Role

Chapter 8

Leucosia sat on her rocks in her sexiest of poses. Her thin dress
clung to her tightly as the mist of the waves caused the fabric to
stick to her ample curves. She was feeling particularly devilish after having
lured in an entire warship of Seantryn's finest crashing to the rocks.
Already they were being broken and put to work on another part of the Island.
Yet still she sang her song and it floated across the vast waters of the
Aryth Ocean, caressing the loins and ears of any male who was unfortunate
enough to cross those waters.
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Gloomp was very agitated. The witches were hiding ridiculously well
lately. He hadn't bloodied his axes in days. He had searched high and
low, relentlessly seeking vengeance on witches for destroyed trash and
attempting to prevent the destruction of future trashes. He had
traveled for hundreds of miles in the past few days alone, from the
vast mountains of the north to the burning deserts of the south. Most
recently he was fluttering with his faerie wings through Hamsah
Mu'Taz. He really presented quite an unusual sight. Several of the
Sultan's spies had already reported him as being a stray ooze
elemental, but royal inquiry of that particular report resulted in a
littering of limbs and torsos on the street of Dahab. He himself had
been informed of a massing of witches on Mount Kiadana, but after
traveling there he found the entire place empty of them. However, he
knew they were close.

Gloomp drifted over the blue waters of the Aryth Ocean. He was easily
trackable by the line of dead fish and birds that marked his noxious
passing, yet he remained safe from tracking attempts for sharper
heavier reasons. He had his nose to the air, hoping to catch the stray scent
of fear and magic that often led him to his prey. Yet with his head tilted
back a different sense sent quite different impulses to his brain. He was
hearing the most pure and intoxicating music he had ever encountered. His
skin was instinctively stoning itself in places from the melody. Like a
paragon falcon, he zipped his way across the waters towards the source of the
sound. It didn't take long before he had come upon the legendary race of
creatures that inhabited the rocks of the mysterious Island, the Sirines.

Leucosia, Parthenope, and Ligia saw him coming and trembled with
anticipation. Each one with a different talent, they used them to
their fullest capability. Pathenope strummed her lyre like smooth silk on a
cool pillow, the sound was both relaxing and tantilizing with each pluck.
Ligia played a counter melody on her silver flute, the music reminding one of
a soft cool wind on a summer day. Leucosia sung in an unknown language in a
dialect that would make even the elves sound as brutish as orcs if they
attempted to use it.