just getting at it's strongest. He, not surprisingly, isn't that heavy and i his lust, eyes rolled back in his head with the silliest look on his face, didn't even notice me lift him up and begin to move around. The saliva dripping from his open drooling mouth is a funny and amusing distraction from his nails digging into my back. "This boy lover better not ruin my handsome visage.....if he does he will never be able to walk again I swear!" I thought as I gave my last few deep trusts into his backside, groaning in an act of sweet revenge hitting his prostate along the way to his deepest recesses. Once at his core I let out a roar akin to that of an angry lion, unloading my jet after jet of pearly white baby juice into his used hole. In fact it was so powerful that even I had to sit back down, heavily breathing, a slight smile on my face upon noticing the damage I had done to him. He looked as if he had been shot in the foot, shot in the knee, and orgasmed upon said injuries all at once as the vast quantities of semen left my spasming sack into his spasming rectum. The amount of "love" I poured into him was so much that even his tight asshole couldn't hold it all, leading to a literal cascading waterfall of jism beginning to flow out of his sore rosebud. Vern's expression got even more hilarious as this whole process was happening, I have never seen anyone make a face quite like this one before. The face he made was so distracting I did not even notice his weak little spurts of his own juices floating under the water, mixing with my superior copious amounts of seed. As I looked down to see this occurrence I heard the words "So much...." weakly uttered out of his blubbering mouth. Apparently I had thoroughly broken him, "You should know that we redguards will always make a way....this time I made one in your ass!" He just smiled at this remark rubbing his belly, slightly coming to out of his blissful haze, " I can never go back to Imperial men now, not after what you did to me" he said as he lovingly pecked my lips. " You are the only man I could ever love, Div." Love? A man? Bah! Preposterous. "I should let him down easy" I thought, Vern I like you and all, and I'm not going to lie your ass is wonderful.......but I can only ever love a woman and unless you can somehow bear children all we can and could be are friends. With that last statement I could see his mood change, no longer was he in a haze, he was fully attentive to what I had to say. He said nothing, his eyes however did all the talking. The had a mix of sadness, anger, hurt, lust, jealousy and betrayal with love being the last thing I could gleam form his eyes and body language. I didn't want to hurt the poor guy.... I just couldn't live with myself if I lied to him and reciprocated his feelings. I would bring dishonor to myself and my family not only for being with him, but for lying to him and myself that we could be anything more than friends. He continued his silent treatment, getting out of the bath, using the running shower water to clean his butthole out. When I tried to touch him all he did was pull away and I swore I saw a tear or two roll down his face. In all my time of knowing Vern I have never seen him cry. This made me feel terrible but my sense of urgency snapped me back to reality, in Hegathe if I was caught with him we both could be dead for a multitude of reasons. And rightly so, we are committing an act that is heresy, blaspheming nature no less! There's only so far I can go with this before I turn myself in to the authorities and resign myself to figuring out a plan to get him out of here unnoticed. I put one hand on his cold shoulder, asking him can he hurry along and get dressed for me, doing this in the nicest way possible I offered up a weak smile to assure him of my good intent. "Let's just go..." he said as he began to dry himself off grabbing a large bath towel on his way out of the bathing room, all the while tiny droplets of cream and water dripping out of hiss hole, down his cheeks and thighs. I followed suit, turning off the pipes to the water and grabbing a towel after him seeing his solemn form shambling over to the dressing room and closet on the left side of the bathrooms rooms entrance. My heart sinking, I followed suit into the somewhat narrow rectangular room. Almost knocking over a houseplant in front of the curtains hanging on the window. I motioned for him to sit down on one of the lounge chairs I had placed before the changing curtains as I dug in the closets for something he could wear to disguise himself with. Hanging up on the closet closest to the curtain was my older sisters old, gown. As this used to be her room I thought nothing of it being there, it was very convenient after all, but such is the way of things. I picked it up off the rack handing it to him, the only thing bluer than the room we were in was his mood as he slowly picked over the dress commenting on how nice the design was and how soft it felt. His enthusiasm was less than half of what it normally was and you could tell, the tension was so thick you could cut it with a scimitar, leading me to make a somewhat uneasy comment "Well this should offer as a good disguise, look it even comes with a hood and mask to cover your face" I said as I handed him the other piece of the outfit I found as his remarks came. "Why don't we both get dressed so we can sneak out of here soon" I said, grabbing my lucky amulet. He said nothing and shuffled over to and behind the dressing curtain, I shook my head and rummaged through my personal closet to look for my favorite gear. I immediately saw my trusty white, old tunic, that of which my great grandfather wore in his youth, underneath my brown silk reinforced leather pants. I had always admired Cyrus and his exploits so when I saw a painting one of my ancestors did of him I deiced to "adapt" some of that style. Digging a bit more through my closet I found my undergarments, my red gold embroidered jacket (inlaid with the symbol of my house), and my fathers fishing cap that "borrowed" from him one night hunting for goodies he likes to hide in he and my mothers room. I take off my towel, buck ass nude for the world to see, getting a peak from behind the changing curtain, unfolding the leather pants to get ready to put them on as I hold my under trousers around my ankles. Pulling them up I put on my pants and proceed to don my tunic and jacket, saving the rounded, bowl shaped fishing hat for last, scouring the floor for my favorite pair of black steel, reinforced boots. After finding them and putting them on I meandered over to the mirror in the bathroom to check my appearance, "Flawless as usual" I thought as I called out to Vern to ask if he was ready. I heard no answer, only saw one; out of the closet and dressing room and into the main sleeping area I saw Vern. My sisters old garments fit him nicely, showing off his woman like curves and buttocks, while all the while still concealing his identity having the mask and hood operate as added assurance, only showing his wonderful bright eyes still showing hints of sadness. I began to hurry him along stating we have to go...now, as through the windows I could see the light of day shining clearly onto my bedspread. “It’s time to go”, I said in a rushed tone, “There is no telling when the maids will come to check up on me and clean this room. Swiftly grabbing Vern’s dainty hand, I led him out of the door at the end of my room’s entry hallway, an old wooden door easily pushed open on account of no one bothering to replace it. Through the door with Vern’s hand in mine I lead him down the winding stairs that form the tower in which I inhabit. Fresh new torches and windows line the sides of the walls going downwards to the main floor of the estate. The faintest of day light in its blood red glow comes in helping to guide our path downwards, albeit this didn’t help Vern much as he had tripped on one of the stairs coming down leading me to carry him bridal style onwards. We came close enough to the bottom to be able to see the hallway that leads to the courtyard, “The coast should be clear, let’s try to get to….” I heard footsteps and chatter coming from the left side outside of the hallway, these were heavy footsteps mind you like that of a soldier on the march. I told Vern to stay hidden in the darkness while I assessed the threat, peeking my head out from the doorframe ever so slowly until… Wham! I got smacked in the face with a leather covered hand, almost blacking out I clutched my face holding my nose to keep the blood from running down. Slowly I looked up and in my blurry jarred vision I saw the uncouth ruffian who assaulted me, it was my older brother Jarad clad in our houses signature colors adorning his leather armor. Jarad is my older brother by 5 years he is the captain of the Heagthe City Guard and eldest male of my siblings. Jarad has always been an asshole to me, always teasing me and pranking me for being the middle child. He stood about a few inches taller than me with a broad frame and chiseled features; we almost look like twins save for the only differences being he is much bigger than I for one and his gnarly scar sitting on the left side of his face. I had grown up seeing him fight in tournaments always getting first or second place in the hand to hand and weapons competitions, father would always tell me how I should grow up and be like him, a legendary warrior and all that. Total nonsense, my brother has no finesse he’s just a hulking brute that swings his weapon around like a club. Anyways, I looked up at him angrily saying nothing to rebuttal his annoying mule sounding laughter, there was one thing on my mind, revenge. Not thinking, I tackled him, flinging my blood all over the floor and onto his armor this of course was no remedy as all he did was laugh even harder and try and weakly wrestle me back. “C’mon you bastard fight like a man, only a coward sucker punches someone like that!” I said angrily, “Juji (Juji in Yoku means “little midget”), you talk of sneaking? I am not the one creepy through dark hallways in the wee hours of the morning! Ha-ha!” “Fuck you, you bastard, you always do this horseshite to me!” I said as I wrestled him totally forgetting about Vern hiding in the shadows with his finger up his ass or something- typical Imperials. We tussled for a few more minutes until I got the best of him forcing him to admit some form of defeat, “Alright alright, get offa me you lout, you win” he said in between his chuckles. I rise off of him, watching anxiously for another sneak attack as he dusted himself off. “Juji why are you up so early, creeping about through the dark like a lizardman? Whenever we go to the tavern you usually end up piss drunk and sleep till noon-what changes it this time little brother?” I contemplate how to answer him, if I tell him of my situation with Vern he will never let me hear the end of it, but if I don’t tell him and he finds out the other way it could be even worse. I really shouldn’t lie to my brother but what the hell, were human, “To be honest brother I got up early to try and head to the stables, I wanted to check up on Ptra, he has been acting sluggish lately and I wanted to see if he is ok.” He sat there and rubbed his bare chin for a second, “Hmm…. I can’t say I haven’t noticed that some of the animals have been acting strangely lately…. I suppose you are right for once Juji” “Go and check up on the horses……Oh I almost forgot” Jarad said in a somewhat exited tone “Today is the Nerr’uri , father and mother have invited all our relatives from all over Tamriel, I heard even Kita will be visiting too.” A wild smirk hit his face as he said that last bit, while I felt nothing but dread. Kita?! Coming back home?! Dammit all I thought that bitch was killed in the War. Fuck. Kita is the oldest member of the main family’s children, a terrible truly cruel and vindictive bitch of a woman. She was first in line to inherit the managing of our family estate, from birth she was taught nothing but the lofty responsibility she had in our family. The weight of our entire house was on her shoulders, and unfortunately for us, all that weight went right up to her big fat swollen head. She used to terrorize us when our parents or grandparents weren’t there, making us play her sick games like Hold Your Breath In a Pool, The Punching Game, and the worst of all Dibella’s Horror. The worst part about Dibella’s Horror wasn’t even that she used Imperial Gods, the worst part was she used to abuse us. Everyone except the four youngest siblings got this abuse, and it may seem like my brother thinks it was funny on the outside but I know him. He hurts just like the rest of us, the type of stuff that comes out of the House of Bal puts what she did to us to shame. When we heard she was leaving a couple of years ago to go to Daggerfall to be a bodyguard for some pansy noble, we are all relieved, even Jarad. She was always an excellent fighter and tactician and I guess that turned out to be a blessing in disguise as we finally got a break for once. “Say it ain’t so brother? Please let her be dead, please let it just be a rumor!” “I’m afraid not little brother” Jarad said with a grim look “Father received a letter from Lord Tyran of Daggerfall saying that Kita will be granted paid leave to observe this holiday. Looked official to me, had the seal and everything.” With a sigh Jarad said sarcastically looks like big dongo is coming home”. Of all the no shiran in Heagthe father had the most connections, our masonry is legendary and a very lucrative business, it is no surprise he could convince that pasty Breton to let Kita come home. After all this time and all the foul things Kita has done, she was still father’s favorite, even despite her “condition”. Dammit, now I have to deal with this bullshit, well such is my life seeing as the gods see it fit to punish me for whatever reason. “Well little brother I have done my job, go check on those animals before you head over to the main house, if you don’t mine I’m going to grab myself a servant girl, a bottle of wine and a nice shady spot to rest in” “See you on the other side brother”, he said with a pat on my back and a spring in his step as he walked towards the dining hall. I would do the same all things considered…but I have to get rid of the boy lover before I get some real action, I think as I slide back into the shadows to find Vern. Vern stepped out of a corner almost killing me with shock talking in a hushed tone, “Who’s Kita and that big handsome man is your brother? I’d like to see if you guys share more than a last name!” “That’s just like you huh Vern? Nasty man just plain nasty….” I say grabbing his hand to lead him towards the stables. “Change of plan we are heading to the stables, you can ride one of the draft horses out back to the city” “And I thought you were still mad at me?” “I am still mad at you Div,” Vern said softly, “I’m especially man at the fact you won’t tell me who Kita is and what she did to you” “I don’t want to talk about it “ I said, I forgot that Vern doesn’t fully know the old tongue yet despite using his tongue to know the bodies of Raga from here to Stros M’Kai. “She’s a very bad person……that’s all I’ll say”, I said somberly as I lead him hurriedly towards the stables. We passed through the courtyard fountain in all its gleaming marble and sandstone glory to head to the corral about a few feet away from the wall of the outdoor fountain room. I led Vern down the well lit carved sandstone path littered with shrubs and foliage almost like a lion would when stalking prey in the tall grass as to not alert the guards we hired to protect against the horse thieves. We finally hit the end of the winding pathway where the stables were, climbing over the far stretching brown fence line into the open grassy fields. The first thing I was greeted was the thundering of hooves, a large slim and proud jet black horse came up galloping from afar, only slowing down as it got closer to Vern and I. Ptra always was a flashy horse, ever since he was a foal he loved to show himself off and today is no exception. “Wow Div, what a beauty he is” said Vern in sheer awe of this powerful beast. “I love horses, my Pa used to raise them outside of Bruma” “They’re not quite like this big guy here but still amazing nonetheless”, Vern reaching his hand out to caress Ptra’s head. “What kind of horse is this guy Div?” “This is a legendary Hammerfell Charger; they were one of the last breeds of warhorses that came with my ancestors after their journey from the old lands. Ptra though is even more unique than some of the same breed because his lineage descends from Frandar’s old warhorse Yutai, of which he rode into battle to conquer these lands.” I say proudly as Ptra enjoys Vern’s gentle touch neighing and winning in delight. “That sounds cool and all but I have one question, who’s Frandar?” My mouth literally dropped as low as Ptras balls were drastically changing my face from smug pride to downright shock, “What do you mean who is Frandar?!” I declared loudly almost alerting people to our presence. “He is the one who makes a way, possibly one of the greatest Raga to ever live!” “I would’ve thought after sucking on all that raga cock that you do, you would have at least heard something about one of our greatest heroes?” “Nope sorry…nothing, I’ve heard about him and seen his statue in town but I don’t know anything about him……plus don’t yell at me I didn’t know alright.” “Divines you can be so rude sometimes Div.” All I could do was scowl at that last remark, “Whatever let’s get this over with”, I said in a hurried and slightly annoyed tone. Ptra saw fit to come to Vern’s defense and offered a proud whinny as if to tell me to play nice. Just leave it to this dumb horse to betray his caretakers by taking the side of a nudri. “Anyway enough talk let’s get you out of here” I said grabbing Vern’s hand, leading him to the draft horse stables on the far right side of the fence line. I lead him to old Flower in her freshly cleaned pen, a few camels that strayed from their side of the corral eating hay and vegetation with her. Flower was on her way out; she had served my mother well for years until that accident that left her running ability crippled made her a permanent fixture at the farm. She was still that beautiful light brown color, white mane and tail still just as freshly groomed as the rest of her was. Her presence was serene and Vern immediately took to her, brushing her and petting her drawing nothing but jealousy from Ptra who was waiting outside her shelter. It would’ve been a nice scene if it wasn’t for the fact that the combined camel and horse smells were almost too overpowering for me to bear. “Mind if you help a lady on her horse o brave knight?” said Vern with his eyes batting, “First off you’re not a lady and second off I ain’t a knight” I say as I offer to help him up onto Flower. When finally got on top of Flower, he told me, “You know I’m still mad at you right?” “You’re going to have to make it up to me one of these days……maybe you can start by letting me keep this ole girl?” “Haha in your dreams Colovian, you can keep Flower, she seems to be happy with you anyways and as long as you’re out of here I don’t really care if she goes.” “Oh and one more thing” Vern says, motioning me to come closer to him on the horse, “This is for last night”. Vern pulls me by the collar and kisses me deeply before letting me go, saliva forming a strand or two with the parting of our mouths. Just leaving me there speechless with a slight tent in my pants Vern laughed and rode off through the open gate that some idiot forgot to lock towards the city. “Goodbye ole girl “I said, patting Ptra on his sides, Damn nudri always making things more complicated. “C’mon ole boy let’s get you some food and water” I say as I lead Ptra back to his stables on the opposite end of the gate. While I’m walking Ptra to his shelter I notice an odd, foreboding feeling come over me like I am being watched. I pretend to be changing his hay, bending over with my back turned opposite the doorway. It’s always something , isn’t it?