17th day of Spring, 507 AV. Nightfall
These trees and brush which have been standing for years upon years have stood watch over a myriad of creatures and vermin. The woods outside of Syrilas were not the coziest of places, and most definitely not the most welcoming. However, there was a certain quality in the peace that nature brings, that had attracted time and time again a creature of size not too often seen in the dangerous brush, let alone at night, when every breaking leaf could signal death's arrival. But none of this had frightened this young lad, not even reaching adulthood, who had come for the fourth time back to this small break in the heavy brush. Here he had setup what vaguely resembled a camp, with an area set aside as a bed, cushioned with smooth leaves picked from the trees, and a fire-pit, dug out and marked off by stones. This little slice of freedom was in essence the only home the child had. He had never even considered thinking of the lavish house in the city, occupied by sins incarnate, as his home. The only true home he had was engulfed by flames, and he had come to accept that as simply a part of nature's cycle. He revered nature, as only someone with a deep grasp of the subject could. He knew first-hand the beauty and simplistic being that it could be, but he also knew how quickly the elements can strike against you, when one moment the rain falling through the trees, gracefully sliding down bark and cooling the earth itself, quickly gives way to a strike of lightning, intimidating and swift, which in an instant kills whatever it touches. Despite all this spiritualism and reverence, Nero had never been a religious person. He found trying to define the elements of our mortal world as dull and irrelevant. Why would you want to name each sect of being as an over-reaching deity, instead of giving respect and prayer to all at once? He preferred to focus within himself, and often that was exactly what he did. Hours upon hours he would lay in this brush, semi-consciously observing all around him at once. He felt at peace here, a peace he had so desired to repay him for the eternity of turmoil he felt. However, true to his character, this child was not the luckiest of men, and that night would not be the first time his casual and relaxed mentality got him in trouble. It would be the most memorable though... By far.
The night had always been the best time to come out. The critters were casually crawling around, and the creatures were generally more exciting. Added to that, it was exponentially easier to run off to this secret hideout in the middle of the night. But perhaps that was not the best idea this time around...
What was that..? Nero casually sat up as his carefully sculpted peace had been nudged by some unusual noise. He had come to recognize almost all the woodland creatures of that particular spot, but not this one. There was something in the tone that gave off an eerie feel as well... One of foreboding events. This only heightened his curiosity, but sent his youthful heart beating slightly faster. He had noticed that the fire had also gone out, depriving him of any means of effectively scaring off whatever is lurking in that darkness. His courage steeled by blind curiosity and teenage arrogance, he rose to his feet and carefully started towards the sound, making sure not to make any quick movements or noise. As he approached an unusually thick bush, the sound changed tone, loudly pronouncing a yell akin to a warrior's battle cry. Nero's false courage quickly fell in as he scrambled back towards his own den, seeking refuge in his peaceful break in the woods. That was also not the best idea. The beat of quick feet and breaking twigs arose from the brush, and the young man's courage redoubled as he turned himself around to face whatever creature dare challenge him. The child's uncannily deep sense of logic and of the world around him often clashed with his youthful instincts, and more often than not the battles inside his mind were more intense than the ones in reality. The only issue was it was still dark. Very, Very Dark. Despite continuous romps out into the woods, his above-average night-vision was no match for a beast perfectly adapted to this darkness. Nevertheless, with his cocky sense of perseverance, and with a smirk across his face, he crouched on one knee as he peered down the lane, as a hunter stalking his prey. The only difference was that in reality, the roles were reversed. But as always, Nature can drastically change in an instant, as almost by a work of a Guardian from above, a slight breeze had blown through the woods, shaking the trees, and as the dark clouds of night parted, they allowed a small sliver of moonlight to slide in through the thick canopy above, revealing the hunter in it's vicious glory. It was definitely a beast, it's eyes, shimmering in the light, spoke only of the hunt, and it's definitive snout resembled something of a wolf, but he had never seen one in his hideaway. A wolf is a disruption, a breaker of peace.
Heh. If you insist, I'll be happy to oblige you. The wolf leaped into the air, ready to pounce on his seemingly vulnerable prey. But as he fell down, his teeth and claws bared, he found himself flying in an entirely different direction, panting for breath through a broken jaw. The beast's claws had tasted blood, but this prey was not one to be taken lightly. As the moon-light continued to shine down through the trees, the supposed "prey" was standing a few feet away, gripping a scratch on his arm, and smirking with the same professional look in his eyes as the beast's. This was no hunt. This was a duel between hunters. Each fighting for what they called home, and each unfortunately unable to contemplate peace without conflict. The beast made another charge, sprinting rapidly, and launched a set of claws at the man's legs. However when the swipe was made, the beast quickly found himself on the recieving end of those legs, as they crashed down with a mighty axe kick, one belonging to someone who had quickly learned that the only true way to ensure piece, is by quick conflict. Blood dripping from it's mouth, and consciousness fading, the poor beast became a wounded dog, fading gently into it's own darkness... |
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