Post by Crisis on Jun 29, 2009 20:56:50 GMT -8
This is a story I started a long time ago from a video game idea I had, then started over after having written a lot of material with no real continuity. So here is the beginning of what I hope to be a novel-length story. Feedback and comments more than welcome.
by Chet "Crisis" Weaver[/i][/center]
The beat of jungle drums at midnight. The light of flames illuminate the dancers in iridescent orange. Around the bonfire they go, keeping with the wild rhythm. High-stepping, heads low, caricature animal headdresses shaking. Between them and the flames stands the high priest and a young maiden, facing each other. He all but towered over her, his height compounded by the face-concealing eagle headdress he wore. She, wearing little more than a buckskin tunic, glared back at the eagle. Her hard expression hid her anxiety, yet she stood there as if tact was the only thing keeping her from shoving him out of her way.
“Katrina,” the priest’s deep voice boomed, projecting to the audience beyond the dancing circle. “The rise of the moon this night marks the passing of sixteen years since your emergence into the light of this world. Your childhood is but a memory, and your adulthood looms nigh. Tonight is but the first step in your great quest of life. This is not a step taken lightly. From this night on, your life and the lives you touch are your responsibility. Are you ready to commence the Rite of Initiation?”
“I am,” Katrina replied loudly.
The priest gestured to the roaring flames. “Then cast off the mantle of childhood, and keep only the memories with you.”
Katrina removed her tunic, her long, black hair cascading over her bare shoulders as she pulled it over her head. Light and shadow cast over the lean, toned muscles previously concealed by the garment. A cat-call echoed its way from the peanut gallery. Katrina snorted, an almost-failed attempt to keep from laughing, and tossed the tunic into the fire. Turning back to the priest, she glared at him expectantly. She was more relaxed now, less of the contemptuous expression from when she was more tense, as if being nude was a small relief to her. Indeed, it meant this show was almost done and she could finally get to the really important part.
The priest drew a ceremonial dagger and held it against Katrina’s bare chest. “Have you memorized your oath?”
“I have,” Katrina replied.
“Then recite it now,” the priest commanded.
Katrina took the dagger, holding it flat against her chest. “I swear, by the Pantheon, by the Terra Guardians of Earth, Fire, Water, and Air, and by the blood coursing through my veins, I will seize my destiny. I will forge my path in the world, protect those I find along the way, and leave the world a better place than when I found it.”
“Are you prepared to abide by this oath?” the priest asked. “Prepared to live by the virtues you swore to?”
“I am,” Katrina replied.
“Then dress yourself in the vestments of adulthood,” the priest commanded.
These clothes had been placed at Katrina’s feet at the beginning of the ceremony, and she stooped down now to put them on. First was a pair of thigh-length buckskin shorts, with decorative stitching in red, black, yellow, and blue going down the hemlines and around the waistband and cuffs. Next was a hip-length, sleeveless buckskin tunic, designed in much the same way as the shorts, with the pattern down the front as well. After that, she strapped on a pair of moccasin boots and fingerless gloves. Lastly, she took a ribbon and tied her hair back into a ponytail.
As soon as she had finished, the drum beats stopped and the dancers dropped to their knees. Just as the priest was about to speak again, the howl of a lone wolf pierced the silence. A coincidence it may be, but such things are often considered omens. To many, the cry of a wolf is a sign of ill portent. Katrina merely glanced out to the woods with a conspiratorial smirk. She was certain destiny was on her side.
“The Rite of Initiation has begun,” the priest announced. He was not as confident about this scenario as Katrina anymore. What he said next was traditionally part of a girl’s ceremony, but Katrina had requested to skip it as was her prerogative. Although he was professional enough not to show it, the priest now felt he had cause for concern. “As a woman of the village, you are allowed a guardian. Do you wish to name one now?”
Katrina shot him a bemused glance. “No. I will go alone.”
“Are you certain?” the priest asked. He was ad-libbing now. “Many dangers lurk in the forest, especially at night.”
“I am certain,” Katrina replied. The priest considered pressing her further, as wolves posed a danger regardless of gender, but he could see her grip tightening on the handle of the ceremonial dagger. There was no talking her out of it, and he stood too much on ceremony to force the issue further.
“Very well,” he accepted. He pointed toward the forest. “Go now, and seek your animal companion. Do not return without one.”
Wordlessly, Katrina marched past the circle, beyond the parting crowd, and into the dark woods. She had been in these woods many times before, both day and night, alone and with others. She knew it like her own backyard, but even so the forest at night, even with a full moon like tonight, was a mysterious and foreboding place. Confident though she was, she looked up at the sky, fixed her gaze at the star Pantheon, and made a silent prayer of protection.
Katrina tread carefully through the forest for a good while. It felt like hours, and she hadn’t met a single animal. Not terribly surprising, as it was night and this stage of the Rite has been known to last for days or even weeks. A few rare cases take over a year, and the really unlucky ones don’t come back at all. Considering how close that wolf sounded, however, Katrina was a little surprised she hadn’t even met that yet.
Katrina stopped suddenly, her gaze meeting a pair of glowing, yellow eyes in the shadows a few yards away. Their owner soon stepped into the moonlight, revealing a gray wolf almost as big as she was. She was fixated on the wolf’s face. Its eyes seemed contorted into a perpetual, wide-eyed stare, piercing through Katrina’s soul. Its trembling lips parted, its jaw practically forcing itself open to reveal sharp, slobbering fangs. The wolf’s hackles were raised, poised to strike, yet appeared forcibly restrained.
Katrina had seen wolves before. Seen them angry, seen them posturing. This seemed very much like that sort of wolf, and yet it seemed very, very wrong. Perhaps it was the way the wolf was fixated on her, yet away from her, but the expression on its face seemed unnatural and just seemed to get less natural the more she looked at it. This terrifying unnaturalness had momentarily frozen her, keeping her from fully realizing that this was not something you just stare at. You prepare to run or you prepare to fight, neither of which felt like a decided advantage at this point. Unconsciously, Katrina was preparing to fight, her ceremonial dagger at the ready.
The spell broke as the wolf charged. Regaining her senses, Katrina dove to the right as the wolf lunged at her, missing a full-on tackle by a hair. Crouched, she took a moment to take in her surroundings. There was a tree nearby that she could easily climb up to escape from the wolf. The wolf itself was still pretty close, and Katrina didn’t like to back down from a challenge. Then again, she never fought a wolf before, and didn’t want to kill it if she could avoid it. And that face…
She didn’t get time to mull it over as the wolf lunged for her again. She swung her dagger, the wolf catching the blade in its teeth. The wolf made a swipe with its paw, but Katrina caught it with her free hand. The wolf was pressing against her, but Katrina managed to get her feet up and shove it off her.
As the wolf was twisting itself back to its feet, Katrina bolted for the tree, leapt up and grabbed a branch with one hand. Hoisting herself up, she perched on the branch as the wolf attempted to seize her again. A strategic retreat, so she may better gauge the situation.
The wolf was behaving strangely. It clamored at the tree, snarling in a vain attempt to climb up after her. Then it dragged itself back before ramming the tree headlong. This was not natural wolf behavior, and the wolf was far from heavy enough to force the tree over. But it seemed intent on slamming its forehead against the trunk, then grinding its head against it, causing shallow gouges to be left by its… horn?
Katrina hadn’t noticed it before, but their was a small horn protruding from the wolf’s forehead. Far from natural wolf anatomy. Things seemed to come into focus suddenly. The wolf was trying to remove the horn, and seemed to behave as if fighting against a leash. Katrina came to the conclusion that the horn was harming the wolf somehow, causing it to lash out. There was only one thing to do, Katrina decided.
Katrina glanced up at the star Pantheon. Then, placing the dagger between her teeth like a buccaneer, she leapt off the tree and landed squarely on the wolf’s back. Wrapping her arms around it, she wrestled it to the ground and pinned it. As she held it down, the wolf still writhing and snarling in her grip, she reached up and grabbed the horn with one hand.
The wolf yelped loudly as Katrina pulled on the horn. It was stuck on good, but it came loose with a good tug. A thick, glistening, violet strand connected the horn to the wolf’s head, and became taut as it contracted itself an attempt to get the horn back in position. Despite the wolf remaining far from placated, Katrina hazarded the use of her other arm and grabbed her dagger. With a quick slice, the strand was severed.
The wolf quickly bucked her off and dashed a couple yards before stopping and turning back. Its face was decidedly non-deranged, if slightly bewildered, and stared at her with a low whine.
Katrina looked a the horn in her hand. Violet ooze seeped out from beneath it. The sudden emergence of six spidery legs startled Katrina and she quickly dropped it. Standing, she gave it a couple good stomps and ground her heel into the dirt. Lifting her foot back up, she found the horn was now just a gunky, shell-filled smear, like a crushed snail.
Katrina groaned in revulsion before ssandwiching her heel off on a tree root. “These are new boots, too…”
A low whine brought her attention back to the wolf. It (or rather, he, now that she got a good look at him) was now standing closer. The wolf bowed his head, staring up at Katrina pitifully. She felt drawn to him, a sort of instinctual pull. This was part of the Rite that was always difficult to explain, and Katrina had beenget your game onured she would know it when she felt it. It was that feeling, that click when two people meet and like that know something very important just happened.
Katrina walked up to the wolf and knelt down, placing a hand on the wolf’s head. She took a deep breath and time seemed to slow down. She quieted her mind and listened to the silence of the night. Amidst the silence a voice came into being. Not one heard by the ears, but felt by the heart.
“I owe you my life,” the wolf said.
Katrina smiled to herself. “Yeah, I know.”
“I must repay you for your deed,” the wolf said.
“That isn’t necessary,” Katrina replied. “I was just trying to help. There is one thing, but I don‘t want you to feel obligated…”
“The Rite of Initiation,” the wolf remarked. “Yes. I owe you my life, and I intend to make good on it. From now on, I will be your protector, and guard you with my life.”
“I don’t need a protector,” Katrina remarked. “And I don’t need a servant. I will regard you as my partner, and we will protect each other.”
“Very well,” the wolf accepted. “We will be as brother and sister. I will be with you always.”
“Then it‘s agreed,” Katrina said. “I am Katrina. And you?”
“I am your armor,” the wolf replied simply.
“Armor?” Katrina remarked, playing with the word in her head. “Then that’d make you a ‘wear’wolf.”
“Indeed,” the wolf confirmed, mirroring Katrina’s amusement at the pun. “Then you shall call me Wearwolf.”
“Awesome,” Katrina said, standing back up. “C’mon, Wearwolf, let’s go home.”
MultiPets: Chimera Knight
Chapter 1, Act 1: Opening Ceremonies
[/u]Chapter 1, Act 1: Opening Ceremonies
by Chet "Crisis" Weaver[/i][/center]
The beat of jungle drums at midnight. The light of flames illuminate the dancers in iridescent orange. Around the bonfire they go, keeping with the wild rhythm. High-stepping, heads low, caricature animal headdresses shaking. Between them and the flames stands the high priest and a young maiden, facing each other. He all but towered over her, his height compounded by the face-concealing eagle headdress he wore. She, wearing little more than a buckskin tunic, glared back at the eagle. Her hard expression hid her anxiety, yet she stood there as if tact was the only thing keeping her from shoving him out of her way.
“Katrina,” the priest’s deep voice boomed, projecting to the audience beyond the dancing circle. “The rise of the moon this night marks the passing of sixteen years since your emergence into the light of this world. Your childhood is but a memory, and your adulthood looms nigh. Tonight is but the first step in your great quest of life. This is not a step taken lightly. From this night on, your life and the lives you touch are your responsibility. Are you ready to commence the Rite of Initiation?”
“I am,” Katrina replied loudly.
The priest gestured to the roaring flames. “Then cast off the mantle of childhood, and keep only the memories with you.”
Katrina removed her tunic, her long, black hair cascading over her bare shoulders as she pulled it over her head. Light and shadow cast over the lean, toned muscles previously concealed by the garment. A cat-call echoed its way from the peanut gallery. Katrina snorted, an almost-failed attempt to keep from laughing, and tossed the tunic into the fire. Turning back to the priest, she glared at him expectantly. She was more relaxed now, less of the contemptuous expression from when she was more tense, as if being nude was a small relief to her. Indeed, it meant this show was almost done and she could finally get to the really important part.
The priest drew a ceremonial dagger and held it against Katrina’s bare chest. “Have you memorized your oath?”
“I have,” Katrina replied.
“Then recite it now,” the priest commanded.
Katrina took the dagger, holding it flat against her chest. “I swear, by the Pantheon, by the Terra Guardians of Earth, Fire, Water, and Air, and by the blood coursing through my veins, I will seize my destiny. I will forge my path in the world, protect those I find along the way, and leave the world a better place than when I found it.”
“Are you prepared to abide by this oath?” the priest asked. “Prepared to live by the virtues you swore to?”
“I am,” Katrina replied.
“Then dress yourself in the vestments of adulthood,” the priest commanded.
These clothes had been placed at Katrina’s feet at the beginning of the ceremony, and she stooped down now to put them on. First was a pair of thigh-length buckskin shorts, with decorative stitching in red, black, yellow, and blue going down the hemlines and around the waistband and cuffs. Next was a hip-length, sleeveless buckskin tunic, designed in much the same way as the shorts, with the pattern down the front as well. After that, she strapped on a pair of moccasin boots and fingerless gloves. Lastly, she took a ribbon and tied her hair back into a ponytail.
As soon as she had finished, the drum beats stopped and the dancers dropped to their knees. Just as the priest was about to speak again, the howl of a lone wolf pierced the silence. A coincidence it may be, but such things are often considered omens. To many, the cry of a wolf is a sign of ill portent. Katrina merely glanced out to the woods with a conspiratorial smirk. She was certain destiny was on her side.
“The Rite of Initiation has begun,” the priest announced. He was not as confident about this scenario as Katrina anymore. What he said next was traditionally part of a girl’s ceremony, but Katrina had requested to skip it as was her prerogative. Although he was professional enough not to show it, the priest now felt he had cause for concern. “As a woman of the village, you are allowed a guardian. Do you wish to name one now?”
Katrina shot him a bemused glance. “No. I will go alone.”
“Are you certain?” the priest asked. He was ad-libbing now. “Many dangers lurk in the forest, especially at night.”
“I am certain,” Katrina replied. The priest considered pressing her further, as wolves posed a danger regardless of gender, but he could see her grip tightening on the handle of the ceremonial dagger. There was no talking her out of it, and he stood too much on ceremony to force the issue further.
“Very well,” he accepted. He pointed toward the forest. “Go now, and seek your animal companion. Do not return without one.”
Wordlessly, Katrina marched past the circle, beyond the parting crowd, and into the dark woods. She had been in these woods many times before, both day and night, alone and with others. She knew it like her own backyard, but even so the forest at night, even with a full moon like tonight, was a mysterious and foreboding place. Confident though she was, she looked up at the sky, fixed her gaze at the star Pantheon, and made a silent prayer of protection.
Katrina tread carefully through the forest for a good while. It felt like hours, and she hadn’t met a single animal. Not terribly surprising, as it was night and this stage of the Rite has been known to last for days or even weeks. A few rare cases take over a year, and the really unlucky ones don’t come back at all. Considering how close that wolf sounded, however, Katrina was a little surprised she hadn’t even met that yet.
Katrina stopped suddenly, her gaze meeting a pair of glowing, yellow eyes in the shadows a few yards away. Their owner soon stepped into the moonlight, revealing a gray wolf almost as big as she was. She was fixated on the wolf’s face. Its eyes seemed contorted into a perpetual, wide-eyed stare, piercing through Katrina’s soul. Its trembling lips parted, its jaw practically forcing itself open to reveal sharp, slobbering fangs. The wolf’s hackles were raised, poised to strike, yet appeared forcibly restrained.
Katrina had seen wolves before. Seen them angry, seen them posturing. This seemed very much like that sort of wolf, and yet it seemed very, very wrong. Perhaps it was the way the wolf was fixated on her, yet away from her, but the expression on its face seemed unnatural and just seemed to get less natural the more she looked at it. This terrifying unnaturalness had momentarily frozen her, keeping her from fully realizing that this was not something you just stare at. You prepare to run or you prepare to fight, neither of which felt like a decided advantage at this point. Unconsciously, Katrina was preparing to fight, her ceremonial dagger at the ready.
The spell broke as the wolf charged. Regaining her senses, Katrina dove to the right as the wolf lunged at her, missing a full-on tackle by a hair. Crouched, she took a moment to take in her surroundings. There was a tree nearby that she could easily climb up to escape from the wolf. The wolf itself was still pretty close, and Katrina didn’t like to back down from a challenge. Then again, she never fought a wolf before, and didn’t want to kill it if she could avoid it. And that face…
She didn’t get time to mull it over as the wolf lunged for her again. She swung her dagger, the wolf catching the blade in its teeth. The wolf made a swipe with its paw, but Katrina caught it with her free hand. The wolf was pressing against her, but Katrina managed to get her feet up and shove it off her.
As the wolf was twisting itself back to its feet, Katrina bolted for the tree, leapt up and grabbed a branch with one hand. Hoisting herself up, she perched on the branch as the wolf attempted to seize her again. A strategic retreat, so she may better gauge the situation.
The wolf was behaving strangely. It clamored at the tree, snarling in a vain attempt to climb up after her. Then it dragged itself back before ramming the tree headlong. This was not natural wolf behavior, and the wolf was far from heavy enough to force the tree over. But it seemed intent on slamming its forehead against the trunk, then grinding its head against it, causing shallow gouges to be left by its… horn?
Katrina hadn’t noticed it before, but their was a small horn protruding from the wolf’s forehead. Far from natural wolf anatomy. Things seemed to come into focus suddenly. The wolf was trying to remove the horn, and seemed to behave as if fighting against a leash. Katrina came to the conclusion that the horn was harming the wolf somehow, causing it to lash out. There was only one thing to do, Katrina decided.
Katrina glanced up at the star Pantheon. Then, placing the dagger between her teeth like a buccaneer, she leapt off the tree and landed squarely on the wolf’s back. Wrapping her arms around it, she wrestled it to the ground and pinned it. As she held it down, the wolf still writhing and snarling in her grip, she reached up and grabbed the horn with one hand.
The wolf yelped loudly as Katrina pulled on the horn. It was stuck on good, but it came loose with a good tug. A thick, glistening, violet strand connected the horn to the wolf’s head, and became taut as it contracted itself an attempt to get the horn back in position. Despite the wolf remaining far from placated, Katrina hazarded the use of her other arm and grabbed her dagger. With a quick slice, the strand was severed.
The wolf quickly bucked her off and dashed a couple yards before stopping and turning back. Its face was decidedly non-deranged, if slightly bewildered, and stared at her with a low whine.
Katrina looked a the horn in her hand. Violet ooze seeped out from beneath it. The sudden emergence of six spidery legs startled Katrina and she quickly dropped it. Standing, she gave it a couple good stomps and ground her heel into the dirt. Lifting her foot back up, she found the horn was now just a gunky, shell-filled smear, like a crushed snail.
Katrina groaned in revulsion before ssandwiching her heel off on a tree root. “These are new boots, too…”
A low whine brought her attention back to the wolf. It (or rather, he, now that she got a good look at him) was now standing closer. The wolf bowed his head, staring up at Katrina pitifully. She felt drawn to him, a sort of instinctual pull. This was part of the Rite that was always difficult to explain, and Katrina had beenget your game onured she would know it when she felt it. It was that feeling, that click when two people meet and like that know something very important just happened.
Katrina walked up to the wolf and knelt down, placing a hand on the wolf’s head. She took a deep breath and time seemed to slow down. She quieted her mind and listened to the silence of the night. Amidst the silence a voice came into being. Not one heard by the ears, but felt by the heart.
“I owe you my life,” the wolf said.
Katrina smiled to herself. “Yeah, I know.”
“I must repay you for your deed,” the wolf said.
“That isn’t necessary,” Katrina replied. “I was just trying to help. There is one thing, but I don‘t want you to feel obligated…”
“The Rite of Initiation,” the wolf remarked. “Yes. I owe you my life, and I intend to make good on it. From now on, I will be your protector, and guard you with my life.”
“I don’t need a protector,” Katrina remarked. “And I don’t need a servant. I will regard you as my partner, and we will protect each other.”
“Very well,” the wolf accepted. “We will be as brother and sister. I will be with you always.”
“Then it‘s agreed,” Katrina said. “I am Katrina. And you?”
“I am your armor,” the wolf replied simply.
“Armor?” Katrina remarked, playing with the word in her head. “Then that’d make you a ‘wear’wolf.”
“Indeed,” the wolf confirmed, mirroring Katrina’s amusement at the pun. “Then you shall call me Wearwolf.”
“Awesome,” Katrina said, standing back up. “C’mon, Wearwolf, let’s go home.”