Fable - Ask The Tides of Fate

A roleplay which may be open to join but you must ask the creator first

Kol

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Kol was about to comment on the Island, on what this place might hold or what it could be worth.

There was a thousand opportunities for things in this place. Pieces and parts that could be built into something greater as long as they were guided correctly. His mouth opened to speak but before he could get out a word Ruvsa slipped over to him.

She moved like predator pouncing on it's prey, sinking down into his lap before he had any time for argument or words.

His hands came up to grasp at her hips, fingers digging in and about to throw her away. He was sure that this was some sort of trick, a trap. That she would sink her teeth into his throat or slide a blade into his chest before he had a chance to react.

No knife came however.

Instead her lips sank into his, forceful, demanding.

Kol didn't push her off, but didn't meet the kiss inkind either. Instead he sat there stunned, surprised.

Pursuits of the flesh had never been a thing of his mind. Had never been something he'd thought of. There had always been more important things. Such things had simply slipped his mind, never seeming all that interesting compared to the sweet pain of the Dark Gods embrace.

He didn't move, though, he did not move her either.
 
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Ruvsá

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Ruvsá felt Kol's fingers sink sharply into her hips, shivered just a little at the bite of his nails through her clothes. But his... lack of response was surprising, and after a few moments, she pulled back and eyed him curiously.

She had not expected to actually catch him by surprise, and his expression said that he didn't know what to think. How to respond.

Slowly, she sat back, shifting her weight off his lap, though she left her knees draped over his legs.

"You're either a virgin," she observed, eyes softening but still curious, "or you don't like women. And if it's the latter, I'm sorry. In either case, or if you're just not interested, say the word and I'll leave you alone."

She gave a friendly smile then. "You're interesting. Intriguing. Far more than my late consort was, and I'll admit I'd like to get him out of my system, but I won't force you to do something you're not interested in.

Everything, if anything, that happens between us on this island can stay on this island when we leave, if that's what you want."

She fell silent then, watching him as she waited for a reply. Was she interested in... a more permanent type of relationship, after having just gotten out of one that backfired on her badly? No. But Kol was... not ugly. Even with his scars and the hardness etched into his face and eyes. She was a warrior, if she overlooked someone for their scars she would the deepest kind of hypocrite.

But there was, on some level, something about him that pulled at her. He was cunning, seeming to be a match for her with wit and, to some extent, strength. The part of her that was bear recognized that he attracted her because his offspring could be strong as well, in a way the Nordenfiir weren't, whether they inherited the ability for Svalen or not. It was a good thing she wasn't in heat, and wouldn't be again for months.
 
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Kol

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His hands gently slid over her body and down onto her thighs as she pulled herself away.

For a few moments more he listened to her. Neither of her options were insulting, and one of them was not incorrect. Kol had never pursued a woman before, had simply never bothered. Always there had been something in the way, something that needed to do.

The Dark Gods had pulled him in a thousand different directions, their tirades and screams always echoing within his ears. Even now they called to him, each one with a voice as loud as the next.

It was the assumption that they were creatures of blood, of death, of all the evil things in this world. Yet within their cacophony of screaming commands lay something entirely different. Whispers that he had always ignored. Calls that had seemed unimportant and even flagrant.

Those Dark Gods that did not ask for sacrifices of blood and slaughter, but the capitulation of flesh.

They demanded he give in.

They called for him to submit to the impulse that he had never once considered before. They tempted, whispered. Their arguments mounting with every passing second as Ruvsa lay half across him. Kol frowned for only a brief second.

Time seemed to slow for a moment, seconds passed, or perhaps minutes. Kol gave no answer, no word of warning. Ruvsa would feel one of his hands tighten on her thigh, the other drifting silently up her body as his fingers softly wrapped around her throat.

It was a touch surprisingly gentle touch, one that perhaps offered more answer than any word.

Without hesitation, without an opportinuty he dragged her back towards him and onto his lips. The same forceful kiss she had given him offered in reply.
 
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Ruvsá

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Virgin, then, Ruvsá thought when one of Kol's hands gripped her thigh more firmly. His other hand traveled up her body to slip gently around her throat, and she smiled as her eyes darkened. She lifted her hips up over his knees as tugged her back into his lap. This time, she settled closer, pressing against him from hip to chest as he returned her kiss with equal force.

She parted her mouth against his and nipped at his bottom lip, weaving her fingers into the hair at the back of his nape as her thumbs settled along his jaw. "Easy," she whispered, pulling back after a moment, a touch of irony appearing in her gaze as she recalled him saying that the title of mentor was a bit much. "I'll teach you."

Ruvsá lowered a hand to guide his still on her thigh up and under her tunic until his fingers rested against bare skin. Then she kissed him again, a little more softly now, teasing and slow as she coaxed it deeper. Her fingers were gentle but firm as they traced down the lines of his neck and back until she could slip them under his shirt and trace the same path back up.

It felt good to touch someone again that she wasn't actively trying to fool.
 
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Kol

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A breath filled his lungs.

It surged with a life that he had never lived, never imagined he would have, never even thought about having. His lips traced over hers as she spoke, a taunt, a tease perhaps. He could feel his heart race in his chest, a decidedly human feeling that he'd never felt before.

The fingers at her throat tightened ever so gently, firmly holding her in place so she did not have a chance to draw away. "I'm sure you will."

A confidence denoted his tone, though no rebuke came from his lips.

Kol was not a man of shame. He did not care about what he had or had not experienced. In that moment he cared only to seize what was before him. To explore. To touch. To fulfill a craving that had been ignored and thrown aside for the entirety of his life.

Fire evoked as his fingers drew beneath the hem of her shirt, drawing over her skin and running higher until he reached the curve of her chest.

His thumb softly traced over her, drawing a slow circle as he took in a breath.

"Just this once." Kol teased softly as he claimed her lips once more.
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Ruvsá

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Ruvsá stretched, a contented moan escaping her, on the ground next to Kol where they lay by the fire. Her hair had come loose from its braid somewhere along the way and was now strewn with bits of grass. She gave no thought to her nakedness, nor the chill of the air over her skin. She'd dozed off for a little while, tucked against his side.

Turning a now-fond gaze toward him, she softly smiled. He'd been an eager student, surprisingly vigorous at times, and she had not minded at all when his touch would become firm. Demanding. But if he thought one night was the extent of what she could teach him, he was sorely mistaken.

She settled her head back against his shoulder with a quiet sigh before she spoke.

"I hear quiet voices when I'm slipping into sleep," she said. "It first happened back in the prison, when we rested in that cell. I thought maybe it was... the prison. Something there. But it's still happening."

Perhaps it was the island. That was all she could think of. Maybe, despite the prison's destruction, there was still some lingering magic on the island. Something they hadn't found yet.
 
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Kol

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His fingers gently played over her hips, drawing over her bare skin as his eyes remained closed.

Kol listened to every word Ruvsa said, hearing the echo of his own tortures within them. Had his healing given her a call to the Dark Gods? Could they now whisper to her to as they did to him?

The Sorcerer doubted it was exactly the same. His plague was different than many others. She had been touched, but not fully sunk. A breath filled his lungs, his chest rising as his fingers splayed slowly over her skin and up the curve of her body. "Perhaps a resonance."

He mused, not exactly telling a lie.

"What do the voices say?" Kol asked as his fingers drew further over her skin, tracing up her body in a slow, almost possessive touch.

His thumb gently tracing against the peak of her chest as he waited for her answer.
 
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Ruvsá

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Heat spread through her everywhere Kol's fingertips touched. Lingered. It surprised her how much he wanted to touch. He'd barely stopped at all since he returned her first kiss. But she eagerly pressed herself into his questing hands, turning to gently bit his shoulder and soothe the mark with a kiss before smoothing her own hand up the planes of his torso. She lingered in spots when she heard his breath hitch before her fingers danced over his collarbone.

"I don't know," Ruvsá answered his question after a few moments of thought. Distraction. "I only hear them when... my mind is relaxed. If I try to focus on them, they fade away. They're too quiet to make out words."
 
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Kol

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"Mm." The sound passed through Kol's throat.

In truth he had no idea if it was the Dark Gods or not. Their touch was sometimes subtle, sometimes forceful. He had healed her using their power, but the consequences of that came in a dozen different forms. There was no real way of telling.

Not without more magic.

His index and thumb traced slowly over her, and then his shoulders pulled up into a lazy shrug as she graced her hand over his collar. "Nothing to worry about if you can't hear."

The Sorcerer said simply.

"Whispers of what could have been." He told her, his hand drawing along her throat. "Or maybe what could be."

Kol looked at her, his eyes slowly folding over her bare skin. "This is your new Kingdom after all."
 
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Ruvsá

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"I suppose so." Ruvsá traced her fingers from Kol's collarbone to his shoulder, down his arm to the hand smoothing over her throat. She tugged his hand to her mouth, pressed a kiss to his palm, then smirked as he said this was her kingdom now.

She sat up and rolled over, slotting her hips over his once more, pressing a hand on his chest to keep him on the ground. "It is, isn't it?" she purred. "I suppose that makes me a Queen now."

She leaned down and pressed a fierce kiss to Kol's mouth again, her teeth sinking into his lower lip before she delved deeper, teasing and tasting. Then she sat back up, tossing her hair over her shoulders. Her skin gleamed golden in the firelight, only broken by the black lines of her preske spreading across the lower part of her left ribs.

Her face was fierce and her eyes held a feral gleam. She was not a noble and benevolent queen tonight, but wild and regal. A queen who knew her power, knew that every word she spoke was law, and her smile was that of one who knew she could command the very land to bow to her whim and it would obey.

"But if I am Queen," she said, her tone bemused, "what are you? Loyal vassal?" The thought almost made her laugh. "Royal advisor? Prince consort?" Her smile turned teasing, yet predatory. "King?"
 
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Kol

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Kol looked up at her for a few moments, watching as she mounted herself on top of him.

His eyes flickered over every little curve and line of her body in appreciation. A hand floated up and over her skin, tracing a slow line over her hip as he considered the words. What was he?

Certainly no King nor Prince. Such titled did not suit him, never would. Lips thinned for a brief moment in consideration, his eyes following the trail of his fingers as they sailed up her curves. After a few seconds he answered, a small smile touching his lips. "A demon."

He mused.

"Whispering in your ear." Kol continued, letting his hands slowly roam her body.

The thought amused him, his eyes finally flickering up to meet hers as his fingers ceased their slow sail upward and his thumb slowly drew over her throat. His palm grasping at the nape of her neck to pull her down into another slow kiss.

Each meeting of their lips was like a battle. A small passionate fight for a second of control. He tasted a speck of blood from where she had last sunk her teeth, but all it did was spurn him further. His tongue slid passed her guard, one hand holding her neck as the other folded over the curve of their rear.

By the time their lips parted lungs would burn, and Kol's voice was a rasp. "Tying a string."

The Sorcerer mused.

Kol was a man bound in a thousand different ways. A puppet tied up in strings. What was one more?
 
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Ruvsá

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Aggar had been very... practiced in bed. There were certain things he'd liked, with a limited amount of things he liked to do for his partner, and while she'd never left his bed dissatisfied, it had all been rather bland. Especially after two years.

Kol, though... Ruvsá liked the way he was touching her, looking at her. That he didn't hesitate to reach out and touch, to possess. To wrap his fingers around her throat like she couldn't break his wrist at a whim.

She smirked at his words. A demon, indeed. She let herself be pulled down into his kiss again. Opened her mouth to his tongue, and growled at the small trace of blood she tasted. Her fingers came up, knotted themselves in his hair, fighting for control of the kiss again.

She was a predator, after all. Bears liked blood as much as honey.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath, she grinned.

"Even demons can be bound," she said, then pressed Kol back to the earth.



In the morning, Ruvsá rose with the dawn and shifted to her Svalen form, not bothering to dress first, and left the camp. She returned a while later, her muzzle wet and bloodied, and a freshly killed salmon in her teeth. She laid it beside Kol, then shifted back, blood smeared across her mouth and jaw.

"I already ate," she said with a smile. "Clean the fish and eat it when you want. I'm going to bathe."
 
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Kol

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Food, like sleep, was a luxury for him. When Ruvsa threw the fish down besides him Kol was not sleeping, but simply staring up at the ceiling of the small hut he'd forged. Lips thinned for a moment as the sound of the fish landing on the ground appeared besides him.

His head turned for a moment, following after Ruvsa with blank expression. "Thank you."

Kol said as he pulled himself up from the ground and began to prepare the fish. Just because he rarely needed to eat didn't mean that he would not take advantage when he could. Even the Dark Gods were not eternal with their blessings.

A frown pulled at his lips as he prepared his meal.

Others.

The Whisper was a quiet one, almost lost in the cacophony of voices that screamed within his head. Yet he'd heard it. The trouble was finding if it was a lie or the truth.
 
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Ruvsá

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Ruvsá was a little disappointed that Kol didn't join her for the bath, but it was still an enjoyable bath, regardless. She splashed and swam, washing away the remains of the night's activities and the blood from her breakfast on her face. At one point, she even indulged a whim and shifted into her Svalen, splashing and stomping and diving in the water. If anyone had seen her, it would have looked like playing.

Finally, though, she exited the hot spring. Still in Svalen form, she shook the excess water out of her fur, then shifted back, nearly dry. She frowned, gently prodding the cut on her arm with her fingers. Her poultice had fallen off hours ago, and she should have cleaned and re-bandaged the cut sooner, but for now it seemed there were no early signs of infection.

She returned to camp to retrieve her clothes, offering Kol a soft, friendly smile. She dressed her wound, then quietly dressed and made some attempt at tying her hair back. She hadn't brought a comb with her since she hadn't planned to need to redo her braid, and she swore quietly a few times as she worked to untangle knots with just her fingers.

Kol seemed a little on edge, though, and as she finally got her hair into a manageable state, she asked, "Is something wrong?"
 
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Kol

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Kol watched her appreciatively as she dressed, though didn't let his eyes linger for too long before he turned his attention to the low flames.

"There is someone else on the island." He explained quietly.

A smile touched his face for a second. "Invading your Kingdom."

It was a small jest, a reminder of the night before.

The Sorcerer wasn't always sure when the Dark Gods were lying to him, but he believed this one. Lips thinned for a brief moment and he turned towards her. Shoulders rolled slightly, his leathers stretching as he pulled himself to his feet.

"I'm not sure who." Or what, for that matter. "But they're here."

Briefly he glanced in the direction of the beach. "You said it would be a few days for your people, yes?"
 
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Ruvsá

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Ruvsá frowned, following Kol's glance toward the beach. "Unless we were trapped in that prison for a week, then yes, a few days more yet for anyone to come searching for me."

She smiled mischievously at his mention of her kingdom, but kept her focus on the matter at hand.

"I didn't see or scent anyone when I caught breakfast this morning," she continued. "But I was a little further inland, not directly on the beach.

"I can shift back to Svalen, scout out the beach from a distance, see who might be coming and how many," Ruvsá suggested. "If it is someone not familiar with the tundra, then if they see me, they may not suspect me of being a scout of any kind."
 
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Kol

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"I don't think it was a week." He said softly.

There was no way to tell of course. That prison had been a maze of time and the physical plain. He could have asked the Dark Gods, but their concept of time was as warped as any morality that they might have claimed.

Kol took a breath. "Alright."

It seemed a sound enough plan.

"Though....I would not venture too close." There was no real telling who these people were or what they wanted. Kol doubted they were of Ruvsa's people. The Dark Gods would have given a different warning.

"I'll break up the camp." He told her. "Make sure there's no trace of us."

Just in case.
 

Ruvsá

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"Hopefully, they won't even see me," Ruvsá answered, then nodded as Kol said he would break up the camp. That was going to be her suggestion if he hadn't said so.

She gathered the last of her belongings, making sure she hadn't even missed a scrap of fabric from her makeshift bandages, or left any of the lichen about. Any astute scout would have noticed a pile of lichen on the ground, whether under a tree or not. Tucking the supplies away in her pocket, she slung her cloak around her shoulders again, and drew her knives from their sheaths before shifting into her Svalen form. If she had to switch back suddenly, and if these people approaching were not friendly, she did not want to have to bother to retrieve her knives. Better to have them ready.

"I'll be back soon," she rumbled to Kol, then headed toward the beach, using the hills and sparse trees to hide her form.

The shore she'd encountered Kol on was at the western side of the island, and as she quickly lumbered her way back there, she sniffed at the breeze coming in of the ocean. Dread began to twist in her gut as she smelled... the stench of filthy men. A lot of them.

She crouched low as she reached the crest of the hill separating her from the beach, and the dread proved itself true. Carefully, she slunk back down, out of sight, and made her way back to the valley, far more quickly than she had anticipated.

"Raiders," she said simply when she returned, shifting back to her human form for easier conversation. "A large ship, at least 150 armed men and orcs. It's already made anchor and several rowboats are headed to shore. It would be best if we could evade them entirely, keep them from knowing we're even here."
 
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Kol

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True to his word Kol had packed up their little camp in such a way that it looked like no one had ever been there. The land was shaped back into place, there was no sign of the small fire, and any dent in the grass their bodies had made was simply wiped away.

It was as if nothing had ever happened on the little island.

When Ruvsa returned and told him of the Raiders upon the island he frowned for a moment. Orcs? Armed men? He had never heard of an Orc from the Tundra, and to him that only meant one thing; The Blightlands. "These orcs."

He began wearily.

"Ashen skin?" Most of their kind were a tinge of green, but those of the Blight were ashen grey.

They were fierce warriors, and more often than not their warbands had at least one Shaman.
 
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Ruvsá

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Ruvsá heard the weariness in Kol's voice. Despite their... adventurous night, he had been shipwrecked, and then they'd wandered through an almost-deathly magical prison and then... well, they had their fun. And it was fun. She wouldn't mind it happening again, either, but not with raiders bearing down on top of them.

"Yes," she answered to his question about the orc's skin, and knew the situation could easily get out of their control. Shek! she swore silently. She knew about the different species and regions in the rest of Arethil, more than most Norden because of her training.

There were so many possible things that could go wrong. These were the types to pillage and plunder, and when they found only ruins here, if they found her and Kol, they might just take them out of spite for not finding anything else, either as slaves to sell or captives to keep them amused. Even if she hid on the island in her Svalen form, they might make sport in hunting her for her bear skin as a trophy.

Best, somehow, if they were not discovered here at all.

"We should go," she said as the first distant shouts rose from the beach, though they at least seemed to be communication and not cries of alarm or the sighting of something. "We need to get into the trees and at least a few hills between us and them as quickly as possible."
 
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Kol

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A hundred men, more than that, she had said.

Lips thinned for a brief moment. He tried to think about how well Ruvsa had fought, what his magic could do, what the blessings of the Dark God's would offer him. They could perhaps fight, they could even hold them off, but one hundred and fifty?

More than half would be dead, but all it took was one lucky arrow. One spear thrown in the exact right place...and it would be done. "No..."

He frowned for a moment.

"I don't think we should." The Sorcerer knew that the argument likely wouldn't go over well with her. Ruvsa was a warrior, a woman of honor, grace. Surrendering was not something she would like. "They outnumber us. We could have them chase us around the island, but eventually they'd find us."

Kol motioned to the beach. "They'll have seen the remnants of my fleet, they'll be searching."

Lips thinned.

"If we surrender, allow ourselves to be captured. We may later find an opportunity for escape." Or perhaps even something more.
 

Ruvsá

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Ruvsá pursed her lips as she listened to Kol, then sighed. She was confident, if she was alone, that she could... almost certainly evade even that many men, in land that she knew. But she didn't know this island, not like she knew much of the tundra. She didn't know if she'd be able to find a cave to hide deep within, whether in human or Svalen form. If so, the simplest thing to do would be to hide in a cave. Even those from the blightlands would know better than to wake a slumbering bear, if they even found her.

But she wasn't alone, and whether she was a shield maiden or would-be queen of this island, she wouldn't leave either a comrade-in-arms or a demon-consort--a small amount of amusement might sparkle in her eyes for a moment at the improvised term--to defend themselves alone against more than a hundred armed men.

And there was also the matter of the other Nordens who would be coming to retrieve her. If they did... surrender, rather than try to evade the raiders and thereby lead them around the island, then perhaps they would be gone by the time the Nordenfiir came. She wouldn't want to get more people captured if she could do something to avoid it.

She swore aloud this time, and grimaced, then nodded. "All right. But if at all possible, I don't want them to know that I'm Nordenfiir."

Ruvsá huffed and shook her head. "I've hated my skin at times," she confessed. "I was either exotic or I was different... but I suppose now it might be a boon."

She turned her gaze back to the beach then. "Surrender it is."
 
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Kol

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Kol nodded his head, knowing that the decision had likely not been an easy one for her. Surrender was all part of the game for him.

The Sorcerer had little honor, none at all really. He cared little for some system that bound in him in a manner he could not properly understand. Kol would do whatever he could to survive, to reach his goals. Whether that was stabbing someone in the back or murdering them in their sleep.

What was one little surrender in the face of that?

"Slaves are valuable in the Blightlands." He told her, though he knew that the words weren't at all reassuring. He had visited the lands of Menalus before, had even raided the out coastal villages. "As long as this is done right, we will be fine."

Kol tried to reassure her, something that sounded strange from his lips. "There are always opportunities for escape."

The Sorcerer knew this better than most.
 

Ruvsá

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Ruvsá's mouth twisted distastefully. She'd never thought she'd be adding 'slave' to her skills. Or, rather, potential slave. But Kol was right. As long as they were alive, there would be opportunities for escape.

She knew... some about the blightlands. That there were many orc tribes, and some had been united under Menalus. That they trafficked heavily in slaves.

"We should probably make it seem as if I was one of your crew on your now-destroyed fleet," she said, turning to face in the direction of the beach. "Or... something." She wasn't sure what. Just not Nordenfiir. But she knew precious little about sailing, or how a ship's crew was organized.

And there was another concern pressing on her mind. "How..." Ruvsá paused a moment, unsure of how to ask what she wanted to know. "How are these... blight orcs... known for treating captured females?"
 
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Kol

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"Nords." He told her simply. It was a lie adjacent to the truth, and those were often the best ones to tell. "Heading south to trade."

He doubted that they would be asked for any sort of explanation, but then again it was good to have something ready. He drew himself up, checking his leathers to ensure no symbols remained upon the armor before he glanced back at Ruvsa.

Lips thinned as she asked her next question.

The blight was based around a hierarchy, one strict enough that saw their own cut down if it was broken. He hesitated a moment, thinking of the tribes that he knew, then began slowly.

"Not...kind." He told her. "But women of beauty are saved for the Warmasters."

Kol of course did not realize that in a roundabout way he had just paid Ruvsa a compliment. Warmasters were the orcs which lead the individual tribes found in the Blight, those blessed by Menalus. "There will not be one on this ship."

No, they stayed within their own lands.

"We will escape before you have to worry." The words seemed more of a fact than reassurance.