Wolf Pack

by LT 19 days ago in rpg

Background story written for a D&D campaign

Wolf Pack

Under the full cold moon, in the highest altitudes of the sunrise mountains Goliath twins entered the world. Destined to be separated by an act unthinkable to any parent. Ripped apart just days after birth. A final whispered breath was taken, as the tiny heart came to a halt. Half a soul evaporated from the world. From a distance a tiny wisp of glowing blue and silver smoke could be seen rise from the mountain top. Aukan Thuliaga would now walk as one half of a whole. 
As years passed, it was clear Aukan was to wander. Always tracking off path, disappearing into caves through every nook and cranny. Aukan’s parents were constantly calling for her, searching for her. Unless attending basic training with the other minors, Aukan was always where she shouldn’t be. She could never explain why she kept going, despite being repetitively disciplined for leaving the tribe. All she could say was she was looking for something, though she never knew what. 
Returning home on a warm sunny evening, Aukan was expecting great things to celebrate her birthday this year. Turning fourteen is when the tribe accepts you as a member of society. You have 1 lunar cycle to complete your training, before you can start learning your family trade. Thuliaga were Skywatchers, a highly respected role within the tribes, as they are the only Druids with any tribe of Goliaths. Using the stars and their constellations, sky watchers are able to gather the power of the starlight, magnifying that power and using it to create resolutions. Skywatchers were responsible for ensuring recourses were not over sourced, mapping trails through the mountings, overseeing festivals, celebrations and rituals. unbeknown to the young goliath, this day would not be remembered for her Virility Ritual. 
She could smell it before she even reached the mouth of the family cave. The taste of iron filled her mouth and Aukan fell to her knees with a thud. Laid facedown, splayed across the (badly)hand-made dining table, was the decapitated body of her mother. Aukan rushed to her mothers side, tears filled her blue eyes, dulling their glow. blood soaked straight through their clothes and stuck to their skin as Aukan gently lifted the limp body off the table and laid her in her lap. tears rolled off her mottled grey cheek, and as the liquid swirled with the deep red blood it almost glowed pearlescent in the evening light. Rage slowly crawled across her clammy skin, as Aukan slowly realised the head had gone, and her father was nowhere to be seen. An immense roar that curdled the blood of any beast who heard it. The rocks in the cave rattled, snow fell from the trees outside, as the mountainside shook. Suddenly, a deadly silence fell over the tribe. bringing everything to a grinding halt. Everyone held their breath and looked up to watch the sky turn white. Snow began to plummet down the mountain, quickly closing in on the little tribe. Almost without warning everything went black.

Slowly, the rough grey ceiling of the cave came into view. Pain fired through Aukans every nerve as she tried to take a deep breath. She could no longer tell who’s blood she was covered in. There was a bizarre thudding buzz around her, but a barely conscious Aukan couldn’t make out where it was coming from. more pain writhed her body as someone started to tug at her limbs and poke at her torso. Slowly, sparingly, precisely a foul smelling liquid sprinkled her skin making it burn then soothe. Tent-mother was tending to her wounds. Her breath was shallow and rattling. her eyes were sunken, the bright green glow of her iris had dimmed and darken almost to black. Aukan slowly sat up, untangling her long black hair from around her neck, peeling section off that had dried to her rough skin from the blood. Tent-mother’s old wrinkled hand clasped the smooth young hand of Aukan, their eyes locked deeply, the rattling of the breaths worsened. “I Uthal Tent-Mother Kalagiano bless thee Aukan WILDHUNTER Thuliaga of the Nalakigo tribe. You are now Forlorned. you are jilted. you must find the seed to find the other half of the soul.” Aukan held her breath as she saw the light leave her tent-mother’s eyes. Exhaling as the white whisp of soul left the withered old body.

Months passed, the summer nights drew long and cold as winter approached. Yet Aukan, now Wildhunter, had not left the cave. On the night of, what would have been, The Great Celebration, a blurred fuzz of a figure appeared before Wildhunter. It placed its fuzzy hand on her chest and looked high to the sky. She felt electricity course through her body, and images flashed across her eyes in puzzle pieces. Here. there. up. down. bright. dark. the pieces wouldn’t make sense, until the final image. Her father stood, covered in bloody, the head of his wife in one hand and an axe in the other. 
The following years Wildhunter searched every mountain in the range to find her estranged father and seek vengeance for her mother. As Wildhunter made her way through the mountains and venture to lands beyond, she encountered more trouble and hardship. The people of towns she passed through feared her. They backed away from her towering broad stature. they dare not look directly into her glowing ice blue eyes. They shuddered as her deep voice echoed down streets. Anger bred so deep and strong within her it seeped from her pores and intoxicating every potential relationship. Her hostile, intimidating, and distrusting demeanour lead to few people helping, and most trying to play her. the confidence and trust in unity she depended on as child diminished. Few relationships showed her true companionship. A pack of Druids, dedicated to the ancestry of wolves, took her in and made her a part of their fold. During the Acceptance Ceremony they gifted her a Druid focus in the form of a wolf totem. Forged in the magical fires of the Ember Elders, the head of a wolf carved from the tibia bone of Wildhunters first canine companion. The totem which hangs as a pendant around her neck, grows warm and glows yellow when being used. 
Her latest friendly interaction left her with a pit in her stomach. She had fallen in love. Makaria, a teifling rouge who had try to con her two years previous. Makaria was intelligent mischievous and stunningly beautiful. The combination of her burning red hair, tied high on her head with a waterfall of striking curls hanging down her back, completely silver eyes, which in the right lighting looked like liquid, and smooth skin such a deep red, the colour of dried blood, Wildhunter was mesmerised from the second she laid eyes on her. They fell quickly in love, their romance a cliched whirlwind. Alas, with every cliche love story, Makaria, was in trouble, deep trouble, with a very powerful drug lord. Their whirlwind soon turned into a tornado, as what started as recrational dabbling in Dreammist and Sannish, soon became an addiction. The need to be surround by the constant sensory stimulates over took ever other desire. Until one dark night. A passionate argument had erupted between the lovers. Makaria, took an overdose. She lost her life slowly and painfully suffocating in the arms of Wildhunter who cried silently until her love had taken her final breath. Wildflower laid her gently on the floor, spreading her fiery red hair around her head. closed her eye lids, making her look like she was sleeping, peaceful. Wildhunter laid her head on Makaria’s chest and entered a deep sleep. Once she had awoken, their home was bare, and Makaria’s body was gone. All that remained was an ornate black wooden pipe. Picking ups the pipe, tracing the intricate patterns with her finger, Wildhunter reminisced about the amounts of times she’d seen Malaria smoking it. She remembered laying on the grass in the park watching the smoke puff out and form the shape of skulls. She fished some tobacco from her pocket and packed the pipe. Using a cantrip she sparked a flame on the tip of her finger, lighting the pipe. Wildfire took a long toke, and exhaled slowly as she morned the death of her first love. 
Once she found her father, the was no trace of the girl he’d left behind. In front of him now was fierce monster of a Goliath, hair still traditionally braided, but loose and scruffy. Her clothes no longer represented her tribal roots. The tattoos she’d received for her achievements were scared and misshapen. Her once smooth beautiful face now hardened and embossed upon her right cheek, the cheek he’d kiss when he’d tuck her in a night bared a long deep scar. What had happened since that night a half decade ago? such a tremendous change in such a short space of time. He looked at his daughter with fear in his eyes. “You murdered my mother” Wildhunter spat at the quivering excuse of a goliath in front of her. “n-n-no no! it was not I that killed Starlight!” the sound of her mothers name nocked the wind from her, and she ached like has of her was missing. the same ache she had felt many times over her lifetime. Her eyes hardened and focused on her father. Shining hot white. Wildhunter lifted her trusty Scimitar and swung for her father. As she did his arm raised and in his hand, a small scroll that had a familiar silver blue glow. The blade of her sword made contact with her fathers arm and sliced cleanly through the bone, the tip of the scimitar slid across his eye, tearing open his flesh, leaving the eyeball loose in its socket. As his body hit the floor, curling up into the fetal position, Wildhunter saw the axe from her vision hanging on the wall behind where her father once stood. She stepped over his quivering panting body, ignoring his moans of pain and pleas of mercy. She took the axe from the wall and turned to her father. “Any last words before you taste your own medicine father?” She smiled an evil smile, the goliath never thought he’d see carrels his daughters lips so naturally. He mustered all his strength, sat up and looked the shell of his daughter in the eye. She rose the axe above her head, her father spoke his final words with an eery confidence “you must find the other half. Find the other half to make yourself whole.” Wildhunter brought down the axe. the thud vibrated through her legs as the metal hit the floor. His blood was warm and thick as it splattered across her lips. She smiled and licked her lips with satisfaction. Picked up the scroll and her fathers leather coin pouch, and fled into the night.

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I just write what I feel. Sometimes it’s short. Sometimes it’s long. Sometimes it rhymes. Occasionally I write stories. But mostly poetry.

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