The Hunt Everlasting (o/o RP, vaguely folkloric and fantasy romance, shenanigans to follow.)

The Hunt Everlasting. The Riders of Northern Einhelm. The Wind, even. Riders cursed to an eternal unlife of a wild hunt, always peaking on Hallow’s Eve when the winds are highest and strongest. Souls of the damned, humans that got caught up in their hunt, and the remnants of forgotten gods made up this hunting party, all riding on eternal with their hunting dogs and their horses of wind and their procession of madness.

Sometimes the leader of the Hunt, Arwen, would bless fellow hunters and travelers with gifts, usually of gold or the prize they had won, or any number of wishes. But what happens when the human wishes for his hand in marriage?

So yeah shenanigans to follow.

Rules are andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer)’s, no smut, gore cursing and violence are fine, and have fun!

I would prefer for this to be gay. I’m waaay better at writing gay romances than straight ones.

We can use a template or just jump in. Either one.

(Ooooh, I like this. May I join?)

(Ye!)

(Awesome, thanks!)

(So, template or just jump in?)

(It's up to you, I'm fine with either!)

(I don’t really care but I kinda wanna get this on a roll, so I’ll go with jump in. Do you want to start, or should I? Also, what should lead up to Arwen giving your character a favor?)

(Could you start? And uh maybe my character did some kind of quest or saved someone?)

(Maybe they caught a powerful wild beast? Arwen would likely be most impressed with that.)

(Sure, that works!)

(Cool! I’ll write up a starter then!)

(Crap, I"m too late, I really liked the idea, I guess I'll stalk))

(I can start a second one with you?)

(No, it's okay, I'll just stalk this one))

(Cool!)

Arwen had been greatly surprised when the human had caught the Golden Boar, after his own hunting party had chased it for days, but no matter. The spirit flew down in a gust of wind strong enough to knock over ten men and appeared on a horse of mist and sky, pure flow of the wind. “Now, Don’t be frightened. My name is Lord Arwen, and I have come to celebrate your victory over the elusive Boar of Gold. Any favor in the world, it shall be yours in tribute to your great skill. Whatever you wish is yours.” he announced, his hunting dogs Sheena and Gaylen standing ready by his sides.

Pierce was thinking about the amazing catch that he had made when Lord Arwen flew down to him. He blinked and let a small yell in surprise when he was knocked by the gust of wind. As Arwen was talking about Pierce's victory, he stood up again and ran a hand through his raven black hair. He smirked in thought while the Lord said that whatever he wish he wanted would be his. "Anything, my lord?" He questioned, already knowing what he was going to ask for.

Arwen looked down on the man from his horse, pale white hair flowing in the moonlight and framing his umber cheeks magnificently. He smiled, with pearly white teeth, and nodded. “Anything you can ask for, it yours.” he said, stretching a thin hand from his long cloak.

Pierce chuckled and got on his knee, before extending his hand and looking up at Arwen, "Well then my lord, if anything is alright…I'd like to ask for your hand in marriage." The elf's(Pierce is allowed to be an elf, yes?) cheeks reddened slightly as he awaited the other's response.

(Yeah totally.)

“Eh- hold on… my hand? Only that? Well, it would hardly be a suitable companion, are you sure there’s not anything else you would want more?” he asked, desperately trying to get out of this deal. Lord Arwen? With a pathetic mortal? What a laughingstock he’d become!

Pierce stayed on his knee and drew back his extended hand, now tapping his chin with one finger, "Hmm…let me think…" He clicked his tongue, "Nope! This is the only thing I want my good sir, and you said that I could ask for anything."

“Very well, you shall have my hand, no less and no more. If you’d wanted the rest of me, you should have spoken sooner!” he laughed, but his hunters didn’t look so happy about the arrangement. They knew he was deliberately trying to avoid the inevitable, he had promised anything after all. “Alright, alright. Fine, what day shall we marry? Oh, stop glaring at me, Finne.” he said to the ghostly figure behind him.

Delighted that Arwen had accepted his request, Pierce rose and said, "How about sometime next week? I would quite like to get married pretty quickly but I'd also like you to have some time to prepare so you aren't too overwhelmed, you know?"

“Ah, I see. Overwhelmed. Very well, I will return to this place in full attire on Thursday as the sun sets. Don’t be late, or the deal is off.” Arwen said, riding off into the distance. Gods, what had he gotten himself into?

"Of course, of course," Pierce responded, watching Arwen ride into the distance. When he was out of sight, Pierce turned around and sighed, "I didn't expect him to say yes! What the hell do I now? I expected him to say no!" He continued muttering to himself as he walked back inside his cabin.

“Finne, what do I do? I would have expected him to back out after the hand quip!”

The apparition stayed silent, only glaring. She shrugged, and rode to the back of the procession, clearly disinterested.

Arwen spent his time preparing to look his best, polishing and repolishing his silver hand, preparing his best cloak and pressing it until it was as crisp as paper. When he finally went to meet with Pierce, he went alone.

(So this is a timeskip, right?)

(Yes.)

(Okay, that's what I thought)

Pierce was nervous to say the least. He stood in front of a mirror and sighed. He was dressed in mostly black with a forest green cloak. He pulled up the hood and went outside, climbed on his horse and headed to where he planned to have the event at. It was a nice clearing in the middle of the woods, covered by yellow wildflowers with a gentle stream going through it.

“With the ties that bind, do you take me to be your one, your only? To love and serve and protect as I would you? Do you honor me? Shall I do the same for you?” it was a mockery of traditional wedding vows, a mockery of a traditional wedding, but that was what Pierce had made him. “Shall you take me as I am? Despite not even knowing your name. Which is admittedly better than some marriages, but not others.” he shrugged, and went on with his marital bemoaning.