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 Posted: Fri May 27, 2011 10:34 pm
The Croatoan had wandered far from his swampy glade, having taken his mate's advice to venture out and see more of the world. He'd come across the strange dark forest not long ago, but now felt he'd been walking in it for hours. There was something about it that sparked his senses, something almost ethereal. Perhaps it was another place protected by the forest gods.
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Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 6:00 pm
 Though the sun still owned the sky above the canopy, the woods themselves were invariably darkness-riddled and chilled, shadows strewn in thickening piles the further the unwitting intruder traveled in their midst. Mephistopheles had been aware of him for quite some time now, the trees whispering without voices, updating him when he turned his attention away from more immediate concerns and listened. His sapling minions had a frustrating lack of detail to offer, their observations colored with jargon he had known when his curse had rooted him to the earth, references and gestures that slowly lost their clarity the further he grew away from them. There was nothing visual in their reports, no eyes to judge the incoming creature with, but they knew shapes, and they knew the soft, swift shift of a life distinguishable from their own. Not one of us, they murmured, and he gathered their scattered impressions into his head, sorting it into one coherent strand. It was tedious, but nonetheless useful for them to inform him of trespass. His perimeter was guarded at all times by webs of influence that trembled with every hoofbeat not his own, vibrations that reached him no matter where he stood. The elders might have derided him, but the young, scraggly trees that heaved themselves out of the ground and toward impossible sunlight were easily persuaded to help. That they died in droves was insignificant: there would always be more springing up underfoot, fighting for a time only to suffocate. It amused the demon for its hypocrisy, a forest that killed its young indiscriminately, yet it damned him for a similar crusade.
He moved silently through his domain, damp-swollen joints hindering him only slightly as he picked his way toward the presumptuous being. An unseasonable rain had slipped through the thinnest of breaches in the green ceiling earlier that day, writing sinuous and irritating sigils along his wood-clad body. While a drizzle would not necessarily waterlog his form, it did incite a measure of discomfort, one he would inflict on whatever manner of feebleminded beast he came across; and they were all disappointingly dense, no matter their pedigree or their rearing, whether they knew to fear him on sight or had to learn it through painstaking practice. Even drastically lowered expectations had not been met recently, and he had no delusions of them being satisfied in the near future.
Cover was ample when he finally arrived, sliding behind a knot of trees whose trunks swirled together with serpentine intimacy. The intruder bore a short rack of antlers, and his head and feet shone with an unnatural light that shed a halo upon the ground. It was by that cast that his meandering mouth could be seen, flesh stretched torturously back in a way that made Mephistopheles' warped maw curl. What was a deer, but not a deer? His build was too thick, the black tendrils of mane that cascaded around his shoulders implying some sort of crossbreed between stallion and doe. How the landscape and its inhabitants had changed since he last laid eyes on the outside world; it seemed anything and everyone could fornicate with whatever they pleased, their malformed offspring left to deal with the consequences of their decisions.
Despite having lost any discernible path long ago, the buck did not appear particularly concerned with his increasingly claustrophobic surroundings, a vague glaze to his lamplit eyes and the confidence in his gait speaking volumes to the perceptive monster. "Taking a tour of this place is inadvisable, more so in the absence of company. Yet the prospect seems to have acquired a certain popularity among the young as of late." His tone was flat and not completely menacing, but Mephistopheles saw no reason to feign even the most basic of pleasantries for now. "I've developed a theory, of course, but I am always willing to hear another's rationalizations. Do you think it is ignorance that propels you and yours into areas where you are unwelcome? Or is ill-placed curiosity more motivating? I uphold idiocy as a prime candidate, but by all means, enlighten me."
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Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 7:33 pm
The young cyrenei lifted his head at the voice, unsure where it was coming from. "Hello, voice. The Croatoan was not aware he had entered another's domain. Are you a forest god? Father was one, too." He moved to look about him, glowing antlers and eyes cutting arcs of light through the darkness.
"The Croatoan's mate bid him to venture out of his glade and see the world," the stallion said, still looking for the source of the voice. "He did not mean to tresspass."
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Posted: Tue Jun 28, 2011 6:52 pm
He watched as the buck's head twisted on his neck, searching for a body to place to his voice, for a clue as to what he was dealing with. The grim lights stuck in his bones and burning from his sockets would have been more problematic if the demon hadn't blended so well, stationary enough that the creature would have to look long and hard to spot him alongside his brethren. Yet another Soquili mistaking him for a god did not provoke nearly the same level of incredulity as the embellished statement of his own birth did. Surely he wasn't serious about his father being a divine being of the woods, not with his appalling mishmash of features and the stilted quality to his tone. Delusional, perhaps, or cursed as he was. There was another possibility, of course, but Mephistopheles found it inconceivable, nothing in this wretched thing's countenance leading him to believe that Laurelin had fallen from her hag-mother's womb with a brother following behind. His beautiful golden child followed by this monstrosity, sloshing around in the afterbirth. Disgust filled him at the idea, but it was tempered by a surge of judiciousness. The dimness bleeding into the hollows where his eyes had once resided sharpened in their efforts, ears dipping forward with calculated curiosity. What if, what if… it was less than ideal, and there was that tremor of revulsion just beneath the surface of the proposal, but he could hardly afford to be picky at this stage.
It would be a few silent heartbeats before he spoke again, but when he did it was closer to amusement than mockery. "The spawn of a god, you say. Fascinating. And you would be the Croatoan, sired from a pinch of pitch and the discarded sacs of glow-heavy insects." He moved, steps falling airy despite his hulking shape, neither drawing closer nor away from his target. "What of your mother, then? Did she come highly recommended, a virgin sacrifice, doe-eyed and homely? I assume you take after her." His mouth ran off insults of its volition as he examined the stallion closely, looking for a tell, a sign. It was clear that he fully expected to be answered on the subject of his other parent, however, regardless of how indelicate his phrasing became. Had this one's mother been a shade of strangled blue, pathetically feeble? Had she spent her days bedding a killer with nothing to show until his power had reached out and implanted his seed? The longer he gazed, the more the possibility dwindled. Merely another intruder, come to ease his sentence with a few moments of primitive entertainment.
Mephistopheles paused when the stranger spoke again, a sneer grating against his sharp maw. "Your mate," he spat, though the venom was nearly misdirected, disappointment welling eagerly into irritation. "I'll maintain my previous assumptions, in that case. And you have trespassed, regardless of your intention." The demon was almost tempted to leave him then and there, let him wander lost and without hope of escape until he finally collapsed. He'd employed such tactics in the past, and though he had one or two wanderers already braving the labyrinth, he sincerely doubted any of them would meet and collaborate to form an exit strategy. The forest was vast, and as unsentimental as he. Even if it had the ability to plot against him in so minor a way, it was unlikely to deliver on the threat.
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