@DragonSong In the pub of a sleepy village tucked within the Thunderblacks a Bard began his telling of one of the many legends of Sigurd the Valiant, a hero of old Adela noted across the land. His audience sat solemnly listening, for rumors were spreading across the Thunderblacks that a blood witch had begun to terrorize the villages and towns, stealing children from their beds and leading hunters and warriors astray.
"Centuries ago and deep within the isolated reaches of the Thunderblacks, the Hero Sigurd the Valliant traversed the great mountains in search of the Blood Witch Ylva. While men, gods, and dragons waged wars across the land of Adela, the Witch Ylva spent her time in pursuit of the destruction of the land and its people. No Adelan was safe during this dark time, and the kingdom of Adela faced an uncertain future. Babes were stolen from their cribs, innocent children and pure youths wandered and were lost forever, warriors fell to great disease or untimely deaths.
The only heroes to oppose her were the demi-gods Sigurd the Valiant and his brothers Eluf the Honorable and Stigr the Cunning. Great and fearsome were the brothers three, whose battle axes knew not of failure.
It was not until a day when Stigr and Eluf were reveling in a recent victory that they fell to the foul devises of the Witch Ylva, who appeared to them as a beautiful maid and made herself available to them. It was then that she turned Stigr and Eluf into the black winged Ravens, and it is said to this day that it is Eluf and Stigr who are present when we see two ravens present.
And so Sigurd, determined to end the terrible reign of the Blood Witch and to return his brothers to their rightful bodies, traversed deep into the Thunderblacks in search of the witch. He defeated a great many terrible beasts along the way until he reached a strange valley, where the rivers ran with blood and the leaves bled when plucked from the trees. It was then that he knew he had reached the valley of the Blood Witch, and when he looked up to the mountain above he could see a terrible spire where the witch resided.
Sigurd made camp to prepare himself for the upcoming battle, gathering his strength and sharpening his great battle axe.
But the Witch Ylva, too, was preparing herself for battle. She knew something that Sigurd himself did not know. She knew the only way to incapacitate Sigurd was to convince him to ingest something taken from the ancient, sacred tree beneath which he was conceived by the great battlemaiden Ida and the demi-god Cuyler.
In the night, Ylva sent her minions disguised as Sigurd's brothers Eluf and Stigr with a cup made of the wood from the tree. Stigr offered the cup to Sigurd, telling his brother that they had escaped the witch's curse to help Sigurd defeat her. Sigurd drank from the cup, choking on the waters as he watched his brothers' likenesses shift into the foul minions of the witch, falling into an endless sleep."The Bard waited while his audience gasped and waited wide-eyed, totally enraptured and awaiting the ending they all knew would come from countless retellings of the tale:
"But the witch did not know that one must fully kill Sigurd, and to kill Sigurd he must fully ingest a part of the tree. Sigurd only drank the essence of the tree, you see, and so he only fell into a sleep. The price for failing to kill Sigurd was that the Witch Ylva herself lost all of her powers, wasting away into near nothingness... Near.
It has been foretold that there will come a time when the Witch Ylva will return to the land to finish its destruction and that at this time Sigurd must be awakened to defeat the witch with the help of a noble warrior. Sigurd will only be awakened if a noble warrior finds his resting place and destroys the cup from which he drank, which is said to still be clutched in his sleeping hand, only to be removed by the noble warrior.The mood in the room darkened as the Bard leaned forward, clutching his own cup tightly like the hero of the tale. He lowered his voice and leaned forward:
"And now there are rumors spreading that the Blood Witch Ylva has begun her return to power in the Thunderblacks... We should only hope that the Hero Sigurd will be reawakened soon."-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Outside the pub in the gray drizzle of the darkening evening, a pair of ravens swooped down into the village to perch outside the pub, awaiting the appearance of the man they would lead deep into the Thunderblacks to awaken the sleeping hero.
Seated in the back of the pub, tucked away in a small, shadowed corner, Eli sipped his drink and listened to the bard's tale with a small smile. It wasn't the first time he'd heard a story of Sigurd- just about every Adelan child knew the name- but he had to admit the way it was told now was quite compelling.
He'd never considered himself a particularly superstitious man, but even he had to admit to a small shiver that ran down his spine as the tale was completed.
Elyan didn't believe the witch had returned, not really. But he had traveled enough to know that at least part of what the bard said was true- strange things had been happening in the Thunderblacks, and blood magic wasn't an entirely far-fetched caused.
Maybe they all really would be better off if someone woke Sigurd.
Chuckling to himself, the werewolf stood and tossed a few coins onto the table he'd been using, wrapping his cloak around himself and making for the door of the pub as inconspicuously as possible. If he shifted, he could make it to the next town before dawn, probably, as long as he started moving now.
He paused outside of the establishment and glanced around with a wide yawn that showed a flash of just-a-bit--too-long canines. Squinting against the ever increasing onslaught of rain, he peered into the graying evening in an attempt to get his bearings.
And suddenly chuckled quietly to himself. Two ravens were perched not far from the door to the pud. He shook his head with a small smirk. Of course. He eyed the pair of black birds with rather disproportionate amusement. "You two come to hear the story?" he asked, voice low and gruff as his eyes glinted with soft humor.
Maybe he should have laid off the ale a bit.
The ravens hopped along the fenceline they were perched on, tilting their heads as if appraising the man before them and looking to one another. They began to caw, croak, and call at one another in the wide array of raven vocalizations, as if in conversation, before the smaller and darker of the pair picked something shining from beneath its talons and held it in its beak.
With the glittering object, the raven swooped over to the man and dropped it at his feet before perching closer to him. The raven stared at the man and then at the object several times over, as if willing the man to pick it up to examine it. The other bird flew over and landed on the ground, hopping forward and pushing the object closer to the man with its beak before looking up at him and giving him an impatient caw.
When Elyan picked up the object, he would find himself holding a very old broach. He would just barely be able to make out the symbol of a great green and black dragon, though the colors were badly faded and chipped. The symbol of Sigurd.
When Elyan was done looking at the broach, he would find one of the ravens looking intently up at him, ready to direct his attention to its brother that was perched on a post, facing rather purposefully in the direction of the wilder reaches of the Thunderblacks. The smaller raven would turn its attention from the mountains to stare directly at Elyan, cawing, before flying to the next post closer in the direction, willing Elyan to follow it.
Utterly bemused, Elyan bent to pick up the broach and examine it. His eyes widened and he blinked, then turned the thing over and over in his hands.
"There's just no way," he muttered to himself, glancing from the old bit of jewelry to the pair of ravens. It seemed like they wanted him to...follow them?
"This is impossible." He shook his head, but found himself taking a hesitant step forward as he tucked the broach absently into the pocket of his trousers. Wary, he sniffed the air.
Well, they smelled like...ordinary ravens. What the hell was going on?
"Alright." He folded his arms with a glare at the birds. "If you're some sort of shapeshifters or fae creatures or...whatever, show yourselves now. I promise you, I'm the last guy you wanna pull one of your little tricks on."
The smaller raven cawed irritably, flying to yet another post in the direction it had indicated and cawed again at him. The larger bird, seemingly more patient, did its best to draw an arrow in the dirt with its beak.
Growing impatient, the smaller bird flew back towards Elyan and deftly untied Elyan's cloak. The larger bird joined it, and together they picked the cloak up and flew it just far enough out of Elyan's reach so that he could not grab hold of it.
They finally stopped when they had reached an old stone bridge just outside of the town, a bridge that had not been used for hundreds of years since Sigurd had crossed it to enter the wild reaches of the Thunderblacks. If he was brave enough, Elyan would step across the dilapidated bridge to where the ravens dropped the cloak. Beneath the cloak lay a scroll, and within the scroll was an ancient map written in Old Adelan depicting a route into the heart of the mountain range. At its heart was drawn a valley, and in the center of the valley was the symbol of a sleeping green and black dragon.
When he was finished looking at the map, he would find that the two ravens were perched on the opposing columns at the far side of the bridge. One turned towards the mountains and one staring directly at him.
"Hey, what the- hey!"
Grumbling and muttering to himself, Elyan set off after the birds with a sour look. "Damn feathered rats," he mumbled, breaking into a steady lope. "Found a bit of sparkle and suddenly I'm seeing all sort of-"
He stopped when the bird flew over the bridge, eyes widening slightly. He knew this bridge- it was this tiny mountain village's claim to fame, if the stories were true.
Were they? Sure, Eli had believed in the legends as a child, but in recent years the idea of some legendary hero just seemed to convenient to be true. Still...
"I must be out of my mind," he muttered, and crossed the bridge. "If I had a bow right now, I'd be roasting raven for dinner," he said loudly in the birds' direction as he bent to collect his cloak. His eyes lit on the map and his jaw just about dropped.
Okay. This was all way too much to just be a coincidence.
"You." He waved the map toward the ravens. "You want me to follow this, don't you?"
The raven facing the mountains turned its head to look at Elyan when he asked his question, taking to the air and flying in the direction indicated on the map. The other bird remained circling overhead to ensure that Elyan did not lose his way, swooping down to prevent him from taking any wrong turns.
Further along his journey stranger coincidences would occur. He would come across stones in the shape of slain giants, or pass caves where weedling whispers could be heard. Somehow, any time that he would find himself in need of food or shelter, the ravens would provide some. They would lead him to protected caves, to giant hollow trees eerily similar to those the tales mentioned Sigurd resting in, or they would bring him berries and roast meats from unknown locations.
As he grew closer to his destination he would come across a small clearing in the woods, the circular pattern of trees around the clearing purposeful. In the middle of the clearing lay an old piece of flint, lying there as if willing him to take it to burn the wooden cup of the legend.
Elyan was half convinced he was undergoing some prolonged hallucination of some sort as he followed the ravens deeper into the mountains. He couldn't quite explain why he was even doing it, he just...was. For some reason he felt like he should.
As they led him into the clearing with the flint, he looked around warily before bending to examine it, then pick it up carefully.
"You want me to...start a fire?" he guessed, looking at the ravens. Even though they never actually answered him, he'd gotten into the habit of speaking to them as though they could over the last few days.
The smaller bird cawed, as if to say, Almost, before flying to the opposite end of the clearing and flying through a curtain of hanging ivy. Once he followed he'd find himself at the base of old, moss-covered stone steps leading upwards.
At the top of the steps opened a large, cold, silent valley seemingly devoid of life. Not a breeze stirred nor a bird chirped, and even the dark red waters of the streams were still and frozen. If he stopped long enough to test the waters, he would find himself capable of walking across them.
The smaller raven flew to the center of the valley and perched itself on what appeared to be a wooden cup nestled on a lumpy patch of moss. The raven pecked at the wooden cup with its beak, though the form beneath the moss was not evident in the least. It seemed as if the cup alone was there.
As the smaller raven pecked at the cup and looked at him, the larger raven made a point to direct his attention to the flint, both trying to show him that he needed to take the cup and burn it. When Elyan would try to pull the cup from the moss, he would find it just a little resistant before it would dislodge.
They must be some witch's familiars or something. That was the only explanation that made any amount of sense.
Still, somehow Eli found himself kneeling by the patch of moss in this bizarre, timeless valley, reaching for the cup. He tugged at it cautiously, found it held firm, glanced at the birds, then tugged again with a little more force.
Thankfully this time it came loose. He looked from the ravens to the flint and cup he now held. "You want me to burn this," he said blandly. "Like in the story."
With a sigh, he sat back and laid both flint and cup on the ground in front of him, shaking his head. "I must be out of my mind," he muttered as he pulled some tried leaves and twigs together to make a piling of kindling.
Even as he worked, he kept casting glances at the birds. It was crazy, it really was, but...
"Eluf?" he said cautiously, not sure if he really expected any sort of answer or not. "Stigr?"
The birds seemed to talk to one another when he finally called them by their names, flying down to the ground in front of the small fire he was preparing. Their eyes seemed eager, and one hopped excitedly and released a triumphant caw when the first flames licked at the cup.
The cup itself at first seemed resistant to the flames, and it took an unnaturally long time for it to actually catch fire. When it did, though, a dark cloud overtook the valley and a low, gravelly groan could be heard from the mountains. The entire valley seemed to be holding its breath until skies broke open and unleashed a heavy rain. A lightning bolt clapped down out of the sky, cracking the cup apart and disintegrating it instantaneously.
It was then that the mossy knoll from which the cup had been taken began to move, though with the rest of the valley coming suddenly to life it might not come to his attention at first. The ravens took off, circling overhead erratically as they cawed and jeered.
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Sigurn opened her eyes to find herself completely enmeshed in moss that seemed to grow all around her, to have grown into her. Tearing wildly at the moss, she ripped it from her throat and her nose and let out a terrible roar of rage. Thinking that the witch had somehow anticipated her arrival and set up an enchantment, Sigurn was entirely unaware of the time that had passed since she had last been conscious. Entirely unaware that she had fallen from drinking from a cup made of the wood of the tree beneath which she had been conceived.
All she knew was that she was on her way to vanquish the witch and save her brothers and the people of Adela.
Her muscles screamed and creaked and groaned like a long unused old door as she rose up and hacked away at the strangling moss. As she emerged from her prison into the storm, her eyes spotted the two ravens overhead. She called to them, voice rough and gravelly from misuse, "Brothers!"
The ravens swooped down and perched on either of her shoulders, the armor she was wearing rusted through and covered in moss and lichen. It was then that she spotted a large form just a stones throw away, and she reached for her crossbow... Only to find its wood rotten and crumbling beneath her fingers. Only her axe, of all things, remained as it had been all those hundreds of years ago, hewn as it had been by the gods themselves and given to her as a reward for her many feats.
Eyes full of justified rage, Sigurn assumed the man kneeling by a now damp and smoking pile of wood had been sent by the witch. Disoriented and weak as she was, Sigurn still managed to grip her axe, preparing to throw it at the man to have it lodge into his skull. Just as she was about to release it, Eluf, the larger of the ravens, dug his talons into her hand and forced her to drop her weapon. "What is this, brother?" She growled out, bending to pick the axe up again. Eluf struck out at her, and she could not bring herself to bat him away.
The ruffling of wings brought her attention about as she saw Stigr fly away. Rising up slowly, she watched as Stigr flew to perch on Elyan's shoulder, seemingly trusting the man. Gripping the hilt of her axe, Sigurn stood to her full height and addressed the man in a deep, gravelly voice. "You there, man. I do not know how or why you have come to the valley of the great Blood Witch Ylva, but my brothers seem to think you friend and not foe. As such, I advise you to leave this place at once. The witch Ylva does not show mercy to the friends of my brothers or myself, and I should hate to see you perish at her hands before I vanquish her."
At first Elyan felt rather foolish. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen, he was just burning a cup.
Then the world seemed to explode around him and he tried to scramble back, only to land on his rear, staring with wide eyes and completely frozen with a combination of shock and fear as a figure emerged from the pile of moss.
The birds had responded to the names he'd called them- Eluf and Stigr, the brothers of Sigurd.
Except the figure that seemed to spring from the earth was distinctly female, despite her height and armor, and apparent aggression. Eli finally seemed to unfreeze and skittered back a bit when she raised her ax, then paused as one of the ravens perched on his shoulder.
He tossed the bird a quick look, then flicked his eyes back to the woman. "You- but- Ylva- what- I'm not- what?!"
Sigurn slowed her speech down, thinking that perhaps the man was a simpleton or perhaps so afraid for his life that he could not form a rational thought. Mortals were often easily frightened and confused. "I, Sigurn Idasdotter, have come to vanquish the great Blood Witch Ylva. You, man, have somehow had the misfortune of finding yourself in her valley of death. I should escort you back to your people, but I fear that Adela is in great peril if I stray from my path now."
She ignored the way that her rusted armor seemed to crack and fall away from her as she hefted the great axe upon her shoulder. "Now that I have escaped her first enchantment, I must climb that great mountain and bury the blade of my axe deep into her wicked skull. Should you still be alive after my victory, I shall return here and see you safely homeward. Rest assured, I shall not fail."
"Stigr, Eluf, come, we shall see you made whole once more."
Sigurn began walking in the direction of the mountain, though she slowed her steps as Eluf swooped in front of her in an attempt to divert her path back towards the man. Sigurn glared at her brother, walking determinedly past him. "I do not know the meaning of your attempts to slow my steps, brother, but rest assured I shall be victorious as we have always been. I shall not rest until the witch has been punished for her great misdeeds against you and the people of Adela." She did not realize just how ironic her choice of words were, for she had been resting for hundreds of years.
Oh boy.
This was really not good.
"Yeah, uh...hey, lady!" Elyan scrambled to his feet and started to trot after her. REalizing "hey lady" might not be the most respectful way to address a legendary hero- was that was she was? Really? Dear gods he was so confused- he tried to amend to, "I mean, ah...Sigurn? Hold on a second."
He fell into step beside her, then attempted to swing around and stand in front of her. Dear gods she was tall, taller than most of the women he was used to dealing with.
"Look, I think you might be a little...confused. You, er- you've been...asleep?" he ventured slowly.
At first she simply walked passed him, bumping heavily into his shoulder. If he wished to follow her, then so be it, but she did not intend to let him get in the way of her mission.
What did make her pause was what he said as he managed to step in front of her. This time, instead of shoving past him, she stopped and barked out a laugh. "Asleep?!" She laughed incredulously, but the laughter began to die from her lips as she looked around herself. Though the valley seemed pretty much the same as it had been before, the mountains around the valley looked slightly different.
A thread of dread coiled around her heart, cold and heavy. "Asleep..." She said again as she looked down at her armor, rusting apart, and then to her brothers who were solemnly watching her. "Surely not..." She said beneath her breath, though the belief was beginning to settle in her.
"No..." She shoved passed the man again with enough force to knock him off his feet as she marched to the base of the mountain, taking her great axe and swinging it with great might into the mountain. A deep, cavernous sound could be heard as first a small crack appeared, and then began to rapidly widen... Something that could not have happened if the witch was still in residence. "NO!" She roared, her rage great as she heaved the axe up again and buried it deep into the mountain a second time. This time the mountain cracked and groaned, giving way beneath her axe to crack in half.
Panting in her anger, she turned and strode back to the man who seemed to know more of what had transpired than she did herself. "How long?" She growled out, her fist tightening around the handle of her axe. "How long have I been asleep?"
Well shit. Now he'd gone and made her angry. Great job, Eli.
The werewolf took an instinctive step back from her anger, the animal in him recognizing her power and trying to get out of the way. "I-I don't know!" he stammered, raising his hands in a universal gesture of peace. "A long time, I don't know...exactly..."
He let out a sharp breath and rubbed at the back of his neck. This was not going to be easy. How was he supposed to break this to her. "Um. A couple hundred years, I think..."
Huh. Just blurt it out, apparently. He glanced to the ravens helplessly. They were her brothers, right? Shouldn't they be helping out with this?
Oh gods. He had to be dreaming or something, there was just no way this was real.
"A couple.. hundred years." Sigurn felt a swell of anger burning in her chest, anger at the countless years wasted, anger towards herself for failing her brother and the people of Adela, anger at the witch and her trickery. Fire engulfed her clenched fists, lighting in her golden eyes, her body tense.
Eluf landed on her shoulder again, digging his talons into her shoulders and cawing loudly in her ear. The pain was just enough to bring her back into control. She took in a deep, sharp breath and closed her eyes, the muscles in her jaw jumping as she clenched it, "Yes, brother, I know."
She released one more deep, laborious breath before opening her eyes again, the fire gone out. "You will tell me what has transpired since then. Everything you know about the witch, my brothers, and I. And how you came by the information of my whereabouts." She looked around the valley, swinging the axe up onto her shoulder once more. "But first, we shall leave this accursed valley." Her stomach emmitted a growl loud enough to sound like a lion's roar. "As well as food and ale."
"Er, see, I'm not sure I'm really the person to-"
Remembering that power in her, the fire and anger, he decided not to finish that thought. "Um...okay. I can do that." He glanced around. "But yeah, I'd love to get out of this place, like now."
He looked to the raven on her shoulder, then the one on his. "You guys gonna play guide again? Cause I'm not entirely sure where the closest town is."
"I know of a place." She said, walking in the opposite direction than where he'd come. "Best ale and whiskey you can find in this mountain range! It is a remote place run by the dwarves, the only race brave or foolish enough not to fear the witch."
Sigurn's limbs that had cracked and groaned in protestation at the beginning of their journey began to loosen as they walked. Her stiff movements became fluid, powerful, purposeful. No mortal man would have been able to keep up with her, but she suspected that Elyan was not entirely mortal. By the look of him, he might have been just a large, well-built man... But Sigurn doubted that.
It did not take as long as it should have to cross the distance to the dwarf town, though her feet slowed as they neared it. The cobble stones beneath their feet were coated in lichen and moss,a good indicator that none had walked the path in good long while. When they reached a bridge, the mountain stream that had once been so plentiful was now dry. Sigurn walked into the stream bed, pushing aside a man-sized boulder to check beneath it for any signs of water. None.
Without speaking to Elyan, she climbed up the other side of the creek bed and entered the town which was empty... No signs of life or past signs of life were evident. The only sign of what had happened was an ancient dwarf ruin carved into the door of the great hall. Sigurn ran her hand over it, "The witch was here."
Sigurn pushed the doors to the great hall open, mood sour and stomach empty. "Stigr. Eluf. Fetch us some food, water." The ravens flew off. She walked over to the barrels of ale and whiskey, tapping into one only to have yeasty dust pour out. She moved to a whiskey barrel, tapped it, and tasted the liquid that came out. She grabbed up two mugs, filling them up before closing off the barrel. She easily held both in one hand, her other pick up two chairs and setting them down beside a fire pit. Coal and ancient wood sat covered in dust in the pit which she lit it up with her hand and sat the mugs down. She nodded towards the mugs, "Drink up."
Sigurn began stripping off her rusted armor, down to moss-stained clothing, before sitting down heavily on the stool with her own mug of whiskey in her hands. She barely acknowledged her brothers as they returned with two fish and clumps of berries, setting the fish on top of the fire.
After some time, she addressed the man, turning her sharp eyes on him. "Before you tell me of what you know of the witch, tell me what you call yourself. Both your given name and what race you are, for no mortal man would keep pace with me." She took a healthy swig of the whiskey, gulping it down like water.
Elyan was considerably stronger and heartier than a human, but even he had trouble keeping up with the legendary warrior. He did his best not to let it show, though he knew he would have been much more comfortable with her pace in his wolf form.
He kept quiet, for the most part, particularly as they neared the now obviously abandoned town. He had a feeling Sigurn was working through some stuff in her head. It had to be pretty shocking to wake after a few centuries and find the world as you knew it had changed around you.
Taking the mug she offered, he perched rather warily in one of the chairs. What was he still doing here? If he had any sense he would make some excuse to the woman and be on his way- he didn't want to get mixed up in gods and heroes and all their nonsense.
Still, Eli watched her carefully, unmoving. He started slightly when she demanded to know what he was, but tried to hide the reaction as quickly as he could. "Name's Elyan," he answered quietly. His voice, naturally gravelly, took on a whole new roughness when he lowered it. "Eli, mostly." He tilted his head at her. "I'm...a shifter. A werewolf."
"I see." Sigurn took one of the fish off the fire, using her fingers to pick it apart and eat in earnest. The grease of the fish dripped down her chin, and she only paused long enough to take a drink of whiskey. Her brothers swooped in again, one dropped another two fish onto the fire and the other setting a bucket of water gently down.
Sigurn took the bucket of water up and drank until half the bucket was empty, setting it down and then addressing Elyan. "The packs of the Thunderblacks were well-respected back in my time. Good about keepin' the prey populations down... Only had to kill one pack that broke off from the alpha pack when they took to killin' people." She picked at her teeth with the rib bone of the fish before plucking up another fish and starting into it slower. "Werewolves can be a respectable kind. Are they still?"
Elyan found himself growing tenser and tenser as she talked about "packs". Gritting his teeth, he muttered, "I...wouldn't know." He cleared his throat and glanced at the fire. "I don't really...associate with others of my kind."
He threw back most of his whiskey in one gulp, then wrinkled his nose. Maybe that hadn't been the best idea on a relatively empty stomach. Of course, at least his werewolf metabolism could help him out there. "I assume there are some good ones out there," he relented after a few moments.
She was not incredibly interested in digging into his past, and it seemed he was hesitant to talk about the subject. It was not her business and she had bigger problems to address. Now that she had enough food in her belly to think a little clearer, she noticed that he had not touched any of the fish provided to them. While she had known werewolves to hold their own drinking, she also knew that she had a much greater tolerance than most. She and her brothers had been known to drink taverns dry.
Pulling a fish off the fire, she sat it on his lap. "Eat." He wouldn't be good to tell her the tale if he was unconscious. "And tell me what you know."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
((OoC: Feel free to be vague if you don't feel comfortable recapping things!))
Elyan was hesitant, but he did his best to tell her everything he knew about the legends that had sprouted up around her and her brothers as he picked at the fish. It was mostly his own recounting of bard stories he'd heard growing up and on his travels.
He tried to hide the fact that she'd been interpreted as a male- but it was rather hard to describe most of the stories he knew without letting that slip.
"So, ah...Ylva has been dead- or something- for a long time now." He shrugged. "But some people think she might have come back."
When he did finally let it slip that the legends had written her down as a man, she released a loud, bark of a laugh and drank another swig from her mug. "Men have always been fearful of a strong woman!"
Her grin did disappear as he continued with the tale, the retelling of a weakness she did not know about. And then the prophecy-like spin to the end of the tale brought a pensive look to her face as she leaned forward and stared hard into the fire.
She looked to Elyan. "Seems I owe you a great deal for your aid, Elyan. Also seems you've been dragged into this," she stared back at the fire, "I have no doubt that the witch has returned. Prophecies do not often tell lies... What have you heard thus far about the witch's return?"
The werewolf shook his head and gave her a helpless sort of shrug. "I've just heard...odd things. Illnesses no one can cure, people disappearing, things like that." Elyan glanced up at her with a concerned sort of frowned. "I didn't really put much stock into it, but well, if you're real- I mean, awake," he hastened to correct, "Then I guess that means...she really is back, huh?"
He leaned back and ran a hand through his mess of hair. "Gods, we are all fucked."
"No. 'We' are not." Sigurn's jaw tightened at his lack of faith in her, though she knew she had earned it. Had she not been asleep and useless for hundreds of years now? What had transpired during that time? "At least the witch was felled for a time, too, after she cursed me to that endless sleep. If she hadn't, then I doubt there would be any Adelans to be 'fucked' as you say."
"I simply must defeat her... I should also see if that tree still stands and destroy it so that it will not ever be used against me again." She gripped her hands together angrily. "Though who is to say that other objects have not been carved from said tree?" She stared down at the wooden mug she held, frowning. "I shall have to avoid eating or drinking off of wooden objects."
She stood up abruptly. "You shall need your strength. Sleep now, and I will maintain watch for the night."
Elyan wasn't quite sure how to respond to her for a moment. There were so many questions, things he knew he should probably say, but what ended up coming out was, "Well...goodnight, then."
He got to his feet and glanced around with a slightly furrowed brow. He'd never particularly liked sleeping on a bare floor, at least not in his human form. He glanced at Sigurn, then gave a mental shrug and started stripping off his clothes with a grunted, "You might wanna turn around."
He folded his clothes rather sloppily and piled them up, then shifted into the form of a russet wolf, the gold flecks in his green eyes growing more pronounced. With a huff, he curled up next to the fire.
Sigurn was not tempted to see him shift, respectfully turning her back to him as she leaned against the wood of the door. She stared out into the night, watching as the rain fell silent and grey on the ghost town. She felt neither the need for sleep nor the need for entertainment, her mind picking apart the story he had told her. It was a lot to consider, which was part of the reason she had ended their conversation so abruptly. She needed time to think about her next move.
It was around 3 a.m., the hour affectionately named the "witching hour" due to the witch's peak of power during the hour, when she heard it. Down towards the palace of the great dwarf king there was a sound like a great, jumble of rocks scraping on sandpaper. The sound of a great beast. It came infrequently enough at first so she did not at first think to investigate, but as it picked up in frequency she pushed herself from the door frame.
Looking over her shoulder briefly, she did not take enough time to see if the sound had roused Elyan. Stepping out into the rain, her keen eyes picked up the slightest of movements coming from the entrance of the king's palace. Loosening her axe in her belt, she began to walk cautiously down the main street of the town towards the palace. Eluf and Stigr swooped above. "Go. Wake the wolf."
Her brothers would find the wolf already starting to wake, ears twitching as he picked up the sounds growing ever nearer.
With a huff and a grumble he got to his feet and looked around. Sigurn was gone. Great. He sniffed the air, then set off, following the trail of her scent- though why he wasn't entirely sure.
Sigurn took out the axe, letting the weight become comfortable in her fist as she neared the palace. There was a steady stream of fumes surrounding the place, green and rotten. It made her head feel a bit dizzy, and she was willing to bet that it would knock out others.
There... Just out of the corner of her eye she spotted the movement again, though she did not jerk around to see it. Whatever it was, she didn't want it to know that she knew that it was there. She did, however, turn her back to the opposite side of houses to have a little more protection for her back.
She could see that Elyan had followed suit, admiring his courage. Though he seemed a bit grudging, he had taken up the quest.
Moving with a hunter's instincts, Elyan tracked down the demigod and slipped through the shadows to make his way to her side. His sensitive nose wrinkled against the scents spilling from the palace and he bit down on a growl.
He nudged the woman's leg with his muzzle and huffed quietly. He really hoped she had some sort of plan, because he sure as hell didn't.
Whatever it was that was slinking around the town did not seem keen to start a make a move yet. Climbing the steps to the front door of the palace, cautiously, she directed the wolf. "Watch the door. Let me know if whatever is around makes any kind of move to advance."
She opened the heavy doors, the muscles in her shoulders jumping as she flung them open. Walking into the front room, it took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark. As they did, she began to make out shapes slumped in the hall, shapes that soon came into focus. All about the hall slumped the resident dwarves.
Sigurn looked over her shoulder to the door, before stooping quickly beside the nearest dwarf. Pressing her fingers against his neck, she waited until she felt a very slow, very faint heart beat. Asleep. All of the dwarves of the hall were caught in some similar enchanted sleep. She recognized some of them, realizing that they, too, had likely been sleeping for as many years as she.
Elyan nodded sharply and took up a guarding stance, teeth bared and hackles raised.
He really did not like the smell of this place. He glanced around for the ravens as he kept watch, wondering where Sigurn's brothers had gotten to in all of this.
The sound of a raven's disgruntled cawing caught her attention, which was followed quickly by a sinister chuckling, a sound that was not entirely humanoid. Leaving the hall to stand beside Elyan, Sigurn could just barely make out the sight of a drastically bobbing head in the heavy smog now seeping through the ghost town. It was the approximate size and shape of a human head, but instead of a human face it appeared to be wearing a grotesque wooden painted mask. The head continued to bob, at first appearing as his as the second story windows of the buildings, before dropping low to the ground and swaying in a wide arch from side to side like a snake's would.
And then the head was followed by a neck... A very long neck indeed, at least the length of a giraffe with the elasticity of a snake's body. The neck was followed by a body like that of a spiny centipede with clawed furred legs with spider-like and lion shape. "What manner of beast is this..." She wondered aloud as she watched the sides of the beast's body suck in a deep breath, before exhaling through gaping gills the noxious gas that laid heavy across the town.
"I was wondering if you would wake, Sigurn. We have been waiting for you." An echoing, sinister voice, still not entirely human, seemed to come from behind the mask. Soon other demon like beasts skittered and crawled from the edges of the buildings, coming in and out of their vision through the billowing smoggy fumes. Sigurn counted nearly four other beasts, though it was clear the one addressing them was either the strongest or the most clever among them. "Come to destroy the tree, have you?"
It was then that Sigurn recalled what her parents had told her of their meeting... They had just recently vanquished a murderous tribe of trolls from the mountains, and on their return they had come across a town of dwarves. They became drunk off of the dwarves' superior beer and whiskey and had lain beneath the great tree of the town to create Sigurn. She turned her eyes towards the city center, and only now did she notice the great cavernous hole where the tree had been.
The scathing sound of chuckling returned. "Not quite all woken up yet, eh Princess?" The beast teased, "The witch came for the tree way back when, before you two had your great meeting. She plucked it right out of the ground and took it away and made that fateful cup for you. Then left us with the order to guard this spot if you should ever come to visit. And now you have, and now both you and the witch have returned! What fun! Watching sleeping dwarves is not as entertaining as it looks."
Sigurn growled under her breath and took a menacing step forward. "And what of the tree? What became of it after the Witch stole it from this place?"
"Who knows?"
"And what keeps the dwarves sleeping?"
"Why me, of course."
Sigurn ran a finger over the blade of her axe, as if entirely distracted by it. "Then you have no purpose to serve me. And..." She looked up quickly, grinning wickedly. "Which means your head had been attached to that ungodly neck for far too long already!" Hefting her axe back mightily, she flung it so that it landed deep into the body of the beast. The other four beasts descended upon them at once and Sigurn took off at a run towards the still living boss beast.
"Take care to stay alive, alright Wolf?" She hollered back at Elyan as she threw herself upon the mighty beast's back, jerking her axe from its body and rolling lightly back onto her feet as it threw her. She swung her axe into one of the three other beasts passing by towards Elyan, taking its ugly pig-like head clean from its body.
Okay.
He definitely had not signed up for this.
I'm gonna kill those stupid birds, Elyan thought as he leaped to the side to avoid an oncoming monster. Because that's what these things were, right? Monsters, in the truest sense of the word.
Sort of put his own life into perspective a bit.
But the werewolf didn't have time to think about that. He dodged this way and that, snapping at necks and legs when they were within reach, but mostly just trying not to get himself killed. Wolves were pack hunters for a reason, they worked as a team to take down big game. Eli was on his own, and it was definitely taking a toll on him.
Sigurn kept an eye on Elyan, though she was finding herself fairly preoccupied with the alpha beast among them. Bending down as she ran at the alpha beast with her axe, she scooped up a large stone and swung it with great might at one of the three remaining beasts attacking the werewolf. It dropped heavily to the ground, the stone lodged deep into its skull.
This seemed to enrage the alpha beast who released another stream of heavier noxious gas, calling back the last two of its pack to its side, leaving Sigurn to face all three without the werewolf to distract them.
As the two remaining smaller beasts charged towards her, she in turn ran towards them at full-tilt. At the last moment she dropped to her knees and swung her ax in a broad swoop across their legs. Both monsters fell forward, still living but incapable of moving, their screams and bellows piercing the air.
Sigurn did not have time to finish them off as the alpha beast swung its great neck towards her, knocking her off her feet. She rolled out of the way as its claws stabbed down into the ground at her and it tried to blow its fumes into her face. Grunting with effort, Sigurn managed to roll far enough away to gain her feet again before throwing her leg over its long, strong neck as it swung at her again. Clenching her thighs around its neck as it screeched in rage, Sigurn began hacking into the flesh of its neck. With each blow the beast became more enraged, until finally she severed its spinal cord and lopped off its head entirely.
Leaping out of the way of the death spasms of the body, the ground where the blood of the creature spilled began to melt away. In strider, Sigurn approached the last two monsters... One had bled out, but the other was still releasing heinous cries of agony. With one last swing of her ax, she buried the blade into the skull of the last monster, effectively silencing it.
Barely even haven broken a sweat, Cass did her best to clean the blade of her axe off on the grass as the smog began to lift from the town. Groans could be heard coming from the great hall of the dwarves, and soon two groggy dwarves stumbled out of the hall. Sigurn looked to Elyan, "You fight well enough for a lone wolf. Now, seems the dwarves have awoken. Come."
Sigurn approached the great hall as doors and windows from around the town began to creak and groan open, and the sound of rushing water from the stream could be heard returning to fill the dry bed.
Panting, Elyan could really only watch as Sigurn dispatched the creatures. A few times he tried to dart forward to help her, but he realized he was more likely to get in the way than anything else.
He gave a low grumble an a huff when she addressed him, rather wanting to say a few things but not really feeling the need to shift back to human form and do so. He followed her to the hall, sticking close to her side and sniffing the air warily.
It was cleaner. Purer. He sneezed and gave a sharp nod of his head. Much better.
Sigurn led them into the great hall of the dwarves, where dwarves were beginning to rise from their deep slumber in confusion. Only some were alert enough to recognize her, some even stumbling to bow before her though she frowned at their actions. She did not deserve such a reception if it had been the fault of her birth and failure as a hero that had caused them such long suffering.
She made her way to the throne room, where she watched as the dwarf queen's servants tried their best to attend to her as she came out of her slumber. The dwarf king, Sigurn assumed, was the pile of bones and armor laid waste at the queen's feet.
Sigurn walked before the queen, who was trying her best to fight her way free from the remainder of the sleeping curse. Unlike others, Sigurn did not feel the need to bow before royalty, and simply waited until the queen was looking at her. "Queen Dathana."
"Sigurn Idasdotter, or should I say Sigurd." The Queen looked haggard, but otherwise no worse for her long slumber, turning an appraising eye on Elyan.
"This is Elyan, the Awakener. It is he who freed me from my slumber, and who in turn is responsible for the reawakening of your city." Sigurn turned towards Elyan and knelt before him, bowing her head, and soon those dwarves who could manage it turned to do the same.
The Queen bowed her head respectfully. "Then we, and the rest of Adela, owe him a great deal of gratitude. I cannot say if we have the proper accommodations for such company... The hero and her savior."
Sigurn smiled, her strong white teeth gleaming in her mouth, "Ah, Dathana, you are ever the practical politician. That is not why we revealed ourselves... But that can wait until you have the opportunity to begin righting things within the city. I came for the details of what came before your slumber." Sigurn pushed herself back up to stand, "But that shall wait until this eve. I will kill a stag and a boar for a feast. Have your people prepare ale and gather some of the harvest. You will find it has awoken, too. We have cause for temporary celebration."
She nodded at the queen, "Until then," before she turned and walked out of the hall and towards the forest. Speaking to Elyan, she asked, "Are you well after our battle, Wolf? Or is it you simply prefer that form to your two-legged one?"
Elyan huffed, a little surprised, when she called him "the Awakener". Another huff, this one slightly uncomfortable, as dwarfs started bowing around him. He shook his head, but couldn't really protest in his current form, so he just lowered his ears against his skull and tried to look smaller than he was.
He was quite frankly relieved when Sigurn stating that she would go hunt seemed to imply he'd be going with her and trotted back outside, trailing just behind her rather like a loyal hunting hound- though once the comparison crossed his mind he found it grated a little.
He gave a soft, chuffing bark at her question- a wolf's laugh- then took human form. He wasn't quite sure where his clothes had ended up, so he sat cross-legged in an attempt to afford himself some modesty so he could answer.
"I'm not hurt, if that's what you're asking, just a few bruises. But I didn't want to look like this-" he gestured to his state of undress- "in a hall full of strangers."
For some reason, he had a feeling his nudity wouldn't bother the woman. She didn't exactly seem like the blushing maiden type. "Until I can get a hold of a change of clothes, I'll probably stay as the wolf."
Sigurn looked over his form, shrugging, "I see no reason for you to hide, you have quite a pleasing form for a man. And," she added as a smile curled along the edges of her lips, "I do not think any dwarf women would find reason to look too long on you. They prefer their men..." She rolled her head as if thinking on it as she began to walk away from him, "Hairier. Nonetheless, we could both do with some better clothing. And armor. And although a dwarf city is not the best place to find anything perfectly suitable, I'm certain they can locate something acceptable."
She turned around to look at him again, and though she was not quite leering, it was clear she did not mind looking on him. It had been quite some time, after all, since she had lain with a man, and her godly blood did give her a hearty appetite for more than just food and drink. She stopped a passing dwarf, "Find some clothing for my companion and I, will you? And bring them to the guest cottage on the outskirts of town. I assume you had no guests visiting before the curse?"
"Yes, m'lady. Of course, m'lady. No, m'lady." The dwarf diverted his course as Sigurn continued on towards the cottage she had once stayed at, turning to look at him if he had yet to follow. "Are you coming, then?"
Elyan found himself chuckling at her observation. He wasn't one to blush, but he definitely noticed the way her eyes lingered, and the wolf perked up with sudden interest.
Whoa, down boy. She was a demigod. What possible interest could he hold for someone like her?
"I'm not so worried about that," he laughed softly. "It just seemed impolite. Particularly in the presence of a queen and a hero- heroine?- or legend." Seeing the approaching dwarf, he shifted quickly back to wolf form and got to his feet with a stretch and a huff.
He gave another of those chuffing laughs as Sigurn turned to him and nodded, trotting after her with his tail sweeping in slow wags behind him.
"You'd do well to forget my title, Wolf. But in front of a queen, I suppose one might want to preserve their modesty. I've never put much thought into it." She crossed over a stone bridge covered in moss, the river beneath again strong and swift as it should have been when they first arrived.
The stone cottage was not in the best state, but it had held up surprisingly well throughout the ages. There was no door to open, for it had clearly once been wooden and had rotted away. Instead of going inside, Sigurn dropped her axe beside the door and removed what little bit of her armor remained intact enough to have stayed on her. She looked up at the roof where her brothers swooped down to perch. "Eluf, Stigr, return to the city to keep an eye on things and return to alert me if need be."
Once the pair had flown off, a small grin could be seen growing on Sigurn's face as she turned her back to Elyan. "Now, Wolf, I prefer speaking with my hunting companions, so..." she lifted her shirt over her head to reveal a strong, shapely back covered in green and black tattoos of battles and dragons. "I shall join you to make you feel more comfortable." She kicked off her boots and unbuckled her pants, leaving the pathetic scraps of her clothing in a pile on the ground and rounding on him. Without any signs of embarrassment or modesty, Sigurn ducked into the cottage and returned wielding two slings made of stone that the dwarves kept in the cottage for the children of guests.
"Any good with a slingshot, Wolf?" She held it out to him, welcoming him closer to her, the smirk on her face wicked as well as alluring.
He blinked as she started to strip, then laughed softly as he reared up onto his hind legs, becoming human.
"You're not a nervous woman, are you?" he noted, stepping forward. "Not afraid of getting cold or anything?" Well, if she was fine with it, he saw no reason why he should be bashful.
He eyes te sling she offered and took it with a shrug. "I'm passable. I hunt better with a bow, or as a wolf, but who am I to deny a lady conversation." He grinned, and the expression was- well, wolffish, eyes flicking over her form with not so subtle interest.
She grinned and quirked an eyebrow at him, gesturing to her body. "And why should I be? This body is strong and handsome, is it not? I have yet to find a man not pleased to look upon it." She set off towards the woods in a confident stride. "And cold, heat, illness, nor injury rarely affect me. I am a demigod, after all." She winked at him, though a momentary darkness clouded her features. "Up until that damned witch, that is. Makes me look twice at the trees in these woods, and what a simply splinter might do."
She continued on, and though there was snow upon the ground in some places, she did not seem bothered. "Aye, but these dwarves are not overly fond of bows... Their limbs are far too short." She began walking backwards so she could continue to look upon him, seemingly content to momentarily distract herself with him instead of fretting over the witch. She wasn't one to worry overmuch, though she did certainly keep her mind occupied with thoughts of the near future.
There was a wicked glint in her eyes as she continued her backwards travel, deftly avoiding roots, trees, rocks, and holes. Yes, she would like to have a roll around with this wolf. There was nothing better than a good roll in bed after a battle.
Elyan grinned at her confidence. Well, it wasn't like it was ill-founded. He chuckled quietly to himself as he trailed after her through the woods.
Once or twice he almost warned her about a root or bush behind her when she began to walk backwards, but she seemed perfectly capable.
He caught the look in her eye and tilted his head to the side. "Hey now, lady. Just what are you planning to hunt out here?" His tone was light, but his eyes glinted with a predatory sort of light that he really couldn't help.
Oh, I intend to catch the boar and the stag, as promised. Those will be easy."
Sigurn caught his gaze and held it as she stopped and stepped forward to meet him, only an inch shorter than he was. She could feel the warmth of his skin from where she stood, leaning forward so her lips brushed against his ear, "Though I've never hunted werewolf before..."
She trailed a strong hand down his chest to his stomach, stopping just above his manhood, maintaining firm eye contact with him all the while. "Can you tell me, Wolf, do werewolves make good... prey?"
Eli's breath hitched and he resisted the urge to close his eyes as her touch traveled south, willing his body not to respond to her- at least not with the embarrassing quickness that it wanted to.
Gods, how long had it been since he'd had a tumble? Longer than he really wanted to admit.
"'Fraid not," he rasped out, already gravelly voice gone even lower and rougher. "It's the wolf instinct, see? We're better hunters than we are...hunted."
He swallowed thickly and met her gaze, trying to ignore the heat she seemed to bring to the surface of his skin. "Y'know, m'lady, I really like the idea that I wouldn't have to bend in half to kiss you," he muttered without thinking. "Most girls are so tiny- feel like I'm gonna break 'em."
She relished in the way that he reacted beneath her touch and fought down an even larger smile, loving how he was still trying his best to pretend that he did not fully get the euphemism that they had been using.
When he compared her height and strong body to that of "girls" as he called them, her smile really did grow. It was a cocky smile as she stepped even closer to him, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest as she reached a hand up and tucked a strand of hair back behind his ear. "Oh, silly Wolf..." The grin grew wider, sensual, as she drew her face ever nearer to his. "I'm not the one you need to worry about breaking."
She closed the gap and took his lips, slowly, teasing him by drawing it out and then pulling back to level him with a satisfied grin... A grin similar to a cat in a fish market who managed to sneak off with a bit of the catch. "You're right... Wolves don't make for good prey."
His eyes widened slightly and he realized he hadn't really expected her to do anything- teasing was one thing, but it had been months since a woman had shown any real interest in him...though that may have been partially his fault, come to think of it.
A low, rumbling growl that wasn't angry at all built in his chest and he just had time to begin to respond to the kiss before she pulled away.
His hands slid to her hips, cautiously pulling her flush against him, and he had to bite back a soft groan at the sensation. "How, uh...how fast do we have to get back?"
It had been centuries since she had been with a man, or woman, not that she was terribly picky at the moment. Not that she was complaining about her options... He was a fine man to choose and did not seem about to baulk at her actions or make her feel as if she were pressuring him into it. That was the problem with being a demigoddess and famous heroine, she supposed... Many men were cowed by her strength, height, success, etc. The list could go on for quite a long time. While her demigod brothers, on the other hand, had an incredibly easy time women. Her own people admired strong and powerful women, but they did not always like to bed them.
Sigurn purred her own pleasure as she let him pull her into him, watching him closely as she read the signs of unease and lust running across his face. He was certainly having his doubts, but did not seem to allow them to hold him back... She liked that in a man.
Her golden eyes held his as she responded blithely, "Oh, I suppose we should take our time. Dwarves are not morning folk, even when they have not been sleeping for a very long time." She rubbed herself against him, delighting in the sensation of his skin against hers, "And demigods do not like to rush the... hunt... Especially not after they have been without for a very long time."
A soft grunt was pulled from his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm himself.
Which really didn't help, because it just pressed them closer together. "Aw, hell," he muttered, blinking his eyes open to look at her with something that could politely be called "desire" but was closer to a primal hunger.
"Well, see, that puts me in a bit of a delicate situation," he rasped out. "I mean, breaking a dry spell can be a...big deal. Wouldn't want to disappoint you or anything..."
His voice trailed off as his eyes flicked down to her lips, then he really couldn't help himself. He leaned into her and slid his lips over hers almost questioningly, one hand smoothing up her back to press between her shoulder blades and the other digging more firmly into her hip.
She chuckled at that, prepared to respond again before he leaned in to kiss her. She was certainly enjoying herself so far, and even if he wasn't the best he would at least be able to take the edge off. She tugged on his lower lip, pulling on it before she broke the kiss. "I've heard werewolves make for ... wild... lovers. I'm certain you won't disappoint."
Sigurn responded beneath his hands, her own trailing down from his shoulders to his firm rear, pulling him firmly against her. "But if you would rather we go back to hunting instead, I understand..." She leaned forward and ran her tongue along the outside of his earlobe. "Now that... Would disappoint me."
Elyan actually shivered under her attentions, another growl rumbling in his chest. "Yeah. That's not happening for a while," he muttered.
In a sudden burst of boldness, he gripped her thighs and pulled her up against him, wrapping her legs around his waist and using one hand to support her rear while the other tangled in her hair, lips moving to nurse at her neck. He clutched her as close as he could, every inch of lean, hardened muscle pressed against her.
He suddenly paused a moment, panting lightly against her skin, suddenly nervous he may have pushed too far too fast. What could a demigod do to him if she thought he was being too forward?
But, well...she had said she wanted wild...
Sigurn moaned in appreciation as he picked her up and attended her neck, feeling the strong grip of his hand against her flesh had her itching with pleasure. He was stronger than human men, that was certain, and she liked it. That he pushed past his uncertainty and fear of retribution thrilled her, too... Most men were stiff and constantly questioning, never making any advances. More often than not Sigurn had become accustomed to just having her way with men and leaving them.
Elyan's boldness thus far, however, might warrant a revisit to his bed at some point in the future if he would have her. She was, at the end of the day, just a woman with needs of her own. God blood aside, Sigurn still enjoyed the warmth of another body in her bed at night.
She noticed when he paused, and was torn between taking control of the situation as she always did, and giving him another shot at handling things. It was hard for her to rein in her strength at this point, especially now that she was already so... excited. But she did her best to only slightly force her rear further down until it grazed the length of him, tempting him again as she leaned forward and nibbled on his neck.
His breath left him in a shuddering sigh and he pressed his lips against the curve of her shoulder. "Damn," he whispered hoarsely. "Look, just- fair warning, it's...been a while."
He smirked against her skin. "Not thousands of years, but a while."
He twisted to back them against a tree- he though it might be beech, something smooth enough that the bark shouldn't irritate her back too much- and tilted his head to claim her lips again, growling quietly.
His hips rocked forward against hers, almost testing, leaning how she felt, and he groaned quietly. Panting, he nipped at the shell of her ear, then murmured, "Just- hit me if I screw up or something."
Much more gently than his nips and kisses and his grip on her flesh would suggest, he pressed forward against her, then, slowly, into her.
"Only hundreds," she corrected, her voice raspy with desire, "Probably..."
She smirked against his lips when he suggested she hit him if he screwed up... The very thought of it seemed humorous. If she hit him, she could probably break him, though his bones felt solid beneath her fingers as she pressed into them.
The speed he slid into her was excruciating, and she could not keep her hips from bucking forward to fully take him. The satisfaction of being filled was almost too much for her at first, not having realized how pent up she had actually been. She pulled her hands away from his skin, noticing bruises were they retreated, and dug them into the bark of the tree to secure herself for him. She was lucky her first after her "dry spell" was a werewolf... She'd have broken the bones of a normal man just by what she had done.
She could not recall struggling with her strength this much since she had first lost her virginity... The man had nearly died. Not something she thought necessary to share with Elyan, though now that they were in the throes of it she felt a good degree of guilt and responsibility.
"Ah..." She sighed out in pleasure as he thrust into her again, her own hips rolling eagerly into his. After the first small wave of pleasure had her clenching around him, she felt some measure of control return, allowing her to lift one hand to tangle in his hair and pull his mouth against hers. She hoped any reservations he had were being left behind, because she was just beginning to get a good feel of him.
Eli groaned against her mouth and started to fall into a rhythm, picking up the pace with which he thrust into her with a few soft grunts and growls.
He could feel the bruises she brought to the surface of her skin, but he really didn't give a damn. In fact, it was sort of liberating- he honestly wasn't sure how gentle he could be after so long, with so much pent up energy.
With a low, rumbling growl, he whirled them away from the tree and pressed her down onto the ground, arms braced to either side of her head as he started to pump into her with a growing need.
"Gods," he panted, clenching his eyes shut with a low rumble that was rather like the canine version of a purr. The force with which he started to buck his hips against hers would have certainly been bruising for a human, but he had a feeling she could take it. He dipped to kiss her shoulder, then nipped gently, not breaking the skin.
Sigurn cried out in pleasure against his mouth when he began to drop the reservations he had seemed to have. A growl of pleasure erupted from her own throat as he began to thrust into her with growing fervor, and she was only momentarily amused by his exclamation to the gods. She imagined it might be humorous of her to respond in the affirmative, though she was never too sure if others would misread her as being too arrogant as a demigod.
As his pace heightened she wrapped her hands around his waist, only to slam one into the ground as he reached even deeper within her. The vibrations scattering throughout the earth around them from her punch only served to heighten the pleasure of the act.
She decided he had shown her he was willing and able to handle more than most. Taking her hand she fisted it in his hair, and with her knees on either side of his hips she easily threw him over and onto his back. She rode astride him, first gripping his chest against her palms, then falling forward to fist the earth at either side of his head, her blonde hair falling in a curtain around them as she balanced between protecting him from her true strength and having her way with him.
Elyan's eyes widened slightly as he suddenly found himself on his back, then he laughed, breathless and hoarse. "There you are," he rumbled, smirking up at her. The hint of smugness disappeared quickly though and he groaned, eyes fluttering closed as he threw his head back and arched his back up into her, doing his best to match her rhythm with movements of his hips.
Deciding to push his luck a little, he let his hands skim up her sides to grip her breasts gently, arching up in an attempt to catch her lips in a kiss.
"Holy-" He groaned, eyes slamming shut. "Not sure...how much longer I can hold out," he panted.
A half-smirk rose to her lips as he became more brazen, cupping her breasts in his hands and kissing her again. So when he admitted that he wouldn't last much longer, she wasn't too disappointed and picked up the rhythm of her hips.
She would save the teasing for later, instead focusing on bringing herself up to speed so she could finish with him... Though if she was being honest she could have kept going for days now that she was going again. Not that she knew of any available men that might have the same stamina.
He groaned again, nipping at her collar and breasts before moving up to trail heated kisses along the column of her throat, doin his beat to work what pleasure points he knew in an attempt to match her, though he got the distinct feeling his mortal stamina wasn't really a match for hers.
He held out longer than he really expected of himself, ending such a dry spell, and when he finally found his release he jerked his hips up against her with his last burst of strength and clutched her to him, hold flaring in his eyes as he bit down in her shoulder with a low, moaning growl.