The Dark Triumvirate
This piece introduces some key plot points for my next novel. The synopis is as follows - the world is recovering from the events of Projekt Magnum. Humanity has settled into the status of a second-rate fantasy civilisation. In the dark of the cosmos, evil is watching, and waiting. With the Pela's Ban no longer in effect, several of the most cunning members of the First Circle have absconded with the intention of eliminating humanity, deemed to be one of several races capable of seriously affecting the First Circle's 'aggressive growth strategies'.
Here, Lorak and Azigar are awaiting the arrival of the third member of their group. They are killing time by killing people.
Names and plot are subject to extensive editing.
---
A stray arrow pierced the inky shades of the dark triumvirate's pavillion. Lorak snarled a word of power and the pavillion was reknit. The arrow flew backwards toward its deliverer. Azigar rolled his eyes and drew his claws back to launch another fireball into the army massed before him.
"You're working too hard," observed Lorak.
"You're not working at all," retorted Azigar.
"I'm waiting until you overtax yourself. If you keep launching those fireballs, your reserves will be exhausted by the time our position is overrun."
"Overrun? Us?" scoffed Azigar. "We should be the three most powerful sorcerers on this plane. Without us, there wouldn't even be any sorcerers on this plane. There is nothing humans could possibly do to rival us in the field of magic."
"Yes," agreed Lorak. "But if they swamp us with their thousands of men and tie us down for a few weeks, I'm sure they'll come up with something unpleasant for us to experience."
"It wouldn't hurt to at least have an army. At the very least, they might get in the way of more arrows."
Lorak snorted. "You make it sound like you're the one suffering. I'm the one who got exposed to sun damage. I may have cancer."
Azigar drew both fists back, balancing on one foot. With a mighty "har-aff!", a ball of flame ignited around his hands.
Lorak lifted a hand and breathed outwards, slightly. A ball of flame equal in size and intensity grew around his outstretched finger. Azigar 'har-aff'ed and launched the fireball into a platoon of heavily armored knights. Lorak's fireball charged up an enchanted teapot he had brought with him from the Bazaar.
Azigar wheeled on Lokar. "What are you doing?"
"The teapot was crafted by a sage on Eldee. Magic goes in, tea comes out. Its a time-saver. Very economical."
Azigar launched a pair of fireballs with a dramatic gust of air. "such a waste of... who does he think he... assigned to work with a complete..."
"Is there a problem, Azigar?" asked Lorak innocently. A fireball whizzed by his ear.
"... and the damn succubus hasn't even shown her face yet!"
"She should be here," mused Lorak, "yet I can't see her. I guess she mustn't be here yet."
Azigar roared in fury and launched an extra big ball of flame into the humans below them. The flames left an accurate image of Lorak fellating a goat burned into the countryside. Lorak tutted.
At that moment., the skies opened and the pavilion dispersed. The soldiers stopped their dying for just a brief moment to gaze at the third member of the triumvirate. From top to toe, she was six feet. Men gazed on her ceramic blue topaz skin with longing and awe, falling on their swords in bereavement. She was so beautiful by every standard of mortal beauty that even the teapot whistled. Her very presence inspired passion. She was Eras, the great and terrible succubus of lust.
"Hi," stated the demon brightly. "I smelled tea and came running."
Here, Lorak and Azigar are awaiting the arrival of the third member of their group. They are killing time by killing people.
Names and plot are subject to extensive editing.
---
A stray arrow pierced the inky shades of the dark triumvirate's pavillion. Lorak snarled a word of power and the pavillion was reknit. The arrow flew backwards toward its deliverer. Azigar rolled his eyes and drew his claws back to launch another fireball into the army massed before him.
"You're working too hard," observed Lorak.
"You're not working at all," retorted Azigar.
"I'm waiting until you overtax yourself. If you keep launching those fireballs, your reserves will be exhausted by the time our position is overrun."
"Overrun? Us?" scoffed Azigar. "We should be the three most powerful sorcerers on this plane. Without us, there wouldn't even be any sorcerers on this plane. There is nothing humans could possibly do to rival us in the field of magic."
"Yes," agreed Lorak. "But if they swamp us with their thousands of men and tie us down for a few weeks, I'm sure they'll come up with something unpleasant for us to experience."
"It wouldn't hurt to at least have an army. At the very least, they might get in the way of more arrows."
Lorak snorted. "You make it sound like you're the one suffering. I'm the one who got exposed to sun damage. I may have cancer."
Azigar drew both fists back, balancing on one foot. With a mighty "har-aff!", a ball of flame ignited around his hands.
Lorak lifted a hand and breathed outwards, slightly. A ball of flame equal in size and intensity grew around his outstretched finger. Azigar 'har-aff'ed and launched the fireball into a platoon of heavily armored knights. Lorak's fireball charged up an enchanted teapot he had brought with him from the Bazaar.
Azigar wheeled on Lokar. "What are you doing?"
"The teapot was crafted by a sage on Eldee. Magic goes in, tea comes out. Its a time-saver. Very economical."
Azigar launched a pair of fireballs with a dramatic gust of air. "such a waste of... who does he think he... assigned to work with a complete..."
"Is there a problem, Azigar?" asked Lorak innocently. A fireball whizzed by his ear.
"... and the damn succubus hasn't even shown her face yet!"
"She should be here," mused Lorak, "yet I can't see her. I guess she mustn't be here yet."
Azigar roared in fury and launched an extra big ball of flame into the humans below them. The flames left an accurate image of Lorak fellating a goat burned into the countryside. Lorak tutted.
At that moment., the skies opened and the pavilion dispersed. The soldiers stopped their dying for just a brief moment to gaze at the third member of the triumvirate. From top to toe, she was six feet. Men gazed on her ceramic blue topaz skin with longing and awe, falling on their swords in bereavement. She was so beautiful by every standard of mortal beauty that even the teapot whistled. Her very presence inspired passion. She was Eras, the great and terrible succubus of lust.
"Hi," stated the demon brightly. "I smelled tea and came running."