Contest - Background Story

[Death]

~ Background Story Contest ~
Description:
Write a background story for one or more of your characters. I am looking for colorful and intriguing entries. Grammar/spelling will not put you at a disadvantage unless it is extreme enough to distract the reader from the story.

Guidelines:

200-1500 words (approx.)
Only use other characters with their consent.
Do not pretend to be of a higher station in life than you are, i.e. commoners saying they are children of nobles, etc.
Make sure we clearly know what character the story is about.


Dates:
Present - July 31st, midnight, Skotos time.

Awards:
Prizes will be granted to the top three submissions and one honorable mention. The actual prizes will be a surprise to all involved including all staff but myself. Do not pester staff in an attempt to discover what they are.

I look forward to seeing what you offer us. Thank you.

[Nes]

Question: Are we to post the entries here? I keep a record of notes and constructed backstories and Neske's no exception...except the pre-Triskellian portion of the notes weighs in at about 1800 words.

That's gonna make for a pretty hefty read.

[Death]

Here, if it fits. Email me, if it doesn't. Death -AT- ironclaw.skotos.net with the @ in place of the -AT-. ;)

[Nes]

...rats. It's *just* too long. If I lop off the last paragraph, it'd fit (just), but I'm not sure how it'd read, then.

Email time!

*edit* Submitted as of 620am, so stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Flick :P Actually I'm just writing this just in case it didn't get through.

[Tsi]

Does it have to be pre-Triskellian? I wrote a pretty cool journal-style back story for Ian's bluebooked plot, and I'd like to submit it, if it's allowed. It is background information for his latest return to Triskellian, but it's not pre-Triskellian.

[Pyjamas]

What an awesome idea for a competition... I can't wait to write mine!

[FelicityMay]

Yay, my story is first up! Here is Danni's Backstory. Enjoy

I close my eyes and again I can smell it. The sickly sweet scent of blood, I can’t see it, but I can still smell it. After all these years, I still can’t rid myself of the scent. I barely remember my mother, and I never knew my father, well, that’s not true. I know of him, I know that my fur is the way it is because of him, and I’ve learnt over the years what happened, but I should begin at the start, it’s less confusing that way.

I was born in a little town, a tiny one. My mother was a local baker in the town, beautiful apparently. A prize worthy of any male, I’ve been told, but of course the tale is never so sweet, she apparently had many men trail after her, but her eyes were only ever on one. The ruler of our providence. According to my folk he was charming, handsome, everything you would expect in a young noble. My mother couldn’t help but be smitten with him, and nor could he with her. They met in secret, and taught each other of each other’s world. Him of her peasant life and her of his grand life, according to my mother, they were in love and one day he would take her away from her life she has known. But of course that is not the way it works. Life is never a fairy tale.

After months of secret smiles in passing, and wild nights of uncontrollable passion, my mother found herself with child. She stupidly thought that this would change her lot in life, he would accept her common status and marry her and they would have a lovely family who would never want for anything. But of course he wanted nothing to do with this. He decided she must have been with another and condemned her and her bastard to the common life. He left without a word thereafter, never to leave his castle, last I heard, he had his own family. A dour proper wife and a few kits of equal boring and plainness, as her. I often wonder if my father thinks of us, of my mother and the life he might have had. If he regrets his choices. But it is best to not dwell on the what ifs.

My mother was broken from then on. She huddled away until she gave birth to twin kits. A young girl and a young boy both cursed with a mix of grey and copper fur. A proof of mix from both nobility and commoner. My mother’s ideas of raising her children as normal foxes was completely destroyed when the silvery grey tint showed through our furs. She knew that we would never be accepted into either society. Half-caste bastards. Who could love us? No one she decided. Thus she hatched her plan.

My mother took her time, making sure we accepted into religion, so that when her plan was completed, we wouldn’t be left in hell. She let us see things, such as, how the sun catches in the leaves in the early morning, how the smell of wet grass is an overlooked pleasure, and how love is what is the most important thing in the world. One day, when she felt the time was right, she hatched her plan. I remember her arms snaked around my waist, her mouth on my ear, the sweet smell that only a mother carries, and whispered words of apologies, before she lay me back down in my bassinet . I was asleep through the ordeal, but the smell of blood still haunts me when I think of my family. When I awoke, I was nursed on a lady I did not know’s lap. The smell of drays and oddly freshness invading my nostrils. I was on the road, where I would spend the next nineteen years of my life. Travelling, performing and doing whatever it took to place food in my mouth.

Years later, when I was about ten, we returned to my home, which is where I learnt of my past. Many of the town people looked on me with pity, and murmured in hushed tones that I was Crazy Maria’s daughter. I had the same hair and fiery eyes, that held the same passion for life that she had, and the fur, my fur, was what caused her downfall. Her insanity. Slowly, I found out, that, the memory of blood and whispered words of love was the night she killed my brother. Her plan was to not let us suffer. She’d kill us, and rid herself of the bodies so that no one would hurt us ever. She killed my brother and slowly began to digest him, when a friend called on her, use to just barging in, she did so like normal, to find my mother gnawing on his bones, covered in blood, gibbering about unaccepted and cleaning herself of him, and with me laying in the crib, her screams resonated and brought the town members running, finding the same sight. My grandmother grabbed myself and handed me to her son and daughter-in-law, begging them to raise me as their own, and never telling me of what my mother was. I believe my mother was banished, made to live as an outcast, for what mother would devour her own children?

So, I spent my life in reality running from my past. Moving on everytime someone got close enough to notice the flaws in me, in why I roamed with my family. But now it stops. Now it is time I take responsibility for myself.

So now I stand in Triskillion, hoping to plant my feet in the ground. Hoping not to have to run, hoping my past will not haunt every move I make. Hoping that I can be strong and have my own family and love and not commit the same sins as my family has. I am not ashamed of my family, nor am I proud, but this is why I shall forever only be known as Danni.

[Death]

Does it have to be pre-Triskellian? I wrote a pretty cool journal-style back story for Ian's bluebooked plot, and I'd like to submit it, if it's allowed. It is background information for his latest return to Triskellian, but it's not pre-Triskellian.

That is fine.

FYI: I have received Neske's and Sir Gregorys.

[Tsi]

The year is 908. In the back of the Newtown library, a book sits on the side table, old and dusty. Opening it, you discover the inside of the front cover is in a different handwriting from the rest, and reads ‘This is the journal of Ian of Doloreaux, born 873 Apres le Miracle. Herein is a first hand account of his first encounter with real war, and his punishment for the attempted murder of an artic wolf.
----------

Day 1

Well, Sergeant MacBarf gave me this journal, said it'd be good for me to write my feelings and stuff. Figured I might as well make use of it, since I'm stuck doing nothing for a few days. So here I am, sitting in a bunk on a stupid barge, surrounded by a bunch of stupid wolves, two of them white. Damn, this sucks. There are three others in this bunk. One’s a grey wolf, big guy. I think he’s around 35, 40. Looks really strong. He at least smiled at me-not such a bad guy. I think he said his name was Alasdair. He might not be too bad as a bunkmate, but he’s not in the bunk above me. The guy who has the bunk above me is a white wolf named Logan. He keeps eyeing me, and I do not like him at all. Shifty, that one. I keep catching him staring at me. The other white wolf, I haven’t seen yet, and I’d like to keep it that way. Sergeant MacBarf told me I’ll be confined to this bunk until my lash wounds start to scar over. I hope that isn’t too soon; I’m told I’ll be working after that. Scrubbing decks and whatnot. Doesn’t sound fun, and I’d have to put up with all these murderous white wolves. Damn it all, it’s lights out. Night.

~Ian

Day 2

My back is bandaged too tightly. Stupid doctor doesn’t know what he’s doing. Having a bit of trouble breathing with it on. He won’t give me any extra painkiller, either. Says I can have the normal dosage, and that’s all I get. But I need more, it hurts so bad. Been mostly sleeping, but I don’t get much rest, because Logan is always around, too, so I have to keep my guard up. They say he’s sick, but I don’t think so. He looks fine to me. Probably faking it so he can stare at me all day. Every time I wake up, I swear, there he is. It’s so annoying! There he goes again. Hang on; I’m going to tell him to bugger off.
Anyway, not much going on right now. Just sleep, eat, and sleep some more. Every so often, I get up to go to the latrine. And the doctor makes me take a shower. The running water feels good, as long as it stays hot. Then it goes cold, and man, does that burn! Getting tired; I’ll write more later.

~Ian

Day 4

Doctor says I’ll be on my feet tomorrow. Damnit. Don’t want to work. Sergeant MacBarf visited me today and gave me a lecture about prejudice. Blah blah blah blah...he doesn’t understand what his people did to me. At least he wasn’t part of that clan. I’d tear him to shreds if he were one of them. Told me Logan was part of his clan, too, that he’s just a little older than me. Wanted me to talk to him. Yea, right. As if I’m going to lower myself to that level. They can tell me to all they want, not going to do it. So there. More later; lights are going out.

~Ian

Day 8

I prayed real hard this afternoon. Prayed I’d get out of here, that the wolves from the clan who killed my family wouldn’t kill me, that the Avoirdupois wouldn’t kill me, that I’d return to Triskellian in one piece. I miss Sir Burcet so much, and Senora. I wonder how they’re doing. I hurt so bad today; I’m sore all over. Damn wolves made me scrub floors and mop and wash grimy pots. Even had to take a shift in the crow’s nest. I do not like being up that high, with the swaying. I swear I felt like I was going to fall out many times.

Got lonely today, decided I’d go ahead and talk to Logan. He says hell be working tomorrow, too, because he’s feeling better now. Doctor said he had food poisoning from some rotten meat. Guess he wasn’t faking after all; he’s real thin, like a doll made of bones. Logan is 17, just two years older. Kind of cool to have someone my age to hang out with. He’s not so bad, and at least I’m not lonely now. We played tic-tac-toe, arm wrestled, and tried to wrestle on the floor, but one of the men (I think he was a corporal or something like that) came in and told us to knock it off. He’s a bit weak from being sick, anyway. After that, we just made fun of Seoc. That’s the other white wolf in the bunkroom we share; he’s got a crazy accent, and is very grumpy. I don’t like him at all, and Logan agrees! So at least I’ll have someone to help me with chores tomorrow! I hate those chores. Boy, I’m tired. Night!

~Ian

Day 9

Logan is pretty cool! He can carve a scrap piece of wood into just about anything: spoon, raccoon, box, fox--ha ha! I rhyme. Things aren't so bad tonight. Had a good meal, and sparred with Logan using a couple of club-looking sticks. Best we could do; we don’t have swords yet. We’ll get those tomorrow when we dock. I’m going to get some real training and go to a real war. Logan has been twice already, and says it’s crazy fun, though it’s hard work. Who cares if it’s hard; it’ll be great to beat the shit out of them horses. All I have to say to them is ROARRRRR!!! Heheh...this’ll be great.

Day 11

Can’t write long. Dead tired. Training last two days. One more day, then off to the frontlines. Logan and I are ready, if only we’d get a chance to rest. Got to go; need some sleep.

~Ian

Day 23

Sorry I haven’t been able to write lately. There hasn’t been time, with all the fighting, and sleeping and eating when we’re not fighting. And now, Logan has been captured, and we’re under siege! How could things go so wrong so fast? We were winning for a bit there, but they brought in reinforcements and cut us down. No way am I going to wait and let them stupid wolves take their time going to rescue Logan. I’m going tonight. Going to sneak past the stupid ponies and rescue him! Wish me luck! If something happens to me, whoever finds this, find my Mum and siblings, and tell them I love them. And give this journal to Sir Burcet. He’s been like a Da to me, and I hope I see him again. Been watching the guards around the walls. They change at exactly sundown. That’s when I’m going. I’ll write more as soon as I rescue Logan.

It’s been so long, and so much has changed. I’m still so exhausted and so hungry. But overall, I’m not badly hurt. Just beaten and bruised. Broken arm; the damn ponies were going to kill me! How foolish of me to try to save Logan all by myself. See, this is what happened. I went at sundown, just as I planned. Wore all brown, covering all my white fur (see, brown is harder to see in dim light than even black...and my white fur would have been spotted in no time). Dirtied my face as much as I could, wore a hood, and snuck through the shadows past them--or at least I thought so. Someone came up behind me and knocked me out; I think it was one of the guards. Came too, and I was handcuffed and shackled in a cell with Logan. He didn’t look so good when I saw him. Cuts and bruises all over, filthy, his fur matted with dirt and blood. Had big lesions on his wrists under the cuffs, all crusty and nasty with no fur. Fleas and worse were crawling all over both of us. We were prisoners of war, held by the ponies. For almost five weeks (so says Sergeant MacBearn) we were held this way, trying to keep our sanity by talking to each other. The guards would prod us sometimes, tease us with food we couldn’t have and hit us with their clubs if we tried to get some of it. We were given bread crusts and water, and that’s it...

Had to soak the crusts in the water for awhile before Logan could even have it...he was too weak to chew that hard stuff. I worried he wouldn’t make it. I often wondered why they kept us, but never learned the real reason. We were rescued three days ago by a group of soldiers led by Sergeant MacBearn himself. I couldn’t believe head risk his life just to save us and a few others who were being held there. Logan is barely pulling through. They’re sending him back to where we trained, to a soldiers’ hospital where they can take good care of him. He promised to write to me, and I miss him already. The closest thing to an older brother I’ve ever had. I sure hope he’s going to be all right. Me, I’m fine. Bruised, beaten, a little on the thin side, but I’ll be all right. They’re sending me home. I hope they’re waiting for me in Triskellian...I hope nobody’s left or forgotten me or anything. And most of all, I hope I’ll be welcome, that they’ll forgive my stupidity. But I’ll have to see.

~Ian

Day 69

We would have been in Triskellian tomorrow...but a storm came three days ago, knocked the ship against a rock. Now we’re waiting in a harbour for the ship to get repairs. It’s supposed to take another week. Why did the stupid storm have to come just as we were going home? It’s not fair!

Day 78

Finally the ship’s repaired! We’re only four days away. Finally going home! I hope everyone’s ready for me...Triskellian, here I come!

Day 82

We dock in Triskellian tomorrow! If I squint, I can just make out the dock. I hope they sent word ahead. They might not have. It’s all right, though. I know the way. First thing, I’m going to find Sir Burcet and Senora and all of them, and give them each a big bear hug. Then I’m going to take a shower. I know I stink. And then I’m going to sleep. And then, who knows. I’ll find out if I still have a place in the city, if I’m still welcome. I hope so. I’ve missed this city. I miss Logan more, but maybe I’ll see him again someday. If he recovers, that is. I’ve got my muscles, bigger than they were before, and all my weight back. They fed me good on the way home, a reward for being brave or something, I suppose. They shouldn’t be rewarding me, though. I tried to play the hero, going to save Logan. Oh well, it’s time to sleep. The sooner I go to sleep, the sooner the morning, and Triskellian, will come.

[Adriana]

I have always considered myself to be just another thread in the tapestry. Like many, I started out an orphan, living my childhood in a small church. The identity of my parents is unknown to me and to those who kept me sheltered for so many years - it was as though I simply fell from the sky one day onto their doorstep. Fate, perhaps, or the mere irresponsibility that seems to so frequently take hold of the adults in our society. Still, I learned to accept my place at a young age, disregarding the what if's and why's and simply enjoying the modest life that I had been blessed with.

It seems that books consumed me the majority of the time - anything and everything I could get my hands on to read, I would. My thirst for knowledge was endless and could not be sated; so, at the age of 14, I was sent out with a group of emissaries to Bruges. As you can imagine, I was quite naive, thinking the world to be a beautifully vast playground - a neverending dream just beyond the touch of my fingertips. It was to be my first lesson of reality, my first taste of ugliness.

We went with the understanding that many wished to convert to our own religion, to the ways of S'Allumer, to the grace of the Light, but upon our arrival, found only evidence of Lutarism and a fiery passion to defend it, even from words. Our welcome was not a warm one, and by the end of the first day, most of our group had disbanded. Arrangements had been made for us to stay in an inn, but the coordinates that were provided led us only to an abandoned building, completely uninhabitable. It was a futile mission, preaching to a people who lent only a deaf ear. My adoptive sister and I travelled the streets that night, knocking on doors only to be turned away time and time again. Eventually, luck would lead us to the doorway of a library where my sister would bid me farewell in an effort to find the others we had arrived with. Little did I know, I would never see her or the others again.

I stayed there three days - reading and praying. It was a repetitive cycle, the printed words in the books serving as a brief distraction from the reality that I was all alone in a completely unfamiliar place with no direction, no money, nothing except my mind. For the first time in my life, my breath knew no peace, only fear.

That was the day my life began. For four years I travelled, haggling with whomever I could for a scrap of food, a new pair of shoes, a place to rest my head. Left to my own devices, I found my way here, to the trade center of Calabria. I still have little aside from my given name, Adriana, the few contacts I managed to collect on my journey, and the knowledge of how to trade for survival.

Still, through it all, I have no regrets, only a dream -
the dream that a common thread can have a place in the design of such a grand tapestry.

[Sir Roofus]

Open your mind and listen to my words. This is a grim story that is true and what has shaped my life into what it is today. I will start from my first memory I was about 6 years old.

I can remember laughing and giggling with my father and my mother having a joyous time along with my brother. My parents were not rich at least as far as I knew. We gathered our own food and hunted we lived out in the country at least 100 miles from any city. My parents had sent me and my brother off one day to pick some berries. We ventured off into the woods and when we returned we found our parents slaughtered and their body parts thrown everywhere. I can still remember their heads hanging from meat hooks in our barn.

My brother and I fled and ran off into the woods scared and having sadness overwhelm us. Lucky my brother was about 2 and forgot it I on the other hand never forgot. I couldn’t ever figure out why someone would want to murder my parents my Dad was a simple carpenter and my Mom was a gardener. It wasn’t till years later that I found out the truth about my parents.

My brother and I lived in the woods for many years. I used rocks that had the same feeling as a dagger and I always used my handcrafted bow that was very shoddy. We hunted any wild animals that came into view and fed off the land and when you do this you always have the feeling that you are tiny part of something much larger. We met some gypsy’s in the woods on a path. They had never seen naked bears before I mean of course we lived and the woods and had no use for clothes. They gave us simple loincloths and taught us about cities and magic, and how to speak common. We improved are skills we became ever powerful. We traveled with these gypsy’s until the end of the woods and parted.

We walked into a large busy city with many people and shops and about this time I was 15 and my brother was 11 or so we were told. We were amazed even as young cubs my brother and me never saw something this large. We had no clue about money until we talked to a smuggler he told us about denarii and Nobles. We were astounded never before had we heard such things. I cared for my brother Brock deeply and loved him with my entire soul. He was my brother but also like my son, I knew I had to provide the basic things for him.

We found a small and dark alley that was full of garbage but none the less it was going to become home. We made beds and furniture out of the garbage we stuffed bags and satchels we had and we used the sacks that people tossed out for clothes and blankets. I found out that I could earn denarii for hunting and that is what I did. I soon earned enough to enroll my brother into a school I wanted him to be intelligent and have a good life.

I hunted and fished each day and gained a lot of denarii and soon bought a small cottage in this large city enough to provide shelter from the elements. Still to this day I think about the caves we used to live in and the woods. I was but a simple huntsman but my brother was quick and eager to learn. He would come to our cottage at night after school and teach me how to read and write I learned very quickly and was soon able to write long lovely stories and poems.

One day I came home early and decided to pick up Brock from school. He was being terrorized by some bullies. I was large for my age and often dirty from being in the wild so much so I figured I could scare them off. I ran at them and roared as hard as I could to instill some type of fear into them. They ran off and I laughed and made sure my brother was alright. He was fine so we ventured home. On the way home I found a bunch of thugs terrorizing a mother and her infant. I was appalled and quickly shot them with my bow after they shouted at me to mind my own business. They all died and I shouted to the mother run. They did run away but thanked me before they did.

The kids that I scared had older brothers that were in a gang and I was in for trouble. The gang came in and beat the tar out of me I was barely able to walk home. I had Brock treat all my injuries and soon I was well again. I made a small dagger at the local blacksmiths to use to get revenge on the gang. I should have let it be.

I went and beat up most of the gang members and left. They vowed revenge on me and unfortunately it would cast my life into a completely different direction. I found a Panda she had stolen my heart from the first time I saw her. We fell in love and I couldn’t have been happier we soon got engaged and had a cub on the way. I had my brother, my fiancé, and unborn cub as my family and the horror of my past disappeared from my mind and only happy memories filled my mind. I was on top of the world and it was my wedding night. The ceremony went perfectly everything was great and we had a glorious time. My brother as my best man and love filled the air you could smell it and taste it. Soon after my wife and I set off to vacation on our honeymoon as Brock manned the house.

We walked slowly loving each other more with every step never gaining speed just slow and graceful. The gang that I mentioned earlier was going to take revenge and it would be the saddest day of my life. They stationed an archer on top of a roof and shot one arrow perfectly into her heart. Her white silk wedding dress soon turned into a crimson red and she began to die. She choked on the blood in her throat but was able to mutter” I love you so much Roofus” and then closed her eyes and died. I roared from the depths of my soul, this roar was of pure agony and sorrow.

I bought a sword and went to the gang’s hideout. After an intense battle I came out victorious I killed every one of them for what they had done and cast revenge for my wife and my unborn child. I packed our things up and got ready to leave the next morning.

That night and intruder entered our house. I was patched up but grabbed my sword and held it to the intruder’s throat. I murmured to his ear” It is not wise to break into someone’s house”. He raised his lantern and smiled. Roofus I have been sent to make you an assassin like your father. I blinked I said my father was a carpenter. He smiled and said no that was after he had children but he used to be an assassin lord. After what had happened I talked the terms out and said that I would not kill anyone out of other’s hatred or vengeance but only to those who caused great harm mostly criminals and gangs. The irony in this is great because upon accepting the job I became a criminal myself.

My brother continued with school while I trained at an underground assassin training camp and lived there for 5 more years. I walked past the street where my wife was killed and all of the memories that I had forgotten had come back powerfully and harsh. I was terrorized by the haunting memories and moved away and went straight into dock town.

This was a small town with rather nice people and I was grateful to have moved here with my brother. I still did the criminal things while my brother became a great constable. I was proud of him the night he had to arrest me; he couldn’t have done a better job. We lived there for the years through and he decided to go to a law type of school to learn some more things about how to be a constable. I was sad that day for my only brother moved away and I moved with him. I started many temples in towns all over and started assassin training in these temples not so much assassin as much as warriors true of heart and mind.

I was about ready to move back into dock town because it was a place that called to me. I was in a temple with my mentor/friend and he gave me a gift I could not ever forget. He told me it was my fathers and that it had some magic to show me a brief glimpse of his memories along with my ancestors that had also been assassins. The gift was a large black-hilted dagger that was steel and had a kriss blade. It was my most treasured item.

I moved to dock town and fell in love with a panda. I had to go for war one day because an old friend and king needed my help. I did not wish to leave this wonderful new panda. I loved her with my heart, mind, and soul and never wanted her to think that I was going to be gone forever.

I gave her my dagger 2nd time it had ever been out of the family’s hands and it would be the last. I came back from war going to tell her everything about me being an assassin to the missions I have gone on. She left me and forgot about me. She had no love in her heart for me anymore. Along with this devastation she had also thrown away my family dagger and threw away anything that I could remember or know about my family. I was greatly devastated and quickly went against my teachings and became sad and never thought I would recover. Along with this my brother was dead I received a scroll saying he had his friend turned against him and joined a gang and literally stabbed him in the back killing him. My brother died and part of me died also. Since then I have been a real mess and haven’t quite recovered.
-Roofus Black

[Braxs]

~ A voice speaks out to you softly, as your mind begins to flutter away and images are brought forth ~ Remember this is only a dream, a window of what I use to be like, How my life use to be.....



~The first image you come upon~

A cub only a year old romping and wrestling around with his father. His mother was laying beside them laughing merrily at her husband and son. The sun was bright, the grass was green as green could be. The sky blue as the sea this day would be perfect. We lived way out in the woods, near the oceans of Lortia. Soon the other grizziles and black, and panda bears would begin to arrive in this grassy field.

~Your eyes drift from side to side, taking in the vast amount of bears that would begin to roam out of the woodwork. Cubs, grandparents, parents, teenagers, Bears of all shapes, sizes, and ages would come forth.~

Braxton, that's me took off on a dead run towards a Black Bear. She was the prettiest cub around, her name was "Lilac." Her father and her mother strolled lazily over to my mother and father, where they talked about Braxton and Lilac and how they got along. I was always the adventures type, and would get my best buddy "Fleix" in trouble all the time. But he was a grizzly bear like me, and together we would have adventures and act like we where young warriors protecting Lilac.

~Your eyes drift to the horizon of the sea, as you begin to see the outlines of ships tearing across the ocean waters, like hell's firey rage rolling through the streets of a war.~

I didn't reliaze who these ships belonged to, and shouted to my father "Poppas Looks shipises!" and pointed out to the sea. The next thing I knew we where all being rushed out, us kids that is. And the parents stayed there. Lilac, Myself, and Fleix tore through the woods, back at are homestead. And we sat there waiting.....and waiting.

~Your eyes drift over the war now taking place in the once beautiful grassy fields. Bears, and Pirates fighting an all out battle. But the Pirates where winning..they had guns.~

My round ears twitched with the sounds of gun fire, and my mismatched blue and green eyes widen, as I yelled "Poppas Mommas!" and took off running leaving Fleix to stand guard over Lilac. I tore through the woods, branches and thorns tearing across my fuzzy brown fur. My little strong feet where carrying me as fast as they could. That's when I heard it...Two single shots from behind me.

~Your eyes are moved it seems, as they refocus on where Fleix and Lilac where. Both now laying in a bed of blood, with two Pirates standing over them....skinning them.~

I turned back around and ran towards the shots. That's when my feet went sliding through the river of blood. I froze as I slid forwardly and smacked into the Pirates legs, sending him off balance. My eyes moved over Lilac's and Fleix's exposed bodies. And I could feel my heart fall, my round ears drooped sadly, and tears begun to form. Then I felt a strong hand on my shoulder and a rough voice shouting " Tis one be freash! Lets keeps him alive!" and harsh laughter followed.

I bite this man's hands, and tore off running with the Pirates flesh in my skin..I had to get to my parents...That was the only thought on my mind. I could hear the two pirates cursing me, and chasing after me. But I didn't care, I had to get to my parents. So I tore through the woods, and stumbled into the grassy field....

~Your eyes flick back to the grassy field. The Pirates had been victorious. Thousands upon thousands of Bears laid across the grassy field. With Pirates standing over them, skinning them and cutting them apart. And tossing what they needed in a chest, and what they didn't need in a roaring fire.~

My eyes widened as I came onto the grassy field, and I roared a pitiful roar of horror and saddness. That's when my eyes moved onto my mother and father. My father was standing firm against ten pirates, fighting them off. My mother was wounded laying behind him. Without thinking I rushed forward, and stood in front of my father. But my father was two quick. He scooped me up and placed me next to my mother.

I roared again, another pitiful roar. The pirates advanced, and my father and mother both looked at me and roared "Run Braxton, Run!" I didn't know what to do, I froze. Then I heard the close range gun shots ring out, and my father falling to the side with a thunderous sound. My eyes sprung openly, as another pirates shot my mother in her head at close range. My mother's blood sprayed against me.

I could only tremble, but the Pirates begun to advance on me, one thing I knew these woods. I knew where to hide perfectly. So I begun to run under the pirates legs, darting left and darting right, until the Captian came. He was an ugly man...

~ Your eyes shift to the Captian. A grey man that wore the mask of a panda bear. His hands gnarled from many battles, and his eyes firey orange. He wore nothing but white, even a white cape.~

This man drew his dagger quickly, and lashed outwardly aiming for my throat. I darted quickly to the left, but the Captain's dagger sliced into my flesh, under my right eye. Leaving me with my scar, I didn't relieze this, I kept running until I found a borrow. I was luckily still small enough to fit inside of it, and thus I vanished inside of the hole. It was days before I came back out..And everything I once loved....was gone.

~Your eyes flash across the horrofic ending vision. Thousands upon Thousands of bear skeletons rested against the ground, and piled up. Braxton's mother and fathers left at the tree, Lilacs and Fleix's as moved...and your eyes fall upon this one year old cub. Sitting in front of these skeletons. Crying, with blood pouring from his eye......Then he would stand and wander off alone in the midst that now floated over the Island.....of Lortia~


~The voice speaks softly, as your mind begins to fade away these images~ I am sorry you had to witness that...but it was better shown then explained.....~The voice would drift away, leaving you only with the memory of young Braxton, treading the woods alone towards a ship that lead to DockTown.....*~*

[Pyjamas]

The howls of the wolves echoed through the small village, causing most of the inhabitants to scurry about in unbridled fear. Their Repense masters, guided by the heavens, had warned them of the coming assault, and from those that listened, only one remained. Her belly, swollen with the promise of new life, had prevented Rhianna from departing her home town, but she was not so foolish as to ignore the Bats' visions of the future. As the attackers demolished what little resistance a village of peaceful mice could hastily erect, the pain of birth tore through Rhianna.
Her painful cries and the smell of fresh blood lured the Phelan attackers who had given themselves over to their baser instincts. As the new mother sensed their approach, she summoned the knowledge that she had sought during her pregnancy, knowledge of how to protect her daughter from the great claws and teeth of the savage wolves. Summoning the last of her strengh, she grabbed the paw of the closest wolf and drove a waiting dagger through it's paw and her own, and in the wolves own tongue she spoke;
Flesh that is my flesh, shared are we in blood
Now raise my pup as if she were thine
If her death should come before your own
Forever blighted will be your line.
And drawing the dagger across her throat, Rihanna sealed the contract with her life, even as her newborn daughter fed at her breast.

10 years later...

Ducking her head as a volley of pebbles flew past her ear, the young mouse turned on her attacker. A young pup, almost a season younger than her and yet already twice her height, laughed maliciously as Danae's ears flattened against her skull. Being raised as a wolf would be hard enough for anyone, she was sure, let alone when you were a mouse. So why did these insolent upstarts have to make things even harder for her? And she knew that if she complained to her father, he would simply chide her, reminding her that were it not for Kale's birth soon after hers, Danae would not have had the milk that had sustained her throughout the first year of her life.
Drawing a long breath, Danae turned away from her milk-brother, trying to find the strength to ignore him. But as another volley of rocks neatly collected with her forehead, something buried deep within the small mouse awoke. Drawn by the scent of the blood dripping down her face, soaking through her white fur, the beast took control of Danae, and she dropped to all fours, her nails instantly finding purchase in the dirt of the street. Before Kale could react, his sister was upon him, grappling him to the ground, her claws and teeth knowing instinctively where to target. As her sharp incisors closed around his wrist, the beast awoke in Kale also, and the two continued to fight, evenly matched for the first time in their lives.
After some time, when both realized that neither could gain an advantage, they stopped. And from that moment, the two became inseparable.

5 years later...

Raising her chin, despite her small stature, Danae stood before her father defiantly. "Why shouldn't we take this quest together? Our beasts call to each other, strengthen each other. You've all seen it!"
Seemingly impervious to the onslaught of his adopted daughters words and gaze, Cullouchai bared his teeth in a loose smile. "Of course we have seen it, pup, but you are well aware that this is not the issue. Tradition demands that you make this journey on your own."
"Why?" The young mouse asked furiously. "Why not let us do it together?"
The elderly Phelan closed his eyes briefly, "Tradition-"
"-Tradition be damned." Danae quipped unthinkingly.
Cullochai's eyes snapped open and he bared his teeth and growled at his daughter. "You forget yourself, pup. These traditions make us who we are, and if you do not respect them, you will no longer be welcome in my house."
Quelled by the wolfs ire, Danae bared her throat deferentially, "Sorry father."
"You will make your own journey, that is final. And when you return you will run with the Fianna, and none will question it, because you did it alone. Do you understand?"
Her tail between her legs, the young mouse nodded assent. "Yes father."
Running from the dwelling, she soon found Kale, and taking the sobbing mouse into his arms awoke in their beasts such a passion that they could not resist each other. When Danae left on her vision quest the following morning, her heart was full, and she no longer feared to be apart from him.

2 months later...

Danae had returned from her quest, her fur stained with blood and grime, almost a month earlier. Her trials in the wilderness had left none in question as to her strength, and now she ran with the Fianna, hoping to earn her torque, and trying not to think about her milk-brother not returning from his own journey. The wolves she ran with were as sympathetic as warriors could be, and did their best to keep the young atavist occupied, though perhaps as much out of amusement that she could hold her own then out of pity.
It was while tracking a party of boars that had stumbled into the wolves territory that Danae picked up the scent of Kale. Letting her pack run ahead, she followed the trail, faint though it was, to an abandoned campsite. The fire had been out for at least three days, and she was about to leave when she saw the marks on a nearby tree, where a heavy chain had been repeatedly drawn across the bark.
"Slavers," she hissed, moving to the tree and checking for Kale's scent

She followed the trail into Doloreaux lands, and killed a bandit that had not been able to sense her approach, stealing his clothes and money. The trail led her to a river town, and donning the clothes she had stolen she entered the town as if she were any other traveler. Finding her way to the docks with little trouble, she came across the slavers market, where bidding was already underway. With the cacophony of noises and scents, she could not find Kale, and prayed that she was not too late, that he had not already been sold.
After a short wait, she saw Kale being led up onto the platform, shackled and muzzled. The beast within her trembled with rage, and it was all Danae could do not to leap onto the dais and assault his tormentors. She watched in horror as the bids for her lover mounted, eventually bidding everything she had stolen to win his freedom. Her voice carried across the market, and Kale's gaze locked with hers.
With a roar of pent-up anger and aggression, Kale unleashed his beast, his muscles bunching and his tendons straining with the power of atavism coursing through him. Kale leapt at his nearest keeper, tearing out their throat with his claws before they could even raise their shield. The sight of the slaver's blood spraying red across Kale's grey fur made Danae's pulse thump in her ears, and she knew that her beast was fighting to surface. Looking frantically around as Kale disemboweled another slaver, Danae looked for an outlet for her own beast, trembling as it clawed through her will power. Every scream and howl made her beast stronger, and when a heavy-set tiger finally managed to spill Kale's blood from his body, her resolve crumbled, and she leapt at the closest person she could find, a young she-badger that had recently been purchased.

As the crowd cleared and her beast returned to it's slumber, Danae covered her nude body with the scraps of clothes that remained around her and the badger girl. Looking around, she saw the gaping faces of shocked onlookers, most notably the owner of the slave. Retrieving her stolen money pouch from the ground, she mumbled "Sorry, she was just too pretty to resist." After taking a few coins from it, she lobbed the pouch to the man holding the girls chain, "This should pay for her clothes."
Trying to collect what remained of her dignity, she made her way to the blood-covered stage, picking her feet carefully over the fallen guards and falling to her knees when she came to Kale's body. Cradling his face with her hand, she held him until his body had cooled, and the slavers returned to dispose of his corpse. As her lover was carried away, Danae cursed the tradition that had allowed him to be captured, and used what coins remained to buy passage to the only place that her father had ever told her of, a place the Phelan cursed as a weak and decadent place, knowing that if there were Phelan traditions would not be enforced, it would be in Triskellian.

[Death]

**ENDED**
The time for submissions has passed. Results will be announced shortly (or maybe not, I have enough e-mails to fill a small book). I'll list the winners at that time.
Thanks for playing.

[Death]

I would like to offer my thanks and appreciation to all players who participated in this contest. None of you made my job easy; all of the submissions were very well thought out.

The essence of any competition is the fact that it has a winner or winners. So, I was forced to make some choices. I based my decision on a few items I felt were important in any story: imagery, characterizations outside of your own, believable settings, a consistent point of view, logical developments in the storyline, etc. So here are your winners...

The top three included, in no particular order:
Adriana - 10 Storypoints and a secret prize.
Danae - 10 Storypoints and a secret prize.
Ian - 10 Storypoints and a secret prize.
Contact me via PMs, @pages or e-mail to collect your prizes.

And the Honorable Mention goes to:
Danni - 10 Storypoints.

Due to the turnout and effort involved, all other submissions are awarded:
5 Storypoints!

Thank you all. Remember to participate in the new contest for this month.

P.S. Most common theme: Dead parents/family.