The firelight made shadows dance on the stone wall over her throne. The gilded back and arms gleamed. Shamzara the voodoo queen sat waiting for him, dark hair wild and flowing, dark nipples showing thru her flimsy gown.

"Welcome to my court, Mark Hemingway," she said in a low tone. Pale, soulless zombies lay at her feet, men and girls, nearly naked, kissing and licking at her toes and ankles.

"Your unholy scheme is over, Shamzara. It's only a matter of time now." The big zombie behind him jabbed him in the ribs with his stick. Hemingway held his head high, despite the tight bonds.

The voodoo queen smiled venomously. "Your foolish plan to ruin me has already failed, Mark Hemingway. I have the chief of police in the palm of my hand." A figure stepped out from behind her throne, carrying a long, straight dagger of gleaming steel.

"You bastard!" Hemingway spat. But the chief only cracked a grim smile.

Shamzara rose; her flowing gown clung to her womanly curves, shimmered in the firelight, and stirred the smoke. "Now you will taste the blood of a voodoo sacrifice and become my slave!"

To Hemingway's horror, a girl was brought out from a hut toward the circle of fire—a beautiful young girl with the flowing black hair and almond eyes.

"Malia! No!"

"Ha ha ha ha ha!" the voodoo queen cackled. "Ha ha ha! She is mine now, Mark Hemingway, and soon you shall be too!"

"Mark!" the girl squealed desperately. But he could see already that her eyes were dull and her limbs were heavy. Her breasts shook under her thin, torn nightgown as she wept. Her body was not bound, but her will was lost to the voodoo queen.

"First," said Shamzara, "let me demonstrate the strength of my power. Malia! Come to me."

She sat down again and spread her long, brown legs. Malia automatically kneeled before her, whimpered, but obedient. "Lick me, little one."

"No!" Hemingway cried, but the zombies holding him back jabbed him, punched him into submission, and brought him to his knees. Malia looked back over her shoulder with pleading eyes, desperate for some way out, but enslaved to fulfill her queen's demand. She kneeled between Shamzara's thighs, gazed on the dark, moist folds of her sex, and licked her lips.

"Watch closely, Mark Hemingway. Soon you'll be on your knees before me too." Then she smiled down on her little slave. "Let your tongue taste my sex. Pleasure me until I come in your mouth."

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Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries had its humble beginnings as an idea of a few artisans and craftsmen who enjoy performing with live steel fighting. As well as a patchwork quilt tent canvas. Most had prior military experience hence the name.

 

Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries.

 

Vendertainers that brought many things to a show and are know for helping out where ever they can.

As well as being a place where the older hand made items could be found made by them and enjoyed by all.

We expanded over the years to become well known at what we do. Now we represent over 100 artisans and craftsman that are well known in their venues and some just starting out. Some of their works have been premiered in TV, stage and movies on a regular basis.

Specializing in Medieval, Goth , Stage Film, BDFSM and Practitioner.

Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries a Dept of, Ask For IT was started by artists and former military veterans, and sword fighters, representing over 100 artisans, one who made his living traveling from fair to festival vending medieval wares. The majority of his customers are re-enactors, SCAdians and the like, looking to build their kit with period clothing, feast gear, adornments, etc.

Likewise, it is typical for these history-lovers to peruse the tent (aka mobile store front) and, upon finding something that pleases the eye, ask "Is this period?"

A deceitful query!! This is not a yes or no question. One must have a damn good understanding of European history (at least) from the fall of Rome to the mid-1600's to properly answer. Taking into account, also, the culture in which the querent is dressed is vitally important. You see, though it may be well within medieval period, it would be strange to see a Viking wearing a Caftan...or is it?

After a festival's time of answering weighty questions such as these, I'd sleep like a log! Only a mad man could possibly remember the place and time for each piece of kitchen ware, weaponry, cloth, and chain within a span of 1,000 years!! Surely there must be an easier way, a place where he could post all this knowledge...

Traveling Within The World is meant to be such a place. A place for all of these artists to keep in touch and directly interact with their fellow geeks and re-enactment hobbyists, their clientele.

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