Farmer 8217 s Wife
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A Farmer I Am NotPrologue free porn video
An ancient stone brick keep sat on the bare stone ridge, alone and forbidding to all who saw it as they traveled the length of the old farm valley. Its walls, once thick and high now sat broken in abandoned and weathered ruin. Where high battlements once looked out over the land, now only broken edges, like old broken teeth graced the top of the old walls. The local villagers always avoided the old ruins as the fear was still fresh in their very souls of the terror that had once had ruled from the old fortress. The being they thought destroyed, but in reality, it only slept in its ruined prison. Every once in awhile, a foolish adventurer would find his or her way into the underground sections of the old keep, most reported that it was flooded and caved in, in most places. Some of the braver fools though, they never came back. The locals figured a collapse must have caught them. Then there were the few who went in, then came back out much, much later. They would be mad with terror, unable to relate what they encountered. Only that it ate the souls of those that went into the prison. They tended to have gone insane, and would try to kill anybody that got too close to them after that. It was agreed by all the local towns and villages, the old keep was to be left alone so as not to disturb whatever it was that lay deep within.
But as with all things in a mortal inhabited realm, time wears away stone and memory as generations pass. The walls fell, leaving faint outlines of burned and wrecked buildings inside the old keep. Other forces also ate away at the old towers and walls. Masons and farmers took down the walls and towers of stone for uses of their own. Some went to fences and homes for the new farms that had sprung up throughout the valley. Some became part of the new road network that covered the new young kingdom from end to end. A few of the luckier blocks even became part of the new ruler’s castle. Then again, what did a stone care; it is only a stone after all. More time passed, more generations came and went, memories faded to stories and legend and myth. In time, even the myth was forgotten, and only the general dislike was held for where the old keep once stood. The evil that slept below in its prison was seemingly forgotten for all time.
The entity slept, but not deeply or peacefully. It was aware of the mortal realms above it. It knew what went on around several of the gems and was able to slowly feed. The conduit crystal it had stolen from the Hells at his master’s orders. The crystal drew energy from the living around it, slowly feeding the being of living death. The Gems were once whole; the party of warriors, mage’s and clerics that had defeated and imprisoned it had taken the stone and broken it in hopes of sending it away to another realm, but the plan failed. Seeing that this had not worked, each shard was taken by one of the survivors, taken away to faraway lands. All but one shard was sealed away from prying eyes and locked in basements of castles, forts, and homes. The one shard that was not sealed away was set on display at a local king’s museum. It held great fascination for all who viewed it closely. Most folks felt cold if they came too close as if the very warmth of life was being sucked from their souls. The living warmth of the soul that went to feed the evil in its buried prison.
Time is the enemy of all things living and dead. A great army took the city and the museum was sacked for treasure. The stone was taken and the Master was aware as it was handled and passed from one holder to the next. In time the history of the gleaming stone was lost and it was set in a public stone collection of other pretty stones. This city too in time fell to an army, but this army came for only one thing, the one stone shard. The Dagger Queen as she was called personally came and claimed the stone as her own. She had the stone cut and each part set in gold, silver, and platinum. Two rings, two ear studs, a top for the scepter of adamantine, and her crown of obsidian and gold. These when worn gave her power over the minds of others. She ruled with a fist harder than iron, destroying all that opposed her rule. The scepter was a weapon of true terror when she touched it to the victim, all that would remain after a second was a thin cloud of rapidly fading dust. Her armies sought out places that made no sense to the rulers of the many kingdoms around her. She would send a small force and raid a single farm, at other times a massive force would all but burn a small city to the ground, yet only take one item and leave. When a search and inventory were finally made, they would find that only a small gem that glittered and shown with a light from within had been taken.
The stones gave the Dagger Queen great power, but would not grant her immortality. She had managed to find all but one large shard. The family that had taken that shard had fled far from this land. After much time and effort, she was able to track it to where it was last hidden but had no way of reaching it in her remaining years. It would have to be one of her children, or maybe better still, her sole granddaughter. She had the little girl brought to her on her fifth birthday and began to train her. She trained the girl to enjoy pain and suffering in others. The girl was taught how to give pain and feed from it. She was trained to be the next queen to rule and conquer all the lands of this world with a fist of terror. Then she would go to find the mythical gated mountain temples at the northern tip of the world. Find them, open them to enter what has been called the Eternity Hall, or the Star Walk Way. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was a thing she felt she would one day do.
Ten more years passed and age had finally won its war despite the power granted the Dagger Queen by the gems. As she lay on her death bed breathing out her last, her son and daughter had raised armies and were fighting each other to take the city gates to reach her and take what they felt should be theirs and theirs alone. The old Queen lay alone in her chambers, waiting for the fate she knew was coming for her. She turned her head to the side when she heard the door open and saw the 15-year-old girl enter. She could see the child’s eyes were cold, filled with the lust for power, the absolute hatred for any that stood in way of her destiny. “Come, girl,” the old queen croaked, “Do what it is fated for you to do this day. Show no mercy child, for I surely deserve none.” The frail old woman coughed and specks of blood-flecked her dry, cracked lips.
The girl sneered at the old woman, “I will show you none for what you have made me a crone. Pain and suffering are what you will beg for compared to the fate I have in store for you.” The black-haired girl, skin pale as milk, eyes large and dark green so deep as to be almost black in daylight, reached down and took the old woman’s right hand in both of hers. She bared her teeth then grabbed the ring on the shriveled hand and pulled it free, ripping the fragile finger off the hand with it. She dropped the severed finger to the floor then repeated the action on the left hand. She ripped the studs for the old woman’s ears in a spray of blood and flesh. All of this abuse ripped faint groans of pain from the old Queen. “Finish it, girl,” she whispered, “Quickly now child. Time grows short for both of us.”
The girl pulled the crown from the old head, tearing the thin dry skin as she did so, not caring that she had added more pain to the old woman. She fed on the pain, reveled in it as it soaked into her soul to feed her hatred. She looked to the scepter last. As she looked at the stones, an idea struck her, a truly sick and evil idea to be sure. She even knew there was a chance it would kill her for trying, but the rewards far outweighed the risk. With a small bodice dagger, she pried each stone from its metal mounts. These she dropped and ignored as they had no value to her. The stones from the rings would go in first. She drove the dagger into the back of her left hand over the ring finger bones eliciting a faint groan of her pain, then shoved one of the shards into the wound. She felt a burning in her hand as the gem seated itself in the bones of her hand. As she watched, the wound closed up and healed, leaving only a faint reddish glow through her skin to show where the stone now rested. She did the same for the right hand with the same result. The pain of the first two stones had her soaking with sweat, her mind faint from the pain. She could feel the power of the stones flowing from one hand to the other now and it made her heart jump with each pulse of energy. She knew she would have to act quickly to finish or she wouldn’t live long. She staggered her way to the wall mirror and considered how to handle the ear stud stones. “Ah what the hell,” she said out loud. With the dagger, she cut a slit in her skin just above the jawbone by each ear and quickly slid the stones into the open wounds. She felt a burning sensation as the stones found the bones and burned their way into them. The pain this induced made her shorter of breath and dizzy enough to stagger her, but by force of hatred and will, she held on and continued this grim task. The scepter stone she had to think about for a moment on where to put it. After a few seconds of thought, she removed her dress and underclothes. Standing before the mirror, she stroked the breast bone in the center of her chest just over her heart. Again the dagger cut skin and drew her life’s blood. At first, the vertical slit wasn’t wide enough for the stone to fit, so she cut deeper to the bone and drew it several inch’s further down to below her breast. The pain made the world go white for a moment and she leaned on the mirror to stop falling. With her bare hands she split the skin between her large breast until she felt the opening was large enough, she worked the gem into the opening and pressed it against the bone. The pain she had been feeling from the cut paled in comparison drawing a scream of agony from her as the stone seated itself in her breast bone. The stone had suddenly flared and it burned into the bone, sealing itself to her. The pain drove her to her knees, but she quickly drew herself back to her feet. She felt something else now in her chest, It was like little fingers were clawing their way to her heart. There was another sharper pain, then just as suddenly, it was gone. The bleeding stopped and she watched as the wound closed around the stone. This stone stood out under the skin, showing the full faceted outline. The glow was now a deep blood red and the light pulsed with her beating heart.
She turned and looked at the old woman, her dying queen and smiled, “I do now what you could never do old woman.” She turned back to the mirror and held up the crown stone. “Now I do what you should have done the day you found the first shard.” Taking a deep, shuddering breath at the pain to come, she cut a bloody gap in the skin of her forehead. She pulled it open even though the pain made her want to scream again in total madness. With her blood-soaked hands, she pushed the stone against the exposed bones of her skull. Again the stone burned and seated itself in the bones and the skin knitted and sealed the stone in place. Again, the light turned to a deep blood red and pulsed and flickered with the very thoughts of her mind. She turned and grinned at the dying woman. “Now old one, where are the rest of the stone shards.” The old Queen turned her head towards the box on a high shelf. The girl smiled a cruel smile and took the small gem box down and opened it. Six smaller shards sat inside, each glowing and pulsing now in time with her heart. “Six gems, six fingers, easily done.” She seated each stone in the back of her hands over the rest of her fingers. “Now old woman, tell me where are the last of the known gems located.”
The Dagger Queen looked on in pleasure at what she had witnessed. Only at the very end, with her last few breaths and beats of her heart did she truly understand what she had created, not with fear, but joy. When she tried to speak, her throat filled with blood. Her body was failing quickly, and her mind with it. “Oh no you don’t old woman,” said the girl. She grabbed the frail head and shoved her forehead into the other. She saw images, places, and maps. One map came to the fore as she watched the memories play out in the nearly dead mind. It was a map of a city halfway around the globe. It had the name Fairhams Cove printed above it, on the eastern border of the Branim Sea.
She dropped the now dead Queens head and stood for a moment to gather her thoughts and shake off the remaining pain when an icy cold thought from outside intruded into her mind. “Very good mortal child, you shall serve me well I should think. The center stone is needed for me to fully awaken. Go now, retrieve it and bring it to me. I will have vengeance on those that did this to me, even if they are centuries dead and gone to dust. Those they spawned will suffer in the nine hells for trapping me here on this cold and dead world.” The voice went silent, but she could feel it lurking in the back of her mind, watching and waiting.
“What is the gemstone and why is it so important old one,” she asked.
Hortense
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