Inside The Mind Of: Lofi

      Today’s snippet, titled “Inside The Mind Of: Lofi”, is a piece I wrote about an NPC in my Pathfinder Campaign (sort of the “King Maker” adventure path). The intention behind this was to illustrate events occurring in the world, but away from the PCs. They’re supposed to be writing their own pieces about actual in-game events. We shall see if any materialize.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
– – – – – – – – – – –
      I don’t belong here, Livéanaenor thought as he sat at the Marshall’s right hand, watching the councillors discuss some issue with verve. Their passion is so great – yet surely not every single issue they bring up is as critical as the next. How do they manage to find all this fervor for everything from the placement of new garderobes to the Blood Feud in Stockton? It is exhausting.
      “What think you, Lofi?”
      He blinked and cleared his throat, embarrassed to have been caught with his mind in the clouds. “Well,” Livéanaenor began, glancing toward his mistress for a cue. Lady Zehavah seemed as bored as he. He had but one option left to him – dazzle them with so many syllables so quickly that they hardly had a second to realize that he was clueless. “I think, Baroness, that perhaps the illustrious General should, afterall, commence with cavalry maneuvers near Stockton – as a mere, threatless exercise, as was so graciously and intelligently suggested before. Surely that display of strength will quell the most rowdy of those nefarious ranchers and appease the cantankerous plumage of the upper-crust of the village.”
      The Baroness, a beautiful but soft, citified human woman, smiled at him. She was not at all to his preference, though he imagined it would be a blessing to lay his head upon those downy black curls and inhale the sweet fragrance of her hair. “Thank you, Lofi. I imagine the Marshall’s men could take part – if she thinks it wise?”
      “Yes, some of my rangers will be made available.”
      “We can guise it as scout-training,” Alexis said. “Thank you, Zehavah.”
      “Mm.”
      There was a strange chill between the two lovers and Livéanaenor knew that some of the problem had begun with his arrival.
      The voices began again, droning on about other issues and Livéanaenor sighed. He was not cut out of the council chambers; he belonged on the range, guarding the nation’s borders and the rural-most settlers. But when the call came – he had found it irresistible.
      Almost as irresistible as the Marshall herself.
      Zehavah Lighteye was born of man, but her rugged, untamed nature appealed to the elf in a way no other human woman had done. From the moment she was introduced as the Marshall, and thus, his master in this endeavor, Livéanaenor had wanted her. His cock had burned for her.
      It had taken some time to win her eye and her bed, for at the time, she spent her nights with her lover, the General Alexis. The two were raising children together, a handful of adopted children of man, and two exquisitely beautiful half-bloods who bore their mother’s raven hair, but the rich, deep complexion and grey eyes of their father. Still, their affair was as unnatural as it was deliciously sexy, and Livéanaenor had wondered many times at his infatuation with the woman.
      She was savage and fierce in her love as in the heat of battle – his match in every way. Livéanaenor for once in his long years, did not even mind when she called him “Lofi” rather than his given name, Livéanaenor, and found it endearing when she mangled it in the throes of passion.
      Whether the match was short-lived or life-long, Livéanaenor could not predict. For now though, he was quite content to assist her rule as Marshall of Phoenixa by day and make her scream his name in the night.
      I don’t belong here, he thought again, glancing to the hourglass on the mantle. There were still at least two hours worth of debate to endure before the council retired for the night. At least two hours before he could take her to bed and bury his face between those strong, muscled thighs and- Livéanaenor had to put an end to that lascivious thought immediately, for his trousers had begun to grow uncomfortably tight. But there is at least one place here I do belong – the Lady’s Zehavah’s bed.
– – – – – – – – – – –
Signed, Josie
Note: Image is “Brain 001” by (Obscenity) from SXC.hu

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