Death to the Sinners(open to 3)

[Artur Al'Rand]

The scent of my quarry permeated the clearing, filling my nose, making my stomach rumble. I shifted slightly, my paws digging into the soft earth and rotten leaves littering the forest floor. The damp vegetation brushed against my body and tail, the leaves running through my fur. I waited for the right moment to attack, and when it came, seized it.
The sun burst through the low clouds that formed a roof over the forest, illuminating the clearing, illuminating myself. In that instant, all of the deer bolted, and I ran after them. I could easily outpace all but the fastest of their number, but I ran with them until I found a suitable prize.
I put on a burst of speed, separating a fat specimen from the rest, and running him into the denser undergrowth, where his bounding stride would bog down, and my streamlined body could pass like lightening. I ran up to his hind legs snapping and snarling, trying to hamstring him. I felt my teeth sink into flesh and sinew, and felt the deer stumble. He hit the ground, and a feeling of triumph traveled throughout my body. I leapt to his throat, and clamped down on his jugular. He thrashed once, twice, and was still. I stepped back from my kill, and looked for a clear spot. When I found it, I began to change. My tail disappeared into my body, my paws growing into hands, claws flattening into fingernails. My muzzle pulled itself back into my face, my teeth shortening and becoming more human, as the fur that had covered my entire body during the hunt disappeared. My clothes sprang out of my receding fur, my longsword growing out of my leg, and the bow on my back magically revealing itself. I returned to the dead deer, and immediately began to clean it. About an hour later, I was walking away with a hundred pounds of venison, seasoned to last until I could get them salted and smoked back at my cabin.
I saw a column of smoke in the distance, looking like it came from my cabin. The scent of smoke filled the air. I ran, heading straight for the smoke column, hoping against hope that it was not my cabin that had caught on fire. I reached the source of the smoke, and cursed, seeing that it was my home that was burning. I ran up to investigate, and saw a hand sticking out of the door. I entered, and examined the body that the hand was attached to. It was a woman, about forty, mauled, looking like some beast had gotten ahold of her before her death. Four large puncture wounds marred her chest, obviously the death wounds. She appeared to be completely unarmed, and had been killed in cold blood. At first it seemed an animal attack, but as I sniffed the air, I realized that whatever had done this had been somewhat human. I snarled, vowing revenge for this woman. The one thing I hated most was killing for absolutely no reason. I began to shift, changing to my half lycan form to track down these purveyors of evil, and hopefully kill them. Barring that, I would bring them to some semblance of justice. I thought about bringing my pack into this, but decided against it. It was my personal quest, not thiers.

[shi-thead]

I sat there silent almost completely unnoticed by the deer in the forest. I sat on a tree limb bow drawn and arrow ready. I had been watching the deer closely for hours now. The alpha buck I was large I guessed over two hundred and fifty pounds. He was magnificent a beautiful buck with an even more beautiful antlers. He was to be my kill if I could manage the first shot. If I could not the deer would surly run. Finally the buck came into a perfect spot right in my line of sight I could not think of a better chance. I slowly drew my bow back, taking long deep breaths. I lined up my shot slowly and was about to let the arrow fly when suddenly the sun peaked over the horizon and the deer bolted. I was shocked and mad that I had spent so much time and missed my chance. Then out of the trees something large emerges chasing the deer this thing had ruined my chance. I decided it was time to get revenge and kill this beast.

I hoped from the tree limb and started beating my wings hard and took flight. When I got high enough I was able to see the thing chasing the deer. I began to fallow it. I watched as it killed a nice plump deer. I drew my bow and started to line up a shot on the beast when it suddenly walked away from the deer. I watched as the beast slowly began to change. Slowly it became human, I was appalled.I soared in large arcs trying not to be noticed as he cleaned the deer.

I began to smell smoke on the wind looking around I saw a house burning this could not be good. I noticed the man saw it to for he headed towards it I flew as fast as I could and got to the house before the man. I flew close around the house a few times tell I herd the man getting close then I soared up into the air again so he would not notice me.

[Hunter Green]

Hunter walked slowly through the Scara Braen forest, loathe to admit the painfully obvious fact that he was quite lost. His brown eyes tried to peer everywhere at once, but even so he failed to notice a number of signs of the various wildlife around him. His clothes, a simple set of pants and a shirt, blended well with his surroundings, though that was hardly done on purpose. Green and brown happened to be Hunter's favorite colors, thus he wore them nearly all the time. His brown leather boots crunched noisily on the ground, alerting anyone and anything nearby of his presence. At his side hung a steel sword in a sheath. It slapped lightly against his thigh as he walked.

A branch crunched to his left and he stopped, spinning around to face it nervously. The longer he stayed away from home, the more he realized how stupid he'd been to leave, but he was far too stubborn and prideful to go back now. He watched the place where he'd heard the noise for a few seconds longer, and when a small rabbit bounded out of the bushes and across his path, he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Relax, Hunter, he told himself, If there was anything in these woods that was truly dangerous someone would have said something before you left the inn. Scara Brae is an island, so if you keep going in one direction, you'll come to a beach eventually. From there, you can find your way back to Scara Brae with no problem.

Comforting himself thus, the young man continued on his way. As he continued on, he first smelled, then saw the column of smoke rising over the trees. He thought briefly about investigating, after all he was supposed to be having adventures, but then decided against it and continued on away from the smoke.

Besides, that much smoke probably means that someone's house is burned to the ground. There wouldn't be anything I could do anyway. Satisfied with his rationalization for his choice, he contentedly wandered on, hoping that he'd find Scara Brae, the beach, or a friendly stranger to guide him.

He tried to put his mind away from the choices that had placed him in this forest, but they persisted to stay in the forefront of his mind. He'd just turned 18 the previous week and had almost immediately decided that home was much too constricting. He had no desire to learn his father's business or to join the army. He didn't care about the civil war or who might win. His mind was focused on one thing: having fun and daring adventures. Thus, he's stolen his father's sword and left home. He'd taken the first ferry away from Radasanth without paying attention to where it was going. Of course, he hadn't cared either so long as it would take him away from Radasanth and his parents. It wasn't that he didn't have good parents. His parents had always been good, if a little strict. He just wasn't interested in being forced to start earning his living. All his life, he'd been given everything he wanted. Now, he wanted adventure, so that's what he decided to get for himself. Stealing his father's sword had probably been a bad idea, but he didn't have one of his own and he knew that he should have at least some semblance of a weapon if he was to get anywhere in the world.

I'll go back in a few years after I've proven that I don't have to rely on Father's business to keep me whole. I'll show him and Mother both. There's no need to stay home and get old and wrinkly to tend a business. Adventuring is much more fun and it pays better too.

[Revenant]

Warm, golden shafts of sunlight filtered through a canopy of leaves. Wooden sentinels moved their arms lightly, keep time with the light breeze that lazily drifted by, filling the air with the soft rustle of a tree’s laughter. The aroma of fresh earth and vibrant greenery fought against the stink of damp mushrooms and bitter moss, the unmistakable scent of Summer. The world was warm, and friendly, and inviting, and no amount of its cheer could rouse William Arcus’ spirits.

It happened again.

Ridges of sharp bark rose from the fallen tree he was using as a chair. The stabbed and bit him, as if the dead tree were rejecting the stain that his presence represented. Uneven lines pressed through the heavy wool overcoat that he wore, numbing the newly grown flesh underneath. Despite the pain and discomfort, William sat motionless.

Why can’t I fight it?

Congealed blood coated his hands. The cold, slimy substance could be washed away in a literal sense, but the memory of it would burn in the back of William’s mind with the rest of the innocents that he had mercilessly cut down. Unfocused eyes stared out, looking past the trees. Another face to add to a list that was already far too long.

Why does it feel so natural?

With a heavy sigh, William pulled himself out of his morose reflection. Though it wasn’t useless to mourn the atrocities that he committed then the demonic rage came upon him, it wasn’t going to help him. Stretching to shake off the last of the lethargic slump, William stood.

Could be worse, he thought, trying to spin a positive aspect on the tragedy. At least I don’t have to heal any wounds this time. He snorted at the thought and waved his hand as if to brush the thought away. He had already raised his emotional barrier, protecting himself from the worst of his self-loathing.

It was time to move on. He burned the building after coming off of his last episode, and the smoke would likely bring anyone close enough to be curious. And while it was true that William couldn’t really die, he had no desire to be chased down by an angry mob. Again.

As he shouldered his pack, William noticed the slimy, clotted smear that his gore stained hands left on the strap. It wasn’t the first time blood had stained his pack (he would have been surprised if there were any part of his equipment that had not been splattered with blood at one time), but it was annoying to have to go through the ritual of cleaning it off once again.

He held his hands out at arm’s length, flipping them over a couple of times while he scrutinized the mess. He had randomly fled from the burning cottage and was unsure of exactly where he was in Brokenthorn. The forest covered almost half of the surface of Scara Brae, so he found it unlikely that he would just stumble into a pool of water that he could use to clean himself.

The whispers in the back of his mind, honey-tongued vipers, urged him to let go again and surrender to the molten power in his veins. The demon would char his flesh as it emerged, which would remove the stains of his last, grisly encounter. All he had to do was close his eyes and let the tide wash over him.

His body tingled with the familiar sting of the demon’s arrival. Any second now, his skin would begin to blister and peel, and his human façade would fall apart, revealing him as the monster he truly was. Hatred poured through his mind, threatening to drown out all other thoughts. Just a little more and he would be free.

William came to with a snap. With a concentrated effort he mentally clamped down on his desire and the power slowly faded into the dark recesses of his mind.

“Damn you,” he spat, “get a hold of yourself.”

Cursing himself for his moment of weakness, William left the clearing.