For once, the weather matched his dour mood. The sky above was completely overcast; ashen clouds rolled overhead, and in the distance came the echoing cry of thunder. Although the clouds filled the sky, there would be no deliverance of much-needed rain. The farther he marched, the more the land seemed to wither. It was interesting how much the absence of a single person could affect him so completely. Ehoron trudged onward with an almost blank expression of his face. Dark circles ran under his eyes: a testament to how deprived he had been of sleep over the last few days.
It did not matter that she was not the first to disappear on him; there had been many more before her who had walked with him on the roads and abruptly left. What difference did it make that she had not claimed to be in it for the long-haul? He was not owed her company or her time. 'So why then am I so utterly miserable?!' That question screamed and raged within his mind as he forced one foot forward, and then another. Similar questions plagued his days ever since Trinity had abruptly vanished, and he hated how rapidly he had grown attached to her presence because it made the subsequent days to her disappearance all the more unbearable.
So deep into a fugue was he that Ehoron was unaware of where he was going or doing. Time had passed without meaning, and by the time his fragile sense of self was able to stand above the ruins and take stock of everything that had happened, Ehoron found he was far from the familiar. The land looked far different here; though the ground was covered in grass, it was far less vibrant than he was used to. Barren patches of earth splashed through the pale bed of grass ever so often. The trees were knotty and gnarled, twisting into almost menacing forms along the road and threatening whoever passed by.
Up ahead, Ehoron noted the appearance of a small town. It was not one that was particularly well-built or constructed in such a way that would make him think of it long after he had passed through. It was plainly built and plainly painted. The only noteworthy feature of it he could find was that there was no sign of life he could find. The road looked to be sparsely used, but even so, there were no carriages or cars passing along. There was not a soul to be seen walking across roads or standing at corners. The closer and closer he got to the town, the more the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
It was then that wind shifted, and Ehoron smelled it. Rot mixed with ash and coal, and Ehoron suddenly had a very dark feeling as to what had happened to this small town. With no reason to rush, Ehoron slowly made his way into the town and soon had his worst suspicions confirmed. Bodies were strewn about in a horrible fashion. Some seemed to have been cut down abruptly, others had turned to flee. The ferocity, the sheer barbarism on display, was enough to make his stomach turn. Ehoron wiped his mouth and took a steadying breath before continuing on.
Everywhere he walked, Ehoron saw more of the same. It was evident soon enough that an animal or monster of some sort had done this; claw marks could be seen on almost every body, and bloody bite marks left little doubt as to what had been the aftermath. And yet there was an unnatural savagery here; an animal attacked and ate for survival, out of a need to satiate a hunger. Though many bore the marks of having been fed upon, there were enough people around with little more than the mortal wounds that had cut their lives short to say that there was more to it.
It was hard to say who was more stunned to see the other when Ehoron crossed paths with a young boy near the town's center. After a tense stand-off, Ehoron managed to coax a name from the boy. Eris had come back against the wishes of his grandmother to try and locate his mother and retrieve a necklace to keep as a memento. Hearing the boy recall the myths of werewolves nearby made Ehoron tense as that notion fit eerily well with the savagery on display in the town. Just before seeing Eris off, the boy gave him a small poster that indicated a bounty had been put on the werewolves' collective heads.
Unable to do much else, and wanting to channel his own demons into something constructive, Ehoron kept the poster and began to wander towards the alleged cursed lands from where the werewolves came every full moon. It was not too difficult to follow the signs of the land as every blighted plant and scar upon the earth seemed to magnify the closer he got the accursed place. Periodically, he would notice the leftover skeleton of a carriage or the picked-clean bones of some unfortunate soul. By the time he was certain he had passed into the cursed lands, the sky had become perpetually darkened by thick, ash-like clouds.
It seemed that many favored the woods as the most likely location for the werewolves' lair, and Ehoron could not find much evidence to dismiss that notion. The air reeked of fur, blood, and rotten meat. It was not long before Ehoron became acutely aware of a presence watching him. Briefly, he glanced to one side and noticed a pair of black wolves stalking him just beyond the treeline. A cursory glance to the other side noted another three following him. He gave a faint grin, baring his teeth ever so slightly as he did so, while he continued to march on as if never noticing them.
Eventually, after penetrating deep into the heart of the woods, a howl suddenly rang out. Ehoron took it as a sign to stop, as the howl was taken up by another pack, and then another. From the fog came a dozen wolves, each with jet black fur and sickly yellow eyes. They bared their fangs at him and slowly began to circle around him, stalking him like they wound their prey. He did not pay attention to them in the slightest. Instead, his attention was just beyond them, on a figure that was only just standing out against the background of woods and fog.
"If you don't want your pack of dogs to die, I suggest you call them off," Ehoron called out loudly, dismissal clear in his voice. A growl came from all around him, and he could just barely make out the figure holding up a hand to keep the wolves at bay. "So then tell me, stranger. What brings you to these cursed woods? Is it retribution for the villagers?" Although he could not see the man, Ehoron could hear the morose amusement in the man's voice.
It was Ehoron's turn to chuckle darkly. "Retribution? For a bunch of strangers? No.... No, I'm here for a much more selfish reason." The temperature began to plummet around him as he spoke. Black began to run down the veins of his arms and up his neck as a wide grin came over him. "No, I'm here because I have a great many issues to work out, and I thought it would be therapeutic to work them out all over your skull." The wolves around him began to growl more loudly at that, and he saw the figure drop his hands in the unmistakable signal to attack.
No sooner had he dropped his hand that the wolves lunged for Ehoron. Just as they did, Ehoron let go of that oily feeling that had been growing within the pit of his stomach ever since he stepped foot into the woods. A wall of black suddenly swirled around him before sweeping out in an arching wave. It lasted only a heartbeat, but every wolf fell limp in midair and hit the ground already dead. "Mongrel pets will not save you. Come, die like the man you used to be. Or, if you prefer-" Ehoron held out a hand as an icy black blade formed over his hand and jutted out, the edge glinting malevolently against the pale daylight. "I can hunt you and your pack down like vermin."
This time, the growl that Ehoron heard was much deeper. Faintly, he made out the man's outline as he shifted and contorted. He heard ever bone snap and readjust before a lumbering monster came out of the treeline; the unmistakable visage of a werewolf staring down at him. More than a head taller than him, the wolfman had grey fur that covered everything not obscured by the shredded pants that clung to his middle. "I will rip your heart out and feast on its blood" It spoke in a gargled, rough tongue as if its mouth had not been made for human speech.
"Better men and worse beasts have attempted to put me down, fleabag, but by all means." Ehoron held out his unbound hand and gestured the beast forward as ice began to spread out from his boots. "Come and try."
-----
As the night of the full moon approached just two days away, many villages waited with bated breath for those terrible howls to take up the sky. The tension and fear were almost palpable. Yet, when the cries were heard early, it was not long for terror to make way for confusion. These were not the usual howls of werewolves on the hunt. They recognized them at first as those of the werewolves on the attack, but soon after the howls turned to rage, then whimpered cries of pain, and then they cut off abruptly. Each time a howl was cut off, the packs got quieter and quieter. By dawn's light, they were silent. It was another silence night before someone mustered the courage to set out at dawn's light with a hunting party.
When they arrived, the woods were coated in a thick layer of frost and ice. Even as the clouds parted in a rare display of sun, the ice held strong and refused to melt. All around them, the woods bore signs of a terrible battle. Trees were uprooted whole while others had been snapped in half. The frozen bodies of the wolves were the first sign of what had transpired that night. From there, the broken bodies of werewolves began to litter the ground, left amidst snowdrifts and held aloft by columns of obsidian ice.
When they finally found the lone cabin that had served as the home of the alpha werewolf, they found the cabin in ruins. A great tower of ice had been erected in its place, bits of roof and stone clinging to it as the only testament as to how the tower was made. And there, at the base of the tower, was the headless body of the werewolf. Beneath its feet, etched into the dark ice, was a simple plaque.
----------
WC: 1,883 / 1,500
It did not matter that she was not the first to disappear on him; there had been many more before her who had walked with him on the roads and abruptly left. What difference did it make that she had not claimed to be in it for the long-haul? He was not owed her company or her time. 'So why then am I so utterly miserable?!' That question screamed and raged within his mind as he forced one foot forward, and then another. Similar questions plagued his days ever since Trinity had abruptly vanished, and he hated how rapidly he had grown attached to her presence because it made the subsequent days to her disappearance all the more unbearable.
So deep into a fugue was he that Ehoron was unaware of where he was going or doing. Time had passed without meaning, and by the time his fragile sense of self was able to stand above the ruins and take stock of everything that had happened, Ehoron found he was far from the familiar. The land looked far different here; though the ground was covered in grass, it was far less vibrant than he was used to. Barren patches of earth splashed through the pale bed of grass ever so often. The trees were knotty and gnarled, twisting into almost menacing forms along the road and threatening whoever passed by.
Up ahead, Ehoron noted the appearance of a small town. It was not one that was particularly well-built or constructed in such a way that would make him think of it long after he had passed through. It was plainly built and plainly painted. The only noteworthy feature of it he could find was that there was no sign of life he could find. The road looked to be sparsely used, but even so, there were no carriages or cars passing along. There was not a soul to be seen walking across roads or standing at corners. The closer and closer he got to the town, the more the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
It was then that wind shifted, and Ehoron smelled it. Rot mixed with ash and coal, and Ehoron suddenly had a very dark feeling as to what had happened to this small town. With no reason to rush, Ehoron slowly made his way into the town and soon had his worst suspicions confirmed. Bodies were strewn about in a horrible fashion. Some seemed to have been cut down abruptly, others had turned to flee. The ferocity, the sheer barbarism on display, was enough to make his stomach turn. Ehoron wiped his mouth and took a steadying breath before continuing on.
Everywhere he walked, Ehoron saw more of the same. It was evident soon enough that an animal or monster of some sort had done this; claw marks could be seen on almost every body, and bloody bite marks left little doubt as to what had been the aftermath. And yet there was an unnatural savagery here; an animal attacked and ate for survival, out of a need to satiate a hunger. Though many bore the marks of having been fed upon, there were enough people around with little more than the mortal wounds that had cut their lives short to say that there was more to it.
It was hard to say who was more stunned to see the other when Ehoron crossed paths with a young boy near the town's center. After a tense stand-off, Ehoron managed to coax a name from the boy. Eris had come back against the wishes of his grandmother to try and locate his mother and retrieve a necklace to keep as a memento. Hearing the boy recall the myths of werewolves nearby made Ehoron tense as that notion fit eerily well with the savagery on display in the town. Just before seeing Eris off, the boy gave him a small poster that indicated a bounty had been put on the werewolves' collective heads.
Unable to do much else, and wanting to channel his own demons into something constructive, Ehoron kept the poster and began to wander towards the alleged cursed lands from where the werewolves came every full moon. It was not too difficult to follow the signs of the land as every blighted plant and scar upon the earth seemed to magnify the closer he got the accursed place. Periodically, he would notice the leftover skeleton of a carriage or the picked-clean bones of some unfortunate soul. By the time he was certain he had passed into the cursed lands, the sky had become perpetually darkened by thick, ash-like clouds.
It seemed that many favored the woods as the most likely location for the werewolves' lair, and Ehoron could not find much evidence to dismiss that notion. The air reeked of fur, blood, and rotten meat. It was not long before Ehoron became acutely aware of a presence watching him. Briefly, he glanced to one side and noticed a pair of black wolves stalking him just beyond the treeline. A cursory glance to the other side noted another three following him. He gave a faint grin, baring his teeth ever so slightly as he did so, while he continued to march on as if never noticing them.
Eventually, after penetrating deep into the heart of the woods, a howl suddenly rang out. Ehoron took it as a sign to stop, as the howl was taken up by another pack, and then another. From the fog came a dozen wolves, each with jet black fur and sickly yellow eyes. They bared their fangs at him and slowly began to circle around him, stalking him like they wound their prey. He did not pay attention to them in the slightest. Instead, his attention was just beyond them, on a figure that was only just standing out against the background of woods and fog.
"If you don't want your pack of dogs to die, I suggest you call them off," Ehoron called out loudly, dismissal clear in his voice. A growl came from all around him, and he could just barely make out the figure holding up a hand to keep the wolves at bay. "So then tell me, stranger. What brings you to these cursed woods? Is it retribution for the villagers?" Although he could not see the man, Ehoron could hear the morose amusement in the man's voice.
It was Ehoron's turn to chuckle darkly. "Retribution? For a bunch of strangers? No.... No, I'm here for a much more selfish reason." The temperature began to plummet around him as he spoke. Black began to run down the veins of his arms and up his neck as a wide grin came over him. "No, I'm here because I have a great many issues to work out, and I thought it would be therapeutic to work them out all over your skull." The wolves around him began to growl more loudly at that, and he saw the figure drop his hands in the unmistakable signal to attack.
No sooner had he dropped his hand that the wolves lunged for Ehoron. Just as they did, Ehoron let go of that oily feeling that had been growing within the pit of his stomach ever since he stepped foot into the woods. A wall of black suddenly swirled around him before sweeping out in an arching wave. It lasted only a heartbeat, but every wolf fell limp in midair and hit the ground already dead. "Mongrel pets will not save you. Come, die like the man you used to be. Or, if you prefer-" Ehoron held out a hand as an icy black blade formed over his hand and jutted out, the edge glinting malevolently against the pale daylight. "I can hunt you and your pack down like vermin."
This time, the growl that Ehoron heard was much deeper. Faintly, he made out the man's outline as he shifted and contorted. He heard ever bone snap and readjust before a lumbering monster came out of the treeline; the unmistakable visage of a werewolf staring down at him. More than a head taller than him, the wolfman had grey fur that covered everything not obscured by the shredded pants that clung to his middle. "I will rip your heart out and feast on its blood" It spoke in a gargled, rough tongue as if its mouth had not been made for human speech.
"Better men and worse beasts have attempted to put me down, fleabag, but by all means." Ehoron held out his unbound hand and gestured the beast forward as ice began to spread out from his boots. "Come and try."
-----
As the night of the full moon approached just two days away, many villages waited with bated breath for those terrible howls to take up the sky. The tension and fear were almost palpable. Yet, when the cries were heard early, it was not long for terror to make way for confusion. These were not the usual howls of werewolves on the hunt. They recognized them at first as those of the werewolves on the attack, but soon after the howls turned to rage, then whimpered cries of pain, and then they cut off abruptly. Each time a howl was cut off, the packs got quieter and quieter. By dawn's light, they were silent. It was another silence night before someone mustered the courage to set out at dawn's light with a hunting party.
When they arrived, the woods were coated in a thick layer of frost and ice. Even as the clouds parted in a rare display of sun, the ice held strong and refused to melt. All around them, the woods bore signs of a terrible battle. Trees were uprooted whole while others had been snapped in half. The frozen bodies of the wolves were the first sign of what had transpired that night. From there, the broken bodies of werewolves began to litter the ground, left amidst snowdrifts and held aloft by columns of obsidian ice.
When they finally found the lone cabin that had served as the home of the alpha werewolf, they found the cabin in ruins. A great tower of ice had been erected in its place, bits of roof and stone clinging to it as the only testament as to how the tower was made. And there, at the base of the tower, was the headless body of the werewolf. Beneath its feet, etched into the dark ice, was a simple plaque.
LET THIS TOWER SERVE AS A REMINDER
THOSE THAT PREY ON OTHERS AS MONSTERS
WILL FIND THEMSELVES PREYED UPON BY MONSTERS
THOSE THAT PREY ON OTHERS AS MONSTERS
WILL FIND THEMSELVES PREYED UPON BY MONSTERS
----------
WC: 1,883 / 1,500
