Nyssa Stormheart writhed above me, my palms covering her heaving breasts as I pumped into her from my place in the captains quarters in the ship I had stolen.
She moaned as drew myself up from the bed, biting lightly at her nipple.
I had been at sea for a month now, attempting to abosorb as much information as I could from Antheol. He was a good teacher, and a phenominal mage.
When I was studying with Antheol, Tim, and Pharrel, the human necromancer I had first possessed, I tended to use my old body.
The untiring nature of my undead form made it easier to study, and keep my attention on what lessons my minions could impart on me.
When I was at leisure however...
Ralen's body was usually were I found myself. Elves have a lot of uniformity in their forms, and Ralen felt almost like mine did before I gave into the addiction.
I flipped us over, pounding into a now screaming night-elf as her legs wrapped around my waist.
He was a little taller, and the scarring covering his body made it clear his time during the scourge attack had not been pleasant.
He told me the necromancers had captured him for a short while, and attempted to corrupt him into joining the siege as a necromancer.
They tortured him when he didnt.
I felt her nails dig into the flesh of my back, before Nyssa bit into my shoulder, silently screaming as we both climaxed. As it turned out, night elves mated notably rougher than the highborn did.
She was particularly enjoyable. I'm certain Ralen would have appreciated the experience, but it seems those I take control of have little memory of what they've done with me at the wheel.
The poor apprentice would sure have a lot of gaps in his memory when this trip was through.
If I hadn't been learning as much as I had I would find myself locked in my quarters with her at my bedside for the entirety of our journey.
I found that the arcane was a type of magic that easily influenced the other branches, pushing the energy along and mixing with it nicely as it did.
It acted as a sort of pressure valve to the water that was the branches of magic. Pure arcane could do unique things, wonderful things.
But its most interesting power was its influence over every other kind of magic, "evil" or otherwise.
I could use magic of all kind to power arcane abilities, only tainting the magic to the nature of whatever energy I use instead of destroying the spell in its entirety.
I had learned decidedly little offensive applications to the arcane so far, but I had learned how to create wards to protect from scrying, and spellfire.
Most importantly I had began to tap into the many intricacies of creating a magical construct. I was learning of the mana symbols to be used in the creations of the mighty arcane sentries we once used as a light policing force in Silvermoon.
Now we used the constructs for a full supplement to military might. It wouldn't be too long before the armies of the Sin'dorei were just as large as they once were, only now in the form of thousands of stone golems marching to our glory.
I learned the series of imbuements objects needed to undergo in order to eventually be animated and "programed" to obey whatever set of directives their maker installed within them.
In a few months I could probably make a few rudimentary constructs, capable of killing, but unable to adapt to a situation without direct supervision.
Still, it was progress.
However, defending myself from my adversaries, either there scouting or there spells was a matter of importance I would not neglect.
My battle with Drathir flashed in the back of my mind. He had easily diverted the strongest piece of magic I had ever managed to put together.
He had, in a way, taught me a lesson just like my slave often would. Power wasnt everything. technique was worth far more.
I had always known it to be true, but the degree of it was made, truly, horribly obvious to me.
I was taking part in an arms race, and I was dreadfully behind. I could occasionally rest, sup on the pleasures I had gathered for myself. But it would always be haunted by the possibility of defeat, of losing everything I had built.
Westfall would give me time and education I desperately needed. I was eager for my arrival.
Our time at sea had been relatively uneventful, with the exception of a few close calls with the occasional pirate that crossed our path. We hadnt yet been attacked, the pirates allowing us to leave mostly unharmed.
Antheol tells me its because they believe our new state of war with the alliance is giving the pirates the impression leaving sailing warships alone would give them weaker targets, with more loot in the future.
It made some sense, most warships like to loot, and so long as they're victories weren't completely one sided they would make for a weaker target than before.
Gold was universal after all.
I left Ralen's body, taking back to the familiarity of my own. As much as I would enjoy Nyssa, and the rangers during this trip, I had no time.
Magic was there for my taking, and it howled within my soul to be used.
Alongside the chanting of my magic, when I looked up at the sky I could hear something more.
The world was calling to me now.
Who was I to deny my instincts?