Thread: Why You Don't Leave the Tower {darkest_fate&Google}

The bottle, it would change everything, what was in that bottle was something primal, something that had existed before the world and could quite possibly continue to exist long after the world was torn assunder. In the Eastern Lands of Story and Sand there were legends of worlds beyond ours, not out in the stars but in places that were all around the people but could not be seen. The denizens of these lands were many but among them there existed the Ifrit and the Djiin. These beings were both incredibly powerful and lived in planes that were close enough to touch in some places... but while the Djiin were generally cheerful trickster beings that took great care not to harm the mortals who occasionally stumbled into their lands the Ifrit were the opposite, wild and bestial things, controlled by the basest of urges. Beings of violence and lust... Among the Ifrit there was one being in particular that stood out, he was far more clever then most and his strength stood out even in such a group of powerful beings. He had long watched the human world from the tower that he had built for himself, wanting to find a way to do what the humans so often did by accident and cross over. The Ifrit had a hard time doing that, as far as this particular one was aware not a single one of them had ever managed. But Cherubael was not going to just give up because none had ever done it before, he knew there had to be a way and he would find it. Eventually word reached him, a human king had found a way to draw the Djiin forth into the human world... and as far as Cherubael was concerned he could use that as a way into the mortal world. And so he mounted an invasion, leading a demi legion into the world of the Djiin and when he felt the mortal Kings spell work he rushed forward and out into the softer and brighter land. It was all that he had desired, the air was crisper, the people were so much softer, here he would be able to rule like a king... here he would rule as a God. But the king who had brought him forth knew the mistake he had made and Cherubael had no idea what he had just rushed into blind. The King had been binding the Djiin in lamps, powerful spells forcing them to use their power to grant wishes of those that freed them. This however was going to be a different thing, a very different sort of thing... the spells were hasty and improvised but what they lacked in subtly they made up in power. Cherubael was bound into a glass bottle, the spell to release him was carved into the glass along with a warning that the spells that would keep him obedient would not last, if he was released then sooner or later he would find a way to free himself from the control of the witch or wizard that set him loose. Time went by, Cherubael was unsure how much as he slumbered for most of the time, the bottle was passed from hand to hand, traded along from magic user to magic user, the spell to release him remained legible but in time the warning was rubbed away, too many hands rubbing over the wrong spot would have great effect later on. Cherubael knew that he would be free eventually though, humanity was short sighted and foolish. Many centuries had past before the bottle eventually passed into the hands of a witch, moderately powerful but using a rather unique sort of magic, rare in this world that allowed her to remain young far beyond her years. She began to whisper the proper words to the bottle to awaken the spirit within, letting him know what was intended, he was to remain in or near the tower and keep the girl within from leaving by any means necessary, beyond that he could do as he liked... so long as he did not kill the girl or cut her hair. He wasn't released right away though, the first part of the spell to release him could be done at any time, it would awaken the spirit and the second half would be completed in the next twenty four hours or else the Ifrit inside would sleep again. But the a few hours later he heard the other words speaking, the chains that bound him in the bottle weakened and disappeared, smoke pouring free and with it Cherubael was given flesh once more though he wasn't as strong as he had once been, the time locked away had weakened him. Before he had been able to change him form however he liked, size and shape had been his to command but now he was trapped into a single shape, the one he wore most often, towering at nearly seven feet tall, three hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle covered in thick fur with waves of heat radiating from his body... his resting temperature in the neighborhood of a hundred and ten degrees but could raise even higher when angered or excited... and he was very excited to be free. Gothel... He murmured, his voice a deep and powerful growl that echoed from the tower walls. This is the girl that you have freed me to watch over... I can guarantee that she will not be leaving. He looked over her, eyes narrowing, long and thick tongue running over his lips, tracing over his prominent teeth, the leather loincloth that he wore was straining to cover the bulge that was forming. You can leave now, I will be very happy looking after her. At least for a while, sooner or later he would find a way free of the bindings, now that he was free he would have all that he desired.