Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf & NejraTu]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: NejraTu on 28-07-2016, 03:15:44</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NejraTu</strong> on <strong>28-07-2016, 03:15:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://content.wdl.org/14157/thumbnail/1430182306/616x510.jpg)<br>(https://yesteryearsnews.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/gold-rush-steamer-ad-1849-copy.jpg)(https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSdJCMp2ruXebPGSlZTw8xXv568gtKEnrA3wZv9KiON1Bn2xpsWnw)<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><br>The world has been inhabited by the supernatural at least as long as it's been inhabited by humanity. As humanity grew, became "civilized" and also more monstrous, the supernatural became stories humans tell each other for laughs, or to insight fear. The true believers know the myths are born of truth, and sometimes humanity isn't the worst thing in the darkness...<br><br>In 1839, a Cherokee Shaman went on a vision quest, in the desert, along, for a week he had a vision of mass murder. He saw horrible creatures that looked like men, until they weren't, and his entire his entire tribe and family were murdered during a brutal vampire blood bath. It was only when he returned, when he saw the bloody aftermath, he knew his vision wasn't a future he could warn them about, but a reality that had happened while he was in the desert. Men, women, and children, no one was spared but the young Shaman who was not there.<br><br>Introduced horrifically into the underworld they always sensed existed just beneath the surface, he collected silver to fight the monsters he would later learn were Vampires. Before he left his village, he cast a spell to give him the ability to see the underworld, the supernatural through their human facades. He has been hunting the vampires who murdered his people for ten years, and he's seen a number of other supernaturals along the way. While it's the Vampires he is after, any creature that threatens his justice has fallen. He does not remember who he used to be, is only <em>Oyohusa Adawehi</em> now; Death Angel.<br><br>It's 1849, and Oyohusa Adawehi's journey has brought him to the frontier, toward the Gold Rich California where the Vampires have gone to gorge. When he tracks down a nest of Vampires with his people's murderers among them, he has no idea they are keeping a captive, and that captive is older than all of them, a supernatural that's traveled the world and been a prisoner more than once in so many lifetimes, but never in her <em>own</em> home. All he thinks of is justice, of righting the wrongs and ridding the world of the monsters, he has no preparation for the whirlwind let loose by the captive he sets free...<br></span></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div></div><br><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong><span class="bbc_u">CAST</span></strong></span></div><br><div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png)<br><div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png[/img][/center]</code></pre><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Oyohusa Adawehi</strong> | <em>played by Martin Sensmeier</em> | written by Elf (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=profile;u=20014)</span><br></div><br><br><div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png)<br><div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png[/img][/center]</code></pre><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Rowena Sole</strong> | <em>played by Morena Baccarin</em> | written by NejraTu (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=profile;u=36723)</span><br><br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong><span class="bbc_u">SETTING</span></strong></span><br><br><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="bbc_font"><strong><em>Necuratu de Lup</em></strong></span></span><br>(Unclean Spirit of the Wolf; <em>Romanian</em>)<br><br>(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/c2/WE1floor.jpg)<br><br>(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f4/WE2floor.jpg)<br></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NejraTu</strong> on <strong>28-07-2016, 04:38:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png)</div><br><br>With the exception of the Natives, <em>Necuratu de Lup</em> was a mysterious manner that had simply been there as long as anyone could remember.&nbsp; Some of the Natives told the story of the stone walls that went up to cage the wolf over fifty years ago, the pillared entry facing the west while the stair-stepped opening in the wall faced the rising sun to the east, and how the unchanging spirit of an exotic and enchanting woman watched over it. Few had ever been inside to know those stone walls contained an elaborate home that could house many, including slaves or servants and a whole brood of a family. The singular occupant spent her days taking care of it, and only traveled to the settlements to order things she couldn’t make herself, often exotic things. Some of those things took months to arrive, but the woman was born in the dark ages, she was very patient. <br><br>The “Red Room,” “Apricot Room,” and the two “guest rooms” near her Master Suite were as yet, unfinished, but the rest of the house was her atonement for the massacre she’d been solely responsible for in her travel to this land. Places of the world she’d been, and those of men she’d killed on the ship over, forced into a shift after extended restraint forced by the storms that battered them. Ninty-seven souls, most of them slaves or escaped prisoners like her, and she still had nightmares about waking up in their blood and body parts. Her wolf had meant only to kill the “Masters” but her rage had been long suppressed before that, and exploded like a super-volcano with nowhere to escape to but all over the ship. The Red Room was to be a reminder, but she’d only gotten as far as a red velvety carpet, and crimson walls.<br><br>When she shifted on a controlled and regular basis, like eating breakfast or taking a bath, she had control over the moon’s pull on her beast. The ship had taught her that there were limits to her control, and three months was her limit of suppressing the beast before the beast suppressed her on the third full moon. She only remembered how she tore them to shreds while she walked in her wolf’s skin, but the guilt and shame followed her. Rowena Sole became a solitary person, and for over fifty years, her human interactions were limited to business. Her courtyard held a private garden; she had a brewery in the cellar, a wood stove in her kitchen, a natural well with primitive indoor plumbing for her bath, though she still had to empty her own chamber pot, she had everything she could ever want or need without having to be… social. Or, so she’d thought.<br><br>One invitation returned unopened and she found herself being watched by white-men. The Natives had long learned to steer clear, save the bold and curious children who never got past the ground floor before being chased out by her amused wolf to keep up the myth. By the time the Mexican’s claimed their own nationality, and technically controlled the land she lived on, they were superstitious enough to heed the Native’s warnings, and the pale skin of the anglo-american’s was rather distinctive. It hadn’t occurred to her, at the time, that they were more than men, and a few of them old enough to suppress their own supernatural aura’s much like she did when she went into the settlements but they didn’t even try to hide that they were hunting her. They circled her for weeks, she stopped leaving the manner, instinctively sensed she shouldn’t shift, to keep her beast hidden from them.<br><br>At five feet seven inches (172cm), a slender hundred and twenty-five pounds (57kg) of well toned 34C-24-37 measurements and a petite boot size, she was not an intimidating figure when she wasn’t wolfing out. After she’d shot two of them with belladonna arrows that should have killed them, and seen them return the next night, she knew she was not dealing with the white-men, but somehow, the <em>Diavolul Albastru</em> had found their way to the America’s and settled into the California Gold Rush. Blood Devils, that’s what her family had called them in Romania, but she hadn’t seen one for a hundred years, and this was more than one, it was a nest. It didn’t take her long to realize one of them was well dressed enough to have sent the perfumed invitation she’d refused without actually reading it, and that meant it was likely they were all living with him. What she didn’t anticipate, and should have, was that they’d see her <em>Necuratu de Lup</em> manner as a perfect get-a-way for their bloody activities.<br><br>Rowena Sole only realized what they were planning to do when they were in the middle of doing it. Her only piece of silver was a medallion with a wolf’s head on it, the silver held in a leather cover with a window to show the wolf and still put the ancient skin between her and the element that wounded her deepest. It was a reminder, not just of what she was, but what could harm her, and though it hung from a leather chord, she felt the heat against her skin.&nbsp; One medallion of silver couldn’t take down a group of <em>Diavolul Albastrus</em>&nbsp; so, she’d been gathering all her swords, her bows and quivers of arrows, her knives, throwing stars, daggers, and poison darts. If the spirits were testing her, she was going to give them a show. They’d entered through the front door, she’d wounded one before being run through the main hall and into the garden where some of her plants could conceal all but her beating heart.<br><br>She was not as fast as they were in human form, but resisted the urge to let the wolf out if only because it would have meant getting up close and personal, feeling their cold flesh in her teeth and claws. Rowena killed two in the garden, wounded three more, and took a round-about route to the North East terrace walk to reach the stairs into the brewery. They’d followed her, except Marcus and his elite, like sending the hounds after the rabbit, and she’d killed another and added more wounds to her tally as she made her way back up and into the North hall. They’d forced her to wolf out in her own kitchen, and then she’d murdered three more before they sedated her with some kind of dust they threw in her bloody wolfish face that knocked her out cold. That was six months ago, and Rowena had woken up in a cage made of iron and coated in a thick layer of silver that made it oppressive inside her otherwise vast Honored Guest lounge.<br><br>Aside from quickly measuring her cage, four by four, by six feet and thus big enough to stand in but not lay down sprawled eagle within, she noticed she was completely naked. Not just naked, but cleaned of blood and absent her medallion. Marcus, their leader, was wearing it and he’d controlled her freedom ever since. She’d learned, in the last six months, that Marcus was even older than she was, and he had a penchant for luxury and wealth. His invitation had been to celebrate his find of gold, expanding his wealth and his American empire. He enslaved humans and other vampires alike, but to have a werewolf as his personal blood bag, that was something he couldn’t resist and the only reason he didn’t have her killed. He was smart not to trust her, to keep her in the cage and only let her out with a collar on, attached to poles, and wearing silver plated iron shackles that left burns on her skin by repeated exposure around her wrists and ankles. <br><br>Only three of the Nest were allowed to feed on her, but their marks remained on her neck, breast, and wrist like brands of ownership she couldn’t wait to heal if only they’d stop making them in the same places. The only thing that had saved her from rape was wolfing out, and while it had amused them at first, it eventually lead to whippings with a silver-threaded whip that burned for a week. They stopped trying to get between her legs, but she couldn’t seem to stop them from taking her blood and putting her back in the stupid cage. Over the last week, she’d given in to the fact she would either risk the severe injuries to bend the bars of her cage or give in to seducing Marcus into trusting her enough to let her out without the shackles. Kept naked with only her inky curls to keep her warm on the plush silk pillows she had to curl up upon, she’d convinced herself to try seduction before self-mutilation.<br><br>It had seemed to be working, Marcus was vain enough to believe he’d broken her will and turned the alpha she-wolf into his pet. Tonight was going to be the night, she’d warmed her mind up with thoughts of an old lover, the way he’d touched her and made her cum as if it was his mission to send her to heaven while she writhed inside her own body. Rowena had touched herself and for once, enjoyed the scented oils Marcus made her bathe in, some exotic pheromones of horny women and pungent flowers and oaky wood notes that made her unsure where he originated from. She’d made herself wet, not for him, but for her escape, but he hadn’t seemed to know that when he discovered her moaning in her cage, writhing naked on the purple silks that layered the bottom, curled around her lewdly working hands to avoid the bars gleaming around her. <br><br>While she pretended not to notice him there, she’d been sure he was about to open the cage door, forgetting about the need to make her shackle herself first, or to sedate her. Even as the key jingled against other keys she had no idea of their purpose, she also heard his right hand burst in and alert them both to the nature of the screaming below. It was not their usual activities of raping virgins or frightening their meals into tender deliciousness, it was war. Marcus was close enough for her to catch the first part of his angry whisper, to hear the edge of fear on it, the English words “Angel of Death” which made her wonder if he was being literal. His vampires took down a three hundred plus year old werewolf, not without casualties, but not nearly enough for him not to triumph, and this “Angel of Death” was making them scream gurgling screams and wild sounds of vengeance and fear.<br><br>Suddenly, Rowena was worried about being left in the cage while the Angel of Death killed them all, and came for her helpless and unclean soul next. Maybe she was a little superstitious too… but six months in fight or flight mode, oppressed by a tight cage of silver and tortured by its use to restrain and punish her, she wasn’t exactly making the most informed or intelligent decisions. She’d touched her wet hand to one of the bars in the panic of her rolling over to face Marcus’ retreating steps, winced and hissed with a growl as she nursed the burn that was already healing, albeit slowly, and cried out not to be left behind. Marcus turned as if to look over his shoulder, his right hand urging him to hurry before the Angel of Death discovered they were up stairs. Rowena didn’t know whether to scream for help, or risk the injury to attempt escape like them. In her panic, in the wake of a fresh sting that reminded her how much she hated <em>Diavolul Albastru</em>. Fucking Vampires.<br><br>Marcus and Gabriel had no intention of attempting to save the rest of the nest below, and she was betting if any of their evening meal had lived through the dining, they were now running naked and bloody off her property. The nearest settlement was a half a days run to the west, or an entire day to the east, two days to the north, or half a day to the south. Some part of her was pleased at the thought of the tales they would tell of <em>Necuratu de Lup</em> and how, if she lived through this and escaped the Angel of Death, she might surprise the investigators by showing them a spotless wonder of solitary living. It was a fantasy, because her wet thighs were now a scent she couldn’t ignore as a target for anything with a higher-than-human sense of smell. She was not thinking about her supernatural aura, and hadn’t for three months of captivity, unaware she was radiating like a supernova of power that had no release. Wolfing out made her shoulders wider than her hips, and she’d lose her fur and skin to the silver if she bent the bars enough to squeeze through. In human form, she might save her hands with the silk, at least to some extent, and palm her heavy breasts to squeeze through without a scratch, but only if she could handle the heat before the silence set in.<br><br>As long as the vampires were fighting below, as long as she could hear the dying, she had hope that who or whatever came for the Blood Devils, was not yet coming for her. Rowena was naked, she was old enough to partially change to enhance her human strength, or offer herself sturdy claws, sharp teeth, or even superior (if grayscale) vision and acute hearing, but it wasn’t a painless effort, and she’d never mastered not growling or howling through it. If she gave herself claws to rip up the silk pillowed floor to protect her delicate hands, she risked giving herself away before escape was possible. Her brain was too full of heady chemicals and a potent dose of adrenalin, she wasn’t able to decide which risk was more dangerous, doing nothing or giving herself away, and she howled a pained howl both emotional and physical as her fingers broke and reshaped to offer claws where her nails had been, and immediately took a knee to tare open the flooring and gather both stuffing and silk in hands as a buffer against the silver. Her wolfish eyes watched three of the five doors to the room.<br><br>Being centered in the lounge, which was in a Victorian style complete with grand piano by the fireplace on the west wall, expensive and priceless artworks both recognizable to social leaders and those unknown to any but the families touched by the Artist or artwork in its journey. The lounge chairs, sofas, and day beds had been re-arranged away from the piano and circled her cage, but she still had a view of the three doors that led into the Honored Guest office, the dining room, and the hall/foyer to the Honored Guest wing. A wing she’d had many fantasies within, but had never used to entertain anyone. The two doors that lead to the Library were ignored, for she didn’t expect the intruder to scale a wall to climb in a window after slaughtering the blood-suckers below. Even in three hundred and seventy nine years of experience, she couldn’t fathom what would, or could, make Marcus flee like a pup with his tail tucked between his legs, but she was secretly hoping it found him and killed him for good so she could retrieve her medallion. Rowena wasn’t certain she’d get free, but she thought of the future to get through the pain.<br><br>The silk and cushion was airy, and the silver stung through her make-shift gloves making her growl a low rumble that should not have been possible from her human bosom. The iron didn’t want to give, she could hear it whining even through her frustration and pain, the scent of the silk burning because of her skins reaction to the silver was overpowering the scent of her memory invoked desire. It was so distracting, she realized she didn’t know how long the house had been silent, and with only a slight bow in the bars, her ability to maintain her partial shift was taxed by emotion and she had to choose one or the other. Her body shuddered as her hands rebroke and the claws reseeded into petite little nails on delicate hands smooth enough to give no hint her back was welted by her latest whipping. Her eyes throbbed in pain that gave her a headache while they returned to human, colorful sight, but her sensitive hearing was nearly apart of her human self these days. Rowena would have been still as stone and silent, unwrapping the makeshift gloves from her hands to console herself with the lack of damage, but she was panting and her heart thundering in the strain to hear the Angel of Death.<br><br><em>What does an Angel sound like?</em> Standing on the back portion of the pillowed flooring she hadn’t torn up, the naked woman who could have passed for a native if she straightened her curls and adorned the right garb, watched the three doors with a tremble, unsure which would open or if day would come before she realized she was alone and afraid for nothing. Her left fingers worried over the fang scars on the top of her right breast, Marcus’ favorite, though the older marks on her throat were his as well, the four on her wrists were shared between his confidant and enforcers. She hoped they were all dead, and didn’t realize her face was grimacing in the anger of the thought, or that she was radiating supernatural power that wanted to kill. Her figure, even scarred as it was right now, might not inspire fear, but the look in her eyes and the near prickly energy around her almost seemed hot enough to melt the silver off the bars, except it wasn’t that kind of heat. Every part of her was shaking in a fine tremor, from her inky head, passed her dewy landing strip leading to her pleasure center still wet from memories re-enacted, to her wiggling bare toes; all but the free hand curled into a solid and steady fist she wasn’t sure she knew what she meant to do with.<br><br><br><br><br><hr><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">banner codes</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong> Oyohusa Adawehi:</strong> <div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png[/img][/center]</code></pre> </div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Elf</strong> on <strong>30-07-2016, 20:40:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png)</div><br>Oyohusa Adawehi born a Cherokee stood looking at a stone structure of massive portions in the middle of the wilderness where no such structure should be. That was not the name his family had given him but no living soul, including himself, remembered that name. He was now Oyohusa Adawehi, Death Angel in the white-man's tongue. It was the name he had taken after everything he had ever cared about had been brutally and horribly taken from him. He vaguely remembered as if it were just a dream the life he had had before. He had been a hunter/warrior and shaman in training. He had been happy for the most part. He had had everything he could have possibly wanted except&nbsp; children of his own, but the possibility had been there for his future. That future was taken from him though and left him completely alone, sole survivor of his tribe of over 300 souls.<br><br>The sun was low in the sky setting the strange building a glow as it headed for the horizon beyond. As he had traveled west to that spot he had encountered some of the local natives and they had told him of the building and how he should give it a wide birth. He however knew more about the supernatural world than they. So their stories of the wolf and the woman only peaked his curiosity rather than making him wary. He knew that the woman and wolf were very likely one in the same. That did not matter though it was not the stories or the building and its inhabitant that had brought to that spot looking at it. No, he was following the trail of a killer, a monster that had taken part in stealing his life. Through his magic he had a connection to that monster and no matter where it went he would always know which direction to head to find it, and find it he would. Find it and destroy it, that was what he did now. He hunted the monsters and killed them. That connection told him that his path would take him straight into the heart that structure or at least through it.<br><br>It had not always been that way for him though, everything had changed ten summers ago. He had gone into the desert on vision quest. He had simply been seeking guidance, to be a better shaman. He had been hoping to gain some wisdom to him to one take his place as the village medicine man. Things had not gone as planned or hoped though. A quarter of the moon passed and he had no vision. Then that night as he sat facing his small fire it finally came. Unlike when Wolf had come to him to be his spirit guide and claim him as her shaman, which had been a peaceful and beautiful forest. He found himself in the midst of his people, his village, his home. It was far from peaceful though. No, there was screaming and crying. What at first looked like white-men were reeking havoc among his people. They were soldiers though and did use the firesticks or long blades of&nbsp; the white-man though. They had dead but glowing eyes and long pointed fangs. They were also stronger and faster than any man could ever be. They used all of those to rip into the flesh of his people and drank the blood of the still living. He could do nothing but watch in horror.<br><br>The vision had lasted until nearly dawn, returning him to the desert just before the pre-dawn light. His fire had long since gone out and was cold. Ignoring his hunger, thirst, and lack of sleep he gathered his things and headed back home as quickly as he could. He arrived home just at dusk only to discover that he had not seen a possible future that could be prevented, but rather that he had seen it as it happened for there was no one left alive in his village. Bodies torn and bloody lay haphazardly all about. First he had grieved, than a deep rage and hatred settled into his breast. He knew he needed to find and kill those that had done this. He did not know how he would that though. He remembered from his vision that they healed from what should have been mortal wounds in a matter of moments. He kept going over the vision in his mind looking for a weakness that he could take advantage of.<br><br>Finally he saw it. His people had fought and fought hard, they used whatever they had at hand in the end. That weakness came in a very unexpected form, the shiny metal that was used to make trinkets of adornment, silver. While the attackers ignored wounds caused by bone, stone or steel, they reacted to those caused by silver. Those minor wounds did not heal instantly as the others did. If jewelry could cause such wounds, what would happen if he used the same metal to form weapons? He had found the weakness he needed to fight these things. So he gathered all the silver trinkets he could find in the ruins of his village and melted down to fashion his weapons. That gave him the means to destroy them. He knew he would need to also match their strength and speed, but that was not a probably. He already knew spells that could enhance his strength and speed which he used to better hunt or fight his enemies. It was not a far stretch to enhance them even further to match that of his new prey. What he really needed then was the ability to recognize them for what they were even when hiding among humans.<br><br>To that end he cast the spell that gave him the ability to always know the monsters for what they were. He had intended it to only work on those that had slaughtered his people. He had soon learned that it had opened his eyes to all things supernatural. It had cost him though. His previous life was virtually forgotten, his solid memories starting with his vision. Even his identity was forgotten so he gave himself his new name, one that suited his new life. This was a sacrifice he could deal with, that life was over anyway. Besides taking away the memories it also left a visible mark. Upon his the image of a dream catcher had appeared with the head of a wolf at its center. It was Wolf's way of marking him as hers, her servant and under her protection. He thought he was then ready to hunt and kill those responsible. Little did he know then.<br><br>He had spent several moons searching. His hunt put him in contact with white-men. From them he learned that while his own people had no lore of such creatures but they did. They put a name to the monsters, they called them vampires. He also learned that vampires were not living, they had died but would stay in the grave. They sustained their unnatural existence by drinking the blood of the living. He also learned that silver was indeed something that they had a weakness for. He learned of more things that harmed them like fire and sunlight. Silver was his best weapon though. Fire and sunlight were not things he could harness easily to use as weapons.<br><br>Finally after several moons he found a vampire by following a trail of bodies. He found the beast and was pleased to see that his spell had worked and just knew what it was even before he laid eyes on it. When he faced the monster it did not see him as a real threat, not as a lone human. His thought of being ready was strengthened by how easily the vampire was destroyed. It fell to his silver blades quickly albeit a bit clumsily. Oyohusa Adawehi was unused to his enhanced strength and speed being so far beyond that of human abilities. So in the following moons before finding another vampire he trained and practiced honing his skill with will above human abilities. He was entering summer again when he found the trail of his second blood sucker. To his surprise when he laid eyes on it he saw ghostly images of his people hovering about it. So he knew it had been there at the massacre. His first had just been a matter of killing a monster but seeing those images invoked a deep rage and hatred. So rather than simply dispatching it as with the first he did so with extreme prejudice. He took pleasure in the destruction of one the beasts that had slain his people.<br><br>It had been a full cycle of the seasons though and he had only found the one and there were so many more yet to be found. He needed a better way to find them than just stories and rumors of strange deaths and disappearances. It occurred to him that if he saw the images of his people around those responsible for their deaths that he must somehow be connected to the vampires. With that in mind he called upon Wolf for guidance, to show him where they monsters were. She answered by giving him a beacon, a direction to head. He had no idea where it would take him or how far, but he felt a pull, a need to go a certain direction. He followed this pull and soon found another vampire with the images clinging to it. Upon its destruction the beacon went away. So he recast the spell and ounce again felt that pull.<br><br>The seasons changed and Oyohusa Adawehi used Wolf's guidance to hunt down the vampires one at a time. In his fourth summer while following this pull he quite accidentally came across another of the vampires with the images. Even as he fought and killed it the pull was still there pulling him in a different direction. He realized then that his spell locked onto the one closest to him at the time of the casting and remained locked on to that one until he destroyed it. The beasts had gone in separate directions after slaughtering his people and the need to travel made so that must he had been able to kill within a changing of the seasons was six. At that rate he would probably die of old age before he found and killed them. That was alright with him though as he had no life to return to after his task was completed. He would kill as many as he could and die doing the only thing that he cared to do any more.<br><br>As the seasons changed and he hunted the vampires he crossed paths with other supernatural creatures. These other beings unlike the vampires were alive. While he was aware of them being more than natural he could not tell immediately what they were and had to learn the differences and how to tell the different species apart. Some of those he left alive as they did not seem to pose a threat to him or other people. Those that were preying on humans though and got in his way he killed. He found that his silver weapons worked just as well on them as they did the vampires. In the case of those that had animal forms it worked even better as their skin burned at just the slightest touch of the metal. Without intending to he had become champion for the mortals, hunting and killing the monsters that hunted them.<br><br>Near the end of Oyohusa Adawehi's sixth summer, to the white-man the year was 1845, the beacon lead him to a small gathering of vampires. The one he had the lock on was with five others three of which also had the images clinging to them. Despite being so heavily out numbered he felt no fear and attacked them when they were together. With strength and speed to match theirs and the skill with his weapons all but one fell in the fight. A female without the images had fled when she saw how easily he cut through her kind. After the battle he tried to follow her but she got outside of his range of awareness and with him needing to rest and end the spells that gave him his enhanced senses and abilities he lost her trail. One had finally escaped to carry word of him to other vampires. So rather than just being the subject of horror stories for the humans they now had their own horror stories and something to fear. He did not know or care that they would learn his name and its translation and start calling him the Angel of Death in those stories.<br><br>After that group of six he started running them down in groups ranging from two to four in number. Again with groups one would sometimes manage to escape to add to his growing reputation. He still never heard them call him the Angel of Death, but saw them starting to flee before him instead of standing to fight and die as before. It became a game of cat and mouse with him playing the part of the cat. Little did they know that he had the advantages of simply being aware of all things supernatural when close to it and if he had his lock that one could never hide from him. He learned that these dead things could and did feel fear and that pleased him. They deserved to know the kind of terror they caused, to know they were going to die and there was little they could do to prevent it.<br><br>More seasons passed and he found himself traveling ever further west. Sure there were some variations to the north or south but mostly taking him deeper into the western unknown regions. It seemed that as the white-men pushed their boundaries ever westward the vampires were following them and he followed along behind. A quarter of a moon ago he had caught up with his latest prey in the home of a white family seeking to live in the wilderness on their own. It had been a lone vampire who had come across the home and stayed for days feeding off the family one by one. He arrived and broke down the door just as the creature was feeding on the last. He had not come in time to save any of the family as the last died before his eyes. He slew the beast easily enough and left its corpse in the house with bodies of its victims. He then set the house a flame and went to make his camp beside the stream that had been the source of water for the family. He bathed in the stream before bedding down. Just after dawn in the shadows of the still smoldering house he cast his spell to&nbsp; get the lock on his next target. He followed that pull for seven days which found him looking upon the strange out of place stone structure.<br><br>The Cherokee warrior had intended travel north some to see if he could skirt around the structure, but his path brought him a little closer than he had meant to be. From one step to another he crossed an invisible barrier. On the outside he sensed nothing, but on the inside he became aware of the presence of the supernatural, the unliving supernatural. It was different this time though, he usually felt individual beings and could pinpoint where in the building they were, but this time there were just too many of them and all he got was a near overwhelming sense of great evil coming the entire ground level of the place. It no longer mattered if his target were miles beyond the structure, he had to go in and cleanse it of the vile creatures. He had never encountered such a large number of them before but rather than frightening him, it thrilled him. He had never had the chance to test his skill against so many and he wanted hear their screams of terror and smell their fear before he destroyed them.<br><br>Looking forward to the battle to come he retreated back beyond the barrier to where he could not sense the presence of the vampires. He found a secluded and shielded spot to build the small fire he would to work his magic unseen by those in the building. He knelt before his fire chanting softly in his native tongue. As he did he mixed the paint he would to adorn his face and body. His war paint was what bound the magic to him giving him the senses of a wolf and physical abilities of his prey. For as long as the paint remained on his skin the magic would remain active. Preparing and casting the spells was not easy or quick so the sun had fully set by the time he extinguished the fire and prepared to enter the nest of his enemy. Knowing the inside of the structure would likely be confined like other things built by white-men he left his bow, arrows, and spear behind. The arrows with their steel heads were of little use against his prey anyway and within the structure the spear's length would be more hindrance than help.<br><br>Approaching from the east Oyohusa Adawehi used stealth to get closer. When he saw that the towers at either corner though were unmanned he abandoned stealth until he on the stairs going in. There he stayed closed to the wall as he entered the garden. There two of the blood suckers enjoying their sick meal among the plants. They died before they even knew there was a threat. He then entered the building proper and came upon more tormenting humans. Three more died before an alarm could be raised. Once that happened there was a mix of reactions from the vile creatures. Some faced him trying to fight, this only brought them into range of his silver blades and they died quickly. Others ran screaming. He for the first time heard the words “Angel of Death” as the call went out to warn others of his attack. Others still tried to hide thinking if they were out of sight and motionless this human would pass them by unharmed. They learned to their horror that they could not hide from him for despite their overwhelming presence up close he could still sense individuals in their hiding places.<br><br>Through out the chaos and carnage he was not aware of when the pull that had brought him there went away. Sometime during the fighting he had killed the one with which he had the connection. The vampires numbers had dropped and he was spending more time searching than killing. When he was pretty sure that he had covered the entire ground level he stopped to simply use his extra awareness to see if any remained. The mansion had fallen mostly silent save for a few whimpers and moans from humans too weak or frightened to flee. Those were not his prey though so for the moment were just ignored. His awareness was no longer overwhelmed by the vampires and with concentration he could sense four remaining. They were no longer inside though, fleeing from him. One was traveling north with the speed only a supernatural being could travel. Another heading south not quite so quickly. The other two seemed to together and heading east. He focused on them thinking that he could follow and get another two of the abominations. He could tell that one was male and the other female. As he started back for the garden and east entrance he stopped because he became aware of another supernatural presence coming above in the southern area of the building. This was of a living creature though and very different from the vampires with a strong sense of something familiar and he was sure it was Wolf.<br><br>The being on the floor above was not moving but he could feel anger. No it was not simply anger, it was rage. He had no way of knowing what caused the rage though. He thought for another moment to decide what he should do, go after the two vampires or head to the upper leave. It was iffy at best as to whether or not he could catch the fleeing vampires, but the thing above was not moving. So he decided to stay and check that out. If she had welcomed the blood suckers into her home and raged because of his invasion then she would have to be destroyed too. If she had not invited them in then he would have determine another way if she were to live or die. To do that though he first had to meet her.<br><br>So he abandoned the chase and returned to the stairs he had seen near the western entrance. He climbed the stairs on moccasin covered feet that made no sound on the stone. Half up though he stopped as a scent hit his nostrils. He was far enough away from the carnage to get individual scents and one in the stairway was somehow familiar to him. It took a moment but he finally figured out why. It was the female that was escaping with another. She was the same one that had escaped him four summers prior. He did&nbsp; not know how he would do it as she was not one of those he was connected to, but he vowed to one day find her again and finally end her. He then put her out of his mind and continued on up to the second level. Following his awareness of the supernatural he headed straight for the southern wing.<br><br>As he got closer more scents filled his nose. The first and strongest was that of burnt silk. Under that though was a more pungent and interesting smell, one he had not smelled very often. That was the scent of a woman's arousal. This was definitely not something he usually came across while he had the senses of a wolf as he usually only had them when hunting or fighting. The adrenaline of the fight was starting to wear off and he became very aware of being covered with the blood of his enemies. It made him want to wipe it from his face and body. To bathe and get the vile sticky liquid off of him. Not sure of what to expect from the wolf though he could not do so, fore even wiping some of it away would also wipe away his paint and end his enhancing spells.<br><br>He entered the room via the hall, not passing through any other rooms and froze just two steps in. His gaze was fixed on the center of the room and the silver covered cage there. The one he sought was locked within. He knew she was female and that her hair was dark but that was all that he could really see. Her supernatural aura and rage were burning so bright that she was just a dark feminine shaped mass within. So she had been a prisoner in her own home, but with the rage radiating from her he was in no hurry to set her free. She was no threat inside the silver covered cage though. While he was covered in vampire blood his weapons were not, the blood simply would not cling to the silver of his blades, so there was no need to wipe them clean. His eyes never left the captive even as he flipped both blades at the same time and with practiced ease slid them into their leather sheaths at his waist.<br><br>He stood there wearing only his buskin loincloth, weapons belt, and moccasins. At six feet and one inch of toned muscle he was an intimidating figure even without the war paint and blood covering his upper body. Through the paint and blood though much of the mark on his chest could still be seen. It was almost as if nothing could hide the wolf in the center of the dream catcher. He stood there silent and staring at the woman, his hands still resting on the handles of his blades, waiting to see what she would do.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NejraTu</strong> on <strong>04-08-2016, 03:21:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png)</div><br><br>This wasn’t her first time being stuck in a silver cage, waiting to see what came from what door… Hunter’s in Europe had managed to trap her, subdue her, and cage her. They did wait until the full moon, but when she didn’t shift, they made the mistake of letting her out. She’d let her wolf out to end their hunt once and for all, but she should have considered if they had attracted the lawmen’s attention in carrying her in and down to the basement. She was washing the blood off her human body when a local Bobby came down with a torch blaring brighter than her meager candles. Her wolf might shiver to be around fire, but her Romanian spirit loved it, and it was his uniform and fumbling for his pistol that had made her consider whether or not to kill him too.&nbsp; Rowena hadn’t, and he’d known she could and didn’t, even if he didn’t want to know how she’d torn them up the way she did, naked as she was, he’d assumed they were keeping her down there and deserved it. Still, he’d had her arrested, and a Judge had sent her to prison, where she’d spent two months in an over-crowded jail, hoping she could hold back the wolf, and had a reprieve when they shipped her violent ass off to Australia. <br><br>In this case, she had no idea what the Vampire Slayer wanted, or if they’d even come up stairs. It was so quiet, she barely had time to wonder if they’d left when she sensed someone upstairs with her. Someone alive, not undead like the <em>Diavolul Albastru</em>, but not another <em>Lup</em> either. Caution, she felt caution from the person, and readiness, but nothing more. They moved so silently, she wasn’t even sure where they were. Male or female. Tall or small. AKA, could she take them in human form? Rowena didn’t like waiting, so she tapped her outer thighs in sequences of time, raging about being stuck in a cage and unable to make herself scarce, powering-up on the off-chance she’d have to bare-hand the bars and slink through even as she widened the gap, wolf-out and tare her way out of here. She almost wondered if she’d have preferred to sense Marcus returning, as if he’d be seduced after losing his entire nest, but she shook the thought aside with a swing of inky curls even before it fully formed. Fuck no. She didn’t care who walked in, as long as it wasn’t another fucking blood devil! Of course, some part of her was hoping for a little old lady witch who liked stray puppies, even if they were full grown naked women sometimes, and great-dane sized wolves others. <br><br>Vampire blood. Her human senses were as keen as her wolf senses, but still sharper than your average homo-sapiens, and she smelled vampire blood wafting in on the colder currents seeping through the door to the H.G. Hall. Her charred-bark eyes with the amber flecks in them were focused on that door a moment before it opened and produced a shocking sight. A Native, in her home, on the second floor, and not only covered in Vampire blood, but wearing only a breechcloth, moccasins, and a belt for his bladed weapons, while the rest of him was adorned in paint that made her skin tingle in a way she’d never felt before. Invasive, but not painful, more like… she’d been stripped of her ability to hide her aura- not that she’d even thought about it until then; blinking at the man, and he clearly <em> is </em> a man, her rage seemed suspended. It wasn’t gone or even dissipated, but just, hanging to the edge of threatening without actually being a threat. <br><br>He didn’t have Marcus’ head in his hands so she doubted he was here for her, as much as the surprised look on his face suggested she was not what he expected to see when he opened the door. Was he looking for more Vampires? She did not know it had been silent so long he had left the house on a chase and turned around to follow the silent cry of her wolf. Maybe he’d heard her howl? Was he looking for the spirit-woman who protects the wolf beyond the walls, or the wolf? He said nothing, he did not attack her, she had no idea what she felt as stripped of hiding her aura and supernatural presence, really meant his tingle-inducing war-paint was showing him all her rage full-blast and like a glow of white-hot heat all around her. Rowena had no such problem seeing him, or the way the dripping blood seemed to avoid the wolf’s face on his chest, which from her cage looked like a tattoo and not the soulmark it was.&nbsp; Rowena had one too, but it wasn’t that intricate or beautiful, not just because she was over three hundred years old, but because her bloodline was ancient. <br><br>He would not see it even as her rage dissipated as he sheathed his weapons, because at least he wasn’t planning on skewering her like a stuck pig in a box. Hers was a birthmark, a round spot of skin about two inches diameter, just above her left knee, on the back of her thigh, where a vague impression of a wolf sleeps in a moon to make it crescent. When she’d been a child, she’ wished her wolf would come out, because times were dark and she’d felt helpless. When the wolf came out, she spent years learning how to regain control. With the Native disarmed, she was betting now that “Angel of Death” was a white-man’s story of a story translation. As a wolf, she’d learned much about the Natives, and suddenly had cause to wonder if he was born to kill supernatural beings. The mark on his chest seemed to have a spirit’s touch, and the way his paint made her feel, she was not eager to get out of the cage if only because he wasn’t advancing and silver bars seemed like a good barrier between them, even if two of them were bowed slightly outward.<br><br>His hands rested on the hilts like a silent promise, if she wolfed out, or went for an aggressive offense, he was still ready to take her down. Swallowing hard, Rowena drew her rage in, like folding up a parachute, she wound it up and then stuffed her supernatural power back in the box, only now she felt like her proverbial box was a net, and not only could he see through it, but she felt him seeing her through it. It was the strangest feeling she’d ever had, but she was more sensitive to most to supernatural magic. Not that she had any of her own, but she’d been subject to it before, and this was like that but very different. Earth and Spirit magic? The naked woman with the welted back as yet unseen, took herself a shivering breath before she tested English because the Native did not look like any of those local to her wolf’s home-range. <strong>”Are you going to kill me too?”</strong> It seemed like a safer question than “do you hunt the supernatural?” Not only because the word “supernatural” might translate to spirit, or other-worldly, and she was neither, but because she wasn’t going to admit what she was if she didn’t have to, it was how they survived.<br><br>Her fingertips, however, abandoned her thighs and tickled lines along her hips to rise along her tense and softly toned abs while she tried to reconcile herself with the fact the vampire blood and magic didn’t stop her body from feeling a prime male specimen there who could easily take care of the arousal she’d worked up to seduced Marcus, and this man didn’t put her in the cage, or wield a weapon at her… yet. <strong> “I’d rather not die, you know, but if I must, I’d rather not die in a cage; call it an honor thing…”</strong>&nbsp; Her hands stopped just beneath her beasts like a locomotive with two cars, one under the other while her eyes searched his bloody and painted face to meet his eyes and read his expression at the same time. She hoped he understood English, because she only knew Romanian otherwise, and spots of French, Spanish (Spaniard variety), and German and he was even less likely to know those. Without her rage pulsing like a blazing sun, she was a rather small, and unintimidating female creature who was not less aroused by his appearance, or her talk of dying at his hands. Of course, she was probably planning an escape if it came to that…<br><br>Her heart was racing, her loins were hot like a hotspring, flowing with sweet she-wolf honey in heat, which made her petite patch of dark curls moist at the almost pointed arrow end, while her modest tits felt a genuine heaviness and sensitivity she hadn’t felt in a long time. Rowena wasn’t sure if it was the magic war paint, that wasn’t glowing in a sense of light she could see, but in a sense her wolf was seeing without seeing, or if his maleness was so strong and… ripe…she was reminded she’d been celibate for over fifty years. Why? Surely she could have enticed any one of the handsome Natives who’d still walked by as they grew, curious even still, but no longer willing to venture in… Why hadn’t she? Why did she only visit them as the wolf? Rowena realized, she was not a good human being, not just in the sense of doing bad things for selfish reasons, but because she’d lived with wolves, or hiding from people so they wouldn’t suspect, and she didn’t know how to behave around them outside of telling them what she wanted. Right now, it was not to die, or not to die in the stupid cage. At least, that’s what she said verbally, inside her body, she was wondering if she’d let it follow him into the bath; assuming, of course, he hadn’t bloodied the water with the death of a vampire already.<br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><hr><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">banner codes</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong> Oyohusa Adawehi:</strong> <div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png[/img][/center]</code></pre> </div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Elf</strong> on <strong>04-08-2016, 07:27:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png)</div><br>As the blades were sheathed the figure shrouded in rage and power reacted. Oyohusa Adawehi felt more than saw as the rage was pulled back and the supernatural energy was contained. As if it had been suddenly extinguished the blinding light was gone and he could finally see only the woman. He could still sense her true nature due to his extra awareness, but all his eyes saw was the woman. He first saw the dark hair very much like that of his people in coloration but with curls. Then he saw her face and dark eyes, it was definitely a face that could belong to one of his people even her skin tone was very close and with her beauty he could see why those he had encountered said the woman was enchanting. He let his eyes move down to her neck where he saw the obvious marks of having been bitten by his prey. His lip twitched in the beginning of an angry snarl. His eyes moved lowered and he finally saw that she was unclothed, which made his anger grow. Then he saw another bite mark on her otherwise perfect breast. The anger swelled up in his breast and snarl became fully formed but no sound came. She was a daughter of Wolf and should have been treated so poorly. It was low even for the dead, vile, vampires.<br><br>As he eyes moved even lower and he saw the damp dark hair between her thighs he dropped his hands away from his weapons. He smelled her obvious arousal, that and her naked beauty stirred something in him that he had not felt in ten summers, a feeling that was only remembered vaguely as if from a dream. His anger at the beasts vanished as different emotion started filling like a hunger. Besides it was pointless to be anger with the vampires as those that did this to her were either destroyed or gone. His lips returned to their neutral position. Then at the sound of her voice his eyes snapped back up to hers.<br><br>She used the white-man's tongue to ask if he were going to kill her too. He studied her for an instant then replied in with the same tongue. “As a daughter of Wolf I would rather not.” Then her hands moved and his eyes again dropped as he focused on those delicate and very feminine hands. He watched as if entranced as they moved over her own skin. His eyes were just briefly drawn to her loins, the source of such a delight scent coming from her. As those hands moved higher though so did his gaze. She stopped with her hands below her breasts and his eyes went just the little bit higher to those globes of flesh. It seemed to him as if she wanted him to look at them, to see how glorious they looked. He then felt a warmth in his own loins, a strange feeling that he could not remember having felt before. Somehow though it had a familiar feeling to it and he knew he was becoming aroused as well.<br><br>Then she spoke again and his eyes ounce again returned to hers. She spoke of not wanting to die but if she must she would rather it not be while held helpless in her cage. She called it an honor thing. He knew for her it was more a matter of pride but to kill a helpless being was a thing of honor to him. He did not want to kill either in the cage or otherwise. From what little the local natives had told he saw no reason that she should die. While remaining separate she had also kept things peaceful between her and them. Even the one who had gone into this place as a boy was only chased out by the wolf, which could have easily killed him. No, he saw no need for her to die, at least not yet. She was as much a victim of the vampires as the humans were.<br><br>As she searched his eyes though she would not see his thoughts. His eyes were dark and cold filled sorrow and loneliness. They were the eyes of a man that has not shown joy in a life time. He did not speak or change his expression as he stepped forward straight for her his eyes not leaving hers. His right hand went to the handle of his smaller steal blade of his hunting knife and pulled it free of its sheath. He kept it down at his side as he strode straight for. He knew what she was and that with that blade he could still kill her it would just be harder, bloodier, and much more painful. He was sure she probably knew that too, but he still headed right for her cold eyes cold steal in his hand.<br><br>At the cage door he finally stopped and took hold of a of that door. The silver coating having the same affect on his human skin as the cold iron would have, none. To him it was just a cold hard metal. Then his eyes dropped leaving her for the first time since he stepped into this room and fixed on the lock. With all the strength he could muster he drove the blade between the lock and the cage wall. He pushed against the knife using it to pry the lock open. At the same time he pulled with his left hand trying to open the door. Even with his vampire like strength he strained, the muscles of his entire body hardened with the effort. His knife started to bend, the iron groaned, then shrieked and snapped. His knife broke but so did the lock. His right hand slammed into the cage hard enough to break the skin on his knuckles. The door swung open fast, but with the speed of his prey he let it and moved to avoid it hitting him. It hit against the cage wall with enough force to flake some of the silver coating off.<br><br>He stood were he was just to the side of the door. He let his now bleeding hand drop to his side and he simply dropped what was left of his knife. It had been a good knife and served him well for as long as he could remember. It was just a knife though and could be easily replaced. The white-men did make good blades and what he could trade for one was a trivial thing to him. What they valued just confused him even as it was clear they did not understand why he valued what he did.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NejraTu</strong> on <strong>06-08-2016, 00:32:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png)</div><br><br>Rowena had already committed to her other words before she realized he already informed her he would rather not; <em> “As a daughter of Wolf I would rather not.” </em> Aside from his surprisingly good English, he called her “a daughter of Wolf” and that made her heart stumble against her chest hard enough to make her breasts leap with a soft jiggle of her intense feeling to realizing he did, in fact, know what she was. He knew what she was, was not one of her kind, but still didn’t want to kill her. If she looked skeptical, it’s because she was. At least, she did until she watched his eyes fall from her gaze to take in her nakedness and the marks the vampires left on her. If he knew she would heal them in time, it didn’t seem to dissipate any of the rage building in his dark hues. With his war paint and blood covering most of his face, that look was very intimidating, even if he wasn’t directing it “at” her.<br><br>There was a distant and cold aloneness in him, but she thought she felt a fire sparked in the middle of it as he looked at her, and saw she was still aroused despite (perhaps because of) his presence. He was a very large Native, and it seemed somehow appropriate for the one the blood-devils called Angel of Death, but he wore only a cloth to cover his loins and she believed she noticed a twitch beneath it as if he might have almost given in to desire, but the reality of her having lived in a cage in her own home as an involuntary blood-doner seemed to motivated him toward more immediate concerns. Like getting her out. He did not say that, but the decision was in his eyes when he met her eyes once more, and removed a knife. While she had just been hoping he had no desire to stick her like a trapped coon, she realized very quickly he wasn’t going to, an held very still as he approached.<br><br>What she could not control, was how her wolf and her body seemed to want to know him more intimately, or else she’d just been too long without a man and he was the most decent man to have ever walked into her home, even if he was covered in blood. Her head had to tilt upward as he came nearer, but she didn’t seem bothered by looking up at him while her hands trailed down her body in a tingling anticipation of being out of the oppressive silver box without collar or chain to burn her skin and leave marks in need of healing. Her small feet shifted on the soft pillows as she stood back, making sure he knew she had no desire to startle him into using that knife, or his other blade which all seemed coated or made of silver, on her. Rowena was being very safe in tremblingly remaining still as possible while she fought the urge to bolt the second he got the lock to break.<br><br>Her breasts swayed in the whoosh of air she shuddering released, opening and closing her palms at her hips with her elbows bent back as if purposefully holding herself as far away as she could, watching him intensely while he pulled the door free and swung it open. He was not burned by the silver, and she did not entirely know what magic he was to sense and know what she was, and not have a desire to kill her, but to free her. He side-stepped out of the way, as if prepared for her to make a run for it, but she waited to make sure he saw that she knew he opened the door for her, and had no intention of either running from him, or attacking him. No, the she-wolf wanted him to see she was grateful and moved slowly, only after he dropped the broken end of the knife to the floor. It did not bother her, there was much to clean up… but later.<br><br>Naked, glistening and honeyed between her thighs, the strange wolfblood moved toward the opening of the cage without taking her eyes off of him. Careful not to touch the sides, she practically lept out in one bound and paused as if she expected him to pull his weapon and cut off her head. He did not, he seemed to be watching her just as intensely, as if unsure what she would do having been in captivity for so long. Did he know it had been six months? It felt so good to be out, she might have accidentally blinded him with an uncapped beaming of her supernatural aura while she let her senses stretch out unobstructed by the silver oppressing her, and her range was much wider than her own property. When she reigned it all back in, her hands were descending from above her head, as if she had stretched her entire body into it, and now relaxed as she contained herself, leveling her bare feet on the carpet while she considered what to do with the Native.<br><br><strong>”One of the <em>Vampires</em> had a silver medallion around his neck, on a gold chain, did you slay him?” </strong> Her question might have been about Marcus, but her tone’s inflection made it more obvious she was concerned about her Medallion and not the vampire who decided to wear it. It seemed prudent to determine if she had traveling in her future, or if the matter was settled in home by her new friend. With caution, she took slow steps toward him to see if he would retreat, or stand his ground. Her eyes watched his expression and his body language to see if he felt threatened, because she had no such intention, but rather to touch him to ensure he was both real, and that the magic radiating from him was also real and sealed in the paint as she suspected. Rowena wanted to know how powerful he was and he’d see that intent both in her face and the upward opening of her hand to hover over the dreamcatcher wolf before shifting toward the war-paint over his shoulders. <br><br>Less helpfully, she added more to herself than to him, in a soft whisper of amazement, <strong>”You are touched by a wolf’s spirit, but you are not a wolfblood…”</strong> it seemed not to make sense to her, those amber flecked inky pools of hers looking at his masculine body through the paint and blood and wanting more than she had upon first seeing him, to wash it all off to see him gloriously as naked as she. While it had not been as long as him as for her, she’d had longer to mourn lost lovers and never had kin of her own to mourn, she only felt that he was either unfamiliar with seeing a woman naked and aroused for him, or it had been a long time for him, and he did not seem immediately eager to give in to it. Rowena wanted him to, and she wasn’t sure why him over the others, except he was soul-touched by a wolf and that made her own wolf happier than it’s been in a long time. He might not have wolfblood in his veins, but she could change that if he desired it.<br><br><br><br><hr><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">banner codes</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong> Oyohusa Adawehi:</strong> <div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png[/img][/center]</code></pre> </div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Elf</strong> on <strong>07-08-2016, 02:05:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png)</div><br>The Cherokee was looking at the woman's eyes when he gave his response to her question so did not see how her breasts jiggled softly. He had looking down following her hands motion then admiring her breasts not realizing that was looking over his body in much the same way, not that it mattered to him. It did not matter if she saw his hint of arousal, it was natural and nothing to be concerned with.<br><br>He watched her eyes, her expression as he approached the cage knife in hand. He had said that he did not want to kill her, not that he would not. Her reaction was not that of fear though, she seemed to know that his intention was to open the cage. He thought that odd as he did think he had given away his intent through action or expression. It did not occur to him that she had seen his rage at her wounds. She showed caution though clearly not wanting to startle him any movement. She was trembling though almost vibrating with anticipation, she really wanted out of that cage. He could blame her that as he could only imagine how oppressive it must be for within its confines and coated with one element she could not touch without harm.<br><br>She was intriguing to him so as he approached her and the cage he inhale deeply. Her scent confirmed that she was not afraid and just trying to hide it. What she was was aroused. The scent coming from was not that of old arousal not yet washed away. No, she was still aroused her body still producing&nbsp; the liquid and therefore making the scent stronger. He inhaled deeply again not test her scent any more but to just get more of her aroma. She smelled good, her natural aroma was a delightful mix of human and wolf and definitely female. He liked it, more than any scent he had smelled before. Added to that was her arousal, which a sweet heady tone to it. Together they were bring thoughts to his mind that he had not consciously thought in ten summers. He thought of there bodies coming together, both as nude as she was.<br><br>Despite his own reaction her continued arousal confused him. He had no idea why she was aroused before his arrival and certainly could not see why it continued, was still growing. Was his presence affecting her like that? If so why? He had saved women before and some had thought to show him gratitude for that with pleasures. They smelled this aroused though and he never accepted their offers. This daughter of Wolf clearly wanted that pleasure herself. Was it simply because she needed it and he was there? Or was it him causing it? Maybe she could sense his connection to Wolf and her own connection was causing it. He was confused to say the least.<br><br>The cage came open and Oyohusa Adawehi stood where avoiding its violent opening had placed him. He expected that she would rush out but again she surprised him by moving slowly, careful and thoughtful of his presence. As she reached the door though she suddenly lept through landed and stayed still. She was directly in front of him but no longer looking at him. Her eyes had finally left him. His however did not leave. He was amused by her last move and almost cracked a smile. Then she stretched out not so much with body, but her essence though her body did go through the motions. For the second time in his life he saw a supernatural aura instead of just sensing it. This time though she was not confined within a silver cage and her energy could expand as it was meant to.<br><br>He saw it but was not blinded by it. Instead of obscuring his view of her it haloed her. He could see her within the light very clearly, the joy on her face, the color and curls of her hair, tone of her skin, and every female curve. It was glorious, she was beautiful and her glow emphasized that making the sight the most wondrous thing he had ever seen. That light went out from her, through him, filling the room and going beyond. As it passed through his body it warmed him tingling through him. It smelled, tasted, and felt like wolf and he liked it, a lot.<br><br>When she pulled it back in and lowered her arms and leveled her feet he had a small smile on his face. As she turned her gaze back to him the smile remained. She would see something no one had seen in ten summers. It was the first smile to curve his lips since before he became what he was now. Also for the first time in this new life his breech cloth was no longer just hanging smoothly. What it hid had started to grow and was pushing at the buckskin, just slightly but still noticable.<br><br>Then the she-wolf spoke again, asking about one vampire and a medallion. He was sure that she really did not care about the creature, it was the medallion that concerned her. That was it, the spell was broken and his lips returned to usual state. His eyes lost focus as he thought, remembering those that he had just recently slain. He tried picture how they were dressed and adorned but those had not been a concern of his. All he cared about was destroying them. As he worked backwards through events in his mind though he did learn something else, something that visibly surprised him. He realized when he had lost the pull that had brought him to this place. It was not when he had killed a vampire as it had always been before. The pull vanished when he had entered the building. Not the garden but the building proper. The pull had vanished the moment he had crossed the line from outside to inside. Wolf had wanted him in this place and had not made his connection to a vampire but to this place. Nothing like that had ever happened before.<br><br>The Native's eyes refocused and landed on the naked woman in front of him and only then did his expression return to normal. “I know not. I was not concerned with how they were adorned.”<br><br>He returned to his normal silence and just looked at her. She moved closer, which he actually found himself wanting her to do. Her hand raised and came for him as if she were going to touch him, to verify that he were indeed there and real. She did not actually touch him though as her hand went from his chest to his shoulder just hovering but closing that last small distance to make contact. He did not move and just watched her eyes not the motion of her hand. With his bleeding right hand he reached and gripped the wrist of her outstretched hand. His grip was firm but not painful. He guided more then moved her hand placing her palm over the wolf head and pressed it to his flesh. It put her fingers in the blood and paint. His eyes never left hers and he did not blink. “No, not a wolf. Wolf the great mother. All others come from her just as you come from her.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NejraTu</strong> on <strong>07-08-2016, 03:24:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png)</div><br><br>If she had known he thought he gave himself away, his intention to open the cage, she might have explained why she looked very much like that’s exactly what she expected him to do. It was not any of his expressions (though his rage did hint her toward the deductive reasoning), nor his words, or the very careful stalking he’d taken forward his eyes so intensely on hers. No, the reason she thought he was going for the door lock with that smaller blade was simply because this was not her first time in a cage. If he had more intent toward cutting her, he could have reached her from a safer distance with his long blades, but the short one, well, that was just the right size and thickness to slip between lock and frame. If she’d been so armed with any one of her daggers, she’d have done it herself already. It was the knife which gave him away, and the small part of her that was shouting the loudest for her luck to be turning and he wasn’t just toying with her and going to throw it between her eyes last minute. It could happen… but it didn’t.<br><br>What did happen, was exactly as she thought, the knife was for the lock and he was very aware of her tension as she stood on the back side of the cage where the pillows were in one piece, and he knew she was watching him as carefully as he was her. He surprised her with those deep breaths he took, and she’d have blushed about how aroused she was, and wondering if he could smell it through the vampire blood, but she was itching for the door to be opened and to be free of it. So much so, by the time he got it opened and stood aside so she could get out, it took every bit of her will to move so slowly, cautiously, and very aware of his presence and the fact he was, in fact, still armed while she had only her naked body and wolf within. Rowena missed his almost-smile at her jumping out of the cage that last step, both to avoid the silver barred threshold, and also to get out as fast as she could in one piece. <br><br>When she gave in to that full body, inner aura stretch of woman and wolf, she felt it impact him, and the outskirts of a nearby village, but she was not being invasive, she was happy and finally free. The she-wolf might have made a pleased sound as she came to her feet and finally lowered her arms as she pulled her supernatural energy back within to face him, and then, she couldn’t miss the smile on his face, the warmth radiating from him in genuine enjoyment it seemed like he had not felt in so long, it was easily washed away by her insistent need to prioritize her needs and determine if she was going to have to hunt the blood-devil named Marcus. It panged her to see it wilt from his face and drain the heated energy in his body in favor of genuinely looking in his mind for an answer. He did not know how rare it was for someone to take her seriously, seriously enough to actually consider her obscure question before answering it.<br><br><em> “I know not. I was not concerned with how they were adorned.” </em><br><br><em>Of course you weren’t.</em> She smiled to herself, deciding then she had to see if he was real, if his magic was real, if she hadn’t just drempt this entire thing to escape the hellish nightmare of being held in a silver cage for months.&nbsp; It was a legitimate concern for a woman who’d been celibate for sixty plus years, and trapped in a cage as a blood-bag of supernatural proportions for six exhausting months. It was within the realm of possibilities her desire to arouse herself to trick Marcus had backfired and plunged her into a dream where she’d invented this wild Native with his beautiful English speaking abilities, powerfully masculine, magically versed, and soul-touched by the spirit of the wolf. He was, in every sense of her reality, a dream come true and she did not want to embarrass herself by indulging in her own arousal if he wasn’t even real.<br><br>While she was cautious about approaching the native encase he did not want her near him, she did not know he was acknowledging inside himself, he <em>wanted</em> her to come closer. Instead, she hoped the bulge rising beneath his cloth was a sign of her attraction to him not being one-sided, and that if he was indeed real, she might be able to bring that smile back to his lips and stir the flames a little higher so he would know as surely as she did, it was very much him, and not the fact he let her out of the cage. If she’d managed to get out before he came up stairs, the impact of his presence would still have hit her like a wave of desire for the only man she’d met in the America’s who excited both woman and wolf. He did not retreat, but stood his ground as she came nearer to him, and it made her heart race and her loins mist in new drops of honeydew confessions he didn’t have to understand why to know they were for and because of him. <br><br>While her hand lifted and opened to him, she still wasn’t sure he’d let her touch him, and then, when his eyes seemed to have no hint of wanting to stop her, she found herself almost afraid to confirm or dispel the illusion. That mark on his chest called to her, she wanted to lick him there, to bite it and nuzzle her cheek against it, but instead, her hand hovered over it and then moved away from the tingling electric shock to rise higher, to his war-paint and the blood splattering over it. The magic and the soul-mark were very real under her hands, and still she hesitated to lower her touch, her eyes searching his and trying to deny she felt he wanted her to do that too. By the time she did lower her hand, felt the warmth of his skin beneath the magic and the blood, her soft breaths were panted and she had no idea she’d said that last part, of him being touched by the wolf but not a wolfblood, out loud. It was supposed to be a mental observation, that not only was he real, he was touched, and yet, there was not a wolf inside him.<br><br>Rowena wanted to bring the wolf out in him, as if there must be one in there for the wolf to have marked him inside and out, but having been forced to give blood to the <em>Diavolul Albastru</em>, the she-wolf wasn’t even going to bring it up until she got to know him better, to feel out of he was in any disgusted by what she was. To her gasping surprise, his bloody hand closed around her wrist in a grip as firm as the silver-plated iron that had burned it for months and rested like a fresh scar on her skin for only a few more days. He didn’t hurt her, but flooded her body with thrill, excitement, and a heavy dose of uncertainty that was obvious she’d not wanted a man to touch her in so long, she almost resisted, but she didn’t, because she enjoyed the feel of his hand around her wrist, even if it was covered in blood. If it had been any other blood but Vampire blood, she’d have licked it as it dripped between the pressure of his grip and her skin even while he guided her hand back down through the blood.<br><br>Her eyes were on his, but she was almost breathless as she stood naked, and streaming liquid desire between her trembling thighs as she tried to be utterly still save for where he was moving her hand- back to where she wanted to touch him. The second her skin brushed over the mark, even through the blood now smeared under her palm, she gasped and felt a rush of tingling power that rolled her wolf inside her like a glow from within that made her shiver in resistance to shifting right then. If she looked drunk for a moment, it was because that mark had some serious wolf-juju in it, and even her three-hundred plus year old wolf felt bowed by it. Rowena bit her lower lip hard, barely containing a moan as her knees buckled and her thighs and abs tightened, catching her fall and righting her in the same moment, before he could answer the urge to catch her. Her wolf was nuzzling inside her, urging her to move closer to him, to press her naked body against his and coax him between her silken thighs while he pressed her hand into his flesh as if to ensure she felt it before he spoke again:<br><br><em>&nbsp; “No, not a wolf. Wolf the great mother. All others come from her just as you come from her.” </em><br><br>He didn’t blink, but she was blinking too much, trying to wade through the power of her attraction, the call of that mark, and her wolfs insistence he was worth breaking her celibacy for. Rowena was panting, not sure how she was standing, and she didn’t remember lifting her other hand when she suddenly felt it spreading across his chest on the opposite side of the mark, brushing his nipple with her fingers before palming it through magic paint and blood. She suddenly wasn’t sure she cared to wash him off before she tore off his loin cloth and mounted him, but before she could do that, she found herself lost in his eyes and the intensity of the realization she didn’t dream him, he was really standing there, and she was really touching him, free of the cage. Marcus and the medallion were put on a wait list without her consciously thinking about it, because it took everything in her will power not to answer her wolf before she released her lower lip and tenderly licked them both in preparation for forcing her husky voice to reply; perhaps more honestly than she has ever spoken to anyone…<br><br><strong>”Three hundred and sixty years… and my wolf has never met someone we want as badly as you. Speak your name so we might greet you properly.”</strong> With one exception in those three hundred and sixty of her three hundred and seventy-nine years, Rowena’s lovers had been human, and never knew what she was. He not only knew, and wasn’t a wolfblood, but he was a native human who was touched by the wolf in such a way, she almost felt like she was speaking to royalty, and that was strange for a she-wolf born in the dark-ages and never bowing to anyone. As badly as she wanted to push him into one of the luxurious chairs she’d furnished this room in, open his loin cloth and sink her wanton well over his fleshy manhood, she couldn’t seem to let herself do it without first greeting him properly, as if he were not just a wolfblood, but of a royal line as ancient as her own. For the first time in centuries, she said “we” and openly included her wolf as an entity apart of her, but also separate and in desire to greet him as she professed. He may not understand it at first, but he would in a moment. The enchanting she-wolf was paying him more respect than she might have a mutt who’d similarly released her from her cage, and shared the shift with her.<br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><hr><br><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">banner codes</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong> Oyohusa Adawehi:</strong> <div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png[/img][/center]</code></pre> </div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Elf</strong> on <strong>16-08-2016, 07:37:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png)</div><br>Oyohusa Adawehi knew he wanted this beautiful woman, daughter of wolf to get to get closer. She seemed to want to get closer but held back for some reason. Whether she was worried he did not want it or worried that he might not be real, he did not know. Another thing new though was her heart was racing, he could clearly hear and loins were still producing even of that wonderful smelling liquid. It was quite clear to him that whatever the reason she was aroused by him, to an extent he had never before experienced. Sure in the past ten summers a few women had expressed a level of interest in him, but never had he noticed a woman's body reacting to him nearly as intensely as this gorgeous female was. He found it be quite a nice feeling. Though he merely stood there gazing into her eyes unblinking his body had its own reaction to her, the lack of clothing, her great beauty, and that wonderful scent coming up from between her legs, causing his cloth to raise even further. His own heart rate increased some and images of their bodies entwined came unbidden to his mind.<br><br>Her hand reach out going first for the mark Wolf had placed upon his breast, but she seemed reluctant to actually touch him there. He had felt it though when was so close, a tingling and a pull like the mark wanted that distance closed, have her touch it, to touch her. Then she did finally close the final inches and placed her on his blood and paint covered shoulder. Still he did not react even though that simple felt like no other touch. It was warm, soft and absolutely glorious. He knew in that instant he would crave her touch for as long as he lived. He however no longer lived for himself though, he lived to destroy the monsters that had slaughtered his people, to avenge them and to keep the same thing same from happening to other people. For the moment he could indulge himself a little, after all Wolf had wanted him in this place and the mark yearned for her touch. Also she had said a wolf spirit and she needed to understand which one.<br><br>As he grasped her wrist he felt a very brief instant of hesitation. She clearly was not used to touch of a man. Some how he felt her almost resist out of reflex, but she did not and actually seemed not only to welcome his touch but enjoyed it. He placed her now blood covered palm on the mark and felt the jolt of recognition and acknowledgment. He knew she had to have felt something too. He felt her body shiver and saw the look of intoxication fill her eye. Even as he spoke he felt he knees buckle and heard the moan as she bit her lip. Before he could bring his other hand up to steady her though she kept herself from actually falling. Through that touch he felt something inside her move, and as if a warm and furry head had just nuzzled him.<br><br>His unblinking eyes looked into rapidly blinking ones. She was clearly struggling with her desire and way the mark affected her. This was made more apparent by her panting breath. Through his own sensations and his focus being solely on her eyes he was not aware of her other hand raising until he felt on the other side of his chest. That was it, he could no longer keep his reactions at bay. He gasped in pleasure at her first touch. As her palm pressed over nipple his eyes closed, a soft moan slipped through his lips as a small smile began to curl them.<br><br>He did not open his eyes again until she started to speak in a voice unlike he could remember having ever heard, but somehow he still knew it sounded that way because her intense desire for him. That and the words caused his smile to broaden and a hungry look to his dark sorrowful eyes. The hand that had almost come up when he thought she might fall now did come up going to her back drawing her even closer to him. “Oyohusa Adawehi. Speak yours so that I can know who is greeting me.” The instant he spoke his name there was a mild surge from the mark under her palm, not an unpleasant thing and he did not seem to notice. Through that a brief image was sent to the she-wolf of a large gray wolf and whispering in his native Cherokee,<strong> "Usgolvsagonige Waya."</strong> He did not see the image or hear the whisper. As he gave the only name he remembered having Wolf gave her the name he had given up, forgotten, the one given to him by his father, Gray Wolf.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NejraTu</strong> on <strong>19-08-2016, 01:18:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png)</div><br><br>He was magnetic, it was an intense sensation taking hold of her, keeping her hot, wet, and wanting so deeply she couldn’t even remember how long it had been, and still knew it was the man marked by a wolf spirit. Tall, dark, with enchanting eyes spiraling from their earthy darkness into hidden depths she wanted to explore, and beautiful and straight inky hair she could bask in, a warrior, and a Vampire Hunter. She completely forgot about standing there naked, watching the way his obsidian lashes fluttered onto his blood stained cheeks while his body was electrified by the touch of her other hand over his nipple while they were feeling the rush of the wolf spirits presence through his mark. <br><br>He was beautiful, and inadvertently reminded her of her nakedness when his other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her lower spine toward him and colliding her skin into the drying blood, wet blood, and the hardness hidden in his loincloth. His moan was met with hers, a jerking grind against his engorged manhood she couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to, and a shiver of pleasure that made her gasp in a hitched need for air that was only partially met. He gained his senses to answer her faster than she did to hear him, but he had some help to bring her back to the reality between them and out of the fog of the euphoric energy she felt in touching him. <br><br><em> “Oyohusa Adawehi.”</em>…Inside her mind and inner being, she also heard, <em>"Usgolvsagonige Waya." </em>…not knowing his native language, she still knew what it meant; it had come with a visual definition that made her heart skip a beat… <em> “Speak yours so that I can know who is greeting me.” </em> <em>sange de lup, Vânător&nbsp; Fantomă </em>; her wolf answered to the spirit of the wolf in Romanian, who gave her his given name in Cherokee, allowing his hidden self, Gray Wolf, to meet her inner self, the wolfblood, Hunter Ghost. <br><br>The wolfspirit would know she came from the Hunter clan of wolfbloods in Romania, despite being now in California, and though she never spoke the name aloud anymore, she was once known simply as <em>Fantomă </em>; Ghost. The name <em>Oyohusa Adawehi</em> seemed of the same tongue, she did not know the translation, nor ask, for it seemed apparent to mean Death Angel, the Angel of Death the <em>Diavolul Albastru</em> screamed about. To the man who spoke to her aloud, she answered with an indulgent smile he may (or may not) realize was largely because the spirit seemed to have meant for them to meet, for her to bring his wolf back. <strong>”<em>Oyohusa Adawehi</em>, I am Rowena Sole, and We are <em> Vânător sange de lup</em>; Hunter wolfblood.”</strong> <br><br>The Romanian woman couldn’t help but notice how the effort to speak moved her body against his in a different way than her heated reaction to being pressed against him, even covered in vampire blood, and especially in that magic paint blessed by the Grey Wolf Spirit he was born to serve most likely, whether he knew it or not. Her dark brown eyes with the amber flecks couldn’t seem to drink in enough of his gaze and painted, blood splattered face, trying still to convince herself he was real. His hands felt real, his chest felt real in its rise and fall of his breaths and the beat of his heart beneath its surface, his hard-on certainly felt as real as the loincloth it was trapped in, pressing against her softly toned and trembling belly. His larger, solid body easily took the weight of her rolling push against that answering erection to the wet dew that slickened her naked folds and glistened over her slit and mound to her dark and curlies already drowned and painting his loincloth with every flexing push of her ass and roll of her abs.<br><br>Real. Spirit-Marked. Gray Wolf. Her wolf liked that, nuzzled into his spirit mark where she touched him and there was nothing Rowena could do about it. He was chosen. With a soft inhale that skipped in feeling her fingers tightening into his chest to smash her palms separately into his nipple and that spirit mark of the Grey Wolf, she looked up to his hungry eyes and named him as the spirit named him; <strong>”You are <em>Usgolvsagonige Waya </em>, Spirit Marked, and I believe that Spirit means for you to be a wolfblood too. Say yes, and I can make it so, but do not answer me now. Right now, I want to…<em>La dracu;</em>”</strong> that last part almost sighed in Romanian …Fuck. The she-wolf had said it in realizing she couldn’t explain all the nuances of what she wanted from him right now and expect him to know all the words, but as soon as she said it, she also realized that was the simplest explanation for what she wanted. Instead of trying to speak it, she put her supernatural strength into taking a step forward and forcing him back.<br><br>The honored guest lounge might have been turned into a viewing room to watch her suffer in that cage in 360 degrees while they all laughed, joked, and spoke about things they never expected her to live long enough, or be free enough to act on, but right now that only meant she would push him into one of the luxurious pieces of furniture if he didn’t fight her too hard for it. He was still juiced with his juju, and she was not entirely sure she could take him, but she did want him with a fever that boiled through her dark eyes to make the amber gleam wolfishly at him as she used her body to push him to back up at her unspoken bidding. He would know, there was a seat behind him, but did he remember which one? Did he trust her to guide him when she couldn’t even see over his shoulders or around his broad and bloody chest? Of course he would, even if he hesitated, because she was a wolfblood and they were caught up in spirit magic and the fates rolling dice. <br><br>He would know the blood didn’t bother her when she allowed it to smear all over her body and pushed the bathing to a lower slot on her to-do list, when her hands kept her body against his as surely as his did, and she watched him, moving so slowly with her pushing steps she knew he would feel every inch of her sliding against him, grinding against him. Rowena didn’t want him to stop her, magic, vampire blood, wolf’s spirit mark, and three hundred and ninety plus year old wolfsblood, seemed right like an omen, because she had every intention of sating this call and then hunting that bastard <em>Diavolul Albastru</em> Marcus down to kill him and take back her medallion. That thing was older than she was and it disgusted her knowing he had it, but not enough to ignore the Wolf’s Spirit she felt under her hand, against the very real Native Man’s chest, or that look in his eyes. He knew the pleasure of a woman, and his look said he might have forgotten all of them in the way she couldn’t remember any of her former lovers. They were real, and in the past, but not so tangible and electric as him, Rowena didn’t even want to stop touching him to guide him into the pale blue and gold sofa he was too tall to lay horizontal on, but it was longer than she was tall and she wanted him on it now.<br><br>The books, even in their disarray and careless scatterings, made her not even want to take him from this room, but to share this energy right here, before the cage she’d been trapped in for six months, in one of the sofa’s she’d been tormented from, to baptize the room in her own desires once again. A lone alpha wolfblood, she couldn’t seem to help herself, high on being free and touching something so sacred, while basking in the headiest electric tingling needs she’d ever felt in her all her centuries. His heightened senses would know she was even more liquid between her thighs pressing against him, and there’d be no denying it when she let her body pull away from his as his legs hit the back of the chair and collapsed him onto the soft silk and over-stuffed cushion that was like a cloud beneath him. His long blades, and the smaller ones, jutted forward toward the edge, but only for as long as her hands slid down his sides while she watched him for signs of stopping her from undoing the belt and laying them out on either side of him as if she wanted him to know he had no reason to kill her, but she wasn’t taking the option away from him. <br><br>He might allow it if only because, bent at the waist as she was, naked, there was both a view of how heavy and pert her breasts were as they hung from her chest in tight swollen clings of soft and lightly tanned flesh not quite as dark as his, and the way her belly fluttered up from the wet epicenter of the reasons she hadn’t been able to explain the particulars of what she wanted before his answer on being one with the wolf he served. Wolfblood or not, her wolf had a strong urge to mate with him, and she found it irresistible in her own undeniable attraction. He’d not known why she’d hesitated to touch him, or be nearer to him, but there could be no mistake in the change of her aura and demeanor once he’d pulled her into his body. She’d sensed this would happen, she would want him so urgently she wouldn’t wait to seduced him in the bath, and she had no way of knowing if he’d ever worn his magic during sex, if he wanted to, or even if the blood would bother him, but she fucking wanted him and her wolf wanted him, and short of physically stopping the naked woman, she was going to take his loincloth off too, to behold him in his naked, painted, and battle stained body. The curly haired brunette found him breathtaking since the first moment she saw him, but now he would see it up close and personal, as well as how her honey dripped from her blooming petals to be caught between her smearing thighs. <br><br>His only explanation and warning… <strong>”<em> Usgolvsagonige Waya Oyohusa Adawehi </em>, we want you inside us, right now."</strong> We. Her and her wolf. Rowena was not sure he could feel her wolf in heat like she could, the way she rolled and nuzzled in her need much like Rowena did in wearing her human skin, but in voicing in her whisper of desire spoken aloud, she hoped he would feel the impact of her intent, to know those unbidden images of their bodies entwined were not just his imagination, but an immediate future being offered to him. He could say no, he did not know her, but the way she said it suggested that wasn’t actually an option, either because she knew he wanted her too, or because she was answering the call whether he wanted to or not. Both of their hands were covered in blood, but his cock was clean because of his loincloth, and she had every intention of using his hardness and her hips to guide him in as soon as they were both done taking in the sights and he had a moment to voice an objection or question about the other name she called him; she did not know it was his forgotten name, just that it was the name the spirit gave him, and she wanted him to know it.<br><br><br><br><hr><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">banner codes</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong> Oyohusa Adawehi:</strong> <div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png[/img][/center]</code></pre> </div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Elf</strong> on <strong>19-08-2016, 08:05:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png)</div><br>The native warrior had not anticipated what would happen when he drew the woman's body against his own. He really had not thought about that at all, he just knew that he wanted, needed to feel more than just her hands on his body. Wolf's spirit was singing through his body and the mark making it clear that she needed to be even closer. His body and mind wanted that too. Her naked and wet loins met his cloth and pressed against the hardness hidden beneath. He moaned again louder as her body reacted to that by grinding against him. It did not matter if he remembered ever having any other woman that close before, he knew no other woman had made him feel the way she did.<br><br>To him the sensation at his breast, her hand on Wolf's mark did not change but when he spoke his name he felt and heard her heart skip. Something astonished her which he did not comprehend. It not matter though he was too caught up in his own new sensations of the bodies and spirits coming together. He asked for her name and though she did not speak it immediately felt more than heard, <em>“sange de lup, Vânător&nbsp; Fantomă “</em> The language was unknown to him yet somehow he knew the words and their meaning, the wolfblood, Hunter Ghost.<br><br>Without knowing why or how the Cherokee knew the wolfblood came from a land called Romania, a land across the great water to the east but yet where most white-men came from. He knew that Hunter,&nbsp; Vânător was the name of her people, her family and she was Fantomă, Ghost. Another voice, not Wolf had given him the name and Wolf had given him the meaning. He looked down into her face waiting for her answer as he had, aloud. He saw indulgent and returned it with a matching one. Could she be thinking the same thing he was? That Wolf had brought him to this place not only to free her but to be with her. He did not think it was to bring his wolf back as Wolf was always with him, had been since the mark had appeared on his breast. The smile changed to one simply of pleasure when the exotic beauty in his grasp spoke his name, it sounded good and right rolling off her tongue. As she spoke her own name his hand covered in vampire and his own blood released her wrist only to join the other at her back. Without even realizing he did it he whispered, “Fantomă, Ghost” adding to her introduction.<br><br>Though the native could not take his eyes away from the speckled gaze he held, he felt her body move against his as she spoke. It was different than the way she first reacted but it felt good just the same. His cloth moved against her in return as that which was hidden sought for escape and to feel her skin without the animal hide interfering. Her body was both soft and toned in a perfect combination.<br><br>Then he felt it again, the sensation of being nuzzled. This was a sensation he did know there had been in his hunting that wild wolves had helped him and nuzzled him as they traveled together. Yet there was no wolf here just an exquisitely beautiful woman in his arms. He knew she was more than just a woman though, she was a daughter of Wolf so it had to be her wolf that was nuzzling him. He found that he liked it and if he could he would have nuzzled it back.<br><br>Then Rowena spoke again saying he was Usgolvsagonige Waya. They were just words in his native tongue, simply words, but they were more. His body stiffened and he staggered back just a bit. In reflex his arms tightened around her. As she continued to speak her heard but as if she were very far away as he was suddenly someplace else, in a different time.<br><br>In his mind he was just a boy who had only seen only ten or eleven summers. He was with his father learning how to use a bow.<br><br>“Father, why am I called Gray Wolf?”<br><br>”Because on the day you came to us the first thing I saw when I woke and left our dwelling was a gray wolf. It was standing just barely insight at the forest's edge looking at our dwelling. It then looked at me for a moment before turning and disappearing back into the forest. Then when your mother screamed your arrival I heard the howl of a wolf. So I named you Gray Wolf.”<br><br>“Father, did you ever see that wolf again?”<br><br>“No, my son. I have seen other gray wolves but never that one.”<br><br>“I believe I did. Two days ago. I saw a gray wolf that did not seem like the other wolves. It looked at me like it wanted me to follow, but then it disappeared into the forest. When got to the spot I had seen it I could find no track. Do you think I am supposed to find him?”<br><br>“Yes, son, I believe you will one day find your gray wolf.”<br><br>Just as quickly as it had come the old memory vanished and he was once again back in the strange building with an unnaturally beautiful naked woman in his arms. Despite his distraction he was aware of what she had said about him being Spirit Marked and the Spirit meant for him to be a wolfblood too. This confused him and her saying she could make it so confused him even further. He did not know that a person could be made into a child of Wolf. He did not have time to work out his confusion as she told him not answer because she wanted to... He did not know the word she used. She did not give him the chance to ponder that word or give him the meaning.<br><br>What she did was push against him, her body pressed to his. He was pushed backwards. His first step back was easy for her as he had already stumbled when she had spoken the name he had forgotten. She continued to push. He realized that she was pushing with more force than a woman her size should have been able. She was not a normal woman though she was a daughter of Wolf, what she called a wolfblood. That meant that she was far stronger than a normal woman. Still wearing his paint he still had Wolf's gifts and therefore the strength of his prey, vampires. This meant that he was stronger than her. He could have resisted, kept her from pushing him back any further. Somehow he knew what she wanted, what her body, her wolf wanted. It was the same thing his body wanted, what he wanted.<br><br>She pushed and he moved back. His eyes never left hers. He did not know where she was guiding him, but then he did not care. He would have given her what she wanted right there on her hard floor just outside her cage. Somewhere in his mind he knew he had been with women before and considering how he lived it had likely been on the ground, so the floor was not a stretch for him. She pushed though guiding him somewhere just from her memory of her home, fore her eyes never left him, never tried to see over his shoulder or around his chest. Just backward away from her cage, she pushed and he yielded. As they moved his hand moved over her back, his left hand leaving small trails of drying cold vampire blood, his leaving warm wet trails of his own.<br><br>The blood no longer mattered, his or her captors'. They could bathe later, cleaning each other. His minor wound did not matter, it was just minor. After they bathed he had herbs and the power of Wolf so that he could deal with it then. By the he woke next the wound would be gone and quickly forgotten. Nothing mattered but the woman in his arms and the need of her wolf.<br><br>Then the back of his legs struck something, she pushed then stepped back. He had lost balance with the obstruction and push so had opened his arms releasing in an unconscious attempt to keep to remain upright. He fell but not on to something hard, it was soft and smooth, the surface cool against his skin. He let his hands fall at his sides as he watched what she would do. What she did was remove his weapons from his waist, but left them in easy reach. He took the visage of her bent over naked and if he had not already given in hat he knew she wanted, what he wanted, what Wolf wanted for them, that sight would decided it for him. He wanted her more than he needed to find and destroy the creatures he had hunted for ten summers. He gathered his weapons from his sides and dropped over the side of the couch she had dropped him on.<br><br>Rowena gave him little explanation or warning, he gave her less. She spoke both his names together and informed him that they wanted him inside them. He responded by grabbing her shoulders one in each hand and pulling her to him. He knew she would not resist, but he still used the strength his paint gave him to make sure she could not. He pulled her mouth to his and he kissed her fiercely. She was not only going to be the first he fucked while painted she was going to his first in ten summers and that he could remember.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NejraTu</strong> on <strong>19-08-2016, 18:33:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png)</div><br><br><em> “Fantomă, Ghost” </em> He’d heard her wolf, not just the spirit that marked him, he’d heard her formal greeting to the spirit that touched him and she felt through him, and he said the name she had not heard since she left Romania over three hundred years ago. He knew what it meant, he knew who she was because she’d told him and if Rowena hadn’t already set her mind to answering the call between them, she would have wanted him regardless to hear him say her name. <em> Fantomă .</em> It also made her wolf happy to hear her name again, and to know he felt her nuzzling him from within Rowena’s human skin, even if Rowena herself was unsure he was that sensitive. If she hadn’t felt the need to share the name the spirit gave him, she would have in that moment and it came from her lips with pleasure to speak it. Gray Wolf. Not just words. His name. His true calling. He was a wolfblood in spirit, perhaps with an ancient blood in his veins that lost the shift, she didn’t know, but she knew there was a wolf in him and she wanted him to be whole with it.<br><br>Just as she had a reaction to hearing her name, feeding her desire for him and making her wolf very excited to greet him, she felt his arms tighten around her while his mind went somewhere behind his eyes. They were just words to him, but even as he realized they weren’t, he was gone and she was left watching him relive a memory while his very adult body still raged against hers, marked by strong magic and an even stronger spirit that made the Vampire blood only significant in the sign of his master vampire hunter status. He was a prime male specimen and even lost in a memory, the she-wolf wanted him desperately. So much so, she made sure she didn’t want his answer, implying also his questions would have to wait, because she wanted something else even more and that was to mate with him. Not just fuck him, which she’d thought when she first saw him, but make love to him, to fuck him so hard he was buried so deep there could be no other word for their coupling than raw and primal mating. He was hers and she for him, and it didn’t have to make sense right then because she could feel it in the spirit, and felt an attraction to the electricity in his magic paint. Rowena pushed his staggered step with her body, holding him as surely as he held her, and not stopping for him to regain himself.<br><br>He had to become aware again while she moved against him, pushed him back, to decide to stop her or let it go to see what happened. Her wolfish eyes knew the moment he made that decision not to test his strength against hers, yet, but that he seemed confident he could overpower her. Her Alpha Wolf wouldn’t accept that unless he could prove it, but the reality of his confidence alone was enough to excite the she-wolf even more than the physical feel of his hard body, spirit mark, magic paint, and of course the raging erection that almost seemed to try and sway free of it’s confines to meet her. He wanted her, she knew it to be true even if she hadn’t let a man get near enough for long enough she had a hard time knowing for sure if he wanted her with the same primal need she needed him. No other man. Him. <em>Usgolvsagonige Waya Oyohusa Adawehi</em>. It mattered, but it wasn’t going to stop her if he didn’t. He was hungry for her, and that was enough.<br><br>Rowena waited until she had him on the sofa, removed his belt and made sure he knew she was not a threat to him, and found her own relief when he returned the gesture as he gathered the belted sheaths and let them fall to the floor around her feet, and she knew she had to tell him. She used his full name, both names, and let him know just how deeply the desire ran, that she was feeling it times two because he’d stirred her wolf and they both wanted him so badly they could taste it. To her surprise, he wasn’t just hungry, he was ravenous, and his hands claimed her, pulling her onto him despite her instinctive resistance, the realization he WAS stronger physically with the power of his painted juju coursing through him also made the greeting of her sopping wet cunt to his barely uncovered cock suddenly a lot hotter and wetter, punctuated with a sliding grind along the entire length she resisted the urge to push against his abs if only to save it from the blood while he claimed her wth his lips. The curly haired Romanian moaned deeply into his lips, her hands drove up to his bloody and painted smooth jaw to hold his face while her hips worked to slather his shaft.<br><br>Her knees hugged his hips on either side of the sofa cushion, her feet curled over his knees for leverage, while her hips wound her soft pussy lips around his shaft until she got it caught inbetween them and artfully arched forward to angle it right, sliding it back toward her suckling portal of pleasure already dripping wet with want of him. Her lips pushed against his more fiercely, her tongue forcing his back and into his mouth as she leaned into him and sank her hips back to push his shaft not just inside her hot channel of flexing needs, but to ease all the way down so her grind into his groin that sealed him in to the root also let him feel his spongy head kiss and push at the retreated and rambling softness of her cervix. The she-wolf lost her force to keep his tongue under her control, and sighed a shuddering, moaning sigh into his lips as her body shook with the force of the vibration of pleasure that rocketed through her in feeling him that deep and her desire that complete. It was only a few heart beats to adjust to the sensation before her tightly wound twat slid in a vice grip back up the length of his pleasure pole with a flex of her abs and the tension in her thighs that lifted her curvy bottom and delicious hips so she could ride him with his lips against hers and his face in her hands, breasts waying over his chest and that spirit mark that she still felt as if she were touching it.<br><br>If he thought she was moving too slow to be fucking him, or riding him, it was only because she was indulging in her wetness making it so exciting, because she should have teased herself open to him but shoved him in instead, making it dangerous to go too quickly while she unwound enough not to choke his cock while she stroked it in the well of her wonderful want.&nbsp; Parting her lips from his enough to take a more needed, deeper breath, her eyes sedately opened to look at him, to see the man she felt inside her, that made her wolf howl in pleasure, to see if he heard it. If he could hear her wolf in excitement as surely as he could hear and feel her moaning whimpers and hitched panted breaths unable to keep up with her thundering heart. He was inside a wolfblood, and uniquely able to sense both human female, and wolf female, both riding his cock with a luxurious pleasure of a woman who had long forgotten what it felt like to be filled with a man, and found it even more exciting that she was reminded and given to forgetting all others by this man. <strong>”I want you to feel every bit, how tightly you fit inside me, like you were made to fit, to touch… here…Mmm..”</strong>A moaning wimper punctuated her sink back upon him that nudged her womb with his wet and throbbing head. <br><br><strong>”I want you that deeply, my <em> Usgolvsagonige Waya Oyohusa Adawehi&nbsp; </em>…”</strong> And she wasn’t shy about making it happen either. Even if he’d remembered the other women, chances were high they’d be nothing like the formerly celibate Romanian who’d long since taken a vow to stuff her desires deep down and out of sight. Until the sight of him, and her vows were undone in a glance, and then fucked in a touch so, there was nothing she could do but obey the craving to have him as deeply as she needed him. Whether or not she was ready for children, she wanted his seed in her womb in such a pure divinity it was almost like a holy need to please the spirit that was with them through his mark. Rowena was a bold woman, and had not considered letting him have her on the floor when she’d wanted the honor and pleasure of spearing herself upon him in the intimate demonstration of the sentence she’d never finished, but paused with a foreign expression not excluding what they were doing in the simplest form. When she said his name this time, she leaned down, holding him submerged in her rippling well as it massaged every inch of him, and stole his lips with hers just to feed the lower one to her teeth to tug on it while she watched him with her heated and hungry wolfish eyes. <em>Mine.</em><br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><hr><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">banner codes</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong> Oyohusa Adawehi:</strong> <div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png[/img][/center]</code></pre> </div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Elf</strong> on <strong>20-08-2016, 05:48:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png)</div><br>As the Cherokee took hold of Rowena's shoulders and pulled he felt her resistance. He did not know if were just reflex or conscious. Nor did he care. She had said she/they wanted him. Her body clearly wanted him. She had awakened a desire in him long forgotten and now he would not be denied. Wolf had given the strength and now he used it to pull her mouth to despite her initial resistance. It did not matter that once his paint were washed away he would just be a man and she then the stronger. Now that paint remained, with it his strength.<br><br>The powerful she-wolf's resistance was brief though. As his lips claimed hers she responded in kind. Her kiss may have been even more fierce than his as her tongue forced his back into his own mouth. Her moan was soon echoed by one of his own as her hands took&nbsp; hold of his face. She came onto the couch straddling him. Her smooth warm thighs gripping his hips, her delicate feet hooked over his knees. The fall back and his raging erection caused his cloth to lay off to one side fully exposing his arousal to her. Her hips moved pressing her wet curls against his shaft and moved to coat it with her juice. Pleasure like he could not remember having felt caused him to tremble. His hands slid off her shoulders to her waist. He held on to her but made no effort to control her actions.<br><br>The wanton woman's hips moved, shifting her body until the soft wet petals captured the throbbing head of his penis. Her body arched as she guided the tip where she wanted it even as her hands did not leave his jaw or lips leave his. Then she settled down on him taking entire length into her. He gasped at the intense pleasure. She was wet, warm and ever so tight. She did stop just kept taking him deeper until their bodies met and felt the tip hit her womb. Her whole body vibrated with pleasure and his trembled again in response. Memory or not he knew he had felt anything like that. In her pleasure she lost control of his tongue and drove into her mouth ravenously.<br><br>The she-wolf did&nbsp; not stay down long though before her ass rose again. Her thighs hardened at his side as she pushed away from him. Her tightening belly made her tunnel tighten even more around him as she rose back up his length. Though his eyes were closed and their mouths were locked together, his eyes rolled back into his head and he again gasped. Her going up pulling at and squeezing his pole tightly felt even better her taking him in had. She was not moving too slow or too fast for him. She was at just the right pace for him to fully enjoy her body, the pleasure she took and gave.<br><br>Their lips parted just enough for each to take a need deeper breath. His eyes opened just enough so he could see her and the way her eyes had opened. He heard her moans, whimpers, and panting with his ears. In some other way he did not quite understand he felt/heard the pleasured howling of her wolf. Knowing her wolf was getting as much pleasure from as the woman really pleased him and that knowledge showed in his eyes and on his face.<br><br>Rowena spoke of wanting him to feel every bit, how tightly he fit inside her, like they were made to be together. She slid back down as she spoke and her faded off into a whimpering as she once again took him to her full depth. He moaned softly at first but it grew louder as she descended ending in another gasp when his throbbing head reached that spot. Then she spoke again saying she wanted him that deeply before using the possessive “my” preceding both his names. She claimed him with her words, with body. Then as captured his lip in her teeth she claimed him with her eyes. That was fine with him while he did not speak he claimed her too. His hands tightened on her waist and pushed up with his hips lifting her as he did. His eyes met hers and his gaze matched hers completely. <em>Mine</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NejraTu</strong> on <strong>21-08-2016, 02:44:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png)</div><br><br>He was a beautiful warrior, and she was making love to him while he still wore his war paint and the blood of his enemies. Rowena was a wolfblood, and the sight of him like this, and desiring her, was more than she could take and restrain herself so she let him see it in her eyes when they met, to feel it when she took a deep, panted breath of him against his lips, and within the grips of her delicate fingertips against his bloody and painted jaw.&nbsp; She shivered as his hands descended from her shoulders, surprised she didn’t just obey his force of her into his lap, but then worked him into her body, and <em>that</em> surprised <em>her</em>. He was delicious.<br><br>It was an amazing feeling to watch his eyes roll back, and then forward again to meet her eyes and see her intent, her claim. He did not stop her, he seemed to enjoy the sensation, the feel of her body claiming his. Rowena and her wolf enjoy it, enjoyed it so much she didn’t stop even while she was talking, speaking into his eyes as surely as his body. His power radiated from him like an electrified blanket, and her every moved rippled around in it, making it so exquisite the sounds they made vibrated liquidly through her and fueling the tight caress of her sensual sleeve around every inch of his naked manflesh on the up stroke and down stroke. The she-wolf was in no hurry, but she did want to indulge in the moment he allowed her to get acquainted with the feel of him.<br><br>He answered the claim in her eyes as she bit and tugged his lower lip, not with words, but his own dark eyes and the firm grip of his hands around her slender waist to keep her steady as he lifted his hips into her deeper still, and hoisted her whole body with the effort. Her knees trembled around his hips and her toes squirmed against his knees while she quivered and moaned into his lips, eyes rolling back beneath her dark lashes as she smashed her soft mouth against his wanting to taste him. The she-wolf groaned into his mouth because she loved the sensation of his hips moving his cock inside her, beneath her legs and splayed thighs; he was a stallion of man flesh and she felt like a drizzled topping upon him, molten and liquid in her pleasure. On the tail end of the air in her lungs, she whispered into his lips a wanton string of two words. <strong>”Don’t stop.”</strong> <br><br>Rowena’s quaking thighs strangled his legs and hips while she hoisted herself up even while he settled his hips back down, setting a rhythm for him to thrust up into her descent upon him while her lips devoured his in a passionate embrace set to tangle their tongues in a battle for which warm carven to dance in. She wanted him to meet her passion and play for power, she was an Alpha wolf, it couldn’t be helped but to crave another alpha, and still, she did not want to lose the intimate passion of feeling every inch of him moving against her in his magic paint and their mutual enemies blood. Her wolf not only mated with him in her indulgent human pace, but nuzzled and rolled with pleasure in the warm spirit of the wolf that marked him.<br><br>Her hands slid from his jaw to his neck, and down to his shoulders so she could make room for her breasts to lay against his chest, his spirit-mark, while her hips glided her soft center tightly over his raging marbled flesh. So her groin could press against part of his loincloth still on him while she grinded into his hips as they met hers. Rowena wanted him to feel her body easily moved by his, and raping every inch of his naked skin through the magic paint and blood because while he thrust on and off the sofa she’d seated him in, she rode his body alone as if she were made just small enough to fit. Her excitement in feeling the way he tensed and flexed, the sounds he made into her lips and how he didn’t waste an opportunity to push back, caused her moans to growl while his inner self heard her wolf howl in pleasure. Rowena might be taking it slow, but it had been over fifty years and she was highly sensitive to the magic, the man, and the wolf that marked him, and her body quivered and found a skipped pace in her ride along the edge of climax so she could feel him like this a little longer. <br><br>The slow ride up as he slid down, every vein pulsing against her velvet walls while his flared head dragged her wider as if to hold on as surely as she rippled to grip him upward without stopping. Her hungry lips were forced to part from his with a slight turn of her cheek into his magic painted one, panting against his flesh while she held on to him and trembled in effort not to go faster, and to keep up her clenching while the pendulum between them reversed and she slid down while he rose up, stretching her the other way as if to open her for the rest of him to bury deeply in; where she’d told him she wanted him. Yes, she wanted it, and the feel of his breaths and low moans rumbling through his chest and into hers while they moved into one another under the grip of his strong but allowing hands, all of it for a little longer. But what Rowena wanted and what she felt were two different things, and her compounded pleasure went exponential in feeling his pleasure so, she lost control anyway.<br><br><strong>”Waya!”</strong> Rowena moaned a portion of his name, his word for Wolf, as her body tensed against him with a hard shudder pulling her spine toward him and pressing her more tightly against him. As her abs fluttered in a tight cluster against her womb, her hips lost their languid rhythm and bucked hard into him before rocking in tight grinding that stroked his cock inside every rippling collapse of her cunt, washing it in an intimate cycle of Rowena on HI and lathered in her own special honey. Her lips smeared across his cheek on her way to his ear, kissing the lobe and licking it into her teeth for a tug while she spasmed, letting it go to move her lips against his sensitive flesh while she whispered her hot and needy breath into his ear, <strong>”<em> Zei,</em> you’re amazing.”</strong> That first part was Romanian, an exclamation of divinity to go with her baptizing of his shaft in her sacred nectar. <strong>”Tell me you’re real…”</strong> Was it still in doubt? As ancient and supernatural as she is, the woman hadn’t been with a man in two average lifetimes and still doubted she wasn’t imagining him to sate her needs and desperation, passed out and squirming in the cage like a popped canteen spewing liquid everywhere. <br><br><br><br><hr><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">banner codes</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong> Oyohusa Adawehi:</strong> <div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png[/img][/center]</code></pre> </div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Elf</strong> on <strong>26-08-2016, 03:58:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png)</div><br>Rowena rode him still dressed as he had been, painted, and bloodied. To the native it was glorious and new, but something in his mind told it was not so new. Flashes of memories of another woman who had claimed after a battle. The blood on him then had been that of human enemies and the woman was human and she had been his wife. He did not pause or hesitate for even a heart beat though. That was just a vague hazy memory and his wife gone. The woman now was real, vibrant, powerful, and a wolf. What they were doing together felt far better than what had happened in his previous life. She was for him and he for her and thus part of his new life. The shiver that ran through her body as his hands slid to waist thrilled him. Her free movement and taking him into her was far better than if he had forced her with his grasp.<br><br>The she-wolf had claimed him with word, with her body, and through her gaze. The warrior had accepted the claim and placed his own on her with body and his return gaze and she had accepted. She had taken him into her and now she welcomed as he drove in deeper. She released his lip from her teeth only again claim his mouth with hers. He responded with equal passion. Their two mouth making a single cavern in which the tongues wrestled each trying to taste the other. She groaned and he moaned as she felt like liquid above him, a molten liquid poured over him, heating him further and filling him with pleasure like he had not even dreamed possible. She emptied her lungs against his mouth to say two wondrous words. “Don't stop.” She could not stop him had she wanted to. His reply was to lift her even higher as he growled against her lips.<br><br>As Rowena's thighs quaked and squeezed his hips so she could lift herself again he lowered his own ass back to the cushion upon which she had placed him. Oyohusa's grip tightened on her curved waist to prevent her from rising completely off, to keep her impaled on his hard, throbbing shaft. He wanted to drive up into her again but he waited for her to set the pace only driving up into her again as she came down to meet him. In his real memory this once his first time with any woman, she was much older and therefore likely more experienced. He knew that he could take her at the pace he wanted and she likely would accept it. She however might know better what would feel the best so he let her set their speed. Throughout the actions of their heated bodies his pleasure was further enhanced by the feeling of being nuzzled by her wolf.<br><br>A gasp of sheer pleasure slipped from the Cherokee when the woman's hands slid from his jaw over his neck and to his broad shoulders. His eyes closed as another moan escaped between their lips as her breasts pressed to his chest. Their flesh had come together and the only part of her that stopped touching his was her groin as they moved their hips apart. He never came out of her hot tightly gripping tunnel. The way she gripped him and pulsed her muscles sent waves of pleasure through him that almost had howling along with her wolf. He felt the skip in her pace but did not know what caused it. All he knew was that he was in no hurry to have this pleasure end.<br><br>Her head turned pulling their lips apart but pressed their cheeks together and he took a panting breath. She was panting too and trembling which sent a strange and very pleasurable sensation to his hard throbbing flesh trapped within her wet channel. This caused a pressure to begin to build which he did not fully understand, but did not question as it felt right and still pleasurable. Then her whole body tensed and she stopped pulling back off. His arms went around her back holding her firmly against him. Then she spoke just a part of&nbsp; his name “Waya!” It was part of his name and what he knew her to be, wolf. She pressed tightly against him and bucked her hips grinding him deeper into her. That was it the pressure broke and he pushed even harder up into her and gasped. “Fantomă!”” His body tightened and his spine arched raising his ass again from the cushion with her on top of him. His cock jerked and twitched inside her spewing his seed deep into her hot womp. His seed and her nectar mixed. The hot breath in his ear said something he did not know before telling him he was amazing. His armed tightened even more about her body as he breathed, “As are you.” After a moment his body relaxed lowering them back to the couch, but his arms only slightly loosen their hold. He blinked confused when he was told to tell her that he was real. “As real as the cage I freed you from.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NejraTu</strong> on <strong>29-08-2016, 03:56:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/85/MorenaBaccarin_as.png)</div><br><br>His wife was a lucky woman to have had him while she did, and despite all the war and battle she had seen, she’d never been moved to fuck a man still covered in blood or war paint, but this one… he required it on some primal level she wasn’t questioning for the strength of it, and the deep pleasure in giving in to it and finding him warmly accepting. There was a unique pleasure to be had in riding him in his war paint and body still partially wet with the blood of their mutual enemies, but it became something exquisite as he plunged up into her dive down, accepting her rhythm but also making her feel the power in his hips, his abs, and the thick pulsing rod that thrust deeply through her rippling sleeve of sensual needs to prod at the gate of her molten fertile core. <br><br><em> Usgolvsagonige Waya Oyohusa Adawehi&nbsp; </em> was a thrilling lover right off the starting line and she was quick to succumb to her own excitement as he joined the languid paced but hard fuck she’d set them into. That his body so easily supported her own while he lifted her up to drive into her as she sank down on him tight enough to kiss his groin with her wet labia in a splayed smother of hot honey still leaking from her, made the whole sensation exponentially more satisfying. <br><br>Rowena knew she couldn’t keep up with him as soon as she found herself whispering to him not to stop, not realizing he already had no intention of stopping, and she couldn’t have stopped him if she had wanted to. His growl into her soft lips was as much an answer as the way he pushed deeper and lifted her higher at the same time, causing her whole body to tighten against him while she’d tried anyway. It worked for a while, trembling in her efforts, she was well rewarded by his control and that only made her climb the climax mountain even faster. <br><br>He was a remarkable, beautiful, powerful man and as if his body and destructive path in weren’t enough, the pulsing rode stretching her body as she lowered onto him and he pushed up into her made the most excitingly lewd sounds inside her and raped every inch of her with his raging need to never stop. Her fingers were itching to move while she quivered in resistance to that climax for as long as she could, fluttering their way to his shoulders and being rewarded yet again with the expansion of his broad chest in a gasping breath she was moved to kiss in thanks to his lips while his shoulders received the needy massage of her small and soft fingertips. He was large for a Native, in all ways, but it only made her more excited he found his way into her domaine.<br><br>She was watching him as surely smothering his lips with panted breaths and needful claims of her lips to his. The sensation of him was enhanced by the magic, and the wolf’s spirit, making it a kind of high for her wolf pent up inside her while she took human pleasure in the shiftless native; offering her body to him as surely as to the spirit, and claiming him in the process. When she missed her pace, he didn’t forcefully correct her, he embraced the fall of her body and let her try to raise her hips again, to try to keep going.<br><br>He held her as she faltered again and sealed her hips to his in a shudder of tension that exploded with moaning, shallow and quick breaths, she had no idea he was unfamiliar with. The way his hands slid around her back and kept her entire body pushed into his caused the tight ripples of liquid heat to choke every inch of him in a solid grip of trembling tension that then got tighter from the deeper push of the base of his shaft all the way up to the top in her jump into a deeper orgasm like he’d known just how to push her into it in a single moment. She called to his wolf, and he answered…<br><br>Her hips bucked, and then couldn’t stop as the waves returned with vengeance to milk his shaft through her clenching channel and toward the retreated gate of her womb. He didn’t seem consciously aware of what he was doing just then, but her body felt his primal self full of intent to fill her with his seed in hearing her call out to him, and then he had to call back to her wolf through those exotic lips with a forceful push so deep his spongy head forced her womb to open with a beautiful pain that was washed away in the euphoria of her wolf hearing him say her name.<br><br>&nbsp;Rowena Sole <em>sange de lup, Vânător&nbsp; Fantomă </em> claimed those blessed lips of his as soon as he said it, and every part of their bodies were entwined over the sofa she’d backed him onto, shivering and writhing in orgasmic pleasure that overwhelmed her, and left her surprised to feel her wolf claiming him as her mate as surely as she felt his cock twitch and pulse and jet hot streams of sticky slick and milky beautiful semen inside her womb. Her abs fluttered against the clenching of his in the spasms of his climax, her breasts panting against his hard chest, smearing and being scraped by dried paint and blood alike, while some was slick with wetter blood and the Cherokee’s sweat. <br><br>Her lips fell along his cheek and to his ear, and had to first compliment how she felt about him in the moment of fucking perfection.&nbsp; His arms gripped more tightly as if she were constricted by an anaconda’s coils, as he returned the compliment with sincerity. If it were any other man, she’d not have believed him, but she could practically feel his honesty while he was also emptying his seed inside her, pulsing root to tip within the clenching wet walls of her wanton needs left long to desire such a man. Hunting was no time for true mating, but she wanted his seed inside her anyway, that promise and that full claim and euphoric release. It was a surprise to her that he seemed to find her responses and the sensations she offered him in her set of the pace, to drive him to climax through her own climax. It was a beautiful, amazing thing for a woman who’d had select lovers in the past and none of them magically or spiritually touched at him.<br><br>Though he was surprised by her following words, it was not the first time she was unsure of him being real. <em>Fantomă </em> sure believed he was real enough to claim as her mate, to claim him for life. Rowena was scared by that, but she also had no sure idea why, because he seemed so very amazing, she kept feeling like she had to be dreaming. He was… well suited to fertilize her feminine garden many times over, and it was like a golden coat on the whole package of a man who seemed more than a man, cumming freely inside her and holding her all the tighter to him while she writhed in the pleasure of it, and even questioned his realness. He took it well, only blinking at her like he was trying to process what she meant even while he assured her, <em> “As real as the cage I freed you from.” </em> <br><br>His relaxing body felt real, easing into the sofa and giving her ribs room to expand in deeper breaths as she came down but was reluctant to let his hips and legs go, or let his cock slip from her before it had a chance to soften- and as a male she perceived as ultimately human, she instinctively expected him to soften as she lay upon him and came to terms with the fact he was real and her wolf wanted him as her mate, and she’d just let him cum inside her… Some part of her seemed to remind her in a whisper that the spirit of the wolf didn’t seem angry with that decision.&nbsp; He was brought here and it was not an accident they met. Rowena didn’t have to understand it to trust her wolf, to trust the spirit, being a bit superstitious herself as it is…<br><br>Rowena was a lot of things, but a proper Lady wasn’t one of them, as was evident by her refusal of the invitation unopened, and her pleasure in Waya slaughtering the lot of them, even if he probably missed the coward Marcus. If he was real, and it seemed to be continuously true because she wasn’t waking up from a wet dream, nor catching that hint of conscious awareness within a strangeness that was a dreams reality, then he’d just fucked her with a passion that equaled her own and yet, had been controlled to allow her to lead, and she found the next words from her mouth to be approaching his once again, whispering a slowly grinning, <strong>”Thank you.”</strong> Then, stealing a quick, wanton grab of his lips with her own before those dark eyes flashed at him and she whispered again against his lips with a pleasure and want still humming through her inhumanly hot body still over-ripe for him and the feel him of spilling his seed inside her. <br><br><strong>”Stay with me while I clean my home of their corpses, and then hunt with me while I get my medallion back from Marcus.”</strong> It may have come out like a statement, something of a command she wanted of him very badly, and not just because he could clearly fight, and obviously fuck, but because her wolf claimed him and she didn’t want him to leave, or her to leave him in her vendetta and mission to recover a family relic. The way she kept her body laying on his, rising and falling with his breaths and shifting her hips in slower grinds to feel him inside the wet puddle of their mixed juices still sloshing inside her and being stirred around by his manhoods presence, it was clear that she was either enjoying the feel of him too much to move, or momentarily too weak to move more than she was, still clinging to him. <br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><hr><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">banner codes</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong> Oyohusa Adawehi:</strong> <div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[center][img]https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png[/img][/center]</code></pre> </div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Supernatural: The Wild West [Elf &amp; NejraTu]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Elf</strong> on <strong>18-09-2016, 19:33:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/dd/MartinSensmeier_as_OyohusaAdawehi.png)</div><br>Though his mind was clouded by the extreme pleasure of their combined climax, Oyohusa knew in his heart that Fantomă, her wolf had claimed him as mate. He did not have a wolf of his own inside him to be claimed or to claim her in return. Did not diminish the pleasure he felt but he felt something he had not felt in a very long time. He felt fear. He knew wolves mate for life and therefore Rowena's wolf was claiming him for life. He was not a wolf though he was just a man, touched and chosen by Wolf but still just a man. Wolf was there though he could feel her and she accepted&nbsp; even seemed to approve of the claim. Was this why she had lead him this place?<br><br>The Cherokee did not understand why the beautiful would have asked why her was real. She had claimed him, he had claimed her. Her wolf clearly knew he was real and had claimed him yet she had asked as if she were still in doubt. He knew himself to be real and was quite certain that she were just as real. She seemed quite relieved and pleased with his answer. He had to wonder just how long she had been caged by her foul captors to question her reality so.&nbsp; As they relaxed from the exertion of their climaxes surely she could feel the way his heart was beating rapidly with her breasts pressed so against his chest. He could feel and hear her beating heart.<br><br>As they lay there on one of her many couches, her still on top, him still buried deep inside her and his arms still wrapped around, she thanked him. Again she confused him as he did not understand what she would be thanking him. “For accepting your offer of pleasure? For experiencing such pleasure as I have never known? I thank you.”<br><br>The she-wolf seemed either unable or unwilling to move off him. The native neither had the energy or will to have her move. She still felt incredible laying on top of him, her body pressed against his own. His still hard shaft sheathed within her hot, wet flesh was an exquisite sensation he was loath to have end. Even without his granted strength he knew her female human form would still not be too heavy for him. He welcomed the quick wanton kiss stolen and gave it eagerly.<br><br>He already knew he would not be leaving her home soon and did not want to leave it without her when she whispered against his lips that she wanted him to stay and then hunt with her. He not remember ever hunting with another before. He could feel it, knew it had happened, he had hunted prey and enemies with fellow men of his tribe. He had only hunted alone sense he had started hunting vampires though. Having another to hunt with was something he realized then was what he wanted. For it to be her would be even better. He had been alone for so long though he did not know how to answer or if he should accept. So he did not reply immediately.<br><br>As he thought about his answer and still held her in place above him he sensed another presence in the room. He turned his head to look towards the cage. What he saw standing between him and his new lover were two things. One clearly just a spirit was a woman, native like himself. She was dressed in her bridal dress. It was his wife and dressed as she had been when she had become his. She just smiled a peaceful happy smile. She made a sign with her hands showing that she was blessing him. She then faded away leaving behind a sense of peace and love and the knowledge that his new mate was accepted.<br><br>The other thing he saw was the gray wolf from his past, the one his father had said he would one day find. He now knew it to be just a spirit but it looked&nbsp; like flesh. He now understood why he could never find it or any tracks. This wolf was a spirit, but not Wolf his guide and teacher. The sat and looked at the two on the couch. As it sat it shifted its weight back and forth clearly waiting for something and showing some impatience. It had waited along time and was anxious for the wait to finally over. In that moment Usgolvsagonige Waya knew that he was somehow not complete. There had always been something missing within himself and the wolf was that missing part.<br><br>Seeing those spirits had removed all confusion from Oyohusa's mind about him and Rowena and even her wolf's claim. It may not be in him yet but he had a wolf to counter hers. So he looked back up at her smiling. “I will stay and then hunt with you, Udali.” The last word he used was in his native tongue meaning wife. For now in his mind they were mated, husband and wife. Neither had their own people to perform a ritual and their mating had been over seen by spirits while they had claimed each other. So just as natural wolves mated for life they were now mated.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>