The Warlock

“Behind every great man there’s an even greater woman.”

I can’t say that it’s true the other way round? I could be wrong. Although clearly Prince Phillip is the brains behind… Nah I jest.

 

Corlina Rayne, The Wytch of Thorn Pass, was like a female arachnid for centuries. As in she’d mate and then eat her male partner. That was before she met, not quite, her match/equal in the form of a Warlock.

– The Warlock’s Love Mantra –

                            dUst aNd bLo0d

                                                                   hAte and siN                                                                                                                                                 mAKe her l0ve gRow WitHin

                                           takE mY heaRt, MInd And s0ul

joiN with hErs anD mAke us wH0le

OxyDor GreyBlood

They say GreyBlood was a tribe leader once upon a time but was corrupted by unknown and very dark forces. He was made an outcast by his own people, left to wander the universe as a lost and dark soul. He found solace in his work. He practiced the blackest of black magic which, evetually, lead him to being a, kind of, hired gun for Warlords hell bent on reaching victory over their adversaries by any means necessary.

 

He first met Corlina Rayne as she feasted on a pile of rotting corpses left strewn across a battlefield. Oxydor GreyBlood had been on the losing side that day and returned to the field to collect dead blood from the fallen for his spells and potions. Oxydor was, immediately, captivated by the gluttonous way that Corlina fed. It was as though she was desperate, ravenous, for the cold flesh and blood of the dead. Oxydor called to the Wytch and, at first, she glared at him with her dead, black eye sockets, her mouth snarling and her brow furrowed. “Who be you?” Corlina screeched. Oxydor lowered his head and looked at her submissively. Something, almost like he had known her before in another time, told him to bow down to her. To obey and serve her. His whole body arched so low his forehead now touched the blood stained battlefield. Corlina liked this. Still cautious, she approached the strange, tall and ghostly pale man. His eyes appraised her momentairly before averting back to the ground. This made her smirk and her wicked heart started to thump a little quicker. Soon she stood beside him staring down at the back of his head. Her smile broadened as the man kissed her blistered and wart covered feet in a display of total submission. Something stirred in her, a sensation she hadn’t felt in decades. An instinct, a wild and untamed desire to mate. Suddenly Corlina reached down grabbing the man by the back of his skull, digging her fingers into his flaky skin. She hauled him to his feet and then, in a flash, her long wet, veiny, tongue slithered out from her cracked mouth and penetrated the strangers own mouth. As the tongue plunged down his throat both Corlina and the Oxydor groaned. A long, deep, animalistic groan. Oxydor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and a foggy ecstacy washed over him as he felt the Wytches tongue feeding on his essence, his very soul. After just a few moments the long tongue whipped out of the Warlocks throat and back into Corlinas and he collapsed to the ground completely drained and exhausted.

The Wytch cackled and hissed, “You’ll do nicely.”

Oxydor had just enough strength to raise his head, smile at his new love, and say “I am yours.”

To make the mating and essence feeding ritual even easier for his Mistress the Warlock has surgically fused a metallic flex-tube to his mouth. Sometimes they can be joined like that for hours.

“love & loyalty”

 

Cheers

IRO