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UltraMechaStalin
Star
- Joined
- Jan 19, 2009
"Your blood is weak! But, your spirit is weaker!"
A young lycan stood in chains before a council of five elders, each of them settled on a raised Dais. Most would be looking down in shame as they faced the High Tribunal, but Vallios stared straight at the five men that were to serve as judge, jury, and possibly executioner. The oldest of the five had spoke first, pointing a gnarled clawed finger at the chained man.
Chained and shirtless, clad only in a pair of white furred shorts, the man was being subjected to both the humiliation of a public hearing, and the bitter cold of the merciless winter. Thick flakes of snow fell down, drifting on the moaning winds and coming to rest on his skin and between the wisps of his chest length raven mane. He shook slightly, though not from the cold.
His large fists were balled with fury, biceps flexing rock solid as he did his best to restrain his fury. The handsome man's thin lips were twisted into a savage snarl, one that exposed long curved fangs. His black furred ears rested low on his head, twitching in agitation as he faced trial for the 'failure' of his bloodline'.
"Your father was pathetic and incompetent. His idiocy lead to the tribe's first ever defeat at the hands of those insignificant cats. And, to deepen this disgrace you refuse to sacrifice the spoils of your past triumphs, spoils you obviously do not deserve."
"She is not goods! Do not speak of my mate in that fashion!" The chained man roared back.
This chained man's name was Vallios. He was the only surviving member of what had once been the tribe's ruling family. Arzale El'am Varazel, his father had been warchief. Warchief Arzale had lead most of the tribe's army into a trap set by their bitter enemies, the neighboring Alari Neko tribe. So perfect had the trap been that over half of the tribe's military might, including the warchief himself had been slaughtered effortlessly by the usually outmatched Alaris.
"Your devotion to her is fascinating, Gravetooth. She's one of them, one of those that wishes to take everything from us. But despite that you refuse to sacrifice her, knowing that the power of her spirit's release could certainly give us the edge to crush the Alari once and for all. Nor will you renounce your stained name and accept an new identity...For this...Weakness, the Council of Spirits declares you banished from these lands, under pain of death. Go now, you've until moonfall before we loose the hunters."
The eldest of the council snapped his fingers, and the chains binding Vallios shattered. However, before he was freed to go the smallest of the elders screeched a protest, then presented a strange tri-bladed dagger. He shuffled over to the roaring emerald fire, the symbol of the tribunal's might and began to heat the blade.
"He is not banished until he is marked. Hold him!"
"That will not be necessary, I am man enough to face this punishment without fear."
The elders were taken aback, as was the entire gathered tribe. It was known that the Knife of Branding had been cursed to wrack the body with blinding pain during markings...And yet, Vallios faced it with absolute calm. Vallios stepped forward and ripped the blade from the elder's hand.
"So you banish me, also do I curse you. May the spirits of pestilence dine upon your rotting cadavers!" Vallios hissed.
And then Vallios brought the knife down, performing the ceremonial cut. All three blades bit into his eyebrow, and then sliced down to his jaw. As the blades cut the marks scarred, darkening to a sinister black. The pain was almost enough to force Vallios unconscious, but he bared it without so much as gritting his teeth. The disgraced Lycan set the knife down on the table and then turned his back on his former tribe, walking away as if he was leaving a victory parade.
Vallios knew that somewhere in the crowd his beloved was waiting, held by Tribal Guards. He knew that she would be safe, at least from physical harm. And, he knew that the guards would bring her to him any second.
A young lycan stood in chains before a council of five elders, each of them settled on a raised Dais. Most would be looking down in shame as they faced the High Tribunal, but Vallios stared straight at the five men that were to serve as judge, jury, and possibly executioner. The oldest of the five had spoke first, pointing a gnarled clawed finger at the chained man.
Chained and shirtless, clad only in a pair of white furred shorts, the man was being subjected to both the humiliation of a public hearing, and the bitter cold of the merciless winter. Thick flakes of snow fell down, drifting on the moaning winds and coming to rest on his skin and between the wisps of his chest length raven mane. He shook slightly, though not from the cold.
His large fists were balled with fury, biceps flexing rock solid as he did his best to restrain his fury. The handsome man's thin lips were twisted into a savage snarl, one that exposed long curved fangs. His black furred ears rested low on his head, twitching in agitation as he faced trial for the 'failure' of his bloodline'.
"Your father was pathetic and incompetent. His idiocy lead to the tribe's first ever defeat at the hands of those insignificant cats. And, to deepen this disgrace you refuse to sacrifice the spoils of your past triumphs, spoils you obviously do not deserve."
"She is not goods! Do not speak of my mate in that fashion!" The chained man roared back.
This chained man's name was Vallios. He was the only surviving member of what had once been the tribe's ruling family. Arzale El'am Varazel, his father had been warchief. Warchief Arzale had lead most of the tribe's army into a trap set by their bitter enemies, the neighboring Alari Neko tribe. So perfect had the trap been that over half of the tribe's military might, including the warchief himself had been slaughtered effortlessly by the usually outmatched Alaris.
"Your devotion to her is fascinating, Gravetooth. She's one of them, one of those that wishes to take everything from us. But despite that you refuse to sacrifice her, knowing that the power of her spirit's release could certainly give us the edge to crush the Alari once and for all. Nor will you renounce your stained name and accept an new identity...For this...Weakness, the Council of Spirits declares you banished from these lands, under pain of death. Go now, you've until moonfall before we loose the hunters."
The eldest of the council snapped his fingers, and the chains binding Vallios shattered. However, before he was freed to go the smallest of the elders screeched a protest, then presented a strange tri-bladed dagger. He shuffled over to the roaring emerald fire, the symbol of the tribunal's might and began to heat the blade.
"He is not banished until he is marked. Hold him!"
"That will not be necessary, I am man enough to face this punishment without fear."
The elders were taken aback, as was the entire gathered tribe. It was known that the Knife of Branding had been cursed to wrack the body with blinding pain during markings...And yet, Vallios faced it with absolute calm. Vallios stepped forward and ripped the blade from the elder's hand.
"So you banish me, also do I curse you. May the spirits of pestilence dine upon your rotting cadavers!" Vallios hissed.
And then Vallios brought the knife down, performing the ceremonial cut. All three blades bit into his eyebrow, and then sliced down to his jaw. As the blades cut the marks scarred, darkening to a sinister black. The pain was almost enough to force Vallios unconscious, but he bared it without so much as gritting his teeth. The disgraced Lycan set the knife down on the table and then turned his back on his former tribe, walking away as if he was leaving a victory parade.
Vallios knew that somewhere in the crowd his beloved was waiting, held by Tribal Guards. He knew that she would be safe, at least from physical harm. And, he knew that the guards would bring her to him any second.
