Post by Fenrir on Feb 9, 2006 17:20:55 GMT -5
It had started off as an ordinary day transversing the urban jungle gym that made up the marketplace known as Triangle Tunnel. The men were jovially clapping each other over the back after they survived another bout of fire whiskey; each of them swaying shakily to some undecipherible symphony. But woe were they the moment that their wives returned to them; slapping them upside the head to clear out their stupidity and drunkeness. The wives had been shopping at various store, buying a new broomstick for little Juanita or an owl for young Pablo. Nothing seemed to halt the madness of these bartering fiends; haggling in groups that would make passerby think of them as a gaggle of hens churning impatiently as they waited to be fed. Their children however, bless their little souls, ran about to and fro; enjoying themselves with some of the smaller comforts of life and in their innonence they made the notion of Humanity seem magnificient.
But that would not change the biased mind of one particular shopper; the lycan Fenris Fenrir to some and the Wolfman Fenrir to others was on a miniscule errand for the one that remained in hidding. With the raising of every Sun, Fenrir had begun to relent his rash choice in alliegences for this one was leading no where fast. He was no longer given the choice tasks of devouring some opposer to the Cause, kidnapping an important icon of the enemy, or even being a frontline warrior. No, Fenrir had been reduced to a bloodhound and a packhorse; "Fetch this Fenrir" and "Sniff out this Fenrir" was all that was required of him for the moment and being in such an idle state infuriated him.
However Fenrir stopped in his dealings with a dealer of relics and cartography when his lone ear twitched with recognition as numerous sounds began to fill the air. It was the sound of mankind's ever-lasting hatred of those who rejected their ideals and then took action against those heretics and heathens. In short the sounds of battle began to echo throughout the furthest part of the Tunnel, drunkards and shoppers slowly picking up that something was amiss; mothers started crying out the names of their children as the children ran weeping into their mother's protective embrace. The relics dealer, a ratty looking man, was evidently nervous by the sudden sounds of commotion and keep saying,"Sir please hurry up and make up your mind". Sparing a glance at the being that was bound with flimesy, human flesh; Fenrir considered deleting this nuisance from the world in one swift motion, but that would ruin his only available source so the man would have to be granted amneisty. That is until Fenrir was through with him.
The piercing screams increased in volume as a crowd surged through the streets as they made for an exit that was no more than 50 feet behind Fenrir. The shoppers that were still only realizing the danger that they were in were shoved aside by the panicking crowd, but they managed to scurry to their feet just as an explosive bang went off from where the main commotion was originating from. Grabbing the relics dealer's robes in his left hand, Fenrir lefted the quivering man into the air so that the 5'3" shopkeeper could gaze into the black pools of hate eternal that were the eyes of Fenris Fenrir. "Mr. Thompson; it would seem that I cannot hurry up; for something has rapidly decreased the time that I can spare you. But here is what I have decided on; you will take what you promised me and what other items of value that you can and flee to Valencia. Stay low; keep only to yourself and in time I shall come for what I asked of you. If you argue against this; you shall be silenced and I shall take what I need. So do you comprehend what I ask of you Mr. Thompson, or do I have to advance the purchase immediately with no profit for yourself?", commanded the giant lycan; every word that ended a sentence lashed out with a bark. Mr. Thompson ceased his struggling, and nodded stupidly as he babbled, "Yes Sir! Crystal clear Sir! Right as rain Sir! Perfectly...". This facade of appeasement tired Fenrir and he soon dropped the sweating human in a crumpled heap while saying, "Then go Mr. Thompson; stop your babbling and be a man, for many greater than you have proven themselves to be, yet you; you let yourself be a woman. There is no honor in such behavior; so leave and look to my coming on the 13th day after the full moon."
Fenrir strode away from the anxious relics collector, who moments later had packed what merchandise he could and passed beneath the arched exit that lead out of the Triangle Tunnel. His new course lead him toward the sounds of War, and with every footfall his mind started to become increasingly unable; for the bloodlust was filling him. On Fenrir's path to the main square, a young child of seven years was hurled in front of him and 5 darkly-robed men menaced the tearful girl with their wands. They took one glance at Fenrir and paid him no heed; perhaps because his mostly black attire could've linked him to their side or perhaps they were too preoccupied in tormenting so little a thing as this girl. No honor in the race of men, that was all Fenrir needed to console his heart as he walked away yet a sudden bark caused the Lord of the Hunt to turn in his tracks.
A mixed breed had jumped out from behind a trash recepticle and angrily sank it's small teeth into the leg of one of the robed men. This girl had been kind to the small dog; she had sheltered him in winter and feed him in the spring. So it was only true and just to stand by the side of his friend in her time of need, but the poor creature hadn't much time at all. The wizard who had been bitten pointed his wand at the little dog and bellowed out in a terrible voice, "Crucio!". Instantaneously, the small canine released it's grip on the leg of the wizard and was thrown into spasms of tantalizing pain on the ground. The bones in it's fragile form popped out of place; vessels ruptured and fur seemed to sizzle, yet as the men turned their boyish attention onto the suffering creature they had invoked the wrath of a much larger creature; one that had no qualms about the consumpation of man.
With a roar that resembled the very roar that Tyr bellowed out when his namesake, the Wolf God Fenrir, bit off his hand, Fenrir hurled himself onto the nearest wizard. He raised his right hand over his head, intent on smashing the head of his target into a pulp and now the task would be easier; for on his right hand were several bars of lead wrapped by leather around his hand. The typical Roman boxing glove; a newly favoured tool of Fenrir's, though he did have to wear it for another reason. Fenrir had finally gained the trust of the wolf pack that dwelt in his Wood, but in turn he recieved a grievious wound on his right hand from the Alpha male of the pack; it was merely a test to see if he was worthy to lead them and Fenrir had passed with flying colors.
Only the little girl that nervously shook, terrified to her wits end, saw Fenrir hurl himself at one of the men and let out a shriek; but it was too late for any warning. The targeted man's parietal bone was smashed into his sphenoid and temperol bones; resulting in his brains being throughly mashed in a mere matter of seconds. Gore splattered everywhere and the startled comrades of the dead man scattered before the ferocity of the Beast. The little girl was frozen to her spot in fear, but Fenrir ignored her as he knelt beside the now-expired body of the valient mutt. Wiping off what blood he could from the loyal canine, Fenrir closed the sightless eyes that stared in unimaginable horror while saying, "Rest in peace my son. Your sacrifice shall not be forgotten; many a mortal will soon accompany you to the depths of Hell as your guard of Honor. Sleep and be at ease."
Standing to his fullest, Fenrir's eyes blazed forth like beacons of warning; telling all not to trifle with this being, but it mattered not because he would now trifle with them. He started to walk after the remaining four wizards, fury apparent in all this features and as if he were a God of War; Fenrir let out an ululating howl and began the Hunt. As the raven-haired man chased after those cowards that would slay a canine in his presence, the form that Fenrir loathed was shed and the one that he treasured emerged. His human legs shortened as his arms started to turn into forelimbs; his face began to take on the shape of a wolf's and his raven-haired beard turned into silvery-grey in accordance to the rest of the fur that began to grow. He increased in size, his tail burst out from his rear, and his lone ear became pointed for at last he had metamorphized into his other form. That of a towering wolf of 8' from shoulder blade to the ground with cavernous jaws; all the while slavering as he hunted down his prey.
The first of the fleeing men experienced a sudden jerk and to his horror, his left leg had been pulled out of it's socket and now was caught between the canines of a colossal wolf. The wizard screamed out in terror and pain, alerting his comrades, but not saving himself for Fenrir silenced the pitiful wailing by stomping his right paw through the wizard's nose. The others wasted no time as the life of their colleuge expired; they fired off stunning spells in a futile attempt to stem the fury of Fenris Fenrir, but to no avail for like all magical creatures he was left unaffected by most minor spells. Within a minute, two more wizards had fallen victim to Fenrir's unquenchable desire for human flesh. One was expiring in a pool of his own blood that flowed forth from puncture wounds that started at his lower neck and ended at his upper stomach. The second had the misfortune of being directly in the path of the cavernous maw of Fenrir and was currently being digested; his legs weakly kicking as the rest of him was being dissolved in the wolf's monsterous stomach.
However the third had changed his tactics and muttered some spell that Fenrir had never heard before, and in a flash; small wounds erupted all over his body. Blood sprayed the nearby buildings and the loud howls of the injured wolf were enough to drive any shoppers that still lingered out of his vicinity. Fenris wavered and collasped to his side; his cunning eyes closing in what seemed like the long sleep. The sole spellcaster was encouraged by this and drew from the innards of his robes a silver dagger; to make an end of Fenris Fenrir. Yet as he knelt besides the beast to make a thrust at it's heart, Fenris' eyelids popped open with blinding speed and his jaws opened wide; snapping off the arm that clutched the dagger. Desparately did the crippled man backpeddle to a spot where he thought he would be safe, but Fenrir's ruse had ended and he rose to his paws; the mortified man fled back to the main square.
He no longer ran; his towering body still was covered in wounds, but the bleeding had slowed down for it was the gift of the Lycan that was healing him; the gift of Regeneration. Though it was not immediate, Fenrir could take more damage than any man and heal 5 times as fast. So the Hunter made his way in pursuit of the sole survivor, but he found the man's body just on the outskirts of the building fray; having too much of his liquid life drained from his body. Now Fenrir stared at the maelstrom of men that battled in the square; there were unnamed faces that fought against each other, but there was one face out of the fueding crowd that the lycan did recoginize. The Lightening Mage was here and how exhausted he seemed, but he was not Fenrir's concern for now the nearest battalions of battling security wizards and those of the Society of Shadows had turned to face him. Their fraile forms distinctively paled at the sight of a nightmare apearing before their eyes and for a moment their fighting was forgotten. Only one thought filled their minds; to flee as far from that giant as possible, and whether they were friend or foe it mattered not as long as they didn't get in each other's way.
So as about 5 of the Shadows and 7 of the Security turned tail and fled down an alley, the Lord of the Hunt threw back his massive head and let out the braying howl that many from the old days, including Windwaltz, would remember; for now that his burning spyglasses of wrath spotted prey he was bound to follow. And so Fenris Fenrir, spurred on by his barbaric nature, pursued the fleeing mortals for it was what the Hunt demanded of him. It would only be a matter of time before these men were carrion for the ravens and crows, but he would return for more; for once he began Fenris Fenrir never left the demands of the Hunt uncompleted.
But that would not change the biased mind of one particular shopper; the lycan Fenris Fenrir to some and the Wolfman Fenrir to others was on a miniscule errand for the one that remained in hidding. With the raising of every Sun, Fenrir had begun to relent his rash choice in alliegences for this one was leading no where fast. He was no longer given the choice tasks of devouring some opposer to the Cause, kidnapping an important icon of the enemy, or even being a frontline warrior. No, Fenrir had been reduced to a bloodhound and a packhorse; "Fetch this Fenrir" and "Sniff out this Fenrir" was all that was required of him for the moment and being in such an idle state infuriated him.
However Fenrir stopped in his dealings with a dealer of relics and cartography when his lone ear twitched with recognition as numerous sounds began to fill the air. It was the sound of mankind's ever-lasting hatred of those who rejected their ideals and then took action against those heretics and heathens. In short the sounds of battle began to echo throughout the furthest part of the Tunnel, drunkards and shoppers slowly picking up that something was amiss; mothers started crying out the names of their children as the children ran weeping into their mother's protective embrace. The relics dealer, a ratty looking man, was evidently nervous by the sudden sounds of commotion and keep saying,"Sir please hurry up and make up your mind". Sparing a glance at the being that was bound with flimesy, human flesh; Fenrir considered deleting this nuisance from the world in one swift motion, but that would ruin his only available source so the man would have to be granted amneisty. That is until Fenrir was through with him.
The piercing screams increased in volume as a crowd surged through the streets as they made for an exit that was no more than 50 feet behind Fenrir. The shoppers that were still only realizing the danger that they were in were shoved aside by the panicking crowd, but they managed to scurry to their feet just as an explosive bang went off from where the main commotion was originating from. Grabbing the relics dealer's robes in his left hand, Fenrir lefted the quivering man into the air so that the 5'3" shopkeeper could gaze into the black pools of hate eternal that were the eyes of Fenris Fenrir. "Mr. Thompson; it would seem that I cannot hurry up; for something has rapidly decreased the time that I can spare you. But here is what I have decided on; you will take what you promised me and what other items of value that you can and flee to Valencia. Stay low; keep only to yourself and in time I shall come for what I asked of you. If you argue against this; you shall be silenced and I shall take what I need. So do you comprehend what I ask of you Mr. Thompson, or do I have to advance the purchase immediately with no profit for yourself?", commanded the giant lycan; every word that ended a sentence lashed out with a bark. Mr. Thompson ceased his struggling, and nodded stupidly as he babbled, "Yes Sir! Crystal clear Sir! Right as rain Sir! Perfectly...". This facade of appeasement tired Fenrir and he soon dropped the sweating human in a crumpled heap while saying, "Then go Mr. Thompson; stop your babbling and be a man, for many greater than you have proven themselves to be, yet you; you let yourself be a woman. There is no honor in such behavior; so leave and look to my coming on the 13th day after the full moon."
Fenrir strode away from the anxious relics collector, who moments later had packed what merchandise he could and passed beneath the arched exit that lead out of the Triangle Tunnel. His new course lead him toward the sounds of War, and with every footfall his mind started to become increasingly unable; for the bloodlust was filling him. On Fenrir's path to the main square, a young child of seven years was hurled in front of him and 5 darkly-robed men menaced the tearful girl with their wands. They took one glance at Fenrir and paid him no heed; perhaps because his mostly black attire could've linked him to their side or perhaps they were too preoccupied in tormenting so little a thing as this girl. No honor in the race of men, that was all Fenrir needed to console his heart as he walked away yet a sudden bark caused the Lord of the Hunt to turn in his tracks.
A mixed breed had jumped out from behind a trash recepticle and angrily sank it's small teeth into the leg of one of the robed men. This girl had been kind to the small dog; she had sheltered him in winter and feed him in the spring. So it was only true and just to stand by the side of his friend in her time of need, but the poor creature hadn't much time at all. The wizard who had been bitten pointed his wand at the little dog and bellowed out in a terrible voice, "Crucio!". Instantaneously, the small canine released it's grip on the leg of the wizard and was thrown into spasms of tantalizing pain on the ground. The bones in it's fragile form popped out of place; vessels ruptured and fur seemed to sizzle, yet as the men turned their boyish attention onto the suffering creature they had invoked the wrath of a much larger creature; one that had no qualms about the consumpation of man.
With a roar that resembled the very roar that Tyr bellowed out when his namesake, the Wolf God Fenrir, bit off his hand, Fenrir hurled himself onto the nearest wizard. He raised his right hand over his head, intent on smashing the head of his target into a pulp and now the task would be easier; for on his right hand were several bars of lead wrapped by leather around his hand. The typical Roman boxing glove; a newly favoured tool of Fenrir's, though he did have to wear it for another reason. Fenrir had finally gained the trust of the wolf pack that dwelt in his Wood, but in turn he recieved a grievious wound on his right hand from the Alpha male of the pack; it was merely a test to see if he was worthy to lead them and Fenrir had passed with flying colors.
Only the little girl that nervously shook, terrified to her wits end, saw Fenrir hurl himself at one of the men and let out a shriek; but it was too late for any warning. The targeted man's parietal bone was smashed into his sphenoid and temperol bones; resulting in his brains being throughly mashed in a mere matter of seconds. Gore splattered everywhere and the startled comrades of the dead man scattered before the ferocity of the Beast. The little girl was frozen to her spot in fear, but Fenrir ignored her as he knelt beside the now-expired body of the valient mutt. Wiping off what blood he could from the loyal canine, Fenrir closed the sightless eyes that stared in unimaginable horror while saying, "Rest in peace my son. Your sacrifice shall not be forgotten; many a mortal will soon accompany you to the depths of Hell as your guard of Honor. Sleep and be at ease."
Standing to his fullest, Fenrir's eyes blazed forth like beacons of warning; telling all not to trifle with this being, but it mattered not because he would now trifle with them. He started to walk after the remaining four wizards, fury apparent in all this features and as if he were a God of War; Fenrir let out an ululating howl and began the Hunt. As the raven-haired man chased after those cowards that would slay a canine in his presence, the form that Fenrir loathed was shed and the one that he treasured emerged. His human legs shortened as his arms started to turn into forelimbs; his face began to take on the shape of a wolf's and his raven-haired beard turned into silvery-grey in accordance to the rest of the fur that began to grow. He increased in size, his tail burst out from his rear, and his lone ear became pointed for at last he had metamorphized into his other form. That of a towering wolf of 8' from shoulder blade to the ground with cavernous jaws; all the while slavering as he hunted down his prey.
The first of the fleeing men experienced a sudden jerk and to his horror, his left leg had been pulled out of it's socket and now was caught between the canines of a colossal wolf. The wizard screamed out in terror and pain, alerting his comrades, but not saving himself for Fenrir silenced the pitiful wailing by stomping his right paw through the wizard's nose. The others wasted no time as the life of their colleuge expired; they fired off stunning spells in a futile attempt to stem the fury of Fenris Fenrir, but to no avail for like all magical creatures he was left unaffected by most minor spells. Within a minute, two more wizards had fallen victim to Fenrir's unquenchable desire for human flesh. One was expiring in a pool of his own blood that flowed forth from puncture wounds that started at his lower neck and ended at his upper stomach. The second had the misfortune of being directly in the path of the cavernous maw of Fenrir and was currently being digested; his legs weakly kicking as the rest of him was being dissolved in the wolf's monsterous stomach.
However the third had changed his tactics and muttered some spell that Fenrir had never heard before, and in a flash; small wounds erupted all over his body. Blood sprayed the nearby buildings and the loud howls of the injured wolf were enough to drive any shoppers that still lingered out of his vicinity. Fenris wavered and collasped to his side; his cunning eyes closing in what seemed like the long sleep. The sole spellcaster was encouraged by this and drew from the innards of his robes a silver dagger; to make an end of Fenris Fenrir. Yet as he knelt besides the beast to make a thrust at it's heart, Fenris' eyelids popped open with blinding speed and his jaws opened wide; snapping off the arm that clutched the dagger. Desparately did the crippled man backpeddle to a spot where he thought he would be safe, but Fenrir's ruse had ended and he rose to his paws; the mortified man fled back to the main square.
He no longer ran; his towering body still was covered in wounds, but the bleeding had slowed down for it was the gift of the Lycan that was healing him; the gift of Regeneration. Though it was not immediate, Fenrir could take more damage than any man and heal 5 times as fast. So the Hunter made his way in pursuit of the sole survivor, but he found the man's body just on the outskirts of the building fray; having too much of his liquid life drained from his body. Now Fenrir stared at the maelstrom of men that battled in the square; there were unnamed faces that fought against each other, but there was one face out of the fueding crowd that the lycan did recoginize. The Lightening Mage was here and how exhausted he seemed, but he was not Fenrir's concern for now the nearest battalions of battling security wizards and those of the Society of Shadows had turned to face him. Their fraile forms distinctively paled at the sight of a nightmare apearing before their eyes and for a moment their fighting was forgotten. Only one thought filled their minds; to flee as far from that giant as possible, and whether they were friend or foe it mattered not as long as they didn't get in each other's way.
So as about 5 of the Shadows and 7 of the Security turned tail and fled down an alley, the Lord of the Hunt threw back his massive head and let out the braying howl that many from the old days, including Windwaltz, would remember; for now that his burning spyglasses of wrath spotted prey he was bound to follow. And so Fenris Fenrir, spurred on by his barbaric nature, pursued the fleeing mortals for it was what the Hunt demanded of him. It would only be a matter of time before these men were carrion for the ravens and crows, but he would return for more; for once he began Fenris Fenrir never left the demands of the Hunt uncompleted.