Of Wolf and Man
07-19-08, 03:30 PM
The frozen North. Forever it has been a harsh place, a land of wolf and ice, an unforgiving piece of frigidity that always took more than it gave. Even the bravest and the sturdiest broke upon its glaciers, and the rest were erased by the white zephyr that whipped the land. In such a land only the beast survives. No man. No god. Just the beast.
There is a vicious cycle in such a land. The world beyond the frozen Boundary evolves and moves from one point in time to the next, but the North is locked in its own confines. And once in every age all the sorrow, all the grief, all the pain and the horror and the loneliness and the bitterness brought by the cold bite of the land accumulates and erupts outwards. Some of the vilest things were born thusly in the ice of the North, demons and monsters that made the ground shake beneath their feet.
Now the cycle once again comes to a full circle. And another monster is born.
***
Prey was scarce, but that was no new development. Ever since Aroth grew teeth strong enough to bite through flesh, there haven’t been two occasions when his stomach was full and his hunger fully satisfied. Such was the way of the North and the alpha wolf got used to it, he adapted. Others from his spawn that hadn’t, the weaker and the sickly, hadn’t lived long enough to see their fangs grow. But he grew big and strong, somewhat at the expense of those inferior to him. There was no room for sympathy in the frozen wasteland, especially if you were a beast with one basic instinct instilled in you from the moment of your first howl; survival.
As calm as the dead white world around him, Aroth the great white wolf sniffed the air anew, picking up the same scent he had been tracking for hours now. An elk, the scent revealed to him, an old male that probably ventured deeper into the woods in search for a patch of grass less frozen by the everlasting winter. It would be tough to chew, Aroth knew, but tough meat for chewing was better than no meat at all. Besides, this wasn’t the time to be picky. His pack was starving. The females had gone out and returned with a hare or two, but not nearly enough to feed them all. They needed more.
The irises of his blood-red eyes narrowed as he spotted the clumsy animal turned its antlered head this way and that, searching for a sign of pursue and failing to notice the prowling beast in the snow-covered bushes. The elk sniffed at the stump of a pine tree, pushed some snow away with its snout, and plucked out some weed. By the time the grass got two chews of the elk’s teeth and the animal got its head halfway up, Aroth was already in mid-leap, claw and fang meeting the startled pair of elk’s eyes. The battle that ensued turned out to be rather one-sided. The animal was old, weary, hungry and the wolf was powerful and hungry for blood and flesh. In less than a minute all of the life that was left in the elk was an occasional twitch of a hoofed leg as the mighty wolf dragged his catch back to the nearby cave.
However, as he reached the mouth of the cave, another scent cut through the smell of the rapidly cooling blood oh the elk he dragged with his teeth. His teeth released the gnawed bone of the elk’s spine as he gave it another good sniff. It was blood, but it belonged to no prey of the Northern Wolves. No, it belonged to the wolves themselves.
Aroth rushed into the cave as fast as his mighty legs could take him. The telltale signs of an intrusion were all around him, footsteps and blood stains and scent of twolegs that shouldn’t have been here. But above it all, creeping into his nostrils and down his throat, was the blood of his blood. A couple of steps farther and he found out why. His entire pack had been slain and skinned, their flayed bodies tossed onto a sticky pile in the middle of the cave. Even his cubs weren’t spared, their tiny bodies discarded against the wall like rags. His mate, the spotted auburn-furred wolf, was somewhere in the pile, he could smell her blood in the air, but there was naught left of her but bones and bloody meat.
Aroth howled and growled, growled and howled and sat before a dead pile of carcasses that used to be his family, his blood, his very bestial soul. Wrath consumed him, and when there was no other thought left in his mind, She appeared.
Appearing from thin air in midst of floating will-o'-the-wisp, the woman that came to existence before the great wolf was magnificent. Clothed in naught but blue scales, with emerald eyes that shone like magical fire, floating on this air as if she could defy gravity, she spoke the wolf’s name.
“Aroth!”
And surprisingly enough, the wolf understood. He understood, but paid no heed to the fact as he leapt at the woman. His mind was set on vengeance and she looked human. She didn’t carry the scent of the intruders that massacred his family, but that didn’t matter to the enraged mind. He leapt at her with twice the force he used to tackle the elk. But unlike with the elk, his claws struck nothing but air as he passed through the shiny woman. Again he tried, and again and again, even when the woman with no body called his out again.
“Aroth, I know of the horror that occurred here and I understand your wrath. But I am not your enemy. No, I am here to help you. And to begin, I offer you the gift of sentience which will forever differentiate you from the beast you once were.”
And just like that, with the snap of her fingers, Aroth was granted awareness that only sentient beings possessed, and with it came the power to understand, the power of mentation. And when he thought, his thoughts were given a voice that the woman could hear.
“Who are you?” asked the wolf.
“I have many names, but you may call me Wreya. I am the goddess of the North.”
Aroth wasn’t impressed. “What do you want of me?”
“A great injustice has been done here, Aroth, and I would have you right the wrong. I have sensed your wrath all the way up to my throne and I want you to become my avatar. Through you, I can channel my power and through my power you can achieve the vengeance your blood cries for.”
Though now a sentient being, Aroth’s bestial nature was still very present, making him reach a decision in no more than a moment. “I would have this power if it would avenge my pack.”
“Oh, it will do much more than that, my boy.”
Basic Information:
Name: Aroth
Age: 26
Hair/fur: Black
Eyes: Blood Red
Height (on all fours): 3 feet 5 inches
Weight: 320 lbs
Race: Black Wolf
Appearance:
Aroth is quite a horrifying sight to behold. Though once he was no more than an ordinary snow wolf of the North, Wreya’s power changed him. His fur has grown pitch-black and both his fangs and claws were enlightened. His muscular constitution and ruffled fur make him appear almost as large as a small colt, only much bulkier. With his claws out and his fangs barred, and with his red eyes looking at you, you wouldn’t err to call him a monster.
Personality:
There is only one thing Aroth keeps in his mind, and that’s bloodlust. In such a simple yet destructive sentiment are all others interwoven, such as his vengeance against the men that killed his pack and his seemingly insatiable hunger. Seldom times when this machinery of destruction shuts down occur when goddess Wreya appears, to whose power he is bound. However, not even her presence can subdue Aroth’s rebellious spirit.
Weapons and Accessories:
Fangs and Claws – the only weapons that Aroth has are those he’s naturally attached to. Wreya’s power enhanced these murderous tools, however, so they are now as strong as steel. Also, they seem to grow back if they’re broken, but they need a night’s sleep to regenerate.
Skills:
Toughness of the North – living in the frozen North hardened Aroth in almost every possible way, and Wreya enhanced that trait ever further. He is stronger than other members of his species (1.5 times stronger) and can take slightly more damage than them.
Regeneration – Aroth has some very minor regenerative capabilities at this point, which allow him to heal minor wounds over a period of few minutes and medium wounds over a period of hour or so. However, he needs to rest in order for this regeneration to take place.
The Blood Pack – the most significant power that Wreya bestowed upon Aroth. By howling into the air, Aroth can summon a pack of shadow wolves (4 of them) which obey his commands. These infernal gifts of the goddess have the same characteristics as normal wolves. He can summon them once every hour in quests (they stick around for an indefinite amount of time unless requested otherwise by a fellow quester) or once per battle (they stick around for a minute).
Heightened Senses - being a wolf, Aroth's sight and scent are naturally enhanced, but no more than that of the normal members of his species.
There is a vicious cycle in such a land. The world beyond the frozen Boundary evolves and moves from one point in time to the next, but the North is locked in its own confines. And once in every age all the sorrow, all the grief, all the pain and the horror and the loneliness and the bitterness brought by the cold bite of the land accumulates and erupts outwards. Some of the vilest things were born thusly in the ice of the North, demons and monsters that made the ground shake beneath their feet.
Now the cycle once again comes to a full circle. And another monster is born.
***
Prey was scarce, but that was no new development. Ever since Aroth grew teeth strong enough to bite through flesh, there haven’t been two occasions when his stomach was full and his hunger fully satisfied. Such was the way of the North and the alpha wolf got used to it, he adapted. Others from his spawn that hadn’t, the weaker and the sickly, hadn’t lived long enough to see their fangs grow. But he grew big and strong, somewhat at the expense of those inferior to him. There was no room for sympathy in the frozen wasteland, especially if you were a beast with one basic instinct instilled in you from the moment of your first howl; survival.
As calm as the dead white world around him, Aroth the great white wolf sniffed the air anew, picking up the same scent he had been tracking for hours now. An elk, the scent revealed to him, an old male that probably ventured deeper into the woods in search for a patch of grass less frozen by the everlasting winter. It would be tough to chew, Aroth knew, but tough meat for chewing was better than no meat at all. Besides, this wasn’t the time to be picky. His pack was starving. The females had gone out and returned with a hare or two, but not nearly enough to feed them all. They needed more.
The irises of his blood-red eyes narrowed as he spotted the clumsy animal turned its antlered head this way and that, searching for a sign of pursue and failing to notice the prowling beast in the snow-covered bushes. The elk sniffed at the stump of a pine tree, pushed some snow away with its snout, and plucked out some weed. By the time the grass got two chews of the elk’s teeth and the animal got its head halfway up, Aroth was already in mid-leap, claw and fang meeting the startled pair of elk’s eyes. The battle that ensued turned out to be rather one-sided. The animal was old, weary, hungry and the wolf was powerful and hungry for blood and flesh. In less than a minute all of the life that was left in the elk was an occasional twitch of a hoofed leg as the mighty wolf dragged his catch back to the nearby cave.
However, as he reached the mouth of the cave, another scent cut through the smell of the rapidly cooling blood oh the elk he dragged with his teeth. His teeth released the gnawed bone of the elk’s spine as he gave it another good sniff. It was blood, but it belonged to no prey of the Northern Wolves. No, it belonged to the wolves themselves.
Aroth rushed into the cave as fast as his mighty legs could take him. The telltale signs of an intrusion were all around him, footsteps and blood stains and scent of twolegs that shouldn’t have been here. But above it all, creeping into his nostrils and down his throat, was the blood of his blood. A couple of steps farther and he found out why. His entire pack had been slain and skinned, their flayed bodies tossed onto a sticky pile in the middle of the cave. Even his cubs weren’t spared, their tiny bodies discarded against the wall like rags. His mate, the spotted auburn-furred wolf, was somewhere in the pile, he could smell her blood in the air, but there was naught left of her but bones and bloody meat.
Aroth howled and growled, growled and howled and sat before a dead pile of carcasses that used to be his family, his blood, his very bestial soul. Wrath consumed him, and when there was no other thought left in his mind, She appeared.
Appearing from thin air in midst of floating will-o'-the-wisp, the woman that came to existence before the great wolf was magnificent. Clothed in naught but blue scales, with emerald eyes that shone like magical fire, floating on this air as if she could defy gravity, she spoke the wolf’s name.
“Aroth!”
And surprisingly enough, the wolf understood. He understood, but paid no heed to the fact as he leapt at the woman. His mind was set on vengeance and she looked human. She didn’t carry the scent of the intruders that massacred his family, but that didn’t matter to the enraged mind. He leapt at her with twice the force he used to tackle the elk. But unlike with the elk, his claws struck nothing but air as he passed through the shiny woman. Again he tried, and again and again, even when the woman with no body called his out again.
“Aroth, I know of the horror that occurred here and I understand your wrath. But I am not your enemy. No, I am here to help you. And to begin, I offer you the gift of sentience which will forever differentiate you from the beast you once were.”
And just like that, with the snap of her fingers, Aroth was granted awareness that only sentient beings possessed, and with it came the power to understand, the power of mentation. And when he thought, his thoughts were given a voice that the woman could hear.
“Who are you?” asked the wolf.
“I have many names, but you may call me Wreya. I am the goddess of the North.”
Aroth wasn’t impressed. “What do you want of me?”
“A great injustice has been done here, Aroth, and I would have you right the wrong. I have sensed your wrath all the way up to my throne and I want you to become my avatar. Through you, I can channel my power and through my power you can achieve the vengeance your blood cries for.”
Though now a sentient being, Aroth’s bestial nature was still very present, making him reach a decision in no more than a moment. “I would have this power if it would avenge my pack.”
“Oh, it will do much more than that, my boy.”
Basic Information:
Name: Aroth
Age: 26
Hair/fur: Black
Eyes: Blood Red
Height (on all fours): 3 feet 5 inches
Weight: 320 lbs
Race: Black Wolf
Appearance:
Aroth is quite a horrifying sight to behold. Though once he was no more than an ordinary snow wolf of the North, Wreya’s power changed him. His fur has grown pitch-black and both his fangs and claws were enlightened. His muscular constitution and ruffled fur make him appear almost as large as a small colt, only much bulkier. With his claws out and his fangs barred, and with his red eyes looking at you, you wouldn’t err to call him a monster.
Personality:
There is only one thing Aroth keeps in his mind, and that’s bloodlust. In such a simple yet destructive sentiment are all others interwoven, such as his vengeance against the men that killed his pack and his seemingly insatiable hunger. Seldom times when this machinery of destruction shuts down occur when goddess Wreya appears, to whose power he is bound. However, not even her presence can subdue Aroth’s rebellious spirit.
Weapons and Accessories:
Fangs and Claws – the only weapons that Aroth has are those he’s naturally attached to. Wreya’s power enhanced these murderous tools, however, so they are now as strong as steel. Also, they seem to grow back if they’re broken, but they need a night’s sleep to regenerate.
Skills:
Toughness of the North – living in the frozen North hardened Aroth in almost every possible way, and Wreya enhanced that trait ever further. He is stronger than other members of his species (1.5 times stronger) and can take slightly more damage than them.
Regeneration – Aroth has some very minor regenerative capabilities at this point, which allow him to heal minor wounds over a period of few minutes and medium wounds over a period of hour or so. However, he needs to rest in order for this regeneration to take place.
The Blood Pack – the most significant power that Wreya bestowed upon Aroth. By howling into the air, Aroth can summon a pack of shadow wolves (4 of them) which obey his commands. These infernal gifts of the goddess have the same characteristics as normal wolves. He can summon them once every hour in quests (they stick around for an indefinite amount of time unless requested otherwise by a fellow quester) or once per battle (they stick around for a minute).
Heightened Senses - being a wolf, Aroth's sight and scent are naturally enhanced, but no more than that of the normal members of his species.