Quoren of Taqqara

Reclaimed

2010-11-06T20:33:00.002-04:00

**Winner of Best Drama in the Image Narrative Mini Contest coupled with the Frazetta Art Contest at Daz 3D in 2008**

The wyverns’ squawking cries reverberated across the burning skies, as the sulphurous mist descended upon Raekan, the realm of the dead. Fallan Quoren dropped to one knee, breathless, at the edge of the Lake of Fire and quickly scooped up handfuls of warm water to splash his tired face.

He could feel its buzzing energy tingle across his cheeks and race up to his temples, attempting to reclaim his mind and bind his will back to the forces of Darkness. But Quoren was far too strong. After ages of servitude in its wicked shadow, he refused to let it take him again. So the former god sealed his thoughts and shook off its power, sending the crackling energy to fade back into the water without its intended victim. Many lost souls have been shattered to selfish madness in this vile place, he sighed.

Resting on his sword, Quoren paused to catch his breath and watch the flying serpents he had mercilessly just fought off. They tumbled head over tail, near broken in mid-flight, as they slowly disappeared into the smouldering horizon. Maldek will have to do much better than that to bring me back to the depths of Haelan, he thought, rubbing his sore muscles and inspecting his skin for wounds. Wyverns might be able to easily capture and carry off mortal warriors, but not a Fallan – not this Fallan anyway, he mused quietly.

Quoren knew the daimon lord would start searching for him again soon. But he had to come here to Raekan. The Lake of Fire was the only thing that could take his dark offering… and destroy it.

Just then, the rising spectral moon crested above the jagged peaks of Bone Island, sending its light to glint off of the metal object by his side.

“And he is not going to get his claws on this either.” Reaching out to rest a hand on his war prize, Quoren dragged it protectively closer to his body through the sand before standing up. “Raekmut,” he whispered solemnly – Fallan Wodan’s war helmet. Imbued with secret power and technology from the dark realms of the underworld, Wodan used it to unleash terror, death and suffering upon the peoples of Taqqara at will.

None thought it possible to remove such a treasure from the Fallan of Wrath, the God of War. None could stand and face Wodan in combat and survive, let alone win.

…Quoren could, and he did.

Victory over his brother hadn’t come easy though. Quoren had chosen his moment of attack carefully, luring the unsuspecting daimon-god into a false sense of security. As the Fallan of Lust, Quoren had seduced Wodan with vain promises and erotic offerings, swearing, in fact, that he could bring his lost love, Pashan, to him willingly. The God of War had, as expected, greedily agreed to their meeting.

When Wodan had arrived at their designated location, however, he found no revelry in his honour, no tables heavy set with a gluttonous feast, no slaves to slake his lecherous hunger, no terrified sacrifices ready for his mighty sword… and no beautiful Pashan waiting with open arms. Nothing but hoary seeker spheres and dust whirls stirred in the deserted Temple of Maeldekan in Sonsali. The temple mount stood eerily silent, save for a cold wind, moaning mournfully through the barren trees.

“Quoren!” Wodan bellowed, his voice an angry roar blasting the gossamer webs, glistening like shuddering ghosts under the pale moonlight.

Quoren watched silently as his brother’s rage boiled up under his heaving chest. Wodan’s enormous pride lay wounded, seeking only vengeance to assuage its hurt. Still as the many crumbling statues populating the desolate temple, Quoren stood behind a massive carved pillar… waiting.

“Where are you!?” Wodan demanded with another growl, surveying the ruins through the thermal lens in his helmet. “Come out and face me, coward!” Just then, he heard the crunch of gravel shuffling underfoot and turned quickly to catch the white hot form of his brother Fallan in the small viewfinder over his right eye.

“I am here, brother,” Quoren said calmly, stepping into full view under the silvery rays of the moon.

“What is the purpose of this trickery, liar?” Wodan settled into battle stance, clutching his fierce blade before him. He wore only a sneer to welcome his brother.

“I want peace, Lord Wodan,” Quoren answered, gripping his own sword at the ready, the smooth deep timbre of his voice a testament to his iron resolve.

Fallan Wodan shook his head with a snarling laugh. “Peace! What good is peace, brother?” He narrowed his eyes and looked his rival up and down. “Peace doesn’t bring the smell of fear, the taste of blood, or the thrill of victory. It doesn’t bring control! You know that Fallan Quoren.”

The pair began to circle slowly, staring each other down.

“I do not want control, Wodan. Not anymore,” said Quoren, clenching his jaw. “We can end this and take back Taqqara from the daimons, together.”

“Take back Taqqara,” Wodan huffed. “You are a Fallan, Quoren. You are a daimon now!” With a fearsome howl, Wodan pitched forward stabbing and slicing at Quoren. In feverish berserker frenzy, he beat his brother to the ground, nearly impaling him through the ribs.

Deflecting the Fallan of Wrath’s strikes, Quoren kicked the large daimon-god off of him and rolled away, jumping to his feet. Twisting and turning to meet each blow, the Fallan of Lust employed evasive manoeuvres as they clashed in a battle dance around the ruined temple.

They had fought viciously, Quoren remembered, as the scene played out in his mind with vivid imagery. Wodan’s eyes had glowed bright red, full of bloodlust, while trying to kill him. But the God of War had forgotten that it was Quoren who had trained with him every day, when Wodan had been the God of Strength and Protection on the side of Light. So Quoren knew his combat style well, and was the only one who could ever possibly defeat him.

Turning the grimy helmet over in his hands, he examined it carefully now. The former God of Life and Fertility recalled how he had managed to deftly strike his brother just below the jaw line to knock his helmet off, sending it flying from the daimon-god’s head.

With its evil influence removed, Wodan stared past the Fallan of Lust into nothingness, caught in a sudden confused stupor. Dropping his own sword, his sense reeled as he then stumbled forward and teetered before Quoren, falling heavily upon his steady blade.

“No!” Quoren cried, pulling his sword from his brother’s gut.

Wodan fell with a deathly thud at Quoren’s feet, gasping as his blood came gurgling up his gullet.

“Wodan, no!” Throwing himself to his knees by his brother’s side, Quoren lifted Wodan’s heavy shoulders against him. His body growing cold the Fallan of Lust’s arms, Quoren watched Wodan’s red eyes fade to soft brown, before turning to near lifeless, glassy orbs. Seized with grief, sobs welled up through Quoren’s chest as he crushed his brother to him, and then spoke an arcane incantation through broken choking words.

The mist-shrouded veil to Haedan, the heavens of Taqqara, soon opened near them with a blaze of shimmering golden light, as two serene goddesses emerged. Stepping gingerly forward, they looked down upon their fallen brothers with deep compassion.

Quoren had anticipating this dreadful outcome. So he had arranged their help before even contacting Wodan, fearing that either he or Wodan, or both, would succumb to this fate…

As Quoren now stood before the fiery lake and disarmed the many deadly features on Wodan’s war helmet, he remembered how Tiela and Sayanna had taken Wodan back into their tranquil realm. Before closing the portal, they each bid Quoren much love and gratitude for the tremendous task he had undertaken… to reunite the gods and save their world. But he needed them, all of them, if he was to succeed.

Wodan would sleep now, safe in Haedan while the goddesses work on mending him, body and soul, he thought. With Wodan restored to the path of Light, Quoren would have a strong and reliable ally to help defeat the daimonic forces controlling Taqqara, the world they had been sworn to guard.

“Get better, brother,” he murmured, “and I will return you this.” The sword in his hand was not his own. This was Wodan’s blade, Lifsavior – the same sword he had used in ancient times to protect their people. Now it was tainted, stained with the unholy blood of eons of war.

Closing his eyes, Quoren summoned the cosmic forces connected to the Light from deep within himself and let it flow through his hands. As the primeval energy surged forth to cleanse Wodan’s great blade, the feeling of strength and hope flooded Quoren’s senses, and he knew they could take back Taqqara. “The gods of old will be one again,” he spoke proudly in his ancient tongue, admiring the splendid craftsmanship of the renowned blade.

When he finished, the holographic moon peaked in the heavy caustic sky of Raekan. The all-seeing skull of the daimon lord, Maldek, appeared glowing through its surface, searching the land below. Suddenly landing its hollow gaze upon Quoren, its eerie low siren call tore through the air in alarm, sending the daimon hordes to track down the rogue Fallan.

“You will not win,” he shouted up at it, standing firm. “We are yours no more!” Raising Wodan’s gleaming sword at the projected watcher, Quoren yelled in stark defiance. “We will be free!”

Then with a roaring cry, he hurled the loathsome helmet that had held Lord Wodan captive to evil for so long into the burning lake. Landing with a deep plunk, the plasma fires ignited with a whoosh all around it to immediately consume Raekmut. Pulling it into the searing water's depths, Darkness reclaimed its wicked gift.

*copyrighted*

Slave to Lust - Available Now

2010-05-14T12:25:00.000-04:00

Passion Tales is pleased to announce that Slave to Lust is now available for purchase.

Genre: Erotic Dark Fantasy

The Fallan of Lust can't remember who he is... But he damn well remembers how to pleasure a woman... or two... or three.

When the cocky daimon-god finds himself shackled and sold to the demanding Vultana of Keelnatha, Quoren must prove his sexual prowess and submit to her every sensual whim, even if that means being bound in her dungeon of pleasure and pain.

Will slave remember that he is master to reclaim his true identity or will he remain chained in erotic servitude to his mistress' dark passions?

Find out in Slave to Lust!
BUY NOW

Advisory: This eBook contains digital illustrations, some with nudity and depicting explicit sexuality.

I Won!

2008-09-24T09:05:00.003-04:00

I'm absolutely ecstatic to announce that my story won best drama in the Image Narrative Mini Contest that went with the Frazetta Art Contest over at Daz 3D.

The objective was to choose one of the images submitted to the Frazetta Art Contest and write a short story inspired by that image. I, of course, chose one of Kachinadoll's. So here is the image and my winning tale...

The wyverns’ squawking cries reverberated across the burning skies, as the sulphurous mist descended upon Raekan, the realm of the dead. Fallan Quoren dropped to one knee, breathless, at the edge of the Lake of Fire, quickly scooping up handfuls of warm water to splash his tired face.

He could feel its buzzing energy tingling across his cheeks and racing up to his temples, attempting to claim his mind and bind his will to the forces of Darkness. But Quoren was far too strong. The former god sealed his thoughts and shook off its power, sending the crackling energy falling to fade back into the water without its intended victim. Many lost souls had been shattered to madness in this vile place, stolen from the Light.

Resting on his sword, Quoren paused to catch his breath and watch the flying serpents he had mercilessly just fought off tumble head over tail, near broken, in mid flight, slowly disappearing into the smouldering horizon. Maldek will have to do much better than that to bring me back to the depths of Haelan, he thought, rubbing his sore muscles and inspecting his skin for wounds. Wyverns might be able to easily capture and carry off mortal warriors, but not a Fallan – not this Fallan anyway, he mused quietly.

Quoren knew the Daimon Lord would start searching for him again soon. But he had to come here to Raekan. The Lake of Fire was the only thing that could take his dark offering and destroy it.

Just then, the rising spectral moon crested above the jagged peaks of Bone Island, sending its light to glint off of the metal object by his side.

“And he’s not going to get his claws on this either.” He reached out to rest a hand on his war prize, dragging it protectively closer to his body through the sand before standing up. “Raekmut,” he whispered solemnly – Fallan Wodan’s war helmet. Imbued with secret power and technology from the dark realms of the underworld, Wodan used it to unleash terror, death and suffering upon the peoples of Taqqara at will.

None thought it possible to remove such a treasure from the Fallan of Wrath, the God of War. None could stand and face Wodan in combat and survive, let alone win.

…Quoren could, and he did.

Victory over his brother hadn’t come easy though. Quoren had chosen his moment of attack carefully, luring the unsuspecting daimon-god into a false sense of security. As the Fallan of Lust, Quoren had seduced Wodan with vain promises and erotic offerings, swearing, in fact, that he could bring his lost love, Pashan, to him willingly. The God of War had greedily agreed to their meeting.

When Wodan had arrived at their designated location, however, he found no revelry in his honour, no tables heavy set with a gluttonous feast, no slaves to slake his lecherous hunger, no terrified sacrifices ready for his mighty sword… and no beautiful Pashan waiting with open arms. Nothing but hoary seeker spheres and dust whirls stirred in the deserted Temple of Maeldekan in Sonsali. The temple mount stood eerily silent, save for a cold wind, moaning mournfully through the barren trees.

“Quoren!” Wodan bellowed, his voice an angry roar, blasting the gossamer webs, glistening like shuddering ghosts under Iah’s pale moonlight.

Quoren watched silently as his brother’s rage boiled up under his heaving chest. Wodan’s enormous pride lay wounded, seeking only vengeance to assuage its hurt. Still as the many crumbling statues populating the desolate temple, Quoren stood behind a massive carved pillar, waiting.

“Where are you?” Wodan demanded with another growl, surveying the ruins through the thermal lens in his helmet. “Come out and face me, coward!” Just then he heard the crunch of gravel shuffling underfoot and turned quickly to catch the white hot form of his brother Fallan in the small viewfinder over his right eye.

“I am here, brother,” Quoren said calmly, stepping into full view under the silvery rays of the moon.

“What is the purpose of this trickery, liar?” Wodan settled into battle stance, clutching his fierce blade before him. He wore only a sneer to welcome his brother.

“I want peace, Lord Wodan,” Quoren answered, gripping his own sword at the ready, the smooth deep timbre of his voice a testament to his iron resolve.

Fallan Wodan shook his head with a snarling laugh. “Peace! What good is peace, brother?” He narrowed his eyes and looked his rival up and down. “Peace doesn’t bring the smell of fear, the taste of blood, or the thrill of victory. It doesn’t bring control! You know that Fallan Quoren.”

The pair began to circle slowly, staring each other down.

“I don’t want control, Wodan. Not anymore,” said Quoren, clenching his jaw. “We can end this and take back Taqqara from the Daimons, together.”

“Take back Taqqara,” Wodan huffed. “You are a Fallan, Quoren. You are a Daimon now!” With a fearsome howl Wodan pitched forward stabbing and slicing at Quoren. In feverish berserker frenzy, he beat his brother to the ground, nearly impaling him through the ribs.

Deflecting the Fallan of Wrath’s strikes, Quoren kicked the large daimon-god off of him and rolled away, jumping to his feet. Twisting and turning to meet each blow, the Fallan of Lust employed evasive manoeuvres as they clashed in a battle dance around the ruined temple.

They had fought viciously, Quoren remembered, as the scene played out in his mind with vivid imagery. Wodan’s eyes had glowed bright red, full of bloodlust, while trying to kill him. But the God of War had forgotten that it was Quoren who had trained with him every day, when Wodan had been the God of Strength and Protection on the side of Light. So Quoren knew his combat style well, and was the only one who could ever possibly defeat him.

Turning the grimy helmet over in his hands, examining it carefully now, the former God of Life and Fertility recalled how he had managed to deftly strike his brother below the jaw line to knock his helmet off, sending it flying from the daimon-god’s head.

Caught in a sudden confused stupor with its evil influence removed, Wodan had dropped his sword, then teetered and stumbled before Quoren, falling onto his steady blade.

“No!” he had cried, pulling his sword from his brother’s gut.

Wodan fell with a deathly thud at Quoren’s feet, gasping as his blood came gurgling up his gullet.

“Wodan, no!” Throwing himself to his knees by his brother’s side, Quoren lifted Wodan’s heavy shoulders to cradle him in his arms. As his body grew cold, Wodan’s red eyes faded to soft brown before turning lifeless, like empty glass orbs. Seized with grief, sobs welled up through Quoren’s chest as he crushed his brother to him, and then spoke an arcane incantation through broken choking words.

The mist-shrouded veil to Haedan, the heavens of Taqqara, opened near them with a blaze of shimmering golden light, as two serene goddesses emerged. Stepping gingerly forward, they looked down upon their fallen brothers with deep compassion. Anticipating this dreadful outcome, Quoren had arranged their help before contacting Wodan, fearing that either he or Wodan, or both, would succumb to this fate.

As Quoren now stood before the fiery lake and disarmed the many deadly features on Wodan’s war helmet, he remembered how Tiela and Sayanna had taken Wodan back into their tranquil realm. Before closing the portal, they each bid Quoren much love and gratitude for this tremendous task he had undertaken to reunite the gods and save their world. But he needed them, all of them, if he was to succeed.

Wodan would sleep now, safe in Haedan while the goddesses work on mending him, body and soul, he thought. With Wodan restored to the path of Light, Quoren would have a strong and reliable ally to help defeat the daimonic forces controlling Taqqara, the world they had been sworn to guard.

“Get better, brother,” he murmured, “and I will return you this.” The sword in his hand was not his own. This was Wodan’s blade, Lifsavior – the same sword he had used in ancient times to protect their people. Now it was tainted, stained with the unholy blood of eons of war.

Closing his eyes, Quoren summoned the cosmic forces connected to the Light from deep within himself and let it flow through his hands. As the primeval energy surged forth to cleanse Wodan’s great blade, the feeling of strength and hope flooded Quoren’s senses and he knew they could take back Taqqara. “The gods of old will be one again,” he spoke proudly in his ancient tongue, admiring the splendid craftsmanship of the renowned blade.

When he finished, the holographic moon peaked in the heavy caustic sky of Raekan. The all-seeing skull of the Daimon Lord, Maldek, appeared glowing through its surface, searching the land below. Suddenly landing its hollow gaze upon Quoren, its eerie low siren call tore through the air in alarm, sending the daimon hordes to track down the rogue Fallan.

“You will not win,” he shouted up at it, standing firm. “We are yours no more.” Raising Wodan’s gleaming sword at the projected watcher, Quoren yelled in stark defiance. “We will be free!”

Then with a roaring cry, he hurled the loathsome helmet that had held Lord Wodan captive to evil for so long into the burning lake. Landing with a deep plunk, the plasma fires ignited with a whoosh all around it to immediately consume the helmet. Pulling it into the searing waters’ depths, Darkness reclaimed its wicked gift.

Enjoy!
Quoren

The Gods of Taqqara

2008-08-14T09:10:00.003-04:00

To the people of Taqqara, the gods are deities of great magical power and wonder. In truth, they are ascended hyper-dimensional beings. Charged with caring for the world of Taqqara, it is also their duty to guide the souls incarnating there in the process of ascension through service to others. Each god has his or her own strengths, weaknesses, and role to play in the unfolding adventure set before them, as they too learn to continue their own evolution to higher planes of existence. Over the coming days, I will introduce you to our six main gods.

History of Taqqara

2008-08-02T09:36:00.001-04:00

For thousands of years, the people of this world lived in peace and plenty, devoid of any pain or suffering, knowing little of sin. All the races of the world, including humans, elves, fairies and dwarves lived in harmony, tending to the planet and learning to evolve through service to one another. The gods walked freely among their people, guiding their souls through ascension in this Golden Age – until it all came to a cataclysmic end with the arrival of the daimons.

Seeking a new feeding ground, the daimons tricked and tempted the humans into experiencing life on a deeper, more physical level. Becoming fully aware of feelings like greed, pride, envy, wrath and lust, humanity fell from the grace of the gods, losing their connection to the divine, closed to the divinity within themselves…

While the races now struggle to survive, the gods have retreated to the higher dimensions to fight the daimons’ ever growing terror on Taqqara.

It soon becomes a battle that cannot be won, and a deal is struck. In exchange for peace, one of the gods must serve in the underworld. That one is Quoren, the Fertility God of Taqqara. Torture and temptation at last overcome him and he transforms into the daimon-god, the Fallan of Lust. One by one, the other gods follow and fall to Darkness, save for two.

Great civilizations rise and fall, as new wicked races are born and let loose unto the world. The new daimon-gods, meanwhile, grow more evil, serving only selfish need, and over time, the ancient truths are lost. Eventually, all elves, fairies and dwarves, still connected to the old ways, must go into hiding as the world spins deeper into chaos.

Amid such brutality a new god emerges, embracing the desperate people, speaking silver-tongued words of peace and kindness and love for all. But this is just a ruse, a fiendishly clever daimonic ruse to manipulate and control the world with ease. Eons pass and all that came before is forgotten.

Firmly in the grip of Darkness disguised as the Light, with ancient knowledge lost, their powerful gods reduced to myth or worse, the people of Taqqara toil through their daily lives, while cosmic forces battle to maintain control of their lives, minds, and souls.

Can the true gods regain their place among the people and restore humanity’s own forgotten divinity?

Find out in the Tales of Taqqara.

eBook Release!

2008-07-17T10:58:00.002-04:00

At last, Passion Tales is proud to announce the release of its first illustrated eBook.

RETURN TO THE HEAVENS IS NOW AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE.

**Dark Fantasy Erotic Romance**

Advisory: This eBook contains 11 digital illustrations, 3 with nudity, 2 of those depicting explicit sexuality.

A Goddess in anguish.

A Daimon seeking answers.

Deeply troubled by the loss of her world to the forces of Darkness, the Goddess Tiela desperately needs the one man who can restore her from the brink of madness. Forcibly separated for thousands of lonely years, she needs his strength, courage, and passion before her already fragile mind shatters into oblivion.

Now a fallen god, Quoren leads the legions of lust in the underworld as an evil daimon-god to maintain Darkness’ hold over Taqqara. Haunted by the evil consequences of his past choices, he searches for a way out.

When a divine servant bravely ventures into the underworld to beseech his help, Quoren must choose sides. Granted this one night, does he return to his ancient home in the heavens to console his divine mate? Or does he turn his back on the one woman who can teach him how to love again?

As a cold heart melts through memories of a shared past, Tiela finds comfort and peace in the arms of her rogue-god. But the reunited pair rekindles more than just a friendship. With souls soothed and their duty to their world rediscovered, old friends remember love long lost and share one night neither of them can forget, leaving them forever wanting more…

Can Quoren fight the Darkness within to hold on to the Light and win back Tiela?

Find out in Return to the Heavens! Buy it now.

Read the Prologue for Free here.

Delays...

2008-07-15T20:48:00.003-04:00

*In my best Marvin the Martian voice* Delays… delays…

Yes, I know we should have had Return to the Heavens out by now, but bear with us; it’s our first eBook and we want to get it right. It’s ready though! All done and ready to go… just trying to finalize the conversion, so it won’t be long now. It should be released by the end of this week, I should think… else someone is in for a good flogging!

Role Playing Fun

2008-06-05T12:24:00.002-04:00

Like a little fantasy role-playing fun? I’ve set the scene in our forum at Passion Tales.

**warning – adult content**

Gala at the Marble Palace...

Buzzing with excitement and activity, the Marble Palace seemed imbued with life of its own, as servants busied themselves arranging flowers, lighting candles, and seeing to all manner of last minute preparations, while the guests began to pour into the grand receiving hall.

This was not, however, the sumptuous home of Fallan Quoren in the underworld. This was the smaller, yet equally exquisite, replica palace in Carnal City where the former god came to see those seeking his guidance and favour while in the realm of Taqqara.

Near-naked serving girls, clad only in a few sheer flowing silks and decked with sparkling, tinkling jewels danced in and around the gathering crowd, making sure everyone had a glass of icewine on hand when the Fallan entered. Indeed, he was expected at any moment. As anticipation of his arrival grew, so did the tension in the room, peaking as a flourish of horns and sensual pounding of drums suddenly cut through the nervous chatter.

A hush fell over the hall, followed by an immediate gasp of wonderment, as the doors flew open revealing the daimon-god. There stood Quoren, his lush golden hair framing his perfectly chiselled face, his radiant blue eyes glowing with a hint of red to match the deep burgundy robe he wore open, revealing a magnificent sculpted body. Following his rippling torso down to hips, no one would mistake the Fallan of Lust, for none could fill such tight leather pants with an arousing bulge like Quoren could. Pure erotic energy emanated from his very core to fill the grand hall. This was their sex god. From the looks of him, Quoren had fed well this night.

Two beautiful daimonesses walked out from behind the Fallan, each taking an arm and nearly wrapping themselves around him, as they rubbed their bodies against his hips. Quoren turned his head to kiss each one deeply in turn, his hot tongue swirling intimately in their mouths, and then moved slowly forward into the crowd, his moist lips curled slightly upward with an air of extreme confidence.

Always a gracious host, Quoren nodded and smiled seductively at each guest as he passed. The Fallan of Lust always made each person in his presence feel special and honoured.

Just then, a bare-breasted serving girl solemnly approached the Fallan. With head bowed, she offered a tray of drinks up the daimonesses, who each took their glass of icewine. The girl then slowly looked up to offer the remaining large crystal goblet in the centre of the tray to Quoren. As his eyes met hers, she fell into an orgasmic swoon. Faster than mortal eyes could bear, Quoren handed his cup to the daimoness Loreli and caught the serving girl in his arms before she fell to the floor. Ah, an initiate. He mused silently to himself, holding her as the spasms of pleasure raided her small body. He'd have to see to her training later, he noted to himself.

Lifting her into the arms of a Castrati Guard, Quoren took back his crystal cup and turned to the awestruck crowd. Raising it to them, he said, “Welcome, friends, to my home in Carnal City. I see many faces I know," he said, nodding respectfully to several princes and dignitaries, and then glanced around at random faces throughout the room. He stopped to smile at each one, and then continued, "and many I do not." Lingering for a moment to gaze into the eyes of one exceptional beauty a few feet before him, he spoke to the room, yet mentally projected his thoughts and words directly to her. "I do hope to get to know you all much better as the evening progresses. After all, that is what this night is for. I have heard many pleas and prayers sent on the dark winds to find me, but I cannot answer them all. Nor can I visit each of you when called. This night is my way of coming to you, my darlings. If you wish to have an audience with me, speak to my servant, Donello." He gestured to the lanky boy to his side in the burgundy robe, tied with a black sash, and holding a large peacock quill, who nodded and waved nervously to the room. Quoren chuckled softly and shook his head at his awkward, yet faithful servant. “Dance, drink, do whatever you please,” he said with a leering smile and cocked eyebrow. “Welcome to the palace!” With that he downed the contents of his cup in one slow sip and everyone followed suit.

**********

All types of characters welcome to join in (humans, fairies, elves, dwarves, trolls, vampires, dark elves, daimons…)

You must join our forums (free!) to participate.

Looking forward to greeting you there.

What is Haelan?

2008-06-01T21:56:00.003-04:00

Haelan is the home of the daimons – the underworld. It is another dimension made up of several realms embedded over the reality of Taqqara. The daimons and Fallans are able to move freely between each realm of the underworld, but also through the various dimensions connecting to the mortal world through different passage points, portals or veils. You just have to know where they are and when they are open… or how to open them.

Not many of us do venture onto Taqqara anymore though, as it takes up too much energy to maintain our physical form… Well, the form we want you to see anyways… for our true appearance would scare the crap out of you. You really don’t want to see me if I have not fed off of sexual energy for a long time. *shudder*

Yes, the underworld is a scary place, but you get used it… if ghouls and all things hellish are your thing. It took me about a thousand years to get comfortable here. But of course, I live in the Marble Palace now, my home once I became a Fallan instead of a mere Servant of Haelan. *Ugh* That was rough, and I shall tell you more about that sometime.

Well, enough for now. I have the need to feed. I feel the atrophy setting in… Time for a new sex slave.

What's the Golden Age?

2008-05-27T09:25:00.000-04:00

Yes friends, the Golden Age of Taqqara really did exist. It is not mere myth. When the other five gods and I arrived on this barren and devastated planet so long ago, we created the elves, fairies and dwarves to help us renew Taqqara into a lush paradise. Then when all was ready, each divine couple – Kathor and Sayanna, Wodan and Pashan, and Tiela and I – conceived a lineage of humans so that such souls could populate this world again under our care and guidance.

At that time, the axis of Taqqara was straight upright. The other planets hung close and large in a sky that danced with electric wonder. Time stood still, as eternal spring and constant daylight warmed the land, and all was at peace and harmony.

The peoples of our world knew nothing of suffering or toil, for every physical need was easily met with great abundance. And we six gods walked the land freely among them, teaching them the ways of spiritual evolution through serving others.

More still, they knew nothing of envy, pride, anger, or lust… nor any other base emotion, for these humans were not built to feel such things. It’s not until the daimons arrived that things began to change. Through temptation and desire our beautiful children, our humans, fell to the daimons and were lost to us, bringing a close to the Great Golden Age of Taqqara.

A Night to Remember

2008-05-16T14:08:00.004-04:00

Here's a taste of the Prologue from my up-coming book Return to the Heavens...

Quoren moved silently through the shadows in his underworld lair. Burning incense mingled with torchlight to create flickering, smoke shrouded spectres on the stone walls, as he passed room after quiet room. He paused suddenly, bending double, his lips pursed tightly against the soul-wrenching moan threatening to escape his lungs, both hands clutching his chest. The pain in his heart slowly subsided, but it felt so cold and heavy now. Breathing deeply of the intoxicating musky air, he regained his composure and moved on. Walking with long, quick strides, the fallen god cloaked himself, sucking his essence in to contain any hint of his presence, wanting to reach his private rooms unseen and unheard, as he wished not to be disturbed. He didn’t want to forget any details from this past night.

Dawn always was so quiet at the Marble Palace – servants, slaves, guests and important dignitaries should be sound asleep by now after a night of…. Well, Quoren knows what, as the saying goes in Qorentia. The tired Castrati Guards continued their rounds, two passing by and taking no notice of their master, their senses not quite as alert as the fresh bodies that would replace them in an hour’s time. As he passed through the guest quarters, another wave of pain gripped Quoren’s heart, causing him to stop and reach out to the cool marble wall to steady himself. Muffled moans and giggles came from behind a closed door as he stooped, riding out the agonizing spasms of evil reclaiming him for the Darkness.

“Kreshtia is still entertaining the young Morelust prince from Takmore, I hear,” Quoren muttered to himself as the last twinge of pain left him. “Naughty succubus,” he said through a half grin, shaking his head and catching his breath before continuing down the passageway.

Not a waking soul saw the Fallan pass through the arched halls, gleaming in the many torch lights dotted along the smooth walls, as he made it to his own rooms undisturbed. At last, he thought, sighing in relief. He would have hated to flog anyone now after the night he’d had. Besides, he didn’t have the time. He had more pressing needs on his mind.

The large, ornate door swung softly on its soundless hinges, closing and barring itself behind the Dark Fallan trapped in his daimonic form, the body he had been condemned to after the his fall to evil in the underworld, and then disappeared, fading into the wall. Moving swiftly about his chambers, he grabbed a large handful of fresh parchments from a wooden chest and set them down at his writing table, along with a shimmering stone he pulled out of a small pouch kept close to his body. Thinking twice, he paused and picked it back up again, gently passing his cold thumb over its glossy surface. It glowed under his light touch. As he let it dangle from its dainty gold chain, the gem’s luminosity intensified, growing bright blue as though to say, I remember you; I am here for you. Quoren pinched his lips into a tight, melancholy smile and let his shoulders drop. Fighting the emotions welling up through his hardening soul, he thought about the one who gave it to him. He pressed it to his lips, and then put the stone back to rest beside his parchments.

Stepping down from the stairs in his study to the platform into his bedroom, he cursed under his breath as his legs, weakened and shrunken to their smaller size through atrophy, were unable to make the wide gap in one stride. Quoren took full notice of his hideous evil form and stopped in mid-pace. Tears burned in his red eyes, threatening to spill over, but he fought them back. No time for self pity, he admonished himself, gathering up the remaining necessities and returning to his study. With a silver cup and two unopened bottles of Frigg’s finest Dark Amber Rum in his hands, he settled down at his desk, and then pulled ink and quills out of the drawer.

Daylight began to fill his otherworldly gardens outside, spilling down from the reflective shields strategically placed high in the mountain walls of his paradise in hell, its brilliant rays reaching in across his polished chamber floor. With one fluid motion of his hand, long heavy drapes slid across the tall windows plunging the space into darkness and every wick in the room ignited with small dancing flames. He couldn’t face the sun today. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ever see it again, as it had so callously just torn him out of the arms of his beloved. His heart ached again at the thought of her. Hold on to this night, and I hold on to her, he smiled tenderly, remembering her, her scent, her touch, her lips, and let the comforting embrace of darkness envelope him, prolonging the blissful night he had just spent with her.

Go Here to read the rest...

Thanks!

Become a Passion Tales Writer!

2008-05-13T15:07:00.006-04:00

Join our team! Apply to become a Passion Tales Writer.

We're looking for talented writers who are interested in working as part of a team to tell the stories of Taqqara at Passion Tales, in a blend of the fantasy, dark fantasy, paranormal, romance and erotica genres.

What we're looking for:

You must have the ability to:

see the big picture - view the timeline of Taqqara as a whole and understand how events relate to one another
create solid, effective interconnected plots
work as part of a team on collaborative writing projects
create deep, rich characters full of emotion with well thought out motivations
be creative within the foundational framework we have established for our fantasy world
take constructive criticism and suggestions well - No Divas Allowed

You MUST be a good, clean, strong writer, committed and motivated to doing the work to improve your writing yourself. We'll provide editorial guidance and suggestions, but we're not going to do the work for you.

You must have a good memory, superior communication skills, and be well organized, as well as meet deadlines.

Oh and... we like to have fun and talk dirty from time to time, so you must be easy going and not easily offended. But we're an open and friendly bunch who enjoy getting to know other creative people.

What you'll get:

access to our private "Plotting" and "Sneak Peek" forums
work as part of a team to write the stories of Taqqara
work with a digital artist who will illustrate your stories
mentoring from our writers and editors
e-publishing contract with 35% royalties for the Passion Tales titles you produce
camaraderie with a group of highly creative and talented individuals - did I mention we have lots of fun?!

If you'd like to be a part of the Passion Tales writing team contact Quoren: quoren @ passiontales.com.

Please indicate your interest in this project, as well as provide details about your writing background in your inquiry.

Familiarize yourself with our site and join the free forums to get to know us.

Who are the Daimons?

2008-05-12T09:54:00.004-04:00

The Daimons are the denizens of darkness. This particular group that has chosen Taqqara as its feeding grounds comes from a nearby region of our galaxy – yes, our galaxy – but who exist in multiple dimensions at a higher level of being than the mortals here on our planet and you there on Earth. …The same level, in fact, as we gods.

They number in the millions, inhabiting these dimensions embedded within that of the mortals of Taqqara. The people call these dark realms Haelan – the underworld.

Society in these realms is highly structured into a hierarchy of power with their leader, Maldek, at the top, followed by various levels of Commanders and Inspectors, and with the legions of underlings who carry out the bulk of their “dirty work” making up the bottom of the pyramid.

They are efficient and intelligent and will pursue their goals with cold, calculated, and relentless cruelty. Or so that is how it would appear to your eyes. I see only what is natural for beings of selfish negative alignment, for this is still an expression of the Divine All.

Everything must obey its nature. And everything that exists, must exist in balance, else it will be destroyed so that balance can find its new plane. Such is the duality of The All, of the universe, of the mind and soul.

The Daimons live for your terror, your fear… Will you give it up to them?

Times Ahead

2008-05-07T11:30:00.000-04:00

Greetings friends,

It has been much too long since I last wrote to you here. I have been completely wrapped up in making preparations for the development and unfolding of our world to share with you all soon. Restoring a world and caring for its souled inhabitants is hard work, even for a god!

As a being at a higher level of existence, I am able to see beyond space and time as you perceive it. Although all seems well now on Taqqara, I see great change, turmoil and struggle ahead. But it is all as it should be. No more, no less.

I see that I too shall change, as will my brother and sister gods. A great darkness will creep into my being and overtake my soul. The handsome light being you see above will turn demonic and come to eat the light that once illuminated him. But this must be so, as it is all part of the cosmic plan of spiritual evolution.

Just know, my darlings, that change will come again in the end; so endure the terror you must. But, I shall tell you a secret… it’s never really “the end”.

Enhanced eBooks

2008-04-21T10:48:00.003-04:00

At Passion Tales, we'll endeavour to bring you quality writing through exciting stories, enhanced by amazing digital art and musical soundtracks.

What?

That's right. Our eBooks will be beautifully illustrated and our readers will also have the opportunity to purchase accompanying musical downloads inspired by our stories.

We're just starting out, but our first eBook, Return to the Heavens, is expected to be released some time in June. In the meantime, please come on over to the Passion Tales forums to get to know more about me and my friends, our world of Taqqara, and what we do.

See you soon!

Greetings

2008-04-16T09:29:00.002-04:00

Greetings friends,

My name is Quoren and, at present, I am from the world of Taqqara.

Am I a god? Well, to the inhabitants of our world, yes. But in truth, I am a more evolved and ascended hyperdimensional being of a higher density level than the 3D reality that you experience. So calling me a “god” is easier for mortals to grasp; it’s much less of a mouthful as well.

My home, Taqqara, is a beautiful world, much like your Earth. It is also an ever changing world that has seen many races and great civilizations rise and fall through times of harmony and war, and terrifying cataclysms.

It is my job, and that of my five brother and sister gods, to care for the souled beings of this world, to guide them through ascension. Or, at least it was… You see, our world now sleeps under a great and exceedingly clever deception, created and perpetuated by the Daimons. And so, for thousands of years, the people of Taqqara live on in ignorant bliss, following their false saviour, believing his lies with such fervour, and trusting so completely in their leaders, who march them blindly on to their doom. So strong is their grasp on the mortals that the Daimons managed to turn them away from us, barring their way from connecting to true divinity.

We once walked among the people of Taqqara. Then they began to worship us, and then they turned to hate us. Next, they just forgot about us; and now we are no more than entertaining myths in their books. But some – SOME – brave and bright mortals are awakening to the Truth… They seek us, and so we will live and walk among them again.

You will learn more about me and my world anon. But for now, I welcome you to Passion Tales. I will be your guide here. So if you have any questions at all, please call upon me. I shall be delighted to assist you.