NOVEL SIMPLE Archives: Daughter of Misfortune I.
12th of June, 456th of NDE. Damasta, Capital of Kadath.
“Mm hmrn!” Anamar slowly awoke to a multifarious cavalcade of sensations. A head splitting headache; a wet feeling from the piece of silver sealing tape tightening against her softly gleaming and unblemished dark beige cheeks and somewhat lighter toned plump lips stretching widely beneath her delicate and wide nose adorned with a singular golden ring; the unyielding grip of the silken siphoning scarves of red, purple and golden looping around her wrists, elbows, ankles and thighs, wiry abdomen and bountiful bosom with a second piece binding her to something cold, tinging her whole body still in heat.
And the cold of the small room in the mansion of the Mitri located on one of the Pillars of Damasta, the great capital of Kadath rebuilt two centuries after the Great War came to an end and the Draunneth Alliance took the great nation into their fold of southern satellites before the Arghyrians and their allies.
The great capital of the southern nation that was once the most populous and wealthy of the former Sultanate was built atop a great ziggurat stretching for a thousand kilometers with eighteen districts on top of each other on the outer hull of polished marble and limestone of black and alabaster, earning it the moniker of the Black Star of the South when the former Sultan Hakim gazed down upon it from his once mighty Sky Vessel.
Seventeen of the districts housed the folk of the city, with the lower five housing the bottom of the echelons even including those serving in the reconstructed army of Kadath, whose headquarters are stretched across the five districts usually near the Adventurers’ Guild and Seekers’ Union headquarters as the three often corroborate when it comes to the various dangers slipping into the city through its vast sewage system leading down into the worm dug tunnels.
Then from the sixth up to the seventeenth mixed between merchants, wealthy landowners, middle ranked military personnel and their families and the nobles of the bottom hierarchy. Most of the latter simply live here, away from the dangers of the lower districts – be it monsters or people – whilst the latter two earn their living in the vast and stretched magically interior of the Ziggurat. Within the so called heart of the city is an enormous carved space of multiple levels all open to each other as in the center hovers an artificially created sun emanating a mildly warm light supplementing the fields within on the uppermost levels, while on the bottom the largest market of the south stretched for several kilometers, still expanding in the number of shops and kiosks.
On the top, a great palace was built for the Sultan and his family that in the past centuries served as the parliament to the nation, and temporary residence to the emissaries of the Draunneth Alliance. Because of its purpose, the surrounding it are at least fifty or so magicraft aerial turrets which protected the city from the bombers of the Arghyrian Sky Fleet.
The upper echelons of nobles, governmental figures on the other hand lived on the six Pillars of the city, towering extensions of the ziggurat connected with a long bridge growing high from the dunes below, but still within the barrier erected by the Alliance which creates a temperate climate within its confines. Anamar herself awoke in the mansion of the Mitri family, completely naked, bound and gagged still dizzy from the effects of the spell which led to her squirming and soft mewling in the small storage room on the lower levels of the mansion.
**
“Quite the paranoid ones, aren’t they?” Said the fellow Faurith Drengriar of Anamar as her yellowish eyes with a slit pupil gazed far into the moonlit, segmented gardens which practically constituted a park. The wind slipping through the barrier gently breezed through the chromatic foliage stretching before them, just as it kept into their hair as they stood on the wide and high stone verandah, leaning onto the rails while huffing out the saccharine scented smoke from between their plush lips.
“With this pay, they better be!” Anamar jokingly said as her slim, dark braids with the lower ends died a brownish red sneaked into her reddish mulberry collars stretching upwards, enveloping her slender neck which the twisted tresses tickled gently.
Over it they both wore the issued and slightly altered Agaevarh coat with an asymmetrical poncho covering most of the short coat which asymmetrical, angular frame was slimly piped with golden silken embroidered with angular northern runic patterns. “Damn right Sister. Wish more of them would be this paranoid.” The faurith said as she adjusted her necktie bathed in the ethereal glow created by the coat’s golden lining.
“By the way, do these nobles tend to leave leftovers?” Anamar while turning around to face the tall and narrow entrance to the lower levels of the mansion. Her small, widely contoured eyes of searing mauve following the waiters and waitresses carrying in large crates, wearing their high collared smeilyon shirts with double winged tips bearing the same golden hue as the Drengriars’ blouse’s except for their collars, buttoned cuffs, hemline and concealing plackets.
The faurith turned back, her curving long goat horns glinting like the marble around them as she stared pensively into the narrow corridor. “Yeah, we tend to split it with the staff.” Like chimes in the wind, Anamar’s braided hair flew all over her face and the confines of her coat’s triangular elevated collar as she looked surprised at faurith.
“That much?” The faurith nodded before flicking away her cigarette, devoured by embers before it could hit the ground over the railing. “Yep, these folk usually tend to eat before gatherings, so they don’t embarrass themselves by spilling food on themselves and the likes.”
“Weird.” Anamar said while scraping her temple. “All the better for us. The chefs of the Mitri family are the best in the far-south.” Anamar dropped her cigarette and stomped on it, then watched as it quickly sunk into the marble floor while the black mark faded. She quickly straightened her coat by tugging it’s waist belt, then the two headed in.
“What?” The faurith asked when Anamar stopped for a moment before they entered, staring at the back of two waitresses disappearing far at the turn on their right. “Nothing.” She shrugged away the bizarre feeling tinging her body and the two entered as their break came to an end.
**
As Anamar proceeded down to the lowest floor of the manor, she whistled whilst the poncho draping over her wiry, slender body slowly appeared translucent, misty as it retracted back to the wedge baseline of her coat’s collar. Her eyes glued to the walls reflecting her alluring form of some elven proportions like the sharp end of her ears poking out from under her dark hair. And her mind racing through numbers at how much the diamond wall must have costed including the erudite mage who transmuted them into their state to reflect reality in its perfect state.
Though this train of though halted just as the elevator did before her destination and the door slid open, revealing a stunning solfrith with blazing amber golden eyes, with moderately long dark hair neatly trimmed at the bottom done in a half-updo with the ribbon tie wearing a matching tight mini skirt except it was made from a high quality linen with a duller sheen compared to the dragonid leather. “Long night, isn’t it?”
Anamar nodded as her eyes glared forward, looking at the shapely but small cake reflected in on her right. “At least the pay is good.” She said with a soft chuckle while pinching the small dragon head part of her neck tie to loosen it a bit. Then she went back to her slightly stretching, rigid stance while calming herself as the sweet cedar scent of the waitress made her a bit crazy.
“Well, at least I only have to endure the gazes of those snobby folk.” She said turning to Anamar who for a moment envied them for gazing upon her. “Well, my mother used to say it is fine until they touch.” Though as she uttered those words, she felt like an idiot and wanted to bang her head against the wall.
“I don’t mind if they touch. If you know how to play your cards, that comes with its benefits too.” Then she felt relieved a bit. “By the way, Ramisel.”
“Anamar at your service.” Ramisel’s chuckle dissipated what little awkwardness she felt and wished for the elevator ride to not end, or to at least take a bit more time. “Thank you for your service, Anamar!” Ramisel leaned closer to her and whispered, her warm breath the same alluring scent that made her clutch her hands into fists to resist the urge. “By the way, I believe we arrived.”
The two stepped out into the long, twisty corridor lacking in the lavish décor or etchings adorning the walls of the top floors. Ramisel bid goodbye to Anamar who was about to begin her rounds, but upon noticing the four crates near the elevator door, she stopped and turned back, grabbing onto her chance.“Do you mind if I help with those?” She said as she noticed Ramisel moving towards the crates waiting to be taken to the cooling room.
“Not at all. This section of the mansion creeps me out anyways.” Ramisel said with a relieved smile on her alluring face. “You never know when a spy or thief lurks in the shadows.” She added with a cheeky expression whilst they lifted two of the crates up together.
“So where are you from Anamar?” As they made their way towards the first turn in the wide corridor of blue and white, Ramisel popped the question while carrying the heavy crate seemingly effortlessly, like Anamar whose uniform amplified her natural strength where the crate felt as weighty as a piece of grape. “Actually I’m from Orhmedia.”
Ramisel gave out a mild amused noise as they made their turn. “So what made you decide to join up with the Black Roses?”
“The war. Originally, I was a new recruit within the Sakrath-Ib-Anab, but as the war came to an end, the Black Roses offered membership amongst themselves. Hersith Aurea was quite magnanimous as she took in all of us when the Arghyrians and the Snow-Scaled Host wanted to either execute us or put them into one of their internment camps.” Anamar said as she stared nostalgically into the distance, remembering the day she bent her knee willingly before Aurae whom many of the former Sakhran-Ib-Anab now serve with unwavering loyalty.
“She must be a good leader.” Ramisil said just as they arrived and placed down the crates. “She is.” Anamar murmured while waiting for Ramisil to unlock the door. Then they headed inside the small room laden with empty shelves and placed the boxes on the nearest to their right.
“Like what you see?” First Anamar placed the crate up the shelf, then Ramisil and as her eyes once more focused on the shapely, lithe form of the waitress, Ramusil asked amused. With small, measured steps walked up to her, their lips only an inch away. “Yes.” Anamar whispered whilst she felt the cold hands slipping into her skirt, into her rosy lingerie and fingers gently massaging her vulva, from their tips a delightful heat stemmed.
With a quick motion, she rid herself of her neck tie, and unbuttoned her blouse whilst they headed for the wall on the left side of the door, Ramusil playfully kissing, biting her neck whilst bombarding it with her scented breath increasing the volume of her body’s heat tinging her nether area and chest. The zipper of her coat and corset vest followed as she moaned softly, muffled by the warm palm of the solfrith waitress pressed over it while her fingers dug in erratically.
As the buttons came loose of her mostly golden blouse, the number of pleasures grew as Ramusil suckled onto her breasts, her warm tongue massaging her tender nipples, covering them in her saliva with a slight tint of amber. She felt as it flowed slowly across her dark beige, wiry abdomen, bringing her closer to the finish line as her muffled moans and whimpers grew louder, though before she could cross it, she was thrown into a sudden darkness from which she awoken an hour later, bereft of her sleek uniform, her body still burning from desire as she was completely bound and gagged.
Whilst struggling away the last of her strength, her muffled groans echoing in the small room, her eyes slowly made out two other naked figures in the same predicament as her. A sand blonde solfrith with her blinding waterfall of a hair cascading over as her bound lithe form slumped forward, held in place with copious amounts of silver sealing tape. The other beside her a petite stygian with a brownish face that evoked the image of a vicious gnoll, her body similarly secured with the siphoning shawls and dampening scarf which center was curled into a ball her razor sharp fangs bit into.
Then the door came open, and her perfect doppelganger stepped through wearing her missing uniform. “Sorry about this, but my partner is not the patient kind. You see, she was a former assassin who angered The God of Justice and well, she got cursed.” With a puzzled look, she glared at herself defiantly, feeling foolish once more at not noticing the signs of charming. If there were any, but that was a train of though for later, she concluded while spitting incomprehensible words at her captor who looked at her slightly gleefully.
“Don’t worry, this will just put you to sleep.” Her doppelganger said with a not so reassuring expression after she produced a handkerchief and an ominous looking bottle which contents she quickly poured into the rag. Not having much strength left, Anamar complied and sniffed in the chloroform with a sweet and slightly acrid scent, then as the world came blurry, she found herself in the same darkness she was plunged into moments ago.
“Sweet dreams.” Tulaiha leaned closer and whispered before her faux lips pressed onto Anamar’s bulging forth the glossy tape.
Footnote: And so begins the next story, still set in the far-south. One whose name I quickly came up with whilst reading H.P Lovecraft [horror is my second favorite genre]. Just a bit on the Black Roses.
When I first came up with them, I made them around ten ranks, each with their own uniforms for variety's sake. In the current iteration and the Great War arc I began to introduce Branches/Divisions with each having their own style so to speak. Like the Duskweaver Corp that is mostly comprised of dark and umbral elves, the Black Lotus, the eastern branch of Hoshigawa [something I plan to visit as I began to work on the archipelago] and now the Sunnarsthar Division, the Afrika Korps of the Black Rose Order headed by a minor character who was featured in the first story and at the end of the Great War, a solfrith/sol elf battle junkie.
Originally I planned this division out for Eoran, but it changed a bit hence why they have a poncho like cloak on their coats' and kinda wanted to give them a cowboyish look, but it changed on a whim if I am being honest. They will be still featured there in the future, but they are much bigger than originally planned.
Anyhow, that is all for now for footnotes. Thank you for reading and stay hydrated and keep to the shades folks! Good night or day!