The Knight's cup of coin

This has been a A Wolven Tome
Return to the Pythian Written by TheEmeraldPrince.
If you made this far, thank you for reading. And don't forget to vote for you fav champion. {}

A Wolven’s Tome [PART 4]

Return to the Pythian
Trigger Warning!!! [Fantasy Violence, Gore, Blood, & Possible grammar errors]

“It’s useless.”

“Hey!”

Sora walked over toward attempting to get her attention. “Look at me.” The pup’s eyes were distant, watching the wolf on the pit be slowly cooked and blackened. “Don’t stare at that. Look at me, pup!” She said, lifting Winter’s chin to meet her gaze thread authority in her tone. “This is not our end.” The pup tore her gaze from the awful sight. “I will get you out of here.” She vowed, looking around at the other captivities. She would get them all out. The white wolf nodded her head before placing it back down in the cold cellar between her paws.
Fear gripped all of them. Sora would be lying if she didn’t share their fear. But she refused to allow it to override her instincts.

The majority had clearly surrendered and embraced their grim fate. Think Sora, think damnit. What’s the next best move? For if she didn’t find a way, no one will. She spent the rest of the night, attempting to answer her own question.

Sleep did not come to her that night. She managed to rest her eyes for a few hours but she woke up to the sound of the mages removing the body from the spit awakened. Their greedy mouths slick with grease as they wasted no time devouring the corpse. With their appetites sated after their feast, Sora took a breath of relief knowing she has bought herself sometime. Gritting her teeth, she cursed herself from feeling a reprieve for her clansmen sacrifice.

She had to keep calm and think the situation through and remember her training. Calmness soon turned to hyperventilating, and she attempted to reach of her woven blessing over and over again, nothing. Her Lunar gift had failed her once more, going completely silent. For hours she was tired until blackness spilled into the sky, transforming it until night.

“God Damnit!!!”

Sora collapsed in the center of the cage. For the first time, sharing her clansman's senses of defeat and helplessness. The purpose of these blood trials is to examine every facet of your existence. She was nearing her breaking point, realizing that if she couldn’t figure out how Sora knew, it could mean the end for werewolves and the people of Pythian.

Exhaustion was slowly claiming, but relief came when the stable boy came by with a clay pot and ladle of cactus fruit water. She drank it without reservation, welcome the relief from her unquenchable thirst. Hours she spent pacing the cage, thinking. Sora found herself observing the triple blood moons begging for answers to her predicament.

“Please…help me.”

It was only when a small hand lightly touched her did she realize her palms were bleeding from gripping the railing so hard. The small wolf offered her a piece of cloth to wipe away the blood. “Thank you,” she said. Winter dipped her head, then returned to the far side of the pen.

Just as she was about to wipe the blood from her palms, she looked up at the reflecting triple moons glowing to what appeared to be a deeper crimson hue. She focused her eyes more, almost certain she witnessed the moon changing to a darker shade of red, and then she felt it. It surged through her veins like a bolt of electricity. The thrumming power of the lunar blessing spread from my hand to my arms, then the entirety of my body. It was back and felt stronger.

“Sora?” She heard Winter's question as she watched her with apprehension.
Reach for the bars, Sora smeared her blood on the silver bars of the pen and shattered under the weight of her grip. She doesn’t bother wasting time to marvel at the phenomena nor question what this red glow that bathes her means.

“Come now!” Whispered, plucking the astonish pup from the cell floor. One by one she shattered the bars, releasing each other, remaining wolves smearing her blood on her palms across each of the pen bars.
Each sound of the silver shattering came as a sweet reprieve to her ears. Twenty werewolves, relinquished free from their cages, stood at her side. They’d survived one of the more bone chilling encampments but the Demon Prince had one thing right. Werewolves are not the most forgiving species. They wanted the blood debt our families, loved ones, and tribesmen repaid. It was a futile endeavor, but she had already shown foolishness by participating in the trials. “A debt is owed.” Sora said to no one in particular.

“A debt is owed and blood repaid.” Jiyong spoke, coming to her right and the other female werewolf on her left.

“A debt is owed and blood repaid.” The other wolves sounded into a chant.
Twenty angry werewolves’ Lunar blessings restored the balance of predator vs prey back in the natural order. Though they were vastly outnumbered, Sora had no doubt through their connection of fiery rage she collectively felt amongst the wolven would make quick work of the mages.

“Wolven with me!” Sora commanded with the authority of a chieftain she was once destined to be. In unison, each wolf shifted, shedding their humanoid flesh, then released a powerful blood-curdling howl in honor of the Triple Moons.

In a frantic panic, mage guards emerged, pouring out of tents, huts, barracks and stables bearing a variety of weapons and rock dogs. “This is for my father. And I kill anyone who dares to threaten my people,” Sora said through gnarl teeth.

Her ruby eyes thirsty for their blood as she flexed 9 inch razor-sharp claws into the ground accompanied by even bigger canines. The sound of angry growls rallied behind her. Accusations of cowardice have never been directed at her before, and she would not start now. “This is our land. For Mother of Moonlight, for your siblings of the fangs and for the Pythian!”

She leads the charge and as the altering sounds of snarls and grunts clash with the enemies. A Mingled blur of steel, fur, and fang met on the battlefield. At the end, only Sora and 10 wolves remain standing while Materian mages lie face down in their own blood. Sora released the throat of their Materian commander from her bloody jowls and the body hit the ground with a sickening thunk. One by one, each wolf joined their Chieftain in a unified victorious howl.

A dazzling emerald green light filled with smoke flooded her sight. The desert wind blew hard, sending sand in her direction, and the next thing she knew, Sora was lying on her back on the cold, hard floor of a cell in the safety of the Sanctuary.

[post deleted by owner]

A Wolven’s Tome [PART 3]

Return to the Pythian
Trigger Warning!!! [Fantasy Violence, Beheading, Blood, ual Assault, Gore & Possible grammar errors]

Materian hoofed had torn through their earth, trampling many farms' crops into the ground. While arrows, bullets, and scorch marks of mage flame sown in a new crop water with blood. Dying wolves, men, and horses screamed at them as they passed. More aggressive male wolves were lined up, pinned down and castrated as they lay down on the floor, yowling. Soon mercy men of the mages took an ax to them, collecting the heads of the wounded and dying. Mage women would pluck arrows from the bodies and gather them in their woven baskets.

Black smoke rose high in the night sky, evidence of town once on fire. Behind broken walls of dried mud, riders would swing long whips to eat at the flesh of disobedient wolf pups be grooming into submission. Sora gaped in horror, a shiver overtaking her as she saw piles of wolf pelts stacked like days old laundry piled in carts. Horrific screams female wolves being snatched from their children's bond and shackled while being mounted by mage soldiers. Her eyes burned with tears threatening to fall when the fuzzy view of several severed trophy heads displayed on building posts came into view.

She recognized all of them.

“Friends of yours?” The pen adjacent to hers held an enormous black and gold wolf missing one eye and a large patch of fur skinned from the front right forearm.

“My family.” The five heads belonged to her siblings, her two sisters, three brothers, and her mother. Turning to meet the black wolf eyes she recognized him as The Captain Jiyong.

Across the way, Sora saw a girl no older than her youngest sister of 19 moons forced face down. The mage ripped her garments away and inside her. Other mages dismounted to take their turns. ‘I am Oheneba of Almaz.’ She was reminded as she turned her head to face away. She pressed her lips together, putting a lock on her heart, and closed her eyes. Her people paid the price for their princess’s enslavement. Sora ignored her people for a decade, now amidst the war. How could she turn her gaze elsewhere? The girl being assaulted made a heart-rendering sound of a long, sobering wail that persisted without stopping. Sora's fist clenched hard around the steel bar and turned to release a loud roar in the mage’s direction.

“STOP!” Sora's protest fell on deafening ears.

“Silence mutt!” A guard with a small club hit her cage. “Or your fuzzy will be next.”

“Don’t waste your breath, lass.” Sora turned to the cage across from her. The half breed looked familiar. Jackson Sora managed recall through her scattered brain fog.

“You’ll only make matters worse for us.” The half breed cage mate added. His raven black hair hide the variety of shades of purple and blue bruise, she'd barely recognizable him as Toshiya, the Queen of Kirin Peak betrothed.

A wail of be yowl of a wounded animal can as a gray tricolor female at the bare, oozing blood patch of her legs. She directed a fierce glare at the guards before a few of them returned to their tents. She needed answers, and she needed them now, so she turned to the pen that faced hers. It held a familiar rusty brownish cream male wolf she’d known in Central. ‘Youngbae,’ though he didn’t seem to recognize nor notice her as his claws relentlessly dug at the reinforced silver mage metal floor of his cage profusely. His paws were a terrifying depiction of a mangled, bloody mess hosting several splintered and broken claws.

“Have you made any progress?” She asked.

He flashed a dimpled smile, lacking mirth. He tries his best to keep his face hardened, to keep the sheer panic that has every muscle locked from stealing into his features. “What do you think, love?” Revealing his blooded paws, he then responded with a snarl at the bars. Around defeated whimpers from various cages echoed throughout the encampment. “This is ing useless.”

“Can someone please explain to me what in the Fenrir the humans are doing occupying our reign?” Various perplexed eyes fixated on her, but she was only met with one response.

“They come to kill us all. They came hundreds of years ago to claim our land and enslave people, Pythian.”
It was only when Sora noticed a familiar small white wolf behind her did she realize she had a cellmate. “Winter~” The smaller wolf stared at her as if she were a stranger before burying her head between her paws and trembling. Her blue eyes radiate a sheen of terror and her posture marks her helplessness. “They are going to kill us all.”

“What? Why?” ask Sora.

“Because they don’t view us as creatures living, that’s why.” Sora whipped around to turn to the one eyed black and gold wolf Jiyong. “This hell hole,” he indicated with the motion of his snout around the encampment, is all that is left of our people. This is not war, this is genocide.” Sora’s heart began to slam against her sternum. She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“That can be so. My clan alone carries house favor with 9 small tribes of the desert coast.”

“And each and everyone of the butchered and offered up for slaughter like sheep.” Toshiya informed his jaw clenched, reliving the memory. Just then, five mages emerge from the barracks. Two of them cart a wolf shape mass.
“The poor bastard. ~” Youngbae turned away from the familiar sight.

The wolf was skinned from head to toe, reduced to a hunk of pink, bloodied, raw meat. They carry the body over and place it on a rotating spit like a wild boar. One of them jams a pole into the corpse’s mouth, works it through the body cavity in a way that makes Sora clutch her stomach when the pipe juts out off the corpse rear-end. A female gray wolf lets out a terrified whimper, scrambling to the back of her cage. “Shut up, you stupid .” A soldier kicked the silver cage hard before rejoining his kinsmen.

She fought back the nausea as the body was lifted upon two wooden columns over a fiery spit and slowly rotated the body. The meat sizzles crackle over the burning fire as it chars. The smell would be embedded in her nostrils for an entity. She loses the fight to keep her food down and her stomach lurches. She wiped with the back of her sleeves as she contemplated the ongoing vegan. The sickly smell of broiled meat, corrosive sulfur, sweet cerebro fluid and incinerated organs permeated throughout the camp. Again, she doubled over and began to retch. “We’re all going to die.” Sora lifted her head towards the smaller shrieking white wolf. The others turned quiet as if she had expressed what they had all been considering.

[post deleted by owner]

A Wolven’s Tome [PART 2]

Return to the Pythian
Trigger Warning!!! [Fantasy Violence, Blood]

Falling rapidly, she collided with one boulder, her cream tunic torn from sharp rocky edge rock that fractured her ribs, then tumbled onto another into a small riverbank. Her leather boots ruined and umber britches soaked Sora, laid still as black crept into the edges of her vision. The sweltering heat held her captive in the sinking sands. Her eyelids grew heavy like a palladium door, attempting to block out the pain. Blood trickled into her eyes. The sound of horses’ hoofs sounded in the distance.

Get up! Choi.

Live. She ordered herself.

Live, you must survive this.

She commanded her battered body, fighting to push herself out of the hot, sandy pit. Her fingertips were stained with blood when she touched the side of her head, surprised that her wounds weren’t healing on their own. In fact, her entire body felt more fragile than usual and almost feverish. Something was wrong, very wrong. The sound of horses whining, hounds barking, and the clanking of chain mail approached. Voices came from behind her. Hot breath left a moist heat on the back of her neck as she was greeted by one enormous rock dog. Its teeth bared, lips peeled back in a nasty snarl, leaping at her with a violent snap.

Sora quickly rolled into a back handspring, landing in a predatory crouch while emitting a fierce growl. Vicious rock sharpened fangs snapped and lunged at her followed by a loud yell when she sent one dog sprawling into a boulder then collapsed hard into the sand. Two additional hounds joined the attack, swiftly replacing the others. Sora managed to make quick work of the second pair. The ear-piercing shriek of bone twisting accompanied by violent snap echoed in the walls of the plateau.

“ARGH!!”

Sora wailed as fangs pierce deep into her left shoulder, sending her blood spraying across the sand. Her cries continued as another animal bit her right forearm and kept her pinned down with a heavy paw. White hot pain shot through her when her elbow joint popped out of her socket.
"Why the hell am I not regenerating?"

Her strength was dwindling fast. Again she reached for her wolven Lunar blessing. To her shock, she was met with less power than when she began to fight. The rock dogs held her in place, waiting for their master to arrive. Sora reluctantly opened her eyes, mentally preparing herself to face the challenges ahead, only to yearn for the security of the Sanctuary upon raising her gaze.

Silver steel-toed boots rest beside her temple. The man wore armor that gleamed on his shoulders, along with a scarlet and sable wolven pelt. The other men, in chain mail, leather and sported a variety of variant shades of wolf pelts adorning their battle armor. Their eyes gazed down upon her like a newfound treasure. The commander’s lips form a grotesque smile across his face. The right side of his face bears old scars, resembling claw marks from a prior werewolf fight. What chilled her blood was the unmistakable face of the wolf’s skinned head their commander sported on his helm.

‘Dad?’

Sora scrambled away from them in utter disgust. The words lounged in . Chills ran down her back as she focused on the decorative leather and wolf skin helmet created from her Father’s fur coat and corpse. Horror whisks away her scream as she clamped her hand to . Her stomach threatened to empty as bile crept up the back of . Looks like we’ve got ourselves another werewolf, boys. I swear you ers are like coach roaches.” Four of the knight’s kinsmen surrounded her. “Every time I think we’re done putting one of you flea-bitten sons of es six feet under, more of you put up on our land.”

‘Their land?’ The confusion materialized in Sora's mind, but she kept quiet.

Despite her confusion, she felt the need to gather more information about the situation, but escaping remained her top priority. Before she could challenge the human’s statement further, they restricted her by putting a silver basket muzzle and securing chains around her wrist and throat. “No matter. Will get rid of each and every last one of ya soon enough.” Drowning in terror, Sora reached for her wolven power but was met with nothing. Not even a spark.

As she attempted to strategize, her heart thudded in her chest, knowing her odds of survival were slim without her wolven blessing. ‘This is a dream? Just a bad dream, right? The strong pull on her new silver collar confirmed to her that this was not a dream, but a living nightmare. Either way, the circumstances of her damnation were the same. Returning home an unwelcome disgrace would be what she expected, not the genocide of her people.

Sora still fought, regardless of the circumstances. The red wolf kicked, growled and dug her heels into the sand in a futile effort, but she would not surrender. She crumpled to the ground when a hard blow landed on the back of her head. They transported her away from the rocky terrain deeper into the desert with the rest of the mage hunting party, and blackness engulfed her.

Tossed into a pen, she awoke to a kick to the ribs. It’s rudimentary, built from 100% pure silver staked into the ground. There were six other identical structures around her enclosure. Ice crawls down her spine at the sight of the encampment. The familiarity of this location wasn’t lost upon her. This was the village of Almaz. Her village. Only it had been polluted with the lingering stench of battlement and death. The mage parting ways smiles and gesturing amongst themselves.

A Wolven’s Tome [PART 1]

Return to the Pythian

She would rather die than go back home. At least in death, she would’ve spared herself the humiliation of being marked as a traitor and slave to her wolf pack.

In the confines of the sanctuary, she stood in the middle of the holding cell separated from the other three champions, each allocated to their respective fighting arenas. The thunderous roar of the crowd in the coliseum echoed in the distance, cheering the Enchanter’s Laurel. Guard moved back and forth, carting away the unconscious bodies. The first competitor was a female shapeshifter that Sora didn’t know but who reminded her of the laurel she had been given as The Soldier. Close behind her stretched out on a cloth was a recognizable client of her Dawn the thunder Kitsune aka the Druid. Sora grimaced at this rough shape.

The werewolf’s fearful eyes gave away her emotions. Sora watched the triplet moons disappearing behind the clouds from the bars. Stars scattered in the dark sky, blinking as if sensing an impending ominous presence approaching. “Congratulations, Obscure, or should I say Choi Sora, daughter of the Almazlyan Chief Choi? The walls reverberated from a familiarity of a deep baritone voice, causing the hair on her arms to stand up.

Sora gripped the cell’s bar, taking a shallow breath to steady her trembling hands. A clunking noise to her right indicated the Demon Prince Asmodeus. On Heleon soil he was known as Seo Inguk, the seventh of his name in the house of Morningstar. He sauntered through the crimson moonlight toward her. A handsome yet venomous smile accompanied it, and his hands posed elegantly behind him.

“This final challenge must be an absolute treat for you, my dear. I trust your journey home will be a rather interesting one, even though your own people still view you as a VIPER.” The Demon Prince noticed her slight flinch at the term despite her silence.

She did not need to remind her current circumstance nor the price she would pay if she failed in the final trial. “You don’t have to go through with all this, you know? You could skip the heartache if this trial is all together.” From the shadows, bright emerald green orbs flashed. Sora turned a skeptical eye over to him. “I’m always happy to strike a deal in exchange for your freedom.” His usual gleaming smile mocked her obvious misery, immediately dismissing him. “It’s a shame, really.” The demon said. “Had it not been for your transgressions, your people could have embraced you as their honorable Oheneba.” Lady Choi, a Blood Brawler tourney finalist.”

The she-wolf remained unresponsive to the prince’s taunting.” Inguk reached for Sora, gripping her chin tightly and examining her closely with disapproval. “You would’ve made a fine bride to the Prince of the Nefertira tribe. But I hear he is a dreadfully miserable little .” The pair stood, and loathing fueled her, staring at the Demon’s cruel smirk, yet she stilled her tongue. Sora’s hair, as dark as a crow, transformed into a vibrant scarlet red, a visual representation of her intense fury.

“Tell me, was it worth abandoning the Prince at the altar for his handmaiden? Your father must have been heartbroken at the embarrassment.” Her eyes brimmed with tears but they remained unshed, even as shame washed over her. “Are you still labeled as an exiled traitor by the Almazlye clan, yes?” Impatience grew as he waited for a reaction she wouldn’t give. “Wonder whatever became of your precious maiden? ”

“You have no business in Wolven affairs, Demon, and I will take no slight from you.” A false bravado fueled her voice that she didn’t truly possess, but Sora continued to speak, nonetheless. “I may no longer hold my sigils of office, but I am nonetheless a Daughter of a great chieftain and respected clansmen, just your brother Namvo rules over you.” Rudy red eyes pinned him with a vicious glare, barely containing the madness boiling just beneath the surface as she yanked herself free of him. Pride swelled in her chest as she caught the briefest glimpse of irritation in the Prince’s features.

“The Underworld’s King punishes those that insult his esteemed guest. And I am still an honored guest, regardless of my subjugation.” Sora shoved her sleeve upwards, revealing the blood mark of the house of Morningstar slaves. “My Master Chittaphon is of demonic blood, the sworn brethren of the Solar Gods, and shared allegiance to the house of Morningstar. I am granted the safety under oath of his blood bond in Lucifer’s name, and you would be wise to remember that, my Prince.”

Obsidian demon steel gates parted, marking the beginning of the final trial. An emerald oval portal appeared with winding gray tendrils of smoke outstretching towards her. A hand guarded her eyes from its radiant glow. She could see the continent of Ashord, the mountainous ranges and snow-capped peaks of Bahamut Summit, to the desolate empty plains of No-man’s-land, and even the heated tundra’s of the Pythian desert that stretched out to the vast distance and beyond.

‘Home.’

“The absence from home for ten years is quite a long time,” mentioned the Demon. Sora retreated, her breathing shallow, as a hand on her lower back stopped her. “Come now, I’m sure your father and ex betrothal won’t execute you on the spot, though. Although,” The demon paused, pretending to research mentally his archives of wolven cultural customs. “You savages aren’t renowned for your forgiving nature.” He flexed his hand at her back, neither urging her forward nor allowing her to inch back.

Her hands clenched and unclenched into fist and she took a reluctant step forward against her better judgment. “I wish you good fortune, Lady Choi.” Every bone in her body was telling her to retreat, quit the challenge, to just forfeit and flee. Her mind attempted to negotiate another path that leads to her freedom.

‘It is not my time today!’ Her resolve immediately vetoed the idea. I am Almazlyian. We do not run. We do not cower, and we do not surrender. A mantra she hadn’t used in years sounded in her head. Her father’s mantra.

“Hopefully, your home doesn’t become your future grave.” Inguk gave a humorless laugh before shoving her through the portal, causing her to tumble ford.

* rolls dice * gets a 4

* rolls dice * gets a 5

* rolls dice * gets a 6