#crownofconvegence

Closed starter @nereidofneed

DELVING into the unassuming minds of strangers was a complicated business. Similar to his feeding requirements, the element of consent was key to gaining access. A dreamers mind had to be open to Dracoth, in some way they had to be calling out for something, yearning or missing. When asleep, dreamers lack inhibitions, they are left exposed to any dream walker who fancied themselves a voyeur or a guest role in those fantasies.

It seems then, a perverse injustice that Dracoth used the dream realm to connect with potential prey in the physical realm. He could sample people's lives and their secrets while revealing little of his own. Where like met like, that is to say, where he saw potential for chemistry, he would then begin to manipulate those dreams. Dracoth gave them a taste of what it would be like to submit to him, to give into temptation. He would show them how he could satiate them; a simple price to pay for pleasure, for survival.

One dark night, watched over by a faithful bed fellow, Dracoth cast aside his physical form and emerged into the cloudless sky of the dream realm. Great, emerald wings commanded the air, and a scaled, horned humanoid creature soared between the dreams of his neighbours, his acquaintances, even his friends. Each dream was unique and shifting, only steadying out if Dracoth decided to take the reins. Something he did only when he had found his select meal.

It was the aquatic dreams of a blood-thirsty water nymph, that caught the Incubi's notice. The sound of a ticking clock mimicking the constant visual waves of water, was pleasantly rhythmic. The scaled and horned incubi swiftly dived from the sky, aiming toward a fast-forming pool of underwater ocean world.

Though Dracoth was no creature of the water, in this realm the lack of air in his lungs caused him no cause for concern. He sacrificed oxygen as one might sacrifice a curated meat over a baked sea bass. His wings took to water as easily as they did air, and the incubi descended into the cool, salty depths of Derya's subconscious, horns first.

[[Closed Starter]]

@djinnoffire

Scylifino Ristorante had shut it's doors some hours prior, however between the closed slats, if one were looking, one might see the faintest, warm glow of life. Although the town's most romantic restaurant was closed to the public, a skeleton crew stayed on to attend to the whims of one Dracoth Scourge. The incubi paid well, and as was often the case, certain members of staff seemed mysteriously inclined to go above and beyond to please Dracoth.

Earlier in the week Dracoth had sent word to his long time friend and partner in crime Notelaih, inviting him to the restaurant after hours. The message had also suggested fasting in advance. A joke it might have been, but the warning was there nonetheless, and it was not without need.

Inaide, the air was filled with the aroma of roasted meats and spiced wines and the air was warm from the crackling fire. The one table in the restaurant still in use, groaned beneath the weight of dishes and bottles, flowers and spirit candles, leatherbound books and scrolls, and scrolls of parchments.

Dracoth was a consumer of most things, but there were some things, food being one of them, where he possessed an incredibly sensitive pallet. Meaning, he could be... particular...He was difficult to cook for and could be a nightmare when presented with sub standard food, however if done right (cooked right) a good meal was a fool proof way to win Dracoth's loyalty and respect.

The skeleton crew focused on final touches for the feast for two, while Dracoth stood by the hearth fumbling through the Bards Tale on a lute. A jack of all trades, a master of none, the lute was just another of many pass times sampled and adopted over the years. Dracoth would need more practice, but what he lacked in technique, he made up for enthusiasm. There was evident enjoyment on his face, a jovial smile and brows that came together and darted apart where the tune dipped and peaked. He looked almost childlike.

Still, when a noise at the entrance startled him out of his reverie, Dracoth looked up from his instrument, his eyes immediately searching for his friend, and the smile broadened.

"Ah, my freond!" Dracoth called out, tossing the lute to one side, narrowly avoiding an attendant bustling past with a tankard of ale. Oblivious to his own carelessness, the incubi darted forwards, his long limbs rippling beneath the ornately decorated tunic he wore. This evening, Dracoth had dressed for his company, thus he was adorned in rubies and emeralds. As he spread his long arms to offer an embrace for his friend, no doubt the jewels that draped around his throat would press into his companion, feeling cold and hard, a juxtaposition to the warmth emanating from Dracoth himself.

Dracoth & Merrymock

[Closed Starter]

@madkingmerry

In one of the private rooms of the Scourge House, shielded by the elaborate drapery that acted as a partition between sleeping quarters and the opening chamber, a half-naked Dracoth cowered over a bowl of boiled water and bloody cloths. Though the fire burned him deeply, the incubi anticipated a relatively fast heal and so was dressing the wound for vanity’s sake. With the wound cleaned and covered, he could continue his evening.

Only minutes prior, the pale faced man had been lounging amongst a selection of travelling Muses who were performing that evening. He had felt no doubt of his upcoming feast and yet had been quickly and thoroughly seduced by the allure of a fire wielding dancer. Like a madman drawn to a siren’s song, Dracoth had clambered to his feet, dragging his long, lean body away from the warm and ready embrace of succulent strangers.

Dracoth slithered towards the dancer and the pair erupted into a short dance. It became clear that this little merry performance was rehearsed between friends. He adored the dancers’ devotion to her craft, and though Dracoth’s’ own moves were not expert, he moved his body to the music, rippling like a snake. He felt alive, and present, absorbed in the music, and the smoke, and the exquisite flirtation with fire.

Drunk on the sensory experience, Dracoth made a misstep so minor, yet so crucial that he, he felt the familiar, and satisfying lick of fire on his stomach. Fresh wound, hidden by the hem of his shirt’, Dracoth had finished their dance, waved a confident goodbye to the exquisite Muses, then shirked to the backrooms where he requested a key for a vacant private room. The staff were accustomed to Dracoth’s requests, and more than a few felt mysteriously compelled to help him.

This was how the incubi found himself dressing the burn and grunting over the singed hole in his shirt. Dracoth intended to make quick work of his wound and return to the party before the Muses could be swept up by someone else, but alas he was distracted. The damage to his shirt. would bother him for the rest of the night, he knew it. And so it was for the sake of a shirt, that the incubi lingered a little too long in the room…

While an Incubi tended to his wounds, an attendant was searching the crowds of Scourge House for a particular face. As instructed to by the Scourge Guild leader, they had delivered the key for the East facing chambers, directly into the hand of one Dracoth Scourge. The fast developing issue was now that they had lost sight of Merrymock. Fustrated, the young attendant poured a tankard to the brill, and began hunting the tiefling down.

"You there!" The attendant hollering as he laid eyes on Merrymock. Eagerly, he thrust the tankard into Merry's hands "If you take this to the East facing chamber for me, a travelling... wizard, will reward you handsomely."