The Death Of A Whore

Search yourselves cunningly, I pray you, analysing your inmost thoughts. And first you shall discard all those gross obvious hindrances to your Will: idleness, foolish friendships, waste employments or enjoyments, I will not enumerate the conspirators against the welfare of your State.
(Aleister Crowley)

It is an insignificant town that sits at the foothills of the Heroesbane Range, so insignificant that I do not recall its name. Nevertheless it brims with an age-old profession wherein painted women lurk about the Inns in search of lonely travelers with whom they might grant a sexual favor in exchange for a bit of bread.. or perhaps a coin. And while the town remains nameless in my mind, the whore does not.

I was accosted by more than a few before I relented and allowed one to capture my eyes and my attention. Evelyn. I suspected that at one time, she must have been very pretty. Long before the ravages and usury of time had caught up to her. For now, her smile is sad and her eyes filled with a hollowness. And I pity this woman, who for a piece of bread was willing to spread open wide and bare her very soul to me.. a stranger.

As for me, I cannot defile her. Not like that.

Yet she assured me she was quite willing to succumb to any secret proclivity, no matter how vile.. for the right price. And I am sure she has seen more than her share in her lifetime.

But I shall not take what is precious from her. I shall not know her in such a carnal manner. Though I doubt she was aware of this before she breathed her last and fell backward upon me, bathing me in the warm succor of her sacrifice.

And for this, I kissed her upon her cold brow as a father might. And I left her several coins for her passage into the next life. May she fare better than she did in this one.

A chapter from The Necromancer's Handbook
as played out in an excerpt from the story Vale Of The Enclave:





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The Vale of the Enclave -- Join Us!

From an era predating time and recorded history comes the tale of the Enclave -- a distinct phratry among the ordinary folk whose settlements stretched from sea to sea along the continental landmass known as The Vale. Typically those numbered among the Enclave society received their inherent membership by blood, passage rites from parent to child among the tribe's elders -- although it was not unknown for one born completely outside the congregation to find his or herself duly sworn into their ranks.

Consisting of powerful sorcerers, apothecaries, mages, fortune tellers & seers, alchemists, and necromancers, this once powerful council eventually broke apart into two distinct factions after centuries of bitter feuding and disagreements -- those of Warlocks, and those the Druids. They remain to this day inextricably woven together at the core, yet the bitterest of enemies over fundamental precepts regarding the distinction of sexes and the worship of deities. Neither side will give an inch toward truce. Neither will admit to any wrong-doing or treachery. And neither will accept the other as any part of the true Enclave.

Over the centuries, each group has both risen to power and been defeated time and again. The last war saw the entire city of Faltha obliterated under the curse of the Black Plague, and all the remained had been burnt to the ground in offering to the Druid goddess Shalindr'a. More than a thousand souls in this Warlock stronghold perished in less than a week. The result of which shifted the tide of rulership into the hands of Druids.


For more than half a century now, the ordinary citizens of the Vale must comply with Druid precepts and law. They must participate in the bi-annual lottery at each equinox wherein a pilgrimage must be made to the southern regions of the Vale below the barren summits of Wyvern's Spine -- the legendary lair of dragons. It is there, under Druid law, that they must sacrifice a virgin girl from among them, to appease the dragons until the next equinox. Failure to comply results in swift and terrifying punishment.

Prophecy declared that a Warlock would rise, like the mythical phoenix from the burning ashes, bringing with him the defeat of Druid tyranny. In their desire to squash what may well be true, the Druids unleashed a horrifying disease upon the Warlock stronghold, in hope of solidifying their own strength and supremacy throughout the Vale. For decades they have awaited, both Druid and ordinary Citizen alike -- to see whether the prophecy had been true.

The Vale Of The Enclave is accepting fantasy writers!
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