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 Posted: Wed Jan 07, 2009 10:39 pm
BIG BAD WOLF FORM My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name:Fenrir
Soq Temper:Volatile
Wolf's Name:Skoll
Story:
A lonely voice
Fenrir was a small foal, but he liked to imagine what it would be like to be a big large horse. With large teeth and big claws, and big ears so he could hear everything where ever he was. He huffed and stood up on all fours and stretched, leaning down in the front then stretching the back with a lean. He yawned and walked out of the cave. He looked around then began sniffing at everything. He saw a beetle scurry past and he crouched down and began following it.
“Come here little beetle!” he said softly. The beetle seemed to stop for a moment and Fenrir leaped upon it with a growl. He squished the beetle and giggled a little to himself. He looked at the bug goo on his hoof and made an icky face. He rubbed his foot in the dirt to get the bug guts off his hoof. He walked along towards the little watering spot that their family had been using. He walked around the rock on the edge of it and began drinking water. He watched the little fish in the pond and when he was done drinking he walked into the water a little and stood there, watching the fish. As he was about to try and catch one for himself he heard something. He turned and walked out of the water slowly. Something smelled weird. He lifted his head and sniffed some more. It was all musky and…sweaty…not a smell he knew. He poked his head around the rock and saw two big things walking upright on two legs. He tilted his head and watched as they walked into the cave. There were deep noises that they kept making between each other. They had some kind of dark shiny things at their sides, and red capes on their backs.
After walking into the cave he heard them…well talking he assumed but he didn’t understand any of it. They pointed at his prints in the ground and the prints of his mother and father. He saw them look around and he lay down hiding behind the rock. He was much too small and young to try anything with these large monsters. He would be no match against these large two legged things. Suddenly he heard his parents coming back. They made a welcoming howl but when they walked through the bushes and saw the things in their den they stomped the ground and growled. They took two steps towards the things but the two legged things were faster moved faster and one pulled his shiny thing and there was a big bang. Something came out of the shiny wood thing and his mother in the head. She fell, blood coming out of her chest. The two-legged thing grabbed the other ones shiny and shot his father in the head as he was leaping at them. Fenrir watched in horror as their parent’s lay there dying. The two-legged things looked at the bodies and, after making sure they were both dead one of them walked into the woods and came back with a horse pulling a sled. The other one grabbed the tail of one of his parents and the other one grabbed the other parent and they dragged them onto the sled. With a slap to the butt of the horse they were off into the woods…and his parents were fully gone forever…
When Fenrir was sure that the two legged things were gone he walked back into the cave, ears down and tail drawn up under his belly. He walked around the cave, sniffing at the cold scents of his family that was now gone. He walked out and sat next to his father’s bloody print in the dirt and let loose his first howl…the most lonely and sad howl any one had ever heard. Fenrir promised to the sky that he would find these things in the red and destroy them like they had done to them. He would get back at them and make them pay for what had happened to him. He would get big and strong and he would find them and make them pay for this. He snarled and let out another howl. He heard something coming and turned his hackles raised and his fangs bared expecting the things to be back, but all that was there was a wolf. It was snarling widely as it looked him over and looked at the blood.
“My name is Skoll, and I know where these humans live. Come, I’ll raise you to get back at them. You will have your revenge.” Skoll said as he swished his tail menacingly back and forth. Fenrir looked at the blood and walked towards Skoll.
“Teach me.” He said. Skoll nodded and turned towards the forest.
“This way.” He said. Fenrir let out one last sad howl before turning and following the other wolf, looking over his shoulder once more at the blood before running off after Skoll.
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Posted: Wed Jan 07, 2009 11:00 pm
And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Soq Name: Bodril
Soq Temper: Retributive
Rat's Name: Gacheru
Story:
It was filthy. All filthy.
This world. Full of filthy sinners.
The dirt that clung to the world the mare saw made her stomach churn. "So filthy..." Her voice barely above a whisper as dark eyes peered at all around her behind that mask.
Tiny, glassy eyes peered from behind a fold of red fabric. Half chewed ears twitched as thin paws ran over Gacheru's furry muzzle. "Then clean it." Was all the rat replied with before retreating back into the folds.
Bodril's long, dark tail flicked idly as her tattered wings twitched. Dried blood of her last endeavors clinging in faint, splatter patterns. And soon she was off. Like a ghost into the night. In one spot one moment then another the next. It was not long until she came upon a scene, playing out in front of her like it had many times.
In the faint light of the setting sun sleep a rather large stallion. His long mane fallen heavily over his shoulders as he slumbered. Only the faint sounds of distant calling birds could be heard. About his feet lay a pile of cores. Apple cores to be exact.
Now perhaps anyone coming upon this scene would think 'hey, he just finished off a very large dinner or something.' But Bodril could do nothing but sneer behind her mask. Apples were not very plentiful this time of year. And it was, not to mention, a time where food was quickly becoming scarce.
"Gluttony...the worst." Her ears moved back and forth as the mare took silent steps towards the slumbering male. And for a brief moment, her lips parted into a twisted smile. Hooves drawing ever closer.
What happened next would take a very good imagination for one to even conceive. But the out come was all the same. Bodril quietly left the area, fresh blood splatters upon her pelt. But as she came upon a new trail to travel a pair of Soquili raced past her. A stallion and a mare. Both laughing as the male chased the female down the path, round a bend and through the forest.
"Lust. What horrible sinners." Her previous path soon diverted to her following the pair. Deep into the forest where help would be far from coming quickly. Those same, dark beady eyes peered out from the folds of red fabric. And they seemed to take on a gleam of excitement as a Gacheru's tail whipped forward, snapping against the front of Bodril's neck. "Judge them as the gods would."
And so she would. There was no room in this world for such sinners. And everyone was guilty of one or another.
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High-functioning Hellraiser
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Posted: Wed Jan 07, 2009 11:37 pm
And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Soq Name: Arethusa
Soq Temper: Unwarranted
Rat's Name: Nicandro
Story:
Death, a very natural part of the worlds’ cycle of life. Everything that lives must die at some point, even if they live for mere seconds. However, what were to happen if death played with your life to gain a bigger goal in the end? What if you were just a pawn in a bigger game of life?
__________________________________________________________
The night lay still under the twilight stars as the wind sang its sweet song. Yet, upon this sweet lure lay an underling that was not so silver and bright. It ran with the blood of that that was so unjustly punished. It glowed with her malice and vindictive goals of nature. It called and screamed under the winds masked songs waiting for the time to come.
Smoke could be seen dancing amongst the wind of the bitter atmosphere that soaked in the village near the mountain pass. Roars and chants echoed through the black and blue sky at the natives danced and tainted the mare that stood at the entrance of the natives’ village. The people who had saved her from death’s grip not too long ago were going to be the ones to place her back in hold.
The natives marked her as a bad charm, something that was never supposed to be saved, and yet they did. For this, they said that the spirits were punishing them, and to lift their plague of death and famine they must right their wrong and finish what was undone, or so they say.
Arethusa stood in her place as she glared at the man who held the rope that tied her neck and muzzle. She marked these people who were once caring and nice as crazed and tainted. She was not cursed. She was not bad luck, but what could she do when she is a horse, a horse in a prison of lied and ropes.
With a tug of the rope, Arethusa walked her way towards death’s hands. She was lead to the mountain top that over looked the land. Sighing, she looked up at the night sky and listened to the winds sweet words as they caressed her face. Sweetness turned in to bitter darkness as a sharp pain filled her spirit and mind. With that tender song of pain, she let everything overtake her.
____________________________________________________________
Arethusa stood at the cliffs edge, overlooking those whom cast her in to the pits of bloody darkness. What lay behind her mask was not a look of craze, but one of a calming nature. I guess you could say she wore a mask behind a mask, for behind that calm nature was a crazed demon waiting to strike down her foe. With a sigh, she listened to bloody melody as she thought back to the forsaken night. Yes, she had died, but the song that played in her death had also given her new life.
She did not use this new life to clear her name, nor use it to find a new life. She used it to play by Death’s wishes and be a pawn. It was a bit demeaning, but in the end she would get what she wished for. Arethusa would play by her mark and be a plague upon these people.
With a chuckle, Arethusa stares down at her the new "friend" she made after her death, a small black rat.
"Nicandro, it is time..."
The wind sang louder as the words were spoken.
It was about to begin....
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 12:06 am
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Ingólf
Soq Temper: Embittered
Wolf's Name: Faolán
Story:
Once Upon a Time, when the world was a darker place, a legend was born out of fear and hatred. For you see, when there is enough fear, it becomes easier to loathe the thing that frightens you, to vilify it and cast it down so that you may feel superior to it, so that you might blame it for everything that is wrong in your life. But hatred is a dangerous thing, and breeds only more hatred, until the sun is drowned in blood and the bones of the earth are laid bare.
You may ask, what could have called forth such hatred, such fear? What indeed, for this is a dark tale, but also a tale about a pact made between outcasts, and of a sacrifice made so another may live. Surely such kindness, such selflessness, surely that cannot be the cause of this darkness?
Sadly, kindness can often be a curse.
The story starts with a mother whose love for her son is so strong that she will do everything in her power to ensure his safety and happiness. Along the edges of the woods she pads, but a lone female who has birthed out of season is not a lucky creature, and food is becoming scarce. Gaunt and ragged, her youngling Ingólf trails behind. His large frame requiring more sustenance than she alone is able to provide, Ingólf is learning to hunt along-side his dam. With a village a stone's throw away, it's not hard to imagine how the smells of the humans, their roasting meat, their untended flocks, would seem so appetizing as to override the instinct for safety in favor of the all-consuming hunger. So then you wouldn't be too shocked if I told you that they gave into this urge.
Some of the villagers, revering the wolf as a spirit animal, had taken pity on them, and began leaving scraps of meat and other food refuse out for them to eat. Soon the pair would almost have been called tame, for they no longer shied from humans when they came near.
One night, their new life on the outskirts of the village changed forever. Following the smell of meat to a hut that stood off from the others, they came upon a strange sight; a human girl thrown upon the ground, her face a ghastly mask of death streaked in blood, and a man standing over her with a deer-leg club in his hand.
Ingólf's hackles raised and a growl escaped his throat as he took a step forward towards the corpse. The man turned, casting about to find the person who had interrupted him in his task, only to rest his eyes on the pair of wolves. Fearing the wolves might bring other men upon the scene, he seized his chance and began to shout, "Wolves! The wolves have slain the shaman's daughter!"
Soon the sounds of muffled footfalls and yells were approaching from every direction, and Durga snapped her teeth at her son, urging him to flee and return to the safety of the woods. With a yell, the man threw his bone club at the pair, striking a glancing blow to the youngling as he turned to flee. His conscience waning, Ingólf felt the first of many blows rain down upon him, and his mind registered the sound of Durga alternately snarling with fury and yelping in pain. The villager's attentions on his mother, Ingólf half stumbled half crawled to the shadows of the outskirts of the village and finally collapsed, his vision clouding as he slipped into oblivion.
In the morning, the dirge in his head seemed to take life and Ingólf felt a moist muzzle press against his side. The worried whine finally piercing his sleep-shrouded mind, he awoke to the sight of a lithe female wolf. 'Not mother,' Ingólf whined. The strange wolf, barely half his size, helped him regain his feet and nipped at his flanks, forcing him to begin the slow lope away from the village and the gathering hunting party. Looking over his shoulder, Ingólf saw the hunters gathering, and the shaman chanting and waving a skull-topped staff.
As days turned to weeks, Faolán, the female who had found him, scavenged and hunted for him, bringing back small rodents and carrion. As he slowly rebuilt his strength, adding muscle and weight to his large frame, he told her of the thwarted hunt in the village, of the words the human had been yelling and how they had brought pain and death upon him and his mother. Faolán listened to his tale, in turn growling with shared ire or whining in sympathy. She soon became his most trusted companion, shadowing the wolf, who indeed was nearing the size of a smallish horse as he grew, wherever he went.
When Ingólf was well enough, he and Faolán began to hunt in tandem along the strip of forest bordering the human's territory, occasionally trespassing into the fringes of the villages and making off with venison left out to cure or a couple of game fowl. Ingólf grew bigger and stronger with each passing week, and soon word began to spread from village to village of the Shadow Wolves who came on the night breeze. Traps were lain, and hunting parties sent out, but Ingólf and Faolán were clever and had become wise to the ways of the humans whose grounds they hunted.
The rumors spread.
A gathering of the tribes was called, and all the small villages that had been raided came together.
"Demons!"
"Evil Spirits come to avenge their brethren!"
"Shadows of Death!"
The shamans of the tribes banded together, and in a ceremony tried to placate the evil spirits they were sure had come to plague them. When the raids continued, they tried in turn to bargain with the spirits, offering up animal sacrifices and burning goods to send to the afterlife. Ingólf and Faolán watched from the trees, their amber eyes glowing in the moonlight, as the tribesmen threw their most sacred possessions into the fires.
'No, not their most sacred.' growled Ingólf. 'They think to drive us off with smoke and chanting. They call us evil? They do not know what evil is.'
That night, they padded through the village, Ingólf pricked his ears at every sound, pausing now and then to nose at a hide door or a path between the huts. When he found what he was looking for, silent as a breeze, he slipped inside one of the abodes and over to the wimpering bundle of blankets and warm flesh nestled in a pile of furs. He grinned a wolfish grin, and, seizing it in his large jaws, he stole it away into the night. The wailing in the village the following morning when the theft was discovered was like a soothing balm to his tormented soul.
The shamans came together once more, this time instead of trying to placate or bargain with the spirits, began a vengeful chant. They cast a curse upon the wolves, that they may suffer eternally as damned souls, as the souls of the missing shall suffer, unable to be guided by their kin's spirits to eternal rest.
Humans had taken his kith and kin from him, killed his entire world and left him for dead, and they called him evil? Ostracized and hunted, blamed for everything from bad crop yields to the deaths of villagers from disease or accidents, Ingólf and Faolán had embraced their roles and become what the villagers called them; Shadow Wolves, Bringers of Death.
'If they will call me man-killer, then man-killer I will be.' Ingólf growled, teeth glistening as he snarled and pawed the ground.
'That is the nature of the beast,' crooned Faolán, soothing his hackles, 'for what choice have we in our fate, if every living creature deems us evil, but to fulfill their desires?'
1306 words last check =A= egads i've gone over it so many times it probably doesn't even make sense anymore.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 12:33 am
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Cellen (The Saint Satyrus)
Soq Temper: Devout
Wolf's Name: Yevon
Story: (1,481 words)
“There are so many kinds of madness, so many ways in which the human brain may go wrong; and so often it happens that what we call madness is both reasonable and just. It is so. Yes. A little reason is good for us, a little more makes wise men of some of us--but when our reason over-grows us and we reach too far, something breaks and we go insane.” -James Oliver Curwood
It has started with an impressionable, young creature- curious with a mind soaking up information like a sponge while ocher orbs seemed to intensely watch the beginnings of madness unfold. The rise of a potent virus had alarmingly breached the boundaries of the ‘packs’ territory years ago- a virus whose infection was unlike any creature had endured as contracting it resulted in a painful, agonizing death. Fear seemed to spark like wildfire as rumors of fellow pack mates being infected awakened a stir of panic which only escalated for the need to find a cure as the first casualty was taken into account. Unlike the many other ailments which had been endured, the virus was aggressive and lacked no bias as the number of fatalities continued to swiftly rise. It was proposed that immediate actions were to be taken but what? What was the answer or, rather, how could the virus be eliminated? How the virus was contracted was unknown but such a thing could hardly be meticulously evaluated as the welfare and safety of the remaining members were being invaded by an unseen invalid. A small group of ‘pack’ member had gathered, formulating any solution or answer as to how they were to face the approaching disaster. Suggestions of fleeing from their homeland and avoiding the familiar lands at all costs were raised while others continued to protest that leaving would only cause them to end up walking into death’s jaws.
A sudden stir of whispers and quarreling rose at each voiced opinion with opposition. Hooves restlessly pawed at the ground while ears flattened with distaste. Was it beneficial to stay or to abandon their home? The means of how the virus was carried or acquired was unknown making a conclusive decision all the more difficult, if not impossible, to agree upon. There were propositions made for the pack to find shelter within the mountains or venture away from the lands and cross into foreign territory but controversy and the various ‘reasonable’ ideas only escalated the tension. But amongst the unrest and stress, a voice found its strength.
’We cannot leave. How can we? By leaving we are abandoning our home and letting this disease lay waste to the land and the other creatures who call it home. We must end it in a way which will not only assure our safety but the safety of others; we must kill those who are sick.’
The uproar suddenly exploded with yelling and disgust. Kill their own flesh and blood? It was barbaric, a savage and weak level which no one had dared to cross. The pack itself was comprised of those who seemed voracious, mindless killers adorned with sharp teeth yet their legacy stood far from such a misguided perception. Disgruntled members bore their fangs briefly, tails lashing behind them while others silently tossing the idea around. The mere idea seemed to leave a bitter taste within their maws yet, when reasoned, it seemed that the option was the only one whose consequences would be not only visible but beneficial to more than just themselves. It would be a selfless act, a needed justice in helping to vanquish the suffering so that no other potential victims would have to suffer such unimaginable pain.
To kill their own for the sake of others was hard to grasp yet, from out of the ashes, it was hoped that a priceless, valuable thing would be obtained- something that would not only take the pain away but become the start of a new beginning.
That priceless thing was peace.
With the decision becoming unanimous, the unfolding madness was soon to begin unraveling.
It was reasoned that this sacrifice, this justified action, would bring about a mighty change for the better. While remaining members ensured that the rise of such a horrific virus would be eliminated they remained oblivious to something even more terrible rising from out of the ashes. The spoken concept of peace which had been addressed struck a strange, almost entrancing, curiosity of one of the small ‘pups’, a male named Cellen to be exact, to bear witness to such a cleansing. It wasn’t a result of a secret obsession with death or pure evil which lured the young male to secretly view the adults extinguish the virus- no, it was the interest in watching peace unfold, seeing firsthand how death brought peace. For as long as Cellen could remember, killing was shunned and remained an act that was frowned upon by many but this? Here killing- no, death was a simple remedy and an answer for those who were afflicted or injured. It was a gateway and an escape for the weak and hopeless to avoid pain and suffering. By helping them find death, one was being merciful and just; a saint among those who were seeking a healer.
Such an unknown concept of peace was silently becoming skewed, twisted and molded into a far opposite idea from what it had ever been used to represent. As Cellen watched silently as the afflicted were being helped to depart with a snap of their neck, the emphasized morals and discouragement of killing were slowly being wiped away from his mind. Helping others find death was certainly not the act of a mindless killer but one who was a preserver of peace in body and mind- something which evil couldn't be derived from.
The forever engraved concepts forged in Cellen's youth grew within him with great intensity. Deepened convictions of his purpose to help others find peace seemed to fuel his need to cleanse others- helping them avoid the pain of suffering by aiding them to pass swiftly and without pain. Although he was met with opposition and resistance, he remained rooted within his unshakable, whole hearted belief that his actions were justified in keeping ailments from infecting others while helping the victim be able to find eternal peace. But the small ounce of reason which he had unceasingly grasped onto since he was a youngster had grown with him, reaching far beyond to where all rational thinking and reason were left shattered and unable to penetrate the mind of a devout being. It was more than evident that his actions were becoming more discernable as the work of a twisted killer than that of a saint or holy entity as his audience became more than just the sick- it began targeting anyone and, even, anything. The bodies of those who were released from being tethered to this life showed signs of a rough, aggressive approach. The once simple gashes upon necks were becoming extensive and more drastic with areas that seemed to be missing large, expansive areas of muscles and flesh which could only point in the direction of either a new method of effective cleansing or the saint was starting to revert into the serpent.
A true wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you will.
It was argued to believe that even such a fiercely believed mentality could be shaken, that somehow the proclaimed saint could be awakened from whatever secret demons harrowed up his soul. But how was one to extinguish demons which truly did not exist when it was a skewed, innocent mentality that was forever rooted within such deep conviction? Was it possible to show the saint his mistakes and deemed dark acts or would he simply find justice in his deeds of bringing about peace to those who were suffering? Or perhaps, in a philosophical view, what truly defined suffering or ailments? The tables could turn so easily, shifting in a way that it would distort the fundamental concept of right and wrong.
The madness of Cellen's belief had not only racked up an extensive casualty count but had portrayed him as a fiend, a horrid beast that seemed to loom not only within the nightmares of children but of bedtime stories. Along with his adopted name 'The Saint Satyrus', the locals had given him a nickname that was discreet, simple and was recognized by all who knew his tale.
The big, bad wolf.
While saints were misconstrued as serpents it seemed that a new light shined upon the wolves. If one would listen closely, they would hear the chanting of children:
Who's afraid of the big bad wolf
Big bad wolf, big bad wolf?
Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?
If anything, ask yourself:
Are you afraid of the big, bad wolf?
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 4:38 am
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name:Garron (Meaning: A garron or garran is a type of horse. The term occurs in Scotland and in Ireland, and generally refers to an undersized and much-despised beast)
Soq Temper:Twisted
Wolf's Name:Pythios(meaning: to rot)
Story: He wasn't always this way, the devourer, Once upon a time he'd been an innocent, well as innocent as any flesh eating thing had been. Born in a world alone, unknowing of the evil possibilities that resided with in, wanting nothing more than to fit in. He struggled at a young age to befriend those who he came across, most running away from him in fear, in fear of what they saw, rather than who he was, those who didn't run attacked him, throwing stones hurting his body, and he was forced to turn away and run from the pain. It hurt, it always did. The blames and fingers pointed at the very young lone one left to wander and survive on his own.
Well almost his own but one could hardly call ones reflection a companion, or a friend. Though When he bowed his head and cried in the stream hooves would often slash at the ponds water he hated this thing he saw looking back at him. It wasn't who he had thought he was, but it was that face that others screamed at, talked about, called horrible things. They hated what he saw in his reflection, and as a result he hated it too.
One day, in this state of being, the younger, innocent him was captured in this pose by none other than a young child who had wandered lost, alone, in the woods not unlike himself. She had found him in his 'weakened' state, crying. She was kind She approached him with out fear, with out hate. She had seen him crying, had seen in him the Frankenstein that others feared, and instead of running away she laid her hand upon his back and soothingly stroked him as he cried.
Of course this action startled him to no end and he reared up, so self absorbed that he hadn't noticed the young human approaching. And while she didn't understand his words it seemed she understood how he felt, and quickly wrapped her arms about his neck and hugged him. It was the first time he'd never smelt fear but rather smelt something beautiful, something delicious, the warmth of love.
Feeling for once at peace he led this child back to the nearby village where she found her way home, he thought he had found a friend. And to him it seemed he had as the child would come out every so often to where she had found him and bring him treats and talk to him and tell her stories to him. It was a time of peace for him, because for once he'd known what it was to not be alone.
But the child grew and as she grew she stopped coming so often, until one day she just didn't come. Confused and lonely he approached the village where he knew his friend had been he could smell her. She was old now, and with child of her own. When she saw him her eyes widened, and he smelt the thing he'd never thought he'd smell from her, fear. She screamed and picked up stones to protect her young one. Not that he would have hurt the babe, but at the scream he reared up and backed up only to feel the pelting of stones as the men with their weapons came.and chased him from the village leaving marks upon his fur hidden skin. But the biggest mark was left on his heart. The one thing he'd learn to trust had not only betrayed him, but hated and feared him. He came to the pond were they had first met and looking down he saw his reflection and slashed again at the pond, how he hated the thing looking back, it was so ugly, so evil. He hated it.
That night he went back to that village when all of them were sleeping and heard the woman with the babe in a chair rocking it to sleep, telling the babe that the horrible creature was gone and how she hoped it died a horrible death. This time though, instead of sadness that hurt turned to anger, and he saw red, He understood now. He understood that these humans were all filthy liars filthy ugly horrible liars, they were tricksters and thieves, cruel and held a mock kindness. He understood this and he hated them all the more for it, but especially the one that had tricked him the most. So he knocked on the door of the home of that woman with the babe, and when she answered the door, in he came and down she went.
Yes, he would be the beast she had called him, all the words that had been screamed at him through out his whole life came into his mind and he understood. They had seen him, the real him, he just hadn't known it until now. And rip after rip he tore the woman's flesh up eating her until he had his fill, the babe followed shortly after. Yes, he would be the beast they so wanted him to be, and he would enjoy it, for he truly hated these humans now. Hated them from the bottom of his now twisted heart.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 6:57 am
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name:Bigby (fables...sorry)
Soq Temper:Inevitable
Wolf's Name:Gmork
Story: Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf… well… everyone really. At least, the wise ones are. Bravery after all, is measured by overcoming fear; to lack it entirely is to be damned. Even the wolf felt fear; he ate it…it tasted good. But he kept it deep in his belly to gnaw at him, make him think; really think before he attacked.
“Why…WHY?” they so often screamed, their whinny’s cutting deep into the night, terrified gut wrenching unearthly screams that not even the shrillest of human throats could match. There was really…nothing like it.
Why… “Why ask Why” he riddled himself with a grin. But why… the question gnawed in his mind like the fear in his belly. Why…
People never really did appreciate a real predator… something dangerous lingering at the edges of their safe world, their happy families, nagging at the edges of their dreams, a dark shadow with glowing eyes waiting, waiting for them. It wasn’t as though he attacked without reason, they just didn’t see it. Didn’t want to see it. Too caught up in their perfect worlds to realize, he was doing them a favor.
The foolish, the prideful, the weak, the old and the infirm, it was the way of nature; it was his way. Even the two legs could understand that, life, death, it was part of nature, it wasn’t evil. He just…took pride in his work, and there was nothing at all wrong with that.
Blow down the walls of their illusions, remind them, that loss was real, so was pain, so was death. Fear, gnawed in his gut, an old fear, a very old one, breathed in and out remembering the red cloth drape she wore, that one so long ago, but so clear in his memory that he could taste her. She’d understood, even when the fear had been bright in her wide eyes, fear made them…such beautiful eyes she understood.
A shiver ran down his spine and he twitched his tail ever so slightly as though he could cast it off like a bothersome fly. She understood, he repeated again, she knew, what I had to do. Blood, beautiful dark red like that cloth drape, fear in their eyes, so very, close to perfect. But understanding, they never understood. If he had known then, how hard it would be to find that moment again, that beautiful moment of understanding that death was inevitable, that fear and pain went hand in hand with his love… he might not have fulfilled his duty. He shook his head cleansing the blasphemous thought. No… she understood, its nature, and I am part of nature.
Oh my sweet, beautiful dead darling… I’m doing this…for you.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 9:10 am
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Ódio (Hate)
Soq Temper: Dubious
Wolf's Name: Perrito (Puppy)
Story:
The full moon rose as the sun set, day turning into night as stars dotted the dark purple-blue sky. Deep in the forest, a Soquili couple gently pushed the basket containing their child into a clearing. In the past, the female had trouble conceiving, although the couple really wanted foals to call their own. Thus, the male had engaged the services of a Kawani shaman who was said to have mystical powers. The shaman warned the couple that it was not wise to alter nature’s course, but eventually gave in to their pleading…
A week later, to the delight of the couple, the female found herself with child. It was decided that when the foal was born, the very same shaman who had aided the couple will have the honor of placing him in a basket. However, when the day came, as the shaman lifted up the newborn foal, he realized that something was wrong; the foal’s mane and tail was abnormal, and he was hairier than most foals. After closing the lid of the basket, he delivered the bad news to the couple and asked them to go away from the village, as far away as possible. If the other villagers saw their foal, they will label him a monster and shun him… Or worse, kill him. Hence, the couple hatched a plan. The next night, when the female had regained her strength, the couple made their way out of the village with the basket containing their foal, and vanished into the forests a few meadows away.
Of course, that was all a week ago. Tonight, their foal will finally emerge from the basket, and the proud couple held their breath as they saw the lid move slightly. It was happening; the dream of being parents is finally coming true! No matter how their son looks like, they will still love him with all their hearts. The lid fell on the soft grass, and their foal stood up, his yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight. Blinking, he tumbled out of the basket. Flicking his ears, he turned over to look at his parents and tilted his head.
“Mummy? Daddy?”
… I recall seeing my mother cry when she set her eyes on me, and I saw my father looking away. Even as a foal, I could sense their disappointment, their unhappiness. When I took a step towards them, they took two steps back. Was I a monster in their eyes too? I knew they wanted to leave me for dead when they left me as I was asleep, but some part of them must had loved me, because they filled the basket I was in with fresh fruits they had picked from the forest before they abandoned me…
A single, helpless foal abandoned in the forest.
I remember waiting for their return by my basket, eating the fruits they left behind as I explored the forest in the day. At night, I would return to the basket and sleep, hoping to see my parents back by my side in the morning… But they never came back for me. Even after my supply of fruits was gone, I never gave up waiting. I was a hopeful, optimistic foal.
However, days dragged into weeks, and I became weaker without food. On the fifth day, I finally collapsed, the last sounds I heard being a creature sniffing my body… When I came too, there was a weird taste in my mouth and a smell stung my nose, making me feel like throwing up. Then, I realized where I was; the den of a lone she-wolf, a cave at the foot of a mountain located near a lake. The taste in my mouth, the smell lingering in my nostrils, it was of milk… But I was never meant to drink the milk of another creature. I saw that she had 6 puppies, all cuddling up to their mother. Something tugged at my heart; I longed for my own mother too.
The she-wolf had nodded at me, as if beckoning me over. I was slightly larger than her, but I managed to lie down next to her, some of her puppies climbing me and batting at my tail as I placed my head on top of her warm body. It was the first time I felt happy and secure.
They became family to me.
One day, while playing beside the lake, my new mother asked us to take a drink from the lake to cool ourselves down. As I bent down to drink, I saw my own reflection. I didn’t resemble my blood parents at all; I looked more like my newfound family. Was that why I wasn’t killed when I was found in the forest? At that time, I thought I didn’t belong with the wolf family, although I don’t belong to my own blood family as well. Was I damned to be alone?
Just then, one of the puppies came over and licked my front leg. He is to be the brother I will grow closest to, and his name is Perrito. I remember how I had wagged my tail in joy and let out a sort of bark, although it sounded more like a neigh, when he invited me to play. At that point in time, I made up my mind to stay and learn their ways. I will be their youngest sibling and youngest son… If they can accept me when even my own parents cannot, it must be destined for me to be with them.
Now, I’m all grown up. My 6 siblings are all grown up as well… I grew up nameless, but gave myself the name of Ódio when I was ready to leave the den, because my own parents had hated me. Our wolf mother had taught us well, and we are equipped with all the needed hunting skills to survive. I’m not the best hunter among them. To be honest, I am the weakest. Nonetheless, my wolf mother approved of me leaving the den because Perrito offered to follow me, to take care of me. He is a protective older brother, and I am glad to have him.
Together, we can take down any prey… Even those they call Soquili, and the two-leggers. To me, they both make a filling meal for my brother and I. After all, beings that leave their own flesh and blood to rot can never be trusted and deserved to be eaten.
Perrito and I... We will hunt and kill them all.
{1091 words}
And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Soq Name: Madam
Soq Temper: Hateful
Rat's Name: Rat
Story:
“I don’t want to… I don’t want to…”
Beside me, an elderly mare stood; her eyes were filled with sadness as she sighed, keeping silent. She continued to dress me, her daughter, up with white cloth, draping it over my body and then binding them together at my legs so that it wouldn’t fall off. Positioning a mask representing purity on my head, she then placed a white veil over it and forced a smile, “Listen to mummy, okay? He’ll take care of you. After all, after what he did to you… He ought to!”
I saw anger in my mother’s eyes, but I didn’t reply. I was stuck in my own reality, in a different world from her. I was dirty. I was tainted… And it was his entire fault. He had violated me when I turned him down last week. He had done it with a grin on his lips, as he dragged me away from the meadow my family lived. They couldn’t hear my screams for help. In fact, his grin only widened as I squirmed and cried. Up till now, I can still hear his laughter ringing in my ears.
He is a demon.
My mother guided me across the meadow, and I saw him, surrounded by his friends, his father by his side. That same grin on all their faces… I wanted to wipe it off them. His father had gone to his rescue when my family confronted him; he had threatened to tell everyone about my loss of purity. No Soquili will ever love me if they knew... They must have planned it so I will have to marry him!
They are all demons!
I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t. I felt weak in their presence. I felt helpless. I watched as my mother gently nudged me towards him, and he pulled me over to stand at his side… Then my family was gone. He had brought me to his place, where he violated me again. This time, I didn’t even scream or struggle. I felt like I was already dead, an empty shell. I hadn’t changed out of the dress my mother gave to me; it was now tattered and torn.
I swore that I will get him one day; I screamed at him, but he only laughed.
It was only a week later, but he grew tired of me. His father and he threw me in an abandoned wooden hut in some forest to die of starvation. I ate whatever was available – maggots that grew on the old wood, earthworms, and I would eat the rats if only I could catch them. Painful pores grew on my body, and I scratched them against the wood, causing them to bleed over my white dress.
Then, my savior came in the form of a rat. I didn’t try to eat him as he came to me. There was food in his mouth, some type of berry. He made many trips, and I watched him as he brought me tasty fruits to eat from the forest. He even bought me a red neck-warmer of sorts, to warm myself up when it gets cold at night.
He didn’t have a name, so I call him that – Rat.
And he called me Madam.
I finally walked out of that house, Rat riding on my back. I was disease reddened, but I knew Rat didn’t mind. However, wherever I go, other Soquili avoided me… I heard that my mother died from a broken heart. Well, I’ll make sure the world joins my mother. I will make sure the demon pays.
All the demons will pay.
{604 words}
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 9:25 am
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Orrick
Soq Temper: Frozen
Wolf's Name: Cedar
Story: “Fear the wolf. Hide from it or strike it down quickly. Fear the wolf and rid yourselves of it quickly. Fear the wolf for it is an evil creature.”
These were the words on everyone’s lips. The hushed whispers used to keep the young from the dangerous woods. These falsehoods, woven by the humans, slowly became the truths of their world and the end of his.
Viren had been his name. He was the young alpha of what could grow to be a very respectable pack, eight strong with two expecting mothers. While it was true that they were not wolves by blood the lived as such. They were always together and lived for each other. If one fell into harms way the others would show fast as one could howl. They were not an overly trusting group but when one came around that truly needed their help they would do their part.
The end of everything he knew came when one such person came into their forest. She was no wolf and clearly had no clue where she was. She had no protection and one of the soon to be mothers took pity on her and she was welcomed in. They led her to water and provided her with shelter and the next morning she was gone. Thinking they had heard the last of her their lives resumed.
One evening Viren left on a patrol with a small portion of his pack to assure that the borders were secure. He remained oblivious of the group approaching from the south. The first scent of smoke put his entire body on alert and he turned on his heel and bolted back to home. What he found was a horror scene.
Wolf and man and steed were locked in fierce battle. Fangs tore apart whatever they could reach, man’s weapons bit into wolf’s hide, hooves kicked out at whatever was around and flames licked at the ground and trees around them. In the center of all the chaos stood the mare they had helped a human seated on her back. He felt the fur on his neck raise as he snarled it seemed he had taken notice of him and alerted the human. Before she could move his companions sprang into action. One leapt at the man while the other snapped at the mare’s throat.
Viren watched, unmoving, in horror as the bloodshed progressed. A spear flew past him and he finally found the will to move. He could not bring himself forward, however, and fled to the sounds of his packs pained cries. He ran until he could no longer hear them but found their cries still echoed in his mind. He charged, head first, into a tree over and over again until he could hear nothing but a dull ringing that faded as his world slid into black.
*~* * *~*
The morning light brought a new sound to his ears, the sound of laughter. His golden eyes slowly opened to find a pure blooded wolf sitting before him a wicked grin on it’s face. “Quite a pack huh?” It asked with a flick of it’s bushy tail. “Taken down by a bunch of humans. Nearly got you too they did.”
Viren blinked a few times trying to make sense of what was being said. He lifted his great head to get a better look at the creature but he was greeted by a fierce pounding. “Oh you don’t want to do that...” It said warningly. He snarled at the creature and it recoiled slightly before he rolled himself up right. He wished he hadn’t; the pain in his skull made him feel ill. The wolf sighed and shook it’s head. “I tried to warn you, you know...” Somehow it sounded pleased by his pain. “After what you did I imagine you must hurt everywhere right now...I mean, they all died you know.” The little wolf barely had the time to leap backwards and away from Viren’s vicious jaws. It laughed more.
“Just shut up!” He snapped pushing himself shakily to his feet. The wolf tsked with a toss of it’s head and a flick of it’s tail.
“It’s a compliment you know?” It offered daring to approach him. “Those humans got it out for our kind. They took out my pack too you know? We ran so we live...get it?”
He was very close to breaking it’s neck but he refrained from it. It would be no good to spill his own kind’s blood. “Have you no pride? I abandoned them to...die...” His eyes flickered with an angry fire. He had left all his friends to die and here he was being praised for such a horrible thing.
“You didn’t kill them you know? That was the humans...” It said in a sigh before turning about to leave. “I was just thinking...they’re all tired from their hunts...they wouldn’t expect an attack from those ‘evil beasts’ that are all dead...” The words hung about in the air echoing in his mind every time the wind blew.
*~* * *~*
The night came and Virden stood on the outskirts of the humans’ village with the little wolf at his side. The sounds of celebration could be heard clearly and it sent waves of fury over him. “Let’s move.” He said before taking off down the hill with all the grace, stealth and power that only his kind knew the wolf following behind. They darted past homes of all kinds following the scent of blood, wolf’s blood. They made their way into the center of the village where a large bonfire had been built and in the flames laid his fallen pack. Around the fire people were dancing and joyous.
He howled enraged and sorrowed by the sight and watched as the people froze. Without a moments hesitation he launched himself at the nearest human and closed his jaws around her throat. There was a scream but not from his victim. No, she bled silently in his maw and he was pleasantly surprised that her blood did not taste of metal as everything else always had. She tasted sweet. Her flavor had improved from the sorrow in his heart and he wanted more.
The night passed with the most lovely symphony of screams and the most glorious taste Viren had every experienced. In the morning a red sun rose to tell the world of those that had fallen in the night. The two wolves stood in the center of the massacre with matching smiles on their faces.
“This is what you wanted isn’t it?” Viren asked licking his lips the taste captivating him still.
“No...it’s what you wanted Orrick, you know?”
He stared down at the little wolf with a raised eyebrow. One, that was not his name and it was what he wanted? He lifted his gaze to look over the damage they had done. He did not feel pleased to see it but the taste that remained in his mouth told him otherwise. “Orrick huh...?” He asked and could see the wolf flinch from the corner of his eye. “I think...I will be keeping that name from now on...”
Viren had died that night with his pack. There was no place for him here now. This world did not suit a coward. It was a world for wolves and wolves were after all evil creatures. Humans made sure of that.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 10:07 am
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Loki the Trickster
Soq Temper: Tricky
Wolf's Name: Sigyn
Story: 1,161 words total
Just a young stallion, and already I had learned how to garner hate. Oh, it didn’t begin that way. When I’d been very young, they had laughed! I had capered and done silly things, and they had encouraged me with pets and amusement. I had stumbled and done a spraddle-legged tumble, and the children had giggled. That’s how it began, so bright and innocent. I had begun to learn that the two-leggers liked to laugh, enjoyed seeing creatures fall down, or be surprised. Who could blame me for seeking their continuing approval and enjoyment? If only it had been that simple.
I had grown, losing some of my own gangliness and achieving a certain amount of grace. I knew my appearance was scraggly for a soquili, for the other foals whispered about it. But since I had my human audience, I ignored their unkind comments and focused on pleasing those who wanted me around. I spent more and more time around the humans, and less and less with my own kind. That was no bad thing, right? Other soquili had made the same choice, and seemed at the very least content with their lot. So I became the four-legged clown for the villagers to laugh at.
I excelled at the art of slapstick. I could tumble, trip, stagger, and make it all appear real. I learned to school my face into looks of shock, astonishment, surprise, and dismay. Even the adults would pause in their work to watch me perform my silly tricks. But as I grew, it seemed to become less funny. How was I to know a half grown stallion theatrically going to his knees over a molehill was not nearly as endearing as a colt with knobby knees doing the same thing? I had to do something, and fast, or I would lose the only friends I had!
So it was that I thought I’d harness the hilarity of youth. Why not rig a trick with others? Ah, but they should enjoy it too! So I did not tell the mothers of the foals, nor the foals themselves, what was in store. I merely led them a merry chase, having them charge after me around a field during a village festival. Carefully I lifted my feet to avoid the tripwire I’d rigged, darting ahead to position myself to see everyone’s reactions.
The clumsy herd of foals reached the thin thread stretched across the field, and of course went tumbling one over the other into a sprawling heap. Eagerly I looked from the little ones’ expressions of shock to the faces of my human audience. Every single one of them had stopped and turned! All the two-leggers stared at my trick, their eyes wide with surprise, their mouths open in gasps! It had worked! Delighted with myself, I pranced in among them, waiting for the pets and approval that was rightly mine. But instead, they ignored me, and almost as one moved to the field to help sort out the snot-nosed fillies and colts, who were now crying for their mothers. Where was my applause? Where was my accolade? Brows drawing together, I watched as some men found and then snapped my tripwire. I listened to their muttered confusion and disapproval.
So THAT was how it was going to be? After all my hard work? And for what? I’d done it for them!
I’d gone into the woods to sulk. Shouldering my way through some thick brush, I grumbled loudly about the ungratefulness of humankind. A voice nearby spoke up, soft and soothing. “Ah, poor horse. You didn’t get what you expected, did you? Or at least, not all of what you expected.” I paused with a snort, tensing for the unknown. From the shadows minced a graceful vision. Her fur resembled my pelt, thick and full, and my tail resembled hers. Instinct and my senses informed that this was a predator, wild cousin to the dogs in the village. This was a she-wolf, who had me pinned beneath her lovely yellow eyes. Gracefully she set each paw to the ground, soundless in her beauty. My eyes followed the sweep of her tail and it swung side to side behind her so slowly in an arc of friendliness. “Ah, but you did see something you liked when your trick was played, did you not?”
Considering this, I had to agree. That one shining moment had occurred when I’d seen their reactions, their expressions of varying degrees of startlement. “Why yes,” I whickered low in thoughtful discovery. “Did you see their faces? They might not have laughed, but they made me want to laugh at them instead!” I snorted, tossing my head and beginning to grin. “Did you see them? Eyes popping out, mouths agape like beached fish!” I chortled, my spirits rising again. Perhaps they hadn’t reacted like I’d expected, but they had given me what I’d been trying to give them. Amusement. Enjoyment. Pleasure.
“Oh yes, I saw, young trickster,” she softly replied in approval, circling my forelegs and brushing her tail lightly under my chest. “You are very clever for one so young.” I had gotten so little positive reinforcement lately that this went straight to my head. I glowed proudly within her praise. Someone appreciated my efforts at least! Her next words, however, likely changed my pattern of life forever. “But the humans aren’t the only ones whom you played this prank on, young trickster,” she murmured, posing prettily and turning her head back the way I’d come.
Confused, as the two-leggers had always been my audience, I too turned and pricked my ears, trying to grasp what my new companion was trying to teach me. While human voices of discontent did reach my ears, it was another sound that finally dawned on me. The nickers and neighs of distraught mares reminded me of the non-human looks of surprise and dismay I had seen. Oh, this she-wolf read me like a book! How had she known that I’d dismissed my own kind from my mind as being unworthy of entertainment? “You may have a point,” I allowed slowly. “Though they are not so easy to tamper with as the humans.”
The she-wolf gazed up at me with confidence written deep in her eyes. “Oh my hooved son, I can teach you how to pull your pranks on the four-legged as well as the two-legged.” She smiled a most wicked and lovely smile at me, and I welcomed the discovery of someone who truly believed in me. Here was someone who understood! I leaned down eagerly, coming nearly nose to nose with the wily carnivore. Gazing intently into her feral eyes, inhaling the scent of blood and sun from her fur, I spoke with all my heart. “Teach me.”
It was under her loving tutelage that I earned the name I would keep, a name that was spoken with dismay and frightened awe forever more. Loki, the Trickster.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 10:15 am
And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Soq Name: Three
Soq Temper: Insane
Rat's Name: None
Story:
In her more lucid moments, Three decided she could trace back her current existence to a single starting point... or rather, a series of three choices that coalesced into that point.
The first wasn't really all that bad, but in the fashion of most females, she had found it quite traumatizing at the time. Her mate had cheated on her, and even gone as far as to bear children with the adulterer... then gone on to dissolve the bond between himself and his previous lifemate when she had finally proven infertile... known at the time as Allory. Delicate as she had once been, the double shock of it all proved to be too much.
The second, well she could vaguely understand the emotions of it all now, since they were very similar to what she endured in her current day to day existence. Forgoing all anger at herself as the barren mare Allory, her former mate, and his not-so-new bride, she had decided to take a higher road of indifference and move on... only to find a long empty road ahead of her, rife with beggars and thieves.. many of whom were quite happy to take advantage of a lone traveler like herself. More then once she found herself at the feet of poverty, begging the beggars for their remnants, and for all of her previous upbringing... she found that she didn't care. To care would have meant suffering the pain of humiliation and remorse for not doing all that she could to save herself... To care would have been a weakness she could no longer afford, and with it's absence... she discovered a new type of survival.
The third, well it was the one most vivid in her mind... and to those trained in such things would be known as the triggering point. That was when she had come across a being more wretched then herself... and when he begged from her... she felt no compassion, held no quarter, and merely watched as the young thing perished from the disease rotting him from within... unaware of a slight smile playing upon the corners of her mouth as she stood a silent vigil and watched, unaware of a silent creeping in her heart and across her body as the living embodiment of her new soul crept along in her wake... spreading a heavy foulness of the breath that it had taken from the dying colt.
Further reflection led to a not so startling understanding of why she had chosen the designation of Three... though the act of meditation itself often did leave an unsettling feeling in the mare's belly.. perhaps a stirring of long dead emotion... but more often then not she wondered if it was merely the disease she saw so often take the souls of others come finally to take her.
Three, though... she had been mated to that stallion for three years... and he had born three children to the mare that was now his lifemate when she had finally been proven barren after three moons of waiting. Her first encounter with a thief had taken three weeks to heal from, and the first time she had begged with a beggar had lasted for three days before either of them saw a scrap come their way. The colt she had watched die had been only three years old, and it had taken three hours for the disease to finally take him...
Yes.... Three was a very fitting number to describe herself, her life, and her deliberate insanity.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 12:08 pm
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Aeglaeca (meaning: demon, monster, fiend – but also hero and warrior)
Soq Temper: Carnivorous
Wolf's Name: Githinji (meaning: butcher)
Story:
Two-leggers have the strangest of traditions. They strive for ways in which they can be different from their brothers and sisters, while still maintaining the test of time. It is said that one can achieve mortality through story, names passed down through generations by word of mouth because one person was made of the stuff of legend. Whether they are remembered for their deeds or for themselves is meaningless, so long as they are remembered at all. Some go to the greatest extremes, emulating legends of the past in order to become a myth of the future. One such two-legger saw himself as a reincarnation of Diomedes of Greek mythology, and sought to outdo the ancient king. But how to be greater than a man of antiquity? How can one be greater and more easily remembered than a man renowned since the time of Hercules? Diomedes had his flesh-eating horses, and this two-legger would do the memory justice.
He began by feeding his horses human flesh, and then pitting them against mange-infested wolves in order to maintain only the fittest and most terrifying herd. At sometime, though he could never recall when, he came upon a trader with a strange brood for sale: a stallion, a mare, and two foals. Three interested the two-legger not at all, but the last? The colt was sent to him from the Heavens. So imagine his indignant shock when he found that the furry little sharp-toothed horse would not feed upon flesh. He resisted, as his family did, and the two-legger despaired that he would lose the entire flea-bitten lot. Eventually, survival instinct won out and the family began to feed, but they were reluctant and hardly the carnivorous monsters that the two-legger so craved to own.
Determined to possess the most fearsome animal in the entire world, he separated the group from one another under the assumption that divided they could be conquered. Again the horses and their strange half-breed offspring went on a hunger-strike. The filly possessed wings, but was fragile and her body was beginning to succumb to starvation. In a fit of rage, the two-legger slaughtered the defenseless white foal – the light to her twin’s dark – and butchered her before laying out the pieces in her more promising brother’s trough: he was beginning to eat again.
Arine...
At various points in the young foal’s life, he recognized the change in the taste of meat that passed his sharpened teeth and slid down his willing throat. The blood was an acquired taste, but as he grew he became more accustomed to it and even began to crave it. It was unsettling, as he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that his precious sister and doting mother would disapprove, but was else was he to eat? And the two-legger was so willing to give it to him. He would be whipped if he did not eat, and soon he began to crave the meat because it meant that he would not be beat. He strove for it, demanded it, and received it readily. The two-legger was not yet ready to make his growing stallion starve. The old parents died or were killed, no one really knew much, but they were butchered as the filly had been and fed to their growing boy when human meat was scarce: when no one had dared to cross the two-legger that week. The colt forgot his name, there was only the whipping, the blood, and the succulent meat that was so against his very nature to crave, but crave he did.
The months passed into years, and as a grown monstrosity the colt who grew into a stallion was now just as the two-legger had desired. He was a fearsome, loathsome beast of Hell who knew nothing but craving and pain. Two-legged visitors came from miles around in order to gaze upon the awe-inspiring terror of his master’s possession. The stallion became the lead of the pack of hounds and meeker horses that made up the collection: and the horses above looked on with their masters in sheer terror and disgust at what had become of their brethren below. They didn’t offer words of assistance or of pity, they instead spat upon him and his freakish herd in their awe-struck misunderstanding of his circumstances. This beast chose to be here, loved to be in that pit with blood beneath his hooves and between his teeth. But the stallion knew few thoughts between cravings, one of which was: family.
Arine...
It was pure chance that brought his family’s fate to his attention: a haphazard comment by his two-legged master as he whipped a helping-hand. ‘We’ve given him the last of the mother, best slaughter a mule for now’ It took minutes for the stallion to process the words, to understand that he had consumed the flesh of his mother, but his retribution was completed in only a matter of seconds. The servant was destroyed in a flash of fang and hoof before the master fell to the same disgraceful fate: consumed by his own monster. Finished, the stallion’s hooves pounded the empty halls as he followed the faded scent of his mother’s blood, confused further when his sister and father’s scents mingled with hers until he came upon an open archway through which his questions were answered. An old woman sat upon his father’s white fur and taxidermy head, tanning a gray hide that he recognized as his mother’s dappled coat, and wearing the ivory skin of his sister. His sister’s pelt wasn’t quite as pure when he was done with the old two-legger, but her meat was stringy and he was delayed long enough to witness the arrival of a young girl with scarlet fur on her head and preserved wings tied around her back like some sick testament to an angel. With a snarl and a dash, her blood joined the rest and he was finished with the lot of them.
Tearing loose from the two-legger’s massive dwelling, the inhabitants that surrounded the place fled in fear from the stallion and his accompanying herd that fled the place at his side. Most broke off individually to pursue their own ends, but one wolf remained keeping pace at the stallion’s side. He recognized the face as his beta, somewhere in his hatred-clouded mind, and the beta reminded him of the name he had long ago forgotten...
‘Aeglaeca, to where do we go?’
To which he could only respond with a guttural growl. His sister's voice was pounding in his head, wailing... wailing - so he ran.
[1,102]And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Soq Name: Aerona
Soq Temper: Ambitious
Rat's Name: Than
Story:
The pity of death is that in most cultures, it is not the end and is sometimes even the beginning. The pity being, of course, that those that are meant to be done away with can instead plague the world with their existence again and forever more.
Aerona did not begin life as despicable as she did in the last life as she did in this, after her metaphorical death and narrow escape, but I shall get to that point presently. She was born to a broodmare of high-standing to a two-legger family of nobility. Mares could not aspire for much in the area in which her two-leggers lived, as their culture was primarily patriarchal in structure. The stallions could and would be bought and traded like gold pieces, coveted by their masters and ordained with the prettiest adornments. Aerona craved for such attentions with every fiber in her being from the moment she possessed conscious thought, but nothing about such aspirations was evil then. She was merely ambitious, and it was with that ambition that she plotted to climb the social standings of the equine society. With perfect tosses of her pretty head and pretty little tricks, her master’s interest was snared when she was still a yearling. It was then that he began to groom her for a horse market. She was moved to a stall far from her mother’s, but it had been sometime since the two had had a healthy relationship anyway. All the friends that had managed to put up with the headstrong little filly when she was younger were no longer interested in maintaining that friendship, so Aerona was left completely to her own devices.
To say she was completely happy that she had no one but herself to share her success with was a lie, but she wasn’t about to admit such foolishness. She had plans; she was going to be owned by the highest noble woman imaginable: a queen, if she had her way. She would be a queen among horses, or she would die and that was the bottom line.
It was while she remained in her master’s stables, however, that she met an unusual friend. A rat with the most unusual of countenances, he was determined to ride along on the tail of her success, so to speak. He knew that in higher courts there were more delicious foods that were ripe for consumption and he had a mind to consume them. He was a rodent of some ambition, though perhaps not the same follow through as the young mare. His name was Than, which he had been told was short for something else but he couldn’t remember and nor did he mind. Than was a good enough name for him, if he were to be asked, which is wasn’t... ever, to be honest. So Than watched as Aerona excelled in everything her master set her to: she kept a smooth gait and shimmered dramatically in any sort of light so as to catch the eye of any who viewed her. There really wasn’t much else for her to do, as a mare, but it was enough that even the two-legged master was beginning to have high expectations of what could be done with her. But first, first he wanted a foal from her and he would only accept the most perfect of studs. Aerona was pleased, and so the search began.
It took some time, and the mares in the stable were on their last nerve with the young mare who flaunted herself around the paddock to tempt the stallions and colts in the adjoining stalls. Aerona claimed it was because she was of higher breeding and higher value and some among the mares would agree and were jealous while others were merely annoyed. Aerona was truly alone in her master’s stables, outcast by her herd, and so she returned the unsteady friendship with the mangy little Than even if such an alliance was beneath her.
When at last a stallion was found for her, she was struck by his magnificence. He was a beautiful palomino, which was considered an unusual color by the two-leggers, and he was so large and perfectly formed that Aerona found herself smitten. He was her equal, or at least worth her time of day until he displeased her. But as their short time went by, she found herself attached to his silent and impermeable stone of personality. He was perfect for her, and she let him know so, but not without some level of disdain in order not to inflate his ego unnecessarily. It was about then that the stallion lost his cool exterior, this veritable equine Adonis. He was annoyed at her confidence, and the threat that her being was to his egotistic lifestyle. He was the best, and that was the bottom line. He had been ridden to glory in battle; he had sired many other champion war-horses and broodmares. What was this young upstart to him? And so though the humans approved of their coupling, he did not and instead chose to lash out. ‘You are hardly worth my time, insolent child.’ He snorted after ripping his perfect white teeth across her face, marring it for all to see. And with that he left her, in her wide-eyed confusion and indignant rage. A rage that would not be left unfulfilled, but more mishaps must be had before her transformation is complete.
Scarred, Aerona was no longer the pretty little mare that could catch the attention of queens. She was disfigured, or at least marked which made her imperfect and so unfit. The master sought to do away with her, and so sold her to a peasant family in order to make a bit of money on the tragic accident. Aerona was tossed from her high pedestal as a prospective royal mare to the lowest status for a mare: the possible meal of a starving family. It was only a matter of time before their dire situation got the better of them and though they enjoyed having a horse to pull the cart and make their load easier, they were hungry. As soon as the knife presented itself, however, Aerona knew her fate and took action. Killing the two-legger with a swipe of her hooves, she was struck by the tender elation of revenge. She felt... relieved and empowered, much as she had when she was climbing the equine social ladder. How could death feel so wonderful? She desired more and after slaughtering the little peasant family that had dared to think of consuming her, she donned a bloody swath of cloth and hood before plunging out into the night. She would find the stallion and he would pay for what he had done to preserve his own status in life.
It was Than who helped her back into the stables, in which the stallion was being kept to stud to her mother instead. Aerona’s hooves were eager to make quick work of him, but first she dealt with the other colts and studs that got in her way. When at last she reached the Adonis, she took pleasure in his demise and did careful justice to his face before his skull was ripped away and use as a mask to hide her disfigured face. It was only right, after all, that the horse responsible for the imperfection was to be the one to cover it up again. Than watched from the sidelines, gumming on a piece of meat from a previous kill – rats are not picky, you see, on what type of food they chew. He was intrigued by this new development, and decided to cast his lot with the mare that seemed as ambitious as she had before, if quite a bit more violent. ‘Are you finished then, Aerona?’
‘Hardly,’ the mare sneered, turning her attention to the other stables from where she could already hear the panicked shrieks of terror. They had heard the slaughter in the stallions’ quarters, and were awaiting their impending doom. She would pick them off one by one, until she had had her revenge on that fickle two-legger’s herd.
[1,366]
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 1:48 pm
BIG BAD WOLF FORM My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Kaika
Soq Temper: Tempermental
Wolf's Name: Kiba
Story:
The say that no one is truly ever 'evil' that there is some sort of light that flickers behind their eyes, perhaps that is why I have been so successful in seeking my vengeance upon those who shattered my world from beneath my very feet. Glowing eyes that draw those around me in, curiosity and fascinating was always a weaker characteristic for the prey I seek, yet it was not always this way, my heart did not always appear so black and void of dreams and emotions as it did now.
In truth, I do not even recall the face of the one who threw my world into disarray. How could so much have happened in just a single night, but for those who want to know my story shall listen, only to be eradicated upon listening.
The night was dark, gloomy almost as the weather changed from the cold snap of autumn to the blustery winds of winter. The tree bark froze in anticipation for what was forecasted by the rain dancers to be the coldest winter in the history of the kind, for me this rung true in oh too many ways.
My family and I would stay to ourselves, remaining in the shadows as the fates twisted and turned their evil scheme. We would hunt only the defenceless animals, those who would surely die by hands far less considerate as our own, we would kill fast, putting the creature out of its misery before we fed. My mate was a delicate creature, full of life and light, she was probably the reason for my choice in life, it seemed to beam in all directions from her, like an endless glossy pool under the Moons ever watching gaze. I could not escape the enchantment she placed me under, nor did I want to.
Several years after our journey began together a new one began, for she bore a child, my child. She convinced me that there was indeed light in my heart other than that, that shone menacingly almost from my eyes, and with time I came to believe her, just like now when my prey looks into them they try to believe. POINTLESS, I see that now. It was nothing but a curtain upon her final act.
For she was striped from my wolf by a creature so low that I can not bring myself to even say its name, sharp teeth, putrid smell, and long black hair are the only features I remember as they ravaged and slaughtered my wife and unborn child, frozen I could not move, could not run to her aid. My weakness rushing to the surface, soon to be replaced by the devastating monster I am today. I want those around me to suffer, as I have suffered, the pain of my lost lays heavy upon my head, heavy upon my heart, I will never, can never forget it.
That is why I sing:
"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf,
The big bad wolf,
The big bad wolf,
You're afraid of the big bad wolf,
cease you know he's going to find you!"
After all, you know I am coming after you now.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 2:19 pm
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Caine
Soq Temper: Rancorous
Wolf's Name: Sollicitus
Story: (1,495 words)
Legend tells of two beautiful females who lived in the Kawani lands, one human and the other a Soquili. Both were pale, with long dark hair and equally dark eyes. Many suitors from all over the world came to suit the two, but they turned everyone away, sensing that the suitors were not interested in true love. But one day, a ruddy traveler and an equally ruddy stallion came to suit the pair, who quickly fell for them. The traveler’s name was Milo, his equine was Otis. Not after long, the two couples were wed and came to be pregnant. Milo rejoiced over this, while Otis dreaded it.
For you see, Otis came from a family with a terrible curse set upon them that Otis narrowly escaped by a few minutes. The threat that lay asleep in his mate’s uterus sickened him, scared him, drove him close to mad. Every morning he would think of what their child would look like, and every night he would suffer from nightmares of what the wretch would do to its family. Haunted by the thoughts, he came to convince himself that only one solution was available to the problem at hand. He would kill his firstborn while his mate slept from the tiredness of labor, just as his father had done to his elder brother. He dwelled on the solution, mulling over how he would kill it for countless nights, altogether abandoning sleep for the comforting arms of insomnia that he had come to know. Throw it in the river? Yes, that should suffice. That way he wouldn’t have to see his child’s screaming face for it would still be in the basket the humans had already prepared for it.
And so the day came when his mate birthed two foals, both colts. Milo put them into their baskets, sealing the wicker tightly, looking to Otis with a wide smile.
“Congrats pal o’ mine, yer a father now. Maybe you can gimme some tips, eh?” Milo chuckled, giving the stallion a pat on the rump. “You be good to her now.” Milo’s grasp of the Kawani language had improved since his marriage, but he still had the rugged air about his manner. Otis could only nod, frown pulling at him mouth.
Otis’ beautiful mate had long been asleep, baskets nestled next to her. Otis gently pulled the pure brown one away from his mate’s side, picking it up in his teeth. He prayed to whatever God that was merciful enough to listen for some kind of forgiveness to be bestowed on him as he solemnly padded over to the cliff that looked over the roaring river below. Closing his eyes, he threw the basket, whipping his head around with teeth clenched. He heard the splash, and fell down with pained tears pouring from his clenched eyes. What had he done?
Unknown to its father, the basket hadn’t been destroyed by the fall, but was instead carried by the powerful current to a swirling pool off the edge of the bank. Come morning, a pair of eyes that had watched Otis as he committed the act appeared in the shadows of the brush, coming out to reveal their hosting body; a brown wolf that’s eyes glowed with an evil curiosity.
“Hello there small one, aren’t you just the delicious morsel? Fortunately for you though, you’re not a normal horse, now are you? Yes, I watched as your father carelessly tossed your fate to the spirits, hoping that you would die. But Mother wouldn’t let you have you uncle’s fate. No, I Mother has a plan for you.” The wolf whispered to the basket, which quivered slightly. “My name is Sollicitus, I will be your father now. Come along now, we’re going to meet the family.” He cackled, dragging the basket through the brush. Sollicitus came to a clearing and howled, many other brown wolves coming out of the brush’s shadows.
“What have you there, brother Sollicitus?”
“A fresh meal, perhaps?”
Questions came from the hungry wolves, a manic glint in their eyes. Sollicitus smiled, sitting on his haunches next to the basket protectively. “No, not a meal sister Endra, it is a tool of sorts, a young colt who is blessed by Mother.”
“What?”
“Liar!”
“Blasphemer, only wolf cubs are able to receive her blessing!”
“Now, now, calm down brothers and sisters, I tell you the truth.” Sollicitus cackled, tail thumping against the hard dirt ground in excitement. “This colt is from a line of Soquili who rejected Mother’s gift. They kill the firstborn of every generation to make sure that Mother’s blessing cannot be revealed. A stallion had just tried to rob the world of Mother’s blessing last night, but I saved the basket.” He finished, smug smile spread across his mangy face.
“How do you know such things?” Questioned a wolf in the group, many others agreeing and demanding to know where he got the knowledge.
“In a dream my family, one sent from Mother. She told me that she would wash the basket to the bank, and I was to take it in. She told me to raise the young colt inside and to use him for her righteous revenge on the family that would dare to try and rid themselves of Mother’s gift.” Sollicitus explained with an air of smugness about him; obviously gloating that he had been Mother’s chosen prophet. The pack muttered amongst itself, eventually coming to a unanimous conclusion.
“If Mother has deemed it so, it shall be done.” A sister said, the rest nodding in agreement. Sollicitus grinned, eyes glinting victoriously. “May Mother bless and protect us all, my family.”
And so the moon passed though her cycles, bringing with her the emergence of the young colt from the basket, and the pack saw that he was blessed by Mother. The colt looked more canine than equine, shaggy fur covering his back, and his tail was that of a wolf. His eyes glowed yellow, his teeth were sharp. Surely this was the tool of Mother. The moon went through more of her cycles, and the colt, which they had named Caine, was taught in the ways of the pack. He worshiped Mother; he hunted with the pack, howled to the moon in her infinite love, and desired revenge on any who would harm his family. Soon he became a fully grown stallion, taller than any of his family.
One night, Sollicitus howled for Caine, who came with blood of the day’s hunt still dripping from his furry chin. “You wished to speak with me, father?” Caine inquired, licking his lips for traces of blood that could be left.
“Yes son, I do. I must tell you why you were truly raised with us.”
“Because Mother said it was to be, correct?” Caine asked, large yellow eyes pointed at Sollicitus.
“Yes, one could say that son, but there is more to the story. Sit, bask in the moon’s loving light, I shall tell you the whole story,” Sollicitus commanded, sitting on his own haunches while Caine folded his legs under his body. “You see, you are not a wolf, as I’m sure you’re well aware,” Caine nodded sadly, “but you were raised like one. It was done so for Mother sent me a dream many moon cycles ago that commanded I raise you. However, you were always told that I found you one day on the river bank. This is not entirely false, nor is it entirely true. You see, you come from a lineage of Soquili that were to be blessed by Mother. But these equines, in fear of Mother’s great blessing, continually killed the firstborn of each generation. Your Soquili father would do the same to you, had Mother not dictated it that you would live. Uncaringly he threw your basket to the river, hoping that you would die. But Mother offered you grace and you were spared - taken to a pool off the side of the river, on the bank. I had watched you and I came for you, as Mother had told me so. You see son, you are Mother’s chosen one, and you shall be the one to take down the family that rejected our Mother’s gift. I want to ask one thing of you son; can you kill your own flesh and blood?” Sollicitus asked the last part with death seriousness, usually playful eyes grown stone cold and serious.
“Father, you expect me to say no? I was raised to kill such blasphemers! I will not only kill them, I will destroy them and everyone who gets in my way! Not only have they rejected our sacred Mother, but they attempted to kill their own son as well? They shall pay father!” Caine roared, immediately back up on all four hooves. Sollicitus smiled, getting up on all fours as well.
“Well then, who first?”
“Who do you think?”
“I do believe his name is Otis.”And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Soq Name: Lèpre
Soq Temper: Pernicious
Rat's Name: Edgar
Story: (Word count: 1,499)
Before the times of our fathers, a herd of Soquili existed on these lands, calling themselves “saints.” They believed themselves to be the only pure mortals left on Earth, the rest were all filth to them, a stain on the planet. They elected a council, who were supposed to be the purest of the pure, but they were corrupt. Their hearts grew bitter with envy at a stallion named Jacques, who was close to sinless. However, Jacques had a weakness: mares. Recently in an argument with his mate, he fell to his weakness, committing adultery with three mares outside of the herd. The council got word of this and approached Jacques about the matter, bringing with them an evil mask. After much debate, they eventually pried a confession out of Jacques.
“Fine, kick me out. Tell my eldest son he is now the family patriarch.” Jacques solemnly grumbled, his violet gaze set upon the ground.
“Oh, who said we were kicking you out Jacques?” piped in a council member. “We have decided to take mercy on you, as it would hurt our status to cast out such a noted member of the herd. Your punishment is this,” he nudged the mask that lay at his feet, continuing on; “This mask is your punishment Jacques. Put it on.” He finished, smirk splitting his pure white face.
With reluctance, Jacques put on the mask. The instant it touched his face, a dark aura engulfed Jacques’ figure as he whinnied in pain, writhing on the floor. Tendrils of shadows stuck the mask to his face, more of the shadowy aura solidifying to become a tarnished hood and ripped garments that wrapped around his body and legs.
“W-What is this foul magic?” Jacques screamed, once pleasant voice warped to a screech. The elder stepped forward, observing the being that was once Jacques. “I doubt you are still containing conscience thought, but I will tell you since it was your last ‘living’ plea. This mask was given to us by a Kalona as a gift, telling us to use it on our most hated enemy. And that is you, Jacques. We despise you with every fiber of our beings. It is not a sinful hatred, but one of righteousness. There can be none as sinless as us!” The elder laughed triumphantly, placing a hoof on Jacques’ heaving chest.
“Righteous? Don’t even try to spew that word.” Jacques strained out, slipping to the warm abyss of insanity with the last syllable. Once beautiful violet irises darkened to black, pupils dilated to the point where one couldn’t tell the between the two. Blood vessels shot through his rapidly yellowing sclera, his saliva turning black. He threw the elder’s hoof off of his chest with a great heave more powerful than a maelstrom and lifted himself up with a roar that would make even the most courageous lion cower like a cub. Eyes the shade of crow feathers were pointed at the council ahead of him, murderous rage frothing from his great maw. Another roar and he struck out, a sickening crack scattering the birds. Stepping on the body of the fallen elder without care, he snorted desert heat into the faces of the other council members, striking one without warning. He too fell instantly, ribcage mercilessly broken by the heavy hoof of the masked being. The rest ran, baying desperate cries for help.
One figure remained in the woods still: Jacque’s youngest daughter, Lèpre. She stared at his father; eyes and mouth agape in fear. Was this still daddy? Lèpre came when she heard daddy scream, watching the violent scene unfold. Daddy turned to face her, his black eyes boring into her soul. Her mind screamed at her legs, telling them to move, but they refused, paralyzed by fear.
“D-Daddy?” Lèpre timidly stuttered out, voice quaking with fear.
“Another one in the way, she dies too. Blood pours; sweet red nectar. Yes, blood and death, so warm and nice.”
“No, you can’t! This isn’t just some horse; it is my beloved daughter Lèpre!”
“Blood good though. Blood runs down white hill, make lake on dirt, Tongue bathe in lake, savor lake, love lake.”
“Not if the lake was of own flesh and blood, no! Tongue will not enter the lake.”
“Tongue dry, need blood. Blood! Blood! Tongue howl for blood!”
“Tongue can howl all he wants, Tongue not touching daughter!”
“Young blood: yummy, tasty; BLOOD! Tongue want filly blood!”
“No! Tongue no get filly blood! Tongue die!”
Daddy’s head jerked back and forth, eyes swapping between their once beautiful violet and the ugly crow black they now were tinted. Lèpre was terrified to see her daddy act like this; it was like there were two daddies! When her real daddy –the one with the pretty violet eyes said die, mean daddy –the one with the ugly black eyes shrieked, head twisting and howling. Daddy’s legs moved though, the opposite direction the head was trying to pull. Lèpre followed him in haste, her small legs attempting to keep pace with her daddy’s big powerful ones. More shrieks came from mean daddy, but real daddy was controlling the body. Finally, they reached the brook.
“WHAT YOU DOING?” Black eyes widened with fear.
“KILLING TONGUE!” With that roar, daddy’s head went into the water with a big crash. Daddy’s hood got darker, red stuff seeping through it. Was that? No, daddy couldn’t. He couldn’t!
“Daddy…?” She called, slowly approaching the body of her father. “Daddy?” She called again, louder this time. No answer. She repeated the plea, only getting the brook’s babble in return. She called a fourth time, a songbird began to sing. Another cry for her father, more birds joined in. A final call and sun broke in through the dense trees, highlighting her father’s body like a valiant hero from a fairytale. She wailed at the top of her lungs, throwing herself onto her father’s lifeless body. She wailed all night, the other members of the herd finding her there come morning, unconscious over her father’s body, stains of tears and blood matting her perfect white coat.
“Where’s the mask?” The herd had been told the story by the frantic council members after hearing their desperate cries for help. They went out and searched for Lèpre as soon as her mother found her to be missing, fearing the worst had happened.
“Floated down the brook most likely, it’s for the best.” A murmur of agreement rippled through the herd as Angela, Lèpre’s eldest sister, dragged Lèpre off their dead father’s body.
Years passed, and no one had seen the mask since that day. Lèpre grew up to be a beautiful mare, looking so much like her father. She was scarred though, forever haunted by that day. She was unsuited for mating, the mere mention of the word “father” setting her off into an emotional flood of tears. Every day she would go to the brook and visit her father’s grave. Some say that she would tell the grave about how life was going in the realm of the living, her happy voice melding with the brook as she chatted away to the plank erected in Jacques’ memory.
One day though, a stallion that had been appointed as her guard witnessed an unspeakable horror. The mask he had only heard of in scary stories told by the colts was floating in front of Lèpre’s face, and she was speaking to it. She nodded and suddenly the mask flashed a black aura, Lèpre screaming in pain. The guard quickly ran to the gravesite, only to find his charge gone. Confused, he returned to the main pasture of the herd, finding all of its members killed.
“I will collapse the society that so hated my father and brought me this pain. With this mask, I shall destroy all you pious bastards!” A banshee’s shrill call erupted from behind him, his body quickly flinging itself around. There she was, Lèpre, the mare he secretly wished to love. “L-Lèpre, you’re alive. Thank Gods you’re okay…” He was cut off by sudden bile rising in his throat, spewing onto the ground in a mess of stomach acid and blood. He looked up at her, seeing Lèpre’s eyes had changed, like in the story of Jacque.
“Daddy was reluctant, I’m not. Tongue gives me his powers.” She cooed to the young stallion that was once again spewing up acidic liquids and precious red plasma. “Tongue can make anyone who looks into my eyes go crazy, or just kill them. Tata pretty boy.” She playfully chirped; her voice still shrill and ear-piercing. With a sick giggle she turned and walked away, eyes set on the rest of the lands. She would find that group of mares daddy had sex with and kill them too, like she had done with the council and the rest of the herd. And then she’d find the Kalona that brought Tongue to them, thank him, and then kill him.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 2:56 pm
My, what big teeth you have!
Soq Name: Sandulf (visigothic name meaning true wolf)
Soq Temper: delusional
Wolf's Name: Kerberos (name meaning demon of the pit)
Story: (1391 words)
Many of you have heard the story of little red riding hood and know how the big bad wolf gobbled Red and her granny up, but do you know why he did it? No of course not, no one ever cares about the villain they’re much too concerned with the little girl in his stomach. Now I’m sure many of you have also heard of the mental disease called schizophrenia, and for those of you not familiar with this disease it causes hallucinations, delusions, thought disorder, decrease in emotions and speaking, as well as poor memory and inability to pay attention. Now in the case of Sandulf, the real big bad wolf, this disease can accurately describe his behavior and what drove him to devour Red. Having been abused when he was young he didn’t exactly grow up quite as normal as one would have liked, but his mental state was horrific.
Gleaming yellow eyes peeked out of the bushes, which concealed a fearsome soquili, a wolf at his side. His dark fur was long and bristly and his features were similar to the animal that stood beside him. One could only expect a character like this to be quite vicious.
“Come on” Kerberos hissed in Sandulf’s ear eagerly as a young girl in red pranced through. “She and that grandmother of hers are planning on killing you so why don’t kill them before they get the chance?” The wolf snickered his words slurring occasionally.
In reality Kerberos was a mute, but a loyal one for Sandulf had helped him many years ago and since then he had remained by his side. He failed to even notice how strange his companion truly was, or perhaps he encouraged it like how Sandulf imagined.
Ears twitching the stallion nodded, he wasn’t in the mood to die so the girl must be taken care of. He could see the glittering knife she would do it with sticking out of her basket already, picture his own death as he was backed into a corner. It was a rather depressing thought that a little girl was trying to kill him, but it was survival of the fittest after all. He followed after the girl silently , glancing around anxiously as he walked.
“Everyone thought they were so sweet, but we know, we know what they really are” Kerberos’s voice snarled inside his head.
Sandulf glanced down at him with a frown, but Kerberos was in the same position as before, staring at him rather curiously. The stallion grinded his sharp teeth, Red was such a vile little wretch of a creature after all. “You know what Kerberos we should corner them and you can take their knife and I’ll… I’ll” he stomped his hoof and furrowed his brow trying to remember. “What was the plan again Kerberos?” he muttered.
“Idiot,” Kerberos sighed in his mind, “how many times do I have to tell you this? We go in and corner the old bat, then you rip her to shreds and dress up in her clothes. When the little girl comes in she won’t suspect a thing and BAM it all over.” The voice snickered quietly before it quieted abruptly.
Sandulf nodded, “got it.” He stepped out of the bushes and stalked towards the girl. “Well-“ he stopped before her and sniffed the air, which smelled sweetly of cake. “Little girl may I inquire as to where you are going with that delightful basket of goodies?” Sandulf’s face split into a grin.
“Nice touch” Kerberos hissed in his ear while the real Kerberos had remained in the bushes and wasn’t by Sandulf’s side like he thought he was.
Red, not knowing the danger of talking to wolves responded quite politely, “To my grandmother’s house of course.” She beamed looking up at the wolfish stallion.
“Ah…”Sandulf nodded attempting to look as if he was deep in thought. He lifted a hoof slowly and set it down, “does she happen to live far away?” he tilted his head to the side at an awkward angle.
Red nodded giggling slightly, “oh I might say so seeing as how she does live all the way in the next village.”
Kerberos let out a laugh, “what a foolish girl! Didn’t her mother ever tell her not to talk to strangers?!” He grinned wickedly at the girl.
Sandulf looked at the girl slightly irritated, “don’t you know you shouldn’t say such things to strangers?! Who knows what they might do to you!” he thought.
Kerberos glared at him, “none of that now,” he growled. “You will stick to the plan or I will kill you myself!”
Sandulf glanced around, there were far too many woodcutters int eh area to witness this horrid deed. “Well… perhaps I will visit her too, you could go one way and I another and we will race”
Red chuckled agreeing to the race before skipping off again on her merry way.
Kerberos looked at him irritated, “Coward.” He muttered before the hallucination disappeared. Meanwhile the real Kerberos had stepped out of the bushes now that the coast was clear and was looking up at him wondering where to next.
Sandulf frowned and ran as fast as he could to the grandmothers house, knowing perfectly well that Red would dilly dally on the way. Upon arriving at the house he banged on the door.
Now here is where the story starts to get askew…
Eventually, having convinced the granny that he was Red Sandulf wandered in. Red’s grandmother shocked at the sight of him passed out on her bed where she had been laying. Just as Sandulf moved forward looking rather puzzled a knock came on the door, it was red here to deliver the cake.
“Quick hide the evidence you fool!” Kerberos shouted.
Panicked Sandulf quickly dragged the woman off the bed and shoved her beneath it before going into her closet and squeezing into her clothes, he plopped down in her bed. “Who is it?” He called attempting to mimic her voice.
“Your granddaughter who has come to bring cake mother wishes to send to you” Red called back her voice quivering as she recognized the voice to be that of the wolfish beast she had met before.
“ Well come in my dear!” Sandulf called.
And so Red wandered in and upon seeing Sandulf in her grandmother’s clothes frowned.
“Grandmother, what big arms you have!”
“My arms are not big!” Sandulf snapped.
“Careful!” Kerberos snarled.
Red tilted her head slightly puzzled as to why her “grandmother” was so irritable. “Why grandmother, what big legs you have!” She stared up at him frowning.
Sandulf narrowed his eyes and attempted to sound like a sickly old woman, “I don’t have big legs my dear! You must be imagining things!”
Red frowned trying to keep from shaking as her “grandmother” growled at her. “Grandmother, what big ears you have!”
Sandulf crinkled up his nose in disgust, this girl was absolutely up to something, perhaps she was planning to kill her granny as well?
Kerberos narrowed his eyes, “pretend you don’t notice what she’s planning” he whispered.
Sandulf faked a chuckle “Ah silly child I don’t have big ears”
Red frowned, “grandmother why are you shouting?” she glanced around warily. “Your eyes are awfully big…” The little girl said, she was starting to get terribly worried as to what had happened to her actual grandmother and was hoping her distraction would give her enough time to escape.
The stallion was getting increasingly frustrated with this girl,” I’m not yelling. And for such huge eyes I really have terrible eyesight,” he said sarcastically, for he was sarcastic quite often.
Kerberos snickered crouched under the bed gnawing on the old ladies arm as he watched.
Red frowned, it was obvious he didn’t hear how loud he was being as the amount of decibels increased. “What big teeth you have!” She closed her eyes hoping this wouldn’t be the last thing she said, but it would all be worth it if her grandmother got away.
Furious Sandolf sprung from the bed and leapt at the girl, his teeth were around her neck right when the woodcutter burst in. Fearing that this was their plan all along Sandolf released the girl and fled with Kerberos, only to forget the whole thing the next day.
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