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Look what love gave us ((NC-17! I warned you!))

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((All characters involved in this sordid little tale are all used by permission in one way or another. In fact, Stalvis and Snowstorm no longer play on Twisting Nether, meaning I can do whatever the hell I want with their characters! All of this is built off of RP that existed between the three of us before their departure, and anyone who would care to argue this point can do so by kissing my ass.

By the way, this is rated for domestic violence and rape. If you are unable to stomach these topics, then don't read. By continuing to read, you agree to keep your bitching to yourself.))

“I can’t believe you would do this to me!” Stalvis Ravencrest shouted, bringing the back of his hand to strike the face of his fiancé. Snowstorm Frostlune glowered back at him, eyes ablaze with indignant fury. “You would dare to strike…” the rogue began, taking a step towards him, but he struck her again. “Silence!” he barked, towering over her. Snowstorm’s anger turned to fear as Stalvis’ intimidating stature edged closer to her.

“How many, Snowstorm?” he spat, his eyes burning with spurned love set ablaze by jealous rage, “how many men have you mocked my love for you with!?” With each step she withdrew, he advanced, and the Kaldorei woman soon found herself backed against the corner of their room in the small guild hall. Her hands against the wall, she searched for a way out, but Stalvis’ build made it impossible for her to slip around. Had she been armed, she might have stabbed at him… but that was neither here nor there. So, gathering her courage, she stared back at him defiantly.

“More than I can remember.” she said with a twisted smirk, “So many, in fact, that I can’t even keep track of them all. Why, a mere few hours ago, I lay in…” again, he cut her off with a blow across the face. Snowstorm wiped her mouth—the warm, coppery taste of blood mimicked the red streak across her hand. “I don’t need to know who, you worthless whore,” Stalvis growled, “the way you act makes it all too clear who you look to for… satisfaction.” Snowstorm laughed, albeit nervously, her resolve quickly returning. “Oh? Then do tell, my love.” The rogue crossed her arms beneath her breasts, her face now twisted in defiant mirth at the plight of her fiancé.

‘I know of Imroth, and several others as well,” Stalvis said gravely, “and for each indiscretion, you will pay, just as they will.” Again, Snowstorm laughed. “All of those men are at least twice the man you’ll ever be, Stalvis,” she said contemptuously, “and there’s no way you’ll ever enact any vengeance against them.” The hunter whirled on her, his own face contorted in righteous fury. “Then I’ll take it all out on you!” he growled, advancing to pin her to the wall again. “You will not touch me!” she shouted back at him. But her anger-forged courage would soon shatter, as Stalvis struck her across the face once more. “I will teach you some respect!” he roared.


Somewhere from within the guild hall, a familiar voice cut through the night air. “Would you two shut up!? Some of us are trying to sleep!” Saiken shouted, promptly rolling over in his bed and covering his head with a pillow.


A loud thumping came at the door, followed by a muffled voice. “Father, please, what is all that noise?” Litansia Ravencrest inquired, thumping on the door again. With an irritated growl, Stalvis turned away from his fiancé to look to the door. He glanced back at Snowstorm and glared. “We will speak of this later,” he muttered, and instead went to placate their daughter.


But a mere three weeks later, all was not well for the unwed family. Stalvis and Snowstorm barely spoke, their few words curt and cutting at best. Litansia, unable to discern the cause of her parents’ misery, stood in the middle of it all, confused and bewildered. Only one man knew the whole story, and Tarlithion Stormreaver wasn’t talking.

The wind howled outside, but the walls of the small house in Starfall Village that the three of them shared protected them from the raging elements. With Litansia gone, any premise of civility between Stalvis and Snowstorm had crumbled, and they instead returned to their old arguments. But their most recent argument was nearly a reenactment of the last, complete with abrasions and bleeding…

“I’ll teach you some respect!” Stalvis roared, hurling Snowstorm against the wall. She coughed as the air left her lungs, and she gasped to replenish it. Stalvis was upon her, then, tearing at the swashbuckler’s shirt she always wore. As he ripped at her clothing, Snowstorm struggled against him, kicking, clawing and slapping her way to freedom. But the hunter would have none of it; a mostly undressed Snowstorm tumbled to their bed, screaming at the grip Stalvis had on her hair. She rolled over on the bed; Stalvis unlaced his trousers, and without hesitating, entered her in one solid stroke.

Snowstorm stared up at him, paralyzed in shock, fear and sick, agonizing pleasure. Stalvis only glared triumphantly down at the woman he called his own, declaring her conquered in his own mind. “You. Will. Respect. Me,” he said with each thrust, “And you will respect. Our. Daughter!” Snowstorm laughed at that, causing Stalvis to pause. “Our daughter!?” she snarled, reaching up to grip the neck of his shirt. She pulled him down to her, and hissed savagely in his ear, “She’s. Not. Yours!”

Stalvis stared down at her in abject horror. His voice brittle with shock, he asked, “Then… who…?” Snowstorm grinned triumphantly once more. “Whose child would I keep?” she spat back at him, “Of any man at all? A man worth trusting! A man worth loving. A man whose child would be greater than any you could create!” Stalvis’ shocked mask was unchanged, “You don’t mean…”

“Stormreaver.” Snowstorm smiled wide, and began to laugh. But her laughter was soon cut short by Stalvis’ strong hands around her neck. She clawed at his grip as the life slowly left her. Her last mental cry was for the Hunter she hated to love to come to her rescue. But her last sight was the maniacal calm of Stalvis’ face.


Brooding over the rapidly cooling corpse of his former fiancé, Stalvis Ravencrest slowly sharpened his axes. Then, shouldering his bow and gathering his quiver, the heir of the house of Ravencrest pushed open the door and stepped into the night. “I’ll find you, Tarlithion. No matter where you run or where you hide, you aren’t safe from me…”

((Part two, the epic battle between Stalvis and Tarlithion, to come when I'm not so sleepified!))

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