Power fueled her veins; it was running deep, and remolding her very bones. There was pain with her transformation, but that swiftly faded as Rain found herself standing a few inches taller. Her shoulders thickened, and her hips broadened to house stronger thighs. New layers of sinew bulged in her triceps, as she weighed her arms across the table. Even her breasts had grown, and were held firmly by newly forged pectoral muscle.
Tjere had done what she promised by providing a decent set of garments for Rain to wear. The dhampir had some skill with needle and thread, and a delightful taste for fashion. Cowhide leather had been tanned, and stitched to form a shapely vest. It’s sleeveless design allowed Rain’s arms to breath, showing off the carpet of magical runes sprawled across her flesh. Meanwhile, it comfortably cradled her bosom, and the slip down the center exposed a healthy dose of cleavage. The cape that Tjere had fashioned with it was made from wolf hide, and Rain could feel the weight of it tugging down her back.
The trousers were made of wool and linen, and the boots were both practical, and refined. They latched onto her ankles nicely, and traveled up her legs. Wherever Tjere had found all the strings of rope to stitch everything together, Rain could only guess.
Several days had passed since the uncomfortable meeting with Count Greave. At the moment, he was chained to the wall alongside the statue post. His skin had grown eerily pale, and his veins a dark blue. Rain had found mating with a vampire to be…an interesting experience. On one hand, the raw magical flow siphoned from him soothed her brands like a cool balm. On the other, it made her feel cold to the bone.
Since having her way with him, Rain’s hair had grown stark white. As if that wasn’t strange enough, each strand had grown tough as steel, making it difficult to trim.
The human’s name, the offering given to her by Count Greave, was Brostin of Saleah. He had been a farmer from the suburbs of Saleah. He had been forcibly conscripted into the new prince’s army, following the late kings death, and sent out on a scavenger mission. It was then he was captured by the rogue vampire, and dragged to Rain’s court. Since laying with her, repeatedly, Brostin didn’t seem to have any complains. In fact, he had been reluctant to leave her side. Even now he was busy cooking rabbit stew for all of them.
While Tjere wasn’t too happy having him around, he won her over quickly by discovering a bustle of strawberries nearby. Even now, the dhampir was feasting on the entire bowl of washed fruit like a fiend. Her lips were coated with red juices, giving her a frightening look.
Tjere wasn’t the only dhampir in Rain’s court. Another had come with the rogue vampire. His dhampir assistant was happy to be freed of his charge, and spent most of her time grooming her dark black tail. Her name was Namire, and she had been born from the Pharine clans. The Pharine were Demi-humans that were said to inhabit the northern frost-wastes. Their fox-like ears, and tails were easily identifiable, along with their toughened physique. To see one in person, forced to live with the curse of vampirism, was unusual. Rain wondered if the Pharine inherited her vampiric genes from a parent, or if she had been tainted in her mothers womb somehow.
Tjere had a cute voice. It dipped and cut short at certain words, while also speaking quit fluid with others. With her mouth full of strawberries, it somehow made her accent seem sultry. It was in open competition with Namire’s, who’s accent was rough and direct. The fox-like female spoke little, but Rain got the impression she was still adjusting to her new master, and was nervous about speaking out of turn.
According to Tjere, dhampire’s were the sires of vampire, and mortal pairings, but Rain had a hard time believing a vampire would brave the frozen wastes. Seeing was believing, however, so looking at the attractive fox-like demi-human with sharpened teeth, and keen eyes, proved to Rain that such things were possible. Namire was a caring soul, which was a trait that didn’t suit someone of her stature. Her Pharine origins gave her a ferocious strength, which was clearly visible with her thick muscles, and broad shoulders. Her tanned skin was the color of desert sands, which set her apart from Rain and Tjere as well.
Some time ago, Namire let her vampiric genes guide her away from her frozen homeland. According to her, she had little reason to stay after her parents died. Journeying toward the Demon Lords domains, Namire found herself pledged to the wannabe vampire lord Count Greave, and was glad to be in the service of a rising succubus instead.
Namire’s tail waged back, and forth as she sat onto the cold marble floors. Her legs were crossed, and her hands planted before her feet so that her small breasts dangled inside her thin shirt. Rain found herself amused with the Pharine’s tucked ears, and pouty lips.
Rain spent the last few days drawing a map, using left over sheets of leather to draw her surroundings. Tjere had scouted the terrain, and Namire had already proved her worth by marking out potential threats. As Rain’s power grew, the perimeter around her sanctuary expanded. It seemed few of the woodlands predators would dare question the supremacy of a succubus.
Rain claimed the lands surrounding her private sanctuary, and on the leather map she had skillfully written the word Delsaldes with dark black ink. Delsaldes would claim the glade at its center, and reach north to the base of the haunted marshlands. According to Tjere, the marshlands went on for as far as the eye could see, and were decorated with the ghastly specters of undead wanderers. Zombified creatures walked without direction in those vile lands, but had yet to leave the marshes grounds.
To the East, Rain would claim dominion only as far as the fog born groves. Tjere attempted to brave its mists, but found the reek of magic too stifling to bare. Some wicket sorcery cursed those lands, casting a carpet of mist to forever blanket that stretch of woods. Whoever was responsible, they were supremely powerful. Rain was thankful the master of those mists had ignored her.
To the South, Rain had dared venture only a little. Something prowled those lands that lurked in the shadows. Both dhampir’s could taste blood in the air as they tried to explore, and Rain’s heightened senses could make out something creeping in the corners of her eyes. Surprisingly, it was the human that felt comfortable walking under those trees. Brostin was the only one able to scout farther south, and safely learn its secrets. According to him, the master of those woods wasn’t threatened by him, and welcomed his presence. Although he hadn’t seen them, there was a strange calm in the atmosphere, and he felt a sense of peace. It was there he discovered the thick bustles of strawberries, it was almost like an offering.
Whatever it was that lorded over the trees to the South, Rain felt it could be dealt with later. Whoever it was, they were intelligent, and possibly reasonable. For now, she was happy it stayed away.
Lastly, to the West, Delsaldes would reach as far as she was able. There wasn’t anything disturbing her path all the way to the Demon Lord’s domains. This eerie absence of animals, or peoples somehow felt even more disconcerting. Tjere ventured for miles to the West, and returned after discovering ghost towns, and abandoned settlements. There wasn’t a bird in the skies, or insect crawling on the ground. The entire region seemed an absence of life, without cause or concern.
Rain looked down at the map, her eyes settling on a small hunters lodge to the East.
