Topic: Autumn of the Rose

Alain DeMuer

Date: 2007-03-16 14:23 EST
The advent of spring beckoned flowers to bloom. Life sprung forth in bright colors; innocent and pure, they were also delicate and fragile, the ghosts of winter sometimes enough to bring their beautiful lives to a swift and tragic end... if the wind blew cold enough.

But the warmth of spring had not faltered, and Alain could not help but hope that the blackness of that winter was behind Rhy'Din for good. There was the issue of a probable other killer harassing the Scathachians (the 'wagon incident,' as he had come to call it), but maybe this murderer was indulging in vengeful sin in the absence of the original killer? Antagonizing the Scathachians, perhaps, was not the communicated goal between two parties, but the torch taken up by a copycat with a different style. Maybe something had happened to the original, or he had grown bored, to fade into history like Jack the Ripper? Then the copycat would be caught, or would even more rapidly tire of a goal that was not his own to begin with...

Optimism. The nightmares had ended for a time with the warm weather... though he'd had another, just the night before... As with the previous five nightmares, he had been pursuing a dark figure and been killed, but this time differently. He found the inverted scales of justice carved into his skin, the same he'd seen too many times in the morgue, but instead of bleeding to death? He had been stabbed in the back, and saw the blade come out through his chest.

The snow was melting, but memory of the nightmare made him shiver.

"So what'd you have in mind?"

Alain and Leslie walked away from the medieval comforts of the Red Dragon Inn; Leslie led the way towards the docks. Neither were dressed well, the detective in an Oxford and trousers, the Hawaiian in a simple but pretty dress that made him think of flowers.

"There's a lot of good places downtown," he added.

?Well.? She twisted her lips and clicked slowly along in her heels beside him. The weather was warm, and the mood was quiet. ?I had planned on taking you to this seafood place, bruddah, by th'docks?? The Hawaiian accent. Alain counted on it to tell how she was feeling, what she was thinking. "But... well, I'm not sure you're used to, like, fancy... mmm?" Worked like a charm. "If I hadn't forced you to dress up, I'd suggest going to Rave again."

He blinked and looked down at his outfit ? white Oxford and brown trousers ? and back up with a grin at her. ?I think I can fit in about anywhere. It?s entirely up to you? so long as you feed me.?

Leslie answered, but Alain didn?t hear. A change in the wind changed with it the sounds brought to his ears, and stirred in him a feeling he?d felt on these streets many times before? they were being watched. His blaster felt heavy in its holster under his shirt as he looked at dark alleyways down the street and frowned at them.

Suddenly he was aware Leslie was slowing them to a halt. Looking up at him in silent question.

He explained his nightmares to her and they walked away from the spot. The mood darkened, rescued only by his antics when they reached the restaurant, Undertow. He raced ahead of her to the door and pulled it open, addressing her as ?mademoiselle?, posture stiff, regarding her with lifted chin. She giggled and went on inside? and he lingered, shivered for that single moment alone, and followed her in. His imagination was being cruel to him.

Nothing more.

Giminicka

Date: 2007-03-24 13:41 EST
If the poets were indeed correct in their boasts about the eyes truly being the windows to the soul, then the pair of hateful eyes which were now set upon them both were portals straight into Hell's black heart.

Oftentimes, Nocent had Krysria keep an eye on these two little lambs.......but tonight, she felt the feverish desire to follow this duo herself. From the moment they left the Red Dragon Inn she carefully followed their casual stroll.......down towards the docks, where the heavy tinge of salt made the very air seem endless. Giminicka could see them speak and interact as if everything were in slow motion......the man's gentle hand caressing her back......her coy look away like she wanted to say something important to him, that she perhaps thought the better off..........a ripened sense of genuine tension between them both. Theologians always say that when it comes to matters of the soul, one should never let precious moments pass by without speaking your mind........for one is never granted the blessed promise of tomorrow.

How divinely prophetic.......for if all went according to Bhaal's unholy will this eve.....neither of these two little doves would be alive to see the next dawn.

Alain DMourir, he was a very smug looking bastard. Young in the face, but smart.....yes, far too smart for his own well being. Krysira had slipped up the other night in The Club Blue......she almost let this insignificant mongoose follow her back to the den of the waiting serpent.

Little Krysira had been properly corrected for that crucial error in judgment......time for his diminutive son of a bitch to feel the wrath of punishment as well. This Alain wouldn't look quite so handsome when she was done with him......no, no, no. In fact........slowly peeling off his pompous face and then making the little bitch with him feast on the tender meat was a delightful plan that Giminicka had been toying with all night.

Now, that "little bitch" who was walking with him was aptly named Leslie.......sweet little Leslie. Her pretty face was quite sassy, yet honest and kind. She had a tight, sculpted body that many women would kill for........"kill for".....ironic choice of words, no?
Her hair....the magnificent hue of her hair.........breathtaking. That ever-changing pigment always intrigued Nocent. It was exotic......enticing......very sexy. Giminicka vowed to personally take that stunning head of hair when she was finished with this enchanting doll Leslie......so many wonderous things she could use it for.......oh, so many unscrupulous and steamy acts, indeed.

As Nocent mused, her muscular thighs once more gave way to that dampened touch of untamed arousal. The Priestess of Bhaal sincerely treasured her new calling........far, far removed though it was from the original vocation of a young, fiery Scathachian named Eris.

Deadly emerald eyes never left these two......avariciously taking in their routine of whimsical tension and unspoken gestures. All of it would soon enough give way to agonized screams of terror and pain........and desperate, unanswered pleas for mercy.

When they finally reached their destination, a fine restaurant called The Undertow, Nocent could see a wave of uneasiness pass over DMourir's face......uneasiness or perhaps a premonition of the bloodshed to come? Even when he playfully covered up his underlying dread by holding the door open for his Leslie and cutely calling her "mademoiselle".......his eyes seemed to shift with edgy suspicion.

The Beast silently watched.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul........May the gods have mercy on them both.

Alain DeMuer

Date: 2007-04-07 15:28 EST
The atmosphere of the restaurant was good for both of them. Conversation turned to family, namely to Alain's co-worker and her relation to Leslie. For a moment, he thought Cassie was fae... but no. But the suspicion that she was not quite human lingered... in fact, he stewed over it in the restaurant, until...

"Tell me something. Something... nobody else knows. You know the secret about my hair" - Leslie's fae ancestry - "so it's only fair you tell me a secret about you now."

That threw the detective for a loop. Most of his secrets were too dark for a nice dinner conversation. Most of them, only a handful of people knew... some of them had died with the witnesses over the course of the war in Nouveau Bretagne... but what could he tell her... maybe not something he considered a full-blown secret, but something he didn't really tell people... After some hemming and hawing, he finally says it:

"I've never had a girlfriend. Never a real relationship to speak of." He smiles oddly at something, looking past her. "Shannon and Amalia both think I had one, back in high school... but we were just lovers. We played the boyfriend-girlfriend game in public to maintain appearances, but we both knew what it was all about."

Leslie cocked her head to the side, surprised and curious. "Why?"

He struggled for an answer. Couldn't find one. "I never really approached anyone in that way..." Sort of a lie. With Amalia, it was... different, when they made love. But there was some truth to it. "It's always been... kind of playful. You know?" For some reason, he felt awful saying it. He was wondering why himself, and it didn't help when she asked him again,

"But why?"

Thank God he never had to answer. Her eyes moved, and his followed, as the cook and several of the restaurant staff approached their table. When Leslie giggled, Alain knew something was up.

The cook was holding a paper chef's hat with MISTER RHY'DIN printed on it. "Alain we want to treat you as a king tonight," Leslie explained, while the hat was placed on Alain's head. "And as you know... every king deserves his crown."

Many of the patrons were clapping or laughing along, and Alain was doing his best not to laugh, chin lifted as he surveyed his 'subjects' as a giant lobster bib was securely placed on him. After a look at Leslie's uncontrollable giggling, fingers stifling her mouth, he couldn't help himself. Red in the face, he started laughing.

"You, Alain," she said, calming herself and prodding his foot with hers, "are a worthy opponent."

* * *

After two hours of laughter and lighter conversations, the sense of foreboding had all but passed out of Alain's memory, and was certainly far removed from his attention. His wallet felts lighter, but so did his spirit, and he felt certain it was a good investment. "I had a really good time tonight, Leslie." He was ten feet out from the restaurant, arms folded, looking down at the girl with a big grin. Sure they were alone in the quiet street, and not even thinking about it.

The teen rocked up onto the toes of her high-heeled shoes and bounced. Blonde hair swayed a bit and she brushed it out of the way. "Me too! It was different than our other outings... loud music, dancing, and drinking." All grins.

"Still think we turned the place upside down." ::He winked at her. "We should do this more often." He moved in for a hug, and Leslie obliged him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

"Oh, I know! They want you to visit again, bruddah. We'll have to visit again soon."

Alain squeezed, hands rubbed her back a few times quickly, and then he took a step back, still close. "Well... I guess I had an okay time, so maybe you can convince me to come out here again..." A smirk, her hand loosely held and then let go as he took another step back. "Believe it or not... I've got work tonight." He wrinkled his nose. "A couple club patrons need a good talking to." Boring stuff for him, usually.

Being the teenager that she was, the act of being held by some cute guy, no matter how much of just a friend he was, was thrilling. Any and all snow surrounding them melted. Smiling prettily, Leslie quickly put her hands behind her back, flexing the one he'd held for that brief moment. After an inward attitude check, Leslie rolled her eyes and playfully slugged him in the shoulder. "Brah, admit it... you know you loved your crown and bib." Girlish laughter bubbled out.

"Now I'm gonna expect the royal treatment every time I go here." He chuckled at the hit. "You have a good night, Leslie." A smile. "Be safe." He'd started saying it more often in recent months, and yet even more recently it had become custom instead of concern. The danger not quite real to him anymore.

"Yeah, yeah, bruddah. I'll be safe, though, with the stories mah sistah tells me, I should say the same to you!" Trademark pose and a bit of a bounce, Leslie waved then and began walking in the opposite direction. "See you around, Alain!" Tossed over her shoulder before she disappeared down a side street.

He lingered to watch her go... chuckled, and walked the other way.

Giminicka

Date: 2007-04-27 21:40 EST
The moon-hazed sky had grown ominously darker with the forward movement of the slithering clouds.

Likewise, the night air had grown much colder......restless it was in these later hours.

Nocent herself had grown more eager and ravenous to feast on the wet blood of these two lambs........the hunt and the kill were almost as fun as the tender banquet of slaughter and torment.

The Anti Scathachian watched from afar in stoic silence. The rapacious Beast within was already foreseeing the crimson trail of gore and dark vapors of ill omen which were closely following these two friends. Hate coursed through Nocent's powerful body like poisonous vitae......the maniacal eyes of the warrior never left their prey.

They both exited the restaurant....silly smiles painted on both of their naive faces.

What?s this? Splitting up.......how dismally unpredictable.

Giminicka thought for sure that this gratuitous man-whore, Alain, would have insisted on dipping his masculine parts into this little tramp at least one time this eve........and she, laughing like an innocent school girl, would have quickly turned her playful giggling into the strident moaning of a wanton whore.

Yes, a gleefully erotic serenade for all to hear..........like the courtyard songs of famed minstrels past. It would have been oh so sweet to listen to that moan of pleasure suddenly turn into a sickly gasp as Giminicka drove her serried blade into Leslie's sculpted back and let it persist in its voyage right through her tender left lung.

As the sword tore past the pink, fleshy pulmonary tissue and out of her chest, perhaps the unholy steel would have continued.......unrelenting in its daunting trek.....through her body and into the abdomen of her sweat soaked lover, Alain.

Picturesque. Pinning them both together......forever binding them in their precious sexual position.........

Death and sexual intercourse.....a fine set of companions..........an unsullied work of art in its finest form.

Such an amusing thought........an enchantingly sensual daydream.

The haughty little bastard quickly laid it all to waste when he strolled off in the opposite direction. A crossroads of sorts....with him going one way.....and pretty Leslie trotting off in another.

What to do.....what to do..........

The towering Priestess of Bhaal was exceptionally hungry for human flesh and anguished screams.........without question, either Alain DMourir or his beloved tart Leslie was going to suffer an agonizing death.....tonight.

It was the perfect time for a seamless murder. A ripe offering for Lord Bhaal to commence the preparations for his magnificent crusade to come.

Leslie contentedly shouted back to her "friend", her body bouncing with its usual grace: "Yeah, yeah, bruddah. I'll be safe, though, with the stories mah sistah tells me, I should say the same to you!.....See you around, Alain!"

No, my love.

You will never see him again.

Giminicka

Date: 2007-06-08 17:38 EST
Her eyes saw nothing but unadulterated red.

Giminicka slipped into the shadows of the winding alleyways and began the final pursuit of her marked prey. The lovely Leslie had unwittingly decided to take some shortcuts back to her stomping grounds.

Silly little girl.

In the twisting catacombs of night are where the shadows outstretch their claws and bury them deeply into the soft wool and gamey flesh of hapless little lambs. Shepherds were oftentimes initially oblivious to the brutal murder of a lone member of their flock.

Baaaa....Baaaaaa....

The Anti Scathachian was a pure huntress by nature. She thrived on it.....she craved it like the syrupy blood she bathed her powerful, naked body in almost nightly. Giminicka was fanatically passionate about it........not in the least sullen.....not about the hunt......not about the kill.
The Beast within made her so much more lethal then she ever had been before. It whispered surreptitious secrets to her......empowered her impressive form.....carnally touched her in ways that only a devoted lover should do in the throngs of dripping intercourse. And now.......the Beast was focused solely on this young woman....on this Leslie.

All of that rage......all of that savagely inbred hatred for her heroic foes and their dogmatic propaganda.......the unfathomable yearning for the coppery taste of wet blood.............all of it was glaring straight onwards at the fair friend of Alain D?Mourir.

A wide left turn, followed by a hard right would put Nocent just in front of Leslie on this little pathway through the shadowy maze of buildings. She would see the little whelp pass by her.......she would see her pass by and then she would rain upon her with the blackened fury of Lord Bhaal himself.

Pain and sadistic fury ebbed forth from her very heart as she pulled her full crimson hood forwards to shield her dangerous glare. She continued to move like a rapacious jungle storm.....her booted feet making no sound on the cold stone street.

Silence............the wide left........the hard right......silence...........the Fallen Sister readied herself in the darkness for the eminent assault.....
Leslie was approaching............she quickly passed by Giminicka who was lurking in the dimness.

In the count of a single breath, the Anti Scathachian was upon ill fated Leslie. Quick work this was. There would be no drawn out abduction here.....no passionate thrill of gagging Leslie with her strong hand while she allowed the perverse arousal, initiated by Leslie's pounding and kicking, to wrack through her powerful body. No listening to her prey's hushed whimpering and vain attempts at pleading as Nocent dragged her off into the gloomy maw of the night............no........there would be time for pleading and frantic petitioning later. This little "dialogue of action" would be strictly laconic.

The armored gauntlet gripped tightly onto a blunt weapon of raw iron. Nocent brought it down hard upon the back of Leslie's head......the blow instantly catalyzing a concussion in her victim, as Leslie's brain was violently jarred against the inner bony surface of her skull.

As Leslie stumbled, Giminicka hit her again hard with the vile mace......either for good measure or to simply see her victim's sculpted body flail and stumble like a loosed top as she struck the dirty ground.

Spin....spin.........spin.......collapse. Giminicka maliciously grinned beneath her reaper-like hood.

The Beast within loomed over the grounded heroine...........both it and Giminicka could smell the tang of oozing blood. The gentle fingers of the evening wind wafted it ever so sweetly to the keen nostrils of the gruesome predator.

It was time for a little trip.........time to move the play indoors. Nocent would happily assemble the bloodthirsty ensemble of the growing deck of evil..........let the "face cards" take a painfully long look at D'Mourir's wanton, wild whore. Little Leslie would indeed be well cared for.........plenty of close attention would be rendered onto her.

The IronHelm Flats was now the infernal heart of darkness.............and Lord Bhaal was dreadfully hungry for this sultry sacrifice.

Leslie

Date: 2007-06-09 10:46 EST
There was fog.

Alot of it: Thick, oppressive; the kind you can taste. It was like fuzz... oh, and the cold. So, so cold.

Leslie's eyelids shot open wildly as she awoke with a start, her body immediately recoiling against the chair she was in as pain radiated throughout her body like waterdrop rings on a lake. They started at the back of her head and with each throb got bigger and more obtrusive.

WHAT HAPPENED?!

The searing pain that ebbed from behind her eyes made it difficult to keep them open, but she had to see where she was. Bluegrey irises drifted around the room, but for some reason Leslie couldn't focus on any one thing; nor could she concentrate. It was dark, she could tell, save the one small light from a far corner in the room. The fog -- in her mind -- swirled thicker and thicker as she attempted to concentrate. A pitiful, helpless wail pierced the air when it was realized that she was bound to the chair in which she sat.

"Daddy......" tears streamed down her face as panic set in, limbs straining against her bonds. Why couldn't she think? Why did it hurt so much? Eyelids slid shut in confusion and growing irritation.

The last memory she had was of Alain smiling at her at dinner. There was nothing else. Just black... and fog. And cold. The more she tried to think, the more her head hurt. Any mental reach for her magic only made the pain worse, elliciting a frustrated scream from the teen. One thought rang clear, however. She had to get out. Back to Alain, to her sister... to her family. To Alex.

Alex. Leslie's body went limp against the chair, her head lolling to the side in efforts to gather any and all energy. The pink haired woman searched through the fog in her mind for a way to reach Alex. With her family in a completely different plane, Leslie deduced that Alex was her only chance.

Ever know what it's like to have a word on the tip of your tongue? Well, this was one of those moments... so close was she to taking hold of her Fae giftings. It was such an effort to concentrate on nothing else - her body was shaking and beads of perspiration formed on her creased brow. At last, when she searched through the fog and that last bit of fuzz was sorted through, an explosion of excrutiating pain washed her senses thoroughly, inviting the blissful blackness one calls unconciousness. There would be no help for Leslie.

Hours later she awoke to find herself no better off than before. In fact, probably worse off. The pain was incessant. Several times she attempted to contact Alex or his brother...even Jewell. Someone....... anyone who could possibly help her. But each time, as soon as she got close, the attack on her senses would send her into a black, dreamless abyss. She didn't know how long she'd been left alone, but panic was beginning to set in again. Time for a new tactic. She worked and worked at her ropes, struggling to remain awake as the fog continued to swirl around violently inside her mind. A burst of confidence swelled within her breast as finally her hands were free. One foot..... and then working on the other. So close!



........................and yet so far.

Poison Gaze

Date: 2007-06-13 16:37 EST
Thick, ebon thighs rubbed together as Micar'shalee moved in for a closer look at the tasty little treat trying for a timely escape. Against the darkness, Micar'shalee was not easily seen. Only the slimmest sliver of shocking white hair was seen in contrast to the dim surroundings of the IronHelm Flats basement.

She watched Leslie squirm out of her binds. The Drow had purposely not tied the ropes to her usual specifications, half of the fun was watching hope light a captive's face only to crack and drain from the features as the realization of their demise slowly sunk in. In her time above ground, Micar'shalee had continued her Goddess-given gift for torture, finding joy in the utter humiliation and pained suffering of others.

As the Drow Priestess approached, skulking through the murky depths, her sharp rasp of a voice gave away her position, "Usstan kyorl ol zhah draeval whol l' nibeless ulu kre'j."*

Coming forward, closer to the young Leslie, the contents of Micar'shalee's strong hands were revealed: a set of six inch steel pins and a mallet.

"Going somewhere, my child?"



* "I see it is time for the games to begin."

Leslie

Date: 2007-06-15 12:29 EST
With her abilities hidden in that cursed befogged mind of hers, Leslie hadn't noticed the Drow's presence.

The young girl, startled by the disembodied voice, sat up straight, abandoning her attempts at untying the last bond around her left ankle. Terror seized her heart, that glorious muscle constricting in her chest; breath rushing past her lips as the very air she breathed was stolen from her lungs. Delicate, porceline skin paled even more as bluegrey's drank in the sight of this powerful Drow.

It really was unfair, you see, for Leslie was confused on top of every other emotion flooding her senses. As much as her sister, Cassandra deVernon had told her that West End had some sketchy things going on, she really wasn't privy to any information regarding the killings or the threats. She wasn't involved in the watches. She wasn't even in league, really, with any of the Sisters or those trying to prevent the attacks. Leslie was just a simple, happy, normal fae teenager who happened to be friends with Alain D'Mourir.

As Micar'shalee drew closer, Leslie began to quake in fear. Her body still radiating in pain, Leslie could barely concentrate enough to cry... oh, but those tears flowed. All attemps at getting away were washed from her memory; now terrorizing images of what the pins and mallet were for filled the teen's mind. Her sobs grew louder with every step Micar'shalee took towards her.

Giminicka

Date: 2007-06-17 20:03 EST
Giminicka had been watching young Leslie expertly shed her bonds that had been placed upon her by the nefarious Drow, Micar'shalee. The little Fae bitch was quite dexterous in her ability to escape rope and such........it was time to see if she held such talents in all things.

The Fallen Sister had sweetly drugged sleepy little Leslie as soon as they had returned to the sanctity of the IronHelm Flats........here in the womb of the dismal dark, the teen's veins were filled with an archaic poison. An excruciating venom that would eventually kill her.........that is if something else didn't end her miserable, pathetic life first.

Nocent eyed the Drow as she menacingly stalked towards the terrified girl.......the malice was sculpted into the very lines of her black visage. Indeed.....the Queen of Hearts was not lacking the taste of true evil......never forgetting the hunger for fresh blood. This Dark Elf could certainly fill the void left behind by the departure of her own beloved Rae.......all mastery in due time.

Nocent fondled herself quickly as she saw the life and hope drain from the young Fae's eyes.......her face........and from her very soul. All of it deftly poured from her being and seeped into the deep cracks of the stone floor on a grim decent into Hell's infinite bowels.

As the Drowish warrior-sorceress gripped the cruel looking spikes in her powerful left hand, it was evident that the luck of Alain D'Mourir?s little slut had run dry. Too bad precious "lover boy" was at home sleeping.....or more likely conning fellatio from one of his other depraved sluts.

The huntress Giminicka summarily emerged from the dark corner of the dimly lit room......feeble attempts at escape and gain freedom were truly amusing........they tickled her in ways that no man ever could. This, playful dance, however, had gone on for long enough......and furthermore, the little whore had nearly freed herself completely.

Time to correct this gentle lamb on her misunderstanding.......on her misinterpretation of the present situation. No. There would be no freedom......no escape......no mercy........no hope. Those fairytale emotions and urges would be messily replaced with despondency....anguish......fear.......and death.

Nocent unsheathed her unholy blade....that vile fang of Lord Bhaal himself, dubbed Anaxhetoch in the ancient tongue of the damned........'Oblivion?s Nail' was its calling. The cursed blade sliced through the very air with adroit precision......in the hands of this abominable Anti-Scathachian it was as a surgeon?s instrument. The flat portion of the heinous weapon smashed into the teeth and lips of terrified Leslie with a resounding and revolting thud.

Anaxhetoch keenly found its young target and heralded pain with its swift arrival. Teeth shattered at the roots, torn gum tissue, and sliced lips now decorated Leslie?s bloodied face when the evil weapon was resheathed onto Giminicka?s armored back. The furious blow was more than sufficient to plant Leslie firmly back into the ?special chair? which had been hand selected for her by the generous and kind Micar?shalee.

Nocent lustfully straddled Leslie?s lap and slowly lowered herself down upon her. She leaned in and allowed her serpent-like tongue to lap at the steady flow of blood ebbing from the teen Fae?s traumatized oral cavity. The Priestess nearly came right there where she was seated..........the taste.......the terror..........oh god, it was a murderous rebirth!

With a powerful gauntleted fist, Nocent gripped Leslie?s right hand and held it firmly against the wooden arm rest of the chair. She threw back her crimson hair and looked over to the ebon skinned Red Queen who had now closely joined their little m?nage ? trois. Giminicka spoke with a smooth bedroom voice which would assuredly have made any aroused male expel his sexual juices into the confines of his tight pants: ?Do hand me two of those long.....smooth.....iron barbs of yours love.......give it to me......so velvety it is within my hand, love.?

After the Drow handed her two of the several elongated metal pins, Giminicka finished her demented train of thought, ?Oh my love.........every slut must have their day of revelation....their washing away of guilty sins...........and their wonderous calling home. Sometimes young one.....we can?t bring ourselves to be still and humbly accept fate?s many gifts for us. Fear not Leslie.....we shall help you to find your ordained home...little Fae whore. We shall fortunately ensure that you get exactly what?s coming to you......?

With the fire of Hell?s heart in her own green eyes, Nocent steadfastly positioned the first iron spike onto the captive woman?s right wrist........the point just broke the teen?s tender flesh.

Her next five words ushered in the next painful chapter of poor Leslie's anguished final hours, ?Micar......take us home, love.?

Poison Gaze

Date: 2007-06-20 01:09 EST
The Poison Gaze lustfully descended upon Nocent and their new toy, her eyes nearly gleaming with joy as her pale tongue licked her ebony lips. "L' ust zotreth, dos ph' rin'ov ji valyrin, Nocent."* A turn and a toss of the mallet in her right hand, she looked to Leslie. Holding her gaze for a seemed eternity, Micar'shalee raised the mallet slowly.

"Dosst jiv'undus orn tlu ssol'riss wun uoi'nota, ussta d'anthe. Lu' ussta haren orn anth xuil ssrigg'tul,"** the warm breath of the Drow licked at the sweat-coated neck of the frightened young girl.

Down came the mallet, meeting Nocent's steady spike with a spattered orgasm of blood and cracked bone. A pleasured shiver drummed its way up Micar'shalee's spine; her adoration for the threshold of pain and the methods used to shatter it were second to none. So where shall we go from here? The second spike of course.

The rage filled Drow guided Nocent's hand to position the next cruel spike over Leslie's left wrist, the only good wrist she had left. Micar'shalee's black skin over Nocent's tanned digits, two of the Queens holding what was to be the next installment of young Leslie's Book of Agony. She whispered lightly to Nocent, "One finishes, and yet the cries of anguish linger on. Tis a thing of sheer beauty."

Surely Leslie's pitiful moans of desperation were reaching for the stairs of the basement, no matter. There was no one around to hear anyway. The basement was sealed from the first floor, and that first floor was again cloistered from the outside world. Here beneath the city, Hell reigned supreme.

The Drow took special pleasure in securing each of Leslie's limbs to the thick wooden chair, her wrists were nailed into the arms of her throne, just as her ankles were driven into the legs of the wooden chair. Leslie sat securely, if not regally upon the seat of honor; with her own blood pooling beneath her. Micar'shalee rested her bloodied hands on Nocent's muscular shoulders and squeezed them lightly as she leaned down to once more whisper to her new partner. "Il zhah ssinjin. Usstan gumash s'xor a ilta norrs whol klew'kinen ka er'griff ulu drital ilta vlos,"*** and with that, the Drow let her smooth lips linger for a kiss on Nocent's ear.

Surely the angels of Heaven wept just as loudly as the demons of Hell cheered.




*"The first strike, you are ever so kind, Nocent."
**"Your pain will echo in hell, my dear. And my ears will ring with pleasure."
***"She is sweet. I could suckle at her mouth for hours if only to drink her blood."

Leslie

Date: 2007-06-20 17:53 EST
Her head snapped backwards with the blow and bent over the back of the chair. Teeth ripping right from their roots, gums being sliced, and blood shed paramount, nearly drove Leslie to blacking out right then and there.

As her head lolled forward, her jaw hung loosely open as blood poured from the wound Nocent had so precisely inflicted. Leslie whimpered pitifully as Nocent straddled her and fought the urge to vomit as she felt Nocent's tongue delve into her mouth. She didn't dare move, though, for fear that something else might be done to her.

Something else, indeed.

Between the sudden loss of blood and the fast-acting poison rushing through her veins, Leslie could hardly even focus enough to breathe. She didn't know why Nocent insisted that she was a whore. She didn't know why this was happening. She didn't even know where in the hell she was. Oh, if only she knew this was as close to hell as one could get while still alive.

It took a moment for Nocent's actions to register in that foggy brain of hers, but when Leslie saw the pin positioned over her wrist, panic seized her once more. She fought against Nocent's hold on her, trying deperately to wrench free her wrist. All efforts came to an abrupt halt as the mallet came crashing down atop the metal pin, driving it swiftly and deep through her and into the arm of the chair, effectively pinning Leslie's wrist in place. A terrified screech of pain resounded in the bowels of the make-shift hell of the IronHelm Flats; her body going rigid in the midst of the mind-numbing pain.

"N-nnoo-nooooo! No! NOO!" Leslie bucked against Nocent, terror overriding any and all nerve endings that screamed in pain at her to sit still. Another resounding scream as the second pin made it's mark. Her body shook and blood continued to seep from her mouth. She tipped her head back, screaming as the 3rd and 4th pins were driven through her lower limbs.

Blood pooled in the back of her throat. Leslie entertained the thought of letting herself drown for a moment, wanting to end this torturous hell. Just as she was about to take a breath, human instinct kicked in and she sat forward, coughing and spewing blood all over both Nocent and Micar'shalee.

"Bi'ches..... bi-" she coughed. "Bi'ches... boff of you,"She screamed as best she could using the mangled vessel that was once her mouth. Leslie, the quiet, innocent child had hit her boiling point. She would have spat in Nocent's evil face once more if the darkness hadn't overtaken her in that moment.

Giminicka

Date: 2007-07-04 04:37 EST
Densely foggy dreams turned to vivid scenes of horror.....the sickly images then bizarrely mutating into distant, cloying phantoms as Leslie slowly regained her blurred consciousness. Her tortured mind was hazed...

When her eyes opened, the young Fae immediately became aware of the excruciating agony which coursed through her entire body. It pounded through her swollen ankles......through her torn wrists......and through her lacerated mouth and face........indeed this atlas of pain ran quite extensively.

Through the dim light she could make out a slight figure staring blankly back at her.....who was this? A newcomer? Another tormentor? No, not likely..........not with that gorgeous pink hair.....and not to mention that pouty, bruised face. This ?person? was definitely a woman.....a woman seated in a chair.........in fact....she was nailed to it.

The large, filthy mirror that was strategically placed in front of Leslie did not speak hushed words of reassuring peace.....nor did it confirm her deepest hopes that this was all some sort of perverse nightmare from which she might awake to find herself safe in her bed.......or perhaps even held tightly in her precious Alain's tender arms.

No.....this cruel mirror wrenched Leslie back into a reality that was nothing short of agonizing Hell.

The Fallen Sister further confirmed Leslie?s heartfelt fears as she straddled her once more. The confused, drugged quarry could only mildly protest as she remained brutally fixated to her "comfortable chair".

After leaning in and licking off some of the dried blood from her cheek, Nocent smiled at her helpless prey........herself growing more and more sexually aroused as she could nearly visualize the toxic venom diligently traveling and working within the young tart's athletic body.

"Now..." the evil Priestess declared in a sardonic tone "...I don't want you to miss a minute of this lesson my little whore.....no no......not a single solitary minute must be missed. Take heed my filthy slut.....the eyes are truly the windows to all that lies beyond......both spiritually and in the physical plane....did you know that?"

With her bare right hand, Giminicka removed a folded straight razor from a sealed pouch on her belt.....a favorite little item of hers......adored and carefully treasured......all for strictly sentimental reasons of course. Her emerald green eyes radiated with an insatiable evil which pulsated like its own freely pounding heart.

Nocent?s sickly sweet, poisonous voice trailed on and slithered its way into Leslie's naked ears, "Oh but of course you did my tiny, cherished dove..........a smart little princess like you must know quite a lot about everything! Well.......I suppose everything except NOT to run a shortcut down a black alleyway in the dead of night when there are supposed maniacal killers on the rampage............I guess you missed that day?s lecture in the classroom......hmmm??

Her long fingers unfolded the extensive razor as she uttered one word: ?Pity.?

The crimson gauntlet encasing her left hand shot out and gripped Leslie by her heme and sweat encrusted chin....holding her face very still by pinning her aching head against the back of the thick, wooden chair. Each word was spoken with pure malice as she moved the blade to Leslie?s right eye: ?Mustn?t.......miss.......a.....blessed....... thing......?

With the swift precision of a demented surgeon, Giminicka abruptly slashed Leslie?s upper eyelid nearly clean off of her face.....that last piece of stubborn fleshy tissue holding firm at the medial portion of her eye. No matter.....that was easily remedied with another slash of the sharp, deadly razor.......the plump strip snapped and the eyelid was cleanly severed.........a waterfall of blood literally streamed from the young Fae?s face as the small arteries pumped their vitae towards the outside world.

The more Leslie shrieked......the more wet Nocent became. The Beast within was famished.......the Beast within was pleased.

The same deed was performed on the left eyelid of this youthful victim.....again the tortured Fae girl was held fast and the tender upper eyelid was harshly slashed from her mutilated face..........another cascade of blood gushing forth to celebrate the occasion. No resistant strands of flesh on this eyelid......no....this one was sliced off with ease.....like a heavy knife passing through warmed butter.

?There.....? Giminicka hissed like some phantasmal serpent, ?.....now you won?t miss a single thing little bitch ........we can?t have you succumbing to gentle sleep now can we? I want that lovely looking glass to reflect unto you everything that happens here!?

The Beast within vociferously roared......a deeply pitched demonic laughter was heard far below the boundaries of The IronHelm Flats.......an unholy rite of the nightmarish hordes was well underway......and all of Hell was keenly listening.

Her powerful hand outstretched......Giminicka handed the dripping, gory straight razor to the stoic Drowish warrior who was standing at her side, ?Micar?shalee.....my twisted and gorgeous Queen of Hearts........take this sanctified ?brush? and create for my Lord a truly worthy masterpiece......or as your people call it.....'Natha menagria d' vlos lu' jiv'undus.'?*

Her gruesome smile widened.........?Let it reign Poison Gaze.?


*<Translation: ?A menagerie of blood and pain.?>

Poison Gaze

Date: 2007-07-06 01:06 EST
Black lips against a black skinned face, broad smile against sharp ivory teeth. The words Micar'shalee had waited for since the inception of this little game had finally been uttered. The Drow's eyes were intently concentrating on Nocent's actions. She was so fluid in her spite, so effortless in her torture, so passionate in her malevolence. Never had Micar'shalee seen her equal; Nocent's expertise rivaled her own, and it both fascinated and thrilled her.

Her eyes blazing, she moved forward toward Nocent and little Leslie. The girl's face was now a bloody mess, a sight which warmed the deep caverns of the Drow's evil heart. Casually, almost sensually, Micar'shalee swept her strong hands over the table as she walked, the sensitive pads of her digits feeling every instrument on the wooden table.

Her ebon fingers ran over and tenderly lifted the severed eyelids which had been cast off by Nocent. Fondling the tiny bits of Leslie over and over in her fingers until they were wet with blood, she lifted her first finger to her lips and suckled. Her eyes were now locked with Leslie as she stood next to her and the ever-lovely Black Queen.

"L' waess d'lil henotep elghinyrr, gaer zhah nau alur ssinssrigg tril,"* she leaned to whisper into Nocent's ear. And with that, she brought the small piece of Leslie, her left eyelid to her black lips. Gingerly she held it there, allowing Leslie to see, before she turned her face to Nocent. There, with the lid between them, Micar'shalee kissed Bhaal's emissary, letting the skin be common ground they shared. The Drow bit down, severing the lid in half and devouring her serving, letting Nocent do the same before their kiss broke.

A sly smile upon her lips, the drow turned her face to Leslie. Slowly, she held up the right eyelid, still being turned over between her fingers. "We must not let our guest feel neglected. She has been so gracious to us this eve." Micar'shalee licked at the flap of skin, savoring its rich juices. Her tongue rolled over the lid, circling it, sucking at it. Never once did she let the lid go from her fingers, and never once did she break eye contact with Leslie. Finally, this Drow who had been the pride of her mother's torture chamber, the grand dame of pain for the House of Barri'und, let the lid rest between her lips.

The deadly gaze was aimed at Leslie's mouth; Micar'shalee leaned down while reaching forward the grip the girl's hair tightly. The Drow extended her lips to share the gift with her captive, the sweetest of all gifts: a chance for Leslie to take back some of what was taken from her. Micar'shalee grazed her lips along Leslie's mangled mouth. A bite taken for her part, the drow then thrust her tongue into the girl's mouth, deeply and forcefully pushing half of the eyelid forwards. Mother's milk for a Drow: the blood of a prisoner running along the lips and skin of the victor.

Leslie would truly be a lofty prize, remembered for many years to come; for she was now eternally part of the Poisoned Gaze.



*"The skin of the nearly dead, there is no greater love bite."

Isabella Dawnshadow

Date: 2007-07-11 14:29 EST
The creeping insidious mist heralded her arrival, bringing with it the intriguing, exotic fragrance of mysteries, the arcane and power; all radiating that Delphian nature of her unseelie blood. Sapphire eyes gleamed bestial at the sight she found. Giminicka with the obsidian complexed Drow obviously caught up in the torture of their hapless victim. Their latest toy was a delightful surprise, for her anguish was a sensual ambrosia within the very air around them all, and it offered a potent baptism of energy which the Sorceress welcomed.

Taking in that aroma of misery, pain and terror, a hushed mellifluous purr of relish drifted in a sultry flow from lush cherry lips, which curled into a slow sadistic little smile. "My, my, what a surprise this is." Isabella murmured. Silks rustling around well toned legs in an unbroken glissade towards the trio.

Delicate, tapered fingers drifted gracefully in the air, as if calling more of that suffering to her and another enticing, velvety laugh escaped, with a tossing of her head. Dark cherry waves swirling along her bare back in her ponderings. "May I offer some enhancements to your play Lady Nocent?"

"Perhaps I shall make her enjoy the pain. Every little razor cut drawing cries of pleasure from her while her sanity slips deeper and deeper into the abyss?" Another drifting of her willowy form, hovering just outside the ebon skinned beauty and the towering figure of Giminicka, her voice dropping to a soft insidious whisper. Isabella's cobalt gaze glowed with malevolent intent, sweeping over their vitae soaked captive as she spoke. "Or Spells to make her delight in the eating of her own flesh until she is bloated and heavy with it, perhaps?"

It was the lightest of touches as she drifted towards the blood-coated Leslie, fingers floating light against her bared skin. "Which appeals to you Lady Nocent?" Isabella's recent question left hanging in the air, rife with expectation she didn't even attempt to staunch.

Giminicka

Date: 2007-07-21 02:15 EST
After sharing the 'tender' kiss with Micar'shalee and cannibalistically partaking of the delectable and fleshy offering given to her.......Giminicka felt the Beast within stir. Her Drowish Queen of Hearts was performing at a plane far higher than even she expected.......such savagery......such pure Hell.

And as with the turning of a new page........the baneful emissary from the Unseelie empires had suddenly arrived in a veil of mist. A sculpted monarch of sadism, malice, and butchery in her own right.

?Ahhhh??, Nocent cooed like an aroused beast, ?The iniquitous Queen of Diamonds has come home. Your good fortune has truly multiplied little Leslie???

Giminicka slowly, and with certain languid hints of physical eroticism, winked at the Andoni wizardress who had joined them in the bowels of the IronHelm Flats. Her piercing emerald glare then sharply returned to the writhing Fae prisoner, who was literally being forced to devour her own orbital flesh by the dominating Drowish warrior, Micar?shalee.

The cruel Drow female was undeniably not taking ?no? for an answer.

The Fallen Sister continued to hiss her loathsome words, ?Lady Dawnshadow?..your great talents are so vast and diabolical in every sense of the word??please??for the sake of your fellow aficionados of pain and mutilation who are gathered here with you on this special night??weave your dark magic to enable this wanton bitch to experience every last thing we are doing to her at least ten or twenty fold.

By Lord Bhaal?s might, I so truly want her to feel the actual grating of raw iron against her splintered bones each time her wrists and ankles slightly stir against those long and sensual spikes which so neatly confine her to that fine chair???I ache for her to really feel the scorching burn of Hell?s irons on her face each time her twitching eyelid muscles spasm in a vain attempt to close and retract her now severed lids.

I do so endearingly wish for her broken mind to cry out and beseech mercy while her bloody mouth begs for more tearing of her own flesh. The grim irony does move the spirit to weep. Oh yes Isabella??your spellcraft is most welcome here in this unholy sanctum before we execute this little starlet of Rhydin. Speak your curse, my love????speak your tender affections.?

The warrior priestess of Bhaal was thriving from the purely evil auras exuded by both Micar?shalee and Isabella Dawnshadow. The sinister hand that had been dealt this eve was ?royal? indeed.....three venomous queens: two of the red suit, one of the black???and one little peasant whore most certainly marked for an excruciating death.

The next round of play would be a killer indeed??

Isabella Dawnshadow

Date: 2007-07-22 23:31 EST
Isabella's unique ability to touch and create intense pleasure or agonizing pain was an inherent thing. A dark gift of her birth and bloodlines, and over the years, it had grown, stretched and expanded. She found many uses for it and this was but only one now.

Feathery light the drag of crimson tipped fingers over the young woman's red soaked cheek. No sparks to show what that touch would do, no hint or altering of Isa's aura, just the velvet stroke of flesh against bloody skin and a slow dark smile lurking upon those lush crimson lips. "A most excellent choice of torture Lady Nocent. Few have ever been able to resist my special abilities in such endeavors. I nae think this young Fae is any less effected."

A soft coo vibrated from her throat, as this was one of those talents that didn't actually require the expenditure of mana, and soft sultry laughter fell, caressing upon the senses to those hearing it. Unleashing the waves of orgasmic delight to dance over the girl's body in exquisite swells of unexpected urges. Nerves warped to transmit differing and to the aware mind, confusing yet near overwhelmingly titillating signals. Had Isabella wanted, she could have clouded the woman's thoughts. Misdirection and illusions all useful in such undertakings, however, she wished this victim to be cognizant to what was happening to her.

Isa, being insidious and cruel by her own nefarious nature, wanted Leslie's mind alert to the responses of her body as it betrayed her. It was a necessary for this little victim to understand every little nuance of the agony inflicted, while shuddering in abject, unwanted ecstasy. It was a delicious banquet that awaited for the madness of that recognition would soon start to unravel the sanity in such atrocious ways. It was brutally artistic and to any Unseelie, a sublime way to feast upon that released energy.

Leslie

Date: 2007-07-30 16:07 EST
It was becoming more and more difficult to search through her foggy mind for her giftings and that in and of itself was enough to make Leslie feel as though all was lost. Frustrated grunts and gasps gurgled forth from her mangled mouth each time her magic was almost within her reach, but another onslaught of the poison washed it from her consciousness.

Leslie?s head lolled to the side as Nocent licked her cheek, a muffled whimper as the sharp movement caused her to pull on the nails that fastened her to the chair. Her eyes, or windows as Nocent was calling them, widened at the sight of the razor and her body began to tremor. Sick, horrified cries echoed in the dungeon; fear of the unknown pain the instrument would inflict ushered panic back to the surface. Her wrists and ankles strained against the pins whose battered ends were now hidden within the swollen flesh that surrounded them. Terror gripped Leslie?s chest as Nocent's gauntlet gripped her chin. She couldn?t breathe, couldn?t blink, couldn?t even move any longer.

The moment the blade touched her eyelid, it would seem that instinct once again kicked in. She struggled against her bonds and a pitiful, high-pitched wail pierced the darkness as the eyelid was cleaved away. Blood poured from the wound, into her eye and down her face. Soon, Leslie was blinded by her own burning blood. Her hands shook, the muscles constricting and atrophying.

Nothing was registering anymore. Hopelessness was beginning to tighten its grasp. Leslie cried in anguish, tears mixed with blood. She wasn?t aware of new pain, the burning in her eyes had ceased. It was as though her legs were no longer attached to her body and her arms along with everything else was going numb. She felt empty, used, broken. A vague awareness that she was being forced to eat her own flesh crossed her mind once or twice while Micar was forcefully in her face, but nothing was making any sense.

She was dying. Leslie let herself finally think it. Though she tried in vain to blink away the blood that prohibited her from viewing the state of her body in the mirror, she knew what she?d find was her mangled, broken body. No longer could she imagine this was just a dream. This was real. Death was real and she was going to die; here, with no one. Her pain? It was nothing compared to the hopelessness she felt. She was letting go....letting go.

And all at once, at Isabella's command, everything was magnified. Leslie cried. She cried for death. She cried for her pain that seemed worse than before. Her ankles and wrists grated painfully against the raw iron spikes that had been driven through her extremities, blood continued to pour from the arteries where her eyelids had been severed off; it burned. She cried for the way the rest of her body was reacting? the sick, twisted idea of humor these women had nearly pushed Leslie over the edge. Wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure exploded within her, washing her senseless.

The only thought on Leslie?s mind that she could concentrate long enough on was how long this torture would last.

Leslie

Date: 2007-09-07 14:39 EST
It was only a matter of time.

As Leslie?s life force continued to drain with each torturous act inflicted, her hope of survival dwindled and any chance of reaching for her magic disappeared. It dawned on her, for the second time during her torture that she could end things. She could put herself out of her misery.

Blue grey eyes filled with tears, effectively cleaning most of her sight of the now drying blood that seeped from her severed eyelids. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her assumptions had been correct: she was but a shell of her former lively, beautiful self.

This was her end and oddly, she felt peace; staring at herself in the mirror, she did in fact feel peace. It would be over. She wouldn?t be in pain. There would be no more tears, and no more enjoyment for her three violators. While it nearly made Leslie shudder to think of what they?d do to her dead body, she knew nothing could touch her soul. She?d be in nature, one with her element. She?d be happy and free. It was better than this.

Filled with determination, she waited for the newest of the trio to touch her again before using every last drop of her energy to draw strength from the other woman. It wasn?t much. Probably not even enough to make a flower grow like she so often did for Cassie or her brothers, but there was enough to reach her own magic. Leslie?s body surged against her restraints as her magical element overtook her body.

It looked grotesquely like she was having a seizure of sorts, as the energy overloaded by not being released. On the inside, however, Leslie steeled herself against the pain and held the energy within, letting it build until her heart ceased to function. It was less painful than she had imagined. It would only be seconds now until she was gone. Her body sagged in the chair and a faint smile curled the corners of her mouth as a fleeting memory crossed her mind before her eyes grew dark.

Giminicka

Date: 2007-09-25 20:38 EST
All at once, this one's glorious illumination flickered......faded........and died.

Giminicka watched with a face of stoic barbarism as Leslie offered herself to the very bosom of Heaven and nearly willed herself to cross over and beyond the mists of the veil.......a crossing which would end this journey of sheer pain and suffering.

She was wise indeed. The horrors which Nocent and the two fiendish members of this unholy union had heaped upon the young Fea were beyond cruel.....beyond human. Indeed....they hungered to inflict more.......and for reasons that no sane man or woman could begin to fathom.

But it was now at its dour finale......the lovely creature known as Leslie was gone.

The Fallen Sister allowed her serpentine emerald gaze to sweep over the faces of the two insidious Queens that loomed at her side in the bowels of the vile IronHelm Flats........the sorceress Isabella Dawnshadow and the Drow huntress Micar'shalee. Desolate darkness had never possessed such feminine ferocity. Evil itself was excavating throughout the thick walls of this cursed edifice.......slithering through the very air itself towards a blackened end which would covetously reap far more innocent lives before all would finally be set to right.

Giminicka placed a large hand upon the blood spattered head of Leslie........her crimson gauntlet stroked the dead girl?s hair and the side of her mutilated face. Those lidless eyes, both encrusted with and leaking dark-colored blood, stared blankly out at the three demonic women who had stolen her legacy.......bled her of her will to survive.

With a snapped flick of her wrist, Nocent's wrist blade sprung forth and locked into place.......it was primed to feed. In one fluid motion, the razor-sharp weapon had sliced a sizeable portion of pink hair from Leslie?s head.....a chunk of dripping scalp still attached to the vibrant colored tresses.

Nocent brought the matted hair, which still clung to the lump of shredded scalp, to own her nose. With a slow and relished inhale, she sinfully took in its coppery aroma...........its brash reek of sweet death. She caressed it lovingly against her cheek.......leaving a snaillike trail of dark blood across her tanned skin. The hunk of hair and flesh continued its grotesque journey across the Anti-Scathachian?s armored chest.......the rich red hue of her armor masking the bloody path once again left behind.

?It never grows old.....never loses its sensual essence. The sweet smell of it.........the consciousness of it.......? Giminicka?s words trailed off into the heavy air which filled The IronHelm?s shady corridors.

Nocent leisurely turned to face the Queen of Hearts, that subterranean assassin Micar'shalee. Still pressing that combination of drenched sodden scalp and rooted pink hair to her left breast, the Priestess of Bhaal coldly spoke: "My love......take darling Krysira and deposit this miserable body deep within the Southern Glen. Use your pretty hooks and string it up in such a splendid decor so that the idiotic lovers who stumble upon it will forever see this tortured.....mangled soul in their waking nightmares. Nightmares that our good friend Alain DMourir will surely suffer for many sleepless nights. Yes.....leave this masterpiece where it will be found...........found and appreciated."

The Beast within then exerted its dominance as it added, in a tone which sounded like many hollow voices blended into one soul, "Lord Pharagos , Lady Dracina, and my assassin Hanzo Hattori.......they must be gathered....our supremacy must be pooled. This was but a wetting of the ravenous tongue.......a tantalizing flavor of what is yet to come. My friends.....we have much work to attend to.?