Post by carcinoGeneticist on Nov 30, 2008 3:36:32 GMT -5
Word Count: 2099
Characters: Kristoff, mentions of Meecha, The Boar
Felt like giving the Kitty some backstory. :3
~~~
Kristoff had only been a teenager when he learned about the boar. He was a battlescarred and street-smart teenager, but a teenager none the less.
He'd not actually been meant to hear the story, but he did regardless. He'd been crouched low to the ground outside of the local pub, listening for some clue of a present that his Meecha would like to have, some gift that would dazzle her and show her exactly how capable the young feline was. He often sat here, listening curiously, scanning the casual conversations for something of interest. It could be anything, from an outsider who had gotten trapped in the mud to something far more interesting - a delivery crossing from over the Wall into the Marsh that had been stolen. In either case, Kristoff would track down the subject of interest and reclaim it for the woman he so desired. It was a thankless pasttime, but whever he gathered something that made the woman grin that wicked grin of hers, it made up for the countless rejections. In a way, the small attention that this brought him was better than no attention at all, and so he took it eagerly.
When he caught the sound of voices, his ears perked and bright yellow eyes shone with delight. The patrons of the bar were speaking in hushed tones, words punctuated by the sound of careful footsteps, a sure sign that something truely interesting was going on. He crept around the corner of the building, taking shelter behind a woodpile and settling in to listen. He could see that the men speaking had just left the bar and were standing off to the side of the doorway, clearly feeling that this matter was safer to discuss outside. They shared a belief that Kristoff had found to be fairly wide-spread, deciding that fewer outside ears could listen in if they took their talking outside of the busy pub.
Kristoff's grin only grew with delight. Today would be his lucky day.
One of the men wore a rather professional-looking uniform. He was one of those who had taken it upon himself to keep a close watch on the Wall that separated the Raemblen Bog from the outside world. It was a thankless job that carried far less intrigue and drama than one might have hoped for. Kristoff knew. He'd worked it for a short stint, hoping that he'd find constant action and fighting there. All it had been was a week of days spent staring at nothing, talking to no one, and having absolutely fucking nothing happen.
Except for today, it would seem. A breach in the wall, he said, glancing around furtively to make sure no one was close enough to see what they were saying. With his earth-toned fur, the cat was completely hidden, and he sat as still as a statue. Someone had come across the wall, from the Bog. It was like something his parents would have told him as a bedtime story intended to keep him on his best behavior, not something that would really happen. But it did happen, and that... Was very interesting, indeed. The men spoke of a boar that had emerged from the wall, grunting in an animalistic way, face covered by a horrific mask of some kind.
Part of Kristoff felt depressed that he had quit working the border, but what really caught the feline's attention was the way they spoke of the boar's tusks. Shining ivory rising from out of the mask, four in total, the main pair fully three feet long. The cat crept closer, his tail beginning to twitch with curiosity. Could tusks of that size even be possible?
His desire to see for himself if the rumors could be true and possibly collect the tusks for his beloved Meecha overriding the need to hear more, Kristoff bounded into the swamp as quickly as he could. The men froze for a moment, hearing his footsteps as he ran away, and glanced around themselves nervously. They could see nothing of any kind of eavesdropper, and so they began to speak once more, though in a slighty more paranoid manner. Kristoff never heard that the boar was a clear victim of the Bog-madness and had incredible strength to boot - the crazed creature had knocked a hole straight through the Wall before charging the group who had seen him emerge. In truth, the cat had no idea what he was going up against. All that mattered to Kristoff was that he was feeling secure in his youth and the battles he'd walked away from victorious in the past.
He would claim the boar's tusks along with his head and supposedly terrifying mask and bring them all back to Meecha. There was no way she wouldn't be impressed.
Kristoff grinned.
~*~
The young man's footsteps had grown noticably less cheerful when he finally approached the northern part of the Wall, all that separated his home from the dark Bog. His ears twitched as he approached it. There were no guards patrolling it, which was strange enough, but even more bizzare to the cat, there was also no breach. He growled softly, tail lashing from side to side. Had he misheard them and gone to the wrong place? Slowly, he walked up and down the trail, carfully invesitigating every centimeter of stone for any sign that it had been replaced or repaired in any way. A patch of lighter-colored material caught the man's eye, and he lightly traced a claw across it, growling to himself. Was the boar gone, then? That was a disappointment. The cat scooped up a rock and hurled it as hard as he could at the wall, turning and scratching mud and grime up onto its smooth surface, his fur bristling.
In disappointment, Kristoff was a child, but acting in such an immature way did help soothe some of the sting of disappointment. When he lifted his head it was with a slightly less sour expression, and he began to walk away from the wall. He muttered to himself as he stalked away from the Wall and, in his distraction, almost missed the flash of movement from the shadows of a nearby grove of trees.
Kristoff froze where he stood, eyes locked onto the figure that hid there. It was huge, much bigger than himself, and in colors that were striking and unfamiliar. The brown base was much lighter and more red than the browns of those who lived in the Marsh, and the purple was a stark contrast from the natural tones of even his own coat. The cat slunk low to the ground, paws trembling slightly as he slunk forward, desperate for a better look at the creature. He had to admire it - just as his own coat matched the muddy and mossy banks of the Marsh, the strange purple and yellow dappling on the boar's sleek coat allowed him to blend into the shadows beneath the trees exceptionally well. The creature's face was masked in leather that nearly completely masked his eyes. The only feature that could really be clearly seen of the boar were his tusks, gleaming bones that jutted forth from the mask and rose high over his snout. They were everything the men at the bar had said they would be.
Beneath his shaggy coat, the feline's muscles bunched as he readied himself to spring. He would bring down the boar. All details beyond those ivory tusks was lost to the cat, and he lunged forward with all of his strength. Claws collided with muscle, and the boar screamed in rage and pain as the cat pulled himself onto his back, using back legs to scratch as front paws clung.
The boar bucked hard and Kristoff could feel his grip loosening as his nails were pulled through fur and flesh. The pig bled freely, hot red spreading quickly through its oily coat and making it even more difficult to hold on. With a snarl, Kristoff opened his mouth and bit hard at the back of the other Card's neck, intending to use his oversized fangs to get a better grip on the man.
He had not, however, been expecting the vile flavor that filled his mouth. Blood, sweat, and the horrible oil that covered his prey quickly overwhelmed his senses and he moved as quickly as he could to get the disgusting taste out of his mouth. When he released, the boar bucked hard, and the feline was fully dislodged from his position on the boar's back and flung through the air. He collided with a nearby tree with a sickening crunch, and for a moment, his vision went completely black.
He couldn't have been out for more than a few seconds, for when his vision swam back into focus, the boar was scuffing the ground before him, tusks lowered and bright yellow eyes glaring out from beneath the protective glass of his mask. The cat had only a second to react before the boar charged - in a flash, the cat scrambled away, feeling the air from the boar's charge on his skin and hearing the crash as the other man slammed face-first into the tree.
Kristoff saw his chance.
Adrenaline fueled his movements as he darted forward, the only thing that kept his body moving. His back throbbed with every step, but if he didn't react fast he was dead. He lunged, long teeth sinking deep into the greasy fur that covered the back of the boar's head and neck, this time prepared for the foul taste that filled his mouth. He drove his fangs deep, hanging on as tightly as he could while the Bogdweller bucked and screamed, smashing into trees and rock.
Every landing jarred his back and head, and Kristoff could feel his vision beginning to blur. He couldn't keep this up. With a frustrated growl, the cat began to scratch at the thick hide of the writhing creature, forcing the aching muscles of his jaw to close tighter. The boar let out a pained squeal as the feline's fangs cut through nerve and vessel, hot blood pulsing from the wounds that cut deeply through his flesh. Kristoff could feel the boar's movements slow, could feel as each pulse of blood weakened, and gripped even tighter.
When the Bogdweller finally collapsed, Kristoff fell limply from the creature's back and shuddered. He was absolutely coated in sticky blood that was cooling quickly, thickening in his fur. He could feel his own blood pounding in his ears, and his vision span when he lifted his head to get a better glimpse of his prey.
The boar was huge, thick muscles impressive even in death. Blood marred the reddish-brown coat, cutting across jagged purple and yellow highlights and muddying the more subtle colors. Beneath the now-broken glass of the massive Card's bizzare mask, Kristoff could see the dull yellow eyes, slitted pupils dilated and clouded-over with death. The cat pulled himself to his feet, a quiet and pained "yooooowl" fighting its way from his jaws. His back was throbbing and felt... utterly wrong, but he couldn't stay here. He would gather his prize, then try to find some doctor to make sure he hadn't snapped his spine... That was a terrifying thought, and Kristoff mewled to himself as he crawled to the boar's side. He leaned against the carcass, breathing heavily. His head was swimming and he felt like he would vomit. His back couldn't be broken. If it had been, he wouldn't be walking as he was now.
If that thought had been a relief, the sight his eyes fell upon next was a nightmare. It took every bit of strength left for the Marshlander to keep standing, and he let out a dreadful howl. The tusks, his pride, his reason for fighting...
They had shattered to bits when the boar had slammed into the tree.
Kristoff collapsed, letting his exhaustion and anger over the loss of the tusks overtake him completely. A moment later, he passed out beside his prey. He didn't wake up until long past nightfall.
The only option seemed to be to take the mask of the beast to his Meecha and so he did, walking with an odd swagger back to her hut, his back arched strangely in his pain.
Characters: Kristoff, mentions of Meecha, The Boar
Felt like giving the Kitty some backstory. :3
~~~
Kristoff had only been a teenager when he learned about the boar. He was a battlescarred and street-smart teenager, but a teenager none the less.
He'd not actually been meant to hear the story, but he did regardless. He'd been crouched low to the ground outside of the local pub, listening for some clue of a present that his Meecha would like to have, some gift that would dazzle her and show her exactly how capable the young feline was. He often sat here, listening curiously, scanning the casual conversations for something of interest. It could be anything, from an outsider who had gotten trapped in the mud to something far more interesting - a delivery crossing from over the Wall into the Marsh that had been stolen. In either case, Kristoff would track down the subject of interest and reclaim it for the woman he so desired. It was a thankless pasttime, but whever he gathered something that made the woman grin that wicked grin of hers, it made up for the countless rejections. In a way, the small attention that this brought him was better than no attention at all, and so he took it eagerly.
When he caught the sound of voices, his ears perked and bright yellow eyes shone with delight. The patrons of the bar were speaking in hushed tones, words punctuated by the sound of careful footsteps, a sure sign that something truely interesting was going on. He crept around the corner of the building, taking shelter behind a woodpile and settling in to listen. He could see that the men speaking had just left the bar and were standing off to the side of the doorway, clearly feeling that this matter was safer to discuss outside. They shared a belief that Kristoff had found to be fairly wide-spread, deciding that fewer outside ears could listen in if they took their talking outside of the busy pub.
Kristoff's grin only grew with delight. Today would be his lucky day.
One of the men wore a rather professional-looking uniform. He was one of those who had taken it upon himself to keep a close watch on the Wall that separated the Raemblen Bog from the outside world. It was a thankless job that carried far less intrigue and drama than one might have hoped for. Kristoff knew. He'd worked it for a short stint, hoping that he'd find constant action and fighting there. All it had been was a week of days spent staring at nothing, talking to no one, and having absolutely fucking nothing happen.
Except for today, it would seem. A breach in the wall, he said, glancing around furtively to make sure no one was close enough to see what they were saying. With his earth-toned fur, the cat was completely hidden, and he sat as still as a statue. Someone had come across the wall, from the Bog. It was like something his parents would have told him as a bedtime story intended to keep him on his best behavior, not something that would really happen. But it did happen, and that... Was very interesting, indeed. The men spoke of a boar that had emerged from the wall, grunting in an animalistic way, face covered by a horrific mask of some kind.
Part of Kristoff felt depressed that he had quit working the border, but what really caught the feline's attention was the way they spoke of the boar's tusks. Shining ivory rising from out of the mask, four in total, the main pair fully three feet long. The cat crept closer, his tail beginning to twitch with curiosity. Could tusks of that size even be possible?
His desire to see for himself if the rumors could be true and possibly collect the tusks for his beloved Meecha overriding the need to hear more, Kristoff bounded into the swamp as quickly as he could. The men froze for a moment, hearing his footsteps as he ran away, and glanced around themselves nervously. They could see nothing of any kind of eavesdropper, and so they began to speak once more, though in a slighty more paranoid manner. Kristoff never heard that the boar was a clear victim of the Bog-madness and had incredible strength to boot - the crazed creature had knocked a hole straight through the Wall before charging the group who had seen him emerge. In truth, the cat had no idea what he was going up against. All that mattered to Kristoff was that he was feeling secure in his youth and the battles he'd walked away from victorious in the past.
He would claim the boar's tusks along with his head and supposedly terrifying mask and bring them all back to Meecha. There was no way she wouldn't be impressed.
Kristoff grinned.
~*~
The young man's footsteps had grown noticably less cheerful when he finally approached the northern part of the Wall, all that separated his home from the dark Bog. His ears twitched as he approached it. There were no guards patrolling it, which was strange enough, but even more bizzare to the cat, there was also no breach. He growled softly, tail lashing from side to side. Had he misheard them and gone to the wrong place? Slowly, he walked up and down the trail, carfully invesitigating every centimeter of stone for any sign that it had been replaced or repaired in any way. A patch of lighter-colored material caught the man's eye, and he lightly traced a claw across it, growling to himself. Was the boar gone, then? That was a disappointment. The cat scooped up a rock and hurled it as hard as he could at the wall, turning and scratching mud and grime up onto its smooth surface, his fur bristling.
In disappointment, Kristoff was a child, but acting in such an immature way did help soothe some of the sting of disappointment. When he lifted his head it was with a slightly less sour expression, and he began to walk away from the wall. He muttered to himself as he stalked away from the Wall and, in his distraction, almost missed the flash of movement from the shadows of a nearby grove of trees.
Kristoff froze where he stood, eyes locked onto the figure that hid there. It was huge, much bigger than himself, and in colors that were striking and unfamiliar. The brown base was much lighter and more red than the browns of those who lived in the Marsh, and the purple was a stark contrast from the natural tones of even his own coat. The cat slunk low to the ground, paws trembling slightly as he slunk forward, desperate for a better look at the creature. He had to admire it - just as his own coat matched the muddy and mossy banks of the Marsh, the strange purple and yellow dappling on the boar's sleek coat allowed him to blend into the shadows beneath the trees exceptionally well. The creature's face was masked in leather that nearly completely masked his eyes. The only feature that could really be clearly seen of the boar were his tusks, gleaming bones that jutted forth from the mask and rose high over his snout. They were everything the men at the bar had said they would be.
Beneath his shaggy coat, the feline's muscles bunched as he readied himself to spring. He would bring down the boar. All details beyond those ivory tusks was lost to the cat, and he lunged forward with all of his strength. Claws collided with muscle, and the boar screamed in rage and pain as the cat pulled himself onto his back, using back legs to scratch as front paws clung.
The boar bucked hard and Kristoff could feel his grip loosening as his nails were pulled through fur and flesh. The pig bled freely, hot red spreading quickly through its oily coat and making it even more difficult to hold on. With a snarl, Kristoff opened his mouth and bit hard at the back of the other Card's neck, intending to use his oversized fangs to get a better grip on the man.
He had not, however, been expecting the vile flavor that filled his mouth. Blood, sweat, and the horrible oil that covered his prey quickly overwhelmed his senses and he moved as quickly as he could to get the disgusting taste out of his mouth. When he released, the boar bucked hard, and the feline was fully dislodged from his position on the boar's back and flung through the air. He collided with a nearby tree with a sickening crunch, and for a moment, his vision went completely black.
He couldn't have been out for more than a few seconds, for when his vision swam back into focus, the boar was scuffing the ground before him, tusks lowered and bright yellow eyes glaring out from beneath the protective glass of his mask. The cat had only a second to react before the boar charged - in a flash, the cat scrambled away, feeling the air from the boar's charge on his skin and hearing the crash as the other man slammed face-first into the tree.
Kristoff saw his chance.
Adrenaline fueled his movements as he darted forward, the only thing that kept his body moving. His back throbbed with every step, but if he didn't react fast he was dead. He lunged, long teeth sinking deep into the greasy fur that covered the back of the boar's head and neck, this time prepared for the foul taste that filled his mouth. He drove his fangs deep, hanging on as tightly as he could while the Bogdweller bucked and screamed, smashing into trees and rock.
Every landing jarred his back and head, and Kristoff could feel his vision beginning to blur. He couldn't keep this up. With a frustrated growl, the cat began to scratch at the thick hide of the writhing creature, forcing the aching muscles of his jaw to close tighter. The boar let out a pained squeal as the feline's fangs cut through nerve and vessel, hot blood pulsing from the wounds that cut deeply through his flesh. Kristoff could feel the boar's movements slow, could feel as each pulse of blood weakened, and gripped even tighter.
When the Bogdweller finally collapsed, Kristoff fell limply from the creature's back and shuddered. He was absolutely coated in sticky blood that was cooling quickly, thickening in his fur. He could feel his own blood pounding in his ears, and his vision span when he lifted his head to get a better glimpse of his prey.
The boar was huge, thick muscles impressive even in death. Blood marred the reddish-brown coat, cutting across jagged purple and yellow highlights and muddying the more subtle colors. Beneath the now-broken glass of the massive Card's bizzare mask, Kristoff could see the dull yellow eyes, slitted pupils dilated and clouded-over with death. The cat pulled himself to his feet, a quiet and pained "yooooowl" fighting its way from his jaws. His back was throbbing and felt... utterly wrong, but he couldn't stay here. He would gather his prize, then try to find some doctor to make sure he hadn't snapped his spine... That was a terrifying thought, and Kristoff mewled to himself as he crawled to the boar's side. He leaned against the carcass, breathing heavily. His head was swimming and he felt like he would vomit. His back couldn't be broken. If it had been, he wouldn't be walking as he was now.
If that thought had been a relief, the sight his eyes fell upon next was a nightmare. It took every bit of strength left for the Marshlander to keep standing, and he let out a dreadful howl. The tusks, his pride, his reason for fighting...
They had shattered to bits when the boar had slammed into the tree.
Kristoff collapsed, letting his exhaustion and anger over the loss of the tusks overtake him completely. A moment later, he passed out beside his prey. He didn't wake up until long past nightfall.
The only option seemed to be to take the mask of the beast to his Meecha and so he did, walking with an odd swagger back to her hut, his back arched strangely in his pain.
