Post by Fenrir on Nov 30, 2006 21:37:41 GMT -5
Many a moon had passed, and from the Forest niether whisper nor word of any stirring had occured. No great wreckage of tempestuous storms had vanquished the Wood's might nor had man ventured forth to sack the soil of it's proud residents. No; it was silence that had fallen on the Wood as one of it's most violatile residents had gone into a deep slumber. In the depths of the Wood that only few knew of was a great cavaren that leaked noxious fumes that would normally endanger the life of weaker mortals. However deep within this subterrainian lair a miniature landscape had been formed; bones littered the entrance as grim symbols of warning and atop the pile of these bones was an enormous skull.
Of what creature it had been torn from one couldn't tell, but it looked as if it was set up long ago by the ancients; as a warning and a proclaimation to those foolish enough to enter. Deeper into this alien landscape, there lay a colossal beast; it's shaggy fur raising and falling to the heart that beat within it's titanic chest. A dull swishing noise that wasn't too different from that of a broom could be heard, but that telltale sound was created by a large tail that swept against the hard floor of the cave. The single ear on the creature flicked lazily about in every direction, but still it was like a furry antenna that was just waiting to pick up the right signal. But if the sight of this abombination that didn't instill timorous thoughts in thine breast; the idea behind him should.
Murderous; this being was completely for the spilling of blood whether in war or in peace, and he could never get enough of it to satisfy his monstrous appetite. Pugnacious; the wolf that lay in slumber on the floor of this caveran wouldn't pass up any situation no matter the odds if he was given the chance to fight. The blood of warriors clearly ran through this beast's veins. Why he did not surge forth in his furred panopoly to engage the bipedal foe, but sleep in deep slumber; the answer was the noxious gases that drifted around him as lazy vapor. Twas this sulfurous devilry that trapped the Wolf here in slumber; until some event awoke him to be unleashed on the outside world once more as a harbringer of Misery, Pain, Suffering, and Devastation.
And so Fenris Fenrir slept, until the trumpets of Angels sounded out their melodious calls on Judgement Day and Good battles with Evil until one side wins. However, Fenrir fought on neither side nowadays; neither side truely wanted him as an ally and wouldn't back his own ventures. Nor did they want him an enemy, so they generally let him lurk in the dense mess of trees that constituted as his Wood. And thus the silver-grey wolf slept on, his teeth bared as he dreamt of past conquests and the glory days in England.
And just seeing this scene almost made one think of the old verse...
Of what creature it had been torn from one couldn't tell, but it looked as if it was set up long ago by the ancients; as a warning and a proclaimation to those foolish enough to enter. Deeper into this alien landscape, there lay a colossal beast; it's shaggy fur raising and falling to the heart that beat within it's titanic chest. A dull swishing noise that wasn't too different from that of a broom could be heard, but that telltale sound was created by a large tail that swept against the hard floor of the cave. The single ear on the creature flicked lazily about in every direction, but still it was like a furry antenna that was just waiting to pick up the right signal. But if the sight of this abombination that didn't instill timorous thoughts in thine breast; the idea behind him should.
Murderous; this being was completely for the spilling of blood whether in war or in peace, and he could never get enough of it to satisfy his monstrous appetite. Pugnacious; the wolf that lay in slumber on the floor of this caveran wouldn't pass up any situation no matter the odds if he was given the chance to fight. The blood of warriors clearly ran through this beast's veins. Why he did not surge forth in his furred panopoly to engage the bipedal foe, but sleep in deep slumber; the answer was the noxious gases that drifted around him as lazy vapor. Twas this sulfurous devilry that trapped the Wolf here in slumber; until some event awoke him to be unleashed on the outside world once more as a harbringer of Misery, Pain, Suffering, and Devastation.
And so Fenris Fenrir slept, until the trumpets of Angels sounded out their melodious calls on Judgement Day and Good battles with Evil until one side wins. However, Fenrir fought on neither side nowadays; neither side truely wanted him as an ally and wouldn't back his own ventures. Nor did they want him an enemy, so they generally let him lurk in the dense mess of trees that constituted as his Wood. And thus the silver-grey wolf slept on, his teeth bared as he dreamt of past conquests and the glory days in England.
And just seeing this scene almost made one think of the old verse...
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'