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Buried In The Woods [Finn]

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Buried In The Woods [Finn] Empty on Thu Sep 12, 2019 12:13 pm

Amaris


Buried In The Woods [Finn] HkN4H1a


Amaris saw into the distance; a thousand dots of white and yellow light sparkled against a backdrop of pure darkness. It was rather cold tonight and rain trickled down the glass windows of their stone homes. She couldn’t help but wonder–did humans really not care for the night sky, with its moon and stars? What made them hide in their homes come nightfall anyways?

It’s because they cannot see in the dark, she quietly whispered to herself and deep laughter erupted from within her chest.

Truthfully, she did look a lot like them. Amaris was flesh, bone and blood; the combination of mortal ingredients captured inside a female body made her look just that: mortal. But Amaris was nothing like them–not even if she wanted to be. Amaris was a lycanthrope, carrier of an ancient bloodline. She was pure and yet she walked the grounds of earth among humans and not her own kind for reasons she would rather not remember.

Weary, gold speckled eyes gazed up the massive building which sat atop the mountain. Amaris understood that the world–to some extent–needed law and order. But what they wanted was something else entirely: to not co-exist, at the very least not with her kind. There were so few of them now, that she hadn’t met a single lycan in years. Amaris Ashryver was very much a lonewolf, but even she couldn’t withstand her primal cravings, such as the need for a pack and for companionship.

That was perhaps the reason for why she had come to Era in first place–not to seek trouble with knights and their silly magic, but to adapt and keep a low profile and maybe, just maybe find someone who did the same.

Someone like her.

As if the gods (not that she believed in any) had overheard her thoughts and dared to test her, Amaris picked up on the conversation between four knights who exited from a nearby bar. The establishment of a huntsman from what she knew, and a place she frequently visited herself due to the outrageous selection of delicious and fresh meat.  

“She’s the girl from the herbal shop,” one male spoke, the tone of his voice suggesting that he was excited and the scent surrounding him revealing that alcohol had added to that. “He’s meeting her at midnight–,” “Right here?! In town?” “No, outside of course you idiot. At the forest’s clearing, he said she thinks he wants to propose.” They laughed and it sent shivers down her spine. “What a stupid girl. If she really thinks that, then I guess she's going to get no less than what she deserves."

Amaris watched in silence as they walked towards the city’s gates, the silver shine of their weapons sparkling under the moonlight. Against all odds, a lump had formed in the woman’s throat and she felt something unspeakably annoying digging and clawing at her from the inside out: it was her conscience.

No, she objected, pulling the dark hood of her black cloak deeper into her face. It’s not my problem. Amaris sunk against the nearby wall and crouched down. Time went by, but she refused to move.

But it could have been. Maybe it will be someday.
Humans deserve each other. If this is what they choose to do to their own kind, they truly deserve each other.
No one deserves this.
I’m no one’s savior. I’m not responsible for anyone’s safety.
Perhaps if you chose to be, you wouldn’t be alone anymore.


And with that, something inside the woman snapped loose; she leaped forwards, sucked in a sharp breath–to pick up the scent, so to speak–and hunted them down. Werewolves were like bloodhounds, chasing prey was an art they perfected eons ago and it did not take her long to catch up to them. They outnumbered her and at least two of them were armed, but Amaris didn’t so much as assess the situation beyond necessity.

The girl (she really must have been a stupid one for coming here) was already weeping and her were clothes torn when she arrived, and thus the werewolf did not waste any more time and pounced from the darkness right on top of the largest of them all. Bones shattered, blood spattered and she dug her claws deep into his back before reaching for the sword at his side. Amaris was by no means a swordswoman, but she didn’t want to risk transforming and accidently ripping the girl as well and so she had to make due with what she had.

“Go!” Amaris growled; she had thrown the sword straight at her now ex-fiancé. Whether or not he–or any of them–would succumb to their wounds didn’t matter as long as it was enough to buy them time. The maiden rose to her feet, mumbled something about eternal gratitude and free herbs for a lifetime and, much to Amaris’s surprise, fled the scene with remarkable speediness.

Amaris claws were at the throat of the third when she felt a stinging pain tear through her left shoulder. She cursed at the unfamiliar sensation and stumbled as the Rune Knight pulled back his lance–the barbs connected to its blade forcing her to fall backwards as well.

Amaris gasped, warm blood dripped down her skin and the world became quiet–but only for a mere moment. Neither of them dared to move when the lycanthrope turned her head around and glared over her shoulder. She was breathing heavily and the look in her eyes had become utterly unworldly.

”Now you’ve done it.”

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Buried In The Woods [Finn] Empty on Fri Sep 13, 2019 9:12 pm

Finn Mertens


They look so small.

His face was turned upwards, eyes drinking in the sight of the endless expanse before him. It seemed to stretch on infinitely, a darkness that filled every gap and closed every distance. Only the stars, spread apart and distant as they might be, put up a resistance against the liquid properties of that onyx filled sky. He remembered the stories his adoptive family told him, of how each of those minuscule specks were another sun. Some, they told him, even held other earths. It was a ridiculous claim; At least, it would be to anyone who had not walked with demons and spoke with angels. Even the world he knew spread to places he could not see nor hope to visit, so why would he doubt the words of his father when speaking of places he himself could not travel?

Finn shifted his weight, previously cool granite against his back beginning to adjust to his own body heat. The proof of rain lay in the streets, gathered together in shallow pools, the residual heat from the earth causing swaths of steam to begin to rise. His eyes, as adjusted as they could be to the lunar light, would sometimes flicker back down to the fog that rose no higher than his knees. The night felt eerie, as if something were out of place and yet no one had noticed quite yet.

His mind was white noise, with no clear direction in his thought, nor focus. It seemed like it was both abuzz with activity, and yet completely docile. In that state, he felt as if he could truly relax. There was a sense of peace in the chaos, and a content sigh escaped through the smallest parting of his lips. For once, he was no longer focused on what had changed. He was no longer focused on what he now had, or what he had lost.

Nor was it a feeling unique in tonight. For a short while now, he had grown to accept it. The storm within him had calmed, and he felt more confident in himself now than he had in months; Perhaps ever. He was so lost in the absence of anything that the world around him had melted away into abstract. Colors blended, surfaces slipped away, and his usually sharp senses were not even aware of when one thing stopped or another began. The noise of people passing had melded in with the static. Where once he would have snapped his head in their direction, now he didn't even acknowledge there presence.

How long had he stayed like that? How long had he looked dauntlessly into the void, finding himself at peace there? He didn't know. He couldn't tell, and he didn't try. All he knew was he was snapped out of it rather abruptly. The powerful sound of something crashing into stone permeated the night like a pungent reminder of the world at large. The sound was fast, rhythmic, and caught ones attention for the force that was needed to generate it. Finn knew the sound, but his muddled mind was slow to realize.

That was, of course, until a blur passed by him. He stared after in a daze, still unsure of what was now happening. He had been so out of touch that he was still struggling to make sense of what was happening before him. Even his senses, as heightened as they could be for a human with his level of training, were completely lost at that moment of confusion.

As he slowly gained his bearings once more, he stood tall. Then, as if his body had never stopped its motion, he began to lean forward. Within an instant he was building speed in the direction of which the blur had traveled. He had hesitated ten, maybe fifteen seconds. He still wasn't moving at top speed, as he had no way of knowing which streets it had gone. All he knew was the nagging in the back of his head that something was amiss.

His head snapped to a woman running towards the town, the edge of which Finn now stood near, with torn clothes and puffy eyes. She was saying something, but from the distance he could hardly make it out. All he knew was she said something about the direction she came from, and that there was danger. Truth be told, it was all he needed.

He rocketed into motion once more, this time able to reach his full speed if only for a moment, before he entered a clearing. What he saw before him seemed like it were a scene on pause, illuminated by what little moonlight there was. The adventurer looked around the area, lapping up the images before him. Two men on the ground, condition unknown.

She was running for help.

A third, alive but recently put into critical condition.

What was she saying?

Two more, speechless and afraid of what lay before them.

That there was danger?

And a woman, pierced and bloodied, but also speckled with blood that wasn't her own, and stationary in the middle of what had almost been five corpses.

Is she..?

"I found you." He stepped forward, his dominant hand having found its way to the hilt of his blade sometime during his processing of information. His eyes scanned what was before him once more, this time taking an immediate understanding of the state they all were in. His eyes turned then to the woman who, in his perspective, was the cause of all this.

"Nobody move." His voice was death. What leaked from him was something primal. Even humanity, who took pride in claiming to have distanced themselves from their instincts, would have felt it. Standing before them was a warrior who was letting out a true killing intent, one that had been trained through years and honed to a fine point. The men of the Rune Knights would not speak. They would not find their voice. Yet all of them, and perhaps even the woman who stood before him, would see the same image from the darkness.

Buried In The Woods [Finn] 99D2CF3C6A07290EC8AE1DB8F4B37A98153E6443

"I suggest you explain to me what is going on."



Buried In The Woods [Finn] F3259A9AB18642E6B840E231B17A26AC9BAF5FE9
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Buried In The Woods [Finn] Empty on Sat Sep 14, 2019 4:55 pm

Amaris


Buried In The Woods [Finn] HkN4H1a


It’d slept.

And like most sleep it ended as abruptly as it had begun. It was the sour stench of blood and death that nearly made the werewolf drunk with hunger. The sensation enveloped her, choked her so subtly that she hadn’t even realized she’d been suffocating. Behind her, the knight’s triumphant grin had faltered. Amaris did not breathe, did not dare, unless the wrath that had so violently wound up in her prematurely unraveled and undid both her sangfroid and the humans.

Breathe.

Not a plea, but a command.

Amaris’ muscles were burning; mind-numbing pain shot through her limbs and in the cold night her breath had become cloudy white mist. She felt feverish and droplets of sweat were rolling down her temples. It’s fading, she thought and her head was throbbing–the images of the knights were blurry now, as if the relevance of their presence was no longer and the reason for why she’d come here already forgotten.

It’s fading.

If Amaris lost control, if she changed, then there could only be death–she never left witnesses alive.

Self-control; her family had died for it, she herself had killed for it, had let herself be enslaved for it. The control Amaris had given everything for was fading away. The Change, as the transformation was often referred to, wasn’t sacred or holy. If anything, it was ancient and the power that came with it was god-given. Amaris always considered herself worthy of such strength and she was as prideful as the rest of her breed. But humankind was cruel and their cruelty had taken a toll on her. So she worked on her resilience, her willpower and her determination.

Because Amaris Ashryver was a survivor.

And she would live.

The gods had forsaken her, there was no homeland for her to return to, no place where she would find herself safeguarded and her existence accepted–there was no justice in this world, not for a lycanthrope. But this wouldn’t stop her from clinging to life and her own freedom. Amaris believed that she deserved to exist, not just barely but completely and fully as the being she was born as. And she wouldn’t allow anyone to punish her for that.

I found you.

And with that, the presence of another, their scent alien in every aspect of the word, cut into the scene. Amaris hadn’t felt it, hadn’t smelled it until now–battling the urge to transform had put her into a state lethargy that she now snapped out of. Before her, the fuzzy images of five, six men solidified and she was back on her ass, with the bloody lance still poking a hole through her shoulder.

Wordlessly Amaris reached back and grabbed the weapon; with a hitch she yanked it out of the man’s grip and slid a few feet away. She was still in a crouched position, now hunched over, and in order to give herself a better view of the current situation Amaris positioned herself with her back towards the corpses before breaking off the long end of the wooden lance.

Amaris didn’t find the time to act surprised at the lack of reaction from the Rune Knight, because when the newly arrived person spoke again her bloodlust shattered.

He demanded for answers and naturally, neither of them responded.

Their truth was too shameful and a decent lie would take a while to fabricate. As for her, Amaris didn’t think – not for once – that he would grant her the same justice as his own kind and therefore she wasn’t even going to bother. Because he was human, just like the rest of them, and although what leaked from his aura had proven to be something else entirely, she could finally smell it on him – a beating heart.

For some reason she felt relieved.

Disobeying his command, Amaris began pulling on the remains of the wood; she twisted it around slowly until it popped out of her flesh and fell into the grass. She groaned and pressed a hand to her wound. Still, the Rune Knights refused to move. And she refused to look at the stranger, the one whose mere presence had thrown her off her will to change–had subdued her werewolf transformation. Amaris wasn’t a complete idiot and she wouldn’t allow for this to happen again, not if she had to fight herself through every single one of them–the swordsman included.

“I attacked them,” she finally spoke, her eyes darting between his legs and the other three men, “And much to my chagrin, they fought back.”

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