Condemned
Posted: Mon Dec 23, 2002 8:17 pm
"I will not condone the actions of our pack, Nekita." His voice yelled, bellowed mightily from his chest. His hand beat upon his right breast, as Scythe paced back and forth, his eyes locked upon the woman, known as Nekita. He snorted, his air left him swiftly, before he would come to stop before her.
"What gave you the right, the power, to free that Wyrm-spawn, hm?" He growled outward, proving his dominance by being mere inches from her face. He was slightly tilted to the side, however, with his fists in tight balls at his side.
The woman made no sound, she could hardly breath.
"I made a judgement call. Since, you decided to stay back with the weak ones." How her tone bit him deeply. He took a few steps backwards, as his massive body, that Crinos embodiment, glared down upon her.
"I should eat your heart for that, Nekita. You know damn well that what I do, I do for the betterment of the pack, or our -tribe.- If not for my judgement, you would still have been a pup, lonely and dying in the wilderness." He stepped forward once again, as his hand came. Those dagger-like talons came to her chin, and raised her human head up.
"Come now, Nekita. Show pride in what you have done. You have released Wyrm upon the Umbra. And, now, I must convene my night with the Seere's, searching out the devil himself. All because you made a judgement call." That silenced her instantly. How truthful his words had come. With a growl, he left her standing near the fire, to dwell upon her thoughts. To live in the tears which flowed. He had not meant to be so rough, but in order for no other Garou to take charge of him, he would show no sign of weakness.
He stepped upon all fours, until his body was that of a wolf. A beautiful, four-foot standing wolf, with grey and yellow eyes. His fur such a deep red, a rarity upon the Red Talon's. He met with the Theurges, the spirit shaman's of his pack. He sat upon his haunches, and spoke with the tongue of the mind.
~My friends, my comrades. What hell have we unleashed, and what must I do to correct it?~ He asked with his mind, as each of the eight wolves stared upon him. True, he was the alpha of the pack, and yet, he needed guidance. He had not lived this long to not accept it. The time, however, for his predescesor to step forward. That battle would be hard fought. The wolfen shaman's glanced between themselves, before they turned to Scythe, and let forth their grim reply.
~How wise you have become. The pack is proud to call you as their aide. But what you have done is allowed the youth of run the pack. This can not be overlooked. For the spirits to be quelled, for great Wolf, and kind Luna to be merciful, you must hunt the Wyrm-spawn within the Umbra, use not your Gift's, and sever it's head. You will be allowed these gifts.~ Each pushed forward their gift to Scythe.
The first to his right pushed forward a spear, made from the bone of a bear. And he spoke, in a low, quiet, raspy voice.
~With this spear, you will show no mercy to the foe.~
The second afterward, pushed forward a small box. Embrodiered upon it was the symbol of a Weaver spirit.
~This Gift will protect you from the Weaver's web.~
The third pushed forward an amulet, which was similar to fire opal, wrapped in a brown vine.
~This will give you the sight of the eagle above.~
The fourth came forward, and with its paw marked Scythe's right shoulder.
~With my symbol, you will be Gifted with the spider's agility, and innateness to walk along any surface unhindered.~
The fifth came forward, and placed its paw upon his left shoulder.
~With my symbol, you will be Gifted with the bear's strength, to smite down all villainry meaning harm against you.~
Each had contributed their gift, each of those five held the same color pelt. Black, with white bands, or rings if you will, wrapping around his skull. It was the sixth whom makred the difference, a snow white color, with blade rings along her left foreleg.
~With my gift..~ She spoke in his mind, touching her nose to his. ~..You will have the eyes of the eagle, the sound of the fox, and the smell of the wolf.~
He could almost hear her smile to him. She stepped back, and a hulking, shaggy creature stepped forward. He was old, his grey fur told the tale of many a battle he won, and many he still held scars from. He placed his right paw to his left breast, and wiped downward to his right hip.
~With my spirit, I will guide you upon your journey. I will be your eyes when you can not see, your ears when you can not hear, and your nose when you can not smell.~ He stepped backward, his voice was raspy still, coughing slightly.
And the eighth. How he idolized great Redclaw. He stepped forward in the dire wolf skin, and stood over Scythe. He, submissively, knelt downward. The air seemed to grow stale now, everything was a mere blur. As his voice bellowed, much the same as Scythe's, yet with age behind it.
~And I give you our last Gift. My spirit. I give myself to Luna, to Gaia and great Wolf. I give my spirit to ensure your safe return, no matter the outcome.~ As his words ended, there was a whimpering sound from him, and his strength left him. A wind picked up, and Scythe could feel his Rage, his strength, his will inside himself. He opened his eyes, staring upon the once living Redclaw. He could not help but grieve but once. He lowered his eyes, whimpered, rubbed his nose against his, before it happened.
No, he did not stand, he remained knelt within that cave. Paw prints, claw swipe, and facial markings showed his Gifted powers. With one mighty hand, he gripped that spear. With the other, he placed that amulet around his thick neck. He opened the box, as a mist escaped it. He breathed in deeply, and took in the warming vapors. They filled his lungs, cleared his mind.
Everything went into a blur. Where had he been taken? The Umbra. He could see his companions, and yet they were merely faint images. He could see their blur, and he knew they could feel his presence. Moving to stand at his towering twelve-foot height, he raised the spear above his head, and let forth a howl. It twas no ordinary howl. This howl alerted the Weaver-spider's, the Umbral Spirits, and the Wyrm, hiding deep within, that he was on the prowl. Woe to the creature whom inflicted his wrath. With mighty steps, he ran into the dark blue and purple blotches, known as the Umbra..
Stone Sour - Cold
"What gave you the right, the power, to free that Wyrm-spawn, hm?" He growled outward, proving his dominance by being mere inches from her face. He was slightly tilted to the side, however, with his fists in tight balls at his side.
The woman made no sound, she could hardly breath.
"I made a judgement call. Since, you decided to stay back with the weak ones." How her tone bit him deeply. He took a few steps backwards, as his massive body, that Crinos embodiment, glared down upon her.
"I should eat your heart for that, Nekita. You know damn well that what I do, I do for the betterment of the pack, or our -tribe.- If not for my judgement, you would still have been a pup, lonely and dying in the wilderness." He stepped forward once again, as his hand came. Those dagger-like talons came to her chin, and raised her human head up.
"Come now, Nekita. Show pride in what you have done. You have released Wyrm upon the Umbra. And, now, I must convene my night with the Seere's, searching out the devil himself. All because you made a judgement call." That silenced her instantly. How truthful his words had come. With a growl, he left her standing near the fire, to dwell upon her thoughts. To live in the tears which flowed. He had not meant to be so rough, but in order for no other Garou to take charge of him, he would show no sign of weakness.
He stepped upon all fours, until his body was that of a wolf. A beautiful, four-foot standing wolf, with grey and yellow eyes. His fur such a deep red, a rarity upon the Red Talon's. He met with the Theurges, the spirit shaman's of his pack. He sat upon his haunches, and spoke with the tongue of the mind.
~My friends, my comrades. What hell have we unleashed, and what must I do to correct it?~ He asked with his mind, as each of the eight wolves stared upon him. True, he was the alpha of the pack, and yet, he needed guidance. He had not lived this long to not accept it. The time, however, for his predescesor to step forward. That battle would be hard fought. The wolfen shaman's glanced between themselves, before they turned to Scythe, and let forth their grim reply.
~How wise you have become. The pack is proud to call you as their aide. But what you have done is allowed the youth of run the pack. This can not be overlooked. For the spirits to be quelled, for great Wolf, and kind Luna to be merciful, you must hunt the Wyrm-spawn within the Umbra, use not your Gift's, and sever it's head. You will be allowed these gifts.~ Each pushed forward their gift to Scythe.
The first to his right pushed forward a spear, made from the bone of a bear. And he spoke, in a low, quiet, raspy voice.
~With this spear, you will show no mercy to the foe.~
The second afterward, pushed forward a small box. Embrodiered upon it was the symbol of a Weaver spirit.
~This Gift will protect you from the Weaver's web.~
The third pushed forward an amulet, which was similar to fire opal, wrapped in a brown vine.
~This will give you the sight of the eagle above.~
The fourth came forward, and with its paw marked Scythe's right shoulder.
~With my symbol, you will be Gifted with the spider's agility, and innateness to walk along any surface unhindered.~
The fifth came forward, and placed its paw upon his left shoulder.
~With my symbol, you will be Gifted with the bear's strength, to smite down all villainry meaning harm against you.~
Each had contributed their gift, each of those five held the same color pelt. Black, with white bands, or rings if you will, wrapping around his skull. It was the sixth whom makred the difference, a snow white color, with blade rings along her left foreleg.
~With my gift..~ She spoke in his mind, touching her nose to his. ~..You will have the eyes of the eagle, the sound of the fox, and the smell of the wolf.~
He could almost hear her smile to him. She stepped back, and a hulking, shaggy creature stepped forward. He was old, his grey fur told the tale of many a battle he won, and many he still held scars from. He placed his right paw to his left breast, and wiped downward to his right hip.
~With my spirit, I will guide you upon your journey. I will be your eyes when you can not see, your ears when you can not hear, and your nose when you can not smell.~ He stepped backward, his voice was raspy still, coughing slightly.
And the eighth. How he idolized great Redclaw. He stepped forward in the dire wolf skin, and stood over Scythe. He, submissively, knelt downward. The air seemed to grow stale now, everything was a mere blur. As his voice bellowed, much the same as Scythe's, yet with age behind it.
~And I give you our last Gift. My spirit. I give myself to Luna, to Gaia and great Wolf. I give my spirit to ensure your safe return, no matter the outcome.~ As his words ended, there was a whimpering sound from him, and his strength left him. A wind picked up, and Scythe could feel his Rage, his strength, his will inside himself. He opened his eyes, staring upon the once living Redclaw. He could not help but grieve but once. He lowered his eyes, whimpered, rubbed his nose against his, before it happened.
No, he did not stand, he remained knelt within that cave. Paw prints, claw swipe, and facial markings showed his Gifted powers. With one mighty hand, he gripped that spear. With the other, he placed that amulet around his thick neck. He opened the box, as a mist escaped it. He breathed in deeply, and took in the warming vapors. They filled his lungs, cleared his mind.
Everything went into a blur. Where had he been taken? The Umbra. He could see his companions, and yet they were merely faint images. He could see their blur, and he knew they could feel his presence. Moving to stand at his towering twelve-foot height, he raised the spear above his head, and let forth a howl. It twas no ordinary howl. This howl alerted the Weaver-spider's, the Umbral Spirits, and the Wyrm, hiding deep within, that he was on the prowl. Woe to the creature whom inflicted his wrath. With mighty steps, he ran into the dark blue and purple blotches, known as the Umbra..
I wish I was, too dead to care.
If indeed I cared at all.
Shell forgotten with these memories,
so you fed me ***** to digest.
I wish I had a reason,
My thoughts are open season.
For this I gave up trying,
One good turn deserves my time.
You don't need to bother, I don't need to be.
Stone Sour - Cold