The Mayor's Mansion

Shaun looked at the other two approaching. Trogdor seemed to have lost interest in him and forgotten his threat, or he simply didn't see the reading as meaningful. He let himself relax. The dragon did not seem to upset. It was probably best if they stopped here anyways. Shaun gathered up the cards and approached the dragon, wondering what the reward could possibly be.

Humans were so dumb. Trogdor lunged and snapped up the unsuspecting priest. The bones gave a satisfying crunch and the blood was warm. The priest was even seasoned with a bit of mana. Over all Shaun was a better meal than conversationalist.

The dragon swallowed and turned his attention to the new comers. "A siren and her man?" Trogdor chose to ignore Giplor's idle threat. "You show your wisdom over humans. Zaltos and I have a mutual respect for each other. He helped me and now I help him." Finally a being worth talking to. "What do they call you little sea nymph?"  The language of the sirens came innately to Trogdor's lips as he spoke.  The soft, melodious sound seemed to float on the ocean breeze.

Trogdor was a little surprised by the request. Instinct told him to be weary around another magical being. Trogdor doubted that the Siren would be daft enough to attempt any sort of sexual manipulation on a dragon. Such a thing could be dangerous.

Trogdor was a sucker for flattery however. And it was true, his coat did gleam magnificently. The dragon lowered his head and let Nereida's palm settle on his snout.

Giplor looked back and forth between Nereida and Trogdor. Two magnificent specimens of the Overworld that could kill a man instantly, and Giplor stood with them in his fancy suit. He figured Trogdor was wrecking anything and he was someone besides himself for Nereida to speak with.

Giplor then heard the seductive tone of Nereida being directed at him, "Trogdor has proven himself and earned the trust of the people. The same thing that you will do over time. I promise, if you stay near me, you will be able to walk freely and do as you want... Minus eating people unless they deserve it like the one he ate....That's another thing, if your desire to eat a man becomes strong, we can make arrangements. We nornally just feed the prisoners to Gravlor."

Giplor would smile at Nereida before looking to Trogdor, "So what has brought you here? Does Gravlor know you're in town or is he still away?"

"I only know Giplor," Nereida responded in Siren's Song, and she stepped over to him to stand near him, very near to him, her bare shoulder brushing his arm.

Her dark gaze was still on Trogdor, watching as he moved, as the sun glittered off of his scales. Then her head tipped to the side, her mussed and tousled black hair swaying down her shoulders on currents unseen as she noticed an irregularity in his scales.

He was staring at the horses like he was about to eat the frightened beasts, but Nereida didn't notice that. She turned to the man that had held her naked body in his arms, had felt but not tasted her, had seen but not claimed the delicious sea maid.

"He killed the man for being an annoyance," she said to Giplor. "Will I be able to do the same?" Now her fathomless eyes were on Giplor, the scent of the sea and the flower in her hair light on the air around her.

Nereida didn't quite yet understand when Giplor spoke and told her the people would listen to her, that he meant they would if she was by his side. She didn't truly understand when he spoke of having faith in him and not leaving. She wasn't his to own, was she?

Her dark eyes were on Giplor's face as he turned to regard Trogdor. She felt his hand at the small of her back, the way he caressed her through the material of her blood-stained gown and she fit herself more perfectly to his side so he could prolong the comforting touch.

It was what she wanted, and Nereida always got what she wanted. She turned to look at Trogdor, her petite frame just tall enough that she could lean her temple against Giplor's shoulder. She didn't, however. She looked at the red dragon with its scattering of golden scales and its hungry eyes.

Did she want Trogdor? The Siren was still deciding if it was worth it. This Pharaoh thing that they kept mentioning meant nothing to Nereida.

Trogdor simply did not understand Giplor's tone when he gave him his unspoken option for consequences. Giplor was not hard to get along with. He understood some creatures were ignorant and think high of themselves. There was no way for Trogdor to simply take the precious materials alone. The immaculate carriage would have to be take whole, the chains holding the horses to the carriage as Trogdor consumed it.

These horses had no option for escape. Trogdor would consume the horses along with the carriage, leaving Giplor to watch his horses as they stared at him for help. The chains that bound the creatures were extremely strong and durable due to their enchantments so that the massive horses couldn't escape.

Giplor would feel a deep sorrow within his heart, as he loved animals. If Trogdor ate the horses, Giplor was no longer worried about their value, but the bond he had built with them over the years. Watching them die was like watching children die. Despite the sadness, Giplor showed no physical change or expressions as he watched the tragedy of the situation. 

This dragon had simply made a fool of Giplor. There was no way around such a feat. He had justified the dragons consumption of a man and this blatant disrespect was how he repaid him? Trogdor knew that consuming a man wasn't welcomed anywhere in the world and Giplor blew it off, offering no consequence to the feat. Everything had came to a boil, from the destruction of Robert's mansion, the consumption of a man without justification, and his carriage that cost a fortune to build.

Giplor was going to show this fire dragon that he is in a land of water and that he could not be an ass here; that he would follow the rules or leave.  Giplor was the Governor and Grand Komtur of the Brothers of the Sword, while also being the High Paladin of the Atlantian Angelic Order. He did not have these positions because he was weak and let humanoids or creatures walk upon him like he was a bug beneath their feet. All these thoughts and emotions, swelled by the feeling of strength and empowerment that Nereida seemed to cast upon him with her presence.

From the moment Trogdor decided to touch the carriage , Giplor began his work. He said nothing to Trogdor, he simply smiled at the dragon. His right hand continued to massage the small of Nereida's back as if he was fine with it. But what would soon follow would show that everything was not as calm as they thought. What was working itself in the background was making it's presence. The time it took Trogdor to consume the carriage was ample time to ready himself.

Giplor would never drop his smile as he spoke to Trogdor, "You deserve a taste of the Atlantic Ocean. It'll wash my carriage and horses down great." 

Trogdor's location to consume the carriage would place himself between Giplor and the Atlantic Ocean. Since the day was still early, most people were on the docks and along the water. The entire mansions staff had already scrambled to safety after Trogdor landed. Those along the water could see the water moving, allowing them a few seconds to get out of the way to stare in awe.

The water would rise over the seawalls and into the streets. As the water reached over the seawall, the amounts of water would begin to rush over like a reverse waterfall, very little actually spraying into the air as it made the quick angle change. The force of the water would not let up, increasing as it rushed down the street Giplor and Nereida took to get her.

The water rushed and the closer it got, the more it would roar. Trogdor would probably have a hard time hearing this due to the crunch of the metals and Pearls. What was rushing at Trogdor was a magically formed river that seemed to cause little damage to the buildings it slapped up against.  

Giplor lifted his left hand nine inches from his form, his finger tips appearing to support his chin. The next part of the illusion was Giplor's hand slamming into a fist and his knuckles finding the point where his fingertips once resided in the air in front of Giplor. It appeared as though Giplor punched himself in the chin from the view of Trogdor if he seen it. Regardless, there was more to it, he was pulling masses of water four blocks at a fast rate. It was a hand sign taught to him by a ninja like race in Titania. He didn't care, it worked.

Nereida could smell the salt of the sea and it burned in her veins to join it again. She closed her eyes and tilted her face back, the pressure of Giplor's hand at the small of her back fitting him against his side in her beautiful dress that was stained at the skirt's with a man's blood.

She didn't care much that Trogdor was eating the carriage or the horses; Nereida didn't yet truly understand the need to own and have, nor the worth of most things. She had no idea how much the carriage cost, and she had no idea how much the horses meant to Giplor. To her, anything with a pulse was potential food, even the brilliant dragon before her.

When the water came, she opened her long lashes and watched as it pummeled the dragon back into the Mayor's home, the mayor's walls and building concaving around the mass of the creature. Nereida only watched, not entirely understanding the exchange, but aware that Giplor was angry with Trogdor... not for eating a man, but for eating a horse.

Hm. So strange!

Nereida moved away from Giplor's side when she saw the sea, but the water seemed to run away from her again, back down, down, down to the wharf and the beach. Even when she stepped over the ground where it had once been, the grass was just dry beneath her feet.

It was then on the breeze that she heard the call of her Sisters, their mournful song that she was gone. Nereida seemed entranced by the music and followed it for a few moments before she stopped herself and took a breath. She found her center and found her calm, and turned back to Giplor.

Her dark eyes were on him as she approached, coming closer and closer with that soft and curvy body of hers, her dark hair dancing as if it played in ocean water. "I didn't know you could control the seas," she sang to him in quiet Siren's Song.

And with little preamble, she wrapped her lily-white, soft arms around his neck and she pressed her sinful body to his and she kissed him long, luxurious, fitting her rose petal lips to his. She tasted of the ocean and of mysteries to be discovered, and Giplor could FEEL the magic of a Siren's Kiss slipping through his body and into his bones. Addictive.

So sweet, so soft, so supple beneath the touch of his hands, against the breadth of his chest, wrapped around the strength of his neck, so warm against the shape of his mouth.

A passionate being controlled by her emotions, her wants and her needs and her satisfaction, she kissed him deeply and luxuriously, weaving him under her spell while around them the Fletcher Family Staff panicked over the state of the Mansion, the smell of burnt horse flesh was still in the air, and the chaos of the presence of Trogdor was still a bitter aftertaste among others.

But not them; not Giplor and Nereida who seemed cocooned in their own intimate, hot embrace. She moaned quietly against his lips, and just that little sound of want likely sent a thrill through him, followed by the hot, wet, teasing touch of her tongue tracing his bottom lip.

Her fingers were in his hair, gripping, anchoring him with a surprising strength that belied the delicate, feminine beauty she had exuded... perhaps a reminder that who he held in his arms was capable of being his most beautiful dream, or his worst nightmare.

Her lips finally lifted and parted from his as she lowered back down onto the flat of her bare feet, her delicious body sliiiding down his chest as she did, the grip of her fingers relaxing in his hair as her arms came loose from around his neck, hands drifting down to rest on his chest.

A sense of vitality and virility was super-charged into Giplor's system from this one kiss. He had no aches or wounds to heal, so the magic of her touch instead boosted what was already there; a heady and addictive taste of magic and woman and mystery all in one. Her dark eyes looked up at him, long black hair swaying lightly around her, the scent of the sea a heavy perfume with the burst of Siren's Magic.

He could get lost in her. Lost, and weak, and vulnerable, and dependent on her touch, her taste, the sound of her voice as she thrilled at being pleasured, at giving pleasure. It was dangerous-- a danger that had nothing to do with her own strength or her own violence. It was a danger all too tempting, which made it even worse.

"We should leave this place," she sang quietly to him, the shouting and the rage of the Family Fletcher Servants more noticable now that they weren't lip-locked.