Grotesque Magic

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My name's Zriel Frellin, and I'm a mage of twenty-two years. Behind me are Krian and Krianne, black-haired twins, the boy a swordsman and the girl our faithful healer. To my side stands my best buddy, Helrim, a tall, handsome fellow, an axe-wielder, and a user of bardic magic.

My leather boot digs into the snow of the beautiful Fraven Forest, a place our triplet suns have never directly touched, where ethereal ice crystals twirl in the air, illuminated, and act as a light source day round. The evergreen trees here are more vibrant than anywhere else in this world, contrasting marvelously to the snowy landscape. I sigh.

This sigh isn't toward the lovely scenery.

No, it's for the stubborn woman Helrim's pinning to a tree. Her hair's long, ginger, and wild, askew hairs falling about her softly featured face. There's seething rage in her aquamarine eyes. I very much like her voluptuous form, the curves that so beautifully decorate her. But, alas, she's quite annoying, and I've received a headache from her half-an-hour-long screaming in her rough, deep—unnatural—voice.

This woman's Drisna, the young wife to an assassins boss who's been causing quite the mess around the area lately. Their base is located somewhere in the Fraven Forest, where few venture due to the chill and ferocious beasts. Like her husband, she's a deadly foe, one who shouldn't be underestimated because of her chest. But I treat all my enemies the same—like nothing more than dogs, and this bitch was defeated sure enough by my party.

My group has harassed her for half an hour, stripped her bare, and slapped her around. Krianne, envious of Drisna's natural beauty, for she's always been rough-looking, took extra delight in slashing her with the licks of her whip; our healer indeed enjoys to see pain, but not on the contorted faces of her friends. Not evil by nature—cruel, yes, but not evil—I simply tore into her upper chest with my dagger to see the blood drip down her aroused nipples. It was painful, correct, but she was more fortunate with me than the others who bruised her to the core.

Helrim whistles sharply to shake me from my daydreams of Drisna's abuse. They do so greatly warm my insides and send delighted shivers down my spine. Yes, they are mighty
wondrous.

Again, he whistles.

I can become horribly distracted. Haha.

"Get outta yer perverse daydreams, Zri," Krianne hisses from behind.

I rub the back of my blond head and grin. "Sorry, Sis," I say.

"It ain't a problem, but focus on the one that wanted ye," she says.

I turn around to Helrim, who patiently waits for me. He has always been a patient man. He points to Drisna, who's been momentarily gagged with a handful of snow, then motions me closer. My eyebrow raises.

"What is it, Hel?" I ask.

Helrim strokes his yellowish beard. "Her convictions are too strong. My magic won't work. She won't tell me anything," he says. My ears drink his clear-water voice, a strong, fluid voice one could listen to for eternity.

I grab Drisna by her ginger locks and scoop the snow from her mouth. She coughs. I pull her face inches from mine, baring my teeth. I tug her hair so hard I rip out a couple strands.

"Stay silent unless you have information for us, and unless you wish for another beating," I growl. My frozen breath wafts into her face.

Drisna shudders and looks toward the ground.

I turn back to Helrim.

"Try your music again. Perhaps you had an unlucky go the first time," I say.

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