~BHM, BBW, Adventure, Magic, Romance ~~SWG – when universes collide, even in imagination, the results can be fascinating
Foreword – Authors’s Note: This, in four chapters with multiple scenes, is the first of hopefully a series of stories set in the same universe. There is an underlying flavor of size acceptance but it is not the only subject matter. This has been done in the hopes that the message of size acceptance can be spread outside the community into stories that anyone is comfortable reading.
Prologue
Marshall sat in a corner seat by the back hallway. It was out of the way and allowed him to see the rest of the Seattle coffee shop. He could duck out in a hurry if someone or some -thing showed up. It also happened to have one of the few chairs without arms so he wouldn't lose circulation in his legs. The table had an edge that his heavy iron bracelets did not seem to mark up easily. He set his drink down on the table and glanced up to the TV.
The TV over the barista's bar was tuned to CNN. The Phoenix Heart had built some kind of ship and was heading for Asia. Debate was raging over its intentions. Rumor had it the exiled Dali Lama had met with it and it might be headed for Tibet. The Chinese army was mobilizing for 'training' in and around there as well. A conflict between the two could only end one way.
I hope I never have a reason to fight that thing. If it finally decides to start killing, not even I could survive.
The small rust-haired young girl dressed in soft gray sat down in her usual seat near the front door. She looked about the coffee shop with contemplative blue eyes, which frequently rested their gaze in Marshall's corner.
Marshall bent down over his drink and wafted it under his nose to sample the aroma, then took a sip. He swished the hot liquid around in his mouth, searching for oh-so-elusive flavors. Milk that had at one time been farm fresh and full of the energy of life was now virtually devoid of power from pasteurization and storage in stainless steel vats. Only a mere signature of what had once been remained for him to detect.
The coffee itself was quite lifeless too. Had it been harvested from its South American mountain home, roasted on local stoneware over a wood fire, and brewed in a copper kettle it could have been one of the strongest magical brews his mortal world could offer. Even such as it was, it delivered a welcome caffeine boost.
While Marshall was attuning to any magical potential his drink may have possessed, he became aware of something else. A presence he had not felt since those dark times years ago and quite literally worlds away.
His mind recalled the events
Chapter 1- Marshall and the Iron Fortress
Scene 1 - Abduction
Marshall was startled awake by a sharp crackling noise outside his bedroom window. It didn't sit well with the headache he had after his latest attempt at magick. He managed to find enough stamina to get up and look outside. He saw three figures coming out of his tool shed. One was carrying a large set of chains. He quietly fumbled around for his cell phone. He had just found it when he realized there was already someone else in the room. Two muscular arms had thrown a heavy iron chain around him.
"I've got him!" the unseen figure yelled. The screaming next to Marshall's ear wasn't helping his headache any.
Marshall was dragged down the hall and out the back door toward his workshop. It took his abductor little effort to drag Marshall's tall, lanky frame across the floor. A middle aged man with a scarred and chiseled face held a gold encircled lens up to his eye.
"At ease, this one's tapped out." the man advised, placing the lens in a pouch on his belt. His clothing matched his appearance. Both seemed practical and well worn, but still had quite a bit of use left in them. "Wild Magick - just as we thought. Untrained, more a rank dabbler than an actual wizard”.
“Great potential though. The Fey would dance naked in the iron mines of Gol to get ahold of this one," he added.
Marshall finally got up enough nerve to speak.
"Who are you guys? I've called the police, let me go!" he protested, struggling against the chains. His cell phone dropped from his hand onto the floor.
"Khalan - " The weathered man said, gesturing toward the phone.
A man shorter than Marshall but of similar wiry build picked it up. He plodded his way around the keypad for a few seconds.
"He's lying," the small man stated, throwing Marshall's phone across the yard with a look of disgust, as one might do after realizing they had just picked up a dead animal.
"Good, but let's get out of here anyway before they DO show up. We'll come back for the books and things after Vivian gets a chance to recharge the gate," the worn looking man in command advised.
They pushed Marshall out behind his tool shed workshop. A 6 1/2 foot tall glowing blue slit of light was hanging in midair. It looked as though someone had parted a curtain to reveal a laser light show in the private club just beyond.
Is that magick?!? It's so strong... Marshal wondered. He didn't have time for further contemplation. They dragged him through the blue slit and all went black.
Scene 2 - Fireside Chat part 1
"Marshall Hugh." The war-ravaged man said, stuffing the ID back into Marshall's wallet.
"I'm Captain Cairn of the Iron Fortress of Hil." he added. The man claiming to be captain of a fortress contingent carried no visible weapons.
Marshall gave Cairn a silent am-I-supposed-to-give-a-hoot-who-you-are stare and fussed about some more under the chains. The air was laden with the fragrance of fresh pine needles from the forest around them. A fire was built next to the face of a giant rock. Marshall was sitting on a makeshift bench made from a freshly split log. The setting seemed somehow familiar, like woods not far from his home, perhaps close to the coast. He detected a faint hint of sea air.
"Mr. Hugh, we are not what you would call 'evil' or even 'bad' people. We just want to protect both of our worlds from the Fey." Cairn advised.
"Worlds?!? Fey?!? WHAT KIND OF HEMP ARE YOU GUYS ON?" Marshall yelled, standing up under the weight of the chains for a brief moment, then falling back down next to the log bench. He winced in pain.
"He's a scrawny one even for a wizard." Fitch quipped, slicing a bit of cheese off the block and tossing it onto the bench next to Marshall's head. Fitch always seemed to be doing something in the camp, never standing still for long.
"He's no wizard, not yet. Nor will he ever be, not if I can help it." Cairn declared, his tone ominous. He turned to Marshall and began to explain.
"At some random point in history something happened. By some sort of great Cataclysm mortal worlds, including yours and mine, were linked together. The Fey - you might call them elves and faeries and the like - were greatly disrupted by this. They used to live alongside our world and people. The ones that we did meet were peaceful, they lived as part of the Earth.
“After the Cataclysm they were drawn to mankind. Many fed off the dark desires of men and became twisted themselves, further accelerating the process. Virtually all of the elves are now so afflicted. They seek even more powerful magick than that they already possess. Humans that become attuned to certain magicks can be turned to their side, giving them command of terrible powers."
Cairn continued to expound. "You are attuned to what we call Wild Magick. It is the strongest of all but it is completely non-useable by humans. It has a will of its own. You never got it to work right, did you?"
Marshall sat up for a moment and nibbled at the cheese. After a minute or so he spoke.
"It went out of control both times," he volunteered, realizing for the first time what was finally going on. Marshall recalled his last attempt at performing magick.
Scene 3 - Workshop
Marshall's replay of his attempt at magick:
Cairn waited for Marshall to fully contemplate the memory that had just been replayed
"Yes, and both times it was so out of control that it was felt in your world and mine. Wild Magick draws the Fey and their agents like blood attracts wolves." Cairn warned.
"So why don't you just kill me?" Marshall protested, already regretting what he was saying before the words could even leave his mouth.
Cairn paused for a moment, as if contemplating something.
"There is no death in the air today," he proclaimed in a quite factual tone.
"We are a day's ride from the Iron Fortress. We will keep you there until your link to the Wild Magick withers and fades away. The Fey and their allies will have no use for you then. The grounded cold iron of the fortress will drain all magick and eventually all ability to draw on it from your being." Cairn explained.
"It won't be easy on you. We have had to do this before. Some have wilted away to nothing. Others have gone mad. Some have even despaired so that they took their own lives."
Cairn's ominous tone returned. "There is no other way."
"You can't just lock me up! Magick isn't illegal! All I've done is read a few books and experiment. I didn't even really think for sure it would WORK!" Marshall protested.
"We found the books and papers the day after we brought you here. There was also a lot on your int - " Cairn hesitated, searching for words. He glanced up at Khalan.
"Internet." Khalan piped up and added.
Marshall shot Khalan an inquisitive glance.
"Oh, Khalan? He's from here. We send him to live in your world for a few weeks at a time. The Fey aren't the only ones we need to keep an eye on since the Cataclysm. From what Khalan says, there are horrors in your world that make a few misguided elves seem pointless in comparison." Cairn explained.
Khlan spoke. “Wars that span entire continents. Billions upon billions of machines. Machines that think, machines that talk, machines that spread lies and subvert the will, even machines that wage war and kill by the thousands."
Khalan paused, exasperated. It seemed like he was just getting started. "Nuclear weapons, and poisons more ghastly than any dark apothecary would ever dare to concoct. Your hatred of your 'fellow' man is supreme. Your world leaves a foul taste in my mouth and a stench in my lungs so vile I need to come back here more and more often to cleanse myself of the filth!"
Khalan seethed contempt as he finished his diatribe.
"What our overly enthusiastic scholar is trying to say is that you come from a people whose thirst for knowledge, money, and power are greater than your own will, your own love of life itself. There are SOME lessons we learned from the Fey before they were poisoned by the Cataclysm." Cairn explained.
Khalan looked on, as though his dissertation on the evils of Marshall's kind was not yet finished.
"The Phoenix Heart." Khalen mentioned solemnly.
Dread set over Marshall. Khalen turned to Cairn and explained, more to him than to Marshall.
"Nobody in ANY world knows what the Phoenix Heart is. It is not of magick or of machine. There are genetic mutations that give abilities similar to magick, but this is even beyond that. When I was in their land of Africa, the Phoenix Heart laid siege to the warlords there. One of these warlords had many Fey and their dark power at his side. Yet the warlord and all of his allies, mankind and Fey alike, were simply ignored while their weapons, magicks, and war machines were obliterated. The day will come when that thing starts killing, and no force on ANY Earth can stop it."
"Were it not so slow we could not hope to keep it from one of the many gates to this world. Fortunately we can keep one step ahead of it and seal the gates long enough for it not to notice." A soft female voice added. Vivian stepped out from behind the rock face. She held an impressively large staff. Vivian herself was also impressively large.
Vivian wore a flowing green skirt, closely matching the color of the forest around them. It revealed the curves of large, well rounded hips. When she moved, glimpses of thick white thighs and legs were revealed. A dark burgundy bodice and coat enclosed her corpulent belly and large breasts, both threatening to burst forth from their confinement and proclaim themselves unashamedly to the world. The silver and violet from the crown of her staff mixed well with her flowing sandstone hair.
Her staff was formed from a single branch of forest oak and carved with ornate curves. Silver cord was inlaid into the carving. A crown of silver at the top contained a huge point of amethyst quartz. It had been imbued with Vivian's own particular brand of magick.
Vivian's magick could not be turned by the wayward Fey. She was also quite adept at opening and closing the gates to other worlds. She had proven many times a most valuable ally to the fortress and its soldiers, one in particular.
Khalen bolted upright from his seat on the log bench next to Marshall at the sound of Vivian's voice. He trotted over to her and threw his arms around her very large frame. She leaned her staff against the rock and reciprocated, literally enveloping Khalen's small body in her embrace. He seemed content again, the horrors of Marshall's world and the Fey set aside. Marshall shot them a curious glance. Khalen turned to Marshall, one arm still clutching Vivian's side.
"Here we don't discard our love of a mind OR a body because the TV, magazines, or web sites are telling us we want something else. You spend so much time hating each other that you find other people to do your hating FOR you, and because of this you have even come to hate yourselves." Khalen explained.
"Nobody here is told of their worth before they themselves have come to realize it."
"At least, Marshall, you do not look at us with disgust like many of -" Vivian paused very briefly, as though measuring her words before dispensing them. "- your people do. I am not useless and I am not ugly. I have beauty inside AND out, and I deserve the love of the man who has decided to give me his," she added, pulling Khalen even closer to her.
"Let's all get some rest, we'll make the fortress by sundown tomorrow if we leave at first light." Cairn advised, exchanging a cautionary glance with Vivian.
Foreword – Authors’s Note: This, in four chapters with multiple scenes, is the first of hopefully a series of stories set in the same universe. There is an underlying flavor of size acceptance but it is not the only subject matter. This has been done in the hopes that the message of size acceptance can be spread outside the community into stories that anyone is comfortable reading.
Prologue
Marshall sat in a corner seat by the back hallway. It was out of the way and allowed him to see the rest of the Seattle coffee shop. He could duck out in a hurry if someone or some -thing showed up. It also happened to have one of the few chairs without arms so he wouldn't lose circulation in his legs. The table had an edge that his heavy iron bracelets did not seem to mark up easily. He set his drink down on the table and glanced up to the TV.
The TV over the barista's bar was tuned to CNN. The Phoenix Heart had built some kind of ship and was heading for Asia. Debate was raging over its intentions. Rumor had it the exiled Dali Lama had met with it and it might be headed for Tibet. The Chinese army was mobilizing for 'training' in and around there as well. A conflict between the two could only end one way.
I hope I never have a reason to fight that thing. If it finally decides to start killing, not even I could survive.
The small rust-haired young girl dressed in soft gray sat down in her usual seat near the front door. She looked about the coffee shop with contemplative blue eyes, which frequently rested their gaze in Marshall's corner.
Marshall bent down over his drink and wafted it under his nose to sample the aroma, then took a sip. He swished the hot liquid around in his mouth, searching for oh-so-elusive flavors. Milk that had at one time been farm fresh and full of the energy of life was now virtually devoid of power from pasteurization and storage in stainless steel vats. Only a mere signature of what had once been remained for him to detect.
The coffee itself was quite lifeless too. Had it been harvested from its South American mountain home, roasted on local stoneware over a wood fire, and brewed in a copper kettle it could have been one of the strongest magical brews his mortal world could offer. Even such as it was, it delivered a welcome caffeine boost.
While Marshall was attuning to any magical potential his drink may have possessed, he became aware of something else. A presence he had not felt since those dark times years ago and quite literally worlds away.
His mind recalled the events
Chapter 1- Marshall and the Iron Fortress
Scene 1 - Abduction
Marshall was startled awake by a sharp crackling noise outside his bedroom window. It didn't sit well with the headache he had after his latest attempt at magick. He managed to find enough stamina to get up and look outside. He saw three figures coming out of his tool shed. One was carrying a large set of chains. He quietly fumbled around for his cell phone. He had just found it when he realized there was already someone else in the room. Two muscular arms had thrown a heavy iron chain around him.
"I've got him!" the unseen figure yelled. The screaming next to Marshall's ear wasn't helping his headache any.
Marshall was dragged down the hall and out the back door toward his workshop. It took his abductor little effort to drag Marshall's tall, lanky frame across the floor. A middle aged man with a scarred and chiseled face held a gold encircled lens up to his eye.
"At ease, this one's tapped out." the man advised, placing the lens in a pouch on his belt. His clothing matched his appearance. Both seemed practical and well worn, but still had quite a bit of use left in them. "Wild Magick - just as we thought. Untrained, more a rank dabbler than an actual wizard”.
“Great potential though. The Fey would dance naked in the iron mines of Gol to get ahold of this one," he added.
Marshall finally got up enough nerve to speak.
"Who are you guys? I've called the police, let me go!" he protested, struggling against the chains. His cell phone dropped from his hand onto the floor.
"Khalan - " The weathered man said, gesturing toward the phone.
A man shorter than Marshall but of similar wiry build picked it up. He plodded his way around the keypad for a few seconds.
"He's lying," the small man stated, throwing Marshall's phone across the yard with a look of disgust, as one might do after realizing they had just picked up a dead animal.
"Good, but let's get out of here anyway before they DO show up. We'll come back for the books and things after Vivian gets a chance to recharge the gate," the worn looking man in command advised.
They pushed Marshall out behind his tool shed workshop. A 6 1/2 foot tall glowing blue slit of light was hanging in midair. It looked as though someone had parted a curtain to reveal a laser light show in the private club just beyond.
Is that magick?!? It's so strong... Marshal wondered. He didn't have time for further contemplation. They dragged him through the blue slit and all went black.
Scene 2 - Fireside Chat part 1
"Marshall Hugh." The war-ravaged man said, stuffing the ID back into Marshall's wallet.
"I'm Captain Cairn of the Iron Fortress of Hil." he added. The man claiming to be captain of a fortress contingent carried no visible weapons.
Marshall gave Cairn a silent am-I-supposed-to-give-a-hoot-who-you-are stare and fussed about some more under the chains. The air was laden with the fragrance of fresh pine needles from the forest around them. A fire was built next to the face of a giant rock. Marshall was sitting on a makeshift bench made from a freshly split log. The setting seemed somehow familiar, like woods not far from his home, perhaps close to the coast. He detected a faint hint of sea air.
"Mr. Hugh, we are not what you would call 'evil' or even 'bad' people. We just want to protect both of our worlds from the Fey." Cairn advised.
"Worlds?!? Fey?!? WHAT KIND OF HEMP ARE YOU GUYS ON?" Marshall yelled, standing up under the weight of the chains for a brief moment, then falling back down next to the log bench. He winced in pain.
"He's a scrawny one even for a wizard." Fitch quipped, slicing a bit of cheese off the block and tossing it onto the bench next to Marshall's head. Fitch always seemed to be doing something in the camp, never standing still for long.
"He's no wizard, not yet. Nor will he ever be, not if I can help it." Cairn declared, his tone ominous. He turned to Marshall and began to explain.
"At some random point in history something happened. By some sort of great Cataclysm mortal worlds, including yours and mine, were linked together. The Fey - you might call them elves and faeries and the like - were greatly disrupted by this. They used to live alongside our world and people. The ones that we did meet were peaceful, they lived as part of the Earth.
“After the Cataclysm they were drawn to mankind. Many fed off the dark desires of men and became twisted themselves, further accelerating the process. Virtually all of the elves are now so afflicted. They seek even more powerful magick than that they already possess. Humans that become attuned to certain magicks can be turned to their side, giving them command of terrible powers."
Cairn continued to expound. "You are attuned to what we call Wild Magick. It is the strongest of all but it is completely non-useable by humans. It has a will of its own. You never got it to work right, did you?"
Marshall sat up for a moment and nibbled at the cheese. After a minute or so he spoke.
"It went out of control both times," he volunteered, realizing for the first time what was finally going on. Marshall recalled his last attempt at performing magick.
Scene 3 - Workshop
Marshall's replay of his attempt at magick:
Marshall shifted his wiry frame around in his chair and concentrated on the magick circle drawn on the workbench in front of him. The smell of gasoline and fresh cut grass from the lawnmower in his tool shed mixed with the burning candles to produce a slightly intoxicating aroma.
He had placed a silver ring in the center of the diagram. Holding out his arms, he attempted to sense the magical energies that surrounded him. Magical energies of various types could be found in just about anything save iron and steel, at least that was the prevailing theory. He began to pull the magical energies of fire into the circle and willed them to coalesce into the silver ring. He had to collect enough energy of the appropriate type into some object that could hold it until he used it. He kept this up for two hours before mental fatigue set in and he gave up for the night.
The books and web sites weren't too clear on how much was needed for a simple fire effect, but they said a silver ring such as the one he was using could hold about six hours worth of power from elemental fire. Three days should do it. Maybe, he’’d believed, he could control it this time.
Magick operated simply enough. You collected some of the type you needed from everyday objects and the area around you and you put it in something to hold it. It had to be used soon though, or it would leak away and return to the Earth. When you finally did want to use it, you had to make it move from whatever you had it stored in to the target area.
If your target had the same type or concentration of magick, then it wouldn't work. Magick of the same kind either repelled itself or added to what was already there. Once it was free of the mind controlling it, the magick could only move from an area of greater concentration to one that had less, where it could either react with or diminish the magick it was met with, depending on the intent of the person using it.
On the third night Marshall had ventured from the house left to him by his mother and went out back to the tool shed he used as a magick workshop. He pulled a few inches of thermal paper out of the calculator on the shelf overhead and coiled it up on a ceramic dish, next to the huge charred splotch on his workbench from the last attempt. He placed the silver ring on his right index finger.
Marshall's head swam as he directed energy stored in the ring into his mind. Swaying a bit from the influx of power, he stared at the thermal paper in the dish. Concentrating on visions of heat and fire he pointed toward the paper, hoping to heat it enough to cause it to darken.
As soon as a black spot began to appear, the magick built up an excitement in Marshall's mind. It started to take control. It wanted MORE. Visions of heat became searing hot winds. The paper turned completely black and curled into a ball. The searing hot winds of Marshall's vision turned to a storm of fire. The paper quickly burst into a yellow flame, consuming it completely.
The torrent continued to grow inside him until it released an explosive conflagration. The dish the paper ash now rest upon exploded into shards. One whizzed right past Marshall's ear, another smashing one of the glass jars full of screws underneath the shelving. Screws rained down on the bench in front of him. All the power expelled in a short while, the ring crumbled into pieces, falling off his finger.
Not again...
Scene 4 - Fireside Chat part 2He had placed a silver ring in the center of the diagram. Holding out his arms, he attempted to sense the magical energies that surrounded him. Magical energies of various types could be found in just about anything save iron and steel, at least that was the prevailing theory. He began to pull the magical energies of fire into the circle and willed them to coalesce into the silver ring. He had to collect enough energy of the appropriate type into some object that could hold it until he used it. He kept this up for two hours before mental fatigue set in and he gave up for the night.
The books and web sites weren't too clear on how much was needed for a simple fire effect, but they said a silver ring such as the one he was using could hold about six hours worth of power from elemental fire. Three days should do it. Maybe, he’’d believed, he could control it this time.
Magick operated simply enough. You collected some of the type you needed from everyday objects and the area around you and you put it in something to hold it. It had to be used soon though, or it would leak away and return to the Earth. When you finally did want to use it, you had to make it move from whatever you had it stored in to the target area.
If your target had the same type or concentration of magick, then it wouldn't work. Magick of the same kind either repelled itself or added to what was already there. Once it was free of the mind controlling it, the magick could only move from an area of greater concentration to one that had less, where it could either react with or diminish the magick it was met with, depending on the intent of the person using it.
On the third night Marshall had ventured from the house left to him by his mother and went out back to the tool shed he used as a magick workshop. He pulled a few inches of thermal paper out of the calculator on the shelf overhead and coiled it up on a ceramic dish, next to the huge charred splotch on his workbench from the last attempt. He placed the silver ring on his right index finger.
Marshall's head swam as he directed energy stored in the ring into his mind. Swaying a bit from the influx of power, he stared at the thermal paper in the dish. Concentrating on visions of heat and fire he pointed toward the paper, hoping to heat it enough to cause it to darken.
As soon as a black spot began to appear, the magick built up an excitement in Marshall's mind. It started to take control. It wanted MORE. Visions of heat became searing hot winds. The paper turned completely black and curled into a ball. The searing hot winds of Marshall's vision turned to a storm of fire. The paper quickly burst into a yellow flame, consuming it completely.
The torrent continued to grow inside him until it released an explosive conflagration. The dish the paper ash now rest upon exploded into shards. One whizzed right past Marshall's ear, another smashing one of the glass jars full of screws underneath the shelving. Screws rained down on the bench in front of him. All the power expelled in a short while, the ring crumbled into pieces, falling off his finger.
Not again...
Cairn waited for Marshall to fully contemplate the memory that had just been replayed
"Yes, and both times it was so out of control that it was felt in your world and mine. Wild Magick draws the Fey and their agents like blood attracts wolves." Cairn warned.
"So why don't you just kill me?" Marshall protested, already regretting what he was saying before the words could even leave his mouth.
Cairn paused for a moment, as if contemplating something.
"There is no death in the air today," he proclaimed in a quite factual tone.
"We are a day's ride from the Iron Fortress. We will keep you there until your link to the Wild Magick withers and fades away. The Fey and their allies will have no use for you then. The grounded cold iron of the fortress will drain all magick and eventually all ability to draw on it from your being." Cairn explained.
"It won't be easy on you. We have had to do this before. Some have wilted away to nothing. Others have gone mad. Some have even despaired so that they took their own lives."
Cairn's ominous tone returned. "There is no other way."
"You can't just lock me up! Magick isn't illegal! All I've done is read a few books and experiment. I didn't even really think for sure it would WORK!" Marshall protested.
"We found the books and papers the day after we brought you here. There was also a lot on your int - " Cairn hesitated, searching for words. He glanced up at Khalan.
"Internet." Khalan piped up and added.
Marshall shot Khalan an inquisitive glance.
"Oh, Khalan? He's from here. We send him to live in your world for a few weeks at a time. The Fey aren't the only ones we need to keep an eye on since the Cataclysm. From what Khalan says, there are horrors in your world that make a few misguided elves seem pointless in comparison." Cairn explained.
Khlan spoke. “Wars that span entire continents. Billions upon billions of machines. Machines that think, machines that talk, machines that spread lies and subvert the will, even machines that wage war and kill by the thousands."
Khalan paused, exasperated. It seemed like he was just getting started. "Nuclear weapons, and poisons more ghastly than any dark apothecary would ever dare to concoct. Your hatred of your 'fellow' man is supreme. Your world leaves a foul taste in my mouth and a stench in my lungs so vile I need to come back here more and more often to cleanse myself of the filth!"
Khalan seethed contempt as he finished his diatribe.
"What our overly enthusiastic scholar is trying to say is that you come from a people whose thirst for knowledge, money, and power are greater than your own will, your own love of life itself. There are SOME lessons we learned from the Fey before they were poisoned by the Cataclysm." Cairn explained.
Khalan looked on, as though his dissertation on the evils of Marshall's kind was not yet finished.
"The Phoenix Heart." Khalen mentioned solemnly.
Dread set over Marshall. Khalen turned to Cairn and explained, more to him than to Marshall.
"Nobody in ANY world knows what the Phoenix Heart is. It is not of magick or of machine. There are genetic mutations that give abilities similar to magick, but this is even beyond that. When I was in their land of Africa, the Phoenix Heart laid siege to the warlords there. One of these warlords had many Fey and their dark power at his side. Yet the warlord and all of his allies, mankind and Fey alike, were simply ignored while their weapons, magicks, and war machines were obliterated. The day will come when that thing starts killing, and no force on ANY Earth can stop it."
"Were it not so slow we could not hope to keep it from one of the many gates to this world. Fortunately we can keep one step ahead of it and seal the gates long enough for it not to notice." A soft female voice added. Vivian stepped out from behind the rock face. She held an impressively large staff. Vivian herself was also impressively large.
Vivian wore a flowing green skirt, closely matching the color of the forest around them. It revealed the curves of large, well rounded hips. When she moved, glimpses of thick white thighs and legs were revealed. A dark burgundy bodice and coat enclosed her corpulent belly and large breasts, both threatening to burst forth from their confinement and proclaim themselves unashamedly to the world. The silver and violet from the crown of her staff mixed well with her flowing sandstone hair.
Her staff was formed from a single branch of forest oak and carved with ornate curves. Silver cord was inlaid into the carving. A crown of silver at the top contained a huge point of amethyst quartz. It had been imbued with Vivian's own particular brand of magick.
Vivian's magick could not be turned by the wayward Fey. She was also quite adept at opening and closing the gates to other worlds. She had proven many times a most valuable ally to the fortress and its soldiers, one in particular.
Khalen bolted upright from his seat on the log bench next to Marshall at the sound of Vivian's voice. He trotted over to her and threw his arms around her very large frame. She leaned her staff against the rock and reciprocated, literally enveloping Khalen's small body in her embrace. He seemed content again, the horrors of Marshall's world and the Fey set aside. Marshall shot them a curious glance. Khalen turned to Marshall, one arm still clutching Vivian's side.
"Here we don't discard our love of a mind OR a body because the TV, magazines, or web sites are telling us we want something else. You spend so much time hating each other that you find other people to do your hating FOR you, and because of this you have even come to hate yourselves." Khalen explained.
"Nobody here is told of their worth before they themselves have come to realize it."
"At least, Marshall, you do not look at us with disgust like many of -" Vivian paused very briefly, as though measuring her words before dispensing them. "- your people do. I am not useless and I am not ugly. I have beauty inside AND out, and I deserve the love of the man who has decided to give me his," she added, pulling Khalen even closer to her.
"Let's all get some rest, we'll make the fortress by sundown tomorrow if we leave at first light." Cairn advised, exchanging a cautionary glance with Vivian.
