Disclaimer: World of Warcraft and all expansions are the property of Activision-Blizzard, of which I am not a part of, and its intellectual property is used here for non-profit purposes simply to entertain.
So, I wrote a thing.
Actually, let's talk a bit about it. I was in the mood for something a little lusty, and I decided to make it about vrykuls, because snu-snu, so I took my fondness for the jotuns and scaled it up to an 11 for a full-blown fetish for the protagonist. Seriously, jotuns are the best fantasy race to ever have been overlooked by the mainstream. From brutally cunning human-like beings on par with the gods, to cunningly brutal "six-headed" monsters that modern "ettin" are derived from. Remember Utgarde Keep from Wrath? Seriously, look up the norse story that is based on. It's got Thor and everything.
That brings up another thing: Old Norse. It's in this story. And none of it is translated for your convenience. This story prompted me to start learning it (fuck genders and declensions), since languages and linguistics are my jam. That said, take none of my word for fact, since most of the dialogue was just shat out of google translate from Icelandic and given Old Icelandic touches (Ég into Ek, og into ok, and though I don't recall needing it, case-ending -ur into -r where applicable).
So why untranslated? That's because I fully intend on the reader to understand what's said without needing a direct translation, or at least to ''get by'' as well as the protagonist does, whom really only knows the bare basics. And it isn't like vrykuls don't speak Common IE English as well, so I doubt it will really be an issue. I didn't build a pillow fort with the sign ''No non-Scandi's allowed!''
A clarification:
-The ON text has been simplified to not hurt the readers unfamiliar with accent marks or strange leters.
-Accent marks are gone. Víti into viti. Mín? No, it's min. I did this because I didn't even have the ability to type them until about halfway through the story, and most people won't understand them anyways. Just a simplification.
-Æ/æ has likewise been broken into ae.
-Both the thorn (Þ/þ) and the eth (Ð/ð) have been reduced to ''th,'' because that's how they're pronounced. I know it's not traditional, but it is, in my opinion, better. You'll forgive me if you catch a ''madr'' somewhere though, since I was told to do ''d'' initially.
Perfection
These were not safe times for the southlands.
Stifling a hiss, Aurelius let the arctic mountain spring wash over his tattered body, forcing himself further until the modest current was to his navel. Bracing his bare feet against the pebbles, he grit his teeth and submerged to his neck. Cuts and scrapes found cleansing at the heavy stream, but the icy sting was anything but refreshing.
The final step was getting his head under, so Aurelius did so without thinking. He returned with a gasp, setting upon wiping water and hair from his eyes. The numbness was setting in now. For a human in Northrend waters, that was worrisome, but he vowed to enjoy every moment that he was relieved of his aches.
Aurelius did not forget the reason for his many wounds, superficial as they were. More so than the teeth of frosty water, his fears were in the inhabitants of these woods, so while bathing was dangerously vulnerable, he left his weapons within easy reach on the bank. His long spear in particular rested with its shaft reaching out over the water.
Looking down, he sighed at the ugly bruises along his abdominals, no doubt aggravated by the gooseflesh and shivering. In younger days, the sight of clearly defined muscles might have given him some pride, but now the pale, nearly pasty-colored bumps only reminded him how starved he was out here.
His callused palm came to his left shoulder, where the ache was merely a mellow throb now. Very clearly, he remembered his awkward stance and panic as the dark iron hammer came for him, desperately turning with the blow to diminish what he could. An ugly bruise and a bothersome dislocation felt like victory, after that fight.
One more time, Aurelius dunked under the chilly stream, feet braced hard against the current. The gasp of his return was nearly instinctual; humans weren't meant for such temperatures. His hands swiped at his hair, knowing he'd need to exit soon.
"Hver thorir!" a loud voice boomed at Aurelius' back. He froze, stomach dropping.
Knowing an open back was the biggest mistake, he turned around, hands still on his head, to be treated to the sight of a fully nude vrykul woman similarly waist deep in the middle of the river, only a couple dozen yards farther along. She was a crimson haired warrior, the muscles clear on her glistening tan skin, with silver-blue eyes glaring beneath furiously set vrykul brows.
Oh, fuck, he groaned in his head. He swore he had checked the area before deciding on his wash, which means she had to have arrived after him. Thank the Light she hadn't noticed him in turn before she also entered, for an armored vrykul warrior getting the jump on him was a one way passage to a shallow grave.
Lurching aside, Aurelius got hold of his spear, yanking it free and standing where the water was only knee high. He'd stand no chance in deeper water against her, if he was to stand a chance at all. The presence of his own nudity registered little in his mind; already, his heart rate was accelerating.
"Human," the vrykul realized, sneering for emphasis. Her hands were empty, balled into vrykul-sized fists at her sides. A sweeping look saw that wherever she had left her things, it wasn't within similar reach for her.
Settled firmly into his proper stance, Aurelius waited for a tense few moments. It became clear, however, that the she-giant wasn't keen on charging his spear unarmed, leaving them in a stretching standoff.
Swallowing back the tightness in his throat, Aurelius tested diplomatic waters. "To make it clear," he shouted to her, "I was bathing here first."
Her dark-shrouded eyes had already acknowledged that fact with a downward glance, but her loathing expression was unchanged. In reply, she took two long strides towards him and bellowed, "Ek skyla drepa thik."
Aurelius' nostrils flared, and his spear point lifted higher, as if aimed for her midsection. "Not if I drepa you first. Ek drepa thik." Living here as long as he had, one learned the essentials of Vrykul. "Fara. Fara i frithi."
"Thu fly," she snapped harshly, taking another stomp towards him. The gesture sent a nearly distracting jounce through her naked breasts. Had this been any other situation...! Seeing his face, she clarified no more kindly, "Thu far."
Fly must have been another word for "leave." Well, that was no option. She would kill him as he dressed. Should he take his clothes and leave, and miraculously get through the woods without stumbling naked into a pack of worgs, she could as easily follow his trail and kill him the same.
Damn it, damn it. He did not want to kill the vrykul woman. Light, he had a borderline fetish for the half-giantesses! "Nei gott," he told her, shaking his head firmly. "Fara i frithi, ok ek fara." He took a step back to emphasis his point. They both could leave, in separate ways, for Light's sake.
However, her eyes narrowed dangerously at his retreat. Two more steps she took towards him, her lip curled distastefully, so Aurelius made a frustrated sound and stepped back towards her, spear still ready. Damn, but her strides closed their distance rather quickly. He was looking up now to meet her eyes, despite her being deeper in the river.
"Ek gaeti mylja thik," she growled, low in her throat. There was a pensiveness to match the words, though he didn't know their meaning. Mylja was "crush," if that's what he heard from her though. It was difficult to hear through that tone.
Aurelius made an obvious sigh, then hardened himself and stared unblinkingly into her right eye. He abandoned trying their tongue. "If you come at me, I will kill you. Stand back."
Light curse the way those full lips of hers curved up in spiteful challenge, and with her chest puffed arrogantly, she took one more step towards him. "No," she answered. Her eyes glittered with dark anticipations. She wanted to see how he'd respond. No fear of death would be found in those eyes.
Aurelius gritted his teeth, knowing he must be unwavering. His first chance at seeing a vrykul naked, and it was to be like this. Universal irony. Well, at least it made her black heart an easy target. Lip curling with distaste, he took another bold step towards her, then another, continuing until they were in spitting distance of each other.
Glaring up at her, he grated, "It's your move now, v..." The words died on his tongue. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one to hear something else in the woods, for the challenging look vanished from her as head turned from side to side, scanning the forest around them.
Aurelius heard it again: a wolf's howl. The sunken feeling in his gut was swept over by a new icy fear that had nothing to do with the water that numbed his feet. His wide eyes met the newly burning ones of the vrykul, then he shamelessly turned from her to stomp back towards the river bank.
Too late, he realized, stopping his shuffle in the water to find his stance again, now with his back to the giantess. All around them, on both sides of the river, dark shapes lurked in the underbrush. Some brazenly stepped into the sun, showing gold eyes and toothy smirks.
The worgen, with their new wolvar allies and pet worgs. One hell of a party to be faced with. Aurelius counted eight, ten, fifteen – at least twenty wolfish fiends waiting for him on his side of the river. The opposite side would prove no less.
"Not to interrupt," one black-furred beast growled out, punctuating with a snap. The alpha, Aurelius suspected. "But we want our meat fresh, without little holes in it first." Those gold eyes passed Aurelius, raking over the naked vrykul behind. The fanged maw stretched wider. "And this morsel is looking delicious."
Already pumped on the earlier adrenaline, Aurelius taunted, "I've got some scum on my boot over there for you to lick off, mutt. That's all the taste you'll be getting of us."
"Til Helajar meth ther, hundar!" the vrykul agreed with all her scorn. At least, Aurelius thought that was an agreement.
Aurelius began a controlled shuffle towards the shore. His eyes were upon the alpha. Still sneering, he promised, "Send all the pups you want. I'm not done until the river is thick with your blood."
The lead worgen continued showing teeth. "Kill the stray. Capture the bitch."
Dog-puns, hooo! Aurelius jived in his mind, as the first wolvar lunged for him. His spear took it through cleanly. He relished its high-pitched whine as he yanked back, letting the beast fall from his spearhead, and he lurched forward for a deep thrust, nicking one worg that thought to remain back in threatening pacing.
From the splashes behind him, he knew the vrykul was advancing to the other end of the river, a war shout on her lips already, ready to meet the orchestra of yaps and growls. Aurelius paid her no further mind, knowing he must first live through his own trials.
Stocky wolvar, swift and limber worgens, and harrying worgs all came for him. Aurelius was glad to already have had his spear, for his sword would be useless in this fight. Wide slashing motions kept them from crowding him, and the long thrusts continued taking the beast-minded creatures by surprise. When some got close, past the spearhead, Aurelius was quick to jump back, pulling his spear back until he held it by the upper portions, and he cut a throat at the cost of a bloody slash over his chest.
With fierce shouts and challenging cries, Aurelius took on all the fiends that came for him. A damned wolvar managed to sneak behind him and capture his calf in its fangs, fortunately absent of an additional weapon to shank him in the back with. His awkward slash to kill the bugger also clipped his outer thigh, but the wolvar fell back, minus its nose, and then Aurelius ran the thing through in a quick thrust, retreating swiftly enough to also capture the lunging worg.
It was quick and bloody, and Aurelius did not escape the better in it, but soon the beasts were retreating against the rude snaps of their alpha, giving Aurelius a chance to look back at the vrykul. His wide eyes saw her almost back on his side of the river, wading through in powerful steps, with her arms blood-soaked and matted with beast fur. Her face was a thunderhead. Across the stream, the surviving worgens and wolvar watched with withdrawn yaps, unwilling to follow her across.
Aurelius gestured with his left hand as he faced the leader again. "There! Take my sword!"
"I will feel their guts squish and bones snap!" she roared. The vrykul-sized sound send an instinctual tremor down his spine, but he didn't argue, instead focusing on the alpha in full.
A sound like a giggle passed his lips. The fear, the adrenaline, he couldn't help but laugh through his pain. "Your turn, mutt!" Aurelius shouted, beginning to advance. The bare-assed vrykul broke through the water line near the same time, passing him in a second and smashing her hand over a worg too surprised or frightened to flee. Blood followed.
One worgen pounced to intercept his charge. A slash knocked it aside, but Aurelius' momentum was broken. Three furred beasts descended on him, and they went down in a tangle of limbs and snapping maws. He lost his spear to protect his throat, then threw their pile aside to knock the beasts off him. He had barely made it to a knee when the full weight of a worgen crashed into him again, and he saw with wild eyes the fangs snap a hairsbreadth from his face.
Before he could really struggle, a red hand snagged the humanoid and yanked it away, terminating the motion against her other fist. There was a sickening snap, and blood dripped from those hands. Then the fierce vrykul woman jumped against three close-by foes, accepting their fangs in her skin. Aurelius saw the way to the alpha was clear.
The packleader noticed the same thing, and as Aurelius feared, he did not hesitate to get his own hands dirty. The beast was all muscle as it dove at him, stopping in time to avoid Aurelius' spearhead and thrust. It was around him in a second, then a hulking claw took Aurelius in the head, dropping him instantly.
Groaning, Aurelius rolled aside, too late to escape the follow up, and the claws gouged along his back. Crying out, Aurelius refused to give into the pain, and he turned on his knee with the spear ready, its butt in the mud. Reflexes acted then, as he caught sight of the worgen already upon him, and his hands moved on their own, guiding the spear right in its path. The sharp head took it in the chest, the beast's weight pushing the spear through the bone and into its chest cavity.
Teeth bared and his voice raised in whatever shout he could manage, Aurelius lifted the spear against the weight of his flailing ornament and tossed the dog towards the river. He moved to pursue, only for his wounded calf to flare up against his will and Aurelius fell back to his knee. He watched with blatant hate on his face as the alpha moved to rise once more. It barely had its torso up before the vrykul woman appeared suddenly and stomped down with all her weight against its broad back. There was another snap, and the worgen rose no more.
With that, the last of the pack made yelps and calls, turning at once to retreat back into the woods. That was the last they would be bothering their two this day. Not that they were a two.
Aurelius blinked against blurring eyes. He had a lot of new wounds, he realized. Maybe too many. His back was numb, despite knowing that he'd just been slashed along it. "Fuck," he grunted. His spear slipped through his blood-slicked hands. Aurelius noticed he was falling and stopped himself on his arm.
Shaking away his dizziness, his eyes refocused again upon the vrykul he'd just fought aside. Fought with? No, that was presumptuous. She might try to kill him now. He didn't think he had the ability to fight her off in this state.
The red-haired woman turned her head his way. Those eyes seemed bright with energy, still high on the fight. Her body followed her head, turning to face him in full, and she rose to her full height – shoulders squared, feet braced evenly. She was still ravishingly naked, tan skin slicked with sweat and flecked with wolfish gore. Under the overhead sun, her body shone magnificently. Her strong muscles tensed and flexed, her bare chest rising and falling with each short pant, her untamed womanhood a crimson snare between those powerful thighs.
"Perfection," he admitted despite himself. "You are... perfection."
His strength faded, his supporting arm gave out, and he fell face first into the trampled muddy bank. Such savage perfection, the amazones of fable, queens of warfare; Vrykul women – what lusty god out there thought crafting such women would be fair to the gentle sex of the other races?
Teeth gritted once more, Aurelius rolled himself aside, out of the mud. His vision distorted again, but the large shape of tan flesh and red trim filling his sight could only be one thing. His breath came as little pants, yet the feel that he was getting no air had him wonder just how much blood he had lost.
The large shape folded into itself, leading him to assume she had crouched down, before her voice washed over his wearied body: "Hvath heitir thu? What is your name, little warrior?"
He wanted to answer her Vrykul question. He wanted to impress her. But he was tired, and it was a struggle to find the strength to finally say, "Ek heiti... Aurelius."
"Thu berjast vel, Aurelius."
"Hmm," was his eloquent reply. His adrenaline was dropping too quickly. Despite it, he tried collecting himself. Those mutts weren't allowed to do anything more than superficial cuts. Probably. He fought against the blurriness and was glad to see the woman focus in his view. Because what a view it was...
Realizing where his eyes lingered under her attention, he quickly yanked his gaze back up to her shining silver eyes. A merry gleam replaced the formerly dark look on her face. One red hand was braced upon her knee, and the other gestured loosely as she commented, "'Perfection,' thu sagthir?"
Light... Aurelius didn't know if he still had the blood left to blush, but he wanted to melt into the floor and get away nonetheless. Still, he was already here and his wounds said he was here to stay, so keeping his sheepishness to a minimum, he said, "Ja."
That arrogant grin marked her lips again. She made no further comment, only staring with those lively eyes of hers. It was a spell before the moment passed, then she looked down to his bloodied body and asked, "So are you prepared to treat yourself or must I watch a battle-brother bleed out today?"
Aurelius nodded, mustering his vitality once more. "Wouldn't live in Northrend if I wasn't." Battle-brother. Well, there's a thought. Stifling his weary groan, he pushed himself out of the mud to his feet, where he found himself only barely eye-level to the crouched giantess. She only watched him, offering no aid, as he gingerly carried himself back to the river to wash away the muck.
Compared to the last time, entering the water was physically painful. His body was already chilled from before, and his open wounds went kicking and screaming against the icy pressure of the current. Sluggishly, his hands swatted at the cuts, and quickly he was shuffling back towards his clothes and pack for his bandages. He heard the loud crash of the vrykul woman reentering the river, and a glance saw her washing away the red coat.
It was a fight against crippling weakness as Aurelius struggled with the frostweave roll, and his body shivered pathetically during it, but practice tempered his hands, managing a successful start and allowing him to wrap his chest wound slowly. The rake along his back he didn't have the ability to address specifically, but the enchanted cloth would work where it touched.
Through it all, Aurelius considered his little red vial – a potent healing potion that would fix him right up – but such things were precious and bandages much more plentiful, especially for his budget. He finished the last wind and tugged it tight, then tied the blue bandage.
When finished, Aurelius collapsed atop his clothes with a sigh, relishing the tingle against his red-hot wounds. He noticed his nudity without much concern, instead turning his attention back towards the river. His sword was right by his feet now. Should the vrykul still wish to fight, he might finally stand a chance now that he'd found treatment.
The woman stood still only up to her thighs now, observing him without a clue to her thoughts. Her fists and body were cleaned of the fight, apart from the little rips in her skin where fang or wolvar knife had taken her. The silence boded nothing good, however, and the sword by Aurelius' feet took a stronger presence in his mind. He'd prefer his spear – he almost always preferred his spear – but he would be ready.
Despite the tension and suspicions, the fact was firm in his mind that he was presently just staring at a woman in her nakedness. The heavy vrykul chest with wide, mahogany areola and swollen crowns took his attention, following each rise and fall with her breaths. He swallowed, not daring to slide his gaze lower to that ruby blotch lurking below. He felt she'd know if he did.
"Thu ert utlit konu." Her words snapped his eyes back to hers, where he found a catty twinkle.
I have 'something' woman, he translated sluggishly. "Do I have?" he tried mentally completing. Uncertainty on his face, he answered, "Nei?"
The vrykul laughed. The suddenness of it surprised Aurelius, as did its pleasant and genuine sound. Her chest shook and bounced with each guffaw, until she calmed enough to ask with teeth showing, "Skilurthu?
Bewildered by the reaction, he said, "Nei. I really don't think I do understand."
Eyes still bright with mirth, she told him, "You have the look of a woman, and you said..." She broke off to snicker again. Aurelius flushed at it.
Embarrassment quickly gave way to defensiveness. "Well, there are humans that think you look like a man."
Wet, crimson hair shook with her head, and her snigger remained. "You lie. You called me perfect." Her hand went to her hip ostentatiously, her ego clearly in vrykul proportions.
Aurelius' eye followed instinctively, then hesitated there as his heart fluttered. He spoke while still in the moment, dragging his eyes right back to hers to say, "That's because to me you are. But other men prefer their women small, demure, and round with ample curves. They'd call me queer for my taste."
"All humans are queer. You especially," she scoffed, no less amused. Her hand went off her hip as she waded through the stream for two steps, finishing on the bank beside him. Her arms remained at her sides, leaving the whole length of her in his view. At this angle, her head was only visible between her abundant breasts, where she had to lean a tad to even see him.
Aurelius resisted the urge to gulp, aware of his sword as ever. It would be a narrow dodge if she tried to stomp him like the alpha earlier. At least his fear would prevent his manhood from rearing an untimely head, for he was given an eyeful he'd never forget.
A new taunting smirk was on her lips, noticing his anxiousness. Her powerful thighs flexed on either leg, and her toes waggled, but she didn't attack. "Yngvildr het, Aurelius. Remember it. Muna Yngvildr. Today we fought as kin, so I will forgive you for following me in my bath. The All-Father's bolva falls upon whom slays a battle-brother, after all. Next time, I will see our bodies clash in steel.
"And perhaps then you will have the courage to challenge "perfection" for her arm." A final look with that serpentine smile, and then she turned on her heel to march away, towards wherever she had first come from.
Aurelius watched with a pounding heart. She was an image with each step, a firm backside sculpted by a god whom did not work in halves. One word echoed in his head: Yngvildr. Her name.
He was left alone with a score of bloody corpses.