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Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 24, 2014 11:12PM
Woods back to the Village

Eyyrs was begging her brother to look at her, but for the life of him he didn’t even know what he was anymore. Valkrik, son of Honrick was a beast from hell. He was not human, he couldn’t be. Valkrik flinched as his sister reached for his cheek, and then the wings parted enough to show him in all his demonic glory. He had become the very thing he had despised for so long. Valkrik prided himself on being Ghar. Now…he was an enemy to all he held dear.

Wordlessly he stared at his sister, afraid of her reaction. Would she flee? He didn’t even know how much he had altered his own form, and if he did see himself, lord knows how he would behave.

“Why?”

It was the only word that he could come up with. Why? Why was he this way? This had never happened to him before in his life, but then again his sister was in terrible peril, and the depth of feeling for her….turned him into the beast to save her.

Tears trickled down his roughened cheeks as his wings pulled back further. He would be put to death, the moment the people found out. A demon walked among them

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Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 24, 2014 11:49PM
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Eyyrs had grown up hearing stories of how their people despised demons. And now discovering that her brother was one, spoke highly of his origins.

His wings parted and she got her first look of the demon’s face. But she did not see a demon. She saw her brother, Valkrik of Ghar. She would know his eyes, no matter what form he took.

Her other hand came up and rested against the opposite cheek.

“Why? he whispered. And she understood. She swiped her thumbs across the rough skin of his cheek, wiping away his tears.

“I don’t know why. But this is not who you are. You have a good and kind soul. You are ruthless, yes, but it was the way we were raised. Demon though you may be…you will always be one who I hold dear to my heart. You are not a mindless beast. You are the son of a Chieftan. And may Odin smite me should anyone dare bring you harm. They will feel the press of my steel against their heart until it beats no more.” she snarled, fierce in her protection of her brother. She pressed a hand against his heart, feeling it beating steady beneath her hand. “I love you.” And upon saying the words, she moved into his personal space, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek against his shoulder, hugging the demon that was her brother in all but blood.

“On my honor as warrior of Ghar, I will keep your secret until the day Odin calls me to his side.” she whispered.

Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 25, 2014 05:45AM
Woods back to the Village

Valkrik’s whole existence up till this moment had been a lie. If he wasn’t Viking, then what was he? Who knew the truth? Did his mother? He hated to think, for she had been such a wonderful mother and would never have kept this from him on purpose? Did his Father know? Had there not been signs in his growing years that he was different? And why…why did it emerge when his sister was being attacked? The answer was simple. Love.

“I love you.” Eyyrs said, wrapping herself around him and pressing her cheek to his shoulder. The sheer feeling of warmth she gave was hard to describe. She had been his sister and he treated her as such. But in this moment, something between changed. He rested his head on hers and tried to hold back the wave of emotion, a tidal wave in effect. His wings fell back more, as the look on his face started to soften. It was like Eyyrs was the key to controlling the beast within. It emerged when she was in danger, great danger, and yet when she expressed her love….it retreated, letting Valkrik the viking reemerge.

“On my honor as warrior of Ghar, I will keep your secret until the day Odin calls me to his side.”

Valkrik placed his clawed finger under her chin, lifting it so she could see his face. His eyes starting to go back to the cold steel blue. “If they find out….I can never return.” Valkrik said with conviction. “We make a pact. Here…in this place. None shall know. Not till Odin…” At this he stopped a moment, and wondered if Odin would accept him, being what he was. Valkrik kissed the top of his sister’s head, and slowly pulled himself from her, as he started to change back, his wings shrinking. The viking stood before her….a little worse for wear. He looked down at his broken sandals and torn clothes. Shrugging, he said.

“We need to get our stories straight. That the Quartermaster was killed…by an assassin. He was fought and fell from Narsan’s cliff.” It was a fabrication, but the best he could come up with. It might explain why he looked so battle scarred.

“We go…now.”

He offered her his hand, to lead her back towards the town. Valkrik was indeed grateful for her loyalty and love. He whispered as she takes his hand. “Eyyrs. I love you….”

But in what way?

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Stargorn Bluff: Inside the Village

“Honrick of Ghar,” she repeated as she got closer, “greetings! I am Natsiya of Vollan, Alpha of the Vollan pack, do you remember me,” 

The silver haired chieftain raised his head from the talks he was having with elders, to see a fair haired woman, who was trying to garner his attention. Her name, Natsiya of Vollan. Oh, he remembered. The warriors that rode the wolves. They had a peace treaty between their people’s and allowed them to trade and bring their pups in for sale.

He dismissed his elders and then trudged through the soft soil around the trading tent right up to Natsiya.

“Odin be praised. It is good to see you again in our town. And yes, how can I forget the Vollan. I have the utmost respect for your people. How many pups have you brought down this time? I have interest for one myself. Our family has a new son, and he needs extra protection.” Gesturing for Natsiya to follow him to the large inn just to the left of the trade halls, he said.

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“Come…we drink your return.”

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Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 25, 2014 06:47AM
Clearing in the Woods

He raised her chin to look upon her face, the cold steel blue returning to the fore.

“If they find out…I can never return…We make a pact. Here…in this place. None shall know. Not till Odin…” he paused here as if realizing something. She seemed to know what he was thinking and returned a hand to his cheek, getting him to look at her again.

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“Odin is a forgiving God. You will earn His favor as any warrior should. Tis not deed but belief in Him that allows you to be by His side.” she whispered. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering longer then was appropriate before she drew away. She didn’t know what possessed her to act as such but it seemed the right thing to do.

She rested her head upon his shoulder for another few moments before he returned her affection by kissing the top of her head and drawing away from her. She watched as his skin seemed to shrink upon itself until the man emerged beneath the demon. It was intriguing to watch and she was proud that he had allowed her to be witness to it.

He looked worn and ragged, his clothes ripped and blood splattered, his sandals gone from his feet. He stared at her intently.

“We need to get our stories straight. That the Quartermaster was killed…by an assassin. He was fought and fell from Narsan’s cliff.”

“Tis very isolated.” she agreed, thinking about the cliffs. “Aye…that shall do. And the rivers have washed away all signs of what…happened…before.” She trembled, thinking about the violation of her body. She was not going to break down in front of him. She would wait until she was in the privacy of her own home before falling apart.

He held his hand out to her and she placed hers within, no hesitation. She wasn’t scared of him, even with his new form hidden away once more.

“Eyyrs, I love you.” he stated, his gaze boring into her own. Her soul seemed to light up within at his declaration. He’d never once said those words to her before with such emotion and in that clearing…something significant changed between them. What that was…had yet to be determined.

“And I love you, Valkrik of Ghar.” she smiled, her expression warm, an emotion deep in her eyes that held an unknown meaning.

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Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 25, 2014 08:58AM
-Natsiya gave him the slightest of grins as the old man clearly did remember the Ice wolf Alpha.

“Odin be praised. It is good to see you again in our town. And yes, how can I forget the Vollan. I have the utmost respect for your people. How many pups have you brought down this time? I have interest for one myself. Our family has a new son, and he needs extra protection.” Gesturing for Natsiya to follow him to the large inn just to the left of the trade halls, he said.

Natsiya bowed her head a little bit, “ah Honrick, you do know the way to a woman’s heart!” she jested and followed him.

“as for a new son…when will you breed me some females, I could use a few in my pack,” she said it was all teasing on her part and it was with a smile that didn’t always reach her eyes, “but all jesting aside, I’m pleased to hear you have another son, this deserves more then just a hunting wolf Honrick, The riding wolves have had pups this season, and I’d like to gift two to the Chieftain house, Male and female of separate breed stock,” she added.

There was a bit of a tactic behind that, if giving them such an incredible gift, that the Ice Wolves rarely did, they might be more inclined to help them defend there territory from the shifter pack from the south.

They approached the Inn and Natsiya waited for the Chief by it’s entry way, letting him enter first.-

Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 25, 2014 02:41PM
The Shackled Inn

The Chief walked into the Inn ahead of Natsiya and the room came to an abrupt standstill, to see their leader coming down to the local inn to drink amongest them. He raised a hand and smiled warmly. “Don’t stop the festivities. Drink…eat.” He commanded and all returned to their games, women and ale. Walking through between the tables, he found on that suited him and he swung his leg over a stool, his fur lined cloak billowing on the floor. A buxom wench placed down horned cups of ale and gave the Cheif a sly wink as she squeezed her ample breasts together, giving the Chief quite the sight. He laughed loudly and smacked her rear, before turning his attention back to Natsiya. The talk of breeding females had him chuckle, when thinking of his daughter Eyyrs.

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“I have this one wild child of a daughter. I swear she thinks herself more man than woman. Beauty to be sure, like that of her mother. Truly blessed. But do you think she can be tamed? Gah. Even Thor would have his hands full with the girl.” He took a sip from his horned cup and set it down.

“Not got any notable men that can take her on? I been thinking I may need to arrange her marriage, if she won’t be accepting the men here.” He asked, genuinely curious as to what the Vollan woman had to say.

Heading into the Village

Valkrik and Eyyrs were about to come out of the forest to where the path led to the town, and Valkrik released Eyyrs hand from his. He did this so as not to bring suspicion to what they had been up to, but also because they were siblings. Thoughts were going through Valkrik’s head now. If he was demon, then he can’t have been Sarras’s and Honrick’s true son. There was a large gap in his life’s story that needed to be filled. Not only that, when Eyyrs had kissed the edge of his lips, there was a feeling that he had….one that confused him. He said he loved her, but…did he LOVE her that way? He had never tried anything on with her, even though she was one of the most beautiful women in the town. She was his sister. Blood or not. He shot a look at her again, and he had to bury his feelings deep down, or else they betray him. He leaned in close and said.

“You need to cleanse yourself first. Wash away the stain from the Quartermaster. Then we see to our Father.”

Together, they headed back into town, and walked up to his sister’s house. He looked left and right, before leading her inside, where he shut the door behind them, and motioned for her to get clean and change her clothes.

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Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 25, 2014 10:26PM
-Natsiya followed the chief into the inn where the many vikings were enjoying there drinks. One would have thought that being she was from a female ruled culture she might have a issue with how the woman tending to the patrients were treated, even by the chief as he sat himself comfortably on a bar stool and swatted the rear of the large woman who served him a drink.

That same woman gave Natsiya a side ways glance, one of slight envy of Natsiya’s prolonged years of youth and beauty and slammed her a horn of ale down with out the same grace she gave the chief and a forced grin of being pleased to serve her. No, Natsiya didn’t care even a little about how they were treated, you get what you ask for.

She heard Honrick chuckle about her comments of breeding and she returned the chuckle grabbing the ale she tossed a mouth full back and squinted her eyes a little before setting it back down.

“I have this one wild child of a daughter. I swear she thinks herself more man than woman. Beauty to be sure, like that of her mother. Truly blessed. But do you think she can be tamed? Gah. Even Thor would have his hands full with the girl.” He took a sip from his horned cup and set it down.

“Not got any notable men that can take her on? I been thinking I may need to arrange her marriage, if she won’t be accepting the men here.” he asked her, and she looked at him, he was very serious about that question.

Natsiya coughed a little bit and scratched her hair just behind her ears, thinking, “well, Honrick, you know just as well, it’s quite the other way around in Vollan, we females rule the pack, are in charge…we marry off the males to other packs to for the most part increase the gene pool. To us, your wild daughter, is a prized trait for a alpha bitch,” she said sipping her drink again. “like me,” she added.

She went quiet a moment and continued to think, “i suppose if I reverse the rolls…I could understand the trouble a head strong child could be, though I have none of my own, I help raise pups enough with my pack members,” she chuckled.

“she can be tamed, but tamed might not be the right way about it,” she shrugged, “as for notable men….meh….the only one’s I ever met wet there breeches the first time they saw my wolves, your villiage is the only one who aren’t yellow livered,” she said and took another swig and glanced at Honrick.-

Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 25, 2014 10:43PM
Home of Eyyrs

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“You need to cleanse yourself first. Wash away the stain from the Quartermaster. Then we see to our Father.” he had stated on their return to the village. She thought this was a sound

Neither one was seen on their return and he escorted her inside of her home without incident. She moved to the fire pit in the center of the room and had a fire instantly lit, casting shadows in the corners of the room.

“Thank you…for saving me.” she whispered in the quiet, her back to him. Her voice quavered and her shoulders shook as she silently began to cry. She felt dirty and used and she still had the sensation of Soren’s hands tearing at her body. With a moan of disgust, she ripped her clothes off and tossed them into the fire, watching as they burned away before she went in search of her water sacks. She poured the first over her head, washing away the smell of the dead man from her body before grabbing up a bar of pumice and scrubbing her body from head to toe until her skin was rubbed raw. She tossed the bar away from her, her teeth gritted in rage as she grabbed the second sack, dousing herself for a second time.

She tossed the sack away, planting her hands on the table in front of her, her breath flowing from her in heaving gasps as she struggled to control her anger and pain.

She had temporarily forgotten Valkrik was in the room with her. Her body and mind aching and sore, she pulled out a fresh set of clothes and dressed, combing her fingers through her wet hair and getting the tangles out.

When she felt moderately human once more, she turned to leave her hut, only to find that Valkrik was still present.

He had seen her breakdown…had seen the bruises on her body Soren had left…had seen her naked.

Her face flamed in embarassment.

“I-I’m sorry.” she stammered, at a loss for words. “I didn’t see you there.”

Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 25, 2014 11:22PM
Home of Eyyrs

All the while that Eyyrs began to destroy her ruined clothes, and then start to wash off the stain of sex and blood, her brother stared directly ahead. Not at her, but at the memory of what the Quartermaster had done to her. It sickened him that a man would be so ruthless with a woman as beautiful as his sister. Though in his heart, he knew they were no longer blood, he had to maintain a certain distance. Yes, he would continue to watch over and care as a brother should, but if he had any other feelings, those should remain forever unseen. She made a promise to protect his secret, now he had to honor her.

Only when she saw him still standing there, when she was fully dressed again, did she speak, and it was a stammered babble of words. “I didn’t see you there.” She had been too caught up in the assault and she must still feel the press of his dirty hands on her. Valkrik lowered his gaze and replied. “I did not watch.”

At this he stood near the door and opened it, hoping she was now ready to face the day again. Their father no doubt wished to see them again, and he knew that he was expected to see to the funeral arrangements of their Uncle. Both Eyyrs and Valkrik has suffered today, but only they shared this. It was how it was to be.

“We should go.” Valkrik said, heading out into the street.

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Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 28, 2014 08:28PM
The White City

A billowing pillar of smoke flew at the rock face that jutted from the top level – the palace of the Dark One and the Necromancer. It landed on the edge of the great rock, moving through an open place in the stone railing made specifically for doing so. The black smoke burst into the form of Orothe, walking with purpose toward the great white doors. She shed her dress and accessories piece by piece as she walked, her black hair billowing behind her. By the time she reached the two guards at the door, she was completely nude, which resulted in their eyes being glued to her. She clucked her tongue and the two immediately began undressing. She nodded curtly and the guards attacked her body. They drove their shafts into her with loud moans and groans no doubt heard by those on the lower levels. Neither went anywhere near her face, and not once did she moan. As the guards continued to pound into her, she reached around the one at her front and dragged her nails down his back. His blood ran in rivulets from the large gashes she made, staining her hands, but he continued thrusting into her. She brought her hands to his throat, choking down his next moan before pulling with the shriek of a harpy and the strength of a wildcat. The front of his throat came loose in her hands as blood poured from the wound. She cast the bloodied flesh away as he fell limp on her bloodied breasts. The other guard had stopped thrusting and pulled out of her behind, but continued to pleasure himself while she dismounted his dead comrade. She turned to face him, eyeing his length before moving toward him again. Her hands mingled with his and another loud moan erupted from his (still intact) throat. She began to lower herself, coming to her knees before him. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, so he didn’t notice her teeth become a row of black points. She shrieked again and ripped at his testicles with her teeth, catching one in her hand as he screamed and fell back. Her teeth returned to normal pearly whites as she stood, tossing the testicle into the guard’s open mouth. Still nude and covered in blood, Orothe turned as if Mithrildanne stood before her, smiling wickedly before turning and disappearing behind the doors.

“Oromus!” She wailed, flitting through the halls. The maids didn’t bother fussing over her, but just cleaned up her trail of blood while others outside cleaned up the bodies. The Necromancer came upon her brother’s study and flung open the doors, shutting them behind her with a thought. It was immaculately neat, and the only room in the entire palace – and probably the entire city – that wasn’t white stone. It was ebony, and it was beautiful. She splayed herself on his desk, screaming again in her rage as she writhed in want for her soul-mate, husband, brother, and leader. Out in the hall, objects flew about, but the maids were relatively safe from her wrath, as would her lover be when he came to calm her before she deafened the entire city.