Among the Shadows (closed)

Although far from the home he grew up in, Tyr Woden had settled outside of the Blackpine not too long before. It was equal parts desire and necessity. The young man had skills that few others in the world had, and that was the ability to take down the myriad monsters who could be found throughout the world, and since the taint of evil had latched itself to the Blackpine no region in the world served the needs of a monster hunter more. Although the Hunt pumped through the veins of Tyr's body, every monster brought to its knees added to the legend of the Hunter, and the money and fame were not things Tyr particularly shied away from.

Tyr never aked to be one of the mythic hunters that the people of the world spoke in hushed reverence about, no he was born into it. It had been the duty of his grandmother and uncle before him, and then he took up the mantle. There was however a twist in Tyr's path to the Hunt that most others never experience.

When Tyr was but a child he walked through hell itself the night his uncle was torn apart by demonlings at the behest of an old and powerful demon who swore revenge for his brother. Tyr and his grandmother never found out exactly what happened to the boy, but some priests believed Tyr's connection to the Hunt is so strong that his uncle called from his death which allowed him to walk where no mortals should walk.

As the Hunter walked through the twisted forest, searching for a necromancer who had been conducting experiments affecting a small settlement, Tyr reflected on the story spun by the priests. When he was younger, subjected to harsh training by his grandmother, he believed he was something special, something more than even legendary hunters. As Tyr grew older, he believed it less and less, and that he was just equal parts good and lucky, with a fearlessness unmatched.

His boots shuffled across the dirt, deftly avoiding roots and underbrush. His small hand crossbow and quiver slung across his back while his gloved hands fingered the hilts of his daggers every so often. His hood from his midnight blue cloak pulled over his head when he stopped, to pull it down, his black hair and tough beard shimmered in the pale moonlight. He sniffed in the air deeply, and picked up more than the usual rotting vegetation odor the Blackpine had to offer.

"Magic...nature magic," he noted as he turned and quickly grabbed the crossbow and armed it in rapid time.

There he saw the figure of the woman who had shown him kindness that rarely existed in such a harsh world, the witch who rescued him and saved his life back when he had less experience and sense than guts. He holstered the crossbow back on his back.

"My protector returns," he mused, "to what do I owe the pleasure, Gabriela?"

Gabriella wanted to throw her arms around him and thank the goddess that she had finally found him. She had been a naive girl once, before she fully understood what she was capable of. Magic ran thick through her veins, which also could attract the wrong attention. When Merrick became obsessed with her, Gabriella thought on what to do. Her mind instantly went to Tyr. He was one of the few honorable men she knew.

Hunters ran through these lands in thick droves, trying to kill anything that was different but not Tyr. She had sensed something different about him when she first found him and it rang true. "Tyr, oh thank the goddess. I am in need of your help." She was still breathless from the run from the neighboring village. Her adament admirer had pursued her relentlessly. "A warlock, Merrick Ravencrow, is after me. Idiot wants to unleash some kind of hellspawn on this world."

Gabriella became dizzy from breathing too hard and had to clasp Tyr's arm to steady herself. Her long auburn hair swayed about her form as the wave hit her. "He wants to mate with me...to bring this evil thing from me. I didn't know what else to do...and then I thought of you." A light blush tinged her cheeks. She liked him, that much was true, even attracted to him. Gaby had little experience with men in any way.

"If he finds me, then this world is doomed." She grasped both his arms, desperation in her clear green eyes. "You have to help me, Tyr. I know of no one else who can."

Tyr wasn't one for smiling, but seeing Gabriella again did make him turn up the corner of his mouth, even though it was a little tough to see through his beard. He thought about the girl who had saved him, protected him from a demon taking advantage of a young hunter's naivety. She nurtured him with herbs and staved off the demon with protective wards. At the time, he didn't want to leave that hut just outside of a village in the woods of the Kaer kingdom. However, the hunter's blood made him leave, on to the next village to slay a monster for gold. The one time he did smile, fully showing his teeth, was years later when he got revenge on the demon that almost ended him, and he thought of his protector.

His slight grin turned into a look of stern consideration. Tyr listened to the auburn haired witch ramble a bit, a great fright had gotten into her. As she started to make more sense, she told him about the warlock looking for her. Ravencrow she said, a name that Tyr had heard about in taverns as well the great halls of lords and countesses. He was a bad man who had become a little too interested in the black arts for his patrons. Now it seems he had gone beyond the respected position of Court Wizard to the black listed title of warlock, like Isigof, the necromancer he was currently was hunting.

Once she said hellspawn, his concern had grown grim. There were always tales, myths, and prophecies about world destroyers being born of shadows, but whenever a pitiable warlock tried to do anything, they were usually stopped long in the planning stages. This was different however. Ravencrow was powerful, extremely so. He had been educated in the finest academy in the south, served in some of the finest courts over the continent, and fallen prey to his own ambition. Now that ambition had grown to the point where only the apocalypse could satisfy him.

"Gabriella," he said setting his hand on her slender shoulder, "tell me how I can help. With everything you have done for me...I owe you anything. Do we have time to make it to the village south of here?"

For a moment, Gabriella felt a surge of relief at his willingness to help her. "Yes there is time but we must be swift. Merrick had eyes everywhere." She was grateful that he was so skilled. They easily made it to the small village. What needed to be done must be spoken of behind closed doors. Yes, she was a witch but she was also a shy but sweet woman in many ways.

There was an inn owned and operated by a very old friend of hers, a grandfather of sorts. Powerful wards protected what was his. Gabriella took a wash cloth and dabbed at a small cut on her neck. It had been made by Merrick's dagger. It had been a tense moment when he had her by the hair and was prepared to rape her to accomplish his mission. She had kneed him in the balls and ran like hell. A warlock was still a man afterall and they all had that one weak spot.

Dinner was sent to the small room where they stood. "Forgive me for staying silent all this time but I wanted to wait until we were safe." She took a breath and sat on the warm bed, trying to form the words she needed to say. "Merrick first came to me pretending to be a suitor. Like alot of males, he assumed I would be flattered and not question his intentions." She scoffed. "I am no fool."

Gaby stood and grabbed the ale that sat with their dinner, taking a big gulp. This was not going to be easy. She could already feel the blush raging in her cheeks. "When I found out what he truly wanted, I did all I could to repel him. He murdered my brother Ivan to get at me. Merrick needed a virgin witch, pure in heart and spirit to give birth to his creature." Her hands shook a little at the memory of his attempt at raping her. She prayed that it would fade one day.

"That is why I came to you. I trust you, Tyr and to be honest, always sort of fancied you." By the Goddess, this was hard to say. "I want to be with you. If I am no longer a virgin, Merrick can no longer use me. Once that is done, we can find a way to end him. That creature can never take its first breath, Tyr. It would do so much damage to this world."

As they sat in the room, Tyr sipped earnestly from his ale thinking about how some other hunter would probably reap the reward for bringing down Isigof. Losing out on money was never an experience that Tyr relished, but the room was free, as were the food and drink, and he wouldn't have to sleep in the damp, dreary Blackpine tonight. He also was in the soft, gentle company of the auburn haired witch.

Gabriella methodically told Tyr exactly how Ravencrow had planned to bring about a world destroyer and it fit with one of the famous prophecies. It went along the lines of twisting beauty into ugliness to bring forth destruction, or something close to that. Tyr was never one to memorize exact lines of poetry, or lyrics to famous ballads. He mostly was interested in the gist of things, if at all.

Then Gabriella made a request that made Tyr nearly spit out his ale, but instead he gulped it. He had always believed the witch was beautiful and soft, but he had never thought of her in a carnal way. She was too pure and bright and kind, but he did owe her his life, and it's not like he didn't have the urge now. He especially was taken with the way she fancied him.

He sat up from the chair, his cloak, leather armor and weapons were over in the corner. Tyr walked over to Gabriella in his gray tunic and trousers. His hand, calloused from years of hunting, stroked her cheek, brushing the hair behind her ear.

"Of course, Gabriella," he said softly, "I love you, but I haven't thought of you like this..."

Tyr rested his other hand on the small of her back and took her chin between his thumb and fore finger. He kissed her softly, understanding it may have been the first time he had tasted a man's lips. He could feel his pulse racing faster than any time before, even facing down the demon that had once almost killed him didn't make his heart beat as fast.

"Until now," he finished his thought as he broke the kiss. He looked at her and lifted his tunic over his head, throwing it to the floor. His body was defined, but also covered his scars, some faded from years ago, some fresh.

Gabriella could barely breathe when he touched her cheek. During their time together, she had developed an affection for Tyr, one that became a bit of a crush. She had never said anything, thinking they were too different. Strange how her circumstances led her straight to him. No one had ever touched her intimately. Gaby had felt like an outcast most of her life but not with him.

The kiss was tender, a gentle exploring of her lips. She sighed into the kiss, giving back what she could in her naivete. The newborn lust blooming inside her body made her ache. These sensations seemed so foreign to her. Gabriella felt dazed as he pulled back to remove his tunic. The scars in no way diminished his appeal.

Without even thinking, Gaby knelt on the bed, facing him. Gently she placed little kisses on each scar on his upper body. She worked her way up until they were eye to eye with one another. Her fingers began to unlace the bodice of her dress, working it off so that she was naked from the waist up.

Gabriella had a creamy complexion with soft round breasts that had soft pink nipples. Her skin was lightly scented with jasmine oil, giving her a soft texture. She leaned closer, her hands feeling up his chest. "Is it bad that I want this? with you?" She trusted him completely, loved him but never said it. Their lips met again but this time, the hunger reigned supreme.

Gaby pressed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her naked breasts into his warmth. Sinking into the kiss, she moaned, feeling her naked skin erupt in little shivers.

The hunter's senses were clouded by the ethereal beauty of the virginal witch in the dark room of the inn, by the heat given off between each of their bodies. Hers was soft and smooth as his was hard and textured from scars, muscles, and whatever else distorted it. Her lips were supple and silky against his, and her tongue tasted of spicy wine, a taste Tyr would often crave to warm him up on cold nights in the wilderness as he stalked and made prey out of the world's most fearsome predators.

As he tasted her, felt her round breasts pushed against him, he wanted to lose himself in the entire experience of it all. He had begun to anyways, the way his vision was distorted by the dancing flames of candelight in the room. His nostrils filled with the flowery, earthy scent of his former protector providing an almost intoxicating feeling. His ears filled with the tender sound of lips on lips, her skin felt hot beneath his touch. However, Tyr's clouded mind shifted to the predicament.

He broke the kiss and sat down on the bed, taking her with him. As she sat there quietly, Tyr removed his wool trousers and the small clothes containing his engorged manhood. He then pushed Gabriella back a little less than tenderly. He pushed her skirt up over her stomach, revealing a pair of small clothes which Tyr quickly removed.

The hunter felt bad about extinguishing the sweet tenderness of the experience in the last few moments, knowing it must have confused the witch. However his hunter's sense for danger had come back to the forefront of his mind. The faster Gabriella lost her purity, the faster she was no longer going to be a victim of Ravencrow. Even if the warlock was miles away from that inn, Tyr didn't want to take the chance.

He climbed on to the bed, his naked body hovering over hers. He held himself up with one hand on the bed, the other gripped his member. He rubbed the head of it up and down the nether lips of the virginal witch. They were slick with her own excitement. He didn't want to hurt her, but he wanted to make her safe as quickly as possible.

Tyr found the entrance to her canal and pressed the head in a bit. She was extremely tight.

"Sorry, my lady," Tyr said quietly and sternly, "but this may hurt."

He pushed himself in, reveling in the warmth and wetness, struggling against the taut skin.