[b]Identity:[/b] The Death that Wends, The Wailing Wolf, The Reaper of the Ashmonts, The Greatwood Beast, She Who Rends Their Bones, Eater of Trolls, Greenwrath Type: Rogue Being Myth: [hider=The Duke and the Wolf] LO, and praise to the prowess of Wulfred, once finest of Lords in all of Outremer, of cunning and swift blade, of countenance so handsome! Behold his fine steel, so unbreakable Witness his courage, his will unshakeable There was no beast he could not best, no monster he could not slay, No creature that he could not put to rest, Except, perhaps, for one. One day, one night, perhaps a bit more Along the road her travelled to Barrowham, a village, its streets such a bore Sir Wulfred, but a man, needed a rest, And so to the local inn he went, Seeking only the best He laid down his head atop a straw pillow when far away, downstairs, an old woman said: "O Exalted, O God, my husband, my children..." "They've all turned up dead!" "Fear not!" He cried, tearing his blade from its sheath, "For I am Lord Wulfred, and justice you shall not be denied!" And so, courage in his heart, purpose in his stride Duke Wulfred set out, gathering many dozens of men, No beast from his steely gaze could hide Into the deepest of forests they went, searching ceaselessly among the trees, Their hounds, every vigilant, tracking the monster's scent Noble was he, Duke Wulfred, but the creature was not High above in the trees it waited, The ignoble death of Duke Wulfred it sought Down from the branches it leapt Its blades striked out for his neck Sir Wulfred, ever noble, died where he slept [/hider] [hider=Nature's Fury] Awaken, ye great destroyer! Among your woods, your enemies ever prowl, Hungry! Rend their flesh, reap their homes Bury them; it must be done Leave not one living, slaughter them to a man. Dead and dying, by your fang and claw, to Hell they are sent. Righteous is your wrath Your rage, forever burning as the great beasts follow in your wake Reclaim from the befoulers what was never theirs [/hider] [hider=Greenwrath] “Loose formation, men! The cowardly beast cannot hide from us forever!” Duke Wulfred announced, unsheathing a finely crafted silvered blade from its place at his hip. Like much of the rest of its arms, it was of only the greatest make - forged over ages by the best blacksmiths in all the lands of Paterdomus, passed down his family for centuries. Even his mail seemed to shine in the paul moonlight - much the same as the nearly four dozen men-at-arms surrounding him, though far more heavily ornamented. In truth, however, he found himself increasingly unsure that he’d ever truly. Finding its trail was relatively easy, he thought, briefly nothing the human bowels strewn about the forested clearing he currently found himself in - but the creature had always been one step ahead, even when he was certain he’d finally found it. [i]If only the accursed hunting dogs were any use.[/i] He thought, noting the cornucopia of miscellaneous guts and bones strewn along the length of the trail his column of troops’d been travelling along. The tromping of marching feet, perhaps, would give his position away long before he ever laid eyes upon the thing - but there was safety in numbers, especially when dealing with such a powerful monster. His men, he noted, seemed to share the sentiment, their steps atypically slow and measured for a band of well-armed soldiers. Even the crunch of dry twigs and leaves beneath their feet seemed to set off a handful - though Wulfred could hardly blame them, considering how he jumped at nearly every unfamiliar shadow. Then, suddenly, a voice. A honeyed, lilting tone that seemed to echo from all around him, followed soon afterward by a baleful canine snarl. [i]Screams[/i]. His head jolted toward the source of the sound, and there was the upper torso of one of his men, howling and begging for help as it was dragged into the now far thicker darkness ahead of the party, so deep he could barely see a few feet in front of him. The man by his side hacked and slashed wildly at some unseen assailant, but no no avail - until he abruptly slumped to the ground, lifeless, his head tearing from his body before tumbling away. The rest of his men, thankfully, were well-trained, pulling together into a tight formation, shields raised to form a primitive defensive wall, as if it’d manage to do any good. Mere moments after, a towering, shimmering green shape emerged from the darkness. Its surface as bright as the midday sky, it loped towards them with a hunting canine’s gait despite its bipedal shape - and from atop its shoulder, the face of an impossibly gorgeous Elven woman stared down, her countenance enchanting to look upon despite being contorted into an expression of sheer, bloodthirsty rage. Long, sharpened claws jut out from her hands - and where they struck the men-at-arms, they simply sailed through, slicing apart armoured bodies with a sickeningly unnatural ease. So little did they seem to matter to the lupine hybrid that its gait was barely even slowed by each kill, if at all - inch by inch, man by man, it carved its way toward Wulfred, each step soaked in the blood and guts of its prey. The Duke wanted to run, but something - though he could not tell what - froze him to the spot in fear; some primal, instinctual force that commanded he remain still less his utterly vain attempt to flee lead the thing back to his home. Meeting its burning gaze, fixed completely on him, as if to the exclusion of all else, he knew there was no point in fleeing. He was mortal, and he would tire. It, however, would surely chase him to the ends of the world, so potent was its raw, predatory hatred. So terrified was the Duke that he scarcely even noticed the carnage unfolding before him. He barely even noticed, in fact, as the creature ripped apart a man's chainmail with freakish ease, steel rings readily popping apart - only for it to shred apart his vulnerable torso moments later. He barely even noticed when the beast, loping ever closer, snapped a man's helmeted skull in half in its jaws, sucking out the pink matter contained within. He barely even noticed as the hunting hounds, as if in response to the monster's roar, joined its bone-chilling chilling chorus, leaping upon their handlers in fits of rabid fury. What was impossible to avoid noticing, however, was how every ounce of the beast's terrible hatred bared down upon him. Skin draining of all colour, Wulfred turned - and ran. Fast as he could, one step after the other, he shoved his way past his men, some of whom chose to join him rather than die in an apparently hopeless fight. He could hardly blame them, of course - had he the gall to speak, risking the creature's attention, he would have told them to flee as fast as their legs could carry them. Then, suddenly, where he expected none, the Duke's foot found resistance. The ground lurched beneath him, churned by surging roots and mycelia in the soft muck and he collapsed, planting his face in the mud. The next few moments were filled with cries for mercy from men he had never before heard quail, others no-doubt making desperate attempts to fight the monster. Wulfred struggled to push himself to his feet, but by the time he'd gotten his barings, a huge, warm hand wrapped about his torso, clipping him around. He found himself staring into the monster's hauntingly beautiful countenance, its hate-filled eyes boring holes into his skull. "[b]Duke Wulfred of Marleon.[/b]" It hissed, its voice a strange mix of the howl of an anguished spirit and the soft, lilting tones of a gentle caretaker. "You are found... Wanting. Defiler. Traitor." "Please, I... I don't know what you-" It snarled, baring his teeth - and Wulfred promptly clapped his jaw shut. "Liar! You remind me of the fool who convinced me to bring my rituals to bear against your black god, to journey from my home to protect your rancid [i]filth![/i]" It snarled, every word, no matter how coherent, punctuated by bestial growls. Dutching his chin, it forced his head back, making him stare at the sky above. "I fought to protect you, you... Wretches! You who think yourselves better than my vultures..." She hissed as s grest, huge-winged shape came into view, briefly blotting out the dun with its crimson-scaled bulk. "I... I have been given a second chance to [b]cleanse[/b] this land. It has... Blessed me. Thanked me for my-" She grunted, shaking her head, showering the quivering Duke in flecks of blood and sweat. He let out a blood-curdling screech and the monster reached into his chest, snapping his bones like dry twigs to access the delectable innards. Then, hungrily licking its lips, it began to dine on his flesh. [/hider]