#thorunte

The celestial growth of all life is a haven that sprouts up new flora everywhere that life walks. An eternal, shining light cascading down onto the peaceful realm that warms all life It's vibrant and lively, in a way that cannot be described to mortals. It is unreachable to anyone, but life—not even death—may touch the surface of these sacred lands.

Crystalline lakes run through the valleys that grant anyone who bathes in them eternal youth. Life is eternal here, yet it slips away so quickly from mortals. The fauna here is plentiful, and they spend their days grazing on the thriving flora. There is no darkness here, no night, and there is no need to rest or sleep as life is always alive.

On the opposite of the nine realms lies what has been corrupted and corroded. Eternal darkness and damnation flow through rivers of eternal crimson blood. There is neither ground nor any flora or fauna. All that lies in the realm beyond life and all is an all-encompassing darkness. A long trail of blood and tortured souls sorrowfully weeped the cries of the afflicted. The stench of rot and the vile of mankind permeate throughout the void.

There is neither breath nor air, yet somehow the sounds of the damned and the screeches of the night terrors echo across. This is the place of the god's fear—where they will end when Ragnarök comes. No one in Vahalla speaks of the void or how its power grows every passing day. No one has truly ever seen death except life; for a fleeting moment, a connection was formed. For when life and death intertwine, everything will end, and Ragnarök shall have begun.

There's a gap between the realms of life and death in Muspelheim. A land of fire and destruction that will help fill the void during the last days of the gods The God of Death, Thorfinn, spends most of his time there. He walks right to the edge, right where Muspelheim ends and the scared lands of life begin. He never reaches out—well, he almost did once—and he regrets it dearly.

He yearns for Ragnarök; he yearns for life; he knows that there is no higher power than him, yet he still wishes that he wasn't Death. He remembers the time of the old gods. When he and life were intertwined. He promised Canute that he would never leave, and yet now they are separated by an eternal blazing fire. Their union will kill all and cause all to fall, and all Thorfinn is able to do is wait and yearn.

The Goddess of Life, his goddess, his love, shows at the end of his sacred lands. He adorns a simple silken white dress, although his aura appears more holy than any other divine being. His cascading blonde locks sparkle like the crystalline waters of youth that he bathes in. His eyes were created out of the same hue as the sky; they are endless and freeing. They never fail to take Thorfinn's breath away. He needs neither a crown nor intricate runic symbols. He is God. He is free. He is true and ultimately divine beauty.

Death, in that moment, wishes to hide away. His body is scarred with runic symbols of terror and destruction. His blonde locks are matted with the souls of the innocent and as dry as the heat of the crackling inferno in which he stands. Surtr makes no move against death; even he is in awe and reverence for the being that occupies his lands so often. Still, all Thorfinn is able to focus on is the black garb that hangs limply off of him. No better than the clothes a mortal slave would wear. A tattered tunic filled with holes and scorch marks, matching trousers that cover his feet. He wears only black combat boots, a gift from a damned soul.

He is unable to compare himself to how pristine and angelic Canute appears. Even his bare feet look as if they were sculpted by a force greater than either of them. He wears no clothing below his ankles, as life is always connected to the earth around him. His goddess, his life, his yearning—and he is only... no better appearing than one of the Jötunn.

Canute knows that he is not allowed to take another step forward, so he falls on his knees. Life's sky blue eyes grow duller for a moment as all of the flora around him slowly wilts. "Touch me once, my sweet Death. I beg of you. I have been deprived of your love for so long."

"Torture me not, my love." Thorfinn croaks out with a tortured vocal inflection as he falls to his knees. His body is consumed by the hellish inferno, and yet he still feels nothing—he is eternal. He is part of Ragnarök; he will cause the end of Canute. He may never touch him, lest he kill him. "I need you. When shall I love you again?"

"You have never stopped loving me. Touch me, please, my sweet Death." Canute begs with his harmonious cords as his hand so foolishly reaches out towards Thorfinn.

So tempting.

One inch away and his love shall embrace him.

"Thorfinn, please, I may die without you."

"You will die with me." Thorfinn shrieks the pain of his for once instead of being afflicted, even if it doesn't feel so. He doesn't want to be dead. He doesn't want to be immortal. He wants to be human. He wants to be human. He wants...

"Keep me close, my sweet Death." Canute speaks in the desperation of a mortal, begging for their life from their superior. Canute closes the gap and he embraces him after many millennia.

Death weeps, for life now rots in his arms. Canute keeps himself imprinted on Thorfinn. Life allows itself to play into Death's hands. He screams, he shouts, he shakes Canute, and he curses. Canute rots. His vibrancy is quickly fading, as life does in all nine realms.

A ghostly shiver runs down his spine as two frigid fingers run along the edge of his neck. He shoots up from his kneeling position as his ocean-blue eyes fly open. He runs a hand through his sandy blonde hairs as his other still clutches the rosary tightly. His eyes are shaken, but he is strong in the faith of his God.

"You have been stalking me for months, you beast of the night! Show yourself in the name of the Lord, my God!" He shouts sternly as the internal temperature of the church drops to below freezing.

A deathly metallic breath fans over Canute's pale neck as a calloused hand slides down around his waist. "What's the fun in giving myself away so soon?" A demonic giggle escapes the beast's mouth as he disappears within the depths of the church's shadows. Canute is left with a slight tint on his cheeks and goosebumps all along his body.

"I command you to answer me! In the name of God the Father!" Canute states this once again as he battles to restrain his own inante humane urges. His heart rate increases tenfold as he tries to keep the devil's control over his mind at bay.

A satanic cackle echoes across the cathedral as the cross of God bleeds out an obsidian ooze that eats away at the sacred grounds surrounding them. "I fell from heaven a long time ago, little priestess. Once an angel, now a sexy vampire. I was never cut out to hang out with those bores anyway." The guttural voice purrs out in a sensual tone. "News flash, holy beings, sucking God's dick is gay, even if it is God." It? They? She? He? Xe? Rests at the edge of the shadows, only its daunting fangs shining through the dreary twilight. 

Canute trembles with anger as he is about to retort to the strange being; it cuts him off and continues its rant. "I thought God hated queers, yet there are so many of them up in heaven. The angels just keep sucking his dick non-stop." It growls out savagely. It calms and returns to its hellish cackles. "Newsflash, your big boy doesn't run the show anymore."

Canute is at his edge now as his fists curl and he shouts with the animosity of a thousand enemy soldiers. "How dare you speak about the Lord in such a derogatory manner! You, faithless beast cast from heaven, what do you mean that God doesn't run the show anymore?" His body shakes with such ferocity that the rosary drops from his hand so foolishly. He reaches to grab it swiftly, but it is too late.

The monstrous being emerges from the depths of the church as he places one of his platform boots over the rosary. He looks up at Canute with blazing hazel eyes and tempting white fangs. He licks his fangs like a predator would when staring at its prey. He wears his long golden locks in a high ponytail, as his body is only sclantily clad in a black satin dress. He leans towards the preist's ear with malicious intent.

"It's no fun if I tell you the truth." He crushes the rosary under his heel as the beads roll under the pews and in the onyx, acidic substance that coats almost everything around them. "You are aware of the inherent eroticism of having a vampire so close to you, priestess." He murmurs softly as his fangs gently graze Canute's ear, and a drop of blood falls onto Thorfinn's tongue.

A pleased moan escapes Thorfinn's blood-tinted lips. "Oh my, you taste more divine than nectar from the heavens." He groans as a twisted smirk appears on his features.

Canute's eyes dilate as he is paralyzed by the beast's sudden appearance. "You are a vampire! A devil of the night!" He screeches as he frantically moves away from the vampire, whoever it is. He takes his calculated steps away swiftly as Thorfinn watches him with a yearning for his sweet ambrosia blood.

"Leaving so soon, my love?" Thorfinn calls out in a teasing and almost sad tone. He walks towards the priest with a deliberately slow walk. Each step is as purposeful and calculated as Canute.

He speaks desperately in a tongue that only a priest is able to speak. He calls for the Lord, for the angels, for anything holy to save him. "Sweetheart, I would rip every wing off of every angel for you. Pluck every eye out so only I am able to gaze upon your heavenly beauty." Thorfinn mutters in an agitated and lovesick manner. "No one... is going to save you." His eyes are mad. Demonic. Evil. Deranged.

Thorfinn leaps onto Canute with a pleased hiss as he goes for his exposed neck. He looks like a demonic entity from an olden Christian painting. His hazel eyes transformed into something much more malicious and ruby-colored. His fangs extend out further, as if impatient for the blood to reach their aching surface.

Canute grabs a Bible from off the edge of the nearest pew as he smacks Thorfinn with it hurriedly. The vampiric entity cries out in both pain and pleasure as he looks at Canute with an eager expression. His flesh slowly burns off from the interaction with the highly holy object. That same vile ooze slowly creeps across Thorfinn's injuries and begins healing them.

Canute's eyes search for anything to be used against Thorfinn in this time of need. "Beast, give me your name!" He shouts as he shoves his arm under the alter to grab the crucifix pendant from his broken rosary. He is panting and sweating heavily despite the temperatures that have only decreased since the satanic beast of night first appeared.

Thorfinn stumbles while the transformation process of his healing finishes. His midnight satin dress has fallen from her shoulders and hangs around his chest, barely covering it. He stares at Canute with wide, unhinged, ruby-red eyes. "Thorfinn. Thorfinn is my name. I want to hear you scream it while I defile you in front of your God."

Canute scrambles up from the floor and holds the small crucifix in his hand. "Thorfinn, I command you in the name of God to leave this holy place! You belong here, not!"

Thorfinn looks at him with an enraged expression as the black ooze seeps from the walls of the great and holy chapel. He barks out a strangled laugh as he doubles over and spits out a glob of white blood. "I broke the seal of holiness of his church with my own powers! Hurt me by touching me, sweetheart. These grounds are no longer holy." He stalks towards Canute again as a thin trail of that white, milky blood escapes his mouth.

His body, once clad in something, is dissolved by the seemingly sentient obsidian liquid. Half of his bare body is encased in it as he reaches out towards Canute with a zombie-like urge to feed on him. His bloodlust is so strong that not even the holiest man on earth could touch him without being consumed by it as well.

Canutes leg is caught in the goo as he tackles the vampiric man and ends up pinning him to the floor. He let out a low and anxious growl, like an animal trapped in a corner. He pants as the goo sends a warmth through his body that counteracts with the icicles slowly growing from the ceiling of the cathedral. He feels like he is burning alive and freezing to death at the same time. His soul feels like it is being ripped apart and repaired. He will not fall to this beast.

Canute still holds the small crucifx in his hand as Thorfinn grins at him lovingly. "What if you allowed yourself to be seduced by a handsome vampire, little priestess?" Thorfinn purrs out haughtily as he presses his bare body against Canute. He hisses out in pain as the priest rests his cross right along his neckline which creates a deep violet bruise with a black charring.

"Do not tempt me you night devil." Canute states through gritted teeth as his pale complexion flushes and he holds back a low whimper. The liquid slowly retreats from Thorfinn's body but keeps them together on the floor of the cathedral.

"Allow me to give you my body and blood, after I take yours." Thorfinn whispers in a sultry tone as his hand cusps Canute's chin. Thorfinn trails his elegant fingers along the edge of Canute's stubble. Canute drops the crucifix and it is devoured by the inky ooze. "I have stalked you for months and yearned for your blood for years." He moans out with the primal vocals of an Inncubus haunting the dreams of men.

Canute fights so fruitlessly against the bloodlust and carnal instincts that emanate from Thorfinn. Canute whimpers out softly as his cheeks flush to their deepest crimson hue. "T-Thorfinn..." He wistfully whines his name. He begs. His pleads. He doesn't know what for.

"Allow me to be the Eve to your Adam. I will take a bite from your apple, and you will be cast from a God who doesn't love you." Thorfinn begs pathetically as his back arches and his need for blood takes over his judgment. "Say your mine."

Canute pants out his words as he trails his fingers across Thorfinn's frigid collarbone. There are too many emotions. Too much of everything. His head spins with the thought of allowing Thorfinn to turn him. Becoming the devil of the night. Drinking from each other each night. The ecstasy of a vampire drinking another vampire's life essence. One word and Thorfinn will be his.

"Y-You—"

"Oh my, the dark and twisted beast Thorfinn is back for another round, eh?" A booming voice drowns out Canutes as a giddy blonde haired man appears at the entrance of the church. Thorkell the Tall and famous Vampire Hunter.

"Thorkell—" Thorfinn flashes his fangs towards the hunter, and he digs his fangs possessively into Canute's shoulder. He hisses out like the demonic beast he is. A primordial moan slips out of Canute's mouth. His eyes widen as the vampire marks him for future use. A sensation spreads between Canute's legs that is foreign to him. Is this the devil's work?

"Let go of him, you beautiful beast! Bite me instead! I love the rush that vampire fangs give me!" Thorkell shouts happily as he brandishes his engraved twin axes. The ones that have slayed thousands of Thorfinns own. The ones that almost killed him the day he turned away from heaven.

Thorfinn bares his fangs once again and places a sloppy kiss on the edge of Canute's mark. He winks towards his little priestess once more before disappearing in the next blink of Canute's eyes. Everything in the church returns to normal. The ice vanishes. The temperature returns to normal. Canute feels normal once again. Even the rosary is fixed and is sitting right in front of him. It is displeased with him, he thinks. He acted like a fool.

What happened to my self-control? What happened to all of those safety measures? Why was I almost seduced by the beast? Oh no, I'm marked.

Oh, no, no, no. Fuck.

Wait, sorry, father in heaven.

The beast has now left an impression on me. Now, he'll be able to hunt me. To stalk me easily. Now other vampires may come after me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I apologize, Lord. Really, sorry.

I have failed you.

I will avenge my honor and kill that beast to rid myself of his disgraceful mark.

I can't spend eternity with him. Not with a handsome and seductive man like that. That's a sin! The biggest one! It'd be a betrayal of my holiness—

Thorkell runs up to Canute through the pews as he realizes that Thorfinn has disappeared. He whines out angrily as he stomps around like a toddler, deprived of his favorite toy. "No fair! I wanted to fight him! I've been looking for him for months!" Thorkell shouts in a distressed tone, unaware of how distraught and internally scarred Canute is.

When did he lose his clothes?

Canute looks down at his nude body, and he averts his gaze from it. Disgusting. Sinful. 

Thorkell continues his tantrum before promptly passing out. His baby blue eyes snap up towards the stained glass of virgin Mary. He heard something. Besides the thump of Thorkell. A shadow passing in the night.

A preacher of God lies in the confession box. A cracked bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of gin in the other. The mark of the vampire lies on his neck, decaying the skin around it, his holiness fading with it. He prays fervently, like a dehydrated man lost in the desert and abandoned. The words fall off his lips like stones, ones that he used to throw at the glass houses of the unsaved.

"Never allow the lust of mankind to corrupt me, oh Lord." He whispers breathlessly as he takes a despondent swig of his gin. "I will not be seduced by this devil of the night."

He swallows the rest of the whiskey and finishes his gin. He stills for a moment, and without a second thought, he violently slams his head against the confession box. He shrieks out like a hunted animal looking for its kin. He arches his back as he drives his glassware against the hardwood floors of the holy ground. The toxic shards of glass dig into his palms like the thorns of a crown.

His crimson blood slowly trickles over his palms as he lets out a choked sob. He doesn't pull out the shards of hopeless divinity as he tightens his well-worn fingers into the punishment for his own sins. He hides in the confession box. He begs the heavenly being for salvation from the beasts mark on his pale neck.

"I am not worth your salvation; my holiness has been tainted. You gave me your body and blood, and now I am depraved of it. I deserve the punishment! I deserve the death!" He sobs out with his tortured soul as he wraps his lacerated hands around his aching throat.

He pushes his hands into his once-pristine neck as that same human sin flows out of him. He's being cleansed of that night's devil's mark. He just needs to be cleansed. Like the water washing sins away, his blood will wash the mark. He tears his clerical collar away from his cleansed neck as his hands buzz with the holiness that he has regained. He no longer sees any harm but the good that comes from his actions. The booze tastes like the body of Christ, the new blood within him... Christ's blood.

He knows that he must cut the mark out of him! Stop the infection of the satanic offenses on his holy body. First, he must rid himself of the rest of his faults. He must become clean. He must become new.

He unbuttons his cassock only to his chest as he shakily pulls out a pocket knife. "Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." He mutters under his breath as he makes oddly angelic lacerations of the cross all along his body.

The tainted sin of mankind mixes in with the grounds of holiness. Soon enough, nothing is evil anymore; there is only God, the real God, and the angels above. He finishes his obsessive life of prayers as he digs his split fingernails into the devil's mark.

"How far mankind has fallen." A silken voice of lustful pleasures reaches his ears and echoes across his soul. His trousers tighten instinctively as that foreign feeling sinks down into his core like a soul into hell.

His eyes snap open as he is met with the devils entrancing hazel irises. He adorns a different seductive cloth tonight. A white-laced baby doll dress that barely hangs past his upper thighs. He wears a pair of pink and white stripped knee highs that meet the ends of his— sinful outfit. Canute gulps down hard as all thoughts of his cleansing begin to drift to the dark recesses of his mind.

"So surprised to see me again, my priestess?" Thorfinn purrs out like a content cat that has just reconnected with its owner.

He places himself on Canute's lap without a care in the world as he positions his thighs right outside of Canute's. He hums in an almost heavenly manner as he tenderly begins picking the shards of glass out of Canute. His fangs enlarge again as he takes in the aroma of Canute's intoxicating blood.

He watches as Canute's eyes widen, and he is able to feel his heart rate speed up. He shuts his mouth as he continues to pluck every single piece of glass with as much care as a craftsman has while making their magnum opus. They sit together in such a compromising position. Thorfinn's frigid breath causes goosebumps along his bloodied figure.

"Allow me to be your savior for once, dear." He speaks in such a sweetened tone that no mortal is able to resist.

Canutes irises grow clouded with an unknown haze as his body becomes encased in that same obsidian ooze. Thorfinn presses one of his lifeless fingers against Canute's lips as he gently shushes him. He smirks triumphantly, although Canute's vision is much to hazy to see it. 'Right along with my plan. My mark always works wonders.'

"Who do you belong to?" Thorfinn inquires in such a soft tone as he squeezes his thighs against Canute.

"Y-You..." He trails off as his head hits the back of the confession box.

"Are you mine?"

"I am yours." He finalizes, like the last nail on the cross.

Canute's eyes roll into the back of his head with those cursed words as his body goes limp. Thorfinn's virtuous smile morphs into a gnarled simper. He plants his fangs gently into his priestesses tender skin as his mouth wraps around his neck like a boa constrictor. His tongue connects with the nectar that he has so been deprived of as he moans out gutturally.

"I want to bleed you dry. Wanna make you mine, my sweet love." He murmurs in a frenzied manner as his pupils dilate into crimson gems.

"Thorfinn, hurry the hell up; boss wants us back in the den soon." Torgrim shouts obnoxiously as he lazily bangs on the side of the confession box.

The foreign gooey substance disappears from Canute's limp body as it is left in pristine condition. Thorfinn hisses out in an irritated manner as his delicious meal time has been rudely interrupted. "Tell baldy he can fucking wait! He's got all eternity!"

He begrudgingly detaches his fangs from his lover's neck as he gently peppers a set of kisses over the mark he gave him. He growls out as Torgrim interrupts him again by banging on the box so harshly that the wood splinters.

"Keep your fucking fangs in your mouth, asshole!"

The musky scent of rotted corpses attacks the nostrils of the fallen priest. His soul is at rest in this moment, although his body is shocked awake. The pure amount of malice and demonic energy emanating from everything here makes him wish he had his rosary. He frantically looks around as he realizes his cloth has been removed from him, his injuries healed, his bare body exposed to the elements.

He's isolated, for now. No light streams into the darkness of the barren cave. Only the stench of satanic rituals and the occasional drop of water are felt. He stands up and keeps his legs closed as he stumbles in the darkness. All of the hairs along his figure rise to their peak as his entire body is lined with warnings of the danger ahead. Stalactite and stalagmites make jagged teeth within the confines of this tomb filled with demise.

Impossibly finite rocks dig into his soft flesh mercilessly. The occasional trail of groundwater mixed with limestone and the fluids from the desecrated deceased. Tortured echoes of mortal misery and ecstasy reverberate through his eardrums. He shudders as a frozen draft enters the tunnel he is walking through.

A beastly hiss enters the shell of Canute's ear, one that is much airier than that of Thorfinn. It is fleeting and tortured, as its intensity dies out like a flame on a ceremonial candle. The temperature immediately rises once again as Canutes fight or flight is quelled for a few moments.

"Oi, Priest Canute? What are you doing in the vampire caves?" A familiar voice chirps in.

Canute is startled for a moment and turns around quickly while rushing to make himself presentable. He keeps an iron grip on his legs to keep the cove of his privates covered from this newcomer. He crosses his arms over his chest to hide his nipples and some of the hair that trails shamefully along his stomach downward. He is a man of God; he shouldn't be seen in such a compromising position. Lewd. Horrid. Sinful.

His eyes lock on Garm's crazed gaze as a specially crafted spear still lies in the throat of a now-lifeless vampire. It isn't even twitching or hissing as its puncture wound rapidly rots away. The vampire is soon nothing but dust in the winds of time. His spear, Canute notices, is engraved with many protective and religious sigils that are only made in the highest covenant of witches. Canutes brows furrow as his head lifts away in pure repulsion. 'A vampire hunter? Another disgrace towards the church.'

Garm is still adorned in his alter boy apparel, although it is stained with the devil's sinful blood. A strange glinting is caught within the darkness of the earthen tunnels. A pair of vampire teeth lie proudly off of his ears, like earrings, like he is proud of how easily he kills these beasts. His normally couth and pulled-back blonde hair is now spiked up with gel, as if his hair were now a death trap of its own. The young man quirks a curious eyebrow towards the priest as he uncaps a bottle of the church's communion wine and chugs it down. A few droplets escape his lips and make their way onto his clothes.

He speaks in the most dignified tone that he is able to muster. "Garm, alter boy, is that the communion wine?"

"You mean the Jesus juice?" He mutters off passively as he wipes his mouth. He has emptied the communion wine bottle by now, so he lazily tosses it into the side of the cave wall.

"The utter disrespect you have just shown to Jesus's sacrifice."

"Eh?" Garm chuckles out happily. "So fucking around with a vampire isn't disgraceful? I'm not the one who is currently naked and nearing a vampire den." He points towards the bare figure of Canute as he chuckles.

"How did you—"

He's cut off during his stunned answer as Garm promptly replies. "The church hired me along with Thorkell to protect you. Naturally, I joined that shitty church of yours. Never really understood that Jesus fellow." He trails off as he snaps his fingers and remembers his words. "Vampires leave a sort of residue, I saw some around the church. Next thing I know, I hear you moaning and I see a Vamp banging on the side of the confession box."

Canute's heart rate picks up as his hazy memories fail to fill in the gaps. He does remember Thorfinn. His seducing tongue, his traitorous fangs, his erotic actions. How he— "Wait, did you harm Thorfinn!?" He blurts out suddenly as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. One of his hands moves from his chest towards the mark, it's soothing now in a way. An emptiness fills him, yet somehow, he knows that Thorfinn isn't dead.

"Woah, woah there, didn't know you guys had fucked that much." He snickers unhingedly. "Unfortunately, I did not. He got away from me and took you with him!" His face morphs into a pout as he shakes his head. Canute sighs in relief as one of his fingers gingerly caresses Thorfinns mark.

"Coward! I want a worthy vampire opponent and he keeps slipping from my hands!" Garm angrily stabs his spear into the side of the rock as he grins. "Least I got that one scratching on the side of the box. Didn't put up much of a fight. Froze like a stupidly pathetic deer." He repeatedly stabs the rock to get out his frustrations.

Canute's feet scream for relief, his mind for his church, and his heart for his love. He loves God, always. He gulps as he shakes any straying thoughts from his mind. "Garm... I..." Canute trails off as he everything has gone blank.

His eyes shoot back up towards Canute as a wide grin plasters itself onto his face. "Oh the tunnels, yeah? Let's you get you outta here. Thorkell is just a few turns down." He states in a cheeky manner as he springs up. He taps the shoulder of Canute as he happily trots along, deeper into the network of vampire tunnels.

Canutes stumbles as his feet are bloody messes. Garm doesn't look back nor slow down his walk. He is oddly excited to be in this situation, despite having lost his kill. "You always talk a lot during your sermons. Not so much now, eh?" He mutters as he looks back at his partners struggle. He rolls his eyes and grabs his hand while pulling him along hurriedly.

"How do you know of this place? You called them 'vampire caves'." Canute inquires hesitantly as he attempts to keep himself decently covered... to no avail.

"Oh, I know my way around here. I go through the vamp tunnels as they're like shortcuts. They connect to all the dens filled with those promising opponents." He giggles maniacally as he bumps shoulders with Canute. "Technically, mortals aren't allowed in this place. Bullshit. Good practice. Always an opponent willing to try (and fail) to cut down the undefeated Garm." He proclaims proudly.

"Oh." Is the only word that is able to escape his chapped lips.

"Oh?" Garm snorts as he comes upon an impatient Thorkell. They have come upon a lightened exit. The lively sound of animals and the content forest in a stark change of pace from the depressing and alluring charm of the tunnels.

The giant looks at both Garm and Canute with a pleased smile as he adjusts the weight of his twin axes over his shoulders. "Look at how spry you two are! We'll surely catch Thorfinn now!"

"You're right, Thorkell! I get to battle him first!" Garm declares as he shoots a threatening glare towards Thorkell. Canute places his weary foot back and this isn't unnoticed by Garm. He tightens his firm grip on the unclothed arm of Canute.

"No fair! I've been hunting him longer!" Thorkell whines softly as he stomps around.

"I found our bait, so I get the first stab at him."

In less than a blink of an eye, Thorkell has one of his axes near Garm's throat. Garm expertly blocks the swing with his well-crafted spear. "Very well. Only one stab. Then, he's fair game for either of us to kill."

Canute interrupts their bickering with a statement. His voice is shaken and once again his dread creeps within him like a vine ensnaring his soul. 'What is wrong? Why must my moods be ever changing?' "Bait, you said? It is highly illegal to use a servant of God as bait for one of those beasts!"

Garm and Thorkell both make eye contact with each other as they have a hearty laugh. "Who says the church has to know?" They both ask in an unnerving unison. They look like cackling hyenas within his shaded blue irises.

"You despicable Vampire Hunters! You have no honor!" Canute spits out in an exasperated manner as his face tints slightly red.

Thorkell does the scariest thing a mortal can do. He goes quiet. He has an outburst of white, hot rage as he grabs Canute and presses him against the side of the cave. The slimey stone digs into his soft flesh so harshly that a quiet whimper escapes his lips. "You, have no honor. You are a priest! A coward! You fight no battle, you only sit upon your mighty hill and past arrogant glances towards us all!"

"You know what they say Thorkell?" Garm snickers mischievously. "The bigger the dick, the better the warrior."

Thorkell casts his glance down towards his private areas and then nudges Canutes legs towards the side forcefully. "I suppose both Garm and I are definitely better warriors than you."

They laugh in a monstrous manner, Canute can't tell which monsters he'd rather be with. He hangs his head in utter shame as his cheeks burn brighter than any flame that has put those unrighteous to death. His back slowly leaks his crimson tears of unholiness as his feet are torn by the roads of the fallen before him. The last drop falls into the depths of the darkness and rolls off as the two men shout about something that Canute is unable to focus on. They drag him to the edge of the tunnels carelessly; he's handled like a common slave. He's forced to stand as he takes a step out into the sun. He hisses in the most excruciating pain that he has ever experienced.

"Little priestess, did you really think that you could escape me?" Thorfinn mutters out in a sweetened manner. He stands nonchalantly near the edge of the darkness. His finger swipes across the edge of the cave as he collects a bit of his lovers blood. He sticks it in his mouth as a pleased moan escapes his plump lips.

"Thorfinn!" The hunters shout excitedly in unison.

Thorfinn gnarls out demonically as he sees his injured lovers state. "You bastards! To hell with the both of you!" He clenches his fists so tightly that his lifeless tissue tinges a brusied violet.

"We'll take you there with us." Garm challenges as his spear ends up precariously sitting on the edge of his lovers adam's apple.

Before Thorfinn has time to react a hand tugs on his shoulder. "No time Thorfinn, I'll let Bjorn deal with those life breathing morons." A strangers honeyed and irritated voice barks.

"Fuck off old man; they're mine."

"No." The word in spoken in all finality. No room for argument.

Canute is thrown towards the ground in surprise as a force of nature falls over the entrance of the cave. A force so strong and mighty that even Canutes soul trembles heavily. It is as if even the stench of death and sex that wafts from the caves is overpowered. It is a beast.

"Good man Bjorn, rip the hunters apart. We must be going." The estranged voice states passively. As if the wild creatures aura was more of a comfort than a fear.

The pleased shouts of the beastly hunters are drowned out as that foreign ooze seeps into Canute's very core. A moment later, it has once again disappeared, and he falls into Thorfinn's arms. He is barely able to see through the haze of his eyes, as the temperature here is more frigid than that of the church. A figure walks up to Thorfinn in this. He can't see; all he knows is that he is in the caves still.

"Thorfinn~" A cheery yet masculine voice beams. "A little birdy told me that you saw the hunters today. Was Garm there?" He inquires eagerly, barely able to contain himself.

"Elisei." Thorfinn sneers flatly. "You've got angel blood all over you."

"Don't avoid the question love~" Elisei purrs out as Canute is detached from Thorfinn momentarily.

"Go fuck yourself!"

"No, I'd much rather do it with you and Garm." Elisei giggles in a crazed manner as his hand gently pats the top of Canutes head. "Prey?"

"I am not going to be part of one of your weird vampire sex orgys." Canute is barely able to see Thorfinn spit on Elisei and Elisei thank him. "Don't you dare lay a hand on him. He isn't prey... he's it."

"Wait, so you saw Garm today and you got to taste the blood of the one?" Elisei squeals as he drags his finger across Canutes neck. "Bastard, you marked him." He states in a desperately pouty tone almost the same as Garm. "No worry, I'll just give him one of my own."

Canute is barely able to make out the shape of this Elisei character. He is about the same height as Garm and has long, shaggy brunette hair. Canute weakly covers his neck as he backs himself into one of the earthen walls. He looks in the direction of where Thorfinn stands with pleading eyes.

"I am going to—"

"You two bitch like dogs in heat." A gruff and gritty voice mutters as a burly arm tugs on Canute.

"Bjorn, you're wings look like they could use some trimming~ I've got a special potion that I could—" Elisei is cut off as well.

"Quiet vampire witch. Lest I rip your fangs from your mouth and sacrifice you to Askeladd." The beast Canute met earlier now one hundred percent confirmed as Bjorn.

"He's mine." Thorfinn mumbles as Bjorn shushes him with one of his wings.

"He is a mortal. He was harmed when you so carelessly left him in one of our tunnels that was explored by humans. He needs a bath and a warm bed. These are direct orders. End of discussion you brat."

Bjorn raises Canute bridal style and carries him within his powerful arms.

"Thank you..." Canute mutters weakly.