The woods of Isvidr hummed with energy in the dimming twilight. Insects buzzed, wolves prowled and birds leapt from tree branch to tree branch, all but isolated from the distant world of man. Rivers ran, babbling through the forest floor while leaves and pine needles fell gently from the thick, untamed canopy of trees. As the world darkened from blue to black, the energy rose, and winds began to rush through the thickets. Then, where the woodland's many rivers started, from an ancient mound of moss, dirt and stone emerged a hand. Then another.
Then a head of black, matted hair. Its bearer lurched over the mound for a moment, breathing heavily, the muscles of his back exposed to the light of a hunter's moon. The energy in the air thickened then, so acutely, so densely that one might think to cut it from the air with a knife. Though the sky was clear, thunder rolled across mountains, warning the wilds of something great- and terrible- approaching. The moss-covered man sat up, pulling against a ribbon that was thin and silken, yet nonetheless too strong for him to escape. With his arms outstretched towards the sky, he heaved in a long, labored breath before letting an unnaturally booming howl escape him.
To the heavens he screamed, in a language forgotten to the world. And the moment he cried out lightning struck the mound with otherworldly fury. Thunder roared across the land.
_
Miles from the site of the lightning strike, on the edge of a humble forest village, a boy sat in the fields of his family farm. Though summer was in full swing, tilling the fields near Isvidr was a challenging task. He panted and took a sip from a leather flask, wiping sweat and an errant flax-seed from his brow as he watched distant clouds drift across a pale blue sky. To his left, from the edge of the wild-lands came the sound of leaves crunching. He looked towards the sound, standing for a better vantage of the woods. A stranger came walking from between the pines, donned in nothing but animal pelts.
The boy stared in awe as the man drew closer, easily towering over him. Then he screamed "Momma! Momma!" And scurried for his farmland house. The stranger looked up; the house the boy ran for was in clear sight, a cabin of wood upon the flat farmlands. He walked towards it in silence, following in the boy's footsteps.
Then a head of black, matted hair. Its bearer lurched over the mound for a moment, breathing heavily, the muscles of his back exposed to the light of a hunter's moon. The energy in the air thickened then, so acutely, so densely that one might think to cut it from the air with a knife. Though the sky was clear, thunder rolled across mountains, warning the wilds of something great- and terrible- approaching. The moss-covered man sat up, pulling against a ribbon that was thin and silken, yet nonetheless too strong for him to escape. With his arms outstretched towards the sky, he heaved in a long, labored breath before letting an unnaturally booming howl escape him.
To the heavens he screamed, in a language forgotten to the world. And the moment he cried out lightning struck the mound with otherworldly fury. Thunder roared across the land.
_
Miles from the site of the lightning strike, on the edge of a humble forest village, a boy sat in the fields of his family farm. Though summer was in full swing, tilling the fields near Isvidr was a challenging task. He panted and took a sip from a leather flask, wiping sweat and an errant flax-seed from his brow as he watched distant clouds drift across a pale blue sky. To his left, from the edge of the wild-lands came the sound of leaves crunching. He looked towards the sound, standing for a better vantage of the woods. A stranger came walking from between the pines, donned in nothing but animal pelts.
The boy stared in awe as the man drew closer, easily towering over him. Then he screamed "Momma! Momma!" And scurried for his farmland house. The stranger looked up; the house the boy ran for was in clear sight, a cabin of wood upon the flat farmlands. He walked towards it in silence, following in the boy's footsteps.
(Hello! I Like your story and find it very interesting, if it is still open, Would you perhaps be up to role playing it? I would be using my character Lokar as I am new here and only have this one so far)
(Oh I was imagining this would be in a private message chat, also I do have to ask, I only have two characters which both I think could fit well in this scenario, but one is a viking and the other is a vampire)
(Okay! Then if you would not mind, I shall use James Hamilton, the infamous Blood demon!)
(Alrighty, I sent a private conversation)
The little boy runs back, fear and anxiety shrouding him as he calls for specifically his mother, the bond between a mother and her child is strictly unbreakable. As the boy ran to the wooden cabins, he was careless and reckless enough to not see if the man was pursuing. The boy makes it to the log cabin as a fairly young maiden comes out and holds her child in loving embrace as a woodsman walks out after her, axe in hand as he looks towards the stumbling figure. He tightly clenches the axe, readying it as he calls out...
"What do you want, traveler?! Why have you come to terrorize my family?! Be you human?! Be you friend, or foe?!"
His voice echoes throughout the clearing that they were in, but does not particularly carry far into the forest, making it safe to talk from distance without though of disruption or distraction
"What do you want, traveler?! Why have you come to terrorize my family?! Be you human?! Be you friend, or foe?!"
His voice echoes throughout the clearing that they were in, but does not particularly carry far into the forest, making it safe to talk from distance without though of disruption or distraction
The ginger little man grumbled under a cobbled hill, laboriously hauling his cart of fresh lumber with a fierce tug of a hangman's noose, tightened upon a metal knob. The wheels of the lumbercart croaked slowly but surely upon this verdant path, a painful hurdle for the Wood Dwarf to conquer in these foreign lands, sweat cascading down his felt shirt, his boots digging at the nearby soil, praying for an anchor. This lumber was to be sold at market docks; Tonaf's skill as a fine woodcutter would hopefully garner him a pretty penny to set off back home. He'd had his share of the Big People life, now it'd been time to go home, back to Glythryncote, where there was none of this silly 'milurdship' and rich manfolk covered in steel that made them trip and stumble. The thoughts of getting back to home and hearth helped him cope with the tug of war with his cart, and the bitter hindsight that he did not take a wilder route.
'Dun be goin' forest-ways, yeah...' The bumpkin serfs had warned him before the trek. 'Thar be bad omens out there, folk be saying that wolfmen raisin' from ta graves.'
He should've ignored the warning -- just a stupid tale to get him all worked up -- the walking punchline for some dumb joke. He'd bet the same peasants were hiding in the bushes right now, their spot-ridden faces stifled with suppresed laughter as he struggled. He expected to hear them bellow, as a hard stone caught the wheel of the lumber cart dead in it's trail.
The uphill climb was halted.
Tonaf bit into his lip, frustrated. "Don't you bloody dare!" He hissed loudly, red with anger as he yanked at the rope, curses slipped out from his bearded lips, bathed under the summer sky.
It was to no avail, the rope twanged with a snap, throwing Tonaf on his backside to watch his lumbercart ride back down the hill and crash into an inconveniently placed signpole and a neighbouring tree. The Wood Dwarf's mouth gaped upon with fury, his wares thrown out from the totalled cart; the hillside was a complete mess of broken splintered wood. A moment of disbelief passed, the back of his trousers covered in a canvas of cobbled grey and muddy brown. He kicked away at the dirt as he rose to his stubby feet. "Those bloody menfolk!" He shouted with a tread down the hill, his baritone voice like a bark of a bear, caring not for any who listened in. "Should'a spat in their faces and took a wild path. Wolfmen, my backside!"
It was then, as he clenched his honey tinted fists upon the remains of his cart, that he caught the sound of a screaming child. The beard roots upon his hidden chin became cold with trepidation. What would cause a kid to shout like that? Bandits? Wolves? A playfight gone wrong? It didn't matter; the bugger's parents could harbour the Wood Dwarf a day's shelter or two. It was enough to get this useless hunk of wood back into working gear.
Tonaf waddled by the side of his cart, yanking his good axe from the two metal handles that held it in place. At least one of his belongings was in working condition. He'd barely remembered which direction the shout came from as he hauled himself above a tiny cliffside on the earth, beckoning him to wade through the green sea of grass. He wasn't afraid of greedy men, much less of beasts and wild animals, not with the good woodaxe by his side, no Sir.
'Dun be goin' forest-ways, yeah...' The bumpkin serfs had warned him before the trek. 'Thar be bad omens out there, folk be saying that wolfmen raisin' from ta graves.'
He should've ignored the warning -- just a stupid tale to get him all worked up -- the walking punchline for some dumb joke. He'd bet the same peasants were hiding in the bushes right now, their spot-ridden faces stifled with suppresed laughter as he struggled. He expected to hear them bellow, as a hard stone caught the wheel of the lumber cart dead in it's trail.
The uphill climb was halted.
Tonaf bit into his lip, frustrated. "Don't you bloody dare!" He hissed loudly, red with anger as he yanked at the rope, curses slipped out from his bearded lips, bathed under the summer sky.
It was to no avail, the rope twanged with a snap, throwing Tonaf on his backside to watch his lumbercart ride back down the hill and crash into an inconveniently placed signpole and a neighbouring tree. The Wood Dwarf's mouth gaped upon with fury, his wares thrown out from the totalled cart; the hillside was a complete mess of broken splintered wood. A moment of disbelief passed, the back of his trousers covered in a canvas of cobbled grey and muddy brown. He kicked away at the dirt as he rose to his stubby feet. "Those bloody menfolk!" He shouted with a tread down the hill, his baritone voice like a bark of a bear, caring not for any who listened in. "Should'a spat in their faces and took a wild path. Wolfmen, my backside!"
It was then, as he clenched his honey tinted fists upon the remains of his cart, that he caught the sound of a screaming child. The beard roots upon his hidden chin became cold with trepidation. What would cause a kid to shout like that? Bandits? Wolves? A playfight gone wrong? It didn't matter; the bugger's parents could harbour the Wood Dwarf a day's shelter or two. It was enough to get this useless hunk of wood back into working gear.
Tonaf waddled by the side of his cart, yanking his good axe from the two metal handles that held it in place. At least one of his belongings was in working condition. He'd barely remembered which direction the shout came from as he hauled himself above a tiny cliffside on the earth, beckoning him to wade through the green sea of grass. He wasn't afraid of greedy men, much less of beasts and wild animals, not with the good woodaxe by his side, no Sir.
The pelt-covered man's eyes remained on the boy who fled until the latter reached the cabin and the protective embrace of his mother. His eyes trailed up, first to the woman holding the boy, then to the man who called out to him. Sensing the wariness in the other man's voice, the large stranger's footsteps slowed and he hesitated while wrinkling his nose. A good ten seconds passed before the man replied.
"I am here for your things!" The stranger growled out in a deep, rough voice. "Give them to me." He demanded, starting to walk towards the humble cottage family once again. Though the stranger was making demands, he did not move to hasten his steps or scan the horizon for interruptions or other threats. As he drew closer, the cottage folk might see that his eyes were wide, almost fixated on them.
As he drew nearer, the man's lips pulled into a snarl. He started to growl, muscles filling with tension as he stared the cottage man down. And toward the humble man's second question he rumbled out, "I am beyond your questions."
"I am here for your things!" The stranger growled out in a deep, rough voice. "Give them to me." He demanded, starting to walk towards the humble cottage family once again. Though the stranger was making demands, he did not move to hasten his steps or scan the horizon for interruptions or other threats. As he drew closer, the cottage folk might see that his eyes were wide, almost fixated on them.
As he drew nearer, the man's lips pulled into a snarl. He started to growl, muscles filling with tension as he stared the cottage man down. And toward the humble man's second question he rumbled out, "I am beyond your questions."
(Apologies to the long waited reply, I had important matters to tend to)
The man clenched down on his axe with a glare of defensive nature. He was prepared to fight and defend, as any creature would with a half-decent instinct. The man nudged his head backwards but not daring to take his eyes off of the man as he said in a serious and agitated tone.
Anna! Take Fergus into the house and barricade the door! Now!
The mother did so with haste as the son fought back and cried out, pleading to help his father in the upcoming battle. The mother, however was strong enough to drag him in and slam the door, now only the men stood outside as a gentle breeze passed by, lifting the hair off the man's face and moving the grass softly as the man made no move, keeping eye on this intruder and standing his ground, Meanwhile a dwarf atop a hill, witnessing it all.
Man: "I mean you no harm, stranger, Just leave my family be. We have done nothing to you to deserve this, We can give you food and gold, but we cannot allow you to take our home!"
The man spoke with a calm, but steadied voice as very dark clouds rolled over the land. Covering the forests and miuntains in complete, and utter darkness during the day.
The man clenched down on his axe with a glare of defensive nature. He was prepared to fight and defend, as any creature would with a half-decent instinct. The man nudged his head backwards but not daring to take his eyes off of the man as he said in a serious and agitated tone.
Anna! Take Fergus into the house and barricade the door! Now!
The mother did so with haste as the son fought back and cried out, pleading to help his father in the upcoming battle. The mother, however was strong enough to drag him in and slam the door, now only the men stood outside as a gentle breeze passed by, lifting the hair off the man's face and moving the grass softly as the man made no move, keeping eye on this intruder and standing his ground, Meanwhile a dwarf atop a hill, witnessing it all.
Man: "I mean you no harm, stranger, Just leave my family be. We have done nothing to you to deserve this, We can give you food and gold, but we cannot allow you to take our home!"
The man spoke with a calm, but steadied voice as very dark clouds rolled over the land. Covering the forests and miuntains in complete, and utter darkness during the day.
Through the tall grain and grass, the stout little man trudged, wading his burly free hand across the river of green. He could hear audible voices across the horizon, yet he was too far to understand their words; too small to get a definite glimpse at the folk. The dimming clouds made things worse, Tonaf's vision became muddled while the vapourous limbs protruded rather inconveniently over the midsummer sky.
'Oh, for the love of God...' The Wood Dwarf murmurmed under his bitten lips, his frustration shifting now into visible defeat. His stride began to lessen with each passing second, until by fortune he dug the wooden shaft of his axe into a grassy mound. Tonaf's eyes awoke with newfound vigour as two fierce figures laid bare before him as he observed from the hill top. A humble woodsman, much like himself -- an honest man, perhaps as well. Must be the father of the little bugger making those dulled squals within the hovel that he guarded.
The latter fellow though... 'The bloody Wolfman is real!' Tonaf peeled his eyes at the huge figure in front, whose body was lathered in fur and pelts. A fierce man, swole like those stories told of pagan legends in the halls of Glythryncote. He kept his axe clenched in both palms as he observed; there's a stand-off here, no doubt! Perhaps the hushed tones 'o those village bumpkins held some clout, the blackening sky and chilly air gave no comfort either.
This was one way to end a holiday, alright.
'Oh, for the love of God...' The Wood Dwarf murmurmed under his bitten lips, his frustration shifting now into visible defeat. His stride began to lessen with each passing second, until by fortune he dug the wooden shaft of his axe into a grassy mound. Tonaf's eyes awoke with newfound vigour as two fierce figures laid bare before him as he observed from the hill top. A humble woodsman, much like himself -- an honest man, perhaps as well. Must be the father of the little bugger making those dulled squals within the hovel that he guarded.
The latter fellow though... 'The bloody Wolfman is real!' Tonaf peeled his eyes at the huge figure in front, whose body was lathered in fur and pelts. A fierce man, swole like those stories told of pagan legends in the halls of Glythryncote. He kept his axe clenched in both palms as he observed; there's a stand-off here, no doubt! Perhaps the hushed tones 'o those village bumpkins held some clout, the blackening sky and chilly air gave no comfort either.
This was one way to end a holiday, alright.
The wolfman did not waver in his approach while the man gave him warning, but he did pause as soon as he was perhaps teen feet from the man's front porch. He continued to stare coldly his way while he further replied, "You will give me whatever I want." With that, he started to pull the wolf pelts from his body, letting them drop to the ground around him. He bowed his head and gritted his teeth together, growling louder as tension took his body.
The stranger's form shivered, some of the muscles almost seeming to ripple underneath his skin. The man drew his hands to the sides of his face and closed his eyes while many small hairs started to sprout all over his body. They emerged from beneath his skin, extending an inch or so before shivering themselves and then retracting back, out of sight. As his body returned to its original, humanoid form his eyes bulged open and he drew his hands from his face to stare at them, visibly bewildered. "W-what..?!"
Then the stranger looked further down, patting his chest while he boggled. He plucked at the ribbon wound around his torso and growled loudly, pulling in a sudden frenzy at it. Despite its delicate appearance, it did not waver. He snapped then, stomping his foot. "No! NO! I will not be bound! I will NOT BE FETTERED ANYMORE!" He raised his head to stare at the sky as it darkened, repeating himself. "I WILL NOT BE FETTERED!"
Only then did the strange wolfman return his hostile gaze to the humble man and his cabin. "...It doesn't matter. You're going to listen to me, or you'll fall to me." Bold words for a man in his birthday suit.
The stranger's form shivered, some of the muscles almost seeming to ripple underneath his skin. The man drew his hands to the sides of his face and closed his eyes while many small hairs started to sprout all over his body. They emerged from beneath his skin, extending an inch or so before shivering themselves and then retracting back, out of sight. As his body returned to its original, humanoid form his eyes bulged open and he drew his hands from his face to stare at them, visibly bewildered. "W-what..?!"
Then the stranger looked further down, patting his chest while he boggled. He plucked at the ribbon wound around his torso and growled loudly, pulling in a sudden frenzy at it. Despite its delicate appearance, it did not waver. He snapped then, stomping his foot. "No! NO! I will not be bound! I will NOT BE FETTERED ANYMORE!" He raised his head to stare at the sky as it darkened, repeating himself. "I WILL NOT BE FETTERED!"
Only then did the strange wolfman return his hostile gaze to the humble man and his cabin. "...It doesn't matter. You're going to listen to me, or you'll fall to me." Bold words for a man in his birthday suit.
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