Vixmas Present
Vixmas Present
A white furred vixen with blue hair wanders through a winter wonderland amid Nordic styled long houses. She is wearing a light blue robe with white snowflakes falling down her sleeves and body to collect at the hems by magic. Rabbits, skunks, pigs, cats, dogs and other assorted furs notice her with mixed reactions.
Her staff is topped with a slightly pointed ice crystal that never melts no matter how warm her surroundings get. The staff she carries is a symbol of her profession as a witch, specifically a Sister of Winter an organization renowned for their use of snow and ice magic for good and for ill.
Those who have suffered at the paws of the Sisters, there are as many evil witches as good ones, and do not know Sorcha, as the vixen is known, personally are making snowballs to throw at her while those who have been helped by the Sisters including those who know Sorcha from personal interactions with her smile and nod/bow to her as she walks past. Arguments break out among those for and against the Sisters as a pack of rats try to pelt the fox with snowballs. To their surprise the very robe Sorcha wears absorbs the snowballs as a snowman quickly forms at the bottom of her garment to appear to razz the rats for their efforts.
All arguments stop as even those vehemently opposed to the witches laugh at the rats and the robe. Sorcha smirks as she knows what her robe is displaying as she placed many of the enchantments upon it herself. Other magic uses may like black robes with twinkling stars and comets flying all about but she and her fellow Sisters of Winter prefer peaceful snow scenes.
Sorcha turns into a long house with a pair of evergreens festooned with magical blinking colored lights flanking the doorway. Inside of the long house is a tavern and general store bustling with activity. A lady snow leopard in the winter tunic of a Nordic merchant at the main counter greets her by name.
"Lady Sorcha!" The snow leopardess says. "How are you today?"
"Alright, I guess, Olga," Sorcha says with a sigh. "Lonely, but I have my health. No mate as usual..."
"Oh, who are you pining for now?" A lady skink asks in a mocking tone as she meanders by in the working leathers of an alchemist. "Or do you still want that ranger?"
"Has Phelan stopped by yet, Morgan?" Sorcha asks with serious sarcasm before turning back to Olga. "Can I interest you in some healing potions, Olga?"
"You made some potions?" Olga asks to which Sorcha just nods. "Let me see what you made."
"I made mainly healing potions," Sorcha says as she starts to take bottle after bottle out of her pockets. "Since I know they sell easily enough."
"Between you and Morgan I'm always well stocked on healing potions, not that I'm complaining, mind you," Olga says with a smirk as a moose rushes in.
"Is there a healer in the house!?" The moose yells. "We had an incident on the road. Yetis attacked our caravan. If the ranger hadn't come to help we might have been slaughtered."
"What ranger?" Sorcha asks with dread anticipation. "Their lodge and guildhall is just down the street."
"Never did get his name," the moose admits, "but he's a wolf who looks like he got his winter coat of fur in not too long ago."
"I just checked," Morgan says with dread. "It's Phelan and he's hurt bad. Go attend him before he succumbs to his wounds."
"Damn it, Phelan!" Sorcha yells in annoyed concern as she runs out the door. "Do NOT die on me! I'm coming!"
The moose just looks at them with a degree of astonishment.
"She wants to try and make him her mate," Olga explains. "Anyone else hurt as badly as him?"
"We have some casualties, but the ranger took the worst of it," the moose says as he looks at the potions on the counter that Sorcha had put there moments before and asks: "Are those healing potions?"
Olga looks at the bottles the moose points to. "Probably, the witch made them for trade with me. And she labeled them in Ogham again!!!" Olga yells with a rueful shake of her head. "Silly witch, I know she means well, but there are very few folks around here that can legally read Ogham."
"Ogham is the written language of the druids,' Morgan explains as the moose looks confused." Sorcha knows it because she's a Witch and so does Phelan because he's a ranger. Both of which are connected to the Druid Council who rules these lands."
A white furred wolf is laying on the ground in the tattered remnants of his chain mail armor; an extended handle hand and a half sword by his sword. His blood is staining the snow beneath a sanguineous hue. The witch chants a prayer to the Morrigan for a mercy which is answered by a surge of healing energy flowing through her into him.
Phelan starts to stir as merchants start to crowd in demanding her spells to heal them as well. But Sorcha wants some quality time alone with him as she throws up a circle of ice walls to cut herself off from them and their pleas for her attentions. Olga gets her to open up a window to identify what is what with her potions but only with some annoyance on the part of the vixen as Phelan stirs.
The merchants are entirely not pleased with the situations as a whole but the moose, whose name is Manny, is one of the leaders of the caravan and he both understands what Sorcha wants and is grateful to Phelan so he does his best to keep the peace as best he can. The din of the crowd is spurring the wolf into full wakefulness as the vixen is there to attend his needs. The ranger starts to rise when he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders and sees a set of breasts in front of muzzle so he's in no hurry o get up at this point.
"Sorcha?" Phelan asks. "Is that you? Where am I?"
"Yes, Phelan," Sorcha says with a smile and opens her robe a little to give him a better view. "Just relax and let me take care of you. Have you got a mate since I last saw you?"
"No, Sorcha," Phelan says as he takes a look around and realizes that he's on the snow covered ground, his armor is worthless as far as protection is concerned and the witch is on top of him. His sexual excitement at the proposition is practically automatically. "Have you garnered a Guardian for yourself?"
"Not yet, Phelan," Sorcha says as she loosens her robes a little more as she straddles his groin, fully feeling his excitement at her presence and enjoying the bump in his pants that is only barely constrained at this point. "I was hoping you might take up that position."
"I would be honored," Phelan says, "But you do know I am a mobile operative at present?"
"What crisis are you working on?" Sorcha asks with some interest both in him physically and what he is doing so as to get him to settle down with her in the region. "I might be able to help."
"I'm looking into the underlying cause for the aggressiveness as of late of the yetis," Phelan explains. "I know they've been driven from their normal range so that's causing at least some of their aggression."
"The frost giants are clearing the yetis out of their territories," Sorcha as she rubs her groin, naked beneath her robes against her. "I've been monitoring them for my order. I know a few Sisters who are working with them and others like me that working against them."
"Politics as usual as far as the Sisters of Winter are concerned," Phelan observes ruefully, "II know the Sentinel Lodge is the same way...are we in Icingdale?"
"Yeah, is there something wrong with that?" Sorcha inquires. "Your tone is a little worrisome."
"Benedict, the Mad Sniper is at the Lodge," Phelan explains, "He's supposed to be on trial for assassination again. But the trial is more for show than anything else and it's annoying him something fierce. I suspect the badger has been harassing the yetis. Although I had little proof of that until today."
"Did they step up their belligerence when you showed up?" Sorcha asks to which Phelan nods. "But you've done great things for them and the Neanderthals."
"So I thought," Phelan says, "But I think they saw my armor and switched from tossing snow balls to throwing rocks. Somebody from my Lodge has been riling them up."
"I know individual rangers have their specialties as to what they hunt," Sorcha inquires, "What do you hunt and what does Benedict hunt?"
"I hunt giants, aberrations and those beasts that have been twisted to monstrous proportions by magic," Phelan states. "Benedict is more of a bounty hunter as he hunts mainly different types of humanoids; including beast folk like us, where is the Lodge from here?"
"About twenty feet away," Sorcha states, "But Benedict isn't so hateful to start shooting around here in broad daylight would her?" Screams are heard as a crossbow bolt hits the ice. "I guess not, but he forgot that he helped himself to a paw on my ass yesterday." She packs a snow ball and concentrates a little. "Now he takes a pot shot on MY ice wall? Excuse me while I get a little payback!"
A window in the ice wall opens just longs enough for Sorcha to throw her snowball at Benedict. The window closes too quickly for the badger to get a shot off when he gets hit by the snowball. In the Sentinel Lodge Benedict is knocked back so hard he drops his crossbow, long enough for his fellow rangers to catch him and drag him back to his cell.
Cheers abound outside the walls for Sorcha's action as her and his silhouettes can be seen by the observers. When Sorcha disrobes, Manny and Olga call everyone into Olga's tavern for refreshments and healing potions from the witch. Everyone except Morgan goes in as the skunk takes a seat and loosens her leather to enjoy the coming show.
If either canine notices the skunk they give no indication as Sorcha fondles Phelan's scrotum as he reaches up to fondle her breasts. Moans of pleasure comes in triplicate as Sorcha coaxes Phelan's phallus out of his sheath, Phelan brings his muzzle to her breasts to lick and suckle at her tits and Morgan starts to masturbate. Sorcha rubs Phelan's emerging cock head against her own clitoris as she prepares herself to be impaled along his length as much as she is getting Phelan hard enough to do what they both want to do.
In her own mind Sorcha remembers every time she and Phelan have interacted as a separate but equally memorable even. Each time almost he has saved her life for various reasons. Today she has more than likely saved his life by healing his wounds.
When she finally slides his soft spear past the lips of her labia a part of her mind is forced to giggle as she remembers the time she lost her virginity as part of a class assignment at college. Her teacher told her that her hymen was a liability, a temptation for any marauder that might waylay her in her future career. As Phelan's penis fills her vagina Sorcha remembers a Beltane long ago where she and her fellow Sisters got drunk on winter wine and got to playing around with bottles.
They had heard there was a market for the blood from a busted hymen and a few girls were broke enough that doing something this dangerous seemed like a good idea. After a rabbit nearly killed herself by the impaling process Sorcha waylaid a young wolf ranger and begged him to fuck her with whom she was already quite familiar. The fact that this ranger is Phelan goes without saying.
After that a friendship with benefits was formed. But since neither one at that time was looking for a long term relationship so the arrangement between them worked well. In fact when the sex magic class was being conducted rangers from the same umbrella institution instructing future druids, rangers and witches were recruited to help the sorceresses practice their craft and Sorcha drew Phelan as her partner on the assignments both apprentices found appealing and unsurprisingly, Sorcha did well even if it shocked and dismayed her mother who wanted her to seduce a rich fox for a husband and not a ranger wolf.
Initially Sorcha is riding on Phelan's phallus, her breasts bouncing teasingly in front of him and while she has absolutely no objections to his reaching up and fondling them he wants her tits in his mouth. Eventually Phelan reverses their position so he can lick and suckle at her tits with some gusto as he picks up the pace of his fucking. Morgan can only actually see silhouettes on the ice she has been intimate with both wolf and fox in the past so she can visualize exactly what is going on.
The heat she imagines make Morgan strip herself nude as she takes out a rubber cock she made for her own vagina based on Phelan's fully erect penis. Three of the rats from before see her strip and decide to take her before she has a chance to play with her toy. Her first instinct is to spray the rats with her musk until they their daggers at which point Morgan submits to their demands, sucking the one rat's cock while the other two fill her other holes.
None of the rats trust the skunk as they press their knives to her flesh but unfortunately for them it's not Morgan they need to worry about. Winds kick up snow with greater loss to perceptibility. The rats are too concentrated on their victim and their own pleasure up to notice a great gorilla made of snow and ice forming behind them.
What the rats are unaware of the vixen they wanted to torment earlier and the ranger are aware of what they are doing and are not pleased. Pooling their magical resources they summon a snow beast to deal with the trio. Of course the fact they're fucking at the time means that the snow beast they conjure up is quite horny.
Treachery the rats were counting on as an excuse to carve up Morgan like a sentient turkey. Attacks from an ice monster from behind them were not expecting. In fact it's only after one of their number is eviscerated but the snow beast that they notice that it even exists.
When the two survivors realize they have an angry Mighty Joe Young made of ice and snow on their hands they do the most logical thing that comes to any cowardly bully: they run for their pathetic lives screaming like young females. Unfortunately for our snow beast the ordeal has left Morgan crazily horny. She pounces on the snow beast and then proceeds to fuck it into oblivion with a smile on its face.
Phelan ends up getting knotty as he and Sorcha continue to pound themselves deeper and deeper into the snow. A feat made more difficult by the ground beginning to shake almost like a localized earthquake but not quite. Sorcha has her shoulder made wet as Phelan does a chuckling weep as he knows exactly what the thunder of heavy foot steps and the ground shaking means.
Sorcha gets disappointed initially when Phelan rushes things to cum a little early until a giant foot lands about a hundred feet from their location. The she panics as it doesn't take much to realize that a frost giant has decided to pay Icingdale a visit and no matter what else this event could mean it isn't a good omen to be sure. Phelan on the other hand is looking for his sword because armor or no armor he has a job to do and a giant to kill.
The giant is dressed like an over sized Scottish Highlander with Norse/Viking relatives complete with kilt carrying a huge sack over his shoulder and carries a spear. A knight-templar of the Barbary lion persuasion in icy blue armor and mounted on a wooly rhino yells a challenge to the giant in the name of the One True God before charging at him. Phelan sighs and shakes his head when the giant's spear transforms into an over sized club that he then swings like golf pro to send both paladin and mount flying.
As soon as Sorcha drops the ice wall, Phelan sprints into his Lodge with the sorceress close behind as well as Morgan. Once inside everybody gets dressed in armor as Phelan takes a zanbato out of the armory. Socha goes over what spells she knows to see what she can cast to help Phelan as Helga, Olga's twin sister grumpily comes out from the armory.
"Hey! Phelan!" Helga shouts after the wolf. "You didnn't sign out that zanbato! Get yer tail..."
"Gimme the sheet, Helga," Sorcha growls, "If you're going to be THAT anal about it, I'll sign, he is trained in the weapon right?"
"More of less," Helga says with a shrug as she hands the sign out sheet to Sorcha, "Phelan subscribes to the Zweihander school of combat which says you grab the biggest weapon you can find..."
"I get the picture," Sorcha says with a giggle. "Doesn't the Lodge have seperate lists for each Ranger? As in what weapon belongs to whom?"
"Yeah, but Phelan doesn't have that one fully paid for, yet," Helga says as she looks out a window. "I'm stressing the yet bit but that's Froehoolio's fighting. The bounty on the frost giant bandit is enough to pay for he Lodge due for the next year in addition to his weapon."
All three marvel as they watch him fight.
"Nice spin move!" Helga says with open admiration as Phelan dodges a spear thrust from the giant to take a mighty whack at Froehoolio's ankle. "I thought tall, dark and gruesome had him for sure that time."
"Oooh! The Death Climb!" Sorcha says excitedly as Phelan executes a series of chops to climb up giant's leg and under his kilt. "I've hear of that move but I never thought I'd get to see it in action."
A thunderously painful roar shakes the house as the giant has to support himself with his club.
"I know Phelan hates giants," Morgan stats, "But is he that incensed to actually castrate..." The giant's nutsack rolls out of the kilt as the other males watching go to grab themselves out of instinct. "I guess so, but he's chopping off the wrong head."
The giant swats at his ass as everybody in the Lodge smirks.
"Well," Helga jokes, "A lot of us say he's a pain in the ass."
"Oh, look," Sorcha says as she points to Phelan chopping at giant vertebrae as he climbs up the giant's back. "I wonder if he's going to try and decapitate the giant?"
"Wouldn't surprise me," Morgan states as the giant suddenly looses his ability to stand. "He is methodical, I'll give him that."
Sorcha chants a spell and sends shards of ice hurtling towards Forehoolio's hands.
"ARE YOU NUTS!!!" Helga and Morgan cry as one at Sorcha.
"You actually stung him?!" Helga says incredulously as the giant is forced to keep in a crawling position as Phelan continues to jump and chop his way Froehoolio's back. "And here Froehoolio is considered a bad ass. Down he goes!"
"That was anti-climatic," Sorcha fumes as the giant just collapses.
"D-CAP! D-CAP!! D-CAP!!!" All three ladies chant as Phelan approaches Froehoolio's neck; then everyone cheers when Phelan chops off the giant's head with one mighty stroke.
Grizzly bear sized snowmen rise from the snow covered ground to roll the head over an embankment and onto a huge spike where it joins hundreds of other severed heads as the body is hauled into the bay where otters with hooks float it out of town before the snowmen amuse themselves by playing soccer with the giant's balls. Phelan is greeted by cheers from everyone in the Sentinel Lodge as he is hailed as a hero. Manny walks in and bows to Phelan.
"On behalf of the Golden Compass caravaneer mercantile company," Manny says as part of his speech, "I thank you with gold and an enchanted compass, may you never lose your way and may you like long in story and song long after to die in fact." With this he presents Phelan with a golden compass that fits easily into the pocket of his armor.
"I thank you very much, Manny," Phelan says in a modest tone as he accepts the gadget, "But I doubt I really deserve this. Felling blowhards like him I consider part of my job description. However, that said I gladly accept this token as a souvenir of a mark put to rest. May this event be the only exciting thing that happens as Winterfest and Vixmas begin. I know I got a present already."
Sorcha blushes and kisses him. "I meant what I said about you as my Guardian," she whispers to him, "I'm not sure it you remember our first time but I think now at least I'm ready for a long term partnership with you."
Phelan just smirks and nods as he guides her to his apartment in the long house. Manny makes a motion that he wants to talk with the ranger but Phelan just shakes his head as they climb the stairs. Unlike some historical Nordic long houses those here have a second floor and a third floor for attic space as well as functioning as a look out station.
Senior rangers like Phelan are afforded apartments and can have their own long houses and fortresses built in areas they can secure for themselves as outpost castles to protect trade routes. The Golden Compass has long been asking the Sentinel Lodge to erect such a building in the frozen wastes but in all honesty, they do not have the manpower or the resources to construct and properly operate such a way station. Possible sits for such a place have been scouted out but all are in giant territory.
Benedict is waiting for Phelan in his suite and fires his crossbow as soon as the door is opened as he hopes to catch either one of them by surprise. Sorcha catches a bolt in belly but gives the badger more ice shards with a quick spell she knows. Both the vixen and the badger are bleeding on the wooden floor.
Phelan makes his prayer for mercy from the Morrigan who promptly acquiesces to his request. It's no secret that Benedict is an agent provocateur working for the frost giants which is one of many reasons that he wants to make life difficult for Phelan and Sorcha. But this attempt on their lives is the last straw as Phelan takes out his zanbato and slowly approaches Benedict.
The anger in Phelan's eyes is plain to see which gives Benedict cause to panic. He scrambles to recover his crossbow but Phelan is not about to let him retrieve it. Without uttering a single word, Phelan separates Benedict's head from his shoulders and then drags Sorcha to his bed.
Benedict receives another chance to cause mayhem as his body rises once again as a zombie. The several head cackles with glee as he directs his body to where the crossbow is but Phelan is not as distracted as the headless zombie might hope. While Benedict's head is looking for Phelan so to tell his body where to shoot he finds the wolf as he brings the heavy down on the other's head and splatters his brains all over the floor and ends the spell as the body collapses again even as the spirit is cursing his killer as it is dragged into the otherworld kicking and screaming.
Sorcha is close to death herself so she can see and hear Benedict's spirit which causes her to smirk and give it a rude gesture. She is stable thanks to Phelan's spell casting but is very limited in how she can move for now. She is also very horny right now and as she begs Phelan to disrobe him and herself as well as fuck her brains out.
He feels the need to chop up the others body into bite sized bits to make sure they are not further disturbed and deposits the pieces in a rubbish basket at the end of the hall but he does come back to comply with her wishes. Phelan knows that the ordeal has temporarily robbed his friend and lover of much of her mobility which gives him ample excuse for sexual shenanigans. He teases the vixen by suckling at her tits as soon as he opens her robe to start off the festivities.
Sorcha reaches out a hand to stroke his cock which goes unimpeded by Phelan. She also starts a chant Phelan knows all too well. The words she is saying are part of a ritual of binding that, when finished, will make him her Guardian, in essence her husband and mate.
She is not asking for exclusivity of his sexual appetites only that he protect her in times of need and when he goes out to adventure for whatever reasons that she is given the option of coming along. He is not opposed to these terms so he voices no protest to her enchantment. But in all fairness, Sorcha is known far and wide as a healer, a witch-sorceress who uses her magic to help others so if he needs to go adventuring her inclusion will help ensure his survival so he readily agrees to what she is proposing through word and deed.
Phelan's phallus gets hard enough to penetrate her folds again very soon under the care of her hands but when he does get hard it is needed for part of the ceremony. An invisible hermetic circle forms around their bed as Phelan slowly but surely enters his vixen lover at her silent urging. Phelan is no fool and knows exactly what he is doing and what he getting into by simply fucking the fox at this point.
The act of mating at this point is entering into a pact between him and her as their souls intertwine. The fact that she is not in a true heat is the only reason Sorcha will not get pregnant by this as Phelan fucks her hard and heavy. That fact is lost on neither of them but is a minor quibble at this point as a child conceived will ultimate seal their partnership even if the conception is made at a later point in time.
His knot forms more quickly than usual and seals them especially tightly by the magic they are making as they make love. Neither partner is experienced in what comes next but they play around pleasurably as they enjoy the interplay of their bodies at this point. When at last he squirts his semen inside of her, they are both exhausted and fall asleep as one as the knot deflates enough for them to detach.
The morning finds them on opposite sides of the bed with Sorcha arising first to find what she perceives as a good omen: Phelan has morning wood. One agreement Sorcha and Phelan made long ago before they both graduated from college is that if they are in bed together and he has morning wood, she is allowed to ride him if she is up before him and he is allowed to fuck her if the reverse is true. Without a second's hesitation, Sorcha mounts her wolf and eventually wakes him up.
Phelan is amused to find a vixen on his cock as he wakes up in the morning but reverses their positions so that he is in command of the situation. Sorcha is caught by surprise by the maneuver but puts up no resistance as her Phelan makes love to her as his knot forms much slower than it did before, mainly due to Sorcha's magic. Her body easily soaks up and contains another load from the wolf before they get cleaned up and go downstairs to breakfast, a new day and a new relationship as the vixen and the wolf exchange hearts as well as bodily fluids on Vixmas morning.