Discipline

[Goldrim 1422]

 

 

“Snow’s Maiden they call it, horseshit. A maiden is supposed to be gentle, not the sharp end of a blade.” Fenris muttered to himself as he kneeled down beside a print of fresh tracks, examining them closely. “No.. it cannot be.” he thought to himself, shaking his head from left to right in disbelief, the paw abnormally large for its kind.



Without speaking a word he rose to both feet, scouting the horizon with his keen eyes. Snow and spruce trees to no end, as if Athera had been consumed by a white death. Curiosity got the best of him, in his mind there was no other option but to follow these tracks, for the opportunity will never present itself once more.



Snow fell down from the sky like a thousand feathers, slowly descending upon the landscape with unnatural grace. Fenris redirected his gaze towards the stars above, an ear piercing howl ran through the woods as the night slowly enveloped Athera. He had to set up camp.



His wolf Misha stood even so vigilant beside him. A low growl escaped from between her fangs, she spotted something lurking in the dark abyss. A pair of moving eyes and a dark silhouette presented itself. Fenris rose to both feet, for the first time he truly felt the thrill of the hunt.

It was him, the legend himself. The cunning and vicious predator, Loque, in all its glory. The large canine stood still in place, but Fenris knew too well that the beast would not engage alone. His pack quickly emerged behind him from the shadows, and without a moment’s notice they leapt at Fenris and his loyal companion.



Fenris thrusted his spear into one of the beasts’ chest. With each scratch and bite the rising tide of rage within him grew exponentially. When he heard Misha yelp in pain, he fell prey to the savagery within.

Anything that moved, he killed. His veins bulging in bloodlust as he wrestled the giant beast. Loque was not to be pushed over so easily. A shout of agony rippled through the air as Loque bit down on Fenris’ left shoulder, and continued to tear at the flesh like a meatgrinder. Quickly he unsheathed a small dagger from his waist, stabbing the giant canine repeatedly in the side until it stopped moving.



Fenris laid down on his back in the crimson snow, breathing heavily as he pushed the lifeless body of the beast off of him with a single, mighty shove. “Misha.. MISHA!” he desperately called out, slowly lumbering towards the dead wolf’s corpse. In a brief moment of silence he falls down to both knees and weeps, not only because of his companion’s passing, but because he had become the beast he wanted to kill.



In order to honor Misha’s legacy he wore her pelt as a constant reminder that even a noble orc as himself may succumb to the foul curse that had been bestowed upon his kind centuries ago.

[Cjmate 1270]

((A movie is made based on true story.

))

[Goldrim 1422]

-Snip-

((

Where do you think I got the pictures from. :D

 

I highly recommend watching the entire series.

))

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.