Quentin Lives!

[The following blog was posted under the authority of Prince Ara of the Predatory Union and by his faithful servant, Nestor.]

The topic line does not lie. I was recently contacted by Quentin by means of a text to my phone. It was a very pleasant turn of events and one that, as happy as it made me, left me with more questions than answers. Nevertheless, I am sure the truth will come out. After all, Quentin is planning on visiting the prince soon, and I, likely more than anyone, am looking forward to it.

I've also been tipped off by an anonymous source that some really interesting news is about to come out about our green fox. You can be sure that, as I enjoy adding a bit of excitement to my life, I shall be publishing that information as soon as I can. But for now, I am left standing on the brink of a mystery that shall, for the time, remain unsolved.

I can't help but wonder about this most interesting fellow who seems to have a way of transcending death. He walks the line between the worlds. He faces great forces whose power reaches even beyond our very limited perceptions of reality. How romantic! How very notable of a sub-predator.

I'm sure Quentin is having a time of it dealing with all this reputation and fanfare he is getting. I do hope he brings this along with him during his visit. I would so hate to be disappointed. Can you imagine how I would feel if, after all the things I have learned about this fellow, he turns out to be a disappointment? Oh, dear, no. But such thoughts are, perhaps, silly. I'm sure he will exhibit the very countenance of his fame.

More to come on this very interesting topic. Just remember, Quentin... We're waiting for you. We are licking our chops in anticipation. Do not disappoint.

Oh, yes. You'll be happy to hear Buddy is presently in recovery. He'll still be out for a while. I am more than happy to continue operating his blog for him. He's had it hard for a time, and he has yet a bit more hardships to face, but the worst of it is over.

For now, I point you in the direction of The Nom Nom Chronicles. It is apparently a very dragon-heavy piece of literature. Makes it all worth it, I suppose. Cheers. ~Nestor

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Did Quentin Die?

[The following blog was posted under the authority of Prince Ara of the Predatory Union and by his faithful servant, Nestor.]

The reports are a bit fuzzy on this one. I received a very cryptic email from someone I haven't talked to in literally ages. I'm serious. I thought this person fell off the planet itself some eighty years ago. (I'm going to leave my age to your imagination.)

Anyways, the report was that Quentin bit the dust. Dead. Gone. Heart stopped and everything. Deader than that rabbit I pulled apart with my teeth a day before I left for Scritch City. The most convincing thing about this message was that it had photographic evidence; although, some of it was a bit vague. Hard to explain. So vague, in fact, that I shan't be posting them to this blog. This odd service has a way of making the vague all the more jarring and obscure.

So I may just have photographic evidence that Quentin is quite dead right now. And believe me... it pains me to my core. I wondered if I should tell Prince Ara or not. In the end, I felt that I had to. Quentin was a part of his agenda after all. Still, I must point out that, despite the evidence given to me, we still don't consider his death verified.

Naturally my mind wanders to Baphomet and The Tailhole Club. I tried to give the goat a ring. Well... somebody answered. Nobody said anything. All I got was a lot of weird static. For a moment, I thought I heard breathing or something... but I could be wrong about that. I've been wrong before. Why give up the habit now?

But I do want to say something to Quentin directly, if he can read this at all. If you are somehow able to pull yourself out of the jaws of certain death, I would like you to make a direct visit to the Salmon Bluff Resort. I would like a piece of whatever it is you have. Allow me to drink of it.

Still, I think time will tell what the fate of Quentin Sharpe really is. I've got more calls to make. I've also been working on a painting to commemorate this macabre situation. I call it, "Quentin and the Abyss." Enjoy.

"Quentin and the Abyss"
A lot of black and grays surrounding Quentin (green) there in the middle. A touch of red at the bottom to symbolize his potential, and dare I say, ultimate fate. I am rather pleased with this one. Even with the website's annoying propensity to fuck up imagery, I think it still gets its theme across. I am fond of color blending in my paintings as a mode for expressing situational awareness and emotion. Prince Ara in particular appreciates my works which is why I am his royal artist.

Drexil is still torturing Buddy. The good news is we only needed to resuscitate him once so far. For now, I shall complete my duty to promote one of his books. I want to do a full review of The Law of Dragons soon, so I will pass by b.t. for now and promote Vox Deus. Cheers. ~Nestor

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Slave Trading in Scritch City

[The following blog was posted under the authority of Prince Ara of the Predatory Union and by his faithful servant, Nestor.]

A very difficult prospect to say the least. It isn't that the city-state is not open to the idea. It's only that they are a bit shy about it. But the yearning is there. And we dragons are very interested in striking up a bit of thought on the matter.

Although it was agreed to, between Prince Ara and Miss Silky, that anyone who claimed consent to slavery would be free game for us, it just... is not something that's been happening. We have had a few who get close, such as our little friend Daxter, but nobody really wants to go the full mile.

I suppose much of my irritation about the whole slavery thing is that it should be consensual at all. I feel a little silly having to make these special deals, handing out special treatments to incentivize these silly prey animals to take the great leap into becoming property. I don't think they understand how seriously dragons take the slavery business. It's not just economic. It's nature.

But a lot of the animals in Scritch City see it as more of a sexual lifestyle fantasy come true. They get to star in their very own sexual slavery porn and never have to worry about responsibility again. No. No. No. Being a slave means responsibility. You still have to do what yer told, and we do put you to work. You'll be doing much more than being a dragon's pretty, little fuck slave.

Slaves who don't do very well often get re-purposed into food. Although after reading about that new ride in Warp World, I suspect some of you idiots might want that too. Egad.

No. A true slave trade doesn't involve consent. It involves power. Dragons are perfectly known for their power. We own all who are below us. If a slave trade started between our two countries, I would much prefer the transactions be jointly agreed upon by both the elite of Scritch City and the dragon lords of the Predatory Union. In that case, consent would not always apply and we could actually get stuff done.

Still, what the hell is my opinion worth? This is all Prince Ara's game. I'm just a lowly artist with an opinion. Although I do wish someone reading this could, perhaps, make my case for me to further the agenda. I would really hate for our entire visit here to be so pointless.

As usual, I have picked one of Buddy Tippet's books to promote. Give b.t. a read when you get a chance. Just skip the one story called Getting Scent-imental. Entirely pointless and stupid. It's trash. ~Nestor

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Quentin and Baphomet - The Eternal Conflict

[The following blog was posted under the authority of Prince Ara of the Predatory Union and by his faithful servant, Nestor.]

I've been doing a bit of digging. A bit of searching. A little of this and a little of that. Over the last few days I have been getting a little obsessed over an odd relationship between a certain green fox and a certain dark furred goat. This fascination of mine had lead me to do a number of odd things.

A lot of things spurred this on. Recently a new application appeared on my phone. It was called Dex. It was the first of my clues. The color and font of this Dex app matched the mystery post made on this blog a small time ago. Apparently this person or thing--I'm not sure which--wanted to talk to me about some things. Spoilers I suppose.

This Dex, whoever he or she is, has cracked the log-in information of this blog but is still content to allow me access. No passwords have been changed. It's all been left the same, yet Dex still resides here sifting around. They gave me clues and pointed me in interesting directions.

A number of those clues pushed me into inviting Baphomet himself to my apartment in Salmon Bluff. Here we talked for hours. We fucked a little. Very light stuff. Most of it mutual and polite. I'm still, of course, wary of political incidents.

Between myself, Dex, and Baphomet, we formed a bit of an information sharing trinity--a think tank, if you will. And a lot came out about this interesting fox. We know things about one another. One thing that he may or may not know is that his heart stopped beating recently. He may not have felt it or even realized it, but it did happen. For a brief moment, Quentin died even as he stood. Maybe he is still dead. It's a topic of unending debate between me and this goat.

Baphomet claims to know what is happening though. Apparently this interesting specimen of prey has been doing a little digging of his own. Perhaps a bit more literal. Baphomet has come to some odd conclusion that he is the enemy of Quentin, but not entirely by choice. He pointed out that he has recently been taking physical action to put a stop to the green fox... but somehow failed. At least, he is willing to admit to it.

But then I may not be doing this fellow justice. Allow me to pass along the keyboard to Baphomet.

I did come to the recent conclusion that Quentin was perhaps someone who I should be concerned with. I came to this idea based on his experience in Railraod Towers. I have a counterpart there that I have recently been trying to connect with.

I don't consider these actions strange. He is me, after all. If I had connected with him, it would be nothing more than connecting with myself. So I began digging down into the earth in search for another place, another time, another dimension. Unfortunately, I ended up contested by a number of entities along the way.

Quentin is under some sort of protection. The Fairy Ermine is the most likely, but I think there are others as well. Nevertheless, I did not entirely fail in my mission. I have managed to put a halt to some of the actions that would inevitably work against me in the end. The whole thing is wrapped up in limbo.

I'm not too pleased with this stasis. I would rather Quentin deal with this so that I can, at least, see how this is going to end. My advice to him is that he should show up here and do a bit of exploring. He already has, at least, two reasons to show up here.

Whatever the case, the reason he is experiencing the anomalies such as the stopping of the heart, is because of the stasis I have enacted within the lower frequencies. If he doesn't do something to rectify it, it might end up causing a bit of havoc within Scritch City and beyond. Spells like these are quite destructive and require a lot of innocent sacrifice. For my own survival, I have deemed them necessary.

I am not really one to give up so easily. And more importantly, I like Quentin. Everything I heard of him sounds fascinating. And the things your Dex has told me has been even more enlightening. It seems that I have managed to, even to a small extent, exert power over him. And where I am more than happy to accept him into my flock, I would much rather he come to me willingly.

All interesting stuff. I am enjoying my visit to Scritch City all the more. This place is rather magical, if all these things are true. Dex can hardly confirm anything of which Baphomet is saying. If anything, they are confused. But if what Baphomet says is true, than we are dealing with a very slow moving apocalypse. Exciting!

Baphomet has set in motion a series of world shattering events all in the name of defeating an enemy of his. And I suppose he is willing to do this because he thinks he can form a connection with some otherworldly counterpart. This is the stuff science fiction was made of really. But let's see what Dex has to say about it.

It's romantic in a way. This whole business. The world is not always as simple as you make it out to be. What looks like a flat surface at a distance may lead to a mountain on the building horizon. When it comes down to it, the world is vast and complicated. We all do our best to play a part. Sometimes we make it, and sometimes we don't.

But to me, I see it all as a drama unfolding right before my eyes. How exciting it all is! I wonder how it all will end. And from the looks, the man of the hour... is Quentin Sharp!

Oh dear. Quentin Sharpe it is then! And I am still very much looking forward to meeting him on an entirely professional level. But here I must do my duty and promote Buddy's books. How about Pack Rats of The Inside? Here you go! ~Nestor

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Scritch City: A Dragon's Perspective

[The following blog was posted under the authority of Prince Ara of the Predatory Union and by his faithful servant, Nestor.]

I had personally been looking forward to visiting Scritch City for a long time. I never really pushed the idea of coming here, but I am sure I talked pleasantly about a visit often with the prince. Citystates in general always fascinated me. I like the idea of a mass of liberal ideas packed into a tight spot.

It was my privilege to be the first to speak with Miss Silky of the eastern district. No, I wasn't the one to make the plans. Drexil insisted on it. He takes his guarding duties a bit too seriously. But I must say that I liked her. She isn't the brute that Buddy Tippet makes her out to be sometimes. If anything she is quite warm and caring for a sub predator.

Miss Silky was very interested in my artwork, and so I shared some of my best with her. She offered to buy one from me... and... we are still working that deal out. I always have difficulty parting with my own works. There are some political snags to it as well. I'm sure it will work out soon enough.

Although I still feel that the city would benefit more from dragon rule, we are not here to conquer. The Predatory Union wants to be friends with Scritch City. Miss Silky was certainly a good first impression.

I extended a greeting to the city's alternate leader, that being Baphomet. It was a strange phone call... to say the least. I have little to no respect for him. He is a prey after all. But there was something about him that had me a little on edge. Baphomet seemed extremely distracted as if he was dealing with... Well I'm not sure how to explain this properly. I don't think I will bother. Someone like him should be left to his own devices anyhow.

The police force in Scritch City is quite good at keeping this city peaceful. It's what they allow that puts a smile on my face. Things can happen in this city that give me a thrill. I sometimes wonder how there can be such law and order yet... debauchery. Such control over so much libertine lifestyles. It's rather beautiful.

Ah, and we are very interested in Quentin and his... church. I hear he will be visiting us soon at the Salmon Bluff resort. He claims to have a slave of his own. That was all news to me. We had done extensive research on him and found nothing of him owning a slave, but I'm quite pleased that he does.

He intends to show up in a number of days. A bit too much of a wait for my liking, but I suppose we have plenty to do during our wait. I am considering sending one of our dragons down to his church to check it out. I've been given the authority to do so if I want. I may even go myself... with Quentin's permission of course.

I think I'm rambling. I am a bit tired. I'm forcing myself to write this after a rather long marathon of very... very intense sex. Just thought I'd get it over with and lay down for a while.

Oh, and as to the odd post from before, I still have no idea where it came from. I can't seem to delete it either. Maybe if I knew more about how this website worked... Alas, it is what it is. This isn't my site anyways. It's that nasty human's. At least, a dragon is making it a bit more beautiful for the while.

Ah, yes. I owe Buddy a promotion. Vox Deus this time. I haven't read it. Don't really want to. But if you like exceedingly lengthy, dirty books, maybe you might try it. ~Nestor

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Just Visiting!

The Joy I Have

[The following blog was posted under the authority of Prince Ara of the Predatory Union and by his faithful servant, Nestor.]

It is a very special joy that I have when working, sometimes tirelessly, for the great Prince Ara. I am known as Nestor. I am the royal artist of the Predatory Union an a personal entertainer of His Royal Highness.

I am a also a lifelong friend of the prince. We were children together within the capitol of Raptoria. We played fascinating games of wit and had, perhaps, a few physical struggles. The prince would always win these. He is stronger than I, but we were only having fun.

I now create at his pleasure. If you happen to find yourself in our presence, look for the handsome greenscale lurking about. That would be me. I am very pleased to be here in Scritch City. I am even more pleased with being allowed to take over this blog for a time.

Prior to this moment, I have had absolutely no experience with blogs. I've decided to do a bit of artistic experimentation with it. I shall talk about things that please me, and perhaps a few things that displease. Let me first begin with something anecdotal.

Just recently, I was visited by a prey animal, a goat in verity, by the name of Daxter. He was five something, had some interesting piercings, and I am fairly certain he owns a nose ring. [He was not wearing it, but I could see the signs.] I mean to humiliate this fellow a little on this blog, but I think that it shall be for his own good.

Daxter showed up at one of the dragon suites at the Salmon Bluff Resort. He came bearing a gift. I suppose he wanted to make a good impression upon His Majesty. Naturally there was no chance he was ever going to meet with Prince Ara. This fellow looked like some sort of street punk. I wouldn't really want to put my penis in him as a slave, and to eat him, I'd make sure his hide was well sterilized beforehand. Possibly just a cheap microwave snack when it comes down to it.

But I was nice enough to him. I accepted his gift. It was a nice gift too. A very expensive gold bracelets by the looks of it. Fashionable. He said it was for Princess Fuscia. I've already asked her if I could keep it, and she said that I could. She didn't want anything from a nasty goat anyways, and who could blame her.

Daxter was being cautiously submissive during his interview with me. I tried my best to get him to break down and submit entirely, but he was too much of a coward to take that final step. Laughable. If he lived within the Predatory Union, he would not have had a choice.

Daxter is a very good example of why Scritch City ultimately fails as a city state. Silly, little idiots like him run about thinking they are much higher than they really are. In my own mind, I already own his hide. He knows it too. He may deny it, but he knows I am right. And much of that knowing came from how our little interview ended.

I merely suggested that Daxter pay the bodyguard of Prince Ara a bit of worship on his way out. That would be Drexil. Drexil is a large black dragon who had an extreme hatred for anything not dragon. He likes to hurt and humiliate little pissants like Daxter... but I never told the goat this. Daxter, being the prey that he was, could not help but kneel at Drexil's feet and give him worship. And to my delight, Drexil pissed heartily on his face and into his mouth and then kicked him to the curb.

Oh! How hilarious it was! But I think that, a small part, perhaps the most important part, of the little prey liked the treatment. He may want more. He may come back and dive further into who and what he truly is. I'll accept him. I like him.

Daxter, if you are reading this, I'd love another visit. You can even bring me more gifts. I'll take them. I'll take everything. And if you let me, I'll make you a very special slave for the rest of your life. I dare you. And if you don't accept my dare, you'll only be fooling yourself. You know who you truly are. You know what you really want.

And so ends my anecdote. Perhaps next week... a poem. I'll think about it.

I call it "Near Submittal." I did my best to clear out all of the fuzz this website puts on all of its images. The painting represents my feelings of this lovely incident. The various different colors reflect those involved. White is of course His Highness' color. Green is yours truly.  The somewhat obscured dark gray represents Drexil. The yellow is his piss. The purple represents the righteous torture of Buddy Tippet. And the red is poor Daxter. I used goat's blood in his honor.

Unfortunately, I am obligated to promote the books of Buddy Tippet while he is being tenderized by Drexil. I've only read b.t. personally. I doubt anything else if really any good. Here is some information about b.t.:

11.99 - Paperback Edition

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Click here to see the Amazon.com listing of all of his books. Buy them maybe. I don't care. ~Nestor