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Vekraihr
Berserkir
- Joined
- Mar 17, 2019
- Location
- Ginnungagap
Hello there! I'm Vekraihr, or Vek, or V, or MiniVek, if that so suits you. I appreciate you taking the time to check out my request thread, and I figured now was about a good a time as any to expand on myself a little bit and flesh out a few ideas that I've been having as of late. I work about 40 hours a week, sometimes more, Monday-Thursday from 6 AM to 4:30 PM Eastern. I have a small family, and they receive the bulk of my attention, but I do tend to have a free hour or two on my workdays. Weekends are typically free as a bird for me, so the limits of my capabilities for writing depend on my partner. I am a fairly seasoned writer, with over a decade of experience in roleplaying and creative writing.
As far as writing partners, I am currently looking for someone who prefers more substance vs. sexual themes. That being said, there is a time and place for everything and, if it makes sense for the setting, I enjoy indulging in a little more risque topics. I would say my usual ratio is about 80% Story to 20% Smut, but, again, that can change as the story demands. My fondness for high fantasy, steampunk, and science fiction is boundless and I am willing to write in any of those styles, and any combination thereof. I go into a little more detail in my interests about what I like, if your mind inquires further. I am a literate writer and expect my partner to at least be able to form cohesive sentences most of the time. Grammar and spelling mistakes happen, so that doesn't really bother me so as long as the substance of the sentence isn't lost. I prefer not to ghost people, as I feel everyone deserves at least a little explanation/opportunity for closure before losing a partner, but I understand that sometimes it might happen when we don't want it to. If you can, let me know if you need a break. I won't hold a grudge. I'll even be willing to stoke the coals and warm that story back up if you come back with a desire to continue.
If you've read through all of that and you think that I may be of interest to you, drop me a PM! Tell me something interesting, tell me something about yourself, tell me about a craving you've been having, and how I might be able to scratch that itch! I engage with people who engage me, and there is nothing I enjoy more than someone who approaches me with more than a simple "Hi!" But, if that's all you got, I'm willing to accommodate you, too. I like to RP through PMs mostly, on the forums, or in Discord if you REALLY want to. I also like to use Google Docs for planning, writing, etc. I will be updating this thread periodically as my desires change, so if you've been here and like me, but not what I'm writing currently, check back later! I might just have something for you yet!
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Fantasy scenarios, especially high fantasy - Magic, alchemy, supernatural beasts, demons, angels, spirits, and everything in between. I love fantasy settings, especially high fantasy where the world is completely imagined and so wonderfully different from our own, but with oh so many parallels. I am very passionate about medieval high fantasy and, as such, would be very amenable to any scenarios of that theme.
Science-fiction and other technologically based themes - Space, the final frontier. Though not for every society. I enjoy delving deep into the Far Reaches, writing stories based on space stations, far off worlds with alien and confusing life, and space-faring societies. I'm into playing aliens, humans, automatons, and anything in between for these scenarios. I find that sometimes, magic and space can be combined into a wonderful story, so if that sort of thing powers your hyperdrive, let me know! ;P
Romance (as a plot element) - I enjoy it when, within the story, it makes sense for the characters to have some sort of romantic attraction to each other. I adore when my character can romance another and it helps me lean further into the story.
Dom. vs. Sub. (as a plot element) - I am a switch and, at this moment, I'm very much in my dominant element. I love characters that can play off of mine in this regard, and I have a softness for shy/coy characters.
Post Length - I prefer my partner to produce as much as I do, typically between 3 to 6 paragraphs of fairly substantial size. That being said, the ebb and flow of writing may call for more or less and maybe even the writing style being used. I don't like a whole lot of useless fluff. Detail is nice, but if you can't hit a specific amount, as long as it's driving things forward, I don't mind!
Roleplay Length - I am currently looking for long-term and short-term roleplays. Short-term can be a little more smut focused, but it's got to have an interesting hook. Otherwise, I'm not biting.
- Link to Kinks -
Here we'll explore a few my kinks, at least the major ones. It's almost not negotiable that it makes sense for MC and YC to be attracted to each other in order for sexual content to be on the table. If you want to look at what other niches I may be interested in, check out my F-List (linked below).
- Dominant/Submissive - I enjoy these types of relationships. Master and Slave is also enjoyable. I am currently dominant, though I may play a sub if it makes sense and is desired.
- Height differences - I love my characters to be tall and masculine, and I prefer my partners to be shorter than my character by 1-3 feet. Anything more or less can be discussed though.
- Age differences - I prefer to play a character who is a bit older or just more experienced than my partner's.
- Notable Sexual Kinks - I love bondage and aftercare, inexperienced partners, romantic/tantric sex, tail pulling with partners who have tails, and fairly descriptive sexual scenes.
This section here will be dedicated to simple plots, pairings, and other story ideas that aren't as well fleshed out in order to allow for us to build something more personalized to each other. These plots can be more smut based than my typical fare, if the pairing is right. These ideas are meant to generate interest, so send me a PM about whatever idea you like and maybe a thought or two regarding it and we can build from there!
*Formatted as Bold (MC) x Italics (YC)
- Werewolf x Huntress - In this scenario, I'd like to play as a werewolf, or maybe another supernatural entity of power who is being hunted unjustly due to society's prejudices against his kind. Your character will be a capable, talented huntress tasked with bringing the creature down. There are many ways I can envision this playing out.
Vampire x Human - In this pairing, I'd like to play a vampire of at least a few centuries in age, who has a manor to himself far removed from the burdens of society in order to live out his days in relative obscurity and engaged in his studies. Little does he know, the humans have begun telling tales of him and soon enough, a curious young woman comes knocking on his door and bids him to allow her entry. Curious, such a sweet creature would invite itself to its own end. In this story, I'd like to play a cold, aloof, and sometimes sadistic sort who toys with the human woman. There're a few ways this could play and I'm curious to see what will be brought to the table.Human x Kitsunemimi - I absolutely adore kitsune, and in this story, I'd like to play an adventurous sort who finds himself deep in the woods one evening, in search of a campsite when he's led astray by a mischievous kitsune who's either just looking for kicks or some companionship. I picture this scenario as being a bit more light-hearted and amusing to play out, though there could certainly be some more sinister elements we could explore if you want to go that route.Sorcerer x Apprentice - For this pairing, I'd like to play a powerful sorcerer who ends up having to take on some apprentice, much to his chagrin. This can be either for political reasons, as a favor for an old colleague, or merely because some girl with extraordinary talent lands on his doorstep, and his curiosity gets the better of him. There's a book called Master of Crows where at least some of this idea draws inspiration. So, if you've read this book, you could have an idea of what to look forward to!- Older Brother x Younger Sister - In this scenario, a girl's older brother ends up leaving home in order to (pursue higher education, join the military, explore the world, etc.). She hasn't seen him in years, and their family hears seldomly from him during his time away. When he finally returns home, he's not the same guy she recognizes. When once he was an out-of-shape, reserved teenager there now stood a ruggedly handsome, athletic man in his 20s with a confident grin on his face. She's grown herself, having blossomed into a young woman and yet she still can't help but be that sweet, doting little sister anytime he was around. I'd like this scenario to play out with our characters having a mutual attraction to each other, which goes unspoken but boils up over time. I think of this one as a little bit of a slow burn, but could be played out differently depending on the partner.
The Beast in the Backwoods (Anthro x Human):
Setting:
Amaranthia is a trade city several miles in diameter, sprawling next to the River Silaria. There are several districts within her where many denizens and races call their home.
Roads wind within, and spread out of the city in most directions, leading to other towns, villages, and cities that are miles off in the distance.
Port Amaranthia lies at the south end of the city, bustling with business and fish-mongers, hotels for the water faring folk.
Warehouses and other places of industry fill the remainder of the port district, allowing for business to take place efficiently and profitably.
Bordering the port are the lower-class living districts. The southernmost living district is considered to be a slum, of some sort, with shoddily crafted houses and huts, makeshift tents, and entire families who go to work in order to survive in this unforgiving area.
North of the slums lies the middle-class district, with a few nice parks and play areas for the children, gas street lamps lining the cobblestone roadways, and houses built of much more sturdy materials, some reaching two or three stories up into the sky, dwarfing the single level dwellings which exist in the slums.
In the center of the city lies the trade district: a bustling bazaar in the middle with various vendors of all manner of goods. There are many places of business where the people of the city, and from outside the city, come to do the majority of their purchasing needs.
The northernmost part of the city holds the noble district, fenced off from the rest of the city with guards stationed at each entryway, ensuring travelers have the appropriate paperwork in order to enter. Fewer houses fill this district, though the ones that are there are much grander, the villas and manors spanning large areas, with massive, beautifully tended to gardens surrounding them.
It is this city where our story begins.
Plot:
Within a forest that borders this major trade hub, there have been mysterious sightings of a large beast roaming about and causing a panic among the citizens and traders. There have been numerous disappearances since the sightings began, though they weren't uncommon to begin with.
Amaranthia is a trade city several miles in diameter, sprawling next to the River Silaria. There are several districts within her where many denizens and races call their home.
Roads wind within, and spread out of the city in most directions, leading to other towns, villages, and cities that are miles off in the distance.
Port Amaranthia lies at the south end of the city, bustling with business and fish-mongers, hotels for the water faring folk.
Warehouses and other places of industry fill the remainder of the port district, allowing for business to take place efficiently and profitably.
Bordering the port are the lower-class living districts. The southernmost living district is considered to be a slum, of some sort, with shoddily crafted houses and huts, makeshift tents, and entire families who go to work in order to survive in this unforgiving area.
North of the slums lies the middle-class district, with a few nice parks and play areas for the children, gas street lamps lining the cobblestone roadways, and houses built of much more sturdy materials, some reaching two or three stories up into the sky, dwarfing the single level dwellings which exist in the slums.
In the center of the city lies the trade district: a bustling bazaar in the middle with various vendors of all manner of goods. There are many places of business where the people of the city, and from outside the city, come to do the majority of their purchasing needs.
The northernmost part of the city holds the noble district, fenced off from the rest of the city with guards stationed at each entryway, ensuring travelers have the appropriate paperwork in order to enter. Fewer houses fill this district, though the ones that are there are much grander, the villas and manors spanning large areas, with massive, beautifully tended to gardens surrounding them.
It is this city where our story begins.
Plot:
Within a forest that borders this major trade hub, there have been mysterious sightings of a large beast roaming about and causing a panic among the citizens and traders. There have been numerous disappearances since the sightings began, though they weren't uncommon to begin with.
- Yyletria (Eel-et-Ria), Fantasy
- Droharas, Steampunk Fantasy
- Venerax Station, Sci-fi/Fantasy
“Remember, don’t go into the forest during the daylight hours. Humans are sometimes so very conniving and ruthless. They wouldn’t understand a creature like you, sweetheart.”
“I remember…”
His response was in his memories as he stood alongside a mound of freshly disturbed dirt, the morning rain pounding upon his already soaking head. At the opposite end of the pile from where he stood, a serviceable grave marker had been fashioned of wood with the name “Susanna” etched into it. No other markings upon it to give dates or any other such information which may be found on more proper adornments for the dead. Flashes of memories continued within his head, of a kind woman taking in an abandoned young one, showing him the ways of the forest and caring for him in a way only mothers could. He remembered laughter and tears, joy and sorrow, and all the busy days she spent bringing him up on her own while teaching him to exist and thrive. Long, canine ears were pinned against his head as he closed his eyes in silent reflection, remembering the life of his caretaker as he stood in the rain for much longer than he should have. He’d have gotten a scolding for that, he mused as he started to open his eyes. He was glad for the rain, however. It seemed appropriate for his current emotional state. A constant pitter-patter of the droplets through the leaves of the trees and undergrowth, and down into the mud brought a mild sense of calming to the statuesque man who continued to stand in stoic silence. After he was thoroughly soaked to the core and the brown and tan linens which he wore to bed were clinging to his frame, a decision was made to carry on with his day. After all, the world was not going to stop for him to grieve and there was much that needed to be done now that he was on his own.
“I haven’t much choice now, mother,” his voice was deep and rugged as he spoke to the grave before turning away slowly, facing towards the quaint little cottage which he had called his home for the last two decades. It was situated in a clearing which had been made amongst the towering trees of the forest which surrounded Amaranthia with spring flowers all around closed up for the time, protesting the chill in the air with such a persistent rain. Fashioned of fine lumber sourced from the very woods wherein it stood, stained a rich, lovely brown and roofed with a slightly lighter shade of carefully milled wooden slats. A chimney of gray, sand and red colored stones held together with mortar rose from the center of the room and a steady stream of smoke puffed out of the top, dancing playfully with the raindrops before being whisked off by the gnawing wind which had begun to blow through. Windows of glass softly shuddered against the buffets of wind but held fast, having survived much worse than a few simple gusts. Making his way to the door carved of oak, he pressed down the handle latch and stepped within the warm comfort of his abode and wiped his feet upon the fur doormat just inside the entrance. He shook the water from himself in an attempt to keep from tracking too much of the moisture inside before heading into the cozy living room, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace fashioned of the same stonework from which the chimney was crafted. The floor was made of hardwood slats, with rugs of fur placed strategically throughout and a couch, sofa, and a chair with an ottoman crafted of wood and upholstered with leather and stuffed with padded material sat around a dark red-brown stained table in the middle of the living space.
He made himself comfortable in front of the fireplace, the stone slabs which had been carved out to make the flooring there warm from the radiant heat which now touched his fur and soothed the aching cold which had begun to set into his bones. A wrought iron rack sat next to the fireplace, stacked with pieces of cut timber of which he fed into the fire in order to coax it back to a more full burn. A sigh left him as he’d begun to dry out from the heat which circulated around his body and, before long, his eyes had drifted shut as he slumped into the stone floor and a slow rise and fall of his chest proceeded to follow the impromptu slumber he succumbed to. Awakening around noon as the fire began to dwindle once more, he stoked the flames with a few more pieces of wood from the rack before taking the poker which leaned against it, making small adjustments to the coals to introduce some air for the fire to feed upon. His stomach gave a soft grumble, protesting against the lack of breakfast he had forgone to bury the only mother he’d known. He supposed it was time to go upon a hunt and the sound of the unrelenting rain continued upon the wooden roof and echoed their dulcet melody through the quiet cottage. He did have some smoked, preserved meats and other things which he could eat, though these were best saved for a time when he was incapable of hunting. At least his footsteps would be more difficult to hear, he thought as he made his way to the back of the home after ensuring the fire would at least still be angry coals by the time he returned.
Entering the room which had been fashioned to suit him, he looked upon his sturdy bed with his body longing for just a bit more respite. Though, he did still have things which needed to be accomplished before day’s end and sleeping further would certainly not aid him in the endeavor. Stripping the linens from his muscular frame and tossing them into a woven wicker basket in the corner, he went to his hand-carved wardrobe and withdrew a pair of black denim pants with four metal buttons to secure the front. He pulled these on and fastened them, the fabric well worn to his legs and showed signs of their age in the faded colors and patches of wear which exposed some of the fibers in places. A hole was fashioned in the rear of the pants, modified by his mother in order to accommodate the large, bushy tail which extended from his lower back. His exposed upper torso, even under his coat of fur, was noticeably muscular and well-built as a consequence of making an honest living off the land. A shirt wouldn’t be necessary for this weather, as it would merely weigh him down and stick to him like a smothering blanket and, as far as he was concerned, the jeans were a little too much as well. However, he’d been taught to make himself at least slightly modest before venturing out during the daytime, if it were necessary. He hadn’t any need for any of the typical hunting implements, his razor sharp claws being more than enough to suffice where his sharp-toothed maw could not be used. However, he did take a blade with him so that he may use it to take what he needed from his prey with ease, as well as a neatly folded and tied up burlap sack in which to deposit his gains.
He made his way back out to the clearing and gave a forlorn look over to the grave which rests at the edge of the forest, seeing how the rain had already turned the mound of dirt into thick mud. He hoped it would hold together as he didn’t wish to exhume the woman he held so fondly in his heart. Shooting towards the woodline to the north, the wolfman’s ears were perked as he made his way to the hunting grounds which he favored due to the plentiful game available there. An hour or two later and he would find himself in a lower portion of the woods which had been inundated with the near constant deluge and he was wading through water which came up to his ankles. His animal eyes focused on his surroundings, scanning through the brush and trees in the hopes of finding quarry swiftly so that he could make his journey back home before dusk settled in. A brown shape twitched in his peripheral vision and his head snapped towards it, seeing a doe drinking of the water which surrounded them. He crept so slowly towards it that he thought he may cramp from how carefully his muscles drove him forward. It hadn’t noticed the large man’s presence until it was too late for anything to be done and his muscles twitched to life as he pounced forward just as the doe snapped her head towards him. The prey’s eyes filled with fear as it was tackled entirely to the ground by the strength of his body and his powerful jaws clamped around its throat, feeling the warm gush of blood as his long teeth sank deeply into the fur and flesh. A cry wouldn’t escape her throat as the powerful jaws of his clenched tightly, restricting the breathing of the gentle creature as it laid helplessly in the water, legs flailing in an attempt to retreat. After a few moments, the body would go lifeless in his grasp and slump down into the muddy waters under the two of them.
It took him but minutes to bring the carcass to an elevated patch where he could do his work, cutting its neck to bleed the animal before splitting the flesh of its abdomen in twain with his hunter’s blade. He made quick work of peeling back the hide and separated the torso to begin the process of gutting and cleaning it. He would leave the organs behind for scavenger animals to consume, as well as the more difficult to obtain cuts of meat and the excess which he had no use for. The carrion creatures were a necessary part of the ecosystem and predators such as himself had an obligation to ensure they had enough to feed upon as well. Filling the burlap with cuts of meat, he turned the carcass over and took a few more small cuts for him to enjoy on his way back before tying off the bag, cleaning his blade in the waters before sheathing it, and heading back homewards. He took a different path home than the one he had used to get to the hunting ground, one that he’d not ventured along before. Comfortable with his knowledge of the woods combined with his keen senses, he knew he would be able to find his way back with relative ease, so why not explore a little? A long walk would do him some good, anyway, as his mind was still clouded with grief from his morning discovery.
As he made his way back through the waters, which had risen up to his calves by this point, he felt a sudden tug around his ankles as a snare trap yanked his feet together and sent him spilling into the veritable pond which was forming from the torrential storm. Growling with frustration, he began to scramble for his blade to cut himself loose from the trap, cursing the hunter which had placed it under his breath. However, it was no hunter which placed the trap, as he would soon discover as a group of almost a dozen men dressed in a mish-mash of garments began to surround him. His eyes scanned around frantically, seeing himself being surrounded on all sides by these men and he bared his teeth aggressively before emitting a rumbling, deep growl from his throat. “Now, now, we’ll have none of that,” one of the men said, catching the wolf’s attention while another approached close enough from behind to deliver a wallop to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.
When he awoke, his head felt as though it was splitting with dried blood caked in his fur and he found himself much more constrained than he’d been in the trap. His ears were filled with the sound of laughter and his nose was assaulted by the strong scent of alcohol and acrid aroma of cigarette smoke. His unfocused eyes began to flutter open to see the men surrounding him in front of the trees, hearing a few choice slurs such as “mongrel” and “half-breed” being tossed around as one took notice of his awakening. “Oi, he’s waking up,” he said with a cocked grin as clarity began to return to the wolf’s vision and he could make out the smug face of his a little more clearly. Some of the men had blood on their hands, which looked as though they’d attempted to wipe it off somewhere which didn’t make much sense considering they were surrounded by water. Drunk bandits must not be the cleverest of sorts. “What are you doin’ ‘round these parts, beast? These are our grounds, you know that?” the man who was dressed in the finer garments of the group addressed him, appearing to be the leader as most of his pieces which he wore were of close enough design to almost be their own ensemble. A growl was all that answered him and the bandit began to shake his head, “Tsk tsk tsk,” he muttered before drawing up a loaded crossbow and sending a bolt railing into the wolf’s shoulder. A grunt of pain left him as a spray of blood erupted from the entry wound, the bolt sticking a few inches out of him as his thick crimson began to issue forth from him in earnest, clouding the water below him shortly after the bolt had struck.
“Let’s have some fun, eh, lads?” the leader piped up, met with laughter and began to circle about the tied victim like hungry coyotes, waiting for their opportunity to strike. Another snap and a blinding pain filled him while a bolt pierced into his abdomen, barely missing everything vital to his continued existence and another groan left him. Anger was beginning to cloud the wolf’s vision once again, though this time with red as he began to struggle against the ropes which bound him, making them wiggle noticeably with his efforts though they are in vain. More of his blood joined with the water as he was stuck like a pincushion, several more bolts being loosed into his arms and torso and the pain was too much for him to suppress. A loud yelp left his throat as he began to struggle harder, the ropes digging into his wrists which had been bound behind his back in such a way as to prevent him from cutting himself loose with his claws. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he panted, looking up at the sneering bandits with unbridled hatred as the blood frenzy began to fill the predator, urging him to protect himself.
Another bolt loosed, lodging itself very near his stomach and a misty cloud of blood erupted out from him, copious amounts of sanguine now marring the surface of the water. Had he been a smaller creature, he’d have bled out already, although he could feel the cold threat of death beginning to settle in sending his primal instinct to survive into overdrive. It was at this moment that his sensitive ears caught the sound of someone else approaching from around the tree. A new smell greeted his senses too, smelling nothing like these rotten bandits with their poor hygiene and unhealthy habits. Suddenly, like a flash, he felt the ropes give way behind the tree and a figure entered his peripheral vision as the bandits began to turn towards the new shape which had entered the fray. By the time their attention had been fully drawn, two laid dead upon the ground and the next closest began to swing upon the woman who had turned up out of the blue, only to be met with a similar grizzly fate as her blade found purchase directly through his open mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, as the third bandit suffered her gunshot to his head, a massive figure rose up from the bindings which had held him fast but moments ago, his body riddled with bolts.
An animalistic roar of unrivaled intensity filled the air, sounding almost like thunder from the deep, resonant voice of his as his blood frenzy fully took hold and the primal instinct to survive took over his reasoning. Rising six feet and seven inches from the ground, the large creature seemed to dwarf even the largest man of the group of bandits. Atop his canine head were triangular ears which added a couple more inches to his considerable height. White fur with tan and gold accents covered his upper body, stained with the red of the vital essence he had sacrificed thus far, bristled with an instinct to make himself appear even larger still. His fur was very thick around his neck, surrounding it almost like a mane as it stood to attention. His eyes were a warm amber-gold and were filled with a wave of intense anger and his large maw exposed long and powerful teeth within, each one as sharp as the tip of a honed dagger. His body was powerful, muscles rippling noticeably through his fur as he lunged forward, directly at the leader of the group. He barely had time to let out a frightened scream before his throat was torn out by the cruel teeth of the beastman they had captured. Spitting the flesh to the ground with a faceful of blood, some dripping from his jaw as he launched himself forward and around a baton with startling dexterity for a creature of his size, rising up from the ground with a swipe of his brutal claws over the abdomen of the next man. The clothes barely stood in the way of the razor-like extensions of his hand, splitting open just as easily as the flesh underneath and a cry of agony was heard as the brigand scrambled to try and replace the organs which were now spilling out of the cavity which had been scooped out of him by the ferocious rebuttal. His third was nearly decapitated as he slashed his claws so deeply through his neck that his head merely slumped to the side, attached with trace pieces of muscle, flesh, and the bones of his spine before crumpling quickly to the ground.
The rest began to have their reservations, seeing how half of their numbers fell within seconds of her arrival and the beast’s liberation. Beginning to attempt to flee, another was pounced upon and his back run through by the sharp claws and the strong hand of the white and tan creature. Another was thrown into a tree with such force that his back could be heard breaking, a crying and sobbing taking place of the laughter that filled the air just moments ago as the man lamely attempted to pull his way through the muddy waters, unable to keep his head out enough to prevent himself from perishing slowly to the blood-laden liquid filling his lungs. The more the beastman moved, the more crimson his fur became, both with his own blood and the blood of those who he was seeking vengeance against. Only one remained, now, and was mere feet away by the time the last of his compatriots had fallen. He whimpered, a man fearful for his life as he attempted to break out to a full stride. The wolf would let him take no other steps, his agile body launching forward and the claws of all four of his limbs met the man’s shoulders and calves, taking him to the ground as his maw shut tight around his skull. A cry of agony filled the air before the sound of crunching bone as the wolf’s jaws snapped through his cranium, albeit with considerable effort on behalf of the beast. At the last’s falling, the beast stood up, coated with blood from head to toe as he turned towards his savior, his eyes still brimming with rage.
However, upon smelling the scent he’d picked up on shortly before his release, the instinct in him was overridden by reasoning as he knew she had rescued him from sure death. His golden amber eyes softened as a look of gratitude took over his angular and masculine canine face, his nostrils flared with his deep breaths from his exertion as his massive frame crumpled down into the ground. Losing consciousness swiftly, he used the last actions he could muster to turn himself backside down, keeping the bolts from lodging further into his chest and his muzzle from diving underwater to send him to join the ranks of the dead around him.
“I remember…”
His response was in his memories as he stood alongside a mound of freshly disturbed dirt, the morning rain pounding upon his already soaking head. At the opposite end of the pile from where he stood, a serviceable grave marker had been fashioned of wood with the name “Susanna” etched into it. No other markings upon it to give dates or any other such information which may be found on more proper adornments for the dead. Flashes of memories continued within his head, of a kind woman taking in an abandoned young one, showing him the ways of the forest and caring for him in a way only mothers could. He remembered laughter and tears, joy and sorrow, and all the busy days she spent bringing him up on her own while teaching him to exist and thrive. Long, canine ears were pinned against his head as he closed his eyes in silent reflection, remembering the life of his caretaker as he stood in the rain for much longer than he should have. He’d have gotten a scolding for that, he mused as he started to open his eyes. He was glad for the rain, however. It seemed appropriate for his current emotional state. A constant pitter-patter of the droplets through the leaves of the trees and undergrowth, and down into the mud brought a mild sense of calming to the statuesque man who continued to stand in stoic silence. After he was thoroughly soaked to the core and the brown and tan linens which he wore to bed were clinging to his frame, a decision was made to carry on with his day. After all, the world was not going to stop for him to grieve and there was much that needed to be done now that he was on his own.
“I haven’t much choice now, mother,” his voice was deep and rugged as he spoke to the grave before turning away slowly, facing towards the quaint little cottage which he had called his home for the last two decades. It was situated in a clearing which had been made amongst the towering trees of the forest which surrounded Amaranthia with spring flowers all around closed up for the time, protesting the chill in the air with such a persistent rain. Fashioned of fine lumber sourced from the very woods wherein it stood, stained a rich, lovely brown and roofed with a slightly lighter shade of carefully milled wooden slats. A chimney of gray, sand and red colored stones held together with mortar rose from the center of the room and a steady stream of smoke puffed out of the top, dancing playfully with the raindrops before being whisked off by the gnawing wind which had begun to blow through. Windows of glass softly shuddered against the buffets of wind but held fast, having survived much worse than a few simple gusts. Making his way to the door carved of oak, he pressed down the handle latch and stepped within the warm comfort of his abode and wiped his feet upon the fur doormat just inside the entrance. He shook the water from himself in an attempt to keep from tracking too much of the moisture inside before heading into the cozy living room, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace fashioned of the same stonework from which the chimney was crafted. The floor was made of hardwood slats, with rugs of fur placed strategically throughout and a couch, sofa, and a chair with an ottoman crafted of wood and upholstered with leather and stuffed with padded material sat around a dark red-brown stained table in the middle of the living space.
He made himself comfortable in front of the fireplace, the stone slabs which had been carved out to make the flooring there warm from the radiant heat which now touched his fur and soothed the aching cold which had begun to set into his bones. A wrought iron rack sat next to the fireplace, stacked with pieces of cut timber of which he fed into the fire in order to coax it back to a more full burn. A sigh left him as he’d begun to dry out from the heat which circulated around his body and, before long, his eyes had drifted shut as he slumped into the stone floor and a slow rise and fall of his chest proceeded to follow the impromptu slumber he succumbed to. Awakening around noon as the fire began to dwindle once more, he stoked the flames with a few more pieces of wood from the rack before taking the poker which leaned against it, making small adjustments to the coals to introduce some air for the fire to feed upon. His stomach gave a soft grumble, protesting against the lack of breakfast he had forgone to bury the only mother he’d known. He supposed it was time to go upon a hunt and the sound of the unrelenting rain continued upon the wooden roof and echoed their dulcet melody through the quiet cottage. He did have some smoked, preserved meats and other things which he could eat, though these were best saved for a time when he was incapable of hunting. At least his footsteps would be more difficult to hear, he thought as he made his way to the back of the home after ensuring the fire would at least still be angry coals by the time he returned.
Entering the room which had been fashioned to suit him, he looked upon his sturdy bed with his body longing for just a bit more respite. Though, he did still have things which needed to be accomplished before day’s end and sleeping further would certainly not aid him in the endeavor. Stripping the linens from his muscular frame and tossing them into a woven wicker basket in the corner, he went to his hand-carved wardrobe and withdrew a pair of black denim pants with four metal buttons to secure the front. He pulled these on and fastened them, the fabric well worn to his legs and showed signs of their age in the faded colors and patches of wear which exposed some of the fibers in places. A hole was fashioned in the rear of the pants, modified by his mother in order to accommodate the large, bushy tail which extended from his lower back. His exposed upper torso, even under his coat of fur, was noticeably muscular and well-built as a consequence of making an honest living off the land. A shirt wouldn’t be necessary for this weather, as it would merely weigh him down and stick to him like a smothering blanket and, as far as he was concerned, the jeans were a little too much as well. However, he’d been taught to make himself at least slightly modest before venturing out during the daytime, if it were necessary. He hadn’t any need for any of the typical hunting implements, his razor sharp claws being more than enough to suffice where his sharp-toothed maw could not be used. However, he did take a blade with him so that he may use it to take what he needed from his prey with ease, as well as a neatly folded and tied up burlap sack in which to deposit his gains.
He made his way back out to the clearing and gave a forlorn look over to the grave which rests at the edge of the forest, seeing how the rain had already turned the mound of dirt into thick mud. He hoped it would hold together as he didn’t wish to exhume the woman he held so fondly in his heart. Shooting towards the woodline to the north, the wolfman’s ears were perked as he made his way to the hunting grounds which he favored due to the plentiful game available there. An hour or two later and he would find himself in a lower portion of the woods which had been inundated with the near constant deluge and he was wading through water which came up to his ankles. His animal eyes focused on his surroundings, scanning through the brush and trees in the hopes of finding quarry swiftly so that he could make his journey back home before dusk settled in. A brown shape twitched in his peripheral vision and his head snapped towards it, seeing a doe drinking of the water which surrounded them. He crept so slowly towards it that he thought he may cramp from how carefully his muscles drove him forward. It hadn’t noticed the large man’s presence until it was too late for anything to be done and his muscles twitched to life as he pounced forward just as the doe snapped her head towards him. The prey’s eyes filled with fear as it was tackled entirely to the ground by the strength of his body and his powerful jaws clamped around its throat, feeling the warm gush of blood as his long teeth sank deeply into the fur and flesh. A cry wouldn’t escape her throat as the powerful jaws of his clenched tightly, restricting the breathing of the gentle creature as it laid helplessly in the water, legs flailing in an attempt to retreat. After a few moments, the body would go lifeless in his grasp and slump down into the muddy waters under the two of them.
It took him but minutes to bring the carcass to an elevated patch where he could do his work, cutting its neck to bleed the animal before splitting the flesh of its abdomen in twain with his hunter’s blade. He made quick work of peeling back the hide and separated the torso to begin the process of gutting and cleaning it. He would leave the organs behind for scavenger animals to consume, as well as the more difficult to obtain cuts of meat and the excess which he had no use for. The carrion creatures were a necessary part of the ecosystem and predators such as himself had an obligation to ensure they had enough to feed upon as well. Filling the burlap with cuts of meat, he turned the carcass over and took a few more small cuts for him to enjoy on his way back before tying off the bag, cleaning his blade in the waters before sheathing it, and heading back homewards. He took a different path home than the one he had used to get to the hunting ground, one that he’d not ventured along before. Comfortable with his knowledge of the woods combined with his keen senses, he knew he would be able to find his way back with relative ease, so why not explore a little? A long walk would do him some good, anyway, as his mind was still clouded with grief from his morning discovery.
As he made his way back through the waters, which had risen up to his calves by this point, he felt a sudden tug around his ankles as a snare trap yanked his feet together and sent him spilling into the veritable pond which was forming from the torrential storm. Growling with frustration, he began to scramble for his blade to cut himself loose from the trap, cursing the hunter which had placed it under his breath. However, it was no hunter which placed the trap, as he would soon discover as a group of almost a dozen men dressed in a mish-mash of garments began to surround him. His eyes scanned around frantically, seeing himself being surrounded on all sides by these men and he bared his teeth aggressively before emitting a rumbling, deep growl from his throat. “Now, now, we’ll have none of that,” one of the men said, catching the wolf’s attention while another approached close enough from behind to deliver a wallop to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.
When he awoke, his head felt as though it was splitting with dried blood caked in his fur and he found himself much more constrained than he’d been in the trap. His ears were filled with the sound of laughter and his nose was assaulted by the strong scent of alcohol and acrid aroma of cigarette smoke. His unfocused eyes began to flutter open to see the men surrounding him in front of the trees, hearing a few choice slurs such as “mongrel” and “half-breed” being tossed around as one took notice of his awakening. “Oi, he’s waking up,” he said with a cocked grin as clarity began to return to the wolf’s vision and he could make out the smug face of his a little more clearly. Some of the men had blood on their hands, which looked as though they’d attempted to wipe it off somewhere which didn’t make much sense considering they were surrounded by water. Drunk bandits must not be the cleverest of sorts. “What are you doin’ ‘round these parts, beast? These are our grounds, you know that?” the man who was dressed in the finer garments of the group addressed him, appearing to be the leader as most of his pieces which he wore were of close enough design to almost be their own ensemble. A growl was all that answered him and the bandit began to shake his head, “Tsk tsk tsk,” he muttered before drawing up a loaded crossbow and sending a bolt railing into the wolf’s shoulder. A grunt of pain left him as a spray of blood erupted from the entry wound, the bolt sticking a few inches out of him as his thick crimson began to issue forth from him in earnest, clouding the water below him shortly after the bolt had struck.
“Let’s have some fun, eh, lads?” the leader piped up, met with laughter and began to circle about the tied victim like hungry coyotes, waiting for their opportunity to strike. Another snap and a blinding pain filled him while a bolt pierced into his abdomen, barely missing everything vital to his continued existence and another groan left him. Anger was beginning to cloud the wolf’s vision once again, though this time with red as he began to struggle against the ropes which bound him, making them wiggle noticeably with his efforts though they are in vain. More of his blood joined with the water as he was stuck like a pincushion, several more bolts being loosed into his arms and torso and the pain was too much for him to suppress. A loud yelp left his throat as he began to struggle harder, the ropes digging into his wrists which had been bound behind his back in such a way as to prevent him from cutting himself loose with his claws. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he panted, looking up at the sneering bandits with unbridled hatred as the blood frenzy began to fill the predator, urging him to protect himself.
Another bolt loosed, lodging itself very near his stomach and a misty cloud of blood erupted out from him, copious amounts of sanguine now marring the surface of the water. Had he been a smaller creature, he’d have bled out already, although he could feel the cold threat of death beginning to settle in sending his primal instinct to survive into overdrive. It was at this moment that his sensitive ears caught the sound of someone else approaching from around the tree. A new smell greeted his senses too, smelling nothing like these rotten bandits with their poor hygiene and unhealthy habits. Suddenly, like a flash, he felt the ropes give way behind the tree and a figure entered his peripheral vision as the bandits began to turn towards the new shape which had entered the fray. By the time their attention had been fully drawn, two laid dead upon the ground and the next closest began to swing upon the woman who had turned up out of the blue, only to be met with a similar grizzly fate as her blade found purchase directly through his open mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, as the third bandit suffered her gunshot to his head, a massive figure rose up from the bindings which had held him fast but moments ago, his body riddled with bolts.
An animalistic roar of unrivaled intensity filled the air, sounding almost like thunder from the deep, resonant voice of his as his blood frenzy fully took hold and the primal instinct to survive took over his reasoning. Rising six feet and seven inches from the ground, the large creature seemed to dwarf even the largest man of the group of bandits. Atop his canine head were triangular ears which added a couple more inches to his considerable height. White fur with tan and gold accents covered his upper body, stained with the red of the vital essence he had sacrificed thus far, bristled with an instinct to make himself appear even larger still. His fur was very thick around his neck, surrounding it almost like a mane as it stood to attention. His eyes were a warm amber-gold and were filled with a wave of intense anger and his large maw exposed long and powerful teeth within, each one as sharp as the tip of a honed dagger. His body was powerful, muscles rippling noticeably through his fur as he lunged forward, directly at the leader of the group. He barely had time to let out a frightened scream before his throat was torn out by the cruel teeth of the beastman they had captured. Spitting the flesh to the ground with a faceful of blood, some dripping from his jaw as he launched himself forward and around a baton with startling dexterity for a creature of his size, rising up from the ground with a swipe of his brutal claws over the abdomen of the next man. The clothes barely stood in the way of the razor-like extensions of his hand, splitting open just as easily as the flesh underneath and a cry of agony was heard as the brigand scrambled to try and replace the organs which were now spilling out of the cavity which had been scooped out of him by the ferocious rebuttal. His third was nearly decapitated as he slashed his claws so deeply through his neck that his head merely slumped to the side, attached with trace pieces of muscle, flesh, and the bones of his spine before crumpling quickly to the ground.
The rest began to have their reservations, seeing how half of their numbers fell within seconds of her arrival and the beast’s liberation. Beginning to attempt to flee, another was pounced upon and his back run through by the sharp claws and the strong hand of the white and tan creature. Another was thrown into a tree with such force that his back could be heard breaking, a crying and sobbing taking place of the laughter that filled the air just moments ago as the man lamely attempted to pull his way through the muddy waters, unable to keep his head out enough to prevent himself from perishing slowly to the blood-laden liquid filling his lungs. The more the beastman moved, the more crimson his fur became, both with his own blood and the blood of those who he was seeking vengeance against. Only one remained, now, and was mere feet away by the time the last of his compatriots had fallen. He whimpered, a man fearful for his life as he attempted to break out to a full stride. The wolf would let him take no other steps, his agile body launching forward and the claws of all four of his limbs met the man’s shoulders and calves, taking him to the ground as his maw shut tight around his skull. A cry of agony filled the air before the sound of crunching bone as the wolf’s jaws snapped through his cranium, albeit with considerable effort on behalf of the beast. At the last’s falling, the beast stood up, coated with blood from head to toe as he turned towards his savior, his eyes still brimming with rage.
However, upon smelling the scent he’d picked up on shortly before his release, the instinct in him was overridden by reasoning as he knew she had rescued him from sure death. His golden amber eyes softened as a look of gratitude took over his angular and masculine canine face, his nostrils flared with his deep breaths from his exertion as his massive frame crumpled down into the ground. Losing consciousness swiftly, he used the last actions he could muster to turn himself backside down, keeping the bolts from lodging further into his chest and his muzzle from diving underwater to send him to join the ranks of the dead around him.
Her heat could nearly be felt on his navel through the flowing lengths of fabric that obfuscated the rest of him from view. His fingers pulled away from her, slick with evidence of her need, those delicious globes of her nectar settling on his skin and stranding between the gaps. The king seemed to read his queen’s every move split seconds before they completed as his fingers cleared the way just as she brought the apex of his turgid arousal to bear against her. Emissions of his slick salve combined with the honey dripping along her delicate folds and the combination seemed to thicken and lubricate more effectively than just one or the other itself. He’d hoped she’d not rush, despite their limited time, wishing to rapturously extend every moment in order to more fully appreciate the act in time.
Dragged against her, his back arched mildly to press him just that bit more firmly against her sensitive flesh. His nubbed crown rubbing her lips, coaxing them to spread further that her flower might welcome him more readily when it came due. His lubrication never ceased, instead increasing as she further provoked him and massaged herself against his pulsating cock. His own hips responded in kind, gyrations and hooked motions meant to briefly catch himself in her entrance before popping right back out as their lurid behavior accelerated. He drenched her clit at the next pass of his tip, the aphrodisiac both heightening sensitivity and generating desire; not that it was needed. Arousal strained him, his body aching with need as her velvety texture glided back and forth against his hard, purpose-built shaft. Little rivulets of his fluid dripped onto his groin and down his shaft, mingling with her arousal as webbing strands connected nubs to nubs and hardness to softness. Niall’s sack was swollen with need, a guarantee of at least two volumes of fullness for the queen should she bring him to completion within.
Neck arched as his breath hitched in his throat, briefly, before a growl of delight as she began to suckle and tease the tender flesh thereof. More talent to be explored, Niall thought as he listened to her words with a grin. “My queen...Your seduction of me has been written for ages, now...This is merely the punctuation,” his words were molten with ardor and firm in truth. Niall brought his mouth to her long, pointed ear and nibbled at its peak before trailing down, teasing her tragus with the tip of his tongue. Each of her pulses met with an equally enthusiastic twitch, drawn gasps and seductive rumbles issuing from his throat. She was soaking him as he returned in kind, the cooler morning air taunting his manhood as it craved the succor of her warmth. She pulled from him in a manner which he immediately understood her objective and the Unseelie king bit his lip as to not excessively telegraph his excitement.
Compared to the smallness of the queen, his was massive and daunting and the thought of his complete penetration of her made his toes want to curl. A brief pause had his breath bated, aware of the tension which guarded against intrusion. However, neither seemed as though they would allow such hindrance. She pumped him for more of his sexual secretion and his response was extraordinary as her slick hand tantalized his throbbing shaft of what all-encompassing silk was to come. His nubby shaft massaged her hand as it passed to and fro on his length, reminding her of the distinctive gratification he was all too prepared to provide. Dense globules of his issued forth, mildly manipulated by a small touch of sorcery on his part, and coated her taut entrance and palatial folds with concentration which would almost leave her tingling. She could feel thick veins just beneath the surface, ropes coursing with his vital essences and fueling his massive endowment for her pleasure and his. Suddenly, she was upon him again and this time, she achieved her purpose with a firm thrust downwards. Simultaneously, he called out into the air through teeth clenched into his lower lip. Small droplets of his nearly black crimson forming beneath his fangs, evidence of his immense pleasure and requirement to control his voice. His hands had each found a place at her hips, both supporting her and appreciating the way her body curved. Fingers kneaded strongly into her as a way to distract from his impatience to drive further into her.
His was hard and unyielding to her sateen plushness, pressed against her tightness in the most excruciatingly delightful ways. She fell towards him, gentle kisses to his cheek making him grin ecstatically as his fingers caressed a rhythm into her hips; his palms supportively pressed against her. Like a counterbalance, his hips responded in kind, stirring her entrance with his cock’s head and pressing his knobbly crown against that clamped opening with the assurance of heights she’d never attained when she resumed splitting herself on him. He wondered, despite all of her midnight trysts and affairs, if she’d managed to save herself all these years or if merely his was an endowment which far exceeded that of her previous lovers. As she lowered and whispered to him, his ears could detect the unmistakable sound of movement, sensitive and keen as they were. With a flourish of his hands, his frilled robes wound around their lower halves, obscuring their delve into carnality from visibility. Frustration pulled at his face, but only mildly so as their connection remained. Niall found himself hoping it was a small animal or someone feeble enough with unimportant business whom he could turn away with his striking, horrific gaze. Every second was punctuated by a heartbeat-like pulse within her, his pre collecting therein, a prompt of his currently undefeatable hunger.
Dragged against her, his back arched mildly to press him just that bit more firmly against her sensitive flesh. His nubbed crown rubbing her lips, coaxing them to spread further that her flower might welcome him more readily when it came due. His lubrication never ceased, instead increasing as she further provoked him and massaged herself against his pulsating cock. His own hips responded in kind, gyrations and hooked motions meant to briefly catch himself in her entrance before popping right back out as their lurid behavior accelerated. He drenched her clit at the next pass of his tip, the aphrodisiac both heightening sensitivity and generating desire; not that it was needed. Arousal strained him, his body aching with need as her velvety texture glided back and forth against his hard, purpose-built shaft. Little rivulets of his fluid dripped onto his groin and down his shaft, mingling with her arousal as webbing strands connected nubs to nubs and hardness to softness. Niall’s sack was swollen with need, a guarantee of at least two volumes of fullness for the queen should she bring him to completion within.
Neck arched as his breath hitched in his throat, briefly, before a growl of delight as she began to suckle and tease the tender flesh thereof. More talent to be explored, Niall thought as he listened to her words with a grin. “My queen...Your seduction of me has been written for ages, now...This is merely the punctuation,” his words were molten with ardor and firm in truth. Niall brought his mouth to her long, pointed ear and nibbled at its peak before trailing down, teasing her tragus with the tip of his tongue. Each of her pulses met with an equally enthusiastic twitch, drawn gasps and seductive rumbles issuing from his throat. She was soaking him as he returned in kind, the cooler morning air taunting his manhood as it craved the succor of her warmth. She pulled from him in a manner which he immediately understood her objective and the Unseelie king bit his lip as to not excessively telegraph his excitement.
Compared to the smallness of the queen, his was massive and daunting and the thought of his complete penetration of her made his toes want to curl. A brief pause had his breath bated, aware of the tension which guarded against intrusion. However, neither seemed as though they would allow such hindrance. She pumped him for more of his sexual secretion and his response was extraordinary as her slick hand tantalized his throbbing shaft of what all-encompassing silk was to come. His nubby shaft massaged her hand as it passed to and fro on his length, reminding her of the distinctive gratification he was all too prepared to provide. Dense globules of his issued forth, mildly manipulated by a small touch of sorcery on his part, and coated her taut entrance and palatial folds with concentration which would almost leave her tingling. She could feel thick veins just beneath the surface, ropes coursing with his vital essences and fueling his massive endowment for her pleasure and his. Suddenly, she was upon him again and this time, she achieved her purpose with a firm thrust downwards. Simultaneously, he called out into the air through teeth clenched into his lower lip. Small droplets of his nearly black crimson forming beneath his fangs, evidence of his immense pleasure and requirement to control his voice. His hands had each found a place at her hips, both supporting her and appreciating the way her body curved. Fingers kneaded strongly into her as a way to distract from his impatience to drive further into her.
His was hard and unyielding to her sateen plushness, pressed against her tightness in the most excruciatingly delightful ways. She fell towards him, gentle kisses to his cheek making him grin ecstatically as his fingers caressed a rhythm into her hips; his palms supportively pressed against her. Like a counterbalance, his hips responded in kind, stirring her entrance with his cock’s head and pressing his knobbly crown against that clamped opening with the assurance of heights she’d never attained when she resumed splitting herself on him. He wondered, despite all of her midnight trysts and affairs, if she’d managed to save herself all these years or if merely his was an endowment which far exceeded that of her previous lovers. As she lowered and whispered to him, his ears could detect the unmistakable sound of movement, sensitive and keen as they were. With a flourish of his hands, his frilled robes wound around their lower halves, obscuring their delve into carnality from visibility. Frustration pulled at his face, but only mildly so as their connection remained. Niall found himself hoping it was a small animal or someone feeble enough with unimportant business whom he could turn away with his striking, horrific gaze. Every second was punctuated by a heartbeat-like pulse within her, his pre collecting therein, a prompt of his currently undefeatable hunger.
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