My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

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Morry
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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Morry » Sun Jul 17, 2011 6:26 am

Clyde fell, his breath forced from his chest for a moment as he heard his iron sword clatter on the dark road ahead. A tiny piece of gravel wedged itself hard into his palm, but the situation was too intense for him to notice what might have otherwise been a sharp, minor pain. He crawled forward as quickly as he could manage and felt for the blade with his gloved fingers. Behind him he heard a horrifically familiar sound of flesh against metal and the sound of his friend choking, dying. The last breath, but a sigh, a whisper in such panic, left Chek's body and he lay motionless in the dirt.

Clyde tried to shove off any emotion he felt at that moment, a moment that was so brief and so quiet compared to all else going on around him that he nearly missed it. Try as he might, one of his greatest and best of friends was now dead. Even to a half-drunk man it was more than merely an upset, but he didn't have the time to mourn him now. Rage forced him to ignore the wolf. Training had taught him well, and he pushed forward with his sword and swung it in the anticipation of the bandit's quick movements. The rocks hit his face before his slowed reflexes could manage to move, but the sword still traced the edge of the man's flesh. Just a scratch, that fucker.

Lord Salazar on the other hand was incapable of ignoring the newest threat, a wolf the size of a man, a half-breed he had encountered before. He pulled out the sword and forced the horse around and back to the carriage while Clyde kept the bandit busy. The thief and the wolf were likely working together to steal the box, and he wasn't about to let them. Out of pure desperation Salazar flew off the horse and into the carriage, grabbing the box as the wolf snarled.

It was a weird and ugly sound, a monstrous noise that only the lowest of creatures could make. It made the hairs on his body stand on end and sent a rush of chills up his spine. He heard a glass window break on the carriage and a sharp barking noise. Blinded by panic he pushed himself out of the vehicle, the air of a dangerous paw catching him only.

The horse felt sudden weight on him again and took it as a key to run forward and away again. Salazar had the box and the sword in the other hand. He could hear the wolf ripping a piece of the carriage behind him and then the weight of paws against the road, then the sharp whinny of the horse and an increase of speed as its hindquarters bled.

A harsh hit to the ground as the noble fell, his arm bleeding violently from a sustained hit.

Human eyes. That creature had human eyes.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Dianelopa » Fri Jul 22, 2011 12:41 pm

Dianelopa watched in a state between awe and shock. Thad seemed to be holding up, although she could see that blood was dripping from his various wounds. But that rich fat man whom she recognized from her visit to the inn, he was bobbing all over the place, off his horse, into the carriage, out again, on this horse and then suddenly on the ground, while his horse spun upward as the wolf attacked its hindquarters. The fat man had taken a package into his arms, and Dianelopa thought that he looked determined to escape with the package, a feat now seemingly impossible. The wolf was upon him.

Although Dianelopa had werewolf blood, she did not have enough of it to actually transform bodily. She had never, as far as she knew, even seen a pure bred werewolf. Yet she began to suspect that this crazed wolf was perhaps not a natural wolf. Something else was puzzling her too. She was getting a strong whiff of a familiar odor. Where did she know it from? She racked her brain as much as was possible in the short seething span and it came to her.

Morry. Was it Morry? If it was, why was he appearing as a wolf? What was he doing here? What did he want?

Ah, the wolf thing shouldn't have been such a surprise to Dianelopa. Even if she'd never seen a werewolf in wolf form, she knew all about them and she knew about the changes she herself experienced every night, the intensified sense of smell, the clear night vision and increased size, sharpness and strength of her bite. There were others who had all of those things plus an entire change of body form. One of those others, the notion was penetrating Dianelopa's brain, was Morry. That explained so much about him.

In the meantime, Dianelopa must have moved a bit because the girl laying on the ground nearby, had stopped sobbing, inched up to her and then touched her arm. Surprised Dianelopa faced the girl who said, "uh, I thought you were Mayis. Who are you?"

"Shhh," said Dianelopa nervously. "You don't want them to see us and come over here."

"No," muttered the girl.

"Just lay down, don't talk and don't move."

The girl perhaps sensing that Dianelopa wasn't going to hurt her, simply curled her body up against Dianelopa's side and played dead.

Perhaps having to deal with this girl gave Dianelopa a feeling of having more control over the situation. Her thoughts were clearer. She was beginning to understand what was going on.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Anja » Fri Aug 12, 2011 4:35 pm

Thad's dagger was too good to let his mind control it completely, and not for the first time, he found it acting of its own accord, at least partly. Clyde's wrist was right there, in that split second when the man made an outward slash and nicked Thad's cheek, and the thief didn't even have to think about it. It almost felt as though the dagger was pulling his arm up. As it pierced Clyde's flesh just between the tendons, and carried through and out the other side as if through a cloud, he felt as though he was merely along for the ride. He rode it well, however, following through by gripping the hilt hard, turning, and jerking Clyde's arm over his own shoulder. The maneuver pulled the larger man towards him, and brought him directly onto a cheap left-handed punch to the jugular as Thad completed his turn.

The dagger was out again, the useless hand pulsing thick and wet onto the ground. As Clyde fell to one knee, the blade went in again to the hilt, first through one eye, and then through the other. Two shockingly swift jabs, two gouts of mixed effluence spilling out in their wake; the mercenary made no sound, face still frozen in rage as it met the gravel. Hardly a second had gone by.

Thad whirled, a visceral reaction to the sick tearing and growling from a few paces down the lonely road. There was no room for thought in between killing and running. He saw Salazar leaving the carriage, box in hand, the monster at his heels. Unplumbed dimensions of hell warbled in his gut as he gazed at the terrible pursuit; such things were not meant to be.

He stopped up, an instinct of self-preservation taking over, and ducked under the half-ruined carriage. This beast would finish his work for him, and then he could see about retrieving the box. Settling prone into the deepest shadows he could find, he looked at his arm again. The sight drained him, made him truly feel his exhaustion. His attention flitted between tearing up his undershirt and tying off the wound, and glancing warily at the mauling of Salazar's horse. Things were coming to a head, hardly a moment after they had begun.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Morry » Sat Aug 27, 2011 6:37 pm

Ah, how the senses played so well into the violence, into the animal rage within him. He seemed little more than a monstrous wolf, with all of the strength of one and little to none of the understanding and judgment that humans had. He was conscious, he had the ability to think and control his own actions, but he had limited access to knowledge.

In such a form, he was more wolf than human, yet maintained all the rage, all the anguish, and all the present goals that he'd had before. He knew he must somehow extract the box from the array of enemies. He had ripped the arm of the thin man in expensive clothes to get the box. He snarled and went to tear his neck with his teeth, but before he could do it there was a terrible jab of pain in his leg. Salazar struggled under his hold. Then another pain against his thigh, so bad that he loosened Salazar and flung around to face his attacker.

The white horse was in pain, but he flew past the wolf-creature and Salazar only just managed to rise and cling to the stallion's neck and push himself onto its back.

Morry ran after them, using both arms and legs to quicken his weird stride. The horse was fast, but he was faster. He leaped, hit the back of the noble's head with hardly anything but the sheer force of his paw, and the box fell to the ground. The horse ran. Three dead men and a mauled woman lie behind. The horse ran. The wolf did not follow.

He knew there were others still alive. He did not care. He grabbed the box awkwardly with a paw, digging his claws into it, and ignored the terrible pain in one of his legs. He took off into the wood with the box, leaving terrible bloodshed in his wake.

The brown mare was still alive; the male had succumbed to a wound in his neck.

There was a strange silence then, broken only by whispers and the harsh breathing of a very agitated Elenor. The brown mare moved to the carriage and dipped her head so she could see the man who had caused this, hiding. She had no concept of fault or vengeance. She could only see that he was wounded, and human. She bore no attachment to her previous owner.

They stood silent.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Dianelopa » Thu Sep 01, 2011 9:28 am

The moment of silence could have made it seem like the explosion had subsided and one could breathe again. With one great breathe Dianelopa did that. But she knew it wasn't over. Thad was still nearby hiding under the remains of the carriage. Her instructions were to stay near him. But she was wondering why he didn't move. She knew the source of all of this caramabolage was the box that Morry had sped off with. Why was Thad letting him go? Why did Thad even want that box, wanting it so badly that he would cause the deaths of so many persons and animals. Dianelopa didn't like it.

Laying there just waiting for what? That was making her jumpy. She couldn't go to Thad, though she wanted to, to see how badly hurt he was, to get answers. To that degree she felt duty bound to Benjamin. The girl laying beside her seemed to have fallen asleep.

Quietly Dianelopa got up. She kept herself well-hidden behind the brush and crept away from the scene of catastrophe so that no one could see or hear her. Then she headed off in the direction that Morry had gone. She didn't know what was possessing her to follow him.

Morry, Dianelopa was certain it was Morry, was moving very fast and she couldn't possibly keep up with him. But he left behind him his typical very strong odor which Dianelopa was able to track with no difficulty. Away from the bloody mess she was feeling better, scurrying through the night, doing nothing but following a scent was something she'd always loved to do from childhood on. For the first time that day there was a slight smile on her face.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Anja » Sun Sep 11, 2011 10:40 am

Thad's face scrunched up in surprise. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that this... aberration would want the box. He had expected it to start gorging on the corpses, leaving him to pluck up the box when it had slunk off into the mire and shadow, fat and content. His eyes bulged in vexation. He was no tracker. This was all going terribly wrong. He balked at the thought of returning to the elves and their insidious shadow operation without the goods; he knew he had no chance of finding this bizarre nemesis in the woods at night, nor had he the faintest idea of what he would do, were he by some miracle successful.

But. He was, first and foremost, a dirty thief at heart. He crept out from under the carriage, and made his way to the unconscious form of Salazar. He remembered that he had been ordered to paint the man a crimson necklace, but a simple throat-cutting wouldn't satisfy his frustration at the situation. So he stripped the man of his blade, jewels and finery and stuffed it all into a sturdy hemp rucksack scrounged out of the carriage's trunk-box. He also retrieved a short-handled spade from the trunk, and then dragged Salazar into the woods.

The hole was a little too shallow for his liking, but it would have to suffice. The smooth-skinned, naked form rolled limply into the hole, and the dirt was sloughed over it and packed down. Thad retrieved his ill-gotten gains and made for his hideout. The following morning, he would head for Marn, contact a trustworthy friend or two, and deal with this unpleasant development. Now, he needed rest. He would sleep well, battle-worn, on a pillow of bishan.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Morry » Tue Sep 20, 2011 5:44 am

The woods he knew best. He had lived here long enough now to know the moss-coated trees as well as the alleyway he often slept in. Part of him missed the charming violence and frozen wilderness of the forests near Zhaltev, but he had never been a big visitor when he lived in the city of shifters.

Now, looked down upon more than ever and banished to a life of uncontrollable frustrations and what felt to him like horrid luck, Morry found the woods to be a sanctuary, albeit a dangerous one. Things crept in these trees that were even more dangerous than himself. But nature accepted him at least for what he was: a beast, and no more. He had always had a hidden fondness for forests and groves, as it was a part of the very essence of wolf in him. It was the same drive to be in the woods as it was to be in the company of others, to hunt, to breed. It was the same force inside him that made him lonely, the thing that made him feel cold on the warmest of nights without a companion to lay beside.

It was his own fault why he felt such things, his own fault that he refused to be in the presence of others, that he chose the life of a lone wolf. Wolves were never meant to be solitary creatures. Morry had never really believed or acknowledged that, or maybe he just didn't want to.

It was this lonely, wolfish part of him that had prompted him in the first place to steal the box. There was also the little factor of what had happened at the mansion; the first time in years that he had actually tried to help anyone, they cheated him and left him as if he was worthless. It was how he had seen what had gone on and one could have even considered him, in a sense, hurt. It was this hatred that led him deep into the wood with the box, making odd, victorious growling sounds as he went. In the darkness beneath a great, shadowing elm tree, he finally stopped running. Saliva had gathered on his tongue and he panted, setting the box down.

Now that he had finally halted his escape, the pain in his leg from the blow shot blistering heat up his spine and through his muscles to his foot. He clenched his teeth and snarled in response. He had never possessed the ability to heal quickly.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Dianelopa » Tue Sep 27, 2011 3:05 pm

The smell Morry was leaving behind was getting stronger. Dianelopa surmised she was getting closer to him and slowed down. For the first time the thought occurred to her to ask herself why she was following him at all. As a consequence she remembered that what she was supposed to be doing was spying on Thad, not following Morry. She stopped, felt torn between curiosity or whatever it was that led her and duty. Should I go back now, or should I see what Morry's up to, why should I see what Morry's up to?

At that moment Morry snarled and he was so close that she could vaguely hear it. That's him, she thought. I'm very close. I might as well take a peek and then go back. Isn't that the best solution?

Carefully she slithered closer, hiding behind trees, trying not to breathe at all, and most certainly not to step on a twig. And then she saw him, sitting under a huge tree, the contested box laying beside him, saliva dripping from his mouth, she heard his breathing, the pained sounds. He's hurt, she thought. Maybe I could get the box. But she remembered how fast he had run, she was no match for him. On the other hand, maybe it was possible.

Dianelopa stepped out of the shadows, "Hello, Morry," she said. "Don't be afraid, it's Dianelopa here. I happened to see you. I mean, well, I saw the whole thing. What I really want to know is why is that box so important?"

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Morry » Mon Oct 03, 2011 9:59 pm

So absorbed was he in his own pain and victory that he did not notice any form of approach from anyone. He coughed, and hacked, and hated himself with every ounce of human insight that still remained in him. He was a perversion of the human race, a natural born animal of the night and of the hunt and of death. He was monstrous. It was a reality that plagued him, the unfortunate nature of his own species. He had never been a real shifter, had never fit into Zhaltev or its politics. Yet at the same time he had also never been human by any stretch of the imagination, and he had barely tried to do either. There was no place for him in a real society other than the underground, the filth of eating rats, sleeping in alleyways, feeding his addiction to alcohol, and prostitutes when he could afford it.

He hurt. The wounds were not terrible. Most were small glass cuts from smashing the window of the carriage, with the worst being a very sore and bruised leg. He was very lucky that it wasn't broken, else he wouldn't have been able to escape with his prize in the first place. A weird sound emanated from him, a strange growl that was almost soothing, nurturing. He dragged his foot out in front of him and began licking where he had been hit, although there was very little blood there.

It was almost like sucking his thumb, and produced the same calming effect on him.

Morry didn't get much time to do that though, as the sudden appearance of a familiar face brought him out of his self-induced state and put him on edge. The hackles on his thick neck rose and he scrambled to attack. A scent that he could only place as she-wolf came and then vanished before he knew what was going on, and then he was staring at the face of Lopa, grey and calm as ever.

He did not drop his aggressive stance, and it took all of his remaining willpower not to attack and kill her. He did advance several four-legged steps toward her, his wolf-like paws digging into the earth beneath him as he struggled to maintain control. I am not a killer.

She spit out some words and he snarled, his teeth bared and lips quivering with either anguish or hatred. "Get out," he answered. She could have brought friends. Thad could have followed her. She could have lured something worse here. He did not trust her. He would not trust her. If she did something stupid, he would kill - and eat - her. The question she posed was not one he could answer; the box was valuable, and he saw little other meaning in it. The box was also, whether he realized it or not, a symbol. The act of taking it was all part of a combination of self-pity, hatred, and misunderstanding toward Lopa and Thad. It was envy. It was power.

"Get OUT!" he roared, his voice gravelly and jumbled together, barely recognizable from the harsh sounds of an angry wolf.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Dianelopa » Fri Oct 14, 2011 5:01 pm

"Oh," said Dianelopa backing up slowly away from Morry and sounding very uncertain. She hadn't expected this. She was unaware of the negative feelings he had toward her and Thad. The last time she'd seen him at that mansion, he and Thad both had both run away, leaving her behind. If anyone should have been angry, it was her. But it had all ended well enough, she thought.

But when she'd moved far enough away from Morry that he at least couldn't reach her on one pounce, she stopped to see what he was doing. The charm she always wore around her neck was oddly not really very warm. Normally, if she was in a dangerous situation it seemed to note that and warm up. Nonetheless, she grasped it in one hand, just in case. It had never failed her up to now.

"So Morry," she said somewhat shakily. "I see that you are very angry at me. I don't know why. Is it because of that package?" She stopped talking for a moment and eyed him carefully. Then continued, "I don't know what it is and I don't know why you and Thad are so interested in having it. Do you know what it is?"

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Morry » Mon Oct 24, 2011 7:58 pm

It had never occurred to Morry that Lopa and the thief somehow did not know of his distaste for the matter concerning literally everything to do with them. The world he lived in was remarkably self-centered in that he could barely imagine that either of them wouldn't have noticed his misfortune, especially since he'd made it perfectly clear to Thad that he wasn't happy about not receiving any bishani for helping their stupid little heist. He assumed that he and she had talked about him, because obviously he was important. He wasn't so much baffled as angry that she was pulling the “I'm sweet and I don't know why you're unhappy” card. It seemed only too fitting for a girl like her, grey and shy like the mourning doves in mid-dawn. He didn't like it; it was way too easy for her to manipulate him despite his uncontrollable state.

Tense and hurting, he blinked at her for a second before he answered her last question. “Yeah I know what it is!” he growled. He had no idea what was in the box. It had been the original plan to open the damn thing here but she was changing things up a bit. He didn't like that either.
“It's what's going to make me fecking rich, that's what it is. Go ahead, try and take it back to your little piss-ant buddy, I dare you to try.”
It was clear from the tone in his voice that he wasn't bluffing. Although he was capable of controlling himself in such a setting as this, quiet and natural, his aggression and unpredictability was still very much a threat. There was a part of him that didn't expect her to actually try anything, maybe because he thought she was smarter than that, or maybe because he just didn't want to hurt her.

That was something he didn't understand. The mere idea of him not wanting to hurt her was almost disgusting to him, that she of all people would be somehow immune to his monstrous nature. He'd killed one of the whores on the road not ten minutes ago, and now suddenly he was calm enough and had enough judgment to put Lopa on a secret “do not eat” list. It didn't make any sense at all and he hated himself for it.

“You people owe me. You fucking owe me. So the goods are mine, hear?”

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Dianelopa » Tue Nov 15, 2011 2:03 pm

"Wellll," said Dianelopa slowly. "It's not that I care that much. I had no part in it at all, as opposed to you and Thad. I just wondered why it was worth all that killing, and I didn't like that. I guess that's why I was curious about what it is." She paused.

Morry seemed to be not quite as ready to pounce as before, nonetheless, she continued to hold the charm tightly, yet if anything it was cooler than before. "It's going to make you rich huh?" she said finally. "I could have given you some of the bishani I got that time, but I never saw you again and you never came and asked. I sure didn't know where you went. But well, now you're a wolf. Are you going to stay that way?"

She eyed him again. He seemed to be struggling somehow. She couldn't interpret it, but a thought came to her. "I know a little about werewolves," she said. "You see, my papa was one. I never knew him. But it does make me half werewolf. I don't change like you do. But I do change." She opened her mouth, so he could see how large her teeth had become. "That happens every night. I can bite," she added. "And my sense of smell, well, how do you suppose I found you. And I can see in the dark." She could tell these words were having an odd effect on Morry.

"Well, I have to go," she said. "I'm not supposed to be here at all." She turned away and took several steps back, but then stopped again. "I know you're not dangerous," she said. "My charm always tells me. I guess it's 'cause we're both werewolves or something like that." With that she began running toward the scene of the crime.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Morry » Fri Dec 02, 2011 8:23 pm

"I just wondered why it was worth all that killing," her voice, how he hated its softness.

Morry didn't care about some dead whore, and he didn't care about anyone else he had hurt during the fiasco. It hadn't even really occurred to him to give a shit, because he had barely noticed that he'd killed anyone. Violence meant so little to him as a monster; all he wanted to do was tear things apart, soak in his own power and lust for the hunt. Aggression was a part of him that he would never be able to let go. It was incredible that she of all people could even approach him; that had never happened before. It was weird, and it made him feel weirder inside. It was like there was something caught in his throat, and a cool burning sensation rumbled at the pit of his stomach.

Now the scent of she-wolf made sense. Now he knew what she was, but he didn't know who she was. She went on about her wolfishness, but he was hardly paying attention. His eyes were too focused on hers. A weird feeling of warmth crept up along his spine, like the opposite of a shiver. His ears turned and flicked, as if searching for the source of this strangeness against his will; his eyes searched her for some sign of something he wasn't aware of, the greyness of them as monochromatic as her appearance, yet as lively and wild as her spirit.

"Something like that," he parroted, and he barely felt his voice drift over his tongue. It was still as gruff and animal as ever, yet there was a peculiar softness to it now, and he briefly wondered if she had intentionally bewitched him to keep him from harming her.

He stared at her, through her. He watched her go and reached his strange man-paw out to her, but she did not look back. His body was still folded and crumpled on the ground from being hurt and his aggressive posturing, but the stinging and pulsing of blood in his leg was no longer a concern for him. He ran his tongue over his teeth; they still tasted of human blood. A hot, wet feeling in his chest and face flushed him with a weird feeling that he couldn't place, not quite desire but almost. There was an urge to hunt her, to follow her and find her, and then another urge to raise his head and howl. He did neither.

Morry growled lowly in this lonely darkness; the moon shunned his voice and its light felt cold and empty on his backside as he crawled, hobbled, crept. He held the box in his paws and sat there with it. For a long time he just looked at it. Then he punched his claws through the wood and pulled at it until he could rip one of the sides off of it. An object fell out of it, a circular thing with odd little drawings and decorations on it.

A... drum?

A snarl vibrated the nearby trees and something small scurried away.
Morry grabbed the drum and raised it to throw it.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Zou » Mon Dec 12, 2011 9:54 pm

The ephemera of the drum sucked in the atmosphere as, under Morry's careless handling, it fell to the ground from its box. A perceptive eye might have noticed the way the air rimmed it in vibrating discs of pseudo-light, or the way its as-yet amorphous frame seemed for a brief moment to mesh with the ground, rather than simply clattering against it as any normal physical object would do. There was a subsonic thrum as it rolled, wraithlike, on its edges before coming to a stop on dry, flat earth. A crescendo of scurrying rat bodies seemed to envelop the surrounding foliage, invisible even to Morry's night eyes, for the source of the cacophony was unearthly; the roil of spirits, briefly roused, and laid to rest ere the drum settled in the dust.

Distant thunder followed as Morry reached for Zou, and the sublime detail of the painted corkscrew horns on the skin sharpened and flickered with the glimmering, ashen hues of a rainfall at dusk as his finger made contact. Vital moisture cascaded forth into the drum from Morry's body, starting in a flash with the natural oils of his finger, and quickly grasping deeper, finding fatty tissues and blood as the artifact found in the werewolf a bridge from its ethereal state and into reality proper. The finger was beyond redemption at first contact, but Zou groped for more in the same instant, gorging itself on the life force of its new master, for as long as Morry would allow.

In the same moment as this feral exchange began, Zou the spirit, the mind beyond matter, returned to life within the drum. The taste of Morry, of all creatures, was not the welcome-back he would have expected, and he was filled with revulsion, even as the drum-organism greedily tried to pull more of the werewolf into its spectral gravity well. He sublimated his presence above and beyond the sad little clearing in the woods, and embraced the rain spirits, feeling the world roll out beneath him like water under so much endless mist. Monolithic cloud banks formed, and burst upon the clearing in a sudden, cold and cleansing deluge. The drum resonated loudly, as if it had been struck by the thunderburst, and hectic, flashy patterns of green and blue wove across its surface. Zou was reborn, at last.

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Re: My My, What Fetching Horns You Have

Post by Dianelopa » Tue Dec 13, 2011 1:14 pm

Dianelopa who was running, but hadn't yet gotten terribly far in those few seconds, heard the thunder of the drum coming from where Morry had been. The flashes of light were vaguely perceptible. Dianelopa stopped running and looked back. But all was dark and silent around her. Nonetheless, she felt a gnawing uncertainty. Should she go back to see what had happened to Morry? Or go on and see what had happened to Thad?

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