The Cry of the Black Birds ((open to all))

[Warklaw]

((open to any/all who want to fight with or against me. This does have a story, so be patient))

"WAAAAAGH!!!!" The last Orc cried his death-roar as Fenrir's Fang cut his thick skull to the teeth. The enternally cold, black blade with shimmering blue runes made a sickening slurping sound as it slid from the crude creatures head, dragging ropes of brains with it.

Ayerwulf stalked around his killing field, polishing off the days work. One Orc soldier was crawling on his one unbroken arm, dragging the shredded remains of his legs behind him when he felt the freezing bite of steel sever his spine, then the monster felt no more.
The last of the Warklaw tribe dragged the twelve greenskin corpses into a pile and set fire to them, the last thing Ayerwulf wanted was for one stubborn Green to regenerate and stab him in the back.

Ayerwulf found the Orc raiders looting what was left of a Pilgrimage, these holy men would have died either way, either it be by the crude metal weapons of an Orc or by the cold and merciless hand of Ayerwulf, the heretics would have died for their blasphemies. As if the mighty Fenrir had read his Crusaider's thoughts, a priestess emerged from the wreckage, her white robes stained with blood.

"May the gods bless thine soul, warrior. You have saved...us...uh.." Her speech slowed and eventually stopped once she stared down the length of Ayerwulf's mighty blade and into his eyes, shimmering blue chips of the coldest ice.

"Where is it?" Ayerwulf Warklaw inquired, pressing the still blood-parched sward against the young womans flesh. He was looking for the one artifact that could lead him, the last of his people, to salvation; but it lay in many pieces.

"Where is what, what in the name of the gods...?" The priestess was panicing, she knew that, in her faith, she wouldn't be salvaged if she was slain now, too much sleeping around for that.
Ayerwulf snarled, barring his extraordinary lupine fangs.

"Don't play coy, bitch! Fenrir hates blasphemers, liars, and thieves. You are all three and more. I know you know the location of one of the Twelve Fangs!" He pressed his sword harder against her flesh, drawing blood.

A twig not far in the forest snapped.

Ayerwulf heard it, and the ravens it started.

The last Lycan spun, bringing his weapon to bear,

"Who is hunting whom? Come out if ye' have the balls! Face me, leave the sanction of your shroud and meet me face to face, coward!"

[The Ripper]

I wasn't really sure where this story was set so I just assumed it to be set in Brokenthorn... Hopes that is okay.

The towering oak trees had been on the mind of Juarik since he entered the large forest of Brokenthorn. His life long task of finding the perfect leaf and tobacco to sale for far more than it’s worth, had brought him straight to the core of Brokenthorn. He hadn’t visited this dark place in all of his conquests to date, but he certainly did hear his fair share of stories. Stories that brought to life even the most non creative imagination. Tales of spiders bigger than the average man and many stories of uproar over a large lumber operation, devouring much of Brokenthorn. He knew he had to make his way to this mysterious land before the Brokenthorn Lumber Inc. Ripped through it tearing most of the valuable leafs and shrubs apart.

Damn, if there wasn’t enough oak in Brokenthorn already! Juarik gazed through the forest of tall oaks as he continued further down the path his cigarettes glowing as he inhaled.

His night hadn’t gone to rocky yet, no large spiders crawling from the trees feasting on him. That was until he heard an overpowering howl from the woods just in front of him. He could have sworn it was a man yelling, but he wasn’t sure. He made his way towards the distant shrieks, he was calm but with his free hand he gripped the cold metal of his light brass knuckles. He was still ready for a fight, if one presented itself. From behind the cover of a small bush he saw a dark figure bearing a sword and screaming. Juarik took one last long drag of his cigarettes and quickly threw it onto the ground, he hovered his foot over it and stomped it. With that he came from his hiding spot and stared into a piercing set of flickering eyes. He quickly slid his fingers out of the brass knuckles and gripped his dual daggers, he wasn’t taking any chances with this character. With that he slid his large leather bag from his back and prepared for a fight, either that or a conversation but he wasn’t sure if this angry figure was all that up for talking.

“You have requested I meet you face to face beast, well if that is what you want then show your face.” Juarik grinned as he spoke, he knew he was in for it tonight but he didn’t mind at all. Nothing a few mugs of ale and some pipe leaf couldn’t fix. “Or is it you who is the coward.”

[Warklaw]

Ayerwulf heard his hidden opponent bark his comeback like an angry dog, so Ayerwulf Warklaw responded in kind, but as an angry wolf,

"Who is the one hiding in the shadows, laddie?" Warklaw picked up the scent of burning tobacco, just behind a large oak tree. He unbelted one of his throwing axes and thre wit with deadly force, as the axe entered the brush, Ayerwulf heard scampering and a swear, he barely missed. The Lycan, though in human form, could still perform acrobatics that no regular man could do. Warklaw leapt into the tree canopy and vanished into the shadows, angering the stalkin ravens even further, their familiar 'caw' echoed through the forest.

Ayerwulf Warklaw landed just behinf his target, he knew because he smelled of burnt tobacco and pipe weed. The last Lycan gently placed the biting cold edge of Fenrir's Fang on the crook of the mans neck,

"There is a fine line between bolness and stupidity, i think with all the ale and pipe-weed you're on, that line must be quite blurry.

[The Ripper]

Juarik closed his eyes thinking deeply in his head what he would do next. There was no chance in fighting this beast straight on, he had to come up with some kind of strategy. His eyes slowly shut as he thought, and then he realized there was only one thing he could do at a time like this, smoke his pipe The Beast From the East. He turned to face the beast, his sword still at Juarik's neck.

"Well if you are planning on killing me at least let me smoke one last bowl." Juarik didn't even wait for the creature to aknowledge, he quickly bent over and started to open the dull leather bag he had dropped to his feet moments before.

From the bag Juarik removed a small bag of orange leaf and his pipe The Beast From the East, he ignored Ayerwulf and his sword while loading his pipe. The sweet scent of the orange leaf filled the atmosphere surrounding the two warriors and Juarik then removed his figer from packing the bowl.

"May I hit this or are you in a rush to kill me? You have obviously already won this battle." Juarik lifted the filled pipe to his lips, waiting for his foe to reply...

[Warklaw]

Ayerwulf's nose stung and his face grimmaced, his senses being so keen, the smell of the leaf was like a punch to the face. Ayerwulf lost some of his concentration, even some of his balance.
He refocused and pressed his blade a little harder on the tobacconists neck.

"Make it quick..." the scent of the leaf was pungent and caused Ayerwulf's face to twist slightly, "I have a race I need to save." The last Lycan removed the frigid tip of Fenrir's Fang from the man's delicate human throat and placed the sword tip into the groud, leaving it be. He then proceeded over to a nearby tree and ripped his throwing axe from the wood with a loud crack.

'If i he's doing what i think he's doing, he'll try and stab me in the back, probably with my own blade...I'll be Fenrir's babe the day a bloody human lifts my sword.

[Loup Garou]

Hope it's okay to join so late

The jerky that was mashed between his teeth had the flavor near to a cheap boot leather. Chances were at this point, that it was, that the market owner had jerked him around.

Oh well...

Galen's thoughts were out of simple boredom as he trudged through the darkness. The ancient road was nearly something that was probably forgotten by everyone but the son of a bitch that told him it was a short cut. The moon was rising from amongst the oaks as his heart jumped, the piercing screams that was far too familiar filled his mind with a bit of worry.

“Oh damn...” he muttered with a sigh. The hope of an uneventful evening was gone now, as he would have to surely try and help those poor maidens. His boots called in the night as he began a good run through the forest. His ears picking up on the direction as he saw the lights of the nearby village.

Then did he skid to a stop, a scent caught on the wind made his blood burn. There was another lycan nearby, along with the scent of blood. These things were never good in that combination, hence there burned the question. What would he do, not what should he, or what could he, but what should he. Galen knew that the chances were very ill for actually accomplishing anything.

Then again, every man has a bit of good in him. It was also that curiosity that moved him forward as he adjusted his sword belt. In the lit clearing there was a man smoking a pipe as well as a behemoth of a man with a blade nearly as long as Galen was tall.

Not a good combination here at all...

[The Ripper]

Juarik just smiled as he saw the wolf creature walk away to his axe that was burried into a nearby oak. Besides his large frame and brute stregth this battle would be a walk in the park on a chilly Friday night, which to Juarik's calculations was pretty simple. He had already set his trap for the creature, laid the bait, and like any other beast the creature fell right into his trap.

A faint crackle came from Juarik's pipe as he inhaled the sweet orange leaf, from his favorite pipe. The pipe hit harder than average and let out tons of smoke. As smoke filled Juarik's lungs he counted in his head.

One... Two...Three... Four... Twety Five... Suddenly Juarik's coughed out a large amount of solid white smoke. It drifted from his mouth and fluttered through the surrounding forest near Juarik and the creature.

"You seem to have pretty good senses of smell and hearing. I noticed how the tobacco effecting you when I barely started loading my pipe. Well hear this beast, even with the powerful senses you have try as hard as you can to sniff out my scent in this smog." Juarik let out a laugh and then everything went silent and quickly Juarik hid in some brush, waiting for his chance for an attack.

Now Juarik you just wait, no need to rush this. You will have your chance. Juarik thought in his head, smoke still slightly tunneled from his mouth.

[Warklaw]

((Nope, Never too late))

The thick fog that the pipe released was too thick to see through, and was too pungent in scent to smell his target, but before the veil of smoke rose, he smelled something he hadn't smelled for over thirty years, another Lycan.

Ayerwulf spun and picked up his kin Blade, Fenrir's Fang. The tobacconist was relying on Warklaw's keen sense of smell and sight, but he left out one important factor,

"I may be blind, i may have no smell, but i can still hear you..."

[Warklaw]

((no one has posted in an age, so i'll be moving on the story before we all forget about it.))

The thick smog that had bellowed forth from the stranger's mouth like a creeping creature of the night, was far from natural, he had to have involved magic somehow. Ayerwulf was split, his concentration, usually so keen, was now hindered by the thick, throat-burning smoke, and the possible other Lycan in the forest. Ayerwulf heard the mysterious tobacconist laugh a raspy laugh, the smoke was getting thicker and thicker, soon he wouldn't be able to hear anything.

"You're quite clever aren't you, laddie? You must be more than a mere tobacconist, am i right? Who has such an herb that it almost has a mind of it's own? Think what ye' will, but don't let the pipe weed get to your 'ead. I am not some beast to be trapped and caged..." Ayerwulf howled and growled like the wolf he was at heart, then spoke, "Fenris, Getun 'Azluhn!" Fenrir's Fang, come to my hand, that it did, the blade seeked out it's wielder and landed its leather grip softly in his massive claw-like hands.

Ayerwulf felt around him, he couldn't see but an arms length ahead of him and the fact that his eyes where burning from the foul fumes didn't help. He then laid his hands on a very rough and flakey texture, tree bark. Suddenly, a plan wracked his slightly mad mind with a wicked intelligence. Ayerwulf began hacking at the tree relentlessly, the arcane Blade and Ayerwulf's unhuman strength made the tree fall within four strokes of his blade. The tree fell and smashed against the leaf ridden ground of the forest, causing a gust as the tree fell, splitting the thick, cotton like fog like the red sea. It was brief, but it allowed Ayerwulf to spot another tree, and repeat.

'I'll find you eventually, you cowardly son of a bitch!' More trees fell, then there was an actual clearing in the fog, and the Lycan could smell something... another Lycan. 'Where by the bloody bones of Fenrir are you?' he growled in the Lycan language. The hackles on his neck rose, perhaps this was another trick, perhaps this was indeed a Lycan, but one that gave into the hunger, the Red Haze. Ayerwulf lowered his blade as the scent of the other werewolf became stronger, he couldn't smell the tobacconist, but he could car less, this was another survivor of The 30 Day Hunt, the month of the systematic hunting of wolf-kin; the killing of men and raping of women and children. This Lycan was young, he had controlled his Wolf Spirit fully, unlike Ayerwulf, the younger werewolf was also a halfbreed, half human and half Lycan. Possibly a child of The 30 Day Hunt, the offspring of a Lycan maiden and a human soldier or the result of true love, he couldn't know; so Ayerwulf sheathed his massive Blade and called out to the younger were-kin in their language, to untrained ears, it would sound like growling of varied pitches,

"Come, child. Do not hide in the shadows. You will have a friend within me. I thought myself to be the last of my kind, but there is another. Come, show yourself, I will not spill kin-blood, by my soul, I will not." Hopefully, by controlling the Wolf Spirit within him, this boy could understand him.

[Loup Garou]

sorry about length and how long it took to get it up, been busy.

With a ponderous moment and finally a sigh, Galen stood forth from his cover,within a few steps revealing himself to the beast that called him child.

“I wasn't really all that worried about you spilling my blood, but it does seem like you made quite a mess of things around here.” His emerald eyes gazed at the tower of muscle that dwarfed his spindly human form. These were human words Galen spoke, not the tongue of his curse.

Chances were good that he could possibly change and make a run for it, possibly even make it to the river and dodge any attempts at killing him. Most of the lycanthropes he had dealt with had been rather dangerous.

[Gribble]

There was a howl that could burst Fero's eardrums if he wasn't wearing protection, and then there was the sound of a blade slicing a Lycan's head in half, then there was nothing but the sound of blood spilling on the ground.

dead, Fero thought one more closer to a perfect world

As Fero walked away cleaning the mongles blood off his blade, Paladar, his "apprentice" walked up to him and handed him a peice of parcment.

"Who is this from?" Fero asked, not expecting an answer.

......... and of course there was none so Fero opened the parcment and read

Fero, good job with killing the Lycan
your payment will be in your account
as usual. Now there is one more job I
have for you. There are two more
Lycans left in this world and i want you
to rid this world of them. They will be at
Brokenthorn woods for a short time so
you need to get there now. You know
what to do when u get there. The fee for
this one will be 50,000. it will be put in to your
account when the job is finished

XXXX



"Finally we are close to the end of this" Fero said to Paladar as they set off to Brokenthron woods

[thewriter]

Narida let go a long, content sigh as she walked beside Neoku. She had just been paid from her job, had almost enough hair to continue with Neoku's rebirth, enough food for a full belly, and was off to the next town to have a small break.

"I don't know about you Neoku, but after a while the sound of a bed can be rather sweet-" She began. then her long elf ear twitched. Was that...fighting she heard? Neoku obviously heard it too. But that wasn't what caught her attention.

She heard a long, helpless, howl.

Narida quickly got on top of Neoku and rode him like a horse as she came down upon the brush, still hiding in the trees.

That was a Lycan!She thought, so angry she clenched on Neoku's skin and fur. He nipped at her hand to tell her to stop, and she did so. When she saw the man engaging in battle come out, she remembered the alliance of old...and the boy she raised as a part of it.

Banished or not, the Lycans are my kin, and I cannot stand by without aiding them! She hitched up a knife in her hand and threw it at the man from the bushes.

[Warklaw]

Ayerwulf was looking down at Galen when he heard the Death-Howl of another Lycan. His head spun and his blood burned. This was his burden, feeling the suffering of every Lycan that falls. Rage filled him as the Red Tide rose, his vision became blurred and red, like looking at the world through wine. Ayerwulf fell to his knees with the clank of his metal boots, the only metal he wore, hit the rocky ground; his fingertips felt as if they had red-hot nails being slammed into them, his mouth bled as his already sharp teeth lengthened and grew. His eyes burned as they turned to an fiery amber color, his skin was crawling and his tailbone was shifting,

"Damn it!!! Not another one!" Ayerwulf tore at the ground with his claw-like hands, venting his Rage. He stood and picked up Fenrir's Fang, then turned to Galen,

"Listen, boy. You are a Lycan, I know; and I am sure that you can smell Destroyer Wolf's Spirit within my flesh as well. Like me or hate me, you are going to come with me. I am Ayerwulf Fenris Warklaw, the last survivor of the Northjaw Mountain Lycan Tribes. I am searching for the Twelve Fangs, with them, i can save our kind. You can help me by sticking close and staying sharp, I refuse to have another Lycan fall this day." With that, Ayerwulf sheathed his claymore-broadsword and walked into the clearing of the slaughtered travelers, with a sharp whistle and and rough Wolfspeak,

"Nalva-frey, raußtiv du mine`" Nalva, return to me. As he said that, a little wolf pup came prancing out from behind some wreckage, with some of the traveler's roasted pork in her jaws.

'Alright then, Slayer. Let us see whom Fenrir favors most.' He grasped the ivory trinket that hugged his thick neck, and kissed the surface. He offered up a prayer to Fenrir, but this was more than just a item of Faith. He fingered the complicated Beast Elf rune that was carved into the slick, white surface with a skill that the finest jewelers would envy, the glyph was complicated, but it read something that he always kept to heart,

'The night is darkest before Dawn' Ayerwulf sighed and looked ahead with renewed determination, he would not fail her, not this time, then he whispered lightly to himself, the Name of Hope,

"Narida..."

[thewriter]

Neoku's ears pricked. He heard something, but not unfriendly. Narida gave him a look asking for what he heard, and he answered with the Song of Brothers.

"You just blew our cover!" She whispered , but she was still atop Neoku, who flew down the bushes and was running to who-knew-where. Most likely what he heard or smelt or felt.

It was strange doing this, because for once in her life, Neoku didn't acknowledge her or try to heed her when she asked him to do something. Yet his tail was held as high as a bannerman.

Either he's found a lass of his kind, or someone close to us in the past has come back. There are only three people I can think of so easily...two that an assassin would be after. The one though...it can't be her. But then-

Narida's thoughts were interrupted when she heard a low whisper:

"Narida..."

That voice sounded too old to belong to who she was thinking of. Yet at the same time, it has been forty years. And then, Neoku burst into the clearing, and threw Narida off, panting and sitting. Now she was just angry.

"Neoku, you smart ass little brother!" She screamed in her native tongue. "What in the Name of the Gods possessed you to-"

Now it was her native speech that was interrupted when Neoku trotted over to a small wolf pup and began sniffing her in greeting.

Ohhh...that explains it.

"Oh yeah, hello Ayer - you got taller. And by taller, I mean gigantic," She said in a casual tone. "Did you have an enchanter dye your eyes that color? I much preferred the soft blue you had when I was training you, but I'm not the woman you'll be marrying, most like, so I won't say nothing. Anyways, you called? I heard you say my name - after Neoku went ape over your little pup's scent."

[Warklaw]

Ayerwulf arched an eyebrow at Narida's comment,

"What by Fenrir's ballocks do you mean by that?" He said as he helped her up. He wondered why his eyes burned, she must have seen the Warrior's Eye, one of the first steps of the Change. He simple smiled wryly, knowing she knew the answer, his canine teeth lengthened as he smiled, saliva glistening off of the pearly white surfaces. He fingered the surface of the ivory necklace,

"Huh, so i guess this does really works, dun' it?" Ayerwulf was filled with a deadly cocktail of emotions; he was enraged, angered and saddened by the death of another Lycan; he was overjoyed, surprised, and nervous at his mentor's presence here. He had feelings for this Elf, in a way a brother would a sister, a sister who had raised him in absence of his parents. He respected her and feared her as well as for her. She might have more experience and speed than Ayerwulf did, but he could take almost all but a bludgeon to the head, she couldn't. He knew that this Slayer he hunted was very dangerous; the last thing he wanted was to put Narida and Neoku in the midst of his own battles, but he knew she would give him a hearty thrashing if he spoke against her. Childhood memories never die away, apparently.

He looked to Narida, her face covered by her white mask, but he could smell her unease,
"You felt it too, eh? A Brother die?" He looked into the misty thick of trees with a thousand mile stare, his Eyes burning with the lust for vengeance and bloodshed.

[thewriter]

"Aye - we heard him go down. Threw a knife at em, but then before I could do more, someone ran off with me still on his back!" She explained shooting a glance to Neoku, who was playing with Nalva, careful not to hurt her too much, but still teach her in fighting while they played.

"You have one of your own I see - congratulations," She told him. "I didn't get Neoku till I was in my early fifties. And what do you think I mean by that? Who is she? I know your stubborn-assed attitude - twas my bane when teaching you. Only a good woman could persuade you to change your eye color. I almost did, but then I thought 'what's the point', you know? These gray eyes are my blessing and curse. If I got rid of these, I would lose the blessing, and still have the curse."

[Warklaw]

By this point Ayerwulf was completely lost,

"Who is who..." He looked to Nalva, he knew that Narida knew Nalva. he looked to his former master, "Narida, have you been smoking some of the crap that tobacconist was smoking? You are the one who told me pipe weed was bad for you" Ayerwulf asked with his heavy Highlander accent.

[thewriter]

Narida's brow furrowed. "No...why would I? That crap is terrible for you. You know it, and I know it. God, after all these years and I can't even tease my dear pupil without getting accused of hypocrisy.

"Last time I saw you, you were a little lad I was training - Nalva wasn't even alive. Do you expect me to just say a casual hello?"

[Warklaw]

Ayerwulf chuckled and scratched the back of his sweaty neck,

"Well, honestly Narida, I have no bloody clue what to expect when you are around." This was strange, Ayerwulf had never been at ease since he was nine years of age. It was astonishing how just a simple conversation with his childhood mentor and guardian made him more human than even he thought possible.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another staff member and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.