Tangled Skeins

[sombrablanca]

The low lying fog is a frequent companion to the land. The river's flow constantly adds moisture to the air, so every morning there it is. However, the tall shadow that moves through it is not. The soft clank and clop, the jingle of metal now and again that all war clad chargers make has never rung across the hollow before. The glint off gleaming platemail is dulled by the light absorbing precipitation, that moves slowly but surely through the morass has never gleamed in the warm afternoon light of the lowland afternoon.The Northmen have never traveled this far south before.

This day however, a form emerges. First an onyx armored head, ears flicking a bit, nostrils flaring as the Northerner's steed steps forward. Then the top half of the tall half seen form is revealed. Full onyx platemail, engraved with protective runes, and crafted by the finest smiths of his kingdom , covers the arms and body of the rider, hiding his features from any who might look upon him from the feet in the stirrups, to the hand on the reins and the other at his side, resting against the pommel of his war axe, to the helm that covers his features, the horns sprouting like a dragon's not just for show. The blinding, deafening fog would hide the presence of predators, making both rider and horse a bit skittish, on edge, and ready for a fight.

However, all they see on the other side of the barrier is a shaded lane. The figure notices that as he moves, there is nary a breeze, or sound of animal. It is unnatural, keeping him even more wary. He proceeds down the lane, noting the fruit fields to either side. All seem to be in season, though he knows several should not be. Further he sees fields, and what appears to be life, a few men working in a field. Yet they do not respond to his presence. As he gets closer he notices they aren't moving, frozen in the act of tending the crop. He thinks back to the prophesy given him. It seems he finally nears his journey's end. He spurs his mount on with a small nudge to the flanks, galloping through a few small houses and out buildings, perhaps a village? The regal figure continues, the many blades and spikes adorning his armor gleaming as the sun slowly rises.

The figure only pauses when a small castle comes into sight, the drawbridge down, but the portcullis as well. He regards the bars blocking his path, then makes a soft, growling, almost snarling incantation that forces the portcullis to rise. He does not see the flash and spark of magic behind him as he passes under the arch into the castle proper. The Chief's heir has finally found the place promised to lift his curse.

 

[BeautifulDream]

The sensation of a close stranger was too strong to ignore, but the coma was far stronger. It wouldn't allow the eyes to open, the body to move.

All she could do was lay there, helpless, as someone approached. That was her curse, to rest forever in this castle until one with power can release her. Her body laid stiff and pale, having not moved in a decades. Her beautiful face had not aged in the passing years. Another part of the curse...

She had no idea of her surroundings, only the darkness she had grown accustom too. She could hear the creaks as the wind blew against the shutters. She could feel the soft cushions she laid upon. But she could not move, could not will her body awake.

She was once a princess. Once upon a time. But out of jealousy, a witch cursed her into this coma and took her place within the kingdom.

She thought at the beginning her body would age and would soon die, but that thought disappeared after the first decade. She knew no hunger, no thrist, only the loneliness that filled her heart.

Still she waited.... waited to be released.

 

[sombrablanca]

He slips quietly through the castle. There are no people here, unlike the small village and fields. The globes of magical illumination are dim, though they slowly begin to brighten as he prowls about, looking for foes or anything out of the ordinary. He sees nothing as his plate whispers with his movements. The runes deaden the sound as the onyx shifts with his body. He carries a hand and a half sword in his left hand while a large square shield with his clan's crest, a black Sea Dragon twined around a crimson rose, the flower most prevalent in his homeland covers his right arm..

The library, kitchen, cellar, four bedrooms, a bath area, and the other things to generally be found in a manor castle are as plainly ordinary though he thinks he may see a few spell tomes on the library shelves. He works his way up the building slowly, methodically searching. He has little information at this point. All he knows is that his fate lies within, at the top most tower, whatever it will be. He approaches the tower from the third floor of the castle, treading the stairway til he reaches the last door. Having triggered nothing thus far, he reaches out with his senses, but is unable to feel anything still. His hand reaches out to push the door inwards.

A howl suddenly rips from his throat, filling the castle with the feral sound. It is pure, unadulterated hunger. Blood, mating, fighting, everything primal. His curse rises, filling his body with heat, a burning need so strong it nearly blots away his mind. He barely holds onto his sanity though. His fist slams into the door, causing the thick marble around it to crack. Stone dust sifts to the floor. His breathing is ragged, strained, off kilter. His armor is suddenly too tight. It feels too hot as his blood rages through his body, an instant, painfully hard erection throbbing in time with his rapidly beating heart and the hunger it mirrors. The door itself crumbles as the ward that infused it draws and draws upon that hunger, then implodes when it can take no more.

 

[BeautifulDream]

Fear filled her mind as the sound of foot steps were heard. Her mind raced at who could possibly be coming into her chambers. The steps sounded heavy and coming closer to her. She willed her body awake to defend herself, but… nothing. Her body wouldn’t obey her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t scream.

The stairs… the intruder was coming up the stairs. She could hear heavy breathing and large steps. It must be a large man, powerful. That made her fear grow even more. She was defenseless against him. Even if she could move, could open her eyes to find a weapon, he would most likely be stronger than her. There was no hope.

Her heart raced as the vigorous steps stopped nearby. She could tell they were still a good distance from her, but he was close. It was quiet for a moment before the hedges squeaked as the door was pushed open, and a loud howl echoed through the tower. Her heart stopped as her eyes flung open. Her lungs expanded as her body took in a large breath, before dropping into rapid gasps. She was awake! She couldn’t believe it. She felt overwhelmed with joy before her thoughts turned to the thing that wakened her.

The howl… how had it awaken her? Her mind raced, as she tried to find an answer to that question. The only solution was he must be one of the witch's henchmen.

She moved quickly, pushing herself from the soft cushions, falling to hard stone floor below. Her legs were stiff and hurt as she crawled toward a corner. Her eyes hurt as the light, even though dim, assaulted her eyes. She struggled to grasp her bearings. The room she spent decades in was now actually visible, the white padding onto of stone that was her bed, the wood covering the window that she heard creaking when the wind hit it.

But finally her eyes laid upon the large armor covered man in the doorway. She pushed herself back her, arms wrapping around herself for the small protect they offered. “Pl…” she gasped trying to find her voice. “Ple--- please… don’t… hurt… me…” It came out only as a small whisper but it was all she could manage. Was he here to kill her? To take her? What did he want?

 

[sombrablanca]

Unknown by either of the pair life returns to the castle as they lay eyes upon each other for the first time. The people of the fields and town suddenly return to their tasks, all talking excitedly, wondering what exactly will happen. The woman entrusted to their home must finally be awakened. The seal on her chamber must've been broken. None may enter the castle proper. It is forbidden after all, but a child is put to give warning should any be seen to leave. The fog itself has become very powerful magic indeed, transporting this space so as one travels through the fog they just appear on the other side of the estate, moving back towards the castle and small town.

A soft blue emanates from the blade of the bastard sword as he regains control of himself, the blade leading the way into the nearly empty room. The four and a half feet tall shield that can cover him from nose to knee comes through the door next. He comes to a complete stop upon seeing only the lightly clad beauty in front of him. This cowering, whimpering, seemingly defenseless female is supposed to be his salvation? He stands there silently while he assesses her, trying to find some telltale sign of treachery. The ward itself was insanely powerful, made to draw the life force from a person, pulling and pulling at one's life force and passions til nothing remains. When confronted with the curse, it could not take the small benefits associated, overloading from the energy pulled into it.

His 6 foot, eight inch frame becomes clearer and clearer as the light brightens. He says nothing for several moments as he works through the various things. He heard a dull thud moments after the door broke. Could there be something hiding? There appears to be nowhere for anything to hide but he couldn't sense the warded door.. Could the female before him be the trap? His immediate urge is to rip off his armor and sate his hunger with her tender flesh.

His eyes move over her pale, slender form, the midnight hair that is a match to any of his own people. The fear in her eyes excites him unbearably. His eyes travel lower, over a delicate throat that seems to beg for nips and kisses. He can not help but notice the swell of full hips and bosom that indicate a woman just made to be bred constantly, and make his knuckles go white from the urge to grope and knead them as his shaft plunges into her. His breath quickens, the throbbing between his legs becoming more insistent as he tries to retain control of himself. If there is one thing he is pretty certain he shouldn't do, it is raping this maiden. After all that is what got him into the mess in the first place. He steps forward cautiously, still in a defensive posture He turns slightly when a ray of light catches his helmet. He has spent too much time getting here this day. He can only hope she shall stay near, for his curse has clearly not been broken.

He feels the urges building as he sees the setting of the sun. Her scent grows so strong in his nose. He can see the triphammer beating of her pulse from the fear coursing through her. It is all he can do to turn away, sword sheathed at his belt. The thick fur cape adorning his back flows out and around as he spins. He doesn't have much time. He sprints down the stairs through the castle and to his faithful steed. He rides off, deep into the woods, barely sparing attention for the awestruck people. This being. Could it be? Where is the Princess though? They wonder, a few shouting out in surprise as his horse thunders by them. He curses when he goes through twenty feet of fog only to emerge with the same vista he saw upon entering the grounds.

"Another spell?" goes through his mind before he wheels about, going for the deep wood he saw as he explored. It appears to be a part of the grounds, not covered by fog, so he hopes it will not dump him here again. He gets there, leaves his horse and armor just in time. Another howl splits the air of the land. This one deeper, even more animalistic, yet it is also different. It has a plaintive, searching, querying note to it. This is a sound come to be well known by the people of his homeland. It is a sound that when heard, they know to lock their homes, keeping daughters safe inside, livestock and animals as well. For while the Prince tries to get as deep in the wilderness as he can, the Beast does roam in search of prey and of a Mate.

 

[BeautifulDream]

She felt like a coward, hiding in a corner in fear. But what else could she do? She was small compared to him. She closed her eyes bracing herself for what would come, although she did not know what would. She jumped slightly as the figure took a step toward her and even though she couldn't see his eyes, she was sure they were roaming every inch of her body.

She had prayed for years that someone would rescue her from her sleep.. Those dreams disappeared quick and she stared to accept her curse. A prisoner in her own mind. Now here someone was, he brought her out of the coma, for that she was grateful, but she still felt scared by the sheer size of him.

Her thoughts flashed back how it happened. The prince had taken a liking to her and they were to be wed. But on the day of the wedding, she was approached an older lady whom was unfamiliar to her. The lady held out a goblet to her, claiming the water inside was magical and would keep the young princess beautiful forever. The princess took the goblet, thanking the older lady for her kind offering, even though she didn’t believe in magic, and drank the water. The water tasted somehow sweet, like it was not really water, but something else. As she went to hand the goblet back to the lady, her body went paralyzed as she fell to the ground, she tried to open her mouth to scream, nothing would come out. Then her vision went black.

She laid there in her wedding gown, unable to move, to see, to speak. She could hear the old lady’s voice in her ears, only it no longer sounded like an older lady. It sounded like her own.

“Dear Princess, you have stolen my love from me… but I will be taking my Prince back. And you, beautiful Princess, will be forced to sleep forever while I take your place.” She heard other foot steps approaching. Her prince? She tried to scream for help again, nothing. “Lock her away where she can never be found!” The imposing princess shouted.

Her memory was broken when the large man suddenly turned and ran. She did not understand why he left so quickly but she felt relief being unharmed. She sat for a moment hearing the sound of his foot steps moving further away before disappearing.

She pushed herself up slowly, struggling to regain her strength. Her legs ached as she stood on them, unable to hold up her weigh. She fell slightly, grasping at the stone bed to support herself. She made her way out of the room and toward the stairs, her bare feet cold against the floor. It took her longer to get down the stairs, her body caving every so often causing her to slip and all but fall.

She felt so weak, so drained as she reached the bottom step. She wanted to give up and sit down, but she had to escape the castle. She had to find someone for help.

 

[sombrablanca]

The Beast howls and howls as he takes form. He grows slowly but steadily, his body becoming denser, wider, and taller. Arms lengthen, teeth growing sharper, his jaws stronger. Nails lengthen into claws as his nostrils widen a bit, face taking on a more bestial countenance. A short muzzle develops, his jaw elongating quickly. His eyes darken so they look like an empty abyss. The Curse is fully upon him.

The blood runs hot and thick through his veins, significantly more oxygenated than a human’s, his heart much larger as well in comparison to one uncursed to support his seven feet one inch frame. He tenses, stretching his muscles one at a time, his eyes closed. He feels intensely alive, finally free once again. It starts at his head, turning left then right. The veins in his neck pop as he stretches. His pulse is even, fast and strong. His shoulders roll next as his fists clench. His legs tense, and he is off, sprinting through the forest. In his abyssal eyes, the set to his face, one might infer a cunning intellect in this not quite human. The thick hair of the Northman has grown even thicker, giving better protection. It is not quite fur, his deeply tanned skin barely showing from underneath. His eyes and head constantly move. All his senses strain as he searches this deeply wooded area.

He howls, the sound conveying greeting, challenge, query, so many things a Mating call encompasses. Luckily the Prince managed to get far into the woods before he was no longer quite himself. Unluckily it is far enough, his exit urgent enough, the residents trapped in this large manor's grounds have no clue what they face and the howl that might have given them warning is not heard except by the newly awakened maid of Avonlea.

She knows only that the equinox is the best time to gather a rare fruit that grows only miles from the village. The buxom lass jerks upright from her mushroom picking at the sound. Her breathing halts a moment, gasping quietly. Her bountiful chest begins to heave as her breathing begins to quicken. Her violet eyes dart around trying to see what caused that spine chilling sound. It calls to something deep within her soul, beginning to stir long frozen flames, even as it terrifies her. Locks of her flowing auburn mane dance as they are caught by the wind. The same wind playing with her hair crosses his hunting form. The sweet scent of a fertile female teases him, luring him towards her. His loping stride begins to lengthen as he homes in on the elusive scent. He stops when it begins to get extremely strong, moving warily forward.

Their eyes find each other at the same time. She is startled, shocked into motionlessness as he devours her with his gaze. Her eyes travel up and up to where his head towers above her own frame. Even in her terror, her excitement is building. He is gorgeous in a twisted way. His physical form and his bearish inner nature have melded almost seamlessly, leaving him mostly human, but not. She sees the thickly muscled abs and his impressive maleness. Her gaze pauses, before moving up again, her pulse beating faster and faster as she takes in his terrible beauty. There is a feralness about him that calls to her subconscious, biological responses. She feels her thighs dampen as she surveys him.

He strides forward, clawed hands reaching out. They rip through the simple yet well-made dress and cloak binding exposing her firm, pale, white flesh, and the freckles that dust her skin. He has exposed her firm thighs before her cloak drifts to the ground. He lifts her up, shoving her back against a handy tree as he spreads her thighs around him. He wastes no time on foreplay. His pheromones have her dripping. He has one thought in his mind. He needs to breed, to mate. She is wet, female, ready. Her mind protests, but it is feeble. Her body is in full agreement. She is still terrified, but her legs begin to wrap around him as he moves forward. Her nails rake down his back, urging him on. Her mouth is frozen open as gasping whimpers are forced from her. His claws break skin as he impales her fully in a single thrust. The coppery scent of her blood is delectable on his palate. The ruby drops stain his claws as her cuntsap coats his turgid member. Luckily for her she is not virgin but she has not mated in decades. He is not exactly small either in length or width. She finally screams when his head shoves brutally into her cervix and through it. Her eyes roll back in her head, cumming instantly from the sheer pain and pleasure of his forceful entrance into her sensitive depths.

His growl is deep, a throb that starts in his chest as a quiet rumble but gets louder and louder as his cock is engulfed by her quim, feeling like a hot, wet, silken glove slowly slipping over him. His nails dig deeper as he grinds his cock deeply as possible within the woman’s womb. He almost immediately pulls backwards again, barely taking a moment to enjoy that first penetration, the first conquest of her body. He then begins jackhammering her against the tree hard enough to make the thick old fir shake. He leans down to bite and suckle on her ample breasts. His teeth scrape her nipples then nip sharply. This makes her quim clamp down on him particularly hard as she begins having rolling orgasms, something that gives him great pleasure. He marks her from ass to ears with teeth, claws, and cock as he gets closer and closer to his own release.

She feels him swell, stretching her pussy even more painfully. She can feel every twitch, every pulse of his heartbeat in her deepest recesses. She knows he is about to breed her. She speaks for the first time since this encounter began. Her contralto voice is ragged and panting from the constant crests of building need, pain, and pleasure as she pleads for his seed, begs to feel his liquid heat fill her. She gets exactly what she asks for, and even more than she expects. She feels a further surge up his length, then his eyes rolled, head thrown back. She feels the heat of his cum in her womb and passes out. He doesn’t stop forcing his way in and out of her. He uses her pussy to milk all the cum from his balls that she can take and then some. He rests a minute, but still feels the need raging through his body.

She wakes intermittently, long after she thinks she can take any more. Time loses all meaning for the pair. He is lost in the satiation of his need to mate. It is obvious by how quickly she succumbs that she is not Mate worthy, but as a great place to relive the immense pressure in his balls she is perfect. He leaves her in a heap, bloody, bruised, cum pouring down her legs. She passes out for several hours but staggers back to town a couple hours after dawn. He goes off in search of prey, a different hunger now filling his mind. He hunts well, gorging on an unwary deer before falling into a deep sleep, dreaming of the day he conquers his Mate.

He awakens when the first rays of the morning break over his form. Scars patchwork his large frame, the runes of his clan inked into his skin among them. He is strong, well muscled, with a bit of padding. He truly is a bear of a man. He slips into the stream the Beast found to drink from. He cleans himself quickly and efficiently. Water sluices through his hair with his large hands, calloused from years of martial training and a hard life. He notes the position of the sun, using it to get back to where his horse and armor, made specially to be donnable with no help, await him. He swiftly gets ready. He must find the maiden. Anything could have happened in the night. A thousand questions race behind the slate grey eyes that disappear under the dragon helm. He pulls an apple from his saddlebag, feeding it to the stallion as he checks to make sure the beast has taken no harm before riding back into the village about the time the craftsmen are going off to work.

 

[BeautifulDream]

"Lock her away where she can never be found!"

The castle door was left wide open from the man running out. She felt the cold air assault the bare skin of her legs and arms. She considered finding a cloak or some more cloth before leaving. Her dress covered most of her body, but only went to the knees and were sleeveless. But she just wanted to escape.

She pushed herself through the door, glancing nervously at her surroundings, waiting to spot the unknown man. The yard was empty, no other human around. She sighed a little in relief, getting away should be a little easier without someone their to capture her again. Her legs, still weak, carried her with a struggle. She had to sit down a few times while walking through the maze of a garden. She didn't want to waste any time, she wanted to be free, but her small body couldn't move they way it did before her long slumber.

The fog was still very heavy, making it harder to find the way out. All she could see was darkness, her bare feet hitting something was the only way she knew what was there. She wrapped her small arm around her body, trying to hold in any warmth there was. It didn't help much. She used the moss covered walls as support to keep her going deeper into the maze.

She had no idea how long she had been lost within the flowers and walls, but she knew morning arrived. Even though the fog still remained, the black night, turned into a gray dawn. She could see a little easier as she moved what she thought was deeper into the never ending garden. Hungry and tired, she wanted to give up. If only she could... she didn't want to die in here... alone.

Her foot struck a loose stone in the path, causing her body to thrust forward. She held her arms before her to embrace the fall, but her head still hit the ground with force. The pain was overwhelming as she tried to push herself up with no success. She felt something wet and warm on her forehead. Blood... She thought as she touched the freshly cut skin. Her body ached from walking, her stomach growled at the lack of food, her head throbbed with the new injury.

She laid there, the will to keep moving gone as tears fell from her eyes onto the stone ground. "I just want to go home..." She whispered, her voice cracked and weak. "Keep the prince, I don't care, just let me go." She pulled her knees up tight, wrapping her arms around them as she wept and begged the far away, and probably dead, witch for release.

 

[sombrablanca]

The light gleams on polished onyx from the rising sun. The Baker stares, apprehensive. The man and horse have implements of war all over them. The spiked, bladed, armor is designed to terrify one’s foes by wading into them, striking violently with every body part. Run into him with any less armor than he wears and one is likely to get stabbed several times just by his armor. That doesn’t even account for the things he might do with war axe, bow, sword, and shield that always travel with him. So it is with obvious apprehension that the Baker of Avonlea looks upon the warrior who pauses before him. He saw the “man?” galloping away the evening before when he was finally released from the binding upon him so many years before. Time was altered for them in that frozen state. Their spirits still knew time passed, though it seemed as an endless moment, nothing changing for decades. The witch is brought to mind violently. The rider is so black, deadly, and grim looking. He feels as though his soul is being stared right through even though he can’t see the man’s eyes. At least he hopes it is a man.

When the bass growl rumbles out from under the dragon head shaped helm to query “Where is the woman who was in the tower?”, his words tumble from his lips before he can stop them. “In the castle grounds still sir. We think anyway. She hasn’t been seen since you awakened us last night… We’ve had someone watching the only entrance out, but we cannot go inside. We hope she is ok though. She was a great Princess… Before…” He realizes he is saying far too much to this stranger and takes off quickly. The figure does not stop him. He is too busy contemplating. Princess? A few of the lands near his home have such. He clicks his tongue and Strider’s hooves ring off the cobbled lane again towards the castle. He wonders what he needs to do for the magic to lift. His Curse as well. This was all the direction the Seers were able to give. Beyond “your fate awaits you at the top of the tower.” he is on his own.

He starts at the outside walls of the keep to make sure there are no other exits, or places that look like they could’ve been and got her killed. He doesn’t like the thought, but she seemed so weak. He reminds himself he doesn’t know her story. He knows that anyone maltreated for long enough will have a long recovery. He learned that young when the big, strapping, older brother was finally ransomed back from the Wolf Clan. He makes his way into the castle grounds upon seeing no signs of her. The child standing watch openly gapes at him as he and Strider trot over the drawbridge. He begins his methodical search pattern again. His eyes are caught by a small flash of white at the entrance to the relatively small maze he noted and ignored the day before. He leans down to snatch the bit of fabric that caught of the rough edge of stone. He inhales deeply, her scent filling him once again. He remembers how weak and pathetic she seemed before. If she spent the night somewhere out here she will need medical attention most likely. Or at least food and water. He grabs his satchel from Strider’s back, throwing it over his own shoulder before rummaging in the front pocket for the bit of charcoal his mentor insisted one should always carry.

It comes in handy for marking his turns as he slowly advances into the maze. He has found no foe yet but he does not make the mistake of assuming that will stay true. That means it takes longer to get to her. He takes a further few moments to study where she has fallen both with Sight and sight, sound, smell. He circles her, alarmed when he sees the trickle of red from her wound, but still does not approach too close. He hears the whimpering sounds in a language he does not speak. He debates activating a translation spell, but he has no idea how she’d react to the massing Power. He doesn’t think she if casting anything, and knows his armor should protect him if so, though I had done nothing against the door. He stops ten feet in front of her in the clearing, setting his blade and satchel down. He unlatches the snaps of, and removes his helmet as he speaks.

“I am Valen." He points to himself, then reaches slowly into the satchel, pulling out a few apples, cheese, travel bread and the remains of a hunt the day before as well as a few small jars and what is obviously bandages, placing them on his tower shield, using it as a table of sorts. The wound at her head doesn't seem to be too bad. Their could be internal damage but she seems to be tracking. He decides at this time it would be better to wait, assess, see what happens. The bastard sword and helm stay within easy reach at his sides but he makes no move towards them. He then rocks back onto his haunches, taking one of the turkey legs, a piece of bread, apple, and cheese, taking obvious bites of each. as well as a drink of the water in his waterskin and waits for her to do something as he has his morning repast.

 

[BeautifulDream]

Death... slow and most likely painful. Was that all that waited for? Freezing and starving to death in this maze? This palace that is forever her prison? She doubted she would ever break free, even if she was awake now.

The man (or was he something else?) was most likely far away by now, so he wouldn't save her. Even then why would he to begin with? He owed her nothing... if anything she owed him for waking her. She didn't know if any others resided near.

But then the other thought occurred to her; even if she could stand and walk out where could she go? She didn't need to see the land to know she wasn't near her home. Her home was far away from water unlike here, even now she could hear harsh waves crashing against rocks somewhere in the distance.

She was weak and hurt in an unknown land.

She thought about trying to stand, but found it pointless. She wasn't going to find safety. Not any time soon. She just pulled her arms tighter around her knees and let the warm tears roll over her cheeks.

The girl didn't know how much time passed, the fog still making it hard to determine where the sun sat, but she knew the day had fully arrived by the sounds of birds singing in the trees around her. Then they stopped and took flight, fleeing as if some unknown creature hunted them. She heard it. The creature... that is. His heavy footsteps pressing on the stone ground, the scrapping noise of his armor moving.

Her heart stopped. He was back for her, but for what reason? Her body shook in cold and in fear as she curled into a tighter ball, whimpering softly. "Please don't hurt me... I just want to go home. Please..."

She saw him turn the corner, his full frame again before her. Mercy, he was so large. He could break her easily she thought whimpering again.

But his actions confused her. Instead of approaching in a violent manner he actually looked concerned. Then he sat and pulled out items placing them on hia shield. Food and bandages? Was he offering them to her?

Her stomach growled at the sight of food. Should she take some? What if it was a trick? She glanced up at his face as he spoke. Valen? His name...

She sat for a moment longer in silence before clearing her voice. "Allora..." she whispered, her eyes trailing again to the food before her.

 

[sombrablanca]

He thinks she is saying her name. He uses the drumstick to point to himself and says again. "Valen." then cocks his head again, a lilt in his voice, questioning as the drumstick points to her. "Allora?" The unfamiliar word trips and rolls across his tongue. It is pretty, feeling similar yet different to his onw much like the female that would be considered a beauty in his homeland yet has an exoticness only emphasized by her long stay in the dark, the paleness so different from the tans of his people. Even in the depths of winter he has not seen any female as creamy white as the gorgeous female in front of him. Even in her weakened state he still feels The Beast deep beneath the surface. He isn't ragingly hard any more. Her obvious inability to take care of herself is almost a sin among his people. It is almost inconcievable. And yet a man mortally wounded who clings to life when others would quietly pass into the domain of the gods still must be assisted. He will appear weak and unfit, yet the fact he still lives at all isd the proof of his spirit. It, and the fact she is his only link to a future, the fact he has nothing to do now, and the fact his honor demands he help someone in need... He stays.He does not sate his lust in her defenseless body. He makes no move towards her, smiling when she nods. He takes another bite pointedly after pointing to each food then flexes, showing his strength and bulk. She looks like she really needs food and his fare is simple but substantial. He points to himself where there are bruises and scrapes on her, frowning. He even goes so far as to mime a sprained ankle. Bandaged tightly enough, it'll heal faster. Soaking the bandages in the Snowberry Oil will make it even faster. She hasn't gotten up so he wonders if she hurt her leg. It could be broken too. Then he points to the salves and bandages, after each pointing to where she is visibly bruised, and scraped, making rubbing motions then smiling in obvious relief. He waits then a moment for her response as his now free hand, the apple slice gone, pats his stomach through his armor. There is merely a whisper of sound, showing his precision, the craft of his armor, experience, and desire not to spook her. He raises one finger then after setting down the turkey leg. He couldn't be any clearer and he is an impatient man.

If she is spooked still their is not much time will do. He speaks again. "I do not understand your tongue." He pantomimes gabbing with a hand, then points to his ear while shaking his head. Then he makes the wait sign again... and sketches a few runes, making his people's sign for magic then waggling his fingers like falling spark before moving his hands to his ear and mouth, then giving a thumbs up before cocking his head. He hopes she got that. He composes his thoughts gathering a small bit of energy from their surroundings and a single thread of hers and his own, twinging them in the familiar runes. He feels a slight shift, a change in the air as he makes the final sign. He then speaks again, now in the High Speech, used at Meets to read the laws to be sure all understood. "I am Valen of the Northmen. I am Dragonson of the Clan of the Thorned Rose, descended of the Greatest Wyrms, the Dragons. You are Allora...?" He waits for a response. It is the only thing he can do. On rare occasion the spell has not worked but it is very rare indeed and usually only those of the Old Lines, the Fae, the Demon, the Dragons, the Giants and the others that were over half of the Other World that the magic does not work with. He can only hope she understands and is intelligent enough to reply. The sooner they figure out what is going on the faster he can finally break his Curse, go home and see his family again. His parents. The eternally exuberant twins that barely reached his waist when he'd left. His flame-haired sister four years younger than he. It had been far too long. He idly wonders how it'll involve this raven-locked damsel as he waits politely for her reply.

 

[BeautifulDream]

A small nod as she pointed to herself. "Allora." She moved her hand, gesturing to him. "Valen." She wanted as his eyes roamed over her, taking in her tattered state. His frown as he pointed to himself where she had bruises and cuts. Her hand moving to touch the tender spot on her head. "Oh... yes, I fell." Wait, he couldn't understand her.

She gestured to the cut, then to her ankle, and to the stone she tripped on. Her hands making a falling like motion. She felt foolish, a game of movements, trying to create a story. They had a game back home such as this. Her group of friends would not speak to each other, only motion to things and try to make the others comprehend with their body language. She was all bad at the game.

She shook her head lightly, unsure what he was trying to say. Her eyes watching him curiously as he gestured to the bruises and then to the bandages. He wanted her to tend her wounds? That seemed like what he was getting at. She gave a wary look as her hands reached forward and picked up the bandages. Best do what he says... well at least what he might be saying. She thought as she slowly pulled up the skirt of her dress, revealing a gruesome scrap on her knee. She wrapped the small bandage around it slowly as her eyes traveled back to him as he made more movements.

His hand moved to his ears then his head shook, stating he didn't understand her. And I, you... she thought, tucking the end of the bandage to keep it tight. His hand went up, gesturing a 'wait.' She glanced around quickly before ending back on him. She honestly hand no where else to go or anything other to do, waiting was her only option. She felt a small ping of electricity shoot through her, the air around them sizzling lightly.

His words came out in a means she understood this time.
"I am Valen of the Northmen. I am Dragonson of the Clan of the Thorned Rose, descended of the Greatest Wyrms, the Dragons. You are Allora...?"

Allora gave a small smile as she nodded. Relief washing over her as he listed his credentials, without anything to do with the Witch. "Yes, I am Allora. Princess of Eviant," she paused, her smile fading, "was... princess."

 

[sombrablanca]

He is glad to see comprehension. She begins to treat her wounds. He'd help but she is wary and skittish. It is smart and her caution pleases him. He hides the slightly feral smile by nodding, taking up his drumstick again. He does not miss the cloud, or the was of her statement. "You must have a tale to tell Allora. We appear to have much time. We are trapped in this manor's grounds. Perhaps three hours in each direction it seems. There a mist wall prevents leaving. And... I understand was..." He has been on the road many years and it has been long since any called him Dragonson, or brother. In the harsh conditions of his homeland a town that was thriving could be deserted after the next winter blizzard or attack of numerous things. Unless he rid himself of the Curse, he was not fit to be the next leader of his people. He was a liability instead of the strong sword and shield his Northmen deserved.

He brings his mind back, looking at her with an inquiring look. He offers her food again, now that her wounds are tended and she can understand him. "Fresh caught yesterday. You must have come here in the dark then. I have seen nothing else in this keep other than you though there is a small village enclosed with us. They say to enter here for them is taboo." He hopes she doesn't bring up his sudden running act. He is trying to figure out why she is here, what her story is, but does not want to be rude or scare her.

 

[BeautifulDream]

You must have a tale to tell, Allora…

Did she? She was only a princess before. One who cared about her people and helped persuade her father to better their kingdom. She was loved by all who hailed under her. Her family traveled to the land of Terish for a dinner, that is when she met Prince Merek. He was the oldest of four siblings and next in line to the throne. She never understood how he had taken a liking to her, but somehow a romance was built. It started with him courting her, trying to win her over with beautiful foreign flowers and sweet letters. Then they started seeing each other more. After only about two moons of courting, he asked for her hand in marriage. She accepted of course… how could she turn down such a handsome, loving Prince?

A many guest were invited to witness their union. The halls decorated with ribbons and bright colored flowers, enough food to feed thousands was out. Everything was perfect. She was dress in her gown, her grown resting upon her head.

Why did she drink the water? She should have turned to old woman down, but how was she to know what would come?

Allora’s eyes mist as she glanced away from Valen, her heart aching. What has become of her family? Her prince? She thought about the time that has passed, were they all dead now? They must have been. Didn’t her father notice the girl who he gave away wasn’t his loving daughter? Had they searched before her?

She wiped the tear from her face, as he continued to speak. Her head snapping around at his words. “What do you mean we are trapped? No…” She shook her head, standing up all too quickly. Her knee ached and almost giving way if she hadn’t caught herself. “No… I am awake now. We can leave. We have to be able to leave!”

She turned quickly, her body screaming in protest. “There must be a way out… there has to be.” Eyes traveled along the garden searching for an exit. She can’t still be trapped here. Not now, not when she had been awaken. Her eyes turned back to him, to the food. “Have you check all ways? I need to get home.”

 

[sombrablanca]

"Every way? No. However it appears we cannot just walk out. There is some condition unmet, some spells unbroken. A... Curse... not yet lifted." He chuckles ruefully, the last sentence spoken quietly, and half to himself. He savagely rips a bite of meat chewing with savage resolute vigor. "Something has trapped us here. Not -here-... I have marked the way out of the maze, but well, I found out that if you go through the mist at one end of the manor's boundary you come out on the other side... It seems to be truly as the tales were told by the Bards, a place without place, a time without time. Yet when I first rode in..." He shakes his head. "I know not."

He can say nothing about going home. He gives her the respect due and ignores the pain, the tears, the resentment that he also knows. "All that has guided me the last years ended here. The Seers said nothing about what to do after." He shrugs. "There is a village to explore and a castle that is devoid of all life except for you yet it looks well lived in. The other people speak a language I do not know but the spell allowed me to speak to them. The layers of protections... The potency... Is what suggested to me that you must have a tale to tell. I realize it is rude but directness will get us free to go on our ways sooner."

 

[BeautifulDream]

Allora eyes stung. Tears forming, overfilling, rolling down her cheek. She quickly wiped the stray tear away with her hand. So much for having hope. Awake or not she was still trapped.

Maybe the only freedom she'll ever get is by death.

Her head fell slightly, eyes meeting the ground before her. The thought made her heart ache. She'll never see her loved ones, never see Eviant. Death couldn't be the only way. There had to a way. Some way. If only she knew how to break the curse.

Her head jerked at his words. "Seers? Seers told you to find me?" She moved slowly, bracing her hands against the walls as she lowered herself to the ground before him. Her hand stretching timidly toward an apple. She was truly starving. "I think it's your story that needs to be told. Why are you even here?"

 

[sombrablanca]

Her question sparks a thought. That might be it he silently muses. Perhaps she needed to cross the threshold with him for them to be released and his Curse to be lifted. He makes sure not to make any motions as she leans forward, only taking another bite of his own apple again in emphasis once she has leaned back. She obviously needs to eat and rest at least a little while. He debates what exactly to tell her. He has always been a fan of bluntness and honesty but he also knows nothing of this woman, and has no way to gauge how she would respond.

He notes she still has not answered herself, and it makes him wary, leaning back just an inch or two, so slowly as to be unnoticeable, seeming to tense up just a hint, but he knows in the situation, the topic, tenseness would be normal, and most of his potentially betraying muscles are encased by articulated plate armor. She doesn’t seem evil. The runes designed to warn of Otherworldly evil are not crying out, but again, neither did the door. This could still be some trick. A mirage could be used to hide what else was in the room, and she was going to try to kill him. It seemed overkill though. The pain in her face felt too real. If an actress, or illusion, it is very well crafted. He thinks she is truly on the level, but his natural distrust lingers. "Well... As you say… A tale… I shall tell a tale in the style of my forefathers…". His voice changes a bit, becoming even more rumbly, smoky.

“What seems now long ago a young, cocky, adventurous man had been out on his rite of passage… He was very skilled. He embodied the strengths of his people, who were very hardy, rough, shaped by a chaotic, brutal, yet lovely land. He had the makings of a great chieftain most said. Well, a woman wanted to claim him, slipped something into the sacred pipe that is smoked as a young man leaves the village with only his wits, his strength, and a hatchet or hunting knife. Unfortunately this young man met with a Virgin demigoddess that resided in his people’s sacred wood first. Well, barely a demigoddess. She had a Goddess’ strength. Through luck and skill he managed to do as the enchantress had wished, but pissed off someone he really shouldn’t have because he ravished the wrong female.” He takes a bite of apple to let the juice refresh his throat, letting her process what he’s said, and focus on her reaction so far, before he continues.
“As you can guess, her revenge wreaked havoc on the young man’s life and the kingdom. They tried all in their considerable power, but not one runecaster, nor wizard, nor hedgewitch could do anything. “ He doesn’t mention that they all posited the only reason he was not purely a Beast now was actually the strength of his spirit and character. Unlike the portrayals of his people, they are not truly barbaric, but rather noble. That sense of honor and self is the only thing that keeps him human by day, but the taint is always there, and as the years in solitude have progressed, he has slowly and subtly changed. He is now significantly more like one of the famed Berzerks.

“Finally a Seer was sought out. He said he could only grasp at the vision, but he knew an Order that had the ability to form Circles and were far stronger. At great expense they were found and persuaded that the cause was just and the need dire. Though the toll on the kingdom was great, so apparently was his people’s love and understanding. Fortunately, the first time the curse revealed itself, the right people saw it, and afterwards this young man studiously tried to minimize the effects of his condition on the kingdom but things happened. The Seer instructed the barely-a-man, only fifteen, to go south til he found a land shrouded in mist with an empty bastion, and then climb to the topmost spire, and could tell him nothing else.” He places the now gnawed bone and core a foot from his side, and then looks back up into her eyes.

“After searching many years, that is the point we are now at, where I found you. My curse has not lifted. Even in my brief look I saw there was nothing of note except for you. So yes, I believe it must be something to do with you, but what that is, I do not know. That is why I hoped to hear your tale, how you have come to be here. I have a theory as to what might free us but I am shooting blind." He shrugs, head cocking to show his curiosity as he waits for how she will respond, wondering how long it will be before the actions of the night before get to her ears, what will happen then, and if his Curse shall ever be ended.

 

[BeautifulDream]

The apple was sweet. From the first bite she felt the urge to just ravage it, but she took her time. Taking small bites as she listened to his words, watched to emotions play across his face. She nodded slowly as he spoke. The demigoddess, she didn't know of their existence, but the enchantress she did.

She waited until he was finished, her eyes falling to the ground as she moved the apple from her lips, holding it in her palms in her lap. Thinking of his worlds. How sad... tricked and cursed. She felt bad for him.

Her eyes closed as she thought about her own curse, causing a sigh to pass her lips before she glanced back up. "So you were cursed? And as it appears, I am the way to break the curse, although I do not see how I can. I have no such powers nor am I really of any importance."

Allora brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, biting her lips softly as she thought about how to tell her tale. She didn't see how it could relate to his at all. But maybe he could find a link. She cleared her throat, taking a last bite of the apple before sitting it on the ground. Her hand moving to grasp the necklace that was nested between her breast beneath the corset. Made of gold with a few small gems it was beautiful. But made even more beautiful by the knowledge of it being a gift.

She sighed, her hand wrapping around the small pendent as she avoided his gaze. "My tale... my story. I grew up in a poor family. We didn't have much of anything. I was the only sister to seven brothers. They all hunted and farmed, trying to insure I could be fed. When I was nine, I got sick which put a real hardship on my family. I was the youngest and the only daughter so my brothers always cared more for me than anything else. Two of my brothers died trying to find a way to heal me. In the end, we found a medicine woman. Her price was steep... it meant me losing yet another brother. But they made the sacrifice for me."

Her fingers moved to wipe at her eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling. "After a while my mother became angry at me. She had lost three sons because of me. It was my fault they were gone. She started seeing me as weak and not worth the lives of her other sons. She shunned me. She tried to force my family to stop caring for me. But my brothers didn't care. In the end she got pushed away, not me."

"I was always sheltered by them. Then the war came when I was eighteen. They were taken to battle and my parents didn't know how to keep living. Without my brothers, we couldn't survive. So they did what they thought best. They sent me to the castle to work. I was barely there more than a moon cycle when I met the Prince. We fell in love, he asked for my hand."

She held both hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting as she swallowed hard. Her cheeks still damp from the tears. "That's when things went wrong. Our wedding day, I was preparing when... when an old woman came to my room. She offered me water, said it was magical. I did not wish to be rude so I drank it, then I was on the ground. I couldn't move, couldn't scream. I watched as she became me. Everything went black."

She moved her eyes up to the castle, to the tower where she had rested for so long. It was barely visible in the fog. She still was unsure as to how long she had actually been locked away. "I was placed in this castle so no one would ever find me as she took my place. She married my Prince, she took my life." She heard her voice crack and quickly cleared her throat as she looked back toward Valen. "We are both prisoners because of someone else's trickery."

Allora lips went straight, her eyes staying on his eyes she spoke. "What do you believe we need to do to escape?"

 

[sombrablanca]

He listens to her tale with avid interest. Obvious emotion flows across her face with her tale, the apparently semiconscious grip of her pendant, though all he sees of it is the faint gleam of the chain as her hands move it, but he can guess it is something of importance. Her story appears to be very similar to his own. Is it a ploy to gain his sympathy? Her life destroyed through no true fault of her own, and now trapped in this place. Her story fits with what he found here though. A land locked in stasis, a ward that would have drained the life out of him had he not had the Beast within. Her family, like his people, had suffered a lot in order to save her. He can only feel empathy.

She had found love and got it ripped from her. His eyes remain at her throat, watching the rapid pulse, the locked pain in the tears she does not want to find. He is finding it harder and harder to believe, less and less likely, that she is lying. He wants to trust her. Her beauty is almost ethereal, and he knows it may be affecting him, but he doesn't think it is swaying his thoughts too much. How could he be sure though? He can't so continues to guard his thoughts, carefully keeping the Beast, and his increased... urges... safely locked away. He tries not to think how delicate her hands are, or how he'd love to mark her throat with his teeth as he slammed into her. The Beast's conquest of the night before, though beautiful, has nothing on her. Instead he bites into a piece of very sharp Cheddar, a cheese he has found in his travels and plans to bring back to his people. He winces slightly as he adds a qualifier to the thought. If he is ever able to return. He vowed to himself on the day he left that he would never range close enough to home for his people to be threatened so long as the Beast was still within him. He uses her question to focus, though her berry red lips call to him to be crushed and invaded by his own and his tongue. Her raven locks, so like his own, seem to be made to be wrapped around his hands, used to hold her in position as he breeds her until she can take no more. He stares just a moment before he collects himself, and answers her. "I wonder if we might have to leave through the mists together. Perhaps touching? Your story strengthens the theory. If she wanted you kept out of the way... We may never escape. Yet, the way the people here awakened as I passed... I really do not know. It is the only thought though. Perhaps the precautions were made to fall when she passed or someone came to get you?"

He has been trying to figure out where he knows the name Eviant since she mentioned it. It has been a niggling thought, but is finally seeming to connect to something. The tales of his childhood. The long lost Eviant, a place that was ruined by a queen centuries ago after a golden age of centuries. It was said her evil power had made his homeland what it was before a hero finally stopped her. He wonders how to tell her. Too many things are clicking into place. He knows he would want to know though, so closes his mouth and coughs softly.

"I know not how to tell you this but... Even if we leave here, you can not return home. Eviant was lost to the Wastes two centuries ago. This witch.... I believe she is the queen who destroyed it by her actions in the time of my forefathers' forefathers' forefathers.. The tales are... old. Some things are lost over time. She took control after the King was lost in a battle. She made war... Drained the land and its people to fuel her spells. The damage she did changed the face of the world before she was finally stopped." He finds it hard to believe, but this woman has been trapped for centuries. Perhaps they shall never leave this place at all if the magics held here for so long. He can not know of the kindly intervention that kept her from the fate the witch intended. "I wish I did not have to be the bearer of bad news." He knows he'd rather find out in at least somewhat privacy. He can not see her as the weakling her mother named her. The fact she is still sane shows her strength. He can only hope that she is strong enough to survive this as well. He wishes he could be selfish, but his honor demands that he tell her about her homeland. He can do no less. His own secrets are his own though.

 

[BeautifulDream]

The tears couldn’t be held any longer, yet she couldn’t let them fall. She had to be strong. She had to fight the urges to just break down. Her family was gone. All of them. The friends she once knew, her love, all gone. The image of her kingdom burning to the ground was firm in her mind. She tried to force it away. It wouldn’t go. Her beautiful home. Allora did not know what to say. She did not know what to do. How could she respond to that?

Her throat felt dry. Not from the lack of drink, not from the long slumber she had only barely awaken from. A different lump in her throat she had to swallow past. A different pain she was now feeling. She had all but forgotten the knicks and scraps that marked her skin from the earlier fall. This pain was strong. The pain of being alone. Even if she did escape this place, where was she to go? She no longer had a home. Her home was ashes, at least according to him it was. There was no place for her.

“Thank you…” she whispered in a weak voice, one on the verge of breaking, “for telling me. I appreciate it.” And she really did. He could have hidden it from her, he could have lied. She knew his words were true. There was no doubt that he was lying for any reason. Why would he need to? She had been gone for so long from the world. The idea of even returning home in the first place was absurd, that thought had been in the back of her mind all this time, but was it wrong to at least hope a place was still there for her?

Her eyes blurred, the tears stinging her eyes. She had to stop thinking about it. There was no point. Why dread it? Why think about what was lost? The only thing that could be done was to escape this place. She needed to focus on that. If not for her, for him. He did awaken her after all.

She cleared her throat, shaking the image of her family from her mind softly. The apple rising from her lap to her lips for one more bite before setting it aside on the ground. It was then she noticed the strange look on his face. One of lust, one of needing. It made her skin tingle in ways both intriguing and unsettling. Her eyes moved from his toward the ground. A shade of pink forming on her cheeks as she wondered what his thoughts were. Damn her pale skin. She knew the blush was obvious. What exactly was he thinking? She pondered it for a moment, eyes roaming the ground before moving down toward her hands.

The sudden awareness of his size became apparent to her again. He was a large man, far bigger than her. He could easily have her if he forced himself upon her. A simple look from her hands to his proved that point. Hers danty and small, smooth. His were large, strong, the hands of someone who knew how to weld them. His hands could crush hers.

Allora stop this… stop thinking.

How could she? What if he became angry when they found that there was no escape? She would be trapped in her with him. She had no way defend herself.

Allora shook her head again, a small shake before she spoke. “We should try it,” her voice a little stronger than before, her eyes dancing between her own and his. “Exiting together, I mean. Perhaps that could be the solution. I know not of the spell that was placed upon me, so I, too, am unsure if that will work. But, perhaps it will be worth a try.”

 

[sombrablanca]

“Are you strong enough to rise? Have you had enough to eat? Has the potion had enough time to fix your ankle? Impeded mobility is the number one reason for people ending up dead you know… and we do have time.” They do have time. That is the one thing that they seem to have plenty of. He knows she will need time, for both healings. She seems at least a bit stronger, her eyes focused and intent before she is confronted by his primal reaction to her beauty. After all, an Alpha’s instinct after saving a Female is very feral. However, they are in a place that could have more nasty surprises, and there is still his honor. He does want to get home, and get her somewhere that might erase some of the pain that etches her feature. That pain does much to dampen the Beast’s influence, and the effect her beauty upon him.

Though muted, it is still there. His eyes are drawn to where hers flit back and forth. The blush suffusing her cheeks makes him wonder if that is how she’d blush from arousal. He can’t help but notice their size difference as well. He could lift and support her so easily. One hand could encircle her throat with ease. Would she melt or fight? Could she stop him? It was not odd at all for a person to have a Talent to some degree in this world, but they were some few who didn’t, and many that had nothing to do with combat. He cocks his head, assessing her. He idly wonders if she’d be any use in a fight, what else she might do, as he turns his mind to the impending attempt, and hopefully journey though he now has nowhere to go. She was his last clue, and now he is at a dead end. He could escort her somewhere though. He can’t go home. Maybe she is supposed to guide him somewhere. If they can even leave.

He carefully begins repacking the medical supplies, though he leaves the food in case she is still hungry. Though he hungers, the cheese and meat would not satisfy him. He ignores the other hunger, and the part that notes he does not need to continue to be so very hungry. He shakes his head, clearing those thoughts from his mind. They are not appropriate. He chides himself. Besides, after last night you should be satiated still… Yet the Hunger lingers. It is an ever-present, unfulfilled need that sits at the back of his mind, held in check only by a rigid honor that is strong as his armor, and indeed acts as armor against a curse that seeks to make him Beast in spirit completely.

“I somehow doubt it will be. It never seems to be with the High Magicks … and anything that has lasted many generations certainly is High Magick. Trying is all we have at this point though. At least we know there is food and shelter here. I could do with restocking supplies and a good inn for a night. I felt no taint on the village and fields I passed through. Like the area was locked out of time. The encircling mists could be doing something else inside the circle as well though. The only truly malevolent thing I have encountered so far is that door.” He listens to her reply, intending to offer her a hand up if she was ready to leave, or sit a safe distance once again if she needs more time.

 

[sombrablanca]

I really want to continue or reboot this. I lost my partner. If you have interest, lemme know via pm, post either intro or continuation after reading.