Shashibasket

Binding a Succubus is extremely dangerous and should not be done without supervision. Many a would-be master of the Fel Arts reached this stage only to fail due to personal weakness and ease of exploitation. Unlike a simple Imp or brutish Felguard, a Succubus is a truly sentient demon with powers of persuasion and a higher intellect.

While ultimately it doesn't affect how well-made your bindings are, a bit of history is in order. In my research, I've discovered that the Succubi come from another world that was conquered by the Burning Legion. They call themselves the Sayaad or Sayaadi (adj.) and their matriarchal society consumed the males amongst themselves when they were conquered and imbued with Fel powers by the Burning Legion. They are adept at trickery, torture and manipulation, but if you are clever and prepared they can turn those skills to your advantage against the enemy, fighting felfire with felfire.

Succubi are empowered by consuming souls, however intense emotions can generate enough energy to substitute if you don't have a ready supply of spare souls to offer. Pain, suffering, fear, these intense emotions give off measurable psychic energy that they can take in and convert into the energy that they need to use their abilities. They may or may not also eat conventional food, little is known about the lives of Succubi when they're banished back to the Twisting Nether after their tasks are complete.

Create your summoning circle with care, arrange for support, and have a backup plan. Once the True Name of the Succubus is spoken (see: Compendium of Demon Names, Rotshock, Glimmons, Sunsworn et al.) there is no turning back and you will not have long to overpower and bind her. Fortunately a properly applied binding will tie the demon's will and motives to your own, but until it's in place she may beg, plead, cry, threaten, promise, tempt and manipulate you in any way that she can. She may take different forms, even those of lost loved ones or those that you most want to please. Do not think that you are safe just because you don't find women or demons attractive, no! A Succubus can take a male or female form of any race, depending on what you desire, and a Succubus can make you want them regardless of your preferences. If you've made your bindings and defenses properly you may be less susceptible to their psychic magic and otherworldly manipulation, but never underestimate your emotional vulnerability to what seems to be a genuine compliment, an offering of camaraderie, or a kind listening ear.

Once your Succubus is bound, it is extremely important to send them back to the Twisting Nether to await further orders until you need them next. Keeping a Succubus as a day to day servant or pet in your home is as dangerous as tea with a Dreadlord.

Above all else, keep this in mind. While your Succubus may act as though she adores you and would never betray you, research has not ever borne out the theory that Succubi truly experience emotion as we know it. If there was a time when the Sayaad race experienced kindness, compassion and sympathy, it was burned out of them by the fires of the Fel corruption that runs through their veins and the commands of the Legion. Even once they're bound, don't ever drop your guard. Never believe their lies, no matter how sweetly they're told.

Your soul depends on it.

(Editor's note: Oglesby Gigathorpe was ultimately consumed by his Succubus. This section remains unchanged, as a note on the foolhardiness of disregarding safety protocols.)

"What a bunch of bullshit. It's only like…half right," Helzhen muttered, tightening his arms around Verb as she settled against his chest in the ruins of the house he'd found. It couldn't be a permanent shelter, but it'd do for a night at least to keep them out of the view of the dead things shuffling around in the burned scar that the invasion had left straight through the middle of the capital city.

"Mmmm…my uncle had this book," Verb mused as she closed the book she found under a smashed desk, hazy-eyed and loopy from whatever she'd taken earlier. "Maybe I should've listened to it. Maybe you're eeeeevil, oh nooooooooo…"

"Oh no, that part is right, I'm totally going to eat you," Hel agreed dryly, muscling past the full-body shudder that her bringing up her uncle always stirred in him. Fortunately that asshole was super, super dead now. "Arrrgh arr arr arr…" He pantomimed chomping down on her head as she giggled and squirmed, noodling her arms out in a loose, flailing gesture--

There was a crashing sound nearby and Hel was instantly on alert, his wings wrapped around the Quel…well, now Sin'dorei girl to shield her from view, his seething felgreen eyes flashed as they searched the area. After a few long moments where nothing happened, though, he relaxed again, leaning back against the partial wall behind them.

"Get some rest, dollbaby," he said into the top of her head, pushing away some debris with one hoof so that he could stretch his legs. "We'll get you some food, or…some-fucking-thing tomorrow. We'll…figure it out." Even if the world was falling apart, there had to be someone looking to have a good time somewhere. Rich Elves never went without their parties and mana-wine and plates of little cheeses even while the city was still smoldering.

"What would I do without yooooooouuuuu…" Verb singsonged, already more than halfway out of it. It was probably a fragment of a song she heard or, more likely, just made up.

“Riiiiiiiight, it’s not really your bestie who would never ever do anything like that, suuuuuure,” I can hear you saying already, and honestly, that would’ve been my knee-jerk reaction on hearing the same from anyone else. I’d say, you don’t REALLY know what your friend is up to, they could live a whole secret life of youth-of-a-male-ing it up at random people and you’d never know. 

Fortunately, one person got in touch to let me know that it was going on in an attempt to warn me about my friend’s behavior and one got in touch with HIM to confront him about his behavior as told to them by one of the people who received one of these whispers and they both provided screenshots that made it clear what was happening. Unfortunately, the screenshots don’t say who would even DO this, holy heck, how crazy do you have to BE? But they do make it clear that the actual player of the Tibs character who is one of the kindest, most accommodating, most respectful people that I’ve ever encountered in RP and who I’ve been writing interconnected stories with for about four years and who NEVER showed any signs that they were this kind of person, isn’t living some kind of low-key scumlord life on the sly.  Incident One happened in early September. Someone who I didn’t know sent me a whisper asking if my ‘buddy’ was the kind of person who would send unsolicited mature whispers to people? I was baffled, alarmed, and defensive about someone potentially just looking to cause trouble, but asked if they had a screenshot so that I could look into it. They did! https://imgur.com/ocDLoDp On viewing the screenshot, a few things stood out: 1) The TRP3 icon for the character was wrong. It was the default Draenei male icon, which he doesn’t use for his profile, but it was present meaning the person who heard the whisper had loaded in the profile of the whisper-er, which would make the character name display as whatever the sender set it to.  2) The writing style is ALL wrong. I wouldn’t expect many other people to know this, but it’s LAUGHABLY not his writing style. Tibs is a casual character and is played casually, without any of the formality that Draenei characters can have sometimes. Even in the midst of the general perplexion we both had a big laugh about ‘the bull’. It has turned into a running joke, it’s just so ridiculously not a phrase he’d use. 3) Tibs has never once used the word ‘compatriot’ IC in the years that I’ve done daily hours-long RP with him, but he definitely knows how to spell it. 4) Being a person possessed of a full-time job, he wasn’t online at the timestamp that day (although it’s unclear what day it was from)

So this was a bit of a mystery! And all the rabbit holes of "but who would even do this and why, holy CATS?” lead nowhere solid, and since the whisper didn’t come to either of us and we didn’t know who it went to we couldn’t verify the OOC name of the character who sent it. It got filed under “Huh, That Was Weird” and we both moved on.

Incident Two was last night, where someone who I was actually aware of but never spoke with before got in touch with him directly to ask him what the heck was up with the whispers that he sent his IC wife. They also provided him with a screenshot! But this one, thanks to how WOW Instant Messenger works, had an important detail: 

https://imgur.com/XtDDN3r This time they had finally swapped in the actual character icon that he uses, but it showed the actual OOC name of the character, which was not Tiberíus (with a single accent aigu on the second ‘i’) but Tìberìus (with an accent grave on each ‘i’). Still, they had put his real IC name in as the character’s name in TRP3 which helpfully displayed that as the name of the whisperer. TRP3 is a great tool for immersion and has some really neat functions that don’t draw you out of it, letting people have OOC names like “Googlymoogly” and having it show an IC name like Lord Jacob Whittington the Third, but unfortunately those functions can also help someone with malicious intent impersonate another character very convincingly. 

The Draenei Paladin that someone made named Tìberìus no longer exists, the character has been deleted. Attempting to add the character to a friendlist confirms this. But that name was used within the last 30 days, as you can see when you try and make a new character with that name, the name is still reserved, and will be by whoever made it for a month:

https://imgur.com/nl0HvHA

It was a relief to have solid proof that it wasn’t him, but at the same time, there’s still a whackadoo out there who is apparently continuing to be terrible to people while deceptively pretending to play his character. There are, unfortunately, a whole lot of other alt codes that could be subbed in and used to continue to harass people in the name of the “real” Tibs. Neither one of us can think of who might be doing this and why they’d be using his profile of all the characters on the server to do it, he seriously doesn’t have enemies. He’s not a big-name player. He OOC and the character IC (slightly less so, Tibs IC can get flustered and cranky, but still) are friendly welcoming inclusive respectful cinnamon rolls. All of our various shenanigans pretty much fly under the radar of the server in general. Why, of all people, if someone was going to go around being terrible to people would they do it while pretending to be him? 

Which brings me to the point, finally, the one that elevates this from perplexing annoyance to Community Warning, which is that someone is out there sending unasked-for mature-content whispers to people (which isn’t a new phenomenon, unfortunately, I put in a message asking to not get unsolicited scene-starter whispers in my TRP ages ago) but also that if someone out there is doing it while imitating his RP profile, they might be imitating others. 

If you get one of these whispers, please right-click report it to the GMs. You won’t be doing any harm to Real Tibs by accident, because he’s not sending these whispers and TRP profiles don’t really factor in for GMs, they can see which account actually sent the message. He also has a ticket in for Ongoing Harassment, but there’s about a 24-day wait on tickets right now and situations like this can be complicated to get the GM team to understand when his character didn’t receive the harassment directly. Hopefully whatever crazy person is doing this will get their account dinged for it, but if they’re not banned or if they have the disposable income for a new account they might just double down on their efforts to be a nutty, nutty cocoa bean.

Watch out. UPDATE: A version of the impersonator was spotted in the wild! This one was Tíberìus - as predicted, with new variations on the alt codes. This time, the real Tibs WAS online at the same time.

Some dragons had proper lairs in a cave, she imagined, and there was one nearby that she retreated to when she needed to feel the stone and the dark around her, but by and large Kalia saw no reason to eschew comforts like pillows and fireplaces for the sake of tradition were they available to her.

It was at the edge of one of those fireplaces that she now paced, black silken nightdress trailing behind her, with a steady, dissatisfied rumble sounding in the area of her chest. At the hollow in her throat, dangling by a simple chain, a gem blackened at the facets pulsed with almost irritable flickering red-gold light.

William stirred from within what they called the Blanket Lair, increasingly difficult to surmount as Kali added more and more blankets and pillows over time to keep the warmth in. Eventually he propped his head up in his hand, his softly glowing half-Elven eyes trailing after her from one side of the room to the other, a small grin curving his lips even if his eyes were concerned - he couldn't always help being amused by her dragon-ness.

"Is it that call that you've been feeling?" He murmured, so as not to startle her. "Or something to do with your family?"

Kali stopped in place, the muscles in her cheek tensed as her jaw briefly clenched. "I am still entertaining the notion that they may be one and the same...but the pull is somewhat different than when I was gifted this." Her fingertips lit on the stone at her throat. As she pondered her chin lifted, the depths of her dark eyes flickered, briefly, with the same red-gold light. "...it is growing stronger."

He disentangled himself from the bedding to rise and move behind her, hands at her hips, and briefly pressed his lips to her bared shoulder. Kali was not raised as a dragon by dragons, and she was no Aspect, but as the Aspects were more or less just normal dragons nowadays she couldn't think of a reason to not consider him her Prime Consort. They were more or less making up what they saw as the duties of the role as they went along...but it was clear that his duties as her husband in particular included trying to soothe her fretfulness. The rumble in her chest mellowed at that, from a sound not unlike a growl to one a bit more like a purr, and she lifted a hand to his cheek as her eyes went heavy-lidded. "And you still think it may be a trap?" He said against her unnaturally heated skin, his voice warm and steady.

Her head tipped as she considered, she turned to face him and look him over thoughtfully. "I'm not certain...it doesn't feel like a trap, certainly, which is in itself the hallmark of a truly effective trap." The corners of her lips quirked, briefly, she touched a knuckle to the underside of his chin fondly.

"Should it be as much," she murmured, the slow baring of her teeth in a sharp, edged grin revealing what seemed like decidedly too many of them, "they will surely discover how unwise such an ambition can prove to be."

The villagers of Sablewood, both the few who served directly in the manor and not, gathered in murmuring huddles the following afternoon, watching Lord Oakleaf as he grumbled to himself angrily, at times having to climb the trees outside to fetch his things that had been strewn about the area, snagged and torn, and occasionally lightly singed. 

Jenifhyr’s eyes fell to the rent, scattered crown of dried Sablewood blooms in the entryway. “He’s not th’ Summer King anymore,” her father Tomas intoned in a low murmur, stroking his beard. As the Mayor of the village, it was his task to see that the summer harvest was going properly for the villagers and the community, while Jenifhyr had taken on the task of educating and guiding the new Lord and Lady. 

Her head bobbed, she clutched at her plainspun skirts. “Only th’ Queen can crown the Summer King,” she murmured, the words were specific and practiced, often repeated--

“Please get these washed and patched, please,” William sighed, haggard, and handed a loose and muddy pile of clothing to the nearest girl.

Almost as one, everyone looked to the staircase leading to the Lady’s chamber above. Had he not seen? He couldn’t have seen...they started to glance amongst themselves, and then back to the staircase...

“Are you daft?! She’s out. Get these bloody things washed and repaired, I’ll sort them out after you’re done!” 

The girl he was berating cringed as she grabbed the pile of things from him, and Jenifhyr’s eyes turned to her father in silent confirmation. 

He hadn’t noticed the marks on the stairs, on the banister, on the wall. Deep scoremarks in the dark wood, singed, where something large had not ascended the stairs but clawed its way up them like an obstacle.

There was a cavern in the hills. It was well-known to the locals and they gathered there now, generally fretfully, as occasional earth-moving rumblings emerged, low and dark but with an edge that could almost be described as peevish. Outside the cave there was a village girl waiting with obvious signs of exasperated boredom, dressed in dark festival rainments, bound to the rock that she was currently sitting on with a flimsy chain of Sablewood blooms that was looped lightly around her wrist...she had another bloom in her hands that she was gradually tearing apart for lack of anything else to do.

Tomas and his daughter arrived and immediately joined in with the exasperation, he removed his strawspun hat and tossed it on the ground with a growl. “This’s going to throw off the whole timeline of the harvest, just the whole timeline!” 

Jenifhyr turned to her father, raising her hands. “Da! Her ladyship is a GIRL, she’s not going to want a GIRL virgin!”

Tomas puffed a little, grumbling. “Well, you never know with city folk these days...”

The girl on the rock rolled her eyes as Jenifhyr undid her bindings, such that they were. It took some asking around at the village, but eventually a gangly boy in his mid-teens was delivered instead and placed to wait outside with watchful anxiousness but a general lack of terror. It took a lot to terrify someone born and raised in Sablewood. In the darkness of the cave two red eyes, slitted like a cat’s, lit up, blazing like flame for a moment...and then there was a huff and a torrent of heated air that blew puffs of dust on the ground as the rumbling resumed, more petulant than before.

“Well...that didn’t work. Per’aps we should tell his lordship where she is?” Jenifhyr said, fists on her hips. 

Tomas retrieved his hat, dusting it off before placing it back on his head. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my life, poppet, it’s not to intr’fere in the doings of a married couple...”

Another rumble sounded from the cave, angry and harsh and resounding, escalating to something like a roar.

That in particular gave Kali pause, she blinked. “...I believe you mean My Lady,” she said with a light chuckle, coming down to the ground level and standing before the girl. “I am the Baroness of this province, not any sort of royalty.”

Yet, she added in her mind.

The girl shook her head firmly. “Beggin’ yer pardon, My Queen, but Summer’s upon us.” The way she said this was somewhat...unusual. Hushed, like one might speak about a terrible and foreboding event, with an implied emphasis. “In the Summer yer the Queen, an’ My Lord is the Summer King.” Her eyes wandered to the staircase that lead to the room where William still slept. 

Kali’s lips quirked at the corners, mildly amused. The locals had such quaint rustic customs. “And am I not the Summer Queen?” That had not escaped her notice, the inequality of title.

The girl’s bulged eyes darted back to Kali, staring blankly like she’d asked her what color the sky was. “No.”

A few silent beats passed, finally Kali exhaled, mildly exasperated, and held out her hands for the flower crowns. The locals had been working with Sablewood blooms all their lives, she trusted that they’d been properly leeched of their deeply poisonous properties. A glance proved that the petals were dried and papery, preserved. The girl handed her William’s crown, placing it in her hands reverently, but instead put Kali’s directly on her head, her wild gaze averted, and then immediately dropped back to the ground.

“Only the Queen can crown the Summer King,” the girl muttered, like one might explain to an oblivious but particularly important child. 

“...mm. Yes. I see.” The corners of Kali’s lips twitched, less amused. “And what, precisely, are the duties of the Queen and the Summer King?” 

Clearly having to actually explain this was odd for the girl. Her mouth opened and closed, she frowned as she tried to search for the words to articulate...”You see to the harvest, make sure it’s gettin’ done proper. Appointin’ the guards on the vats, the Lighters of the Way an’ the Dancers of the Path. There’s the Harvest Night festivals that’ve gotta be supplied an’ set up at the Turnin’ of the Night on Satter’s-Day durin’ the Summer. An’ then there’s overseein’ the Summer’s End when the season’s over. My Queen.” Her head bobbed, she wrung her hands a little. “You can invite outsiders to the Satter’s-Day festivals if you want, but the Summer’s End is just for us who're touched by the Sabled Wood.”

Kali’s hand went to the flower crown on her head, she murmured a touch dryly. “How very...colorful. I’m certain it would be amusing for the others of the Tempest, perhaps even the Society to partake in the local custom if we’ve established as much during the season.”

There was a long, heavy moment of silence as Kali waited for the girl to indicate that that was all or dismiss herself as she fidgeted, clearly holding something back. Finally Kali sighed, her eyebrow quirked. “What is it?”

The girl startled, clearly surprised that her intent was so easily read. “Could I...” she muttered, reluctant but with an eager edge to her voice. “Could I per’aps see t’ the Summer King? If he needs anythin’? Bring him his meal or if per’aps he’s needin’ his feet washed...”

Kali stared the girl down, her dark eyes narrowed, unamused. “...no.”

The girl startled, scrambling to her feet and nearly folding herself double with bowing. “Of course my Queen! I’ll just be goin’ my Queen!” She crossed her arms in front of her, fingers spread and partially obscuring her face as her head dipped. It was something she’d noted before was quite common amongst the locals, some sort of gesture of obeisance. “Woods Guide, my Queen.” 

And then she scurried out, plainspun skirts gathered in her hands, leaving Kali to ponder the flower crown in her hands. Despite the dryness of the bright pink petals it was obviously freshly made for the season, the interwoven Sablewood bands holding it together were pliant and young. 

Kali stirred, fitfully, from a restless, light sleep...there had been a noise, and that was enough to renew the edge of her anxiety, making sleep impossible in the short term again. 

Loathe to leave the Blanket Lair, a nest of warm blankets that kept herself and William tightly wrapped in what would likely be stifling heat for most anyone else, instead she turned on her side and looked him over in the darkness...

When he slept, the shadows around him deepened. He startled, his eyes opened without seeing, moonlit lavender light giving way to deeper purple before he tossed and resettled, fighting some internal battle...something within him was fighting to free itself.

Somehow, now that it was less of a mystery, the prospect was only more terrifying. The William that she knew, that she fell in love with, was false. An illusion. His outer persona was only the kindest, the best, the most supportive and loving parts of him distilled and separated out as the unsavory parts of his personality were discarded and trapped deep within him by unknown enchantments...was it any wonder that he was constantly helping others to his own detriment? That he was so caring, so warm, to her of all people? So many things made sense now. 

But how, then, why, had he taken an interest in her at all? Had it been the darkness inside of him reaching out to its like, hoping that she would pull it free of him?

...and she had. That was precisely what had happened.

She couldn’t stay still any longer. She pushed and struggled out of the nest of blankets, pulling on a dressing gown over her silken nightdress. One entire wall of the bedchamber was a black stone fireplace, kept roaring and stoked at all hours...she paced the length of it, fitfully, like a large cat in a cage. What if, when the unsavory, the manipulative, the feckless parts of him finally broke loose, the parts that actually fit his past actions that had seemed so oddly out of place when compared to the man that she knew, what if his affection for her was not enough to keep him at her side? What if he’d only become so attached in the first place because he quite literally lacked the self-preservation instincts to do otherwise? 

Why couldn’t she have just left well enough alone?

Her hand went to her chest and the burnt gem flickering with fitful inner flame that rested against her skin. You cannot only be half of yourself. 

She wasn’t going to be able to bear waiting and watching for who even knew how long until the last of the enchantments were broken, to find out what he, and the two of them together, would become. She would go mad first. She couldn’t speak to him, could hardly look at him without reflecting on how all of it could be taken away from her at any moment. And yet she couldn’t hold back the undoing of it to try and keep the man she knew and loved with her longer, knowing that it was false it would only prolong the inevitable. She would be living a lie. Neither could she bring herself to hasten it, to get it over with, because she might be rushing away the last moments that she had with him...

Another well of panic seized her, she climbed back into the bed, into the blankets in a rush, clinging to him, burying her face in the base of his neck, her body pressed to his back. There was nothing else that she could do.