Once the greatest
Industry’s most famous
Reigning supreme in Vegas
Beauty powerful as an ancient magus
Effects of that booty so contagious
But let’s not forget the many lives she saved, so courageous
Then poof without warning she was gone on hiatus
The throne was vacant, like lionesses the ladies scrambled to usurp a legacy
Her realm plagued by insurgency
None could achieve ascendancy
But seriously what threat could any pose
Remy never lost her crown, and now the GOAT is back
Boom! The universe explodes like a cannonball on the battlefield.
A new power revealed through shards of broken stars.
Its my fired up goddess who knows no fear.
Earth’s next prophetess, she’s all sincere.
Sent to stop the Black’s quest for dominance, she rides through the galaxy on a burning horse like a cavalier.
Fighting against her greatest threat, the Prince, he who awarded her nothing but sufferage and revere.
He tested her will, her strength, and identity
Fire was her anvil, no length to its power, wielding it only with great serenity.
The war between Light and Darkness has lasted an eternity.
No end to this misery, that is what it seems to be.
On the shores of Mavra fishermen tell fables of mermaids. Across the Gold Dunes of the Riverine, nomads and caravan traders spin myths about fire temples hidden deep underground. Foreign priests worshipping queer religions have toured Dorwain since time of old, either proselytizing or a simple pilgrimage, they wander our streets, disrupt our taverns with blasphemy. Tell our knights to aid in the fight against an eternal evil rather than serve in the private armies of petty lords and princes looking to expand fiefs or secure some blood throne.
These priests and zealots I speak of describe our feudalistic realm as backwards, inhabited by savages, ruled by tyrannical kings, and still their coming here is a mystery. So, the question remains as to why they continue lurking through our country. In waves they arrive, at most when major political and social perplexities suffocate Dorwain intent on swaying us away from the Trinity, the gods of our fathers and grandfathers. Infernos and Sirens have often proven to be the most challenging in opposing the Trinity.
Considered the sons and daughters of the Great Phoenix believers come in two bloodlines; converts or pureblood. Converts are those swayed away from the original Gods of their ancestors. Purebloods are born into the Phoenix, they have been bred by their parents to worship, live, and abide by its religious doctrine. Purebloods only marry and breed with other purebloods. Only purebloods can be inducted into its religious hierarchy.
Since the rise of Raven Nightwood, Dorwain has witnessed a surge in strange occurrences. Return or realignment? The verdict is undetermined. Few scholars and mystics believe the old powers have awaken, the rest simply believe it to be a random episode. This is usually the process; few see the bigger picture while the rest elect to ignore.
When old magic returns there is typically an enhancement. It passes through a phase so unexpected not even the most zealous are able to spirit. We are talking changes so dire the most holy will turn away. An unholy man becomes holy. He accepts a new religion and somehow comes to the belief that he is a god. Veterans horrifically scarred or wounded with no chance of recovery seek out magic healings from wizards and warlocks rather than the Trinity’s clerics. Let us also not forget gossip concerning the reappearance of strange beings in our realm.
The unusual case of Raena is a tale I find most extraordinary. A case where a powerful fire meets its greatest adversary. Raena Raeness, a convert Siren so gifted she might as well be a pureblood. Unlike other converts she received training at the old age of twelve. Converts are usually inducted into the Phoenix as young as six, but Raena’s touch with the flame was different. The fire runs strong in her blood. However, obscure her history is it be foolish to contest her destiny.
Only Purebloods have excelled to such a great power, and I’m speaking of the ancients who founded this religion. No current member has come close to Raena’s. Her manipulation with the flame, the way she speaks to it. How it illuminates around her. The impenetrable bond she displays with the flame, it is all…just explicable really. Whatever Raena is doing or has done has left her cohorts in fear, whether they choose to admit or not.
Raena’s beauty is as equal as her power; illuminating. Transparent. Fierce. Her hair was crimson, like dark, red wine, as strong and deep as its flavor. It ran long to her hips and felt like warm silk. She is of mid-height, petite, a lovely frame. Raena is a mess of gorgeous chaos, and you can see it in her eyes.
Dispatched to Dorwain on her first mission. Charged with translating the Phoenix Doctrine to the Dorwainese tongue in order to successfully attract new followers. Raena was the only Dorwainese in the Phoneix making her the perfect candidate for this mission. She knew the people, the language, its slang and secondary dialects. More importantly she knew how best to approach her countrywomen and men.
Rather than setting up base in Nazca, the capital of the realm, Raena went to the Riverine lodging in Underhill, the regional capital. For reasons unknown she lost attention at translating and starting her own research on another matter. Making routine incursions to the Gold Dunes she attempted to access those ancient centers previously mentioned as relevant to her faith. We don’t know what or if anything was found that information is unavailable to us. It is possible she kept records of her own but as I stated they are unattainable. All we know is she departed Underhill around the time of the Silver Crusade
Unfortunately, Raena never made port in Underhill. Her ship was swallowed up by the sea in a terrible storm. No survivors. Debris washed up on the shores. Curious sailors investigated the Riverine’s densely populated isles hoping to acquire treasures and any sort of valuables, they found nothing. A week after its disappearance a woman in red was seen roaming the shores in apparent confusion. Her red, silk dress soaked. Her hair drenched. A silver band wrapped around her right wrist; in that hand she carried the bottom of her dress between two fingers. A second silver band was wrapped around her neck, tightly.
She stood there, in the shore’s shallow waters. She attempted to summon the flames from within but apparently the saltwater weakened her power. Nothing came about it. She tried again, this time increasing her efforts, again nothing came to fruition. Raena dropped the tail of her dress, clenched both fists, open and shut flexes. She took a deep breath, put her head to the sky in prayer. She made one final try, this time applying relaxation and patience. Warmth returned to her body. The gorgeous chaos found in her eyes turned red gold. She could feel the bloodstreams within her body boil. She put her hands to the sky, no clue what she was reaching for but the power that was unleashed was unbearable. A force so strong, so bright.
The ground shook, a thunderous sound echoed through the sunset sky. Never had she produced such flames, let alone thunder. Not once had she felt the hotness in her blood. It was all brand new. It was all a gorgeous chaos.
With fair hands that are petite and sexy, Raena’s fingers are cryptic like a spider, the shadows shifting in mystery.
The wayward touch of the candied apple nails. Led out of darkness by a galactic sparkle embroidered there on ring finger.
Its twenty below zero, the snows swirl in several massive storms, the palm of your hands grow warmer and warmer than all hearths in realm
Gently under clean, sweet water, she washes her hands, sooth and with care, grabbing for a dry towel the Prince in the Night offers to dry with good embrace.
Descending the palace staircase, the prince watches her hands glide down the railing, a crook in the step causes a fall, rushing to your side, swoops in and catch, then lifts the goddess into a vase, where she is watered like the rose she is.
The Beauty reigns likes drops of flame.
The Body, taken from that flame and molded into such exotic frame.
Hair billowing in the wind, seductively untamed.
Visions of fated embers concerning peace and vivacity prophesized from her own eyes.
Enchantment of your lips inspires my creativity.
In my dreams I’ve watched those pretty toes dance on water a thousand times over.
Even her teeth are a delirium of cherished clarity.
She brings all that is vintage, a constant reminder of the classic, naturalistic appeal of great minded women.
Listening to this one speak, especially when it involves her passions is lyrical.
Formidable and dangerous, she is a riot of appearances; mastering any pose, slaying countless styles, and there isn’t an outfit that can destroy her good looks.
I imagine such sexy hands to be as soft, as smooth, as warm as a field of flowers in the spring.
No man has any claim over a goddess as powerful, though many desire evidently none can conquer.
Tried.
Tested.
Victorious.
She is invincible!
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